Rome, 183AD, summer

The papyrus curled around the ornamental dagger he had put over it to prevent it from rolling up, but the message written on it was still well readable:

 

 

Nodding satisfied, Maximus Decimus Meridius, the Protector of Rome, walked away from the table where he had placed the message, and threw a last look around his rooms, checking everything was in place.

His armour was on a wooden stand in a corner; his uniform was neatly folded over a chest, and the golden laurel crown he was sometimes asked to wear was resting on a velvet cushion on low table. His desk was tidy, the day's work completed, and all of his personal belongings- except those few things he had previously arranged to take with him - put away.

Everything in the room spoke of order and precision, underscoring the fact his decision to leave the palace had not been hurried or hasty, and that he fully intended to return, although Maximus could not say when. He could only hope Lucilla and the Senate would understand his reasons.

Maximus sighed, then straightened his resolve and his expression and left his apartments, stepping into the corridor running from the private quarters of the imperial palace to the more public areas of the building.

He passed by a Praetorian on guard, and if the man was surprised by his choice of clothes, a light brown tunic with matching breeches, so different from those he usually wore during the day, he did not let it show. Instead he saluted him sharply and Maximus replied with a slight nod, as was his habit. It did not matter the black-clad imperial guards were now bound to protect him; he simply could not bring himself to completely trust them. As a member of the regular army he always mistrusted them, and as a man he could not forget what he and his family had suffered at their hands. Yes, it was true the Praetorians had obeyed Commodus and that he had been dead for almost two years, but still for Maximus there were facts he could not easily forget or forgive.

Walking briskly, he headed to the gardens and went outdoors. The extensive park was full of blooming flowers and luxuriant trees. Pomegranate trees, olives and figs could be seen everywhere, and their sweet scent filled the air.

Maximus smiled. He loved that place, so much that on more than one occasion he had surprised the gardeners by tending to plants and trees by himself, happy to get his hands dirty with fecund soil. That green space had been his refuge and his meditation corner since he had accepted the office Marcus Aurelius had wanted him to take, but now even this place had lost the power to make him relax.

The smile disappeared as he remembered how the people he had to work with, upon discovering he had taken the habit to pace in the gardens, had begun, with increasing frequency, to follow him there, ruining the peace of the shadowed paths with their incessant talks, suggestions, requests, petitions and complaints.

Some days Maximus had felt the almost unbearable need to shout at them to shut up and leave him alone, but his politeness and sense of duty had stopped him- but not without a price, which had risen higher and higher with each passing month...Until the moment when Maximus had realized he had to do something about it: his peace of mind was at stake and he needed to regain it. Soon.

Before it was too late.

Upon deciding what he had to do, Maximus had lost no time. It had taken him few days to get organized and be able to leave the Palace and its life behind him.

He now just needed to reach the back entrance of the gardens and mingle with the servants, the clerks, the scribes and minor officers leaving for the public thermae at the end of the work day, and then walk down the road leading from the Palatine to the heart of the city. Once there, Maximus would reach the tavern where he had arranged to meet with Antonius, a legionary serving as his secretary when he travelled to inspect the legions, who had been sent there to care for his belongings and his horse. He would then dress like a common soldier and together with Antonius they would exit the city gates at sunset, as two comrades in arms returning to Ostia camp after spending their leave and their money in some of Rome's countless brothels.

Maximus grinned as he thought about his plan and felt a bout of long forgotten excitement when he saw the open gates welcome him...

 

Three hours later the two soldiers pulled their horses to a halt in proximity of a crossroad. Standing side by side, Antonius helped Maximus remove the simple uniform he had procured and packed it in a sack tied to his saddle, before arranging a robust cloak on his master's shoulders. To a superficial glance Maximus now looked like a solitary but organized traveller, with his saddlebags full of food, clean clothes, the tools to take care of his person, and with small tent rolled behind the saddle.

However, a closer inspection would reveal he was heavily armed, that his horse was not a placid mount but a highly trained war steed, and that the signet ring on his right index finger bore the engravings of a wolf and an eagle facing each other, the now famous insignia of the Saviour Of Rome and the equivalent of his signature on any document. It was the only item of his everyday life Maximus had not wished to leave behind, the symbol that he knew his duty and did not intend to desert it.

"I will now return to the camp, General." Antonius' voice broke Maximus' reverie. "Please be very careful out there, sir."

Maximus smiled slightly. "Don't worry, my friend, we are in Italia, not in Germania! And I plan to do nothing more dangerous that hunt some rabbits for dinner when I tire of the salted meat I have with me!" He teased, trying to assuage the younger man's concerns. He knew Antonius' anxiety was not merely due to the fact that he was going to wander alone through the countryside without any escort. Nor it was related to the fear of any possible punishment he would get should something happen to Maximus and his involvement in the Protector's 'disappearance' be discovered. No, Antonius was a very perceptive young man and he had sensed Maximus' inner turmoil and his desperate need to deal with it and resolve his problems.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you, sir?" the soldier asked for about the tenth time.

Maximus nodded. "Yes, I am sure. I just need to be alone with my thoughts and my old friend here." He patted Argento's neck, his trusted battle horse given back to him after Commodus' demise, and the dark stallion bobbed his head in response.

"As you wish, General." Antonius finally capitulated, understanding Maximus would not change his mind. So he tapped his chest with his fist in a salute the other promptly replicated, and turned his horse around, galloping away.

Maximus watched him go until he disappeared along the paved road, then led Argento in the opposite direction, pushing him to trot, pointing to a small wood he had noticed nearby, the perfect spot to raise his first camp.

 

***

 

The next several days - Maximus could not say how many - settled in a pattern. 

He slept late in the mornings, a luxury he seldom allowed himself while in Rome, and lingered over his breakfast, observing life unfolding in front of his eyes while he ate, being it just a bird taking flight or a group of merchants travelling along the road to the Urbs.

Then he disbanded the camp, packed everything on his horse's back, and jumped onto the saddle, roaming the countryside without a destination- sometimes even leaving the choice of the way they would take to Argento.

More often than not they would use less-travelled paths than the paved consular ways, not because Maximus feared to be recognized by someone directed to or coming from Rome, but because he preferred to ride alone, with no clanging of wheels and hooves and no voices coming to disturb his observation of the landscape around him.

It was mid-July and everywhere he could admire the beautiful festival of colours created by Mother Nature. As far as his eyes could reach, he saw luxuriant golden-bronze wheat and barley fields, some of them already harvested, other still waiting for the farmers' scythes, their swollen spikes waving in the summer breeze. There were also large estates covered only by olive trees, their dark green-grey leaves shining under the sun, and rows and rows of vines, their branches loaded with the still green grapes that in few months would become good wine.

In the beginning of the trip, this sight caused Maximus to feel nostalgia for his home in Hispania.

The land had been returned to him along with his other possessions after Commodus' death, but he had yet to visit the place. So far there had always been too much to do in Rome to allow him the luxury to be away for three or four months. He had to content himself with the detailed accounts the caretaker he had appointed to supervise the rebuilding of the villa sent to him, clinging to the hope one day he would return there, hopefully never to leave again.

However, as the days passed, Maximus stopped feeling melancholic, and started to enjoy the sense of freedom the open landscape gave him. He often pushed Argento to gallop on the grass strips flanking the roads, loving the exhilarating sensation of the wind on his face combined with the powerful motions of the beast under him. It never failed to make him feel sharper and more alive, even causing him physical arousal, so strong was the rush of energy coursing into his veins. Maximus had not realized he had missed that simple pleasure so much, even if he had been aware of how the existence he had been leading at the Palace had been suffocating him.

He was not a man meant to live in a city- not even in the most important of them, Rome. He was a country boy, growing up running in the fields and riding up and down Trujillo's rolling hills. He was used to large, open spaces, to letting his eyes roam for miles without a single house, and resented being confined inside buildings- to live his live moving from a basilica to a temple, from the Palace to the Curia. Rome was still the light for him, but not the place where he wanted to live. Sometimes he had found himself remembering with longing the tall, extensive German forests, and the clean, pine-scented air that filled his lungs there, so different by the smells of the Capital. One day he had even thought about Zucchabar. The climate had been as harsh and unforgiving as the life he had led there, but he had fond memories of the evenings when he and Juba had sat on the roof of Proximo's school, awed by the blue of the sky and extension of the desert. In those moments Maximus had let his mind wander and for few, timeless instants, he had felt free, the weight of his chains disappearing.

