Book III
Chapter 12
Lugdunum, Gaul; Augusta Raurica, Germania; Augusta Vindelicorum, Germania
23 October-2 November, 171 A.D.

Lugdunum, Gaul
23 October, 171 A.D. 

It has been over a week since I reached Maximus in Lugdunum.  During that time, we have said little, both of us trying to avoid the other.  I had tried to tell myself that he had spoken such harsh, unforgiving words to me in the heat of anger and that he would eventually relent, but there seems to be no sign of it.  If anything, I am more disheartened, because instead of his fury, there is now just a coldness that he exhibits, a reserved withdraw.  He does not look at me except when he has to, and at night, if we stay at an inn, he sleeps in a room next to mine, and if we have to camp outdoors, even though we sleep in the same tent, he places his pallet on the further side of the tent, as far away from me as possible.  I hate such nights; the silence is deafening, the tension in the air heavy, almost suffocating.  He is so near and yet so far, and I am choked with grief, my heart aching for the misery I have inflicted upon him.  But I have wounded him no more than he has me, for my suffering grows stronger each day, as I observe Maximus making every effort to dismiss me from his notice, his thoughts, his life.

He speaks to me only when he wishes to chastise me, as if I am a wayward child with which he has been burdened.  Such was the case last night.  I’ve lost my appetite and I eat little.  I help cook, during the times when he and his slaves camp outdoors, but my own stomach rebels against the thought of food.  Maximus has noticed and reprimands me about my refusal to eat.

I’d gone to our tent, lying down on my pallet, pretending to sleep, while everyone else ate.  Maximus entered the shelter and stood looking down at me.

“Selene, you have to eat,”  he scolded.

“I will if I get hungry,”  I replied, refusing to look at him, my forearm resting across my eyes.

“Seems you’re never hungry,”  he observed.  “You eat virtually nothing.”

I’d shrugged.

“You can’t go without food, while riding several hours a day and being exposed to the elements.”

I was unable to prevent my sharp retort.

“Well, I wouldn’t complain if I were you.  If I starve, it will save you a great deal of trouble, won’t it, burden that I am?”

I didn’t look at his face, but I could imagine the expression upon it by the tone with which he uttered his reply.

“Quit drowning in your own self pity and eat!”  he’d snapped.

I heard the flap of the tent drawn back, his footsteps heavy as he’d stormed out.

What did he care if I ate,  I wondered. He obviously didn’t feel for me all that he once had; he merely didn’t want to be responsible if I got ill and died.  I suppose it wouldn’t look good that he couldn’t protect his own wife, especially from herself. 

Yet deep within, hope occasionally flares.  Does he really care, despite his declaration otherwise?  Is there still some spark of love, or at least affection, for me within him?  My mind tells me no, but my heart still wants to believe that he does; however, that’s not always for the best, for sometimes, hope can be cruel.

But my faith, for the most part, that we can ever reconcile, fades more with each passing day.  An example was two nights before last.  As we head towards the border of Germania, the snows and the cold temperatures have increased.  Still, there are times, when I wish to merely get away, for a moment, when we camp outdoors.  I need time for my thoughts, longing to be away from the sounds of the slaves’ loud voices and frequent raucous laughter as they sit around the fire.  As such, I’d ventured away from the campsite, longing for the solitude and quiet of the winter’s night, bitterly cold though it was.  I’d learned my lesson about straying too far, but there was a frozen lake nearby which held an odd source of fascination.  Its stark, desolate beauty held my attention, its surface absorbing the reflection of the campfire’s flames, fire burning on ice.

I hadn’t heard Maximus come up behind me, and I was startled when he’d issued a warning.

“Don’t you think you courted enough danger on the way to Lugdunum without enticing more?”

I turned and faced him, angry at his sharp words, not failing to notice the way he’d phrased the question, as if I deliberately drew danger to myself and was the one at fault.

“I wasn’t going to walk on it,”  I replied.

“You’re too close,”  he insisted.  “What if you trip or lose your balance?  You could slide on the ice of these embankments and land hard enough upon the ice to break it."

“I’m not an idiot!”  I retorted.  “I know enough to watch where I go.  Besides, such an event might make you relieved, no?  You wouldn’t have to take me to Germania, to spend the winter in my company, and you wouldn’t have to drag me home, to return me to my father.  I’m surprised you don’t want to push me down the embankment yourself!”

I’d expected him to retort with his own sharp reply, as he usually did, when provoked, but though it seemed that it took an effort for him not to lash out at me, he didn’t succumb to the urge.

“Your sarcasm grows tedious, Selene,”  he replied, his voice low, his posture stiff and defensive.  “You are such a child.  Will you never grow up?’

I was hurt.  He wasn’t going to reply with his usual vehemence; he seemed so formal, putting even more distance between the two of us with our exchanges.  I couldn’t incite his passion, even in an argument, anymore.  It seemed that he didn’t feel I was worth the effort.

“Go back to the camp,”  he commanded.  “It’s too cold out here.”

I wanted to retort that I wasn’t ready to, but suddenly, I didn’t have the energy to put up a fight.  Despite my sharp outburst, I felt tired and drained.  What was the point of arguing with him?  He’d win, in the end, and I would just be making a horrible situation, if possible, worse.

I entered our tent as soon as I reached the campsite, but despite my exhaustion, sleep wouldn't come.  Bitterly, I lay cataloguing my regrets, thinking of all the things I should have done differently.  I felt like a fool for having undertaken the journey to track Maximus down; everyday, I was more aware of the repercussions of my efforts, and though I’d been telling myself that he would relent, I didn’t believe it much anymore.  I felt tears slip from the corners of my eyes, as I asked myself the same question for the thousandth time: was there no hope of every reclaiming his love?

I heard him enter the tent, and I feigned sleep.  Ordinary words are no longer spoken; unless spite or reproach are involved, they seem difficult to utter; it’s as if we need anger to spur us on merely to interact with each other anymore.  There is so much I want to say to him; I would gladly beg him to continue loving me, but one glimpse at his face, whenever he looks at me, stops me cold in my tracks.  The anger has fled, but he is detached and aloof.  Once in a while, when I don’t eat or I seem especially cold, while we travel, I see concern in his eyes, but that hurts as well.  It reminds me that, for all his faults, being the essentially good man he is, he would try to look out for anyone who was feeling the effects of such a harsh journey.  It makes me feel that I could be anyone besides the woman he’d professed to love.

I heard him stir as he took off his boots and pulled back the blankets upon his pallet.  But I didn't hear him lie down and I wondered why.  I listened, hearing him advance towards me; I could feel him standing over me, looking down, and I wondered why he was behaving in such a way.  Then, I felt an extra blanket being placed over me; he’d taken one from his pallet, and tucked it around me.  I fought back the sob that arose in my throat.  That one gentle gesture added more cracks to my already breaking heart than it had already incurred.  If he still cared, why couldn’t he come to me, lie with me, and allow me to tell him how sorry I as?  Does he still care, even just a bit?  Or does he react out of sorrow that we’ve seemingly lost what we once had and feel sorry for me as well as himself?  I wanted to reach out and invite him into my arms, but I couldn’t take that chance; if he had rebuffed me, I don’t think I could have withstood it. 

