Book III
Chapter 14
Vindobona, Germania
11 December-21 March, 171 A.D.

11 December, 171 A.D.

This morning looked as bleak as I felt.  I lay in Maximus’ arms, staring out the window, watching the feeble light emerge, gray and lackluster.  The snow’s luminescence cast a faint glow, but I found even it to possess no real beauty.  Everything seems as forlorn as ever here, the trees stripped of their leaves, standing like skeletons in the wind, the stone buildings, such as Maximus and I live in, that same drab gray, uniform and invariable.  I sometimes feel as if I am at the edge of the world, and were it not for Maximus, I don’t think I could stand being in this place.  I looked at him, still slumbering so soundly; he’d come to bed late last night after spending time with Helvius, the two of them discussing plans for upcoming battles, due to commence in less than three months’ time.  He’d fallen into bed, wrapped himself around me and gone straight to sleep, exhausted. 

Unable to sleep further, once daylight arrived, I arose.  Our dwelling, since Maximus is the second in command, is equipped with amenities that others certainly don’t have, and   my favorite, in the chamber next to our bedroom, is the large tub which features indoor plumbing.  Sometimes, the water is not as hot as I’d like, but that can be corrected by heating water on the kitchen stove; it takes extra work, but the effort is worth it.  Maximus has bought two slaves to help with the house work, both of them purchased from General Helvius, who claimed he was supporting far too large an array of domestic help anyway; I doubt that is true, but he and his wife, Livia, have been very generous to Maximus and me.  Both of the girls were still asleep.  They are young; Fabia, at fourteen, from Rome, is the younger of the two, and Velina, sixteen, has grown up in Hispania; they are well trained and eager to be of assistance.  It was exceptionally early, though; dawn was still a ways off, and I couldn’t see getting them up merely to heat water.  I don’t want anyone to wait on me, just offer help when it is needed.

I climbed into the tub and soaked, letting my mind wander, thinking about the warmth of summer at home, of the golden sun and the blue, clear skies.  I imagined myself there, Maximus and I standing at the top of the hill, enjoying the view of our land.  I could smell the sweet aroma of the roses and honeysuckle at their peak, see the wheat rippling softly in breeze, feel Maximus’ arms around me.  In my mind’s eye, there arose, unexpectedly, the vision of a young child, a boy, playing in the field, just below us, with a round, chubby face, plump little arms and legs, and thick, dark hair.  I could hear him laugh and babble as he tottled towards us; he was beautiful, and even though he was just a vision, my arms ached to hold him close.  My heart throbbed painfully in my chest and tears stung my eyes.  The night that Maximus and I had reconciled, I was halfway convinced that maybe I’d conceived, but even though I’d been a few days late for my courses, they had appeared nonetheless.  Last night, they’d begun, and with their arrival went my confirmation that a child was to be born out of the mad, passionate love we’d made that night.

I feel so sad, even though I know, by all rights, I should be relieved.  This is not the place to endure a pregnancy, nor even worse, deliver a child.  And if a child were born in August, it would only be two months old before Maximus would be due to return home, for winter leave; neither I not the baby would be able to withstand such a long trip home so soon after I’d given birth.  Nevertheless, my heart aches; I want Maximus’ child so much.  I want to hold a soft, little body in my arms and feel it snuggle close; I want to stroke its soft, warm head, while I nurse it; I want to look into the eyes of the child that Maximus and I have made, in our love for each other, and wonder what he or she will become.

Maximus has been thinking about a child since the night we found our way back to each other as well, but for different reasons; he has been worried that we had conceived one.  He asked me, the day after we’d made love with no precautions, if I’d secured some means, before leaving Trujillo, of preventing pregnancy.

“I did,”  I assured him.

“Perhaps we’d better start using it, if it’s not too late already,”  he observed.

“Not until I know for sure that I’m not pregnant,”  I objected.  “I won’t take anything that might cause a child harm, should there already be one, until I know for sure.’

Maximus had groaned, knowing what that meant; he was going to have to call on his willpower, pulling out before he expelled his seed, spilling it elsewhere besides in me.  Nevertheless, he’d unhesitatingly agreed to delay the use of the herbs, unwilling to risk injury to a developing child.  In fact, ever since he’d wondered if I might have conceived, he has been so gentle with me; his passion is as strong as ever, but he is careful, his thrusts a little more controlled, his penetration not quite so deep.  I reminded him that I am fine, but he is solicitous, nonetheless, and I enjoy the fact that he seems even more protective than usual. 

