"They're Christians or Jews, I don't know which."

"Who are they?"  Haken was not familiar with the Roman Army's conquest of the desert community of Jerusalem during the last three hundred years.  Juba looked at Maximus thoughtfully for a moment.

"They are from the desert west of Egypt."  Maximus murmured as he pushed Haken into motion.  He didn't want to attract unwanted attention to the group as well as try to explain something to the German barbarian about the desert people.  In truth, he wasn't all that familiar with the customs of the Hebrews but it was not wise to be associated with them, depending on the ruler it could be downright dangerous.

"They do not fight."

"They are not a warring people, Haken."  Maximus parried half-heartedly Haken's attempt to knock his sword from his hand.  "They are also not popular in Rome, so don't go and get any ideas of being friendly with them.  It'll just get you in trouble."

"Oh."  Haken resumed fighting with Maximus with renewed vigor, but Maximus was troubled by what he was seeing out of the corner of his eye.  The guards were becoming excessively rough with some of the prisoners, who honestly appeared as if they were on their last legs anyway.  Haken almost lost his balance when he thrust towards Maximus, but had no one to block his thrust.  Maximus had begun walking across the courtyard, when a rough-looking guard began dragging a young woman, not more than twenty years, across the dusty ground by hanks of her dark hair.  She was struggling to stand to relieve the weight of her slight body from her hair, when a young child, a boy of six or seven, ran after the girl.  He began to pummel the guard with his miniature fists, his rage visible in his childish face.  The guard laughed at the pitiful attempt and backhanded the boy, sending him flying several feet backwards.

Maximus saw red at the prostrate body on the ground, his tiny head battered and bruised.  The girl was still struggling against her captor.  The scene burned into Maximus' mind as he saw his son's face on that of the child, his wife on the girl's.  He taunted the guard with a wicked grimace and glittering cold blue eyes.  "Only a coward would choose to battle a girl and a child."

"You won't speak so when I'm through with you, scum."  He loosed his grip on the girl's hair and she scurried away from him, running to the boy and pulling him to relative safety.  His feral expression, haughtily calculated to intimidate Maximus did not even faze the ousted Roman general.  Maximus hunkered down slightly, preparing himself for a heavy blow.  Other guards stirred as they watched their comrade face off with an uppity slave.  All the gladiators knew that you could not challenge a guard, even if you did survive, you would be put to death as an example to other rebellious slaves.

Haken and Juba watched with concern as Maximus stared the guard down, quite at a deficit without any weapons to the very heavily armored legionaire.  Haken elbowed Juba and asked quietly, "I thought he said to stay away from those people."  Juba just shrugged and focused his ebony eyes upon the former Roman soldier.

"Give it your best shot,"  Maximus murmured, only the bestial guard could hear him.

The heavy set guard swung his short sword, the gladius, at Maximus' mid-section.  Maximus anticipated this heavy-handed blow and easily dodged it.   The defiance in his brilliant blue eyes spurred the guard to anger and to lash out with increasing fury.  Maximus felt like if he could tire the brute, maybe he would simply give up and no blood would be shed this day.  During one wide arc of the guard's sword arm, Maximus made a daring move and ducked under the man's huge arm and swiped the dagger at his belt.  He couldn't battle it out with the guard dagger against sword, but at least he had a weapon to protect himself.

Maximus dodged another swing and took one of his own at close range, slicing open a shallow wound near the soldier's ribs.  The larger man grimaced in pain, swearing profusely as he shook off the painful sting of the knife injury.  Maximus slipped around behind him and as he did, he made another clean swipe, this time through the meaty part of the guard's thigh.  The guard lost his balance as gore flowed freely down his muscled thigh and calf, coming down upon one knee.  Maximus was able to plant a deft foot to the man's abdomen, knocking him backwards upon the dusty ground.

Maximus could feel the sweat running down his face, salty rivulets drenching his blue gladiator's tunic.  His breath came in quick, hard pants in the relentlessly hot sun.  He could feel the eyes of the other gladiators and slaves upon him, waiting at bated breath for his next move.  He stared unflinchingly at the bested guard lying in the dirt.  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear the bootsteps of other guards, coming to investigate the ruckus in the courtyard.  It seemed like an eternity since he first confronted the guard, but in actuality, it had been just a short couple of minutes.

He heard the blow whistling through the air a split second before he felt it.  As he fell to the earth, he could hear off in the distance, the laughing of the other guards.  Then all was black.....

