©2001 by WILDBEARIES

This story is based on characters created in the film, "Gladiator" and in no way intended to infringe upon those characters or the story of that film. References to real people are strictly the product of the writer's imagination and meant to entertain the reader.
-------------------------------------------------

The passes through the mountains were relatively free of snow, and once the cavalry units went through, the infantry and wagons had easy going. It was cold, but they were not buffeted by high winds or blizzards. Maximus, swathed in as many warm pieces of clothing as Ana could impose on him to wear, was insulated fairly well, and only his cheekbones and brows were cold. At night, it took both Drusus and Ana to unwrap him from his layers of clothing, armor and mufflers. "At least I won't catch cold," he joked with Drusus.

"But your horse may collapse from the weight of all this wool, sir," Drusus said, straight-faced. He was learning that joking with one's commander and idol was permitted, and Maximus was pleased to find that the young man had a dry wit hidden under that serious face. Drusus was also a fearless rider, and Maximus was beginning to think he was wasted as his aide. He should be leading a unit of the light cavalry they were planning. He would talk with Antoninus about it. He would need a new aide, and Antoninus would have to be consulted about the proper placement of Drusus within the cavalry units.

Maximus washed in the lukewarm water that awaited him in his bed chamber. Even lukewarm bathing water felt luxuriously decadent given that they were camped on the south west side of the mountains now, and the water was melted snow. It was clear and pure, like the most pristine spring water, and Maximus drank some of it that had partly melted, relishing the cold burn of the liquid on his tongue. He dressed in clean flannel trousers, wool shirt and tunic. Ana, who had been seeing to the wife of a young officer in a nearby tent, came in just as he finished, plopping her things down on his map table.

"There," she said, "done." She removed her cloak and scarves, smiling at Maximus, who was obviously bathed and dressed in clean clothes. "Your hair is sticking up," she teased him.

He swiped a hand through his damp curls, which did tend to stick up when he let his hair grow out of its normal short cut. It had been so cold, he had left it because it helped keep his head warm. "Better now?" he asked, amused at how she studied his appearance and took care of him.

She came to him and reached up, smoothing a wayward curl over his brow. "Now, yes." She leaned against him as his arms came around her, resting her cheek against his breastbone. She sighed. "The little wife of Centurion Decius is pregnant."

Maximus grunted noncommittally, enjoying holding her close, stroking her hair. He strove to remember just which Centurion that was, and succeeded in picturing a rather stocky man with gingery hair and an atrocious accent because he had grown up in Dacia and never spoken Latin properly until he began his service with Felix III. Of course, he thought - amused at his snobbery - he probably also had an atrocious accent of his own, having grown up in the environs of Emerita Augusta and Trujillo. "Do I have an accent?" he asked Ana suddenly.

She leaned back and stared at him. "An accent? You're asking me? I was raised in Egypt, speaking Greek, Egyptian and the gods know what other combinations of African languages, besides Latin. I don't think I'm the proper person to ask that question. To me you sound very cultured and learned."

Maximus snorted, "Cultured by the army and the arena and learned in fighting, yes." He looked at Drusus, who was doing his best to be invisible as he spooned their food onto plates for the evening meal.

Drusus, caught with no place to run, finally cleared his throat and allowed that Maximus might have the slightest trace of a provincial accent, "But only a trace, sir." Face red, he wished to hide in the stew kettle rather than answer any further questions along those lines.

"In any case, I'm sure that, to your family in Hispania, everyone else has the accent," Ana said reasonably. She winced when Maximus grimaced at her mention of "family", but he did, after all, have other family there - live family - and not just Selene and little Marcus, reposing under the wild flowers of the garden of his house. Maximus patted her back reassuringly and set her away from him, rubbing his hands in anticipation of food.

"Dinner!" he exclaimed, and drew Ana to her chair to sit and eat. He gestured to Drusus, who also sat, and they ate their meal of stewed mutton with onions, a thick gravy over the inevitable bread, and some dried apples that had been cooked with spices in wine until they were deliciously sweet. They all ate voraciously, their bodies' hunger driven by the cold and the need for fuel to keep warm. When they were finished, the plates were bare of even bread crumbs. "Wolves," Maximus joked. Everyone laughed.

Drusus went off on some errands, while Ana folded clean bandages and made some notations in her scroll about the pregnant woman she'd attended. "I believe she will have her child after we reach Emerita Augusta," she said aloud.

Maximus, who was writing in his journal, paused long enough to nod, then pointed out, "That is good, I wouldn't want anyone to go through a birth in these mountains or along the road south. Some of this is very rugged territory, and there are likely some rebel factions living in the foothills."

Ana looked up, "Are we in danger?" She hadn't thought of their being in any sort of peril - after all, Hispania was Roman and had been for a long time. But of course, there were always those who resented the imperial yoke, however lightly it rode on them. "Gauls?" she asked.

He nodded, rolling up his scroll of daily notations. "Gauls, yes. And deserters from the Auxiliary Legion, disgruntled over their lack of pay under Commodus' rule. I mean to set all that right, but in the meantime, as we go farther south, we will have to be much more vigilant and less convinced of our invincibility."