But, last night, I’d realized that, this time, a baby was not to be.  I feel empty, full of longing, yearning for something that isn’t yet to be mine.  I felt more tears sting my eyes, and I got out of the tub, the water becoming cool.  As I dressed, I thought of the little boy I’d envisioned; he hadn’t been clear enough to see the color of his eyes or whether his features were more like Maximus’, or mine, or a combination of us both.  Having thought I was pregnant, I resentfully gathered fresh rags from where I’d laid them, and as I dressed, my tears increased.  I tried to convince myself that I was being both foolish and selfish, but the pain wouldn’t go away.  I was soon crying so hard that I didn’t hear Maximus come up behind me, but suddenly, I was in his arms.  He’d turned me to face him, placed my head on his shoulder, and stood gently rocking me while holding me close.  I was embarrassed that I was acting unreasonably, but I nevertheless wrapped my arms tightly around him, my hands resting against his powerful back, absorbing the feel of his warm strength.

“Hush, cara,”  he soothed.  “Whatever it is, we’ll talk about it and set it to rights.”

I cried all the harder, his tenderness making me even more emotional.

“Shhh, Selene,”  he coaxed, rubbing my back, his palms sliding up and down my spine.

I continued to hold onto him tightly, trying to stop sobbing, but I couldn’t.

Maximus embraced me more firmly, continuing to murmur to me, and then, he guided me into the bedroom, sat me down on the edge of the bed, and took my face in his hands, his eyes searching the depths of mine.

“What is wrong, cara?”  he asked.

I could only shake my head, unwilling to admit that I was so selfish as to wish to become pregnant here, in an Army camp.

“You have to tell me.  Whatever it is that has hurt you, I need to know.  Did I do something?”

“No!”

“Then what it is?”

“I...I’m not pregnant!”  I blurted out.

He looked rather taken aback, then a bit relieved.

“You are certain?”

“Yes, last night my courses started.  I know we were both sort of holding our breaths, ever since the night we reconciled, knowing this is neither the time nor the place for me to conceive and deliver a child, but I want one so much.  It is such a disappointment to realize the baby, I thought might already be within, was never there.”

Maximus smiled gently, his eyes full of emotion.

“Do you realize what you just said?”  he asked.  “Is this the woman who was so afraid of having a baby?” 

“It does sound strange coming from me, doesn’t it?”  I joked, wiping at my tears.

“I prayed the day would come when you would no longer be afraid,”  he replied.  “I can’t stand to see you fearful, cara.”

“The fear is gone,”  I admitted.  “I want your children.”

I felt my tears spill anew.

“I love you so much, and I want a part of you, a part of us,”  I declared.

“We have plenty of time,”  he insisted, his thumbs wiping my tears away.

I wondered, in the back of my mind, if we did, though.  Since we’d arrived at Vindobona, I’d become aware, for the first time, just how very real the threat to Maximus’ life was.  Of course, I knew before, but being here, seeing all the battle plans being made, the equipment assembled, becoming aware of the sheer size of the legion Maximus commands, makes me realize how formidable the enemy is.  Whatever I’d imagined, in my mind, didn’t equal what I saw before my eyes, and sometimes, I wonder if a child might be the only part of Maximus I will have left, from this campaign or any of those in the future.  From what I’d discerned, the war with the Germans wasn’t going to be won any time soon; it was going to take many  years to convince these people that they had to submit to Rome.  Would Maximus be one of the casualties of the attempt?

He could see what I was thinking.  I saw him looked saddened, and I was angry at myself for being so transparent, for increasing his worries, while indulging my own.

“Cara, I will be all right,”  he promised.  “We’ll make it through this winter and summer, and come fall, we’ll go home and start our family.”   

“But this fall is such a long way off,”  I protested, voicing a minor objection, not willing to take on the real one, that this fall he might not be alive.  It would only increase Maximus’ anxiety, plus it seemed that I was courting danger to speak of what might lie ahead.

“Selene, we both know it’s not wise for you to become pregnant here,”  he reminded me, unwilling to take on the subject of my unease about him going into battle.

How could I argue with his logic?  It was the same which had been running through my head ever since that night we’d taken chances.

“I will use the herbs I brought with me,”  I agreed.

“Selene, I am happy, truly, to know that you want us to have a child, considering how fearful you were not long ago, but I am afraid for you to become pregnant, and worse, to give birth, here.”

He ran his fingertip across my ear, after pushing back a strand of my hair.  Then, he traced the outline of my jaw, my chin.  

“Cara, that night we reconciled...we have to be careful to take precautions, while we are here, from now on,”  he insisted.  “I have been worried, ever since then,  that you have might have conceived.”

“You said nothing.”

“I didn’t want you to feel bad, if you had, and besides, I felt responsible.”

“Why?  I wasn’t exactly a reluctant participant.”

