"You look troubled, my Lord. I fear you have been overdoing it. Let me look at you..." Galen approached Maximus who was sitting half naked waiting for the doctor to examine his wounds. He sat at the window gazing out aimlessly.

"Nothing. There is nothing wrong with me. Stop your fussing."

The old doctor laughed. "You are the worst patient I have ever had. Something is on your mind. Tell me!"

"I am bored. Bad-tempered. Frustrated."

"Are you sleeping?"

At that Maximus tsked. "I have slept enough for the grave..."

"Then you aren't. Perhaps you need a stronger sleeping draught..."

"One that dulls dreams..." he muttered.

"Dreams? Is that the problem? It is a natural part of the healing process. Maximus, you suffered a terrible experience both in the arena and in the horror of what happened to your family. It all takes its toll on a man, even one such as yourself, seemingly inured to horror. Nightmares are the way our minds seek to understand the things we have seen and the burdens we have had to bear...in time they will pass..."

Maximus laughed bitterly. "Not nightmares. They hold no fear for me. I am more than used to nightmares..." He turned his head again and his eyes drifted to the garden below where the lady Lucilla sat with her ladies and Aurelia. The women were laughing and chattering gaily about something. Galen followed Maximus' gaze and then began to chuckle.

"Oh...those kinds of dreams...."

Maximus frowned at the perspicacity of his doctor. "I did not say...."

"...No, but that is what you meant. Your night terrors have been of a rather erotic nature, I'll warrant. That is also a typical by-product of healing, Maximus. Your body is feeling stronger and your desires are making themselves apparent. It must be a long time since you had a woman. It can be arranged. There are many slave girls on the estate. I will have a word with the master..."

"No...I will not use these girls..."

"Then I am sure we could arrange a visit one day to a decent house. Maximus, it is important. Men must have their release. To inhibit one's passions is not helpful to rebuilding one's strength."

In his mind, Galen suspected that there was a simpler answer to all this but was unwilling to raise the delicate matter. Maximus needed to invite the lady Lucilla to his chamber one night. No doubt she was the focus of his dreams. It was obvious to all who had attended the general how much she loved him. During the worst of his illness she had barely left his side, no task too intimate or personal for her to carry out for him. The man was too honourable. He had clearly suffered through the loss of his first family but it was time for him to leave aside his grief. His body and his mind were telling him that. Surely it would not be long before he came to understand it himself?

"I will give it some thought. If it does not pass. But for now, just give me something to send me off at night..."

That evening there was a dinner to which Maximus received an invitation. It appeared Quintus was back on the estate and there was to be a gathering in his honour, Maximus wondered exactly what had brought him there,. It had occurred to him to make his excuses but he was bored and it would be moderately entertaining to talk to people again. He could also not deny that he was curious about developments back in Rome. No matter how much he told himself that such things were no longer his concern, he could not pretend that he did not wish to know whether in the end his sacrifice would ever have any impact on the future. Empire or Republic? He suspected the legions were already gathering and some new Caesar was about to impose himself on the world. They had been naïve to imagine otherwise.

So he joined the diners, arriving somewhat late at a time when everyone else was already milling about with their goblets well filled. Entering the large triclinium, bending slightly as he ducked beneath the curtain, Maximus gave the room a shrewd study and saw the usual social conventions in play. He had never been entirely comfortable in this environment even if he had learnt to keep his head down and acquit himself decently enough.

Quintus noticed him and smiled his greeting over. Maximus still found it hard to meet the man and keep the sneer of disdain off his face. But that was the way it worked amongst those in the patrician world. They were unfailingly courteous in public and then behind each other's back would jostle and backstab without a second thought. "Still alive, Maximus? The gods must love you," Quintus hailed as he strode over to welcome the new arrival. Maximus winced at the old familiar greeting, so common amongst soldiers.

"I doubt it. For if they do, I would not wish to see the fate in store for a man they hated..." he murmured in reply. Quintus looked uncomfortable, giving him a nervous smile.

"Maximus, it is good to see you so much recovered. There seemed no hope for you that day..."

Maximus gave him a tight cold smile. "I am sure you have greatly rejoiced at my good fortune. How goes it with you? How are your wife and family?"

"My wife died last year. Childbirth."

"I am so sorry. I had not heard. I grieve for your loss. I shall remember her in my prayers. The child?"

"Lived. Another girl.  I seem incapable of finding a woman who can breed me a son."

The comment seemed distasteful to Maximus but typical of most men in the circles in which Maximus had moved. Only a male child counted for much, other than the potential of bartering off the daughters in marriage alliances. The trade in flesh was not restricted to slaves. Women were just as much sold to the highest bidder, whatever class they were born into.

"There is still time. Your career continues to prosper?" Quintus did not fail to hear the condescension in his tone

"I have been offered the Felix legions. Pertinax declared in Britain; he has Didius Julianus' support. If the republic is to be restored, the Senate needs a champion. As Praetorian Prefect, I am not a senator so there is no conflict of interest. It makes me an ideal candidate...I am to be given the command of all legions based in Italy for the preservation of the status quo...Balbus and Gracchus are consuls..."

"You would defend Rome against an emperor? Altruism, Quintus? Are you in danger of adhering to a principle for once? Somehow I very much doubt it..."

"...You maybe as condescending as you like, but of the two of us I will ultimately have done more for Rome than your arrogant superiority ever did. Had you taken a leaf from my book, you might still have your wife and son - and your military command. What did you achieve at the end of the day?"

Maximus leaned forward so that other guests could not hear his cutting reply. "Stay away from me! You live because I allowed you to. Make no mistake, one word from me to any of my men, and you would have been dead in the arena along with your master. I wish you well of your rise to commander-in-chief. It is of no interest to me any more. My service is complete. I do not intend to involve myself again."

With that, he moved away, leaving Quintus scowling in his wake. It would appear Maximus had not learnt his lesson. One should always take the hand of the man of the moment. His generosity will only be extended to you once. 'If you are not with me, you are against me,' he thought to himself still seething with anger at the rebuff from a man who was now a nobody. Maximus was a freedman, had lost all his standing, was penniless with his estates in ruins. Who was he to spurn the greatest in the empire?

The dinner was served and the men took their seats on the couches. There were a few young officers present, all under Quintus' command, invited to make up the numbers. Lucilla was present briefly but then withdrew to dine with her ladies behind a curtain. This gathering was more than just close family; it was not seemly for an unmarried woman to sit with them, even if she was a widow.

For much of the meal, Maximus was quiet, listening to the scheming and intrigue without contributing more than his attention. When asked for his opinion, he deftly avoided committing himself with a pleasant but firm reply. He was not up to date with affairs and did not think he had anything valuable to add to their well-informed viewpoints.

"You should consider your future, Max," Balbus opined in an overly friendly manner. "You're well on the way to recovery. The army needs its skilled leaders, now more than ever. The Felix boys would love to see you back. How about it? Quintus needs generals and you'd be an asset...a bit of a come down from the commander-in-chief but better than a gladiator, hey?" He added with little regard for the feelings of the man he addressed. But that was a typical patrician attitude; to him Maximus was a commoner, an equestrian of dubious family who had been lucky to get as far as he had done. He should consider this a great opportunity to begin the restoration of his public career. "Let's face it, you've got the mob behind you and we could do with a little of that. They're never great fans of the Senate, but with your name to bandy around, it will give us another angle. It isn't as if you have a better offer...your fortune is in tatters..."

