January 17th 2004

It was a beautiful wedding, everyone said as much, even if there was a strange tension hanging over the proceedings and a frisson of something in the air. Lily walked Isobel down the aisle with her face set in a frown of concentration, an expression so reminiscent of her father that it made me smile. Maximus was not impressed. As he seemed to have done all weekend so far, he overreacted and blamed me. She was too young, she should be with her parents, he didn't like her near Isobel- all sorts of stupid objections which I simply ignored. Maximus was never going to make a scene in public so I let him mutter on into my ear and made a point of staring around me, letting him see I was taking no notice of him. He hates it if I turn away from him- I suspect it was something a woman in his time would never have been allowed to do.

Watching the other couples, I wondered if any of them were putting on a face to mask tensions as it seemed we had been doing all weekend. My eye caught Bud and Natalie who were sitting with their children in between- and I noticed with some surprise that he was gazing across at Darcy and she was giving him a shy glance in return. Lachlan was bending to pick up his little son who had dropped his toy car under the seat where it had rolled to the bench ahead; Heather retrieved it and turned to pass it back. She smiled softly and Lachlan's eyes flashed; it seemed a very private moment somehow. Dino appeared to have seen the glance and his face was stony although he made no comment.  It seemed as if unexpected things were flitting about that afternoon that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Some sort of chain reaction.

My eyes continued to rove around and I realized that Terry Thorne was looking at me. When I glanced at him, he did not look away but instead he grinned and cocked his head in Lily's direction as if to say how cute she was. I nodded and smiled my pleasure at his noticing her. At that moment Ann turned her head, looking from him to me. She stared me out and then tugged on his sleeve until he leant down to her. Whatever she said he pulled back suddenly and frowned, his face showing displeasure. I looked up at Maximus and he turned to me. I tried a smile; he gave me one of his bashful looks so I reached for his hand and squeezed it. He caught it in his own and held it as we sat on; it was a rare public touch and I enjoyed it immensely, moving closer to him as Cort began to read out the solemn words of the marriage service.

I watched the bride and groom, a little teary- eyed. I don't know why that happened because I have always been the sort of person who is a little cynical about weddings. Maybe the fact that I am so sappy about my own has worked its magic on me. Jack's broad back in its well cut grey suit looked so formidable and determined; he is like a rock of granite that you cannot imagine anything shaking. The neatly clubbed queue of his golden hair did not seem to be at odds with his striking masculinity; of course he wore it with the machismo of a man of his era not a modern affectation. It is the same as how Maximus can carry off a tunic without appearing in the least effeminate.

Isobel stood at Jack's side and appeared even tinier next to his bulk. How different they are! She is petite and delicate, finely wrought and exquisite, dark and exotic- as far away from his golden, scarred and weather-beaten frame as it is possible to be. It was easy to see why they were so mesmerised by the image of the other; they were as different as night and day -and who is not enchanted by what is foreign to them? I imagined how passionate and stormy would be their love- Jack with his fiery nature and reckless courage, Isobel with her hot- tempered ardour and proud emotional temperament. They would love and fight in equal measure.

Lily stared up at the pair of them all through the actual marriage ceremony, her eyes flitting from Jack, to Isobel to Cort and back. Several times she repeated a word or phrase that she caught in passing; her eyes were like saucers and her thumb kept slipping into her mouth. Once she looked back at us and I wondered if she was feeling tired or suddenly afraid but she just grinned. My daughter was loving every minute of it.

I listened to Cort as he spoke and led the ceremonial. He is a handsome fellow with a raw wild beauty that seems to retain some of the prettiness of early youth with the attributes of an impressive man. Imagine such a man not being with a woman? I wonder about celibacy and its relevance in our world. Why should anyone- male or female- be excluded from one of nature's gifts in some test of their loyalty to God? Wasn't our sexuality a gift from God anyway in a Christian mentality? I pondered that for a while and how any man faces life without the comfort of a woman in his life and in his bed. Temptation must be ever present- and perhaps if such a man fell, it would be in one great swoop of sin, pushed beyond the moral bounds that other men can adhere to, simply by the overwhelming need that must have built up over years.

Shaking myself slightly, berating my academic nature for always needing to make a treatise of everything, I contented myself with watching his face and listening to his soft voice. There was a curious expression in his eyes as he looked on the pair before him. He seemed almost pained, swallowing once or twice before he spoke or darting a look at Isobel. His gaze seemed almost adoring, his eyes flashing now and again before the general air of melancholy descended upon him. Perhaps he was attracted to Isobel. It could happen. He was still a man.

The simple ceremony finished and we followed the bride and groom out into the hallway of the house where waiters were serving champagne while photographs were taken. We chatted with other members of the family, posed for group shots and stood around as Jack and Isobel took centre stage. Lily was dashing madly about with other children but finally came and stood by us. Maximus picked her up.

"I a good girl, Daddy?" She asked.

"You are a very good girl. I was very proud of you. So sensible and grown up," he replied. She beamed. "If you are a good girl all day today, then perhaps I will find something very special for you tomorrow in London?"

"A present!" She gurgled. Maximus wasn't one for showering her with gifts; he thinks modern children are too spoiled in every way. So when he does treat her, then it is really a very meaningful thing.  Lily put on her 'Daddy's little angel' face and I smirked to myself- she could nearly manipulate him as well as I can- what a girl!