This morning, he was as gruff and resolute as ever, the tender moment, which he’d indulged the previous night, long since past.  He’d reminded me to hurry, that he didn’t have time to wait, and when I reminded him that I wasn’t one of his slaves or his soldiers to command, he informed me that I was as much under his control as any of them.  I felt my temper flare, and I glared at him; the impact of his own stare, in response, was like a physical force; though I refused to look away, I felt diminished by it, cut down to size like just another member of his retinue, nothing more.

Augusta Raurica, Germania
27 October, 171 A.D.

Today had started out like every other has been during the past thirteen days.   It was tedious, boring, and mercilessly cold.  I’d never been so cold in my life; it seemed that I couldn’t get warm, no matter how hard I tried.  Even under the covers at night, in a tent or even in a lodge, the cold seemed to have settled within me, draining my energy and making me feel more defeated.  I’d always been intrigued by and attentive towards the landscapes before me, on previous travels, but in the stark, barren Germanian countryside, there was nothing to engage my attention.  The snow covered hills seem endless, and if looking at them is depressing, climbing up them, feeling our horses struggle upwards, is worse.  There are a few moments of beauty, when occasional sunlight sparkles in the ice on the tree branches, or when it reflects upon a frozen lake, but those are rare, and even when they appear, they don’t make up for the seemingly endless, monotonous trek.  If Maximus had talked to me, paid attention to me, not been as cold as the bitter winds, I might have a different opinion of our journey, but he has been withdrawn and distant, refusing to even acknowledge me if he doesn’t have to.  At least he hadn’t until earlier tonight, when something very special occurred, a shared moment that makes me think there might still be a spark of hope that all is not lost.

By the time we’d reached another in an endless series of inns, all of them much the same, plain, basic, and functional, I was so tired and yet I couldn’t sleep, my mind distraught.  I tossed and turned in the lumpy bed, the attempt to doze just making me more nervous.  I couldn’t hide the fact that, for all the sharp words I still issue at Maximus, when we have to talk to each other, I feel so bereft, alone, and deserted.  He and I are becoming strangers to each other more every day, and there seems to be nothing I can do to stop it.  Everything about his manner, his stance, the expression upon his face, when he does look at me, indicates that he is not interested in trying to bridge the gulf that is growing ever wider between us.

I sat up, staring out the window, gazing into the night; it seemed as desolate as I felt.  Arising, I lit a lamp and after getting dressed, I left my room, going downstairs, to sit at one of the inn’s tables.  The place was dark and deserted, everyone having gone to bed.  It wasn’t much of a place to be, but I hated lying in an empty bed, chasing sleep.  The door was undoubtedly unlocked, for travelers who sought shelter, and it dawned on me that, as a woman sitting alone, in the near darkness, this wasn’t the safest predicament to be in, but I didn’t want to be bothered thinking about the hazards.  I knew the owner and his wife were probably nearby, at least that’s how I reassured myself, so I sat at the table, looking out into the bleak darkness.  The snow created a luminescent glow, but somehow, it seemed eerie and otherworldly, and it offered no sense of beauty or comfort.  The hills seemed so barren and still, as if the world had crystallized;  sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever feel warmth or see a summer’s day in Hispania again. 

As I was musing about my dire predicament, I heard a slight scuffling sound coming from the counter, or rather the area just behind it, and when I looked towards it, I saw the figure of a young woman, small and delicate, emerge, a baby in her arms.  The baby was fretful, crying softly, appearing to be in some sort of distress.

“Domina?”  the girl asked.

“I have a room upstairs but I couldn’t sleep, so I came down here for a while,”  I explained.  “I didn’t see you when my husband and I arrived.  You work here?”

The girl came closer, and when she did so, I observed that she was very young, probably no more than fourteen or fifteen. 

“I do the cleaning here and part of the cooking,”  she informed me.

I nodded and gestured for her to take the seat across from me.

She did so, hesitantly, and her expression was sad, her eyes wary and tired.

“Your baby,”  I remarked.  “A boy or a girl?”

“A girl.  Her name is Camilla.”

“A beautiful one.  And yours?”  I asked, providing mine.

“Claudia.”

“Well, Claudia, it seems Camilla is a bit fussy tonight,” I observed, trying to lighten the moment.

“She is often sick, although I know not why.”

Her large gray eyes, round and long lashed, were full of worry and fear.

Taking in Claudia’s appearance, I noticed that she looked extremely tired, and her eyes were older than her years.  Her clothing was worn and tattered, her hands red and chapped from hard work.  Evidently, her child was out of wedlock, and she worked at the inn in order to make a living.  My heart went out to her; hers was evidently an exceedingly difficult life.  I wondered how she’d conceived Camilla; had she fallen in love with a young boy, around her own age, who was more concerned with the drives of his body than with her; had she fallen in love with an older man who’d deserted her when he’d discovered her condition; had she been raped by someone who, for whatever reason, found her an easy target?  Whatever the circumstances, she and her child were suffering for the actions of others.  She was little more than a child herself.

“Claudia, you look exhausted,”  I pointed out to her.  “Do you want me to hold Camilla for a while and see if I can get her to sleep while you get some rest yourself?”

“Why would you do that?”  she asked, suspicious, brushing back a strand of her long, dark brown hair.

“Because I can’t sleep, and you need to.  Because I have a lot on my mind and holding this babe for a while would be a welcome diversion.”

Claudia studied me, as if trying to decide whether she could trust me.  Finally, she nodded.  

“I’ve fed Camilla, so maybe she will become calm before long,”  she replied.  “My room is just behind this counter, to the left, so when you get tired of holding her, or you want to go to bed, just knock on the door.”

I nodded, and after she handed me Camilla, I watched her walk away.  Then, I looked down at the little round face before me, soft blond curls framing it, peering into mine.  The baby was probably no more than six months old, but she appeared alert, large blue eyes staring up at me.

“You’re a beautiful little girl, Camilla,”  I informed her.  “What is it that makes you so ill, little one?”

She coughed, and I didn’t like the sound when she did.  She seemed awfully congested.

I found myself running my fingers across her soft, silky cheeks, and stroking her warm, little head.  Tiny fingers grasped at one of mine, and I smiled at the grip with which she held on.  She had quieted, and I held her close, listening to her persistent gurgles.

I rocked her gently, and she snuggled close as I did.  A lullaby that my mother had sung to me, when I was very small, flooded my memory, and I began to sing softly to her.  She listened attentively, seemingly absorbing the sound of my voice, and she gave me a brief but genuine smile. 

I felt my eyes fill with tears as I observed it.  What would the future hold for a little girl, illegitimate and born into poverty, her mother an outcast from her family, nothing more than a paid servant?  I wondered if illness would claim her before long, and if it didn’t, would she really have that much to look forward to as she grew up.

Along with the sadness I felt over her predicament, I thought about my own.  I had been so afraid of bearing Maximus’ child, when I could have, and now that it seemed that I’d never have the chance, I wasn’t so consumed with fear.  I wanted Maximus’ baby, a child that we would conceive in love, but I wondered if he’d ever touch me again.  The way he felt right now he wasn’t about to.  Would I never feel his child quicken in my womb, would I never hold his son or daughter in my arms? 

I felt so heartbroken, both for Claudia and Camilla and for myself.  Neither their future nor mine looked very bright, although for very different reasons.  Would the child in my arms live to see adulthood?  Would her mother ever find a way out of her misery?  Would I have any sort of future, once Maximus and I returned to Trujillo?  I could feel the tears sliding down my cheeks, and with Camilla’s little body snuggled against mine, I let sorrow consume me, my voice quivering while I sang.