A muscle twitched in Maximus' cheek but he held his temper in check, bowing his head in acknowledgement of the 'kindness' of the Consul. "I have no plans to resume a military career. There has been too much bloodshed in my life already. I intend a quieter life from now on," he answered meekly.

"What of your duty to Rome, man? Are you going to let other men shoulder the burden?" Balbus barked back.

"I was under the impression that I had fulfilled my duty already. It is high time Rome accorded me with my service and left me alone. I leave the task of the future to the men who wish to scramble for what is remaining..." His answer was cold and carried with it a clear insult to the Consul and the other men round the table; his remark had been overheard and an awkward moment passed while an attempt was made to cover up his impoliteness.

But when the conversation had moved on, Balbus made a further comment to Maximus in a loud stage whisper, meant for all to hear. "Don't imagine that you were saved out of the kindness of our hearts, general. You're as much of a commodity now as ever you were in the arena...."

The two men stared at each other and Maximus' eyes flared for a moment before he closed down. "I am always at the command of my betters..." he offered back meekly with a hint of mockery in his voice.

Moving from his seat, he went to relieve himself and by the time he had returned the party had broken up from the formal couch arrangement, groups having formed, some gaming, others talking: all were drinking heavily. Maximus avoided the political set and found himself with the younger men; Quintus himself joined that group and they began a game of dice. "So, I hear congratulations are in order, Prefect!" One young officer, Aemilius Cinna, remarked. "When is the betrothal?"

Maximus looked up. So Quintus was taking another wife, was he? Number three. No doubt another young maiden whom he could impregnate and ignore. 

"They say she's a beauty..." Publius Sentius added.

"And for once, they would be right. A virgin, too, so they claim, although I intend to demand an examination. You can never be sure."

"Young?"

"Young enough. Sixteen or so. Tits on her to rival Venus..." Quintus added, splashing wine into his glass; he was well into his cups.

"They say she's Galeria's daughter. She'll know how to move her hips then," Aemilius laughed, moving his own groin lewdly. "Sure you're up to it, general? You can always count on your officers should you need to delegate..."

At the mention of Galeria's name, Maximus suddenly realised that the girl in question was Aurelia. This pack of dogs were making crude allusions about the daughter of the host whose wine they were happy to imbibe! But that was not the worst of it. That sweet child was promised to Quintus Metella? The very idea of it made a wave of revulsion sweep over him. Did the girl even know what was in store for her? He sat in silence trying to take in the revelation. It made him wild with anger. He had a sudden urge to kick over the table and go for Quintus, strangling him with his bare hands.

It was an excessive reaction to the news. Why should the betrothal of a senior general and a young noblewoman bother him in the least? Aurelia was of an age and could hardly be expected to marry some young country boy. It made sense that alliances were being forged at this time; many would say these were necessary for the safety of Rome and its citizens. He had no right to object.

And yet the thought of Aurelia in the hands of Quintus Metella made his blood run cold. He had known the man a long time. They had once been close friends but even then, Maximus had not much approved of his friend's attitude to women. Quintus liked his women young and he liked them to scream. He had lost count of the number of captive women who had gone through his hands over the years. When he had been the commanding officer he had even intervened and warned Quintus to keep his perversions out of camp. How could he accept the lovely, pure Aurelia submitting herself to that treatment?

"Anyone fancy riding into Siracusa tomorrow?" Publius suggested. "They say the whores there are the best in Italy. African girls, Asian beauties, women from India and the Near East...they know tricks that will make your eyes bulge out ...cunts as tight as a skin...."

"Why not? It's not like the lovely Aurelia will be giving me much for months... let's get an early start...who's in?" Quintus asked around.

It was a step too far for Maximus, the thought of whoring in this dissolute company. Mumbling a comment, Maximus excused himself and went out for some fresh air into the garden, still struggling with the knowledge he had just gleaned, the coarse comments of the men ringing in his ears. He was no prude. There had been a time when such behaviour had been fairly standard for him; he had been no different from others. But how could he return to that now? The image of the sweetness of love with his wife, even if it was now a distant memory, would be besmirched by such carousing. And he could not shake the belief that to use another body for entertainment and amusement, if that feeling was not reciprocated, was a shameful thing to do. He had hated being a toy of a mob. What did these women really think of the men who took advantage of them as if they were nothing but desirable dolls?

"The company not to your taste?" Maximus spun round at the sound of Lucilla's voice.

"I needed fresh air. It....it was hot within..." he muttered, aware that he was betraying his own unease in the stumbling over his words.

"They are a tedious lot. Either you are stuck with the old men and their unctuous patronising or the young studs and their endless crude talk. And then there is dear Quintus..." Her assessment was accurate and mocking. Lucilla had always been such an intelligent woman. Nothing ever missed her gaze.

"Did you know?" Maximus demanded.

"Know what?" Lucilla asked, watching him with that seductive expression that always made the blood pound thickly through his veins.

"...Know about this marriage of Quintus. To little Aurelia..." he replied, his disaffection evident from the way he spat out the words.

Lucilla laughed lightly, in that way which she had that always made him think that she was making fun of him. "Of course. It has been discussed for weeks. I take it you do not approve? Does it offend your pure sense of honour?"

Maximus grunted. "She is a pretty child and he is a man without delicacy where women are concerned. What kind of father barters his daughter....?"

"...One who wants her to live. She is safe with him. We are all safe with him. Maximus, do not be naïve! These are dangerous times. We all must do our duty to Rome..."

He tsked and strode away, pacing up and down, his manner showing his annoyance.

"You don't like Quintus. Nor do I. But what does that matter? He will not bother her much. The next months and years he will most likely be on campaign. She will live in Rome and have nothing to do but bear him a son. It isn't such a difficult life. I know it well..." she added, reminding him of her own marriage to a man as older as her father.

"Has she been informed?"

"Yes. She seems little interested in either Quintus or marriage. She accepts that it is her lot in life. I don't think she's as upset as you apparently are..." Lucilla reminded him that his objections were pointless - and unusual to say the least. He must have realised that this was a likely occurrence.

He shot her a piercing gaze. "Do you imagine she has the least idea of what happens between men and women?"

Lucilla laughed softly. "She understands enough. The rest she will find out soon enough. I suppose I should be grateful that I had the best of instructors...but all it taught me for marriage was what my husband lacked. Aurelia is more fortunate than most not to have any point of comparison...." Her hand stroked his face and touched the unfamiliar smooth shaved cheek. "You look younger without the beard. As you looked when I first met you..."

Maximus eased himself away, frowning at her references to their past. "That is not the point..."

"Oh, but it is, Maximus. And instead of concerning yourself with little girls perhaps it is time you began to consider your own future. And that of those who love you..." She lowered her eyes and took her leave of him. He remained in the garden, breathing deeply of the fragrant night air, staring up at the clear sky studded with stars.

