January 16th 2004

The occasion was Jack Aubrey's wedding. Actually it was the first such occasion that I had ever attended for one reason and another. Maximus had never shown a great deal of enthusiasm for such occasions and seemed to go merely out of his sense of duty and the role he has been granted as patriarch of this unusual family. My last real attendance had been my own introduction, which had taken place shortly after our marriage. As such most of the Brothers and their Premieres were largely strangers to me although many of them seemed well acquainted with each other.

I sensed a certain reserve directed towards me from several quarters. I was not sure what I had done to deserve the hostility. Perhaps the women, all American or Australian, found me a starchy Brit, although I didn't think I was. None seemed to have much in common with me, to be truthful, and I wondered if there was lingering resentment that I was Maximus' wife - did they think that I regarded myself as some sort of senior figure amongst the Premieres, the prima inter pares as Max and I had once joked? I didn't see things that way at all and was by nature uneasy at the whole set up. Max was a general with a military tendency; he saw all things in a hierarchy and had set up such a system for what he perceived to be the well being of all. In many ways he was right, but his rigid standards and instinctive male dominance could not be popular in all quarters- I myself had some problems with it. But life with my husband was usually so idyllic that to complain seemed churlish and whining.

I also wondered if the fact that I was a mother was in some ways seen as a criticism of those who weren't. Maximus did have this tendency to imply that procreation was a very important part of this world and that all the woman should seek to bear children for their men folk- but as yet not all had done so. I suppose Lily seemed to those who were holding out to be a sort of example that they could do without. That annoyed me. Lily wasn't a rule that we had followed. She was the fruit of our love and her existence was nothing to do with the others. But it was obviously not something that I could easily explain.

Not that the Brothers were hostile to either me or my daughter; the contrary was in fact the case. The men all seemed entranced by our pretty little girl and she was often the centre of attention in a way that she did not always enjoy. I also received a fair amount of attention, too, and Maximus always seems irritated by it. He fears the pull that some of the Brothers appear to have more than others towards me but it is a vain anxiety- no pull could be stronger than the one that draws me to my husband. Time is not dimming the passion that we share and the love that I taste in his arms.

I was quite taken by Jack Aubrey and he had been most charming to me. We had something in common- we were both British- and I think he found it oddly comforting in this settling in period to have someone around who might understand him a little better. Then I remembered Maximus' reasons for first seeking me out and realised that Jack might be confused if I showed him too much politeness. I did not wish him to cause him any distress.

It hadn't taken Jack long to pair up with a woman, however, and I doubt if they had waited long to consummate their attraction, if the sly glances and bold advances between them were anything to go by. He certainly had not wasted any time in hooking up with a partner. Lose not a minute, Jack. Isobel was a beautiful woman, Hispanic in origin, exactly the sort of Spanish lady who most fascinated our intrepid captain. Apparently he had met her in a bar in Portsmouth down by the docks and they had instantly taken to each other.

Isobel was startlingly beautiful, as only women of South American heritage can be. She was tiny in her build but with spectacular breasts that she flaunted quite shamelessly and that Jack clearly was obsessed by. Her jet black hair tumbled in a wild shiny profusion down her onto her golden brown shoulders and her large brown eyes flashed with a wicked promise offered to every man in the room. One in particular seemed never to take his eyes from her - and she was clearly playing on his attention. It was, surprisingly, the Catholic priest, Cort, whom I had supposed to be a celibate since he was now restored to his vows. Well, he was a man - so what could I expect? Isobel would awaken the ardour of a corpse, not to mention a handsome preacher who must have gone years without the touch of a woman.

Maximus had much to say in private about his brother Cort and his religious calling. It was something that Max simply could not understand- he thought that it was actually wrong, against nature even, for a man to deny himself a woman and to forego the joys of fatherhood. Nothing I said would convince him other than this was an unhealthy and unmanly way to live. I also knew that Maximus was not impressed by Isobel, despite her loveliness. I could see it in his expression of disapproval, his lips pursed when he watched her flirting with others and grabbing lewdly at Jack. No doubt I would find out soon enough what was the seat of his objection. Maximus caught me looking at him and smiled over, one of his rare and sudden grins that change him immediately from stern patriarch to beautiful boy. For in my arms, for all his unrelenting masculinity, there is still so much of the boy in him. I wish others could see that part of him he keeps so firmly under wraps.

I wandered over to the buffet table to help myself to some of the groaning banquet that was always offered at these functions. The Brothers like to eat and expected a full and excellent fare. Lily was with her father, I had fed her earlier, and she seemed content, if a little sleepy- it had been a long day and she ought probably to be put to bed. I decided to eat and then put her down; for now, she seemed content to lie on her father's shoulder, thumb in her mouth and watch the proceedings from the safest vantage point in town.

I saw her at the table helping herself to a plate of food. Sorry, by her I mean Ann Thorne, Terry's wife. Is it obvious that I don't much like her? I have never met her before but she has already rubbed me up the wrong way today. I had come upon her and Maximus talking and she had been working her little butt off to turn his head, all but offering him a quickie to get his attention. It didn't much improve my mood when my taciturn husband suddenly started to behave like Don Giovanni and was turning on the heat with her - I had always thought him completely incapable of flirting but he had obviously learnt a few tricks recently. Sometimes that worried me - how different Max can be with others. In his mind's eye I knew that he saw no problem in taking his pleasure with a woman outside his marriage bed. His sense of honour extended to love, not sex, a particularly Roman practicality. I wondered if he was aroused by Ann.

I could not avoid her now since we were the only two at the table. So I opened the conversation.

"You must be Ann."  She looked coolly at me and my dislike for her grew.

"I don't think I have ever heard your name mentioned. Let's see -- are you Max's wife?"

Her dismissive comment was meant to put me down. She knew damn well who I was but I was ready for the fray.

"No, I don't suppose you did notice me at his side earlier. I don't think you looked past his groin, did you?"

She looked a little surprised at my retort but took the bait. "It's a good one for sure. So what kind of work do you do?"

Right to the quick- she should have been a swordswoman." Er...I'm not working at the moment..."

"At the moment?" Lily took that moment to slip from Maximus' arms and run over to me, to hang grumpily off my skirt. "Ah. Let's see, what do you call it now? Domestic Goddess, hey?"

It should not have upset me. I should have been proud of the way I choose to live my life but her reminder of my lost career hit home, especially in view of the arguments Max and I had been having recently about my desire to return to my profession and his insistence that he wanted a son - and soon. I merely smiled nervously, fed a piece of fruit to Lily to shut her up and struggled to think of a suitable reply.

"And I suppose you are some hot shot career woman then?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. Truly." But she smirked knowingly and I could cheerfully have slapped her face.

