COLD AS ICE, HOT AS FIRE

By Isileth

Amenarta was watching the fights with an eye to the warriors' skills. Some were good, some passable, some had been thrown into the arena to die and appease the crowd's blood-lust. The sand was already stained with the signs of the afternoon's show when the orator called the main event of the day.

From Aelio Proximo's stables, the Spaniard was going to fight. His opponents were already waiting for him and Amenarta observed that despite the fact that they were going to be five against one, they looked wary, if not downright scared.

The loud chants summoning the Spaniard rose as the gate was opened and the man they were waiting for stepped out under a shower of soft rose petals. A foolish tribute for a death-bringer, the priestess thought. The man didn't seem to notice them as he paid his homage to his enemies, slightly bowing his head.

He was a big man, without being huge and yet, watching how cold his eyes were, Amenarta could understand why the other fighters were wary. He attacked with skill and speed. His moves were violent and right to the mark and in what seemed an eye blink, he remained the only one standing in the bloodied sand, from where the detached head of one of his opponent was staring at the too blue sky. Having quickly and soundly defeated his opposition, the gladiator was looking up at the crowd, bloodied swords still in hand. He hurled one sword high into the stands, striking a table, startling all the people nearby. Then, calling out to the now silenced crowd, he screamed  at them,  "ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED??!! ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED??!! Is this not why you are here??"

His owner, Proximo was eyeing the crowd for their reaction. The crowd stood still and the warrior threw the other sword to the ground, spitting in disgust, leaving the arena. The crowd cheers rose uncontrollably and the solitary man slowed his pace, curiously looking at them in amazement while the crowd continued their cheers, "Spaniard, Spaniard, Spaniard, Spaniard, Spaniard!”

Proximo received Amenarta in his luxurious rooms. The man was casually eating a butterfly, while a hyena was chained under a table. The woman wondered if the lanista really liked having the animal in his house or it was just for the show.

“Do you want a butterfly, Priestess Amenarta? They're delicious.” He offered and she denied.

“No, thanks you. The reason of my visit is business. I saw your warriors today and I want to buy the Spaniard.”

“Right to the point, Milady. I like your attitude, but I have to say that you could not afford him. He's the best athlete I ever trained and I don't know if I'm willing to sell him. Why him, anyway? Does your temple want to organize gladiatorial games in your town? Would you consider some other from my school, such as Hagen the Barbarian, or Juba, the Numidian? They're both good, even if I have to admit not as much as the Spaniard.”

“I saw all your men, but no one possesses what I'm looking for. Just the Spaniard.”

The lanista looked at her curiously. He wondered if she was looking for a powerful lover, but he thought the better of that. She didn't seem the type and if she wanted to bed a gladiator she didn't have to buy one, just borrow him for a night. He had never sold the Spaniard's time before, despite the requests, because he had surmised that with the stubborn slave this would have led to trouble and he was too much valuable to be wasted sending him to a bed he didn't wish to be in. He wasn't a man easily cowed and Proximo knew that even beating him into submission and chaining him to a bed would still not make him satisfy the customers.

Better selling other men's time, like he had once done with Hagen. He had been rented for a whole week when fights weren't scheduled, to a rich household with two middle-aged patrician women, whose husbands were busy defending in the farthest corners of the empire. He had returned thoroughly exhausted, with a huge grin plastered to his face, a bag of coins for him and one for Proximo. The Lanista hid the smile that the memory had brought and returned to study the woman.

“How much would you pay for him?” he asked.

“How much would you ask?” she countered.

Proximo named a huge price, mostly to see the lay of the land and the priestess replied with a sum close to the actual price for a gladiator, showing that she knew what she was talking about.

The lanista weighed carefully her words in order to decide. The Spaniard was indeed a great warrior, the best he had ever seen, but his coldness and lack of emotion could lead him to be careless enough to get himself killed by someone who only wanted to live more than he did. The crowd loved him, but he despised their attitude and this was not good for business. In that afternoon's fight he'd seen the slave showing his temper toward him and the crowd and Proximo knew that he had to take measures to remind the Spaniard who was the master. He was good, but not so good to be spared from the punishment for his insubordination. Selling him would have brought the lanista money and kept his reputation intact. He made up his mind quickly.

“He's yours if you have the money ready.”

“I have,” she stated and produced a bag from which he extracted a treasure in precious stones. Carefully she separated a number of gems that represented the agreed price for a man's life. Proximo perused them slowly and nodded. He then shouted to one of the guards outside.

“Bring the Spaniard, now!”

Amenarta nodded.

The cell the Spaniard shared with Juba was just as ratty as any other. Even if their skills had earned them money, their quarters hadn't improved. The white man was resting on his cot, deep in his thoughts, when he was summoned.

He got up without questions, but he wondered if he was going to be punished for his behavior in the arena. He didn't care, not any more. The guards who were escorting him were wary and the slave could clearly sense their fear. He grinned with a grim satisfaction. Upon their arrival in Proximo's rooms, he noticed a woman he didn't know.

“Spaniard. You've just been sold to the lady here. She seems to think that your carcass possesses some worth. Obey her and do not shame me or you will pay for it.”

The younger man looked at him, then at his new mistress and Amenarta saw the same coldness she had seen in the arena.

“Do you want him now, my Lady, or shall I send him to the place you're staying in the morning?” Proximo asked.

“I'll bring with me now, if you can arrange the transfer.”

“Of course.”

The lanista gestured to the guards flanking the slave and they made him turn toward the door. The man never flinched, nor blinked and he was walked away. Once in his cell, the white slave found Juba waiting for him with a question in his eyes.

“I've just been sold to some woman, Juba. We won't be seeing one another again.”

“I hope it will be better for you,” the Numidian replied.

“I don't think things will ever be better for me, but thank you for the wish. I won't say that I'm grateful that you saved my life, but since you did it, I will not waste your gift.”

“Good luck, Spaniard.”

“Maximus, my name's Maximus.”

“May your gods be with you, Maximus.”

Maximus gave him a ghost of a smile and said, “When I'm gone, be careful not to be seen by the guards and take a look at the wall behind my cot, under the window.”

With that he shook Juba's hand and went out.

Later the Numidian discovered the place where the white man had stashed the money he had earned in the arena. It was a lot of coins and would help the African to buy his freedom. Juba silently thanked his friend.

While he was being chained, the slave took a last look at the gladiatorial school.

School! What a stupid name for a den where people were trained to slaughter each other for the entertainment of the crowd. And Proximo had dared to tell him to stretch the fight to make it more interesting. What is interesting in watching someone dying with his guts sliced open? Was it so enjoyable witnessing a man's death in sand tinged with blood? How could they find this entertaining? How could they?

Two unknown men were waiting for him and they guided him, showing him the way. Unlike the guards who had escorted him from time to time, they adapted their stride to his, hampered as he was by the shackles. A couple of wagons waited outside Proximo's compound and the slave was led to a curtained one where the two men actually helped him to climb inside before closing the gate behind him.

Maximus took a moment to look around. The cart's inside was strangely comfortable to be a slave's transport. The curtain provided shadow and shelter and in the farthest corner there were two bed rolls and a sort of bench. Sensing the cart moving, he sat down, waiting for the next guest to show up. For the first time in what seemed ages, he was curious.

The small group stopped after an hour and in a few minutes the gate in the back of the cart was unlocked and the woman who had bought the gladiator entered. Maximus noticed that she didn't seem afraid of him.

“Spaniard, you're going to have company. Don't try to hurt either or them or you're going to regret it. Very much.”

“Either of them?” the captive mused just before the woman moved from threshold to show another woman with a small child in her arms.

Maximus was stunned but he hid it from the priestess. He would never harm a woman or a child, but he wasn't going to reveal a thing to his new owner.

“I hope you'll both be fine. Ask if you need something.”

“Thank you, Domina,” the slave woman replied and Amenarta just smiled.

There was an awkward silence for a while in the small space while the two adults looked at each other. The silence was broken by a little gurgle from the child as the cart began to move.

“You better sit down,” the man warned and the woman stepped toward the bench at the other end of the wagon. Once seated, she began to cradle the child, murmuring gently. Maximus looked at her with a feeling of longing and went to sit on the opposite side.

“It's her first time in a cart. I hope the movement will not bother her. But better sick than dead, thanks to the gods.”

At the man's stunned expression, she explained, “When my master discovered that I had given birth to a baby girl, he wanted to expose her. Thankfully the Priestess bought the two of us before he could act.”
 

Maximus knew that the expositio of unwanted children was common and sanctioned by the law and yet he couldn't think of anything crueler.

“What is her name?” he inquired.

“Rufina, from my former owner's mistress. She was trying to convince him to let her live. My name is Anthea and may I ask what yours is?”

“They call me Spaniard.”

“Is this your name?”

“It is now.”

“Are you the same Spaniard who fights in the games?”

“Yes.”

The woman smiled. “From the tales I've heard about you, I thought you were half way between a giant and a lion. Not that you're small, but you look quite human to me.”

“People see what they want to see. They don't want to see a man. They want to see blood without paying the price for it.”

“My former master was very angry with you after your last fight. He had bet a huge sum of money on your defeat to cover his debts and he cursed you very loudly. Our timely sale apparently saved him from some awkward explanation to his creditors. And saved my daughter's life.” she added after a short pause.

“I am glad I could be of help, even if I did not know.”

“I've never seen the games, you know, but I don't understand their purpose.

“Nor do I.”

Silence fell down again, but not an uncomfortable one.

The monotonous sounds of the wheels on the road acted like a lullaby and Maximus felt his eyes grow weary and he drifted off. He awoke later at the sound of a baby wail.
 

“She's hungry,” Anthea said when the man looked at her, puzzled. She moved the upper part of her tunic and offered her breast to the child, who began to suck. Maximus looked at her with awe. He had been at home when little Maximus was born and back then he had felt the same as he had witnessed Selene feeding their child. It was a magic thing, a true gift from the gods. The baby ate her repast quickly and when she was lifted onto her mother's shoulder, gave a loud burp. The two adults smiled at her when the cart stopped. Amenarta opened the curtain on the back and announced, “We're making a stop. You are allowed to go down and relieve yourself.”

“Good. I hope they'll let me change Rufina,” Anthea said and took her bag. The man followed her more slowly because of the shackles. They had stopped at an oasis and there were people gathering water. The priestess was waiting for them next to the cart.

“Is she all right? Are you?” she asked the mother.

“Yes, my Lady. I would like to wash and change her, if I may. Am I allowed to?”

“Yes. Just be careful. Spaniard, come closer! I have the key for your chains. I will give you the opportunity to be free from them to refresh yourself in the pond. I hope you will not attempt to escape. First we're nowhere near human habitation, second you'll make the rest of the journey walking chained behind the cart instead of inside it and you'll be whipped upon arrival. Your choice.”

The man's eyes narrowed but he didn't answer. He just produced his wrists to be freed.

The priestess smiled.

Maximus accompanied Anthea to the pool and the woman quickly undressed the child. She raised her gown and entered into the tepid water. When she decided that the temperature was all right, she lowered Rufina into it and the baby gurgled with joy.

Maximus shed his tunic and, clad in his loincloth, entered the pool. While he had washed from time to time at Proximo's compound, usually a treat after a good fight, the sensation of flowing water on his skin was simply wonderful. He dove to wet his whole body as well as his hair and did his best to get clean. When he came out from the water with his head, he saw the priestess with a small jar in her hands. The woman got closer and handed it to him. He opened and smelled a cleaning oil. He thanked her and proceeded to soap himself with it, being careful not to stain the water where Anther and Rufina were. Clean at last, he asked Amenarta. “May I wash my tunic, Domina? I could remain without it until it dries.”

“Yes, you may. I think that Anthea would appreciate the thought,” she answered and he had to fight a grin.

The priestess took a good look at his muscles flexing during the task of washing the tunic. He was undoubtedly a warrior and he had the scars to prove it, but it had been his eyes that had made her choice in the arena.

Maximus had just finished washing his tunic when other servants came to bring food, and he put the garment to dry onto a bush. While he and Anthea ate, Rufina, clean and full of food, was sleeping in her mother's lap. The slave woman saw the man's scars and asked.

“Did you get all those scars in the arena?”

“None of them. I've never been injured in a fight as a gladiator. Nobody was able to hurt me, but my trade was violence long before Zucchabar.”

“I know that this must sound silly, but you don't look so violent. My owner was short-tempered and angry most of the time. He always yelled and used to beat the slaves with no reason.”

“I never liked violence but I can resort to it quite easily when I have to and in my life I frequently had to. I had hoped to end my acquaintance with it at last, but the gods decided otherwise.”

“Sometimes it's hard to accept their will.”

“Or their whims.”

“Yes, sometimes it looks that way. You and I were born from a man and a woman and my child, too, and we're considered chattel. My former master was born in the same way, but he had power over me and every right to use and abuse people like you and me. Our blood is just as red and giving birth takes the same time for a slave like me, as for a patrician lady, so sometimes I wonder where is the difference. I know that these are dangerous thoughts for a slave, but my feeling are the only part of me that I own.”
 

“A woman's or a man's worth has nothing to do with your station in life. I once knew a man, rich in honor, glory and power, who was generous, kind and humble. He was entitled to do everything he wanted, but he never abused his position. His son was a spoiled little brat, with no heart or care for anything apart from his need and he used to take everything he wanted, uncaring of the others.”

“You loved the old man, didn't you?”

“Yes, I did, but it wasn't enough to save his life from the monster he had fathered.”

Silence descended as Maximus and Anthea pondered a few things.

“Would you let me cradle her for a while?” Maximus asked at last, out of an impulse.

“Oh, yes,” Anthea replied and she handed the child over to the man, who lifted her in his arms with the utmost care. The little girl didn't seem to mind the change, continuing sleeping.

Amenarta had remained close to the newly-acquired slaves and was proud of her choices. Despite his fierceness, the Spaniard was a good man and the kindness he had shown to mother and child was proof of his heart. The baby looked even smaller in his strong arms and the image they made was tender. The priestess felt that the man needed it as much as the child. He needed something to fill his heart, apart from the violence he had been forced to witness and use. Despite what many thought, love made men and women stronger and she needed this strength for her mission.

When the journey resumed, Maximus' tunic was dry and he donned it again. The fabric was coarse, but it was good to be clean again. Rufina had slept in his arms and he had just been happy to hold her, basking in her warmth, her smell of new life and innocence, so different from the blood and gore he was accustomed to. It was such a soothing time and it felt right. The return to the carriage brought a novelty to Maximus. The shackles were replaced by a single cuff on his left ankle with a chain long enough to allow him to move and, much to his surprise, the inside had been padded so as not to chafe the skin.

“Temptation may be hard to resist, even against the odds,” the priestess explained and Maximus nodded in assent.

“If you don't mind, I will go to sleep,” Anthea said shyly to Maximus.

“I will come, too. It is time for bed for me, too,” the man replied. The woman prepared her child for the night, then went to lie down on the cot. In order not to disturb her, Maximus prepared his closer to the gate, where he could also be forewarned of possible threats. When Anthea began to sing a lullaby to Rufina, he followed her spell and went to sleep himself. Later, when Amenarta came to the cart to check on them, she was pleased by what she saw.

A tiny sound woke Maximus in the deep of the night. Rufina was mewling softly and her mother was trying to comfort her.

“Hush, Little One. I'm here with you,” the woman was whispering.

“Is there something wrong with her?”
 

“I fed her but she has trouble going to sleep again. I'm afraid she's feeling the cold of the night. We used to sleep next to the kitchen and it was warmer.”

“If we use both our blankets, she might feel better.”

“I don't want you to be cold.”

“I will not,” Maximus said, going closer. He put his blanket on top of Anthea's and snuggled under it. Sensing a source of warmth, Rufina moved toward him, in her mother's arms.

“Do you mind if I hold her for a while? I'm probably warmer than you,” the man asked.

“She seems to appreciate the accommodation,” the mother said and despite the darkness, Maximus sensed her smile.

With the baby between their bodies, the two adults went back to sleep.

As the morning came, Maximus slowly woke up. At first he didn't remember where he was and having a warm body in his arms made him think of his home in Spain, of his beloved Selene and the times they had woken up together. The memories and the long time passed since he had been with a woman caused a reaction that he decided to ignore. He didn't want to scare Anthea or take advantage of her, even if nobody would ever know. He chose to cherish the feeling of the closeness of a woman's presence, trying to ignore what his body was trying to say to him.

