Ancestors, Watch over my family with a ready sword - Maximus, Gladiator

The pain in his back and shoulder was easing. The throbbing, perfectly in-sync with the labored beating of his heart, was slowing, replaced by a slow sweep of warmpth along his body. It seemed to flow, to wave like a mountain stream, or wheat bent-back by the wind.

Wheat...he could see it now, in the sea of muted maize dust that had been the floor of the collusseum. It rose around him now- spindly green blades that plumped and ripened before his eyes until they sagged, pregnant with grain.

The spectators were gone now too- replaced by a thousand brilliant stars that shone through the inky sky- was it night already?

Even the air had changed, cool moist breezes washed over his skin, replacing the dry, stagnant pocket that had settled over the city. His strength was returning. Groggily, Maximus Decimus Meridas pulled himself to his feet. He had somewhere to go- he felt it urgently. Scanning his eyes over the magical horizon, he hoped, feverently, that it was to the villa high on the nearby hill. A house-his house.

He was home.

But his feet turned away, down the street toward a low gate leading into the orchard. The general blinked. This wasn't how it was supposed to be....! Home- Marcus and Selene- the horses...

He bent below a tree branch, still allowing is feet to lead the way unquestioningly. He pushed on the gate and-

The sudden glare of the sun was blinding, and Maximus raised his forearm to cover his eyes. The beams seemed to be coming straight down. As his vision slowly adjusted, Maximus was amazed to see that they seemed to stream straight down between two rows of towering buildings. The sight was awesome, intimidating. He had never seen such unimaginable height. It were as though all the insulae in the city of Rome had been stacked, one atop the other, in the mad attempt of yet another emperor to reach the heavens and prove that he was god.

Lowering his sight back to the street, Maximus gasped, and suddenly cringed. People were everywhere- like ants, they seemed to move beside the buildings in an ever-moving rush. In the center of the street huge litters - they couldn't be carriages, where were the horses? But then, where were the slaves to bear them?- surged forward in erratic lurches. Some of them, painted a garish yellow, made loud, insistant noises- as though someone were blowing on a trumpet ith all his might.

Instinctively, Maximus reached for his sword- and then fought back a moment of panic when he realised that it was gone., dropped in the sand after it had finally slain Commodus. He swallowed, eyes darting around feverishly for something, anything, that he could use to protect himself from the endless mob.

Scanning the street, he saw a scrap of what looked like flattened metal. It was rounded slightly on the ends, painted a bright, bloody red with a single white stripe. An oversized dagger dropped by these strange people on the way to business? He bents forward to retrieve it, then stopped, almost off-balance as he saw an enormous man barrelling forward. He tried to step back, but it was too late. Maximus braced himself for impact but....

Nothing happened. The large man seemed to pass right through him.

Maximus felt the blood drain from his face, he tried to stay completely calm.

"It will make sense eventually." Said a voice, thickly accented like Haken's.

His head spun around. Was the voice addressing him.

"What? It is not what you thought it would be?"

Yes. Maximus spied a figure walking toward him- a giant of a man, again like his gladitorial friend, covered in bearskins and leather.

"Who are you?" He said, at last managing to scoop up the battered metal to brandish before him.

The giant smiled, revealing a mouth full of rotten teeth.

"Family." He said, in an almost bitter tone. He looked at the makeshift weapon sneeringly. "There's no need to threaten me with that. You can't hurt me. I'm already dead."

Maximus blinked. "But....Am I...."

The giant snorted again and then nodded. "What is it you say, wolfman...Elleesee-uhm?"

The general swallowed. This was not the heaven that he had imagined. Where was his wife and child? His observer seemed to sneer as he watched realization dawn.

"Come." The tall German said at last, plowing into a row of pre-school children who didn't seem to notice him at all. "There is something we must do."