"But hardly a domestic goddess, hey?" I replied acerbically.

"Hardly. Wouldn't really fit in with my life plans. Suppose I just never saw the reason for settling when I can have what I really want." She sounded smug; my desire for violence grew. Max would have been horrified. Or amused. You can never tell with him.

"So who brought you here today?" I asked, implying as she had done with me that she was rather insignificant to the proceedings, maybe even just arm candy for the day.

"The stud you keep drooling over, of course." She laughed. "Don't pull that face. We've all noticed you hanging off Terry. As has your hubby, who's quite the charmer himself, I must say."

"Terry Thorne is with you?" I made my voice sound as incredulous as I could. It wasn't difficult. What was a guy like Thorne doing with this brittle beauty? He obviously has a major hard on for vacuous and cold hearted blondes.

"Doesn't that make me the lucky one? He's ... great." She answered lamely. Great? Is that all she could say about a man like him?

"I wouldn't have put you two together...but there's no accounting for taste is there?" I couldn't resist it. War had now been declared.

She laughed some more but it was a harsh sound. I had annoyed her. There was even the momentary flutter of something else that flitted across her eyes. I wonder if she might have a vulnerable side where he was concerned?  "Oooh, I love it. The nails come out, don't they? You Brits do so love a good down and dirty, eh? However, as you'd be at a serious disadvantage, perhaps you'd rather retreat now so you can tend to the child and leave us adults to our fun?" The cruelty of her jibe betrayed her. She was insecure about her husband. I went for the jugular more on an instinct than anything else.

"Terry seems a very nice guy- fond of kids, is he? Any plans?"

That set her off good and proper. "Yeah, plenty of plans. I plan to slap you good and hard if you don't stop leering at him."

I snorted and sipped my glass of Chardonnay. "And as for my abilities to enter the fray with you, don't underestimate me. I saw through your little game. Toss your hair and flutter those eyelids all you like, my husband was merely being polite. He reads women very well. And I know what he would have read into your little advance."

"That's rich. I rather think what he read in this woman was that he'd finally met one who was worth his time and attention."

"You are such a bitch...they all say it and it's true. Be careful Terry doesn't wake up and realise what he's really missing in life."

"That's rich coming from you.  Terry doesn't miss much, believe me."

"It must be hard for him sleeping with a male wannabe...who's got the biggest balls in your house?"

She feigned a hearty laugh. "Funny. I'm dying with laughter here. Not. And it somehow makes you that much more pathetic that you confuse your sexuality with your brainpower. A strong woman is that much more of a woman for a man like Terry. He needs someone who can stand on her own and can keep him intrigued and happy."

I heard her slight and remembered the confident woman I used to be. I imagined Terry Thorne would not be very impressed to find out that I spent my days mostly keeping house and playing with a two year old child. "Well, perhaps some of us know how to be both strong and feminine at the same time - but that is clearly lost on you."

She groaned at my comment. "What he doesn't need is a traditional wife who bores the pants off him with talk of nappies and the baby's bowel habits. You want lessons in strong and feminine? You need them. Looks like you've got the weak, defenseless wife part down pat. No wonder your husband's bored with you."

I gasped at her audacity. "My husband's bored? Bored? Excuse me? On what do you base that? The fact that he was able to be polite enough to smile at your silly drivel?"

"That and the fact that he can't seem to take his hands off me. Yet I notice he has a hard time touching you!"

My eyes flashed at the reference to the distant way Maximus acts towards me in public. I could hardly stand here and give her a lecture on Roman cultural mores; she would only have taken it as a sign that she had me on the run.

"...While Terry just loves to spend most of his time alone so as you can wander around gratifying your own ego. Must be why he's never taken his eyes off me all day. Even boring women must be preferable to sluts."

I think my last words were said a little louder than I intended for I noticed a few heads turn to look quizzically in our direction, including both Terry and Maximus. Terry began to make his way surreptitiously across the room and Max looked up, to beckon over with his hand. I was summoned - I'll bet the bitch loved that.

She smiled over and made her way to meet Terry, giving him a kiss and slipping her arm round his waist and her fingers in the back pocket of his pants. There was a swagger in her that seemed to say that she had won some sort of battle between us. The first engagement maybe, but the war had a long way to go.

I rejoined Max to tell him that I ought to put Lily down somewhere quiet for a nap. He nodded but asked. "What was that about?"

"I was talking to that tart."

"What do you mean? She is a beautiful woman."

I looked over at her as she disappeared towards the patio window with Terry. They were clearly off on some erotic assignation if the way they were behaving towards each other was any clue. I gave Maximus the eye to show him that she was nothing but a slut. I caught his expression and as he noticed them Ann winked back at us. To my surprise, Maximus grinned, clearly approving of their actions. I was shocked to find that he found the whole thing pretty cool.

"Is that what you wish I'd do? Stick my hands down your pants in public and drag you away for a quick fuck?" I snapped.

He turned to me, his face set. "Don't ever talk like that to me. Go and put Lily to bed. She needs her rest and you need to cool down." I was summarily dismissed.

Autumn 2000

From that day on we were inseparable. The hours of daylight dragged for me, ticked slowly away while I counted time until the evening when he would ring on my doorbell and I would fly into the sweet haven of his arms. He would always bring something for me: a flower, a chocolate box, a trinket, whatever. Like a little child he would tease me, pretend that he had forgotten and then laugh with delight when he would produce the gift. It was silly and so unlike either of us, yet we both adored the innocent fun and love play of it all.

I would cook a meal for us if we weren't going out and then we would sit over a bottle of wine and talk for hours- about his life and the story of how he had made his way from the lowly ranks to the staggering heights of senior command. We spoke of his childhood, his family, his girls, Lucilla and how he had met and married his first wife. He described the time he met his son for the first time and how proud he had been to be a father; a bond had formed with that little boy that still cut him deep. "You should not bury your children," he said to me one time. "It is against nature." I sat with him then and held his hand while he fought the awful memory of how they had died. The final insult.

I told him of my life story and he seemed fascinated by it, despite its unremarkable nature. I suppose it was strange to him. He seems intrigued by the notion that a woman can fend for herself alone and without the support of men; he finds that rather sad. It doesn't seem like liberation to him but loneliness and, you know, sometimes it has felt like that to me, too. But it was good to share with him and we were both learning by such revelations

He told me of the strange fraternity into which he had been reborn. We watched the films together of his Brothers and the awesome truth of it began to slowly dawn on my mind. I swear if any other man but Maximus had tried to convince me of such a yarn, I would have run a mile. But he was here - and he was clearly the Gladiator of his movie- so what else could I do but believe?

