I

Serena watched from the window of her chamber as her husband strode purposefully down the steps of the Praetorium accompanied by the usual honour guard. His face was set and stern, his chin raised in an aggressive pose; only she knew that his behaviour hid his inner panic and was the mere mask he wore while he struggled to control his emotions. Maximus was tense and anxious and Serena wished with all her heart she could ease his fears. As he crossed the parade ground, receiving the salute from the assembled legion, she saw him go through the motions of inspection and heard the distant rumble of his voice as he addressed the troops. Suddenly her contemplations were interrupted by a fierce pain that racked her body and caused her to grip the stone edging of the window.

Her pains had begun early in the morning but the progress of her labour was slow. Maximus had woken to find his wife sitting on the edge of the bed, doubled over and gasping for breath. Slaves were summoned, midwives called, doctor sent for and he had been bundled out, an unwanted figure at the birth of his first child. Serena had seen his consternation; the sudden fear that flashed in his eyes- how rare to see Maximus scared of anything! But she had told him to go in no uncertain terms, aware that her brusqueness hurt him. It was too difficult for her to bear his pain as well as her own.

The doctor had examined her and shrugged; it would be hours yet before he was needed, so he turned her over to the midwives and left. Thus had the morning progressed with her pains intermittent and interspersed with periods of inactivity during which she was encouraged to walk about and occupy herself. Easier said than done. Childbirth was the greatest threat in a woman's life; it was her battle and fraught with as many dangers as any that Maximus had faced on the field. Who knew what this day would bring? Would she ever see his face before her in this life again? Was that thought on his mind too? For he would not be allowed near her until long after the birth.

Her pregnancy had been untroubled and for months they had simply delighted in the coming gift of a child. But over the past few weeks, as her time grew near, Maximus had been quiet and seemed reluctant to discuss the fears she voiced about her approaching travail. He did not wish to hear of it. Serena knew that this was her ordeal and she had to undergo it alone. She would not be a woman until it was accomplished, whatever the outcome.

Turning from the window, she called Baria to her and asked for writing materials to be brought. She wrote a simple note to the doctor:

In the event of serious complications, should I be unable to communicate my wishes to you, do not consult my husband. The child must be saved at all costs; my life is secondary. Do what must be done. Keep him in ignorance. That is my last wish.

The second letter was harder to write by far and she sat for a long time before the empty papyrus. Several times, she rose and braced herself for the inevitable pain and then returned to her writing desk. Finally she picked up the stylus, dipped it in the ink and began to write.

To my beloved Maximus from his wife Serena.  Hail and farewell!

It is enough to have had this. If it must end here, I have no regrets- we lived a lifetime in the short time that we had. Our child will be the light to guide you through. I pray that one day you will find love again and marry. You must not live your life alone. But know this. When you cross the river it will be me who waits for you. Time will be as nothing to me while I wait for you there.

My love for you is without limits and will last as long as the stars light the night sky. 

Serena called her slave to her: "Baria. Take these letters. One is for the doctor if matters take a turn for the worse. This other is for my husband- if I should die."

"Oh mistress..."

"No. It is better to be prepared. He does the same before battle. I know, he told me." Serena smiled at the girl and felt suddenly calm. She was at peace and ready for the assault- let her battle commence!

The legates met in the principia; it was the usual briefing and updates. Tedious but necessary, the administrative machinery of the military in full swing- herein lay the real strength of the Roman army, in its unerring eye for organisation, efficiency and logistics with no detail ever left unplanned. Maximus gritted his teeth and forced himself to participate, willing the images of Serena in her labour from his mind. In reality he knew little of what she would undergo. He had witnessed camp drabs or captive woman giving birth in ditches or at the side of the road but those horrors gave him no concept of the actual process and he could not countenance the thought of the screams of a woman in childbirth on the lips of his beloved wife. The very notion made sweat break out on his forehead and his mouth become dry and stale.

"Maximus? What say you?"

Maximus looked around the table and cleared his throat; he had no idea what question he had been asked.

"I was distracted. Forgive me. Would you repeat the question?" Returning his mind to the discussion, he listened and replied, his customary control restored.

When the meeting broke up and the legates relaxed over a cup of wine, Quintus came over. "What happened there? Is there a problem? Something came in from the scouts?"

Maximus frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Before. You weren't listening. Thought you must have been thinking about something else."

His question was answered with a shrug; Maximus was in one of his uncommunicative moods and then it suddenly came to Quintus what must be the cause.

"Serena? Is it her time?"

Maximus shot him a look and nodded tersely.

"Is that all? Come on, Maximus. Women have babies all the time. It keeps them busy. Isn't it time you got over this lovesick fool act? You've been married for nearly two years - you are hardly a bridegroom! The men are beginning to talk..."

"Fuck off!"

"Max! Come on. Let's take a ride. Get out of the fort. Maybe visit the canabae- I know a few girls who will take your mind off things..."

Maximus lunged at Quintus and held him by the throat against the wall. Quintus was the taller of the two but knew he could not match Maximus in strength and did not try to respond- one look at the feral expression on Maximus' face warned him off. "Don't you ever comment on my wife or my marriage again! Don't ever try to get me involved with your filthy whores! Get out of my sight."

The prefect watched Maximus go and shook his head. The man was an animal. Quintus had known Maximus for years, was fond of him in his way, but you can't hide mediocre birth. Maximus Meridius was a provincial, only a few generations away from barbarian. He might be a mighty warrior in the field but he didn't have the refinement for command at this level. He will make mistakes, flash that uncivilised temper of his just one time too many and the top brass will knock him down. Somehow he had wormed his way into Marcus Aurelius' affections and his position rested purely on the gift of the emperor. It would be hard to imagine another Caesar approving his commission- and Aurelius couldn't live forever. Quintus wondered if the emperor had ever found out about that fling Maximus had had with Annia Lucilla? That would certainly blot his papyrus if they had discovered that. Maximus was a fool- he had even had her in his room one night. Quintus smirked at the memory. He had never told anyone what he had heard and seen but it was useful information. One day he would get his chance to bring the upstart down and every little bit of evidence would help. Not that you could call deflowering the emperor's daughter a little thing- but then Maximus Meridius never did anything by half measures.

Storming from the building, Maximus found himself walking aimlessly round the fort, unsure where he wanted to go. Maybe a ride might be a good idea. Striding past the training ground towards the stables, he observed a batch of new recruits undergoing sword drill.  The general paused and watched for a while. Picking up swords from a pile at the side of the field, weighing each until he found one that suited him, he joined the men. It was years since he had supervised weapons' practice- or had even had a bit of honest swordplay. The men fell silent at his approach but he told them to stand easy and get on with it. After a while he picked out a young man with a ready hand and said, "Come on. Let's see what you're made of!" For the next few hours, stripped down to his tunic and wearing a common soldier's leather lorica, he occupied his body with a serious workout and it helped to dull his mind. However his opponents felt the brunt of his pent up emotions and, although they were sparring with wooden weapons, there were many young men who staggered back to their bunks that evening, bruised and bloodied but well aware that they had probably met the fiercest combatant of their lives- it was unlikely any barbarian could be more intimidating than General Maximus.

It was late in the night when Serena was finally placed upon the birthing chair and with the last of her strength pushed her child into the world. She was weak and pale but the birth was relatively straightforward. The child was male, strong and healthy and she would live. As the little boy was placed at her breast, Serena realised that her heart was big enough to love two men equally. Her son was perfect and would grow up to make his father proud of him. Tears of joy poured down her face as she offered up a prayer to the goddess:

"Oh blessed mother watch over him. May he grow to manhood safe in the home of his parents. Grant that we may be spared long enough to see him make his own way in the world of men."

Baria made her way to the principia. She was nervous as she approached the guards who towered over her at the entrance to the general's offices.

"I have a message for general Maximus."

"Tomorrow. He has retired for the night."

"It is urgent. It is from his wife." The guards looked at each other. One entered the office and sought out Cicero. The general's man came out, saw it was the pretty slave girl and he guessed the rest.

"Come, Baria. He will see you."

She was led through an anteroom and then into a large office, its vast desk covered with maps and papers.

"Wait here" Cicero slipped through an adjoining door and she heard the muffled sounds of speech. The door burst open and the general came out. He appeared wild eyed, his hair ruffled, wearing only leggings and an undershirt. Baria who, like all the women of his household, was completely in love with him, thought he had never looked more desirable, even when dressed in his finest regalia. She flung herself down at his feet.

"My lord. I have come from your wife's chamber..."

"Just tell me- is she safe?" He pulled her up and stared at her, his breathing ragged.

Baria smiled. "Of course. She is well and happy. I have just left her to bring you this message. She has born you a son, a beautiful healthy son. They are both safe. Oh sir, we are all so delighted..."

"Did she suffer?"

"No more than is to be expected. No child is born without pain. But she was so brave and calm. You would have been proud of her."

Maximus pursed his lips and fought for self-control. He was a father; Serena was safe.

"Proud of her? I already am, Baria. She is ..." Baria realised with a shock that the general was crying; he simply slumped in a chair, his head in his hands and cried. The girl knelt by him and instinctively took him in her arms until he calmed down.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what..." Maximus tried to explain himself.

"You love her. She loves you. You have made a child. Is there any other time more appropriate for tears of joy? Master- your secret is safe with me. I will tell no one."

Her master raised his head and his usually sombre face broke into a wide beaming grin; he looked like a young boy. Baria's heart leapt at the sight of him. "Ah, Baria. Another woman who has discovered my true self! I'm a fraud, my girl, a deceit. As much a slave as you are. But unlike you, I have no desire to be free. Wait. I wish to send a note. Would that I could see her and my son. Is he dark? What colour are his eyes? Tell me all you know..."

II

It was decided to remain in Germany over the winter season, despite the harsh weather. The journey to Lusitania was long and unsuitable for a new mother and tiny baby. The routine of camp life was simpler once the snows came. Cursory sweeps were made at intervals on the surrounding territories but the climate precluded any real trouble and the months until spring were relatively free. Bored men were kept busy with building and repair works; social activities were arranged to occupy the families, administrative work was completed. New orders were rare; there were few visits from imperial couriers.

Maximus spent as much time as he respectably could within his private household, often closeted in his chambers with his wife and son for hours on end. Since the ninth day of his son's life when he had raised him up before the lararium in his quarters, he had been entranced with the little boy. He was fortunate to have this time with them and knew that it could not last forever. One day soon fresh campaigns would be launched either here or in some other theatre of war and he would have to part with his little family for who knew how long- possibly years. Every moment he could grab was precious to him.

He had named the boy Marcus in honour of the emperor. The child was dark haired like his mother with huge brown eyes- it was like looking into a tiny version of her face. Of course, Serena disagreed with him and said he was so like his father but Maximus thought only a mother could see such things How could this beautiful child be anything like him, roughened and swarthy after years of fighting? 'Maybe I once was as soft skinned and small', he smiled to himself - but it was hard to imagine.

His greatest joy these days was simply to lie on their bed and watch her feed his son; those magnificent breasts that had been his playthings were now nurturing his boy. To see her face suffused with happiness and the light in her eyes when she held the baby to her nipple, to watch little Marcus stare into her eyes so trustingly and curl his tiny hands around her milk engorged softness, filled him with a wonder that stirred his heart. It was the way he felt when he saw the sun rise over the mountains or the light on his fields at home: something beyond words or understanding.

Did all men feel this way when they became a father? He suspected that no one had ever felt quite as he did but perhaps all men simply hid their pride from the world. Had he discussed it with anyone but Serena? Of course not. So men continued with their worlds and shut down that part of them that sang of love and joy because the world perceived it unseemly and womanly behaviour for a man. Maximus knew one thing for sure; he only really became a man the day he held his child in his arms for the first time and it had changed his whole world.

Serena, well named, had adjusted to motherhood with little problem. There were times when she was weepy and melancholic, afraid of every little imagined danger and illness that might steal her baby away- it was to be expected. But she seemed to know exactly what to do with the child, while he felt clumsy and inadequate. Maximus began to observe other women with their children and realised that he had never even noticed family life before. It had never been his and he knew nothing about it. The discovery of that private world where he could be with his wife and son alone and free of care was the most precious gift of his life. He would do nothing to jeopardise it nor would he ever allow any harm to touch it; it was the greatest part of being a general that he could wield the authority to protect them from danger.

Despite the advice from midwives and the other more wellborn women in the fortress, Serena refused to hand Marcus over to a wet nurse. It made no sense to her; she had milk and little else to occupy her time. What could be more fitting than that his own mother should nurture him? It meant that the baby was with them night and day. Other women commented that this would displease her husband and would interfere with her marital obligations. Serena merely gaped at their comments: Maximus object? Marital obligations? Were other marriages so different from her own?