He smiled, recalling our passion.

“No, you most certainly were not,”  he agreed.  “I sported marks for several days.”

He winked at me, a wicked grin on his face.

His mood sobered, though, when he thought about the risks we’d taken.

“I should have remembered that we needed to be careful,”  he confessed.  “I should not have allowed passion to overtake me to the point that I risked your safety.  I worry about you enough as it is, and this is not the place to start a family.”

“No, but what if I had become pregnant?  What if I  conceive, despite our efforts for me not to?”

“Then we will cope as best we can, but there is no reason to throw caution to the wind.  If a child is conceived, I will rejoice that we are to receive such a blessing.  Don’t ever be afraid that I would be angry, Selene, if our efforts to prevent pregnancy failed, for I would always welcome a baby borne of our love.  You know that, or  at least you should.  But if given a choice, I don’t want you enduring pregnancy and childbirth here.”

I agreed to his terms, for he was right.  I think he was rather surprised that I gave in so easily, for he looked at me rather oddly, as if he had been expecting an argument.  Despite my disappointment, however, I realized that I was willing to consider what was best for others, including myself; I didn’t want Maximus to have to be concerned about me, nor did I want to risk my life by delivering a child here.  Even more importantly, I wasn’t willing to possibly endanger or lose a child, if I could prevent it.  Reason had to prevail, but my heart still ached.  Maximus enfolded me in his arms once again, and I rested my face against his strong neck, caressing the back of it, as his pulse beat against my lips.  Soon, I prayed.  Let the time that we have to spend here pass soon, and let us go home together, to start our family.

14 January

I have neglected my writing for a few weeks, due to adjusting to life here,  but since I am beginning to do so, I’m using this morning to write.  Making this barracks, in which we live, hospitable isn’t easy.  But, with the items I brought from home, including some embroidered wall hangings, with which to decorate the walls and make them warmer, along with a few pieces of pottery, to set on the meager furniture (some tables, a few cupboards), it is comfortable.  The couches are worn and a bit frayed, but they’re serviceable.  I like the kitchen best of all.  I’m still not much of a cook, but it is usually warm there, with all the cooking that Fabia and Velina do, plus is it roomy and spacious, with the smell of the herbs I brought scenting the room, as soups and stews are cooked.  The bread, along with the cakes made with honey, remind me of home as well, and I find myself enjoying Fabia’s and Velina’s company, as they tell me about themselves and their lives with previous owners.  With the three of us working to improve the lodgings, it does look much better than it originally did.  Since it is made of stone, it is especially difficult to heat, but we’ve managed to make it livable, and Maximus says it is a vast improvement over the lodgings he has had before, when he lived alone, in a much smaller dwelling.  The upstairs contains a bedroom and small bathing chamber which Fabia and Velina share, while the one Maximus and I utilize is much larger.  All of the rooms have charcoal burning braziers, so at least there is plenty of heat, and the house is well constructed; some of the outside air inevitably creeps in, but not as much as I’d expected.   

The central room, on the first flour, although rather sparsely furnished, is still respectable enough for Maximus to receive General Helvius in it, along with any other guests, namely some of Maximus’ close friends, including Quintus, Publius, and Aulus.  It provides a convenient arrangement, in terms of offering a warm, comfortable place for the men to talk, before and after dinner, especially when they want to be away from their wives, to discuss both battles they have survived and the ones they are going to face.  Those are topics we women generally don’t want to overhear, so while the men talk, we retreat to a smaller room, on the other side of the kitchen, in order to indulge in a bit of good natured gossip and conversation.  It sometimes seems a strange arrangement, our husbands discussing events which might claim their lives, while we engage in idle chit chat.  Needless to say, it’s not a comfortable feeling. 

Quintus and Publius are married, and they, along with Maximus, enjoy teasing Aulus about the fact that he is not.  I like hearing Maximus be able to relax and have some light moments with his friends; they are close, like brothers almost, and it is good to see them enjoy moments of male camaraderie.  His laughter is often a rare sound these days, hard as he is concentrating on all the arrangements that have to be made for himself and his legion, so when he occasionally indulges the need for a brief respite now and then, it eases my mind. 

General Helvius will be joining us the day after tomorrow for dinner again.  He and his wife are frequent dinner guests, as are Maximus and I at his lodgings.  He has always been exceptionally proud of Maximus, but since Maximus rescued him, he is exceedingly grateful, his hospitality very gracious.  I like him; he is in his late 50’s, a heavyset man, who enjoys his meals, but who still stays quite fit, despite his bulk.  His face is round and a bit florid, but his eyes, which are shrewd and even cold, when discussing the enemy, can also be kind and reflective.  His is good to his wife, Livia, a smart, no nonsense woman who is surprisingly strong willed and authoritative herself.  She has been very nice to me, sort of taking me under her wing, and I welcome her company; she is very direct, and she has confided to me that though Helvius is a harsh, unyielding general, he is potter’s clay in the hands of their three daughters and the five grandchildren he has between them.