I get so distracted running nowhere

And I take for granted our love is secure

But if I started losing you

One thing is sure

I'd be down on my knees

Ready to pray

                ~"Down On My Knees~

His head throbbed.  The tide of pain seemed to ebb and flow, washing over him as he could feel his body being transported somewhere, not of his own voilition. The slightest movement, the jarring footsteps of his bearers reverberating throughout their bodies and into his.  He knew he was bound to pay with his life for fighting with the guard that way, but right now he was in so much agony, death would be a welcome release.

He was unceremoniously dropped upon his musty pallet.  The door slammed shut behind the guards that left him there, his head aching from the clang of the wood and metal door sliding home.  At least the sun was out of his eyes, its scorching heat sealed away from the dark windowless room.  Most times Maximus felt almost claustrophobic in his slave quarters, but today he was eternally grateful for the dim stillness.

The door squeaked open hesitantly, bringing with it the dreaded blinding sunlight once again. Maximus moaned as he used one callused hand to shield his face from the brightness outside.  Soft footsteps padded across the stone floor, he was hurting too badly to pay much mind to the intruder.  Cool fingertips touched his damp forehead, lightly brushing back his cropped hair from his brow.  Faint traces of a smile glimmered upon his haggard face as he flittered his eyelids in response to the sinfully soft skin which caressed him.

His eyes slowly opened, the dark lashes giving his expression a hooded and wary look.  Maximus saw a vision before him, certainly he must be in Elysium now.  The face above was framed with long raven hair pulled back by a heavy piece of cloth.  A few stray strands escaped the thick veil and softened a heart-shaped face, dusky skinned with obsidian eyes.  The face of an exotic goddess.

She murmured something indistinct, it took his muzzy mind a long moment to realize it was in another language.  His face must have registered some confusion because she whispered softly in Latin, her breath grazing the shell of his ear gently with her lyrical voice.  "My name is Semira.  I will not hurt you."  She touched his face once again with those bewitching fingers.

Maximus grabbed her hand in a firm but not painful grip.  "What do you want with me?"  His voice sounded far away, raspy and unused.

"I am here to thank you, and to heal you if you wish it."

"Thank me for what?"  The events of the day were very fuzzy at the moment for Maximus.

"The girl and her brother.  They are my cousins and you kept them safe.  Yahweh will bless you."  As her fingers worked their hyponotic spell, Maximus' hand gradually loosened from around her wrist.  He winced, groaning pain when she sought out the site of the injury.  It was located on the base of his skull, the skin swollen and bruised.

"Believe me, Semira.  I haven't been blessed in a long time.  Not by my gods, your gods or anyone else's."

Semira reached over to the shallow basin she had set on the stone ledge when she came in.  She pulled out of it a rag, dripping cold water, and wrung it out gently.  The soft splashes of the water was soothing to Maximus's ears.  She brought the cool cloth to his face, cleaning away the grime and gore along with chilling his skin, all the while speaking to him in Hebrew, a language with which he was not familiar.  The lyrical quality of her voice made whatever she was saying to him sound like a lullaby, something his wife would have sung to his son.  He winced visibly, Semira thought, erroneously, that she had hit a sore spot....little did she know.

"Please, just go."  Maximus muttered as he tried to rise into a sitting position upon the pallet. His head was still pounding, a deep resonant ache made worse by the memory of his wife and son.  Semira sat silently, her penetrating gaze affixed upon his face, itself wrenched into an angry grimace.  Her fingers left his face, only to rest upon the dual scars upon his left arm.  One was deeper than the other, both relatively new, not quite bearing the faded white tissue of old scars.  Instinctively she knew his internal wounds were even more fresh that that of his physical ones.

"What is it that troubles you so?"

"Nothing.  Just go away."  Damn it all, she was as persistant as his wife had been.  Maximus leaned precariously against the wall, trying to gain his equilibrium.  The small cell seemed to be spinning before his eyes.  Semira glanced about the dingy cell until her eyes rested on the only source of artificial light in the room, a couple of candle stubs on a low shelf in the corner.  She rose from her kneeling position beside the bed, glided over to the shelf and bent down to retrieve one of the candles when his voice echoed out in the darkness.  "Leave those alone!"  The shout almost made him pass out again.