During the following days, Amenarta observed the three new slaves without giving the impression of doing so, but she knew she wasn't fooling the former gladiator. If she kept an eye on him, he was doing the same with her. She could nearly sense the unspoken questions he wasn't going to ask. He didn't speak much and when he did it was to ask something for Anthea or Rufina, never for himself. On the other hand, she knew that he spoke with his traveling companion and told tales to the baby. She had overheard him once or twice and she nearly envied the child for whom his voice warmed. The little girl was doing a good job in securing herself a big place in the man's heart. When the priestess had bought her and her mother, it had been because they both were of the right age and healthy, but now she was thinking that the Goddess must have led her toward the best choice. She prayed for advice and went on with her observation, before they reached their first destination.

The road changed to a paved one and this alerted Maximus. A few moments later, the cart stopped and one of the guards opened the gate and stepped on. It was Karem, Amenarta's personal bodyguard, followed by the priestess, who was wearing peasant's clothes.

“We're getting close to Rada and we must go inside unnoticed. You, Anthea, must stay inside and keep your child quiet while we put things in the cart to hide your presence. Spaniard, you are going to enter town chained to the back of the wagon, as if you walked all the way.”

Karem removed Maximus' ankle chain and replaced it with a collar that he kept loose enough to allow the gladiator to breathe easily and motioned him to get down from the cart. As soon as they and the priestess were out, other people came to fill the space with goods from the other wagons and in a little while the cart looked like a carriage. When the gate was closed, Karem secured a chain in a loop in the back of the wagon and then to Maximus' collar.

The slave didn't protest but observed. “Priestess, may I speak?”

“Yes.”

“I am too clean to have walked all the way to this place.”

“What would you suggest?”

“To get dirty,” he answered with a straight face. Amenarta smiled her agreement and the Spaniard went down on his knees and began to use the dust of the road to erase the results of his washing. In moments he was ready and steadied himself. Once everything was settled, Amenarta took her place in the driver's seat of the cart and they resumed the journey.

Karem was riding close to his lady and observed the gladiator. The man walked with a sure stride and the bearing of a prince or – more likely – of a warrior. As they began to meet other people along the road, something changed. The man shed his proud gait and lowered his head, keeping his eyes downcast. He sort of melted into the scenery they had built and as they reached the town's gate, he seemed to have dulled the force of his presence. The warder who questioned them didn't spare half a glance for him. At such a masterful performance, Karem's admiration for the man rose.

Once in town, the caravan headed to the temple of the Goddess Obatua, where Amenarta asked to be received as a pilgrim. The woman at the door met her request and they were welcomed inside the compound. Carts and horses were moved toward the stables, while the main gate was closed behind them. As the huge barrier was locked, everything changed. People came to meet Amenarta and she shed her own demure demeanor to issue orders. Anthea and Rufina were released from the cart to be led to the center of the temple, while Maximus was freed from the shackles and motioned to follow Karem to another part of the building. The slave was accompanied to a small room in a long aisle with a cot, a chest and a curtain.

“You're going to stay here. I'll send for a bath and food in a while.”

Maximus nodded and went in. As promised, a few minutes later the door was unlocked and two boys came with a small tub, followed by two girls and two other boys carrying jars with water. At last an older woman came bringing blankets and toiletry. Once they had left their burdens, they stepped out without a word. The slave stared at the door before taking advantage of the unexpected luxury. Once he had bathed, he shaped his beard. He considered keeping the razor but thought otherwise. He was fairly sure that he would have been searched and he saw little worth in getting punished for it. He looked into the chest where he found a clean linen tunic, fabric for a loincloth and footwear. He got dressed and he had just finished fastening the sandals when the door was opened. Either someone had great timing or he was being watched, Maximus thought as a man brought in food for him. He didn't really mind. After having lived in the army for most of his life and in Proximo's school, there was no need to be shy. He ate the soup and the bread that accompanied it, some salty cheese and fresh fruits, probably from the orchard he had seen next to the main gate. The water was cold and after his repast he waited for someone to come.

He didn't have to wait long. The man who had brought the meal was back and accompanied him toward the heart of the building to a decorated door, with carved figurines of the minor deities that Maximus surmised were close to the main goddess worshipped in the temple. His guide left him, indicating that he was supposed to enter. Maximus complied and he found himself in Amenarta's study, together with Anthea and a man about his age who kept his eyes on him.

“Please have a seat, Spaniard,” the priestess instructed and he took a place in the only vacant chair.

“Do you have another name, other than Spaniard?”

“Not anymore.”

“Slave, the kindness you've been shown shouldn't make you forget your place,” the man answered with coldness in his tone. As the slave didn't reply or supply an answer, he continued, “You could be whipped for your insolence.”

“And you still wouldn't get an answer from me,” Maximus replied with a calm voice.

While she didn't want a fight to begin in her study, Amenarta was glad to see the true nature of the man she had bought starting to show. He had been too composed during the whole journey and she needed him to reveal his true nature for when his power would be needed.

“You're over-evaluating your importance here, Spaniard. Amenarta told me about your successes in the arena in Zucchabar, but they mean nothing here. Maybe a flogging won't give me answers, but could give you a reason to think about how to conduct yourself toward your masters.”

“If my Domina decides so, this is well within her rights.”

“Yes it is, Spaniard, and I won't let you forget it. As for now, we have more important things to decide and your bickering won't help. Please let us return to the important things, like the reason why you and Anthea here were bought in Zucchabar.”

Her words caught the fighter's attention and she couldn't help an inner grin that she didn't let show.

“You've been bought to protect the king's heir from those who want to see him dead before coming of age. Anthea has been bought to nurse him and provide him with the love his true mother will not be in the position to give him.”

Maximus looked at the priestess with surprise and awe, pondering her words, while Anthea looked scared.

“Why me? Why a slave to protect a king's son? Why not a legion of bodyguards?”

“Because a legion can be killed or bought and it attracts attention, while a single man, with others' help may succeed where many would fail.”

“Your king must be hated if he fears for his child.”

“His unborn child. The heir will be born in about a month. And our king is loved by his people, but despised by part of the nobles because he cares for the downtrodden more than he does for the rich ones and this is unpopular. He had dared marry a woman from a common family and to love her alone, without having a harem to be managed by someone important who could rule his life and this has contributed to earning him many enemies.”

The priestess' words reminded Maximus of Marcus Aurelius, the gentle man who wanted him to rule the change of the empire toward the republic it once was, and who had been killed by his own son, a cruel young man with desires and urges bigger than the world and not an inch of his father's greatness to temper them. Being a good man did nothing to save someone's life from enemies, especially those closer to you, the ones you would never suspect, never in a million years, such as Quintus, who had obeyed when he had been ordered to have him and his family killed, ready to collect the fruit of his betrayal.

“The boy will grow in a secret place hidden in the desert where we can keep an eye on him and at the proper time will be back to take his place,” Amenarta went on saying. “If you are strong enough to pass the test of the Goddess, you will be his shadow, the last barrier before his enemies.”

“Which test?”

“Tonight you will know. Do you think you're strong enough?”

“Tonight you will know,” was the answer and Amenarta felt that she wasn't going to be disappointed.

Before being led back to his cell, Maximus was able to ask Anthea if everything was all right with her and the child. Then he passed the rest of the day thinking about the situation he was in. He didn't know the goddess who was worshipped in the temple, but there were so many deities in the Empire and here he wasn't sure he was still within Rome's frontiers. He wondered what test he was going to be subject to, simply out of curiosity. Since everyone and everything he cared for had been destroyed, he had little to fear. His life was the only thing he had left and losing it didn't mean that much anymore. If he could go to Elysium to meet his family and Marcus Aurelius, so much the better. Later in the afternoon a girl brought food and Maximus felt the urge to congratulate the cook. It had been so long since he had really tasted something good that he had forgotten that eating was sometimes more than just putting food into your body. The meal was spicy and reminded him of something Selene used to make for him. The thought of her burnt body tainted his memories, but he stubbornly refused to let them go. He recalled the moments he held dear in his heart, when he had first met her at the Spring Fair in Emerita Augusta, a young woman with long curly hair the color of the night and warm dark eyes, or when he had come to her father to ask permission to marry her. He laughed, thinking how much time he had spent in grooming his unruly hair and shaving in the attempt to give a good impression. His mother had teased him, saying that he was going to marry an elderly matron if he didn't hurry. Glaucus, his future father-in-law had been impressed and the wedding had taken place in three months. Selene was so radiant that his heart had melted upon seeing her in their new house. The images of the burnt stones he had last seen were replaced by his wife's smile when they had crossed the threshold together for the beginning of their married life. Silent tears and a prayer to his ancestors to watch over her and little Maximus accompanied the Spaniard's waiting.

Dusk was close when a man came to accompany Maximus to the heart of the temple. They walked through empty aisles, toward a crypt carved in the light colored stone that had been used for the entire building. The room was decorated with spiral patterns painted in gold, silver and black. Looking at them attentively could get you lost in their never-ending path. In a seat carved into the stone, Maximus recognized Amenarta, flanked by two women he didn't know. Two men with swords were at the sides of the door. In the middle of the room there was a sort of throne, painted with the same patterns as the walls.

“Welcome here, Spaniard. Please have a seat.”

Maximus did as instructed, but without liking the priestess' tone. She sounded like a cat inviting the mouse into a golden trap. Not that he had been given a choice, but if it was his moment to gain Elysium, he would have liked to be able to go there with his eyes open and his freedom, not tied-up like a bait. The carved seat was strangely warm, as if someone had just left it and the slave noticed also that it seemed to adapt to his body. It was just an impression, but strong nonetheless. The air in the room filled with smoke, as the unknown women lighted something in a brazier that had been brought in. The scent wasn’t unpleasant. Maximus could discern flowers and perhaps honey. He tried to turn his head to look into it and discover more particulars, but he realized that he couldn’t move. He wasn't physically restrained but he was unable to turn. The seat seemed to enclose him in its solidity and Maximus felt himself sinking into a soft nothingness. He thought for a moment that he should have been afraid, but the flowers chanted to him and he felt fine. His eyes became heavy and he closed them to savor the honey in the air.

He was somewhere else, in a place where the air was thin and clean. The sky was impossibly blue, with no clouds to interrupt its perfection. He remembered a dream he had had after having found the massacre of his family, despite the desperate ride from Vindobona to Spain. He had dreamed strange lands, stranger things and he had hoped to die. Now he didn't know what to expect or hope. He was curious. He heard quiet footsteps and turned.

Selene was there, smiling at him.

He ran to her and she opened her welcoming arms to him. She hugged him tightly and despite the fact that he was far larger than his wife, he felt surrounded and protected by her love.

“I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you,” he managed to say through the tears that were now falling freely from his eyes. “I'm so sorry I caused your death. So sorry... so sorry... so sorry...” he repeated like a chant, hoping for his beloved's forgiveness for his sin.

“I know. It was never your fault. Never.”

“I tried, I tried to be there but they were faster and I couldn't be there in time. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, my love. Forgive me.”

“I have nothing to forgive you, because it was never your doing. I love you, Caro, and I will never stop loving you. And neither has little Maximus stopped.”

“Where? How is he?”

“He'll be here in a while. This moment is for me and you alone. I have to explain things to you.”

Still keeping her husband in her arms, Selene narrated what had passed when the Praetorians had come to their villa and her words dug an even bigger hole into his heart. She kept on touching him, lending him the strength she had always possessed and that Maximus had always admired. His tears had dried when she finished.

“Now something different is waiting for you, my Love. I think that I've been called here to help you to understand and decide.”

“What do you mean, Selene?”

“I've been called from Elysium to this place to talk to you. A woman, a Goddess I didn't know, asked me if I wanted to help you once again and I said yes. How could I have done otherwise? She told me that you were about to make a choice and that you would have need of my advice.”

“I always needed your advice. You were the best counselor I ever had.”

“I'm glad to hear that, Husband, even if most times you didn't seem so eager to follow my advice,” she said, grinning.

“I could not let you know how much power you had over me. It would not have suited a general,” he replied with a smile at the joke they had shared for years.

“The Goddess told me that a child needs you and that you have to decide.”

“I'm not in the position to decide a thing. I'm a slave now and slaves do not and cannot decide.”

“You are in the position to decide if you want to keep on living or if you want to die.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I love you, with all my heart, and I know you better than anyone else, even better than Marcus Aurelius, whom you loved so much. I've seen you from Elysium and your grief broke my heart, more than my death. I would never have wanted to die first and leave you in pain, but I wasn't given a choice and neither were you. Now I'm asking you to live for the love we shared and the love for our own child. If your life can save a baby's, please go on living and return to me at a ripe old age with new memories to share with me and Little Maximus for the centuries to come. Will you do that?”
 

“Are you asking me to do it for you?”

“No, I'm asking you to do it for you. You deserve to live and to have a purpose in your life and fighting until nothing else matters isn't for you. Even if it would mean having you near me, I couldn't stand watching you butchered with the crowd howling at your death. Do not let me witness this.”

Maximus pondered his wife's words and knew the answer.

“I'll protect the child, for him, for little Maximus, but especially for you, my Soul. I've always thanked the gods for having granted me your presence and cursed them for taking you away. I will live every day thinking about you and our son. Wait for me here, my Beloved, because I will be back for you. I will come to Elysium to claim you and our child and nobody, god or king could stand between us.”

“This is my husband speaking. I love you, Maximus, and I'll keep on loving you forever.”

The kiss they shared tasted of honey and flowers, before they reached their son.

Obatua was observing the mortal and his wife talking from where she couldn't be seen. She could sense the strong feelings these two humans shared, even now that one of them had died. She had chosen this particular mortal because of his strength and because of his capacity to love and commit. He was a great warrior but his skills were tempered by his mind and his heart. His wife was very similar to him in this respect. She was strong and she loved him with the same iron will he showed. It was a pity to see them apart and having to stay this way to reach a goal.

As Obatua's head priestess, Amenarta had witnessed part of  what was occurring in the slave's dream and many things became suddenly very clear and she had once again the proof of her Goddess' power. The unborn child had earned himself a powerful protector and she was glad to be able to help the both of them. Amenarta was going to make inquiries to know more about the slave in order to have all the parts of the mystery that his life was and why this particular man had come so far to be part of a special boy's destiny.

In his cell, Maximus dreamt of Spain as he recovered from the spell used to have him meet Selene in Elysium. While he was unconscious, Anthea asked for permission to stay with him and as she took care of her child, she watched over him. The slave woman was becoming very fond of this stranger, so silent and sad, but with such a tender way with her baby. Children so young weren't easily fooled and little Rufina knew that she could trust the big man who had often cradled her in his arms. Her daughter disliked males, especially their former master, who only spoke in anger and was a bad man, but she had bonded with the Spaniard since the beginning. Now Anthea hoped he would wake up soon, to let her know that everything was all right and that they all were going to live.

A day and a half passed before Maximus woke up. Before opening his eyes he scanned the room with his senses, like he had always done and the sound he heard made him curious. Anthea was showing Rufina a rattle and the child was trying to catch it. When she succeeded she put it into her mouth, chewing it with joy. Her mother smiled, but became serious as she discovered that Maximus had woken up.

“How do you feel?” she asked, seeing that his eyes looked unfocused.

“Weak as a kitten. How much did I sleep?”

“One day and a half. The priestess said that this would happen since the spell to summon their Goddess was draining for mortals.”

“I guess she knows her trade because I do not think I would be able to stand right this moment.”

“You don't have to. I'll bring you food and water. Do you need anything else?”

“No, thank you. Did you remain here all the time?”

“Yes, most of it.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to. I thank my gods and this strange Goddess that you're back.”

Maximus thought of the dream and his talk with Selene. He remembered his commitment and how he had given up his hopes to die soon and return to her. His wife was right, his life wasn't over if he could make a difference and save the life of a child. He was going to fulfill his part of that particular bargain, hoping in the reward that waited for him at the end of his journey, returning to the other half of his soul and their wonderful son. The thought made him smile.

“I am back. To stay,” he stated and Anthea was stunned at how young he looked when his face wasn't worried.