But it was not so in Rome. He still felt like a prisoner there, even if he was no longer a slave but the most powerful man of the Empire and his rooms were so large a century could easy camp in them.

These sobering thoughts came to visit Maximus during the evenings when, after raising his camp and eating his dinner, he settled with his back against a trunk or a rock and pondered how much longer he could allow himself to be away from the Urbs and his duties.

Not than he wanted to flee his obligations. He had always put Rome before himself and his needs and would continue to do so as long as She would need him. After all his sense of duty - to Rome, to Marcus Aurelius, to Lucilla and the Senate - had been his only reason to go on living after he had discovered himself still alive after the final fight with Commodus.

That day it had been a close call for him. Maximus remembered having walked in Elysium and to have met his wife and son, but his stay there had been brief. Galen, the imperial physician, not only had discovered he was still alive when everyone thought him dead, but he had also demonstrated to be much more than the usual sawbones, healing his body and bringing him back from Afterlife.

In the beginning, Maximus had been anything but grateful to Galen, for he had been dragged away from where he really wanted to be. He had been angry, for he had seen his only reward being snatched away from him.

However, as time passed and his health kept on improving, he had come to the conclusion it was not entirely Galen's fault if he was still alive. Maximus had seen enough seriously wounded men on the battlefields to know that when they pulled out from such desperate conditions as his own, it was not only due to medical skills. Commodus had once told him he really did not want to die, and Maximus had come to realize it was so. He might still wish to join his family soon, but in some recess of his being, he wanted to go on living- and it was stronger than his desire to die. He was a survivor- for the better or worst. And he somehow knew his wife and son wanted the same for him. He would see him again, but not yet, not yet.

Of course, coming to this conclusion had not meant everything had been resolved, as Maximus' feelings had been concerned.

First of all he had to deal with the ever-present guilt. The fact he was not ready to die did not mean he had forgiven himself for causing his family's death, and he had continued to torture himself with thousands of 'ifs', 'buts' and 'maybes', drinking himself to sleep every night in the hopes of silencing his guilt and remorse.

Blessedly, Galen had intervened another time, healing his soul as he had healed his body. He had pushed Maximus to talk aloud about his demons, of his regrets, of his pain, of the blame he placed over himself, and bringing them to light had helped him to put things in perspective.

The surgeon had made him see how a different path would not have automatically meant a different outcome in his dealing with Commodus, given the latter's cruel and twisted personality. How he had to learn to accept what had happened, treasuring the hard lesson it had taught him and move on, for destroying himself with heavy drinking would be a waste and a crime.

Galen had not minced words, dealing with him with brutal frankness, and little by little, as Maximus began to see the rightness of it, a strong friendship had developed between the two men. So much that Galen had been the only person to whom Maximus had confessed his need to leave the Palace and his duty for a while. Not surprisingly, the physician had agreed with him, urging him to take all the time he needed to sort out his thoughts and feelings. He had encouraged him to be just Maximus Decimus Meridius for a while, and to leave the General and the Protector behind in Rome where he, Galen, would keep a close look on them. Maximus had laughed at the joke, and rushed to arrange things with Antonius.

During those evenings spent under the stars, Maximus thought often about the old physician, and wondered if the other people living in the Palatine would be as understanding as him. He wondered if they would understand how he had to leave behind, at least for a short while, his obligations and the pomp of palace life.

For the past two years - and in truth it was much longer than that, in a way or the other - he had lived just to do his duty to Rome and its people, but now he needed a break from the Senate's constant demands, to try to find what he really wanted from life.

In the last few months Maximus had realized duty was no longer enough to make him go on. There was something missing from his life...something he was not able to indicate with precision...Or perhaps he knew, but had not been ready to admit it to himself. But it came clearly to him in those days spent on the road, so evident he wondered how it was possible for him to have not realized it before.

He was lonely. Even living in a palace surrounded by hundreds of people. What he really needed was a kindred spirit...someone to love and protect, with whom he could share his burdens and plan a life for the time when Rome would no longer need him.

Maximus needed a wife. 

In certain ways, there was nothing new in it. Senator Gracchus had been telling him he needed to marry since he had accepted to become the Protector of Rome. But the old politician's motivations had been as different from Maximus' as the day was from the night. Gracchus wanted a political marriage to produce heirs for the throne, for he was sure one day Maximus would accept that his position as Protector was not a temporary one, but that he was a Caesar in everything but name. And in that regards, Gracchus already had the perfect bride handy...

Maximus closed his eyes as he thought about Lucilla. He had needed to be away from her too. 

Not that she was pressuring him in any way, but her questioning eyes and the hopeful glint sparkling in them when she believed he was going to talk about themselves were as hard to bear as Senator Gracchus' repeated attempts to make him see the wisdom of marrying her.

Maximus was aware that it would be a most wise political move, one that would silence once and for all the few parties still wrinkling their noses at the raising to power of a humble born provincial like him, but it was not what he wanted.

He loved Lucilla- but not as a man loves a woman, and she could not give him what he was looking for. The brief kiss they had exchanged in the Ludus Magnus, had not signalled the rekindling of their relationship- it had been the final seal to their past affair. Maximus now loved Lucilla as the sister he had never had and trusted her advice, but deep friendship and respect were not enough as basis for the kind of marriage he looked for. Of course he knew Gracchus and Lucilla herself would disagree with his notions, for most of the marriages had even less solid foundations than those, but he still thought otherwise. His parents had married for love. He and Selene had married out of love and having tasted that kind of happiness made impossible for him to accept anything less, no matter how much it might cost to him.

Under his stoic reserve, Maximus was a very passionate man, for the best and the worst, and he was still ready to pay the price of his convictions. One day, he was sure, he would find what he was looking for...

 

***

 

One afternoon, about ten days after leaving Rome, Maximus and Argento were proceeding along the Via Claudia, the road leading to Ostia, when they were surprised by a sudden storm. It was a typical summer downpour, with a lot of rain and thunder and lighting, but it had caught up with them sooner than Maximus had predicted, long before they could reach some kind of shelter. He was soaked from head to foot within few minutes, while his vision was made difficult by the seeming walls of water falling around him.

It was then, as Maximus was trying to decide what would be better, going ahead to reach a village he knew was located nearby, or search for shelter in a farm he had passed by some time before, that Argento slipped on the wet stone of the road, stumbling and almost falling to his knees.

Maximus' reflexes were quick enough, and he grabbed the back of the saddle, thus avoiding a fall. He patted Argento's neck in reassurance as the stallion regained his balance with a snort, then nudged him forward.

It took three steps for Maximus to realize there was something very wrong with his horse right front leg. He jumped down the saddle and holding the reins, he knelt to examine the leg, pressing his fingers against the bones and the muscles, then flexing the limb. Then he straightened and pulled at the reins, watching as Argento moved, and cursing under his breath at the results of his observation.

There were no broken bones, but the horse had pulled his ankle ligaments in a rather bad way.

They did not need this and certainly not on such a day! Maximus cursed again, this time aloud, as rain keep falling without giving signs of stopping or even lessening. What could he do now? Raising his tent along the road was out of question. A strong wind had started to blow and that, added to the downpour, made the task of raising a camp an impossible one.

Maximus looked around, using his right hand to protect his eyes from the rain. He was thinking about the farm he had passed not long before. With a bit of luck he could reach it before darkness fell and with another bit of luck - or some oiling from his money - he could convince the owner to lodge him and his horse in the stable or in a barn. At this point it seemed to be his only choice.

So Maximus took the reins, pulled them over Argento's neck and made the beast turn around, before leading him along the road they had just covered. The horse followed him slowly, his head bobbing in the attempt to not put too much weight over his injured limb, but he did not try to resist to his master's gentle coaxing.  Man and beast knew each other well they had charged together to battle too many times for the trust between them to be broken by a storm and some pain.

 

It was still raining and sunset had already begun when Maximus finally arrived in sight of the farm he had been looking for. A private, gravel-covered roadway departed from the Via Claudia, leading to the master house and the other building located atop a short but steep hill. The roadway was flanked by oak trees and harvested fields.

Maximus patted Argento's neck and murmured, "It is done, old friend. You need to make just another effort."

The horse nuzzled his side in reply and he laughed softly, pulling one of his ears with affection.

"Come on now," he added, setting a foot on the roadway.

