Maximus awoke early, his left arm stiff and his leg aching. Only as his eyes flickered open did he remember where he was - sleeping in a narrow cot with a little blonde whore curled up lying across him. He groaned as he eased himself away, trying to find a comfortable position in which he could catch a little more sleep. They had not had much rest as far as he could gauge by the thin dawn light trickling through the tiny high window of the room. He smiled to himself at how unused he was to sharing a bed and his inability to rest easily with a woman by his side. It had not always been so. There had been ruder beds than this in his time. And he had never found a problem sleeping then.

Poppaea must have been disturbed by his movement for she stirred, wriggling back into the warm shelter of his body, burrowing her soft buttocks against his naked groin. Maximus grunted and the girl muttered, "There's a pot over there..."

He looked over and smiled. The girl was used to men. He slipped from the bed to ease himself and then considered dressing and leaving. She had earned her money well enough already.

"Come back to bed..." He heard her soft voice with its slight trace of a barbarian accent and turned back. 

Poppaea had thrown back the thin sheet and lay stretched out naked on the narrow bunk. "Stay a little while longer?" she muttered huskily.

"You do not need to entertain me further..." Maximus answered, gruff but kindly. "You have given me more than enough already..."

"I want you..."

It was difficult for Maximus to quantify what her simple statement meant to him. The girl wanted him. In truth he wanted her too, as the evidence of his arousal must already have informed her. He wondered why. The past night was one blur of crude and raw sexuality, an explosive release after years of denial. It surprised him that he was not satiated; his flesh was tender and sore and he knew the girl must feel the same after the devastating assault he had made on her body. Yet it seemed that the more he took - or she offered - the more he wanted. This night had been meant to curb his hunger not reawaken it.

It had begun quietly. She had led him into the room where he had stood awkwardly, nervous now the moment had come.

"What do you want?" she had asked. He wasn't even sure. Why was he here? In truth it was to try and forget, to remove himself from temptation, to prove that whatever emotion had drawn him to a sixteen-year old girl was nothing more than inappropriate repressed sexual longing that could be expunged by any woman.

"Take off your covering..." he had muttered. How long since he had seen a naked woman in the flesh, apart from the erotic images that peopled his feverish dreams? The girl unfastened the tiny skirt around her waist and let it fall. Her nakedness took him by surprise, so natural and easily had she offered it to him. She was pale skinned, unusual in this area, her pubic hair depilated. It made her look younger than she actually was, a fact that made him slightly uneasy even as he felt aroused by the visual. Her breasts were small, her nipples dark pink, unlike the darker brown-nippled Mediterranean women, as his own wife had been. A passing thought of Aurelia made him wonder if she was of this colouring, before he shook the shameful thought from him.

The girl, Poppaea, had obviously recognized his hesitancy and approached him. Sliding her arm about his neck, she pressed her naked body against him. "Been a long time?"

He nodded, suddenly incapable of speech, embarrassed at his lack of sureness and also the evidence of his arousal which she must have felt. His tongue felt thick in his mouth as blood pounded through his body; her nearness had made him hard in moments. She smiled and reached down, massaging him deftly underneath the tunic he wore. "I'll bet that hurts, sir...let me give you some ease..." On her knees, she expertly freed him and in moments she was suckling on him. His head fell back against the wall as his hands reached for handfuls of her thick curls. The sensation was beyond imagining.

It had been quick and inglorious. He had ejaculated in moments, like a boy with no self control when faced with his first glance at a naked vagina. He had felt ashamed but the woman made no comment, just taking a drink of wine to wash out her mouth and offering him a swig. He accepted and sat down on the cot taking a drink and then handing it back to her, resting his hands on his naked thighs and staring at the floor thoughtfully.

The woman came and sat by him, wrapping her arms around his neck; he had an urge to shrink away. "What's the matter?" she asked. "Don't you like me?"

Maximus glanced at her. She was a pretty enough girl, pale and even featured with light blue eyes. Her body was thin but well formed. He was a man. What was there not to like?

"I like you fine. I'm just not very good company."

"Lie down." She eased off his tunic and pushed him back, joining him on the mattress, sitting astride his broad waist. "You are a fine looking man. Any woman would want you. Why are you here?" She traced her finger across his chest, fingering the puckered skin of old scars and ruffling the hair on his chest. "You been a soldier?"

He nodded.

"Married?"

"I was."

"She left you?"

"In a sense..." he replied reaching out and caressing her breast. "How old are you?" 

"Old enough. You want all night?"

"Maybe. I'll pay anyway..."

"I didn't mean that," she replied, leaning over to kiss him seductively.  "Let's take it slow...I think you need that?"

This time they had taken it slow - it had been what he needed. His initial driving need slaked, he felt languid and loose and they played together, familiarizing each other with their bodies. She was so small and slender, like a tiny child compared to his strength and bulk, and he couldn't deny it excited him. Women. That hidden mystery, so different from his own body, so unfamiliar and yet so recognizable in some part deep within him. He had forgotten so much. He had learnt how to close off his mind and desire. But it was always there behind the door he had locked and bolted - and in this gentle whore's arms he rediscovered that other part of him that needed touch and pleasure and sensation.

He hadn't forgotten how to love a woman after all. It was still within him to be tender and give pleasure in return. The beast he had feared might exist inside, the fevered animal he had become in his dreams, was not rearing its ugly head.

In the squalid cell that was all that had been given to them, he had made love to the girl, bodies slick with sweat in the hot airless room, the physical act punctuated by their soft groans and murmurs. The wood framed bed creaked rhythmically as he thrust steady and deep, his hands massaging her smooth white skin, undulating his hips as she responded likewise, their lips covering each other's face and neck with kisses. It might have even looked like love. It was the only way he knew how to respond to a woman in intimacy; it was his nature to worship that which he felt it was his duty to protect and praise with his flesh.

The girl was astonished by the mixture of tenderness and devastating sexual prowess he demonstrated. She had never known men could be like this for all her experience of being used by them. Poppaea's jaded heart was penetrated by him as deeply as her body; she understood he was a man bearing great wounds far more cruel than the knives and swords that had hacked at his flesh. It would have been so wonderful to have been the one to ease his pain.

Lying wrapped up in the thin blanket, their legs entangled in the aftermath of passion, she asked him: "Who is she? The one who haunts you?"

He said nothing by way of reply, just rolling her on her back, burying his face against her breast. He wouldn't talk. She might be the one to watch with him through this night but she was not the cure for what ailed him. 