She whispered something in his ear; Lily always acts very secretive when she speaks in Latin, aware already that no one else understands us and that somehow it is an unusual language for her to know. He nodded and smiled at her. "She needs the bathroom," he told me- I went to take her from him. But Lily had her own ideas.

"Daddy take." 

"Lucky you," I laughed and Max rolled his eyes at the dubious honour - but he gamely did his duty and whisked her away. I saw him pause at the restroom doors but he took her into the men's room anyway. She would love a chance to nose around in there.

Alone I helped myself to another glass of champagne and stood awkwardly by everyone else. I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Hi, I'm Heather O'Leary, Dino's wife. Pleased to meet you."

We shook hands and smiled; it was generous of her to approach me. She is a beautiful girl, a lot younger than I am although her son is six. I wondered about that- Dino only crossed three years ago- was the child not his? It certainly looked like him. She is tall and willowy, dark haired and has a calm and gentle face. I recognize something in her that appeals to me- intelligence and humour coupled with a sensitive emotional nature. I hope we can be friends.

"Hi, I really feel like the odd one out here. I don't know hardly anyone apart from a few of the Brothers I met in Oz - and Lachlan. It's a bit intimidating to meet you all at once! You seem to know lots of people."

Heather shrugged. "Well, Dino and Terry came over together so when you meet one, you meet the other. We see a lot of him and Ann, of course, so I'm close to her. The US based family meet a bit more regularly and as Dino travels a lot, I guess we get around more than most. But I'm really pleased to get this chance to get to know you. Dino and Terry are so fond of Max and it seemed not right that we hadn't met his family! Lily is the cutest little thing- and so well behaved! Hard to imagine a man like Maximus fathering a delicate little blossom like her!"

I giggled at that. "She's more like him than you know...but I guess she owes a bit to me too. Andy is so like Dino, isn't he...I can hardly see any of you in him!" Heather blushed.

"Actually I am not Andy's Mom. Dino and I don't have any children of our own..." I felt awful and realized that I should have worked that one out. She saw my grimace and put her hand on my arm. "Don't worry. I mean we don't have children of our own- yet. But we're trying- and we quite like the practice!"

We both laughed and I felt easy with her. "Maximus is quite a man- he gives me goosebumps when he speaks to me. I always feel like a little girl. How do you cope with a man like him?"

I rolled my eyes. "Don't be fooled by his gravitas- he's a big kid really. But don't let that one out- he will be mortified if people find out that he isn't quite his moody, magnificent image!" Heather chortled at that and we settled in for a good chat on life, love, men and the Family. Just then a familiar voice sounded from behind,

"Dare I join this conversation or will I blush to hear what you two are talking of?" Terry Thorne placed his hands on Heather's shoulders and she turned around with a squeal. "Don't flatter yourself, mate. You weren't mentioned!" she laughed.

He put on a pained face. "Must be losing it then." He looked across at me and I found myself blushing and remembering Isobel's words of earlier in the day. Did he fancy me? Was that why he took the opportunity to approach Heather when I was with her? Or am I just being like a silly schoolgirl about him? He looked so good. I just like looking at his face- like I can't get enough of it. I felt tongue-tied and stupid in his presence and wished my red face would not betray me so much.

"God, no...excuse me...Will you look at what that boy is doing now?" Heather put down her glass and ran to where Andy was building a tower from champagne glasses while the other children egged him on. Terry burst out laughing. "That kid is a dead ringer for his Dad...do you know how many checks Dino's had to pick up for smashed glasses in bars where he has pulled that stunt?"

We enjoyed the scene of Heather prising Andy away and dragging him off for some serious chastisement. "Bit of child abuse going on out there, I should think!" I giggled.

Terry snorted. "You could beat him senseless and he wouldn't be able to stop himself. He's a bloody little larrikin- great kid. Frightened of nothing. Into everything. Bright as a button. Just too much energy. If he was mine, I'd cut the vitamins and feed him on stodge to slow him down..."

"Sounds like you are a real authority on hyperactive kids."

"Well, that's what I do with Dino anyway. Man, that bloke makes my head spin at times."

I shook my head. "And I suppose you are so well behaved all the time?"

Terry pulled a face. "Mostly." But his expression hardly convinced. "Where's the little flower girl? She's such a star. I couldn't get over her face in that service. Thank heaven for little girls, hey?"

"She's making up to the man in her life. He carelessly mentioned the word 'present' so she's milking him for what she can get. It's a good job the enemy were always men. He'd have lost in the first round to a woman!!"

Terry smirked. "Our secret is out, is it? We men can't compete in the face of an assault from a beautiful lady - and a two year old lady ...boy, do they hold the trump card."

Just then Max returned carrying Lily curled around his neck. She perked up when she saw Terry and almost jumped out of Max's hold to get to him. "Terry!"

Max muttered, "Uncle Terry. Do not be impolite!"

"Unca Terry!" She held out her arms and he reached for her, swinging her high in the air until she chortled with laughter. He wandered off, talking to her, fetching her glass of juice from a waiter, and helping her to drink it. Maximus and I watched in amusement.

"He likes children. He is good with them," Max observed.

"He's a father himself. Maybe he misses his son, too," I whispered softly. Maximus nodded.

"I forgot. There are many kinds of loss in life, many kinds of sadness." We both thought on that awhile. "No doubt they will have children one day..." he speculated.