"Do you know anything of this Russell Crowe person?" I asked him. "Why has he the power to do this thing?" I had never consciously heard his name before Gladiator came out, although I did remember having seen both LA Confidential and The Insider before when I watched them again. It just never occurred to me that this was the same man.

"Nothing. He is a fine actor. His creations are unique in that they are so different. But as to why he breathed life into us or how we can have real memories and a living past, I do not know."

"Where are they? Your brothers, I mean?" I went on. "Do they all live separate lives in the real world?"

He nodded. "Some do. Bud White lives in California. Jeffrey Wigand, too, is in the States, Cort, the preacher runs a homeless mission...but most of the others prefer to stay in Australia. There is a farm, a large estate, in a remote area of Victoria where many of the others stay. East, Egan , Johnny, Arthur, Colin, Jack, Andy... Hando seems to rule the roost, although it is a loose fellowship. Lachlan is a pilot who now flies civilian aircraft in the US. Jeff lives and works in Sydney but is often there at the weekends..."

"Are they all single?"

"No. Some are married. Some have girlfriends. Lachlan is married to an American woman. They have a son and another baby on the way. Bud White is also married with one child, I think. I am not sure of the exact status of some of the others."

I wondered at the amazing story. "Will I ever meet them?" I asked. He looked at me thoughtfully.

"Of course. When the time is right. They are my family. As I will no doubt meet yours one day." He didn't suggest when the time might be right or in what circumstances he would consider meeting my family. I didn't push him on that one either.

One night, after a home cooked meal, we had our first real fight- unfortunately not the last. It began harmlessly enough with the two of us simply chatting about ourselves as we so often did.

"...But did you never want to marry or have children? Did you not wish to spend your life with any man?" Maximus asked as we were washing up in my kitchen. I threw down the cloth and leaned back on the unit.

"I don't really think I have ever actively looked for that. But I haven't completely disregarded the idea either. The notion that there could be some perfect man out there who would be all men to me still resonates with me on some level. But I am older now. I know that it is unlikely and I can't live my life expecting a miracle to happen. So I have forged my own life and I enjoy it very much. I have my career and my friends, take an occasional lover and consider myself luckier than most."

Maximus crossed his arms over his chest as he rested against the table. "But if he should come along, this man you dreamed of? How much would you be prepared to change for him?"

I smiled softly at him, walked over and took his hand. "I suppose that I would change my life. For whatever I claim of my desire to be independent and plot my own course in life, there is a part of me that would drop everything for real love. We do not find it easily and if it is offered then we must treat it with respect."

Maximus pulled on my hand to bring me close to him, wrapped his arm round my waist and stared into my eyes. "And if I was that man?"

I swallowed hard. "Then you already know my answer. If you are that man." He bent his head and kissed me deep until I felt my head swim with his presence. His lips played with the lobe of my ear and then he whispered,

"Marry me, Uma. I want you so much. Be my wife and I will be that man for you. I swear you will never regret your decision."

His words took me completely by surprise. I had realised where his train of thought was going and had indeed expected some sort of declaration. We had been seeing each other for six weeks already, almost every day, except when his new job took him away. It was time to put our friendship on a clearer footing. It was time for us to have sex and move this relationship on. It was time for me to know what the hell he had in his mind. But it wasn't time for a proposal of marriage. That was way down the line yet.

"WHAT???" I gasped and pulled away from him. "Are you mad? I hardly know you..." I didn't know what to say, and as is often the case at such times, said all the wrong things.

Maximus closed down at my harsh response. He stood up and walked towards the door. Picking up his jacket, holding it clenched in one fist, he turned. "I believe we do know each other. I have told you things about myself that no living soul knows or ever did know. What more does a man have to say to be understood?"

I groaned with frustration. "It isn't as simple as that. Max, we don't even have a real relationship. I have never even seen you naked. We have never even had sex. How can you begin to talk of marriage after a coy friendship of six weeks? Get real."

I had annoyed him now. "Sex? Is that all the modern world requires for a relationship to have meaning? Great Mother- I can fuck any woman I like but it doesn't mean I want to marry her. When a man considered marriage in my day he was looking for a partner for life, a helpmate, a friend, a pure and loving woman who would give him children and support him through every vicissitude...."

"Just a minute, Max. This is not YOUR day. It's my day. And it isn't about a man considering marriage and what he needs- it's about two equals contemplating spending their lives together. And finally I am not pure. Realise the truth. I do not even know how many men I have slept with...stop trying to make me into something that I am not..."

He hit the wall in anger at that. "You are a victim of the appalling laxity of your age- those men who took you were fools. You are pure to me. I see inside you and you are pure. As much as any young virgin whose hand I would have asked for...."

"I am not a virgin! And men did not take me. I offered them. I wanted them. Max- I have as much right to sex as any man and I will take it when I want it. I have gone along with your crazy notions about waiting but I have had enough of that. I want you to sleep with me. And if it we are compatible- maybe, just maybe, we can live together and try it out for a while. But marriage? Kids? That is way, way down the line."

He stood at the door of the kitchen, his face taut with rage. "Bloodless mating? Is that what you want? You try me out like a stud and if I pass your stringent test you might allow me to warm your bed for a trial run? What kind of love is that? Do you even have the first notion of what loving a man is all about? Forgive me if I have offended you with my offer...I will not make the same mistake again. We are obviously of two very different minds..." At that he stormed out of the house, slamming the door so hard I thought it would shatter on its hinges. I remained where I stood, almost turned to stone by the ferocity of his anger. Part of me wanted to charge down after him and drag him back, but another part of me was scared and confused.

We could not marry. He was a man from a different age- a freak of time, an alien. Who knows what might happen to him in the future- he might even be swept back as suddenly as he had arrived. His assumptions about women and their role in life would be diametrically opposed to mine. He would expect total obedience, a houseful of babies, a woman who would cook and clean and see to his every whim. This is what he lacked. He didn't love me- he just wanted someone to ease his transition in this strange new world. But even as I said these things to myself, I found my inner voice arguing against my own objections...

He is the miracle you had thought would never feature in your life. Strength, steadfastness, honour, integrity. He might want a conventional commitment from you but in return he would shield you from the world. He is the one man who could be all things. How can you let him walk out of your life because of your own fear? He set out his love for you. You threw his offer back in mockery. You toyed with his notion of manhood. You flaunted your sexual past before him. You, of all women, know his sensibilities. What is the matter with you?

And then the tears came. I had driven him away. All he had done was tell me that he loved me and wanted to marry me. What if I had only known him six weeks? Didn't I already know that I was more in love than I had ever dreamed possible? We didn't have to marry now; we could have had a long engagement. And I was complaining because he respected me so much that he had not tried to sleep with me, even though I had felt his need so many times. He was well to walk away from me. I was not worthy of him. Let him find a woman who could appreciate him.