It was not long before he was showing interest again. She laughed as his cock prodded her thigh; he groaned in a combination of lust and embarrassment at his own hunger. This time however his mood was different. Gone was the hesitant almost apologetic demeanour with which he had begun the evening. His confidence was now restored thanks to the pleasure she had allowed and encouraged him to take. He muttered in her ear that this time it was for her. They all said that - then took their own share and left her used and empty.

But not this man. He began as tenderly as a lover, caressing her body all over, kissing and fondling, running his big hands with surprising delicacy up and down her limbs. Poppaea lay and watched him take pleasure in giving pleasure. He was a sensual man who savoured touch and taste and smell. He played with locks of her hair, inhaled her fragrance, flickered his tongue in all her mounds and hollows until she was half mad with need. She could not help but cry out helplessly as he flipped her body this way and that moving from one position to another searching for that one sensation that was superior to all the others.

He liked it deep, her legs over his shoulders where he could kneel and watch as he speared her and she writhed on him. Slowly he would penetrate until he was battering almost her womb and then he would move his hips from side to side lazily until he contacted with that place that made her groan gutturally with a profound pleasure she had never before experienced. It made him smile and carry himself with even more pride - if that was humanly possible. Then he would pull out intensely, slowly, so exquisitely that Poppaea would find herself squeezing down hard trying to capture him and make him stay. The man would chuckle softly and ease himself fully out to rub his sticky engorged head up and down the creamy folds of her nakedness, displaying himself for them both to see, his thumb expertly circling her tiny hard pearl. "Come for me. Come....on my fingers...on my cock....come hard for me...show me what I do for you..."

She could not disobey his command so skillfully did he play her. Just the visual stimulation of his beautiful swollen penis seeking entry and disappearing deep within her to re-emerge moments later and caress her sex was enough even without the touch and the words that drove her on. No sooner had she erupted in a shuddering orgasm than he lifted her and placed her face down, half on and off the cot, while he penetrated her from the rear as he knelt on the ground, bending when fully hilted to kiss her shoulders and slip his hand around to gently stroke her breasts and then even further still to play with her clitoris as he mined his pleasure.

His earlier ejaculations had slowed him down and despite the number of times Poppaea reached the heavens - and the times he appeared equally to build himself to a climax, still he remained hard and unremitting. He dragged her almost lifeless to the wall where he hoisted her into his arms and ploughed her roughly; he sat down on the one chair and held her on his lap while they fondled and fucked, muttering half crazed obscenities as they loved; she straddled him and rode him hard until they both ran with sweat, their bodies sliding off each other; he thrust his cock pungent and musky with their fluids into her mouth, he ravaged her cunt and drank of them both. There seemed nothing he did not wish to do or sample.

But when he finally came, he was holding her in his arms and she was clinging to his mighty shoulders in a conventional lovers' pose. He sighed as he finally released himself, his body shuddering violently almost as if in his death throes. Then it was her time to hold him - and that is how he had fallen asleep, curled up against her, his head on her belly and his body in a foetal position around hers. Despite her exhaustion, she did not find it easy to sleep. Her body was too keyed up with nervous excitement. And she did not wish to miss a moment of this man. She knew he would not linger and that this might be her only night with him. Sleep could wait until another day.

Maximus returned to the bed and lay at her side as she fondled his morning erection. His grimace as she jerked a little too hard on the tender, abraded flesh made her giggle; she leant over him and took a little jar from beside the bed. "Unguent. It is soothing. It will cool the flesh and ease your passage. You were a little too enthusiastic last night for a man who has not been in training..."

"It was always my way," he added with a grin. "I rarely do anything by halves. On the training ground...or in the bed chamber..."

He took the jar and pulled out the cork, trickling the sweet oil down between her thighs and then pouring it liberally on his cock, massaging it sensually into himself and then along her. He rimmed her tight little anus with his thumb and watched her eyes dance in amusement at his intrusion. "Up to you, soldier. You paid for it all."

He shook his head. "I'm only playing. I would hurt you. A finger is enough..." She reached out and did the same for him as he lay with his legs thrown wide, massaging his heavy sac and then running her smaller finger along the sensitive seam beyond and inserting a middle finger. He moaned softly. "Feels good?"

He nodded, eyes glinting. 

"Prefer a boy for that?"

The man laughed. "No. I prefer a woman for it all."

"But, if there's nothing else?" she teased.

"Then my own hand does well enough. I am not a despoiler of little boys. Nor a lover of pricks. My own is pleasure enough...But as for a honey of a cunt like this...I have always had a weakness..."

They enjoyed a lazy session in the early light until both had had their fill of each other. Finally she poured out a large basin of water and they washed each other, drying on soft cloths and teasing, kissing, tickling, playing. She helped him dress before slipping on a little robe of her own.

"You come back. Please. Any time. I would give you anything. No charge..." Maximus smiled fondly and drew her onto his knee, pressing a small leather pouch of coin into her palm. She knew without counting that it far exceeded the agreed fee.

"I will not return. It would not be wise. You would come to care for me. I would come to care for you. And I would break your heart. It is better this way. Give your pimp his fee - doubled. The rest, hide. He didn't earn that."

"You should not give me so much. I'm not worth it. I'm just a whore. A nothing." Maximus took her face gently in his hands, tracing one knuckle down her cheek affectionately.

"That is not true. How you are forced to live your life is of no bearing on who you are. What you are is what is in your heart. What you are is what you do for other people. I do not pay you for an act of lust but for an act of kindness and a night in your sweet arms. And you gave me more than any gold or silver can buy. You returned my self-respect. My manhood. And you gave me love. I have not known those priceless treasures for so very long..."

"Do you have a name?" she whispered.

He nodded. "I am Maximus. A freedman from Spain." He kissed her. "A nothing."

She smiled, caressing the thick stubble of his cheek, blinking away tears. "No emperor of Rome could be finer."

"No Helen of Troy could have given me anything sweeter." They kissed again, a soft tender kiss, and he set her down onto her feet, rising himself to leave.

"If ever you need anything of me, Maximus, I am here," she murmured as he took her hand and their fingers interwove for the last time.

"I will remember you..."

Priscus sat in his study deep in thought waiting for the arrival of his daughter. He had left it until the last moment to send for her, doubt still keeping him awake at nights. Whatever logical arguments they set down before him, he still had his reservations. If he allowed this marriage to take place then they were inexorably drawn into the web of intrigue that was the court. No longer could they hide away in this sleepy corner of the country and pretend that the events of the City had no bearing on their lives.

On the other hand participate or not, they were still players by virtue of their very name. It was always wiser to preempt the inevitable and manipulate one's own fate rather wait for an outside force to take control of their destiny. Aurelia must be safeguarded and Quintus Metella was the least objectionable of an unsavoury crowd of would be suitors all ravenous for power. And there was no denying that they all needed a champion.

