I don't think I have ever seen Rome look more beautiful than today, on this early November day, as the Empire's new lord is coming to take his rightful possession of Her. The sun shines brightly, despite being in autumn, its pleasantly warm rays making the marble of the statues, the arches and the buildings glow with an almost ethereal light, that makes familiar things look different. New. It is as if the Urbs knows a new course is going to start for Her and that the months in which Commodus' rule threatened to precipitate the Empire into an abyss of darkness are now a distant memory, even if the tyrant was killed only a handful of days ago.

Rome seems reborn, just like me- quite a feat, considering my age! The miracle of love: it can turn your life upside down in the least expected moment, even for an old person like me, for whom till about two months ago there was nothing really worth living for.

I am standing at the top of the long series of marble steps that leads to the Imperial Palace on the Palatine Hill. Looking down, and for as far as my eyes can reach, I see crowded streets and decorated buildings. The noise is terrible, but still pleasant, as the thousands of people barely kept under control by the city guards keep on screaming for their new Emperor, calling him Caesar or "Saviour Of Rome".

I smile upon seeing such a spectacle, for I know that manifestation of affection is real, the care and the joy born from the heart, and not paid for as it was when Commodus arrived in town, about a year ago. Today there is no one screaming for the Emperor to go away; today everyone is eagerly waiting for the new Caesar's arrival, just like me.

"Demetrius of Athens?" A rich, well modulated voice distracts me and I turn around to face one of the most attractive women I have ever seen, the Augusta Lucilla. She is tall, graceful, with hair like warm honey, green eyes and a face full of character and intelligence.

"Yes, my lady," I answer her query, bowing my head, "How can I serve you?"

She shakes her head. "You have already done enough, sir. I have come to thank you, for everything you did for Rome and Caesar... For Maximus. We would not be here today if it were not for you." Her voice takes on a peculiar tone when she speaks that name and her eyes brighten. I can see in them that the talks I have heard about the affection existing between the Augusta and Caesar are true. She cares deeply for him and something inside me tells me it will not be long before the news of their marriage is announced.

The thought stabs my heart, and I have to suffocate the bout of envy I feel in her regards, for she is going to have what I could never have: Maximus' love.

Oh, I now know I will always have his friendship and gratitude - and I am very grateful for it - but still it is hard to admit and accept I could never be for him what he is for me. He is the man that made me live again, the man I will love for the rest of my life, always treasuring the time he lived in my house, when I hoped, I dreamed, he could be mine...

"There is no need to thank me, my lady. I did what every surgeon would have done." I try to down- play my role in the events that had preceded Commodus' downfall.

"Maximus says otherwise. He told me you went beyond your call of duty as a doctor." She insists, her eyes boring at me.

She is right, of course. I went beyond the Hippocrates' oath to save lives for Maximus. I risked my life for him, but I did not do it for Rome. I did it out of love for him- and for myself. It was quite selfish, in truth, and I don't want to be looked at as a hero. But from the way she is looking at me, I guess Maximus did not tell her the truth. He would never betray my privacy, and the memories, the dreams and the hopes of those days will remain only mine.

A senator comes near us, reclaiming Lucilla's attention and she excuses herself, leaving with him before I can reply to her. I bow in salute and return to look in front of me, from my privileged viewing point. I wonder if the crowd looking up at us knows why I, a humble surgeon, am standing here, surrounded by senators and military leaders. I wonder if they know the part I played in Maximus' return and rise to power, but, again, I do not really care if they know or not. I don't want them to think I did what I did with the hope for some financial or social advantage, when my cherished reward was a heart-felt bear hug, a handful of beautiful memories, and the promise of an ever-lasting friendship that will warm my previously cold heart forever.

And, as I continue to stare in front of me, waiting for the Triumphal Procession to arrive, my mind begins to wander and before long the sight of the cheering mob disappears and I return to the past, to the night of about two months ago, when everything began...

It was a late August night, hot and humid, one of those times when you sweat without doing anything. A night a man with my financial means should spend in an open triclinium in a villa up in the hills, enjoying the light breeze and the star filled sky. A night one should share with his or her beloved, talking and exchanging tenderness. And instead I was walking in a trash deposit in a corner of the Subura, negotiating my steps between food remains, broken potteries, human and animal excrements, and even the corpse of a poor newborn child someone had decided not to keep. It was not the place where anybody in his right mind would like to be, especially alone, especially during the night and especially during the summer, when the heat causes the organic trash to rot faster, emanating nauseating miasmas.

But I was in that location because it was where, five years before, I had found the body of my long time lover, Gaius.

One night, after having spent time with some friends, he had disappeared. He had not returned to his house, causing so much worry in his sons that they even came to alert me, the man they usually chose to ignore. I had spent two days in anxious research, before arriving at that deposit, sadly famous for it often was the place where victims of assassins and robberies were found. It had been the same for Gaius: he had been robbed just after leaving his friends, stabbed, and then left to die in that forsaken site. He was still alive when I found him, but not for long. He had lost too much blood and his wound had become too infected for him to survive. I had barely the time to embrace him when his heart stopped beating. And a part of me had died with him, as desperation and desolation had gripped me.

I had never been the same after that night, tormented as I was by too many "what ifs"... What if I had gone with him the night he had been stabbed? What if I had searched that deposit sooner? Remorse and guilt never left me, and life stopped to have any taste- I even ceased to practice as a surgeon, to waste away my days in solitude, with the hope that each of them could be the last one. After all, I was already in my sixties, so why did a nice stroke not come to claim me? But despite the apathy that was my constant companion, I never forgot to honour the anniversary of Gaius' death. And since his sons did not allow me to bring my respects and my offerings to his tomb, I took them to the trash deposit where he had died, leaving them on the spot where I had found him.

