It was his. All of it.

He considered the notion for a moment. He tried to feel some excitement about the rich soil or the stately, marble-crested, still unexplored villa which perched on the crest of the hill, or even the faint blue rim of the Mediterranean visible at the far western horizon, but it was futile. The only way that he'd managed to survive the last awful few years was to deaden his heart against pain and fear- and now it was too numb even to feel even the strongest excitement.

They should be here...his thoughts flickered toward memories of his wife and son a moment before he forcibly forced the thought away. He would move on. He had too.

His meditations on the dead brought to mind the man to whom, until fickle Fate had intervened, these lands had belonged before him, but he was unable to muster any sympathy. The dead man was lucky. At least his suffering was over.

It should have ended in the Coliseum, in a hail of rose petals with the satisfaction that the warm blood on his hands was Commodus',with the knowledge that the look in the dead foes eyes was one of fear, with the certainty that no one would spare a denarius to pay the Emperor's boatman's fee across the river of the dead. He would swim there in his failure and his defeat. History would drown him in it.

Maximus Decimus Meridas was, apparently, not destined for a glorious end. Fate had been offered many chances to strike him down- on the field of battle, in the dusty arenas, on a slave-cart bound for Africa, but she had taken none. Better, perhaps, to let him waste away in old age and anonymity. The last brush with death had been the closest. He had been standing at the doorway of his old house, the door swinging open, when he had been violently drug to consciousness. More jarring than any swordblow had been his sudden, unwanted return to the living. Images floated through his mind- A soft pillow beneath his head, Lucilla's voice, alternately singing with joy that he was not, as he appeared, already dead, and weeping for his pain, staining his ragged tunic with her tears, and the shadowed faces of Greek physicians weaving in and out of his fevered consciousness. But slowly, the faces had come into focus. He had returned, unhappily to his senses and his health. There was no where to go but forward.

So, now he stood surrounded by fertile fields, a gift from the senate which he had liberated from tyranny, on a hillside too close to Rome to forget that they didn't trust him and were watching him still, with a feeling that Fate had more games left in store.

Springtime had come, and he had rediscovered life. The hillsides of Italy, tame compared to his native Spain, were fertile and lush. Almost overnight, the hillsides had erupted into a mad profusing of tender green leaves and glaring bright buds. The air was filled with their perfume which mingled with the scent freshly turned earth and the salty aroma of the sea. Maximus stood on the steps of his villa and looked over his lands with satisfaction, squinting into the Eastern sun as he noticed a pale horse treading swiftly along the western road. He frowned slightly. For many months now messages had been trickling to him from supporters in the army and in Rome. His former troops sent word, in no uncertain terms, that they had retained their loyalty. Senators too had seen missives. Disgusted with the inability of the government to reach a new equilibrium in the vaccuum left by Commodus' passing, they urged him to step forward and unify Rome- under martial law if necessary.

It was simply too dangerous. Maximus knew that he was being watched- closely. Surely the senators were aware that they were not the only men among their rank who had discerned the former general's popularity among the masses&endash; or the loyalty he inspired within his troops.

Perhaps a few of the letters were, themselves, bait, attempting to draw him into a treason that would, once and for all, leave him discredited. Maximus was too shrewd for their tricks and, perhaps, too tired to be tempted with their offers. He had turned down the opportunity to be emperor once. If anything, he was even more disinclined to accept the position now.

A ray of light spilled through the clouds onto the ghostly horse, and the flash of sunbeam on metal captured Maximus' attention. The rider was drawing closer, and he could discern that the flash had come from a reflection against a bronze breastplate. So, the rider was a military messenger then- one from the regular legions then, who needn't hide his mission. Intrigued, Maximus started down the winding road to meet him. It was only a few moments before their paths crossed, the rider slowing only marginallyand nodding curtly from atop his horse.

"I'm here to see your master." He said sternly. "He is at home?" Maximus frowned for a moment in confusion before he remembered that his rough, knee-length tunic- only practical for a man who made it a daily practice to oversee his fields from horseback- must seem out of character for a noble general so close to Rome.

"He is..." Maximus answered slowly, trying to hide his pique. "And you are...."

"A messenger." The voice was terse. "And I'm on a rather urgent mission. Run ahead to the house and tell them to begin packing the General's bags at once. I'm taking him to Rome."

The man had ceased to look at the "slave" he was addressing, and failed to note the look of concern that flashed acorss his companion's face.

"To Rome?"

"Yes." The man sounded disgusted at the curiosity, but seemed disinclined to staunch it.

"He must appear for a wedding in three days&endash; It's been commanded by the Senate"

"The Senate is commanding wedding attendance these days?" Maximus found it impossible to hide the note of superiority in his voice. "I wonder who's getting married."

The messenger snickered, as if finding the tidbit he was about to deliver particularly delectable. "General Maximus....whether he likes it or not."

The messenger barely noticed as he slipped into the house behind him, only to re-emerge ten minutes later his feet washed and his body swathed in the crisp white linen of his toga.

"General Maximus", the messenger murmured respectfully as he entered the room, apparently unaware that this was the same man whom he had addressed in the fields. "I bring tidings from senator Julius Cecaelianus in Rome."

Barely listening to the rest of the overly flowery introduction, Maximus raced through what he could remember of Drusus Julius Cecaelianus. An older man, almost retired from campaigning by the time that Maximus had joined the army. Nevertheless, a veteran of the wars on the Eastern frontier. He had lived in Judea for a time. A student of eastern language and Greek culture. He had composed a book of reflections on Greek philosophy and its relationship to the Roman ideals. Unhappily married to a string of wives whose maintenance stretched his barely sufficient fortunes to their limits. Arrogant, like all the Julii- lesser or not- and noble. Maximus snorted out loud as he reflected on the aristocratic, patrician sense of entitlement which had cost him a treasured youthful romance- and threatened his ascendancy to the generalship. What could such a blue-blood philosopher want with a New Man general like himself? He was about to find out, Maximus realized as he saw that the messenger was proffering a thin scroll of thinly pressed vellum for his inspection.

Maximus accepted it with a sharp nod of his chin. "You may wait for a reply in the atrium."

The man nodded before melting silently into the house. Maximus began walking toward the orchards as he slowly unrolled the cylinder. Neatly penned lines penned in Greek met his eyes:

General,

It is too long since we last met in the forum. I applaud you for your recent advances in Germania and trust that recent, unfortunate events have not lessened the love of Rome in so honored a son. It is on account of that honor that I now find reason to write. As you know, we are currently without strong leadership in the highest seats of government and, this uncertainty has led to near-paranoia among certain of my contemporaries. That is why I was so disturbed when the enclosed came to my attention. I am sure that you are anxious to keep this from falling into the wrong hands. I am equally certain that we can come to some sort of "understanding" regarding what must be done about it. Please come to my house on or before the Ides of January- I don't think that I can prevent this information from becoming public if you delay. I will be expecting you.

Maximus completely disregarded the elegant imprint of the sigil ring as he unfolded the slip of papyrus tucked within the roll.

And then, he gasped.

The signature was supposed to represent loyalty to Rome, but in the days since Gaius Marius and Sulla- and later the Great Caesar- it had come to symbolize a personal pledge to the general in command. Wise or foolish, the lot of the army was cast with the man who led them- who controlled not only whether they would live or die, but the quality of life that they could expect when they retired. Since the requirement of owning land to serve in the army had been abolished, the rank and file troops had largely been comprised of common citizens, willing to hack through any number of barbarians for a tiny plot to till.

The evidence of his troops regard might have brought Maximus comfort, save one thing. It wasn't supposed to exist.

Upon the death (or retirement) of a General, the paper was immediately burned on an alter to Mars. The contract was ended so that the army could pledge its strength to the ascendant commander. Cold, perhaps, but necessary. Steely determination and certain, unhalting steps were the source of Rome's military strength. Mourning was not a time which they could afford to spend. The Felix legions- among the strongest and most disciplined in the Empire- would have known this. That is why the tidings of the letter were so ominous. They hadn't burned the paper. They had never surrendered their loyalty. Someone, at least among the upper command, had known that he was alive- and let the troops know it.

Quintus? That was the obvious answer, and yet, he had seemed so surprised when Maximus was revealed in the Colisieum. Lucilla? Perhaps, but not along. How would she understand military structure enough to contact the centurions? He shook off the speculation. He would learn soon enough. The pressing problem was acquiring the rest of the document- and destroying it once and for all. In spite of his Senatorial pardon, and the sumptuous surroundings afforded him by the state in exchange for the family and life he once knew, Maximus knew that he had enemies in the Senate. Enemies who would see this paper as evidence that his troops were willing to put Maximus ahead of the Roman people. Evidence, perhaps, that Maximus was laying in wait to return to Rome and claim his place as the next emperor. Maximus could face those consequences- his time on the battlefield and, later, in the Coliseum had numbed him to any physical torture they could imagine. Still, he couldn't bring himself to force that fate on the men who had followed him. He closed his eyes as he remembered their faces, some of them mere boys, smiling up at him from the muddy forests of the north. They would die for him. He must live for them.

Sighing heavily with annoyance, Maximus turned toward the house and called his servant. "Please dismiss the messenger. You may tell him that there will be no formal reply. I will follow him to Rome in two days."

"Rome, domine?" The slave took advantage of Maximus' empathy with his plight to question the order subtly.

"Yes. Begin packing my things at once....I may not return for quite some while."

Maximus swung off his horse just before the gates, and led it to one of the many stables which perched outside the walls. Carriages and wagoncarts were forbidden within the city during the day- and horses were frowned upon. The stables were teaming with people and animals- boarding horses, hiring horses, seeking litters to carry the milk-skinned girls and their mothers to their homes within the walls. Maximus preferred to walk.

It was late February and, since the Great Caesar had set the calendar more or less in line with the seasons, the chill in the air was appropriate. Still Maximus, unused to the bulky woolen folds of his Citizen's toga, was sweltering as he crossed the three miles through the busy streets to the residential districts.

The great homes of the Palatine had been razed to make room for Nero's sumptuous palace- but the elite of Rome were still held separate from the masses. The Julii home, identified by a small engraving in the plain wall which faced the street- no Roman city home had outward facing windows- was more than halfway up a hill in an exclusive district. Maximus noticed with interest that his home was small compared to those which surrounded it. He knocked at the door forcefully and it was almost immediately answered by a heavily-jawed Gallic slave.

"I'm here to see Senator Julius" Maximus said, as the slave eyed the visitor's bundle of belonging suspiciously. "He's expecting me."

"Who shall I say is calling?"

Maximus hesitated. Peversely pleased with the opportunity to cause the Senator a moment of suspicion such as he himself had endured.

"Someone returned from the dead." He answered obliquely.

Displeased with the answer, and eyeing the toga suspiciously, the slave began to back away from the door. "Senator Julius is at the forum and won't return until noon." He said warily.

"You may call again then."

"I'll wait here." Maximus pushed past the startled slave who, although larger than the Roman, was to startled to resist.

All Roman houses had the same floor plan, so it was easy for Maximus to find the atrium where he would wait. The room was devoid of chairs (a rare piece of furniture in any case) and so he began pacing the perimeter of the room inspecting the bright, bawdy frescos that covered the walls. They depicted the Theft of the Sabines- part of the mythical founding of ancient Rome, and Maximus couldn't help smile as his wandering eyes noted that, at least part of the painting had denegrated into the Rape of the Sabines- another part of the story.

"Jullilla! Don't run!" A warm, honeyed voice carried into the room. Maximus spun around as footsteps clattered toward him. He saw a small girl enter the chamber. She was approximately five years old, flaxen haired, with eyes the color of a bronze coin. A ragged looking doll was tucked beneath her arm. She halted suddenly at the stranger in her house, her wide eyes filling almost instantly with frightened tears. Before Maximus could blink, she had dashed beneath the scarlet folds of a tablecloth and out of sight.

"Jullilla?"

Maximus turned again toward the sound of the voice. An young woman, glided slowly into the room. She too halted when she saw the strange man, making a small intake of breath as she took his measure.

She was a slight woman- almost as different from his wife as could be imagined. She was willowy and pale, her neatly plaited and coiled hair a wheaten brown spun through with strands of gold. Her eyes, unlike the child's were a pale seafoam green. His eyes drank her in, too numb to feeling to feel a stirring of desire, but appraising her beauty as he had the fresco.

Maximus searched his memories, recalling the gossip that Senator Julius had a habit of trading his wives in when they got too old to suit his tastes. "Domina?" He asked, inclining his chin slightly.

The woman blinked. As if startled that she was being spoken to.

"Julia Major..." She stammered at last and then, added under her breath almost as an afterthought "I'm too old to be my stepmother."

Maximus caught the joke and laughed. He ought to have known that she was Caecelianus's daughter and not his wife. She was clad all in white, an affectation of the patricians which indicated that their daughters were not yet wed. "Are you looking for someone?" He lifted the hem of the tableskirt and Jullilla- Julia Minor, wriggled deeper into the shadows as she was exposed.

"Come." She breathed sharply to her little sister or, Maximus mused, more likely her half-sister. Crouching beside the table she reached inside and scooped the girl out into the open. Then, with a silent, but searching look backwards at Maximus, she was gone.

"General Maximus?"

Maximus turned to see yet another woman. Where the two Julia's had been fair and slender, she was rounded and dark. Her wide, almond shaped eyes had a purple cast, and they seemed somehow hooded by the glossy black lashes and matching hair. A glance at her smooth, unlined skin and small, smooth hands indicated that she was even younger than Julia major, but the wry, saucy smile on her over-full lips, and appraising glimmer in her look gave her an air of worldliness beyond her years.

"Yes." He answered slowly, after he recovered from the shock of contrast and realized that she was, indeed, addressing him. "Domina?" He surmised, more certain than before.

"You may call me Vatia." She laughed lightly, her voice twinkling off the cool mosaic tiles, before casting him another look, as if measuring the effect of her girlish display.

Vatia crossed the floor toward her guest, and extended her arm toward his toga. "You must be tired after your long journey." She said deeply, her voice gushing sympathy. "Per haps you would rather wait in a bedroom?" She teased, pausing unnaturally after the word, as if waiting for him to respond to her obvious flirtation with a suggestion his own, or, at minimum, a merry salvo of some sort.

Maximus blinked.

Annoyed, by unswayed, Vatia changed tactics, "Some food then?" She turned away. "It may be some time before my husband returns from the forum....Duty to his country and all that. Perhaps a glass of wine."

"Water."

She nodded, looking over her shoulder to glance at a slave Maximus hadn't noticed before who promptly skittered away in the same direction of the Julia's.

It seemed as though Vatia was about to speak again when Maximus cut her off.

"Lady Juliana." his voice was gruff. "I have no need of entertainment. I'm sure that you have more pressing concerns. to attend...."

"Perhaps I WANT to entertain you?" Again, she paused and looked at him archly, seeking appreciation of her double entendre. "It's so exciting to meet you...I must admit...I'm something of a fan." She imitated shyness, dropping her heavy lashes very low over the violet eyes.

Maximus found it hard to restrain a grunted laugh. "Indeed Domina? Forgive me. I find it hard to picture a woman such as yourself following the military reports."

"I was referring to your...more recent feats."

The General's hands clenched at his sides, fighting to contain the rebuke which threatened to spill out. Foolish girl. He boiled internally, easily picturing Vatia sprawled across a cushion in a shaded box, flirting with Tribunes while he clawed frantically to life for her amusement.

They would not be friends.

Luckily, Maximus was spared the necessity of a response as, at that instant, Julius Caecilianus himself entered the chamber trailed by the Gaul who had given Maximus entrance into the house.

Julius was well past his prime, but he was the odd sort of man whose youthful beauty shone through his aged skin, as if waiting just beneath, a blinding smile transforming his middle-aged body for just an instant into the shade of the man he must once have been. His hair, like Julia Minor's was a cap of wavy gold. His eyes were also light, and they shone shrewdly as they noted, with interest the relative expressions of Maximus and his wife.

"Drusus!!!" She lunged suddenly toward her husband, clasping his forearm excitedly and pressing it against her overfull bosom as she led him across the room. "This is General Maximus. He was telling me about the campaigns in Germania." Maximus made a mental note of the fluidity with which she lied. "I wasn't expecting you home until dinner."

"Verrix told me that our guest had arrived. " He replied gesturing slightly toward the slave and without meeting his wife's gaze. "Now leave us Vatia. We have much to discuss."

"But--"

Vatia made her fists into tight balls and stiffened her spine as though she were preparing for a pout, but noting the serious expression on both the men's faces an released, gliding sullenly out of the chamber.

When she was gone, the two men met each other's gazes steadily.

"Now." Julius began, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he reached for the bottle of wine- NOT water- that the slave had returned with. He poured a glass , diluting it with a token splash of water before retrieving a salt cake from a small cabinet and placing them both before the shrine to the household lares. "A sacrifice to new endeavors." He said smugly, before pouring another glass of wine for himself. "You are going to make me the next Emperor of Rome."

"whatever you're planning, I won't help you."

"You said you wouldn't fight in the arena either...." Julius crossed the room slowly, his finger catching a dribble of wine, which had spilled, down the edge of his golden goblet before passing to the window. "...or was I misinformed."

Maximus remained silent, unnerved by the casual arrogance, which Caecilianus seemed to wield so effortlessly. He had only been in his presence for a few short moments, but could already deduce a great deal of the man's style. He was different than other foes that the general had faced. More cunning than the Gauls, more subtle than the Gladiators, more studied than Commodus. His methodical build up to whatever he was going to suggested planning, a sharp sense of observation and, very likely, a keen sense of intelligence. A man who knew his limits-That, Maximus mused, might be the most dangerous characteristic of all.

"What do you want from me, Drusus?" Maximus spat, inflecting the man's common name to bluff unimpressed familiarity.

The older man smiled, taking another sip of wine, holding the liquid on his lips to savor its flavor before drinking down. "Not a patient man, are you?"

"I've been too close to death too often to waste the time I have left mincing words. Tell me what you want so that I can go home."

"But you aren't going home, general. Not until you do me a favor."

"What?"

Julius turned away again, pacing the room in a manner that, on any other man would look like uncertainty. "There was another Julius from long ago....a Julius Caesar- " Julius made a sweeping gesture with his hand. "The father of his country." He said with a flourish before turning back toward his guest. "Julius Caesar who first unified the country under a single man. Who finally showed that a single strong leader was worth a thousand squabbling senators."

"That's you're plan? Dissolving the senate again? Marcus Aurelius died so that wouldn't happen."

"Marcus Aurelius was-" He stopped, swallowing hard as though cleansing his mouth of unpleasant words. "- was a foolish old man who didn't know how many fat Italian Dandies-who cared more about finding the perfect Tygerian purple for their toga than the rabble of Rome- had strewn together enough land to slip past the censors. I'm not talking about tyranny. I'm talking about leadership- you are a general of Rome. Surely you can appreciate the elegance of a chain of command."

"My armies wanted to be led."

Julius took another gulp of wine, frowning for a moment as he parsed through a few uncomfortable thoughts, and then worked his way back through the spectrum of emotions until he had mustered another dazzling smile.

"Which is precisely where you come in."

"You expect me to march on Rome?"

"I expect you to march AWAY from Rome."

Maximus frowned. It was too easy. "That's all?"

"Almost all." Julius grinned. "Tell me, do you remember the story of the Gold of Tolosa?"

Maximus nodded. It was a familiar story to any Roman child- the rumor (now legend) of how Servilius Caepeonis had raided a trove of Druidic gold for the Roman treasury, only to steal a large portion of it for himself at the cost of many Roman lives. "Of course...what are you getting at."

"The riches of Tolosa were rumored to be almost incalculable., A hundred wagon loads of gold and silver."

"Enough to buy a kingdom."

"Or an Empire." Julius smiled thinly.

"Too bad its only a legend...or so long gone, or long squandered by the Caepeonis family that even you could never get it back."

"Oh, I don't want the Gold of Tolosa..." He reached into a small niche in the wall and drew out a scroll. Maximus could see that it was the loyalty pledge of which he had been sent a corner.

"...I want the gold of Albercore."

Maximus frowned, looking at the legal document. "I don't understand. I-"

Julius turned the paper over and Maximus gasped. It was a map, hastily sketched and edged with the scratch-like symbols he instantly recognized from his travels to the north. He could only translate a few words, but it was clear that Julius wasn't lying. It described riches that defied belief- a cave filled with sacred treasures offered in sacrifice to the great goddess.

"You actually believe this scratching...a fantasy nothing more."

"That was what your centurion Gaius Vacchus' friend's thought when they found this document on his body the night he died...better to sell this scroll for the price it could bring in blackmail money than shove of into parts unknown....but then, I've a client or two in the banking industry in Crete."

"And."

"And, Gaius Vacchus died with almost a hundred talents-in solid gold."

Maximus gasped. The amount was far from vast, but for a mere soldier, with no land or family to speak of, the sum was enormous.

"How do I fit in."

"You possess resources I do not. A knowledge of the northern frontier, a veteran army that can fend of any resistance you might face- and the faith of men who can lead you back. You can have half- as much as you can spend in a lifetime. There will be plenty left for me."

"Why should I help you?"

"It's my map."

"What if I don't want your gold."

Julius flipped the paper back over. "It's also my scroll."

Maximus met the senator's gaze evenly. "And why should that matter."

The elder man leered with superiority. "Because you tell yourself Maximus Decimus Meridas, that you have nothing left to lose, but that's a lie. You still have your honor. You still have your will to live. You still have your will to fight. Rome can strip away your lands, your family and your dignity, but they cannot rob you of your nature. You are as bound to dignitas as the men who signed this scroll. You will not betray them."

Maximus took a deep breath, running his finger along the scroll. It was true. He couldn't betray these men. They were the only semblance of family he had left...Besides, in spite of the unpalatable circumstances in which the journey was presented, Maximus knew that he wanted to return to the army, that he wanted to return to the life of structure and order that he had come to depend on before his world collapsed.

"How do I know you won't kill me when you get what you're after...why not buy TWO empires?"

"You will simply have to trust me."

Maximus snorted at the thought.

"No? I anticipated as much....then perhaps we will have to trust each other. I will have my spies." He said evenly. "And you will have yours. As a token of good faith, I will allow you to marry my daughter. If anything happens to you...you may leave instructions that Julia Major is to be killed as well."

"You're show of fatherly devotion is touching."

Julius frowned. "More, I think, than you may know. Julia is dangerously close to becoming an old maid. She thinks too much for her own good. If getting out of Rome doesn't clear her mind of her silly ideas, then at least a stint with the army will teach her enough about a woman's place to be presentable by the time you bring her back to Rome and divorce her."

"I don't want your daughter."

"I wasn't presenting the matter as a choice."

There was a brief moment of silence. Maximus studied the paper beneath his hands, achingly conscious of the many lives that would be affected by his decision. For a long time, he had been afforded the comfort of action without thought.

"I'll go." He said at last. His voice traced with resignation.

Julius slapped his hand against his thigh gleefully. "Excellent. I knew you'd come around. " Before Maximus could blink, Julius had seized the scroll and tucked it under his arm. "Now, if you will excuse me, I'll send a slave to show you to your room. I need to get ready for dinner- " Another flash of teeth "All this scheming is making me hungry."

No, it was something deeper, he decided at last. A need to be needed. After so many years of following the whims of Fate, he was powerless to finally release her grasp. A march to the north would bring, if nothing else, a sense of purpose to his life- A reason to move forward rather than lingering in a dream of the past.

Maximus closed his eyes and thought back to his days in the army...the campaign when he had first marched with the Septus Legions, a humble farmer lost amidst the flashes of scarlet and bronze. He could still remember the smell of the horses and the scent of oiled leather at the start of each season. He could almost hear the endless, buzzing noise of clanging gladius' and staccato hoofbeats that filled the nights in camp. He could taste crisp, icy water of the Alpine springs where he knelt to drink and-

"General Maximus?"

His reverie was snapped by the soft tones of a feminine voice. Julia Major was standing in the doorway. He had lost track of time. The sun was beginning to set now, and the golden light of the courtyard shone into the room behind the woman, silhouetting her figure against the arch, the fading rays catching the gold in her hair like a halo.

"Yes?"

"Tata wanted me to bring you to dinner." She said softly, the endearing term for her father sounding contrived.

"I'm not hungry."

She did not reply, merely shrugging and walking away. Maximus stood for a few more moments in the rapidly darkening room and then sighed, and followed her into the hall.

The dinner was interminable. Aside from her voluptuous figure and lascivious appetites, Vatia's sole distinguishing characteristic was her utter inability to say anything intelligent. Oblivious to this fact, she chattered incessantly thoughout dinner, pausing only long enough to punctuate her insipid remarks with laughter and a toss of her glossy hair so that she could survey her effect on her male audience.