The night before a rider had brought news from Gracchus in Rome. Quintus had been meeting with various interest groups in the Senate. There were other men with daughters of their own entering the fray and it was possible, while they slumbered here, that Quintus might renege on the betrothal and align himself to another party. This confirmed Lucilla's instinct. The marriage had to be brought forward. Gracchus was 'consulting' the omens - or rather arranging for the priests to be bought - but Priscus himself needed to be in hand to be seen to make the visit and ask for the reading of the auspices. Thus he would leave for Rome today, his first visit in over eight years since the former emperor, the great Marcus Aurelius, had pardoned his terrible crime and instructed him to retire from public life to devote himself to his estates and the raising of his only child.

Eight years on, it seemed that a wife murderer was no longer deemed unfit for decent society and he was even regarded once more as a political force to be reckoned with. If he moved carefully over the next few months, it was more than likely that he could expect to be named Consul the following year. His days in the twilight were over and his future suddenly restored to him as glorious as he had ever hoped: Consul then a province, one of the significant ones, a chance to carve a name for himself in the annals of Rome and to honour his ancestors.

All for the cost of his daughter's happiness. Few would regard it as even a consideration.

Lentulus Priscus sighed heavily. He was not a warm man, a particularly affectionate father or an easy man to like, he knew that. But he loved his child in his own serious, rather distant way, and now that the moment had come, he felt a sense of shame for what he was about to do. He prayed that Aurelia would forgive him for the burden he now demanded of her.

A steward stepped into his study, heralding the approach of the lady Aurelia. Priscus glanced up and for an instant saw his daughter as a woman, as other men saw her. He was astonished at the sight before him. Aurelia was now suddenly a lady of great beauty, a little girl no longer. She was changed. His bubbly child had disappeared and in her place was a grave and lovely noblewoman, proud of bearing and conducting herself impeccably. She stood quietly, her head uncovered but her eyes cast down, the picture of obedience and filial piety. Somehow her acquiescence pained him even more.

"Aurelia, I journey to Rome today. Matters have advanced rather quicker than we had anticipated. I am to see the priests and they will inform me of the best date for your wedding. It will be soon..."

He watched as her head shot up and saw the thought process on her face. "How can you know that? Unless..."

"In times like these, nothing is left to chance. Prepare yourself for a journey. I shall ride ahead but you and your ladies will take a more leisurely pace in carriages. There will be a guard of Praetorian. After all, you will be the Prefect's wife in a few days' time..."

She paled but did not falter, nodding her understanding. "What of my wedding clothes?"

"It will all be waiting for you when you reach the palace. Quintus now resides there; it was felt convenient from him to move from the Praetorian barracks to more congenial quarters as befits his new status as commander-in chief. You will have fine apartments and many slaves. No expense will be spared..." He knew it was a paltry thing to try and offer her this inducement to pacify her.

"I am most fortunate, father. If you will excuse me, I will go to inform my ladies. We shall be ready to leave at first light." He could not think of anything to say to her that did not sound trite and callow in the circumstances so he said nothing. She made her obeisance and withdrew in a stately fashion which he suspected hid her real emotions. But he knew she would not reveal what she felt. Aurelia had accepted her destiny and was readying herself for the future. He felt a sense of pride in her courage even as he felt his own failure. All these years he had devoted to ensuring that she not grow up to make her mother's mistakes and yet here he was steering her to a marriage that was never going to be to her taste after all.

It was a glorious morning as Maximus strolled through the early morning street markets towards the ostler's where he had stabled his horses. He ate at a wayside stall, a simple gruel flavoured with honey, and then walked on crunching an apple and enjoying the sights and sounds of everyday life. Unconsciously he swaggered along, unable to restrain his sense of wellbeing after the satisfying night of pleasure. He had forgotten that sensation of rising well-fucked from a woman's bed, the tender burn of spent passion, the tired body, easy and languid. His mood was sunny, his smile was ready, even throwing flirtatious glances at pretty women he passed along the way. And enjoying how they blushed and eyed him up, throwing back their own seductive gazes and approving eyes.

Riding along the paved road back in the direction of Megara and the estate, he found himself contemplating the meaning of happiness. It did not take much to appease a man when it came down to it. A full belly and empty balls - he was after all no different from any other man.

It was mid morning when he reached his destination, riding at a steady pace across country, his elation making him drive the horse faster than he really needed to, just for the sense of freedom and pleasure that it gave him. He was laughing as he slid down from the saddle and handed the horse over to Tibor who ran up to greet him.

"Someone's very pleased with himself this morning, sir. You found the girl you were looking for then?" The boy asked cheekily. Maximus cuffed him lightly in fun; the boy dodged the blow, grinning.

"None of your lip, boy. It's a good job for you she left me in a fine mood..." Maximus retorted with a roll of his eyes and an appreciative whistle. 

"Big tits, hey?" Tibor added.

"Small... but very pert..." he answered as he sauntered away jauntily. 

As Maximus made his way to the house, he observed a heightened activity about the place. There were horses being readied for a journey in the yard and the carriages had been brought to the front of the house where slaves were cleaning them down. The Praetorian camp was being dismantled. He wondered vaguely what had taken place in his absence - not that it was any business of his.

Running up the steps to the main door, he entered the atrium and encountered Priscus giving instructions to his men. Maximus nodded as he crossed the public area of the house towards the family rooms beyond.

"Where've you been, man? I've been hanging on for you..." Priscus said.

"For me?" Maximus stopped and approached his benefactor. "Can I be of any service, my lord?"

Priscus called him into his study, pouring out two cups of wine and offering Maximus one. "You were out last night?" There was a note of disapproval in his voice. Maximus did not appreciate it.

"I was not aware that my movements were of interest to you, sir."

Priscus shrugged. "I do not approve of whoring and licentious behaviour. If you need a woman there are plenty of house slaves..."

Maximus gave him the benefit of his steely glare; Priscus found himself backing down almost instantly. There was something about the natural authority in Maximus' demeanour that commanded respect even when discussing a topic such as this. "And I do not approve of taking what is not mine. If I need a commodity or a service then I pay for it decently. It appears to me a more dignified transaction than the abuse of those who have no other choice..."

The two men stared at each other for awhile. Maximus was fully well aware that Priscus did not understand his objection. Nor did he much care.

"I leave today for Rome," the older man continued. "I shall be away some time. It is unlikely that we will meet again. You are well on the way to recovery. Stay here as long as you wish..." Maximus felt the dismissal clearly. Priscus was telling him that they had no use for him and he was in danger of outstaying his welcome; he should not be here when the owner finally came back. His refusal to return to his army command had obviously ruined his future usefulness for them.