She put away her medical supplies, closing the wooden chest and clicking the hasp that held the lid shut. "Should I worry?"

Maximus beckoned to her and she went to sit on his lap, snuggled against him. "No, not worry precisely." He kissed her temple, inhaling the scent of her hair. "But don't be careless. And I'd prefer that you always have Drusus or Varrus or someone trustworthy with you now when you ride to check on your patients. No need to tempt Fate."

Ana, her head resting against his shoulder, agreed, although she wasn't totally convinced anyone would have the gall to attack a legion like Felix III unless they were equally armed and equally well trained. "I won't," she murmured. She yawned, and he chuckled softly. "What?" she asked.

"I'm boring you, little one?"

She burrowed into him, "No, I'm just sleepy. The mountain air and the cold, I think." She had her arms around his waist, palms flat on his body, feeling the movement from his breathing. "You're so solid and warm," she said. "I'm never afraid when I'm with you."

He squeezed her tightly for a moment, then rose effortlessly from the chair and carried her into their bedchamber. He placed her on the bed, smiling, then straightened and took off the red wool tunic, folding it and laying it over the chest that held his clothing. He sat on the side of the bed and removed his boots, but left on the wool stockings, knowing his feet would be cold if he didn't. Beside him, Ana was removing her own boots. He grinned when he saw that her stockings were red. "Trust you not to be happy with gray wool," he teased her.

She wiggled her toes playfully. "You like them? Varrus' woman, Hortensia, knitted them for me. She spins and dyes the wool herself. It's very soft and warm. Shall I have her make some for you?"

"They are very nice," he complimented her. He helped her take off her stola, pulling it off over her head and putting it near his tunic on the wooden chest. "Perhaps red is too vivid for a general."

Ana paused in plaiting her hair into the single braid she put it in at night. "You wear a red tunic and a red cloak," she pointed out logically.

"True." Maximus rose and walked to the corner where his portable altar sat on a small bench. He lighted the candles on the top of it, opened the doors and lit the small candles within as well. He knelt and looked over at Ana with a smile, holding his hand out to her, "Come." She joined him, kneeling beside him on the carpeted ground. Her tiny statue of Isis and another, of Aesculapius, stood beside Maximus' small figurines of Selene and Marcus. She did not object to his having them there with the lares and penates of his house - she also prayed for their ease and comfort in Elysium, knowing how dear they had been to the man she loved, and how wounded he had been at their loss. He was a man to whom family was everything, and she would have been surprised if he had suddenly not had their figures in a place of honor in the shrine.

"Mother Isis," she whispered, "I pray you guard us and give us wisdom and love."

Maximus bent his head, eyes shut, and prayed to himself. "I pray you watch over my family, Selene and Marcus, and that you let them know I honor them forever and will always love them, never forgetting about them. I also pray, Mother Goddess, that you watch equally over my Anataten, my darling wife, healer of my body and of my heart, and that she come to no harm in her daily tasks. I pray that you guide my steps as we march home to Spain, and keep my men safe and warm along the way. I thank you for my second chance at life, Father Jupiter, and ask your help and guidance, as always."

He blew out the candles when Ana looked up and smiled at him. She closed and latched the doors of the shrine, then they rose and went to their bed, snuggling close under the blankets and furs. She smiled again when his hands stole under her tunic to stroke the skin of her belly, then up onto her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples into taut little peaks. She opened her arms to him, welcoming him as he made slow love to her, taking his time, going gently rather than storming her like a fortress to be conquered. She liked relations with Maximus any way he chose to have them, and gentle seemed just right on that clear, cold night with the wind shaking the heavy canvas tent walls and whistling outside. When he moved between her thighs and slid into her, she welcomed the hot length of him with a low moan of delight. "Love me," she breathed into his ear as he kissed and licked her neck and shoulders. "Give me your seed to make a child for us."

Maximus groaned, caught in the intensity of a crashing orgasm and caught by the gift she begged of him. "Ana," he cried out, filling her with his heated essence, "Ana!" He quivered and shuddered from fingertips down to his curled toes, thoroughly taken out of himself by the nerve storm of climax. "Gods," he muttered, when he could gather enough breath to speak again. He rested his face against her breasts, while his breathing slowed to normal.

Ana stroked her hands up and down his back, feeling the long muscles there gradually relax and stop trembling. She kissed his damp face and stroked his hair back out of his eyes. "Sleep now," she urged him. But he was already well along that path, and he could only summon enough strength to sigh her name before going deeply asleep, holding her close against him. Ana kissed him once more and shortly followed him into slumber.

Outside, in the cold night, the sentries stamped their feet and warmed their hands over the fires kept burning, and beyond the perimeters of the legion's camp, less friendly eyes watched, coveting the horses, weapons and possessions of the soldiers. Overhead, the stars shone like diamonds in the black night sky.

-------------------------------
Copyright 2001 by wildbearies

Click the "more" button for the next chapter!