The doctor had instructed her to lie apart from her husband for a full month after the birth and then it would be appropriate for her to hand the baby over to a slave and resume her wifely duties. In reality, Maximus returned to her bed on the night of the naming day. He had no intention of demanding his rights- he merely wanted to be near her and could not bear another night alone. Even when the baby had entered his second month, Maximus made no move towards her, concerned that she might be hurt by his intrusion. It was left to Serena to seduce her husband when she could no longer stand to lie beside him and not feel his body upon her, above, inside, filling her with his strength and passion.

Maximus had slipped in beside her late one night after a dinner in the officers' mess that he had felt obliged to attend. As usual the drinking games had lasted well into the night and for once Maximus had drunk his wine less cut with water than was his custom. He had been feeling restless that day, aware in the back of his mind that his body craved a woman; the wine seemed to dull his lust. Serena had been wakeful too, Marcus had been hard to settle and she had only just returned to bed after feeding him when her husband joined her.  Serena heard him stumble slightly over a footstool and then lurch to the balcony from where he urinated onto the stone cobbles far below. It was hardly typical for him to behave like that and she giggled to herself at his unthinking lapse- it was the sort of thing he must have done as a young soldier years ago. The general had his own bath and latrine but seemed to have forgotten that in his less than lucid state.

Beside her in the bed, Serena could smell wine on his breath and realised that he was somewhat loosened, if hardly drunk. The thought brought a smile to her lips. Turning to him as he lay there on his back, already asleep, she reached beneath the sheet, knowing full well he would be naked. Recently he had taken to wearing a sleep shirt in case he offended one of the slave girls who attended Serena and the baby in the mornings; there had been a few incidences in the early days- Maximus had been embarrassed but Serena suspected the girls had stolen in on purpose in the hopes of a glimpse of their master in his natural state. It would never have occurred to Maximus who would have been shocked had she pointed this out to him. But tonight he would not have thought to wear something suitable and her hand confirmed her suspicions as it touched the naked flesh of his chest.

It was enough to send a thrill through her body. She, too, was feeling the restless urges that could only be eased in his arms- it was two moons since she had shared intimacy with him. Ignoring the warm temptations of his muscular torso, Serena's hand made its way straight down, below the thick thatch of curly hair to his manhood below. His cock felt hot to her touch and responded immediately to her ministrations, stiffening in her grasp and rising up towards her. She heard a slight sigh escape his lips but he slept on. Throwing back the sheet, she looked at him, never tiring of the magnificent beauty of his member, glad for the chance to observe him in secrecy; aware that he would have merely laughed at her notions or distracted her by his attentions were he awake.

Serena bent to kiss him, inhaling his male scent, a sudden gush of wetness between her thighs. Taking him gently in her lips, she ran her tongue about his tip, flickering around the opening and tasting his first juices. He groaned and arched his back, instinctively reaching for her hair and pressing her head against his groin. Lowering her mouth to take in more of him, she began to suck gently on him as he moved his hips and began to thrust against her throat. When she knew he was fully erect, Serena raised her head and shrugged off her shift, straddling his hips and impaling herself on his hardness. With a sudden shudder, Maximus awoke and stared at the vision of Serena, naked, and rising up and down upon him.

For a few moments he simply stared until his wine-befuddled, sleep-soaked mind cleared and he realised what was happening to him. Then he smiled and reached his hands to cup her breasts and stroke her hard swollen nipples. Milk bled from them as her desire increased, fired on by every thrust of his velvet hard cock. With a sudden movement, he rolled her over on to her back and pressed himself deeply into her, grinding his hips and moaning at the sensation.

Dropping his head, he licked at her breast: Serena commanded him- "Drink!" and he took one brown nipple between his lips and tasted of her milk, gasping at its sweetness as it sprayed the back of his throat. Serena threw her head back against the bolster and cried out at the erotic pleasure feeding her man gave her.

It had been too long; neither of them wished to play games that night. Rising on his forearms above her, Maximus began to thrust more purposefully; Serena wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and matched his movements. Their breathing was laboured and ragged. Together they cried out as they reached their climax and Maximus slumped forward burying his head between her breasts. They held each other and said nothing, merely sighing and muttering scarcely audible sounds. Finally Maximus pulled gently away from her and touched her face, brushing back the wild thick mass of her long hair and stroking her cheek.

"You are a wicked girl, Serena! That was hardly seemly behaviour for the wife of a general and a respectable Roman matrona. Where did you learn these whore's arts?"

Serena giggled and wriggled closer to him. "From you, you oaf. Do you so quickly forget the demands you have made of me?"

"I didn't expect you would enjoy them so much, you wanton hussy." Maximus grinned.

"So you don't like being woken by a woman's lips around your impressive member, my lord?"

Maximus snorted and rolled her on her back again, the member in question already showing its renewed interest against her belly. Just then a cry broke through the still night air. They had disturbed their son. Serena pushed him away with a sigh and he flopped onto his back, raising himself to sit leaning against the wooden bed-head, smiling. She brought their baby back into the bed and leaning against Maximus, fed Marcus in his arms, while her husband nuzzled against her ears, her neck, fondled her other breast and rubbed himself against her back.

"I thought it might be too soon." Maximus whispered in her ear. "I am afraid that you might conceive again and it would weaken you. I should have pulled out and shed my seed 'on the grassy meadows', as they say."

Serena leant back and raised her head towards him. "Another advantage of feeding my own child, Max. You men know nothing, do you?  Nature protects its own. I will not be able to conceive until the baby is weaned. I intend to feed him as long as I can- perhaps for a year or two. Then it will be time for another child. We can enjoy love, free from consequences, for as long as we like. Did you think my nurturing was purely altruistic? And don't you dare pull out on me! I want you inside me- for as long as your 'sword' can endure."

"Really? A feeding mother is infertile? Like with horses?"

"Horses? Maximus, please- I'm not a broodmare! But yes, I suppose, something like that!" Serena answered, shaking her head.

He grinned. "It would seem, however, that unlike a mare with a foal, you still feel the heat!"

 She laughed and rolled her eyes at him. Sometimes he was such a child himself!

III

The following year proceeded in much the same fashion. The instability that had plagued the North East Limes for so many years seemed to have been reduced and it appeared that at long last this dangerous theatre of war was to become as settled as its western neighbour. It was never wise, however, to trust the semblance of calm and Maximus launched regular sorties into the surrounding tribal areas, often away for weeks at a time. But apart from minor flare-ups there was hardly any serious trouble.

As a soldier, Maximus realised that he was bored. This was the first protracted period of peace that he had known in the almost twenty-five years that he been with the army since as a boy of five he had followed his father to Germany. He began to feel restless for engagement and the walls of the mighty fortress seemed more and more to enclose him. The security of the world that he had forged for himself was not enough to calm the urge for adventure - and the realisation disturbed him.

He hid these feelings from Serena, sure that she would be hurt if she knew how much he longed for campaign life again. Little did he know that Serena could read the signs in him. Serena had not married a stay-at-home family man but a mighty warrior and she knew it was his destiny to fight campaigns and win glory for the empire; he did not belong to her alone. But she clung to these times when his services were not needed; they might never come again. Inside, however, she steeled herself for the inevitable future and the parting that must surely come.

Marcus was toddling now, into everything and endlessly curious, beginning to enunciate his first words and charming everyone in the household. He was Maximus' pride and joy. The moment that his father entered his private quarters, the child reached out for him and was rewarded by being seized and swung about, roughly thrown in the air until the boy laughed until he almost vomited. Serena was always chiding her husband for his exuberance; Maximus merely laughed and the two males would roll about the floor like a great lion and his cub. It was a sight to behold.

They had begun to speak of another child; it was time to consider that - already Serena felt broody for a tiny baby in her arms. Marcus was unwilling to be held and cuddled for long these days, always wriggling away and eager to be off exploring. At nights they fantasised about a second child- Maximus longed for a daughter, unusual for a man of his class; most men regarded daughters as an irrelevance. He had no such view; to him a daughter would be another adored female in his household- and one, no doubt, who would also quickly fall under his spell!

The second winter they spent back in Lusitania; it was a wonderful trip for Serena to bring her son back to her home and show him off to his eager grandparents. A merry winter season was spent in the comparatively mild climate of Hispania. In retrospect it was the last of the good times; they were unaware that fate was about to take a hand and Nemesis was preparing to make her demands upon their good fortune- an accounting was in the reckoning.

Plague had broken out in the east towards the end of that year and with its usual lightning speed began to cross the Mediterranean world, ever closer to the west. The winter seemed to hold its encroachment at bay but, by spring, as the family prepared to journey back to Vindobona, reports of the first casualties began to arrive. Messengers from the legion brought an update to Maximus .He would not allow them to cross the threshold of his property, insisting that they address him at a distance, aware that they could be carriers of the plague itself.

There was no question of Serena and Marcus returning with him. Serena begged and implored but he was adamant- he would not change his mind. Then she asked him to delay his return for a month or two- she feared that he himself might fall to the ravages of disease. Plague is no respecter of personages and licks at the marrow of emperors as well as slaves. It would be a bitter irony if the great warrior were cut down in his prime not by the sword of a barbarian but by the filthy swellings of the bubonic plague. Maximus lost his temper with Serena for the first time since that day long ago in the bathhouse. This time it did not lead to a passionate resolution.

"Stay here? Hide? Behind a woman's skirts? Is that the kind of man you think I am?  I'm the general of a legion, not some frightened girl. Would you want a man who feared his own shadow?"

"I don't care what people think. I don't want you to leave me. I'm scared that I may never see you again."

"Serena. I'm a soldier, first and foremost. You are being foolish. Our fate is written. I can die of plague just as easily in my bed in Truillo as on the front in Germany. Behave as befits a general's wife and not a silly girl."

"I thought you were my husband and a father, first and foremost. Are we just an irrelevance in your life?" Serena ran off and took refuge in their room. Maximus followed her, bursting through the door and startling a slave girl who was cleaning there- she hurried off back to the kitchens.

"It's no use running off and crying. I'm surprised at you. I thought you had more courage than this. I need your support not your tears!" Maximus was not handling the situation well- but then it was typical of him when he was upset.

"Courage?  I have as much courage as you! I know you may have to go to war, I understand that. I am not a foolish girl but don't expect me to like it! And the idea that is disturbing me is of you falling to the plague! You are one of the most important young generals in the army- don't they want to keep you out of the fort until the danger has passed?"

"Hardly. I need to be seen to be with my men. How can I ask them to fight and die for me in battle if I leave them to the ravages of plague? I don't want to talk about this any more. Stay in your room until you are ready to behave like a soldier's wife should!"

It was the first time he had ever used his authority over her and it stunned her. She stopped crying and sat open mouthed as he crashed through the door almost ripping it off its hinges and stormed off to the stables. He saddled up and rode off, still furious, and raced across country until both he and his horse were exhausted. Then he stopped and dismounted, throwing himself under a tree and spent the afternoon thinking.

He did not return until nightfall and then he took a simple meal in the kitchen and made no attempt to speak to his wife. Serena remained within her room, attending to her son. She too had spent the day thinking and had come to the conclusion that she had been wrong, terribly wrong to speak to him as she had and his anger was well justified. Tomorrow he would leave and it was up to her to make peace with him; he must not return to Germany with matters in this bitter state.

As soon as Marcus was asleep, she handed him over to the slaves and told them to set his cot up in the adjoining room and for a slave girl to attend him should he wake in the night. Tonight was for Maximus- even Marcus would have no claims on her until daybreak. Sending for warm water, Serena bathed herself and anointed her body with Maximus' favourite unguent, a heady mix of jasmine and oleander. Refraining from undergarments or shift, she dressed in an expensive silk stola that she had purchased from an Eastern merchant in Mediolanum on her journey home; she had not dared to tell Maximus its price in case he had thought her wasteful. In truth he wouldn't have cared, having little interest in or need for money. His campaigns had netted him a small fortune in slaves and the money was largely untouched.

Slipping down the stairs, her hair bound only by a simple comb and stepping on bare feet, she came upon Maximus sitting on the steps of the veranda, playing with something in his hands, his attention far away. He seemed almost unaware of her presence, unusual in itself; Maximus had acute hearing and an uncanny sense- it was normally hard to startle him. But tonight he was lost in some contemplations of his own.

Serena sat down beside him on the step; he turned his head in surprise. She raised her finger to his lips and stilled his tongue.

"I am sorry," was all she said.