"Let me be!" he muttered to himself. "Why can they all not leave me alone and let me be?"

Up above him, Aurelia sat at her window, Verilia brushing her hair out as she did each night. The girl sat in her night shift and watched as Maximus and Lucilla talked below. "Do you think he is in love with Lucilla?" Aurelia asked Verilia.

The old lady glanced in the direction in which she had pointed. "I imagine they are lovers. She has rarely left his side during the illness. Only a wife or mistress takes on such duties. Her maids tell me that she and he were lovers long ago in their youth. That when he was a gladiator, she sought him out and they resumed their relationship. Who could blame them? They are both widowed and alone. A handsome hero and a beautiful tragic princess? It would be wonderful if they married and had a life together. How many people have the chance to marry for love?"

Aurelia felt a sinking feeling as Verilia confirmed her suspicions. What else could she imagine? That Maximus had any interest in her? And even if he did, it was too late for that. Quintus was back and tomorrow they would be formally betrothed. Her fate was sealed.

"Why the long face? He was never going to make an offer for you, child. Even had Quintus not done so first, Maximus Meridius does not strike me as the kind of man who is looking for a virgin bride. He wants a woman to love who knows how to love him back. A woman like your aunt who has won the right to his love. Be glad for them, Aurelia..."

"I am glad," she whispered. "So very glad, that he might find peace." Would that she could know that kind of peace herself!

Aurelia moved from the window, scrambled into bed, let her servant cover her over and blow out the lamps. Rolling onto her side, she squeezed her eyes shut and recalled Maximus as he had been on the beach that day. He had still looked a little pale and she had recognised here and there when he had grimaced or seemed to show evidence of weariness or discomfort, quickly concealed. He was a proud man and hated that anyone might recognise his weakness. But he had still looked so fine to her with that strong manly face, etched with solid edges and lined with life. His eyes were so beautiful, deep and soulful, revealing so much of the compassionate man he was that his bearing concealed. And then that sweet, almost pretty, mouth which could break into a wild boyish smile and transform him from serious man to charming youth in an instant.

Something about him touched her in a way she couldn't explain. It was as if she had always known him. As if he was not as other men. As if he opened a door inside her that she had never known existed. His image from moments ago as he had talked quietly with her aunt filled her mind. Lucilla had stroked his face in an intimate and tender way. Even to her eyes, untutored in the behaviour of lovers, she knew that it hid a greater knowledge of each other. Where were they now? Had she followed him to his room? Were they even now naked by candlelight writhing together on his bed in some carnal act of passion?

Throwing back the covers, Aurelia tiptoed to the window and peeped out. Maximus' room was across the garden at the other side. The shutters were open but she could not see into the room from this angle. There was a candle flickering. The dark and erotic glimpses of her imagination reappeared to haunt her. Her heart beat fast as prurient thoughts flittered around. She could not quite picture the act but she had seen the wall paintings, the mosaics and the other depictions so common in Roman houses. It was usually a woman, on her back, hair loosened and her legs wrapped round the man who lay buried in between her parted thighs. The thought quickened her pulse and made her own body loosen and flood. Dampness oozed in her own dark secret places, warmth and sensation bloomed at the pit of her belly. Her nipples tingled. She imagined lying on a soft bed and Maximus descending on her, his face close to hers and his body hot and rough. He would kiss her, his fingers playing in her hair, she would run her arms over his broad shoulders and bring him even nearer...

And he was suddenly there, standing on his balcony, having strode out through the shuttered doorway. Aurelia shrank back into the shadows and watched him. He was alone. Lucilla might be inside but something in his demeanour told her he was not with anyone. Maximus had discarded the formal tunic than he had worn to the dinner, a knee length himation in the Greek style, and was clad only in a loose pair of knee breeches, a soldier's rather coarse outfit.

He stood in the moonlight staring at the sky, his lips moving slightly as if in prayer. Silvery light reflected off his mighty torso - even in the after effects of his near fatal wound, he was still an impressive figure of a man, muscled hardened and sinewy, broad and stocky, the width of his chest and shoulders set on surprisingly lean hips and shapely legs. Semi-naked, Maximus appeared more formidable to her innocent eyes; it was hard to ignore his physical presence and virility. As she watched him, he leaned forward on the balustrade and hung his head down. He looked sad.

Aurelia imagined that he was longing for Lucilla who must have refused his request to join him that night. It was not seemly in a house of relatives for her to behave in a scandalous way with a man to whom she was not even promised.  But he looked as if his soul still burned for her. He was restless, pacing back and forth, running his hands through his short hair. Finally he sank onto a chair, buried his head into his palms and sat there thinking for a long time.

Aurelia closed her shutter softly and ran back to her bed, her heart pounding. She felt as restless as he had looked, lying wakeful on her pillow and letting her imagination run riot again. Maximus lying beside her, dressed only in his coarse breeches, her hand reaching out to play with the unruly curl of his dark hair as he pulled her body closer...

....Out under the moonlight, Maximus sat deep in thought. He must leave soon. Lucilla was not to be put off. She expected that he would resume their friendship and had more or less made him an offer. It would be easy to take her up on it. He was lonely. Beyond lonely. Desolate would be closer to how his soul felt since he had begun to recover.

 It was ironic that through all the time he had lived and struggled as a gladiator, apart from the initial grief he had felt at losing his wife and son, there had always been a purpose driving him. It had replaced the need for companionship, love, happiness, comfort, pleasure, satisfaction and any other emotion left to him. Hate and revenge had filled him. The cold, bitter desire to make Commodus - and any other man who tried to stand in his way- pay had replaced sentiment and compassion. It had drained away the last vestiges of the man he had once been and made him into a remorseless killer who fought for no cause and recognised no duty but that to himself. Others had allied with him, used him for their own reasons, tried to reach him even, but nothing had ever made him feel again in all that time. Nothing but hatred.

But now feeling was returning. Like a broken limb on the mend, his body was beginning to recognise the prickling sensations of life. Flooding into him came, along with the memories, the regret and the sense of total irreplaceable loss that had once made him desire death as the only relief. But he was not dead. Ahead of him stretched his life, like a path through a bleak and hostile desert wasteland. He had no idea what he wanted to do, less even what he could do; there was nowhere he wished to go, and he had nothing with which to sustain himself. His entire existence - his life indeed - was at the mercy of those at whose charity he was kept. It wasn't that he was afraid of hardship, poverty even. The degradation that he had known and even the strictures and discomfort of years on campaign as a soldier, had taught him how little anyone actually needs to survive. He could live stripped of his wealth and rank easily enough.

The fear that gripped him now stemmed from his sense of displacement. He had always belonged to something with a clear and fixed sense of his own duty and responsibility. A soldier since boyhood, discipline honed into every fibre of his being, a purpose and a direction in everything he accomplished. He was an officer, a friend, a husband, a father. Even as a gladiator, he had belonged to a regime that was familiar. He trained, lived with other men, his day was marked by duties, he worked towards a goal, he acquitted himself in the arena and then went inside himself and planned his revenge....Now all that was gone.

