His body was burning with pain, but Maximus lay still on the blood-clumped sand of his cell and tried to ignore the hundred tiny bruises and cuts that tore at his senses. There was a clamoring as the gates near his head were opened, and then an eerie melody of wailing voices and painful moans as a new group of prisoners were led in.

"Dog food..." one of the gladiators sitting near him snickered. Maximus didn't need to open his eyes to know who the strangers were. In the dark days since he had come to the great Coliseum, he had seen two such groups before. They were followers of a new religious cult...vaguely approximating Mithraism, if he remembered correctly.

The gladiator who had commented earlier emitted a wolfish whistle in the direction of the huddled masses. "Why die a virgin?" he cried bawdily.

At last, Maximus opened his eyes.

It was, as he expected, a frightened, motley looking group of citizens. Mostly women and children, he noted appraisingly- the men had, no doubt, been sorted out for other spectacles. Commodus truly was becoming desperate for "performers."

Maximus's eyes caught on a figure his companion had been hailing, a woman near the center of the group. She seemed different than the others. Her posture was more erect, and her movements more graceful. There was something almost familiar about her...

"Fight you for her!" The heckler offered, following Maximus' gaze before collapsing in peals of laughter at his joking allusion to their profession as gladiators.

Maximus frowned. To so many of the men around him human life, in any form had become worthless. It was true that the general had hacked through as much flesh as any of the others- perhaps more...but it still pained him to see the innocent sacrificed to the emperor's insatiable appetite for carnage.

The prisoner's were led into a cell next to the gladiators, the gate containing them was swung shut just as the gate to Maximus' cell was opened for delivery of the evening meal. There would be no food for the zealots, he thought guiltily, noting the ravenous, pleading faces of the children who pressed against the bars to watch them eat. Many of the gladiator's would die, but they needed their strength to wage the exciting battles that the crowds came to see. The cult members....Christians? ...were merely an opening act- something to fill the time while the spectators found their seats. They need only enough energy to scream as they died. No need to waste the Empire's precious funds on a last meal for the already dead.

Feeling his disgust with Commodus growing by the instant, Maximus put his hand over his bowl and twisted it sideways, pressing it through the iron poles to one of the starving children. The boy-not much younger than Marcus, Maximus noticed with a pang of longing for his lost son- dug into the bowl with both hands, and was quickly fighting away a shuffle of other hollow-cheeked urchins as they fought for the slimy beans.

"Annuis, Marcillia...." A soft, elegant voice broke interceded into the melee, and the children scattered leaving the half-empty bowl lying on the sandy floor.

"Hold out your hands." She directed. Her long white fingers reached into the bowl and removed the beans one by one, giving the children three apiece. The children gulped the morsels voraciously, their eyes clearly begging for more. The woman sat the empty bowl on the floor and a girl- the smallest of the group, scooped it to her lips, licking the filmy residue that remained.

The woman placed a comforting hand on the child's head and then kissed it. At last she acknowledged Maximus.

"Thank you, sir. God will remember your kindness."

Maximus blinked at the sound of the voice, more certain than ever that he knew it from somewhere before- but surely he would remember such a striking woman. She was of medium height and curvy build, with the marble-white skin and strong nose, and even features that personified Roman beauty. Her hair was the same straight, shiny black as the mane of a warhorse. It was tied neatly, but simply at the base of her neck.

He started when he realized that she was staring at him too.

"Maximus....Maximus Meridas?"

The sound of his name, unspoken for so many months was disorienting.

"Yes...who....?"

"Portia Aurasia..." She said breathlessly, excitement coloring her fair cheeks. "Do you remember...."

Maximus exhaled as the memories flooded back. Of course he remembered. How could he forget? She was the daughter of his Commander Porcius Aurasius when he had served as a legate in his first campaign. She was only a little girl when he had last seen her nearly twelve years ago. The change was incredible.

Portia was an only child, the only memory of General Aurasius' beloved wife and, in spite of conventional wisdom and a thousand disapproving relatives, he had insisted on porting her everywhere. To Gaul, Britannia, the far north....Maximus remembered with delight how the bright eyed little girl had woven laurel wreaths for the standard poles, and played at army maneuvers with the motley crew of camp-followers offspring that followed the legions wherever they went. She was her father's constant companion. His love. His life. Could it really be the same Portia...if so, why was she here?

"Portia..." Maximus choked. "What are you doing here? They're going to execute you." The blunt words hung awkwardly in the air.