I shrugged. "Dunno. Will depend on the boss lady," I observed tartly.

 Maximus shot me a warning look. "Enough of that. I don't wish to hear you making those unworthy remarks again, Uma. She's a pleasant lady and is Terry's choice. I respect him as a man and imagine him quite capable of choosing a worthy mate." I saw the familiar set of his jaw- he drives me mad when he does that. He is unshakeable in that mood. I shrugged and kept my silence. Shortly afterwards lunch was served and Terry returned my giddy daughter to me; they were both giggling over something.

June 2001

We left Victoria after staying one night at the farm and returned to Sydney where we enjoyed a few days of high summer. It was glorious weather. Our hotel, The Intercontinental, was simply breathtaking and had stunning views of the harbour and the Opera House. Our honeymoon was nearing its end but we intended to make the most of the last few days.

It was really perfect. We wandered the streets of the City, visited the wine region at Hunter valley , drove around the Blue Mountains, cruised down the Hawkesbury river, ferried back and forth across the harbour, took in the surfing beaches and immersed ourselves in the cultural heart of the place- Opera, Art, History, Aboriginal origins. It was such a total experience for us and of course, for Max, literally a Terra Nova, a place whose existence his world had never even dreamed.

We both enjoyed the wide and excellent cuisine on offer, the glorious wines and the gamut of nighttime entertainment- from elegant restaurants to edgy nightclubs, from designer bars to spit and sawdust pubs. We wandered King's Cross, its ethnic restaurants and lurid sex trade; I persuaded him to take me into a strip club and he nearly died when it proved to have both male and female acts. He was not amused. But we laughed about it later.

On the penultimate morning of our stay, I woke early with a sudden familiar awareness. "Shit!" I mumbled, as I pushed Max away and rushed to the bathroom. My movement obviously disturbed him because he wandered in a short while later. I am not sure which of us was more surprised.

There I was poised with a Tampax, just about to insert it, and he stopped dead. I looked up at him and he blinked rapidly a few times, muttering, "Forgive me..."

"It's OK, Max, no big deal," I grinned but his face showed me he didn't think that the case at all. I looked down and saw the drip of bright red blood trickle down my inner thigh and realized he was still staring at me as if in shock. "Max...it's a tampon...just a tampon...you do know what that is, don't you?"

He nodded. "Of course I do!" But somehow his terse reaction made me think he didn't.

I completed the procedure, figuring that he better learn and fast, cleaned myself up and washed my hands. "What do you think a tampon is, Maximus?"

He cleared his throat and looked away, embarrassed. "It is a roll of soft cloth or wool that a woman inserts inside herself..." I smiled with relief. He did know- so what was his problem? Perhaps he had some old-fashioned notion of it not being seemly or something. "....it is impregnated with some tincture which is an abortifacient. That is how conception is prevented...."

"WHAT?" I gasped. But then I remembered. That was exactly how it was done in his day. Such a tampon was worn before and after intercourse. Most men were only vaguely aware of what was contained therein and presumed it was an abortive when in all probability it was a contraceptive- did they really imagine women wanted to willingly risk their lives with multiple abortions? But men had always mistrusted the power of such things and thought they were proof of a woman's infidelity - so women kept quiet about them largely.

He had stormed out of the bathroom and slung on a pair of jeans to stand on the balcony and look out to sea. I followed him out- I could see by the way his hands gripped the rail that he was very angry.

"Max...that is NOT what I was using! Look!" I showed him the box and pulled out the instructions. "It is what a woman uses when she is bleeding. Internal protection- no more rags and having to stay in our rooms for a few days..." He read the information, grimaced and handed it back. I pulled one out, ripped off the wrapper and showed it to him. "It's just soft compressed cotton- it contains no chemical or anything..."

He coughed, looked very embarrassed and blew out air slowly. "Uma, I am so sorry...I had no idea...it never occurred to me to ask what women did about such things today...forgive me for acting so churlishly with you..."

I ran my hands around his neck and he pulled me close. "It's OK. You just didn't know, that's all. I should have talked to you about such things. It never occurred to me, either..."

He ran his hands over my stomach. "Are you in discomfort? Do you need any particular food or drinks? We will stay close to home today...I don't expect you feel like much exercise..."

I laughed. "On the contrary, I feel like a good swim or walk to ease any cramps. Not that I suffer nowadays from much of that, thank God. Is this allowed? You and I getting so close when I am unclean?" I teased.

Max snorted. "Don't believe all you read in those books of yours. Do you know many people in my time thought women were more fertile when they were bleeding? No wonder birthrates were so low..." We both laughed at that; he had definitely improved his knowledge somewhat since he arrived. "Don't worry about this, Uma. It will be fine. Sometimes it just takes time...there's no reason for you to feel that something is wrong..."

At first I wasn't really listening to his words, enjoying an early morning cuddle in the sunshine. Then they dawned on me.

"What do you mean, worry? Why should I be worried?"

He pulled away and rubbed his beard. "I thought you might be concerned that we had not managed to...I mean after all the times we have...for the past three weeks...you and I have been...Uma, you know what I mean..."

I squinted at him and then the penny dropped. "You thought that I might be pregnant? You are worried that you and I haven't managed to hit the jackpot? You are thinking that something might be wrong with me? Oh, Max..." Then I thought of all the implications...

