"Juba? Juba? Is that really you?"

Maximus stood astonished at the man who blocked his path. His old friend seemed equally dumbstruck, unable to utter a sound for the long moments that they gaped at each other. Then:

"Master....you were dead...!"

That brought a smile to Maximus' face. "Almost. But apparently, not quite."

"Then you are not a ghost?" Juba muttered, still wide-eyed and uncertain, his simple belief in supernatural spirits still not willing to be convinced that this man was indeed his old partner, the general himself.

"I am not a ghost. Maximus is alive and well... A little older...a little slower...but still the same man you once knew. I did not die in the arena...Although it was touch and go there for a long time..." He stepped forward and slapped Juba's back. "There is no man in this world I would rather have met again than you! Juba, old friend...it warms my heart to see you again...what in the world brings you to this place? I have often wondered what had been your fate. No one could tell me what became of you and the others..."

They had strolled along the balcony and descended down to the ground floor where in the shady entrance to the inn, they sat over a jug of wine and recounted the story of the events that lay between the last time they had embraced that desperate last night. Maximus told his tale succinctly; of his slow recovery in Sicily and of the people who had sheltered him.

"But what brings you here? To this place that must have been forsaken by all of the gods, both yours and mine!" Juba exclaimed.

"I could ask the same of you," Maximus replied evasively. "But you deserve an honest answer for all that you have done for me. There is no one I would trust more with my secrets..." And he explained how this all had come to this pass, without enlarging on the details of his personal relationship with Aurelia. He had incurred the wrath of Quintus Metella, now the man of the moment and emperor-in-waiting, and had had to flee the country. With him was a young woman who was the granddaughter of Aurelius and whose safety he was sworn to defend. There were many intrigues at court and Metella had attempted to force her hand in marriage to ensure his claim to the throne.

Juba listened and said little. The motivations of the rulers of the world were a mystery to him although, in truth, he found it little different from the petty squabbles for power and territory that had bedevilled the peoples of his own land and had led to his enslavement in the bitter wars that had raged between his tribe and others. But one thing he knew for sure. Maximus was not merely looking after this young woman from a sense of duty owing to her grandfather and mentor, the former emperor. He had watched them both together kissing and playing at the side of the road. The very reason that he had found it hard to accept that this man was Maximus had been the light-hearted manner that he had shown, so at odds with the bitter and melancholy man he had befriended in the slave quarters. There was more to the story than Maximus was telling by far - but he didn't blame him for his reluctance to explain it all. It was his right to keep the secrets of his heart, for all men fear that anyone might know their weakness and exploit it.

And Juba knew that if Maximus should ever find love again then he would protect it this time with the same ferocity that he had once pursued the avenging of the innocent whom he had failed.

"Where is the young lady?" Juba asked.

"Resting. Above. In her room. It has been a long and arduous journey and she needed a few days of peace and quiet..."

"They are on your track? The Praetorians?" 

"Yes. We will be hounded down. It is only a matter of time..." Maximus shrugged and looked away, screwing up his eyes against the glare of the sun.

"They haven't got you yet...!" Juba smiled and lightly punched Maximus' arm. "Not yet...not yet..."

"No..." Maximus grinned softly, recalling another time and place.. "Not yet....not yet...."

Their conversation then moved on to what Juba had done on receiving his freedom. He had taken the sum of money that each gladiator had been given - apparently taken from the estate of the dead Proximo and distributed between those who had survived the storming of the barracks - and headed back to his homeland. It had taken him many weeks to get there. He had found his village deserted. The raiders who had captured him and other hunters, warriors from an enemy tribe, had later come back for the defenceless - the old, the women and the children. Juba had searched and searched but there was no word of his family. Some said they were dead. Other said enslaved. They could have been anywhere in the Empire by the time he had returned.

"And so, I too have lost all that I ever loved..." Juba said sadly as he ended his sorry tale. "I thought I had triumphed against impossible odds, but the gods still had the last laugh on me. Perhaps you were right all along. They mock us all. It matters not how we live our life for in the end, they punish us regardless of whether we lived with honour or not..." He recalled the many nights when they had talked of their lives and their beliefs in the gladiator barracks. Maximus had shocked him then with his total rejection of all he had once been taught to believe as a Roman nobleman.  Now he understood him better.

"So...what are your plans?" Maximus asked. He did not waste unnecessary words on futile sympathy. Both men understood the implicit support they could expect from the other at the plight they were in. It was not the way either would speak, to indulge in piteous complaint at their lot.

Juba opened his hands, palm upwards. "In truth, I am just wandering, trying to escape my memories, hoping against hope that I might stumble across them - or at least one of them. They will not likely be together," he added, his smooth, handsome brow furrowing with the pain of knowing his little girls and their mother would have been torn apart.

"You stumbled on me. Who knows?" Maximus added with a sad smile. Juba nodded, a shy grin easing his forlorn melancholy. "In the meantime, what then? I could do with a travelling companion and I cannot think of a better one. I would not wish to lose you again now that we have found each other..." An idea had occurred to him. Perhaps there was a purpose in this unexpected fortuity.

"Accompany you and the lady? To where?" Juba asked, surprised at Maximus' request. 

"The Gods alone know. But there is as much chance of you finding your family one way as another..."

Juba agreed. "What do you want of me, my lord?"

Maximus raised his eyes and smiled wryly. "That you never again call me 'Lord' or 'Master' or 'General' for one. My name is Maximus...or Maxime...or even Max...I insist..."

Juba grinned.

"I would offer you a paid job. It is not my intention to expect you to do this for free. In my service. I need someone whom I can trust implicitly. You are that man."

"There is no need for payment. I owe you too much..."Juba began.

Maximus shook his head, refusing to be gainsayed in this. "There is every need for payment. A man needs to earn his living. And you have repaid any debt to me tenfold already..." Maximus proceeded to tell him of the money he could lay his hands on if he could only redeem the Treasury notes. "If I take her into Alexandria with me, our chances of discovery are heightened. She cannot hide her nobility. And her hair is the colour of golden wheat. She will stand out. But I could not risk leaving her alone, a prey to the unscrupulous...but now..."