The brief tract of private lane turned to be very arduous. The ground was muddy and slippery and negotiating the uphill road proved very painful for Argento. He stumbled several times and Maximus had to keep on coaxing him to convince him to go on. In the end, they stepped into the flat courtyard onto which opened several buildings: the master villa, the stable, the barn, and the slaves barracks. The place was deserted, but one of the chimneys was smoking and Maximus could hear soft voices come from the villa.

He left Argento in the middle of the yard and walked to the small porch opening in front of the master house, stopping briefly to clean the mud from his boots over a grass patch. Then he covered the three steps leading to the porch and, hoping for the best, he knocked on the door.

It was opened few minutes later by an elderly woman with sharp eyes and a frown on her face. She sternly stared at him from head to foot, then spoke.

"What do you want?"

It was not the kind of response Maximus had been hoping for, but he never the less plunged on with his request. 

"Domina, I am sorry to bother you during such an evening. I was travelling along the Via Claudia when my horse stumbled and was injured. I humbly ask for your hospitality for the night."

"Inside the house?" The woman's right eyebrow arched as she stared at him again.

Maximus was aware of his wretched look. He was wet everywhere, even inside his boots; his clothes hung from his body and his hair was plastered to his forehead. He knew he was a very sorry sight and hurried to reassure the woman.

"I would never dare to suggest such a thing, domina. The stable or the barn would more than enough for me and my horse. I have food with me, and I would compensate you for some hay for the horse and for your troubles." He pushed away the hem of his cloak to show her the fat leather pouch tied to his belt.

"That won't be necessary," interjected another voice, as a younger woman appeared on the threshold, pushing her companion aside. She was tall, dressed with a grey stola and a light blue palla that covered her dark hair, evidencing her visage. Her complexion was pale, her features regular and smooth, but her eyes, dark and shining and her mouth, full and sensual, made her look anything but ordinary. A study of contrasts that could not help but catch Maximus' attention, so much he had to mentally shake himself to respond when the mistress of the house, for he had no doubts it was her, added, "We don't need your money, sir. It will be our pleasure to shelter you. You and your horse can stay in the stable. It is the first building on the left. There are two empty stalls at the far end of the row, with fresh straw on the pavement. You can settle there and feed the beast with the hay you will find there."

Maximus bowed his head. "Thank you so much, lady. This is more than I dared hope for."

The woman dismissed his words with a vague gesture of her hand, tilting her chin in the stable direction. "Go now," she urged him, "and have a good night."

Maximus tried to reply, but she turned and disappeared inside the house before he was able to open his mouth, and he found himself again face to face with the portly woman who had first opened the door.

She looked at him sternly, as if she was disapproving her mistress' decision, so he decided to not linger in her presence. Maximus saluted her with a bow of his head, then ran down the steps, going to retrieve Argento and leading him to the stable, certain the horse was as anxious as him to be finally away from the rain.

 

About a half hour later Maximus started to feel better, as the sensation of dampness that had seeped into his bones began to dissolve

The stable hosted several heads of cattle, sheep, horses and mules, and their combined breath and body heat made the place pleasantly warm, so much Maximus felt a slight languor crept over him. He yawned, but then pushed his sleepy mood away, for it was not yet time to rest.

He had already taken care of Argento, tying him in one of the stalls, unsaddling him, drying and cleaning him from the mud as best as he could, and then examining again his right front leg.

He could not do much in the scarce light of the lamps he had found, aside from ascertaining the ankle was now hot and swollen. The injury would probably require a poultice to reduce the swelling, but it would have to wait the following day, when he would ask for the right herbs from his host. Maximus had then fed the horse with some hay, being careful not exaggerate and, finally satisfied his four-legged friend was comfortable, he decided it was time to care for himself.

He had removed his rain-soaked cloak as soon as he had stepped inside the stable, but now it was time to get rid of his other wet clothes. He rummaged inside his saddlebags, discovering they had resisted well to the water, and found the light night tunic he could wear as he waited for the other stuff to dry.

Maximus removed his boots, unbuckled his belt letting it fall on the straw-covered pavement, and pulled off his tunic, spreading it over the wooden wall separating the stalls. He then picked up a handful of straw and energetically rubbed his skin, drying it as he had done few minutes before with Argento's coat. He was about to undo the string of his breeches, when he heard the door of the barn open and close, followed by a sound of steps coming in his way.

Maximus stretched his head, watching who it was and his breath almost caught in his throat when he recognized the mistress of the house. He suddenly realized he was half naked and bare footed, so he rushed to dress before the woman came near, but a loud gasp behind his back alerted him it was too late. The lady was there, and he could not continue to show his back to her as he searched for the clean tunic he still had to retrieve from the saddlebag. So he turned to face her, tilting his chin and setting his jaws, embarrassed to be seen in such state of undress by a lady.

She too was clearly uncomfortable, her eyes lowered as she contemplated her shoes.

They stayed silent for a while, until Maximus noticed she carried something in her hands. It looked like a tall cup containing some hot, fuming liquid.

He cleared his throat and asked, "Can I do something for you, lady?"

She almost startled at the sound of his voice, then raised her head and looked at his face.

"I am sorry to bother you, sir, but I have brought you a dry towel and a hot broth. It should help you to avoid to catching a cold.

Maximus smiled at her words, feeling already warmer because of her concern and kindness. And also because of her presence, so near him. She was really as beautiful as he had thought while observing her under the porch. She was tall and elegant, even now that her hair had escaped from beneath her palla, allowing him to see it was black but for few silver strands near her temple. And yet she looked so young...

Realizing he was staring at her and that he had yet to reply to her words, Maximus bowed his head and murmured, "Thank you, domina, but you did not need to disturb yourself. I am fine and warm here in your wonderful stable."

She shook her head. "It was no trouble. But here," she stepped forward, "drink this before it gets cold."

Maximus reached out a hand to take the cup she was offering him and their fingers brushed for an instant. He gasped at the sensation coursing through him. He had not experienced something like that in years...Then his breath caught when he saw her eyes widen in stunned surprise before she hurriedly retracted her arm and again lowered her eyes.

He took a big gulp of air, willing his heart to slow down, and brought the cup to his lips, drinking the hot liquid. It was a tasty beef broth, with little chunks of meat in it. It was delicious, but even more so was watching the young woman from above the rim of the cup, and observing how her eyes kept on darting to look at his chest despite her efforts to keep them lowered.

Maximus became warmer and warmer and not because of the broth, but then decided to take hold over himself. It was true he had not had a woman in quite a while, but it was not an excuse to behave like a foolish young boy.

He finished the broth and handed the cup back to her, and she gingerly took it, carefully avoiding any contact between them.

"Thank you, domina, it was really good."

She nodded and smiled weakly to him, but she did not speak. She then bowed her head and was about to go away, when she seemed to remember the towel thrown over her shoulder. Looking flustered, she gave it to him, before quickly retracing her steps and leaving the stable.

Once she was gone, Maximus took the towel to his nose and sniffed it. It smelled of just washed fabric, but it also smelled of her- that beautiful, taciturn lady who had enchanted him with just few words, a brief touch and a weak smile.

 

***

 

The dawn found Maximus already awake and thoughtful. Not that he had not rested well- he had, for the bed of thick, clean straw had proved very comfortable. He had slept well, and he had dreamed even better. The mistress of the house had come to visit him in his dreams, beautiful in her grey and blue dress, smiling at him and taking his hand as she led outside the barn. In his fantasy they had just walked together in silence, despite the fact Maximus had burned with the need to ask many questions. But he had not, and had felt his curiosity about her increase to the point it had stayed with him even after the dream had ended and he had woken up. Then, unable to sleep again, Maximus had joined his hands behind his head and given free rein to the thoughts running in his mind.

It certainly was not the first time he had felt desire for a woman after recovering, both physically and emotionally, from his misfortunes. In the past year or so he had often visited Corinna, a sophisticated courtesan living just few buildings away from the Palatine palace, and slaked his lust on her exquisite body. But Corinna - and the other women that occasionally caught his eyes - had a different effect on him from this lady's. Their sight only warmed his loins, but in the lady's case the attraction he felt went well beyond  mere carnal desire.

Maximus had been intrigued by the personality her bright, intelligent eyes seemed to shelter, and he wished to know more about her. What was her name? Who was she? Did she live alone in the farm? Was she married? Why she had come to the barn in person, walking under the rain and splashing her dress with mud, to give him the broth, instead of sending a servant? Had she felt too the spark of energy he had experienced when their fingers had briefly touched? He had never felt it with Corinna... but had he in the past, with Lucilla and Selene, the only two women he had ever loved. And as much as Maximus urged himself not to get carried away too much and too soon, he could not ignore the fact and its possible implications.