"Sometimes it is simply the Gods' will..."

"Crap. You know it. I know it. You fuck every day for a month and you will knock your woman up if you are both fertile. Max...there is nothing wrong with you or me...it's just that...you must understand this is normal, Max, for modern women...I am using a contraceptive tablet..." I ran back to my handbag and pulled out a strip of pills. "You've seen me take these so many times..."

"I thought they were vitamins or something..." he muttered quietly, taking a step back from me and I could tell by his face how angry he was. "You are taking potions to kill my seed?"

I groaned. "No! It doesn't kill your seed! Or my eggs! It just makes my body think it's already pregnant! It is not an abortifacient. Max..."

"You stopped yourself conceiving without discussing it with me. Why?" His face was stony now and I realized how serious this issue was to him.

I ran my hands through my hair. "I've been taking this pill for years, Max ...women just do these days. Just in case..."

He frowned. "In case? In case you what? Meet a man who falls in love with you and offers you his life? Or in case you meet a guy in a bar one night and fancy a fuck? I am your husband! What is the point of it all if you deny me the right to be a father?"

There was a mountain between us. How can you begin to explain? "I simply didn't think..."

"You knew I wanted children!"

"Yes...but not immediately! Surely you can see that? I mean we've had 3 weeks of bliss- do you really want me to be pregnant and throwing up and feeling lousy and then a baby comes and we have no privacy..."

"Yes. Marcus was born less that a year after we were married..." I eyed him up and he should have taken more notice of my expression.

"What are you trying to tell me? That Selene was a better wife? Fuck off." I stormed off the balcony and he ran after me turning me round.

"I did not say that. I did not mean that. I merely..."

"For a start you spent nine months of the fucking year on campaign...so what the fuck did you care if she was pregnant? Secondly when she dropped the kid, she had a houseful of slaves to do the honours. I do not. I have a job, a house to run and a baby to look after on my own..."

"So your job means more to you than I do?"

"I did not say that!"

"You implied it."

"LISTEN TO ME!!!"

"Stop shouting, you are hysterical!"

"And you are a fucking piece of opinionated, arrogant, unreasonable, selfish male shit!"

"Stop your profanity. It ill becomes a lady."

"Fuck you. You prick. Piss off." I turned, picked up some clothes and went into the bathroom to dress.

Maximus knocked on the door. "Uma, you have to calm down...it is the time of the month...you are over emotional..."

I screamed.

"You see? You will do yourself an injury..."

I groaned.

"Please come out...I promise I will not mention this again..."

I sank down the bathroom wall and pulled at my hair. And then I came out.

"Should we go down to breakfast?" Maximus asked tentatively. "Perhaps you would like a cup of tea?"

I smiled sweetly. "Yes, that is second on my list. After your head on a plate."

He finished dressing and we went to breakfast. He ate in silence while I pushed my food around the plate. It was tortuous. I felt sick. I knew if I opened my moth I would cry so I simply swallowed hard and said nothing. I wasn't quite sure I remembered what we were arguing about.

After a while, Max put down his knife and fork and said. "I did not mean to make you feel that I was judging you..."

I sniffed.

"I know it is different for modern women...I just...I want you to be the mother of my children...I am not a young man...I cannot wait for ever..." His face looked so pained that I wanted to grab him and hold him and tell him I would do anything for him.

I nodded.

"You see... children to me...are what life is about...family...I have no one but you...I can't relate to the Family like others can...I know it would be hard...but I will do everything I can...I promise...Do you want children, Uma? I thought you did?"

My lip was trembling. I tried to answer but nothing came out. 

"Are you crying? Did I make you cry?"

I shook my head. And bit my lip.

"Then why can't you speak?" Only a man could make such a stupid observation.

I just started blubbing and could see Maximus looking about him in horror. He hasn't got the faintest idea how to deal with such things. He reached for my hand and started to say something but then seemed to think better of it. After a while, he handed me a table napkin, I blew my nose and he said. "Now eat. You will feel better."

I stared at him. "Better? How will a bowl of muesli make me feel better?" I snapped. He looked at me very intently and then I realized that he was stifling a laugh. I pouted. His shoulders began to shake. I said, "Are you laughing at me?" He nodded and started to laugh openly.

"Why are you laughing at me, Maximus?" I demanded angrily.

He held his hands up and struggled to straighten his face. "I am sorry but you are so adorable when you are like this. So fierce and belligerent and righteous and utterly beautiful and illogical and..."

I know I should have slapped his face but...I just couldn't. I just started to laugh too and the pair of us sat there sniggering like a pair of stupid school kids. I don't think either of us quite knew what had started this off. Something about me being on my period and him wanting a baby? Who the hell cares, anyway?

We decided not to pursue the morning's topics at the moment. He clearly thought that in my current emotional state I was out of my mind anyway and he was also not going to be budged - so we simply ignored it for the time being. However we were not out of the woods yet.

"So what do you want to do today?" My heroic general asked me.

"I was going to go shopping." He looked at me as if I had said that I was going to run naked around Circular Quay.

"Shopping? They have shops in London," he replied with his oh-so-logical smug face.

"I am aware of that. But they have Australian shops here. I want to buy some things I can't get in London..."

"Such as?" I don't know how I haven't brained him by now.