I lay awake all night and most of the nights that followed, staggering grey-faced through my working days, keeping the world at bay. I had lost the most precious gift that life had ever laid at my door. Suddenly the hollow victories of my career seemed to be revealed clearly to me. I had never had a life worth defending in the first place and now I had turned my back on the glittering prize itself.

MAXIMUS

Shortly after I had met her, I realised that I had to think to my future. Up to now I had existed on the dubious income that was supplied by the strange cyberman, SID, and I had no wish to spend my life living off his ill-gotten largesse. Besides, a man needs an occupation. But what could I do in this modern world?  I had spent my life as a soldier- it was the only life I knew. I could not become a modern military man and so the only door seemed closed to me.

I spent many days in meditation on this point and rejecting most of the suggestions that came to me. Teach in a university? It hardly seemed my style and I was not sure I had the knowledge, even of my own times, let alone the times before and after my birth. My Latin and Greek were largely colloquial and might seem alien to a modern academic. And I couldn't bear to think of my days spent in a dusty library; I was an outdoors man used to plenty of physical activity. I thought of my former aim to be a farmer but somewhere along the line that dream had soured. I wonder had I made it home after Vindobona whether I would indeed have been content? To shut myself off away from the world and work the land might be a welcome retreat but it would not enable me to really join this world - and I knew instinctively that Uma was no farmer's wife. I smiled at how her needs were now more important than my own. I tried to remember if I had ever wondered what my wife had wished for in life? She had never questioned my decisions and I had never asked for her opinion. But Uma was a different woman and I would need to keep her hopes and desires paramount or I would lose her. She was not a compliant country girl. She was more Lucilla than Selene.

The answer to my conundrum came from an unexpected source. SID himself. We talked one night when I switched on my accursed computer and he made a suggestion.

"You want to work? Got just the thing for a man of your talents. Give me a few minutes to create the documents and I will get you all you need. I am so good at this. Sometimes I scare myself."

He produced a handful of documents. There was a complete record of my army career- not with the Felix legions but now with a UN detachment. Apparently I had fought all over the world in many recent danger spots and was highly decorated. There were reports on my character and personal achievements and some mention of my facility with Romance languages. I leafed through them all with a wry smile on my face. Even my name amused me. SID had me down as "Maximus Meredith."

"Meredith?" I asked.

SID shrugged. "Nearest thing I could come up with. You can't walk round with a Roman name."

"I hate Meredith. It is a foolish name." I retorted.

He snorted. "Like Maximus Decimus Meridius sounds real hip? Give me a break."

We reached an impasse. "OK, what name do you want then? Just pick anything out of the blue or do you insist on something symbolic?"

I clicked my tongue in annoyance. "A name is a man's legacy. My children will bear this name. Of course it must have some significance." 

He raised his hands. "Oh dear, has naughty SID upset the brave general? So make your own surname up. But hurry up. I want to get moving on this. I don't have all night. I have a hot date with a cutie from Arkansas. She cannot get enough of my hot rod, I can tell you..."

I shut him down, unwilling to listen to his tiresome sexual boasting. The man, if such he is, is a pathetic sniveling bag of puerile traits. But I thought about the matter of my surname. It had to be a name that Uma would accept but it also had to have some connection with my life and background. And then it came to me. I had been the commander-in-chief of the armies of the North. I was a Spaniard from the north of Spain. I would take the surname North. It would recall my once proud title and remind me of the vainglory of such vaulted ambitions as I had once held. So I became Max North.

SID had a career in mind for me. He showed me a website and the job he thought would be perfect. It was in national security. He wanted me to apply for an agency that vetted and supplied highly trained teams of bodyguards at public occasions where politicians and royalty might require more than there usual level of protection. I didn't think my documents would pass muster. They did. He is cleverer than I had given him credit for.

Before I applied, I had SID place me on an intensive survival course, one that would familiarise me with modern methods, and then a weapons course which would introduce me to the latest equipment. And with this knowledge, I made my bid. I was interviewed and was offered a position. A freelance operative working on a contract basis for the British government. I didn't know quite what to make of it all.

Naturally I turned to Uma for advice. I go to her in all things in a way I have never done with women before. I used to confide a little of my former life to my wife when I returned from the front but I kept the details minimal- it was a world out of her ken and I could see that it meant little to her. But Uma is fascinated by everything and has a wide knowledge of the world at large. She is my friend as well as my love. I value her opinions in all things. I took her to dinner in our favourite restaurant and told her my news. She was overjoyed for me.

"Maximus! You have been hiding this from me? You did all this and never told me!"

"I tell you now, "I answered logically. "I did not wish to raise false hopes."

She smiled at my words. "Well, I am proud of you anyway. This is a great start, Max. So good for you to have a purpose in life again!"

I nodded my assent but still had reservations. "But a bodyguard? It is no better than a Praetorian. I am not sure that I am happy with such a step down..."

Uma clapped her hands together. "Step down? You were a slave, Max! You dealt with that and rose to be the greatest gladiator Rome had ever seen. You were once a humble legionary soldier from Spain and rose through the ranks to be one of her greatest generals. You can do it again. This is just the beginning. You will rise again - just you watch. No one can hold you back. You are too much of a force of nature ever to exist with the lowly foot soldiers. Mark my words, you will make a name for yourself..." She was elated, her face shining with pride and encouragement. I almost believed her myself. She has the power to do that for me. To make me believe that I might indeed have a life still worth living.

And so I became a government man. I attended functions, celebrity events, political meetings, formed the security team when foreign dignitaries visited the monarch or the Prime Minister. It paid well but it was a rather hapless existence. Always watching, waiting, talking into speaking devices and keeping the public at bay. I was an invisible person whose presence would only count the day I stood and took a bullet for the person I was protecting. I did not mention that to Uma.

I asked her to marry me. It was a disaster. I had been thinking of it and wondering how such things were conducted in this age. I wasn't sure, so I just asked her and she lost her temper with me. I wasn't sure why. But I think it was to do with her definition of love. I was a fool to imagine that she could love me. She is just a friend who has been kind and who is intrigued by my origin. I am rough and unsophisticated in the ways of her world- how could I imagine that this sparkling woman who has clearly rejected many suitors in the past would want a man such as I, worn down by life and toil? I cannot say I blame her although I lost my temper back and said some harsh things which were unworthy of me. I know I hurt her badly.

I walked the streets that night, picked up a whore and drowned my bitter disappointment and my unrequited lust in her well-used cunt. It didn't work and took the better part of a bottle of Scotch to put me to sleep. The next afternoon, still wondering if I should chance going back and apologising to Uma, I received a phone call. I was needed for an overseas trip. The PM was on a tour of several Commonwealth countries. It would be ten days before I returned. I decided that perhaps that would be what we both needed- a gap during which we might think about what we really meant to each other. So I flew off without a word and left her.