Semira gazed down and at closer observation, realized he had built himself a small shrine.  This man was a religious man.  But whose religion?  She solemnly backed away from the sacred niche and returned to his side.  Wondering at the small statuettes that adorned the shelf next to the candles, she gingerly settled upon the pallet beside him.  "Who are they?"

Maximus just simply closed his eyes and didn't answer.

"Are they your gods?"

"They should be yours as well.  They are the gods of the Roman Empire."

"I believe in the one god, Yahweh, and his son, the one they call Jesus.  I am of the chosen people," she explained simply.

"Chosen for what...to die maybe?  The Roman gods are fickle at best, the government a direct reflection.  It will not tolerate a subversive religion, especially one that contests the Roman status quo."

Semira's dark eyes flashed.  "We die if it is required of us.  I am not ashamed of who I am."

"Well, keep that pretty head held high as you walk into the ring to become food for the wild beasts."

She snapped back sharply, her well-modulated voice rising in anger.  "I would rather die defending my God than to cower here, standing for nothing except wallowing in my own sorrows."

Maximus' brilliant blue eyes sparkled dangerously beneath his dark lashes.  "You know nothing of me."

"You are lost, in sorrow and revenge - I see it upon your face.  Forgiveness is the only way to get your life back."  Semira rose from the bed, staring down intently at him for a moment.  "I understand these feelings.  I have lost many loved ones to appease your Roman gods.  But I have also learned that in surviving and in living the way our Savior taught us to live, I ensure that their deaths were not in vain."  She picked up the bowl and cloth, then walked to the door and opened it.

Maximus could see the stiffness in her stride, the haunting ghosts of memories and loss shading her delicate features.  He wanted so to reach out to her, to hold her and revel in her warmth, the softness and purity of her body next to his.  But in his weakness, more spiritual than physical, he struggled unsuccessfully.  "Semira."  His husky voice was but a whisper in the darkness of the room.  Her form glowed, backlit by the light of the setting sun as she stood in the open doorway.

"Yes, Roman?"

"My name is Maximus."

"A great name He has given you.  Now only you have to live up to it."

"What does Semira mean?"

"In my language, it means "the height of the heavens".  My father was a hopeless romantic who had visions of an angelic daughter.  Much farther from his hope I could not be."  She gave him a rueful smile as she reached for the door handle.

"Wait."  Maximus pushed off from the bed, swaying slightly as he stood and attempted to maintain his balance.  Semira moved a step inside the door, before he pitched forward towards the hard stone floor.  She dropped the pottery bowl which shattered upon impact, and raced to catch him before he struck the pavers.  His sturdy, well-muscled body heavily leanedupon her as she tried valiantly to get him back into bed.  He listed to one side as if severely inebriated, while she desperately struggled to keep him upright.

Semira lowered Maximus down upon the pallet, he sat there, his strong body slumped as if the weight of the world was bearing down upon him.  He gave her a sheepish half-smile that didn't quite make it to his azure eyes.  As she rose to go, he gripped her arm in a deceptively fierce hold.  "Please don't go yet."

"First you tell me to leave you alone, now you order me to stay."  She stood up from the pallet and walked over the remains of the shattered bowl, the water had already seeped into the floor.

"Where are you going?"

"I am going to clean up this mess, and then I am returning to my part of the compound."

"Leave it."

"No."  Semira began to pick up the shards of clay and set them outside the door.  When she finished, she came back to Maximus' side and sat down.  "I must go.  It is not right for me to remain here too long."

"What did you mean you did not live up to your father's expectations?"  Maximus watched as her eyes fell down-cast, staring intently at the pattern the dark stones made across the floor.  He fought the urge to reach out and touch her, even if it was just to simply stroke her raven hair.

"It is in the past."

"Tell me this, then you can go.  How is it that a girl from the desert speaks Latin so well?"

She stood once again, this time pacing across the room.  He could only see the shadowy outline of her figure in the increasing darkness as she leaned against the far wall.  She stared at the dim figurines setting upon the low shrine.  "When I was younger, we lived in a town upon the sea, not far from Jerusalem.  Many Romans came through, including the vast armies of submission that the governors sent to put down many of the revolts.  I learned much of my Latin from the soldiers who came through our village.  It was good for business."

"What kind of business?"  Maximus leaned forward, his ears pricked as he strained to hear her soft murmur.

"What is the one profession a woman can have in this world, Maximus?"

"You were a whore?"  He almost stuttered in disbelief.