"What do you ask of me?" Maximus smiled at the honour of this simple man.

"Stay here with her? There is no man I would trust more with her honour..." Maximus said, clasping his shoulder. "But I must warn you. She is a...spirited girl...but she will keep you entertained, for sure...!" He laughed heartily at that, his eyes crinkling merrily as he thought of Aurelia. Juba had all the proof, if proof were needed, that this man was in love with this young woman - and his curiosity to meet her increased. "Come, drink up. I have left her alone too long and I want her to meet you..."

Aurelia's first meeting with Juba had been a tentative one on both their parts. He had been inhibited in the presence of a young woman whom he knew was an Imperial and believed to be far above him. She for her part was a little intimidated by this huge man whose ebony skin was so dark that she could not help but stare at him. She had seen Numidians before, but never close at hand - and none of them would ever have dared to talk to her.  The first time he had entered the room, towering above them both and making the place seem even tinier, she had shrank back against the wall, putting Maximus between. Juba stood back and said little. It was an uncomfortable interlude.

But that changed. Realising that he could not simply leave her with this unknown man, Maximus decided to wait a few days until Aurelia felt more secure with Juba.

 That night, after they shared a simple meal sent up from the inn below, Juba took his leave. The men walked out onto the walkway, and lent over the rail. "I asked the innkeeper for another room..." Maximus began.

Juba glanced across and grinned. His ivory teeth shone out in the dusk. "For you and me? We must leave the lady to her bed, hey?" Then he laughed; Maximus reluctantly joined in. He had not fooled his old friend.

"Do not say a word...!" Maximus warned him. That made Juba laugh even more.

"I shall leave you both to your slumber. Say goodnight to the lady on my behalf. I wish you a good...rest..." Juba emphasised the last word. "...and I think I may even find something down there to warm my bed tonight..." He indicated a few of the whores lounging about the courtyard below, grooming each other in the cool of the evening.

"The one in red....Yes, her...!" Maximus pointed out the audacious girl who had called down to him earlier in the day and made him such an inviting offer. "She likes them big...and she knows a few tricks, or so she says...!" He chuckled and hit Juba on the back, pushing him forward. "Hey, beauty...here's a boy with plenty of what you want...!" he shouted before taking himself back to their room laughing to himself, easier in his spirit than he had been for days.

Aurelia jumped up when Maximus came back, appearing to have returned to her usual more lively state after the subdued mood she had demonstrated earlier. "Tell me everything! Was he really a gladiator? How did you meet him? Where has he been? Can we trust him? He is so big!  I have never seen such a big man. Is he black all over? He is like polished ebony! I have never seen a Numidian at such close quarters before - or spoken to one ever in my whole life. He talks like us. Well, he has an accent but it's sort of elegant and profound... Like he was a philosopher or something! His voice is so deep; it has a resonance that is very pleasing to the ear. Is he married? Does he have children? Is he a noble lord in his tribe?"

Maximus held up his hands. "One at a time! He is an old, old friend. Maybe the best friend I ever had..."

"Really? But he's a...slave....well, he was a slave...!" Aurelia gasped.

Maximus winced. "As was I..."

"Yes, but you weren't really a slave..." she countered.

"Aurelia. I was a slave. Don't dress it up in any other fashion. My purpose in life was to kill to appease a mob or be killed. All the barriers between me and other men fell away. Juba and I might have been born worlds apart but we fought chained to each other and nothing else mattered but that we were men and the fate of the other was in our hands..."

Aurelia sat on the bed, her legs drawn up to her knees as she listened to him. He lay on the bed next to her and talked quietly. "I have known many men in my time and had many whom I called friend. But the men I came to love in my days as a gladiator were closer to me than any I have ever known..."

"But you might have been asked to fight each other! Was that wise to make bonds of comradeship in that world?"

Maximus shrugged. "How can you stop admiring a man? I saw great qualities in Juba. He is a formidable warrior but has a gentle and innocent heart. He is a good man. And he is very deep thinking. Juba cannot read or write but he speaks with more wisdom than many men I have known who are highly educated. I learned much from him. Sometimes he would bring me up short with something he said, giving me insights into a whole new way of thinking. I would realise that things I had believed all my life were meaningless. This humble slave could see the flaws in my world that I for all my supposed intelligence had never seen..."

"What do you mean?" Aurelia asked. 

It was hard for him to explain. "Give him a chance to show you. Do not fear Juba. There is no man I would trust more in this world. I do not know what fortune brought him across our path but it was a lucky day when he found us. I have asked him to travel with us, Lia. He will be of invaluable service and he needs to belong. He lost his family to slavery. He is alone in the world too now..." Maximus pulled her down by him and stroked her gently,  massaging her breast tenderly then dropping his hand to her stomach, slipping his hand beneath her shift to warm her stomach with his large one. "Have you pain? How are you feeling?" he murmured as he nuzzled at her.

Aurelia smiled at his loving care. "A little.  Maximus, I feel dirty. You should not touch me. I am unclean..." she whispered back, running her hand through his short cropped hair.

"Rubbish! That is the nonsense of old women. Men do not feel like that about their women. Not in the privacy of our own bedrooms. The old wives' tales are just tradition, no doubt invented by women to keep men away from them at the times of the month they did not want their attentions..." he chuckled.

Aurelia's eyes widened. "You mean men would still...do it....at a time like this?"

He laughed. "Oh yes, we would...but a decent man would never offend the sensibilities of a lady he loved..."

"Ewww! Men are so coarse!" Aurelia replied. That made him laugh even more.

"We are indeed. Now move over and let's get some sleep. Unless you need me to leave you awhile to your ablutions..."

She nodded shyly. He rolled off the bed and stood outside the room for some time, watching the comings and goings below, leaning out on the balustrade, looking but not really seeing; his thoughts far away, occupied on other matters than the commerce of flesh taking place all around.