It was what I was doing that night, when the silence of the late hour was broken by approaching steps. In the Subura the rule better to be prudent than sorry is especially valid, so I lost no time to hide behind a still-standing section of the half-crumbled wall that surrounded the place.

From that position I saw four men step in the deposit, carrying something very heavy with them. Before I had time to realize what it was, one of the newcomers said, "Let's drop him here."

Him, not it. They had been carrying a man and they were going to leave him there, in that horrendous location, just as, five years before, someone had left Gaius. A loud thud echoed in the following silence and I cringed at its sound. Was that poor man still alive to be damaged by such careless dropping, or was he already beyond pain?

As before, one of the men seemed to have heard my question and answered to me.

"He is still alive..."

"But not for long. Rats and stray dogs will see to it. He will not get any help here, for the people who come to this place are not exactly the kind who stop to rescue wounded men. He will die here, slowly and painfully. I am sure our master and the Emperor will appreciate the idea. And now let's leave this stinking place and go to enjoy our money. I know a brothel where the girls are so..." The steps and the voices receded, and silence fell again on the area, broken only by the cries of two fighting cats somewhere nearby. I waited for a few more moments to be sure those men were not coming back, then I left my hiding place and approached the wounded man.

He was lying face down in the dirt and at first glance I could see his left arm was broken and bent in an unnatural way. I knelt down and touched his torso, palpating it gently in search of wounds. I touched his head and shuddered when hot blood coated my fingers but I was relieved for the skull did not seem broken. He moaned at the slight pressure I had to apply to turn him around, but luckily his breath was clean, even if laboured. Whether his ribs were broken or just cracked, at least they had not punctured his lungs. Once he was lying on his back, I continued my examination - at least that much I could do in the scarce moonlight - trying to ascertain if it was safe to move him and the best way to do so. For, of course there was no way I could leave him there to die. That man had not been right: that deposit was frequented by someone who was ready to rescue wounded men, especially when they were left half dead in the exact spot where I had found Gaius. I was going to try to save him, not only because I was a surgeon, but also because I sensed something strange in the air. The way in which everything had happened was too similar to what I had experienced in the past to be ignored, and I took it as a sign from the gods- the sign my heart was still able to care for someone and it was time to prove it.

So I covered the unconscious man with my cloak, and walked as fast as possible to the nearby tavern where I had left my servants, ordering them to follow me. Less than a half a hour later, the wounded stranger was lying in my litter, as we proceeded quickly to my villa on the Viminal hill.

Once arrived at home, I had the servants carry the man into one of the guests rooms, before ordering them to bring me towels and heat some water. As for me, I went to my study to retrieve my surgeon's instruments and bandages. I had not practiced my profession in five years, but luckily everything was still clean and in order and I had enough medical herbs stored away to prepare poultices, salves and infusions to give to begin to treat my patient. The rest could be bought at the market the next day. I took my tools to the guest room and put them on a table that Drusus - a middle-aged man I had found abandoned by his previous owner in the Aesculapius' temple on the Tiberine Isle with a broken leg and cured- had already pushed near the bed. He is the most trusted of my servants and my aid in medical matters. I washed my hands and arms, then I began to examine the unconscious man.

He looked to be in his early thirties, with short dark hair and beard, well muscled, with two scars on his upper left arm. He was strong and sturdy and everything in him seemed to scream "warrior". But what kind of warrior? A legionary on leave, perhaps. He was dressed with a homespun greyish-blue tunic that had seen better days, even before being splattered with its owner's blood and the trash deposit dirt. He wore no belt or shoes and his wrists were badly chafed, as if they had been tied or chained for a long time. While they were beating him? I wondered with a shiver, before taking the scissors and cutting away the ruined tunic.

I cringed when Drusus and I removed the fabric and I looked at the man's naked torso. It was a terrible spectacle, just like his face. There was no spot of his skin that was not covered by reddish-blue bruises and swollen. I was right: he had been beaten, repeatedly and savagely. He had three broken ribs on the right side, two cracked ones on the left, a dislocated jaw, a cracked cheekbone and a fractured arm.

The area around his eyes was so swollen I doubted he could open his eyelids, had he tried to do so. His nose, though, was miraculously intact, while the lips were split and only the gods knew what kind of internal damage he had suffered. Then Drusus and I gently rolled him over to check his back. He had been whipped there, and the lashes crisscrossed his broad shoulders and back, the blood still tickling along the sides to pool on the sheet. Remembering he had been injured on his head too, I searched with my fingers between his hair, easily finding a lump and a cut.

All in all he sported an impressive collection of injuries and I think he had to thank his muscled body if he was still alive, albeit very, very weak and in sore need of help. And despite his battered condition I found him beautiful- a beauty that did not come only from his abused and strong physique and by the strength with which he had survived the beating, but also from the personality his closed eyes sheltered inside. I knew nothing about him and yet- yet I sensed he was special.

The next hours were spent taking care of him. 

First of all Drusus and I washed him with heated water, removing all the blood, the sweat and the dirt from his skin. Then we tackled the painful task of setting each of his injuries. A healing salve was smeared over each of the whip marks, his lips and chafed wrists. A tight bandage was wrapped around his chest to support his damaged ribs. Linen compresses soaked with soothing liquid were put over his eyelids to reduce the swelling, and kept in place by a bandage wrapper around his head, which also covered the cracked cheekbones and the cut on his nape. His arm was splinted and blocked against his chest. He remained unconscious during the entire process and I did not know if I had to be grateful he had been spared further pain or be concerned because of his lack of reaction. I was especially concerned about the blow he had received on his head, for the brain is an extremely delicate and mysterious organ. But, at that point, I could do nothing but wait. So I went into the kitchen and prepared a herbal tea to fight possible infections and the blood loss he had suffered, and had him drink it with Drusus' help as soon as the man regained his consciousness. It lasted only few minutes, but it was more than enough for what we had to do.