He nodded and looked down at the objects enclosed in his hand. Serena prized open his solid palm, feeling the calloused fingers beneath her soft flesh, touching the iron ring of citizenship, the only adornment he ever wore, and saw what he was holding. She looked up into his eyes curiously.

"What are they, Maximus?"

He looked away into the night sky and stared a while, recalling a long ago memory.

"They were my father's. He kept them with him all his life and they were in his hands the day he died. Every night he placed them on the lararium in our quarters and prayed. This one," and he held up a small ivory statue of a child, "is my sister. And this," he held out the other, a woman, "is my mother. He is with them now. I'm sure he has no need of these charms anymore. But I do.  They have become you and Marcus and I will keep them by me every day and night while we are apart. They will be my companions until I come home to you. No night shall pass but I will pray for you both, that here in Truillo you will remain safe until my return. The only way I can bear this separation is in the knowledge that no harm can befall you." He placed the two tiny statues in a leather pouch and he put it in the pocket of the jerkin that he wore.

Serena stood up and held her hand out to him and he let her pull him up and lead her to their chamber. When the door closed, he took her in his arms and kissed her long and slow, as if he wished to absorb her into himself. Time seemed to stop still, marked only by the beating of their hearts. It was Serena who broke away first and contemplated him.

"Max. I want this night to be one you will remember in months to come when you are alone in an empty bed, or sleeping rough under the stars. I want it to be uppermost in your mind even when you lie with other women. Take their bodies but let it be my soul that you fill."

Stepping away from him, she slid her stola from her shoulders and rested back upon the bed, her naked body gleaming in the warm glow of candlelight, her dark hair framing her like a silken raincloud. Maximus watched her and drank in her loveliness, imprinting each minute detail on his memory to be taken out and treasured at some later time when he was without her. He stood before the bed and slowly removed his clothes, aware that she too needed her memories. As he towered naked above her, their eyes swept each other and then met. It was a heartbreaking moment for each could read in the eyes of the other the pain that they bore themselves.

Lying beside her, his fingers tenderly caressing her body as she did the same for him, he wished that he could capture the moment in his hands and preserve it for all time. They came together, flesh against flesh, he hard and solid, she soft and giving, and they made love as if they were one creature, the opposite ends of the same spectrum, carved from the same piece of perfection for each other, as were the tiny votive offerings in his leather pouch.

Far into the night they rolled and moaned and took their fill of each other, unable to find satiation until they sank exhausted into sleep, wrapped up in each other's arms. When dawn broke through, a scant few hours' later, and its rosy glow stole over the rumpled bed and the love- wrecked pair, they woke and reached for each other again. In that final coupling, with the knowledge that he would soon be gone, they at last found some sort of peace; they were resigned to do their duty for Rome and give themselves over to the hand of fate.

"Serena?" It was the first coherent word that Maximus had said all night.

"What is it, beloved?"

"There will be no others." Serena looked at him unsure at first what he meant.

"No others?"

"Women. Ever. I will not take another woman in my bed as long as I live." He spoke quietly but there was that fierce intensity in his words that brooked no opposition.

"Forever is a long time, Maximus. It makes no difference to me should you seek comfort elsewhere. All men do so. It is just release. I free you from your promise."

"You cannot. I will not change my mind." And Serena knew that he would not. 

"How will you manage?"

Maximus smiled, sadly. "How will you?" Serena blushed.

"Hands have many uses, Serena, not just wielding swords and tending babies. Alone with our memories, it will have to do."

Maximus spent the last hours with his son and then it was time for him to leave. With promises to send for her as soon as it was safe, he mounted his horse and rode away, his back square in the saddle and his eyes fixed on the distance. But he could not help but look back for one last glimpse. He didn't have the strength to resist that. Turning in the saddle, he faced his wife and child once more and smiled, his right hand firmly resting on his heart and he was gone.

IV

The plague raged on through the spring and summer and casualties were high throughout the region but no more so than in the fortress where close proximity and communal living fed the evil. But in time the worst was over and a tally was taken. Hundreds dead but it could have been worse. New recruits were sought to make up the shortfall; citizenship was offered to auxiliaries of more than fifteen years' service to supplement the legion.  By late summer it was evident that they would reach full strength and Maximus embarked upon a strict and demanding regime to bring his men back to fighting fitness; it was exacting but fair- he even raised the meat rations to help build up men who had been weakened by illness.

The general planned to return home in the winter; the frontier still held and it was safe for his wife to return, but he wanted to bring her back with him rather than have his wife and son travel with a strange guard over such a long journey. A few weeks before he planned to set off, Maximus lay in the bath one cold October evening and for the first time in many weeks, he allowed himself to think of home. Over the past months he had found it easier to shut down that part of himself in which he kept Serena and Marcus except for his nightly ritual of prayers. So inured had he become to the separation that he no longer even sought relief; he often wondered if he would ever feel desire again.

In the warmth of the bath, with the wind and rain howling outside, he opened the door of the last night he had spent with his wife and closed his eyes to recall the memories. His body responded. Suddenly the door opened and Cicero stood panting with a scroll in his hands.

"Sir!"

Maximus sat up and attempted to hide his state. For once Cicero appeared too agitated to appreciate how inopportune the moment was.

"What is it?" Maximus growled.

"Imperial courier, sir. Urgent orders from the emperor's office. The envoy awaits your reply." Cicero advanced to hand the message over; Maximus barked: "I'll be out presently. Leave it in the office!" Cicero nodded and turned to go, a slight smile playing on his twisted features as he left the room. 'So Max resorts to the old hand job like the rest of us these days, does he?' he thought. He couldn't for the life of him understand why the general no longer asked for women. He could have had anyone he chose.

Dressed and more composed, Maximus sat down and read through the missive. His face portrayed no sign of the contents but a nervous tic twitched above his left eye; he felt himself grasp the spot and attempt to still it. He re-read the orders, his mind spinning with the implications.

"Cicero! Get the prefect!"

Quintus was in his quarters with the wife of an absent senior tribune in his bed; the disturbance at quite a significant moment did not please him and he looked thunderous when he reached the general's office.

"Sir?" His words were respectful but his tone was offhand. Maximus raised an eyebrow and looked at his friend. He was not sure he much liked the man he saw anymore.

"Imperial orders. The plague has wrecked the troops in Armenia. It seems it did more damage there than here. One legion has been brought so low that it will need disbanding or rebuilding. For now a replacement is needed. It's us. The VIIth Felix is to join Lucius Verus and his legates at Samosata on the Euphrates - there is a major campaign planned for the spring. We have our war at last, Quintus."

"Armenia?"

"Under Avidius Cassius' command. It will be an honour to serve under him. He is the commander of the Eastern legions. A formidable general."

"I thought it was Verus' command?"

"He appears to have the imperatorial role but it is Cassius who will be the brains behind the operation. What do you know of Verus? You must have come up against him in Rome." Maximus asked.

"He's older than us- maybe forty-five now. Ambitious. Cold. Old style patrician- he views even old Aurelius with disdain. Of course he's from the Optimates; his family are Cornelii- they probably go back to Romulus. But he's no warrior. More of a politician."

Maximus nodded. He had already gleaned as much. 

"Well, he's Caesar already and Aurelius' heir, so he won't give us much problem. He's sure to be watching his back most of the time." Maximus observed.

"He married the Lady Lucilla, I believe." Quintus could not resist a reference and sought a reaction on his general's face.

"I believe so." Maxmus busied himself with shuffling documents on his desk.

"Not a successful marriage, so they say. They are mostly apart. Only one child. The heir. Lucius Annius Verus. He must be round about your son's age."

"A year older at least, maybe more," Maximus observed. Quintus smirked. 'Someone's been paying attention' he mused and then he began to count on his fingers. It was possible. Well, well, well!

"So, Max. This is your big chance. Make your name. Thought you must have been frustrated hanging about at Vindobona all these months. Time you got out and unleashed some hell, isn't it?" Quintus observed.

"This is not about reputations. It is about the glory of Rome." Maximus replied tersely.

"Fuck glory! This is about your career. You can act the noble Roman all you want but you don't fool me. It's what you've wanted all your life, ever since the emperor picked you out of the ranks."

"That's your problem with me, Quintus? Your lack of preferment is the result of your failings - I have done nothing to hold you back. Maybe you can prove yourself this time. Perhaps this is your chance to make your reputation. There's nothing wrong with mine." Maximus walked round the desk from where he had been sitting and thrust his face close into Quintus' in a threatening gesture.

"Remember this. You have been my friend for many years and so I will allow you a little leeway. But you are my prefect and I your commanding officer. That is the last time you speak to me like that. Do you understand? From now on you stand at my side and carry out my orders and if I wish for your opinion, I will ask for it."

Maximus inclined his head as if to ask Quintus for his assurance and Quintus raised his clenched fist against his breast in salute. "One thing more. Keep to whores. The woman you have been fucking is the wife of an officer who is out of camp risking his life for us. Have you no sense of honour?" Maximus stared coldly at his prefect.

"She seems more than willing. Speak to her."

"I am speaking to you!" Maximus roared. 

Quintus bowed his head. 

"Assemble the officers. I want to meet within the hour. We need to be off before the winter sets in. Now get the fuck out of here and give me some peace. You are beginning to leave a bad taste in my mouth."

As Quintus took his leave, Maximus pulled out a sheet of papyrus and picked up a stylus. Then he threw down the pen in frustration and raked his hand across his beard. It was straggly and unkempt; Serena would have insisted that he kept it trimmed- many is the time she had usually trimmed it for him. He sighed at the memory and reached out again for the stylus and began to write. It was typical of the sort of letter Maximus penned to Serena- short, brusque and to the point. She would have to imagine for herself what was really lying unsaid between the lines.

To my wife Serena from her Maximus.   Greetings!

The VIIth has been summoned to Armenia for the forthcoming spring campaign. No leave is possible this winter season. We will sail for Antioch before the storms set in. Expect a further communication from there.

Your father has the authority to act on my behalf if decisions need to be taken on the estate. I trust your judgement in all things.

Take care and watch over Marcus. I would be with you if I could, but it is not to be. May the blessed mother watch over both of you! You are ever in my thoughts.

V

The campaign in Armenia lasted almost three years but it was decisive. The wars with Parthia, fought in the plains of distant Armenia had plagued the empire since the days of Augustus. Crassus had died there losing nine legions - even Mark Antony had suffered losses in Armenia that almost broke him- eleven legions. Only Corbulo had established Roman control and then merely by avoiding direct confrontation with the devastating Parthian army and its fearsome cavalry. Since then both Rome and Parthia, those two mighty giants, had stepped warily about each other, unwilling to risk the inevitable cataclysm.

Six legions were gathered; three with Statius Priscus at Melitene to lead the assault against the Armenian capital, Artaxata, far in the east while the remaining three were stationed at Samosata under the command of Avidius Cassius himself to lead the push down the Euphrates and establish that mighty river as a final border. Maximus and the VIIth joined this prong of the attack.

Marcus Aurelius had indicated to Cassius that Maximus Meridius was a real talent and the high commander was no fool. Within a short time he realised that the young general was an exceptional leader: fine strategist, intelligent and intuitive, but most of all possessing of devastating courage and a fierce brutality in combat. Unlike many of his career- obsessed officers, general Maximus was a warrior first and on the field would always be found in the thick of the fight. His men adored him and would have marched on Hades itself had he asked them to. The VIIth was a crack legion, despite its fairly short and untested life. Maximus had exacted high levels of discipline and training and was known for insisting on compassionate treatment of defeated enemy.

Cassius' plan was to send one force across the Euphrates as far as the adjoining river Tigris and then sweep down the fertile plains between. The main force would take the great Euphrates' city of Dura Europus, the entry point to Syria and the Eastern provinces while the smaller force would push the enemy back across the Tigris and take the twin cities of Seleucia and Ctesiphon. Once this was achieved, parley could be reached and their possessions would give them enough bargaining power ensure a border could be held and a permanent no man's land would exist between the two powers.

It was a highly ambitious project. The force chosen to cross the river and move deep into enemy territory would have to be one with a skilled cavalry. That was the problem with the Parthians. They fought entirely on horseback. There were two kinds of troops. First there were the aristocratic heavily armed knights who could charge and smash through even the most disciplined of legions. Then there were the bowmen who rode from speeding ponies, using the pommel of their horses as a launch for their volley of accurate shots. Some were trained to shoot high and arc their arrows over the lines to force the legions to raise the tortoise with their shields for protection. Others specialised in low, straight fire, which would hit the lightly armed Roman troops below the waist particularly if their attention was taken from above. The only position left to the legions was a crouch - an ideal target for the heavily armed chargers.