"Like I said, I disappointed my father.  I do not care if the rest of the world forgives or understands me, I have made my peace with God."  Her humble explanation made him recoil in shame for his gauche response to her admission. "I do not live that life anymore.  He taught me that I was loved, truly loved and that nothing was too bad that it couldn't be forgiven.  This is why I feel so strongly about my beliefs - my faith gave me my life back."  She stood there, gazing off into space introspectively for a moment, then stepped out of the shadows.  "I must go now."

Maximus swallowed as he involuntarily reached out to her hand, touching it gently.  Her beautiful face gazed down at him in surprise and trepidation.  "Could I talk to you again?"  The warmth in her dark eyes was like the black soil of his former home after it had been warmed by the sun.

"Only God knows the answer to that, Maximus."  She extricated her hand from his larger one and walked out the door.  Maximus lay down once more, the throbbing in head overwhelmed by the beating of his heart.

Ready to pray

Darling, down on my knees

making you stay

I'd be begging you please

Don't take your love from me

I'd be down on my knees

                ~Down On My Knees~

"Maximus, you must eat."  Haken urged his Spanish comrade.  He couldn't understand what was going on with his friend these days.

"Haken, I do not require as much food as you do."  Maximus made a half-hearted joke to ease the German's mind.  Haken just grinned and Juba humored him, although he could tell that something was bothering Maximus.  Maximus turned his blue gaze upon Juba, and commented, "Now, don't go worrying about me too."

"I do not worry, except to know that you keep this up, you will soon die in the arena.  I do not care to die, do not get us all killed with you."  Haken stopped eating for a moment, shocked to hear the African speak like this to the Spaniard.  He almost took umbrage on the behalf of Maximus at Juba's tone, but the glance that Maximus cast in his direction held him silent.

It had been a few days since the altercation with the guards, Proximo had yet to mete out a punishment, something that the guards themselves had not let pass.  But on the other hand, Maximus was Proximo's ticket to Roma so he was deliberating on the details, Maximus reasoned.  He had yet to see the woman Semira again, he wasn't sure why he was drawn to her.  It disturbed him to have the vision of her in his head, carried with him always.  He felt himself slowly losing his grasp on his wife's memory, only to be supplanted by another raven haired beauty with eyes of the darkest kohl.

The next round of games were only a week from now, he was certain she would be sent to the ring then....to be rendered to shreds by the wild beasts for the entertainment of the masses.  Maximus began to formulate a plan, but he had to call on his ability to persuade Proximo to accomplish it.  If it succeeded, a woman would be free and he would rest easier in the knowledge he was able to spare a life, not take it.

"Spaniard, that was the dumbest thing I think I have ever seen you do.  What made you thinkyou could take on those guards like that?"  Proximo lounged in the soft bank of pillows upon the floor next to the window.  Noise from Zucchabar wafted up, dimmed by the time it came through the open window to low buzz.  Maximus stood almost attention across the room from the former gladiator.  "No, don't tell me.  I don't want to know.  What I do want to know is what do you propose your punishment should be.  You know I can't let this pass."

Maximus stood silent.  Proximo rambled on for a moment.  He knew that Maximus wasn't ignoring him, he was just the silent type.  "You would not have requested an audience if it wasn't important.  What do you want?"

"A woman."

Proximo almost slid off the mound of cushions into the floor, he was so surprised.  Maximus' face was unreadable.  The entire time that Proximo had owned Maximus, he had offered and almost thrown women into Maximus' cell and the bastard couldn't care less. Now he decides that he wants a woman.  "I take it you have someone specific in mind."

"Yes.  One of the Christian women, her name is Semira."

"Know her, do you?"  Proximo laughed at the thought.

"No, not really.  I've just seen her around the compound with the other Christians."

"Why her?"

"I have my reasons."  Maximus waited expectantly for an answer.

"If I have her brought to you, do you think you can keep from starting riots in the yard?"

Maximus smiled with his eyes.  "Proximo, I never intended to start a fight.  I just finished it."

"When would you like her?"

"Tonight, and maybe if she's promising, the night before the Arena match next week."

"Boy, don't you know that can sap a man's strength?  Haha."  Proximo relaxed as Maximus was escorted out the room.  It was nice to see everything get back to normal.