After that I decided there was nothing else we could do for him just now, and I tucked the sheets around him, before sending my servant to bed.

As for myself, I went to my room to change my bloodied clothes, before returning to my patient, dragging a chair near the bed, and preparing to spend the rest of the night at his side, my mind full of questions about him.

My patient's first night passed well and when I checked him in the morning, I found him fevered but as much as I had feared he might be considering what he had suffered. However he was still unconscious, as he would be for the following month or so. Or better, he slipped in and out of consciousness for the whole time, and I practically had to live at his side, so to be able to catch the right moment to spoon-fed him with broth and give him the medicines he needed.

I cared for him day and night, but I never resented my "duties", for, by performing it, I found that sense of purpose again that had been missing from my life since Gaius' death. I changed his bandages and dressings, washed him, turned him over in the bed to avoid that he developed sore spots lying always in the same position, and rejoiced as, little by little, I saw the bruises and the swellings disappear, the lashes heal, the bones mend.

As for other matters, such as his identity, I began to suspect on it the second day after I had rescued him.

That morning Drusus returned from the market where I had sent him to buy more herbs for my supplies with the news the forum and the city were abuzz because the popular gladiator Maximus, the hero of the crowd of the Colosseum, had escaped and could not be found. As everyone in Rome, I too had heard the story of the gladiator who claimed to have been Marcus Aurelius' most trusted general, and it seemed that fact was really true, not a story invented by a lanista to give more mystique to his fighter. I had never been in the arena while this Maximus had fought to see how he defied Commodus after each match, for, as someone who had sworn to preserve life, I cannot stand to witness such useless massacres as the games are.

However, as Drusus reported to me how disappointed and even enraged the mob was because their hero had not remained to square off with the hated emperor, but had escaped leaving them alone without any hopes of been freed from tyranny, I could not help but recall what I had heard the night I had found my patient. One of the men that had left him in the trash deposit had said something about the emperor being pleased about their job- and from that moment on I began to wonder if the half-dead man I had rescued in the Suburra could be the missing gladiator.

Thus I ordered Drusus back to the forum, to discreetly enquire about the man's looks and to keep his ears open to any news about him. My servant returned home an hour later telling this Maximus looked like the man sleeping in my guestroom - but the description given to him was very basic: height, and hair colour - and that Commodus had given orders to search for him in the entire town.

So I can say my suspicions grew but I had no means to be totally sure until he woke up and told me his name. In the meantime, I continued to collect information about him, coming to know much of his story, at least what of it was of public domain, and the more I knew about him, the more I thought such a man could have not escaped in the way he was rumoured to have done, like a thief in the middle of the night. Not after shouting and swearing his desire of revenge toward Commodus again and again, not after defying him time after time, not after rising so much the mob's expectations and hopes. Somehow, it did not sound right. It was out of character, basing on the opinion I had made about the whole matter. If everything I had heard about General Maximus was true, he could have not done it, especially because I had no doubt Commodus had put him under strict guard and everyone in town knew how efficient his hired assassins, the Praetorians, are. On the other hand, if I were Commodus, I would not want to kill him publicly, in a way that might cause him to look like a hero or a martyr and that would make me ever more hated... I would act to have him look like he betrayed the people's trust. I would kill his name before killing him, making it seem like he fled in an ignominious way...A brilliant plan, born from a devious mind. Commodus' or Falco's, his scheming companion? Rome is a big town, but certain things are known to every ear willing to listen.

Time passed without any further news about the gladiator Maximus, and while Commodus continued to precipitate Rome into a reign of terror, killing every one who dared to speak against him, I continued to concentrate only on my patient. His body had almost completely recovered from the beating, the only mementos being some scars on his back, there the lashes had been deeper, his splinted arm and some bruises that were hard to disappear. However he continued to sleep most of the time and my worries about the fact increased with each passing day he remained that way. I needed him to wake not only to be sure he was really all right, but also because I wished to feed him properly with solid food that would help him to regain his strength and the beauty of his body, that even his abused and battered condition had not hidden. He was one of the most attractive men I had ever seen and that was causing problems between the surgeon and the man inside myself. The former prayed every day his patient would open his eyes; the latter, while concerned about the man's health, hoped he would remain as he was, so that I could continue to go on with the habit that had begun two nights after his rescue. It had been the moment when his fever had reached the highest peak and he had been shivering despite the summer climate and two layers of blankets. Since the winter covers had been put away in a store room and I could not retrieve them without waking the entire household, I thought there was only one way to give him more warmth, thus climbing into bed at his side and spooning along his back. It had worked, for he had soon stopped shivering, but it had also shown me how I missed sharing the bed with another strong, male body. My hands had caressed his bandaged chest many times before I settled to sleep with my cheek resting against his shoulder. The next morning I had woken up more rested and relaxed than I had been in years, since Gaius' death, and that feeling of well-being had accompanied me through the entire day. So, when night had fallen, I had not been able to resist the urge to lie again at his side, although he was no longer so fevered. I tried to fool myself telling it was to be near him in case he needed something, but I knew that I was doing that for me, not for him. As a surgeon I was ashamed by such an unprofessional behaviour, but as an old, lonely man, I was only intent to grab all the little comfort life could still offer me, and I dreaded the day I would no longer be allowed to share his sleep...

My patient woke up for good exactly thirty-two days after I had rescued him. It happened in the evening, while I was getting ready to join him in bed. I had just finished checking that the shutters were closed and was going to blow off the lamps, when I saw his eyelids flicker. He had briefly awoken many times in the previous month, but this was the first time I could stare at his eyes since I had removed the bandages covering them. They were a beautiful, stunning blue-green, and I watched in awe as he blinked several times to focus his gaze. On me, who was leaning over him.