She was with me night and day wherever I was and whatever I did. Through countless functions and meetings, civic receptions, tours round historic sites, banquets in great halls, her face seemed to be forever before my eyes. I could not bear to think that I had lost her.

I remembered how I had once eyed Lucilla from a discreet distance, believing such a perfect creature could never look upon a crude man such as I. I had been younger then; I had made my moves and she had fallen in love with me. I must be as persistent with my Ummidia. I must wear her down until she has not the strength to deny me.

Ten days later, I was waiting outside the Museum as once I had waited before, watching the stream of staff leaving at the end of the day. At last she came through the door, pulling her woollen coat closer around her neck as she wrapped a scarf around and put on a ludicrous woolen hat such as a legionary might wear on guard duty on a winter's night. Her long hair fell down her back and her cheeks were red with the cold. She was the most perfect thing I had ever seen. Just then she looked up and saw me. Her face fell and she paled as if she had seen a ghost. "Uma?" I mouthed her name.

She ran across the distance and threw herself upon me. Her body felt like heaven in my arms.

UMA

Just when I had imagined that I would never see him again- there he was. On a cold and gloomy December night, he was standing across from me dressed in a heavy black overcoat and leather gloves; I could see he was formally attired beneath from the shirt and tie that was revealed by his turned back lapels. He looked so handsome and so still, with that way he has of commanding attention even when he does not move or speak. I could not stop myself. I simply ran to him and held on this time for dear life.

We both began to talk at once and neither of us made much sense. He stopped me, kissed me, looked longingly into my eyes and then dragged me to a nearby bar. There in the warm confines of the smoky room, cradling Scotches, we talked. He had been called away suddenly and had not meant to leave it so long; I had tried to contact him but his phone had been off and of course no one was in at his apartment. He was sorry he had rushed me. He would give me time and not expect so much so soon. I was a fool and had said hurtful things that weren't true. I loved him but he had taken me off guard. I didn't know why I had spoken as I had. We both laughed, touched each other's faces as if we were seeing for the first time and we promised to start afresh. He took me to dinner and we drank too much. We went back to my place and we very nearly got down and did it- how he dragged himself away, I'll never know. But we went further than we ever had before that night and I sampled some of Maximus' hidden attributes. It only whetted my appetite further for the future.

He had to go away again a few days later; he was not working and received a call from one of his "Brothers". A new member was arriving. Apparently they now are always ready for it. If this Crowe actor has a new film out then it means his character will "cross". It was the responsibility of the most recent Brother to be there for the arrival. This film was a modern one, something to do with a kidnap, and Max had to go to America. He told me to go check the film out- it was released on December 8th. I was quietly furious. I mean- he had only just got back from a trip- couldn't one of the others do it? What would Max have to teach a modern man anyway?

I checked the film releases but nothing doing. Went on the 'net. Release date March or something. Couldn't be much of a film. Apparently Crowe had made it before Gladiator came out. Probably just a B film- no one had expected his sudden meteoric rise. It didn't seem much cop. Hostage negotiator falls for kidnap victim's wife. How tasteful. Probably just an excuse for sex and trite emotions.  I counted the days for his return.

It was a Friday early morning and a week before Christmas when he rang. 

"I'm boarding a plane. Be home by five."

"Max...it's the staff Christmas meal tonight. I have to go..."

"Can I come?"

"You want to come?"

"No, I want to spend the evening with you." 

I smiled. "Good man...just the right words. You are getting better at this, you know..."

He clicked his tongue. "I have to go. Meet me at my apartment at six. We can go from there..."

I put the phone down. Max at a Christmas meal? A cheap and cheery Thai restaurant with a nightclub to follow? I laughed out loud at the thought of it. Culture shock? You ain't seen nothing yet, baby!

I left the Museum as early as I could, raced home, showered dried my hair and dressed. Did the makeup and ran hell for leather through the flat, still hooking my shoes on my feet as I went. Ruth was just coming home. "What's up? Place on fire? No, wait....Max back?"

"Piss off."

She grinned. "You shagged him yet?"

"Don't be so crude."

She laughed out loud. "Crude? To the woman who once entertained an entire Rugby team in the back of a coach?"

"That story is vastly exaggerated. It was just Trevor Williams...and a few of the others....they won the Cup for us!" I protested vainly. "And if Max ever hears that from your lips...I swear I will rip your head off...."

She howled. "Go on...go get him, kid!" I pulled my tongue out at her and ran out, aware that I was already late and the tube would be heaving and....

I reached his place and it was in darkness. Looking at my watch, it said six already. Max was never late. I felt slightly uneasy as I let myself into the apartment and switched on lights and heating. It is hard to imagine anyone actually lives here. Max simply didn't seem to understand the notion of comfort. To him this place had light, heat, cooking facilities and a bed. He can lock the door and it is secure. What more did he need? He is very self sufficient, can cook and wash his clothes and mend and do all manner of unusual traits for a man of his macho inclination. But he isn't into home décor.

I picked up some of his precious books. He reads voraciously, well into the night, trying to acquire two thousands years of culture. Dickens, Shakespeare, Camus, Cervantes, Twain, Vidal, Conrad, Burgess...what an amazingly disparate assembly of literature it was! All in English, except for the neat volumes of Latin texts I had bought him- Virgil, Tacitus, Horace and of course, the Meditations- clearly well thumbed.

Just then I heard his key in the lock. I swiveled round and he breezed in. "Damn planes! Traffic! I should have been here hours ago...it is good to see you..." He looked tired but still picked me up and kissed me. "How much time do we have?"

"It doesn't matter, Max. We don't have to go.  You're tired. I will ring someone. Apologise..."

"No, I'm fine. Let me shower and I will dress quickly..." He walked off to the bathroom and I put the kettle on to make him a cup of coffee. He likes coffee, strangely enough. A short while later I heard the shower turn off but he did not emerge. I knocked on the bedroom door. "Max? Max?? Do you want a cup of coffee? Are you decent?"

No answer. I pushed the door and saw his room. He was lying on the bed asleep with a towel round his waist. I gulped. Entering quietly, I placed the coffee cup by his bed and watched him. He is so beautiful. His chest rose rhythmically as he breathed deep, eyelids fluttering in dreams, handsome face at rest. My eyes wandered down his formidable scarred musculature, noted the slit where the towel was struggling to contain his thighs, lingered over the heavy swell between his legs, ran along the shapely hairy legs and realized that I was holding my breath. My body felt weak, my feet rooted to the spot. I ached to touch him, to feel my hands on his flesh.