“I never heard you sing before,”  a voice, from out of the shadows, declared.

Startled, I looked up, watching Maximus emerge.  His eyes met mine, and they were so somber.  I quickly wiped away my tears.

“Guess I never had any reason to,”  I replied.  “We were too busy with other things.”

“You’ve a beautiful voice, suited admirably to such a lovely song,”  he observed, sitting down beside me.

I tried to offer a half smile, but it wouldn’t quite form on my lips.

“My mother used to sing it to me, when I was still a baby,”  I offered.  “I hadn’t thought of the many songs she knew until now.”

“You remember that far back?”

“I do.  For some reason, even though I was so young, I can remember her voice clearly.”

Maximus gestured with his chin towards the child in my arms.

“Who’s the little one?”

“Her name is Camilla.  She belongs to a young girl who works here.  She was tired, and I couldn’t sleep, so I offered to rock the baby for a while.”

Maximus leaned in towards Camilla and peered at her, his face softening when he did so.  Camilla gazed up at him, studying him much as she had me earlier.

“She’s lovely,”  he murmured.

He smiled at her and touched her cheek tenderly with his finger.  She cooed at him, and his smile widened.  I felt tears threaten to overflow as I observed the interaction, the very life, within my heart, seemingly being choked.  The pain was raw and razor sharp, slicing mercilessly through me.  Would I never see Maximus smiling at and stroking the face of our child someday?   

Camilla suddenly coughed, thankfully distracting me, her little body shaking with the force of her actions as she did so.

“She is ill?”  Maximus asked.

“Most of the time, from what her mother tells me.”

“Where is the child’s father?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Maximus look aggrieved. 

“She needs a doctor, does she not?”

“So her mother says, but on the wages she makes here, she can’t afford them.”

He reached into the pocket of his breeches and from it, withdrew several coins, a significant sum to him and more than likely, a fortune to one such as Claudia.

“When you take the baby back to her mother, give her this,”  he requested.

My heart was aching violently, so strong was the emotion which filled it.  I looked directly at Maximus, and there was so much sadness in his eyes, as he stared back at me.  It radiated from him in waves, filling the space around us.  Finally, looking away, he took the baby’s tiny hand in his large, powerful one.  He seemed lost in thought as he gazed at Camilla, gently stroking her little fingers with his thumb.  When he looked back at me again, his eyes were suspiciously moist.

“Don’t you think you’ve better get some rest before morning?”  he asked quietly.  “It’s late, and we must leave early.”

I nodded; the emotions, which holding Camilla and sharing such a tender moment with Maximus had evoked, had wearied me.  I rose, holding Camilla tightly against me for a moment.  She was asleep now, although her breathing was labored.  I took a deep breath myself, almost numb from the sudden tiredness which enveloped me.  I clutched the coins Maximus had given me, trying to tell myself that perhaps, with them, Camilla would regain her health, but there was a feeling of doubt which marred the momentary happiness and relief I knew Claudia would feel upon receiving the money.

The expression upon Maximus’ face told me that he felt as helpless as I, that he regretted the fact that his gift could only do so much.  It was a shared moment, even though a sad one, the first that we had experienced since that terrible night one week previously.  I felt as if we were joined, even if it was through a sense of desolation and helplessness, and our gazes locked with each other’s, a few seconds of closeness that I feared we’d never have again.

I broke away, when the baby moved softly against me, realizing I needed to take her to her mother.

“I’ll wait here,”  Maximus murmured.

Claudia looked at me, in shock, when I gave her the money.  She stood holding Camilla, staring down at the coins and then at me, and when I told her they were from my husband, she stared at him, as if she wondered whether he were some sort of benevolent spirit, sent from the gods.  Uncultured, overwhelmed, and uncertain how to react, she murmured a quick thank you and closed the door hurriedly.  My arms felt empty without the soft, warm weight of Camilla within them, and I felt tears pool in my eyes.

I returned to Maximus and he walked behind me, his hand resting gently on my upper back as we climbed the stairs.  I could feel him so near, and I wanted so badly to fall into his arms, to feel them enfold me close.  Would that ever happen again, or was the tender moment we had just shared, one full of regrets over what could never be, the last between us?

We reached our rooms all too quickly.  Maximus opened my door for me and looked deeply into my eyes.

“Goodnight,”  he whispered.  “I will see you in the morning.”

Before I lost my nerve, I reached up towards his face, attempting to touch it, but he saw my intent and flinched.  The action sent a shard of agony slicing through me.  I quickly pulled my hand back and stepped backward.  What more was there to do?  Clearly, he wasn’t ready to make any effort to resume our relationship, despite the momentary closeness we’d shared; quite possibly, he never would be.  I had hoped that the moment of feeling so much for Claudia and Camilla, both of us touched by their plight, would bring us a little closer together, but apparently it hadn’t, or even if it had, it wasn’t enough to make Maximus reach out to me.  He was still putting up fences, and if he’d let himself be unguarded for just a few moments, he had erected, once again, the barriers he’d assembled against me. 

But perhaps his heart has softened just a bit.  He hasn’t been this kind to me for over a week.  Maybe there is yet hope.  I fell into my bed, and though I gave into the tears, prompted by both a fear that Maximus and I would never reconcile and a longing that we would, I was now so tired that I fell asleep even as they flowed.

Augusta Raurica, Germania
30 October, 171 A.D.

I had hoped, after that night when Camilla had seemingly brought us closer together, that things would continue to improve, but they didn’t.  Maximus was distant again the next morning and continued to be so as we moved forward.  My heart shriveled at the thought that we’d made no progress, that Maximus is steeling himself even harder, apparently, from giving in to any feelings towards me, determined to maintain his anger, blame, and reserve.  It almost seemed as if that night, at the inn, had been a dream.  If anything, Maximus was even gruffer than he had been before, almost as though he were upset with himself that he’d allowed us to share any closeness. 

The days are becoming colder, if possible, and though there hadn’t been quite as much snow, the freezing temperatures are unrelenting.  There was no escape from a cold that seemed to seep into every pore, every bone, making my teeth chatter and my body shiver.  I felt as if it stole my energy, robbing me of my stamina to keep going.  Sometimes, I longed to just sit down by the side of the road and refuse to go any further.  What difference would it make if I did?  All I was facing, once we reached our destination, was  the long, brutal year ahead with a man who didn’t love me any longer, or if he did, was fighting desperately not to.

Last night, we had to sleep in our tent once again, and I felt so weak, almost dizzy.  When I closed my eyes, it seemed I was floating, almost detached from my own body.  I couldn’t get warm, no matter how hard I tried, and my joints felt achy and stiff.  I guess when one is in what is perhaps an altered state, due to fatigue, cold, and depression, just about anything is open for discussion.  At least that’s the reason I chose for my motivation in doing what I did.

Maximus was lying on his pallet, his hands clasped behind his head, but I knew he wasn’t asleep.  His breathing is usually much deeper when he’s resting, so I posed the question before I even gave myself time to think about the consequences of asking it.

“How long were you going to keep it a secret that you granted Paulinus, Servius, and Cnaeus their freedom?”

Though I’d uttered the question in a soft voice, it rang loudly in the stillness of the tent.

Maximus didn’t look at me, nor did he move, lying still and barely breathing.  For a moment, I thought he’d gone to sleep and hadn’t heard me.