She smiled in return.

Once awake, Maximus recovered quickly and the second part of the plan began. When the Priestess read in the signs that the heir was going to arrive soon, she summoned Maximus, Anthea, Karem and Yadi, the man who had been with her when she had explained the situation to the two slaves. She ordered her sedan chair and headed toward the royal palace, with Maximus acting as one of the bodyguards and Anthea as her personal maid.

This time they traveled in full regalia through the streets of Rada, with other acolytes of the temple, bearing the insignias of the Goddess. Maximus remembered the legions walking through the streets of the empire, with their standards proudly waving in the breeze. His own, the Felix Legion that had never been defeated under his command and all the others that protected the borders and the lives of the Roman citizens. He sent a thought to his men who were probably wondering what had happened to him. He hoped that in his haste to get rid of him, Commodus hadn't killed other innocents. His family and his people was too much a high price for his life. He didn't want to have his mens' lives on his soul, too. He prayed that Quintus, who hadn't moved a finger to save his commander, would have done something to save his men. If not for kindness, at least not to waste resources that he could have used later. It was a sad thought, but better than having his legionnaires killed for no other reason than a foolish man's whims.

The doors of the palace opened at the announcement of the arrival of the Head Priestess of the Goddess Obatua. A figure of the deity was painted in full colors on the right wall of the hall and Maximus could see that it had been probably done by the same artist who had decorated the temple. They were accompanied through the luxurious rooms, through legions of people, some working, others there to ask for favors, to plot, to gossip. The former general felt their eyes on their party and he recognized the attitude of every courtesan he had ever met in his life. Like Senator Falco, who was always whispering advice in Commodus' ears, after having discovered that doing so with him didn't work. Like Lucilla's ladies in waiting, always trying to gain power through the Augusta. People were all the same, under every sky. At last they reached the most secluded part of the palace and he and Anthea were searched for weapons. The search was thorough but very polite. Amenarta wasn't searched at all.

The golden door was opened and Maximus met the king.

“Welcome to my palace, Priestess. May all the blessings of the Goddess accompany your visit,” the man said, smiling.

“I'm glad to be here, Turad. I came to bring Obatua's blessing and protection for your wife and the child who's going to arrive very soon.”

“It's time, already? The royal midwife wasn't completely sure.”

“I had signs of the event and I'm here to greet the newcomer with joy.”

While it was clear that the king was happy to became a father, the idea of having to give up seeing his child growing brought sadness to his face. He was a young looking man, with serene features and a head full of black curly hair.

“Come with me, my friend. My wife will be happy to see you,” he said and he led Amenarta toward the queen's rooms.

The Priestess gestured for the two slaves to follow her and they reached the room where Katunda was resting. The queen was a young woman, with golden-brown skin and short hair. She was reclining on a big bed with fresh, clean white linen and it was clear from her rounded belly that she was going to give birth soon. Her huge dark eyes warmed at seeing the priestess.
 

“So it's time, if you are here. I was telling the midwife that I was feeling the baby's wish to be born but she didn't believe me.”

“She should have. I have been informed by someone very knowledgeable that your child is eager to see the world.”

“Sometimes I wonder why. Probably because he doesn't know the world yet.”

“I'm sorry, Katunda, for my part in this story, but I want to protect your son as much as you do and living at the palace would put him in great danger.”

“I know and I understand this, but it still breaks my heart having to hand him over to you.”

“I brought two people for you to meet. This is Anthea. She will feed your little one together with her daughter and this is the man who will protect him. The Goddess Herself approved of him.”

The queen looked at the slave with curiosity.

“Did you have children?”

“I had one once. He died.”

“I'm sorry. That should never happen.”

“Yes, it should not. I will do my best for you not to experience such a thing.”

The woman looked Maximus right in the eyes. Her gaze was hard, as if she was trying to read the truth. Abruptly she took his callused hand and put it onto her belly. The gladiator felt the beating of the new life's heart and a deep feeling of protectiveness arose inside him. He swore to the gods he believed in, to Obatua and most of all to Selene, that this little one was going to be safe from the world. He was going to protect him with his life, his strength, his last breath. The child kicked and the stunned expression on Maximus' face, made the queen smile fondly. This was the man, even her son had acknowledged him, and she shared his feelings. She felt safe now, even if her heart broke at the idea of not being able to be close to him to see him grow up.

“Even my son recognized you. You have my approval and my blessings for you're going to have a hard task in front of you. Protect my child and I'll pray every day the Goddess will bestow  upon you every gift you may desire.”

“I will do it, Domina, every day, hour or moment, for as long as I have breath.”

“And you, who are going to feed my son, talk to him when you do. Let him know that he is loved even if I couldn't be there. Love him as you love your child.”

“I already love him, my Queen.”

The queen gave a tired smile and brought Maximus' and Anthea's hands together, one big and hard-skinned, the other small and soft, murmuring a blessing. “May Obatua always be with you,” she stated at last and let her eyes close at the tiredness of the last moments of her pregnancy.

The early evening of that day saw the birth of the king's heir, Kasret, a male child of three and half kilograms, healthy and with a powerful voice that echoed into the aisles. Turad presented him to the Court and recognized him as his son. Nobody apart from him, the queen or the priestess was allowed to touch him, or even get close. When the rituals were completed, he announced to the stunned court that his son was going to be raised by the Temple of Obatua and was under the protection of the Goddess. He dismissed all words to the contrary, the remarks and the advice and put the child into Amenarta's hands. The baby wailed softly and settled while the woman, with her escort, left the palace.

After having reached the sedan chair, Amenarta gave the child to Anthea to climb in, then took him back and kept him close to her body. “To the temple, fast!” she ordered and the party returned at a quick jog toward their destination.

The journey through the desert had been organized with great skill, Maximus thought as the last view of Rada dimmed in the hot air. In moments a caravan had been set, people had prepared what would be needed and Anthea, Rufina and Naskret had been led to a cart sporting two cots and a cradle designed to hold two children. He was given a horse to ride. They were also given flowing clothing to stand the warmth of the desert and in what had seemed mere moments, they were on the road.

The younger child was restless. The activity had been hard for him, but Anthea and Amenarta had done what they could to keep him comfortable. The double cradle had helped because the presence of another child next to him had had a soothing quality for him. On her part Rufina was curious at the new situation and kept trying to look at the other child with her still-unfocused eyes. Anthea looked at both of them and once again she thought that slave and free children looked like exactly the same. She took the little boy into her arms to soothe him and he rested his head next to her heart, seemingly entranced by the beating he felt through her skin, The woman smiled because her daughter did just the same. With a bit of an effort she took Rufina and cradled both the children, the child of her body and the one of her duty. They counted on her and she was more than ready to give them what they needed.

Being on a horse again was a wonderful sensation. The beast he had been given wasn't a war-horse, just a strong animal ready to face the harshness of the desert, but Maximus felt so good. Even if he knew he was still a slave, riding gave him a sensation of freedom he thought he had forgotten. He savored it, together with the hot air, while he kept his eyes open to the threats that could be waiting for them on the trail.

Amenarta was on alert, too, and she recognized Maximus' attitude. She also saw that he looked like he was born on a horse and this added particulars to the mystery that the man was. She had left instructions to make research about him and even if she knew that the process could have been long, she was eager to know the results. She had decided to start with the Lanista's school where she had bought him, then probably back toward the core of the Empire.

Proximo's school was bustling with activity when the man sent by Amenarta arrived. He asked the gatekeeper to enter and he was led into the yard. People were running in every direction to gather items to travel, while the gladiators kept practicing with their weapons. Proximo was surveying the movements from a shaded corner.

“Good morning, Aelio Proximo, I've been sent by priestess Amenarta to speak to about the slave you called the Spaniard,” Ogden said as he was close to the lanista.

“Did he give you problems?”

“No, not at all. He was the answer to many of our prayers, but my mistress wants to know more about him. Do you know if he has another name?”

“No, as a matter of fact I called him Spaniard because when I bought him the slave trader told me that he was from Spain, but the man never confirmed, nor denied the statement. He could be, because the man from whom I bought him trades with Basques' merchants. I don't know a lot more, apart from the fact that he had a legionary tattoo on his left arm.”

“A deserter?”

“Maybe, or maybe not. You don't get so good with a gladius hiding when the battle ensues. You could ask Juba. They were bought together and he may know something more.”

Ogden saluted the man with the startling blue eyes, and went looking for the slave. Juba was practicing and even if he wasn't as good as the Spaniard, he had grace and strength.

“Are you the one they call Juba?”

“Yes, I am. Who are you?”

“I'm from the household of the lady who bought your friend, the one called the Spaniard.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Answers. My lady wants answers about him and his past.”

“Ask him.”

“As you may have observed, he doesn't like giving answers, especially about his past.”

“If this is his wish, who am I to question his choice? His secrets are his to keep.”

“It's not my intention or my Mistress' to harm him, but since he is now involved in something that it's very important for us, we need information. Can you help us? I can pay you for your time and your words.”

“I won't betray a friend for gold, even if I am only a slave.”

“You won't betray him. You may even help him.”

Juba looked at him very closely to decide if he could trust the man and the answer was positive. He had always been able to know people from the beginning and this man looked like a good man.

“I met him the first time when he was brought unconscious by Basques' traders. He had an ugly wound on his left arm and I helped him to recover with some maggots I know how to use. He remained sick until Zucchabar where Proximo bought the two of us. He was sold at a bargain price because he was still ill and he seemed not to care anymore. Everything changed at the first fight in the arena. We were chained together and I knew I was going to be butchered, because I had never fought before with a sword. At first he didn't seem to have noticed where we were, but then something seemed to snap and he became a fighting animal. I would like to say that we defeated our opponents together, but the only thing I really did was not to be in his way when he killed them. From that moment on he seemed to regain his will to fight, if not the will to live. Before arriving here he was a free man, of this I'm sure. Something terrible must have happened to him because there was a deep pain in his heart, a pain that fighting didn't soothe. He never wanted the women Proximo brought for him to buy his allegiance. He didn't joke or laugh. I had the impression that the reason why he fought was that he didn't want to die slaughtered for the enjoyment of the crowd, not because he really wanted to live.”

“Do you know if he had a name, other than Spaniard.”

At the question, Juba hesitated. His friend had given him his name in trust and he wasn't willing to betray such trust.

“He gave me his name, but I don't think I should tell you more. I saved his life and he saved mine. We are friends even if I know I will never see him again. Do you know that when he was bought by your mistress he gave me the money he had gained in the arena? I'm close to having enough money to buy my freedom before someone kills me in the arena. As the star gladiator of this school he earned more than I could have hoped to make in years. And he trusted me with his deepest secret. I won't tell you his name.”

Ogden considered the idea of offering the man the money he needed to buy his freedom now, for the Spaniard's name, but decided against it. This would only anger the other man and get him nowhere.

“I respect your friendship with him and I thank you very much for your help. When I see him again, would you like to give me a message for him?”

“Only that we will see each other again in the Afterlife. But not yet. Not yet.”

“Thank you once again. Just another question, but this is just curiosity, why is everybody packing supplies?”

“We're going to Rome, for the games that the Emperor Commodus has decided to commemorate his Father. Proximo is hoping to make a lot of money with our lives. It will be a big occasion for him to forget Zucchabar.”

Ogden read in the other man's eyes the meaning between the lines of the statement. The slave was thinking of the fact that more fights meant more risks of being killed and leaving Africa meant also putting more leagues between himself and his family, somewhere in the black continent. He weighed the money in his pocket.

“Will this money be enough to buy your freedom?” he then said, putting a hefty sum in the other man's callused hand.

Juba was speechless as his eyes scanned the gold shining in the harsh sunlight.

“Yes. I'll be able to return to my family. But why this? I didn't tell you his name.”

“That's because you didn't and because my temple owes you for having saved the Spaniard's life. Even if he doesn't know yet, he's going to play a meaningful role and his presence is very important. Thank you for your information.”

Juba thanked him with a big smile that showed his white teeth in the dark face.

“If you're going to ask around, we were sold here by the Bedouin slave trader who has his stables at the western corner of the market. I don't know his name, but he  also sells wild animals. He would do nearly anything for money.”

“Thank you once again, Juba. Good luck.”

“Good luck in your search,” the Numidian replied and waved him goodbye.

Maximus was the first to spot the lone figure running down a hill and warned the others. When it got closer, they saw a young man, all knees and elbows, and terror all over his face. When he saw them, the boy blanched and tried to run in the opposite direction. The former gladiator spurred his horse into action and reached him, dismounting before the animal had stopped.

“We do not wish to harm you,” he said but the boy didn’t understand him and crawled away from him.

Karem, who had reached them in the meantime, began to speak to the boy in the desert dialect, repeating Maximus’ words until the young man seemed to relax.

“They're killing everyone, they're killing everyone at the oasis!” he stammered and began to cry.

“Who's killing whom?” Karem asked.

“Marauders. They arrived without a sound and now they're taking everything. My mother sent me to ask for help, but I don't know what to do.”

“How many of them?” Maximus asked looking at Karem for his translation. The man repeated the question and the boy gestured two hands.

“We must go and help them,” the Roman said and the other nodded in approval. If they wanted to use the oasis and keep it for the use of others, they had to get rid of the robbers. He went to Amenarta, who had just approached and explained the situation. She gave her permission and fast preparations were made. Despite his role of protector of the children, Maximus was assigned to go with the other to the oasis. His fighting skills were too precious to be wasted and they had more chances to win with him. After a brief arrangement and a few questions to the boy for information about the surroundings and the attackers, a party of eight warriors went to the oasis to save the people there.

The marauders were going to enjoy the women, while the men had been tied up to be sold later. They didn't expect problems from the desert so they weren't ready when death came upon them. A group of unknown men, led by a madman with strange blue eyes, arrived like a storm and proceeded to kill them all before they could go on with their abuse. Maximus killed a man who was attempting to rape a young girl and his arm bore all the rage and pain he had felt when he had seen Selene's body hanging above him, burnt and battered. He ultimately stopped another who was beating a child trying to protect his mother and went through the marauders like a demon, leaving only the crumbs to the other warriors. When it was over, for the first time he felt fine after a fight because there was nobody cheering for him, just people afraid but relieved to be still alive. Nobody had been entertained, but someone who mattered had found justice. He didn't mind the blood on his arms and hands, not when a little girl smiled at him shyly, clutching her ragged doll to her small body.

“Your skills weren't overstated, I see, Spaniard. You did well,” Karem observed.

“They helped to serve justice and this is what counts. Those assassins did not deserve to live after what they wanted to do.”

“I agree. I was born in an oasis just like this and even if we were lucky, we had bad times with people trying to rob us of what they thought we had, conveniently forgetting that living in the desert means hard work.”

“Someone once told me you give orders, people obey and battles are won. He didn't understand that orders are followed if people trust who issues them and the issuers prove themselves worthy of the command. He didn't understand a thing.”

Karem thought about the words that revealed part of the man's past. He had been a leader of men, as Amenarta had suspected more than once, but this was the first time the man had spoken of something about himself. He wondered who was the man who hadn't understood.

The priestess hadn't heard the statement but her bodyguard was going to tell her everything once the Spaniard was out of ear-shot. She needed to know. In the meantime they gave help to the people in the oasis.

The men and women inhabiting the place were working fast to get the situation back at normal, as much as possible. The marauders' weapons and possessions were taken to repay the tribe for their deeds. The dead men were left naked for the jackals' hunger. The father of the girl who had nearly been raped, personally removed the manhood of the dead rapist and Maximus who was helping to transport the corpses couldn't but agree. The man, probably younger than him but aged by the desert air, thanked him in a language the Roman didn't understand, but recognized the tone and accepted the thanks. Later that day, a feast was held to thank Amenarta's party for the rescue. The food was simple, but tasty and at the end of the day, everyone felt better. Some of the younger people were still afraid, but with the elders' help they were able to sleep. Maximus returned to the cart he still shared at night with Anthea and greeted her and the children. Naskret was sleeping, but Rufina seemed restless.

“She was afraid for you, you know,” her mother said and the man saw that she meant that.

“I am sorry, but we had to stop them. They were a menace and deserved to die.”

“I don't like the violence you are so good at, but you're right and I'm happy that you were there to help them.”