"Come back. I have finished now," Aurelia broke into his reveries, her voice soft and low beyond the barrier of the curtain. Bending his head, to enter, he saw that she was dressed only in her shift, brushing her hair out, sitting cross-legged on the bed. She appeared to him like the loveliest thing he had ever seen, completely unadorned save for her natural femininity. A passing notion of a daughter created in her image flickered through his mind but he quickly chased the dream away. He ought to know better that to allow fanciful notions to invade the bleak brutal reality of life.

"You are managing?" he asked gruffly, a little unsure himself how to deal with a young woman in her situation. He tried to remember his wife but the memories were already hazy and he had been away so much. She never discussed such matter with him and had merely indicated that it was her time and he had not bothered her on those days. But they had always shared a bed. Neither had been at all concerned with the old proprieties. Yet, he realised that men and women simply did not talk about these intimate matters. He had no real idea how contraception worked nor what a woman generally did for ease when she was bleeding. Somehow he thought his ignorance was immeasurably sad, but he wasn't sure why.

Aurelia nodded. "I even washed the rags I soiled and hung them to dry..." She said it with pride and then blushed as if it was shameful of her even to imagine such a trivial matter was something to boast about, never mind say it to a man.

He smiled benignly. "Good girl. You are doing so well. Learning things you should never have had to know. You are an exceptional young woman..." He stripped off his tunic and cloth, throwing them on the chair and joined her on the bed, taking the brush from her hand and applying himself to combing through the thick golden tresses. Even now without all her expensive salves and oils and perfumes, she still managed to exude a fragrance that intoxicated him. He wished he could love her tonight. His desire for her seemed to increase as the days went on. She filled his mind and heart and soul. It was how he was with all things. He gave himself totally - or not at all.

Maximus heard her sigh softly as he brushed and fingered the locks. "What is the matter? Am I too rough?"

"No. Not at all. So very gentle...Verilia used to almost pull my hair out by the roots...!" she added sadly.

"You were remembering Verilia? That is why you sighed?" he asked concerned.

"Yes. I think of her all the time. I try not to cry. But I miss her so..." Aurelia's voice ended in a muffled sob. The poor child had been keeping her sorrow deep inside, hardly allowing herself to mourn for the sake of them both. Sometimes her maturity astounded him.

"There is no shame in weeping for the dead. Aurelia, you must not try to be too brave..."

"..I dare not cry. If I let myself cry, then I may never stop. It is hard to explain. My grief seems beyond tears. It is in some other place, kept locked away where I cannot feel it. But one day, I shall let it out ...and I fear that moment...I'm sorry. That probably makes no sense..." she laughed sadly at her own melodramatic style.

"It makes perfect sense to me. I have been in that place too. In some ways I am only just beginning to escape it. The dead are always dead, Lia, but they hold us fast for a long time. And that is their right. They deserve to be mourned. They deserve to be remembered. They deserve to be avenged."

Aurelia turned around suddenly, taking the brush from his hand. "And when you have grieved and remembered and avenged...are you then free of pain?" she asked intuitively.

He shook his head. "Never. But you are free to begin again. If you still have the strength..."

"If we survive I will build some memorial to both my mothers. I care not what people say..."

"...If the gods spare us, Lia, we will have many memorials to erect for those who went before us..." His hand caressed her face; she closed her eyes and rested her cheek in his palm as he pushed her back to lie beneath him. "Until then, we have only each other...and the past must wait. The future is unknown. But we have the here and now...Aurelia, I love you. Know that whatever lies ahead for us...I love you with all my heart...for all time..."

He kissed her softly, a gentle pressure of lips that soon deepened and became wilder as both struggled against their desperate need to bury themselves in the other. It seemed that all the things they were at loss to say to each other became clear when they touched. Whatever madness was controlling their impulses it felt truer than the voices of reason that constantly jarred and niggled at their subconscious.

He broke the kiss and rolled onto his side, pulling the rough blanket rolled up at the bottom of the bed and covering her over. "Sleep now. Tomorrow we will talk about what comes next. Enough for today..."

Obediently she complied, snuggling down beside him and curling up in the crook of his arm as he held her close to his chest, his other arm behind his head, still thinking, still planning.

It seemed she had gone to sleep for she did not move for a long time. He felt himself beginning to drift, that sweet prelude to sleep when the brain begins to close down and allow peace to descend. But her voice jerked him back to wakefulness.

"Maxime? Are you still awake?"

He grunted.

"I was thinking..."

"Go to sleep."

"But...I was just thinking..."

"Aurelia, it is late...!"

"But I can't sleep. I keep thinking..."

Maximus sat up and leaned against the wall, rubbing his eyes. "What is it?" She scrambled up to kneel before him, smiling fondly at his tetchiness. He was always like that when he was tired, she had discovered. She found it endearing.

"I was thinking about what you said. About everything, really. Your life. My life. What is happening here..."

"And...? Aurelia, can you get to the point? These night time rambling thoughts are never more than the product of an over-active mind..."

"You blame the gods for what they did. They abandoned you. Your innocent family died, you were forced into slavery....terrible things happened to you...and you lost your faith in Rome, the gods, the empire..."

Maximus sighed. He was not in the mood for this today. "So? I still don't hear any hypothesis here..."

"Oh, give me a chance, grumpy! I was thinking about fate. Luck. Fortune. Nemesis. Whatever you wish to call it. Perhaps we are interpreting events incorrectly. Maybe you are not cursed by the gods after all? The very opposite could be true..."

 "What? That I am the fortunate of men? To have lost everything I had, my family slaughtered, my estates and slaves destroyed, my career and honours stripped from me, my life brutalised in the arena, being on the brink of death twice, now on the run from the entire might of Rome...? Tell me, where is the good fortune in all that?" He was beginning to grow annoyed with what appeared to him to be an outrageous claim on her part.

"That is what I mean! Terrible things have happened -that you have always just managed to escape...I know your family died tragically...but you did not! The troop of Praetorian failed to execute you...the wound did not kill you, even though it was infected and untreated for weeks..."

"Juba knew how to heal it..."