Maximus shook himself from his reverie and saw the rose, pale light enter from a nearby window. A new day had arrived and it was time to begin it. He stood up from his bed, stretching himself, and ruffling his hair to free it from the straw. He walked to where he had put his clothes to dry the evening before, and after relieving his bladder in a corner of the stall, he put on his breeches and tied the down strings in his lap. As he did so, he moved near the window to throw a look outside and was pleased to see the rain had stopped and that the day promised to be very hot. He was about to walk away when he caught his reflection in a barrel full of water standing near the window. He stepped closer and using the water as a mirror, studied himself in the glowing light of the new day.

Maximus had never been a vain man and paid scant attention to his looks although he had liked to be considered handsome by Selene, who loved to make him blush by repeating it to him in the most inappropriate - in his opinion - moments. He had always brushed away her compliments, laughing and diverting the attention on to her own beauty, but in truth he had been proud and pleased to be attractive in the eyes of the most important person in his life.

Was he still handsome? Or had the harshness of his recent life left a mark on him? He wondered as he turned his face on both sides and examined his reflection. The last three years had aged him, adding a few lines around his eyes, mouth and forehead. However his hair and beard were still dark, with no grey in them, and his muscles were toned and strong. He recalled how the woman in blue had darted glances at him as he drank and wonder if she had liked what she saw. Would his high brow, straight nose, determined chin and little mouth be as attractive to her as they had been for Selene? Or would she consider him old? True, the lady had some silver strands on her temples, but the smoothness and freshness of her skin made him estimate she was a good ten years younger than him, making her twenty seven or so.

Maximus looked again at his reflection, then shook his head in exasperation at his foolish behaviour. What would people think if they knew the Protector of Rome behaved like a boy with his first crush?

He used the water in the barrel to wash his face and neck, then put on his tunic, buckled his belt and turned his attention on Argento.

The horse seemed to have spent a quiet night and the straw imprisoned in his long mane told him the beast had lain down, sure sign the discomfort was not too great.

Maximus gave Argento some more hay, and as the stallion munched his breakfast, he knelt down to examine the injured leg. It was still swollen and hot, and the horse moved it away when he pressed his fingers against the tendons. However Maximus reputed the damage not to be exceedingly serious, although it would require rest and some care to heal- a poultice would certain do a lot of good, thus his first task of the day was to find the necessary herbs to prepare it.

 

Maximus stopped in the middle of the courtyard and gave a good look around, approving how tidy and orderly the place was. He was not alone there, for a group of slaves had just emerged from their barracks. They looked all well fed and dressed, talking and laughing among themselves as they directed to their various chores. As they passed by they all saluted him, and he noticed something strange in the group. There were no men among them. Just women and young boys, who did not seem suited to performing some of the harder works a farm required. But perhaps the men had already left for the fields, although he could not see them anywhere.

Shaking his head in perplexity, Maximus crossed the yard to the master house and knocked on the door, which was opened by the same portly, intimidating woman of the previous night.

"Good morning, domina," he saluted her, "may I talk with your mistress? It regards my horse and its injury."

The woman stared at him for a while, observing him as if she wanted to read his thoughts, then brusquely nodded and moved aside to let him in.

"Follow me," she ordered, leading him along a short corridor to a small triclinium that gave the impression to be seldom used. "Wait here," she commanded with a tone more befitting a centurion than a woman, and walked away.

Maximus studied the room, finding it simple and useful, but also tasteful in the furniture and in the decorations. He heard steps and two voices come in his way, so he moved in the middle of the room and laced his arms behind his back, subconsciously assuming a military stance.

The mistress of the house entered the triclinium followed by her maid and again Maximus felt his breath leave him at her sight. That morning she was wearing a white, gold bordered tunic with a golden sash wrapped around her slender waist underscoring the fullness of her hips and the generosity of her breasts. She had no palla, and her hair, still uncoiled, was shining and long, almost reaching past her buttocks. She looked very young and demure, with her hands joined in her lap, and somehow ill at ease to be in front of him.

"Good morning, domina," Maximus saluted her, with a short bow.

"Good morning to you, sir. I trust you spent a restful night."

"I did, my lady, and I wish to thank you again for your hospitality."

"There is no need; I could not have acted otherwise given the weather. But tell me, how is your horse? Flaminia told me you wanted to discuss it with me."

"Indeed," Maximus acknowledged. "My horse has a sprained ankle. He will certainly recover with plenty of rest, and a herbal poultice to reduce the swelling could speed up the healing process. If I am not imposing too much, I would like to ask for your hospitality until he is better. Of course, I would not take advantage of your resources, but I will pay for food and boarding, and for the herbs I need for the medication."

"I don't want your money, sir," the lady answered coldly, straightening her back. "I don't need it.

You and your horse will remain here for all the necessary time, but as my guests."

Flaminia, the maid, gasped in shock and Maximus realized she was not pleased with her mistress' decision, but he did not stop to wonder why.

"My lady!" He insisted, "I cannot impose on you so much!"

"You are not." The woman smiled gently, "I never get any visits here and I like to have a new face around."

This time Maximus gasped in unison with Flaminia at the lady's bold reply, and her smile grew broader, reaching her eyes, making them shine in a rather enchanting way, and transforming her entire visage.

Maximus regained control of himself and said, his voice low and thick with emotion, "Then I can only thank you with all my heart, lady....?"

"Caecilia. Lollia Caecilia. And you are, sir?"

"Maximus Decimus at you service, lady Caecilia." Maximus decided to omit the last part of his surname, for he did not wish to be recognized. He wanted to remain just a common traveller for few days more- the time to return to be the Protector of Rome would arrive soon enough.

"Very well, Maximus," Caecilia turned to her maid and added, "Flaminia is my right arm here. Go with her in the pantry and take the herbs you need for your horse. I have some bookkeeping to do. We shall talk again later."

"As you wish, lady Caecilia." Maximus watched her walk away from the room, admiring her grace and the way her hips moved, then turned his attention on Flaminia. Her narrowed eyes told him she had noticed how he was looking her mistress, but she did not make any comment about it, just inviting him to follow her to the pantry.

 

Later in the morning, Maximus left the stable, distractedly wiping his hands from the poultice with a piece of ragged fabric. Undecided about what to do next, he stopped in the courtyard and watched around. He had already mucked Argento's stall, replacing the dirty straw with fresh one, and he did not know what to do with his time. He narrowed his eyes, looking far away at the Via Claudia and wondered about the opportunity to go out for a walk. A loud, crushing noise made his head whip on the right and his body instinctively tensed. His eyes scanned the area till they reached the orchard and discovered the source of the sound, quickly assessing the situation. Two young slaves were trying to pick plums from a tree, but being too short, they were using a stool to reach the branches. However the stool was not stable enough on the rough terrain, and it had tripped over, causing the boys to fall.

Maximus shook is head in amusement and smiling at himself strode toward the orchard, arriving just in time to prevent another fall.

"Careful, you two!" he warned, stepping behind the boys and holding them upright with his arms as beneath them the stool threatened to trip over again. The youngster jumped down the dangerous piece of furniture and raised their faces to look at their saviour.

"Thank you, domine," they said in unison, bowing their heads.

"You are welcome, young men." Maximus bent and retrieved the chests the boys had set up near the trunk. "Now, if you hold these, I will pick the plums: it will be quicker and less dangerous...for you, the stool and the branches. What do you think?"

The boys nodded energetically, and exclaimed, again in unison, "Thank you sir!"

Maximus smiled, ruffled their hair and dedicated to the task ahead.

 

Maximus passed the rest of the morning and the afternoon with Caius and Manlius, helping them in their work around the farm. He picked fruits, carried chests, swept the courtyard, mucked the stable and fed the chickens.

At midday the boys shared with him their food, and he contributed to the meal with some biscuits he had bought the previous day from a street seller.

They talked both while working and resting and Maximus learnt some facts regarding Caecilia, including the fact that she was married. However, her husband was rarely seen at the farm, from the servants' joy, for he showed more interest for young boys than for his beautiful wife. Caius and Manlius told him the entire household was sad because of it, for the mistress, while being very reserved, was always gentle with the slaves, and they thought she deserved better than that.

Maximus was saddened and a bit disappointed by the news, but it could not spoil the enjoyment he took by spending time with those two boys that reminded him of his little Marcus.