Cassius needed a large and expert cavalry to counteract the Parthians. His legions could be bait- but his cavalry would be the real weapon and had to beat the enemy at their own game. Leaving the VIIth under the temporary command of Quintus Lentulus Clarus, now raised to the rank of legate, Cassius pulled general Maximus out and gave him a new, scarce used role: commander of the Eastern cavalry. Over the winter months, he worked with cavalry taken from all the six legions and forged a vast crack force, containing auxiliaries and legionaries together from all across the Roman world- a cavalry army of 3,000 men. Such a force had never before been launched by the empire.

Half this force was also trained legionaries and these men could double up as the need arose, an unusual flexibility. When the spring thaw came, this force crossed over the vast Euphrates river on its mission and those who watched them go believed that they would never be seen again. For two years they worked their inexorable way down the Tigris lands and suffered many losses - but many victories too. Finally, outside the walls of Ctesiphon, the main army met the tattered but victorious remains of the cavalry and the two forces raised the city to the ground. Parthia accepted defeat and a new frontier decreed. Lucius Verus returned to Rome and received his triumph, Statius Priscus was given ornaments of war for his taking of Artaxata and Avidius Cassius was rewarded with the supreme command of the East, even Egypt. General Decimus Maximus Meridius was recalled to the emperor's presence at Carnuntum on the Danube where he received the high command of the armies of the North, the highest military rank in the Roman army; one that had never been held before by any but the emperor himself.

It was an office that gave him control over fifteen legions spread out from Germany Inferior at the mouth of the Rhine in Belgica to the Black Sea shores in the east in Dacia. In terms of men and authority, Maximus was the most powerful man in the Roman world and the Senate in Rome stood aghast at the appointment of this unknown provincial general to such a height. Greater men had wrenched the throne from emperors with half of his military might. When asked why he had taken this bewildering chance on an untried leader, Marcus Aurelius merely said, " He is the only man I trust."

Before the emperor, on his knees in an office in the fortress at Carnuntum where seven years before he had knelt expecting a painful death as the despoiler of the emperor's daughter, Maximus received the news of his appointment with stunned incomprehension. He felt the blood pounding in his brain and had to blink rapidly to keep his head clear. This was way beyond imagining and exactly what he did not want. The years in Armenia had aged him; he was mentally and physically exhausted. He had not seen his home for more than three years. Maximus had had enough of war. Once he had been bored with his easy life in Vindobona; now he wanted nothing more than to go home and never raise his hand in anger again. But it was not to be. More was still demanded of him.

Bowing his head and clenching his fist in salute he accepted the unwished for honour. Marcus Aurelius motioned for the general to rise, holding out his hand for him to join him in a drink.

"What is your real feeling, Maximus? Tell me what is in your mind."

Maximus pursed his lips and looked away.

"Maximus. It is a command. Tell me!"

"I do not wish for this, Caesar. I want to go home."

"You do not wish for fifteen legions and maius imperium? Are you mad? Is there any general in the Roman world who would not change places with you in an instant?"

"Then let them have it."

The emperor smiled sadly. " That is why you are the only one who can hold this command. War is brewing here, Maximus. The unsteady peace we have held for so long is breaking down. Alliances have been forged amongst the Quadi and the Marcomanni. New tribes from across the Danube, the Vandali, the Iazyges in Dacia- all are moving south. Italy itself will soon be under threat. I know what you endured in Armenia. Go home for several months and then I will expect you back. Together we will end this war. It will be the last war, the war to end all wars. Win this for me and I will let you go. I promise I will never call on you again."

Maximus nodded his head. "I am at your command, O great Caesar." He took his leave.

Shrugging off the attention fawned on him by all and sundry who were eager to make an impression on the man of the moment, Maximus made immediate arrangements to leave. He summoned Quintus and brusquely confirmed his appointment over the Felix legions; he owed him that much. But the set look on Quintus' face showed him that even this commission did not quite stem the flash of envy in the eyes of his one time friend and colleague.

"I am going home for a rest. I suggest you do the same. In three months it starts again. We will meet at Vindobona at the end of summer. Farewell."

VI

On a fine June morning, Maximus at last rode past the boundary stone onto his land again. It felt like a dream to be back in this gentle place under a hot summer sun. Many times he had imagined the moment and it was hard to comprehend that he was finally home. Voices carried on a soft breeze across the fields. He turned to the left and saw children playing; three children, two boys and a girl. Dismounting, he left his horse grazing and stepped through the corn to where the children were. It appeared they were playing a game called " basilinda"; he had played it himself as a child. It was a game of dare.

Maximus watched the three balancing on a fence- the dare was to try and stay the longest, even whilst they bounced up and down in an attempt to throw the others off. The one to fall first was the donkey, the winner was the basilinda - the king. The first to fall was the youngest boy who fell off and bruised his knee, looking sorry for himself; his face was so mournful that it brought a smile to Maximus' lips, the first for many a long day. Left on the rickety fence were a boy and girl; by the names they were shouting they were Fabius and Bella. Fabius was a big boy, quite sturdy, while Bella was a slender dark girl with a mass of tumbling curls - but she was fearless. Her feet were firmly planted on the beam and she was able to run up and down, jumping and landing securely, while her competitor was staggering, his arms flailing. The inevitable happened and he lost his purchase, falling back with a bang onto his backside; the impact almost knocked the breath out of him.

"I win! I am the basilinda!" shrieked Bella, howling with laughter. "And you fell on your fat arse!" The boy darted up and flew after her. She jumped off and ran ahead, light on her feet, with both boys in tow. As she went she looked back over her shoulder, goading the boys as they tried to keep up with her and banged into what felt like a stone wall. It was, of course, Maximus, chewing on a piece of corn and still watching them.

"Whoah!" He caught her as she tumbled over. The child shot him a look. Maximus was taken aback by her light eyes, so startling against her sun-bronzed skin. He realised that he would probably frighten her and gently released his grip. Bella stood before him with a curious expression on her face but she showed no fear.

"Bella! Come away. We must go home!" Fabius, the elder boy, recognised the danger. This man could be a renegade or a bandit and Bella was a girl; she was in danger, despite her young age.

"Who are you?" The girl asked. " This is private land. You shouldn't be here."

Maximus smiled. "My name is Maximus. This is my land. And who are you?"

The child gasped and took a step back. Her eyes flickered over the stranger and then she bowed. "Sir, I am Bella. I am one of your slaves. I am sorry for my rudeness..."

"Nonsense. You are right. I am glad I have such a stalwart guardian protecting my family in my absence...introduce me to your friends."

Bella indicated that the others should come nearer. Cautiously they stepped up to the unknown man. " his is my big brother, Fabius and this... is your own son, Marcus, sir!"

Maximus stared. His baby. A boy of four or five, tall and handsome, running the fields with the slave children as he himself had once done. "Marcus?"

The boy looked at him and exclaimed: "Father?" And then he recognised his father; a distant memory that had been fed by the constant tales that his mother told him night after night. The little boy forgot that he should be tough before his friends and he ran into his father's arms, was swung around as he had once been as a tiny child. There was the sudden flash of recall; he had felt these strong arms about him before, he had smelt the maleness that this man exuded. The father and son hugged each other as the bemused slave children looked on giggling.

Slightly embarrassed by his show of emotion, Maximus blushed and put his son down.

"Let's go and find your mother, boy," he said huskily and then "Do you ride?"

"Not very well, father."

"Then we had better learn, hadn't we?" Maximus swung him up onto the back of his horse and then jumped up himself and they rode slowly towards the house, his spare mount and the other children bringing up the rear.

As the strange procession reached the villa, Cardo glanced up from some work he was doing. This time he recognised the traveller; the insignia on his uniform was enough to give him away never mind the smile and the dazzling eyes. "gGeat Gods! Maximus! At last!" The old man turned on his heel and ran into the house, calling his mistress's name. Serena was sewing in an inner room and heard all the commotion.

"Cardo- whatever is the matter? Calm down!"

The old man struggled to compose himself; there were tears streaming down his cheeks.

"The master....Maximus..." Serena was already gone.

Racing through the house, she burst out of the door and her heart stopped. Maximus was lifting Marcus down from his horse, surrounded by curious children and happy slaves.  It was as simple as that. He was home.

Maximus looked up as he lowered his son to the ground and saw her standing there on the veranda, wearing an old housedress, her hair bound up untidily. It seemed to him that she had never looked more beautiful, even when dressed in fine silks and her hair magnificently arrayed. Serena stood still, her mouth parted in surprise, a blush creeping over her skin as she viewed her husband. He smiled at her, one of those heart-stopping smiles that he used so sparingly but to such devastating effect.

"Aren't you going to say hello, Serena? Or perhaps you have forgotten me?" He teased.

His voice released her from the spell that his arrival had cast over her. She whooped like a little girl and threw herself into his arms. He swung her round, much to the general amusement of all and sundry- particularly Marcus who was stunned by his gentle mother's lack of restraint.

"I think we had better control ourselves, my love,' Maximus whispered in her ear, " We are entertaining the slaves more than is seemly!" They laughed as he set her feet on the ground.

The next few hours were amongst the most tortuous of Maximus and Serena's life together. First he had to make polite chat to members of the household. Then Cardo insisted on preparing the bathhouse; Serena and Maximus exchanged a look- they both remembered another similar moment years before but it was obvious that the repetition of the intimate massage his wife had given him then could hardly be repeated with their son hanging on to his tunic. But it brought a smile to both their faces. Serena lowered her eyes in apparent modesty but Maximus did not fail to notice that she licked her lips with the tip of her tongue and allowed her eyes to rest upon his groin. Maximus all but groaned as he struggled to control his desire.

Clean and dressed in civilian clothes for the first time in years, his beard trimmed by a slave who had attended him, he sat through the sumptuous dinner that had somehow been prepared at such short notice; despite himself he could not help but eat. Years of campaign rations made this homemade country fare taste like an imperial banquet. Serena was quiet, watching him openly, and drinking in every feature of her husband - and savouring the night to come in his arms. Marcus chattered endlessly about this and that- his pets, his friends, his studies, his trip to the sea the previous summer- could he go again this year? And Maximus just laughed, ready to promise anything and everything to this precious boy.

At last, it was time for Marcus to sleep; he reluctantly said goodnight and was led away by his nurse. They were alone. Standing on the porch, Serena joined Maximus with a cup of wine in her hand. She offered it to him and watched him drink, stroking his hair from his forehead; it had already grown out from its short military cut.

"How have the years treated you, my lord?" She asked.

Maximus sighed deeply. " A living hell, Serena. No man should be asked to go through that. But I survived and I am here."

"What now?"

"It isn't over. But I don't want to think about that now. Tomorrow we will talk. Tonight I want to lose myself in you." He put down the wine and turned to her, cupping her head in his hands and tilting her face to his. "I want you. I fear I will be like an eager boy with his first girl. It has been so long since I have touched a woman..." Maximus buried his face into her hair and inhaled her scent. Picking her up in his arms, he carried his wife up the stairs and to their chamber, their eyes never leaving each other.

Once the door was closed, he was on her, unable to keep his hands from her body. Serena's dress was quickly discarded; she was naked beneath. Maximus grunted his approval and pressed himself more forcefully upon her, grinding her up against the cold stone wall, his mouth hungry, almost brutal and his hands ranging over her willing flesh. Serena could feel his need so palpably that it almost cried out to her; she felt it in her breast, her womb and that wet dark place between her legs. Much as she wanted him she would have preferred him to go slower but, instinctively, she knew he could not. He had honoured his promise to her and this is what it had cost him; she would not deny him what he needed- time for her pleasure would come soon enough.

Maximus was quicker than even she had suspected. All at once, he hoisted her against the wall, his hands around her thighs, making a ledge of his palms to rest her buttocks on.

"Free me!" He ordered and Serena obliged, pulling up his tunic and unravelling his subligar. He lunged for her and she gasped and assisted his entry. It had been so long and she was tight and unused to him, but wet enough to welcome his intrusion. Maximus paused until she relaxed and then pushed fully into her with a sharp hiss of pleasure. His head dropped to her shoulder and he breathed deeply. He could take no more. Pulling back he began to thrust hard and fast, deeper and deeper, his grunts of effort becoming more feral as he neared his completion. With one final lunge, he moaned and began to shudder as the waves of passion shed his seed into her. It seemed an age until he finally stopped and the tight hold he had on her thighs and buttocks began to relax. Gently, he lowered her to the floor and raised his eyes to hers.

"Forgive me. I did not mean for it to be like that. In my mind I dreamed it would be perfect..." He hung his head in shame before her.