"I intend to move on any day. I thank you for your hospitality. You saved my life. I have no means to adequately repay you..." Maximus began.

"I didn't do it for you, although I'm pleased you made such a sound recovery. By the way, Gracchus sent you this letter..." He handed over a scroll which Maximus unfurled and read. It seemed that the Consul had managed to arrange a sum of money from the Treasury to be released to him. If Maximus came to Rome, Gracchus would remunerate him. Maximus smiled inwardly. The money was a small part of the sums he had once sent to be deposited there, vast amounts, largely untouched, that had been the result of his sale of prisoners during the long years of warfare. Gracchus was doing him no great favour returning a fraction of what had once been his. But everything that he had owned must have been sequestered by Commodus; he was grateful enough for this.

"I too must make a trip to Rome, although I shall not linger there. It is not the safest of places for me..." Maximus muttered as he finished reading.

"Indeed?" An idea occurred to Priscus. "Perhaps there is some small way you can repay me after all then. I leave today but my daughter and her ladies depart tomorrow. Her marriage has been brought forward. The Praetorian will provide a guard but I would appreciate if you would accompany the progress. The roads are dangerous and she will feel uncomfortable in the presence of soldiers. It would be more fitting if she was escorted ..."

The request caught Maximus in his tracks; for an instant he could not speak, merely blinking rapidly trying to hide his confusion. There was no valid excuse he could make to avoid this request. "I am at your service, Priscus. It would be an honour to provide protection for your daughter on the road..."

It was the last thing he wished for. A few days in the company of Aurelia in such  close proximity? The girl was already infatuated with him and he himself had been...but he left the thought incomplete. Whatever idle fantasies had passed through his mind, they had been no more than that. The girl was valuable and there were those who might wish to do her harm. It was only right that he should offer his aid to her family after the hospitality he had been shown.

"That's settled then. I'll expect you by the end of the week in the City. And then I can bid you a fitting farewell. Take care of her, Maximus. She may one day be the most important woman in the empire..."

Maximus bowed and left, his early morning euphoria quickly dissipating. He neither wished to visit Rome nor see the girl again. But when had he ever been able to do what he wanted? Even now the gods seemed to be enjoying the prospect of toying with him again. Gracchus could have sent him the money with his letter. He smelt a rat. They wanted him in Rome. It did not take much to imagine what they had in mind for him, whatever his personal feelings.

Back in his room, he stripped and washed. Running a hand over the bristle of his cheek, he realized that he would be as well to remove it. Without his beard it was unlikely that people would identify him as the Gladiator. He had lost weight too. Those citizens who had watched him from their seats in the Colosseum would have a very different image in their mind. Lucilla herself had observed that he looked younger without his facial hair.

He called a slave and asked for hot water and a razor; as an afterthought he also asked for a mirror. The man was soon back and deftly shaved him while he sat in deep thought contemplating the days ahead and the political arena that was drawing him back.

The task completed he asked the man to hold the mirror up. He looked at his own face. It surprised him. He had almost forgotten his natural features - and even bearded he had not actually seen himself in years. Younger? He touched his cheek. He didn't think so. The face staring at him was no longer the boy he remembered. But nor was it the face of an older man. How old was he? He calculated that he must be about thirty five; it was no great age for a man. Most would regard it as in the prime of his strength and vigor, the age when a man is busy building up his reputation and breeding his family. It seemed to Maximus that he had lived his life in double time and received the accolades and responsibilities too early. Now, when most men his age were beginning, he felt at the end of the road.

A sad smile crossed over his face as he thought of that; it changed his features considerably from the stern etched lines of care to a softer, younger man. He wondered in passing if a face such as this would please a young girl of sixteen and what she saw when she viewed it. Perhaps to her she saw something different from the man he was. Perhaps she saw a clean slate, an empty page with all the past forgotten, waiting for them both to write upon it their own story.

"Take the damn thing away..." he snapped to the slave, who gathered up his belongings and scurried away. Throwing himself on his bed, clad only in his loincloth, he lay back head on his arms, leaning against the bed head. He needed to sleep. The journey would be easy enough but if he was in charge he would need to be vigilant and sleep would be at a premium. His body was tired, still weak from the aftereffects of the passion of the night before - but his mind was active. Even so, his eyes soon drooped and his head fell back. Sleep took him, a fitful and dream-laden slumber.

While her ladies flitted about in a hive of activity, Aurelia sat in her room by the window trying to digest the news her father had given her. She felt strangely calm, a cold steely resolve settling over her. There was nothing she could do so she simply had to accept it. It wasn't worth the effort of tears. Verilia came over to check on her but Aurelia waved the woman away. This was not the time to hear platitudes. "I am going for a walk. Alone," she stated curtly and the woman for once did not argue. Even she understood Aurelia's need for solitude this day.

Outside, she wandered around the familiar garden and wondered if she would ever again see this place where she had spent so much of her life. She had once longed to escape - and now that her chance was here, she wanted nothing more than to be allowed to stay. How strange life was!

Sitting by a cool fountain watching a frog plopping about, she dabbled her fingers in the clear water. She should say farewell to Maximus. Her behaviour yesterday had been embarrassing and unworthy of them both. She could not slip away like a thief in the early dawn without a word. They had been friends of a sort and she would never see him again. It was only right that she should make peace between them before her departure.

No one noticed her as she ran up the narrow stairs to his wing of the house; there was far too much activity in the house that day. This time she approached his room with none of the trepidation of her earlier visit. The past few months had worked a change on the girl. Before she had been a child. Now she was a woman. Even she could feel the difference.

She knocked but there was no response. Perhaps he was out. Thinking back, she realized that she hadn't seen him since they had parted the day before at the stable yard. She wondered if that was significant. Had he decided to leave himself, concerned at her behaviour that he had found forward and inappropriate? Would he just sneak away? Or had he spoken to her father before he himself had left?

With a sinking heart in the dawning knowledge that she might be too late, Aurelia opened the door and pushed upon it. If he was gone, then the room would be empty. At least she would know.

It was dark and cool inside, the shutters being closed to the heat of the day. But he had not left. Maximus was lying fast asleep on the bed, sprawled out, an arm flung above his head and the other resting on his chest. He looked so peaceful, his breathing deep and steady, snoring softly. Aurelia tiptoed closer and watched him, her mouth breaking into a wide smile at the sight of him displayed in near nakedness - and yet so boyishly innocent. She noticed that his eyelashes were very long and fluttering in his dreams. His mouth was set in an almost girlish pout. What a contrast to his impressive masculinity!