Finally evening fell and after wishing goodnight to his young friends, Maximus returned to the stable to check, tend and feed Argento.

It was only when the horse was settled for the night that he realized his saddlebags and all the stuff he had taken out of them the previous night had disappeared. He was looking around the stable to see if his things had been moved somewhere, when a serving girl entered the place. She was dressed in white with a yellow apron and by her clean clothes, Maximus deduced she came from the house, for she did not bear the signs of a whole day spent working outdoors.

"Domine," she said, making a bow, "the mistress told me to take you to the villa and to show you the room where your things have been put. You will be lodged there from now on."

Maximus' eyebrow arched in surprise at the unexpected but welcome change, then he indicated the girl to precede him out of the stable, and followed her across the courtyard and inside the house.

 

The same maid knocked on the door of Maximus' room about a hour later, alerting him that dinner was ready and that her mistress was waiting for him. Leaving the simple but clean chamber, he hurried to follow the maid, running a hand through his still wet, just washed hair to smooth it in place. His steps were barely audible on the pavement, for he had replaced his boots with a pair of soft sandals. He had also changed clothes, trading his brown tunic and breeches, dirty and sweaty, with a spare green tunica. The change of clothes, after the quick bath he had taken in the tub filled with warm water he had found in the room, had been prompted not only by good manners. The person who had carried his belongings from the stable to the room assigned to him, had taken the liberty to pull his clothes out of the saddlebags, had them pressed and neatly folded, and then put them over the bed, inviting him to make use of them. Whoever had done it, however, had not touched his more personal possessions, leaving alone his money, documents, maps and letters of credit. Maximus quite appreciated those unknown hands' discretion and the care they had put on making him feel welcome inside the house.

The maid escorted him to the same triclinium he had been in that morning, then walked away, leaving him alone with lady Caecilia, who was reclining over a couch, her slender form lying on plush dark red velvet.

"Good evening, lady."

"Good evening, Maximus." Caecilia welcome him with a smile and gestured to the divan in front of her. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

Maximus moved to the indicated couch, but hesitated as he lowered his massive frame on it. During the long time spent in the army, he had lost the habit to eat reclining and he had not regained it in the years spent in Rome, when, to his amusement, he had discovered that, as Protector, his preferences had been dictating the mood and the fashion in town, so much the production of chairs had increased.

Caecilia seemed to sense his discomfort and added, "You don't have to recline, Maximus, if you don't like it. We will both sit upright." And speaking so, she straightened and lowered her legs.

"You are a most courteous host, my lady, but I would never pretend to change your habits. I have already imposed too much on you. I have no words to thank you for the room you assigned me and for having someone taking care of my clothes."

"You are not displeased then? Good; I was concerned you might not like to see I have searched through your things."

She did it? Maximus thought surprised, but any comment was stopped when Caecilia added, "As for my habits, I usually dine in the kitchen with my maids, thus you have already changed them very much, to my great delight!" She laughed softly and her eyes shone with quiet irony.

Maximus felt a warm sensation spread inside and over him. She was so beautiful! Those lines around her mouth had been erased by her smile. However, despite her obvious desire to make him feel at ease and her willingness to joke, he knew she was very reserved and a very proper lady, and that it would take a lot of time and effort to come to know her better.

A few minutes later two servants entered the room, carrying trays full of food. Flaminia followed them with two pitchers full of wine, which she set on the table, but she did not leave the room as the other ancillae did after putting the trays on the table.

Maximus was not surprised. Of course he had known he would not be left to eat alone with a woman- it was a matter of decency. However, in the course of the simple and delicious dinner, he felt Flaminia's eyes fixed on him several times, and every time he turned to look at her, he was perplexed by the way she was staring at him and her mistress. She seemed to disapprove, but not a moral ground...In truth she appeared very worried and Maximus had the impression it was not just because of him. Was it because of her mistress' husband? Was she afraid he would object his presence in the villa? It was possible.

In any case Maximus did not waste much time wondering about Flaminia's reasons. Caecilia seemed to like his company and he did not want to lose a single moment of their time together.

They talked very little as they ate, preferring to taste the food while it was hot, but once the plates were clean, they decided to take full advantage of the still early hour.

Caecilia settled against the back of her couch and began, "So Maximus, you are not from this area, don't you? You have a soft accent I cannot place."

Maximus nodded. "You are right. I live in Rome, but I am from Lusitania."

"In Hispania? That's pretty far from here."

"Indeed."

"And what do you do in life?"

"I am...in the legions," Maximus replied with a slight hesitation. He hated to lie, but what else could he say?

Caecilia nodded with her head. "I had guessed it by that nasty scar you sport on your back. It looks like a sword cut...It must have been quite a wound."

Maximus swallowed hard as he realized she was referring to the long scar Galen's surgical knives had left on his back when he been operated after Commodus' stabbing. She had to have seen it the previous evening.

He instinctively reached his back with his arm, fingering a portion of the scar. "In truth the original wound was quite small, but it got infected and the surgeon had to drain the blood and the pus from my back, hence the long cut."

Caecilia's hand rose to cover her lips as they mouthed a silent "oh". 

"But now you are well, are you not?"

"Yes, I am, aside some discomfort during the coldest winter months."

"I am happy to hear it." She smiled and Maximus simply knew she really meant those words. There was a moment of silence, then she asked, "And what are you doing here? Are you on leave?"

"Yes- sort of." Maximus nodded with a smile, even if, in a corner of his mind, he wondered what was going on back in Rome. He knew his time of freedom was rapidly approaching its end and soon he would have to return to his duties.

"But you like to work; I have seen how you helped those boys for the whole day."

"I was born on a farm and I love to tend to the land. It had been a long time since I last performed the chores I did today and even if I feel a bit fatigued this evening, I enjoyed myself very much."

Caecilia stared straight at him, as his answer sank into her. Maximus did not believe to have said anything especially meaningful, but evidently it was not so, at least for her. She then blinked and fingering the tablecloth, she murmured, "You should have your own farm if you like the land so much."

"To be sincere, I already own a farm, but it is in Lusitania, and I have not visited it in more than three years." To be exact it was more than six years since he had really visited and tended to his farm's land, for his last trip there did not really count as a visit, but Maximus decided to not disclose so much of himself.

"Your family must miss you very much, then...or are they in Rome with you?"

"I have no family. My wife and son died long ago."

"Oh." Caecilia paled and looked away. "I did not mean to cause you grief."

"I know, and you did not. My wounds have almost healed."

"Really? Then you are lucky, for certain wounds never do."

Maximus frowned at her comment, but then she spoke again, perhaps to cover her own slip, "So, describe your farm and your homeland to me. I have never travelled outside Italia and I am quite curious regarding the world outside it."

Maximus gestured with his head and carried out her wish. He talked about his farm and the province of Lusitania for almost a hour, interrupting his tale now and then to sip some wine, while Caecilia listened with attention and interest.

In the end Maximus fell silent and Caecilia looked at him straight in the eyes with a grateful expression.

"Thank you for sharing your memories and your knowledge with me, Maximus. Your words transported me in those far away land. It was a pleasure to listen to your account."

He waved her compliments away. "I am not a good storyteller...I am too concise and repeat myself now and then..."

"Perhaps. But the passion you put in your words made your tale something special. I like passion in people, and I hope you will never lose yours."

For the second time in the evening, Maximus felt she had caught him off guard with her comments. And for the second time in the evening, she acted before he could ask for some kind of explanation.

Caecilia stood up from her couch and he hastened to imitate her.

"Thank you Maximus, for the most enjoyable conversation."

"It was my pleasure, lady Caecilia."

"Now I think it is time to retire for the night. I wish you good rest."

"Likewise, my lady." Maximus bowed his head in salute and watched as she circled her divan and left the room, left the room followed by Flaminia.

It was only when he remained alone that Maximus realized Caecilia had managed to make him talk only about himself, while she had avoided to reveal a single detail about herself. That confirmed his first impression of her, but also strengthened his resolve to know more about that enigmatic woman.

 

***

 

During the next few days, Maximus' life at the farm settled in a regular pattern. 

In the mornings he ate a quick breakfast in the villa kitchen before going to the stable, where he would not only tend to Argento and his ankle, but also muck and put in order the whole place. After it was done, Maximus would go outdoors in search of something more to do- and always finding it.