Serena took his face in her hands. " ou made a promise that I never demanded of you. This is what it has brought you to. I do not wish always to be taken against a wall like a harlot outside the amphitheatre but tonight it suited me very well. I can be many things for you Maximus, many things. But now, I wish to lie with you and be your wife and lover; I have already been your whore!" She took his hand and led him to their bed.

VII

Maximus woke earlier, inured to rising at dawn throughout all his campaign years. He lay watching Serena sleep, curled against him, her head resting on his chest.  Closing his eyes, he thanked the gods for bringing him safe though his trials and added a further prayer that the next campaign would also spare him. All he wanted was to wake each morning here on his own land with his wife in his arms. Serena stirred and opened her eyes and interlaced her legs through his to bring herself even closer to him. Her hand stroked his chest and slipped down instinctively finding his erection already waiting for her. He heard her murmur her satisfaction and he rolled her back to caress her naked loveliness, soft and languid and full of sleep.

They made love slowly and tenderly, no more driven by urgency and lust but by the closeness and familiarity of a shared bed and their natural instincts. Serena was only half awake when her husband slipped inside her, still moist with the remains of last night's love. Her body arched and writhed in its own dance of pleasure as he filled and tended to her. Maximus had no desire to come; he simply wanted to stay within her in that place where he had dreamed he might rest during years of lonely, anxious nights sleeping on bare ground, exposed to the elements. To bury himself within Serena seemed a finer place than any emperor's couch laid with velvets and silk. He kept up his slow and steady rhythm, rising and falling above her as she pulled him close and rose to offer her gift to him. On and on he thrust until he could no longer stave off the inevitable and until Serena could hardly speak for her cries of pleasure. His ending was a sweet surge of intense pleasure as he contracted and spilled his seed into her, longing to make life again within her womb.

Afterwards they lay in the warm early morning light and Maximus revealed to Serena what the emperor had enjoined upon him. She was speechless at his appointment; he feared she would be shattered by the news that he must soon be off again to war. But Serena was older and wiser than the girl he had left behind; she too had been undergone her trials and learnt her lessons.

"It is a great honour. You are now one of the most powerful men in the whole world. Maximus- you have achieved this from the most humble beginnings- a motherless camp boy left orphaned while barely a man. It is remarkable and men will speak of you long after you are dead. No matter how hard another separation will be I am ready to be the wife of the greatest general in Rome. You need not fear that I do not have the stomach for it. Win your war and come back to me. Pray that I have another son to give you by then. I ask only that you leave me with a child, my Lord." Serena whispered.

Maximus smiled. "I intend to do everything a man can do to assure that before I leave. In fact I may spend my entire leave in this chamber, bar necessary trips to bathe, eat or answer nature's call."

Serena giggled and said "Sir- I am a respectable matrona. I cannot be seen to behave like a soldier's tent drab. What would our son think of me?"

Maximus growled, "Respectable matrona?  Don't be so sure - I have ways of persuading you! And you do not have the self control of a respectable woman- thank the Gods!"

The three months at Truillo passed in a haze of summer days, some lazy when they lay in the fields making love or riding around the nearby hills, Marcus becoming more and more confident on his pony every day. Other days Maximus joined the field slaves, stripping down to his leggings and working around the estate, glad of the chance to work his muscles under the hot sun. He was soon bronzed and healthy again, well fed and happy. He even looked younger than the weary soldier who had returned only a few weeks before. In late July, they took Marcus to Olisipo where Serena's sister, Cora, had a summer villa and spent several weeks on the shores of that lovely coast, swimming and relaxing. It was an idyllic time. Surrounded by family, together every day, Marcus at their feet, it was easy to forget the autumn season which approached bringing their inevitable parting.

Serena was with child again, unsurprisingly, and seemed to bloom with health. It was some compensation for her to know she would carry Maximus inside her even when he was far away. She felt well and was without fear. This would be an easy pregnancy and she suspected it might be a girl this time, so different did her symptoms feel from that of her earlier childbirths. Maximus was delighted saying it gave him even more reason to return safely He would merely sit upon his horse and watch the legions battle; he no longer needed to join the fight himself. But despite these declarations, both Maximus and Serena knew that this would never happen- never would Maximus send men to a fight that he was not himself a part of. But it was a pleasant fiction in keeping with the idyllic ambience of that golden summer.

But all good things must end- September came and Maximus was soon to return to the front. He had left his wife with child and forged a relationship with his son; he had tended to his estate and won back the affection of his slaves. It would have to be enough. He had even had a chance this time to speak to Marilla whom he had sought out one day. She always seemed to disappear when he was around. Catching sight of her one morning as he returned from exercising a new horse, he followed her to a quiet corner of the farm buildings and watched her as she tended to a patch of vegetables. She was still an attractive woman and he wondered if she had taken a new man.

"Marilla?"

"Master!" Marilla toppled over in shock when he addressed her.

Maximus stepped forward and raised her to her feet, brushing the hair from her face.

"There was a time when you called me Maximus." He whispered in a husky tone.

"That was a long time ago, my lord. You were younger then and I was prettier!"

He smiled at her. "You are just as beautiful now as then, Marilla. How have you been? I never seem to see you. Have you any more children? Did you meet another man?"

Marilla blushed unsure of how to reply. " There was someone but it is over now. I have a daughter. Bella."

"Bella? The little beauty that is Marcus' friend? I should have guessed that she was yours. You must be proud of her. She is a fine and brave little girl. Seems to have the measure of the boys!"

Marilla beamed at the compliment. "Thank you, my lord. She is my special gift."

He smiled back at her. "One day perhaps I will have such a daughter. Marilla, I still remember you fondly. You will always be more than just my slave. You know that, don't you?"

She could not trust herself to answer but simply nodded her head. As he turned to go she suddenly found her voice. "Sir?" He looked back.

"You are the best man I have ever known. It is my privilege to serve you. Are you happy?"

"Happy? With my wife and son - without a doubt. With my career? It is my duty. Sometimes it makes me feel satisfied, other times - well, it is all I know."

"As long as you are happy in your home life. That is more than most have, you know."

He nodded his assent. " You are wise beyond your years, Marilla. Be happy." It was the last time he spoke to her but his words were enough to carry her. The short while they had spent together was worth a lifetime with any other man.

Another last night spent with Serena, all too short to encompass what he felt. Each time he returned home he knew it was harder to motivate himself to be a soldier again. This time must be the last. He would not be there for the birth of this child and that alone was a trial to him. But the more time he spent with his wife and family, the less he could adjust back to the hardship of a military camp and the world of men. Somewhere along the road, he had forgotten why he was there at all. None of the shallow victories seemed to carry weight anymore. There was more meaning in a day spent toiling in his fields than any command decision he would ever take.

As he looked back that last time on the fields of home, something resonated in his soul. It would never feel like this again. A black foreboding fell upon his heart and he tried to shake it from him. It was just his sadness that was conjuring up these thoughts; no harm could ever descend on Truillo. It would be almost three years before he set foot on his land once more and had he seen the future planned for him, even this doughty warrior might have shrunk from the task ahead.

VII

Serena gave birth the following March. As she had known, her pregnancy was trouble free and the birth was quick. Her second child, however, was not a daughter as she had wished. It was another son. How she longed for Maximus to be there and raise up his second boy. He had told her to name the child as she saw fit and she called him Gaius after his grandfather. The child was fairer than Marcus and his eyes were blue. Letters were all Serena had to pour out her longing and her feelings; it was agony to wait months for a reply. But she did not blame him. While her days were filled with her baby and her elder son, he was waging constant war on hostile barbarians, often weeks out of the fort, and when his replies came they were affectionate but brief and she could read his preoccupation with more pressing matters between the lines. Yet she read the scant lines over and over and slept with them beneath her pillow.

Spring turned to summer and then it was another autumn; a year since he had left. That autumn was unseasonably cold and wet and the rains came early- there were even floods, almost unheard of in that area of Lusitania. The weather led to an outbreak of fever, which spread through the neighbourhood. Many caught the illness - it seemed particularly virulent amongst the young and old. By November it had reached Truillo and there were several fatalities on the estate. One was the infant son of Maximus and Serena. He was six months old, a healthy bonny child but he was dead within a day of falling ill. Serena thought her heart would break as they burnt his tiny body on the pyre. His father had never even seen or held him. How was she to send that news to him?

The letter she wrote was tearstained and brief. There was no way to make this news more palatable. But Marcus had not fallen ill and she herself was strong. He must not worry about them. There would be other children. Maximus' reply was quick this time; it only took six weeks.

To my wife, Serena, from her husband Maximus   Greetings!

I have received your news. It is the worst thing that I have ever heard. I wanted to leave and come straight back to you. I can't believe that I am still here. But I am the commander. I cannot leave. If it were any of my officers I would send him home. Understand that I would give anything in this life to be with you now. But I cannot desert my duty. How are you? I cannot stop thinking of how you must feel, bereft of our son. I pray to the souls of my ancestors to keep him safe until we cross the river. My father, his namesake, will watch over him. Perhaps that is some compensation. Who knows the will of the gods? How much more do they require of us?

The situation here still hangs on a thread. We are holding our own but there will still be much to come. I cannot see an end to it for at least another year. The emperor is failing but his will is strong. He will not see his plans thwarted. The war goes on. I send my regards to Marcus. Is he still riding? Make sure he keeps his heels down. How absurd. Life goes on.

I keep a record of the days. It is one year and a hundred and eighteen days since I left. I have forgotten nothing.

Soon, Serena, soon. When I can. I will be back.

IX

One late spring day more than a year later, Marilla was sitting on the crest of a hill overlooking the property with her son, Fabius. They had been collecting wild herbs for the kitchen. At a distance, they could see soldiers riding towards the entrance gate. Standing, Marilla screwed up her eyes to see if by some miracle it was Maximus. The soldiers were black clad; not like the legionaries she expected. Fabius, who had been learning from Marcus about the disposition of the legions, ran forward and then suddenly stopped. "Mother. They are Praetorians. The emperor's bodyguard. It is most unusual...."

A cold knife gripped Marilla. This could only be bad news. Either Maximus was dead or...was it possible?... out of favour? The arrival of Praetorian Guards inevitably meant disgrace. If Maximus were dead in battle an honour guard from his legion would have arrived. Fabius ran forward curious to know more and before his mother could call him back, he began to hurtle down the track towards the men. Marilla watched as he was ridden down. Out of her mind with anguish, she forced herself to leave him there and ran for home. There was only one thought in her mind. Serena and Marcus. They must be the targets and she was the only one who could save them.

Running on wind she did not know she possessed, she found Serena in the house and - praise Juno! - so were Bella and Marcus. Trying to catch her breath Marilla screamed her frantic message.

"Serena- go. Take horses. Go to your father. Now. Ask no questions. Praetorians are here. If it is safe I will come for you. Please go now."

Serena stared but her face showed her immediate understanding. "We must all flee!"

"No!" Marilla shouted. They are almost here. They would follow. I will stall them. Go. The horses are in the back paddock. Just take Bella. Please take Bella. Serena. You must know. She is Maximus'daughter. Save her for me. Please."

There was no time to react. Serena simply gathered the two children and ran for the postern gate.

She turned back to Marilla as if to speak but Marilla shouted first: 

"Go! I loved him too, Serena. But it is you he wants. Go to him!" Serena stared one last time, comprehension suddenly dawning and then she ran. Out of the gate, down the little lane and to the horses, which were still in the paddock from this morning's lessons. Scrambling up on one, she watched Bella and Marcus mount the pony and she led them down the lane until they reached the gap in the stone wall and across the valley.

Looking back, Serena saw fire and began to realise what was happening. Her world was collapsing before her eyes. Maximus was either dead or under guard. Something inimaginable had occurred and their home was forfeit- perhaps their lives as well. Then Serena caught a glimpse of Bella's face. " Mother?" She cried. Serena leant forward and took the pony's reins, driving it forward. They must not falter now. Forcing the thoughts of the fate of Maximus, Marilla and the others from her mind, Serena determined to concentrate on the task in hand. ' My duty is to save these children. Maximus can take care of himself. I must not allow myself to fail.'

The five-mile ride to her father's estate seemed to be the longest journey that Serena had ever made. Every minute she expected to hear the heavy hooves of the armed men thundering down after them, but by some miracle, they appeared to have escaped. Why didn't the Guard come after the mistress and her son? Perhaps this was not the tragedy she had envisaged. But the signs of black smoke rising from the distance did not convince her. At last she rode into her family home and half collapsed on the ground before the villa.