He was not sure if he was a man who could live without a cause to fight for or an aim to pursue. Some people let the winds blow them this way and that but such an existence made him feel lost and dislocated, alienated from others and afraid of what he might become. He knew there were passions and tempers in him that could just as easily be warped into evil actions if he gave them rein. How far down does a man have to go before he no longer trusts that he is anymore the person he strove to be all his life?

They had offered him a return to the army, senior rank, and a chance to ensure that Marcus Aurelius' last wishes were carried out. It would give him that purpose back, a decent life, a position in society, a future. He should accept it, swallow his pride and his hatred for men like Quintus Metella. He should marry Lucilla and give Lucius a father, the role model that the boy so needed. One day, if the gods willed it, he might be blessed with another child of his own body. A chance to start again. It might not be all that he had hoped for - but then was anything ever what we had wished? He could never recover his former life. Perhaps a man should settle for what he is offered and make the most of it? If he had only done that back on the night the emperor had been slain than would he indeed have been a happier man today? Had Quintus been proved right in the end?

Maximus raised his head and caught the slight movement of a window closing across the garden from him. Had someone been watching him? He wondered if it was Lucilla still keeping her lonely vigil in the vain hope that he would make that great step and knock softly on her door one night.

But on consideration he realised that it couldn't be her: this window was on the private side of the villa, the area of the house where the family had their own rooms.

Surely it could not have been Aurelia? The child must have been abed hours ago. He took a deep breath and willed away her golden image. But she would not disappear. He thought of her as she had been that day on the beach. That image had haunted his dreams ever since. He was ashamed of the nightmarish visions that plagued him since that day. Wild, sexual, earthy couplings with that innocent girl, images of ripping away the loose housedress and forcing her down on the sand to submit to him. The beach had become the arena. He had dreamed himself raping that girl on the floor of the Colosseum, a crowd hissing and jeering as he rutted into her savagely. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he recalled the sordid shame of it all. What kind of sickness of his brain made him have these thoughts about that girl? Or was he indeed changed into a beast only fit for killing and depravity?

If so, Commodus might have his revenge after all. He had done his work well.

In her chamber, Lucilla was also wakeful. The interlude with Maximus had left her nerves jangling. She might have managed to brush his comments aside as if he was just being overly punctilious in his presence but as soon as she had left him, the crushing significance of his reaction made her gasp for breath. He might not realise it - so typical of Maximus! - but she had recognised straight away what was driving his annoyance. It was twofold. He was attracted to her niece and affronted that the man standing in his way was none other than Quintus Metella. How like a man to pretend to be concerned for her well being and for the truth to be quite different! Of course, they never admit, even to themselves, when it was their lusts driving their actions! Certainly Maximus Decimius Meridius wouldn't face up to such an ignoble motive in himself.

Lucilla paced up and down in a mixture of anger and anxiety at the realisation. She knew that he and Aurelia had talked a few times and had thought nothing of it. Lucius had mentioned the day when he had turned up at the beach and lunched with them. At the time she had dismissed that as just her bad luck. She had intended to spend the day with him when there would have been few people about the house, only to find that he himself had also left the estate. She had even imagined that he might have gone looking for her, thinking she had joined the group at the beach. What a fool she had been! Maximus had been drawn to the little girl and no doubt the little hussy was doing everything she could to attract his interest. After all she was her mother's daughter.

Immediately Lucilla knew that was unjustified and cruel of her. The child was innocent of any premeditation in this. She had barely ever been in the company of men before and if she had developed an infatuation for Maximus then it was hardly her fault. What woman wouldn't be attracted to such a man? It was he who should know better. Yet, even as she thought it, she knew full well that Maximus would not have encouraged Aurelia or even been aware of such things developing between them. He had a curious innocence himself for such a formidable warrior.

But he also had a healthy libido.

All those years ago, when they had been lovers, he had not, for all his sense of honour and duty, refrained from making his move on a princess. That ambivalence had always intrigued her. For a while he had held himself apart, always grave and upright in her presence, rarely speaking and certainly never giving her so much as a smile - and then he had suddenly changed, sweeping her off her feet and making passionate love to her, calculated to turn any young woman's head. Lucilla smiled at the memory. Ah, but he had been so young and carefree then! But still, at his core, had been the man he was destined to become. How much does a man really change? Or a woman for that matter? They might learn to wear the cloak of maturity but in their hearts they were still the young things they once were.

What could a girl like Aurelia offer Maximus? Strictly speaking, she was no longer a girl. She was a woman, mature and enticing, beautiful as a goddess and still with the dewy bloom of youth, irresistible to all men, especially those battle hardened men who had lacked female company for so long. She could give him her glorious body, her virginity, her purity - gifts that Lucilla knew he would prize and cherish. She would be a symbol of rebirth to him, untainted with knowledge of his past, a chance for him to start anew in some other existence. She would bear him beautiful sons - her childbearing years were all before her. There was much this simple girl could offer.

Lucilla picked up a highly polished bronze mirror and observed her own reflection dispassionately. She was still beautiful, she knew that. But she was not young. Would that matter so much to Maximus? Lucilla doubted it. He was not a man to be easily swayed by a flirtatious glance or a seductive smile. Then why did he not love her as he had once declared he did? Had the years in between thrown up too many obstacles? Was he still lost somewhere in his grief for his wife, unwilling to openly acknowledge that his heart might still be there for the taking? Did she represent all that he now wished to forget - the terrible struggle against Commodus and the foul cost that his loyalty to Marcus Aurelius had demanded of him?

There was still time to change things. Maximus was not openly in love with Aurelia - she suspected he was hardly aware of anything other than appropriate avuncular concern as yet. He must not be encouraged to spend further time with her or become any closer than he now was. The girl had to be removed from his sight.

Tomorrow was Aurelia's betrothal anyway. Once that took place, the girl was formally promised to another man and Maximus would never presume to...or would he? She herself had been betrothed to Lucius Verus since childhood; it had been common knowledge. It had not stopped Maximus then - and a betrothal could be broken. These matters were not set in stone. No, Lucilla thought to herself.  It was not enough. The marriage had to take place quickly so that there was absolutely no question of any lingering affection between them. One thing Lucilla knew for sure. Maximus would never take vows of marriage lightly. It was against everything he stood for. Once Aurelia was safely married and living in Rome with Quintus Metella, Maximus would soon set aside this casual interest and she herself would be free to approach him again. Lucilla knew he must be lonely. How long since he had known the comfort of a woman? What quality of life did he have left to him now? Surely there was enough between them that in the end he would realise that the only chance either of them had for happiness in this life was together?

The betrothal was a simple and formal affair. Lentulus Priscus took his daughter's hand and proclaimed out loud to the entire household assembled in the atrium that he pledged his only child, Annia Aurelia Lentula Prisca to Quintus Cornelius Metella and she would be henceforth known as his sponsa, his promised, until the auspices deemed that their union should b sanctioned by the rituals of marriage. For now the two houses were bound in pledge, later to be bound in the conjoined blood of their future offspring.

As on all such occasions, the rite was followed by a splendid feast, no expense spared and guests invited from all the leading landowners of the area. Some might say the lavish nature of the celebrations was excessive for a mere betrothal but in these dangerous times it was well to announce your allegiances. Both sides knew that there was much to be gained from the proclamation of the future ties in the days to come.