Julius was patronizing, patting her thigh through the filmy tunica she had worn to dinner. The slaves looked frightened, and Julia Major, marooned to the far end of the table in a straight-backed chair, looked bored and detached. The food was unexceptional. It was a typical late winter meal of dried fruits, fish, and game smothered in pungent garum. The wine was the centerpiece of the meal, and Julius and his wife imbibed freely, tempering their wine with the merest drop of water. The velvety liquid was rapidly taking effect, and Maximus fidgeted uncomfortably as his hosts pawed each other under a blanket on the broad brocaded dining couch which the trio shared. The desert- a flat cake made with figs and dipped in honey- had been cleared long ago. It was time for bed, but the amorous couple made no move to leave. After a long, awkward silence, Julia pushed back her chair.

"It's nearly midnight." She said tersely. "I'm going to rest."

"I haven't dismissed you." her father growled billigerently.

"I have not intention of waiting until you pass out drunk. I'm tired." She rise swiftly and turned toward the door.

"Wait!" Her father boomed.

The suddenness, and the volume of Julius Caecilianus' voice startled his daughter back into her chair.

"I've something to tell you Julia." He said smugly.

With difficulty, the eldest Julius extricated himself from Vatia's arms. Arranging his toga as he pushed back the blanket and arose from the couch, he met his daughter's eyes.

"I have good news for you my daughter. I've caught a husband for you at last."

Maximus scrutinized the woman's expression, carefully noting the cycle of emotions which flashed through her elegant grey-green eyes. Terror. Curiosity. Defiance.

There was a moment of silence, even Vatia momentarily hushed with surprise at the announcement.

"Oh?" Julia asked at last. Her raised pitch undermining her carefully casual tone.

"Yes." He turned toward his guest and gestured with an unsteady hand, "General Maximus has agreed to take you off my hands."

There was another long pause. Julia looked slowly from her father to the proffered husband. Her eyes were questioning. Do you really want me? They seemed to ask. Maximus looked away. Julia was still for a few moments more.

"No." She said finally. "I will not marry him."

"No?" Julius echoed, incredulous.

"No." She stiffened her spine, stretching her small body to its peak height.

Julius' cheeks, already flushed from wine, deepened crimson. "Ungrateful girl!" He spat, striding angrily toward his daughter. "How dare you defy me? Here in my own house in front of my guest! I am your paterfamilias. If I tell you to marry general Maximus, you will marry him!"

"No." She said again, sounding less certain. Even from across the table, Maximus could see that the girl had begun to tremble, but she held her ground.

"I AM YOUR FATHER!!!" Julius bellowed again. "By law, I could kill you for your insolence."

He was almost on top of her now, and Julia arched her back to gain a few precious inches of space.

"Then I will have to die." She said quietly.

There was a blinding flash of silver in torchlight as Julius raised his half-drunk wine. With a sickening sensation, Maximus realized what his drunken host was about to do. He jumped from the couch, but it was too late. Caecilianus' hand flew through the air and, with a terrifying thud, the goblet hit Julia square in the jaw, sending the girl sprawling onto the tile floor. Julius blinked, dazed from the exertion.

"Stupid brat!" Vatia's mocking voice and icy laughter broke the stunned stillness. "Come Drusus..." She crossed the floor to where he stood and took him by the arm, leading him quietly away. Her voice echoed back to the dining room as they walked away. "Let the slaves clean up the mess."

Maximus crossed the room to where Julia was still slumped upon the floor, before he could reach her, a kindly looking old slave swooped into the room and cradled Julia's battered head in her arms.

She was conscious, Maximus noted with relief. Julia still hadn't begun to cry, although tears were clearly brimming at the corner of her eyes. The snowy skin along her jaw was marred by a vibrant streak of red which, no doubt, would turn purple in the night. He looked at her unhappily, feeling partially responsible for her fate.

Needing to help, if only to appease his conscience, Maximus took another step forward but the old slave waved him away.

"Please go." Julia whispered hoarsely.

Reluctantly, he obeyed.

The violence didn't bother him. He had seen far harsher and cruder punishments exacted upon the innocent. It was the source of the danger that troubled him. He could not understand Caecilianus' actions as a father, as a man...

Maximus shook the thought away. He wanted to help Julia because she was helpless. He believed in justice, nothing more.

With a final failed attempt to shut his eyes and rest, Maximus heaved himself from the bed. Inaction was driving him crazy. If he was ever going to be rid of Julius, he had to do somthing now.

Maximus retrieved his toga from its neatly folded perch on the floor and slid it around his shoulders like a cloak as left his chamber. The icy floors of the hallway bit at his toes. The house was designed to be heated by steam from an underground furnace. An empty space beneath the floors allowed scalding air to heat the house from below. With the price of wood inflated from political intrigue, the vents had been directed to warm only the family sleeping chambers. In the morning, the public areas and the passageways surrounding the atrium would be warmed with braziers. For now, Maximus could only wrap the toga more tightly around his broad shoulders and quicken his steps.

He had to leave. Tonight. Surely word of his return to Rome had already begun to spread. Tomorrow he would go to the home of Aelius Tarsus, his comrade from the second Germanian campaigns, and begin sending word to his men. Together, they could take Julius' map and set off without interference.

Silently, the general stole into Caeclianus' study. The room had been tidied by a slave and neatly stowed in slots set into the plaster wall. He peered at them, squinting to read by the moonlight which filtered in from the hall. Lighting a candle might alert a slave to his presence. He would have to open a window.

Tucking a bundle of papyrus rolls beneath his arm, Maximus walked to the window, silently unhitching the latch and easing the shutter free.

He gasped, almost dropping the scrolls.

The window looked over the small gardens, and he could see a rippling of white silk in the steady wind. It was Julia Major. Her head resting awkwardly on the statute of a nymph which held court amidst the greenery, her skin nearly as pale as her dress.

Forgetting his task, Maximus allowed the papers to tumble to the floor. He sprinted back into the hall and across the paving stones to where the girl lay.

"Julia!" He said urgently, shaking her shoulder to see if she were even still alive.

It was unnecessary, she was awake. He guessed that she had come to the garden after dinner. She was crying at last, the thin tears frosting on her cheeks. "Go..." She whispered piteously. "Let me...let me...."

"Die?" Maximus said, suddenly angry.

"It's the only way that I can get away."

To a man who had lived through more pain than he dared to remember, her surrender was unconscionable. He had pegged her for a fighter, and felt a strong sense of dissappointment in the prospect that he might be wrong. Ignoring her request to be let alone, Maximus wrapped Julia carefully in the wooly toga, and began rubbing her shoulders to bring color back to the icy blue skin.

"That isn't true." He said as he smoothed the fabric over her skin. "You do have a choice. You could come with me."

Julia recoiled from his touch. "You're just like him." She said contemptuously. "You're furthering his schemes."

"That isn't true." Maximus said, patiently. "I don't admire your father, or his tactics, but we both have something the other wants...for now."

Julia eyed him carefully. "Me?" Julia asked plaintively, and then frowned as she saw the answer in his face.

Maximus sighed, his blue eyes growing distant. "No. I....I was married before..." His voice faltered briefly. "...long ago. It was....enough. Enough to last a lifetime."

Maximus finished tucking the toga around her shoulders. And stood, scooping her tiny body up in his arms. "It's not that I don't want you, Julia. I don't want anyone."

He carried her back to her room in silence, settling her onto the soft sleeping couch before replacing the scratchy toga with a silken quilt. Turning to leave, he lingered at the doorway, measuring his words carefully before he spoke.

"You may choose whether to stay or go. I can't promise to love you, Julia..." He met her eyes for a long, searching moment. "...but I can make you free."

The next morning dawned bright and clear. An early frost lingered on the sparse greenery, but the rapidly rising sun promised to chase away the chill. Maximus was anxious to begin the day.

He had failed to obtain the map from Julius' study, but he still planned to meet with Aelius and to contact his men. He looked forward to hearing the "word on the street" regarding his hosts ambition. Often- too often in Maximus' opinion- the ruling elite discounted the opinion of the headcount (as the landless citizens of the empire were sometimes called) as undereducated hysteria. As a military man, Maximus had learned that the men who performed the day to day business of the army had an uncanny ability to see to the heart of a situation and call things by their proper names. Even if that were not the case, what the foot soldiers- and common citizens of Rome- lacked in wit, they more than compensated for in sheer numbers. Not even the Praetorians would deny the mob their free bread or holidays. Even Commodus had understood this. Maximus would not underestimate them.

He strode quickly down the hill, the streets growing ever more crowded as he approached the Subura. Maximus smiled to himself as he passed anonymously through the crowd. How quickly they forget, he thought as he slid through the faces of the mob that had once cheered merrily for his death.

Large apartment buildings, called insulae, soon began to rise on either side of the street, blocking out the warming sun. Maximus stopped at a cross-street, worried that he had lost his way, and then smiled when he saw what he was looking for.

The sign outside the nondescript doorway which Maximus entered proclaimed it to be the meeting hall of a burial club- one of the ubiquitous societies which had sprung up among the poor to provide a sort of self-insurance for the important final journey across the River Styx- but inside, it was a roaring saloon, peopled by the club members, as well as friends and a straggler or two from along the street. Even at mid-morning, the wine flowed freely, and more than one patron was sprawled out across the floor. The sign at the door also revealed a peculiar characteristic of this "crossroad college" as they had come to be called because of their typical placement at the intersection of two streets- it was a club peopled almost entirely by members of the legions. Although the tatoo which had once symbolized Maximus' place among these men had long ago been replaced by a broad white scar, his military bearing and projection of confidence allowed him to enter unchallenged. Maximus strode confidently to the front of the room, flipping a bronze coin onto the counter in front of the man pouring wine from tall amphorae and confidently ordering a drink.

Maximus had no intention of getting drunk- but he had no intention of drawing attention to himself either. Anonymity was too precious a commodity in these paranoid times- especially for Maximus. A drink was quickly supplied, and he cupped it between both hands, stirring it in a slow circle before raising it to his tightly closed lips. He repeated the charade for nearly an hour before the man that he was waiting for entered the room.

Tertius Hortentius was an ox of a man, nearly a head taller than Maximus's own imposing height. His left eye had been lost in battle during his fifth campaign, and the disfigurement made his look like a lumbering cyclops as he entered the college to a hail of greetings. Maximus waited until the giant had waded his way through the throng to the drink stand before tossing a bronze coin on the flat surface in front of him. "A drink for my friend."

Tertius turned his head sharply, not recognizing his benefactor. "And who are you?" He said roughly.

"A comrade in arms." Maximus answered, nonplused, leaning closer he whispered, "A fellow member of the Felix legions. One who has received your letters and has much to talk about."

The single eye widened, truly seeing the man at last. "General!"

He was quickly hushed. Maximus tugged on his broad arm and led him to a secluded table.

Tertius threatened to bubble over with exclamations of joy- his gruff facade stripped away in the presence of his admired leader, but Maximus was determined to keep him focused. He might be a guest in Julius Caecilianus' home, but there were still plenty of enemies afoot. Quickly, Maximus detailed what his host proposed to do- intentionally omitting the senator's possession of the loyalty bond. He waited for his companion's analysis.

"It makes sense. " Tertius said at last. "Money is the new key to power here in Rome. The Praetorian's have tried to set up a military oligarchy, but the Senate has refused funding to allow them to maintain control outside the city proper. The Senate, on the other hand, can raise and army outside the city, but no one is brave enough to bring them inside of Rome. Basically, the Praetorians are auctioning the country to the highest bidder- it's a race to see who will be the first to raise the kind of money they are asking for."

Maximus frowned, Caecilianus' plan was beginning to make sense. "What do you know of Julius Caecilianus?" He asked quickly.

Tertius frowned. "I don't." He shrugged. "He's a fairly minor senator- high ambitions, if you believe his story about being descended from the Julio-Claudians, but not enough money to be taken seriously..."

"Until now..."

His laughed. "You aren't seriously thinking of helping him!"

"What choice do I have? At least at first..." At last, he disclosed the original purpose of the scroll.

Tertius looked concerned, but unbowed. "It doesn't matter...There isn't a man who signed that list that wouldn't swear loyalty to you again with the whole Praetorian guard looking on....there's got to be something more."

Maximus shook his head. "I keep thinking that myself- maybe its just a hunch." He forced a laugh. "Maybe I just want to ran the lot of you back up to Germania to run the fat off your bones." He took a brief sip of the wine and grimacing at its sour taste. "Maybe its just a hunch...Nothing is certain in this city anymore. I want to be as far away from Rome as possible."

"And if you do find the gold....."Tertius probed gently.

Maximus blinked having never really considered the implications of what he could do if the money were his own. "I don't know...I really don't know."

The expression on Aelius Tarsus's face was far different than what the general had expected as his old friend scurried into the atrium to receive him. Much to the surprise of the few clients which lingered in the hall, the ruddy-faced senator latched onto the side of his guests arm and wheeled him away into the gardens, shutting the heavy curtain behind them with a dramatic swoosh.

"It's good to see you again too." Maximus said calmly, suppressing his amazement at the difference in his good friend since last they had met. Aelius Tarsus been his friend since his early Germanian campaigns, and helped to organize Maximus' abortive attempt to escape the coliseum. He had always been a noble- with a noble's peculiar interest in money and self-preservation, but he had never been a coward. The sudden change was unnerving.

"Are you crazy?" There was an edge of panic in Tarsus's voice as he hoisted his chubby body to its maximum height and craned his neck over the wall, scanning the streets anxiously.

"They're everywhere! If they see you here?"

"They, Aelius?"

"The Praetorian's of course!" x shuddered at the word, as if voicing a curse. "Maximus, how could you do this to me?"

Maximus ignored his friend's whimpering. "The Imperial Guard is nothing to fear. A conspiracy takes three people." He chuckled slightly. "And the shape their ranks are in these days, I doubt that you could find a Praetorian who agreed with himself." He hoisted one leg onto a garden bench and began adjusting his sandal. "Besides, that's not why I'm here. I need you to send a message for me..."

"No!" Tarsus wrung his hands, looking again to the garden wall. "They came here the last time you suddenly appeared in Rome." He said, referring to the general's startling unmasking in the Coliseum. "They'll finish me if they catch me with you again..." He began shepherding Maximus to the doorway. "Now please...my slave can wrap you in a stola and sneak you out the back door...if you're lucky."

"- If I were lucky, I wouldn't be in this situation. Aelius, I'm asking you for help."

Tarsus signed, looking down at his jewel encrusted hands. "I can't..." He moaned. "Since word got out that you'd arrived in Rome, they've been following your steps like hawks. A rumor's started that you're gathering your army to march on the city."

"That's a lie!"

"But it's still the rumor....Maximus, please. For both our sake's...go back to your farm...go back to Hispania...just...just GO!"

They looked at each other for a long moment. "Alright...." the general said at last, shaking his head. "I'll go...but you can do at least one thing for me. Tertius, my old centurion, is coming to your house tonight expecting a reply to the message that I wanted sent. Give him some money and tell him to ride ahead. If things really ARE as bad as you've said, I don't want him waiting around."

Looking unhappy, Aelius Tarsus nodded his head....at least it would make Maximus go away.

The walk back to the Julii house seemed to take three times longer than the walk down. Aelius Tarsus' agitation was contagious and, in spite of his better sensibilities, Maximus found himself looking compulsively over his shoulder....not that a member of the Imperial Guard could pass nearby unnoticed. Whenever they rode into a square, the populace scattered like chickens in the path of wolves. He was dismayed at the pall which seemed to hover over the city...He had killed Commodus and freed them of a tyrant- but was it for the best? At least under the Emperor, the danger was known. Now new terrors seemed to lurk behind every doorway.

Maximus wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a night of untroubled sleep.

It was not to be.

Maximus did a double take as he arrived outside the front door of Caecilianus' home. A black stallion was waiting there, pawing the ground restlessly but held in place by a nervous looking slave. After a long afternoon of looking for, but not seeing, the tell-tale mounts of the guards, it was jarring that one should appear where it was least expected.

Or wasn't it? Maximus stared momentarily at the beast. Suddenly, pieces of the Julius Caecilianus puzzle fell into place. Of course he had a conspirator within the Praetorian ranks- Why else would he be daring enough to house General Maximus within the walls of the city? Maximus took a step forward before pausing again. Perhaps he was reading the situation improperly. It was equally likely that the guards had spotted him at X's and waited here to arrest him. Deciding to take the risk, Maximus stepped inside.

Maximus walked toward the center of the house. He could hear two men- Caecilianus and his guest- speaking in the study. He prepared to enter the room, standing just outside the doorway when suddenly, an arm snaked from behind the heavy curtain hiding a service passage. It grasped his tunic and drawing him back into the velvet-shrouded darkness. Maximus started to cry out, but a soft voice shushed him urgently.

The voices in the study fell momentarily silent. There were a few steps toward the passage...and then they started again.

"...but I don't like it Caecilianus- it's dangerous. You haven't seen what that man can do!"

"I *HAVE* Arramus. That's precisely why he's here. Everyone's so afraid of his popularity that no one can see it's use he.....oh, yes." There was a shuffling sound and the clatter of the rough sandals worn by servants on the mosaic floor. The faint chiming sound of liquid and glass could be heard as wine was poured.

Maximus used the brief diversion to twist around in the blackness to see who had accosted him. In the semi-darkness, lessened only by high, slit-like windows provided for ventilation, he could make out the delicate features of Julia Major. She was ignoring him, her ears craned toward the tablinium, where her father was meeting with his guest.

"Its Arramus!" She said under her breath without moving her head. When the name provoked no response she added. "A Captain in the Praetorian Guards....a leader of one of the factions..." She fell silent again as the slave's footsteps exited the tablinium. She clutched Maximus's arm fearfully as the steps seemed to head in their direction, and then released it slowly as her father began to speak again.

"As I was saying...no one seems to appreciate the possibilities that the man presents. His friendship could mean the allegiance of the headcount."

"I'm not interested in rabble."

"You would be if you were smart. Getting power isn't the trouble- its keeping it. It's money that will win over the nobles- but bread and circuses for the men on the street."

There was silence again. "But I still don't see how he helps. He'll never agree to sway them to our side."

"He doesn't have to...Once the public sees him as aligned with us, it doesn't matter what his true feelings are...He will leave Rome in your company as soon as spring settles in and that will be the last they know. I'll publicize letters from the general praising your courage and loyalty- he won't be in Rome to dispute them."

"And how may I ask, will the public see General Maximus as aligned with us. Everyone is suspicious of your plan. They all suspect that the general is acting under duress."

"That will change shortly....I've arranged for General Maximus to marry my daughter."

"Julia?" Arramus' voice was surprised. "Julia Major?" Maximus noted a distinct iciness to the renewed silence which followed.

"Come now, my friend. You have to admit- it's brilliant...."

"I thought we had an understanding---"

The elder man sighed.

"You're giving your daughter to a provincial slave."

Caecilianus chuckled lowly, and the began to speak in a voice that sounded like a leer " Oh quit moaning. I'm sure that she'll have some bounce left when the good General's through with her...poor little widow- probably fall right into your arms."

Julia made a sound of indignation..

Through the small opening at the edge of the curtain, Maximus saw the back of the man he assumed was Arramus step toward the window, sipping wine. Still hackled, the man growled back at his host. "When do we begin?"

"Next Friday...if the auspices are good."

"Oh, I imagine they will be... now about our contacts in---"

Both eavesdroppers leaned forward, straining their ears toward the voice. They were so intent that they failed to hear footsteps behind them.

"JULIA!"

Julia and Maximus spun around to the angry face of the ancient slave who had tended Julia's face. The woman's hands were resting on her hips, her lips drawn together in a thin line. "What is the meaning of this...if your father---"

Before she could finish, the curtain between the passageway and the atrium was flung open. Caecilianus himself, as well as his guest, were hovering over them, their faces like dark clouds. Julius drug his daughter forward , nearly flinging her to the ground before Maximus stepped in front of her protectively.

"What is this?" Julius bellowed.

Maximus opened his mouth to speak, but before words could come out, Julia had prostrated herself at her father's feet.

"Oh, tata..." She moaned, her tone uncharacteristically meek and childlike. "I'm so embarrassed...."

"Embarrassed?!?" Julius thundered. "Spying on your father and EMBARRASSMENT is what you feel?"

"S...spying?"

Maximus blinked, momentarily convinced himself in Julia's innocence. "I...tata...I..." She looked toward Maximus and blushed a furious red. "We were...I mean....since...."

"Out with it!" Julius barked.

Julia took a deep breath. "The general was....was making love to me."

Julius stared as his daughter continued talking. "...I didn't hear you and then Graine came and startled us and...." plump teardrops- looking astonishingly natural- welled up in her eyes. "Oh, tata! PLEASE forgive me...I thought that...since we were getting married anyway..."

"If I recall our conversation correctly, that was not your intention last night."

Julia blushed again. "Well..." She said coyly. "...that was before last night."

Caecilianus was dumbfounded, his face revealed no trace of suspicion at her explanation. Arramus too seemed convinced. He glowered at his "rival"- a look that would shoot arrows if it could.

Julia continued the charade, busily straightening her hair and clothing as if erasing the signs of the general's uncapped passion.

At last, the elder man found his voice. He gave Maximus a look of steely determination. "You  WILL marry my daughter tomorrow night!" With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared back into the tablinium with his accomplice, directing his daughter, and her nurse back to their rooms.

Maximus struggled to supress a smile.Very quick on her feet this Julia Major...Maximus thought as he looked approvingly over his future wife. That could be a very useful thing to know.

Still Next Friday, if they WERE going to leave next Friday, didn't give him much time to prepare. In spite of the political intrigue, there was still the day to day business of feeding and transporting and army to prepare for....arranging the money to pay for those supplies might be the most daunting task of all.

In the olden days, before Gaius Marius and Julius Caesar, the legions were peopled with landowners who could supply their own arms and supplies. Slaves by the thousands would accompany their owners into battle, bearing water and raising the camps...but all that had changed when the headcount was admitted to service. Maximus, for one, was grateful for the change. He was from a mildly prosperous but damningly provincial family. His chances of rising through the ranks of the army would have been non-existent under the old regime. The "professional" army marched for money- decent wages, a share of plunder, and a small patch of land to retire upon. Maximus hoped that a share of the gold, if it did exist, would be enough to line up a sizeable advance.

His first stop was to visit the stables outside of the city walls, carefully sorting through the offerings to select mounts which would survive the endless march, changing vegetation, and uncertain weather in the march to the north. He was an experienced horseman, as concerned about the personality of the beast as much as the sheen on its coat. He had seen imposing specimens falter on the battlefield...Spirit was the key.

The general would buy most of the food along the road, at least until they passed beyond the "core" regions- areas which had been held by the Empire for so long that they were barely distinguishable from the Italian countryside. Rome was a city of imports- and the prices reflected it. Grain and other provisions, fresher as well as cheaper, could be procured during their march.

Weapons presented another challenge. The Empire's internal struggles had not gone unnoticed by the barbarian tribes. Throughout the winter, the Senate had received reports of attacks on Roman cities and forts along the frontier and encroachment on Imperial territory. It would be suicide to march north under anything less than full arms. Certainly , in the current political climate, no one in Rome was going to be willing to sell cartloads of weapons to Maximus Decimus Meridas- at least not for the price he was able to pay. He hoped that his men had been able to save and maintain most of their equipment from the earlier campaigns.

As the sun began to set, Maximus started back to the residential district. He was tired, but doubted that he would sleep. He would spend the night alone at the home of Gaius Aelius- a wealthy merchant client of Caecilianus- who was away in Persia tending business affairs. It would be inappropriate to stay in the Julii household tonight. Already, Julia Major was being prepared for the wedding. In the morning, after Maximus left, she had appeared in her father's tablinium to present him with her toys- long since passed to Jullilla- and her toga praetexta, symbolically setting aside her childhood. This evening, perhaps even as Maximus walked home, a widow who had only been married one time, a univira, would arrive at the home and assist in ritually bathing and dressing Julia before explaining to her the "mysteries of marriage". In the morning, the marriage ceremony itself would begin.

As he picked his way though the square the near the forum, Maximus tried to sort out how he felt about his impending nuptials. It ought to represent nothing more than a business proposition, but to a man who had been so happily in love before, such low expectations seemed blasphemous. He was troubled by Julia's sudden change of heart. What had provoked her sudden decision to cooperate? What was her interest in her father's business affairs...simple revenge?

The air chilled suddenly as he stepped out of the light and Maximus looked up, startled to find that he was standing in the shadow of the towering Coliseum. He stared at it for a moment, surprised at how much smaller it looked from the outside, and then looked through it, back into the memories of the harrowing weeks he had spent within its bowels. He had been trapped, caged like an animal...

Was he any more in control of his destiny today?

Vatia, in a perverse imitation of a doting mother, woke Julia early the next day. There was an almost endless list of tasks to accomplish before the ceremony began in the mid-morning, Julia's toilette first among them.

Traditional Roman wedding attire was strictly observed, even though its origins had been long obscured, and the uncomfortable, old-fashioned garments abhorred by the fashionable elite. Julia's aunt arrived shortly after dawn. Dressed in pale silken garments, she would serve as <i> pronumba </i> in the ceremony- a position of honor given to a woman who had been married to only one man. She would join Julia's hand to her groom's at the end of the ceremony proper and guide Julia from place to place during the wedding day.