Corellius quickly assessed the situation- everyone had seen the burning and it was easy enough to guess that there could only be one reason for the presence of Praetorians in Truillo; Maximus, that famous local son, once the man of the moment, must now be the latest general to fall. How soon before they came looking here for Serena? There was no time to be lost. Within the hour, Serena and the entire family left for Olisipo and the summer home on the coast owned by Cora's husband. There they might lie low until some better understanding of the situation could be ascertained.

It was weeks later before any real confirmation of events reached the port of Olisipo on the western coast of Lusitania. One day, Corellius came to Serena and sat her down in the tablinum to tell her what had happened. The story was beyond her comprehension.

"Marcus Aurelius died on the night following the victory at Vindobona. Maximus proclaimed himself emperor intending to use his legions to secure the throne and planned to march on Rome. The plot was uncovered before the legions were involved. The true heir, Lucius Commodus, with the help of some loyal generals, captured and executed Maximus away from his men to prevent mutiny. He was guilty of treason. Serena, his fate was deserved. He would not be the first general to abuse his authority and try to seize power. But his gamble failed. I am so sorry."

Serena gripped the sides of the chair. "It is not possible. He could not have done that. Maximus had no desire to rule. He simply wanted to come home. It is all he ever spoke of. I do not believe this story. I do not believe he is dead. I would know. In my heart I would know. Something else has happened. He could never betray Rome."

Corellius shook his head. His daughter refused to accept the truth. Her nerves were shattered. It was a typical hysterical reaction from a woman and was probably how she would shield herself from the knowledge that she had lost her home and her status as well as her much loved husband. Maximus had been a fine man and would have made a great emperor; Corellius would protect his grandson and daughter from any retribution for his reckless acts.

One thing did puzzle Corellius. There was the strange presence of the little girl, Bella. She had a remarkable likeness to Lavinia Meridia with her thick chestnut brown hair and green eyes. Serena would not explain her attachment to the child but he knew that she had freed her from slavery and treated her as if she were her daughter. Just another symptom, no doubt,of his daughter's slim grip on reality. How sad. A handsome young couple with so much before them and this was the pitiful remnants of their lives. Sometimes Rome required too much of its best.

IX

Serena stayed in Olisipo for a year until it was evident that no further ill fortune was about to swoop down upon their family. It was time for her to face the future. Maximus had never returned; he was dead. If by any miracle he had survived his downfall, he would have found a way to send news to her. Her grief was deep and silent. It would be part of her life for evermore but she had other pressing matters to attend to. Maximus had two children. They were her only link with him. She must devote her life to them.

Against her family's advice she decided to return to her ruined estate. The land had not been proscribed- in fact it seemed to have been forgotten. If it had not been claimed then she would take it back. Her father said no. Her brothers said no. Her sisters' husbands said no. She was a widow with no income and completely under the tutelage of the men in her family. Serena faced them all down.

"You let me go or I will run away with my children. I will not desert my duty to my family."

"How can you run a farm alone? It is in ruins. There is nothing left." Her father argued.

"Each one of you will give me some slaves. I need a small sum of money for equipment and a few horses. And then I will return and we will live a simple and rustic life. I need little."

"Serena! You must find another husband while you are still young and beautiful. You cannot remain unmarried." Corellius and her brothers insisted.

Serena turned on them with a cold fury in her eyes; Maximus himself would have been surprised at the steel therein.

"No man shall ever touch me again. I would tear my heart out with my bare hands before I gave myself to another. Force me to marry and I will kill my children and myself. At least then I will be able to join Maximus across the river."

It was pointless to argue with her. Corellius acceded to her demands and was more than generous in the money and slaves he provided; he himself still mourned the waste of her noble husband's life. Rumours still abounded of the events surrounding Maximus' disappearance. He had been executed in the forests of Germania, he had escaped and was gathering troops to march on Rome, he was lying in some prison somewhere, Commodus had exiled him to some remote island- there was even one story of a gladiator in North Africa who some claimed was Maximus re- born. Who would ever know? But Maximus would not return and Serena would not put aside her mourning- that was for sure. All Corellius could do was stand by his daughter and be amazed how his little baby girl had grown into this brave and steadfast woman through her unwavering love for a soldier called Decimus Maximus Meridius.

The life was hard. At first they lived in a tiny wooden shack while the slaves built a small stone cottage on the ground where once their home had stood. Later it could be expanded but Serena's needs were simple: one bedroom for herself and the children, a kitchen and a few cubicles for the slaves. There was no bathhouse- they washed with a bowl and cloth or in the river. There was no triclinium- they ate altogether round a crude wooden table in the kitchen. By day they all worked together in the fields to try to establish crops; at least enough to feed themselves, perhaps a little extra for the market.

Serena's hands grew rough with the manual work; her skin burnt dark brown by the fierce sun. She cared nothing for how she looked and dressed; she soon became indistinguishable from one of the slaves. After dinner, she would call the children to her and set them tasks of reading and writing to do the next day. There was no money for tutors but she was determined that they would master their books. How could she allow the children of Maximus to be ignorant illiterates - even if they were to be paupers? At last she would sink into her bed, her children by her side and fall into a deep exhausted sleep. It was better that way. Too tired to think about the man she longed for and had lost.

X

"He breathes!" Djuba lay his head against the chest of his friend. " His heart beats still!"

Gracchus bent down and knelt upon the stone floor of a cell beneath the Colosseum. He listened. "Very faint. Call a litter. He must be taken to my house. Send for Galen- he is in the palace. The emperor has no need of him now. And say nothing! Tell no one! He must be thought to be dead!"

A few hours later, Gracchus came out into the atrium of his villa. A motley tattered group of ex- gladiators, freedmen for just a day, waited in anxious silence, some in groups, others alone with their thoughts. He gathered them together.

"Maximus has gone. It was impossible to save him. His wounds... He didn't wish to stay. It is better this way." Little more could be said. It seemed incredible that his great heart no longer beat. "We will commit his body to the fire on the morrow."

Gracchus turned back to the house, ashamed of his lie. But even these loyal friends could not be allowed to know the truth. Inadvertently the rumours would escape. Maximus was a marked man. Whatever happened in the months to come, anyone who took control, anyone who desired power would see the 'Saviour of Rome' as a great threat and remove him. Until he was well enough to look after himself, the fewer people who knew of Maximus' survival the better.

Inside the house, in a small room on the upper story, attended by Galen, one trusted slave and the princess Lucilla, Maximus Meridius lay somewhere between life and death. His wounds were grave; fever had set in, he was weakened through blood loss and his will to live was uncertain. Galen knew that the only chance that this man had was if he himself wanted to survive.  As he raved in the possession of the sickness that gripped him, his incoherent words gave no clue as to his state of mind. Only once did he say something clear enough to be understood. He opened his eyes and shouted "NO! Let me go! I have suffered enough!" But he fell back again into his feverish state.

Maximus walked through the fields of home. It was late summer and the wheat was nearly ripe for harvest. A pink stone house nestled on the brow of the hill. As he strolled through the waving corn, his fingers brushed the soft golden wheat. Ahead he could see a woman, her hand shading her eyes, almost blinded by the brilliant sun as she watched his approach. At her side was a dark haired boy. He smiled as he saw them. He was home.

As he neared the villa, the woman and child ran forward to meet him. Maximus frowned. Something was wrong. He swept the long dark hair back from the woman's face and gasped with shock. It wasn't Serena. It was Marilla. She spoke.

"Go back, master. It is not time. You still have work to do. Go back."

Maximus shouted. "No! Let me go! I have suffered enough!"

The vision faded. He was back somewhere in a nightmarish world of sun and sand, of blood and death. His home was gone. Maximus struggled to find a way to escape but something was holding him fast to the pain. He could not escape.

"Go back! It is not time. You still have work to do!"

Lucilla sat by Maximus' bed as she did every day. As the days had slipped by, his wounds had begun to heal and his fever had broken but he was still weak and slept deeply most of the time. Once or twice, his eyes had flickered open but he appeared not to recognise anybody. She had fed him a little broth or moistened his parched lips with water but his eyes were vacant and far away. It pained her to see him brought so low; this magnificent warrior that she had loved for so many years.

Although she had a slave to help her, she insisted on attending to him herself, changing his putrid dressings, applying his ointment, cleaning and washing him as if he were her baby. Nothing disgusted her or made her flinch. This was a labour of love. Together Lucilla and the slave turned him in the bed; Galen insisted that he must not lie too long on one place or his body would develop pressure sores, a further complication. As the days passed, Lucilla realised he was easier to turn; weight had fallen from him and his mighty frame seemed shrunken and frail. Would that he would recover consciousness so that she could feed him properly!

At last, one September day, as she sat sewing by the window, she felt his eyes upon her. Looking up, she met his gaze; it was clear and bright, no sign of lingering fever. There was recognition.

"Maximus!" Lucilla dropped her sewing and ran to the bed, falling on her knees before him.

"Lu...Lucilla." His voice was hoarse and hesitant. She lifted up his head and fed him a little water. He blinked his eyes as if to thank her.

"Don't try to talk. You have been very ill for a long time. Rest."

"What...where...I can't remember..."

"Hush. You will remember in time. Get well, Maximus!" She bent down and kissed his forehead. He had already slipped back into sleep.

Slowly over the next few days, Maximus began to come round. He spent longer and longer periods awake and lucid and began to take a little food, broth and gruel mostly. Even then, his body often rejected what he was fed and he vomited it forth. It caused him pain, sometimes opening his wound again, but he needed sustenance and gradually began to tolerate the nourishment. Lucilla tended to him and she saw his shame. One morning, she came to bathe him and he pushed her hand away as she went to pull back the sheet.

"No! Let the slave. I don't want you here," he ordered gruffly.

"I have been washing you for weeks, Maximus. It is no matter. Do not be embarrassed before me," Lucilla returned to draw back the sheet.

"No! You cannot do the menial work of a slave for me. I will not allow it. Please go," Lucilla saw the plea in his eyes and she bowed her head. When he had been unconscious it had been different. Maximus was a proud man and she must respect that. Rising to her feet she left him to the ministrations of the slave.

Later, when she returned with his breakfast and fed him, she noticed how he seemed unwilling to meet her eyes.

"Maximus, is something wrong?"

He said nothing. His face was set in that familiar pose he struck when he tried to hide his inner turmoil.

"Answer me, Maximus. There is something on your mind."

He looked at her, an intense stare. "Why am I here? What do you want from me, Lucilla?"

"I want nothing but to make you well. You saved us all. You still have enemies. We are on Gracchus' private estate at Beneventum. As soon as you could survive the journey you were transported here. Only Gracchus, Galen and I know of your existence. Even Lucius thinks you are dead."

"And when I am well?"

Lucilla looked away to gaze out of the window over the fields beyond. "Then you must choose your future."

Maximus sighed deeply but did not reply. Lucilla returned to feeding him.

"Galen says that you are ready to leave your bed for a few hours. Perhaps you would like to sit by the window? Read a volumen? You must be very bored lying there. Would you like me to read to you?"

He shook his head. "I have plenty to occupy my mind. I remember it all now. I wish I did not. I wish I could remain in ignorance. Why did you let me live?" Suddenly his voice was raised and accusatory.

"I didn't let you live. You would not die. Some part of you wanted to live. Do not be ashamed of that." Lucilla spoke quietly and stroked his hand.

Maximus pulled it away roughly. "I have nothing to live for!"

Lucilla sat back and viewed him thoughtfully. "Perhaps you have more to live for than you thought. Terrible things happened to you, Maximus. You served Rome all your life and were rewarded with the destruction of everything that you held dear. You rose from the ashes of that and took your revenge. The slate is clean. It is time to start again. It is two and a half years since your wife and son died. Let them go, Maximus. She wouldn't want you to live this half life."

Maximus raised himself off the pillow, his face grimacing at the pain but he did not fall back. "Don't tell me how I should feel about my wife and son! What do you want from me? That I should slip back into your bed like I did when I was a foolish boy? You could never replace her. No one could replace her. Leave me alone!"

Lucilla sat on, biting her lip and trying hard not to shed the tears that moistened her eyes at his unkind words. "I want to help you. You know how I feel about you. Once you loved me. Perhaps you may one day discover that love again. Perhaps you will not. But I can love enough for both of us. I will bring you peace. Surely you want a woman's touch after all this time?"

He turned his head to the wall. "I never want a woman's touch again."

Lucilla placed her hand on his arm. "That night in the cell. You kissed me. You wanted me. I could feel that. Look at me and tell me that you didn't want me then."

Maximus turned back to face her. "Want is not the same as act. I am a man. I have needs. But I do not intend to give in to them. I should not have given you false hope, Lucilla. That night, I thought it was my last night above the earth. I was weak. Forgive me for acting that way."