“How long have you known?”  he responded, his own question asked as quietly as mine had been.

“Since the night you sent them on their way,”  I admitted.

Maximus remained silent for a long time.

“They didn’t deserve to be punished the way I initially decreed,”  he finally replied.  “My anger blinded my sense of justice.  They should never have done what they did, but you placed them under duress.  In addition, they saved your life twice.  You’d never have survived your attempts to catch up with me, had it not been for them.”

He stopped for a moment, still staring at the ceiling of the tent.

“I couldn’t consign them to death for their actions, because, essentially, you forced them to do your bidding, and when I considered their valor, while obeying your commands, I could not, in good conscience, do anything other than free them.”

Now it was my turn to be silent, absorbing his reasoning.

“Would you have allowed me to go on indefinitely feeling guilty about what happened to them if I hadn’t discovered that you’d relented on their punishment?”

It was a volatile question to ask, but even, so I couldn’t keep from wondering about the answer.

“Yes,”  came Maximus’ blunt reply.  “Maybe not indefinitely but at least for a long time.”

I sat up and turned up the flame in the lamp.

“How could you do such a thing?  That is cruel!”

Maximus sat up and stared at me, his eyes cold, their blue green depths glittering. 

“Cruel?”  he questioned.  “You don’t have any right to judge what is cruel behavior by others!  After all that you’ve done, you have no right to make any accusations against me.  You deserve to have to think long and hard about your actions, and it seems to me that a lesson, about how others are affected by your selfishness, is long overdue.  You make others pay for your childish, self centered, irresponsible conduct and never think twice.  If I’d had my way, you could have grieved over the results of your behavior  for a very long time to come!”

“And who made you the judge over who should suffer and for how long!”  I demanded.  “What makes you think you can have absolute control over others?  You think you can move people’s lives around like pieces on a game board!  Who do you think you are, one of the gods?”

“No, but I am your husband, Selene, and as such, I have every right, lest you’ve forgotten, to control every aspect of your life.”

“Even down to my emotions?  I think not!  Besides, as you’ve already clearly indicated, you don’t want to be my husband any longer!”

“But I am your husband right now, and as such, I’ll decide what I think you should and shouldn’t know!”

His eyes were full of that cold blue fire with which I am becoming so well acquainted.  Ordinarily, my own anger would have escalated in the face of his, but I felt defeated.  I’d thought the moment we’d shared at the inn, touched by Claudia’s plight, had brought us closer, perhaps setting us upon the path of reconciliation.  I saw just how wrong I’d been to make such an assumption, and it hurt unbearably.

“Maximus, I know I hurt you badly,”  I replied, letting go of my pride.  “I swear I didn’t intend to.  I was willing to do anything to be with you...”

“I don’t want to hear about how sorry you are,”  he objected.  “I don’t doubt that your regret is genuine, but I think it’s a lot more for yourself and what your actions have cost you, as opposed to any grief or pain you’ve caused me.”

I felt as if he’d backhanded me.  He hadn’t forgiven me nor did he have any intention of doing so.  If anything, his anger seemed more hard and controlled, its edges sharp.

“Maximus, that’s not true!”  I protested.  “It’s because I hurt you that I feel so miserable.  I see what I’ve done...”

“Stop it, Selene,”  he interrupted, holding up his hand.  “I’m not in the mood to talk about your regret or where we’re headed in terms of our marriage.  I’m tired, and tomorrow will be here soon.  All I want is some sleep, and I suggest you get some too.”

I was being dismissed, my emotions trampled.  He didn’t care how I felt or what I wanted to say.  I had just let go of my dignity and humbled myself before him, and he’d pushed me aside, out of his way.  He didn’t even want to engage his emotions anymore, where I was concerned.  My heart ached with so much pain that I didn’t believe I could stand it.  He was distancing himself from me, putting up a wall that I couldn’t breach.

We stared at each other for a moment, and then, he reached over and doused the lamp.  We’d let a little light permeate the confines of the tent before our conversation, but now, Maximus seemed to want the anonymity of darkness.  In truth, so did I.  I had no desire for him to see my tears.  Perhaps he didn’t want to see them, and that was why he’d plunged us into total darkness.  Or maybe he had some tears of his own?  I doubted it, but if he did, I’m sure they were bitter indeed. 

I’d never imagined, when Maximus and I had made such passionate love before he’d left Trujillo, and I’d laid awake in his arms afterwards, feeling so content and secure, that I’d be lying in the same tent with him, neither of us touching, enveloped by darkness.  I’d never thought that we’d need obscurity, so that we couldn’t have to look into each other’s faces and see the pain that each of us had caused the other. 

The next morning, I’d felt so cold and tired, past the point of going onward.  I could feel chills course through my body, and there was no warmth to be found.  It reminded me of the dream I’d had two nights before Maximus had left Trujillo, when we’d had the fight about him leaving and I’d slept on the couch.  I’d dreamt of being in the snow and finding no way to become warm.  I shuddered to think how that dream now seemed to have been a portent of things to come, in ways I’d never imagined.  I could feel my teeth chattering, the only warmth coming from the hot tears that slid down my cheeks.   

Augusta Vindelicorum, Germania
31 October -2 November, 171 A.D.  

When I awoke the next morning, it took all my strength to arise.  Maximus, along with everyone else, was already outside feeding the horses and packing up the gear.  I was surprised that I’d slept later, or, more to the point, that Maximus had allowed me to.  I’d been feeling especially bad for the past few days, my appetite waning even more, and the cold became an ever present and undefeatable enemy, taking away my strength, suppressing my energy.  I stood, my teeth chattering, goose bumps arising all along my skin, seemingly inviting the cold to take sharper stabs at me.  I dressed as quickly as I could and was in the process of rolling up my pallet, when Maximus entered the tent.

I glanced at him.  

“Why didn’t you awaken me earlier?”  I asked.  “It’s light already and you usually start each day before dawn.”

He ignored my question as he moved towards me, took from me the pallet with which I was struggling, and quickly rolled it up.  He stared at me as he did so, and I assumed he must be still angry from last night. 

“Selene, all you all right?”  he asked quietly, startling me.

“Yes.  Why do you ask?”

“You’re shivering, just as you were this morning in your sleep.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s cold.”

He looked exasperated for a moment, disliking my sarcasm.

“Eat some breakfast before we leave,”  he commanded.  “Vibius fixed some fresh bread and there’s some cheese and apples as well.”

“When I get all of our items packed away, I will,”  I responded.

“I’ll take care of everything,”  he insisted.  “Just go eat.”

“You don’t need to do my work for me.  I want to be as responsible for pulling my own weight as anyone else.”

“You are as responsible, but you’ve been eating very little....for quite some time,”  he observed, clearly not wishing to specifically refer to the bitter battle which had occurred in Lugdunum. 

Noticing my questioning appraisal of him, he thrust back his shoulders and stuck his chin out.  

“If you want to pull your own weight, then eat,”  he reiterated.  “You’ll slow us down if you become ill, so it’s to everyone’s benefit if you eat enough to at least help you fend off the cold.”