Julia's eyes were ringed from lack of sleep. She approached the day with equal parts dread and anticipation. At last she would be rid of her father....but at what cost? What did she know of general Maximus anyway? That he had been a Gladiator in the Coliseum...a slave.....Julia forced the thought away. Her patrician pride would have to be put aside for a while. She would do well to remember that her future husband, in spite of his humble stations, had also been a great general who had won glory for Rome. Though his claim to other virtues was uncertain, at least she was assured of his courage. Unlike other men... she thought, allowing herself a brief moment of pity as she thought back, not so long ago, when she had looked toward her wedding day with happiness. I won't think about that today. She decided firmly, dragging her attention back to the present.

Julia closed her eyes as her aunt began parting her hair in the customary fashion. A spearpoint, called a hasta caelibaris, was used to divide her fair hair into six equal portions. The locks were carefully braided and then coiled, resting atop her head in the nuptial tutulus style. It was hideous, Julia thought grimly as she appraised her reflection in the crude hammered metal mirror which her slaves provided, she had only a vague idea how the style had become accepted- an ancient superstition about evil spirits residing in hair- but like most "ancient" ideas, this too was lovingly tended. To appear at her wedding in any other style would be unthinkable.

After her hair had been styled, Julia stepped into her gown. The tunica, like her hairstyle, was dictated more by custom than by taste. It was a pure white flannel, its slightly uneven surface revealing that it had been woven by hand on an old-fashioned upright loom. Over the tunica, she wore a tight girdle, dyed red in a rare nod at fashion, secured by a tight knot. Finally, a sheer silken veil the color of flames was settled on her head, secured by a wreath of orange leaves and other flowers, and her feet were slipped into delicate matching slippers.

The heavy, unfamiliar costume was somehow comforting. Hidden beneath the layers of fabric, it was easy for Julia to divorce herself from reality- to watch the proceedings as if she were looking through a window, never betraying the fear and regret that she felt as she faced the future.

What did Maximus think of all this? Julia felt her thoughts turn once more to her future husband. She had never thought of him before except in an abstract manner...first as an intruder in her home, and then as a tool to escape Rome...What was he feeling as he waited for her in the atrium? Did he feel anything? She remembered, vaguely, the days after Commodus had been killed. Never fond of the Arena shows, she had heard the general's name mentioned only in passing...Still, she recalled overhearing a conversation between Vatia and a friend. The general had been married once long ago...His wife and child....A daughter or a son? Julia wondered idly...had both factored somehow into his quest for revenge. Was he still thinking of the other woman...remembering their wedding day long ago?

Although Maximus could not hear Julia's thoughts. His own would have answered her question. He had thought of Selene, his dearly departed wife, often during the night before. But this wedding, and this day was so different from the one long past, that it was hard to imagine that they would reach the same end. He had married Selene on a hillside, behind her father's house. The flowers in her hair had been picked from her garden, and the observers had numbered only seven. The ceremony had been light on ceremony, but rich in meaning...whereas now he found himself in the opposite- picture of pomp and ceremony, but an utter absence of emotion.

There was a murmur in the throng of clients who clustered in the small room, and he looked up in time to see Julia enter on the arm of her aunt. She looked....determined, Maximus decided at last. Julia did not meet his eyes as she took her place in front of the family shrine.

He half-listened as the officiant began to speak, the words running together.

"Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia...." Julia repeated softly when the time came.

Maximus' hand was joined with Julia's. A sacrifice was made. The marriage contract was presented for Maximus' inspection and signature.

It was over...

They were married.

Of course, nothing was ever that simple, Maximus thought as he steeled himself against what was to come. Whereas Roman weddings were almost painfully austere and short, the wedding feast would drag on endlessly, growing progressively more bawdy until the couple were - often literally- dropped into their marriage bed by guests.

The wedding breakfast, a crowded and remarkably civilized affair stretched on throughout the early afternoon. There was too much wine, and too little entertainment the guests yawned and fidgeted as they awaited the next nuptial event.

The procession to the groom's house began at sunset, and the indignities Maximus had feared began almost immediately as torches were lit, and the guests cued up for the bridal procession to the home of Gaius Aelius- (a stand-in for a home of Maximus' own).

Julia let her hands rest briefly on Vatia's arm- a token observance of the tradition of brides to cling to their mother before their grooms led them away. It was a nod to Roman history- again, the Rape of the Sabines which was depicted on the Atrium walls- yet another indispensable tradition. Vatia seemed annoyed at Julia's half-hearted acting, and her frown deepened as Maximus led Julia gingerly away.

"Grab'er!" One of the client guests called, urging Maximus to throw Julia over her shoulder and carry her into the street.

"Talasio!" A drunken reveler cried loudly, unashamed of the obscenity.

"Hymen Hymenaee..." another snickered....

And, in a hail of walnuts and other seeds, they were off.

Julia's expression remained unchanged. Detached. Polite. Steely, But Maximus could sense her dismay through the steadily increasing pressure she exerted on their still clasped hands. His time in the army had inured him to the rowdy songs and jokes that the guests shouted merrily throughout the trip. Though they were nearly strangers, he sensed that Julia was an ally, and he wished for her sake that the revelers would close their mouths.

Soon-too soon Maximus thought, they parted ways so that Maximus could greet her at his "home". He looked over his shoulder, watching with dismay as Julia was carried onwards by the sea of unruly wedding guests, looking like a bright leaf adrift on story seas.

When at last, they were rejoined, Julia was beginning to show her strain. She approached the doorway where Maximus stood while the guests lingered behind. Reaching into the small bag which the Pronumba provided, Julia retrieved the supplies she would need to perform her ritual entry to the house. Rubbing the door first with fat, and then with oil, she hung a garland of raw wool above the door, ancient symbols of her station as wife.

"Where you are Gaia, I am Gaius..." Maximus mumbled in a reprise to the words which had been spoken in the formal ceremony and then, gathering Julia into his arms, carried her across the threshold and into the house.

He settled her onto the ground in front of a small altar which the servants had arranged. It was a makeshift affair. This was not Maximus' house and his Lares- whatever family treasures had been retrievable from his ruined house in Hispania and the replicas he had pieced together- had remained in the house by the sea. He felt a brief twinge of longing for familiar things as Julia stepped toward the sacred relics .

In front of the shrine were delicate bowls of water and earth, and a single flame on the tip of an oil lamp. Julia touched each element in turn, and then let her hands fall to her sides. There was only one thing left to do...

Julia marched willingly to the marriage chamber, rather than face the indignity of being carted there by the mob. There were giggles at her forward actions, but she ignored them, trying to hold her neutral expression a few more minutes until she was safely enshrouded in the dark. Her stepmother's voice floated to her ears. "...but that was before last night..." and then there was more laughter.

The Pronumba, Julia's aunt, followed her into the room, whispering a blessing over the marriage as passed through the doorway and then walked toward her niece to help her undress.

She seemed to sense the girl's apprehension, and smoothed back her hair tenderly as she removed the veil. "He's a handsome man, Julia...strong...he'll take care of you." She soothed.

"I don't need to be taken care of." Julia's voice, unused throughout the day, sounded scratchy and foreign.

Her aunt sighed, reaching for the clasp of the younger girl's necklace. "You might want to be taken care of, dearest...it's not so bad, men can be-"

"I know what men can be." Julia interjected savagely, her thoughts turning again to the past.

The older woman felt her heart seize with pity for her niece. Julia had been hurt before, it was true, but she was so young! so beautiful! Why was she so certain at 21 that she had seen all that the world had to offer?

Silence reigned once more. When the girl had been stripped to the girdle, tunica, and belt, her aunt led her to bed and lit a stick of incense beside the door. She stuck her head through the curtain at the door to signal Maximus that it was his time to enter, and then returned to her niece's bedside to offer a final motherly kiss and a tender word of advice.

"Quit fighting, Julia....it will be easier to bear."

Julia lowered her light eyes.

"Never..." she whispered. "Never again."

"You're late..." She laughed, tilting her head so that the sun shone brightly against her olive cheek. "Where have you been?"

Maximus tried to answer the question as he entwined himself in her arms. He was disoriented. There was a memory, very faint, of noise and color, a fair haired girl in a flame colored veil.... "Julia..." He murmured, the memory growing clearer as the name slid across his lips.

Yes, Julia...there had been a crowd...and then they were alone, staring at each other. Nervous and uncertain.

"Julia?" Selene laughed, leading him into the house. "Don't tell me you've bought another horse!"

He considered that for a moment. There *had* been horses....but no, it was a girl. She had seemed very close, and very sad...they were talking and then...he remembered her falling asleep, curled against a pile of silken quilts...he had fallen asleep too...on the floor?

Maximus frowned, trying to fit the pieces together, while Selene moved about the kitchen serving his dinner, seemingly oblivious to his puzzled frown.

"Marcus went riding on his own again."

Maximus turned toward his wife, his attention diverted by the mention of his son.

"He got married today, you know."

No. Maximus frowned again. That wasn't right.

Marcus hadn't gotten married. The girl had.

Julia had gotten married.

Julia was the girl.

Julia was in her room in bed.

Julia was screaming.

Maximus sat up, instantly awake, his dreams evaporating like mist. He had been sleeping on the floor of the wedding chamber, but jarred from sleep by Julia's cries. His sharp eyes scanned the dim room. Julia was thrashing about on the bed, a dark shape hovering over her as she struggled.

Maximus didn't bother to think, he merely reacted. Springing to his feet, he hurled himself into the fray, his blood pounding in his head as he grasped the rough skin of the intruder's neck and wrestled him to the floor. His motions were pure instinct, hammering the attacker's head against the tiled floor, twisting away from the flailing arms, kicking.....

Suddenly, it was over. The attacker slumped to the floor, motionless, and Maximus sat up on his knees, his chest heaving from exertion, and his tunica slicked to his body with sweat.

"Julia!" Maximus choked when he saw her. His new wife was nearly as white as her tunica- and she was covered in blood. She was propped against pillows, her hair awry, shivering convulsively.

"Julia!" He said again, rushing forward for observation. Her wounds must be superficial, he noted with relief as she appeared addled, but alert. Most of the blood had come from her attacker, he decided, noting the slim, blood-covered dagger clutched in Julia's small hand. No, not her attacker, he realized as he surveyed the scene, mine.

The quilt that Julia had cuddled as she slept lay in tattered ruins, hacked to pieces in a violent assault. In the darkness that shrouded the room, the bundle of cloth had been mistaken for a sleeping man- a miscalculation that had saved the general's life.

Turning his attention away from Julia, Maximus rolled the attacker onto his back with his foot. The man's face and neck was scarred with fingernail scratches, and his body riddled with shallow, inexperienced knife-cuts that Julia had inflicted when she seized the knife. It was the head injury which had sealed his fate, Maximus noted without a twinge of regret. The unconscious figure was still breathing raggedly, but Maximus knew from experience that he would soon be dead.

Maximus knelt beside the body for closer inspection. The man was clad in the heavy, flowing robes and jewels of a Corsican wine merchant, but something did not seem right.

"Give me the dagger, Julia." He said evenly, not wishing to upset her further by betraying his own nervousness.

She complied, and Maximus turned the filigreed silver hilt over in his hand gingerly. "This is a Praetorian weapon." He pronounced at last.

"A-Arramus?" Julia whispered in disbelief.

Maximus shrugged, moving quickly to collect the small bundle of garments and belonging which he had brought to the borrowed home. "I'm not sure...I have more than one enemy in this city."

"Why?" She bit her lip in pain as she tried to rise from the bed. For the first time, Maximus noted the slash of scarlet that ran along her thigh.

He didn't answer the question. There were too many possibilities. It was possible that they'd known that Julia was listening all along...that Julius and his conspirator hoped to lull him into a false sense of security long enough to have him killed, all the while planning to slip a murderer in with the wedding guests. If ANY part of the overheard discussion was true- that they wished to be seen as aligned with Maximus for the sake of swaying popular sentiment, the marriage had accomplished the task. There was no need to let the General ride out of the city- and away from their center of power- and join with his men.

"I have to go Julia." He said urgently.

"Alone?" She asked hollowly, her expression stricken.

Maximus studied her face intently. She was right, he admitted at last. He couldn't abandon her here. At best she was a witness to the failed assassination. At worst...well, perhaps it was merely luck that Julia had wrestled away the dagger in time. He'd seen how highly her father valued her life.

"Can you walk?" He asked gently. "We'll have to travel as far as the city gates...if they think I'm dead- and we exit one of the Subura gates with the market carts- there's a chance that they won't catch us.

"Where will we go."

"We'll rendez-vous with my men North of here...they should be prepared to march..."

"To Germania?" She gasped. "You're still going?"

"I have to." He said firmly. Now more than ever.

Another "why?" lingered in Julia's eyes, but she didn't voice it, limping toward her belongings while Maximus indulged in a final moment of undisturbed contemplation. He was remembering the faces of the citizens who had lined the streets when he first headed home from the Capitol after his last brush with death...They had hailed him as a conqueror, a hero...a deliverer...

He had felt like a fraud.

He had killed Commodus to appease his own conscience, his own need for revenge...not their freedom. Still, they had cheered for him, accepted him, loved him when he had no one else to love. This time he WOULD fight for them.

He glanced into the hall. The wedding guests were gone, but the half-eaten foods and empty wine-glasses from the wedding feast lingered on the floor. It was strange that the slaves hadn't yet begin to clear away the chaos of the party... Maximus remembered, distantly, that Julius had insisted on gifting the house-servants with wine in celebration of his daughter's nuptials. He had no doubt that all of them were dead.

"Hurry..." He let a hint of urgency creep into his voice as he urged Julia into a rather dull but voluminous stola and covered himself in a cloak. "Leave those..." He said, trying to stop Julia from stashing a pair of scrolls into her bundle.

As an afterthought, Maximus grabbed Julia's wedding jewels from the bedside table and stashed them into his cloak- there was no telling what other surprises would arise- and then led his bride into the hall and then, quickly, through the peristylium to the high wall which shielded it from the street. He crept to the top, slinging their bags into the deserted road. "Give me your hands."

He hoisted Julia over the top, cringing sympathetically at the soft grunt of pain which escaped as she landed- hard- onto the cobbled stones. Through the folds of her overgarment, he could see that the wound had begun to bleed again- it would need attention soon.

Collecting their bags, he moved swiftly through the darkness, aware that they might be followed, and desperate to reach the comforting anonymity of the subura before daylight exposed their escape. He had no doubt that Julius would return to the house as soon as seemly, publicizing his son-in-law's murder, at the hands of enemy rogues, of course- on the forum steps by noon. He wanted to be out of Rome long before that happened.

The stable master seemed not to notice Maximus' nervousness as he collected his horse- an imposing dappled-grey stallion, much like the animal he had ridden during his years at war. The animal was young, still fighting its bit, but it was strong and healthy. He would carry them at least as far as the camp.

Julia was waiting exactly where she had been told. Maximus pulled her light frame easily onto the horse in front of him. She grunted faintly in pain as her legs were swung over the right side of the horse. Her lips were set in a grim line, and Maximus noted with alarm her greying complexion and still bleeding wound. She needed to see a doctor. Quickly.

Maximus diverted off the main road, picking carefully through the park-like fields and low, rolling hills that fanned out around the capitol. He soon regretted the decision- the overcast sky resolved into cloudbursts and the heavens opened, drenching them in cold spring rain. In front of him, struggling to maintain her position on the slippery saddle, Julia shivered, gritting her teeth as the jarring hoofbeats aggravated the gash on her leg. The horse seemed to plod on forever through the impenetrable mist. Julia slumped backwards against Maximus' chest as pain and fatigue finally overwhelmed her...

"Julia....Julia wake up..." The impenetrable grey eyes fluttered open reluctantly and Maximus eased the girl off the horse. At last, they had found a road. Through the curtain of chilling rain, he could make out the lights of a building at the cross-roads. He prayed that it was an inn.

Entrusting his horse to a groom at the stables, Maximus went inside, almost supporting

Julia's entire weight as they walked. Her strained expression revealed that the pain had not subsided, but she seemed to appreciate the urgency of standing upright and acting as though nothing were wrong.

"Where's the proprietor?" Maximus called as they stepped into the main room of the dwelling. The sudden change in climate was remarkable. The interior of the inn, though shabby, was almost oppressively hot and dry, the heat of the large central fire magnified by the press of human flesh gathered around tables.

A shriveled wisp of an old man limped toward the general. "Who's asking."

Maximus looked the elder man over carefully, noting the shrewd glimmer in the milky eyes.

"Lucius Annius...." He said firmly. "My wife is ill and we need a room for the night."

"Your wife, eh?" The man said, his voice tinged with amusement. He poked Julia's ankle with the gnarled stick he used as a cane. "Not likely."

Julia drew back weakly from the touch.

Maximus looked at her carefully. He could see the man's point. Julia's fine garments and carefully applied cosmetics had wilted in the rain. Her kohl-rimmed eyes had been smudged so that they resembled bruises, and the lingering hint of rouge- so fetching on her already rosy complexion- seemed over-bright on her sickly skin. The dye from her tunica had run in the rain. The silk was splotched with color- bright patches and empty patches of dirty white, and she was practically draped across Maximus' body, clutching too him as if for life itself. She looked like a prostitute...a drunk one.

Quickly, Maximus determined it was best not to correct the error. Any mistake in their identities could buy more precious time, and so he merely grinned and removed a coin from his belt. "I've got money...."

That did the trick. The innkeeper's curiosity was no match for his avarice- he didn't care what the traveler's did, as long as they were paying in cash.

"This way..." He said, pushing through the crowd.

Maximus followed, practically carrying Julia as they walked up a narrow flight of stairs into a small, dim chamber.

"You there...get out." The innkeeper prodded a shapeless heap lying on the room's bed and a bleary-eyes woman- a real prostitute, Maximus surmised, shuffled out into the hall cursing under her breath.

"This will be fine..." the general said dropping his coin into the proprietor's outstretched hand. "Where can I get some water....and some food?"

"My daughter will bring it up."

Maximus nodded, offering another brass coin in consideration of the argument, and stood in the doorway as the old man trundled away.

Julia sank slowly to the floor, and Maximus went to her, carefully peeling away the rain-drenched stola. He was alarmed to see that blood from her thigh had soaked through her outer garments.

Matter-of-factly, Maximus stripped the tunica away as well. Ignoring his bride's snowy beauty as he concentrated on tending her injury.

It wasn't as bad as he had feared. It was a clean wound made by a smooth blade. The stab was deep, but it had missed the main artery in her leg. Still, the constant jostling of the horse had prevented the cut from closing. Julia had lost a lot of blood.

There was a knock at the door, and Maximus answered it, seizing a basin of water and bundle of food from the innkeepers daughter quickly before returning to the bed. Ripping a corner from the sodden stola, Maximus dabbed the cloth against Julia's leg, gently wiping away the blood. She flinched at his touch but, in her barely conscious state, lacked the strength for greater protest.

With a knowledge of bandaging hard-won on the northern frontier, Maximus bound the leg tightly. And then, noting that his companion had once again slipped into oblivion, ceased his attempts to spoon broth across her arched lips. Instead, he settled in front of his own bland meal and began to inventory their belongings.

His pack, hastily thrown together as they fled the city, reflected the spare, militaristic lifestyle to which he had become accustomed: An extra tunica, a dagger, Julia's jewelry in case they needed more money, and as much gold as he had brought with him to Rome. His wife's bundle , on the other hand, was far more eclectic. He wondered, as he leafed through the inexplicable melange of scrolls, silk shawls, and fragrance pots, how she had managed to pack so much in so little time. He was more than a little piqued that his horse had to carry it. Maximus unrolled one of the scrolls and began to read- it was a portion of Caesar's Commentaries. The work of the great general had always been absorbing, and Maximus was quickly lost in it- straining his eyes in the flickering light of an oil lamp as dusk settled into night.

"Marius...." For the second time in as many nights, Maximus was awoken by the sound of Julia's voice. The word had a strangled quality to it.

"Why...? Why, why, why...?" Julia's cheeks were flushed. Maximus laid his hand against her, and then quickly pulled away from the burning flesh.

It was an unexpected complication. He had expected weakness...but a fever? It would be dangerous to carry Julia back into the rain...but how much more dangerous was it to wait here until the fever passed?

"Marius..." Julia moaned again, and twisted onto her side. He could see that she was crying, and suddenly wondered if the babble had any meaning.

"Tata please....please....don't! Not.....Marius....don't go...tata..."

"Shhhhh....." Maximus held the cup to her lips again, not wanting to hear anymore. "Rest, Julia, rest."

Maximus was awakened again at dawn- this time by hoofbeats. It took a moment for his mind to register the noise, but when it did, the sound chilled him to the bone. This was not the even, steady rhythm of a private carriage- it was the pounding thunder of a troop of Praetorian guard. The chamber where they slept was windowless, so he could not see the road...the ever approaching danger was announced merely by the ever increasing noise.

Maximus glanced at Julia's limp and colorless body still lying on the bed. The slow, belabored rise and fall of her bosom the only sign that she was still alive. Taking only a moment to check her faint pulse, he crept silently past , pulling on his extra tunic as he slid into the hall. From the head of the rickety stairs he could see daylight streaming through the shutters. Clouds of golden dust swirled in the rays, punctuated occasionally by the buzzing of flies which congregated around thick puddled of spilled wine. More than a few patrons were slumped over the wooden tables.

Word carried into the room from the street.

"Go around the back, I don't want them sneaking away again."

Maximus frowned at the familiarity of the voice. He couldn't quite place it....Straining his ears toward the sound, he slowly oozed down the stairs, slipping into the shadows beneath them and out of sight.

There was a heavy thumping sound.

"Open up, in the name of the empire!"

The slumped figures remained motionless, but the pounding continued.

"Open up."

With a crashing BOOM, the wooden door was thrown open from the outside. The proprietor of the inn finally awoke, blinking into the bright sun which cast three figures in silhouette against the outdoors.

They were Praetorians. Maximus' heart sank as his worst fears were realized.

"You there, get up." The familiar voice sneered again, pounding the table where a group of three men slept. Confused, they sprung to their feet. From their midst, the innkeeper slowly emerged.

"We're looking for a pair of criminals who went through the area last night... A man and a woman, have you seen them?" Quickly, the man described Maximus and Julia. Luckily, he had failed to account for the rain or their disheveled appearance, describing them as richly dressed freedmen masquerading as nobles...

"No sir..." The old man's voice shook as he answered. "There was a farmer...he had a girl with him- not quite a lady." He laughed weakly, and then swallowed hard as another Praetorian seized him by the collar.

"Where?" The second man growled. This voice Maximus recognized immediately- His initial suspicion had been correct. It was Arramus.

Muted with fear, the elderly man managed only to point his finger in the direction of the stairs.

Maximus sank deeper into the shadows as the trio of armed men approached. Their oversized helmets and the dim light made it still impossible to identify the first speaker.

"Th-there...the first chamber on the right..."

The stairs squeaked unsteadily under the weight of the three men as they climbed to the second floor.

Julia..! Maximus' stomach tightened with apprehension as he realized that she would be left at their mercy practically alone. He had to save her... He put one foot out of the shadows. Then again, he knew or hoped, that whatever his purposes, Arramus at least didn't want to see Julia dead. Truly, she was nearly dead already. If they didn't kill her, she could return to Rome, to doctor's and safety...

The squeak of a floorboard just outside the room broke the soldier away from his thoughts. He couldn't risk it. He would have to create a distraction. Three against one (until the guards outside join in, he reminded himself grimly). He had faced worse odds before.

Maximus's foot hovered in the air as he fought his indecision. They were pushing open the chamber door...

Maximus slowly lowered his foot as he heard the murmured curse from above.

"They were here!" There was a shuffling sound, and then a brassy chime as a pack was turned upside down and coins rained out onto the floor. Through the groaning of the tired planks of the wooden floor, he could hear as the innkeeper swooped downward greedily, scooping them up.

"You did this!" Arramus' voice boomed, creating a second shower of coins as he collared the old man.

"N-no, I-" the innkeeper stammered.

"You're hiding them from us! We already know they were here! If you don't tell me where they are..."

Maximus shrank back against the wall as the party hurried back down the stairs, the hapless innkeeper at the front of the party trudging glumly as though on the point of a blade.

"Search the grounds!" Arramus barked at his companions. "They couldn't have gotten far!"

From the shadows, General Maximus waited impatiently for te soldiers to go, relieved to see them order the other patrons of the tavern into the sunlight to help with the search. When the heavy door closed at last, he tiptoed back up the stairs to search for Julia.

The room was indeed empty, the lumpy bed, and the floor under its sagging mattress, was bare. Unsure of how to proceed, Maximus bent down to collect the scattered coins and stuff them back into his pack. He would have to leave quickly... but where was Julia?

He bit his lower lip in perturbation. She was too weak to get far. Sitting down on the edge of the bed to consider the problem, he sprang up again when he heard a soft "*oof*".

"Julia?"