He is an exemplary general, capable, fearless, and inventive, and undoubtedly Maximus has learned much from him, yet at the same time, Helvius tightens no reigns; he gives orders, of course, as Maximus’ superior, but he approves of Maximus’ sense of initiative, resourcefulness, and boldness.  He seems to think of him as a son, and for certain, Maximus has much respect for him.  There is more a sense of esteem and mutual admiration between them than any formality; Helvius seems to see much of himself in Maximus, a rare soldier who does what his duty requires and yet never loses his sense of fairness and integrity, and Maximus views the general as a man worthy, to a degree anyway, of emulation; he has learned from Helvius, but he knows enough about who he is to be confident following his own reasoning and exercising his own judgment.  Sometimes, when I see Maximus and Helvius together, it bothers me.  I know Maximus is Helvius’ protege.  Yes, the emperor will be the one to officially appoint him to take Hevius’ place, but it is only a matter of time before he does so.  I know, within a matter of a few years, at most, Maximus will be general of the Felix Legions III; I worry about him so much now, but once he is laden with even more responsibility, his life will be in even more dangerous, plus he will have on his conscience, even more than he does already, concern over his soldiers’ welfare. 

Just last night, we discussed that topic.  It made me feel close to him that he is willing to open up to me on such a level, especially after events in Lugdunum.  He did not broach the subject easily; in fact, I nearly had to drag it out of him.  He is beginning to trust me again, but he doesn’t want to worry me.  After he’d eaten, he said he needed to take a walk, that he’d overindulged.  Rarely does Maximus do such a thing, for he knows the importance of being fit, and besides, he’d eaten very little for dinner.  I knew when to take a hint; he wanted to be alone, to think about something that was bothering him.  I hoped he’d eventually talk to me, but first, he obviously needed to consider some things within his own mind.

When he returned, he didn’t look any more relieved than when he’d left.

“My turn,”  I’d told him when I’d returned from hanging up his cloak.

“What?”  he’d asked, puzzled.  

He always frowns when he doesn’t understand something or when he is troubled, and I reached up to gently massage the furrow in his brow.

“You’ve had to listen to my worries a lot lately,”  I replied.  “So why don’t you tell me what has you so distracted?’

“Nothing.  Just a few things on my mind.”

Now it was my turn to frown.

“Tell it to someone who believes you,”  I replied.  “I know you too well.”

He smiled, even though he tried not to.

“Think you have me figured out, do you?”

“Not totally.  Some things you do will always remain a mystery.”

He finally gave in to a grin.

“You’re one to talk,”  he observed.

I jabbed his arm slightly.

“I know when you’re preoccupied about something,”  I insisted.

He sat down, at the kitchen table, on the chair at the end of it, and I sat down across from him.  I took his right hand within both of mine; it was cold, and I felt a sense of protectiveness towards him, wishing I could keep him from harm.  He brought my left hand to his lips and kissed it softly.

“It’s just matters pertaining to the commencement of the battles in a few weeks,”  he offered.  “There is always so much to consider...”

“Don’t try to gloss over things or push them away,”  I persisted.  “We got here in November, and this is the first time I’ve seen you quite this disturbed.”

“I always get this way, as time for battle draws near,”  he responded.

He was silent for a few moments, looking away, and his eyes grew sad.

“Men under my command will inevitably lose their lives,”  he reminded me.  “Despite my best efforts, I will have to look upon a battlefield strewn with their corpses.  And many of those who don’t die will curse both me and the gods that they didn’t, because of the condition they will be left in.”

“But you have to do what you must as a commanding officer.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t make it any easier.  Some commanders get used to the carnage after a battle, so they say.  But I think a lot of them just find ways to push it out of their minds,  put up a shield, look the other way.”

He shrugged.

“I never could, not even with the enemy,”  he admitted.

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

Maximus looked at me questioningly.

“Your feelings are no surprise to me,”  I confessed.  “I would expect no less from you than to regret that you have to take any man’s life. I am not taken aback by the fact that, not only do you grief over the loss of life among your own men, you feel bad for the other side as well.”

“Am I that transparent?”

“No, I’m sure you look much different to your men and to your adversaries than you do to me.  I see a side of you they never will.  I see a man who, while resolute in what he must do and who believes in the greatness of Rome with all his heart, is nevertheless saddened that lives have to be lost, that children are left without fathers.”