“As you wish,”  I replied, unable to believe how easily I complied lately, but truth to tell, I didn’t have the heart or the spirit to fight much anymore.  If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was pregnant, but I’d had my courses since Maximus and I had ceased lying together; the fact was I did know better, and the more I watched him draw away from me,  the more disheartened I became, having little zest for anything,

I went outside, secured some of the cheese and bread, but the first bite stuck in my throat and I tossed it aside.  It was a relief when we soon resumed our journey, for I didn’t want to be under Maximus’ scrutiny, the object of his concern or worry;  I could be anything but that.  As we rode, I could hear the slaves keeping up a constant chatter behind and around us, but as usual, Maximus said little to me.  It was just as well; I couldn’t remember ever feeling so exhausted, so cold my muscles were becoming sore and beginning to cramp.  I could feel my teeth ceaselessly chattering, and I was beginning to noticeably shake.

Maximus continued to keep an eye on me, and not long after we’d started riding, he suddenly brought Scarto to a halt, his slaves stopping as well, curious about his actions.  With the strength and grace that he always exhibited, even in such freezing cold, he wordlessly dismounted Scarto, went to one of his saddlebags and withdrew from it his heaviest blanket, bringing it to me.  I could feel my face burn, embarrassed at having to be coddled.

“Put it around you, else I’ll have to stop long enough to thaw you out,”  he commanded.

I started to protest, but he fixed me with an unyielding stare.

“Don’t argue,”  he insisted.  “Just do it.”

I did, not wanting to be viewed as anymore of a weak female, who held up progress, than I already was.  Nevertheless, I had to admit that the warmth of the blanket felt like Elysium itself.

Even so, by afternoon, I was just as cold as before.  We stopped, not far from the side of the road, for a brief meal, but food seemed no more appetizing by then than it had that morning.

Maximus brought me some hot, herbal tea with honey in it and ordered me to drink it.  He needn’t have been forceful; its heat was most welcome, but as cold as I was, it did little to warm me up. 

“Can you eat anything?”  he asked.

I shook my head; my throat had become very sore, and it was exceedingly painful to swallow.  I flinched when he put his hand to my forehead, resting his palm against it, his touch unexpected.  Seeing my reaction, he wasn’t long removing his hand.

“You’re not feverish, just nearly frozen,”  he pronounced.

“I’ll adjust,”  I declared.  “It’s colder today than it has been.”

“You were shivering all last night and this morning.”

I stared at him, wondering how he would know that, unless he’d watched over me, even after our fight.  He saw what I was thinking, and now, it was his turn to look embarrassed.

“You tossed and turned,”  he hastily explained.  “It was hard not to notice.”

“Even in total darkness?”  I questioned.  “You doused the lamp after we....talked.”

That was a poor word for our quarrel, but I didn’t want to reemphasize the point that we’d exchanged very harsh words.   His eyes became hard and determined; he didn’t want to think about the things we’d said to each either.

“I heard you, and I lit the lamp again after you’d gone to sleep,”  he explained.

I was unable to believe his words.  Maximus had watched over me?

He could see the question in my eyes, and he became reserved and abrupt once again.

“I had to make sure you were all right,”  he pointed out.  “I don’t want anyone under my care becoming ill.”

“I’m not!”  I responded, angry at the fact that he couldn’t admit that he might have cared just a little for me, that I might mean more to him that his damn slaves.  His casual dismissal of me, as noting more than someone under his charge, stung.  “I’m merely chilled from the cold, and as I said before, I’ll get used to it.  I don’t need you to watch out for me as if I’m frail or helpless, because that is certainly not the case!”

Maximus’ studied me, his eyes that beautiful and unique mixture of blue and green, and for a moment, they seemed to soften, the hardness, that had been within them only seconds before, as well as so often over the past two weeks, giving way.  Pain was visible in their depths, evoking a response deep within my heart, but soon, Maximus looked away, ordering me to finish my tea so we could get back on the road.  I was only too glad to comply.  Those brief times, when we looked into each other’s eyes and saw hurt and felt such a sense of loss, were far worse than glaring at each other in anger or glancing away with aloofness and dismissal.

The afternoon dragged on, the road seemingly infinite.  I grew colder, aware of Maximus’ eyes upon me, accessing my condition.  I tried to appear unfazed by the cold, but I was fooling no one, him least of all.  I’d never imagined being at the utter mercy of the elements; it seemed that my blood was already frozen.  I wanted to cry but I was too tired; I tried to imagine summer in Trujillo, but it did no good.  I began to wonder if I’d freeze to death; it seemed a distinct possibility.

It was barely twilight when we found an inn, and I’d never been so grateful to see one, not in all the years I’d traveled with my father.  The humble abode before us seemed like a palace to me; I couldn’t get inside, by its roaring fire, fast enough.  At least I couldn’t in my mind; when it came to actually dismounting Topaz, my muscles didn’t seem to want to comply.

Maximus reached up and put his arms around my waist; I grasped his solid shoulders and let him lift me down.  When he set me on my feet, my head suddenly felt too heavy for my neck, and my knees threatened to buckle under me.  I swayed for a moment, but Maximus grabbed me, attempting to pick me up.

“I can walk!”  I insisted.

“Just barely,”  he replied.

“I don’t need assistance to the front door.”

“I think otherwise.”

“Don’t cart me in there like a bag of grain!”  I protested.

“I’m not going to fling you over my shoulder!”

“Maybe not, but I’m capable of going inside myself.”

He didn’t press the point, amazingly, but he did walk closely by my side, wrapping his arm around my waist.  The action made me want to cry; I had longed for him to touch me so much, and now that he had, I remembered how his flesh felt upon mine,  reflecting that his hand around my waist, only to be of assistance, was probably the only contact I’d ever have with him again.  I swallowed a sob at the thought.

We walked inside and the heat from the fire was every bit as luxurious as I’d dreamed it would be.  When Maximus steered me over to the fireplace, leaving me to sit next to it, while he made arrangements for our lodging for the night, I held my hands out by the flames, the feeling one of pure bliss.  Nevertheless, I allowed some of the tears, which I’d held back in his presence, to escape.  I’d lost so much; my life had never been the same since he had walked into it, and if he walked out, I didn’t think I could ever recover.  How could I allow the only man I’ve ever loved, or ever would love, to walk away?  I couldn’t stand it; I wouldn’t survive it he did.  As it was, I didn’t much care if I didn’t survive the winter in Germania, if there was no hope that Maximus would someday love me again.

I had become lost in my thoughts, for when Maximus returned, he startled me.

“Let me take you to your room,”  he coaxed.

“Just a few more moments by the fire,”  I insisted.

“The proprietor’s wife has lit a fire upstairs and is heating some water for you.”

“A hot bath,”  I mused.

His expression softened.

“You deserve one after the long trek over the past few days.”

I nodded, forcing myself to rise, and once again, Maximus guided me, this time up the stairs.  When I stumbled upon them, he started to pick me up again, but I protested, as before.  The thought of him holding me within his arms, absorbing the warmth of his body, my cheek against his chest, was torture; I couldn’t stand to get close to him if he were going to keep rejecting me; it would only intensify my anguish.

“Selene, you’ll fall!”  he protested.

“I’m just tired!  I’m all right now.”

I made a determined effort to keep my balance, but I could feel his hold upon me tighten.  When we arrived at my room, a relatively large one that was cleaner than most, by far, even if it was plainer, I breathed an inner sigh of relief, both to have a warm, dry place to rest and to escape Maximus.  I longed so much for his touch and to be able to touch him back, but to have to return to him withdrawing from me again, as he had after we'd shared the little bit of time with Camilla, was something I couldn’t accept.