Tears at last began to spill down her golden lashes. He looked at her and thought how beautiful she still was even after all these years. He did not want to hurt her.

The princess swallowed hard and composed herself. "Thirteen years ago, I fell in love with you and you fell in love with me. We were dragged apart. Had we been allowed, you would have married me and I would have shared your life. The gods pulled us away from each other and then thrust us back together. Perhaps it is their will. There are other things you do not know. I lied to you on the day we parted. I wanted you to hate me so that you would be free. But those things I said were not true. I did love you. You have been my love all my life. That has kept me going. That and... Lucius. The only things I care about in this world." She burned to tell him that Lucius was his son but she would not. It was not fair to force him to stay with her in that way.

He slumped back onto the pillow and stared at the ceiling for a long while. Then he reached his right hand out to her, she took it in hers. "I did love you, Lucilla, but you broke my heart. It took years to mend. Serena healed me and gave me a different kind of love- a deeper, more selfless love. It wiped the memory of you from my mind. Our love was first love. It is not the same. You have been living with a false memory of a girlish infatuation. Find a man of your own to love. Find a father for Lucius. I am not that man."

Lucilla closed her eyes and wept. He stroked her face with his hand. 

"Lucilla? Is there something else you want to tell me?" Maximus tilted her face up to look at him.

"What do you mean?" Suddenly Lucilla froze. 

"A long time ago in Germany, your father informed me of your marriage and the birth of Lucius. It was more than a year before my son was born. Yet at Vindobona you told me your son was the same age as mine. I wondered then why you were lying. That night I thought about it. The night your father died. I knew then. Lucius is my son."

Lucilla gasped. "You knew? All the time you knew?"

Maximus nodded sadly. "I saved him for both of us. He is the only child I will ever have now. But he belongs with you. He is a prince and may one day rule. Let him believe that his father was a great and mighty lord who gave his life in the service of Rome, not a humble soldier from the provinces. What good could I possibly be for him?"

"His father is a great and mighty lord who gave his life for Rome. His father is you. I have already told him. He was devastated by the news of your death. He admired you greatly and I explained it all to him. He is more proud to know you were his father than any Roman Caesar. But he thinks he played a part in your death. He revealed the plot to Commodus. I want to tell him you are alive. I want him to meet you. Will you do this much for him?"

A tear ran down Maximus' face. Lucilla wiped it away. "I would do anything for him. I cannot be his father day to day, but know this. I will always be here if he should need me. I will never wield a weapon again in anger except in his defence. I will be honoured to meet him, Lucilla. I am glad he knows."

XI

Lucius knocked at the door of the tablinum and waited for the command to enter. It came and he pushed open the door stepping into the cool, high-ceilinged room. Maximus was sitting by the door to the garden, a scroll in his hand. The last time that Lucius had seen this man he had been lying apparently bleeding to death on the sand of the Colosseum. Before him, Lucius saw the same man, paler and thinner, his hair now longer and his beard trimmed but still recognisable as the undefeated gladiator. For a moment they contemplated each other and then Maximus rose to his feet, slightly stiffly.

"Lucius. Thank you for coming to visit me."

"Sir. You are recovered?"

"I am much improved. But there is still some healing to accomplish." Maximus smiled awkwardly.

"I am glad to hear it, sir." Lucius was not sure what to do next.

"You have grown taller. Or perhaps I have shrunk!" An attempt at humour but the atmosphere was still strained.

Lucius stepped closer to his father. "Sir, I do not know what to say to you. I know you are my father. I am proud of that. I am sorry I betrayed you to my uncle. I did not understand..."

Maximus shook his head and held up his hand, "No! Do not apologise. You are an innocent child and your uncle was a monster. It was never you that caused this. I am proud that you are my son. You are a fine boy. Any man would be proud of such a son." There was a slight catch in Maximus' voice as he spoke; sorrow for the son that he had lost and sorrow for the son that he had found.

Lucius blushed slightly. "My mother says that you were not allowed to marry her because of your lower rank. You are no longer a mere soldier. My mother is now a free woman..."

The boy saw the expression that passed over his father's face. He was not sure that he understood it. It was a while before Maximus replied.

"It is hard to explain to a boy. One day you may understand. It is not always possible to go back and begin again after the moment has passed. I will always be your father. If you need me I will always be ready to act in your defence. But I cannot be your mother's husband. I cannot be with you as you grow into a man. Can you forgive me for that?"

Lucius stood silent and struggled to make sense of his father's words. It was hard to imagine any man would not want his beautiful mother. But there was something so honest in Maximus' words that he knew he was hearing an important truth.

"Did you love my mother?"

"Yes. Very much. I did not intend to ... father a child. Sometimes passion rules us and leads us to act in a very untypical way. I did not know for many years that you were my son."

Lucius nodded. "Your other son is dead. I am sorry about that. He was my brother."

"Yes. He would have been proud to know that. He longed for brothers and sisters." The familiar lump formed in Maximus' throat when he thought of Marcus. He blamed himself that Marcus had not had the chance to grow into a man. If only he had taken Commodus' hand and kissed it... If only he had not put his allegiance to the throne before what he owed his wife and son...Maybe he would have had enough time to save them...Who knows? The same thoughts had plagued him day and night for years.

"I study hard, father. My tutors say that I am gifted. But when I am old enough I intend to be a soldier. I want to be a general like you. Perhaps one day they too will call me 'The Saviour Of Rome'." Lucius smiled tentatively.

"I have no doubts, Lucius. You will be a great man. You will be the man your mother might have been had she been born male."

Lucius shook his head. "I will be the heir to two great people. I will not let you down either, father."

The moment that Lucius called him 'father' the awkwardness seemed to dissolve away. Maximus reached for his son and pulled him to his chest, pressing the boy against him in a tight embrace. "I am sorry, Lucius. So sorry," he whispered as he stroked back the boy's hair. "I do not know what I will do with my life or where I will go- but know this. When I am settled somewhere I will send you word. Perhaps we can spend some time together. There is much I would like to teach you."

Lucius held his father and bit back the tears that pricked his eyes; he would not let his father see him cry. "I would like that very much, father," he replied.

When they broke from their embrace, Lucius looked up at his father and saw that there were tears in Maximus' eyes too. Perhaps after all it was acceptable for a boy to cry.

Maximus remained in Beneventum until the winter had passed. He convalesced and grew stronger day by day in that mild climate. By spring he was something like his old self, a little slower perhaps, a little leaner, but beginning to work out seriously in the gymnasium and mould his body back into the muscled splendour it had once been. He was not sure why he did it. Although he was no nearer finding a purpose for his life, he knew one thing clearly. He would not seek an army command; nor would he ever raise a weapon if he could possibly avoid it. But it was not in his nature to be a sedentary man; his body longed for physical challenges and athletics or weightlifting went somewhere to satisfy the restless yearnings of his spirit. An afternoon spent in aggressive exercise would leave him sore and exhausted, the bathhouse would make him relax, a few cups of wine at dinner would make him drowsy. How else to sleep?

He was bored. Apart from Lucius' visits, when the two of them became closer and a bond was forged between father and son, life at Beneventum held nothing for him. Lucilla had returned to Rome and he had received word that she was to marry Gracchus. Maximus had shaken his head. Gracchus, fine senator that he was, was not only an old man but he was also of the Greek persuasion. Lucilla was entering into a marriage of convenience. Gracchus was consul and whatever happened in the struggles for power, he would safeguard Lucius and Lucilla from their enemies. Maximus was relieved at that but wished that Lucilla could find a man to love her. But what did he know? Ladies of her class had a certain freedom in their private affairs- they did not conduct their lives as provincial women like Serena had done. No doubt she would take lovers and find some ease there. Somehow that thought did not bring him any comfort.

When winter finally loosened its grip and spring heralded its arrival, Maximus took his leave. He wrote to Gracchus of his intentions and received a surprising reply. Accompanying the epistle was a money chest. It was the profit from the hundreds, maybe thousands, of German slaves that he had sent back to the markets over the years. Gracchus had found reference to the sum kept for the general in the Treasury. It had been made forfeit on his fall from grace but, now that Gracchus was Consul, it was returned. Maximus was unsure. How could he, a freedman, profit from the trade in other human lives? He was now a wealthy man. What ought he to do with the money? Give it away?  He deserved some reward for his service and compensation for what he had lost- but slave money made him feel uneasy.

One day, just before he was to leave, it came to him what he would do. The only thing he could do. Return to Spain. To his land. Use the money to build up his farm and buy slaves- but only to free them and have them work the land as tenants. At least some could benefit from what he had learned about the cruel evil of servitude. He wished to build a tribute to Serena and his son. Perhaps a temple?  Perhaps a theatre?  Somewhere people in the future might visit and remember them. Yes. However much the memory would hurt, it was where he belonged; their funerary monuments deserved fresh flowers and observance. He would go home- to Spain- to his family.

XII

He took the longest route- over the mountains, through southern Gaul, crossing the Pyrenees, aware that he was delaying the inevitable. Memories haunted him of other journeys home. After Lucilla, after his marriage, with Serena and baby Marcus in happier time; returning from the front, eager to be home. And that last desperate ride with his horse dying beneath him...

It was a summer's afternoon when he skirted the road to his property. The wall was broken down in places and the outer fields were overgrown. The gate hung loose, swinging mournfully in the slight breeze- it seemed a place of ghosts.

Dismounting, Maximus sank down and ran his fingers through the dark soil of his birthplace, rubbing it into his palms and raising it to his face to sniff the loam. In all the places he had been, it had been his custom to carry out this ritual - he had known the scent of the land of his birth and he had wished to know that of the ground on which he might die. But through all the years he had never smelt such rich fecundity as the soil of Truillo. He breathed in the old familiar scent with a sigh of recognition.

As he rode down the lane, his heart pounding and the pain and loneliness he carried deep within threatening to choke him, he heard voices. Turning in the saddle, he saw two young people walking though the long grass, arms full of wild fruit gathered in a basket, laughing and teasing each other. For a moment he remembered the last time he had returned and the three children, Marilla's two and ...Marcus. All dead. Were these ghosts or... had his land been sequestered? Occupied by squatters? It was possible.

"Hey!" Maximus called over and the boy and girl froze. They looked at each other and seemed unsure what to do.

"Hey, you two! Stop! Where do you live?"

"None of your business, stranger. This is our land. Get lost!" The girl shouted first. She was a beauty. Tall and lithe with a mane of dark brown hair that curled and tumbled down her back. Brown as a berry, she had startling light eyes, the colour of the sea. Maximus estimated she was maybe twelve years old, on the brink of womanhood, small breasts budding and her hips beginning to lose their girlish shape. A beauty.

"I mean no harm. I am ... lost. I am looking for a villa that used to be in these parts. It is many years since I was here."

"What was the name of the villa?" The boy spoke. He was as tall as his companion although clearly younger but already showing the signs that he would soon shoot past her; his shoulders were square and his limbs gangly as if they were too big for his slender body.

"Meridia. Villa Meridia."

The boy and girl exchanged nervous glances.

"What is your business there?"

Maximus paused. "I... I used to know the family."

"Then you are too late." The boy replied coldly and turned to walk away.

"How so? Who lives there now?" Maximus dismounted and followed them.

The boy turned back and stepped before the girl. He stood straight and defiantly, his legs planted firmly and his jaw up-tilted. "We do."

Maximus walked towards them. "It is not your land. Who allows you to live there?"

"It is my land." The boy replied. 

Despite himself, Maximus was impressed by the boy's courage. "The land belonged to Decimus Maximus Meridius. How can it be yours?"

The boy gasped. "You knew my father?"

Maximus stared at him. "What? What did you say, boy?"

"Did you serve with my father, general Maximus?"

The children observed the man before them, his face seeming to pale with rage and his eyes burn. In a low guttural rumble he spat out: "You lying little bastard!"

At that Marcus moved. It was not what Maximus expected and he was almost taken by surprise. The boy pulled out a dagger hidden in the folds of his tunic and made a lunge at the stranger. Maximus sidestepped and caught the boy's arms, bending him back and forcing the knife from his hands, holding the struggling youth against him by his neck, almost choking him. "Who are you? Who gave you the right to claim such parentage?" Maximus shouted in his ears.

Bella had watched it all with horror. She saw the dagger skidding across the ground and she picked it up. "Stop! Let him go!" Her voice rang out, a commanding edge forcing attention.

Both Maximus and Marcus looked up and stood still at her words. "I can use this dagger. I will use it. Let him go!" Bella shouted.

Maximus smiled coldly at her "What do you intend to do, girl? Kill me? Somehow I think you will have some difficulty with that. Fiercer warriors than you have tried and failed."