I took his other hand and held it too.

“Your heart is fierce and righteous, but it is also tender and compassionate,”  I insisted.  “I see you as no one else does, and I am thankful that you have allowed me to see what others are not allowed to.”

“Seems I can’t hide much from you these days,”  he replied, trying to make the moment light.  It merely made him sound vulnerable instead.

“I don’t ever intend to allow you to,”  I informed him.  “Maximus, now that I’ve earned your trust again, know that I will never abuse it.  And just as I share my fears with you, please don’t hide yours from me.  I am here, my love.  Your burden is mine.  I know I don’t understand it fully, nor that I ever will, but I do know that when two such opposing sides of you collide, in opposition, the struggle is one that surely takes its toll.”

I stroked his cheek and caressed his strong jaw.

“You don’t have to be in command of that struggle...not with me.”

His eyes were full of emotion, and my heart overflowed with the tenderness I felt.  I love Maximus so much.  The more I learn about him, the more I see what a good, honorable man he is.  Yes, he will kill his enemy, and he will do it without hesitation, for that is his duty, to his general, to his emperor, to Rome.  But that doesn’t mean that he is without regret or grief when he sees the effects of what he has to do.  He carries a terrible burden as such; I am sure, despite his resolve, there are many ghosts with which he must deal.  I only hope he will allow me to drive them back for a time, even if I cannot dispel them.     

He said nothing in response, but he nodded, once, curtly, at my insistence that I would share his conflict, and it startled me for a moment that he would do so.  It took a lot for him to act as such, even if no words are involved.  He tries to keep so much inside, and no doubt he always will, to a degree, but there was an agreement, in his eyes, that when the load got too heavy, he would allow me to help shoulder it.

“It’s late,”  he had whispered, rising from the table and helping me to do so as well.  “And it’s damnably cold.”

I rose and went to him, snuggling into his arms.

“Well, there’s a fresh charcoal burning in our bedroom, in anticipation of your return, and there are lots of ways to generate even more heat.”

I placed my lips against his ear, licking it lightly, teasingly, finally biting the lobe gently.

“At least the blaze in the brazier can be contained,”  I murmured.  “I daresay the one we stoke won’t be.”

He groaned in response, called me a vixen, and kissed me hard.  The next thing I knew he had picked me up and was carrying me upstairs, while I giggled into his chest.

“Prepare to be ravished, woman,”  he insisted.  

“Me ravished?”  I protested.  “I think before this night is through, you might be the one at my mercy.”

His eyes turned from their familiar blue green to fiery emerald at that suggestion.

“Oh, you would attempt to conquer me, would you?”  he teased.

“Maybe the Germans can’t do it, but I can,”  I boasted.

Our lovemaking was playful, devoid of the seriousness with which it is sometimes imbued.  The moment between us had been serious, and Maximus needed, as did I, to lessen its solemnity.  We didn’t want to make the union between us an extension of the weighty matters we’d just discussed.  We simply needed to find joy and abandon. 

After Maximus lay asleep in my arms, though, I continued to think about not only his feelings towards what he must face, but his inevitable worry about whether, during this campaign and every other, he would be one of the ones left on the field.  True, Maximus could share his anxiety with me, if he would, but in the end, in the seconds before a battle commenced, when his own mortality stared him in the face, wasn’t that a burden that only he alone could carry?  He could reassure himself of my love and recall the moments he treasured most between us, but even so, he never knew what his fate would be.  I once overheard Quintus tell him that he took his role too seriously; that it didn’t do him any good to go to the hospital, after battle, and see the condition that his men were in.

“How does it help to see them injured beyond all hope?”  he’d asked.

“It reminds me of my responsibility to always do my best,”  Maximus had replied.  “It makes me attempt to go over every last detail, so that I can take every precaution to spare even one of our men.  I would have no more than necessary meet a fate I would wish on no man.”

“But our enemies injure and kill our men.”

“Not entirely.  A good commander always thinks about what his own actions could cost others.”

Maximus was far more conscientious than most men, and he never asked of others what he didn’t of himself; he always fought in the midst of his soldiers, taking all of the risks that they did.  But such actions never make life easier.  Nevertheless, I would have him be no other way.  He is truly a man among men, taking on the yoke that others would shirk.  He adheres to all aspects of duty and honor, at whatever cost to himself.  It makes me love him all the more, but it makes my heart pound with fear as well; I could lose him so easily, despite his assurances otherwise.  As his head lay on my breast, his arm clasped tightly around my waist, even in sleep,  I wonder if there will come a day when my arms will be empty, my breast cold, my heart in pieces, as I lie alone in my bed; I pray the gods that if one of us has to die, it will be me first.  I’d rather sit at the gate of Elysium and wait for him than watch him close his eyes here, for the final time, and wake each morning to be reminded that he is gone.