Not far from the fireplace was a large tub of hot water, and I couldn’t wait to get into it.  Maximus looked from it to me, and I guess my enthusiasm for the prospect of a hot soak, the first sign of life I’d probably exhibited all day, took him aback.  He looked slightly amused.

“I leave you to it,”  he offered.  “Enjoy, but don’t let the water get cold.  Try to stay warm and to eat some of the food I’m having sent up, will you?”

I nodded, not daring to tell him that my throat was so sore I could barely swallow, let alone eat.

He looked at me for a moment, before he headed towards the door.

“I’m in the next room if you need me,”  he reminded me.

If he only knew how very much I needed him, I thought to myself.  Did he know?  Did he feel the same need?  Did he lie awake at night, despite the coldness with which he’d treated me, wondering if there were still any hope that we could find our way back to each other?  Was he still as determined, as the night that he’d unleashed his wrath upon me, that our marriage was over?

He stared hard at me, as if he could read my thoughts and was troubled by them.  If he was, perhaps he recognized the heartache within me.   Did he feel a similar sense of loss?  Was it too much to hope that he might?

“Good night,”  he at last offered, his voice sounding formal and stiff.

“Night,”  I murmured.  “Thank you for what is, I’m sure, the biggest and most comfortable of the rooms and for ordering the hot water.”

“Just enjoy.  I intend to indulge in my own bath.”

I thought of how much I wished to join him, despite feeling so bad.  Memories of the times we’d spent in the marble tub adjoining our bedroom suddenly flooded my mind, and I looked away.  Why did I keep torturing myself?  How did Maximus have the ability to compel me to?

He left, after giving me a curt nod, and I stood looking after him, feeling suddenly numb, almost as if I were ready to collapse where I stood.  I managed to slip into the tub, though, sinking into its warmth, until only my head was above water.  I sighed with pleasure, something I seemingly hadn’t done in ages...not since I’d been with Maximus.  Pushing that thought aside, unwilling to go where it would lead, I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind, but thoughts kept trying to weigh me down, plaguing me ceaselessly.  My head ached intensely; in fact, it felt as if my skull were throbbing, and bright lights danced behind my eyelids.  When I opened my eyes, everything seemed hazy, my vision blurry.  The fire danced eerily, and the ceiling seemed to be lower than it had been before.  Shadows filled the room, seeming to move in the corners, accentuated by the lamplight, and I felt chills, even more intense than the ones I’d experienced during the day, attack again, despite the heat of the water.  I felt so weakened in their wake, no longer possessing the will to fight, or, for that matter, to even get out of the tub.  I felt myself sliding deeper into the water and didn’t even care, my eyelids becoming so heavy...

“Selene, wake up!”  Maximus’ voice came from far away, as he lifted me out of the tub.  I cried out as the coolness of the air struck my wet skin, but I was sorry when I did, nearly unable to swallow, my throat on fire.  I felt Maximus settle me on his lap, rubbing me briskly with a heavy towel, while I lay limply against him, too weak to even move.  Once I was dry, except for my hair, which he’d blotted with the towel, he laid me down on the bed, and I whimpered at the coolness of the sheets.  Maximus looked at me with near panic in his eyes, and emotion welled up within me, ill though I was.  How long had it been since I’d incited anything in him besides anger, regret, and disillusionment?

In a detached sort of away, everything becoming dim and out of focus, I watched Maximus hurriedly remove his tunic, and then he slipped in next to me, pulling me tightly against him, my naked skin against his bare chest, as he pulled the covers over us.  He ran his hands briskly up and down my back, trying to generate warmth, while I buried my face against his shoulder.  I was overwhelmed with being held by him, our flesh touching, his body warming mine.  I was far too ill for my response to be sexual in any way; I merely couldn’t believe that he was next to me again, my Maximus, and that I was locked within his familiar embrace.  Tears stung my eyes at the thought that he cared enough about me to be alarmed for my sake.

“Is this a dream?”  I whispered, my voice little more than a croak.

“No, it’s not,”  Maximus assured me.  “I’m right here with you, and I won’t leave you, not for any reason.”

“I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”

Silence, thick and heavy, filled the air with my statement, and in its wake, my heart trembled to think he would verify my fear.

“I never stopped loving you,”  he admitted, his voice quivering slightly.

A sob broke loose before I could prevent it.

“But you said...”

“Shhhh, Selene,”  he responded.  “We both said a lot of things.  Right now, don’t talk.  Just let my body warm yours.”

I didn’t say anything further, content, despite the surge of renewed hope, to do as he said.  Besides, it took too much effort to talk.  I was shivering so hard, despite the warmth of Maximus’ body, that I couldn’t stop, and though I borrowed in closer to him, it seemed to do little good.

I felt him run his fingers gently down my neck, searching for signs of swelling.

“Your throat is really sore, no?’  he asked.

I nodded.

“Your head?”

“Like it is going to split in two.”

I felt him take a deep breath.

“Try to rest,”  he coaxed.  “I promise I won’t leave.”

I could do nothing but comply, so tired that even the pain, within my head and throat, couldn’t equal my exhaustion.  Maximus held me so tightly against him that it was a little difficult to breath, but I didn’t care.  All I wanted was for him to go on holding me, as if he’d never let me go.  I continued to shiver violently, but his warm chest, pressed so closely against mine, and his hands, moving up and down my back, were all that I cared about. 

Slowly, over time, I felt my shuddering lessen, warmth finally starting to gently infuse my body.  I felt a tear slip down my cheek, at the relief of being warm, but even more so to know that Maximus had provided that warmth, not just to my body but to my heart.  He did care about me on some level; his actions proved that, and besides, he’d said he’d never stopped loving me.

Another tear slid down my cheek, striking Maximus’ chest, as I absorbed that confession.

“Don’t cry, mea cara,”  he murmured, his lips brushing against my cheek.  “We’ve got a lot of talking to do later.  Just sleep for now.”

Once the shivering stopped, I felt my body relax, Maximus’ embrace becoming a little looser.

“Better?”  he asked.

“Getting there.”

He continued to caress my back, but gently now, his fingers sliding up and down my spine.  Just before I drifted off, I felt his palms flatten against me, his hands deliciously hot against my skin.

Later, though, they began to feel too hot, as did my entire body.  I wondered how I could have gotten overheated so fast.  I felt flushed, the air stifling, and I wanted coolness the way I’d wanted warmth earlier.  I told myself to go back to sleep, but when I did, I dreamt of the hot sun in the deserts of Egypt, its rays beating down on my head, my skin being scorched.  I thought I was traveling, waves of heat shimmering before me.  In the distance, I could see a waterfall, from whence I could drink and into which I could plunge, but I sensed it was too far away and could never be reached.  I had to reach it, though...I was so thirsty, so hot, so tired.

Suddenly, I could feel something cool touch my skin, and I cried at the sensation, because it felt so good.  I’d found the waterfall; I’d reached it after all.  I could feel its coolness on my face, my neck, my breasts and belly, but whenever it traveled from one place to another, the skin which had just been kissed with its precious drops, felt even hotter than before.  Why couldn’t I immerse my entire body within it?  It seemed a form of agony that I couldn’t sink into the water, that only one part of my body, at a time, could feel relief.