"Exactly!" she announced triumphantly. "How fortunate of all the slaves in the empire you met him then..." She continued, unconcerned at his sharp retort. "You were never seriously injured in the arena despite being part of some of the most complex spectacles ever staged- included fighting wild tigers&ldots;"

"I was mortally wounded by Commodus' treachery..."

"You're not dead though, are you? You were wounded bad enough to die...but you lived! Against the odds. Even though you wanted to die..."

"This is good luck?" Maximus answered tartly.

"Not for you, perhaps. But have you ever considered why? Why the gods have spared you from death when they gave you so many trials?" Aurelia seemed to refuse to be put off.

Maximus threw the blanket back, jumping from the bed, striding naked across the room, barely able to contain the rage that seemed to simmer from him. Turning round he shouted at her. "Because they wish to torment me...!"

"But why? You have never done anything to offend them! Stop thinking like that for a moment. Stop thinking negatively...! Perhaps, you are alive because... because... they want something of you! Perhaps there is still a labour they wish for you to carry out and every thing or every person who stands in their way is removed - but you stay alive...!"

His eyes flashed dangerously. "So...my wife and son had to die? Is that what you are trying to tell me? What possible reason could there be for the gods to wish their deaths? How did they harm anyone? With what divine plan could they have interfered? Please tell me that?"

Aurelia knew she had gone too far. There was only one answer she could realistically give him - and he was leading her into this trap of saying it. That his wife and son had died because, like Aeneas in the poem, Maximus was meant for another marriage and to father other children. He was meant for her, the granddaughter of an emperor. He was destined for greatness. To save Rome from itself, just as her grandfather had once asked of him. Aurelia felt that this was the key to everything. But she also knew that he was still not ready to hear that awful revelation. He could accept that the gods had used his life as a plaything - but not that his present joy had been made possible with the express purpose of cruelly taking his former family away to lead him to a new future. Or that Commodus had died because he had usurped the throne and it had to be left vacant for the real heir to assume power. Maximus was not ready to accept that even now, this love he felt for her, this daring reckless act he had embarked on was not the result of his refusal to adhere to the rules of a society he had rejected - but the very divine plan itself. How could he accept that he was being worked like a mechanical toy to carry out some as yet unrevealed destiny, his own will taken from him yet again? If he admitted that then he was still as much a slave as when he had fought in the arena.

She retreated. "I'm sorry. It was a stupid girlish fancy...I was just dreaming silly things..."

Aurelia saw him breathe deeply a few times and recover his composure. "You have read too many legends. Watched too many plays. Life is not in anyway like the stories of the great epic heroes. The gods do not have such noble destinies for mankind. Grow up and stop trying to make this an epic adventure! The truth is we are mortals who are like ants beneath the feet of the Immortals. Life is bloody, cruel and brutal...and then you die. Expect nothing and you will be rewarded. Now go to sleep. I have heard enough for one night...!"

She watched as he walked naked back to the bed, the only adornment, the leather thong around his neck with the ivory teeth hanging, an unusually savage, almost barbarian, totem. It suited him. There was a beast within him that was only partially cloaked by the mantle of civilisation. Aurelia turned her back and rolled up into a ball, fighting tears. Maximus threw himself down on his back and was soon asleep. They spoke no more that night.

Two days later, Maximus left for Alexandria, leaving Aurelia with Juba. He had given them all the coin he had left, telling them that he still had enough. So now he was destitute. It did not scare him. A man can always find food, either by scavenging, working or foraging. He could do all those things when he needed to.

But a horse would have been preferable for him - the city to where he was heading was still a far distance. On a good mount, one of his old stallions, Argento or Scarto, he would have made Alexandria in two, maybe three days. Speed was of the essence as he was scared of leaving Aurelia alone, no matter how much he trusted Juba. His mind raced with the possible dangers that they might face in what could be weeks of absence.

The next morning, after their harsh words the night before, they had made a sort of peace. Maximus had not exactly apologised - what had he done wrong anyway? - but he had approached her gently and she had seemed over the strange mood of  the night before. Aurelia had not mentioned her theories again and he had not addressed the subject either. They had spent a quiet day with Juba, before Maximus had suggested his plan to leave her behind while he went alone to Alexandria to redeem the money.

She had nodded meekly, although he suspected that she was really very upset and a little afraid to be abandoned with a man she barely knew -  but she hid it well. There was a stillness about her features that seemed too controlled to be her natural demeanour. He had not observed in her before this ability to become something else. It had been there in Lucilla and no doubt her mother had possessed that skill. Was it bred in the bones of imperials or did they acquire the skill as a defence mechanism as they went along? But he did not blame her - or any of them. It was how they faced the world when it rose up to threaten them. It was a mark of courage, not deception.

Perhaps all women learnt it at the hands of men to differing degrees.

When Maximus had left, he did so quickly and with little ceremony, unwilling to make of this a melodrama that would be difficult for them both. Earlier he had taken Juba aside, entrusted the money to him and told him what he expected.

"Stay here but be watchful. If anything concerns you, then leave. Tell no one your destination. I will find you. Wherever you are. I will find you. Give me a full month at the outside. It should take less - but who knows what might hold me up? If  I am not back by this day next month, then leave anyway. I am dead. Take her back to her father. He will take pity on her and protect her from the inevitable storm. They will most likely send her away and keep her out of sight. Her life will be officially over - but at least she will live..."

Juba showed little in his face but Maximus knew he was feeling much more beneath the impassive visage. A hand to his arm said all he needed to say as he whispered: "I will lay down my life before any man harms her...!" Maximus nodded and smiled sadly back."Let's hope it never comes to that, hey?"

He found Aurelia downstairs, chatting to a little girl whose mother worked the chambers above. When his shadow fell over them, both females turned and looked up at him; Maximus recalled again that sudden dream of a daughter of his own. She would sit with Aurelia like this and they would chat and laugh and...

"Is it time?" She asked him calmly.

He nodded and she stood up, setting the little girl down, sending her off to her own mother and then rising to say goodbye to him. "Take care. I will think of you every moment...!" she muttered.

"...As I will of you...Aurelia, I love you. This was all for love. Not desire. Not revenge. Only love...remember that..."