Aurelia looked at him curiously. His legs were so very hairy, softly furred, making them look darker than his pale skin would normally allow. Under his arms the hair was a more reddish brown. She was glad he did not depilate as most of the men of her class. His natural state was so much more manly, if a little low bred. But she hardly imagined soldiers ever bothered with such refinements when they were on campaign - and gladiators were always prized for their coarse virility. She took a peek at the cloth binding his loins. That was another way Maximus's humbler origins betrayed him. He appeared to be somewhat larger down there than was generally thought to be attractive. Men with large members were said to be of barbarian descent. Rumour had it that the provincial men were very well hung, and for some reason that was regarded as rather ugly.

As little as Aurelia knew about such things she had overheard women laughing over such matters. It appeared that women liked the big men well enough and that it was probably a male custom to regard small genitalia as more aesthetically pleasing, partly out of their own sense of inadequacy and also from the taste so many had for boys. Aurelia had a sudden prurient wish that Maximus had slept naked today. It would have been even more interesting observing his manhood in its natural state.

It was at that moment that Maximus woke with a grunt. She backed away and blushed a deep red to be caught so guiltily and with such prurient thoughts. He sat up abruptly and looked embarrassed - and annoyed. She supposed the two things went together.

"What are you doing here?" he barked.

"I came to say goodbye. I am leaving in the morning. I...did not know you would be asleep and....undressed..."

He ran his hands down his face as if to wake himself up; she noticed then that he looked tired. "You seem to make a habit of creeping up on me. I think you should go."

She felt completely foolish; turning she hurried to the door. "Goodbye then. I wish you well..."

"Your father didn't say?" Maximus responded coolly.

"Say? About what?" Aurelia looked back.

"I am to accompany you to Rome. So, no farewells yet. It seems I simply can't get away from you, no matter how I try..." he retorted sardonically.

"Don't worry. You'll be rid of me soon enough." Aurelia tossed back her hair and faced him up. She was done with being in awe of men. Who was he to make her feel ashamed? He was just a freedman after all - and she was Annia Aurelia, an emperor's granddaughter.

"Good. Keep to your carriage and I shall keep to my mount. That way neither of us will feel compromised. Good day, madam..."

She slammed the door hard as she exited and stormed off down the corridor. So he was showing his true self now, was he? He no longer had to pretend politeness to the daughter of the house whose master had so charitably taken him in? After all, he was just a provincial of low birth and coarse upbringing. She had been blinded by her own silly girlish fantasies that had built his rather sordid past into some epic story of bravery and sacrifice. She should have realized that real life was always a disappointment. Heroes belong in the story books. And she was setting aside her childish toys and amusements. It was time to face the cold hard facts of life.

The party set out at dawn when it was still cool and misty, a fresh moist relief after the days of heat. As they trundled on the road to the coast to take the short ferry crossing to the mainland, Aurelia lay on a couch in her covered carriage, feigning sleep but only so that her maids would leave her alone. It would be a long boring journey and she would be shut up inside this wagon unable to see but glimpses of the countryside they traveled. It was unseemly for common people to look upon a lady of her birth.

She listened to the subdued voices of the men riding along with the carriage, talking and at ease. This was a welcome return for them; she had no doubt they must have found the farm tedious. She wondered if they had wives and girlfriends back in Rome and realized how little people of her class bothered about the needs of those below them. Imagine if your life was at the disposal of others to send you away from months or even years on end, parted from loved ones!

Then she remembered her own purpose for this journey. Maximus had been right. No one really has control over their destiny. They were all at the mercy of fate in one way or other.

At the port of Messina, the party halted. The ladies were helped down as the Praetorians commandeered a team of ferries and supervised the hauling aboard of the horses and carriages. Aurelia and her ladies took refreshments in an inn that had also been cleared of customers while the noble party rested there. Aurelia was embarrassed at the crass treatment of the ordinary people but did not make any comment. This was how things were and her objections wouldn't change them.

Throughout the whole episode, Maximus sat astride his horse, watching the lading but with an eye on the dockside inn nearby. There were Praetorians all around and little chance of anyone attempting anything dangerous in such a public place but he was not going to allow himself to drop his guard. Nor was he about to dismount and find himself forced to pass an hour or two in Aurelia's company.

So far he had ignored her, allowing the other soldiers to supervise her as she had boarded the carriage and then stepped down at the portside. His purpose was not to keep her entertained but to protect her honour. He had no intention of socializing with the girl in any way other than the absolute necessities.

It was not only the women whom Maximus had ignored. So far he had kept himself aloof from the other officers, namely Publius Sentius and Aemilius Cinna. His previous association with them had soon persuaded him that they were not men he had any time for or interest in knowing better. Sometimes he wished he had his old rank back. There was an odd occasion when it had been satisfying to rub the noses of arrogant little bastards like these in their own shit.

"Not taking lunch with the ladies, Max?" Aemilius asked, leaning on a bale, observing Maximus. The latter jumped off his horse and handed it over to a slave for securing on the open deck of the large flat bottomed barge.

"No," was his terse reply. He disliked the man using the diminutive of his name as if they were friends - or equals.

"You don't say much, do you?" the man retorted. Maximus merely gave him a look. Aemilius grinned. "Thought you'd once been quite a speech maker. Famed for those pre-battle pep talks that got the men all riled up...but that was back in the day, hey? When you were somebody..."

The younger man's obvious attempts to irritate him were almost amusing. He had been goaded to anger by more powerful men than this arsebrush. And they had not forced him to lose his temper if he did not wish to. "Back in the day indeed. When officers were men of some distinction and ability. What sewer are they searching nowadays for big black Praetorian rats?"

Aemilius's eyes flashed. "I wouldn't annoy any of us, Maxie baby. We're the elite boys. You might have a job to do here but once you get to the City, you're surplus to requirements, friend. Watch your back down the dark alleyways, hey? Terrible things happen in the Subura at night so I've heard. And...where else would an ex-slave like you hang out? Can't see any of the nobility welcoming you in. Not unless they need a bit of muscle on the front door...isn't that the usual job for retired gladiators?"

With that he swaggered back to the other men who were sharing some food on tables set up outside a thermopolium down the street. Publius Sentius was sitting there already and Aemilius wasted no time filling him in if the laughter of the others was anything to judge by. Publius raised his cup towards Maximus in a mocking acknowledgment and drank it back. He knew he'd have trouble from these two. You could smell their treachery stronger than the stench from the open drains.

Aurelia sat by the window of the inn, a bunch of lavender in her hand. The port was a noxious place, ripe with decaying fish, meat and vegetables, the stink of unwashed bodies and the foul odour of blocked drains and human waste. It was also hot and stuffy inside so she had taken the seat by the open shuttered window to catch a little of the breeze rolling in off the water.