I thrashed back and forth, trying to chase the water, needing more of it, desperate for relief.  It kept evading me, though, and I wondered if it were some sort of mischievous spirit who had assumed the form of water and was tormenting me.  The cold, I’d suffered earlier, seemed like a mercy compared to the heat within my body; it felt as if I were roasting, and the water, which I craved, was something that could be neither contained nor captured.  I whimpered, fighting for just a few drops of it, anything to stop this ceaseless burning.

“Don’t fight, cara.  Just let me take care of you.”

I heard his voice, as if from far away.

“Maximus?”  I whispered.

“I’m here.  Just rest.”

I searched for his face, but it appeared distorted and hazy.

“So hot,” I replied.  “There’s no water.”

I felt his strong hand slipping beneath my head and raising it and then a cup of cool water at my lips.  I drank deeply from it; it seemed like ambrosia itself.  Maximus started to take it away, and I tried to stop him.

“Later, Selene,”  he replied.  “Not too much at once.”

“I’m so thristy...”

He relented and let me have a bit more, and I finally lay back, but no sooner had I done so than I was thirsty again.  I felt cool water on my skin again, though, and realized Maximus was once more running a cool cloth over my body.  I felt so exposed and bared to his gaze after weeks of being untouched by him.

He must have sensed it, for he leaned down and whispered in my ear.

“Don’t be uneasy, cara,”  he soothed.  “It is I, remember?  The one who has knowledge of you that no one else ever has had or will...except me.  And I’ll never use your feelings for me against you ever again.”

I felt tears run down my cheeks, scalding them; gently, he wiped them away.  

“Don’t,”  he insisted.  “You need your strength.  You haven’t lost me as you thought.  When you are well, we will settle matters.”

I tried to reply, but I couldn’t; I was too weak.

His eyes held mine, though, and I saw in them what I never thought I would again, love, tenderness, need, and hope.  I sobbed at the sight, and bending forward, he kissed my forehead.

“Shhh, close your eyes and rest,”  he ordered, pulling me up, into his arms, holding me against him while he ran the cool cloth gently across the back of my neck, over my shoulders, down my spine.

For a short while, I was more content than I’d ever been, held securely by Maximus, soothed by the cool water on my skin.  Soon, though, I was once again immersed in worlds produced by my fever.  I was lost in a burning forest, trapped in a burning house, and the wolves I’d encountered glared at me with burning eyes, watching my torment.  In one dream, the robbers who would have killed me, captured me and branded me with a sword drawn from the fire.  I kept screaming for Maximus, and though I sometimes recognized his touch and was quiet for a moment, when he stroked or held me, insisting I drink water, I kept slipping back into my own inner torment.

In the worst, the things a childhood friend had told me, about her mother’s Celtic ancestors, took root and came to life.  She’d told me about the Druids, who practiced human sacrifice by setting their victims afire, and in my fevered brain, I had become one of the Druids’ captured enemies, burning in the flames.  Even Maximus couldn’t control or comfort me during that hallucination; I realize now that what I believed were irons, around my wrists, were, instead, his hands holding them, trying to keep me from lashing out at him. 

I remember screaming over and over, kicking and thrashing, and in the midst of such a reaction, I felt myself gently immersed into cool water.  The shock of it, even though it was not cold, just pleasantly cool, provided so much relief that I lay quiet, the burning heat within my body slowly subsiding as I did so.  I wondered if I were dead.  I know not how long I lay in the water, but finally, I cautiously opened my eyes, and this time, Maximus’ face was clearer, as I looked up at him.

“Selene, are you back with me?”  he questioned, wondering if I were still in another world.

“Maximus?”  I asked.

“I take that as a yes, since you haven’t recognized me for the past several hours.”

“Hours?’

“Shhhh, you have a fever.”

“I was on fire...”

“Only in your nightmares.”

I started to cry at the memory of them.

“You don’t have the energy for that,”  Maximus chided.  “They’re over now.  Just let them go.”

He took my hand and held it within his own, his other hand stroking the back of mine, and I felt myself begin to doze.  When I awoke, I was in bed, dressed in one of my nightgowns, tucked beneath warm blankets, and early morning light was filling the room.  Maximus was dozing beside me in a chair, under one of the blankets himself.  He looked so tired, his hair a bit ruffled, his long eyelashes fanned out against his cheeks.  It had been so long since I’d seen him in an unguarded moment; he looked young and vulnerable.  I felt a pang of sorrow for all that he must have gone through last night, being so worried about me.  And all that he had said...was he sincere or had he merely wished to comfort me, willing to say anything, so that I wouldn’t die?

While I was considering such a prospect, his eyes opened and met mine. 

“You gave me quite a scare the night before last,”  he admitted.  

“The night before last?”  I gasped.

Maximus nodded.

“You slept all day yesterday.  Feeling better now?”

“Outside of a sore throat, yes.  But I need to get up so we can be on our way.”

“Are you out of your mind?  Your fever broke only yesterday morning and you’ve only woken up, twice, briefly, since then.  You’re not going to be in any shape to travel for the next few days, and quite frankly, neither am I, not after these last two nights.”

“But you’ll be late in reaching Vindabona...”

“We’re ahead of schedule, despite the snows.  I’ve driven us hard, too much so in fact.  The slaves will find the time off most welcome.”

“I’m sorry, I was ill,”  I offered.  “I didn’t mean to slow you down...”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He was silent for a moment before adding another thought.

“But it might have been prevented if you’d eaten.  Selene, you’ve lot a lot of weight.  You look like a waif.”

My eyes teared up at the accusation, along with his description of my appearance, and I looked away.  He came over and sat beside me taking me in his arms, gently pushing my head down onto his shoulder. 

“I didn’t mean my words to sound harsh,”  he apologized.  “You are as beautiful as ever, but you are so thin.  Even I didn’t realize just how little you’ve been eating.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“And we both know why,”  he replied, quietly.  

He pulled away from me and tilted my chin up so that I had to look into his eyes.

“Selene, I meant what I said last night,”  he insisted.  “I never stopped loving you despite my attempt to make you believe otherwise.  It was a cruel to deceive you, but you wounded me deeply.”

“I’m so sorry!”  I sobbed.

“I know, and even though I accused you of being sorrier for yourself than for what you did to me, I know that isn’t the case.  I realize you’ve been hurting as badly as I, but I wanted to make you suffer, as I was suffering.  That was wrong.”

“Will you let me try to make it up to you?”  I beseeched him.

“It’s not as simple as that, Selene,”  he replied, his eyes full of sadness.  “And besides, I have as much to make up to you as you do me, even though I’ve tried to convince myself that everything was your fault.”

“What do you mean it’s not that simple?”  I asked, my heart clenching in fear.

Maximus stroked my back gently, recognizing it.

“Selene, you hurt me as I’ve never been hurt before,”  he confessed.  “You betrayed me, betrayed the trust I placed in you to honor and respect me, to do what I expected of you.  You committed some serious offenses, which I won’t enumerate, since I’m sure you’re all too aware of them.  But I responded in an unfair, abusive manner, first seeking to make you think you would be responsible for the deaths of others, and then attempting to turn your desire for me into something sordid and ugly.  It is especially difficult for me to accept the latter transgression, for I never wanted to make you feel your desire for me to be anything other than a joyous expression of our love.  I’m sorry for what I did...more than you know.”

“I know you are.  I saw it in your face, after you let me go that night.”