By the time she had said the words, the warrior had reached mother and daughter and he put his large right hand on the baby's tummy. The little girl gurgled happily and put her tiny arms onto his. She patted him with a smile on her face and in that moment Maximus remembered why he had fought, to keep that smile and every other child's, who was under his care.

The night didn't seem that long any more.

The Basque slave trader didn't want to give information at first, but when he saw the gold, he changed his mind. He talked of the huge Roman villa where everything had been burnt to ashes and everyone was dead, save for this big man with a wound on his arm and a dark red tunic. He was unconscious near two freshly dug graves, probably dug by him, judging from the bloodied state of his hands. It had been back in Trujillo, near Emerita Augusta. They had put lots of leagues before someone could tie them to the massacre that had transpired.

Ogden went to the port to inquire for a ship headed to Spain.

After having fed the two children, Anthea watched the Spaniard sleeping. The man looked so young when his blue eyes were closed. There was something boyish about him, with those lips that couldn't be hidden by the short beard. He was very handsome but it seemed as if he was oblivious to the fact. She couldn't resist the urge that struck her and gently petted his hair ever so lightly not to disturb him. She wondered what did he think about her, if he found her attractive or as only the woman he had to protect and while she was glad for that protection, she would have liked something for herself. She realized in that moment she was falling for this man and she didn't know what to do, to fight against the feeling or bask in it, risking her heart. She decided to risk.

Proximo was stunned as Juba went to him with enough gold to buy his freedom. The purses that the Numidian had won had been high, but not enough, so he gave a thought about the other slave he had just sold. The Spaniard, with his cold eyes, was hiding a heart under that hard exterior. He had probably given up his higher fees, instead of using them to buy his. The man who hadn't wanted to please the crowd, but had been ready to help a friend. He wondered where the man was now.

“I hope the gods will be good to you, Bastard, this time. Have a nice life, Spaniard, whoever and wherever you are,” he said to himself as he went to prepare the papers to set Juba free.

Amenarta listened to Karem's words. She could sense that her bodyguard admired the slave with a mysterious past and she was glad of that. Karem had always been on her side with a loyalty that went beyond his duty and she trusted his instincts. She was curious about the information that Ogden was collecting, but she knew that she had months to wait for an answer. Meanwhile she was going to use the skills that the Spaniard had acquired in another life.

The rest of the journey brought few surprises and the party arrived at the fortress in the desert. Maximus was awed by the dimensions and skills that created such a place. His military training told him that the compound would be very hard to take, even by an army and leading an army into the desert would be too expensive in terms of supplies and lives to be considered a sensible idea. Once inside, he noticed the wells, the orchards, the small fields and gardens that exploited every surface to provide food for people, where outside restocking wasn't a viable option. Despite the obvious hardness of living so far away from everything, the people he saw along the way looked more relaxed and happy than others he had seen in easier situations. He began to like the place.

Together with Anthea, Rufina and Kasret, Maximus was led to the main building in the fortress, a palace made of the same stone, desert colored, that had been used to build everything. They were given a big room, with a double bed and a double cradle for the children. Despite the fact that one place was going to be occupied by a slave and the other by a king, the two sleeping places were the same and the silk blankets differed only in the color, one being green and the other yellow. Anthea was amazed by the huge bed, with fresh cotton linens and an embroidered blanket.

“Half of the slave quarter in my old house could fit into that bed,” she observed and for the first time since she had known him, the Spaniard laughed. He had a funny laughter, too young and silly for him and she loved it a lot, hoping that she would hear it more often.

Before leaving Africa, Ogden sent a messenger to Amenarta. He knew she would receive the news when he would be already in the deep of the Roman Empire, but he needed her to know what he had been able to collect until that moment.

After his father's and Maximus' deaths, Commodus had thought he would gain some peace, but the gods seemed to have decided otherwise. He had been able to keep his murder hidden, but Quintus and Lucilla knew the truth. He didn't worry about the warrior; he was too happy for the power he had gained and didn't really care how his master got it. His sister was another matter. The Augusta was a clever woman and while she had kissed his hand after having slapped him, he felt that he hadn't been forgiven, nor understood for his doings. She was afraid of him and he wanted her to remain this way in order to control her, but he wondered what would happened if she decided to turn against him. He was going to be careful with her now. She had always been his big sister, but she also had Marcus Aurelius' mind and he couldn't afford to underestimate her cunning or her power. Now it was time to get closer to Lucius Lunior, her only weakness now that Maximus was dead.

The black Praetorian uniform suited Quintus just fine. He was born for the power there was in it and now his gifts were going to be exploited by an emperor who knew how to reward loyalty and silence. Maximus had been a fool to challenge Commodus as he had done. Marcus Aurelius' son was the heir and going against him had cost his former commander a great deal. His life, his family, his estates. Now the fertile land near Trujillo belonged to him and when the dust would have settled a little more, he would go there to appraise it and decide what to do. Not that he wanted to live there, but wealth could never be enough and he could share his space with some ghosts without qualms. He was a survivor and a few bad memories weren't going to spoil his triumph.

Little Rufina seemed to love the new accommodation, as well as the fact that it wasn’t moving. She began to eat more and her companion did the same and Anthea began to produce a lot of milk.

“I feel like a cow,” she joked with Maximus. “The next time you ask me something, don’t be surprised if I’ll answer with a mooooo.”

“Maybe, but the customers seem to like the meal. They are growing like weeds. Rufina is blooming like a flower and Kasret is going to be a big boy.”

“I know, but I feel as if I’m always bringing two full jars with me, in the front.”

“No, they do not look like jars. As a matter of fact, they look just fine, full of beauty and life.”

“Thank you. You’re kind.”

“Just speaking the truth. You are a very nice woman and being a mother only accentuates your beauty. My wife was beautiful, too, and when she expected our child she became unbelievable. Her hair shone and her skin was like silk. She asked me if I still loved her when she had gained a lot of weight and I chided her for her fears.”

“How did she die?” Anthea asked.

“How do you know she is dead?” Maximus demanded, stunned at the question.

“Because you would never had left her if she was still alive. You would have turned the world upside down to find her.”

“You are right. She was murdered together with our son by enemies of mine. I tried to save them, but I was late and all I could do was to bury them in front of our house. I was captured there.”

“I’m so sorry that you had to experience such pain. She was lucky, though, because she had you.”

“No. I was. Sometimes I think that she would have been happier if she had married another man, an average husband with no responsibilities beyond those toward his family. She would still be alive now.”

“How can you be so sure? She could have died in childbirth, in an accident on the road, killed by a disease. She had a life and a son with you. She had someone she cared for. She had the love of her man and this is so much more many women can say they had in their lives.”

“I loved her with all my life and I was unable to protect her.”

Anthea understood that no matter what she said, he wasn’t going to forgive himself for what had happened. This responsibility was what made him special and what made him so open to the pain of his loss. Knowing that words weren’t going to help, she enfolded him in a tight embrace, conveying her sympathy for the tragedy he had been part of and letting him know that he wasn’t alone.

He tensed at first, but when he found out that nothing was expected from him, not to speak or explain, he relaxed a little, allowing the woman to take care of him, like Selene had done many times in the past when he was in the safety of his house and the outside world became less important, at least for a while. Anthea’s body was soft and the beating of her heart under his chin was sweet as music. He let his mind release the tight hold on his emotions and he drifted off to sleep.

“She’s right, you know, Husband. I would have never traded our life together for a longer loveless one with someone else,” Selene said to him, while they were resting under the tall poplar that once had been in front of their house.

“She is a nice woman and I am becoming fond of her, but I feel as if I am betraying you for wanting her,” Maximus replied.

“I am dead, Maximus, and I won’t be able to comfort you and give you my love the way I used to do. I will wait for you but I don’t want you to wait alone. If you have some affection to spare for her, don’t waste it. I think she loves you and love should not be wasted.”

“That is strange. I would never have thought to hear my wife acting as a pronuba for me.” (note: In ancient Rome a Pronuba was a woman who helped to arrange marriages).

“I’m not. I just don’t want you to be alone and hurting. I don’t say to forget me for her, just keep on living.”

“I will think about your words, Selene. I love you as much as always.”

“Me, too, my handsome Man.  I remember very well the first time you came to my father to ask for my hand. You were stunning in your uniform and I was very smug about the envious remarks of my sisters. You risked being abducted by a horde of young girls foolishly in love with a good-looking soldier of Rome.”

“What a way to go.”

“You have no idea. Tullia, my little sister who was ten at the time, had already prepared a saddle-bag to escape with you, in case our father didn’t want you to marry me.”

Maximus smiled at the idea of the little shy girl fitting her dresses and toys in a saddle-bag to escape with a soldier. He remembered that day very well, too, and the happiness. The memory made him feel good.

During his stay at the fortress, Maximus never forgot to keep himself in shape, in order to be ready to protect his charges. At first, he trained alone, but after a while, Karem asked to join him and be trained in the use of the gladius. As a repayment, the desert man taught him to use the longer swords of his people. At first it was strange for the Roman handling such a huge weapon, but he was strong and tall enough to wield it and he soon became as good with them as with any other. He also trained with the long bow and while he had always been a swordsman, he decided to acquire every new skill that could help him.

When she wasn’t feeding the children, Anthea sat in a shadowy corner of the training area, with Rufina and Kasret in a basket next to her, while she was embroidering and sewing. The children weren’t troubled by the noise and she was glad of being able to witness Maximus’ training. She wasn’t an expert in weapon handling, but she recognized that he was good at it. She saw the looks the women shot at him when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. She had some servant girls helping her to tend to the children and they all were, more or less, in love with the handsome man. The desert sun had tanned his skin and the movement made his muscles glisten with sweat. His blue eyes, uncommon among the desert folk, made an impression and she knew that she was envied. Not that she had so much to be envied about yet, but they didn’t need to know. And she had hopes.

Maximus usually woke up very early in the morning and took his time to assess his surroundings. The fortress was pretty silent, apart from the noises of the early morning chores. Rufina and Kasret were sleeping and Anthea had snuggled close to him in her sleep. She felt warm in his arms and she smelt of night, sleep and mother. He cuddled her a little, without waking her up, just to feel her. He was aware that his body had needs, but he didn’t want her to be frightened by him and even if he suspected she wouldn’t have resisted him, he didn’t want to impose his urges.

Anthea resolved the problem for him.

She returned to consciousness slowly, with a smile on her face and when she saw him looking at her, she simply kissed him, full on the lips. He responded and soon they both were panting in the throes of arousal. Maximus wanted to ask if she was sure, but the eagerness with which she matched his desire convinced him that she was willing and he surrendered to the wonderful sensation of making love and being made love to. She wasn’t particularly skilled but her ardor made up for her lack of experience and they both were soon lost. The sleeping garments vanished and they both enjoyed the sensation of being skin to skin. The heat rose and Maximus found himself trying to get even closer to her. When he discovered how ready she was for him, he looked at her with intent.

“Do you want me to love you?” he asked and breathlessly she replied, “What do you think? I’m dying for you. Please be quick or I will explode.”

With laughter he took her and the sensation nearly made him pass out. It had been so long, but he remembered how wonderful it felt, the heat, the passion, the silkiness surrounding his manhood. He wanted it to last and he tried to relax in order to make it good for both of them. He breathed and fought the completion his body was eager to achieve. Anthea began to move under him and he followed her movements, pushing into her with strength, but without roughness. She was moaning her pleasure, while her face was bathed in sweat and Maximus stroked her full breasts and she loved the feeling of his big warm hands on her. How much she had dreamed about this and now she was loving and being loved by the man she wanted. The reality was better than any fantasy and she came with a cry, taking Maximus by surprise and he couldn’t restrain himself any more. He came, too, and his growl sounded like a lion’s to Anthea.

Despite the weariness of his release, Maximus was careful not to crush Anthea with his weight as he fell down onto the mattress. He rained her face with small kisses while he tried to regain his breath.

“You smell good when you are happy,” she said with a silly grin.

“That is probably the strangest compliment I ever received.”

“At present I feel very silly. I feel good, well loved and really silly. I like it.”

“I like it, too. Thank you, Anthea, for your love and your gift.”

“You’re very welcome and I do hope we can share this love more often in the future.”

“I think that this could be arranged,” Maximus replied with a grin, then sobered. “There is something I want to tell you. I did not mean to make love to you because I thought it would be taking advantage of you.”

“You didn’t take advantage of me, because you gave me something I’ve dreamed about since the first time I met you. I know that you still love your wife and I won’t take her place, but I’d be happy to have a little place of my own in your heart.”

“You already have it, together with your little daughter and that is why you must know my true name. Before I was known as Spaniard my name was Maximus Decimus Meridius.”

“Maximus Decimus Meridius.... What an important name. It sounds good. It suits you.”

“I decided to give up my former name as I woke up after my family’s death. It was a reminder of when life seemed a good thing and when everything fell apart I didn’t want it any more. The man who bore that name was dead and buried with his wife and son. The Spaniard was a name as good as any other and while I remained a gladiator it worked. But when I met you and I started to feel again, that man resurfaced. Maximus is once again a part of me and I want you to know it. I would like you to call me like that, but please only when we are alone, because I do not want to reveal my past. They do not need to know.”

“I will not betray your secret, Maximus. You can be sure of this and I thank you very much for your trust in me. This means a lot to me,” Anthea replied and she really meant what she had said. The gift of his true name was just as good as the gift of his body and she basked in the warmth of his skin and the feeling she felt in him for her. It wasn’t love, but just having a little piece of such a true heart was better than having someone else’s whole heart and soul.

Amenarta regularly visited Maximus’ and Anthea’s quarters and she didn’t find anything different, apart from the strange expression on the slaves’ faces. The woman was beaming and there was a protectiveness around him that made her think that something had changed and she had an idea what it was. She was glad for them and for her plans. A man who cared was more important than the greatest warrior ever, without a soul. She had seen glimpses of the taciturn slave’s soul and now it was showing more and more.

The two children looked really good, too. They didn’t seem to have suffered from the journey and they were growing healthy and cheerful. The girl was more vocal, while the boy preferred to remain silent, letting his expressive dark eyes speak of his needs. They liked each other and she had often seen them sleeping with their small hands entwined over the partition in their crib. Anthea’s milk was strong and the other women that the priestess had contacted in case she couldn’t produce any more, hadn’t been needed. She prayed Obatua that her duty could always be so easy.

Ogden had traveled throughout the Hispanic peninsula and had loved the place, with its fertile fields and all the green around. He hadn’t been born in Africa and while he loved his new home, he missed the color of the vegetation. The desert was a wonderful place, hiding secrets that nobody outside could believe, but its dull color didn’t stand a chance against the richness of the lands blessed with constant water. He didn’t linger anywhere, but he didn’t rush either, savoring each step of the way, until he reached Trujillo, next to Emerita Augusta, where he had heard a great villa had been taken by the new general of the Praetorian guard.

While people were friendly with him, nobody seemed willing to talk about the former owners of the villa. It was built in a sensible place, with plenty of water and sun. The building was being rebuilt and the fields showed signs of a recent fire. People worked there, while the black-clad Praetorians watched them. There was an air of sadness that couldn’t be seen in other part of the country.

The answers he was looking for came unexpectedly one evening when Ogden was having dinner at an inn in town. A young man, with poor clothes and an air of desperation in his eyes, came to sit down next to him.

“Are you the one who’s looking for information about the General’s villa?”

“Yes, I am. Do you know the new owner?”

“I know him, that bastard, but I was talking about the true owner, General Maximus Decimus Meridius, the one who built it for his wife and child. He was the Commander of the Army of the North and General of the Felix Legion, the best cavalry of the Empire.”

Ogden was thrilled and gestured the young man to go on.