And to observe Maximus. He was pacing about by the jetty looking uneasy. She observed his interchange with Aemilius and could imagine it would have been taunting him in some way. The younger man never opened his mouth without making some contemptuous remark.

A sudden dart of sorrow pierced her heart as she watched Maximus standing looking out to sea, all alone, his back ramrod straight against a hostile world that had stripped him of all he held dear and forced him to go on. She swallowed down the lump that rose in her throat. For all his imposing strength and virility, there was something fragile about him, wounded and beaten by life. Aurelia wished with all her heart she could hold him to her and never let him be touched by pain and suffering again, fill his days with light and laughter and see that rare but brilliant smile flash across his face. Her annoyance of the day before had dissipated already. It was impossible to feel angry with him for long. But she had no intention of letting him see that if he deigned to address her or her ladies. Pity for his plight was one matter but she was not going to let him patronize her again. Even now Aurelia had her pride.

The crossing was uneventful; the sea was calm on this fine afternoon but Aurelia, unused to sailing still felt nauseous. Lying in a small airless cabin, stretched out on a narrow cot, she moaned as her stomach heaved. There was a knock on the door and Verilia left her side, where she had been pressing cold cloths to her head, to answer it. Aurelia heard a muttered conversation and then the old woman stepped back and Maximus swept in. With barely a word other than: "If I may, my lady..." He picked her up in his arms and strode out of the cabin with her. She was so weak that she could not even answer, resting her head on his strong chest as he took the stairs to the deck and they exited into the brilliant sunshine. It was hot above but breezy and almost at once a gulp of salty ozone rushed into her lungs and made her feel easier.

He carried her to an awning and set her on a wooden chair which someone had covered with a cloak. "It is not very comfortable but the fresh air will do you good, madam. There is nothing worse than staying cooped up below especially for a poor traveler. Take some deep breaths, sip water and nibble on some dry bread. Get some good sea air inside you and we'll soon see the colour back in those pretty cheeks..."

With that he gave a curt nod and withdrew; she did not see him again the rest of the crossing. But he had been right and she was soon greatly recovered, able to sit up and appreciate the view of the disappearing coast of her homeland and the approaching landfall of the Italian mainland. "Verilia...how do I look now?" Aurelia asked when she had her spirits back.

"Still a little pale, my dove, but not as green as before..."

"Green?" Aurelia gasped, horrified that Maximus had seen her in such an unflattering light. 

Verilia merely laughed. "At least you didn't spew your guts all over him. Now that would have tested a man's resolve....but don't worry. He's still besotted with you...I've no doubt that green's just become his favourite colour..."

Aurelia swatted the old lady and tutted at her silliness but secretly loved that the old nanny had recognised what Aurelia longed to hear. Could it be true? Did Maximus feel something for her, however hopeless his suit might be? Or was he just doing his duty, one no doubt her father had paid him well to carry out. He was probably destitute and needed the commission. It was his nature to carry out orders dutifully. She should not read into this anything at all.

But for the remainder of the short journey, she scanned the deck for any sign of him and willed him to come back to check on her welfare. He did not. At the dock she saw him briefly as he jumped nimbly down to the jetty to begin the overseeing of the unloading. He made no attempt to assist in her disembarking nor did he attend her party to inquire of their welfare. It seemed to Aurelia that he was eager to waste no time now that their real ride had begun. Maximus just wanted her delivered to her future husband and then to be away. Verilia was only teasing. He felt nothing for her after all. She was just a little girl to him.

They did not ride for long that day before making camp some thirty miles inland from Rhegium in a forest outside Vibo Valentia. They had no intention of using any of the inns they passed in small towns along the way; such flea-ridden hovels would never be use by patricians, especially with women of noble birth in the entourage. Aurelia's covered wagon was far more conducive to a lady than anything available on the way.

It was a hot night and the thick coverage of the forest only served to increase the stuffy humidity inside the carriage. Verilia made the unusual decision to allow the windows and door to remain open to try and let in some measure of fresh air but it brought an added discomfort...mosquitoes. The whining buzz of the insects kept Aurelia tossing and turning long after her maids had fallen asleep. She was hot, wakeful and irritated by the bites she had sustained - and outside she could hear the noise of the men who were still wandering around their camp, talking and laughing while they had a drink after their meal.

Peering out through the shaft of the one window, Aurelia knelt on her bed and watched them. A perimeter guard had been set up swiftly with usual military efficiency and several men were patrolling, shouting greetings to each other from time to time. A campfire was burning somewhere over to the left and others were sitting there hunched around. No one was anxious about security for these parts were fairly docile and it would be a foolhardy bunch of robbers who made a move on praetorians guarding a wagon bearing senatorial insignia.

She searched for signs of Maximus but if he was there, he had not joined the officers. Perhaps he was sleeping somewhere, rolled up in his cloak on the hard ground. Aurelia imagined he would pay scant regard to such things even though he had not long recovered from his life threatening injuries and must still feel some measure of aches in his tender flesh. But he would never complain or make that an excuse. She knew he was not that sort of man.

Stepping down from the bed, she went to the door and crossed over the sleeping form of a young slave girl who had been instructed to block the door as a precaution. With a soft leap, Aurelia found herself on the ground; she stumbled slightly and took a few unsteady steps to keep her balance. A hand stretched out to steady her. It was Maximus.

"My lady....it is late to be about..." he muttered. She saw that he had been sitting resting on a tree at the side of the clearing where the wagon was, keeping his own vigil.

"I was so hot inside. There is no air...and so many biting insects..." she replied. "I thought to take a short walk and see if there was any cool air outside..."

Maximus offered her an arm. "If we stroll to the ridge then we will probably feel a fresher breeze. The camp is in a valley; the trees are acting as a shield. Come...I will accompany you. These men are here to protect you but they are still men. Some I do not trust. Even with their commander's future wife..."

Aurelia glanced down at herself in her light shift, with only a  veil around her shoulders. She knew that it was completely unacceptable to appear before men like this and even if they did no more than ogle her then that was enough to get them beaten. She should have been more considerate about the predicament she had put them in, she knew that.

But Maximus said none of these things, although she was sure he disapproved and was thinking them, but he led her up the slight rise to the top of the valley. There it was cooler and there was a view of the plain before them; the night was starry and clear and even though the land was in darkness it illuminated enough. They stood side by side awhile in silence observing the view. Aurelia felt awkward. The last time they had spoken properly had been in anger and earlier today on the ferry, she had just felt embarrassed.

"I wish to thank you for your help today. I felt much better on the deck. And had I not been so sickly, I would have apologized for my behaviour the past few times we have spoken. I have been acting like a petulant child and also putting you in a compromising position. Your manner towards me has always been impeccable. I just wanted for you to know that I take full responsibility for all the nonsense..."