“But then I punished you for making me lose control, for being untrue to myself,”  he admitted.  “You roused emotions in me that I’d never felt before.  My rein on my behavior slipped because of you, my feelings spurring me to commit actions that I despise.”

He was indirectly referring to how much he’d hated himself when he’d nearly used my feelings against me; he’d never told me about such feelings nor would he ever; he had far too much pride to even consider that I’d figured out his reaction.  In addition, there was the fact that he’d been bewildered by his inability to punish me for my actions the way most men would have.  As such, he’d discovered that I was as much his weakness as he was mine.  Clearly, he was still coming to terms with  that realization.

“I didn’t mean to make you commit behavior that you wouldn’t have otherwise,”  I responded.

“I know you didn’t.  I see that now.  But I also see that our way back to each other will not be easy.”

“What are you saying?”

The fear within my stomach grew.

“Selene, I love you, more than you know,”  Maximus admitted.  “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have been so gravely wounded by what you did.  I knew, when I married you, that your attitudes and behavior would cause us trouble at some point in time.  I just didn’t realize how much.  Seems I seriously underestimated you.  You’ve embarrassed, infuriated, and injured me, made me see things within myself that I don’t like.  You bring out my best and my worst, and the latter is not easy to cope with.”

He sighed deeply, uncertainty in his eyes.

“We can’t easily, and maybe not at all, go back to where we were,”  he reflected.

I closed my eyes in agony, believing him to be telling me that we were through.

“But I don’t want to live my life without you, so I want us to try, once again, to work our way back to where we once were,”  he confessed.

I breathed an audible sigh of relief.

“Are you giving me another chance?”

“I’m giving both of us another chance.  I need to make things up to you, and you need to show me that I can place my trust in you again.”

“Surely you don’t doubt my love?”

“No, never.  It is what makes you so reckless.  I don’t want to tame your spirit, cara.  I don’t want to make you someone other than who you are, for you are the woman I fell in love with.  But you have to accept your role as my wife and honor me, in public, as your husband.  Your temper, your insolence, the manner in which you flout custom and embrace disrespect, are behaviors I can’t and won’t tolerate.”

He stared hard at me, allowing those last words to sink in.  

“I’m not asking you to be perfect, just to quit being so rash, to quit courting danger, to cease displaying your temper in front of those whom I own or command,”  he continued.  “It’s a serious affront to me, and worse, it could have resulted in your death.  I could have lost you when those thieves or wolves tried to attack...and I wouldn’t even have known  it.  When I think about how close that came to happening, it is still difficult to forgive you.  You almost took yourself away from me, through your own doing, your own choice.”

There was renewed fury in his eyes.

“You can’t help being ill, but don’t you ever again, willingly, do anything to endanger yourself and risk making me lose you!”  he commanded.

“I won’t,”  I vowed.

“Selene, I can’t pick up where we left off.  That’s not possible.  I want our marriage to remain intact.  Right now it is in tatters, and the next little while is going to be a test for us, whether we like it or not.  We have much to prove to each other, and trust, once lost, is not easily regained.  Learning to have faith in one another again won’t happen overnight, and there is always  the chance of failure.  I don’t want us to fail.  It will rip my heart out if we do.  But we can’t go back to the way we were without rebuilding all that was torn down...and it will be a difficult endeavor.”

I felt so guilty for all of the pain that I’d caused us both.

“I can’t tolerate all the challenges, fights, insults again,”  Maximus continued.  “I don’t expect there to be none, of course, both of us being as opinionated as we are.  But there can be no more out and out battles on a near daily basis.  It seemed all we did was make love or fight, and we can’t keep going back and forth between the two, exhausting all our passion in one or the other.  I want us to construct a life together.  I want us to work together to build a future.  I need your respect, your loyalty, your support, in order to do that.  We’re always pulling at opposite ends of the rope, and this time, it nearly snapped.”

Raw pain flashed in his eyes.

“Next time it will.”

“Maximus, I will do anything to regain your trust, your belief in me,”  I promised, my voice quivering.  “Whatever you want from me, I will give it.  I can’t go on thinking I’ve lost you...”

“Stop,”  he ordered, placing his hand gently over my mouth.  “I know what my rejection of you has done.  It, more than the cold, exhaustion, and lack of food, made you exceedingly ill.  We’ve both caused each other so much pain, and we never should have.  I would not break your spirit, though I fear that I have done much to bend it.  But I would not have you blatantly disregard my orders...especially when I insist upon them for your welfare and safety’s sake.”

I looked away, guilt consuming me.

He turned my face back towards his.

“Let us agree to start over, take some small steps, and see where things go?”  he asked.

“You know I will agree.  I will do whatever you ask to undo what I did...”

“You can’t undo it, just as I can’t undo the way I treated you that night you caught up with me in Lugdunum,”  he interrupted.  “But we can try to forgive each other, work towards renewed trust, and go on from there.  Hopefully, we’ll find what we had before I left Trujillo...although if we’re honest, maybe we didn’t have all that we thought we did before then, or else neither of us would have treated the other as we have.  Maybe we don’t need to regain trust as much as we need to find it.”

“Perhaps,”  I murmured, “although I can’t bear for you to think I didn’t love you...”

“I know you love me.  I’ve known it all along.  I said you didn’t in order to hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

“Not half as sorry as I, for my actions.”

“Let’s not make our regret into another contest of wills,”  he insisted, smiling softly.  “Attempting to find out way back to each other is not going to be easy, and there will be hurdles.  Are you willing to try  to get past them...with me?”

I raised my hand and touched Maximus’ face, my fingers gliding gently down his cheek, his jaw, finally resting on his lips.  I felt tears slide down my face at being able to touch him like that again, after so long.  His own eyes misted.  Gently, he leaned forward and gave me a tender kiss.

“I love you so much,”  I murmured.

He wiped my tears away, his expression gentle, full of regret but alive with a spark of hope.  

“Get some rest,”  he ordered.  “I’ll send up breakfast soon.”

“Stay with me?”  I asked.

“I have things to take care of.  I’ll be back later.”

When he left, I gave into tears of utter relief, sobbing my heart out.  When I at last calmed down, lay in bed thinking for while and then gathered together my writing utensils to write down the events of the past few days.   We have a long road ahead of us.  Maximus is going to give me another chance, and my heart rejoices.  It terrifies me, though, to think that he will ever consider the possibility that we can’t regain what we lost and that we will fail in our attempts to restore our relationship.  It took an enormous effort for Maximus to let go of his pride, to the extent that he is willing for us to try to reconcile.  He would do it for no one but me.  I must tread carefully, and most of all, I must learn to be the type of wife that he expects.  It will not be easy to change my responses towards some things, even if I can’t change my thoughts, nor to put his wishes before my own, but I will do what I must to reclaim him.  If he hadn’t nursed me through my fever, I would have given up, so broken has my spirit been.  Life is worth nothing without him, so yes, I will harness my temper, quell my desire to have my own way, and work hard towards being the wife he expects me to be.

He’s right; what I did was inexcusable, but at least, he has recognized what his reaction did to me.  We’ve both wounded each other gravely, and the journey back will be tentative, precarious, and uncertain.  He has concerns about its success, but it has to succeed; I cannot let it result in failure.  I will sacrifice whatever part of myself I must in order to be what he wishes.  No cost is too great to regain Maximus’ love.  Thinking he didn’t love me was the worst sort of fate imaginable; whatever it takes, I will make him mine again.