Bella picked up a small stone. "See your horse? I can hit the pommel from here." She threw the stone; it bounced accurately off the target. Bella grinned. "I can hit the pommel and I can hit you between the eyes with this dagger. You want to try me?"

There was something in her look, blue green eyes steady and clear, no sign of fear, just belief in herself and her ability to do exactly what she said. Maximus had never see that look before, not in any man's eyes, never mind a girl's. Of course he hadn't- how much use had he for mirrors? He loosened his grip on the boy and pushed him away, holding his hands out in submission.

Marcus ran back to Bella.

"Get on your horse and leave. This is our land. You are not welcome." Marcus pronounced.

Maximus turned towards his horse. With his back to them, he shouted: "I am going to ride to your house. I wish to speak to the family who lives there. If you want to stop me, use you dagger- hit me in the back. That should give you something to boast about."

Marcus and Bella exchanged glances. There was something about this man.... Marcus wondered - had he really known their father? Had he served with him? Perhaps he was a friend. He was a little like his father as he remembered him. Marcus wished he could picture his father's face. All he could recollect was that his father had a beard; this man was clean-shaven. His father had short hair; this man's hair was untidy and uncut. His father had been a broad and muscular man, something like this stranger- perhaps it was the military bearing....

"Stranger! Tell me your name. Perhaps you did know my father and mother once..."

The man turned round slowly. "My name is Decimus Maximus Meridius, former general of the armies of the north. The husband of Corellia  Serena and the father of Marcus Maximus Meridius."

At that the two children gasped and paled. "You cannot be. Our father is dead. Three years ago...In Germania....

"Your father? Exactly who do you think you are?" Maximus shouted at them.

"I am Marcus Maximus Meridius and this is my land. Here is my sister, Bella Lavinia Meridia. We are the children of general Maximus."

"Lies! He had but one child. The child is dead. I buried him myself ... with his mother..." Maximus' voice began to break. "Are you some vision from Hades? Some illusion sent to torment me further?"

"Buried them? It was you? You came back? " Marcus gasped.

Maximus and Marcus continued to stare at each other in disbelief. Bella watched them. And then she knew. In an instant she knew. It was Maximus. It was her father. She was a girl - she had seen those eyes in the mirror often enough to recognise them!

"You did not bury Serena and Marcus. You buried the burnt and tortured bodies of Marilla, my mother, and Fabius, my brother." Bella called out.

Maximus turned his gaze upon her; for long moments he remained like a statue, the only sign of his thought process being the rapid blinking of his eyes.

"Marilla?" He remembered his slave woman. Dark and slender, similar build to Serena, similar in age. Could it be?"

"Why would Praetorians mistake a slave for the mistress?" He asked.

"Because she told then that is who she was. She died in their place."

"But why?" Maximus' anguished cry sounded like an injured animal.

"To save me. To save your family." Bella said.

"But why?" It was more like a sob this time.

"Because she loved you. Because I am your daughter."

His eyes widened at her words but he did not gainsay her. Instead he fell to his knees, his head in his hands. "They were alive? All this time? It was for nothing?" And to their astonishment he began to cry.

Marcus stepped forward. "Are you really my father? Where have you been? Why did you leave us alone?"

Maximus grasped the boy and pulled him down to him. "I had no choice. I was enslaved. They took me away." He wiped his face with his hands. "I did not care because I had nothing to live for."

"Enslaved?" The children both spoke together.

Maximus nodded. "A gladiator. First in North Africa...."

"They were true? The stories about Maximus reborn as a gladiator! We heard those tales. Mother said they were arrant nonsense..."

Maximus stopped. "Your mother. You mean Serena? She is here?"

They nodded. "In the house."

"And Marilla bore me a daughter?"

They nodded again.

"I did not know." Tears ran down his cheeks again.

"She never told you. She did not wish to shame you..." Bella said, blushing.

"Shame me? How could it shame me? Your mother was a ... beautiful girl. I was a lonely young man... if I had known..." Maximus could not continue.

"She had her reasons. She never blamed you." 

"But she died for me."

"Yes."

He breathed deeply unable to comprehend the vicissitudes of fortune that had swept through the lives of all those who had touched his life. Was he fated to bring bad luck to those who loved him? His parents, Lucilla, Lucius, Serena, Marcus, Marilla , and her son,  Cicero -even Elda his long forgotten German woman, cast aside for the sake of his career?

"I want to go home. Take me to your mother." It was all he could say.

Epilogue

Serena was gathering eggs in the hencoop when she heard the clip clop of horses along the path. Peering through a crack in the wooden slats, she saw a horse and rider- behind him on a second horse were Marcus and Bella. The sun was shining in her eyes and she could not make out much detail but for an instant her weary brain had made the man seem like Maximus. Then fear gripped. Who was he? What did he want of them? Searching around she found a scythe and picked it up, unsure whether she would have the courage to use it.

Bending slightly, she stepped out of the little hut and watched the rider dismount. Marcus and Bella seemed subdued but unafraid- it was not like them to welcome strangers.

"Stop there! Marcus! Bella! Come to me!" Serena shouted.

Maximus spun round at the sound of her voice. He saw Serena like a vision from his dreams. He had never thought to look upon her face again in this world. It was impossible to speak; almost impossible to think or even draw breathe. He wondered if his heart might stop from the shock of seeing her. Serena was dressed in a tattered dress, her hair bound but wild curls struggling free in untidy abandon. Her skin was darker than he remembered and her feet were bare. But it was Serena. Alive. Breathing. In the flesh.

"Serena!" His voice was a scarcely audible mutter.

Serena shuddered at the sound of her name. Only one man she had ever known had spoken like that. Like the distant rumble of thunder on a summer's night; the first thing that she had loved about him. Staggering forward, the scythe dropping from her hands, she began to advance.

The man was dressed in civilian clothes, neat but unostentatious. His hair was unruly and chestnut brown. He had a strong handsome face with a shadow of stubble, his chin was cleft, his eyes were aquamarine... "Sweet mother, it cannot be... It cannot be...After all this time...is it you?"

A nod. No words. They simply stared at each other, at the ghost of the other made flesh. Marcus and Bella wondered what they would do - or had some spirit turned them to stone?

"Mother? Are you alright?" Marcus asked tentatively. His voice broke the spell that held them.

Serena began to shake and her legs crumpled beneath her.... Maximus caught her as she fell and swung her up into his arms. He looked around unsure where to take her.

"The house. Take her to the house." Bella ordered and indicated the rude stone cottage that stood at the bottom of the slope where once his home had been.

He couldn't believe they lived this way - like peasant farmers. There were a few field slaves standing around confused but the place was a pathetic hovel. Clean, tidy, dried herbs hanging and fresh straw on the floor- but was this where his wife and children had lived all these years? In poverty and want?

Lying Serena down on a straw pallet in the only bedroom, he bathed her face with water and she began to wake up. Her eyes flickered open. They flared with recognition. Her hand extended to his face and stroked.

"Maximus. It is you. I had almost forgotten your face. I have never seen you without a beard. You are so beautiful..."

"I feared I might be recognised. I did not know what I would find here."

"Where have you been?"

Maximus laughed ruefully. "Everywhere. Nowhere. I cannot tell you now. The story is a long and sad one. I did come back. I thought you were dead. I buried you and Marcus and then the tale began...The gods have had their sport with us, Serena. I hope we have provided them with sufficient entertainment. He looked up at the sky through the little window. "Are you not entertained?" he muttered from between gritted teeth.

Serena sat up and put her arms around his neck. "I could never fully believe that you were dead. I kept thinking that I would know, that I would feel it - in here... "She put her hand on her heart. " Each night before I slept I prayed for a miracle to guide you back. But as the years passed I saw no hope."

He traced the course of a tear down her face. "Why are you here?  You should have gone back to your father's house. Why did you not marry again? You are still young. You are still beautiful. Why did you not take another husband and an easier life?  You should not live like this. You are of good family."

She stopped him with her finger on his lips. "I am your wife. This is your land. These are your children. Where else do I belong? Once you told me there would be no one else. For many years you kept that promise. I too made that vow. Dead or alive, Maximus- I never wished to belong to another man as long as I lived."

"I still keep the promise."

"What?" Serena gasped. "It has been six years!"

"I still keep the promise."

"You crazy fool!" She cried and laughed and held him close. She felt him tremble in her arms. "Well, I had better prepare myself for some assault then!" She whispered in his ear. He smiled shyly at her.

After a simple meal, they sat back and Maximus told them of all that had had happened and what had kept him from his home. The family sat and listened transfixed at the amazing story.

"It is like an epic. Like Odysseus or Aeneas and all the labours of Heracles put together!" exclaimed Marcus.

"The general who became a slave. The slave who became a gladiator. The gladiator who defied an emperor and saved Rome from an evil tyrant! It is magnificent!" Bella clapped her hands with glee.

Maximus shook his head. "Don't make it sound like a legendary tale. It was bloody and sordid, dark and brutal. No romantic story. But somehow I survived and I am here and I am never leaving home again. We will build up this farm. Would you believe I am quite a wealthy man? We will have a fine villa. A stable of proud horses. A bathhouse-  Gods, I want a bathhouse! Free tenants to work the land. And a monument to those who died so that we could live." He looked at Bella and she leapt onto his knee and hugged him close.

Serena sat by his side and they looked at each other. Bella saw the gaze and understood. Suddenly she slipped away from her father. Whispering something to Marcus, the two children made for the door.

"Where are you two going? It is night already!" Serena asked.

"To sleep with the animals," said Marcus.

He disappeared before his mother could reply. Bella shot after him but at the door turned and winked at them, "Have fun! Make babies! " She said and with a giggle ran after her brother.

Maximus stared open mouthed. "What did she say?"

 Serena laughed. "That's Bella. She's incorrigible.  Perhaps she learnt more than was good for her as a child in the slave quarters but she seems to know what is hardly becoming for a girl of her age. I believe she instructs Marcus in matters of that nature- he is such an innocent -I think she frightens him sometimes with information he would rather not know! I don't know what we will do with her. She's wild and fearless, outspoken and impossible to control. You must do something about her. Give her some discipline. Or how will she ever find a husband?"

He grinned. "Me? Control a woman? Not a chance! She'll find a man. She's a beauty. But he'd better be tough- she'll give him quite a dance! Reminds me of someone I know..."

Serena moved from the seat and settled herself on her husband's lap. "Well, my lord, you seem to be rather slow on the uptake- even our children know what we ought to be doing. Or perhaps your injuries have left you more damaged than I thought?" She snuggled against him and ran her hand down his chest.

Maximus sighed. "No- everything is in working order! But first- one more thing. I didn't want the children to know yet."

Serena was not interested. She was lavishing his face with kisses and struggling to pull up the hem of his tunic.

"Wait! Listen. There is more. Please Serena- let me tell you this!" He held her hand and kissed it. His wife sighed and threw her arms around his neck.

"What is so important?"

"I have another child." Maximus grimaced as he told her, unsure how she would take this news.

Serena sat up and looked at him curiously. "Go on..."

"He is twelve years old. A few months older than Bella, I think."

He saw her pause and stop to think. Recognition suddenly dawned on her face. "The princess had your child?"

He nodded.

"What is his name?"

"Lucius Annius Verus."

"The heir to the throne is your son?" He nodded again.

Serena laughed. "What fun! Will he rule?"

"I don't know. Unlikely. He wants to be a soldier." Maximus replied.

"Good - a much better life for a young man! When will he come to stay?"

"Soon. When we have more bedrooms!" Maximus chuckled but wondered at Serena's mild reaction. "You do not mind? That I have fathered two children on other women?"

"Mind? Why should I mind? I have love enough in my heart for any child of yours. However I must observe that as abstemious as you have become in matters of the flesh in your maturity, you were certainly profligate with your seed as a younger man! Is it likely that you have any other surprises of this nature to visit upon me?"

He shook his head. "I do not think so," he replied, smiling, and running his finger down her face, brushing back her unruly hair.

"But - you are not entirely sure, are you?" Serena answered back with glee. "Hey ho, then so be it! I think it is time I added to the score. What say you, my Lord? Are you ready to put aside your vow and take another woman to bed? Shed some more of that fertile seed? Make some babies, as your daughter seems to wish?"

Maximus growled deep and low, nuzzling Serena's neck, his hands already exploring her welcoming curves. "I think perhaps we should test out that pallet. I have slept on worse mattresses- somehow I think it will do me fine tonight! Not that I am planning to sleep, however - not for a long time yet!"

And he swept his wife up in his arms and carried her to their room. What happened then? That is none of your business!