Aurelia whimpered slightly and threw her arms around his neck; Maximus grasped her to him, allowing himself one moment of weakness to feel her fragile form in his arms and gain strength from it. "I love you so much...come back to me..." her voice was shrill as she fought back the tears.

Firmly he eased himself from her embrace and stepped away. "Be good. Do not make things hard for Juba. Whatever he says, obey him. He knows what must be done..."

Before she could ask him to explain himself, Maximus stepped away and moved swiftly from the yard of the inn. Aurelia watched him go, then ran after him, stopping at the gates and standing watching until he was out of sight. Her face was impassive, pale and drawn, but she did not cry. Nor did she intend to. Now she had to show what she was made of. She had to keep her vigil and stay safe until he came back to her once more.

The road was long and Maximus had many days and hours in which to think. The first day he found a ride in a peddler's wagon and helped the family unload their wares at the next destination. For that he was given something to eat. It was enough for him. Sleeping that night rolled up in his cloak at the side of the road, he was up at dawn and on his way again. It became the pattern of his days, walking, hitching a ride when he could, finding food, stealing it, or using his knife and killing some unfortunate creature which crossed his path.  He could eat virtually anything skinned and roasted - lizard and snake would do.

Aurelia's odd train of thought remained with him and he returned to the topic often in the days that followed. His anger had not purely been as a result of the implications of her notions. There had been more at work in his head than that. What she had said had resonated with him. He too could not explain many of the twists of fate with which his life seemed dogged. And meeting Juba just at the very moment when he most needed him was the most indicative of all.

Was Aurelia correct? Was some inexplicable fate unravelling for them all? Were they walking on a path whose final destination was a place they could not avoid? What was the purpose of all of this?

He found it hard to believe it would be a fortunate one. If they were to be kept safe for now, he was sure the axe would fall sooner or later. But speculation gave him something to do as he went forward. It occasionally gave him hope but more often than not dashed him down. But he was used to disappointment. It was a friend of his.

There were other matters to plan. He needed a number of strategies for what he would do once he reached the city. Plans for every possible eventuality - and then for the things he could not predict. But despite the tension that mounted in him the nearer he was to his goal, he recognised the signs in himself of a growing alertness and anticipation. It was good to be back in action, planning something tactical, in charge of a situation instead of helplessly swept along by it. It focussed his concentration, helped to set aside extraneous matters so that he could deal with concretes instead of shadows in the dark. But most of all he did not have to make adjustments for Aurelia. He could act freely now. That would make his chance of success much greater.

There was a distinctly uncomfortable atmosphere between Juba and Aurelia after Maximus had departed. They were now in a position of intimacy that neither was ready for. The young woman kept to her room for much of the day while Juba stayed outside, reluctant to venture far from her room, resisting even the blandishments of Yanitra, the woman with whom he had spent the past few nights. She came up and joined him there when she was free with food and drink.

"Why are you guarding her?" 

Juba shrugged. "Her man asked me to."

"You know him?"

"Yes."

"Friend."

"Yes."

"What's so special about her?"

Juba gave another lazy hunching of his shoulders. "She's special to him. He's my friend. That's all I know."

"You aren't exactly a talker, are you, Juba?"

He grinned. "It seems you do well enough for two people..."

 That made her laugh. "You going to come fuck me again tonight?"

"I can't afford it."

"Come late. It will be free..." She flashed her dark eyes at him.

"Some other time...I cannot leave her...but..."

"...but....?"

"Perhaps we could take some time now? She is sleeping and I can ask one of the children to come get me if anyone approaches..."

Yanitra looked at him curiously. "I'm not buying this 'nothing special' of yours. Both of them don't belong here. They're Romans and they're upper class. You can smell it a mile off. But don't worry...I've nothing against them. Live and let live, I say. Whatever they've done, it's their business...you can trust me to keep my mouth shut..."

Juba moved fast and took her by the arm dragging her into the shadows, his hand firmly around her throat. "I hope I can trust you, Yanitra...for you would not like to see me if I was crossed..."

"Juba...I would never...!" Yanitra coughed and spluttered as he relaxed his hold. She snaked sinuously against him, trying to win back his favour. "Come, let me prove how much I want you...I tell you...you have nothing to fear from me..."

It was late afternoon when Juba resumed his post, sitting by the door in the shade of the eaves.  Aurelia must have heard him return for shortly afterwards she came out and joined him, bringing him a jug of wine and some bread and cheese. "I thought you might be hungry..." she began shyly.

"My lady..." he sprang to his feet. "It is not for you to serve me..."

Aurelia shook her head and sat down beside him, crossing her legs easily. "I am not serving you. I am giving you some food. That is all. Juba, you must not treat me like something I am not. I'm just an ordinary girl now, even though I may have an extraordinary history. You are Maximus' greatest friend. He told me so. He trusts you. Then I trust you. But this can only work if we are equals. I will not have you like some guard dog at my heels. You are a man. Not a slave."

Juba smiled and thanked her for the food. They both ate in silence for a while before Aurelia said: "Tell me about your home. About your people. I know so little of other parts of the world, Numidia most of all..."

Juba did not speak for a time, finishing off what he was chewing and taking another drink. Then he paused for a moment, staring far away, obviously recalling that far off place in his mind's eye. "I come from a tribe far to the south across the Great Desert. We are simple people. The women grow maize and vegetables, the men are hunters. But we are not animals, whatever the peoples of the Mediterranean may think. My people are a proud race, warriors with a noble tradition of their own. Life was good. Enough food, surrounded by kin and friends, the sun in the sky, the rain in season, the harvest, the years passing by in their sweet sameness. First I was a boy. Then I became a man. It is not the stuff of great epic such as the wandering story tellers recount over our fires at night about our warrior ancestors, but it was a good life..."

Aurelia smiled and settled in for more, leaning back against the wall. "It is to me. Your sameness is my adventure. Please go on...you are a very good narrator. I love to listen to your voice...'