In a single fluid motion, Maximus stripped away the straw-filled pad. It was Julia- grass stuck to her wheat-colored hair as she looked up still weak and feverish from her wound.

"I heard them coming...." She breathed painfully.

Maximus nodded, throwing the packs over his shoulder and, against her feeble protest, scooping his wife into his arms. He walked to the window.

Arramus's men were surrounding the house, but the steady glare of the early morning sun was making them drowsy, and Maximus could tell that the were staring blankly into space.... if they moved quickly...

"I'm going to move onto the roof, Julia..." He said darting his head outside for a quick glance to judge the distance upwards. "If I'm seen, go back to your hiding place under the mattress....If I make it, wait beside the window for me to reach down to you....got it?"

"She nodded."

Maximus peeked outside again and, shoving himself upright, scrambled onto the roof, he cursed as a loose tile, broken free by his foot, fell onto the paving stones below. He flattened behind the gutters, barely breathing as the guard glanced upwards and then, after an interminable wait, looked away.

It was nearly half-an hour before Maximus felt confident enough to reach for Julia...was she still waiting? The search had moved from the stables to the small huts and farmhouses near the inn along the road, and the house guards- free of supervision, had begun to congregate at a corner of the house, gambling to pass the time. Maximus reached down for Julia. He held his breath as the seconds ticked by.

"Julia..." he whispered urgently. One second...two seconds.... "Julia!"

At last, two pale hands appeared from through the window, reaching upwards. He clasped them tightly and then, groaning with effort, swung her onto the roof beside him.

They lay flatly against the cool tile roof as the sun began to climb. The waiting had begun. Maximus sized up their situation. He had no idea how long the detail of guards would surround the house. They would remain at least until Arramus returned. Retrieving the horse would be suicidal, and using the roads out of the question...

The general was so busy planning strategy that he failed to register the sight moving along the road. He barely glanced upwards until he heard Julia make a strangled cry of alarm. The guards around the house had finished their game, and were moving to the street as if in greeting...It was an army.

Arramus clearly knew what it would take to pry holy gold from the fingers of untamed Germanic tribes. He wouldn't underestimate his enemy. Nearly a full legion stretched along the road, their even lines glistening with the polished metal of new armor. Arramus and Julius would have to find the gold if they hoped to pay for it. Maixmus' heart sank as their chances of slipping away unnoticed dwindled to almost nothing.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Maximus noticed a lone guard moving away from the others toward the stables. He bit his lip, contemplating a risk. No army that large had been raised in the city at the time he left. New armor and massive troops meant that it had been recently thrown together. If he was lucky....

Maximus swallowed. He knew what he had to do.

"Wait here, Julia" he said softly. "Whatever happens, don't be afraid..."

She approximated a nod. He could see that she was fading again, worn out from the exertion of the morning.

Throwing his tanned thigh over the roofline, Maximus slipped to the ground below, falling inches behind where the guard was preparing to relieve himself before setting back onto the trail. The man turned, startled, but had barely enough time to widen his eyes in surprise before Maximus's fist connected soundly with his forhead, the man stumbled backwards, tripping into a trough of water left for the horses. He opened his mouth to scream, but Maximus' hands quickly wrapped around his throat, choking away his breath as he pushed the man's head beneath the filmy liquid. There was a thrashing, a gurgling, and then the man was still.

Looking over his shoulder to make sure that he hadn't yet been detected, Maximus stripped away the man's clean tunic and armor, thankful that they approximated his size, and bending down to collect the man's helmet and weapons before pulling the body to rest beneath a pile of hay. He was just fastening his belt as footsteps rounded the corner.

From the rooftop, he could see Julia lift her head feebly.

He hoped that she would understand.

"Good, you're finally here!" Maximus said, straightening his back in a smug impersonation of a centurion. "What took you so long?"

The pair of guard who had arrived looked at him with puzzled expressions.

"I sent for you ten minutes ago..." He continued to goad, and then he raised his hand to point, cringing inwardly as Julia's eyes widened in shock at his betrayal.

"I've found the girl- she's hiding there on the roof !"

"You there!"

Maximus turned quickly, certain for a moment that his disguise had failed. He was just in time to catch a heavy leather pack that sailed through the air toward his chest.

"Get your pack and fall in line!" A squat, red-faced man gestured sharply with his chin toward the scruffy army that was forming ranks back on the main road. Maximus looked with amazement from the gear to the lines. Would it really be so easy?

Maximus took a step forward, but quickly retreated the shadow of powerful dappled-grey stallion cut across his path blocking the sun.

"Quit pawing her, you filthy rabble."

Maximus looked at his feet as Arramus rode past him and then, sliding off the stallion in a single, limber movement landed on the dusty road where the men were hauling Julia toward the lines.

"That animal!" Arramus exclaimed , taking Julia from the soldiers , holding her easily as though she were as weightless of a bundle of rags. "The butcher. Get my doctor, quickly....send the front square ahead to set up camp. You-"

Maximus's chest tightened again as he found himself inches away from his enemy. Arramus was addressing the man to his immediate left.

"Take ten of the others and branch off to the side roads. Don't rest until you find General Maximus....do you understand?"

"Right away, sir." The man barked turning sharply on his heel.

"And you...."

Arramus began stepping toward Maximus.

"...cold...."

The sudden, bell-like treble of Julia's murmurings amidst the boom of male voices stopped Arramus in his tracks.

"What?"

"C-cold..." She rasped again, and Arramus bit his lip.

After a moment of indecision, Julius's' conspirator turned to go. "Carry on." he said loudly, swinging his gladius in the air for effect and then, Julia bundled into his cloak, he walked away.

Maximus was amazed by the disorganization and anarchy which ruled in the ranks of men marching toward Germania. It was a mercenary army, of course- not the type noted for unity or control. They had been hired from the shadowy watering-holes of the subura on a days notice. They would fight, to be sure- but only to their own advantage. These men were marching for gold. If Arramus couldn't find it in a hurry, they were likely to mutiny. Arramus was either supremely confident or supremely stupid if he hoped to lead such a group against the northern barbarians. Both were weaknesses Maximus could exploit.

It had been nearly two weeks since they had left Rome, crawling like a vast, column of sluggish ants through central Italy toward the high mountain passages that led to the provinces. The men were not completely accepting of Arramus's authority, nor cowed by his brutality, and they refused to be hired on their way. It was clear that their Commander had been a Praetorian, and not a soldier. Maximus had passed among the men without notice and without comment. The "army" was so formless that the man he had replaced had never been noticed. There were no uniforms or ranks, no centuries with leaders who knew the names of their men, no ordered camps at night with tents stretched in neat straight lines at night. Every evening, he would reach into the stolen pack for his canvass and eating utensils, pitch his tent on the edge of the make-shift city , go to the cook tent for rations, and retire, only to insert himself randomly into the masses at dawn.

In spite of their plodding pace, The had passed Ostia days ago. Maximus' information had been wrong. His army wasn't there. Since the passing of Marcus Aurelius, Rome's attention had turned inward. Save defending scattered raids along the frontier, the army had fallen idle, and so the Felix legions, lacking a higher calling, had decamped for the spring, heading to the mountains for road repair. At his current, almost glacial speed, Maximus wouldn't meet with them for another few months.

The army....

Lying awake in his tent, Maximus thought of his men, so different from those that surrounded him now. He had not seen them for many seasons. How would he find them when they finally met? Fat and bored as Cicero had observed. Would they have adequate arms....food?

Maximus sighed. This was the practical side of soldiering-- the sort of thing he had left to Quintus and his legates in days gone bye. He was a man of action, not details. Still, it was a problem that he could no longer ignore. It was likely that they would arrive in Germania by late summer, but it would be too late to plant crops or preserve enough game to last throughout the winter. He knew the region well- most of the settlers, Germanics mostly, pushed back to the very edge of workable land, had barely enough to feed their own families. Even if Maximus were willing to sentence them to starvation, their meager stores wouldn't go far among a thousand men. If only they were they could be the supermen that Arramus' mercenaries made them out to be.

The general thought back to a conversation he had overheard in the cook tent a few days earlier, when they had learned at Ostia that the Felix legions had moved on for the warm season. One of the hired archers, his words difficult to discern through his heavy eastern accent, had gushed about their prowess on the field, and the fear that they struck in Germanian hearts.

They were good men, but not invincible. He sighed. If only he could combine his men with Arramus' supplies....

Maximus sat up suddenly. That was it. He had blended into the ranks smoothly enough. It would be harder to hide an army..but then, why try to hide them? The mercenaries already believed that the Felix Legions were more suited to fight in Germania. Arramus would be relieved simply to get past them without a fight - if he thought they could help him find the gold he would beg them to come.

Maximus dug into his pack, grateful that he had thought to collect his belongings from the inn before he had left. He felt around in the darkness and then, seizing the item he was looking for, pulled it into the dim moonlight that filtered through the flap.

Julia's wedding jewels. The deep blue stones seemed nearly black in the darkness. He knew that he had kept them for a reason.

Smiling to himself, Maximus restowed the necklace, and then settled back to sleep. He would need his rest- he was leaving tomorrow....going to set a trap.

Spring was beginning in earnest, the sun toasting the general's neck and shoulder's while a crisp breeze tugged at his long cloak. In the grasses, small white flowers were beginning to raise their pink and blue bonnets toward the sun, flourishing in the soft sunlight and the nourishing stream swollen from melting snow.

Maximus rode until the sun was high in the sky before allowing himself to return to the main road. After two weeks, the search for him had all but been abandoned. Still, it was no time to abandon his caution. By nightfall, he had begun his climb into the northern foothills. He was pleased with the progress. Assuming no appreciable change in speed since his departure, Arramus' army would be a full two days behind him now, it would be barely another week before he reached his men.

Maximus reached into his pack and retrieved the gems once again, holding them up to the fading light as he considered his plan.

He had noted to himself earlier that Arramus was either supremely arrogant, or supremely stupid. The Spaniard was readying himself to put that theory to a test. If the owner of Julianus' maps knew where to find the gold, surely someone else did as well..at least, the idea was plausible. He had to convince Arramus that someone did- the members of the Felix Legions. Julia's jewels would be the bait.

Weather in the Northern mountains had not completely broken, and it was three days later than Maximus had expected when he finally reached his men. A heavy, unseasonable downpour that had begun almost as soon as Maximus had begun to climb, had made it impossible to set the paving stones in the stretch of road they were charged with repairing, and so they sat idly in their sodden tents, gambling and mingling with the camp followers.

Maximus felt mixed emotions as he crept along the ridge above the camp, looking silently onto the men- his men- below.

He was proud of them. He could see, even from a distance, that they had not gone soft. The camps were pitched in a tight, even square, standards marking the centuries and cohorts in perfect order. In spite of the relative security of their position (the sense of security which allowed Maximus to arrive so close without notice) - it would be nearly impossible for hostile armies to advance this far into Imperial territory without notice- the space had been spread out in a martial manner- sentries were posted at each corner, and the borders of the square were protected with a trench and spiked wooden posts. The only thing unusual about the placement was the position- generally, an army would choose the high ground- but in this instance the commander had chosen shelter from the weather instead.

Maximus was also saddened by what he saw. Many of the tents were tattered, and the war machines, spread out at precise intervals around the perimeter, had an air of dilapidation. Though salaries still came from Rome, funding for the army had been slashed in favor of the Praetorians. The consequences were evident.

Maximus tied his horse to a tree, and donned his breastplate and helmet picking his way carefully down the hillside to the main sentry. Before stepping into view, he gathered a small bundle of twigs, and then strode purposefully toward the gate, as though he did not expect to be challenged.

The guard nodded at him. "Find any dry ones?" He said, suppressing a yawn as he gestured toward the wood.

"A few." Maximus nodded. He looked up at the cloudy sky. "Going to get cold...maybe more snow."

The sentry approximated a nod, not really interested in the conversation, and Maximus accepted the chance to hurry though.

Maximus was not prepared for the emotions he would experience upon his return to camp. The seemed to hit his gut with almost tangible force. Pain. Excitement. Regret. Each separate sensation- the smell of mud and smoke, the clang of armor, the gritty suction of the mud beneath his feet- carried with it a memory. His brain reeled as it tried to process each one in a single instant, reliving years of his life in the blink of an eye. He had loved Trujillo, his wife, and child....but the army was also his family, and the camp his second home. A father and a general...both families torn from him in one twist of fate.

A burst of raucous laughter tore Maximus from his reverie, and he jerked his chin swiftly to the side. He recognized the voice....

Drawing the hood of his cloak tightly around his face, Maximus headed for a nearby tent, and peered through the flap. There were four men inside, three soldiers and a hulking figure that looked like a giant. One side of his face was scarred, and he had only one eye. The men's faces were flushed pink from the cold, as well as from the effects of the empty bottled that littered the tent's floor. There was a moment of stillness, and then the soft chime of coins, dropping to the earthen floor. Another pause, and then a chorus of sounds- three moans and a cry of joy as the game the men were playing came to an end.

They were gambling with astragalus, the heel bones of a sheep which were often used in games of chance. Maximus could tell by the murmurings of the group that the large man in their center had won more times than his friends thought just.

"What can I say?" He shrugged his massive shoulders. "The gods smile on their own."

The remark was truncated by a jovial shove in the ribs by a sore loser.

"Now...whose next....?"

The men looked at each other embarrassed "Well....uh...if you'd like to give us credit until..."

"Cash only." The large man insisted.

The three looked at each other haplessly.

"-I'll take you up on that...." Maximus stepped into the tent, flipping a silver coin onto the floor at the men's feet.

The man in the middle turned, extending an arm. "Ah...a new friend!"

"Victim." One of the others corrected sullenly as he moved to make room for the newcomer.

The large man squinted with his one eye. "Your voice is familiar...do I know you legionnaire?"

"A friend." Maximus said simply, careful to remain in the shadows. The large man extended his hand, offering the bones, but Maximus waved them away. "You first."

The man smiled, and shook the rock-like pieces vigorously. He threw...

"Nineteen." He said smugly. "A four, a three, and two sixes."

Maximus took the bones. He rolled them between his palms carefully, gauging their size and weight. Finally, he positioned them carefully on his skin, pushing downward so that the pressed into his flesh.

"No cheating!" The man said sharply. Maximus ignored him, taking a deep breath before cupping his hands around the small objects and shaking. It was a rhythmic movement and then...a toss.

"Twenty-four." One of the former losing parties said gleefully as all four the pieces of bone rolled onto the earth with their narrow, slightly hollow sides facing upwards.

"You lose Tertius."

The giant growled. "I say he was cheating....I..."

"Would you like to try again?" Maximus said calmly. He threw another coin to the ground. "Double or nothing."

His rival nodded slowly, as though he suspected he was being tricked.

He threw the dice.

"Fourteen." He said dolefully, knowing it wouldn't take extreme luck to beat his throw of two threes and two fours.

Maximus took the dice again, repeating his ritual.

Another twenty-four.

The large man furrowed his brow deeply, an angry look churning on his broad face. "I don't know how you're doing this....you've weighted them somehow."

"They're your dice!" Maximus protested. He sighed. "Fine. Another throw."

"You first this time." Tertius said darkly. "And no dawdling- just shake and throw."

Maximus nodded, sweeping the bones off the floor. He omitted the first threw steps, merely churning the objects in his fist and letting them fly.

The group gasped. Each bone had been turned a difference direction. A three. A four. A one. A two...The Venus throw. Unbeatable.

The three observers stared at the visitor with awe, while Tertius merely blinked.

"I only knew one man who could do that..." He said after a long pause, squinting at the cloak with his lone eye. He shrugged and reached into his tunica for his coinsack.

Maximus waved the money away.

"Keep your money you dirty old bandit." He grinned, allowing some affection to show through his voice. "It's a favor I want."

He let the hood fall to his shoulders.

The surprise on the soldier's faces only magnified. "General!" one of them stammered, stumbling in his scramble to salute.

Only Tertius seemed unfazed. He merely grinned, shoving the money-pouch back into his tunic. He spit onto the soil floor.

"General Maximus....well, It's about damn time."

He was in Spain again, once again with Selene, but the house was dark, and the sky outside crackled and boiled with an impending storm.

"Where's Marcus?" He asked suddenly, unnerved as a flash of lightning split the sky.

"In his bed." Selene laughed, bending over the hearth. "He's sleeping."

Maximus frowned and looked back outside the window. Someone was out there, under the storm. Someone alone. Someone that he had to protect.

"She's outside."

"She?" Selene frowned briefly, bustling Maximus out of the way as she set a bowl of steaming grain on the table beside him. "Horses again?"

"No..." Maximus' voice sounded moanful as he whispered the name.

"Julia..."

The word was still on his lips as his eyes snapped open.

Around him, the camp was fast asleep. The only noise were the rhythmc footsteps of the sentries as they conducted their patrols, and the wind whistling through the evergreens.

It didn't take much introspection to determine what the dream meant. Julia had been abandoned. Maximus felt guilty.

He didn't regret surrendering her to Arramus. Her fever had lingered for days, and Maximus knew, with certainty, that she might have died without the surgeon's care. Still, he couldn't rid himself of he image of reproach in her frightened eyes as they had torn her away, or of the vague sense of unease he felt when he considered Arramus. Maximus had made it his duty to watch out for the girl when he had been in the mercenary camp, and he had kept a close eye on his would-be rival. To all appearances, the man had seemed a perfect gentleman. Courteous, temperate, chaste...but for all that, there was something in his look that Maximus didn't trust.

Perhaps he was simply jealous. Maximus considered the thought, surprised that he couldn't dismiss it out of hand. He had only been truly alone with Julia for 48 hours. Still, in those two days the pity he felt for a spoiled but loveless girl had turned into...what?

He wouldn't even think it.

Julia was an obligation. His wife by law, and his duty, by conscience, to bring safely home.

The general shifted to his side, trying to push the thought from his mind. He needed rest- if only sleep would come.

The general remained in Tertius' small tent while his friend slowly spread the word to a select group of trusted men that their leader had returned. For more than a year now, the Legions had been under the command of Hortensius Praexus, a crusty old veteran of Marcus Aurelius' early campaigns who was viewed as a harmless has-been in Rome. Hortensius, bent-over with age, had the respect of his men, who conducted the camp with the cool precision that the man required, but he did not have their love, as Maximus did. He had fought bloody battles in his day- but not alongside these men, and so Tertius explained, when the time came, they would stand with Maximus.

The beginning of the plan went over flawlessly, aided by Tertius' reputation as a gambler and the propensities of the camp followers toward gossip.

"Do you like that, sweetheart?" The one-eyes giant grinned, squeezing the shoulder of the crumpled looking woman that sat on his knee eyeing the golden bracelet that he held in his hands. "'cause there's more where that came from..." He said, in a not-quite-whisper, ignoring the interested expressions of his opponent, and the owner of the tavern where he played.

Tertius flicked his wrist almost casually and let the astralagus fly onto the table, smiling all the harder when he saw that he lost. "That's one less for you, love." He said to the woman, squeezing her again before reaching back into his tunic. "Let me try and win it back for you..."

From the corner, Maximus watched, trying not to betray his annoyance at his friend. True, Tertius was doing exactly as he had been told- gambling Julia's wedding jewels in an extravagant display of wealth- hinting broadly that he knew where to get more- but Maximus hadn't actually intended for him to lose...the golden bracelet, and a pair of garnet earrings were all that remained- and there wasn't any sign of Arramus yet.

Maximus hoped that the gossips of the small village near the camp would be interested enough to keep talking about it for a few more days...

The general groaned as Tertius lost yet again and, on the pretense of getting another drink, excused himself from the table and began lumbering his direction.

The tall cyclops held out his palm. "One more try...I can feel it this time..."

Maximus took a sip of bitter wine. "Haven't you lost enough for tonight."

"I'll win it back...you know how luck is- waits until you're at your lowest..come on..."

Maximus shook his head. "We need more time...tomorrow..."

Tertius was persistent "Look at them- feeling smug...I can do this. They're feeling cocky..."

Taking another swallow from his cup, the Spaniard reached into his tunica and cupped his hand around the earrings...his last memories of Julia. Reluctantly, he began to pull them out. Stopped, and then extracted only one.

"That's it?" Tertius pouted.

"That's it. The last of the Jewels of Albercore." He lied smoothly. "So your luck had BETTER change or-"

He stopped speaking suddenly, his attention diverted by the sound of a carriage approaching from outside. The rest of the tavern fell silent as well. This was a rare occurrence so high in the mountains- only the wealthy used such modes of conveyance, and it was too early in the year for pleasure trips, or travelers from the provinces making a pilgrimage to Rome.

All ears strained toward the doorway- to the sound of the horses pulling slowly to a stop, and then the slamming of a wooden door. Footsteps....

"You there!" The black-clad Praetorian who entered the tavern offered no greeting or explanation of his arrival, he simply barked at the first man he saw. "Where's the nearest villa along this road."

The man, a villager who had never encountered an Imperial Guard in person, remained still while his eyes grew like saucers.

"Forty miles from here." His companion piped up quickly, his voice a mere squeak.

The Praetorian frowned, and then ran his hand along a nearby table his look of displeasure increasing at the black smudge he collected. "Very well." He said at last. "Have you got any decent accommodations here?"

"Yes sir...." The innkeeper's wife hurried forward. "If you will just come this way, I-"

"It isn't for me!" The man said roughly, jerking his elbow away from her.

The door to the tavern creaked open again.

"Anything Aelus?"

Maximus would know that sneer anywhere. It was Arramus, looking lean and tanned from the journey- an effect which only heightened his menacing aura. Maximus stepped behind Tertius, grateful for his companions sheltering bulk.

The Praetorian made a cursory salute. "I'm afraid that the nearest villa is two days away. There are rooms here..."

Arramus nodded and then looked around. "Then they'll have to do. Tell the men to camp to the south of the village- no sense stepping on the Legions toes so early...I'll ride out to old Hortensius for cena...Here-"

From his hiding place, Maximus could only hear voices, but he knew from the clang of copper and silver that the innkeeper was paid. "We'll want food and proper baths..."

The proprietors murmured their assent. "I'll be back tonight. Kiss?"

Maximus' stomach tightened at the final word. In spite of prudence, he stepped from behind his friend to get a better view. It was Julia. He watched, half-sick as Arramus bent over her small figure, tilted her chin upwards with his index finger, and pressed his mouth against her firmly set lips. Maximus noted Julia's expression- her body was rigid, and her eyes far away... But she didn't fight it either....he thought grimly.

Drawing away at last, Arramus murmured something to the woman, and then set outside again, his exit punctuated by the heavy thud of the closing door.

The interior of the pub remained silent as its occupants stared at the strange woman standing in their midst. Maximus was right- whatever his motives, Arramus was taking care of the woman. She was richly dressed, clad in a silver -trimmed stola and a tunica of light-grey silk. The hood of the stola had been drawn over her head, her soft curls anchored by a delicate silver tiara and she wore a cloak of dark-grey velvet trimmed with snowy fur. Next to the rumpled, worldly camp followers who littered the room like trampled, over-bright flowers, Julia seemed like a goddess, an icy Minerva tumbled into the realm of man.

Se betrayed no sense of discomfort in her own scrutiny, they simply scanned her surroundings dispassionately. Maximus barely breathed as he waited for Julia to see. She stopped her scanning at Tertius. She was staring at something, Maximus realized with surprise, and then followed her gaze to the giant's broad hand.

The earring. She recognized it. Maximus took a half-step behind Tertius but it was too late. She had seen him. Her light eyes met his own, holding his gaze for a long moment. Maximus felt a tremor along his spine. Electricity, in spite of hint of anger in the cool orbs. What was it about this girl...

"My lady?" The proprietor's wife spoke up, breaking the connection suddenly. Julia blinked several times, as if coming awake after a vivid dream.

"Yes...I'll...I'd like my bath please." She said quickly, and started toward the stairs.

Maximus watched the two women disappear, ashamed to admit that his heart was still beating rapidly with excitement.

"We should go." Tertius hissed, misinterpreting his friend's discomfiture.

The general merely nodded in reply.

Maximus declined to join Tertius and his friends for an evening of drinking and carousing in the ranks- a decision he regretted almost instantly as soon as he was alone. He had been haunted by the memory of her eyes before, but now it was the rest of her body that consumed his imagination. The idea of her bath at the inn invoked vivid images, her soft, smooth curve slipping into the scented water, her golden-brown hair loosed around her shoulders, the tiny strigil scraping oil across her skin...

He didn't try to fight the thoughts. It was comforting, in a fashion, to at last compartmentalize his feelings as mere lust. He hadn't been with a woman in a very long time. His feelings were only natural, biological...They didn't threaten what he felt for Selene in any manner...It made perfect sense, so why couldn't he believe it? In spite of the logical appeal, he couldn't wholly convince himself that his feelings could be so neatly tucked away.

Maximus had been in love only twice. He didn't want it to happen again. It hurt. Badly. Losing Selene had been like stripping away a piece of his flesh. He revisited the pain every evening in his lonely bed, and every morning when he realized, in a panic, that another piece of her, another memory, had faded away in the night. Losing Lucilla had been....worse? A pain in a different part of his soul, because Lucilla had a choice, and she had once again chosen security of position over trusting that Maximus could protect her.