Maximus grinned and looked down at the ground at his feet. "There is nothing to apologise for. I am not an easy man - especially disturbed from my sleep! I was rude both times and deserved chiding. My only defence is that I have spent so little time with women these past years that I have forgotten all my civility in polite company. Let us forget the incidents. We have to spend time together here and it is better if we form a truce. I promise not to bark and snap like an angry dog if you promise not to appear when I am not expecting it. You do rather seem to have a knack for that...my lady..."

Aurelia giggled and he smiled sweetly back. "You don't wish to sit with the other men? Share some wine and talk as men do?" Aurelia asked, mostly for something to say; Maximus seemed content to stand in silence.

"No. They are not to my taste..." he answered drily.

"What do you mean? I thought men were always happiest in the company of other men...especially a man such as yourself who has lived with men, as you say..."

"Perhaps I am tired of male company..." he muttered. "But Praetorians are hardly my chosen companions. For the past year, they were my jailers, or as good as...."

It was the first time he had ever referred to his life as a gladiator. Aurelia sensed the bitter anger and pain that lay just below his surface. "They were not to blame for what happened to you..."

"They were all to blame. Rome is guilty and every Roman. It is what they stand for. It is the cost of the world you take for granted..." came back his caustic answer.

"Are you not a Roman too? Did you not stand for just the same until you fell foul of the system? I do not know all the details but..."

"...Then with the greatest respect, reserve your opinion until you do. I was a Roman but I no longer consider myself one. I am a freedman...a nothing...infama...and it seems to me that is a finer thing to be than any son of Jupiter..."

Aurelia said nothing because she did not know how to answer such a statement. Rome was the light of the world. You were either Roman or you barely existed. She could not understand his meaning but she was intuitive enough to understand that he had a wider experience of the world than she did. Maybe there was something in what he said, a whole new way of looking at life. His philosophy intrigued her even as it saddened her. Such a view could never bring him peace but only make his bitter alienation from the rest of society more acute.

"I am sorry...that was uncalled for...I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable..." Maximus apologized in a gruff but heartfelt voice.

"You did not. I bow to your greater experience. I was just thinking that you must be lonely...with no one to share this journey..."

He turned and smiled and a beam of moonlight caught the pale glint of his green eyes. "Who do you share it with, my lady? We are two of a kind, I think. Surrounded by people but there is no one with whom we would choose to sit awhile and share an idle chat...

"Oh but there is! I choose you...you choose me...not so lonely, eh?" she grinned and he bowed slightly in acknowledgment. 

"I think we must make our way back if you have taken enough of the air. I would not wish for any to talk of unseemly behaviour. Your reputation must be guarded at all costs....if Quintus Metella found out I was walking in the moonlight with you..."

"You hate him, don't you?" Aurelia suddenly blurted out. Maximus knitted his brows as if searching for the right answer.

"Hate would imply I felt some passion. In truth, I pity him. He is what he is. Rome is what it is. I am what I am. I have no energy left for hatred. I simply want to be left alone. They can fight like dogs for the scraps. I want no part of it anymore..."

He placed a hand on her shoulder as if to guide her back. But Aurelia had one more question. "Who then did you hate? My uncle? Commodus? You killed him, didn't you? You made him pay for what he did to your wife and son?"

Maximus' face closed down. "Who told you these things?"

She shrugged. "I listen. Slaves talk. I work things out..."

"You are too clever, my lady...you might be happier leaving well alone..."

"Is that why you spurned Lucilla? She has the blood of Commodus in her veins? As do I? Do you hate me too underneath it all? One could hardly blame you..."

But at that his face softened and his hand reached out momentarily as if to touch her beautiful face before he dropped it back again. "The blood of Aurelius runs through your veins...and that of your aunt. Commodus' too. It is not our blood we hold responsible or use as an excuse for our crimes. Men - and women - do what they do based on their own free will. What we do in life, echoes down through the years. We are given moments in life when we must choose. Most times we do not realise how significant our next move will be. But it is always our choice. Not some preordained, god given destiny. I don't believe in those things any more. We are masters of our own fate - or authors of our doom."

It was an impassioned speech to which Aurelia did not reply. It gave her much to think on, however. He also had not really answered her question. What was going on between him and Lucilla?

Extending his hand, he helped her up the steps of her wagon. She stood and looked back on him, the flimsy shift framing her slender curves, a candle glow from within making the fabric sheer. It was impossible for a man not to drink in the outline of her naked body, her long slim legs, the tender press of her nipples, rigid beneath the soft material. What did that suggest? That he was not the only one aroused, intoxicated by the other's presence on this hot humid night?  Gruffly he addressed her, "Stay inside and try to get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day and a hard ride. I wish you a good night's sleep, my lady...And close the curtain...the men can see inside...!" He reached forward and pulled down the light curtain that hung over the doorway.

And with a curt bow, he disappeared into the night, back to whatever rude bedroll awaited him. The touch of his strong hand in hers still lingered, the coarse skin of his palms so different from her own. She raised her hand to her lips and kissed the place where he had held her. Then wished he was lying down beside her in this dark night. A part of him was, she thought to herself. He will always be there in spirit by my side. Even when he has long gone from my life.

When would she meet such a man again?

Maximus did not return to sleep, still too charged up by his interlude with the lady. For a while he wandered in the woods, deep in thought, then finally emerged to take a drink from one of the jugs at the campfire. He addressed no one, took a draught and then moved on with the jar in his hand. He felt like numbing the ache tonight.

"Saw you with the mistress. What's your game...you value your balls? Metella will have you castrated if he thinks you've been there first..." Aemilius Cinna leant back on a nearby tree whittling with his knife on a piece of bark and addressed Maximus.

"If you saw us then you know that we were merely walking. Is your mind such a pool of cess that you can't imagine anyone with different motives than yourself?"

Cinna snorted at that. "Don't play the innocent with me. You're a man like the rest of us. You want her. And that little slut's cunt's itchy for you, if you ask me...Don't worry, I'll be watching you both very carefully from now on. Imagine how nice she's going to have to be to stop me telling her beloved bridegroom who broke her in...? I can't wait to get some of that sweet pussy myself. I've heard what they say about her mother. Gave it out all over Rome. Like mother, like daughter, hey?"

But even his insults could not make Maximus react. He merely sank down to sit cross-legged on the ground, drinking steadily from the flask without even maintaining eye contact.