“He was born here, from a common family and he was supposed to be a farmer like his father or a trader like his grandfather, but everything changed the day the late Emperor Marcus Aurelius came to visit. He was riding in the countryside when his horse went wild because of a horsefly sting. He was caught in a mad run that nearly cost him his life when a young man who was himself riding through the fields, saved his life. The boy’s name was Maximus Decimus Meridius. The emperor saw the promise in the youngster’s eyes and asked him if he wanted to became a soldier. The boy’s answer was affirmative, but he knew that he hadn’t the money or the possibility for a military career. The emperor decided to help him. He asked a friend to adopt the young man and arranged funds for his career. The boy left to join the army and never disappointed his mentor. From time to time he returned home and during one of his visits he married a girl he had known since childhood, Selene, and started to build the house. He had people helping him, of course, but he made the project and surveyed the work until it was finished according to his desires. He never forgot his father’s teachings and the farm soon became one of the richest of the region. He returned from time to time, to love his wife, to have care of his fields and his people and I heard him say that his campaign against the Barbarian was going to be his last assignment. He intended to return home for good. He never made it. Nobody knew what happened, but nearly a year ago a horde of Praetorians came and killed everybody, burning the big villa and the countryside. Nobody or nothing survived their fury. When someone found the courage to come closer they found the bodies of all the workers there, but no trace of Selene’s and little Maximus’. There were two graves, next to where the main gate had been, but no trace of who had dug them, just flowers on top of them. After a while the black demons returned to take possession of the burnt land for their general. He’s due to arrive soon, to claim the fruit of his murder.”

Ogden felt the bitterness and the hatred in the young man’s words.

“Why are you telling me this? Nobody in town seemed willing to answer my questions.”
 

“Because they’re afraid and I’m not. I’ve nothing left to lose. My wife worked as a cook in the house. She loved her job because the mistress was fair and nice and she was allowed to bring our child to work. We needed the money to build a small house for ourselves for the children to come. I never saw them again, just their murdered bodies in the ruins of the kitchen. She had tried to save our child and they had slaughtered them together. Now I only live to avenge their meaningless deaths and when the new owner arrives, he will have a nasty surprise.”

“Aren’t you afraid that I could talk?”

“Nobody would believe you because I’m known for having gone mad because of my family’s death.”

Ogden remained silent for a while, thinking of the man’s words.

“Be careful. You must be able to get close without raising suspicions or you would get yourself killed before you can exact your revenge,” he said at last and the man in front of him grinned.

“Thank you for the warning. I’ll be careful. Should you ever see General Maximus again tell him that I know and I understand what he’s feeling. I’ll avenge his family together with mine and all the others who suffered.”

Ogden nodded and drank a big gulp of his strong wine.

Now that he had all the news he had been sent to collect, Ogden was on his way back to Africa. He had a long journey ahead of him and he wanted to arrive soon at home where his wife was waiting for him. He was packing his things when he heard a commotion in the street. He went to the window and saw three Praetorians riding like madmen, while the people stood out of their way. When he dismounted, the host was talking to another patron. Ogden heard about the death of the Praetorian General, slaughtered in his house by Paulus, the young man who had gone mad after his wife’s death. The man was dead, too. He had killed himself in front of the guards who had come - too late - to help their leader. People who had been called to get rid of the body, said that he was smiling in his death.

“May your family be waiting for you in the Afterlife, my poor friend,” Ogden thought while paying for his stay.

Even if the Praetorian general should have been brought to Rome for a proper burial, Quintus’ replacement thought it was impractical to take a body so far through the empire. He had debated for a while about burying his former superior next to the graves that they had found near the main house, but he thought otherwise. He wasn’t a religious man and not even a kind one, but it was too much for him to bury the man who had commanded death next to his victims. He decided to have Quintus’ corpse transported to a military cemetery in the countryside where he was buried with a simulacrum of pomp and not a second thought about him. Commodus was going to be informed soon, but he doubted that the young man would care that much. The man shrugged and went back to his business, putting everything behind him and his memory.

Maximus was accustomed to seeing people bringing presents for Kasret and Rufina, but something was wrong with this one. It was just a wood puppet that someone had made for the boy and brought to their room, but it felt wrong. Without being able to put a name to his fears, he carefully perused the toy and then began to to sniff it. A sweet odor captured his attention and he discovered the origin where there was a crack in the material. He took the object and went straight to Amenarta. The priestess was working at her desk, but received him without making him wait.

“Priestess Amenarta, someone left this toy for Kasret but since no one was able to tell me who personally brought I didn’t give it to the boy. This thing smells of something I do not remember but it does not feel right. Do your people use sweet-smelling poisons?” He said when he was given permission to speak.

The priestess remembered something, but not clearly and asked for Ela, the apothecary.

“Ela, would you please take that toy carefully and tell us if the smell that the Spaniard found is something you know.”

The man grabbed the toy and sniffed it. He grimaced when he got to where Maximus had discovered the smell.

“This is a very strong poison, from a rare plant growing in secluded places. It can kill through the skin and the person killed may look dead for natural reasons. None of you actually touched this spot?”

“No, we just smelled it,” Amenarta and Maximus replied nearly in unison.

“Good. This thing must be burned.”

“Thank you, Ela. Take care of it yourself, please.”

“At your service, Priestess,” the man replied and went away, wrapping the murdering item into a piece of cloth he had taken out from his pockets.

“The little Prince owes you his life,” Amenarta observed as she had remained alone with the Spaniard.

“It is so unjust to think that someone wants to kill a small child.”

“A good king is a worse enemy for the evil ones than a mad one. It’s sad that his little boy must be at risk for someone else’s cruelty.”

“Children should not suffer for the adults’ deeds. Never,” Maximus replied and the priestess could not but agree with the anger in his voice.

Commodus was not happy to hear about Quintus’ death. He didn’t care for the Praetorian, but he had been a valuable asset and he knew how the military mind worked. He was also disappointed that the circumstances of his death had been such as to prevent him from adding the estate to the crown’s properties. The murderer was a nobody, a madman who had killed himself after the murder and had no family. Things weren’t going exactly as he had planned and he didn’t like it at all.

It was time to have a little fun. The gladiatorial games were going to provide it.

He had had the idea to set them up again after his father had banned them in Rome. Unlike Marcus Aurelius, he loved the blood, the smell of fear and the roaring of the crowd in the arena. He had organized games that were going to be remembered for years. He had instructed his people to hire the best schools of the empire and warriors had come to Rome to entertain the new emperor and the mob. Commodus had hoped to see the one they called the Spaniard, from a remote part of the Empire, but the man had been sold just before the great announcement of the new games and he had had to be satisfied with the remaining ones. He hadn’t been disappointed. Lots of blood and bodies scattered on the sand had made his day and he was going to have another good day at the Coliseum, his true home.

Since he had the answers, Ogden’s journey south was faster and in a few weeks he was back to the fortress in the desert. His wife had welcomed him with the news that he was going to become a father. A reminder of their last night together before his departure, she had added with a sly grin. At the time she had insisted on a night to remember when she would be alone and he had started his journey aching like an old man, but with a song in his heart that had kept him company for a long while. Now he was reaping the fruit of that night and he couldn’t have been happier. After having greeted his wife, the man went to speak with Amenarta.

“Welcome back, Ogden. I hope your journey was fruitful.”

“It was, my Lady. I learned a great deal about the slave you bought in Zucchabar. Before fighting in the arena, he fought for the empire in his role of Commander of the army of the north and General of the Felix Legion. His name is Maximus Decimus Meridius. He was very close to the former emperor, Marcus Aurelius, who was his mentor and sponsored his career in the Army even if the general's ancestors weren't Patrician. Apparently the old man’s death marked his own fall from grace. His villa was burnt to the ground by a squad of Praetorians who killed everyone they found. He had a wife and a small child. They were never found, but on the estate someone dug two graves with bare hands. I think it was he who did it after having somehow known what had happened. The Basque slave-traders who found him reported that he was unconscious next to the graves. After this, the villa was commandeered by the new general of the Praetorian guard and restored for him. The man didn’t enjoy it, though, because he was killed by a man whose wife and child had also been murdered at the villa. After he had accomplished his task, the man took his own life.”

“What a tragic story. Now I know where he acquired his skills and where the pain came from. No wonder he looked so cold and emotionless. Your tale brings other problems, too. Being a Roman citizen of the senatorial class makes his slave status against the law of the Roman empire.”

“And who would he tell his story to? If he had enemies powerful enough to have his family killed, they could have easily found a way to finish what they had started.”

“You have a point. Now I must decide about telling him that I know the truth or not.”

“I’m glad I’m not going to be the one to decide.”

“You did a good job, Ogden. What would you like as a reward?”

“More time at home. My wife is going to make a father out of me and I’d like to be here when it will happen.”

“You have earned your time and I gladly meet your request. No more journey far from home for a while.”

“Thank you, my Lady.”

“Thank you for the news you brought. You may go to your wife now. Give me word when your daughter or son will be born.”

“I’ll do so but I think you would know even without my efforts. There’s little way to keep a secret in this place.”

Amenarta laughed with him as he left the room.

The priestess decided for the moment to keep the knowledge of the Spaniard’s secret between herself and Ogden. She wanted to find the right moment, while observing the man. In the meantime he had acquired a nickname given him by Rufina. The girl had started to talk and one of her first words had been his name. Since she was too small to actually pronounce it, she had started to call him Pani and the name had remained. The man smiled when he heard himself addressed this way and now he was better known as Pani, rather than Spaniard. When Kasret started to talk, he called his guardian the same way, so the name had stuck.

From time to time, Maximus took a walk in the bays in the walls that surrounded the fortress in the desert. They were built with skill but for better security he talked to the chief engineer about some improvements that could be made. The man took note of his advice and asked for a talk with Amenarta who, in her role of head-priestess, was in charge of the main decisions about the fortress. She listened to him and when he said that the things to be done could be useful for all of them, she gave her assent. After that, she made another important decision. She summoned the Spaniard.

Maximus came to her office as soon as he heard the order. The woman was waiting for him with a strange expression that he couldn’t read and he didn’t like it that much.

“Please sit down, Spaniard, or I should say General Maximus Decimus Meridius?”

Maximus didn’t waste his or her time denying the truth. This couldn’t be a lucky guess so he just asked. “How did you know?”

“You intrigued me very much since the beginning and I decided to make inquiries about the man in whose hands I was putting the life of the new king. I had a man follow your traces from the Zucchabar market to Spain and last to your house in Trujillo.”

The memories brought back all the pain and for a moment, Maximus felt as if he was going to cry, but he refused to let his feelings show, no matter how painful they were. She knew who he was, but she wouldn’t see his tears.

“I’ve heard that Marcus Aurelius was your mentor. He helped you to have a military career that your birth would not have allowed. How come you lost everything in such a short time?”

“Why do you care? I am just a slave now, a slave you bought for a hefty price, but still chattel. What I was in another life is not important for you.”

“Maybe or maybe not. I cannot say. Knowing your past could help me to understand your future and Kasret’s. I need to know.”

“My future is here, in a fortress in the desert, keeping a child safe from evil men. The fact that I was trusted by a great man has no importance here and now. He died and a great part of me died with him. My family was murdered and my life destroyed. My past does not belong to me anymore.”

“I want to know why. It’s important for me to know why you fell from grace.”

“Because the man I admired so much had sired a snake and the snake killed his own father. I was caught in the aftermath of the crime. I did not recognize the murderer as the new emperor and this earned myself and my family a death sentence. The funny thing, deadly funny, is that they missed the main target. They destroyed my life and those of my people, but thanks to a whim of some god I am still alive, in slavery, while an assassin and his cohort of fellow marauders are enjoying their bounties.”

“Not all of them. The man I sent to track you told me that your house had been rebuilt for the use of the general of the praetorian guard. The man hadn’t the time to live there, though, because a man whose wife and child had also been killed at your house, killed him. Before exacting his revenge the young man, whose name was Paulus, gave my man a message for you. He said that he knew how you were feeling and that he was going to avenge both of you.”

Thinking of the sacrifice of a man who had suffered his same fate, Maximus fought once again his tears, but the memory of the two graves in front of his house was nearly too much.

“I killed two horses to return from Vindobona to my house in Spain, but it was useless,” he said with his voice broken by unshed tears. “When I got there all that I found was destruction, my house burnt, all my people killed. The burnt bodies of my wife and my child had been crucified at the main gate and all I could do was to take them down and dig their graves with my bare hands. I had been badly hurt when they had tried to kill me and added to the grief, it had the best of me. I woke up in Zucchabar, with no family, no name, no freedom and all I wanted was to die and reach my beloved ones. I really meant to do so, but when I was first thrown into the arena, chained to the man who had saved me from being fed to the lions like rotten meat, I could not let him die without a fight. I fought back and I won. Then the Spaniard was born. I fought without caring about the crowd and Proximo hated me for that. He did not understand. They all did not understand. How could he say that I should have been more entertaining? How could they enjoy a man’s death? They should have been with me at a battlefield when the battle is over, to see the blood staining everything, the cries of the dying ones and the smell of death. They should see the tears of the children who would never see their fathers again, the forearms of the surgeons covered in blood and grime after having tried to save someone’s life. They should have seen all that before telling me to entertain them. Then you bought me. Now I am here.”

Amenarta was appalled at the man’s tale and she understood him better than ever.

“I’m sorry to have caused you more grief, but my mission is important and I needed to know. How old was your child?”

“He was eight. He was so full of life. He liked riding and training horses and I hoped he would never choose to join the Army. I had my wish but the gods have a strange way to answer to our pleas. Now that you know the truth, what will it change?”

Amenarta took time before answering. “First of all your condition as slave is against the law of your empire.”

“We are not within its boundaries and who would care?”

“You.”
 

“Why? There is nobody or nothing to return to. Commodus made sure of that so why go back? To be killed and give him pleasure?”

“You Romans always speak of the strength of your law, so why you don’t believe in it?”

“Because the law is more than a word when good men are behind it, not when a madman is surrounded by greedy cronies ready to do anything to gain power.”

“You could find someone to help you.”

“Are you going to let me go back to Rome?”

“At present, no.”

“So why are you asking so many questions? To judge if now that my secret is out I would try to return?”

“Something like that.”

“You remind me of someone I met so long ago, a young woman with a sharp mind and political skills that would have put many senators to shame. She knew how to play the spoiled girl or the wise young woman when she deemed it right. She used men and women alike, with such a grace that nobody would complain. Sometimes she had to renounce something or someone on her way to power, but she had always been strong.”

“Your wife?”

“No. The former emperor’s daughter. She was beautiful and clever, just like her father. She played with fire, but was ready to pay the price. Even if this meant hurting someone she cared for.”

“Did you love her?”

“I thought so, once. Now I am not sure, but as I said, it was long ago.”

“And did she know what happened to you?”

“I do not know and I do not care. Our lives took different paths in the past and I do not think she would care, not as much as she cared for her power. She would have been a wonderful Caesar, had she been born male.”

“You didn’t answer to my question. Are you going to try to return?”

“Not now. Kasret needs me and I do not intend to deny my commitment to him, Rufina or Anthea. My duty is to protect them. My revenge can wait.”

“Are you ready to wait for long?”

“Yes, because they matter more than my revenge. I have people to care for and my desires are second to what they need.”

“You aren’t a common man, General Meridius.”

“I do not know. I am what I am. As for the name, now I am known as the Spaniard, or as the children say, Pani. That is good enough for me.”

“All right, Pani. This talk is over but I will watch you.”

“I did not doubt it for a second.”

Amenarta grinned and Maximus grinned back before heading to the door.

“Pani! Pani!” Rufina said, watching Maximus coming her way. She ran to him with all the speed allowed by her short legs and jumped into his open arms.

“Little Princess, did you miss me?”
 

“Yes, Pani. Mum wanted me to behave while we were waiting for you and I was very good.”

“Good, Rufina. You are a really good girl.”

Anthea smirked at the idea and she knew that while Maximus loved her daughter very much, he was aware that she wasn’t so sweet as her delicate face seemed to suggest. She had the energy of ten puppies and she ran all the time, while her breast-brother preferred to ponder things and go with calm. In the last few days, Anthea had found it really tough following the children and she was going to ask the advice of the physician of the fortress. She was still amazed that a slave was entitled to ask for the man’s services, but things were so different here that her awe was gently fading. She looked at the two people she loved the most being happy together and sent a thanks to the gods that had allowed all of this. For once in her life she was happy and she prayed to remain that way for a long time.

The following morning she woke up feeling as if her stomach had decided to somersault into her belly and she barely managed to reach the bathroom before she vomited. The inner room with space to wash and relieve oneself was another huge surprise for her, one she appreciated very much.

“Everything is all right, Anthea?” Maximus asked when she returned to bed.