14 February

Yesterday was a day of much revelation, in terms of how starkly honest Maximus and I have chosen to be with each other.  It was a day of great distress for him, one in which he started to pull away from me, but I put him to the test, in terms of truly trusting me, in ways even I hadn’t expected myself, and the result seems to have taken our relationship to an even deeper level.  Maximus and I have experienced much since I’d taken it upon myself to go to Germania with him, against his will, but even so, I don’t know that we’d ever have ended up as close as we’re becoming if I hadn’t.  Back in October and November, when we were estranged, I didn’t think we’d even reach our former level of trust, but now, one far deeper, than I’d ever anticipated, seems to be evolving.  

Yesterday morning, Maximus left, as usual, to help train his troops for the advancing battles.  Within the next few weeks, the Army will ride out to take on the German rebels.  Though the latter are far from well trained, in an organized sense, and though their battle tactics are instinctive and sporadic, as opposed to being well planned and detailed, as are those of the legion, they are energized by a savage fury, willing to fight to the death.  To be certain, they lack the precision, accuracy, and organization of the Army, but men full of rage, with a will to retain what they believe is theirs, are formidable.  The Army may have larger numbers, more weapons, and men specifically trained to use those weapons, the latter often consisting of catapults and tar, as well as the more conventional swords and daggers, but that doesn’t mean that the Germans are going to be easy targets.  If they were, Maximus wouldn’t have been out every day training his men, over and over, to not only increase their skills with their weapons, but to actually engage in mock battles in the far corner of the camp. 

Within a circular enclosure, the men pretended to be opponents, each attempting every sort of trick and maneuver he could think of in order to defeat the other.  Often, these mock battles got pretty realistic, and soldiers ended up bruised and bloody, but Maximus insisted that his legion be thoroughly prepared.  Responsible, along with Helvius, for leading the cavalry, he, and those directly below him, including Quintus, Publis, and Aulus, trained those who had recently just been promoted to the legion’s ranks, as well as gave refresher courses to those who had been in it for years.  Maximus refused to let anyone get lax, making sure everyone was on guard and alert; the smallest mistake, he’d once told me, could be deadly, not only for the one who had committed it, but for others as well. 

I appreciate that he takes such care to make sure the odds of success will be in the Army's favor, both for those under his command, as well as himself, but I also realize that Maximus would only prepare, this much and this hard, if he were worried that he and his men were facing serious odds against themselves.  Barbarians the various tribes might be, but they are warriors, nonetheless, even if they aren’t official members of armies; they had devised their own army, and it would be as brutal as anything that could be imagined, otherwise Maximus wouldn’t be training his troops to utter exhaustion each day.

Trying to divert my mind from the dangers that awaited him at every turn, I tried to stay preoccupied throughout the day.  I needed distractions, since my mind tended to wander, imaging scenarios it was best not to consider.  Because of my rather extensive knowledge of herbs and how they could be used for medicinal purposes, I’d been helping one of the doctors, Lucius, in the camp.  He is truly a physician, more than a surgeon, the latter usually employed, for the most part, to amputate mutilated limbs, after a battle’s conclusion.  Lucius, however, believes in using herbs for fevers and infections, and though many a patient is too far gone for them to be effective, for a select few, they could, with the dedicated effort of a physician such as Lucius, save lives and occasionally limbs.  Lucius is old, having worked at his profession for many a year, and he’s grumpy, arrogant, and bossy, but he also knows a great deal, and I see assisting him in making powders, teas, unguents, and ointments as a productive means of passing my time.  It gives me a measure of satisfaction to think that I might be helping, in some small way, to at least ease some of the soldiers’ suffering, even if they do lose their lives.  No one should have to suffer pain if it can be eased. 

Lucius is close mouthed about the nature of the wounds soldiers often incur, but I could guess many of them.  What I couldn’t guess, I overheard one day when he and one of his colleagues, Appius, were discussing what they would be dealing with, once the battles began.  Suffice it to say that listening to their conversation was a good incentive not to eavesdrop ever again; by the time they had recounted just a few of the types of injuries they’d be treating, I’d lost my breakfast and didn’t even want to think about the next morning’s fare.  I’d also become more distraught with worry over Maximus.