"One could ask the same of you..." She said softly.

The last I heard, you were the leader of the Felix Legions...he could almost hear her thinking. And the last I knew, you were a patrician princess, heading back to Rome for a suitable marriage and a peaceful life....

Maximus reached through the bars and touched one of her cheeks. Her face looked so open and innocent. He didn't want to burden her with his troubles...but he was bursting with a need to explain himself to someone who would understand...Portia knew about loss.

On a battlefield, near the northern line, he had found the general with an enemy arrow through his heard, his life's blood splattered across the snowy ground- his daughter curled against his motionless form as though dead herself. No one had know how she had found him- which of the sullen nursery slaves had let her wander into the fray- but the full camp had known of her struggle to be let go. Closing his eyes, Maximus could still hear her screams as the heavy cart had lumbered away, carrying her back to Rome and a "proper upbringing for a girl of her status."

Even then she had been strong willed. It didn't surprise him that she would be willing to die for ideals....but for this?

As if reading his thoughts, Portia raised her hand to her cheek, clasping his own. "Too much life has come between this place and Germania."

Their eyes met.

Before he knew it, Maximus was spilling out the whole story...Commodus' treachery, Quintus' betrayal, the fevered, desperate race for Hispania and the carnage he had found there...The night was deep before he reached the end of his voice...and finally, a confession of his quest-His pledge for revenge....

Maximus eyes Portia with a steely gaze, daring her to rebuke him for his desire.

She was silent.

"You will succeed." She said flatly.

He grunted. "This from a pacifist?"

She ignored the taunt. "This from someone who believes in justice--Who will die for it." She smiled at Maximus. "You will do what you must do. We are not so different...I have not changed so much, I still believe that we make our own destinies, just as my father taught me." She tiled her chin upwards, her porcelain skin caught by a ray of moonlight. "What was it that the great Caesar once said., 'The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars, but in ourselves'...perhaps not only fault, but fortune as well."

They spoke late into the night. Sharing stories of the past. Maximus was tired- as was Portia, he could see it in her eyes, but she seemed unwilling to go to sleep. Many of her cellmates joined her wakeful vigil. Viewed against the fabric of eternity, even the dingy cellblocks seemed permeated with earthy beauty.

Too soon, the sun arose, and the sound of chained, locked and unlocked as the guards moved slowly down the block, and the hum of an expectant crowd filled the air.

Maximus watched Portia carefully, she seemed calm, but strain was beginning to show at the corners of her eyes. A frightened murmur went through the group of zealots as the heavy door to the cell was swung open. A heavy, dull-looking man with large leather bracelets herded them outward with a whip.

Maximus watched as the prisoners were herded into the main yard of the gladiator school, toward the underground passages that would lead into the coliseum.

Near the entrance, a handler of exotic beasts was arranging his troupe for exhibition. One of the elephants was frightened, pulling against five me as it fought being forced into the chute which would lead it to the arena floor. Maximus notice the fraying rope around the elephants tether. Then suddenly, as a prisoner reached through the bars to touch the huge mammal's skin, the rope snapped, and the beast hurled, terrified, toward the small clutch of the condemned.

The group of Christians, suddenly unconcerned about the cracking whip, scattered, the frightened guard unable to hold them in place through the panic. They scattered throughout the courtyard away from the stampeding beast. It hurled through a provision cart, passing through the gate, spilling melons onto the paving stones, lodging the gates shut with its shattered hulk.

The prisoner's were not fools. Quickly, they darted toward the shattered wagon, skipping to freedom ...Maximus looked after them, smiling at their fortune....and then he saw her.

Portia and three others stood a few feet from the gate.

"Run!" Maximus cried to Portia, thinking at first that she couldn't hear him. She was standing so still, had she been stunned? Was she afraid of the elephant?...

His heart caught in his chest as she met his eyes, a smile flickered across her lips for a moment, before looking away.

"You there, back in line!" The guard, looking shaken, demanded.

"Run!!!" Maximus screamed again, even as Portia moved docilely back toward the arena. Behind her, the heavy gate was closed at last with an ominous clang.

The path that they followed passed closely to the cells. They lingered there, awaiting their doom with calm, stoic faces.

"Why didn't you run?" Maximus screamed at Portia angrily.

She turned her head, still wearing a sad, distant smile.

"Why won't you fight?"

Portia gave him a final glance as the guard prodded the group back along their way.

"I am fighting, Maximus." She said softly, and then disappeared into the Coliseum.