Caecilia's slaves were indeed only women and boys and while they were willing, good workers, there were certain heavy jobs that caused them problems, no matter how hard they tried to do them well. Sowing fields to prepare them for a late autumn crop was one of those hard tasks, and Maximus applied to it with determination, giving a precious help to the three boys sent to attend to it.

Maximus could not understand why there were not adult males among the slaves. Was it because they cost too much? Had Caecilia's husband preferred to buy boys for they were cheaper and then wait for them to grow up? He had enquired with the woman one evening at dinner, but she had not answered. Or better, she had nodded but Maximus had got the sensation she had not been entirely honest.

In truth the mistress of the house continued to be a mystery for him- an intriguing mystery he longed to disclose. The knowledge she was married had done little to suffocate the attraction he had felt from the beginning. To the contrary, it had increased with the time he had spent in her company. Maximus thought Caecilia liked him too, for he had felt her eyes on him more than once as he worked around the farm, but every time they were alone, she never tried to step out her role of gracious hostess and reach another kind of interaction with him. Not that he wanted her to be immoral and betray her husband- he just wished she would lower her barriers and allow him to become her friend, if everything deeper was precluded to them.

And then there was her maid, always controlling them with hawk eyes and a perennial frown on her face. Maximus could not understand why Flaminia was behaving so. Did she not trust him? But why? He had always behaved honourably with Caecilia, and he tried to not take advantage of her hospitality. He had lost count of the times he had offered to pay for his and Argento's boarding, and it was not his fault if Caecilia had always refused his money. So he tried to compensate her by working her land every day, even if, in his heart, he knew he should thank her for that opportunity too, for labouring in the fields was such a pleasure for him.

 

During one of their after dinner conversations, his position as Protector of Rome came in discussion, brought in by Caecilia, and her considerations first made Maximus feel proud, then puzzled.

Everything started with a simple observation of his.

"You have very good slaves, lady Caecilia. Loyal, willing and well treated."

She shook her shoulders. "I never believed in the use of force or cruelty to make slaves work harder. I believe a kind treatment is more useful and long lasting."

"I am of the same opinion, but I think we are just a minority among the landowners."

"I know. However, the new laws issued by the Protector to limit the owners' right over their slaves had been giving fruits."

"Really?" Maximus had worked hard on that law, strengthening some of Hadrian's past rules and adding new clauses of his elaboration, and he was glad to hear it was effective even in the country, were the slaves' condition was worse and the control scarce.

"Yes, I have noticed improvements both in other farms and in Ostia, at the market."

Maximus nodded in approval. "It is always nice to see a good law like this work."

"Indeed," Caecilia agreed with him, "but it is also strange because, usually, the only legislations that work regards the senatorial class, the merchants and the confirmation of their privileges."

"Well," Maximus straightened on the divan, a bit uncomfortable about speaking of himself in third person, "the Protector has personal knowledge of the evils of slavery. It was only natural he would wish to do something regarding the matter."

"Probably. But he is also issuing laws about the poor, the beggars and the orphaned children. He must really be a compassionate man like Marcus Aurelius,  competent man in military, political and economic matter who wishes to make Rome a better place to live. I hope he will rule for a long time."

Maximus lowered his eyes, both proud and uncomfortable with her praise, but raised them again when Caecilia spoke again.

"Pity that not even he thought to improve the conditions of the women submitted to their husbands' whims and wills..." He stared at her, puzzled and wondering if she was referring to herself, and she added, "But I suppose he would encounter a too great resistance if he tried to touch a matter like this..."

Caecilia smiled bitterly and Maximus asked, "What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing, it was just a passing idea...I was thinking about a woman I know."

"I see."

The conversation then continued over different topics, but when Maximus went to bed he was still musing about her strange comments and the knowledge someone he admired and cared for reputed him to be the good ruler he tried so hard to be.

 

***

 

Six days after Maximus' arrival, Caecilia stunned him by asking him to take her to do a tour of the farm, for she wanted to inspect the fields.

"There is cart behind the barn, and the dapple grey mare stabled in the first stall is trained to pull it," she answered to his question about how she intended to make the trip.

Maximus nodded, still surprised but rapidly recovering his composure. "Wait for me here, lady, I will prepare the cart and come to take you in half an hour."

"Perfect." Caecilia smiled at him, before leaving the kitchen, and he forced himself to suppress the silly grin he was sure would appear on his face if he let his control slip. He felt like a young boy.

Finishing his breakfast, he walked briskly to the stable, quickly harnessing the grey mare and attaching her to the cart.

Caecilia was waiting on the porch steps when he drove the conveyance in the courtyard, a yellow palla over her hair and a big basket in her hands.

Maximus jumped down the cart and offered his arm to help Caecilia to board it. She accepted his arm and he had to bite his lower lip to restrain his gasp when he felt her cool hand pose over his bare forearm. It was the same sensation of the previous time they had touched, but it was stronger. And it was now evident she had felt it too.

He could see it in her wide eyes, in her hurried breath and in the way she lingered in mid-move. They remained still, their eyes locked and Maximus felt the almost unbearable impulse to kiss her, to taste her lips at least once and know if her mouth was as sweet as it looked.

But his sense of honour won over his instinct and his need. They pulled back and his movement seemed to snap Caecilia out of her trance-like mood. She let go of his arm in a rush, as if his skin burned, and sat straight on the driver seat, her hands gripping the basket, her eyes fixed in front of her.

Maximus circled the vehicle, boarded it and sat beside her, although he put as much as possible distance between them. He took the reins and asked, in his most formal tone, "Where do you wish to begin, lady?"

"The olive grove," she replied, her voice gaining strength as she talked. "You must take that little lane stretching beyond the orchard." She indicated it with her hand.

"All right." Maximus shook the reins to spur the mare and soon they were trotting toward the orchard and the olives.

They kept silent during the trip, apparently concentrated only on the road ahead, but more than once Maximus threw a sideway glance to Caecilia, noticing how white her knuckles were as her hands gripped the basket. Her face too was tense, her beautiful mouth pursed in a thin line. It looked like she was angry with herself. But why? Because she too had been on the verge of forgetting her married status and of abandoning herself to her feelings? Or because she had not allowed herself a taste of madness, her self control as strong as his own?

When they arrived to the olive grove, Maximus reined the mare to walk, leading the cart out of the lane and down the sloping hill, so that they could observe the trees closely. The plants were healthy, the branches loaded with small, green olives, and Maximus concluded it would be a very good harvest. He commented on this to Caecilia and was pleased when she broke her silence to answer him, even flashing him a quick smile.

Once they were done with the olives, she directed Maximus to the vineyard, but this tract of the road was not covered in silence, but discussing the kind of wine Caecilia's grapes would produce and comparing it with Maximus' farm production in Hispania. It was a pleasant talk, which led them to list the wines they liked more or less, and which contributed to put them at ease with each other, as if the "incident" in the courtyard had never happened. And while Maximus might have been frustrated in his desire, he was happy they were again comfortable with each other.

On the way back from the vineyard, Caecilia, asked him to stop the cart on a large grass patch along the lane, and told him, gesturing to her basket, that they would be eating their lunch there, among the trees and the flowers.

They spread a blanket over the grass and sat on it, enjoying together the bread, the cheese, the olives and the wine Caecilia had carried. As he ate, Maximus could not help but remember the last time he had a picnic. It had been during one of the few occasions he had been able to take a summer leave, instead of the usual winter one, when Marcus had been only two and had found very exciting eating sitting on the ground. The memory brought him a sense of sweet nostalgia, but none the pain he had experienced in the past every time he thought of his family. Perhaps what he had said to Caecilia only few evenings before was true: his wounds had healed and he was ready for a new life.

Unconsciously his eyes turned to the woman sitting near him, nibbling at a piece of cheese. 

He wanted so badly to make a connection with her...She felt something for him, that was obvious, but she did not seem inclined to explore it, apparently content to just have him near and talking to her.

She was a dutiful matron, almost surely unhappy with her husband, but determined to keep her honour and not betray him. However, she was also very confused in the way she dealt with her guest, and Maximus was extremely frustrated, with her and mostly with himself.

He could not really blame Caecilia for her behaviour- he was all too familiar with the contrast between what you had to do and what you wish to do, and knew how agonizing it could be. On the other hand, he was more than ready to berate himself for falling for a married woman. He had known almost from the beginning she was not free, but done nothing to quell his interest, nor had he tried to block his feelings before they went too deep. In truth, Maximus had no delusions about certain kinds of marriages, and while he would never cheat a friend or someone he respected, he was also aware he could be selfish enough to act with Caecilia, if she just gave him some kind of signal. But she did not. It was only his fault if he experienced erotic dreams about her, dreams that left him with unfulfilled lust and regrets. It was a no-win situation and perhaps he should start to pray for Argento to get well soon, so he could leave her and his suffering behind.