He’d initially, grudgingly accepted my helping Lucius, understanding my wish to do something worthwhile, but he’d no doubt seen what was coming, in terms of my worry increasing, as I learned more about injuries suffered in war.  When he saw how preoccupied and nervous I was becoming, he knew why.  I wanted him to talk to me about his fears, largely because I felt myself to be in the powerful grip of my own.  I didn’t like ignoring what was so obvious, that he could be hurt; pretending he was invincible wasn’t going to help either of us.  But he continued to push aside my concerns.  It angered me that he couldn’t be honest about such a matter, since I believed he did it primarily to protect me, but he brushed off my attempts to discuss what could happen to him, insisting that I let Lucius work by himself.

Just the day before yesterday, we’d had a disagreement about it.

“He has been working without you thus far, and I’m sure he can manage on his own,”  Maximus had insisted.  “It’s not your responsibility to try to save my soldiers, Selene.”

“I’m only trying to help.”

“Even so, it’s distressing to you.”

“What I may have learned about battle injuries isn’t as distressing as your refusal to acknowledge that you could receive one too.”

“I know what I’m doing, and I shall be safe.”

“Why must you keep shrugging everything aside?”

“I do what I have to do, and there is no sense discussing what may or may not happen.”

“You are not invincible!”

“Every soldier knows that, including me.”

“I have concerns about what could happen.”

“It’s best to put them out of your mind.  And the only way you can help yourself do that is to quit working with Lucius.”

“He won’t tell me about the nature of injuries.”

“No doubt you’ve tried to coax him into doing so,”  Maximus observed.  “Nevertheless, mixing those ingredients, using this for that, you’ve learned volumes.  I want you to stop it.  You have enough on your mind.”

“Is that an order?”

“It is.”

“Go tell it to your soldiers,”  I replied.  “I’m not a member of the Felix Legion.”

He’d stormed out, angry, and I was in a far from good mood myself.  Maximus refuses to sit down and tell me how he feels or allow me to express myself, when it comes to concerns about him.  I’d thought, initially, that it would be best to not talk about the dangers he faced, but when something is staring you in the face, day after day, it weighs upon your mind so heavily, that if you don’t attempt to discuss it, it becomes more of a worry than ever.  Part of me wants to ignore it as much as does Maximus, but another part wants to know what he would wish for me, were I to outlive him, what sort of thoughts he would leave with me, were he not to return. 

Sitting down yesterday morning, I listened to echoes of the conversation I’d overheard, while listening in on Lucius’ and Appius’ musings:  

“Those weapons the Germans have fashioned on their own made be crudely made, but they’re certainly effective.  An iron blade may not be easy to swing, but once it connects with flesh, a man’s leg or arm is often gone, and if it’s not, it will be left up to me to take off what is barely hanging on.”

“But they are instances, when wounds aren’t so severe, and in that case, my medicines may work.  Besides, after you amputate, they would die from fevers were it not for various herbs which will combat them.”

“But sometimes, if a fever develops, after a man has lost an arm of a leg, is it not best to let him die?  By the gods, Lucius, I wouldn’t want to live my life without my hand, my arm, or my leg.”

“Or without other essential parts.”  

“You’ve a point there.  What would a man have to live for not being a man any longer?  Could you believe it, last campaign, when the Germans dumped the bodies of the soldiers they’d abducted, and they’d been castrated, among other things?  I can only imagine the torture they went through.”

“Unspeakable, no doubt.”

“Just about as bad as the one delivered in pieces.  Perhaps the lucky ones, Lucius, if they must die, are those who have their brains smashed out by cudgels.  It must hurt like hell, initially, but once one’s head has been cracked open, at least things are over with quickly.”

“Usually that’s the case, but again, Appius, I may be of service if the barbarian didn’t swing hard enough, and a man’s brain swells, causing death to be slow.  At least certain medicines can ease the excruciating pain from such injuries.”

I felt sick all over again, recalling that awful discussion.  Maybe Maximus was right; maybe hearing such gory details didn’t serve any purpose besides making me more distraught and upset.  Certainly, there are times when it’s best not to learn the things we think we want to know.  And to keep reminding myself, by imagining that all the injures I’d heard about could happen to Maximus, was torture.  If I had to see him stilled forever, his eyes no longer alight with his vibrant spirit, his virility, his strength and tenderness, his warm, solid flesh cold, his beautiful form rigid and silent, I wouldn’t want to live.  I wished I’d grown up sooner; I wished I hadn’t put him through heartache and pain; I wished I’d never insulted his dignity and honor; what did the insignificant, trivial things that I’d fussed about matter in the scheme of things?  What I wanted more than anything was to live my life with Maximus, and all I could think of was the hours we’d wasted arguing, fighting, saying hurtful things to one another.  Not one second of it was worth it now. 