No. This was lust. Maximus closed his eyes firmly and went back to imagining the bath- Julia's pale skin flushed from the steaming water, her hands moving beneath the surface...

"Maximus?"

He nearly choked when he looked up to see the very object of his musings framed against the moonlight that filtered through the open flap.

The Spaniard sat up quickly. Trying to ignore the heat he felt as Julia settled onto the dusty floor beside him.

"You have to go, now! You're men know about the gold, they're going to take Arramus there they--"

"I know."

Julia blinked, confusion showing clearly in her amethyst orbs. "What?" She said after a long pause.

"I know Julia, its what I want them to do. We're going to march to Germania together."

The woman fell silent again, searching his face for an explanation as her sharp mind sorted through the clues. "The earrings...." She thought aloud as the final pieces fell into place.

Maximus nodded.

"Then you're safe." She said at last. Was it relief he heard in her voice?

"As much as I ever am." He forced a chuckle, still too painfully aware of his wife's nearness to be comfortable.

Silence fell between the pair again.

"I...I'm sorry about leaving you at the inn Julia." Maximus began awkwardly. "I was afraid for you, I thought you would die if--"

"Shhh....." the girl laid a single slender finger across the General's lips, silencing him. He caught his breath sharply. Did she feel it too? The tingling energy when they touched? Julia pulled her finger away abruptly. "I...I know." She said quietly. "It's what you had to do."

"I watched you." Maximus continued, unsure of why he needed to prove himself. "Every morning when the surgeon came, when you took you walks until...until..."

"Until you left." The words seemed to echo in the small space.

Julia bit her lower lip, looking at the dirt floor. "I tried to follow you." She said quietly, raking her fingertip across the loose soil.

Maximus looked incredulous. "Through the mountains?"

His wife continued to look away, her attention diverted to a small stain on the hem of her gown. "You were too fast I...I got lost in the dark, and Arramus..."She shivered as she said the name. "He found me and brought me back."

The Spaniard's face flashed with concern. "Did he know why you left?" That could be a complication he hadn't counted on. If Arramus were still looking for him...

She shook her head in the negative, a single brown-gold curl escaping its bindings and falling in front of her ear. "No. I told him that my horse had wandered off the path."

"Good." Without thinking, Maximus raised his hand and brushed the errant curl behind her ear. "He's probably looking for you right now..." The voice was reluctant. "Julia, you have to go."

The terror that flashed across his young bride's face was as acute as it was unexpected. "No!" A visible tremor coursed through the small frame. "Please...don't make me go back..."

Maximus laid his palms against Julia's shoulder, steadying her.

"Did he hurt you, Julia?" He said evenly, trying to maintain his calm. He took a deep breath. "...touch you?"

Hesitation.

The brief moment before she spoke was like a knife digging into his skin. He felt an almost forgotten fury fill his veins.

"No." She said at last, her voice very small. She leaned her head against his chest. "At least, not yet. He...he watches...." She bit her lip again, so tightly that a line of crimson formed just below the skin. "I can feel him...just...there, behind me, looking- When I'm sleeping...in the morning when I dress...in the bath..."

Julia yelped with pain as Maximus's grasp, slowly tightening as she spoke, became an almost bruising pressure.

He loosened his hands quickly, still too angry to apologize.

He would kill.

Julia looked fearfully at Maximus' clouded face, almost afraid to speak. "Please let me stay..." She requested again.

Maximus took several breaths, trying to calm himself enough to think rationally. "Julia you..." He sighed, clenching and unclenching his hands several times. "...you can't. If you stay here, Arramus will find you...if we leave...." He laid his hand beneath her chin, drawing it upwards to meet his gaze. "I'll protect you, Julia. I promise. If you can hold out just a few more weeks..." He brushed away a tear with his thumb, trying an alternate tactic. "You said that you wanted to stop your father- this is the only way. If we march to Germania together we'll have food and supplies, we'll have the element of surprise on Arramus when we're finally revealed, we..."

Julia's stricken expression shamed him to silence. His resolve faltered.

"Stay." He said at last, tightening his arms around her. "Stay...I'll think of something."

Julia pressed her head against his chest, twinging her arms tightly around his shoulders, she lay there limply for a moment before pulling away.

"You're right." She gathered her cloak around her shoulders. "I have to go."

"Julia..." Why did he want to stop her? Wasn't this what he wanted?

"I do want to stop him, Maximus...I'm just so...so tired of being brave!"

Maximus smiled at her gently. "You've been brave your whole life, Julia....it will be over soon."

"And then?" Her lavender-brown eyes were questioning again- the same question that they had asked at her father's. Do you want me?

Maximus turned away, suddenly interested in a loose lacing of his sandals.

Julia sighed unhappily.

"Tell Arramus that you want riding lessons." He said gruffly. "Tell him there's a man in the Felix Legions who can show you jumping."

"You?" She was incredulous.

"You can...keep me informed of his plans." Strictly business, he assured himself. "I'll send Tertius to meet you so he doesn't get suspicious....twice a week. If anything...." He paused, licking his lips. "If anything happens, come here. The men of the Felix Legions know where to find me. Be careful not to ask an officer."

She nodded, gathering her skirts as she turned toward the door.

"Julia?"

She turned.

"Be careful." Impulsively, he leaned forward, planting a swift, soft caress on her forehead hovering near her as he pulled away. He could feel her breath on his cheek as she studied him intently, smell the lemon verbena perfume of her hair...

Julia leaned forward. Maximus felt suddenly as though he were watching the scene from out of his body- far away and high above- as she tilted her lips to his own, and met him in a gentle kiss. He melted against her, surprised but unresistant, reciprocating the pressure, holding the embrace a beat longer than he had intended, sorry when she finally broke away. Julia pulled the hood of her cloak around her head and darted through the flap. She paused just beyond the door, looking over her shoulder, a grin on her face.

"Coward." She teased.

She turned away again, and disappeared into the night.

Spring had given way to early summer, but the broad-leaf forests, steadily thickening as the little army wound its way toward the north, shaded the ground, keeping the air pleasantly cool, Maximus leaned back against the tree where he was waiting, closing his eyes to enjoy a refreshing breeze that rustled through the leaves.

An owl hooted nearby, and Maximus' eyes flew open. He echoed the sound- it was the signal that he and Tertius used to identify each other. Sure enough, a few moments later the giant and his charge appeared.

Tertius was hunkered over a dappled stallion, the powerful horse looking comically small beneath the heavy weight. Julia, in contrast, rode a graceful roan-colored mare. The two animals could not have been more impossibly mismatched, but they seemed to get along- almost too well, as Maximus and Julia had discovered earlier in their rides.

Tertius swung off the stallion's back, a blanket draped over his shoulder. "The usual?" He said, extending his arm to accept the fishing pole that Maximus offered.

Maximus nodded, trading the gear for the reins of the horse, in a single easy movement, he heaved his leg onto the animal's back and slipped onto the saddle. He nodded. And with a gentle kick of the ribs, led the animal away. Julia followed slightly behind Tertius was out of sight.

"It's getting cooler." Julia remarked as they entered a dim patch of trees. "We must be nearly to Germania by now."

Maximus nodded. "That-and you're wearing a sleeveless dress." He flashed a smile, hoping she had caught his jest.

Julia half-grinned, arranging her stola more closely around her shoulders, and she twisted slightly forward to concentrate as the horses started up a rise.

She seemed much more confident atop a horse now, Maximus noted, thinking back to their escape from Rome (of course, he reminded himself, it doesn't hurt that she isn't bleeding anymore). Although the side-saddle mount looked awkward, she never shied away from joining him in a gallop, or leading the way up a winding trail.

Closing her eyes, Julia took a deep breath, sucking in the perfume of flowers that grew along the trail. The silence between the pair was comfortable, and neither party was in a hurry to break it.

When the rise finally flattened, Maximus slid off his horse, looping the reins around a low branch. He held out his hands to help Julia down as well.

He kept his arms around her waist longer than he should have. The electricity was still there, though he hadn't acted on it since the first kiss in the tent. When their skin touched, he could feel the passion boiling just beneath the milky surface. He wondered if she could sense the same in him- if they were both afraid that a second kiss would shatter the dams which carefully kept their feelings inside.

While he was a stranger to Julia's body, he was growing familiar with her mind. During their long, solitary rides, they had shared their thoughts and feelings on a thousand topics. Julia's mother, Maximus' wife, his early career in the army...even life as a gladiator. Julia seemed to understand him. His pain. His isolation. He felt at times that they had lived it together. But there was one topic that they never discussed... "Marius." The name that had been on Julia's lips the night of her fever. A name that she always seemed to avoid explaining- suddenly interested in a new topic whenever it arose. Her evasiveness was frustrating, unsettling, and Maximus felt he would never really know her until the mystery was revealed.

He was about to speak, when he noticed that Julia's eyes were very large. She was staring at something over his shoulder. He turned to look, but saw nothing.

"What is it, Julia?" He asked, brows furrowing in puzzlement.

"Over there!" She waved her index finger toward the horizon, and Maximus caught a shiver of rustling in the trees. "Did you see it?"

He nodded. "Germans."

The look in Julia's eyes did not lessen. "Here? What are they doing?!?" She shivered.

"Watching us." Maximus put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "They've been tracking us for a long time."

"Should we head back?" Julia was nervous.

Maximus scanned the horizon again, then shook his head. "It's only a scout- they're merely keeping tabs on us. We'll be alright." Julia did not look reassured.

"Why are they watching?" She asked, still staring in the same direction.

"To see what we're doing...where we're going. They still consider this land theirs." He put his finger under his chin, trying to draw her gaze away. "Which brings me to my next topic....I'm afraid that this is your last riding lesson."

Suddenly, he had her full attention. "What?"

"I'm going away Julia. You may come with me, but you should know that it is going to be hard. I don't know how much food my men have managed to steal, and if Arramus tries to fight us--"

"But you can't go! We're nearly there!"

"Which is why I have to act quickly. If Arramus gets the gold first, he won't give it up without a fight. But if we reach it..."

"But you don't have a map."

"Tertius is taking care of that."

"But...." Julia was speechless. "When are you going?" She said asked at last.

"Tonight, after the last guard change." He frowned. "You are coming with us?"

She bit her lower lip. It was the same look that she used when avoiding conversation about Marius, and it conjured the same sense of unease.

"I'm tired." She said at last. "I want to go back."

Maximus was awoken at dusk by the sound of scurrying outside his tent. "General!" an urgent, but hushed voice called into the dim tent. "General, wake up!"

The Spaniard had been catching a quick nap, hoping to feel rested when they left later in the night, still, he came instantly awake at the warning. "What's going on?" He called back, pulling his tunica over his head and reaching for his sword.

"Inspection. The general just called it..." He was speaking of the official commander. "And an account of weapons. We're all supposed to hand our swords to the centurion & fall in-"

"Is he crazy?" Maximus said incredulously, underscoring his disbelief with a short stream of expletives. "Conducting an audit of arms in the middle of hostile territory? The Germans have been tracking us for a week."

The question was rhetorical, convenient, since his informer had disappeared, and the space around Maximus' tent was filled with clattering footsteps. Grabbing his helmet, placing it squarely on his head, Maximus exited into the twilight. He held his gladius out, ready to surrender- grudgingly- to a centurion, but carefully stored a dagger in his belt.

It couldn't have happened at a less convenient time- it was likely that his plan to break off with the loyal legions would be postponed...how would he get word to the others?

Maximus stashed himself in the rear of the rapidly forming rows of soldiers. He was just settling in when new problem quickly presented itself. Arramus himself was on horseback beside the aging general, his arrogant profile unmistakable even in the fading light. He seemed to be looking at the ranks very carefully, almost as if he were looking for Maximus, almost as if he knew....

Maximus turned his head sharply as his enemy neared. He focused on the perimeter of the camp, trying to appear engrossed in tracking the pace of the sentry around the fortified square. Where *was* the sentry? Maximus frowned, giving a second look to the outer fortifications. His eyes went from the corner, to the open gate- to the group of men congregating around the centurions. The setting sun caught on a piece of hammered metal near the ground. A helmet, Maximus realized, his heart quickening. The sentry.

"Attack!" He yelled, diving forward toward the swords. "Attack! All men to arms! Attack!"

He barely noticed as Arramus wheeled around toward his voice. He was too intent on calling the men into formation. They were unaccustomed to stealth warfare. How many Germans were already inside the gate? They would be slaughtered.

"To arms! To arms!" The general joined the surge of men moving toward the Centurions. As he had feared, the men encircling them were the enemy, and they fought viciously to defend their prize.

Maximus was thrown backwards as the man in front of his was hacked down with a heavy axe. He noticed, almost a second too late, that the crude weapon had been raised for a second blow, but he dodged, rolling sideways in the mud, his hand finding his dagger, which he threw forward with all his might. The German fell forward, creating a hole in the circle just large enough for the Romans to push through....

Maximus dug in the middle of the pile for a sword- any sword, and blindly hacked the air in front of him. Already the wind was beginning to smell of blood and sweat- the sickly sweet perfume of battle. From behind him, he heard the grunts of his fellow legionnaires as they struggled to defend themselves against the intruders, but he did not look back, focusing on reaching the stables as he called directions over his shoulders.

"Close the gates!" He choked wildly, barely registering as his orders were carried on by those deeper in the fray. He side stepped a scythe as it swung through the air toward him, stumbling sideways, and landing on his shoulder hard. Maximus looked up as the weapon was raised again. He kicked, hard, managing to throw his opponent off balance enough to regain his foothold. He raised the sword, up, then across, his pulse hammering in his head as he dispatched the barbarian in two forceful blows.

At last, he found a horse, swinging high onto the animal's bear back, he had a better view of the battle, though it was impossible to see which way the tides had turned. The Germans who had snuck in were dressed almost as Romans- the hundreds more that had streamed through the open gate were so covered in mud that only their fair hair and large builds could betray them.

"Fall in!" He yelled, pounding back toward the center of the battle. "Fall in against the fence...shields!" He could feel his throat grow horse as he yelled. He felt a heady mix of terror and euphoria as he hurled toward the bloody fray. He didn't know if they recognized his voice, or merely the authority which it carried, but his men obeyed. He was the general again. He was gratified as his men, still shocked and shaken, listened to the years of discipline that had been hammered into their skulls. They fell back against the wall, remembering their formations, remembering their training, remembering that they were Romans, and that they would never, ever fall to these wild beasts of men.

Satisfied that the ranks were closing up, Maximus returned his attention once more to the hand-to-hand combat. There were still stockpiles of weapons in German control. He watched with dismay as they were spirited over the fortifications by burly savages. He charged forward. There was no time to call up archers, but some of his fellow cavalrymen had fought their way to mounts, and had fallen in behind him. He made two quick motions with his sword. Obediently, the horses split into two groups, separating the largest clutch of Germans and forcing their flank against the calvary.

They were weakening. The tide of stolen weapons had ebbed.

Still charged with adreanline, Maximus made another pass at the savages, stunned when, from behind him, Roman sword landed heavily against his mount.

He wheeled the wounded animal backwards, sword raised, and then blinked in shock. It was Arramus.

"The dead live again." He sneered, seemingly oblivious to the carnage around him, his tunica still pristine and unbloodied as though he were a mere spectator to the sport.

"Arramus." Maximus growled, leveling his sword, he prepared to charge, then blinked as the Praetorian gingerly maneuvered his animal out of the way and turned to go.

"Not yet...Not this fight..." He called over his shoulder, his voice thick with premonition. "You have won this round Spaniard, but I'll be back..." With a firm kick to his horses' ribs, he disappeared into the fray.

Maximus started to follow, but from the corner of his eye came a new distraction. The Germans, beaten now, had set fire to some of the supply wagons. The soldiers we scurrying forward in panic, ignoring the dwindling fight as they scurried to save their precious rations. He scanned the length of the wagon train, assessing the damage looking first at the broken vehicles, and then to the ruined tents, trod into the mud and rent to ribbons from the slashing swords. His eyes caught on the command tent, the pale canvas stained scarlet....Julia!

He urged his mount forward, unheeding of its freely bleeding flank, jumping off when the beast stumbled and running toward the ruined dwelling.

"Julia!" He stumbled over the stakes which held the covering in place, but he continued forward, hacking an entrance through the heavy fabric.

"Julia!"

He held his sword at shoulder level while his eyes adjusted to the dark.

"Maximus." Julia's voice sounded like the fearful mew of a newborn kitten, he lifted an oil lamp from one of the tables and walked toward the sound.

Her tunica had been rent from her shoulder, the left side hung to her waist in ribbons, exposing a single breast as though she were an Amazon warrior. Her hair was also unkept. In her hands, she clutched a bloody sword...one of Arramus' swords, he realized, appraising the gilded hilt. At her feet lay the corpse of a barbarian.

"I...." She said lowly,"I killed him." She clamped her mouth shut., her eyes dull with shock. Maximus laid his sword on the ground and leaned toward her, scooping her into his arms tenderly. Although she contained her tears, her body shook violently.

Maximus smoothed back her hair, understanding the emotions she experienced, terror, exhilaration, guilt, fear, regret, satisfaction. He remembered them all, though it had been years since he had felt anything other than numbness as he struck a killing blow.

"It's over Julia..." He whispered. "You're safe."

Maximus led Julia to her to the bed, and made her lie down. "I'll be back soon..."

"But you're leaving!"

He shook his head. "Not anymore. Arramus is gone...I think its time for a change in priorities. Most of my men are bloodied, and all of them need to recover from shock. We'll pitch camp further up the hill for the night, and then move into a fort in the morning. I know of one near here...." He hoped that his voice sounded soothing.

"Wait here." He commanded, and went back outside to look for Tertius.

The losses had been heavier than he feared. Most of the Germans had been inside when they attacked. A raiding party, he decided, surveying the pilfered stores. They were lucky. A full fledged attack could have killed them all.

Maximus ignored the stunned faces of the legionnaires as he walked through the ranks assigning the tasks of organizing the bodies and breaking the camp. Those who had not been aware of his presence looked at him as though he were a ghost. The officers- with the exception of the commander- seemed sheepish and confused.

Confident that they were secure for the night, Maximus turned at last to address the ranking men.

"I am Maximus Decimus Meridas." He said loudly enough for the nearby soldiers to hear. "Former commander of these men. If I am not mistaken, my commission has never been formally revoked by the Senate." He looked at the aging general, hoping that his attempt to make the mutiny less painful was working. "Therefore, as a result of this emergency. I am resuming command effective immediately." He looked closely at the faces of the men. "Anyone who disagrees if, of course, free to go. I'll see that you all have a horse and enough provisions to see you back to Rome." He met the eye of each officer in turn.

"No one?" He said at last.

His eyes settled on his counterpart, but the old man merely shrugged. Maximus was not surprised. He could never face the humiliation of returning to Rome disgraced. He doubted that he would live the night.

Maximus drew Tertius aside as he headed for the command tent.

"Did you manage to find the maps?"

The tall man shook his head. "I didn't have time. I couldn't find them in his tent, he must carry them on his body."

Maximus frowned. "Then we'll worry about that later.I'm going to lead the men to Pilantium in the morning. There's a fort there at the entrance to the pass...It's in disrepair, but workable until the wounded recover- and a good base of operations until we see what Arramus plans to do. I don't have a map to the gold- unless he left it behind, which I doubt. The best thing that we can do now is watch, and wait."

The giant nodded in agreement.

"I want you to go ahead to Bradia. Tarsus Praxus lives there. He should know about the Germans that we encountered today. I need to learn if it was an isolated raid, or if there is a larger army between here and the Danube. Stay there for a month. If I don't send word, return to the fort."

Tertius tilted his head in assent. "I'll leave tonight."

The sun was unseasonably hot as they wound through the rolling, tree-covered hills of lower Germania. Clad once more in ceremonial armor and a heavy scarlet cloak, he felt as though her were sweltering.

Julia trotted beside him on her mare, miraculously spared from the carnage. Her regal face was expressionless, her eyes distant and tired.

She hadn't slept at all, he knew, having lain awake beside her on the floor of the tent. She had merely stared at the bloody dagger, turning it over and over in her hands, refusing to surrender it to the general.

He felt deeply for her. Julia was not made for bloody battles. She had been raised on silken pillows, the theater, golden combs. She was a creature to roost in the top branches of the empire, never to know or perhaps even suspect that the roots of the tree were suckled on blood...even Selene- his hands tightened on the reigns as he invoked the almost holy name- even Selene would be more ready for the sights of battle, being accustomed to toil and the bloody business of life and death on a farm. He doubted that, before she met him, Julia had seen anything more bloody than an augur's sacrifice.

At last, near nightfall, they reached the fort. Maximus had been there before- a momentary stopover on his campaigns to the far north. He knew it well. The placement was far from perfect- a rise along the western wall left a blindspot among the trees, and made it difficult to place artillery to defend that front- but the rocks and timbers which formed its skeleton were still sturdy and intact. They would have a clear vantage to the North and South, which should alert them to any distantly approaching troops.

The general rode through the rusting gates of the old building. Frankly, he was relieved to find that the Germans hadn't already claimed it for their own.

Maximus directed the various troops to their positions, placing an infirmary in the center of the common area, and seeing that the wounded began to cycle through the tent. Next, he formed details to inspect the water supply and arrange cooking, drinking, and bathroom facilities. Finally, he directed the officers to rooms within the fortifications themselves.

One of the peculiar features of the fort was a low, barbarian style hut which backed against the South wall. Unlike Roman homes, it had no central courtyard or receiving area, merely a row of tiny, boxlike rooms, an internal staircase, and a pitched roof to prevent the winter snows from collapsing the pitch and paper roof. Still, it was cozy- and secure. He ordered a clutch of soldiers, and the few remaining slaves from Arramus' entourage to clean and prepare the dwelling for Julia's occupation.

The first week of the stay passed uneventfully. Daily, a group of soldiers would exit the iron gate in search of fresh meat and repair materials, and each evening they would return. The business of the infirmary was beginning to slow. Some of the men got better, some died and were buried.

It began to rain during the second week, and Julia- who had occupied a large room by herself on the upper floor of the little house, had been forced to share with Maximus when the flimsy roof proved less seamless than it appeared. He offered to return to a tent with his men, but was secretly pleased when she asked him to remain. It was a slight distraction from the steadily building tension that he felt with each day of inaction- and each night with no word from Tertius. He lay next to his wife on the small, wool-stuffed mattress, watching her sleep, pleased to see that, for her at least, the events of the prior week were fading, evidenced by the return of innocence to her lovely face.

At last, during the second week, after nearly four days of rain, a rider appeared at the gate. The sentry had already pulled the heavy metal grates open before Maximus had been alerted to his arrival, a fact which annoyed him deeply. He frowned when he saw the man, his features half-obscured by sodden hair. It was not Tertius- nor any other man that the General knew by sight. He had no basis for distrust, other than a prickling sensation on the back of his neck- a feeling of alarm that he had carried with him since his first days in the army.

"General!" The man said thickly, falling to one knee as he entered the foyer of the little cottage. Maximus gestured for him to rise with an upturned palm, conscious of the slight swishing of fabric behind him as Julia slipped behind a curtain. "I'm so glad to hear that you are here!" He took an awkward step forward. "General Castinius of the North Alpine Legions sends his regards- and this plea for help...."

Maximus arched an eyebrow suspiciously. "A plea for help?" He took the scroll which the soldier offered and read it carefully, ignoring the interested gazed of the officers which crowded around him. He was wound as tightly as a spring- but this was not the release he was hoping for.

Maximus,

I have recently been visited by your friend Tertius. How good it is to know that an old friend is back where he belongs, particularly when I have need to call upon his services. The gangs of roving bandits moving through the Southern Danube have banded together even as we speak. The alliance is makeshift, but they have been emboldened by some early victories against our forts along the frontier.

I confess that my own me were not prepared for the strength of the new uprising. We are currently under siege at Tracia. If the Gods favor my messenger, and allow him to deliver this message, I humbly make a desperate plea for your immediate assistance. Tertius will remain here until we receive your response. The lives of four legions hinges on your prompt assistance. Make no delay.

, Gaius Brutus Castinius

General and Commander of the North Alpine Legions

Maximus considered the letter for a moment, then crumpled it and threw it to the floor, where it was quickly snatched up by the officers.

"Sir?" the visiting soldier questioned, turning his head to watch as Maximus paced the room.

"A trick." The general growled. "We stay."

"But the Alpine Legions...." one of the officers, a younger man, emboldened by his lack of experience, squeaked stepping forward. "They need us! Surely we aren't going to huddle here like...like cowards and let them die!"

"I'm the general, and I say we stay....I don't like the looks of this."

"You're afraid!" The young man said, stepping forward into Meridas' shadow.

"Be careful." His superior said gruffly. Maximus snatched the paper out of the hands of his legate. "This doesn't leave this room." He turned to the soldier. "You are dismissed Legionnaire. Report to one of the centurions about a tent and gear."