Throughout the long hours of merrymaking, Aurelia had a very distant and tedious role in the proceedings. She had to sit on a lone chair, set on a small dais, bedecked in finery, her face covered; her role merely that of symbol. Custom demanded that she neither spoke nor formally acknowledged any but her father and her future husband, and her time with even him was restricted to a brief moment. While the rest caroused, ate and drank, she remained like a statue, a distant onlooker to the spectacle which was about her body passing from the ownership of one man to another. She was on display to advertise this very transaction. The beautiful prize that would bind this family - and perhaps an empire - together.

It was during the long hours of her ordeal that Aurelia for the first time gave her future some serious thought. The more time she spent with Quintus, the less she liked what she saw. He had not once made a move even to glance at her, given her a smile of encouragement or just a kind word. Aside from the proscribed rites, he had ignored her completely. She was of no interest to him other than the alliance she offered - and the virginity that he would claim. Despite the heat of the room and the heavy clothing she wore, she felt a cold shudder of revulsion. The nearer the event came the more she was beginning to realise that to give herself to a man was not as easy as she had hitherto imagined.

The sex act had always been a vague notion in her head that had for the most part interested her little. She had never expected to like it very much for most women seemed to merely tolerate that aspect of marriage as if it was just something that men desired. They had to give their husbands children and once they had mostly the men left them alone and amused themselves with their mistresses and slave girls. She had presumed she would feel much the same, lying there without much complaint while her husband did what he had to do. But recently her emotions seemed to be at war with this image that she had created. She was beginning to see that it might not be a burden to let a man touch you - in fact it might be the most wonderful sensation possible.

What was becoming clearer to Aurelia now was that it wasn't that she was indifferent to men but that she was indifferent to most men. For Quintus Metella her dislike ran even deeper. He actively repulsed her. Not because he was particularly ugly or unattractive as men go but that he was unkind and unfeeling. She would never be more than an object of his desire. Now, a man like Maximus, however,...

Aurelia shifted slightly, straightening her back and easing the veil until it gave her a tiny vantage on the room. From where she was sitting she could see Maximus sitting at a table near the back of the room, his back against a column. He was watching the rest of the party with an inscrutable expression on his face: she wondered what he was thinking. As she watched he drank from a cup of wine and then indicated to a slave to refill it. It occurred to her that he might be drunk even if he was not showing any of the signs that many men did. He seemed remote and deep inside himself somewhere, distant from the celebration, almost disapproving of it, a sullen presence disdainful of the rest. For the first time she sensed an arrogance in him that she had not expected. She thought she quite liked it even if it scared her a little to see this colder and more ruthless side to him.

Just then he looked over and he caught her eye. He knew she was observing him. With a slight raise of his hand he held up his cup and then took a sip; she was unsure whether his action was meant to sympathise, congratulate or mock her. Surely not the latter? But then he smiled, a little half smile meant only for her. She saw him clench and shake his right fist in a gesture that suggested he was saying to her to be strong. Her eyes filled with tears. He understood her plight. Of all the many people in this room, some whom she had known since her earliest days, he was the only one who felt pity for her today.

She clenched her own right fist as surreptitiously as she could; his terse nod showed that he had seen and approved her reaction. In just one moment he had given her a tiny wellspring of courage amidst the dawning desperation. Whatever else happened, Maximus Meridius would always be her friend. Somehow she knew the time would come when that would be of great significance in her life.

"If you have a minute, Lentule, I would speak with you..." Lucilla approached her brother-in-law during the festivities. He observed her suspiciously for a while and then asked her to join him in his tablinum. Moments later she entered the cool book-lined study and took the chair he indicated. He sat down behind his large desk and folded his hands.

"There was something you wished to say to me?" He did not really trust this woman. Like her sister she was a creature of the court and a mistress of intrigue. Unlike her sister, though, she was very intelligent and rather skilful at political manoeuvring. Potentially she was a much more dangerous woman than his pathetic wanton of a wife had ever been. Despite the fact that they both had need of each other, Lentulus suspected she was already planning other escape routes and would soon enough drop him if there was a change in the wind.

"Indeed. I wanted to congratulate you on this auspicious day for the fine prospect that this betrothal brings to us all - and for your continued and generous hospitality..."

He held a hand up. "Let us consider that all the expected niceties have been said. I know as well as you that we mean few of them. The deed has been done. It was necessary. There is no need for any of us to pretend it is particularly to our liking."

Lucilla raised a carefully shaped eyebrow. "Ah, but has the deed been done? This is a mere betrothal. Much could happen in the coming months before Quintus makes it official and takes young Aurelia to bed. And even then it may take a while before a son is born. What if matters change in the interim? If he should decide he no longer needs us? We must move this along if we are to be sure of our hold over him..."

"What can be done? We are dependent on the auspices being read. Until the priests give us a suitable date..."

Lucilla scoffed at his remark. "The priests will say anything we ask them to say if we pay them enough gold. Gracchus will arrange that."

Lentulus grudgingly admitted that he knew she was right. Such matters were rarely left to chance. "Then what do you suggest?"

"Quintus will return to the City. Wait a few days and then send Aurelia to him. Say that it is the belief of the priests that the marriage take place immediately or dire consequences will befall...it would hardly be a lie. Imagine the alternative? Quintus could die in battle and then we are at the mercy of his rivals who would want us all out of the picture. Or he might change his allegiance and prefer a bride of a different family - Aurelia is not the only winsome maiden who might aid his rise to power. There is also the chance that he may decide to drop the Senate and make his own bid - and if he should succeed he might see us as much as a curse as a blessing...We must bind him to us and quickly!" She argued vehemently. Everything she said made sense even if none of it was really her main concern. If she won Maximus, she felt sure that he would be enough to protect her and Lucius from any danger.

"He may very well have imperial ambitions either way. Marriage with Aurelia will not make him the Senate's man if he should decide otherwise!"

"True enough. But that only makes it more vital that he is bound to us first before he dares make that stand."

Lentulus gave the matter some thought. "But if Aurelia turns up suddenly for some clandestine hasty marriage he will know he is being manipulated. Metella is no fool or he would never have survived this long..."

"...Exactly, but what choice would he have? He would know our game but we would be warning him that we know his. And he could not refuse us without openly declaring - and he is not yet ready to do so...it is the only way..."

She was right. Lentulus rested his chin on his palm and weighed up the many factors. He was not a man given to spontaneity and rarely ever acted without long consideration. Only once had he given into impulsive action and it had almost destroyed him. But he knew that there was no time to be lost and that Lucilla's case was well made.

"Leave it with me. I shall set the wheels in motion. Don't mention anything to Aurelia as yet. The less she understands the better. And let's all hope that she conceives quickly and bears him a son. For he will hold this against us, make no mistake. He is not a man to forgive us easily for forcing his hand. If she gives him another daughter, he might..."

"...Time enough to deal with that should the matter arise in the future. We have to deal in absolutes not hypothetical questions." She refrained from pointing out that there were many other factors to this complexity that she had not included, the main one being that Aurelia was beginning to think for herself and that Maximus Meridius was no longer just the shadow that he had been these past months. Another potential tragedy loomed on the fringes of all this which she had to avoid at all costs. Why not tell Lentulus and warn him of this extra problem?