Night had fallen, the men had returned to their cells for the evening.  Maximus knelt in front of his miniature shrine and lit the candles.  The door was open in anticipation of Semira's arrival.  Maximus closed his eyes and willed his wife's face into his mind's eye.  He absently stroked the small ivory statuette of the mother figure he carried with him on his journeys.  The child figurine lay upon the stone shelf of the shrine, gleaming in the meager candlelight.  Serima was escorted to the door, the guard standing there to make sure she entered.  Her anger at the predicament was replaced by the solemness of the atmosphere.  She felt like a voyeur, watching Maximus during the rituals of memory and prayer.

Maximus waited silently as if an answer would arrive from out of the ether.  He fervently hoped in his heart that they would be there at the end of his life, his wife Selene and the child, a son he never really had the chance to get to know.  He wanted guarantees, knowing they would never come.  In reality, Maximus had never been frightened of death, it was just another unknown road to be taken.  What he was deathly afraid of was that his experiences, his drive to avenge his family would be all for nought if they were not there to greet him Elysium.

Soft breathing told him to turn around.  There she was, Semira, standing there, simply watching his prayers.  Why her presence did not bother him he could not place his finger upon.  She gazed upon him as he knelt upon the cold stone floor, her dark obsidian eyes studying him carefully.  "Who do you pray to, Maximus?"  The lyrical quality of her voice was still there, but she lowered it almost an octave, giving it a sultry quality.

"I no longer know."

"This I understand.  I once prayed to whatever gods would smile upon me, whatever suited my needs.  I was never really happy....I never had anything or anyone to believe in."

"I talk to my family.  I know this sounds crazy."

"Why?  Because you love them dearly."  Semira's eyes searched his face, reading his troubled spirit as easily as she would a scroll.  "You are scared.  Of never seeing them again."  Semira closed the heavy door behind her.  She stepped across the stone floor, the wood of her ill-fitting shoes rasping against the cobbles.  Semira knelt down beside Maximus.  She could feel the coolness of the stones through her thin shift and shivered slightly.  Facing him, she took his larger, callused hands in hers and held them tightly.  "Maximus, I understand your uncertainty, but if you continue to carry this uncertainty with you, you will not survive."

Maximus felt the heat radiating from her body, her warm hands so tenderly holding his.  How strange for a single moment in time to feel so safe and warm, while the turmoil of his world raged on outside the door.  "I can not tell you what to believe.  But He will welcome your prayers, if you choose to talk to Him."  Belatedly Maximus understood her masculine reference to be to her God, but he was unfamiliar with her faith.  He lowered his eyes visibly, staring at the delicate folds of her hands as they attempted to swaddle his larger ones.  So focused on their clasped hands, he just barely heard her murmuring, "Why did you send for me?"

Maximus swallowed hard.  Should he be completely honest with her, tell her of his attraction, of his dreams so that she could flee from him before he made a massive mistake? "Semira, I want to get you out of here."

"My family is here, Maximus.  I will not leave them."

Maximus forced himself to gaze directly into her eyes.  "You don't understand.  They will put you in the arena, before the gladiatorial matches next week.  You will be torn limb from limb by Proximo's lions and tigers.  You will not be afforded a quick and merciful death, Semira."

"If this is what God wills for me."

"Don't be so naive."

"I took the easy way out for most of my life, Maximus.  I used people just as they used me.  I am not proud of my life.  But I have made my commitment to my God and my family.  I will not give up my second chance to prove myself worthy."  Her stance, her expression pleaded with him to understand.

Maximus suddenly reached out and pulled her face to his.  His powerful arms bulged as he held her there, pressing a savage punishing kiss against her silky lips.  Semira was caught off-guard and fell foward easily into his waiting embrace.  The emotions, all the terror, the passion, the rage, he felt at the situation he now found himself in flowed through the kiss.  Semira's hand cupped his unshaven cheek, her delicate fingertips tracing his strong jaw line as he deepened the kiss.  Thrusting his tongue into her honeyed recesses, Maximus lost himself in the exquisite sensations her mouth had upon his body.

She shivered with pleasure, feeling she had shoved so deep inside so they would never again war with her expected duty, never again would cause her to suffer as she did now.  She mentally berated herself for her weakness, he did the same about his lack of control.  Semira knew it could not continue like this, as much as her body betrayed her by accepting his inquistive mouth upon hers.  She could feel his pain, his loneliness with every caress of his hands upon her shoulders, her back, the lingering of his lips as he nibbled upon her bottom lip, the invasion of his tongue, mimicking the act of love-making on a minor scale.

A few minutes longer and he would dominate her completely.  A few minutes longer and she would let him.

To be continued.........