“Yes, I’m a little sick.”

When she was back he cuddled her for a while and she basked in his gentleness.

“Now I know why Rufina always wanted to sleep with you. You’re as hot as a furnace. Must be all those muscles.”

“She had great taste, as her mother,” he joked and they both laughed quietly, not to wake up the children.

“You should see the physician,” he said at last and she  paused before answering.

“I think I know the reason for my sickness. I think I’m pregnant again.”
 

“A child? Are you expecting our child?”

“Yes. I thought that nursing would stop another pregnancy but apparently it didn’t work. I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Aren’t you upset? I thought you would be.”

“No, a child is always a blessing. My only fear is that since we are both slaves the child would legally belong to Amenarta.”

“I don’t think she would sell a child of ours. She seems fair.”

“I hope she is. I could not bear to lose another child.”

“You will not. Later I will go to the physician and when I’m sure, I'll go to Amenarta. After that, we will see.”

“I am going to go with you, Anthea. We made the child together and we are going to announce his or her arrival together.”

“All right. Now hug me a little tighter. I want to feel you around me.”

“Your wish is my command, my Lady.”

“Good,” she replied resting her head on his broad shoulders. It was a nice sensation.

The physician confirmed Anthea’s pregnancy and wished her well. After the visit, she and Maximus went to meet Amenarta. The priestess was attending a rite and she couldn’t receive them, so they decided to return later. They didn’t need to do it, because when she was free, the priestess came to their room. The children were asleep, so they went to a secluded garden inside the palace.

“I’ve been told you came looking for me,” she stated when they were settled.

“Yes. We have something to tell you and we hope this will not be a problem. I’m pregnant,” Anthea said in a rush, keeping her eyes downcast, while Maximus was holding her hand.

Amenarta thought about the answer for a while.

“Are you feeling well? Do you need more help with the children?” she asked at last.

“I’m sick in the morning, like I was with Rufina, but I feel quite well and when I was expecting her I had to work harder than I do here. I worked until the very last day.”

“This time it won’t be the same. You will be attended to and you will be able to rest if you need it.”

“That’s really kind of you, Mistress.”

“You don’t know my religion very well, but our Goddess is the protector of the women and their children because they’re the hope of our world. If the both of you need something just ask.”

“I would like to ask something, even if it has little to do with Anthea’s comfort or the child’s,” Maximus said at this point.

“Speak.”

“According to Roman law slaves cannot marry, but I do not know your laws. If here a marriage is legal between slaves, I am asking your permission to marry Anthea before the birth of the child.”

From the stunned expression on the slave woman's face, Amenarta guessed that she hadn’t been informed of the request and the priestess admired the former general for having had such a thought.

“According to our laws slaves may marry, provided that their masters agree. Since I, or better this temple, own the both of you, I see no reason not to comply with your request. When would you like to perform the marriage?”

Maximus looked at Anthea, who was still stunned, with a question in his eyes. She returned the look and smiled at him. “As soon as possible.”

“Tomorrow morning if it’s good for you. I will send someone to teach you the rites.”

Maximus and Anthea knelt to thank the priestess and Amenarta helped them to rise.

“Good luck for your marriage and your child. May Obatua bless his or her newborn soul,” she said before leaving them alone.

Once alone, Anthea looked at Maximus with awe that turned into an expression of love when she got up to sit in his lap, while showering his face with light kisses.

As promised, a priest came later to instruct them about the rites required for the wedding. The young man was very thorough in his explanation, while blushing from time to time, watching the both of them holding hands during his speech and the blush became even worse as he saw Maximus' hand gently resting on Anthea's belly. Once they had memorized the appropriate words he took his leave and hurried out of their room.

“I wonder if he was afraid I was going for him after the ritual,” Maximus teased as the door closed behind the man's back.

“Don't you dare! You wouldn’t reach the stairs.”

“Good. I like women knowing what they want. Docility is for sheep,” he added and Anthea saw that he meant it. She smiled.

Somewhere else another woman had no smiles left. Lucilla was thinking about her brother and his influence on her son. Lucius spent his days in the arena, witnessing people being slaughtered and there was nearly nothing she could do to prevent it. Her mother had loved the games, even more the gladiators and Lucilla was well aware of the rumors that Commodus had been the offspring of a wild journey in the bowels of the Coliseum. She didn’t think so. Her mother, while not exactly a proper matron, was too aware of her role and she would never have brought a slave's blood into her family. Lucilla just wished that she hadn't passed to Commodus her taste for violence. And she also wished that her sexual appetites had spared her brother, too. He was insatiable in his lust and she was afraid that someday he would forget the respect he still had for her and require her presence in his bed, perhaps using Lucius as hostage. Despite the heat, she shivered.

The hits rained onto the thick wooden pole with precision and synchronism. The exercise was meant to build up control and stamina and its regularity helped Maximus to think. He was going to be a father again and while the news had made him happy beyond belief, he was also disturbed. Another innocent life brought into a cruel world where good people suffered untimely deaths and ruthless evildoers thrived. He was also going to be a husband again and this time he committed himself not to leave his family as he had been forced to do to serve the Empire. He thought with grim amusement that his status of slave could be of help in maintaining his promise.

In the long hours alone inside the castrum he had often dreamed about his wife and son whom he believed safe within the boundaries of a brighter world he thought he was helping to build. He had believed in the dream that was Rome, like Marcus Aurelius had told him, but now he didn't believe in it any more. Not when a madman held the throne and there were senators ready to forget the emperor's assassination for a chance to power. Once his thoughts went to Senator Falco, the hits on the post became more fierce.

The following day the wedding was a quiet affair, with a young priest performing the rite and two acolytes to witness the vows. After the ceremony, Maximus and Anthea were given two cups of sweet wine and escorted to their room and the door was symbolically sealed with the ribbon cut from the one used to tie the newly-weds' wrists.

Once alone, Anthea smiled at her husband.

“I don't know why I am nervous. It's not as if I don't know you or I've never slept with you before," she said and Maximus looked at her with a serious face.

“I hope that it is not the idea of being my wife that is scaring you. I would never hurt you.”

“I never thought you would. I didn't think it even when I was brought to that cart with you chained inside like a lion. It's just that I'm so happy that I fear I would wake up to find out that this is just a dream and I'm still in Zucchabar without my child.”

“If this is a dream, I am glad to share it with you.”

She went closer, letting his arms surround her with his strength and warmth and she thanked the black Goddess of this strange country for the gift she had received.

Somewhere,  Obatua smiled.

Amenarta was in her office attending to the administrative tasks required by her position in the temple, when Karem came asking for an audience.

“Come in,” she said.

“Priestess Amenarta, I need to ask you something. May I use the Spaniard in the training of our soldiers? He's very good at it and he can teach us something different,” the man asked once he was seated in front of her.

“Of course. Why not? It's not an everyday occurrence having our recruits trained by the Commander of the Army of the North of the Roman Empire,” she said, knowing that her words weren't going to leave the room and enjoying immensely the stunned expression of her bodyguard.

“I can well believe that he is so good with a weapon. How did he end up here?”

“Power games, misfortune and someone else's greed. You can use him as a trainer and he will receive a pay for his work. I think he will work better with the aim of buying his own freedom, as well as his family's.”

“But we need him to protect Kasret.”

“I know, but don't forget he's a Roman. It's astounding that he didn't kill himself after his enslavement. We gave him a task and a reason to live. Now all we have to do is to continue in doing so. Damaging his spirit would only lead to trouble and pain. We need him and we need him in good shape, physically as well as mentally.”

“That sounds so cynical.”

“It is, but if treating him kindly may help our cause, I don't think anyone can complain.”

“I see your point, Priestess and I'm going to ask him today.”
 

“Good.”

The audience was over and Karem went without further words, looking for the former Roman general.

Maximus accepted the new job with a nod. He only asked if he was going to be paid and when the answer was affirmative, he inquired when he was supposed to begin. Karem decided for the following day and the two men parted company.

Anthea was with the children in another part of the temple and Maximus had the room to himself when he returned. Even if he liked very much being with his wife and the babies he was glad for the silence allowing him to think. This new job had lots of meaning besides the fact that he was going to receive a salary that would allow him to buy his freedom someday and his family's, too. Gaining importance inside the life of the temple was even more important because this could give him more time to earn the money and avoid being sold.

“I am thinking like a quartermaster jealous of his supplies,” he thought bitterly. In another time he wouldn't have even contemplated the idea of buying his freedom. The only freedom would have been death.

His ideals asked for death and expected it from a man of the senatorial class, a general and a true Roman, but as much as he hated being a slave, he was determined not to let his pride destroy Anthea's life or her children's, the one she had and the one yet unborn.

Rome had cost him a family and he was determined not to let Her have his new family, too. He was more than ready to pay any price for the dream that was Rome, but only if such price was going to come from him, not paid with innocent lives. He had to live to protect them, like he hadn't been able to do before. He owed Anthea, Rufina, the new child and, most of all, he owed Selene and little Maximus. He wasn't going to swallow his pride, he was going to use it to stay alive and well and protect the ones he cared for.

The arrival of a new trainer brought questions for the recruits and grins from the veterans. They all had heard about the Spaniard, but they really didn't think that a gladiator could be able to teach them something they didn't know yet.

Karem hadn't told them with who they were dealing with, trusting that the other man was more than capable to take care of himself, even anticipating what would come out from the confrontation. He already knew who were going to cause problems and kept an eye on them. As surely as the setting of the sun in the west, Odran was the first to complain and make remarks about the new training. He kept interrupting the explanation. At the beginning, the Roman paid no attention, but when the other warrior started to raise his voice, he turned his eyes toward him. Maximus seemed made of ice as he observed the rebelling man.

“If you are so good at fighting why are you not leading your own army, Man? Too dangerous when you really have to fight, not just with your tongue?”

Odran paled and raised his sword toward the general, taking an aggressive stance. Maximus remained still for a second, then with an uncanny speed punched the other man violently, disarming him as he fell.

“The first thing I learned from my teachers was to always pay attention. It may save your life.”

From that moment on, the lesson went smooth as water.

Karem grinned.

Cicero had arrived in Trujillo at last and he was looking at the ruins of the villa that had once belonged to his commander. He had heard that Quintus had acquired the property of the estate at Maximus' death but he hadn't been able to enjoy the result of his betrayal. He had been killed like the traitor he was and now the place was empty and abandoned. Someone had started to talk about a curse and nobody went there. The general's attendant didn't believe in curses, but he was glad that the land didn't belong to another of Commodus' cronies who would have soiled everything. He went closer, where he knew the front of the house used to be. He saw the remains of the house in pink stone that he had heard described so many times during the long winters of war. He closed his eyes for a moment trying to guess how the place would have been when the general's family was still there, with people working, children laughing, the smell of the sun-warmed earth. When he reopened his eyes the harsh reality was still there and going closer he saw something he had missed before.

In front of the house there were two mounds of earth of different sizes. Someone had ridden over them, but you could still guess their purpose. He had a sudden thought about what had happened and went to his knees to send a prayer to whatever deity was listening for the souls of an innocent woman and a child who had fallen victim to the madness of a man. He didn't even try to dry the tears escaping his eyes at the thought.

Little Juba was born at noon after a four hour labor. He was long, slender and had announced his arrival with a powerful shout.

“How can someone so small produce so much sound?” Maximus asked himself through tears of joy. He took the small child in his hands as if he was made of glass. His son was so tiny that he didn't seem real. Tiny as a dream and just as wonderful. He went out to introduce him to his siblings. Rufina and Kasret looked at him warily, but when the newborn gurgled happily when they touched him, they both were captured in his spell. Maximus returned the child to his mother and kissed her gently.

“Thank you very much, Cara. You have made me very happy and I will do my best to keep you and our children safe.”

Anthea smiled at the promise and basked in the warmth of her husband's love.

Later Amenarta came to bless the child and to perform the rites to present him to Obatua. Every new life was sacred for the Goddess and welcoming a new child was one of the priestess' favorite tasks. On a more practical level, this child was going to tie Maximus to the fortress more than any chain she could devise and even if she recognized that this was unfair toward the former general, it worked just fine for her purpose.

The day Juba started to walk, Maximus had just received his wages for his job as a trainer and he reckoned he had enough money to buy his freedom, but only his own. He thought about using the money to get free and going away to earn the money to free Rufina and Juba, but decided otherwise. He had already experienced how hard it was to live far from his beloved ones and he wasn't going to repeat the experience. He put the money away and returned to admire his son's progress.

“Do you know my father, the King, Pani?” Kasret asked while he was sitting cross legged in the garden next to their house. At seven years of age he was very tall, with a dark complexion and black hair.

“Yes, I met him the day before you were born,” Maximus replied.

“Do you think he loves me, even if he doesn't know me?”

“I think he began to love you the day he knew you were coming. He was so sad to be forced to let you go to save your life.”

“Do you think that I could write him to let him know that I'm fine?”

“I think he would appreciate hearing from you. I know that Amenarta keeps him informed about you, but he would prefer to receive words from you directly.”

“Do you love me, Pani, even now that you have Juba?”

“Yes, I do, Kasret. I was bought to take care of you and Rufina, but it was never a chore for me. You are a wonderful son and I am very proud at being chosen to be your guard. At the beginning I did it out of duty, but that changed so long ago, even before Juba's birth. You are both my sons, together with Rufina and you are my family. I know that you belong in the king's heart, but you have a special place also in mine and I hope I have a place in yours, too.”
 

“You have it, Pani. The first thing I remember is your deep voice telling me stories about the lands you visited, the strange men from the North, with blond hair and cornflower eyes. I used to dream about them. Sometimes I still do.”

“Do you want to know another story, my son?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Once upon a time there was a good man. He was powerful but kind and people loved him. While he was riding through his kingdom, his horse went wild. A young man who was riding bareback approached his horse and was able to stop the mad run. When they were both still unknown to each other, the youngster looked at him and before the guards could react, the good man was talking to the boy." While he was telling the tale of his first encounter with Marcus Aurelius, Maximus had a smile on his face, recalling the joy of that meeting.

Amenarta was checking a plea received from a blacksmith when her attendant discreetly knocked at her door. She gave her permission to enter and the woman announced that the Spaniard was outside asking for an audience. Curious, she told her to let him enter.

The man, despite the years passed and the easier life, was still oozing power from every pore. There were more lines on his tanned face, but he had lost the sadness she had seen for so long. His blue eyes had the same fierce and serious look, but they didn't speak only of desperation. All in all, he was a welcome sight.

“Come in, Maximus. What brings you here?” she asked when he was standing right in front of her desk.

“I came to repay a debt.” He began putting a large pouch close to her hands. “This gold ought to be enough to buy my freedom, together with Anthea's, Rufina's and little Juba's,” he continued, with a proud note in his voice.

Amenarta was startled. She remembered that she had given her consent for him to be paid for his services with the garrison, but after the passing of time, she had thought that he had forgotten his freedom. Now she knew that he hadn't. He had broadened his purpose.

“If I accept this bag, will you leave this place with your family heading to Spain?”

“No, my life is here, now. But I want to live it as a free man, not a slave, and I do not want my children being slaves. I had a commitment with Kasret that I will honor, but I prefer doing it because I want to, rather than because I was bought to do so.”

Amenarta looked at him and, as always before, his eyes didn't waver. His pride that had never been hidden was nearly shining around him and she knew that he would fulfill his part of the bargain.

She decided.

“I accept your money, Maximus, and I will have the documents drawn for you and your family. From now on you are free and you will receive a wage for your work. Did you already talk to your wife?”

“Not yet. I wanted to be sure before letting her know.”

“Now, go and tell her. Tonight I'll have the paper delivered to your house.”

“Thank you very much, Priestess Amenarta.”

She grinned, noting that he didn't use the term “domina”, thinking that it was a good thing that they never met on different sides, while she watched him going away.

“Anthea? Where are you Cara?” Maximus asked as he entered his bedroom. He found her half under their bed, seemingly looking for something.

“Just a minute, Love. I'm looking for something Rufina said she had lost. All right, I have it,” his wife said after coming out from her hiding with a toy in her hand.

“I have something important to tell you, Wife.”

“Wife. I like the sound of it on your lips.”

“Only of it?”