He looked at me, frowning. "Who are you?" He asked in a low, rumbling voice that sent shivers down my spine.

"A friend. Demetrius."

He continued to stare at me, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Where am I?"

"You are at my villa. You must not fear; you are safe here."

More frowning. "Safe? From what?"

I was my turn to imitate him, looking confused. "Don't you remember what happened to you?" I asked softly.

"Remember what?" He seemed to turn inwardly, to seek for an answer then his eyes widened in alarm, "I don't remember... I don't remember anything...Why can't I?" There was an edge of panic in his voice as he tried to stand up-in the instinctive reaction to flee from danger?

"Shhh," I whispered soothingly, pushing at his shoulder and making him recline again. "Be quiet. Don't panic. You had a very bad... accident. Took quite a hard blow on your head. I am sure you will remember soon what happened to you."

He nodded and relaxed a bit.

"Do you remember your name?" I asked, trying to determinate the extension of his problem.

"My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius." He replied with sureness.

"Good." I smiled, happy for at least he remembered that basic detail and pleased with myself for my deductive job had proven right, not minding at all the dangers I could meet by sheltering him. For me he was only a man needing help- a handsome man that with just a few words had cast quite a spell over my lonely self.

"Do you remember something else?"

"I know I am a farmer and I came from Hispania and then..." Maximus paused before adding, "...nothing more. Why is this so?" He was starting to show distress again, so I rushed to calm him.

"That's enough for now. You will remember more as you feel better and have spent more time awake." I smiled encouragingly and my heart almost skipped a beat as he shyly smiled back. He looked so young and charming! "Now let your mind rest and concentrate on something else. Are you hungry?"

"No," he shook his head. "Just sleepy."

"That's good. It is late evening, the perfect time for sleeping." I smiled again, and I tucked the sheet around his chest as I had done every night for the past month.

He yawned and murmured, "Will you be here when I wake up?"

"Of course. Don't worry and sleep. I am sure you will feel better tomorrow."

Maximus nodded, closed his eyes and not before long his breath had deepened in the slow rhythm of sleep.

I remained at his side for a long time, my hand gliding through his soft dark hair, as I pondered what he had told me. I had been surprised by his declaration he was a farmer. Was Maximus remembering incorrectly? Or had he been a farmer other than a soldier? It was possible. I knew he had had a wife and son somewhere- perhaps they had lived in the country and he used to farm when he was with them. Or perhaps he had been born on a farm. But why had he told me he was a farmer? Was he trying to hide his identity? Highly unlikely since he had told me his name. I tried to recall what I had read about the loss of memory. It was not surprising - indeed it was common in connection with head traumas - he did not remember the beating inflicted on him. But how to explain he did not recall the rest of his life either? That he was a gladiator? It was very puzzling, something I had never witnessed in my experience as doctor.

Sighing aloud, I caressed his hair one last time and stood up. It was already very late and it had no sense to waste time on a problem that might not exist the next day for, perhaps, Maximus would wake up feeling well, his memory restored.

"Maximus," I breathed, savouring the name and staring at his frame. He had lost weight in the past month but he was still massive. "You are aptly named." I wondered if he had been very big at birth, thus pushing his parents to name him in that most unusual way. Then I circled the bed and remained standing there uncertain, before taking a decision and throwing back the blankets and sliding under them at his side for what could be the last time. I had just blown off the lamp, when I felt him move closer to me. It was the first time it happened and my heart began to run as hope dawned inside me. Perhaps Maximus was not a stranger to the love between two men. Perhaps he had known it in the army, while being away from his family. Or perhaps he was like Gaius, who had been forced to take a wife and produce children even if his tastes had always laid elsewhere. Was there any chance he could find attractive a grey haired, a little overweight man like me?

"More probably he is instinctively reacting to your warmth," the cold voice of reason whispered, "Don't delude yourself, he is only searching comfort from his inner turmoil."

Whatever the reason, I did not let that chance escape and I embraced his middle, before falling asleep with my nose buried into his neck.

The next morning Maximus was already awake when I opened my eyes, sitting on the mattress with his back against the headboard. I stared at him in silence, trying to understand what he was thinking- if he was upset or angry about having discovered me in his bed. He too looked at me quietly, then asked, "Are we lovers?"

I was so stunned by his question I could not find a way to reply and he went on, "Strange, I don't remember. I should recall something like this, don't you think?"

That was the moment I should have said the truth: correct him and tell him we were not lovers, and save myself from embarrassment by telling him I had slept with him to be close in case he needed me during the night. But instead I remained silent, leaving Maximus with this wrong idea. I was weak and selfish, I know, but in that moment I only thought about the possibility to continue to sleep with him and, perhaps, share some pleasure with him. It had been so long for me... True, at sixty-two, I was already in a age when the fulfilment of the heart is more important than that of the flesh, my ardour long gone, but still I longed to share some passion with this strong, masculine man. It was selfish in the extreme, and I had no intention to abuse or force him in any way: I simply planned to be at his side and catch whatever opportunity there might arise.

"Give yourself time," I finally replied to his question. "I am sure you will remember soon."

Maximus nodded, then looked at his still bandaged arm. "How did this happen?"

"You were attacked in the streets. Robbers. They beat you." It was not the truth, but could I tell him what had really happened considering the state of his memory? It would certainly anguish him to know he had been almost beaten and whipped to death.

He frowned. "Was I not able to defend myself?" He seemed displeased and hurried to soothe his pride, "Oh, you sent them running away, but unfortunately you could not avoid some damages, to your arm and head. They were four against one."

"I see."

"And now, would you like to eat? You must be hungry."

"I am."