Her honesty was oddly pleasing, a compliment un-sought and unexpected, so freely given. She was such a sweet natured girl, he thought. So unlike women of her race and class. Juba had known many of them. His services had been in great demand in the gladiator barracks in Rome. Rich women used him as if he were a toy or a mute animal, blind and dumb to the degradation of their demands. But, unlike Maximus, who had refused all such offers, Juba had taken his pleasure even so, for what it was. He was still a man. They needed him for what their own men could not give them. There had been some victory in that.

"I had my eye on a girl. She was a beauty. From a neighbouring village. Her father was a powerful man in the tribe. I never thought I would have a chance. But he was looking for a husband for her and I stepped forward with the other young men he chose to prove themselves for her hand. It is not our custom to force a man on any girl. Men must show their worth - and still the girl has the right to change her mind..."

Aurelia giggled. "I like your custom. It is more civilised than ours. So what did you have to do to prove yourself?"

Juba smiled, the memory of those days still able to being him joy even now after all he had lost. "There were many tasks we had to accomplish: Bring back a lion skin, the tusks of a male elephant, race against each other, combats and tests of endurance..." Juba explained the customs of this rite of passage to his enraptured audience. Aurelia sat spellbound, her mouth open, oohing and ahhing at the spectacle of this ritual. Imagine what a glorious young man would emerge victor from that, and how he would have deserved the maiden's love after such a proof of determination to win her!

"You were the victor, were you not?" Aurelia clapped her hands in glee at the thought. 

Juba grinned. "I was. I almost shocked myself to emerge as the conqueror. A poor boy from an unremarkable house - awarded the daughter of a tribal elder! But I had proved by manhood and my worth and there was no one who disagreed. She was a gentle maiden - and now she had the strongest mate. It was thought fitting."

"She approved?" Aurelia asked with a mischievous smirk. As if the girl would not have wanted him!

Juba looked bashful. "It seemed she did. Later she told me that she had always wished for it to be me. And I had not even known she knew who I was. But she had been watching. Girls talk, or so she said..."

That made Aurelia giggle. "Of course they do! Why do men always think that only they feel desire? She must have been thought herself the luckiest girl in the tribe to catch a  man like you! What was her name?"

"N'losi."

"Did you have babies?"

Juba nodded. "Two. Daughters. The prettiest girls you ever saw. M'lola and M'luli...They were three and four the last time I saw them...My wife was with child again. Maybe a son....who knows...?" But his voice trailed away. Aurelia could hear his voice thicken with emotion.

"What happened to them?" She could not help but ask although she suspected she already knew the answer.

Juba looked down, no longer able to face her. "I do not know. By the time I was freed and returned with my spoils, our land was a waste. The warriors had been captured or killed in a war with a neighbouring nation - that is when I was taken - and it left our villages helpless. The old, the women, the children...who can say what became of them? Dead or enslaved themselves."

They both sat in silence for a while. "I am so sorry. Why don't you hate me? Rome has ruined your life. I would not blame you from taking revenge on every Roman whom you met..." Aurelia declared.

"..It was not Romans who sold me into slavery. Or attacked my village and carried off my family. It was my own people. Or people of my country, at least. Beware the snake in your own nest. He is far more dangerous than the lion which prowls the plains outside your homesteads. Lady Aurelia, I have learnt many things in my life. But the greatest lesson of all was that people are people wherever they are born or whatever language they speak. Some are good. Some are evil. Some are strong. Some are weak. Some you must kill. And some are worth dying for. But their race is immaterial...it is the spirit of a man - or woman - which is the only thing that counts in the end..."

"Did you learn that as a gladiator?" Aurelia murmured.

Juba nodded. "Maximus could not have been more different from me. A highborn Roman who had once been the greatest general in the empire? And yet we became like brothers. A kinship forged in blood. I would have died for him - and he for me."

"Do you think you will ever find them again? Your family?" Aurelia asked. Juba shook his head. 

"Only by chance. I will never give up my search but it matters not where I go from now on. Either I am meant to find them or I am not. Only the gods know what lies in store for us..." he answered softly.

That resonated with Aurelia. "Do you still believe in that? In the gods? After all that has happened? Maximus rejects our gods completely. He has lost his faith..."

"I know. He was a bitter man when I met him. He carved the gods' name from his arm with a flint. I never saw anyone do such a thing..."Juba said.

'The SPQR tattoo? Is that how he got the scar on his arm? Below the sword wound? He dug it out himself?" Aurelia gasped.

Juba nodded. "I thought he was wrong then. I still think he was wrong. Look! For all the evil that he suffered, he overcame it! He killed a tyrant and saved many people. And he lived to find you and save you! How could that not be the gods' will?"

Aurelia was amazed. It was exactly as she had thought herself! Perhaps she had not been as fanciful as Maximus had made her think. "Juba, we must make him see! There has to be a purpose in all this! He has to realise that we are not all doomed!"

But to that Juba merely hunched his shoulders. "We may all be doomed. Who can say what use the gods have in mind for our lives? They are not concerned for our sufferings..."

It was an interlude of quiet companionship when Aurelia learnt a new kind of trust. She knew she was in the presence of a singular man and that she need never fear him. But even more than that, she knew that Juba would always be Maximus' right arm. And more than ever she believed that divine purpose had brought them all to this place-  and that the end of their story was still far from written.

Maximus entered Alexandria on the eighth day of his journey. The gates were heavily guarded but he passed through easily enough, choosing the height of the afternoon sun for his passage when the soldiers on duty were tired, hot and near to the end of their shift. He knew that their attention would be less acute at such an hour.

Tagging onto the end of a large body of traders from the east, he easily blended in, wrapping around his head a sheet he had acquired en route. He was heavily bearded, unwashed, his clothes filthy - unrecognisable as the man he was. And as if he was a ghost, he slipped through the great entrance unnoticed.

That thought gave Maximus pause. As if he was a ghost. He tried to recall the exact words of the story of Aeneas but failed to do so, cursing himself for being such a negligent student all those years ago. Yet there had been something of a similar nature in the story. Aeneas had made his way to Carthage on the behest of Venus who had assured him he would be safe and unharmed. Unbeknown to him, she had cloaked him in an aura that had rendered him invisible or at least made him look different to others. Maximus could not quite remember which, until he appeared in the presence of the queen...Why had that notion come into his mind?