"I want a koala bear. A kangaroo. How the hell do I know- I want to look around the shops! Maybe buy a few prints for the house...Maximus - people shop. If you don't want to- fine, I'll go on my own and have a perfectly lovely time without you dragging around after me with a long face."

He frowned. "And what am I supposed to do all day?"

"Your problem. Go and find some barbarians to conquer- there are plenty here- it's the colonies..." I stood up to go and he caught my hand in his.

"You really are the most infuriating woman...no wonder I love you so much," he grinned. I tossed back my hair petulantly.

"Well, are you coming or not? I need a bodyguard to carry my swag. Think you're up to it, generalissimo?"

Later that evening, after dinner in a seafood restaurant facing the Opera House, we stood leaning on the rail watching the activity in the harbour and the lights of the opposite shore. It was a windy night, a cold blast whipping round the quay. Maximus had his arms around me and I snuggled close. He is always so warm. His mouth nipped my earlobe as he planted small kisses on those sensitive places and I shivered; he laughed softly.

"This is such a beautiful place! I shall miss it. Just think tomorrow we go home and in a few days it is back to work and the realities of life."

He agreed. "It will be a long time until we get such an uninterrupted period alone together again like this. We must prepare for times apart."

I sighed deeply. "I don't know how I will stand sleeping alone again..."

"...So I am forgiven?" he muttered. I arched my neck to rest my head on his shoulder; he stroked my throat sensuously with his fingers.

"Have you forgiven me? This morning, I was...unfair ...to put it mildly."

I heard his low growling chuckle. "I think I can weather it; I have known worse cruelties than that in my time..."

I turned in his arms to look up at him. "That's the point, Max...you have known worse - and I of all people should respect that." I blushed, felt embarrassed. "I do want to have your babies. I have always wanted that- such a strong urge to carry your child...I just wanted some time alone with you for selfish reasons. I just wanted us to be able to do whatever we wanted for a while. But...I've been thinking...I'm going to throw the pills away tonight. We'll have to be careful for a few months and then we can try...maybe three or four months' time? Is that a good enough compromise?"

I searched his eyes but needn't have worried; they were soft and tender and his mouth echoed their sentiment with its gentle pout. "That is more than fair. More than I deserve. But what do you mean...be careful for a few months? I don't understand."

"I mean...don't get pregnant- they say you should give time for the hormones to leave your system...we'll have to use condoms..." His groan broke into my words.

"I dislike them intensely. I will pull out..."

I smiled and shook my head. "You will wear one and take no chances, my darling. You've used them before..."

"Not with my wife!"

I placed my fingers on his lips. "Do not even go there, Maximus, if you know what's good for you...I am still suffering from PMS...you know, tigers are one thing- but a woman in the mood I was in this morning would have ripped your head off in the arena."

He grunted but did not gainsay me. Taking my hand, we walked slowly back towards the hotel, brushing past crowds embarking and disembarking from late ferries. He pulled me close and wrapped his arm around me to keep me warm. I cuddled up closer and slipped my left arm round his waist. It was good to wander unknown and free from his usual reserve. Just then:

"Hey, mate- anyone ever told you that you look like the Gladiator?"

Maximus looked up, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Not in the past eighteen hundred years, mate." I burst out laughing and the bloke scratched his head, obviously unsure whether he had been razzed or not. We moved on before he worked that one out.

Back in the welcome warm portals of The Intercon, we made for our room and an early night- we had to check out and take a plane by the following mid morning. I finished off the packing while Maximus showered and then slumped in bed reading; I wondered to myself when the division of labour had begun, but shrugged the thought away. He would probably have been hopeless at arranging the cases anyway.

As I slipped into bed later, he looked up and smiled; I curled up with my head in the hollow of his arm and peeked through at his book. He muttered, "Uma...read your own novel. It is most annoying when you start that..."

"Start what?"

"Reading bits out while I am reading. Or telling me you have already read it and..."

"I already read it and..."

He threw the book on the floor and tossed me back, tickling me until I squealed, then pinning me beneath him. "I warned you..."in his sternest growl.

I laughed. "So this is a punishment? I intend to be naughty every day then...but before you get any ideas...I am not in the mood...not tonight... and you really wouldn't want to go there tonight..."

Maximus rolled back with a grin. "You'd be surprised how courageous I can be....but I will respect your condition. Here, let me rub you." And he pulled me against him to massage my belly gently through the satin of my slip. He really is capable of the most unexpected tenderness. I lay there a long time in his arms while he tended me and we spoke softly of the future. The honeymoon was over and real life was about to begin.

Back in London and we settled into our new home and the rather bizarre experience of marriage with a man who came from a time so remote that he didn't even have a point of domestic reference I could tap into. I decided that I was simply going to have to wing this one. It was like teaching someone to swim. I could spend weeks supporting him with weights or I could just throw him in and see if he could make it to the other side. I decided on the latter. In all fairness he must have decided that whatever hit him he was going to say nothing but 'Yes'. It did become a little wearing at times but it got things done. I'll give you a flavour:

"Max- we need to change the hall carpet."

"Yes."

"Max- can I get the garden redesigned?"

"What?" I repeated the question. A pause. "Yes."

"Max, I saw a really good offer on a dinner service of fine bone china..."

"What is bone china?" I told him. He coughed. "Yes."