A man of few words, huh? "Good." I stood up and donned my robe. "I am going to tell the servants to get the table ready. It is time for you to leave this bed, Maximus and begin to move around. You need to build back your strength and physical condition."

"For how long have I been sick?"

"A little more than a month."

"My Gods! And I spent all the time in bed? No wonder, then, that I feel so weak..." Maximus shook his head, before staring pointedly at me. "Did you care for me all this time?"

I nodded.

"Thank you, Demetrius. You are a real friend." He said seriously, bowing to me. I felt my heart constrict. There was something so noble and sincere in his gesture that I felt shame assault me for not having told him the truth about us.

"You are welcome," I whispered back, silencing my conscience, before leaving the room for the kitchen.

The days that followed were the happiest since Gaius' death. The days I discovered myself in love like a young boy and everything looked rosy and joyous. One of Maximus' smiles was enough to make my heart flutter and I thought I would have gladly spent the rest of my life simply looking at his face or listening to his words. It was a pleasure for me, both as a surgeon and a man, to see Maximus regain his strength and shape.

I helped him with the exercises I suggested him to do in the warm pool in my small bathhouse, watching his arm return to move with ease, as he swam back and forth. I observed him as he ran in my extensive gardens, his broad chest heaving and his skin covered in sweat. He did not remember his past life, but he certainly recalled, even if unconsciously, how soldiers train to gain stamina and pursued that task with determination, although, perhaps, it was also a way to forget his situation as a man without memories.

At the end of each day day's exercises, I gave Maximus a massage to relax his tired, tense muscles. These were the only times I allowed myself to touch him with a little more feeling than professional care required. But how could I have resisted the sight of all that bronzed skin stretched in front of me? However I never pushed things too far nor did I betray my integrity, for I soon discovered Maximus was not inclined to the Greek persuasion. He had stiffened the only time I had allowed my fingers to trail too high along his thigh, and his hand had moved quickly to remove them. This had been more than a simple refusal to accept intimacy- it had been something deeper, coming from the deepest, instinctive part of his being. I had understood it at once- after all it was not the first time I had seen that stricken, disgusted look in another man's gaze - but Maximus did not take it too well.

"I am sorry," he had whispered, lowering his head, slowly letting go of my wrist, which he had grabbed with a fulminous, iron grip. "I don't know why... how..." It was clear he was not able to relate his reaction to the notion we were lovers, and he did not want to hurt me. I found it very touching, and it was in that precise moment I realized I loved him - loved him as I did not believe I could love again. It was both a blessing - for I came alive again after five years of limbo - but also a curse, for I knew there was no chance Maximus could return my feelings. He would never be mine, and I had to accept it, grabbing the little closeness he could offer me while I could.

And I did so. Not only did I continue to share his bed, just allowing myself to snuggle near him when he was asleep, but I treasured, soaking in them like a thirsty plant, the hours we spent talking in the library or walking in my gardens.

Maximus was very bright-minded and our conversations were always interesting. We talked about books we had read, places we had seen and our childhoods, his in Hispania, mine in Greece. He was eager to know everything about me, as he tried to make what he learnt fit with what he recalled of his life- which seemed restricted to his early years in his homeland.

His memory loss was very strange- selective, you could say. It was as if he had, unconsciously, of course, used his incident and subsequent illness to remove from his mind events of his life that were too painful for him, to go back to a time - his childhood and boyhood - when everything had been happy, simple, safe.

I could understand him: how many times I had wished to forget the years spent near Gaius, thinking but by doing so, I would stop suffering for his death! How many nights I had drunk myself to oblivion, only to wake up the next morning nauseous, with a terrible headache and my still bleeding heart? Maximus' mind had found a better way to escape a reality he felt he could not bear, but I suspected it could not last long. Already his memories were struggling to get free, and it traduced in constant, nagging headaches that my medicines could not soothe. Soon, very soon, he would remember, and my time with him would come to an end.

Maximus regained his memory twenty days after waking up. It happened in an abrupt way, with no warning, and from one moment to the other, the gentle, somehow carefree, always smiling farmer I had known was replaced by the serious, hard, military leader he had become after leaving his home and joining the army. It was a shock for me, but it did not cause me to fall out of love with him.

The day it happened was the same he had been examined by my old friend and teacher, Claudius Galen of Pergamum. Worried by Maximus' continued headaches, and by the nightmares that had started to trouble his sleep, and that my medicines were not able to soothe, I had taken the risk to send a message to Galen, asking for his advice on the matter. He is the best surgeon I had the privilege to know, retaining his skills and bright mind even at his advanced age. I also was aware he despised Commodus and harboured strong suspicions about Marcus Aurelius' death. Galen had been the late Caesar's personal physician and had checked him before he left for Germania, and had later reported to me to have not been convinced by the way the old emperor was said to have lost his life. Based on these reasons, I had felt it was safe enough to let him know General Maximus was living in my house.

As I had hoped, Galen arrived in the early afternoon and, while shocked by my patient's identity, listened with attention to my explanations, before checking Maximus, who submitted to the examination with anxiety. He was worried about his own health, and feared Galen might tell him some bad news.

My old friend was able to assuage much of that concern by telling him, after a long visit during which he asked many questions about how he felt and what he remembered, he would soon regain his memories, and that the headaches would cease when it happened. Then he suggested him to lie down on the bed and rest, and went to talk to me.

"Your analysis of the problem is right, my friend. I think he is trying to flee from reality, but it won't be for much longer. I hope you are ready to deal with it..." Galen said.

"What do you mean?" I asked. Did I betray my feelings for Maximus? 

"That you are taking a great risk housing him, and that the dangers for you will increase if, as I suspect, you will decide to help the General in his quest to get his revenge against Commodus."

"I know," I sighed, "But what else can I do? I saved his life and I will do everything in my power to avoid seeing him get killed by the Praetorians or thrown back in the arena. We both know Commodus wants him dead and I cannot bear to imagine what a terrible death he has in mind for Maximus."