The answer was simple. Lentulus might decide that Maximus was a better option. He himself was not a man who was fond of the court or even wanted his daughter to take centre stage. For all his coldness, Priscus loved his child and wished to protect her. Lucilla could not take the chance that he might abandon them all for the sake of Maximus as a son-in-law. Few people could ignore his formidable qualities as a champion.

It was decided. Lucilla informed her host that she would herself leave the estate on a short journey for a few weeks to remove herself and her son from the events and thus distance her involvement. Lucius required a better tutor now that he was maturing and she wanted to send him to Greece to somewhere remote where he would be safe. She had just the place and man in mind, but it was to be kept secret. Only when he was safely settled away from harm would she return to the estate and they would then turn to the matter of Maximus and the role he might take in coming struggle. Lentulus presumed she meant persuading him to return to the army. She did not contradict his assumption.

It was Verilia who quietly indicated to Aurelia that she needed to bathe and change into a loose shift; the doctor would be coming to examine her soon. Aurelia paused and set aside the book she had been reading, staring up at her companion. "Doctor? There's nothing wrong with me..."

The older woman reddened and seemed upset. Immediately, Aurelia understood that this was something connected to her betrothal. What's this about, Verilia? Tell me!"

Verilia sat on a stool by her side and stroked the girl's face tenderly. "You are like a daughter to me...you know I would never do anything to hurt you if I had a choice?"

Her words did not bring the girl any comfort. Whatever was about to happen, she already knew it had to be unpleasant at the least and was probably down right painful. There was so much she was ignorant of in these matters - and her lack of knowledge annoyed her. She was a well educated girl, intelligent and clear-headed but this fuzzy vagueness on the subject of the physical union between men and women confounded her. If only she had a better idea of what was expected her or someone would tell her precisely what she had to do or what would be done to her. As it was, the hesitant hints and nervous references to the topic just made her uneasy and increased her anxiety.

"What will the doctor do to me?"

Verilia took a breath. "Quintus Metella has spoken with your father. He has insisted on proof of your virginity before he will discuss the marriage. Despite the fact that your father and aunt have attested to your purity, he demands an examination. Aurelia, Galen is a fine doctor, not some local quack. Quintus insists it be him and not a midwife whom he suspects might be prepared to say anything if your father puts pressure on her..."

"But I am a virgin! I have never known a man!" Aurelia insisted.

Verilia smiled sadly. "He is not prepared to take your word for it. If you do not succumb to this examination - and if the proof should not be there - then there will be no betrothal..."

Aurelia threw her head back in contempt. "Then I wish I had been soiled...!"

"Hush, do not say such things! Who knows who is listening?"

"What will he do?" Aurelia replied, chastened, aware that she had no choice but to obey.

"He will ask you to lie down and part your legs. Then he will feel inside for your hymen...and look for evidence of penetration..."

Aurelia shuddered. "Will it hurt?" 

The slave shrugged. "Not much, but it is not a pleasant experience I'll warrant. Quintus has sent someone to witness it. A Greek freedman of his who has medical training. There will be a few other people present..."

"And they will all be allowed to gaze freely on my...private parts...! To touch me there....?" She laughed bitterly. "Then I surely shall be some strange kind of virgin who has opened her legs for a room full of people..."

"Shush...sweet child...it is usual in such marriages...the rest  of the party will be females...your father has asked not to be expected to be present...although usually the father is witness too..."

The girl buried her head in her hands and sat like that for a few minutes. Then she stood up and began to strip off her robe. "Let's get this over with. The sooner the better..."

Some time later, the party entered her rooms. Aurelia sat on her bed nervously and observed them, dressed only in a sleeping shift. Verilia led in the Greek, a grim faced, dark- skinned man of about fifty, Galen whose gentle courteous bow made some headway in setting her at ease, Lucilla, pale and strained, her brows knitted obviously unhappy at the ordeal she was involved in and a few of Aurelia's own maids.

Galen washed his hands in a bowl that had been set up and then coated his fingers in a gelatinous substance. "Goose grease. It is pure and refined and will ease the passage." Aurelia nodded, trembling. "Please...lie down, child. If one of her ladies could roll up her shift and cover her groin with a cloth...." Verilia bustled forward and used her broad back to shield the girl from the watchers as she complied.

"Close your eyes and relax...it will soon be over..." she whispered to her charge.

"Now raise your knees and drop your legs wide....excellent...Cython? If you could wash and apply the grease, too, sir?" The freedman shrugged as if he thought it an unnecessary request but complied anyway and then he moved to the other side of the bed.

Galen deftly inserted two fingers and felt around. Aurelia gasped and then bit her lip, determined not to cry out even though the sudden intrusion hurt and added to her shame to be thus displayed to a room full of people. He nodded. "Intact..."

"Let me..." Cython replied and stepped forward, repeating the process with much less care. This time she could barely repress a moan as he pressed on her lower abdomen and thrust upwards. His answer was another nod.

Then the two men asked Verilia to hold a lamp above them as they examined her vaginal area. "There is no sign of penetration recent or in the past. The girl is chaste. The examination is concluded. Cover the child over."

He waited until she was redressed with a heavy gown over her shift and seated again. "I apologise for this intrusion, mistress but the news is good. We shall leave you in peace now. Thank you for your cooperation and bravery..." Galen squeezed her hand kindly and bowed to take his leave. Lucilla hurried to her side and held her close. Cython nodded and then added. "Watch her now...no mistakes between now and the wedding..."

His cold cruelty made Aurelia face him up, her spirit fired from its humiliation into proud assertiveness. "How dare you speak to me like that, you little worm! Be careful when I am your mistress. It would not do well to get on the wrong side of me...!"

Lucilla smiled at her retort which left the freedman swallowing down his evident anger - and even Galen's twinkling eyes showed his amusement. Aurelia merely held her head high as the others left her to the care of the women.

Two days' later, Aurelia wandered around the grounds near the villa in the mid-morning. She had just waved goodbye to Lucius and Lucilla who had left with a troop taken from the remaining Praetorians. Lucius was to go to Greece to continue his education. The parallel was not lost on her. He was beginning his public life as she was about to embark upon her private. What was waiting for him seemed infinitely more interesting.

Lucius had become her friend in the few months that he had lived on the estate. He had joined her in the schoolroom bringing his own tutor and they had studied side by side. It was the best thing about her father that he insisted that she continue her education until her marriage. He believed that it would make her more serious-minded if she concentrated on worthy subjects like philosophy, the natural sciences, and history.

Aurelia did not accept the conventional wisdom that women's intellects were limited compared to that of men. Lucius was a bright boy but no more clever than she was. A woman like her aunt Lucilla was every bit as capable as the noblemen with whom she mixed - and oft times Aurelia thought her aunt's wit showed up some of the more pedestrian thinkers among the men. Aurelia recalled how Maximus had told her she reminded him of her grandfather - and he had been one of the most scholarly men of his day, a philosopher-jurist of note. If his blood ran in her veins, why should she not be quite as capable of abstract thought as men?