“As a matter of fact I love you when you are whispering my name in need in the middle of our lovemaking.”

“Yes. That is always a nice moment. But what I wish to tell is important. I just came back from Amenarta's office. I gave her the money to buy our freedom. As soon as the documents are ready, you, Rufina, Juba and I are free.”

Anthea looked at him in sheer disbelief. “But how? When? Why?”

“I earned the money with my work and I have saved it since the beginning. The day Juba started to walk I reckoned I had enough gold to buy my own, but I could not bear to stay far from you, even to speed up the process of buying freedom for all of us. I saved more money and when I was finally sure I had enough, I went to Amenarta.”

“This is the greatest gift I ever received. I was born a slave and I always wondered what freedom would mean. I still don't know how it really feels, but I will try,” Anthea said and, abruptly kissed the life out of her husband, who answered with feeling.

***

Turad was struggling not to yawn in front of the postulant who had come to bring his claim to the king's attention. The request was well founded, but the man was so pompous and prone to stray from the main subject that Turad was seriously thinking of having him arrested for wasting his king's time with boring words. At last, the torture ended and the king was relieved to discover that that had been the last audience for the day. He got up, went to the antechamber of the audience room and let a slave take his heavy crown and ceremonial clothes away. He remained in the light tunic and trousers he favored and decided to stretch his aching muscles. His attendant had left a scroll for him and Turad broke the seal as soon as he noticed the mark of the Temple of Obatua. As a matter of fact the document was an invitation to dinner made by Amenarta for him and the queen, for the following day. The high priestess was probably the only person in the kingdom with enough power to invite the king to dinner and expect a positive answer. Turad grinned at the idea that he would have gone anyway. He liked the priestess because she was one of the few who could understand the burden of power and because she truly believed in her mission and she used her power wisely. He also envied her because she could share Kasret's life the way his own parents couldn't. His eldest son and heir was a nagging pain in his heart. He had managed to see him for few minutes, but it had been enough to forge a bond that was growing, despite the fact that he wasn't sure that he would have been able to recognize him in person. Turad loved his other children, but the lost one had always been special.

He sent a message to the temple to confirm the meeting and went to his rooms to inform the queen of the plans.

The small chapel inside the temple, known as the King's chapel, was a place meant to allow the king and his family to pray to the Goddess in silence and safety. Turad and Katunda were surprised to see a boy and a man already there, together with the high priestess. Amenarta was smiling her usual smile, that really didn't reveal a thing about her thoughts, while the boy looked shyly through heavy lashes. He was tall and slender, with deep brown eyes and black hair. He had an air of quiet strength and both the king and the queen liked him at first glance. The other man could have been the boy's father, probably only in years, because his startling aqua eyes were so different. The queen looked at him intensely as she remembered the same face, only younger. The hair had been all black back then and shorter, but he was the same man she had entrusted her son to.

“You brought Kasret back to me!” she shouted at Maximus while she started to run toward her son.

Once her words registered in the king's mind, he ran too.

They both stopped an arm's length away to observe their child for the second time in their lives and neither tried to stop the tears. Kasret began to softly cry, too, and stepped further to hug both his parents.

Maximus felt a sting in his eyes and decided that the moment was worth tears of joy. The young prince had been so nervous and he was glad to see that his parents hadn't forgotten the heir they had to hide for his own safety. The warrior looked at the priestess and smiled because  her eyes were shining as well.

“So the manipulative old witch has a heart, too,” he silently commented.

Amenarta looked at him and as if guessing his thoughts, grinned, while gesturing to him to leave the family alone.

The silence under the trees of the inner garden wasn't uncomfortable. Maximus and Amenarta were lost in their musings and the heat was still a pleasure at this time of the year.

“This place makes me think of my grandfather's house. He had an inner garden, too, a secluded place where the plants were safe from the heat of summer and the cold of winter. It was quiet and it made me feel safe when I sat there listening to the old man's stories. He told me about the places of the Empire he had seen, the strange Eastern countries and Africa. When he told me about the desert I really could not believe that such a thing existed. I guess life proved me wrong,” the Spaniard said, remembering.

“I never knew my grandfather. He was a guest in the house where my grandmother worked. He got her pregnant when she was summoned to entertain the guests. She was sold together with my mother at the temple when they discovered that she had given birth. My mother was raised in this very temple and when she was eighteen she got permission to marry one of the acolytes. She worked for the Goddess all of her life and her ashes are scattered all around us.”

“Were you given to the temple or did you choose?”

“A bit of both, I guess. When I was young I really didn't like the chores of the novices, but as I grew up I realized that I was born to live this way and I never regretted my choice.”

“Did you ever miss having a family?”

“Obatua had given me a larger family to attend to and children to care for. Just like your Rufina. She reminds me a lot of you. She's just as stubborn as you. It's a good thing she didn't corrupt completely the young prince.”

“Even Kasret is not as innocent as he seems. He is only better at hiding his thoughts.”

“I noticed. He's a serious child, but there's a rascal hidden behind the surface.”

“This skill will help him when he becomes the king. He must learn how to hide his true feelings from everyone. He is not going to lead an easy life. I do not envy him. Not at all.”

With these words Maximus thought about the offer he had received so long ago, from Marcus Aurelius, soon after he had talked to the ailing man about his farm in Trujillo. He had discovered in that moment that the emperor was a lonely man who could only catch glimpses of love and true affection in those few people who weren't interested in using him to reach power. Even his family had been sacrificed to the greater good of the empire and in the end it had been all for nothing because the old man's last wish had been destroyed by greed.

He wished Kasret more luck.

The afternoon brought a stunning piece of news. The king had decided that he wanted to get to know his son better and declared that he and his family were going to spend a month in the summer palace in order to present Kasret to his siblings and try to make up for the time they had lost. Amenarta reviewed with Maximus and the king's personal guard the arrangements for security and the party moved the following day at dawn.

The summer palace was in a small town next to the southern boundaries of the Roman influence in Africa. Maximus recognized signs of the presence of Rome in the baths, some buildings and a temple dedicated to Mars. Despite his years in another country he discovered that he didn't miss Rome's lifestyle the way he thought he would, especially when he saw a writing on the wall advertising gladiatorial games.

A long time had passed since his last fight and he still cringed at the memory of the waste of lives. He wondered what had happened to Juba and the others he had met at Proximo's school. He hoped that the Numidian was back with his family. He still remembered fondly the other man's warm smile and the niceness he had managed to keep despite his situation. He sent a prayer to his ancestors and to Obatua that he was well.

Kasret's laughter brought Maximus back from his thoughts and they rode on, toward the palace.

Commodus found out that Africa suited him quite fine. This strange land was dangerous, untamed and wild and he liked that very much. There seemed to be violence brewing in everything under the unmerciful sun and the emperor reveled in it. He had witnessed lions hunting and slaughtering frail looking animals, giant crocodiles killing everything that passed too close to them and he could relate to such appetites. Rome was getting too civilized for his tastes and the money scarce to indulge in his favorite activities.

Even the mob had started to think that the Coliseum wasn't the beginning and the end of the world and he was going to have to find something different to keep them entertained in order not to be pushed to give explanations about what he had done with the empire's resources.

As for now he was just traveling outside Rome's boundaries to look for some thrill and forget the harsh weight of power and the decisions that came with it, like when he had killed Lucilla and Lucius for plotting against him.

A pang of regret stung at the thought but, in the end, his sister had paid for her refusal to give him what he had needed and wanted from the start. She had been everything he hadn't and she had been loved in a way he had never been. She had paid and now there was no one left to know what had happened so many years ago in a tent near Vindobona. He was free, more than ever, and he had every intention of enjoying such freedom.

Aelio Proximo was getting on in years, but his name as Lanista still meant something. His school was famous for the athletes he had trained and some still remembered the Spaniard, the stranger who had fought a single season, but had made such a strong impression. Now the old liberto was about to decide who to bring for the shows in the town close to the sea. He examined his latter purchases while chewing a butterfly, his favorite food.

“My Emperor, I've been informed that Turad, the king of this country is in town for a brief visit. It would be politically advisable to visit him,” Senator Falco said during his morning visit to Commodus.

“The emperor of Rome paying a visit to an unknown man who only happens to be the king of an insignificant country?” the Emperor replied angrily.

“This country is indeed insignificant, but its ruler seemed interested in keeping the peace and a neighbor like that can be of same use in a troubled world.”

“Do you know, Senator Falco, that sometimes I really hate your sweet patronizing words? Don't try and steer me in your intended direction. I'm not the young man you once new. I've grown up, more than you can imagine.”
 

“I never doubted that for a moment. You've shown signs of greatness since the beginning and I'm glad I was able to recognize them a long time ago.”

Commodus grinned at the words. He was able to cut through the words of his counselor, but he liked the flattery nonetheless. And the old bastard knew his trade well enough to be the only constant in his entourage. It wouldn't hurt to listen.

Proximo was heading to a small inn that looked promising when he spotted someone he thought he knew. Something in the man's demeanor reminded him of a man he had once been acquainted with. The man had the same powerful stride he remembered belonging to the Spaniard. He got closer to have a look since his eyes weren't as good as they used to be. Proximo arrived right behind him and was about to touch the other man's arm when he turned, a dagger in his hand and the same cold aqua gaze he couldn't forget.

“Well, Spaniard, it's been a long time,” the lanista said in a mocking tone. “I'm happy to see that the passing of time hasn't ruined your reflexes.”

The other man looked at him warily, without saying a word and Proximo felt the same uneasiness he had experienced so long ago.

“Or your temper. How come your new owner didn't whip you for your insolence?”

“I belong only to myself now,” was the cold reply while the warrior sheathed his weapon. Without further words the Spaniard started to walk away but was stopped by Proximo grabbing his left arm.

“Do not touch me again, Proximo, if you value your life. As I told you, I am not one of your possessions to use as you wish, not any more. Take your hand away or you will lose it.”

The threat wasn't an empty one and the older man complied, watching the broad back turning to him and disappearing in the crowd.

Proximo was still lost in his thoughts when he returned to the inn where he was staying. So the Spaniard was alive and he was a free man now. The way he walked told the Lanista that his former slave was still keeping himself in good shape and his fighting skills were as sharp as ever. No matter what, Proximo was really curious to know what had happened. He remembered the woman who had bought his gladiator and what had happened after that. The journey to Rome had been a total disaster. He had spent lot of money to reach the Imperial town only to have all his men slaughtered in the first fight when they had to recreate some battle as a Barbarian Horde, men butchered in minutes against other gladiators on scythed chariots. When he had agreed to participate he hadn't been informed that the Emperor wanted battle recreations, another word for a meaningless slaughter to appease his blood-lust. Not that Proximo had something against the feeling. It kept him in business, but losing all his school at the first show was stupid. He wondered if having the Spaniard with him would have changed the outcome of the battle and he thought that this could well have been. During the time the man had stayed with him, the Lanista had witnessed glimpses of skills belonging to a soldier, probably a commanding officer, not to the usual legionnaire, and probably not to a deserter. How many mysteries lay behind those cold eyes. Mysteries he was going to investigate.

Amenarta had received messages from her informant in town and since the temple was responsible for the heir's safety she decided to inform the former general of what she had learned.

The Spaniard arrived as soon as he was summoned and she didn't waste time in pleasantries. “The Roman emperor is going to arrive in town for the games and he has invited the king to attend with him. The king is thinking of accepting.”

Amenarta felt the chill fall in the room.

“Commodus is still the emperor?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Is Kasret going to have to attend, too?”

“I don't think so. Turad himself doesn't like the games and he's unlikely to have his son witness such meaningless slaughter.”

“Another reason why he is a good ruler, something Commodus is never going to be.”

“Are you going to claim your revenge now, General Maximus?”

“If I were alone, in a heartbeat,” the man replied with a cold voice. “But I have duties toward my family and Kasret that are far more important than my feelings. People have suffered in the past for my actions and I do not want this to happen again.”

Amenarta watched the man standing in front of her. From his story and her personal knowledge, she knew that he was going to be true to his word, even if he was aching to kill the man responsible for his fall from grace.

“There's someone else in town you should know about,” the former slave said. “I met Proximo today.”

“The man I bought you from?”

“Yes, him. I think he is town for the games.”

“Did he recognize you?”

“Yes, he did and I told him I am a free man now.”

“Would you consider it a stupid question to ask you if you're upset about him?”

“Not really. I did not like him back then and I still do not, but I am not looking for revenge from him. He really did not and still does not matter, as I did not for him. I was just a commodity and he had no reason to treat me differently. He is nothing more than an annoyance.”

“Good. Tomorrow I will meet with the King and his guard to plan his presence at the games. I think that your presence would be welcomed, as you are our most important source of information about the Roman Empire.”

“If you are going to inform him about my history, would you mind if I tell him? He needs to know but I would prefer to do it myself.”

“Not a problem. Who better than you can tell your story? Let's see you tomorrow. Now inform your wife not to be seen around during the presence of the Emperor. From what I have learned, he doesn't think that the fact that at present he's beyond the borders of his power may hamper his temper or his appetites.”

“Nothing ever did,” was Maximus' answer and he bowed before leaving the room.

“The emperor is in town to meet the king,” Maximus said as soon as he returned to the quarters they shared at the summer palace.

“Commodus?”

“Yes. The spoiled child is still the emperor. I guess that he has managed to get rid of his enemies the way he did his father.”

“Are you going to seek your revenge?”

“I wish I could, but I will not. I cannot risk my family or the king's position for it. All of you deserve more than this from me.”

“Thank you very much, my beloved husband,” she replied calmly, hugging him tightly.

When Maximus told his story to the king, Turad remained stone-faced, but Amenarta knew that it was to hide his feelings, rather than because he didn't care. When the tale was over, he asked about the emperor and Maximus explained what he remembered of the man's habits, attitudes and behavior. The former general explained the lust for violence that belonged to the Roman ruler and why games were so important for Rome, but especially for Commodus.

“You don't like the games, don't you?” Turad asked.

“No, well before I had to be part of them.”

“Something we have in common. I will be attending the games with Katunda, but Kasret will remain at the palace with you and my other children. From what I've heard and what you told me, I don't trust Commodus to be close to my son and heir. He wouldn't be above using him to gain power against me and my country. We must be alert and wait for the Emperor and his praetorians to leave town. Thank you for your help, General Maximus. Your words have increased my debt toward you.”

“Every debt that you may have is paid in full by your consideration and your child's happiness. As you have surely noticed he is a fine young man who is going to become a great ruler for your country. It was and still is an honor to help him.”

The king smiled at the praise and gave Maximus permission to leave. Many thoughts were on his mind while he planned his meeting with the emperor of Rome.

Commodus received the answer to his invitation and was miffed to know that the king's heir, the one who was rumored to live in a far off place to be secure from enemies, wouldn't be attending the games. Having the boy under his wings could have been good to spread Rome's influence in this part of the continent. That didn't matter. He still had time to plan something else.

Marcia wasn't sure if Commodus' invitation to join him in this meaningless journey throughout Africa was a sign of fondness or the attempt to keep her where he could control her moves. She had hoped that once the late Augusta Lucilla was out of the picture, Commodus would have thought seriously of making her his wife, but – if possible – he had become even more bad-tempered. It was more and more difficult not to show her hatred for him. But she had to be careful, after her first attempt to kill him with poison had failed, Marcia had lived in fear of discovery, but apparently he had blamed the cook and had him executed in the arena. Now she had to plan more carefully and perhaps she could use Commodus' obsession with gladiatorial games to set herself free.

Aelio Proximo was accustomed of being asked to lend his athletes for private games and when the Emperor's mistress had asked for a meeting he wasn't worried or wary. When she left he was.

Arriving at the palace had been the easy part; actually meeting the king was not. Proximo had asked for an audience and he had been told that he would have to wait like any other. Luckily it was the day when Turad listened to the pleas and the Lanista had just to wait for his turn. Meanwhile he passed the time observing the guards with a skilful eye as to their strength and weaknesses, trying to assess what they would have done in the arena. Some of the soldiers looked good and on alert, some others were just country boys who had thought that working in the city would have meant less work and they were probably right. His perusal helped him to pass time until he was summoned into the king's presence.