"You are right. I was in the Colosseum the last time Maximus fought, the day before his "escape". Commodus had set him against a giant of a man and four tigers, in blatant unfair fight. It was clear Caesar wanted nothing more but to see his enemy being torn to pieces by the cats, but Maximus pulled it off despite all the odds and won the crowd even more by sparing his opponent's life after Commodus ordered him to kill the fallen gladiator. That earned him the name of Maximus the Merciful and I think it was the last straw that pushed Commodus to eliminate him outside the arena."

"Yes, and making him look like a coward in the meantime." I commented with disgust.

"Indeed. My spies in the Ludus Magnus told me Maximus' lanista was compensated for his loss and for keeping his mouth shut, and that the "job" was carried out by Senator's Falco's thugs, not by the Praetorians."

"Well, that turned to be a blessing for the General. Those men did not know they had not wounded him lethally, while the Praetorians would certainly have killed him before dumping the body."

"Exactly. I can tell you Commodus was not happy to hear about it and Falco's men paid for their negligence with their lives. They were thrown to the lions."

I shook my head, appalled by such cruelty.

Silence fell on us for a while, before Galen stood up. "I must return to the Palace. Commodus is paranoid and I don't want to raise his suspicion. Do you want me to try and speak with the Augusta Lucilla? She and the General were close a long time ago, and she was very upset about his disappearance, for she never believed Maximus escaped of his own will."

I smiled ruefully, amazed by how many things he knew. "I don't know. I don't want to put him in danger before he is able to defend himself. If you trust the Augusta and think she could help him, then do so. If you are not absolutely sure about her, then stay silent."

"All right. As for you, be prudent and keep both yourself and the General safe. Perhaps there is still hope for Rome."

"Yes, I will certainly do so."

We exchanged a salute and then Galen was gone.

I went to Maximus' room to check him. Galen's examination had been hard for him, and I wanted to assure myself he was right. I found him lying on his stomach over the covers. He looked so young and innocent it seemed almost impossible to believe he had accomplished everything I knew he had done.

I was still staring at him, longing for something that could never be and worrying about how he would react to me when he finally regained his memory, when Drusus appeared at my side, pale and with his breath short.

"Master!"

"Yes?" I asked, surprised by his look.

"Master, the Praetorians are here! They want to see you."

"What?"

"They want to know what Master Galen was doing here."

"I see." So my old friend had been spotted entering my house - if not followed at all since he had left the Palace. "All right, Drusus, I will deal with them. You remain here and keep an eye on Maximus."

"Yes, master."

"Good." I squeezed his shoulder and headed for the atrium, composing myself to look placid and calm in front of the guards.

The four Praetorians were standing near the fountain in the inner courtyard, looking around with disdain, enjoying how their black uniforms were scaring my servants.

"Are you the owner of this place?" asked one, without bothering to salute, as soon as I stepped on the porch.

"Yes, sir. I am Demetrius of Athens."

"What was Galen doing here?"

"He came for a visit. We studied together in Greece. It was quite some time that we had not seen each other and we wanted to discuss the results of certain experiments we had been conducting..."

"Experiments?"

"Yes. Like sectioning rabbits and sheep to learn about their anatomy...Examining their organs...Things like that; very interesting."

The Praetorian I had been speaking to wriggled his nose in distaste. "I do not doubt it, but I prefer to eat rabbits and sheep- with a lot of garum and good wine!" It was a lame joke, but I joined him when he laughed, relieved he believed me. And why not? I was not connected to politics in any way and my fine villa came more from the money I had inherited from my family than from my profession as doctor- I never had important, well-off patients like Galen. Indeed Maximus was by far - for what he had been and could be - the most important man I ever had in my care.

The Praetorian then nodded and with a brief head gesture, ordered his men to follow him and they  marched away from my porch and my house. I remained on the threshold of the villa till they disappeared among the crowd in the streets, before turning around to return to Maximus' room and alert Drusus the danger had passed. But it was not necessary, for my servant was standing in the atrium, few steps behind Maximus himself. It took me a glance to understand he had regained his memory. His face and eyes were hard, and he exuded authority and confidence. The placid farmer was gone, replaced by the commanding personality of General Maximus.

"You remember," I said with certainty, avoiding to ask questions about how he felt, thinking he might not like it if I fussed over him.

"Yes." Well, that had not changed too much; he was still a man of few words. I sighed deeply. "Perhaps it would be better to go to my study, General. We need to talk."

"Indeed."

And without adding anything else, I led him inside the house. My heart was in turmoil, as I was wondering anxiously how Maximus would look at me from now on... Wondering if he would remain in my house and let me help him or if he would decide to go away at once, now that he was free. But more than anything, I was crushed by the awareness my dream had ended for good.

Once in the tablinium, I indicated a chair to Maximus but he shook his head in negative and remained standing, as I sat behind my desk, unconsciously putting a barrier between me and him. He was no longer the man I had known, at least in the way he looked around himself and stood. Gone was the curiosity that had animated him when he had entered a previously unseen room- he was now observing the place as if he was considering where an enemy might hide or how to escape from it. He was no longer relaxed but vigilant, with his arms crossed over his chest, like a general waiting for a report.

"What do you want to know?" I felt compelled to ask.

"Do you know who I am?" Was his first question.

"Yes, even since before you regained your senses and told me your name."

"Did you see me fight in the arena?"

"No. I hate the games. But I did some deduction work basing on what you looked like - a warrior - and the news about "The Spaniard's escape" that spread all over town after I found you.

Maximus nodded. "And where did you find me?" he asked, tilting his head to one side, and I felt like I was interrogated as if I were a spy or something like that.