And if she was their equal intellectually, then why not in other ways? 

She knew she was bitter over Lucius leaving her behind. He was only eleven, a mere child to her, but nevertheless, he was treated as if he was older and more capable than she was. She was also lonely now that he had gone. Child he might be but he was mature for his age and they had struck up a friendship. Now she was back to her solitude again and it was harder than ever to adjust to the tedium. Even harder to accept that the alternative to it was marriage to that man.

She always thought of him now as THAT MAN. On the late afternoon of their betrothal, Quintus Metella had ridden out with a few of his officers. She had expected him to have spent a quiet hour or two with her and her father. It had seemed the ideal opportunity for them to get to know each other better. Her father had warned her to be ready if Quintus wished for the audience. But no. Instead, he had taken himself off to Siracusa - to visit a brothel, so she had later overheard from the slaves. A man of his age and reputation, in the company of those wild young bucks of his guard? She disliked Publius Sentius and Aemilius Cinna intensely although they were both handsome fellows. But when they were around, they followed her with hungry eyes, giving her looks that seemed to sear right through her, as if they were imagining her naked. Publius had bumped into her in a corridor one day - she was sure it was a contrived meeting - and he had blocked her route, pressing against her and gazing at her through hooded eyes. There was something about his behaviour that she knew was not right. It made her feel uncomfortable and in some ways humiliated, as if he had been mocking her for her womanhood, even as he desired to possess it.

That is how little she mattered to her future husband. He had coldly ordered her to be examined, like a slave at an auction, refusing to take the word of respectable people that she was unsullied. He allowed his men to look at her in an unseemly way, to lust after her as if it increased his virility in their eyes - and spent the night of his betrothal whoring with other women. Verilia had told her not to bother her head about it. The less demands he made of her the better - a wife was wise if she welcomed such trips, for it generally meant her husband would not press her for too much intimacy. She had asked Verilia then was sex so bad for a woman then? Verilia had merely looked embarrassed and muttered an oblique response. "It rather depends on the man who marries you, my dear, but we are better if we do not hope for too much in that respect..."

Strolling idly around the outhouses and barns, Aurelia drifted in the direction of a large paddock set by the stable yards. There were a number of slaves, grooms she expected, hanging onto the wooden fencing and shouting encouragement to someone who was riding in the centre of the field. Curious as to what was causing the excitement, she crept closer, keeping in the shade of one of the barns. It was not a part of the property she would be expected to frequent and she did not want to inhibit these young men and boys in the natural habitat.

There was a wild horse being broken in the paddock; it was this that had caused the excitement. It was a fiery young black stallion of a beautiful shiny polished ebony but a dangerously independent beast, rearing up eyes rolling and trying to dislodge the rider.

Aurelia held her breath, sure the rider would be thrown and possibly even trampled. 

It was Maximus! The sudden recognition of the man made her gasp and her heart beat even faster. Surely he should not be doing such a dangerous thing, a man barely recovered from life threatening wounds?

She realised why she had not recognised him straight away. He was dressed only in his army breeches, bare-chested and dusty from where he must have already rolled in the dirt. His normally neat hair was ruffled and his face sweaty and dirty - he also had not shaved and his swarthy bristly cheeks looked strange to her where he was normally so urbane and smooth. She eased herself onto a hay bale and drew her knees up to her chin as she watched his spellbinding ride. He had the reins lightly in his right hand and his left arm was raised as if for balance. It was evident he was in no way alarmed by the frightening bucking and rearing that the horse was making to cast him off.

Maximus was laughing, enjoying himself immensely, totally unafraid and, she had to admit, as secure in his seat as if he was sitting on the most tame mare. Aurelia realised this horse would not win this battle - and Maximus already knew it. The boys watching were cheering him on and throwing comments out which suggested a high level of affection between the general and the slaves. He must spend a lot of time out here with them and he did not seem at all bothered by their apparent lack of deference.

"Mind your bollocks, sir!" She heard one groom shout.

He answered with a laugh and a curse thrown in their direction which made them all smile broadly. It fascinated Aurelia to see this completely different aspect to this complex man. She also realised that what she had taken for informality between Maximus and the slaves was nothing of the sort. These men clearly held him in high regard - a genuine respect - not the cowed humility of the slave to the master. She wondered if this was in any way similar to how he was with the men who had been under his command, able to treat them as comrades without them ever forgetting the respect and obedience he would require of them. No wonder he had been such a great leader of men and so highly valued by her grandfather.

Even to her inexperienced eye, Aurelia could see that the fight was going out of the stallion and little by little his anger began to subside. Throughout the war of attrition, Maximus, although forceful and clearly the master, seemed almost gentle with the animal, his hands light on the reins and not using a whip or stick to beat him. As the horse settled, he sank forward almost prone along the sleek back and appeared to be whispering in the horse's ear while tenderly stroking the flowing black mane.

The horse came to a stop and then Maximus urged it to trot calmly around the field a few times more; sliding off the back - he was riding without saddle, merely gripping with his strong thighs. He threw his arm around its neck and carried on talking in that low soft burr of his. The horse nickered and nuzzled against him. He was not broken but tamed. Aurelia realised there was a real difference.

Grooms ran forward to take the horse and congratulate him for the feat. It seemed that they had believed this stallion unrideable before. "How're your balls, sir? Bet they're bruised...!" One joked.

Maximus cupped his groin crudely and squeezed. "Everything in working order...!" They all chuckled at his reply. His action drew Aurelia's attention to his attire and to what it revealed of him. His body at close quarters was splendid to behold: wide shoulders, broad chest, thick sinewy waist, golden brown hair peppering the skin of his pectorals liberally and spearing down to thicken and fan out where the breeches rested low on his hips. She could see the swing of his heavy genitals against the soft fabric which was already damp with the sweat that ran down his face and chest, glistening in the sunlight, streaking the dusty skin.

The girl found herself staring at him, unable to take her eyes from the fleshy bulge between his legs or the swell of his thighs pulling against the breeches. His legs were bare below the knee, well shaped and very hairy, soft curling golden brown like the similar fuzz on his forearms and the slightly darker shade of hair in his armpits. Every facet of him drew her absorbed gaze. He made her feel weak, he made her blood pound through her body, he caused her to break out in a sweat and for her secret places to moisten and itch.

Striding towards the stables, Maximus shouted some instructions to the boys and smiled to himself, lost in thought. He had not observed her presence. Aurelia tried to press herself against the barn wall, hoping he would move on by without detecting that he was being spied on.

But as he neared her, his head snapped up and he stared straight into her eyes. She saw his surprise - and discomfort as he momentarily cast his eyes down over his body. This was entirely an inappropriate style of dress for a guest in another man's household and really was only suitable for male only company, such as he had been used to in the army.

"What are you doing here?" His initial comment was sharper than he had intended, barked out in a military style. The girl blushed and shrank back. He winced at his brusque manner to such a gentle child.

"I was just...walking around...I did not mean to intrude..."

"This is hardly the place for the lady of the house. Go back to the villa. Your nursemaids will be looking for you..."