With a sudden movement; Cinna threw the dagger in Maximus' direction. Maximus moved to the left with lightening speed; the dagger pierced the tree behind where his head had been moment's before. Maximus reached back and pulled it out, tossing it and catching it deftly by the hilt, weighing it as if thinking of his next move. "An unwise decision, Praetorian. One you will live to regret..." And he tossed the dagger to where it stuck harmlessly in the ground at the younger man's feet before he took another long slow draught of the wine, wiping the back of his mouth on his hand. Cinna sullenly took his leave. Maximus was reminded of a cowed dog.

Closing his eyes, he drove the unwelcome images from his head. How easy simply to have stuck him through the throat and let him drown in his own blood! The crude comments and foul lies he had spouted about Aurelia curdled in his gut along with the rough wine. He knew the desire to remove the enemy from sight was still driving his instincts. But he would not let them win the victory over him - not until he was ready for vengeance.

Aurelia lay awake in the wagon, her thoughts still out in the moonlight replaying her interlude with Maximus. In truth she didn't know how she felt anymore about the events to come. Marriage was inevitable and she did not question her future for it was futile to rail against fate, destiny, family, the gods - the very structures upon which her entire life was based. That she wished it was not Quintus Metella seemed to her a very trivial issue. Few women cared much for their husbands but everyone with sense made the most of it.

What was puzzling Aurelia was if it was better to have known love than never having tasted the bitter-sweet pangs? For she had no doubt that she loved Maximus Decimus Meridius and that he would always remain for her the dream of innocent love, that pure finer emotion of the love poems and legend. A girl needed a fantasy to fill the drab hours of her tedious existence in the household of a man she disliked intensely. She needed a vision to cling to when she gave her body to Metella's cold, unwanted attentions in the night. Yet perhaps had she never met Maximus, her heart would not ache so for the things they could never share and a future that might have been theirs had they met in other circumstances? There might have even been a chance that without Maximus as the image before her, her natural sexual curiosity might have made her feel differently about Quintus. He was a fine figure of a man and would know what to do when the time came.

Had Maximus already ruined her life without even laying a finger on her person? 

That thought made her ashamed - she berated herself for her self-interest. He was alone in the world. She had read his tortured melancholy so often in his eyes to know that whatever cost this thwarted passion demanded of her, it left him even lower than where he began.

And where was that? He had wished to die and yet he had lived. They had taken every single thing in the world he cared about away from him. He had been humbled and humiliated. A man who had once strode across the pages of the Imperial Annals as a hero of the Roman people had lost his name, his rank, his honour, his family, his estates, his fortune, his stake in the future in the death of his only offspring. But he had still held up his head and proved himself unvanquished by the cruelty of men. Alone he had risen up and achieved the impossible, avenged the ones he loved, saved the lives of Lucilla and Lucius, protected the empire from a warped tyrant and carried out the wishes of a dying man.

For what? To wake into a new world that hammered him down again the moment he tried to walk a new path? What did the gods want of this man? Was he being punished? Or was there another purpose in their machinations that was not yet revealed? Aurelia prayed that one day, his reward would come. She imagined him in the arms of a woman who loved him, smiling and happy as he swung his children on his shoulders and tended to his lands. For a moment the reverie made her smile, her heart leapt for joy and the picture of this halcyon future that he so deserved.

But then the razor sharp dagger pierced her own heart. He will never be mine. He will never be mine...

She raised her hand again to her lips, kissing the lingering trace of his touch. Her body felt languid, hot and sticky. She kicked away the sheet and raised up her shift to bare her legs. Her fingers swept along the delicate skin on her inner thighs. She saw in her mind's eye, his hand, rough calloused palm and the gnarled skin of the back of his tanned hand thick with hair as it slipped along the same path between her legs to that place beyond, that secret place which no man should own except her husband. That thought made her suddenly annoyed and she allowed her fingers, the places where Maximus had so recently touched, to caress her own sex, as sticky and hot as the night. It felt wicked. Almost as if Maximus had now been there first before Quintus Metella. Why could she not choose who was to be given the benefit of her body? In the dark of this night, no one could stop her offering it to Maximus or his lingering touch from giving her illicit pleasure.

On a whim, she rose from the bed and picked up the candle holding it in her hand as she stepped over the sleeping girl and back to the door. She pushed aside the curtain and looked out into the night. Maximus was still there vigilant, slumped on the ground drinking from a flagon, his eyes riveted on the wagon. Aurelia wondered what thoughts were running through his mind. He caught her glance; she expected him to chide her, tell her to go to bed, but this time he said nothing. His look was raw and honest - and even she could see the hunger there. She knew then that he was thinking of her body, possibly even able to see the shadow of it in the moonlight through her shift. Something in her made her respond to that thought.

Aurelia brought the candle flame to her lips, her fingers clenched tight around the thick shaft, aware that he could see her action clearly- and she blew upon it sensuously, cool air on the heat. The flame flickered and died.

Then she rested down the candle and raised her shift until one leg was exposed to him, ankle to thigh. With a cooling unguent, she rubbed the skin down softly. The insects had bitten her leg. All she was doing was giving her skin ease. Through the veil of her loose thick curls she watched his eyes fixed on her as she seductively massaged the oil higher and higher up her limb. His feverish eyes seemed to burn even more at the sight.

For a moment she wondered if he would throw caution to the winds and storm over, drag her from the wagon and take his pleasure with her on the cool dry earth under the starlit sky. There was a simmering tension rising from him across the void between them that even Aurelia could sense. Her behaviour was cruelly tempting him in ways she barely understood. And yet she knew exactly what she was doing.  How long could he withstand his desire?

But he did not move. Finally he cast his eyes up to the heavens and lay his head back against the trunk of the tree. She could see the thick muscles of his neck paler than the skin of his face and the white orbs of his eyes as he stared up at the night sky. Then, he raised the flagon and drained it back. Aurelia watched as the motion of swallowing hypnotically drew her attention back to his throat. Throwing the terracotta jar, now empty, away from him, he closed his eyes and seemed to shudder. Aurelia stepped back and drew the curtain closed again. His intensity even in stillness absorbed her. What would he be like if he ever unleashed the physical nature she believed lay not far below the surface? A shiver ran through her entire body in answer to the shudder that she had witnessed pass through his. She felt as if her very soul had been penetrated by this man. Already they had shared intimacies far deeper than any mere coupling.

Cinna stood back in the cover of the trees and sniggered to himself. He had seen the little whore performing for Maximus. Blood will out, so they say. She was quite the little seductress, for all her apparent innocence. He had been aroused himself by the sight of her massaging her naked legs in the moonlight; grasping a thick candle as she wished to grip her lover's cock.  If Aurelia hadn't been taken yet, it would not be long until she wore down Maximus' resolve.  The man was besotted with her. Then he would have both of them exactly where he wanted them. The lovers were becoming careless. It was only a matter of time now...