The man nodded curtly, his face clearly betraying his anger, and then exited.

Maximus gave a final dark look to his assembled officers.

"Not a word." He insisted again, and he too turned to leave.

Maximus was restless that night, and this time it was Julia's turn to lie awake and wonder at his troubled sleep.

"What is it, Maximus?" She asked when he awakened for the sixth time in only half the night. The look of concern in her purple-brown eyes almost a caress.

He sighed heavily, feeling foolish but at the same time, unable to shake his malaise. "It feels like a trap Julia, like..." Like your best friend is about to pull a sword and lead you into the woods for execution. Like Cicero is about to be hung. Like... Maximus clenched his eyes shut, trying to force out the terrible images that seemed to crowd his mind.

Julia laid a light kiss against his forehead. "It's alright...it must be okay...How would General Castinius know you were here unless Tertius found him..." her voice was low and soothing. "He must have told him that you were here..."

Maximus sighed, completely unaffected by her attempts to calm him. He closed his eyes, lost in his thoughts again, coming fully awake only when he felt Julia's lips against his neck.

He stiffened, and she pulled away, a flush instantly coloring her heart shaped lips.

"I...I'm sorry." She said quickly. "I thought you could use--"

"The services of a tricked-up camp follower?" He spat as all the tension of the proceeding week bore down on the unwitting bestower of a single unwanted caress. His temper was rarely seen, but when it came, it did so with a fury. The girl had unwittingly laid the last straw upon a fragile back...

Julia's lower lip quivered. Maximus hadn't wanted to say those words, hadn't meant them at all, but the weakness of her response provoked his already addled mind.

"What, Julia, you don't think that's appropriate?"

Julia's voice was hoarse, her eyes almost hollow as she managed a response.

"I am your wife."

An innocent answer. The truth. But the single truth that could not appease him now. For so many days, all of his fears from the past had flooded back. The feeling of being hunted. Caged. This final memory was too much....Selene.....

"You are NOT my wife." He roared. Julia skittered backwards off the bed, staring at him in dull horror as though a friendly lapcat had turned into a menacing lion. "You will NEVER be my true wife."

"Maximus..." Tears were clearly visible on the rims of Julia's eyes, but, chin up, she refused to let them fly. "You're upset, you don't know what you're saying. You..."

"LEAVE." He roared, with a muffled whimper, Julia obeyed, her bare feet tapping against the floor tiles as she ran down the hall and into the night.

Maximus watched her go, and then collapsed against the bed. What had he done? What should he do know? The voice in his head that had warned him not to speak, now pleaded with him to chase Julia into the night. To find her...to apologize, but that voice- the rational, moral center that had carried him through the darkest years of his life, had yielded at last to his dark and animal instincts.

Jumping to his feet, Maximus rounded the bed and fetched his armor and cape.

"Obedieh!" He called and a frightened slave, who must have heard the preceding exchange, bounded into the bedroom. "Wake Quirius, Darius and the general. Tell them that I want to see them immediately."

"Sir?"

"Tell them that I'm heading north."

He signaled for the boy to be on his way. If it was a trap, then he was tired of waiting on it. He would face the danger head-on.

Hurriedly, he strapped on his armor, feeling an almost desperate need to be gone. He slid his sword into its hilt, and then walked into the main room of the house.

He was vaguely aware that Julia was crouching there in a corner. By flickering candlelight, he could see that her face was covered in tears, but he ignored her, walking instead to the writing desk. Hurriedly he penned two short notes, then stashed them in a pigeonhole of the desk.

Obedieh returned. "They're on their way, General." He said, bowing, unable to resist a sidelong glance at the general's wife.

Maximus nodded. "Good. I've put two letters in the desk. One goes to the Senate, and the other to Tertius telling him to go immediately to Aurantium...see that they are delivered."

The boy nodded.

Maximus glanced over his shoulder, casting a final glance at his cowering wife.

"That will be all....but come with me now. I may have more tasks before we go."

The boy nodded.

With a flourish of his cape, Maximus was gone.

The next day at breakfast was very quiet. True to his word, Maximus had left during the night taking his most trusted legions with him, leaving only Julia and a junior legate to eat at the formal table. Julia was listless, her face devoid of make-up and her hair unkempt. The old general- still, apparently, not disgraced enough for suicide, smiled to himself, adopting the sentimental notion that it was merely the act of a young bride wistful for her husband.

He murmured to the legate during the early meal- bread smeared with honey, ignoring the girl, who looked silently out of the window. They turned their heads abruptly toward her as she rose.

"A rider!" She said, happiness coloring her cheeks as she ran to the open viewport. "A soldier."

Suddenly, the face fell. "It's Arramus!"

The trio ran outside, arriving at the front of the house just as Arramus dismounted. "I must speak to General "he said brusquely, brushing past Julia as though she were invisible.

"I'm here." the elderly man said, frowning, what do you want.

"Is it true?" Arramus said sharply.

"What?"

"That Maximus has taken your army to the north."

The old man nodded, still not understanding.

"It's a ruse!" Arramus said urgently. "You have to stop him."

"What?"

"Maximus sent that letter himself. He and the Felix Legions are keeping the gold for himself...look around- he's left everyone loyal to you!"

Word of Arramus's arrival had spread quickly, and a small crowd was forming in the central yard. There was a low murmur as their former leader's words were repeated and carried through the mob.

"What can I do about it?" The old man said, doubtful. "If he's really intent on taking the money..."

"Look around you." Arramus made a sweeping gesture. He turned toward the mob. "Do you want to let him steal your money...after all you've done?"

Again, the words worked their way through the crowd, which was rapidly growing. "No!" they started to rumble. "No! We'll stop him!"

The elderly commander looked uncomfortable. "He told us not to leave the fort. We're undermanned as it is- if we took even half of the men...."

"Take them all."

"He said to stay."

"Is this how you want to end your career?" Arramus sneered, leaning forward. "In mutiny?" The older man frowned. "Beaten by a mere slave?"

Julia looked noted the general's steadily weakening resolve with alarm.

"He doesn't have a map!" She said desperately. "He can't steal the gold. He doesn't know where it is!"

Arramus sniffed. "You would believe her? His....mistress."

Julia's mouth shut quickly, more stunned by the barb than perhaps Arramus had even intended.

He turned his eyes to the crowd. "If you are afraid to go, perhaps they would follow me."

"No!"

The old man stepped forward, clearly unable to bear the thought of losing control twice. "We'll go."

"But."

"Go to your room, woman!" The old man snapped, stunning Julia into silence. "It's time you learned your place."

Julia watched from her window as more than half of the remaining soldiers formed up to march away. Why had Maximus gone? She had thought, at first, that he was merely superstitions, now she was more certain than ever that this was a trap- one of Arramus' making. She watched as the last man walked out of the gates, the iron bars clanging behind him with an eerie chime.

A trap in which she was going to be caught.

Maximus led his men through the hills at an almost brutal pace through the shadowed woods. The sense of danger had not relented- if anything it was stronger now, and Maximus felt more acutely than ever that he was being hunted. If only he could outrun it.

He had thought, more than once during the furious ride, of his last vision of Julia's face. Her tear stained cheeks and pleading eyes...It made him cringe. He had already lived to regret his words. Surely she knew that he hadn't meant them...that he had been angry, out of sorts...perhaps she didn't mean precisely the same thing to him as Selene had, but he was surely growing fond of her...comfortable in her presence, in her arms....

Maximus pushed the thought away, concentrating on the trail. There would be time enough to tell her how he felt when he returned. She would forgive him. He was certain of it. He only needed a change to explain.

"General!"

Maximus looked up sharply as one of his scouts rode to the front of the line, carrying a helmet tucked under his arm. The item was tinged scarlet, the horsehair fringe dirty and frayed.

"Yes, Legionnaire?"

"There's something that you need to see....a soldier we found dead- one of ours!"

Maximus frowned. "From the Felix?"

"Yes sir...that's what his armor says...it looks like he's been...gone...for quite some while."

The warning in the Spaniards head chimed louder than ever, and he nudged his horse to a gallop. The scout shot ahead, leading them off a trail to a low clearing a mile ahead of the march.

"Over here, sir." The scout said, leading him to the bank of a stream. "We found him when we were watering the horses."

The helmet less figure, indeed clad in the armor of the Felix Legions, was face down in the water. Maximus placed his sandal on the corpses shoulder and turned it upright.

He choked, taking a quick step backwards to prevent a fall.

"Sir?" The scout asked, concerned.

Maximus turned around quickly.

"Tell them to turn around." He said desperately.

"Sir?"

"The legions! Tell them to turn back now!" His voice was wild as he stumbled backwards toward his horse.

The letter could not have been from General Castinius. The man in the creek was Tertius!

Maximus rode all day and all night, heedless of the animal that he was killing as he rode. He felt as though he were reliving the most horrible chapter of his life. With a dim sense of dread, he knew what he would find when he returned to the fort. It was a grim jest of the Gods that they were giving him a second chance to outrun fate.

Only a few of his men were able to keep pace. Though they had no need to return, they felt their commander's desperation, and they would not leave him alone.

His heart caught in his throat as he crossed the final ridge before the fort and saw the tell-tale plume of black smoke rising from the earth. Tears stung at his eyes. It couldn't be happening. A flash of metal caught his eye, and he edges forward. A sword...an ax....The battle was still going on!

Hope, vital but frail, gave him inspiration to press on. He looked to the men around him. They were weary from the ride, in no condition to fight, but they followed him down the hill and into the fray.

Though unintended, the arrival of the horses gave the fort the boost it needed to struggle on. Overestimating the strength of the reinforcements, the barbarians began to scatter, returning to the woods as the weary calvary clattered through the unhinged gates.

Maximus pushed through smoldering ruins of the fort, ignoring the final struggles of the battle as they took place around him. He could still see the house...it was standing. He allowed his tension a slight release. They must not have gotten this far...the guard stopped them, they-

Maximus' heart caught in his throat as he saw the door- ripped from its hinges- splattered with blood. "Julia!" He cried, running into the hall. He didn't allow himself to look at the slave, slumped on the floor, her neck against the wall at an unnatural angle. "Julia!!!"

He stood at the end of the hall, momentarily confused. The house was not build to Roman design and, fighting back a thread of panic, he had forgotten his way. An icy wind blew past the unhinged entrance, slamming another wooden door at the end of the hall. From beneath the heavy frame, he could see a sliver of silk flapping in the arctic breeze.

"Julia..." The word was almost a prayer now. His head was spinning as he strode through the hall, fatigue and horror dulling his senses as the past and present merged.

The scent of smoke lingered in the house just as it had settled atop the hillside in Hispania. He wondered, with a horrible fascination if he would be greeted with the same scene when the door to the bedchamber was opened. Julia...Selene...both too little, too late..

He pressed on the door, and it swung inward almost a foot before stopping stubbornly. Something was blocking it. Maximus felt his heart seize again as he saw a log of gold-brown hair at the edge of the opening.

It was a body.

Applying all of his weight against the rough wood, he eased the opening wider, pausing to swallow before he looked at the limp figure that had blocked the way.

It wasn't Julia.

Joy, like white-hot warmth flooded his body as he regarded the Germanian corpse. It was a man, in his early 20's, fair-headed and very pale, a look of surprise captured on his dying face and a thin, silver-handled dagger in his neck. Maximus pulled the lifeless heap into the hall before entering the room. It was cold and empty. Unlike a traditional Roman home, the room had a fireplace, and it was full of long-settled ashes. Julia's jewels were gone, and the tiny chest at the foot of the bed- containing all of the belongings they had smuggled from Rome- was thrown open, its contents strewn across the floor. Maximus guessed that the dead German had been the first visitor to the room, but that others had followed as they plundered the house.

Maximus sat on the edge of the bed, looking over the ruins of the room. "Julia..." He half-whispered hoarsely. He loved her, he admitted to himself at last. Through all the intrigue and the struggle...through all the nights they had spent alone. He had called his feelings for her a dozen names...charity....friendship...pity....Now, only now when it was too late did he understand what he truly felt. He felt his jaw clench with effort as he fought back the tears which pricked at his eyes.

"Maximus...?"

He blinked, wondering at first if it were a dream, and then he strained his ears as he heard the soft voice again. "Maximus...?"

He scrambled to his feet, trying to get a bearing on the sound. It was Julia! "I'm here!" He said scanning the room. "Where are you?"

"In the chimney. " He heard a scratching sound as he ran across the room, and then a softer voice. "I'm stuck."

Maximus put his head inside the fireplace, only to draw away as a puff of black ash fell onto his face.

Without looking, Maximus reached into the darkness, feeling carefully until he felt his fingers slid around a slender ankle.

"I'm going to pull, Julia." He warned, waiting for her acknowledgment, and when it came, he tugged, falling backwards as her body unwedged and she tumbled to the floor.

Without rising, Maximus crawled to her position on the floor. "Julia.." He murmured, as a hot tear of relief slid down his cheek. " Julia...you're alive."

Her body and clothes were covered in soot, staining her hair a murky brown, and coating her skin thickly. Undeterred, he smoothed back a stray curl and caressed her forehead with his lips.

She pushed away, averting her eyes. "I'm dirty..." she whispered, but it was more than that. Maximus could sense it in her voice. He had hurt her...badly. Even in desperate circumstance she would not be easily won.

Maximus scooped her into his arms.

Julia continued to struggle. "Don't..." She begged, tears pricking at the back of her eyes. "I don't....not now...."

Maximus ignored her protest. "I love you Julia..." he murmured as he deposited her onto the bed.

"It's the battle....the memory...it--"

"You." He said more forcefully.

She stared at him for a moment, blinking away a tear which , in defiance of her efforts, escaped, sliding down her cheek leaving a trail of pale white in the midst of the inky soot.

"I don't want your love by halves, Maximus..." She said firmly. "Not matter what it costs me, I'd rather not have you at all."

He nodded, dipping the corner of the bedclothes into the stone water basin that sat beside the bed and beginning to smooth away the blackness which coated her face... after a moment of silence he began to speak. "I love Selene." he said plainly. "I always will....I'll always regret what happened....it seemed like..." He turned away, struggling to frame his emotions in words she would understand. "like some kind of treason to let myself love again...but I do." He finally returned to her gaze, struggling as he voiced the confession. "It's you I want now Julia...always and only you."

She bit her lower lip, "I'm dirty..." She breathed again.

"Then we'll wash you..."he whispered tenderly, unclasping the shoulder of her tunica.

Julia raised her had, laying its back against his rough cheek. There was a question in her eyes, the same question that had been there the night she was offered Maximus as a husband for the first time. Do you want me...?

At last he had an answer.

Yes.

Julia's eyes shone with equal parts fear and anticipation as she leaned into his embrace, her fingers began to explore his body. Her movements were timid at first...still uncertain of his desire.

"Domina..." He whispered urgently into her ear, moving into her touch.

"General!!!"

Julia and Maximus sat up quickly at the sound of the intruder's voice. Julia shrunk away as she saw the red-faced young officer lingering in the doorway.

"I...I'm sorry, sir." He stammered. "Appius wanted me to...I, uhm...you were missing and the battle and..." He blushed harder and looked at his feet.

Maximus looked back at Julia, tenderly tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

"I have to see to my men." He said softly. "I'll be back after nightfall....will you feel safe here?"

Julia nodded.

He gave her a reassuring smile and rose to his feet. "I'll be right there centurion." He said, his voice full of authority. "Send someone to clear away these bodies and light a fire...I'll want to get a full report of...." His voice faded as he walked down the hall...

True to his word, Maximus returned after the sun had set. The steady pounding of logs as foot soldiers repaired the fort and the rest of the Felix legions trickled in was replaced by the clink of clay goblets and raucous laughter as the ranks tried to forget the men they had buried and returned to thoughts of life...

Julia waited impatiently inside the house. It seemed very different now than it had during the morning. The chest had been righted and the belongings restored. The bed had been neatly made, and a fire crackled in the hearth. The biggest difference, however, was Julia.

She had taken care washing herself, resorting to the barbarian staple of pine soap when her oil and strigil had failed to rid her body of its dark film. Her clean skin shone like a silvery moon against the simple blue silken tunica she had donned.

Her hair was also washed, but her nervous hands had no patience for the intricate twists and braids which usually tamed the locks. She wore it loose, tumbling about her back and shoulders in a curtain of unruly curls.

She was sitting on the corner of the bed when Maximus returned home, her face was turned away from the door so she did not notice his arrival or see the look of amazement on his face as he appraised her snowy perfection.

"Julia..." he murmured at last.

She turned her head quickly, greeting him with a warm smile.

He was filthy. Covered from head to foot in dirt and drying blood, his hair and shirt slicked to his skin with sweat, and although technically disheveled, there was something primally masculine and erotic in his appearance. Julia felt a trembling of desire deep within her body at the sight of him, and she struggled to ignore it as she rose to her feet.

"Domine..." She mumbled uncertainly. Had his feelings changed again? Would he push her away again now that the relief of finding her alive was past?

As if reading her thoughts, he stepped forward and gathered her into his arms. "Now..." he mumbled tenderly against her neck. "Where were we...?"

Julia smiled as tears of relief welled up in her eyes. She had been in Maximus' arms many times before, but never had be been truly hers- there was always a memory to share him with...regrets.

She wanted to kiss him everywhere at once, to draw him against her, over her, into her...Not knowing where to start, she merely looked up at him expectantly. Maximus scooped her off of her feet and then settled her gently upon the bed.

His eyes never leaving her body, he began to peel away his armor and blood-soaked tunic. Julia watched him hungrily. She had seen his body before- a thousand casual glances necessitated by sharing life in a tent- but from a different perspective, a detached almost artistic viewpoint that evaluated the strong arms and powerful movements from an aesthetic perspective, "what was", rather than "what was to be". Maximus caught Julia's look and grinned faintly. He was unashamed of his nakedness...unashamed of the desire that was already beginning to show...

Maximus laid onto bed next to Julia resting on one hip, his head supported by his forearm so that he could watch her expression as he began a slow assault on her sense, beginning with a soft, stroking caress or her shoulder and neck.

It's been so long.... his body cried out in protest against his restraint. It had been years since he had been with a woman, in spite of the pawing solicitations from the admirers of his gladiatorial feats, but he had not denied their advances only to loose himself in an equally hasty and casual coupling now.

His body burned as he felt her first, tentative touch on his thigh. Patrician social mores were strict. As an unmarried woman, Julia's virginity had been guarded with vigilance and Maximus reveled in the innocence of her touch, enjoying every shuddering breath as she conducted her explorations. With one strong hand, he guided her to the core of his manhood and watched the flicker of emotions that danced across her face...embarrassment, nervousness, awe...she began to move her hand, her slender finger wrapped tightly around him and he pressed against her, grunting with pleasure at the inexperienced fondling before calling once more upon his self-control and extricating himself from her grasp...

"Not yet..." he whispered.

It was Maximus' turn and, like the general that he was, he paused before his assault, taking the measure of the girl who lay beside him, expertly planning plotting her weaknesses. It would be a two fronted attack, he decided, his lips already moving for her neck. His hands slid across the taut silk which covered her breasts. Through the thin fabric, he could feel her nipples, gathered in tight rosy buds, and he circled them with his thumb. Julia's hands were lying restlessly against his back, and her fingers dug into his back in surprise as he suddenly brought his mouth to join his finger. The kiss was deep, his tongue tracing the route of his thumbs as his wife writhed beneath him.

"Maximus..." She moaned as she slowly released her breath.

He slid a leg across her body and pulled himself to his knees. He was straddling her now. Julia lay between his knees, her unbound hair fanned across the deep pillows. Without speaking, he reached to her shoulders and began to unfasten her tunica. In a few, expert motions it was stripped away, her milky skin now fully exposed to his advances.

Julia's hands twined into her husband's closely cropped hair as his kissed moved down her body. She shivered as his beard tickled her skin and then bucked hard as his hot lips pressed against the sensitive skin of her chest, her stomach, her thighs....

"Maximus...." She choked, twisting wildly as he reached his destination. He stilled her with his strong hands and continued his work, gratified as her attempts to escape ended and she surrendered herself to his ministrations. Her breaths were already uneven, and they rapidly degenerated into ragged gasps. Her hips stopped abruptly, and Maximus could feel the tremor that coursed through her small frame, accompanied by a low moan of pleasure. He held her tightly, as the overpowering sensations ran their course, and then slowly retraced the trail up her stomach until he could see her face.

"My Julia..." he whispered, brushing her unruly hair away from her forehead again before planting a kiss on the soft lemon-scented skin.

She blushed crimson. "But you..."

He silenced her with another kiss. "Soon..."

Maximus pressed the length of his body against her, his desire pressing firmly against her slender legs, his whole body crying for release.As Julia's breath returned, she nuzzled his neck, pressing for the second round. Her husband smiled at the coquettish behavior. Mere moment ago she had been shy and retiring. Now, after only a taste of pleasure, she boldly asked for more...

Julia's hands reached once more between his legs, and she gasped as he quickly caught and stilled her wrist. She blinked. "Did I hurt you?" The beautiful, passion-bruised lips turned downward.

"No..I..." He closed his eyes. How to explain to Julia- this beautiful, naive girl, how dangerously close he was to a total loss of control. How-

Julia arched her hips forcefully against his own, and Maximus bit his lower lip so hard that it bled. He skittered away from her as though he had been burned.

"Wait..." He whispered, soothingly.

Maximus closed his eyes tightly, concentrating on his breathing before lying on his back. "Come..." he whispered, drawing Julia too him.

Instinctively, she anticipated his request (Roman girls didn't grow up with murals of the Rape of the Sabines without knowing a little about the art of love.), sliding one pale knee across his stomach, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

"It will hurt at first...."

Julia nodded, bending forward to kiss him. His hands found the small of her back, guiding her into position above him. "I love you Julia.. I..."

His breath left in a rush as Julia pressed downward and he filled her. She bit back the tiny yelp of pain, remaining still until the moment passed...and then it began. Maximus closed his eyes and allowed himself to drown, in the warm, golden tremblings of ecstacy that washed through his senses. Julia's rhythm was primal and unrestrained. The contradiction of her uninhibited desire and untouched innocence was so unlike anything he had ever known...

"More..." She begged roughly.

Maximus increased the pressure of his hands, pushing himself deeper into her body as their frantic rocking increased. He was drunk on her. The sweet scent of her hair, the salty taste of her skin, the tight wetness of her body.

"More..." She begged again, and Maximus obliged by flipping her forcefully to her back. He managed a single thrust...

"Julia...." His mind flashed with images as he came. Her face, the hillside in Spain, blood, Julia, Blackness.... Distantly, as though listening from another room, he heard Julia cry out, as she matched his climax. And then, as he drifted slowly back to consciousness, felt her huddle in his arms equally spent with passion. She felt natural there, he thought as he smoothed the brown-gold hair. He had fought the feeling that anything other than Selene could be right for so long...but he wanted her there. Wanted to make love to her again...wanted to make her pregnant...

Maximus stopped his thoughts before they went to far. He had found hope again, a promise of a happy future, but they still had to survive the present. He tightened his arms around Julia. Arramus had escaped the battle. He would return. Maximus would defeat him- he had more to fight for now than ever.

"Maximus?"

"I'm here."

There was a shuffling sound and, as the woman's eyes adjusted to the darkness, the form of Maximus slowly coalesced and moved into view.

"How do you feel?" He said, taking both her hands in his and kissing them softly.

"Fine....what are you doing?"

"Just looking over the camp..." He smiled sadly, still staring into the night. "Trying to make a memory I suppose....we'll be back in Rome soon..."

Julia frowned. "Rome! Why?"

"We can't stay here." He sighed. At last Maximus pulled himself from the window. "Arramus is gone, and we don't know to what extent he's in league with the barbarians. We don't have the maps, and I don't think we can track a single man through the forests. We'd be wandering in circles, possibly getting stuck here for the winter. We have the supplies, but if we don't have any hope of finding the gold..." He shook his head. "...it's best to just go back to Rome and try to find a political solution..."

Julia smiled wryly. "You hate politics. It's too subtle... and besides, no one will believe you! What if they think that you were after the gold? You 'stole' the Felix Legions, Maximus- they're probably half-convinced that you're going to march on the city."

"I don't know what else to do, Julia."

"Find the gold."

"I don't know how....Arramus took the maps, he..."

"He took his maps."

Maximus paused mid-breath, eyeing her shrewdly.

Silently, Julia slid from the bed, padding across the cold wooden floor to the cabinet and removing the Commentaries. Without speaking, she unrolled them to their full length. Maximus gasped as she pressed her fingernail through the edge of the thin vellum and then slowly stripped it away, revealing a replica of the maps that he had seen in the house of Julius Caecilianus, accented in the flourished script of his wife...

"Julia..." he was dumbfounded. "How did you..." He ran his fingertip along the blue line that represented the Danube on the map. Then another thought struck him. "You had this all along?"

She nodded slowly. "I....I didn't know if I- we needed them...if I could trust you." She looked at her hands. " Of even if I wanted to trust you to help me." She said at last.