She bridled at his dismissal of her. "I am not a child in need of nursemaids. And may I remind you that you are a guest on my father's lands? I may go wherever I wish..."

"Somehow I suspect your father would not quite agree with you if he were here now. It is not seemly for a young woman to be about half naked men, and well you know it..."

"Then put some clothes on. The lack of propriety is yours not mine!" Aurelia replied facetiously.

Maximus gave her a sharp look; he did not relish being chided by anyone, least of all a young woman. Snatching up a loose shirt that was lying over a barrel he shrugged it on, glaring at her. To his surprise she merely laughed and jumped down from the bale to stand facing him.

"You don't like to be crossed, do you?" She asked boldly.

He did not respond to her teasing. "I think you are a little too forward, madam..."

Aurelia grinned at that. "How carefully you choose your words, sir. I am sure you wish to say much more than that to me, don't you?"

"I assure you, I always say what I mean."

"Is that so, Maximus?"

"Yes...mistress..." She was unsettling him with her manner. He looked about for a means to escape from what he could see was becoming a dangerous interlude.

"Well then, answer me this, Maximus. Would you say that I was beautiful?"

Her question brought him up short. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. Do you think me beautiful? It is a simple question. The answer can be yes or no. You are a plain speaking man, so you say..."

"It is widely acknowledged that the lady Aurelia is a great beauty..."

"That is not what I asked. I asked do you think I am beautiful..."

"It is not for me to have an opinion on such matters. You are betrothed to another man..."

"...Oh please! That is a sycophant's answer...You are not a fawner currying favour. I asked you a simple question as an intelligent man with a mind of his own. Am I beautiful in your eyes?"

Maximus stopped and took her arm, pulling her into the shadow of the building. "What is the purpose of your question, Aurelia? I see no reason for you to ask it of me or for me to respond that is not entirely unseemly for both of us. If I did not know you better, I would judge this irresponsible display as some childish attempt at seduction - which, if it were, would be bound to fail. My answer? Even a blind man could recognise your beauty, lady... but it is promised to another man. So of what possible significance to you is my opinion?"  He was almost shouting by the time he finished his speech, still gripping her arm forcefully.

She shook him away petulantly. "I only asked. You do not need to grow so curmudgeonly with me. I was just wondering if I was a desirable woman, seeing as my future husband seems not to want to spend a moment more in my company than is strictly necessary. Am I such a poor excuse for a wife that he prefers to visit a house of ill-repute than sit with me and get to know me better...?" she blurted out. It was not entirely what she had intended to say and she was unsure quite where the words had come from.

Maximus blinked a few times and cleared his throat. She knew she should not have asked this of him. It placed him in an untenable position. His face grew stern but a muscle twitching in his cheek and the lustrous quality of his eyes showed her that he was genuinely affected by her impassioned plea. "Your future husband is well known to me. We were friends for many years. He lacks a certain finesse in his dealings with women and any error of his in that regard is not to be taken by you as your failure as a woman. Aurelia, men are weak creatures! Do not let his behaviour damage the way you see yourself. You have done nothing wrong. You have done your duty and conducted yourself properly in all things. Be sure of that..."

"You looked my way at the ceremony. I saw you raise your fist in solidarity. It helped me bear it. I wanted to thank you..." Her manner had changed in a flash, the provocative awkwardness giving way to her gentler nature.

He smiled sadly. "Is it so very bad, this fate that awaits you?"

"I do not know. But it is not the fate I wish. Is that not bad enough?" she asked him.

He sighed and looked away into the distance. "Which of us is given the fate of our choosing? Aurelia, look to what you have that is good. Your beauty. Your intelligence. Your spirit. Your name. Your wealth. Is it not compensation enough? There are many who would envy you your gifts..."

"Enough? I would give it all up for the chance to have the life I chose. Let me ask you this. Of all you have received in life, what would you give up most for? To find yourself leading your legions again? To hear a crowd chant out your name? To win victory on a battle field?"

He fell quiet at her question, stubbing at the ground with the toe of his sandal. "If I could hold my wife and son again in this life, I would give up every single other gift or honour ever won..."

Aurelia smiled softly, and placed her hand on his arm. "We all want to find someone to love us, Maximus. I am no different from you in that regard. And a place to call our own. Thank you for your honesty..."

He watched as she strode in the direction of the house, straight-backed and proud, this astonishing girl who could travel from petulant child to wise woman in the matter of minutes. Someone to love and a place to call one's own. Simple enough to say the words, Aurelia, but as elusive as Elysium, in truth.

Sorrow settled on him like an old familiar aching wound. They had both loved and lost the only people in the world whom they had ever cared for. He knew that moment with a clarity that parted the dull clouds of self-delusion in his brain. He was falling in love with this young woman. And she had just told him in her own way that she loved him too.

It was time for him to leave this place before they both brought even more needless grief to their lives.

Calling to young Tibor, he asked for a horse to be prepared.

"Where you going, sir?"

"Siracusa."

The boy laughed. "To find a woman, sir?"

Maximus gave him a stern look. "I wish to spend a few hours in a bathhouse and look around for some things I need...." Then he broke out into a broad grin. "But if a girl should catch my eye...well, who knows, Tibor?

Launching himself easily into the saddle, he made for the main gate, an urge to escape driving him out. There were many things he needed today but he was not about to lie to himself anymore. A woman was high on his list. He had denied himself too long - and look at the consequences - he was falling for a young girl like some lovesick colt! What he needed was to find a willing whore and burn desire out of himself. It had taken him a long time to get to the place where he could accept that his need for physical release had to take precedence over any vow he had made to his dead wife. He did not consider the fact that in the end it had not been an inability to mourn the memory of a ghost that had made him reach for consolation - but the blinding image of a beautiful maiden, very much alive and in his presence, who was causing him these pangs of hunger.

Hours later, after the sun set, bathed and shaved, dressed in a clean tunic he had bought in the town, Maximus entered the house set on a quiet backstreet, having followed the discreet carvings on the paving stones of the main street. At a table in the rear, he ordered wine. A fat but still attractive older woman, too heavily rouged and fussily coiffed, wearing a gown that clung to her abundant curves, made her way over and sat down at his table. "What will it be, good looking? You don't look like you need to pay for it. Too lazy - or do you want something a little bit special tonight...?"

"Just a girl. All night." Maximus drank down the cup and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. She could see sweat beading on his forehead and sensed he was nervous. He did not look like a man who needed to worry about sex. She wondered what his problem was.

"Come, look behind the curtain..." She led him over to the other side of the room and eased back the curtain. In the room beyond were four very beautiful girls all wearing nothing but short skirts of white fabric draped around their loins. They looked at him and posed provocatively, easy in their nakedness, arching their backs to thrust forward their breasts and parting their legs to show him their naked cunts.

"The dark girl...she is very skilled," whispered the madam.

"No...the little one with the golden hair..." The girl was young, barely eighteen he suspected - and possibly a lot younger. His taste for a blonde was not lost on him. She had a look of Aurelia. It would soon be obvious if it was lust or something else that was driving this madness that had possessed him.

"Good choice...she's a honey...and she'll think it her lucky night to get a man like you...Poppaea? I have someone who wants to meet you....a very fine gentleman...."