Maximus knew why. It was because of what Aurelia had said. Could she have been right after all? Or was he grasping at the same unlikely straws as she? But as he passed through the portals of a city where he was being sought, he could not but think that there was some spirit watching over him. And perhaps there always had been.

Alexandria was a city whose name conjured up many things for Maximus - as it did for any Roman, most of all a general. Who among them had not styled themselves on the great leaders of old, reading voraciously into the night, when much younger men, of the exploits of Alexander, Pompey, Julius Caesar, Antony? The list was endless. Egypt had been the downfall of them all in one way or another.

As Maximus wandered along the harbourside lost amidst the dense crowd of humanity from all corners of the known world and beyond, he found himself staring like a simple countryman at the wonders of this great city. Once Rome had made him stop and stare at the imagination of engineers who could even dare to dream such structures as the Flavian Amphitheatre and the temples and palaces of the Capitoline. But even Rome itself seemed to pale into insignificance against the edifices that towered in Alexandria along the port crowned by the great Pharos itself, its Cyclopean eye blinking night and day to guide ships safe home, not to mention the mighty Colossus straddling the entrance to the harbour. Maximus spent a long time that day just watching the traffic, wondering at the world and all its splendours - and wishing Aurelia could see this. How she would have been agog at its magnificence!

But he was not there to sightsee. Soon enough he shook his amazement from him and began to return his thoughts to the matter that had brought him there. Maximus knew that he could not present himself for business in the state he was in - and yet his disguise might be for nothing if he cleaned himself up. Furthermore, he was hungry, dirty and exhausted, far from his best and needing to recoup his strength. It was imperative he was at the height of his powers once he showed himself. So he decided on food and sleep first.

A woman with a crying child gave him the opportunity he needed although it shamed him to prey on her. She had set down her basket to pick up the infant and in a thrice he had helped himself to the little bag of money she had rested on the top. He opened it deftly, extracted a few coins and then returned it, unwilling to leave her with nothing. Perhaps she would just imagine that she had spent rather more than she had thought. It was a pittance but enough for him to find a cheap flophouse for the night and a bowl of greasy stew.

Morning found him rested enough but eager to finish his business and extricate himself from this city. A quick trip to a bathhouse, grateful for the urbanity of Roman practice that made such places free for all. Maximus emerged clean and more like a man of substance than he had felt for weeks. He had left his thick beard untrimmed in the fashion of the region. His eyes might be pale but at a distance he could probably pass for another trader, perhaps one of the light-eyed Arabs from the East. His skin was by now dark enough to confirm that. The final part of his transformation came in his clothes; a washing line strung across a street provided him the robe he needed; the headdress he stole from a stall when the owner was engaged in a complex haggling with a determined old woman. So he was ready to reveal himself.

Thus arrayed he took himself off to the Jewish quarter, watching the comings and goings on the street a long time before he selected the one banker he was going to use. He decided on one of the larger trading houses, where there would be more anonymity and a greater amount of business changing hands. Large transactions would be less unusual for them. By arriving late in the day, by which time he hoped it might appear too late to try and redeem the note from the Treasury that day, he also gave himself a minimum of one whole day's head start should his identity be revealed, although he suspected that these notes could lie in their chests a few days at least before they made any attempt to turn them in. These wealthy bankers dealt in vast amounts of gold and silver; they were not likely to turn a hair at what he was seeking.

Entering the premises, he climbed the narrow stone staircase to the upper story where the building opened out onto a lofty hall, open on all sides with a view over the city. It was cooler there, a breeze rolling in off the sea. The place had an eastern feel, reminding him vaguely of the quarters where Proximo had lived in Zucchabar, furnished with low divans, hanging curtains, carpets and cushions, and the air heavy with sickly spices. Men were sitting on the carpets all about in small groups, deep in discussion and negotiations. But Maximus doubted anyone had missed his entrance.

He addressed a young man, a Judaean by his plain attire and the long beard and curled ringlets. The interchange was brief. Maximus indicated he had a Treasury note of a high value. The man gave him a steady and inscrutable stare, demanding to see the paper and then returning to gaze thoughtfully at the stranger. "This is an unusually large amount. Why come to us? The Treasury is still open and the rates are better..."

"I have my reasons..."

"Indeed. Wait here. I must refer this..."

Maximus stood by the window looking out, aware that there was a restrained hum that settled on the room; dealing had still carried on but he knew the word was circulating. The stranger was a man of interest. They could smell intrigue in the air.

"This way..."The young man had returned and held out an arm to guide him.

Maximus found himself directed across the room and through a doorway that led onto a cool courtyard; a fountain splashed merrily into a large low pool; flowers were growing in the garden planted about. It seemed a little jewel of a place up here above the city.

An unremarkable wooden door led off and it was through here he was taken, into a small book-lined study, stuffy and dark after the cool freshness of the garden. The room was lit by lamps even though it was daylight outside; the windows were shuttered.

An old man sat at a desk covered with documents; he seemed as dusty and stale as the room itself. His grey hair was wiry and unkempt, his beard stringy and knotted, his clothes none too clean and his fingers ink-stained. But whoever he was, Maximus suspected he was the richest man around and the one who would decide his success in this venture.

"My name is Rubinus. Who are you?" The old man rose with some difficulty and stared through rheumy eyes at Maximus. "Come closer. My eyes are failing..."

Maximus stepped forward and let the man peruse him but did not offer a name. 

"So, I am to call you No Name, am I?" Rubinus fixed him in his gaze and his small brown eyes gleamed back with something that Maximus could only call amusement. "My grandson here tells me that you have a large promissory note that was drawn on the Treasury by no less a signatory than Antonius Gracchus himself. The Consul? From his private office? A rarity, indeed. It is either a highly presumptuous forgery - or you are a very important man, sir. Let me see it..."