"In a trash deposit in the Subura."

"I don't remember."

"I am not surprised. You were unconscious when those men dropped you there."

"I see. And what were you doing there? As far as I remember, it was already dark when those men arrived at my cell and from what I heard the Subura is not a place to visit at night."

"Indeed. But that deposit has a special meaning for me. It was where I found my dying late lover. His family does not allow me to honour his memory on his tomb, so I go to the place where he died." I swallowed hard.

"Oh." Maximus looked away, embarrassed, before facing me again. "I am sorry if I caused you pain."

My heart rejoiced. So his basic gentle nature still existed! That side of him I loved so much had not disappeared; it was just hidden under his hard soldier exterior. "You did not," I felt the urge to put him at ease, "Time is the great healer and now the wound is not as deep as it used to be." Could I dare to tell aloud it was because I had fallen in love with him? No, it was better not to.

However he read the truth in my eyes all the same, for I was not quick enough to hide it when he suddenly stared hard at me. And as soon I realized he knew, I tensed, ready for the blow I was sure would come. But it did not. Instead Maximus looked at me, naked honesty in his eyes, and murmured, "I know what you feel, but I could never give you what you need, Demetrius."

"I know." I whispered, elated we could talk about this in such a simple, good way, while I had been fearing a fight. I sighed deeply. "I had always known. But it was a pleasant fiction as long as it lasted."

He said nothing, but I sensed he understood.

"Are you not...angry?" I dared to ask after few moments of silence.

"No." His lips curved in a weak smile. "I have nothing against your kind, and you did not do anything wrong to me, aside from caring for my health and giving me the comfort I needed."

I nodded slowly, amazed by his understanding, and by the speed with which Maximus had sorted out his situation, after having regained his memory...when? A hour before? But of course he had to be smart, to have become such a brilliant military at his relatively young age. I was sure he had to be a great tactician, able to grasp and evaluate a situation at first glance. I sighed aloud a third time and wanting to know more about him, said, "Can I ask you something now?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me what happened to you? I have heard only fragments of your story, and I would like to hear the truth. That is, if you wish to tell me."

Maximus nodded. "I will tell you. You have the right to know."

For the next several moments, I watched him pace back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fists as, with his voice sometimes pained, sometimes angered, he was telling me everything that had happened to him, since the day Marcus Aurelius had told him he wanted him to succeed him on the throne, to the night Falco's men had entered his cells in the Ludus Magnus. It was a very sad, heart-breaking story, especially the part regarding the terrible pain he suffered when he discovered the burned and crucified bodies of his beloved wife and little son, and the one when he told me he considered the brutal life of a gladiator as the appropriate punishment for not having put the love for his family before his duty to his Caesar.

When Maximus stopped talking, I took a deep breath to compose myself. "Thank you for telling me." Another deep breath. "What do you plan to do now?"

He rubbed his beard, from his jaw to his neck, while staring out of the window. Then he turned to me. "The day I fought for the last time, I saw my former manservant mingled in the crowd at the exit of the arena. He told me my army was camped in Ostia. I was thinking about joining my men. I am sure they are still loyal to me and with their help I believe I could overthrow Commodus."

"Good idea. Can I help you in some way?"

"Could you lend me a horse? And find me a map of Ostia and its surroundings?" 

"I can certainly do so." I smiled, happy to be useful for Maximus. "I have a good horse stabled near the Porta Ostiensis and it will be easy to procure a map. Just give me a few days to enquire if they are still searching for you and if the gates are free...Galen told me you know the Augusta Lucilla well- I could try to send her a message and-"

"No." Maximus' commanding tone silenced me. "That would be too dangerous; we just had proof of how efficient Commodus' spies are. By the way, what did the Praetorians want?"

"Nothing; they wanted to know why Galen had been here. I told them we are friends."

"See? You cannot risk drawing attention on yourself."

I was touched by his desire to protect me, but I could not stop myself from insisting, "At least remain here till your arm is completely healed!"

"I can't. The sooner I go, the better it will be. My presence here is too risky and I have lost too much time already. I will leave tomorrow."

What?! I wanted to shout. I was not ready to see him leave my life- with the same abruptness he had entered it and I was worried about him. But I knew there was no way to change his mind. The fact he had understood and forgiven my behaviour did not mean I could claim some kind of right over him. Maximus was not mine to keep. I could only love and help him. "As you wish, General. I will buy you a map tomorrow morning and you can leave Rome in the evening, when the gates are opened to let the wagons carrying supplies enter the walls. It is a very chaotic moment, you won't have any problem to exit the town and pick up my horse at the nearby stable."

Maximus bowed his head to me. "Thank you so much for your help." 

"Thank you for your trust." 

He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "You earned it. You had a hundred occasions to betray me and turn me to Commodus while I was helpless, but you did not. And today you protected me. I cannot help but trust you."

"I would never betray you. Aside from the fact I despise Commodus for his cruelty and for how he is ruining everything his father did, I have other, more personal reasons to help you." I looked straight at him wanting - for just one time - have him know exactly what I felt for him.

Maximus blinked, understanding and uncomfortable, and lowered his gaze. "I don't know what to say..."

"You have to say nothing. Just do what you have to do."

"I will."

"Yes, you will.' I added silently. 'For Rome, your family, your emperor. But I will help you only out of love. For you.'

That night I was not able to sleep, both because I missed Maximus' presence and my agitation about what would happen the next day. He was going to leave and there was nothing I could do to change the inevitability of that fact.

In my mind I knew why Maximus had to act that way and why he had to do it before Commodus might commit some other deed, but it was a different story in my heart. I was terrified I would never see him again, either he accomplished his mission or, the Gods spare us, he died trying to do it. In either case I was afraid I would lose him - not that he had ever been mine to lose. It had been just a pleasant fiction, as I had told Maximus before. A dream that would vanish with the following evening, when the man that had awoken my heart would leave my house and my life.