It went on and on until I got things as I wanted them. He clearly thought it was all completely unnecessary but decided that complaining would get him nowhere so he gave in. He is bothered neither by money nor possessions. He wants to give me what I need. He figures I must know what that is. Thus he says 'Yes." A bit of interest would be nice but I can't expect too much. My Mum thinks I am so lucky that I should count my blessings. My friends ask if he has any brothers- I sort of sidestepped that one. What can I say? Maximus doesn't cook. Wash up. Do housework. Go shopping. He does like the garden but would prefer to grow food in it rather than plants. In fact he is the archetypal chauvinist around the house except...he doesn't really know he is supposed to do anything else.

One Saturday I got a bit fed up of him lying around reading while I raced around trying to do the marketing and the chores. I marched into the study and stood hands on my hips. "Do you think you could clean the toilet?"

Maximus looked up and frowned. "I suppose I could. What does one have to do?" The penny dropped. I had to tell him things. He was used to taking orders. So that is what we did from then on.

"Here is the shopping list. Buy only what is on it and don't leave anything off. If you are not sure, phone home. Have you got that?" Mostly he got it right.

"Max...you have to take the dishes out and stack them in the cupboard when they are dry. They don't do it themselves..."

It resembled training a rather willing puppy- he had to have regular rewards and encouragement- but I reckon I did a remarkable job with him and in a few months he was completely housetrained and surprisingly good at most things. He even had a go at cooking. The thing was he had no prior conceptions about how a man should behave in this situation. I realised that he wasn't actually a selfish pig like he might have appeared at first. He just wanted someone to show him how it had to be done.

I think he actually liked the whole domestic thing once he got the hang of it. At heart he is a simple man who wants to build a home and a family and live quietly by using his strengths and talents. And that is exactly what we did. Although he was away a lot and worked long hours, whenever he was home, he rolled up his sleeves and we simply shared the burden; it was a welcome relief for him. We both came to love those times when we just worked together on our life and then ate a meal, drank a bottle of wine and made love half the night. What was not to love about it?

His job was stressful, loaded with responsibility and highly demanding. On occasions it was even dangerous. He carried a weapon; a handgun, but it was the knife he kept secreted that I know he would go for first. It was always present. He could not understand a man without arms to defend himself and his family. I did not try to dissuade him. I had no right even to dare counter his feelings on that one. He still slept with a knife beneath his pillow. I learnt to live with it although it shocked my mother no end once when she went up and made our bed.

I worked hard and lived for the time we were together. It was all I cared about now. His car in the drive. Picking him up from the airport. Meeting him in town for lunch or dinner. Waking up to find him beside me when I expected him to be gone all night. Life just settled into this kind of pattern and we were so happy. I used to sit on the tube in the mornings and look at other people and think, "How come I'm so lucky and you have to live in your little boring lives?" I know that sounds stupid but I simply didn't want to be anyone else in the world but me. I had the perfect life, the perfect man and the future just lay there calm and enticing before me. If I sound a self-satisfied smug little cow then I probably was. But I was a young bride- I was allowed to be.

MAXIMUS

People in this modern era have too many possessions. I find the urge for acquisition quite bewildering at times and Uma, I am afraid is no different from the rest of her contemporaries. She must have everything just so - even things I know we will rarely use. Was Serena like that? I don't really know. A man in my day never really knew what went on in the running of a household. She worked with the slaves and things were done. I expect the behind -the-scenes story would have opened my eyes quite a lot but I never bothered to ask. Nor would she probably have given me an honest answer. We both accepted our places with little demur.

I must say running a house is an onerous business and have on occasion wondered about the wisdom of employing a servant but Uma would never accept it- she just gave me a withering glance when I suggested it. But we manage and I have even found some pleasure in building up our home together even if there are some chores that I avoid like a dose of camp pox.

But having said that, I am not often at home for long periods - I work late into the night and am traveling regularly. Uma works fairly equitable hours with the occasional late night before some big show or event so she does spend a lot of time alone. I worry about her. She uses the tube- which is dangerous at night after the evening rush hour has subsided - and walks back from the station in all weathers. One reads such stories in the newspapers these days of attacks on women and girls. My wife was never left alone or unprotected...and then I remember and realise that it is impossible to guard anyone all the time. Look what happened to Serena in the safety of my own lands?

I make sure she has her phone on at all times and ask her to call me and keep the line open if she is on the street late at night alone. She does so and I know that she is relieved to hear my voice- she is scared sometimes. The house stands empty all the day and she goes in alone to it -cold and uninviting- when she should be greeted by the household and be bathed and fed... I sometimes long to give her the ease and courtesy that I feel my wife deserves, but she does not expect it nor would she be able to cope with it if it were there- it would seem intrusive to her.

I miss her when I am away. I sit in lonely hotel rooms or restaurants and feel bleak and desolate. I used to miss Serena but there were always people around and things to do. This existence seems to me to be so empty at times with strangers exchanging words or even intimacies to ward off the solitary hours and the unfriendliness of this society. Bonds seem to be so slight, families broken and scattered, friends without the links of comradeship of old. They live in too fragmented a world without the cleaving together that people had to form to protect their kin from outsiders. Life was difficult - and cheap- but still...there is much to commend each age and much to criticize.