Maximus handed the document over, uneasy and watchful. He had already assessed the security and memorised the exits. The guard was discreet but it was heavy, a number of men he presumed were ex-gladiators or soldiers lounging about in doorways, watching. With this amount of money on the premises, there had to be a large force capable of protecting the assets. No one from the Roman administration would be concerned if a Jewish banking house was robbed. They had to see to their own in a place like this.

For a long while, Rubinus studied the document carefully and checked the seals. Maximus said nothing. The air was still, the thin shafts of light that managed to steal through the chinks in the blinds alive with motes of dust. He could hear the lively banter and raised voices from the banking hall outside but within it seemed almost as if time had stopped. Would it be his fate to lose it all here in this odd little cavern of this strange little man?

"It is genuine. And you are Maximus Decimus Meridius. Are you not?" For an instant, the shock at hearing his true name almost froze Maximus to the spot. He had been ready for many things - but not for this.

"I beg your pardon? What did you say?" Maximus stuttered out in reply.

The old man smiled warmly. "Do not be afraid. I know who you are. I suspected it the moment I was informed of your arrival. There has been a message circulated. The authorities suspected you might be in need of money. But I would have known you anyway. You see, I have seen you before..."

Lights danced before Maximus' eyes and a cold wave of nausea passed through his gut. What was the old man referring to? How could he have known him? 

"Let me explain. Take a seat. Pour us both a glass of wine. And do not worry. I have no intention of informing the authorities. If I had been, you would already be on your way to the Praetorium..."

There was nothing for Maximus to do but follow the old man's instructions. And somehow, despite all his usual caution, something made him believe this man. He sat down, served them both wine from a silver jug and waited for some explanation.

"The first time I heard your name was many years ago. You spared my son's life..."

"What?" Maximus realised that he had never denied his identity and thus had allowed it to be accepted that he was the man Rubinus suspected him to be. It was too late now to say otherwise.

Rubinus laughed softly. "I know you are not a believer. But I suspect you are not quite as much a doubter as you once were either. God works in mysterious ways. Listen to my tale.  My son was once arrested on a trumped up charge while travelling in Lower Germany. He was carrying a lot of money on him. A local Roman businessman had obviously seen a chance to make himself a fortune at the expense of a lone Jew far from home.. He had claimed that my son had cheated him out of a large sum. The incident happened in a military town. Augusta Treviorum. You were the general of the legion stationed there at the time- and so the case was referred to you. Do you remember?"

A vague memory of an incident when he had been on his first command came to Maximus but the details were long lost. He had made decisions on hundreds of such civilian disputes that had cropped up within the military authority. He had always hated that aspect of his responsibility. "Perhaps. It was a long time ago..." Maximus replied hesitantly.

"Indeed. A long time for me to be without my son had you done what almost any other Roman official would have. Decided in favour of the Roman, regardless of the facts. My son thought he had no chance and expected his assets seized and either to be sold into slavery or crucified. But the general listened and declared him innocent, fining the Roman for wasting his time. The general was you, Maximus Meridius. No good deed goes unpunished, sir. My god is a god of justice. Unlike your pantheon of self-serving deities..."

Maximus was lost for words. A chance decision many years ago was now the definitive act on which his future depended? How could he even begin to explain the serendipity involved in that? Unless...unless... "You said the first time, you heard my name...what then? When did you hear of me again...?"

Rubinus nodded. "You were listening carefully. Good man. I would expect no less from you. I was in Rome last year. I hate the arena. I have never visited it. The traffic in human flesh to entertain the mob is the most heinous aspect of all the heinous acts of your brutal Empire to me. But I heard the stories of how the fallen Maximus, the once great general, the very man who had saved my son, had been enslaved by that foul tyrant Commodus. Do you know how many of my people he had thrown to the lions so that he could sequester their wealth to fill the coffers his lifestyle of excess had depleted? The streets were resounding with the news of the formidable gladiator, Maximus, who dared to stand against this Emperor - and was even merciful when told to kill? So, I went to watch him..."

"You saw me fight?" Maximus was amazed.

"I saw you mortally wounded, yet still bring down the emperor of Rome. I mourned your passing. I despaired at the crass stupidity of a race that could destroy the only good man amongst them..."

Maximus began to laugh wryly, shaking his head. "You saw me fight? Watched me kill Commodus that day?  I have chosen the one man in all Alexandria who would look upon me favourably?"  It was beyond belief that he had found himself here at this place. The gods alone could have brought him here. In one instant Maximus saw everything illuminated as if Jupiter himself had lit up the sky for him. He had survived Commodus' wrath twice. Proximo had led him to Rome and turned out to be a good man after all.  Juba had found him on the road. Aurelia was right. This was ordained. Some god was guiding his hand through it all. But for what? Time alone would tell.

Rubinus joined him, smiling as the younger man laughed at the absurdity of it all. "I will change your note. For its full value. I will redeem it when you have long gone. My son's life is worth the loss of interest...Go with God, my friend. And I pray the hand that guides you will bring you safe from harm..."

With the money in his belt - a vast amount in his present circumstances, Maximus left the place and found a humble inn where he ordered a decent meal and a jug of wine. There he considered his options and began to look back at the events since Vindobona in a new light. It was all so clear. Aurelia had seen what he could not. The gods had a purpose for him after all. Marcus Aurelius had asked him to be the Protector of Rome. It had been the wish of the gods that he take up that mantle. All along they had been steering him to that one end. He should have died. But he had not. They still had use for him.

But Maximus still did not wish to accept the task. No duty to Rome or piety to the gods had the power to move his hand any more. For himself he would risk the eternal torment rather than answer their call after what they had demanded of him to effect their cruel plans. He would not take up arms to fight for the Empire or even to fulfil the wishes of a dying man whom he had loved.

But he would do it for a woman. For the woman he loved. For, as clear as day he now saw the answer to his dilemma and a way for him to safeguard her and for them both to find a future together.

He would return to Rome and finish what he had started long ago. And when all the other rivals had fallen beneath his sword, Aurelia would at last be safe. And the gods would be finally be propitiated. But he would have his revenge on them all.

For he would do it not for them - but for himself.