The general returned his attention to the parchment. "Help you?" He laughed. "Were you planning to take the gold on your own?"

"If I had to."

He bit back his laughter at her naivety. Clearly, she had no concept of the logistics involved in such an operation...the challenge that the Germans represented...

"When you left Arramus' camp and tried to follow me North...this is what you were after?" She held her head high. "Julia, you might have died."

"If necessary."

Instead of voicing his thoughts, he simply looked at her evenly. "You hate your father that much?"

He was unprepared for the sudden look of anguish that crossed her face. "It isn't about hating him." She said vehemently. "It's about doing something...about not waiting my whole life while things happen to me instead of for me...being used and discarded like Mar-"

She fell suddenly silent and ignored the sudden intensity of her husbands gaze. "Like when Marius..." He urged her on.

But Julia fell suddenly silent, she simply chewed her lip, her small chin raised defiantly while a lily white hand rested on the maps protectively.

Maximus sighed and laid his hand on her shoulder. He was a man of action, not of words. He understood her anger, knowing too well from his life as a slave what it was like to live without choices- without hope...But coping was a lesson that couldn't be taught...

"Will you let me have the map, Julia?"

She nodded mutely.

He slid it from beneath her hand and carried it to the desk, fetching a torch from the hall to light the oil lamps so that he could read.

"It isn't far from here." He said at last, straightening his back and gesturing Julia to join him... "I know these lands."

"Then we'll find it quickly. We'll beat Arramus and-"

He stopped her with a raised hand. "Perhaps, but perhaps not...The map isn't very detailed...more of a road map for the person who drew the map than detailed instructions on how to return. This point..." He gestured toward the spot marking the location of the treasure. "...could be anywhere in a forty mile radius... it might be buried, it might be in a cave." He pulled his finger back. "It could be hung in trees for all we know."

"Then you aren't going to try?" Julia's face was incredulous.

"Oh, we'll try...it's just going to take a while."

Summer turned to fall and a brilliant golden bow of nature before the chilling Northern winds began to settle over the valley and portend the arrival of winter. There was no sign of Arramus, or of the gold. Maximus felt as though they had scoured every inch of the countryside, rolling aside every boulder, exploring every gully and crevasse, even draining lakes. Each night he returned to the tent he shared with Julia, holding the creased parchment against the fading light, searching for a clue that he had missed, wondering if it had been miscopied, misinterpreted, or was even a hoax.

The strain was beginning to take its toll on the men. The mercenaries who remained from Arramus' army had already committed more time than they had bargained for. The promise of so much plunder had been enough to keep them marching across the Alps and to face the bloody barbarians, but it was not enough to stave off the steadily building dissatisfaction of day after day without so much as a footstep of progress. They were growing rowdy, drinking more than they should, picking fights and wandering off into the woods. They were like a pot about to boil over. Maximus didn't know how he would contain them when they finally did.

The men of the Felix had different but equal reasons for their feelings of unease. It had been many months since their abandonment of their official commander- many months since he had sent reports back to Rome. Each man knew that it was merely a matter of time before official letters ordering them to return began to trickle in. They wondered, though they never spoke aloud, how they would react when the letters finally came. Follow Maximus? It was an easy decision when he had suddenly appeared, turning the tide of the battle...but there had been many months of reflection- time to lay awake in a tent and think about the comfort of freedom, and the price of defiance.

All of these problems weighed on the general's mind. Only Julia provided any comfort. She was his true wife now. Her quick intelligence and easy wit creating the perfect sounding board for his troubles- and her tender embraces a welcome, if temporary respite from the burdens he carried. But even she was beginning to cause concern. Since late summer she had been pale and tired, but refused his attempts to send her to the surgeon, even on mornings when simple bread and honey turned her stomach.

Sleep was his only escape. His dreams were peaceful now. He rarely saw Selene, but when he did she was smiling. Happy for him, glad that he was no longer alone. As the days grew shorter, he lingered in bed, relishing the last moments before daylight, and the seemingly endless struggles, returned. So, it was with a lack of enthusiasm that Maximus was awoken by his wife in the wee hours of a mid-December morning.

"Maximus!" The voice was excited, but not upset, and so he lay still for a moment longer, rolling onto the warm, empty spot where she had lain.

"Maximus! Wake up! You have to see..."

In another instant, her hand was on his shoulder, shaking it insistently. "Have you ever...wake up!"

With a groan, he rolled out of bed, wrapping himself in the blankets as he followed her to the tent flap. He shivered as he stepped outside the small zone of heat provided by their brazier.

"Look!" She pointed in the direction of the sunrise. "Isn't it wonderful? Have you ever seen anything like it?"

Maximus squinted, his mind still fuzzy from sleep. It looked like the beginnings of a standard sunrise, pale blue streaks across the inky sky heralding the first moments of dawn. He shrugged. "It's barely started."

"Not the sunrise, the snow!"

A smile spread across his lips as he realized the reason for her excitement. The temperature had held near freezing for several weeks, but this was the first snow of the year- a deep, fluffy carpet that had begun as sleet, coating the trees and tents in sparkling layers of ice before spreading its frosty carpet over the land. He guessed that it was the first snow she had seen outside of an occasional patch in the mountains they had crossed. Fully awake now, he appreciated her glee, which made her eyes sparkle like those of a young child.

"I'll take you for a ride later, if you'd like." He said, stifling a yawn. "And if you promise not to wake up so early ever again."

The horses ankles sank deep into the snow, so Maximus was careful to follow the banks of a small creek lest the animals misstep and break their leg on uneven footing. Beside him ,Julia was struggling to stay on her mount. Her usual graceful mare was unsuited for a romp through the snow, so she had traded, temporarily, for a massive, shaggy Germanic creature that swayed rather more than she was used to, making it difficult to keep her seat. They weren't going much further. Less than a mile away, there was a pretty waterfall that Julia might enjoy seeing, after that they would turn back.

He smiled when he looked at her. Whatever sickness had gripped her for the past several months seemed to be fading. She had eaten her breakfast voraciously, and her cheeks were tinged a healthy pink. She was still in awe of her surroundings, exclaiming with delights at a row of icicles sparkling in the sun, or at the slow wriggling of a fish trapped beneath the frozen stream.

She was so enraptured that she nearly fell out of her saddle as they rounded a corner in the trail. She scrambled to right herself on the saddle, and then made a small cry of despair as she removed her hands from her muff and regarded her wrist.

"Oh no! I dropped my bracelet!" She said unhappily, pulling the massive horse to a stop and retracing her steps. Maximus turned his mount around as well, stopping near the patch of snow where she had lost her balance.

"Are you sure that you had it on this morning?"

"Yes...I felt it slipping off when I started to fall." She leaned over, peering into the whiteness.

Maximus swung off his horse, landing knee-deep in the icy carpet.

"Ride ahead, Julia- its just around the corner. I'll find the bracelet and catch up."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. I want to make sure you see it, and we have to turn around soon. I'll just be a minute."

She nodded and blew him a kiss before returning to the narrow path beside the watercourse.

Maximus squinted into the snow, looking for a disturbance in the even surface. He wished, fervently at times, that Julia would quit dressing for the northern frontier as though she were going to a dinner party at the Imperial palace, but he understood that she never would. Silks and gems were as much a part of her personality as the simple homespun tunics that Selene had worn.

He thought he saw a shimmer of blue amidst the powder and thrust his gloved hand into the snow, feeling blindly until his fingers closed on a smooth metal object, he pulled it up, pleased to have completed his task so quickly. Julia would be pleased, the bracelet was a present from-

"Maximus!"

The frantic, almost strangled quality of Julia's voice sent a chill down the General's spine deeper than the cold that surrounded him. He thrust the jewels into his pocket and leapt onto his horse, his heart quickening as he pounded toward the sound of her voice. Was it the Germans? He had thought they were safe after so many month of peace...

"Julia! I'm here! What is it...?"

There was no answer, and Maximus quickened his pace, fear building as he neared the final curve.

"Julia?" He was stunned to find her safe and sound, sitting on top of her horse, staring across the frozen waters of the stream.

He followed her gaze, and then his jaw dropped as well.

The stream feeding the waterfall, like the one that they had followed from the camp, was frozen almost solid. A mere trickle dripped over the craggy edge of the rocks. Behind the waterfall was a cave.

The sun came from behind a cloud, illuminating the valley with bright rays- it was almost blinding as it reflected on the contents of the cave.

Gold. Piles of it. More than Maximus had ever seen, most of it fashioned into intricate artifacts and gleaming swords. They had found it- practically under their noses.

He blinked.

It was almost too good to be true.

That night there was a celebration in the camp. Maximus had originally planned to send a detachment of legionnaires to guard the site until the next day when they could begin collecting their prize, but the mercenaries had been distrustful of the soldiers, and the soldiers hadn't trusted the mercenaries, and Maximus couldn't trust the lot of them together, so that the entire camp was packed up and moved up the stream to the frozen waterfall. The fires that glowed between the tents reflected against the polished metal and dripping ice.

Maximus watched them with a pleased smile, but refused their exhortations to join in. He knew, from years of unhappy experience, that the moment of triumph was the moment a dagger was most likely to swing down from behind, and so he resigned himself to spending a quiet, watchful night alone with his wife.

"Walk with me." He said, setting down his goblet and moving from the low stool where he was reading.

With a sigh of mock-exasperation, Julia let the sewing she was working on fall to her knees. "Checking the sentries again?"

"One more time. The last time- I promise....come with me?"

She nodded, reaching for her fur-lines cloak and filed after him from the tent. The camp was noisy and raucous, but the sound faded as they walked up the hillside to the lookouts. Above the valley, the air was cool and still. The thick grey clouds that filled the sky seemed heavy with impending snow.

Maximus was wise to check the sentries as often as he had. The unlucky men who had drawn the job were sick with envy at their comrades below, and focused inwardly rather than outside the lines. They were far more concerned with a stray reveler escaping with an unearned golden saucer than invaders creeping through the lines. Still, they straightened as the general passed. He nodded at them gruffly, hoping that the thought that he might make a sudden, unexpected appearance would keep them on their toes. Maximus paused midway across the last ridge. Julia was panting from the exertion of having followed him this far. He shouldn't have drug her along- she still hadn't regained her strength.

He waited for her to catch her breath, his light eyes surveying the deep forest as they stopped. He frowned, squinting into the trees. There was a reflection of something bright...metal? He moved his hand slowly to the hilt of his sword, moving almost subconsciously as he stepped between his wife and the unknown object.

"Maximus?" Julia asked, stepping forward.

He shushed her quickly and crept toward the woods, his senses tingling as adrenaline took its effect. The object- surely an animal or a person- was moving toward him now, thus far unaware of his presence. The reflective object giving the figure away as it flashed and waned as it moved through the deep shadows.

Maximus motioned for Julia to move behind a tree as he stepped further forward, taking a position slightly to the left of where he anticipated that the figure- he was almost certain now that it was a person- would move.

It continued to move forward, slowly, carefully...

Not carefully enough... Maximus thought, right before he sprang out of the trees. The intruder fell to the ground with an "oompfh" and a flurry of powdery snow. There was a struggle, brief, but futile- the Spaniard had gained too much of an advantage from the element of surprise.

Careful not to loosen his hold on the man's wrists, Maximus eased the hood away from his face.

"Arramus." There was a gasp...a sound of surprise from behind him as Julia identified the strange man. He looked different- his hair greyer, his eyes colder, and the angles of his face sharpened by thinness.

"Yes..." He sneered, still struggling to free himself from the general's grasp. "You didn't think that I was going to simply stand by and watch while you stole my gold."

"Our gold." Julia said coldly.

Arramus smiled thinly.

"Kill him." Maximus was startled as much by Julia's vehemence as the content of her words.

"We'll take him back to Rome."

"Kill him...kill him now."

Maximus made a half-turn to look at her puzzledly. Something wasn't right. He knew that Julia hated his rival, but not deeply enough to be so lustful for blood.

"What are you talking about Julia?" He turned further, dragging his captive through the snow to a position nearer the girl.

"He's escaped too many times already. Why take any chances? Don't let him..."

Arramus' smile deepened.

"Spill your secrets, Julia?"

Maximus noticed that she stiffened, and he felt a sudden sense of dread.

"Julia doesn't have any secrets from me." He said evenly.

"Really...then she's told you about Marius and the deal that she had with her father..."

The general sucked in his breath, surprised enough from the mention of the mysterious name to loosen his grasp slightly. It was the only opening that Arramus needed. In a flash, he had whirled out of the tight hold and seized Julia by the neck, forcing her into the snow as he trained his dagger on her neck.

Maximus recovered quickly, drawing his sword from its hilt in a flash of silver.

"Let her go, Arramus. You can't get away. My men will track you."

Arramus pressed the blade harder against the skin. Julia made a soft squeal of pain as a thin crimson line formed along the razor-sharp edge.

"Drop your weapon." Maximus said, still brandishing his gladius, but betraying uncertainty with his voice. "Drop it or I'll signal my men."

"She'll be dead before they get here. Besides...you'd be better off if you just let me kill her..."

Maximus swallowed, ignoring the taunt as his mind searched for a solution.

"What do you want, Arramus?"

"That's a stupid question." He said, leering as he lifted the blade from Julia's neck only to draw it in a slow, smooth cut down the bodice of Julia's dress to a point above her heart. She was bleeding now, biting back the pain....He started to draw the blade upwards again bending down to murmur to Julia. "But then, he's a stupid man, isn't he my dear?"

"The gold?" Maximus said quickly hoping the stop the cruel cuts. "Is that what you want?"

"Perceptive for an ex-slave, aren't we?"

"General?"

Maximus and Arramus both swung around as two of the sentries appeared.

The approaching pair laid their hands on their swords when they saw the knife menacing the general's wife.. "Sir!" they exclaimed.

Maximus motioned for them to remain still. Arramus looked less smug now- less certain about the odds. The general licked his lips and ventured a single step forward. In an instant, the knife was at Julia's throat again. "Stay where you are!"

"Arramus, let her go...." Maximus kept his voice even and calm. "You know that you can't get away...If you drop the knife we'll let you free."

There was a flash of uncertainty, before the cold fire burned again in their adversaries eyes.

"Call off your guards, General, and drop your sword..." He inched away toward the woods. Sucking in his breath, Maximus slowly lowered his sword into the snow, he motioned for his men to do the same. He felt sick as he watched them edge back into the woods, Arramus was still facing them, still ready to strike at any instant. He stepped backwards and....

Maximus felt as though he were watching the instant in slow-motion. The man had stumbled on a rock, in an instinctive motion to keep his balance, his hands went to his sides, and Julia seized the opportunity to sprint away. She stumbled in the snow, falling forward as Arramus, horrified as he watched his prize slip away, lunged forward, stabbing madly. The blade found purchase in the furry cloak, but Julia wriggled free, struggling through the heavy drifts.

The general and his men had already started toward her, and defeat at last registered on Arramus' face as he realized his choice- try to seize Julia again and risk capture, or take a certain escape. He chose the latter.

Sliding quickly down an incline he paused for just an instant to look over his shoulder to where Maximus was tending to his injured bride.

"Keep her!" The Praetorian's haughty voice carried eerily clear on the icy wind. He smiled again, his gaze bearing heavily on his former captive. "Fate has the most marvelous sense of humor, doesn't she Julia? You've outlived your usefulness to me as a spy. Rather like a certain Marius that I once knew..."

He laughed, lingering just long enough to see that his words had registered with the Spaniard, and then disappeared into the night.

Julia clung to her husbands arm. "Maximus?" Her lower lip trembled. "Say something."

He ignored the request, collecting Julia in a pincher-like grasp under her arm as he led her back to their tent. The world around him seemed to swim, the sounds, sights and smells blurry and distant as he fought back the sickening dread in his stomach. He felt as though the final piece of a puzzle had been snapped into place- a puzzle that transformed into a mirror, revealing a terrible monster ready to pounce from behind.

It made sense. All of it. He fought a wave of nausea as each memory became another clue that he shouldn't have missed...Julia's sudden decision to marry him. Their discovery in the inn. Arramus curious arrival in Tuscany with a wagon-load of women's clothing- Julia's clothing, and Julia's gems. The assembly on the night he was planning to leave. The extra maps. The missing letter.

Tertius. Maximus fought back a wave of nausea as he thought of his departed friend lying face down in a muddy stream. He was sick with self-loathing. Arramus was right. He was a stupid man. He had fallen for the oldest trick in the book- a conniving woman.

"Maximus?" Julia questioned again as they slipped into the tent. She was trembling- half from fear, and half from the long hike through the cold without her cloak.

He would stay calm.

"Tell me, Julia."

"Tell you what?"

"Everything...Tell me everything, starting with Marius."

Julia fell silent again, lowering herself onto a perch at the corner of the bed. She rubbed her cheeks with her hands, and then began.

"Marius was....a friend of Arramus- a fellow Praetorian."

"And?"

"And...someone who was useful to my father." She licked her lips before beginning again. "No doubt you know....no doubt you noticed...that tata is. Well. Ambitious. He's almost laughable now." She forced a smile that looked nothing like laughter. "But he was a contender once...When the Emperor." She swallowed and looked sheepishly at Maximus. "When Commodus was in power. He recognized the man's weaknesses. Played on them...knew about his paranoia..."

"And Marius?"

"Was also a friend of the Emperor. They trained together- sword fighting, hand-to-hand...they went to Germania together when...when..."

"When Marcus Aurelius was murdered." Maximus said flatly, filtering all emotion from his voice.

She nodded. "Yes."

"And you, Julia? How do you fit in?"

"Marius was in love with me."

"You seem to have that effect on Praetorians." Maximus said wryly, before meeting her gaze again. "Did you love him?"

She shrugged. *"I was indifferent...I was...very young. It was exciting for me to be so close to the Emperor. To feel as though I was in the middle of...of life." Her eyes sparkled momentarily, as if she had forgotten the purpose of the interview, meeting her husbands gaze she was quickly chastened "He wanted to marry me."

"But your father wouldn't let you."

"He would let me...with conditions. In return for me, Marius gave us...information about the emperor....little things at first- gossip, rumors...speculation about the games."

Maximus tensed.

"...but gradually it became more serious- how the emperor intended to rule in certain matters of state, who his friends were, his enemies...and gradually...we became...careless."

Julia's voice was softer now. Regret was tangible in her tones, but Maximus steeled himself against the idea to cradle her in his arms. She was the enemy now, he wouldn't fall for her tricks again.

"People started getting suspicious of tata...of me."

"So you abandoned him."

"No..." tears brimmed at the corners of Julia's eyes. "We couldn't. If he had told... that is, if anyone knew."

"You murdered him?"

"No. I let him die." One of the tears escapes and slid down the snowy cheek. "The emperor was sick. Some...some trifling matter. A cold. We....I....recommended a tea to make him better."

"Poison." Maximus anticipated.

She didn't try to deny it. "Yes. A weak one- not strong enough to kill. But he knew where it had come from. Marius protested his innocence....told him it had been delivered on the recommendations of a foolish girl."

"And?"

"I denied it. He was...executed." Her hands twisted in her lap.

Maximus regarded her with disgust. "You let him die."

"I killed." She said softly. "I killed for the same reason you did- because I had to!"

Maximus felt his hackles raise at the comparison. "I faced my opponents eye to eye. Fairly."

"You were allowed to fight that way."

The general paced the small tent, trying to steady the fury growing in his chest. Memories were flooding back and pain, the sharp, twisting pain of betrayal was chief among them.

"So now you've trained your considerable talents on me."

"No!" He had to admit that she sounded sincere, her face was white as she fell to her knees. "Not you...not...not anymore!"

"In the beginning? You knew that they were going to kill me on the night of our wedding."

"No! I admit that they told me to marry you, but I only knew that they wanted you out of the city. I wanted to go, Maximus. I wanted to go with you, I--"

"You found Arramus when I left you alone in the cemetery, let him track us..."

"No..."

"Stole the letter that I sent to Arramus warning him to stay away."

Julia blinked away the heavy tears that weighed down her lashes. "Wh-what letter?" she sobbed. Her hysteria only stoked his ire.

"You told Arramus that I was in the camp, when I was leaving, what I was planning...." Julia continued to shake her head, crying, protesting, pleading for him to listen.

He looked at her slowly, feeling his heart break as he voiced the words. "You seduced me." His voice broke as the memories of the nights they had shared flooded back. "You finished the job you were sent to do on our wedding night."

Julia was fully prone on the floor now. Wet and trembling. Finally and truly afraid. "It isn't true, Maximus." She said quietly. "None of it is true. I married you because my father made me. I love you because-"

"Because that's the price of self-preservation" He spat, unwilling to hear the rest.

"No."

"Prove it."

"I can't." She wailed, and then looked up at him, her light eyes lost in the blur of smeared kohl and sticky tears. "I can't prove it...I have to ask you to believe me."

"Why should I believe you?" He growled, turning away and walking toward his desk. "Everything you've ever told me is a lie."

Silence descended between them one more as he pulled a piece of paper from a stack and began to scribble madly. Finally the quill was tossed aside, and he turned back toward his wife, letting the paper flutter to rest beside her head as he began the traditional incantation.

"I divorce you, I divorce you, I-"

"NO!!!!" Julia threw herself at his feet with a savagery that shocked him into silence. Her voice was strangled and half-mad. "Kill me instead!"

Maximus blinked, wavering. In spite of her treachery, he loved her still.

He clenched his teeth. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't finish."

"I love you." She said, holding her breath as she waited for a response. Receiving none, she pressed on, laying her head on his feet as she breathed her final, desperate plea. "I'm carrying your child."

Maximus took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling once again as though he had been struck from behind. He was stunned, reeling, broken. Was it true? Could it be possible? Did he want it to be true? It seemed impossible that something which, an hour before would have brought so much joy, could now cut him so deeply. His mind raced over the past several months. The nausea, the exhaustion, the colorless cheeks...it was true. He would be a father again. Fate discontent with a single blow, would brand him forever, with an innocent but stinging reminder of his misplaced trust....misplaced love.

"Obediah!"

His manservant hurried into the tent, his dark, eastern face denuded of any indication that he had overheard the exchange. "Call Darius and Tacitus to the tent please."

"As you wish, sir." He disappeared again.

"Stand up." Maximus said to Julia. He reached for a cloth. "Wash your face."

Meekly, Julia did as she was told, surrendering herself to whatever fate that her husband had in store.

It was mere moments before the two officers arrived.

"General!" Tacitus exclaimed as he leaned through the tent flap. "Are you alright? We heard from the sentry that-"

"Do you trust me?" He said quickly, cutting off the conversation. Both of the officers blinked and looked at each other before Tacitus found his voice.

"Of course sir, with our lives."

"With your money?"

"Sir?"

"I need you to do a favor for me...it would mean trusting me to bring home your share of the gold."

The pair exchanged another look. "We're not here for the plunder, sir." Darius said firmly.

Maximus nodded. His 'thank you' unspoken.

"Good...I need you to escort my wife back home."

"To Tuscany, sir?"

"To Spain." He said softly. "My home there has been repaired. Take a detachment of as many men as you feel that you need. Head due South between the forts. I don't think that you'll encounter much resistance. Ill follow as soon as the men are back in the Provinces."

"Of course sir."

They both saluted, and then took his cue to exit, Julia walked to his position near the bed.

"Thank you." She said softly, placing her hand on his shoulder.

Maximus savagely pushed the hand away. "It's not a pardon, Julia." He said hotly. "Merely a reprieve."

Without looking back, he turned and walked away.

She tried to see him before she left, begged him to come. Maximus had accepted a half-dozen messages from her maidservant before the caravan had finally left, but he had withheld a reply. He was busy, he convinced himself. He couldn't admit the truth- that he was afraid to see her again, certain that he would lose his resolve and fall once more into her waiting arms.

He had passed a sleepless night under the stars, turning the facts over and over again in his mind. Arramus was hardly a credible source, but the facts tied together too neatly- Julia hadn't even bothered to deny most of the accusations.

A child. That too had preyed on his mind. Was he ready? Could he love a child the way he had loved Marcus? He closed his eyes, wishing more than he had in a long while, that he still had Selene to return to. She was so uncomplicated. So safe. So...

Gone. A victim of people like Arramus... like Julia, he reminded himself.

Maximus watched as the men loaded the wagons. The work seemed to progress at an almost ant-like pace. The men were too intent on mentally inventorying each plate to work together, and so the operation seemed to have devolved into a strange imitation of a fire brigade- a long snakelike chain of men leading from the cave to the carts, passing each precious artifact from hand to hand along the chain.

It would be at least a week before they were ready to leave. Maximus mentally calculated. After that, they would be slowed down by their heavy load. It would be late spring when they crossed the Alps...summer when he returned to Spain. A long time to prepare for his next meeting with Julia...or to dread it.

As it transpired, a week was an optimistic estimate. One week turned to two and, as freezing rain mired the wagons in snow and muck, Maximus realized that they were unwise to move out before the thaw. At least the men were in better spirits now, sleeping deeply and easily as their minds filled with visions of what they would buy in the capitol when they returned.