I took a breath and gasped. If I could only look? Just once? My hand reached for the towel and I leant forward. In an instant, he was awake, hand clamped on my wrist. I yelped at the sudden shock of his action. "Uma! Never steal up on me! My reflexes....did I hurt you?"

I shook my head as he released my hand; rubbing it slightly. "I'm sorry, I was...just going to wake you..."

He smiled. "I am sorry, I must have dozed off. Forgive me. I will be ready shortly...." I backed off to go. As I opened the door, I heard his voice. "Next time you try to rouse me...try shaking my shoulder, not my groin? It awakens quite the wrong part of me entirely..."

I threw him a look, embarrassed and annoyed to have been caught in such a moment. He simply laughed and shook his head.

We took a cab into town and as we were ferried through the wet but crowded festive streets, we talked about his trip. "So, how did it go?"

"It went well."

"Well? Go on...."

Maximus gave me one of his infamous sideways stares. "Go on about what exactly?"

I rolled my eyes. "The new Brother. Maximus- please, don't be so monosyllabic with me!"

He tutted. "What can I say? He is a man and he is from the modern era. His name is Terrence Thorne. I think he will have little problem and he came with a friend anyway. What real adjustments have such men to make?"

I let that pass. "Max, what is he like?"

"Like me of course!" he answered dismissively.

"What? He wears a dress and carries a short sword?" I replied with a grin.

He laughed grudgingly. "I meant he is tolerably like me in the face. Much the same height and general description..."

"What colour is his hair? His eyes? Does he have a beard? Is he smartly dressed or scruffy? How old is he? Is he American? Did you like him?"

I bombarded him with questions. He frowned. "His hair is....just a man's sort of hair. I never noticed his eyes but he definitely had two- I would have noticed an absence. He's Australian, but not stridently so,  like some of those irritating boys. About my age I would think. No beard. Clean shaven and presentable."

I shook my head. "His hair is a man's sort of hair? I thought you had eagle eyes? Noticed everything? Wasn't that your thing when you were a general? You could pick out a slacking legionary at a hundred paces."

Maximus gave me another look. "That is entirely different. What business have I scrutinizing every last detail of another man? Of what possible interest is it to me?"

"Apparently none but I would have had his collar size and inside leg within five minutes, not to mention other details that I really won't inflict upon....did you like him?"

"Oh yes...I offered to marry him but he prefers women..." Maximus replied and turned to stare out at the dark night, suddenly thoughtful. I smiled at his sarcasm and thought that was an end to it. Then he spoke. "He is a man of honour and bravery. A fine man. Reserved and quiet but witty and laconic. Highly intelligent. Not impressed by sham and bluster. Down to earth. Likes a drink. Likes women..." he smiled to himself then; I wondered what had crossed his mind. "But...he is a very sad man. Lonely. Unfulfilled." Suddenly Maximus turned to me. "Watch his film and tell me what you think. Something is missing in his life. He thought he had found it but it eluded him again..." he tailed off and I wondered what he meant. This wasn't quite the impression the blurb about the film had given me but then, wasn't that always the way with these Crowe films? Strong men who were vulnerable, quiet men who were capable of great anger or brutality, lonely men who longed for love.

In retrospect I suppose it began there. Maximus is rarely effulgent in praise. What he said about Terry Thorne that night amounted to eulogy in his terms. I was already intrigued to see what manner of man could impress Maximus so.

"And the other man?"

"Dean O'Leary. American. He had red hair- I remember that. Thin and wiry. Lively and intelligent. Rarely still. I believe he regards himself as a 'babe magnet' - or so he assured us. Although he actually preferred to call it something rather cruder than that... but, a man who is deceptive. Feigns a shallow veneer. Very deep and serious beneath. They were both to my liking."

Another hit. Well, well, well. How interesting!

Dinner was- uncomfortable. Max hated the food and seemed completely overwhelmed by the company. The women were simply swamping him with the sort of vacuous small talk and giggling attention he hates and the men were a little dubious about him. I use the term men loosely here. I'm afraid that male museum staff members are not famed for their virility and manly charms. But they are pretty self important little tossers all the same, especially in the company of an alpha. It was like a pack of hyenas around a lion- fawning one minute but if they thought he was down, they would have savaged him in a pack. Especially Roger Curtin. He's my assistant and he bloody hates having a female boss. I'll give you a flavour of the conversation...

"So, Maximus, isn't it? Believe you are with the fair Uma. What do you do for a living...let me guess...bricklayer?"

Maximus blinked once or twice and made no apparent further gesture. 

"Er....work in a gym...instructor...? "

Max turned his head slightly. "I work in security..."

"Security? Of course...a bouncer!! I should have guessed!"

Maximus frowned. "Bouncer?" The very word seemed absurd on his tongue. He had no idea what it was.

"Or are you one of those blokes who patrol factories at night with an Alsatian?"

Max suddenly got the point of the insult.

"I am a bodyguard."

Roger snorted into his wine glass; I realised then how pissed he was. Maximus was watching him like a large cat watches a deer in his sights. It was awful in a hypnotic sort of way.

"Ya mean like Kevin Costner? Whitney? 'I will always love youuuuu -whoooooo?'" He sang tunelessly. More laughter.

Maximus stood up, his chair falling back with the speed of his movement and he stormed for the exit. I ran after him but he was already putting on his overcoat.

"Max...take no notice of him..."

"I didn't. He is a drunken fool."

"I'm so glad you didn't hit him...for a moment there I thought..."

"Hit him?"

I smiled and took his arm. "I should have known you had more self control than that...he's hardly a threat to you, is he? I know you would never start anything"

Max shrugged my arm away and helped me on with my coat. He leaned on to my ear and whispered. "Start anything? I haven't even begun, Uma. But I assure you...he will know my anger before this night is over. Just you wait and see...." I turned and stared, but Max merely nodded his head briskly, his eyes steely and his mouth set, and extended his arm to lead me outside.

We went to a club. Max wouldn't dance and stood by a wall with a face on him like he had just woken up and found himself the victim at some Germanic pagan sacrifice. At any moment I expected him to say "At my command- unleash hell"...and ride onto the floor to cut down the rabble in his way.

I stood by his side and fondled my cocktail. We couldn't speak because it was too noisy. He wouldn't touch me because we were in public. I was a bit annoyed really. I mean- one dance wouldn't kill him, would it? So I joined a group of friends on the dance floor. Maximus glared- he had already called my top a square of cloth and my skirt a disgrace and said my underwear revealed less than they did. ("How would you know, Max?" had been my snappish retort). The next minute this guy cut in and I found myself dancing up close and personal. I think the barbarians just handed Maximus their decision.