When I return she is invariably waiting for me and runs to the door or down the stairs. If she knows I am coming then she always has something planned. She is very inventive and a constant surprise. One night I came home and she was wearing some oriental outfit, silk, her hair piled up- she had cooked a Japanese meal which she made us eat cross-legged around a small table with some curious atonal music playing. One has to play along for the rewards are invariably worth it- she knows how to create a mood whether it be dancing girl, Japanese geisha, South Sea Islander...and sometimes she is just herself, invariably wearing something that drives me to distraction or occasionally nothing at all. How is a man, tired and jaded, to resist such comfort?

She sings and dances, laughs and teases, treats me like the only thing in her world. I can scarce believe that such a fiery and independent woman can love me with such single minded sureness. But it is how I feel about her too. In her eyes, in her arms, I see the weight of years roll away and rediscover the boy I used to be. She is so precious and must be safeguarded from all harm. I shall never let any worry touch her.

I lie on naked on our bed watching her undress, admiring the way her deft fingers peel away her clothes and her slender form wriggles out of what she is wearing- women strip so differently from men. She pulls her hair from its band and shakes, lowering her head to brush the long dark curls and then tossing her head back; it falls like a silken wave about her face as she wanders about in her underwear, cleansing  her face with creams and doing the myriad other things that women have to do before they sleep.

She showers and then drifts out wrapped in a towel and still busy with some task. I ask her- "Come to bed!"- she tuts and waves me off, applying a hand cream, smoothing something down her legs, spraying perfume- when all I want is her natural scent in my nostrils. I suspect she is doing it on purpose even if there is an air of haphazard ingenuity about her. She will not be hurried as she leaves her trail of discarded clothes and cosmetics behind her.

I pick up a book, but it does not hold me; I switch on the television but soon tire of its fatuous bleating images. My eyes return to her and she is wearing a slip of  fabric, a black sheer robe that hugs her slender body. I can see the outline of her legs as she walks about, the dark neat shadow of her pubic hair, the small pert nipples pressing against the soft material. A pulse beats in my temple and I swallow as she strides over to the bed. I fix my gaze on the spot on her neck where her throat lies, where I long to place my lips and feel the quiver of her arousal.

Then she breaks the moment, jumps onto the bed and flops like a child down on her back with an "I am shagged out!" exclamation before scrambling to curl up next to me. I let her lie there, her head nestling in the curve of my armpit, her fingers sleepily wandering over my chest and then she looks up at me and she is serious now.

"I love you. I love you so much."

I reach for her, tilt up her face and kiss her gently while she rises over my body and lies upon me, her slight weight a welcome burden. I push her to sit so that I can watch her as she crosses her arms, lowers the straps of her gown and lets it fall to the waist, dropping onto her hands so that her breasts hover above my face and her thick hair leaves a curtain around our intimacy. I push the edge of her robe up until her legs and thighs are bared and her warm moist sex oozes against my lower belly.

We kiss, deep, tongue searching kiss, our hands searching for the touch of each other's flesh. We want to climb inside each other- become the other - in our need. Our mouths follow the quest of our hands, the scent of the other driving us like a dog after the game. Our voices moan and mewl, sigh and grunt- now soft, now lewd, now desperate- as we tempt the other nearer and nearer to the coming.

But teasing and toying will not still the beast...we want more. I want to be deep within her, she wants to lie pierced on my love. We meld together and fall helplessly into the deep waters of passion, opposite natures but complementing the act. I push, she arches; I thrust, she writhes; I grind, she tightens. My manhood flexes and hilts, tip kissing depth, her darkness trembles and pours forth its soothing oil. This is something beyond what men and woman do in the selfish search for relief and pleasure. This is another realm entirely when love becomes not what you receive but what you give; each gift returned tenfold to the other.

I drown in her. I die in her. I pour out my life essence. She stops breathing. Her voice is stilled. Her body lies sprawled and bruised beneath my weight. Pain is pleasure, pleasure is pain, love is infused with desire and hope and longing and promise. Words are inadequate.

We lie in silence, she across my chest half asleep and humming softly, I on my back, stroking her hair. There is no need for words or thanks or any trite sentiment. Our bodies have sung an overwhelming song of commitment. Only one phrase remains for me to say. I ask only that I might end every day with these words on my lips. "I love you."

As she sinks into sleep still clutching my hand, I wonder if I am like other men she has known. Sexual images abound in this world; we are bombarded from all sides by the lure of naked men and women. Magazines and books inform us of our technique and how we must improve out skills if we wish to keep a lover. Do I even have a technique? What is it that I might not know? I cannot bring myself to read these books, they seem so unmanly. I have loved many women. But were they passive in my day? Would they have told me I was a good lover even if I were not? My wife knew only one man in her life until...I shall not think on that. Lucilla was a virgin when I took her. Other women, slaves, whores, mistresses down through the years- would they have ever said if I was lacking compared to other men? Of course not -and yet what did I know, a rough soldier who spent his life with men? Uma would have this knowledge and knows what she wants from a man- would she tell me if I ever failed her? Perhaps there are things that I might do that would please her more? Am I too fast? Too hungry? Too selfish? Too indelicate? Like the others, does she not dare to tell me in case my frail male self-esteem is damaged? Does she love me too much to be honest?

I watch her face smiling in her sleep, wrapped up in my arms and I believe that we have just shared pleasure equal to each other- but whoever knows? I do not confide all my fears in her and must expect that she keeps things back from me too. That is the way of the world. We each know our place.