I have little, confused memories of the last day Maximus spent in my villa. I remember that in the morning I went to buy a map, then, after my return, I closed myself in the tablinum, not wanting to see how Maximus and Drusus, whom I had instructed to help in every way, prepared the supplies he would carry with him to Ostia. I don't recall what I did while I was waiting and dreading for the darkness to fall. And when it happened, I left my sanctuary and walked to the atrium, where Maximus and Drusus were already waiting for me. The General was dressed as a merchant, with a robust brown tunic, a cloak with a cape, and a leather bag thrown over his shoulders. My servant too wore simple clothes- it had been decided he would take Maximus to the gates, because, being younger than me, he could also be quicker if there was need to escape the Praetorians.

As we were standing there, I could see Maximus was a man who did not like long goodbyes. He was uncomfortable with them. He let the silence stretch for a  few more moments, then stepped in front of me and said, his voice clear and decisive. "Vale, Demetrius. Thank you for everything you did for me. I will never forget you."

"Nor will I, Maximus." I tried to be strong like him, but failed. "Please be careful."

"I will." He bowed his head, whirled on his heels and moved to the door as I bit my lower lip to refrain from saying something, no matter what, to keep him there for a few minutes more. He was almost out of the room, when he suddenly stopped, turned around, walked back to me and dragged my body in a bear hug that almost crushed me. "Thank you my friend," he murmured, before letting go of me and marching to the door, and this time he did not stop.

I remained staring at the spot where he had been for a long while, before backing to a chair and sitting there in the porch, looking up at the stars and praying to every god I knew to watch over Maximus and to assist him in his quest. I also prayed them to spare a little time for me too, and help me to deal with my pain.

I was still sitting there when, hours later, Drusus returned and told me everything had gone as planned and Maximus was now galloping to Ostia.

I thanked him for the news, praised him for his good job, then told him to retire. 

As for me I remained there all the night, staring at the sky till it had turned from bluish to pink with the first light of the new day, while in my mind I experienced again and again Maximus' hug.

All of this happened twelve days ago. 

Twelve days during which the world changed- forever.

Two nights after leaving my house, Maximus and his legion, the Felix III, erupted into Rome and stormed on the Palatine Hill. The attack was so surprising that the Praetorians were easily isolated and surrounded, and the fact it happened during the night helped to avoid any victims among civilians. The battle inside the Palace was bloody and long, and Commodus lost his life in the course of it, killed by Maximus' own sword. Once he was dead, like a snake whose head had been cut, the Praetorians surrendered and by the time the sun was high in the sky, the combats were ended, and Rome had a new master.

Maximus tried to hand the city to the Senate, not wishing for the honour and the power, first Marcus Aurelius, then the senators had wanted to bestow on him, but in the end he had to capitulate and become Caesar, for the mob wanted him and a strong man in the lead was necessary to keep order in the Empire and avoid rebellions. Maximus accepted his task for the good of Rome, which he had served all his life and for which his family had died, and he and the Senate organized a lavish display for the populace, giving them what they wanted, that vision of greatness Commodus tried to achieve, failing, with his games.

As for myself, after the big sigh of relief and bout of exaltation following Maximus' success and Commodus' death, I fell in a melancholic state. It was difficult to re-adapt to the solitary life I had led before Maximus had romped in it. The house seemed too quiet and cold without the sound of his laughs to warm it- just as my heart. It was like it had been after Gaius' death, only somehow worse, for my past love was gone forever, while Maximus was alive, the talk of entire Rome, a blade constantly twisted in my bleeding heart.

And then- and then this early morning, when I had decided to give up hope and shut all the shutters to avoid any sound coming from the celebration, an imperial messenger knocked on my door, escorted by two soldiers.

He carried a brief note for me:

You cannot be missing today, my friend.

It would not be a real Triumph without you.

Please follow this messenger, he knows where to lead you.

Later I would like to discuss something with you, perhaps

a job at the Palace, if you like.

 

Vale,

Maximus

My eyes filled with tears at those words. Maximus had not forgotten me... he cared for me... he considered me his friend to the point that wanted me to witness his triumph.

And so here I am, waiting for the procession to arrive. The sounds of the drums and the trumpets is getting closer and closer. I look forward to seeing Maximus again. He looked noble and magnificent dressed in rags, I can only imagine how he will look with the purple and gold colours of an Emperor... And then I will go to speak with him and learn what he meant in his note. I already know I will accept any job he might seen fit to give me. This way I will be able to stay near him, help him... love him, albeit from a distance. Only he and I will know it.

But now it is time to concentrate on the procession, which has just entered the Via Sacra. The infantry of the Felix Legions open the lead, their steps measured and cadenced. The cavalry is next, the horses advancing in neat rows, their harness shining under the sun. The crowd is screaming, ecstatic, throwing flowers on the soldiers and calling Maximus' name as they must have done in the arena.

And there he is, riding a grey, almost white steed. The mob shouts even louder, hailing him as he salutes with his hand. Now he has arrived at the centre of the large square and stopped his horse at the foot of the marble steps. He is stepping up now, the golden laurel crown shining over his equally shiny dark hair. He is beautiful beyond description and my heart is thundering in my chest... He is here now. A group of children offer him flowers, among them Lucius Verus, Lucilla's son. Maximus has gentle words and a caress on the head for each child. Then he turns to face the Senate in a polite and respectful exchange of bows. And now he is with Lucilla. They look into each other's eyes and I can see it is true- Maximus' wounds are healing, he will find love with this woman, I sense it. I am happy for him.

And now... now he is walking to me... He is smiling...happy to see me there...he is widening his arms...he wants to embrace me...and the world ceases to exist...