As when Marcus Aurelius had made him a free man, Proximo could feel the power quietly humming under the serene face of the king. He listened attentively to Proximo's words, without interrupting. Only once Turad looked at the most impressive guard and the big man went away in haste.

Once the Lanista had finished the king looked at him grimly and simply said, “Your words must be pondered and discussed with some of my advisors, but not here. Please follow my guard and I'll contact you as soon as possible.”

The dismissal was clear and Proximo followed the serious young man to what he hoped wasn't the palace's prisons.

As a matter of fact, Proximo ended up in a wonderful inner garden, with a small pool and a light wood frame that helped lots of colorful flowers to shadow the benches beneath. He sat down on an embroidered pillow and drank the sweetened wine he was served. Not a bad way to wait, he thought.

The wait proved short because the King was back with the big guard, a woman Proximo thought he had seen before, an elderly man with a dark skin and the Spaniard. His former possession had clearly become important in the many years they had been apart. The Lanista had known from the start that the silent man was different, not only because it was clear he hadn't been born a slave. In the few weeks Proximo had observed his latest acquisition he had known that the serious-eyed man had learned his trade of violence somewhere very far from the flea-infested market where he had been bought. The older man only wondered how the gladiator had managed not to get himself killed because of his temper and his pride, unbefitting a slave. Looking back again at the woman, Proximo finally recognized her. She was the priestess who had bought the Spaniard. Everything was getting clearer.

“Would you please repeat what you told me?” the king asked when all the people had taken a seat.

“The emperor's mistress has come to the inn I'm currently living at and she told me that she needed a gladiator for a private fight, probably against a Praetorian as a gift to Commodus. She asked for someone very strong and she asked to send the man to the palace masked because she wanted this be a real surprise. In another moment I would have dismissed her request as the mere whim of a woman eager to maintain her status with a capricious man, but there were rumors that the emperor has managed to have everyone turn against  him, even those very close. A cook had recently been put to death in the arena for having served poisoned food. Some said that he had been hired by Marcia, the emperor's mistress.”

“Having the emperor of Rome murdered in our country could be very dangerous,” Turad observed and Amenarta nodded her agreement. “Do you have some of your gladiators ready to meet Marcia's requests?”

“As a matter of fact I was going to contact a colleague of mine who lives in town to have a look at his stock. The fee Marcia promised would be very high even if divided. If I remember well he has a very good gladiator named Narcissus who has won a lot of fights and who's very close to buying himself his freedom. Not as good as you, Spaniard, but good nonetheless, especially for the local arenas.”

At the mention of his former name, Maximus said nothing and Proximo was disappointed not to have raised some response from him, but yet he hadn't really expected to be successful.

“If she's going to have Commodus killed, she must have a plan to make it look like an accident,” Amenarta observed.

“The presence of a gladiator could also be a cover for something else. If she is smart enough to plan the death of Commodus, she must have someone else's support because she would be the first one to be suspected should something happen to the emperor,” Maximus replied.

“She must be smart because she has lasted as mistress quite long and she has survived many storms,” was Proximo's remark.

“I think that we should observe her plan without interfering, but keep our eyes open waiting for the downfall,” Turad said. “Proximo, will you have problems contacting that colleague of yours about his gladiator?”

“I don't think so. But after that, what shall I do?”

“You can keep us informed about the whole thing and possible developments. Obviously, you will be paid for your help.”

The old Lanista smiled at the king's words. He had done this to protect himself from the consequences of the plot and he had been right to think that Turad was the most sensible choice. The man was honest and – even better in his opinion – was intelligent. Proximo agreed and returned to his quarters to fulfill his part of the plan.

Back home Maximus went to the small altar that he had made in a corner of his room. The small figurines of his late family were worn by the passing of the years and all the times he had kept them in his hands to ask his ancestors' advice. This time he didn't ask his father what to do; he took Selene's simulacrum.

“My dear Selene, I need your advice. Your murderer is in town, so close that I can feel him in my bones and in my heart. I promised not to seek my revenge now to protect my new family, but I feel as if I failed you. Your death will not be avenged and I do not know what I should do. I would like to go out and kill him slowly, but I cannot. Will you forgive me for what I am not going to do?”

“She loved you. How could she not?” Anthea's voice replied.

Maximus turned and looked into her eyes where he found his answer. Maximus felt as if both the women he had  loved and  been loved by were looking at him, forgiving him for everything he had had to do.

Amenarta's summons wasn't something that usually worried Maximus but when the former gladiator saw the king's chief of the guards and Proximo present at the meeting he sensed trouble.

“There's a problem, Pani. Proximo here told me that the gladiator he had borrowed from his colleague has been wounded in a training session and will not be of any use for a while. Since the day is tomorrow, that leaves you,” the priestess said once he was in the room.

“What if he recognizes me? It has been a while but he has always had a good memory.”

“Remember that you will be masked,” Proximo interjected. “The Emperor's mistress asked this expressly.”

“If I say yes, what am I supposed to do? Be butchered for Caesar's amusement or will I be allowed to fight back?”

“Of course. The private fight is just a cover to distract the emperor from something else. It wouldn't be the first time that Marcia tried something similar,” Amenarta replied, waiting for his answer.

“Of course. The party  is tomorrow in the afternoon,” Proximo added.

“I will be ready,” Maximus said and in the coldness of his reply, the Lanista recognized the man he had once known as the Spaniard, who was so good at killing as to make it look easy.

Anthea heard from her husband's voice the news and she remained quiet because there was nothing she could do about the whole mess. She knew that he had to be there with the emperor for the sake of the little prince and his own, but she didn't want to let him go without a fight. Instead of trying to convince him otherwise, Anthea decided to show him something to return home to. She loved him within an inch of his life, with a desperation she hadn't felt in a long time, and when they were resting afterwards she discovered that she had left the mark of her teeth on his shoulders.

“I've marked you, Husband, so you'll remember to whom you belong. You cannot escape and you will return to me,” she said in the darkness to the sleeping figure of her warrior.

The next day, Maximus wasn't nervous. The same calm he had experienced before a battle had descended upon him and he felt as cold as ice. His energy had to be addressed to something else and he was ready.

Proximo had come with gladiator garb, with a cuirass that resembled the one the former general had donned in his last fight in Zucchabar. There was blood on it and Maximus glared at the Lanista.

“Did you wait for the man to be dead before taking this thing away or you did you feed him to the lions still wearing it and collect the remains after their repast?” he asked, without really looking for an answer.

The old man didn't reply, but helped Maximus to buckle the protection. His blue eyes stood out in the tanned wrinkled face and they were actually fastened on the younger man. Proximo had always admired the man he had purchased to die in the arena, even if he never really liked him. The lanista had always been able to sense the distance and the coldness radiating from the man, who despite being a slave had maintained a disdainful attitude. Now that he knew with whom he had been dealing, he could understand the Spaniard's feelings. He recalled his own fights before being freed by the great Marcus Aurelius, ruler of the empire, admired by  many people and murdered by his own son.

Sometimes it just didn't pay to be a good man.

While he was reflecting about the wooden gladius he had received to testify to his gained freedom, Proximo hoped that the Spaniard would be able to have his revenge.

For both of them.

Maximus was brought to the palace where Marcia was waiting for him in a covered cart and this made him smile with satisfaction. Commodus had managed to turn even his own mistress against him. He wished her well. If he wasn't going to have his revenge personally, he would at least witness it.

The woman was beautiful and willowy and – in a fashion – she resembled the late Augusta. He shouldn't have been surprised to hear about Lucilla's fate. Her cunning and beauty hadn't been enough to keep her safe from a monster who had killed his own father. The thought of her death made him sad. She had been a political animal and a dangerous enemy but she had never been cruel and she had loved the former emperor. Her child had suffered the same fate and his death was another sin to be counted against Commodus. Maximus covered his thoughts with a mask thicker than the one he was using not to be recognized and entered his enemy's house.

Commodus was bored, but since he had been promised a violent entertainment, he decided to wait. The wine was bad and he threw it away. Marcia was becoming useless if she wasn't even able to manage his table. The emperor yawned.

Seeing Commodus throwing the goblet of wine away made Marcia cringe. The poison was in it and if the man hadn't drunk it all he could survive. Marcia called for the gladiator she had asked to spar with a praetorian guard.

Proximo spoke briefly with Marcia and the woman beamed.

“My dear,” she said, approaching Commodus, “my surprise for you is here. I promised you a fight but this is not all. I've been informed that the gladiator I hired for you is the famous Spaniard who has returned just for you. As you may recall, he had never been defeated before.”

At her words, Commodus' eyes lit up.

He hadn't had the chance to see the Spaniard in action in Rome and now the man was here for his amusement. The fact that he was still alive after so many years was a testament to his prowess and skills.

Maximus noticed that he had been pitted against one of the biggest praetorians he had ever seen. The man was huge but the Spaniard wasn't worried. The Praetorian guard, despite their fearful appearance, was more accustomed to use intimidation instead of fighting skills. He had confirmation of his first impression as soon as the fight began.

Cornelius was strong, but, as Maximus had predicted, tended to use his strength blindly and didn't pay enough attention. He hadn't been wounded so far only thanks to his youth, but the situation changed when Maximus began to fight in earnest. Proximo who was watching recognized the wildness of the Spaniard that had come to light again. Commodus was very happy with the fight and, for a moment, he decided to let Marcia live a little more, just because of the show he was witnessing.

The young guard had already been wounded and was slowing and the emperor knew that the man was going to die. As a matter of fact the gladiator hit him once more and saw the Praetorian go down like a log. Commodus licked his lips, waiting for the final strike but just when the gladius was going to descend he shouted, “Wait! Let him live, Spaniard.”

The winner looked at him and even if the emperor couldn't see the eyes hidden by the helmet, he felt a strange coldness radiating from him.

“Let him live. He may be of some use. Even if you're certainly a better fighter. Please come closer, gladiator, come and accept the praise of an emperor.”

Nobody said a thing while the masked man came closer without a word. When he was at arm's length from Commodus, he stopped but didn't pay the homage the younger man was expecting.

“Show your face, Spaniard.”

“Are you sure you want this, Commodus?” a voice replied, chilling the emperor's spine while the features of the man were revealed.

This could not be.

He was dead!

Dead!

Dead!

“Do you recognize me, murderer of women, children and ailing old men? Did your power not let a sour taste in your mouth or was it worth all the blood you shed? How does it feel knowing that you were not able to kill me? That I'm still alive? How does it feel?” Maximus' voice boomed in the silent room.

“Take him! Kill him! Kill him!”

Nobody moved and Commodus looked around, his eyes wide with terror.

“Do you see how much love you have gained with your behavior? Was it worth the price?”

The emperor started to flee toward the door, but Maximus was faster. The former general threw away his gladius and grabbed Commodus by his elaborate garb. The younger man tried to get free but the grip was strong. He then turned, producing a dagger that he kept in his sleeve. The sharp blade reached his opponent and opened a wound in his right arm. Maximus growled but didn't let go. With his left hand he gripped Commodus' neck and started to squeeze. The emperor struggled and tried to beat him on the wound to no avail. He tried to shout for help, but nothing came out and nobody came to help while the anger of his ancient enemy took away his life.

Once Commodus was dead, the general let go and the body fell like a rag.

Maximus turned to face the Praetorian Prefect and the emperor's mistress and his icy stare startled them both.

“Do you not think this is the moment to continue with your plan, Domina?” he asked  sarcastically.

“I know you, don't I?” the Praetorian asked.

“In another life perhaps. Not now.”

“You should have been dead a long time ago.”

“In a fashion I am.”

“I should have been one of those who had to execute you.”

“You were lucky. All your comrades assigned to execute me died.”

“I asked not to be part of the squad. I knew that Maximus Decimus Meridius wasn't a man to meekly accept his fate. You looked too calm.”

Maximus smiled, a cold smile.

Marcia showed her worth by putting her plan into motion, despite the changes. She asked the guards to put Commodus back onto his tryclinium and sent for the emperor's physician. Her concern looked so sincere that an observer could have sworn that she was really sorry for her lover.

Maximus and Proximo were sent away, while everything was prepared to make it appear as if the Emperor had died of natural causes. The former general found it fitting. A Caesar who had come to the throne through treachery, had succumbed to it.

Once out of the palace, the two men headed toward the temple.

“You should let the priestess tend that wound. In this heat it could fester,” Proximo observed with his skilled eye while struggling to keep up with Maximus' pace.

“That is none of your business now. I have had worse for worse reasons.”

“Nobody told you that you are a bastard?”

“Not as much as it has been said to you I think.”

“That can well be. I started earlier than you, General Maximus Decimus Meridius. Were you really the Commander of the Roman Armies?”

“I used to be the Commander of the armies of the North and General of the Felix Legions. I served under Marcus Aurelius for most of my life and I defeated the German tribes for him.”

“I met your emperor once, when he gave me my freedom. He looked at me and in his clear blue eyes I saw the power.”

“Were you a slave?”

“Yes, a gladiator like you and I won my freedom killing so much and so well that everybody loved me.”

“Such love, I can well do without.”

“Not everyone had the respect of an emperor.”

“Not everyone had his family slaughtered because of it.”

“I didn't know. That's why you became a slave?”

“Yes, but it is none of your business. It would not have made a difference back then and it does not now.”

“You're right. It wouldn't,” Proximo admitted and the rest of the walk passed in silence.

Once at the temple Maximus went to Amenarta and reported what had happened. The priestess listened to his words and the sent him to a surgeon to have his arm taken care of.

“Now it's time for your reward,” Amenarta said to Proximo when they were alone.

“We were always able to negotiate with good results for both of us.”

“As a matter of fact, yes. How much do you value your services this time, Aelio Proximo?”

“I'm sure that you will decide for the best, Domina.”

“Don't try to look coy. It doesn't suit you.”

The innocent look from the old man was so fake that the priestess had to snigger.

The wound wasn't deep and Maximus was soon back home sporting a bandage. Anthea had met him halfway. The answers to all the questions she had were in his face and she hugged him, careful of his injured arm.

The news of the sudden death of the Emperor left town just before his body, accompanied by his apparently grieving mistress and the retinue, minus Senator Falco, who had unfortunately suffered a stroke at the news of Commodus' demise. When the sails of the ships disappeared beyond the horizon, Turad started to breathe more easily.

“I shouldn't be so happy to know of a ruler's death,” he observed later while he was talking in his private rooms with Amenarta.

“Until you are the one informed of the fact, instead of the subject of the grievance, everything is all right.”

“You're probably right. How is the general? His wound?”

“He's fine and he wouldn't complain even if he had had the whole arm cut away. He's not a whiner by any stretch of imagination and having had his revenge was the best gift he'd ever had.”

“He's a good man. I was so sorry to hear what had happened to him and to his family.”

“Good men often suffer while bad ones thrive. It's a good thing that Obatua finds a way to balance the bad and the good.”

“I saw a lot of him in Kasret. I just hope that my son would never know such a sad fate in order to serve the gods' will.”

“We all hope this. When will you return to the palace?”

“It's still soon. I want to enjoy my son a little more.”

“Are you still here? Did they not pay you for your services?”

“I was paid, General. Your priestess is a very sensible woman and she can recognize valor. I just wanted to know if you're fine and to propose something to you. The day you get tired of this place, come and find me. You could make yourself a name training gladiators. With your skills and my experience in the trade we would make a lot of money.”

“I do not need your money and I will not train people to be slaughtered for the amusement of men like Commodus.”

“That's a pity because there's no use organizing entertainment for people like you or Marcus Aurelius. Philosophy is a nice thing but doesn't bring money.”

“You are the expert,” Maximus said, dismissing the man and the lanista watched him walking away, his bearing still a young man's despite the years that had passed. With the bag of money weighing down his belt, he turned his back to the temple and reached the litter he had hired for the day.

Maximus returned once again to his small altar. He had words for all the people who had suffered from Commodus' actions, starting with Marcus Aurelius and Lucilla. He prayed for both of them and wished them an easier Afterlife. He saluted his ancestors and thanked them for their help. He greeted his little son with a tear and a smile. His last thoughts were for Selene, whose love had meant so much to him and still did. He loved Anthea and their children, but his heart was always going to have a place for the woman he had courted as a young man with a head full of dreams. He sent her a last kiss and went out. His new future was waiting for him with a veiled sun and a promise of rain.

The End

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