The dwelling they had entered consisted of four rooms. A tiny, closet-like kitchen (in which the closeness of the oven to the rest of the house was alarming), a small common area, a sleeping chamber, and a bathroom. Maximus was amazed at the contradictions in the little home- at once, it seemed to be the house of someone very wealthy, and someone terribly poor. There was no atrium, no perostylium, no frescoes or mosaics, and yet- the room was toasty warm, and not only was there running water- there was a private bathroom! The furniture was equally contradictory. On one hand, the pieces were exquisitely crafted- almost perfectly symmetrical, and nearly feather-light...but on the other, they were almost devoid of decoration, he couldn't tell what kind of wood they were, and the couches, and other coverings, were fraying in parts.

As a whole, the space had the air of a majestic villa, long abandoned by its owners.

Maximus was getting used to passing invisibly among the people of this strange world. Still, he treaded lightly around the elderly woman rocking slowly in a chair, and the small, golden-haired child asleep in her arms. He could tell by the sky that it was very late, but the child fought being put to bed. Its words- as well as the words of its keeper- were a mystery to Maximus, more of the strange Germanic growl that reminded him of his last campaign, but he could understand one word of the little girl's protest. "Mama!" She insisted, shaking her fair curls. "Mama!" And, reluctantly, her keeper would relent and rock the babe once more.

The former General waited, awkwardly, in the dim room for his companion to make some movement, but none was forthcoming. He seemed to be waiting.

At last, his objective was revealed. There was a low jingling of keys, the turn of locks, and finally, the door to the living space was opened. A very tired, almost painfully beautiful woman pressed into the room, her arms laden down with stacks of paper and a single shopping bag.

"Mama!" The child called sleepily, springing from the chair, and barreling toward its mother's arms. The woman stashed her burden on a nearby table just in time to scoop her daughter into her arms.

Maximus smiled at the scene. Still holding the baby, the mother rummaged ina small sack, and retrieved an even smaller pouch, taking out a few crumpled bits of paper. Money? He frowned, if so, there wasn't much left- one more slip and then some coins- and she handed it to the child's keeper. They exchanged a few words, and then the older woman left.

The child, already asleep on its mother's shoulder, was carried to the bedroom, placed in a rectangular wooden cage with peeling white paint, tucked beneath a blanket, and left alone. The mama returned to the living room, took a piece of fruit out of her bag, and settled down in front of the stacks of papers.

Maximus examined the woman closely for the first time. There was something strangely familiar in her face. She was incredibly tall-for a Roman woman- nearly 5'7", and her skin was very fair. Her hair and eyes were almost the color of Maximus' own- a rich brown and clear blue. The color of her lips and cheeks were obscured by a veneer of makeup.

The general's eyes returned to her face once more. She looked so tired, the skin at the corners of her eyes was faintly lined from squinting at the small print that covered the paper.

"What is she doing?" He asked, turning to the German. His "guide" had seemed to know the answers in the past. Perhaps he could clear up more of the mystery.

"Working." Came the reply. "She has to work two jobs to keep the apartment and a sitter for the child. Reviewing the accounts brings in a little extra money for the holidays."

"And the child's father...is he dead?"

"Gone." Maximus couldn't help but notice the derision in his companion's voice. "He was gone before the girl was ever born."

"Who is she?" The Roman whispered, still tring to place the small, even features in his memory. He turned his head when the warrior did not respond.

"My great-grand-daughter." He answered at last. "Great, great,great...." He made a sound of forced laughter. "So many times great it seems impossible- but still a child of my line..." He looked at Maximus levelly. "Of your line, wolfman."

Maximus sucked in his breath as, at once, the world seemed to snap into sharp focus. He remembered the face now. A sweet, frightened German girl that he had met in the frontier. Near starvation, they had followed the enemy soliders, trading a comfortable bed for food to give their families. Her mother had presented her to the then-Legate, he remembered.It had been her first time...

Maximus felt his stomach tighten with self-loathing as he remembered. It had seemed much more innocent at the time- a fair trade. He had been gentle, considerate, but still. Was this how he left her? Pregnant and alone?

His voice choked in his throat as he turned to the Germanic man again.

"Why am I here?" He said roughly, his voice tight with emotion.

"She needs our help."

Maximus clenched his hands at his sides...

"Tell me what I need to do."