"You are very thoughtful, Maximus," Caecilia's voice, so close to his ear, brought him back to the present.

He shook his head to clear his mind from her nearness and sought for a safe explanation. "I was comparing this peaceful picnic with the breaks soldiers take during marches."

Caecilia smiled, "I suppose they are completely different!"

He smiled broadly. "You can bet they are! Most of the time men eat standing, without even freeing themselves from the pack they carry on their shoulders."

"Can you tell me more about the life in the legions, Maximus? Have you served there for long?"

"Since I was sixteen."

"Then you certainly have a lot of tales to tell. Why don't you narrate some to me as we complete the tour?" Caecilia, tilted her head and looked straight at him, her eyes betraying how much she desired to hear him talk.

Maximus could only bow at her wishes. "I am at your service, lady Caecilia, but do not blame me if your ears will be sore after I complete my storytelling. I have witnessed many interesting things in twenty one years spent in the army!"

"All right, soldier, I will consider myself warned. And now let's hear some of these stories; I am curious."

 

Maximus was in very high spirits when they returned to the farm courtyard. At his side Caecilia was still laughing at the last of his ribald tales, and he could not stop to drink in how her whole visage looked more alive when she was happy. It was such a pity it was not a permanent condition...but he swore it would be if only he could stay near her. He pushed the thought away as he led the mare to stop in front of the villa's porch. He moved to help Caecilia to dismount, but she was quicker than him, jumping down the cart like a young girl.

Maximus smiled upon seeing her so carefree, but his mood changed when Flaminia appeared on the porch with her customary stern look. If Caecilia saw it, she chose to ignore it.

"Good evening, Flaminia? How was your day? Is my bath ready?" She did not wait for answer, but turned to face Maximus and added, "Thank you for driving me around, Maximus, and for the entertaining tales- I will never forget this day. Now I must go; we shall see later, at dinner."

He bowed his head. "It was my pleasure, Caecilia. I too will never forget today."

Flaminia's frown became even more evident, before she moved aside to let her mistress pass, and Maximus felt her reproachful glance fixed of him as he led the cart away.

 

Maximus was kneeling near Argento's leg, when he heard someone enter the stable and walk toward the stall he was in, then stop near the door. He stood up, brushing his hands on his tunic, and was barely able to contain his surprise when he found Flaminia standing there.

"My lady," he said bowing his head.

"Sir. How is your horse?"

"He is doing better, thank you. He should be completely healed in a couple of days."

"Glad to hear it. It is time you get on the road again, sir."

Maximus tilted his chin and set his jaws, as he stared hard to the woman in front of him, willing her to reply honestly to his question. "You don't like me, do you, Flaminia?"

"No sir," she shook her head, "I like you- I like you a lot. But still I wish you away from here as soon as you can."

"Why?"

The maid lowered her eyes and fell silent, her previous bold stance disappeared. "It is because of my mistress."

"Caecilia? Are you afraid I might behave dishonourably in her regards?"

"No...but you are dangerous, sir. My mistress..." Her voice died, but Maximus could not let be so reticent. He needed to know. He stepped forward and took Flaminia lightly by the shoulders. "Your mistress-what? Tell me!"

"My mistress is falling in love with you- but this cannot be allowed to happen. Her husband would never forgive her if he knew. He is a... very difficult man. You have certainly noticed there are no adult males among the slaves..." Maximus nodded and prompted her to go on. "It is because the master does not want any man living near his wife."

"Caecilia is a true lady, she would never betray her husband with a slave..."

Flaminia shook her head. "Indeed she did, a long time ago. And you represent a far greater danger and temptation than any slave could ever be. You are handsome, polite, honourable, kind, well learned. All the qualities my mistress loves- and her husband does not possess." The woman's eyes filled with tears. "I have been with Caecilia since she was a girl of two and I love her like a daughter. I know her as nobody does and I have seen how she is taken by you...She is reserved but her eyes betray her. In any other situation I would be happy for her- but not now. Please Maximus," and she took his hand in both of hers, "if you feel something for her and are the good man I believe you are, stay away from her in the next days and leave this farm as soon as you can."

Her worried face pleaded with him and Maximus swallowed hard. There was no pretension on Flaminia's features- she was really afraid of her mistress' husband.

"I will do as you ask, Flaminia." He finally murmured, squeezing the hand that was still gripping his.

Her mouth curved in a sad smile. "Thank you sir, thank you."

And after speaking so, she bowed her head in salute, let go of his hands, and left the stable.

Maximus remained where he was, his arms loose by his sides, his mind lost in thought.

He knew what his duty was but, as it often happened, knowing it did not make it easier to carry it out.

 

***

 

In the next couple of days, Maximus followed Flaminia's request and stayed away from Caecilia as much as he could without being impolite. He ate his breakfast quickly and cut short their after dinner conversation claiming a tiredness he did not feel, and while he could see Caecilia would have wanted to question him, she never said a word aloud.

Finally, the third evening after talking with Flaminia, Maximus decided to break the news he was going to leave the following morning.

It was not easy, and he fingered a lot with his plate and the knife before strengthening his resolve and do what he had to.

"Lady Caecilia, my horse is healed. It is time for me to return to Rome. I will leave tomorrow morning."

Caecilia's head whipped up, her eyes wide. "So soon?" she said in a barely audible murmur. "But I thought..." Her voice died and she swallowed hard. Maximus feigned not to notice how she struggled to control herself. In the end she added, her voice a little stronger. "I will miss your company, Maximus, very much so. Cannot you stay a few days more?"

"I would love to," he answered, not even trying to disguise his longing, "but I can't. My duty is awaiting me in the Urbs."

"I understand." Caecilia took a deep breath and stood up, moving to the door. "Then I suggest we retire now for the night. You need to rest in view of your journey. We shall see again in the morning. Good night."

It was all but an escape, but Maximus did nothing to stop her, despite the overwhelming need to take her in his arms and comfort her. It would have been useless and would make their pain even worse.

So he just murmured "Good night" and followed her with his eyes as she disappeared from the room. His glance met Flaminia's, who, as usual had been, standing near the door, and she nodded in approval, before leaving after her mistress.

Left alone in the triclinium, Maximus poured himself another cup of wine, leant against the back of his divan, and stared in front of him, his mind and his heart in turmoil.

He stayed there, sipping wine and brooding, until one of the servants made him understand she wished to clear the table and tidy the place, and that it was time for him to retire to his room. Maximus acknowledged her not too subtle request, put down his cup and stood up, leaving the triclinium for his chamber.

It was then, while walking along the corridor, he heard the unmistakable sound of someone weeping. He stopped in mid-stride, and tensed his ears. The noise came from his right, from a door left slightly ajar, a shaft of light filtering from it along the sobs.

Caecilia's sobs, for Maximus knew it was her room. His heart constricted at the pained sound. Why was she crying? Was it because of the news he was going away? Unable to stop himself, he walked to the door, silently pushed it more open and peered inside.

She was sitting on her bed, dressed with just a white nightgown, her long, black hair loose on her shaking shoulders, her face hidden in her hands. She was drew a picture of such utter misery and loneliness that Maximus simply could not bear it. Without thinking twice, he crossed the room and knelt on the floor in front of her.

"Caecilia!" He exclaimed, taking her by the shoulders, "What is happening to you, my lady?"

She slowly lowered her hands and raised her head, looking almost amazed as she saw him there. Then, quick as lighting, she threw her arms around his neck and begged, "Please, hold me tight, Maximus."

She did not need to repeat it. Maximus embraced her and pulled her close to his chest as she kept on sobbing. He did not know what to do. He always felt at loss in front of a woman's grief. So he tried to comfort and soothe her with gentle words and rubbing her back, and after a while his efforts brought some results. Her form stopped shaking and her sobs quietened, little by little.

Maximus loosened his embrace when Caecilia let go of his neck, and he pulled back, watching as she straightened and looked around, clearly ill at ease.

"What is it?" Maximus whispered.

"Nothing." She answered, still attempting to compose herself, but getting even more embarrassed when she noticed her state of undress. She blushed and started to babble an excuse, tensing like a bow and ready to jump from the bed.