Maximus wished that he could say the same thing for himself. He thought of Julia constantly, wondering if she had made it through Germania. How was she feeling? What was she thinking? He was at war within himself- half of him still desperately in love, praying that the gods and his ancestors would see her home- the other half, the wounded, unforgiving animal hoped, vindictively, for the worst.

At last, in late March, they were ready to leave. They traveled south for several weeks. Once again, they had slowed to a crawl. The plodding pace and constant, tormenting thoughts of Julia had left Maximus in a foul mood. He would be happy when the ordeal was complete. A single river stood between his men and Gaul.

Maximus watched as the men built rafts to float the wagons across the snow-swollen river. It was a slow process, but necessary. The metal was far too heavy to bring across on horseback, and building a bridge would take too long. He supervised the soldiers carefully aware that, their goal seeming suddenly so close had left them more careless than usual.

At last, the make-shift boats were complete, and the plunder loaded aboard. They were pushed away from shore. Maximus and half of the soldiers rode across with the first boatload and watched idly as the second flotilla of rafts was set adrift.

And then arrows began raining from the sky.

Maximus merely reacted, half-expecting the attack, but aware that he had been caught at a most vulnerable moment. He knew that the Germans wouldn't let their sacred horde escape without a fight, but he thought that he had outraced them through Germania...that the border would be safe. Still, he had taken every precaution. Sentries had been posted- sentries who were, no doubt, dead. The area had been scouted, the army broken into groups. That was what made river crossings so dangerous- they were nearly indefensible. He had taken a gamble, and lost.

Maximus shook away his thoughts of regret as he focused on conducting his men, calling those trapped on the far side of the river to fall into formation, and trying to ignore the alarmed cries of the men aboard gold-laden rafts as, in the confusion, they swerved dangerously off course and headed further downstream.

"Form up!" He cried with all his might, urging the legionnaires to probe for a weak spot in the German lines, rather than playing into the enemies plan to drive them back into the river where archers could pick them off like flies.

Maximus watched helplessly as the battle played out, unable to offer assistance to his men, aware that attempting to cross the river now would mean certain death. He gritted his teeth, trying to mentally will assistance to the struggling soldiers.

And then he heard another sound. A crash and a mighty splash as the first of the gold-filled boats smashed across a low-lying cliff. He realized, to his horror, that the string of little boats, neglected in the initial surprise, he been caught by the current and were being pulled swiftly to a similar fate.

"Row!" HE cried, urging his horse closer to the bank, seemingly oblivious to the second shower of arrows. *Use your poles, push into the current...*

But it was no use, there was a second crash, then frantic splashing as the men manning the boats tried to escape the water's grasp.

"Hold the line!"

It was a legate's voice that brought Maximus' attention back to the battle.

"Hold the line. To arms, to arms!" He turned his head to the far bank, and suppressed a tremor as he witnessed what transpired. The mercenaries, caring more for their fortunes than blood, had begun to drop their weapons and dive into the water after the sinking gold. He joined the legionnaires along the bank, imploring them to turn back. He felt as though he were watching carnage on two fronts- the grisly butchering of the legions who fought determinedly against the attacking hordes, and oily river, swallowing the avaricious soldiers-for-hire who chose to drown rather than empty their pockets of gold.

"Turn back! Turn back!" he cried again and again, but it was to no avail. The battle seemed to reel on and on as daylight slowly faded until the last silver eagle, spattered with mud and gore, sank into the soft German earth, and the two armies stared at each other across a watery divide.

Take that. The unintelligible heckling cries of the barbarians seemed to say as they gleefully dispatched survivors, proudly displaying heads and limbs to the opposing side. They collected the remaining gold reverently, without a thought of saving the precious metal for themselves and, to the shock and dismay of the surviving Romans, hurling the rest of the glistening treasure into the swirling waters- a sacrifice to their gods once more.

Maximus felt beaten, more defeated than he ever had before. Only five cartloads of gold remained, and more than half of his men were dead- and he didn't have so much as a scratch.

The camp was quiet that night, pensive as each man took stock of his life and tried to understand the carnage that had taken place. Maximus joined them, sitting on the bank, staring into the enemy fires that gleamed on the opposite shore as the Germans feasted their victory. It was April, almost May. Somewhere, far from this bloody field, his child was being born* looking into the world for the first time and seeing only light and fertile fields, not this bloody carnage and hopelessness. And Julia- He stopped, not ready to face what he must do when he returned. He forced himself to resume a steady scanning of the surrounding hillsides.

And then he saw it.

The unmistakable plume of a Praetorian helmet, high on a cliff above the camp. The face was obscured, but Maximus knew that it was Arramus, could feel it in his bones.

He sprang to his feet, feeling for the gladius at his side. Arramus was behind this. He didn't know why, or how, but he knew it was true. For too long he had dogged the Spaniard. Tonight it would end, once and for all.

"General?" A forlorn looking infantryman questioned as he saw Maximus sprint for his horse.

"Ill be back." Maximus said simply. Swinging onto his stallion, he fled into the night.

Arramus was waiting for him. He didn't try to run away. Satisfaction was burned into his face he seemed unconcerned about the wasted riches. Peering into the cold, snake-like eyes, Maximus realized for the first time that it wasn't money that his rival wanted. It was power. Control. The effortless manner in which he had lured the general to the cliff above the campground.

"Fancy meeting you here." Arramus said non-chalantly. He nodded toward the German camp. "Thrilling, wasn't it? One of my best."

The voice was hollow, crazed. He was crazy. If he hadn't been before they left, then he was now. He enjoyed the carnage that had played out on the riverbanks.

"I particularly liked it when the mercenaries broke ranks and dove into the river. You can't script things like that..."

Maximus fought the desire to react to the taunts. Arramus was grating, but not stupid. He wouldn't act without a plan.

"This isn't about the armies.* He said evenly, slowly sliding from the saddle. *It's about you and I."

He let his hand rest lightly on his hilt as Arramus copied his movements and faced him from a few feet away.

"It ends." Maximus said evenly. "Here. Now."

"You want me to kill you?" Arramus sneered. "I could have arranged that long ago."

It was Maximus' turn to smile. Perhaps the Praetorian was a fool after all. "You're welcome to try."

Both men drew their swords, circling each other slowly as they prepared to make a move. The soldier was careful not to let the cliff come up behind him, aware that an uncertain step might turn the tide.

"I see you're rid of Julia..."

Maximus' grip tightened on the sword.

"Delectable little morsel, if a touch too easy to play...I can see why you like her..."

The general forced his breaths to remain even...

"Are you going to fight or talk me to death?" he said at last, his patience wearing thin.

There was a flash in the moonlight, and Maximus' eyes widened as he saw the hilt of the sword in Arramus' hand. It was Tertius'. He would know it anywhere.

At last, the Roman raised his sword.

A parry. Dodge. Strike.

At last the dance had begun, and Maximus welcomed the release of his pent up tension and anger. Arramus was good- surprisingly so, but Maximus was more experienced. They fought back and forth, pressing an advantage only to turn the tide. A slash. A turn...

Arramus raised his sword for a downward blow.

Look out...life

A tingling sensation in his spine alerted the general to danger, and he ducked at precisely the right moment. A heavy German axe buried itself in the tree behind his head. Breathing heavily, Maximus dropped his own weapon and pulled the axe from the wood. He and swung it, roundhouse style, to the rear. It connected with his opponents sword, sending the instrument flying over the cliff, before sinking into the gut of the second attacker.

Maximus spared barely a look for the German accomplice as he and Arramus dove in unison for the general's discarded sword.

The Spaniard won.

He brandished the point at Arramus's chest, backing him to the edge of the hillside.

Even in defeat, Arramus wore a satisfied, smirking expression.

"What are you smiling about?" Maximus asked, as the gravel at the Praetorian's heels crumbled into the abyss.

"Because I know something you don't."

"Oh?"

"Yes....and I know you won't kill me until I tell you."

Maximus searched the man's eyes carefully. Another secret. About Julia? His stomach tightened, taking only a split second to make his decision.

"Watch me."

Arramus's face crumpled in pain and confusion as the gladius buried itself into his chest. He took a step backwards, trying to get away...but met only air. He was falling. Disappearing..Dying in the darkness below.

Maximus followed his men to the turn in the road to the Alps. He was certain that he would be summoned to Rome as soon as the senate convened for hearings on the stolen Legions, but he had tasks to attend to in Spain first.

Julia. What would he say when he saw her again? If she were even alive. Maximus reflected grimly on the possibility that neither she, nor the child had survived the trip home. It was impossible to receive a message...he wouldn't know until he returned.

Maximus barely watched the changing scenery as he rode home. He remembered, vaguely, the last time that he had made this journey. He didn't care to reflect upon it.

Starting up the drive to his rebuilt villa was like living inside a dream. It was his house, his trees, his road...but different. Changed in some imprecise manner that he couldn't name. The weathered pink stones of the old villa had been burned, replaced with harsh white bricks. The scorched trees were still scarred with heat, but green again.

The garden still smelled of jasmine.

Maximus was aware that the servants, curious about the master they had never met, had begun congregating in the courtyard to meet him, but he ignored them, heading first to the side yard and the small, grass-covered graves that held the bodies of his beloved wife and son. He knelt beside them, only vaguely registering that fresh flowers had been lain atop the mounds, and murmured a prayer. A prayer for courage. For peace. For remembrance.

Steeling himself, he stepped inside.

"Domine." The steward said, stepping forward with a bow.

Maximus took a breath.

"Is my wife at home....?"

The man nodded. "She is upstairs, taking a nap."

"And...and my child?"

At this, a woman stepped forward, a Greek, with curls almost as plump as her squat figure. She offered a wriggling jumble of blankets to her master.

"Your daughter." She said in lilting Latin.

Maximus swallowed as he took the bundle. Marcus had been much older before his father had seen him. Nearly three years old- more a little boy than a baby. The general felt inadequate to the task of holding the tiny child.

Carefully, he cradled the little girl in his arms, peeling back the blankets to look at his daughter for the first time. He blinked when he saw her tiny face. It really was a jest of the Gods then, he thought as he looked over her bright blue eyes and brown-black hair. Her features had lost their newborn puffiness, and the soft planes of her face hinted loudly at the beauty that she would become. Coloring exactly like her father- and the face of a miniature Julia. Maximus blinked back tears, uncertain as to how he felt. His heart was full of joy to once again hold a child of his own, but anguished with the knowledge that every day, for the rest of his life, he would be reminded of her face....

He swallowed, raising the baby in front of the assembled servants for his ritual acceptance before attending to matters that could wait no longer.

"This is my daughter." He said clearly, his voice choking back emotion. "Maxima Decima Meridia. Daughter of this house."

He lowered the child again, and returned her to her nurse, reaching into the pocket of his tunica.

He retrieved a golden chain, a purchase from a village along his travels. Attached was a golden coin- the only piece he had saved for himself from the gold of Albercore. The necklace was a charm, a bulla to protect his little one from evil and from harm. She would wear it until the day that she married. Maximus slipped the chain around Maxima's neck and kissed her on his head.

"Thank you he said..." And then, when the household lingered around him curiously. "That will be all you're...dismissed."

He waited until the crowd had dispersed before climbing the stairs to the bedrooms. He knew, instinctively which one Julia would choose...the room that Selene had liked best in the original house...the east side, with windows on two walls letting the wind blow in from the orchards. He stopped outside the door, steeling himself against what was to come. Quickly and decisively... he coached himself, and then pushed the door aside.

Julia was awake, waiting for him. She looked older than when they had parted,. Thinner. Sadder, but still breathtakingly beautiful. She smiled at him hopefully, her lavender-brown eyes warm and inviting.

Maximus hesitated, fighting within himself to remember the betrayal that had led him to this door.

"I divorce you, I divorce you, I divorce you." He said quickly, before Julia could begin to speak. He stared at her, emotionless as her face transformed, the look of expectancy replaced with horror. Pain.

He threw the scroll containing his settlement onto the bed.

"I'm sure that you'll find that generous Julia...perhaps even lucky, considering the sanctions I'll be acing from the senate. You can arrange the details with my bankers."

Julia was silent, staring at him with watery eyes, like a dog that had been beaten by its master.

"A carriage will be here to take you to your father's in the morning. By sea will be the fastest..." he hurried through his speech, relieved that there was little left to say.

"Maxima will remain here, of course."

"of course." Julia repeated hollowly.

She was defeated.

Maximus looked at her at last, alarmed to find only a the husk of the woman who had followed him to Germania. Her face was slack, her eyes hollow...as if she were already gone. Maximus knew the look. It was the only way to cope when-

He turned quickly to go. It was better that he didn't stay. Better that he left things as they were. Memories and nothing more.

Maximus stopped at the nursery before heading outside.

"Take Maxima to her mother." he instructed the nurse. "She's to stay there all night unless Lady Caeciliana instructs otherwise.." He would give her that, at least.

"Yes sir." The woman nodded and scurried away.

Maximus returned to the yard, pacing among the trees, heedless to where his feet were taking him, but hardly surprised to find himself once again at the graves of Selene and his son. He sat down on the sun-warmed grass, running his fingers into the warm earth as though he could caress his lost family. How much longer would it be before he could join them at last?

"Master Maximus..." the timid voice of a young servant roused the general from his sleep. His neck ached. He rubbed it absently as he fought a momentary sense of disorientation as he came awake on the grass outside his home. Dusk was settling over the hillside of Trujillo, painting the sky in purples and pinks.

"What is it?" He asked, rising to a sitting position.

"A letter from my lady." He offered a slip of paper. "She asks that you read it before she goes."

"Thank you."

Maximus pondered throwing the scrap away, but he couldn't fight his own curiosity. He returned to the house, and a lamp to read by.

Maximus,

By the time you read this, I may already be gone...far away, never to be seen again. I understand your anger. I know that you hate me for the things that I have done. Perhaps you are right, I deserve to be hated. But you, Maximus, deserve to be loved, and I have loved you. Always. Completely, and on my own Initiative. You were the only person who believed in me, if only for a while, the only person who knew me, even the blackest parts that I chose to hide, you were the only person I ever knew who was completely honest- who cannot hide even your hate. Believe what you will about my past sins but know that I never conspired with Arramus to hurt you. I married you for selfish reasons, yes- reasons you were aware of. To flee my father. To obtain the freedom that you promised. Not to hurt you, Maximus. Not to spy... The months we shared were the only happiness in my entire life. I will live on it, forever if I must, knowing that those six months gave meaning to an entire lifetime. Take care of Maxima. I will never know here, but I will remember her- remember you both in my prayers.

-Julia

Maximus refolded the paper in his hands and pressed it into the letter-slots of his desk, unnerved by how easily the simple, inelegant missive had moved him.

She's guilty... He reminded himself. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. A liar...but the words seemed less and less like the truth.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Selene asked with a smile.

He remained in his chair.

The knocking increased, louder, harder...

"Maximus....the door!...your Julia is at the door!" A puzzled frown. "Maximus?"

Pounding.

"It's cold outside...wet...dark...you can't leave her there....Maximus...you can't leave her alone..."

But still he sat in his chair, sipping cider the sound increased, desperate, frantic...

Maximus fell out of sleep as though he had been thrown against a wall. His breath was ragged, his body covered in sweat. What are you doing? His heart cried out desperately still struggling free of the dream...and then, as he remembered Julia's stunned face as the divorce had become final, What have you already done? Maximus lay motionless in his bed, staring at the rough plaster ceiling of his room. It was raining outside- the waking world had echoed into his sleep, and the steady thrumming of water beating against the little house was deceptively soothing as he steadied his uncertain nerves.

The house was already awake. From the atrium, he could hear the steward chiding Maxima's Grecian nurse for some omission or another, as the baby cooed gently in her arms.

Maximus sat up quickly. The baby- he had left her with Julia!

Throwing his tunica over his head, he hurried down the stairs, pausing breathlessly in front of the two startled servants.

"I'm sorry sir..." The steward said quickly, casting a dark glance at the nursemaid. "Did we wake you?"

The general ignored the question. "My wi-Julia...has she left yet?"

The steward tilted his sharp chin in affirmation. "Caeciliana left at dawn, as you instructed, domine." He frowned as his master's features fell slack. "Was there a mistake?"

Maximus took three deep breaths. A liar. He screamed at himself. A traitor. A temptress.

He slowly shook his head. "No.." he mumbled numbly. "No mistake I just...wondered if they were able to get away in this weather...the mud..."

The steward nodded. "Of course, domine. The driver shared your concern, but Lady Caeciliana seemed in a hurry to leave. There is a ship sailing for Ostia before dawn tomorrow morning if they can make it..."

Of course she was in a hurry to get away. Back to her father, back to Rome, back to the life she loved... The steward was still talking as the Spaniard walked away, his footsteps aimless as he sought refuge, any refuge, away from prying eyes. He was angry at himself for his behavior. She wasn't worth such turmoil. It was months since he had sent her away. He ought to be over it by now.

He ought to, but he wasn't.

Maximus collapsed at last in the loamy earth of the orchard, drawing his knees to his chest as the pain finally overflowed its bounds. The relentless raindrops mingling with the tears on his face. Julia's betrayal was like being cut with ice, a razor-like chill that seemed to slash through his soul. How, he wondered, after he had endured so much, did he still have the capacity to hurt?

The sun was obscured with roiling clouds, so it was impossible to say how long the general remained among the fruited trees. At last, in late evening, he was pulled away. There was a visitor, a rider pounding up the walk, and he knew that such a strange arrival signaled important news. He entered the house through the rear, taking the back staircase to his chambers to change into dry clothes before accepting the message.

The vellum scroll was tied with a purple ribbon. Maximus swallowed. He hadn't expected a summons from the senate so soon.

His face was grave as he took the scroll into his tablinium and lit a lamp. His eyes skipped past the flowery opening lines of the official proclamation as he unrolled the missive a bit further. The general frowned as a scrap of Papyrus floated to the ground. Only a few lines were scrawled across it in rough, but strangely familiar script.

What do you think about this, you old dog? What adventures we'll have! Come to Rome as soon as you can. I'm hearing terrible rumors about you and looking forward to hearing they're true.

Confused, Maximus continued reading the official letter. He blinked. Reread a line, and then laughed out loud. It was true then, that he was a favorite plaything of fate. After so many months beneath a cloud, she had chosen to smile on him again. He was looking at a proclamation from the senate. His former general, his advisor-,his great friend Septimus Severus had at last claimed the Emperorship for his own.

Maximus, and the Felix legions were safe- at least temporarily, no matter what Senator Julius and his friends tried to do. Severus would appreciate the truth. And Maximus was glad, beyond the fact that he and little Maxima could live in peace, to know that the people of Rome, for whom he had sacrificed so much, would finally return to peace. He knew his friend well, Severus would be just, but unflinching in his punishment of those who had taken advantage of the chaos to their own ends. Men like Julius Caecilianus would have to watch their steps if they hopes to keep their fortunes and their lives...

Julius Caecilianus...Julia...It was stunning how all thoughts seemed to lead back to her, but he couldn't pull his mind away from its chosen path. It was nearly nightfall. She should be boarding the ship now...they would be moving into the harbor soon to catch the early tide.

Maximus clenched his hands into fists, and then sighed, looking up at the rack of cubbies where he stored his correspondence. If he was going to torture himself in this way, he may as well go all the way. He reached toward the slot that held Julia's letter...but found nothing. Frowning, he peered more deeply into the hole.

"Obedieh!" The servant he had brought home from Germania hurried into the room.

"Domine?"

"I placed a letter here only last night. Has it been moved?"

"No sir....at least not by me. Shall I ask the others? What sort of letter was it?"

"Nevermind..." Maximus waived the boy away, feeling sheepish. "It isn't important." But it was. He barely waited for the servant to leave before he tilted the box into the light. Squinting, angling the flickering oil lamp closer so he could see, Maximus peered deeply into the slot. Nothing. But it had to be there!

His eyes widened as he noticed a tiny scrap of paper in the back of the slot. There was a space behind the individual sections and the outer backing of the object. The letter must have fallen through.

Carefully, using the edge of his short fingernails, he tried to work the paper out of the crevasse, stopping quickly as it started to tear. Maximus hesitated only briefly, then opened the drawer of his desk to pull out a dagger. Sliding the blade between the pieces of wood, he slowly pried the backing away.

It wasn't just one letter that had fallen behind. It was two. He located Julia's instantly- a single sheet of parchment. The general picked it up carefully, smiling sadly as he recognized the scent- her scent- of lemon verbena on the paper....then his eyes turned to the other. Curious, Maximus held the page to the light.

His eyes widened. The outside of the letter bore his own writing. It was the message he had meant to send to Tertius....But then, Julia hadn't stolen it! The general started to rise from his chair, his heart pounding with excitement, and then he stopped. If Julia hadn't stolen the letter and helped Arramus lure him into the woods, why had Tertius left the city when Maximus' last instructions were for him to stay? What was he doing in the woods among the Germans where Maximus' men had found him? Only Tertius, Maximus and Julia knew that the general was preparing to leave the camp, only Tertius, Maximus and Julia knew about the plan to capture the jewels, only Tertius.... He gasped as his mind races from the sword that Arramus had used in the final duel to his lost friends' failure to steal the maps...maybe it wasn't failure at all!

Maximus swallowed deeply as he guessed his enemy's final secret- the one he had carried to his grave. Julia had told him the truth. She had helped them only in luring Maximus out of Rome. The true traitor was his fellow soldier!

He sprang from his chair, his mind racing as he sorted through the details. The case against Julia had been strong- too strong, because she was being set up! Maximus had let his heart play him for a fool after all- not because he had been tricked into loving an evil woman, but because he was too ready to believe in his curse of unhappiness.

"My horse!" Maximus ran past the startled servants into the yard. "My horse!" He called again, his tinged with desperation. The groom, hurried the animal into the muddy lane, the saddle over his shoulder and his fingers frantically buckling the bridle as he walked.

"Domine?" Clearly, he had not expected the general to require his services so soon.

Maximus didn't give an answer, he didn't have time. Seizing the reins, he jumped onto the bareback stallion and urged it swiftly into the night.

He raced through the darkness as if in a trance. He had to get to the seashore before Julia left. He had to tell her, even if she couldn't forgive him, that he knew the truth at last. Perhaps if she knew that, she would give him a second chance...

The horse stumbled in the mud, but the general didn't slacken his pace. He ignored the beauty unfolding around him as the dark clouds finally parted revealing a velvet sky studded in shimmering stars. He rode as if pursued by the furies themselves.

And it was all for nothing.

As he crested the final hill his eyes were met with the sight of the sea, spread around him in dark, shimmering waves- and the pale reflection of canvas sails of a ship putting out to sea.

He limped off of his horse, sweaty and exhausted, his spirit nearly broken at last.

"Where is that ship to?" He called to an old man mending fishing nets near the docks.

"Ostia." The man said, spitting into the grass.

Maximus struggled to maintain a stoic face as his last hope was cruelly snuffed.

"They'll be another in a week or two..." The informant offered helpfully, but Maximus merely shrugged and walked to the water's edge.

"Julia..." He whispered into the wind blowing outward toward the bobbing ship...far away, the sails seemed to ripple slightly, as though the canvas had caught his words.

He raised his hand to the horizon, its silhouette framed against the image of the boat as though caressing it. He imagined that he saw her, standing along the rail, watching Hispania...watching him...slip away.

"I love you." He whispered into the night, his eyes tightly shut. "I love you, Julia."

"I love you too."

Maximus swung around sharply at the sound, and he blinked, barely believing what he saw. It was really her. His Julia, the filmy fabric of her robes twisting in the breeze as she stood behind him in the sand.

"Julia." He said the word as though it were a prayer. "How...?why...? I thought you were taking the ship."

She shrugged her shoulders, and peered deeply into his eyes. "I don't always do what I'm told..." She took a step forward. "...anymore." The emphasis was pointed.

"They said you were in a hurry to get away."

She looked at her feet. "I couldn't bear to be so close to you and not be able to touch you...not even able to get you to listen. I got onto the ship but I just...couldn't go...Not yet. I let them leave me here. I was waiting in the inn until tomorrow so that..." Her voice trailed off.

"I..." His tone was uncertain."I know you didn't. I know..."

She nodded. There was a beat of silence. And then she rushed into his arms.

They kissed, the gesture was far more eloquent than their stammered explanations. I'm sorry. He seemed to say. I forgive you. She answered back. I love you.

Forever.

At last they broke the embrace. Maximus noticed that their display of affection had attracted the attention of the fisherman, who had dropped the fraying nets to pay closer attention to the pair of nobles.

The general ran his fingers through her hair, and the leaned forward. "You say you have a room at the inn...." he questioned suggestively.

Julia smiled, and then abruptly her expression changed. "Maximus, I can't let you come with me! I'm not your wife anymore!"

He had to grin at her naive patrician sensibilities.

"I'll marry you again tomorrow." He promised scooping her off her feet, "But as for tonight..."

- THE END-