My feet barely touched the ground as Max stormed forward, grabbed my arm and hustled me off the dance floor. I was in my coat and out of the door in seconds. "What do you think you are doing?" I shouted.

"Saving you from yourself!" he snapped back. At that moment Roger Curtin appeared with a smirk.

"Guarding the Body, are we, Maxie? But even educated women love the Barbarian act, don't they? Blokes like you are the only ones who have bigger balls than these career women types..."

The poor fool was against a wall with his neck in Max's fist within a second. Max had his balls in his other hand. "If your scrotum was worth the prize I would have it in my pocket already, you sniveling little fuck. Open your mouth once more to me and I will stuff your genitals so far down your throat that you will shit them..."

I think Roger had already evacuated his bowels.

Bouncers pulled Max off and I dragged him out. We walked a while in the freezing night air until he had calmed down. He looked at me, puffs of icy breath at his lips. "I'm sorry, Uma...I have embarrassed you...I know...." I put my leather-gloved finger on his lips.

"You just made me happier than any man ever has. Don't ask me to explain. But drag me off a dance floor again, pal, and I will pull the balls gag on you. You got that?"

He laughed and so did I. Wrapping me up in his arms, we flagged down a passing cab and spent the journey back to my place lip-locked. But he still left me there and took his ride back home alone.

It was close to Christmas and I was unsure what to do. My parents expected me home as usual but I couldn't bear to leave Max alone at such a time. Not that it meant anything to him. He was bemused that a minority religion that had been so widely persecuted in his day and which those with any philosophical education so soundly dismissed as native superstition, could now have such a stranglehold on the world. I pointed out that Romans had given lip service to a Pantheon of gods they had long grown out of other than for the ritual and festival that they so enjoyed. It was much the same with Christianity.

"Think of Christmas like the Saturnalia if you must- you do not need to believe to have fun." He grunted and sampled a mince pie. He at least liked the traditional food. I counted to ten and made my move. "Max, would you like to join me for Christmas at my parents' home?" I mentally grimaced, expecting his quick rebuttal -you know how men get scared off when going home to Mum and Dad is mentioned? As ever, Maximus surprised me.

"I would be delighted. When must we leave? Help me buy some gifts. I believe they are required at this festival..."

I rang my Mum who was extremely shocked to say the least. Me bring a fella home? I must have been seventeen the last time I introduced anyone to them and I had gone through scores of family weddings without ever arriving with a guest in tow. They had quite given up hope.

"Who is he? What is he like? Is he English? Does he eat everything? What can we give him for a present? What does he do for a living? Are you serious? Do you think he's the one?"

Mothers, hey?

"He's gorgeous. He's called Max and he's 36 and an ex-soldier who now works for the government. He is sort of English- his parents were Spanish, he eats everything and he's house trained. He isn't very acquisitive- so buy him a book or something- he likes history- something on the Romans, maybe? And don't dare start digging. He's just a friend." I warned her.

She chortled at that. "Friend, I see...so you'll be sharing a room, will you? Better get the guestroom aired out..."

"Yes, do- air it our when you air mine out. Separate rooms. We are not lovers, Mum. We're just friends like I said... Close friends." That completely threw her. My Mum is a modern Mum who is fairly easy going about sex. She might have been a virgin when she got married but she has moved with the times and learnt a lot from my brothers and sisters, so she is broad minded and knows that I am no angel. Reckon Dad does, too. But this was a new one on them.

Christmas Eve we arrived with a car load of gifts. It was just us that night- the rest of the family would descend on us the following morning. There was the usual awkward start where I introduced Max, and Mum and Dad were all formal and stilted with him, asking embarrassing questions about his job and his background but he answered them as honestly as he was able. He obviously didn't admit to his stint in the Roman army or his enslavement as a gladiator. It probably wouldn't have gone down too well over a cup of tea.

But over dinner things livened up and after Dad had started on the second bottle of Spanish Rioja (they were a little surprised that Max seemed vague about Spanish wines), we all loosened up and an easy atmosphere developed. Max can be very charming when he wants to be and my parents were impressed by his polite and reserved manner, sensing the integrity and strength behind it. Mum was cooing away and dancing attention on him and Dad was handing out his best cigars and boasting about my school record. I could have strangled him.

"And she was a very talented ballerina, wasn't she, love?" I glared at Dad across the table and Max struggled with the word ballerina. I'm not sure if he is familiar with ballet. After dinner I retreated to the kitchen to wash up with Mum, noting that Max made no more effort than Dad did to help us. Perhaps Dad was born in the second century AD as well? I left them alone discussing Tony Blair, one of Dad's favourite subjects. As Max had actually met him, I thought they were on safe ground. What a fool I am.

Meanwhile in the kitchen. "Where did you find him? He is an absolute dish! Uma, you have to rope this one in. He is perfect for you. He even likes Roman history and there can't be many people in the world that you can say that about..." She had wanted me to be a lawyer. "He is so sexy...what do you mean, you haven't slept with him? Are you nuts?"

I turned round shocked. "Are you actively encouraging me to shag some guy out of wedlock? You should be ashamed of yourself! You're my Mum!"

"Uma, you are thirty and not getting any younger. Grab this specimen and use whatever you've got to reel him in. What's the problem? Wait - he's married, isn't he? Is that it?"

"He's a widower."

"Oh dear!" Maximus grew another few feet in her estimation. "Poor man! What happened?"

I thought hard. "A terrible accident. His wife and son. He doesn't like to talk about it, so please don't raise the issue."

She sat down, all upset. "What a thing for a young man to go through! When was this?"

"About three years ago.  He is still very sensitive about it..."

"My lips are sealed. But he must really be lonely. Has he said anything?" Her mind was working overtime again.

"MUM!! We are just friends. Nothing may come of it..."

"But you must like him or you wouldn't have brought him here for our approval..."

"I didn't bring him here for your approval. I just didn't think it was good for him to be alone at Christmas. That's all. Stop arranging my life for me!" She smiled knowingly and switched on the dishwasher. "Does he like his coffee strong...?"

Some time later, we joined the men in the lounge. They were actually standing in the small conservatory that led from the lounge to give a sheltered view of the lovely garden, Mum and Dad's pride and joy. Max was standing next to Dad and Dad's right hand was resting on his shoulder; they were nursing balloons of his finest cognac. Mum set down the coffee tray and Dad poured us both a snifter. I looked at Max and he smiled at me. Something was up.

Dad proposed a toast. "To the two of you. I hope you will be very happy. You have my blessing and your Mum's too. Let's hope you don't wait too long for the big day - you'll make beautiful grandchildren." and he raised his glass. I dropped mine.

"I beg your pardon, Dad? What are you talking about?" I asked but I think I already knew.