But this time Maximus was determined to get some answers, and he blocked her before she could move.

"Why were you crying, Caecilia?" He demanded, commanding her with his eyes to tell the truth.

She swallowed hard and murmured, "I was mourning the end of a dream."

He frowned, perplexed. "What do you mean?"

"Your time here...it has been like a dream for me. And now you are going away...and I won't see you again..." She was on the verge of crying again.

"Caecilia..." Maximus whispered, his voice hoarse, "It had been a dream for me too. But-but if you really wish for it...it does not have to end tomorrow..." The words came to his lips before he could stop himself, his Stoic reserve and self control shattered by their common longing.

"No!" Caecilia shook her head with urgency. "It must end so. There is no other way...my husband..." She attempted to stand and this time Maximus let her go, rising to sit on her bed as she walked back and forth, struggling with herself. In the end she seemed to reach a decision and started talking. "My husband is a peculiar man..."

"Flaminia told me so...among other things."

She tilted her head. "Did she tell you why there are no men among the slaves?"

Maximus nodded. "Yes, she did. She said it is because you husband is very jealous."

Caecilia let out a harsh laugh. "Jealous? No. But he is very possessive- nobody can touch what belongs to him. Things, animals, people."

"I am afraid I do not understand. Could not you be more explicit?"

"Yes..." Caecilia rubbed the bridge of her nose and went on, "Ours had never been a marriage of love. Since the beginning it was clear it was only a business deal. I belonged to an ancient patrician family whose wealth had been lost because of several misfortunes. Athenodorus instead was the son of a freedman who had made a fortune trading silk from the East. He was rich but without social prestige. He wanted my family connections, we needed his money and thus the deal was easily arranged. You can say it was not any different from many of the marriages celebrated every day in Rome and in every corner of the Empire. Women are used to be just tools in their fathers' or husbands' hands. I was not happy, but ready to my duty to my family as I have been raised to do- ready to be a good wife and mother for Athenodorus. However, I soon discovered he was only interested - and not entirely - on the first of those roles." Maximus nodded with his head, showing Caecilia he was listening intently and she continued, with a sigh: "He is a lover of men, Maximus- so much he despises, even hates women. He had never laid with me as a man with a woman, not even on our wedding night.

"What?" Maximus could not control his stupor. Was she meaning she was-? No, it could not be... what about the slave Flaminia had mentioned?

"You heard me. After the marriage he confined me here, spending his time travelling around the Empire or in his Rome house with his lover, visiting me or ordering me to join him in the Capital only when he needs me to be present with him at some banquet or social reception."

"I understand." Maximus closed his eyes, a lump forming in his throat. He had heard about many loveless marriages, but this certainly was one of the worst, and it pained him to no end to know Caecilia was the victim of such a man. "And what about the slaves?" he asked after a while.

She took a deep breath. "Two years after my marriage, a new slave was purchased for the farm. His name was Tertius. He was about my age, very gentle and courteous. We fell in love and stayed together for few months, until Athenodorus discovered us. He made a great scene, shouting and screaming I was his property and that nobody had the right to touch me. He had Tertius almost whipped to death, then he sold him and the other male slaves to the market, and left me only with women and children." Caecilia sniffled aloud. "He also said he would not tolerate a second betrayal, and that his ire would be terrible should it happen again." Her voice died in a whisper, and she pressed her hand against her mouth to stifle her sobs, as she visibly trembled.

Maximus stood up and went to her, the need to take her in his arms so strong it was painful. "Caecilia, does your family know this?"

She shook her head. "No. My parents are still alive, but they are old and sick. They live in Ostia, with a small private income and the money I pass them every month. They have not the strength and the health to deal with Athenodorus, and I prefer them to believe I am well and happy, than risk to see them die of heart break and worry."

Maximus nodded, recognizing in her a kindred spirit. She was dutiful, honourable, ready to sacrifice herself for the people she loved, no matter the cost.

Caecilia suddenly moved closer to him, so much he could sniff her clean, sweet scent, and tilting her head, she looked straight into his eyes. "For the past eight years I have avoided like the plague getting too close with the men I came in contact with because of the farm or by chance, so terrified I was of my husband until...until you came into in my life."

"Caecilia, I did not mean to cause you troubles. I..."

"Shh, Maximus. You did not cause any trouble. I just needed to stare at your eyes to discover a lonely soul like mine- and let myself get careless."

They were nearly face to face, almost breathing the same air.

"Caecilia..." His voice was but a strangled whisper.

"You don't have to say anything, Maximus. I had always known you would not remain here for long...but it was nice while it lasted..."

"Caecilia! Let me talk! It was the same for me! I loved you from the first moment I saw you. My heart starts beating faster at the sight of you and it breaks when I think about your situation. Why don't you come away with me tomorrow?"

"No, Maximus. I love you, but I cannot. I don't know how Athenodorus would react and I cannot risk his dragging my family in front of court or tormenting my parents. I have obligations to them, and I must do my duty. You are a soldier, Maximus- you surely know what duty is."

"Yes, I know." All too well, he thought but refrained to say aloud.

"I was sure of it." Caecilia turned and walked to the window and looked into the night, as he stood where he was, clenching and unclenching his fists, vainly searching for a way out from their situation.

"Caecilia, listen. I am a very...high ranking officer," he tried again, "I have the means to help you and your family."

"No!" She said emphatically, facing him again, "Do not insist, Maximus. I have taken my decision and will face its consequences." She sounded very sure and determined and he realized nothing would move her- she was a real stoic, just like him. He lowered his head in defeat, and turned his back to her, blocking her from his sight as he regained his composure. It was so incredibly hard to have found what he had been looking for just to see it slip through his fingers before he could fully gasp it.

Maximus almost jumped when Caecilia's arms surrounded him from behind, her hand flat over his chest.

"Next morning you will leave," she breathed into his ear and making him shudder, "and I will not see you again, but the night is still young, Maximus...and it is ours."

He turned in the circle of her arms, wanting to see in her eyes if she was sure, really sure, of what she was asking and offering.

"Are you certain?" he murmured low in his throat, feeling his passion rise.

"Yes, my love. We have only till dawn: make it last for a lifetime..."

"I will my love, I will." Maximus pulled Caecilia into his arms and claiming her mouth in a bruising kiss, proceeded to do just as she had asked...

 

***

 

Night had already fallen on Rome and the palace over the Palatine was quiet and silent, but Maximus was not able to sleep, and he turned and turned in the bed. He was tired, but enough to guarantee a good night of sleep, and his mind was prey to a fevered activity.

The next day he would ride to Ostia to check how the restoration of the port was progressing and the trip would bring him close - too close - to Caecilia's farm, the place he had visited in his heart every single day since he had left it, about five months before.

Maximus groaned, and turned to lay on his back, an arm over his eyes in the unconscious attempt to block out the images dancing behind his closed eyelids.

Caecilia.

Her beautiful face full of concern as she handed him the cup full of broth, not knowing how her darting glances at his naked chest warmed him more than the beverage...

Caecilia. 

Smiling at him from the other side of the table, her eyes bright from the pleasure of their conversation and the time they spent together...

Caecilia. 

Her cheeks flushed with excitement when he had pushed the dapple grey mare to gallop, one of her hands on her head to keep her palla in place, and her voice spurring him and the mare to run faster...

Caecilia. 

Her eyes red with tears as she revealed him the misery of her marriage, and the plea in her voice as she begged him to give her a single night of love...

Caecilia. 

Looking shy and demure and yet so hungry and passionate as he undressed her, caressing her pale, silky skin as he bared it, little by little...

Caecilia.

The tip of her tongue licking her lips at the sight of his aroused manhood, a sparkle of fear in her gaze, but never hesitating in taking his hand and letting him pull her on the bed...

Caecilia.

Her eyes wide, first in embarrassment then in wonder, when he had loved her with his mouth, relishing in her sweet flavour as much as in her blissful moans...

Caecilia. 

Her face full of eagerness and determination when asking him to teach her how to please him with her mouth and hands, and the proud flash in her eyes when she reduced him in a panting heap on the mattress, her inexperienced touch so incredibly arousing...

Caecilia. 

Biting her lower lip in concentration, almost forgetting to breath, as he slowly slipped inside of her, not wanting to cause her pain, and wishing her to feel every inch of his turgid flesh, as he claimed her and made her his...

Caecilia. 

Her face contorted in pleasure as she cried out his name, and her other scream when she contracted again around his manhood, as he spilled his seed within her womb...