UMA

I forget to mention the baby thing, didn't I? Well, we got back home from honeymoon, I made Maximus buy a king sized box of condoms and he dutifully complied with my demands. Ten days after we got home, he was away for two nights in Glasgow and I nearly died without him. I rang him about ten times a day until he switched his phone off- I think I disturbed him in an important meeting. Then he rang me later and I just cried on the phone. So he called me a few times to check I was alright. I swear we were pathetic when I think about it. I mean this was the man who used to be away from home for years with about one letter every four months. I think he likes the idea of phones now.

So he came home on the Thursday night; I heard his car and before he had time to put his key in the lock I was down the stairs wearing ...well, very little. It happened a bit quickly from then on. Maximus kicked the door closed, ripping off his tie, I unzipped his pants and we were down on the floor and doing it right there in the hallway. Lying there in the aftermath, all lazy and loved up, smiling inanely in post orgasmic bliss, Maximus suddenly muttered something.

"Hmmmm?"

"I said...we didn't use one of those damned rubbers."

I jumped up with a scream. "OH MY GOD!!!!" I ran up stairs and washed myself in the bidet praying. 

Maximus followed me up and flipped on the shower. "Something wrong?"

I gave him a look. "Max...we didn't take precautions!"

He shrugged. "Once. What could happen?"

The answer came three weeks later.

"I am delighted to tell you that you are most definitely pregnant." I had been married nine weeks and I was officially five weeks' pregnant. It was July and I was due on March 15th next year. I would give birth ten months after I got married. I walked out of that surgery like someone who was in the midst of a singularly surreal dream. The weirdest thing of all about it was this- I was completely and utterly overjoyed by the news. I took a cab to Maximus's office and called him down. He was shocked, thought something was wrong, hit the street running. I was waiting in the little park across the road. He crossed the road and came over.

"What is it? Are you all right?"

I just burst into tears. He held me. "What is it? Tell me...please...tell me..."

I brushed the tears away and tried to calm myself. My hands reached for his face. I touched it and knew that this was the moment. "I'm pregnant, Max, it was just confirmed. We're having a baby..."

He didn't react as I had expected at all. His face sort of stiffened, his eyes blinking a few times and a stunned incomprehension seemed to hit him full in the face. Even his body rocked a little as though he was riding a punch. I think it was only at that minute that I began to realize exactly how much he had wished to be a father and how singularly important this news was to him.

"Max...say something...you're not angry, are you?"

He opened his mouth to speak and then paused, taking a few steady breaths as if to compose himself. I had never seen him so completely nonplussed before. "I...didn't realize until this moment how unlikely I thought it was that I would ever be a father again. It seemed to me that perhaps my seed was too ancient, that I might have been rendered infertile by my crossing...I came so far from a time so long ago that I should be nothing but dust and air...how can I give life to a child of the third millennium?"

I marveled not for the first time at the fears that he keeps inside and will not even share with me. I held him to me and struggled to restrain the tide of tears that my already emotional state roused in me.

"Oh, Max- what things you say!"

"I am overjoyed...beyond words...I cannot frame a response to tell you how my heart sings at this news. It is the greatest miracle of all. To think that my child will be a link with today and the far off past. Imagine- his paternal grandparents died more than eighteen hundred years before he was born and yet he will bear their genes. What a notion!" Maximus looked skyward in an instinctive act of prayer. I knew what he was doing- he was calling on Jupiter and Juno, the heavenly parents, in praise and wonder; he was probably also searching the skies for a sign- he watches the appearance and the flight of birds still with that tendency to augury. Suddenly he turned his attention to me.

"But how do you feel about this? It is sooner than you had hoped. Is it safe? What did the doctor say? Are you well? I am thoughtless... we should sit down..."

I smiled. "I am fine! I'm not ill in any way- a little nauseous and dizzy at times but nothing that isn't expected. And I am happy. Happier than I believed possible. Does that sound likely to you? Do you realise that now it has happened I feel like it is the one thing I have always secretly wished for but never allowed myself to dream. Feminism may be one thing but nature will have its way. Oh, Maximus- imagine- we are three now! Our love has made another life who will walk through the world as proof of what we mean to each other. We are never apart now- you are growing inside me wherever I go. It just blows me away. It's like it has never happened to anyone else before...I know that's stupid but that's how I feel...!" I began to cry again and he laughed, throwing his arm round me and hugging me close.

"Have you got to go back to the Museum?"

I shook my head. "I took a day off. I wasn't sure how long the appointment would take."

He looked at me quizzically. "How long have you suspected this?"

"Days...I didn't want to tell you until I was sure...it might have been a false alarm. That would have got your hopes up only to dash them again. I wouldn't do that to you..."

Maximus pulled out his cell phone and made a call. He was his usual brusque self. "North. Something has come up. I won't be back in the office today. Call me on this number if anything urgent comes in- otherwise don't disturb me. And cancel all my appointments. I'm not available."

Then he turned to me. "So I am free. What would you have me do? Lunch? Day in the country? Go to see your parents?"

I cuddled against him. "Let's go home. Just be alone and let this sink in. I don't want anyone else in the world around me but you today."

He nodded and took my hand; we walked to the underground car park. I knew most clearly that the tide of my life was turning. Nothing could ever be the same for me again.