Dad beamed while Mum fussed with the broken bits of brandy glass. "Maximus has asked me for your hand in marriage and we have no objections...."

MAXIMUS

Ever since we had found our way back, I had been wondering how I might approach her again on the subject of marriage. It was ridiculous to pretend any longer. We loved each other- that much was clear- and she was sorry that she had rejected me. She had said as much at the time and then she had invited me to spend this most important of festivals at her parents' home. I read up on conventions surrounding marriage and it was evident that there was great symbolism in the invitation and that it was tantamount to suggesting to her parents that I was being offered as a future son-in-law. Apparently it was also still good form for a man to ask his woman's father for her 'hand' in marriage. That seemed to me to be the way forward. With their approval, Uma might see that I was sure in my mind and desirous of behaving in a way that showed I had learnt the ways of her culture.

It did not transpire quite as I had wished. Uma's parents were delightful and made me very welcome - most potential fathers-in-law would make a man squirm before they give consent. Later, on our own, I raised the issue when it seemed appropriate; he even gave me a suitable introduction to the subject.

"So, Max, tell me...how long have you known my daughter?"

"I met her about two months ago at the Museum."

"Two months, hey? Not long."

"No...but we have spent a lot of time together..."

"Oh really...I hope you've been careful...."

"You misunderstand. I have the greatest respect for Uma...I assure you that I haven't acted in an inappropriate way..."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why not? Something wrong with your sex drive?"

I cleared my throat. "No, sir. I am quite as sexual as the next man - maybe more so. I simply ...love her too much to cheapen what we have. What I am trying to say is...I know we haven't known each other long but I am certain....as certain as I have ever been. With your permission, I would like to marry your daughter. I have a good job, even better prospects and I will make sure that she wants for nothing..."

Her father's mouth fell open at my words. "You are asking my permission? For Uma?"

"Of course, sir. She is your daughter."

He looked surprised and smiled broadly. "I just never expected that. Max, you are an old fashioned bloke and I like that. These young men today are all a pack of wasters. The women give them what they want and they dance around and still behave like animals. You're just what she needs. My permission? Not a doubt in my mind. Marry her and make her happy. Give her a houseful of babies and it will be the making of her. Just one word of advice- she's very willful- just like her mother. She needs a firm hand. Don't be soft on her. Love is one thing but don't indulge her..." I smiled quietly at his words. Time doesn't change everything. Selene's father had said as much to me when he gave his assent and arranged our marriage.

He clapped me on the back, we toasted the future in cognac and he told me a rather crude joke about a bride on her wedding night. I wasn't sure if this was some sort of custom- ribaldry was always associated with our weddings, too, but I decided against joining him with a story of my own. I might be chancing things too far.

At that moment the women joined us with coffee. I had not expected him to make such a public announcement and knew the moment he began that this was a mistake. He must have thought that I had already asked Uma to marry me. Well, of course, I had, but she hadn't yet consented. I watched her face with a tentative smile but the moment she dropped the glass, I knew that I was in trouble again.

"You asked my father for permission to marry me? Without telling me?" she shouted at me. But she reserved her greater anger for her father. "What a good idea! An arranged marriage- why didn't you think of it before? You could have had me tied to some bloke's sink and dropping a baby a year ages ago!! I cannot believe you lot. Max has some excuse for his stupidity but you don't. Your permission indeed! Get this straight. I am not getting married to him or anyone. Got that? If you like him so much- marry him yourself!"

With that she ran crying out of the room. I rubbed my hand over my beard and excused myself to dash after her. She was running up the stairs when I caught up with her. I took her arm and she shook my hand off. "Get off me. I can't believe you did that! How could you do that to me? Manipulate me behind my back? I am not a piece of meat for you to barter with my father. Did he offer a dowry? Is he that desperate to get rid of me?"

She ran on up the stairs and I swung up after her. "Uma...please...let me explain...I didn't mean it like that...please..." She shrugged me away; I ran my hands through my hair. "I read a book about marriage etiquette. I thought this is how you did it....you asked me home. That seemed like a sign that you wanted to consider me as a husband. And I thought you would be happy if your father approved of me....I didn't expect him to speak out like that. My plan was to ask you tomorrow...and give you this...I had it with me..." All through my long and garbled defence, Uma stood and stared open-mouthed. I could not fathom what her expression meant.

"You read a book on marriage etiquette?" I nodded. "Where the hell did you find that?"

"In a bookshop."

She bit her lips; I could have sworn she was trying not to laugh. "And you thought this was how it was done?"

"Yes."

"Max...why are you so desperate to marry me?"

I stopped and thought. There was only one reason. I was going to tell her even if it annoyed her. I could no longer guess whether I would please or anger her with anything I said. "I love you. You love me. Why be apart?" I held out the box that I had pulled out of my pocket. She took it silently and opened it.

"Oh, Max..." and she burst into tears. I wondered what mistake I had made now.

"It's just a ring...if you don't like it, we can change it for anything you want. I...am sorry if I have offended you again. I simply want to be your husband..."

"Yes."

"...And I want to wake up with you each morning..."

"Yes!"

"And I want to be the father of your children..."

"YES!"

"I need you....I love you...I desire you...I can't sleep for thinking about you..."

"MAX!! Stop! I said yes. I SAID YES! Oh God, I must be mad but I love you so much it almost stops me from breathing...Yes Max, I will marry you and have your babies and love you....I adore you and I want you to take me to your bed and make mad passionate love to me all night..."

I will never understand women. I have no idea why she changed her mind on a whim from downright refusal to a complete and utter acceptance. I was just elated that she did. I held her to me and said nothing while she cried and rambled on and cried some more. I felt relief. It was as if years of loneliness peeled away from me. The woman I loved and a new start. I pulled away from her, stopped her words with a kiss and slipped the ring on her finger.

"It fits! How did you know?" she gasped.

"I took the liberty of borrowing one of your rings for size."

"You dog... Max, what am I going to do with you?" She smiled and ran her arms around my neck. "I love you. I don't understand half of what goes on inside your head but I intend to spend my entire life finding out. You can be my case study. The mind of the Roman male. That should keep me occupied for years..."

"I am hard to understand? What about you? One moment you say no and the next you say yes..."  I protested vainly.

"I am a woman. That is what we do. It isn't hard to understand. It is simply how we are constructed to prevent men becoming too complacent." She smirked and danced away.

"Is that so?"

"That is so. Now let us go back and tell my Mum and Dad the happy news. They have just gained a very ancient son...."

"Uma...I forgot to go down on one knee. The book says...perhaps you could give me the ring back and I could start again? It is inauspicious not to complete all the ceremonial ritual in such cases..."

"Max-this is the year 2000. Get over it! And this ring comes off for no one - not even you."

And so we were betrothed.