I sighed.  I wanted comfort.  Like a child, I wanted Maximus to make promises that he would be all right.  Deep down, that’s why I wanted us to talk.  I was hoping that he’d say something that would make me feel that he’d always come back to me, that everything would be all right.  But he couldn’t do that.  He knew he couldn’t.  Just as I did.  And he needed his own sense of courage for himself.  He was afraid too, but his pride would never allow him to admit that he was as vulnerable as anyone else, let alone that he was scared.  He needed me; I had to face that.  He needed comfort, as much as I did, and I had to find some way to offer it that wouldn’t injure his dignity nor make him have to admit aloud that he was human enough to feel fear. 

The opportunity came long before I expected it to, just yesterday morning.  I’d been lost in my thoughts, off and on, but right before noon, I heard a commotion outside.  I went to the door, just in time to see Maximus riding to the center of the fortress.  He never returned this early, insisting on practising with his legion through the day, and when I saw him, I felt a sense of foreboding.  I shouldn’t have; I could see that he was all right, as were his troops, but when I looked closer, I saw three captives being led alongside the horses, their hands tied securely in front of them.  I couldn’t see all that well from the distance I was at, but the captives were all male and appeared to be quite young, probably no older than their late teens. 

I could see Maximus ordering three of his soldiers to take them inside the large building used to store grain and other foodstuffs; he quickly followed suit, after dismounting Scarto.  Obviously, three captives had been apprehended, caught doing any number of thing from spying to attempting to take aim at some of the soldiers.  I wondered what their fate would be; they were so young.  If they were adults, death would be certain, but what does one do with boys who weren’t that far past childhood?  As I waited, it seemed that an interminably long time had passed; eventually, though, the German youths were taken outside and marched towards the forest, but not before one fell to his knees, before Maximus, clearly begging.  Maximus stood looking down at him, impassively, said something quickly to one of the soldiers, and then turned and walked away, remounting Scarto.  My heart seemed to drop out of my chest.  My husband had just given orders for the three captives to be executed. 

I stood staring for several moments, then took a deep breath before I went back inside, closing the door softly, as if out of respect for the lives that would end soon.  I know it is part of Maximus’ duty to deal with such matters; he kills men in battle.  But knowing something in one’s mind and seeing evidence of it, witnessing the cold expression on Maximus’ face, is a different matter altogether.  What I’d seen shouldn’t have had such an impact, but it did.  I’d seen how ruthless he could be, back in Lugdunum, but I’d told myself that was because I hurt him.  This time there was no hurt involved; in fact, there didn’t seem to be any emotion at all.  I scolded myself; what was I expecting, that Maximus would release the young Germans the way he had Servius, Paulinus, and Cneaus?  They had been an exception; he had shown mercy to them, because despite all they had done, they weren’t the enemy, and they’d taken care of me.  But these boys, caught and then judged, he’d consigned to death, with so little compunction that I was stunned.  I was seeing a side of Maximus that I knew existed yet really hadn’t wanted to consider.

Was I repelled?  Yes.  By him?  No, just by what he had to do.  Did I judge him?  Perhaps, although in ways I didn’t intend to.  Did I love him any less?  No.  Was I comfortable with what I’d witnessed?  Not entirely, for how could I be?  A multitude of emotions flowed through me at once.  But I did realize that, just as I had to come to terms with how real the possibility of Maximus’ death was, I also had to accept the fact that he sentenced others to death.  I knew it, but reality had hit hard. 

When Maximus returned home that evening, he was well aware of my jumble of emotions.  He was gruff, aloof, and distant.  I caught him looking at me warily; clearly, he was wondering how I was accepting his actions. 

I decided to bring things out into the open.

“I know what happened,”  I offered.  “I know what you did.  I saw you and some of your soldiers take those boys in for questioning.”

“I did what I had to,”  he replied tersely, his shoulders stiff, his posture rigid and defensive.  Clearly, the commander of the legions, as opposed to my loving husband, stood before me.

“I didn’t say you didn’t,”  I replied.

“I don’t need your judgment!”  he snapped.  

“I wasn’t judging.”

“No?  You don’t see how you’re looking at me right now.”

His eyes were accusatory and cold.

“Maximus, I am not looking at you any differently than I usually do,”  I insisted.  “You just think I am.  What occurred has been on my mind, of course, and yes, I cannot help but feel sorrow for those captives, for they were little more than boys, but you didn’t do anything other than what you had to.”

“If I weren’t your husband, would you be so understanding?”  he asked bluntly.

His question struck hard, just as he’d intended, and he waited intently for my response.

“I don’t know,”  I replied honestly.  “Maybe yes, maybe no.”

“What were you doing outside anyway?”  he asked, his voice harsh.

“I heard a commotion and looked went out to see what was going on, same as other people were doing.  What did you expect me to do, ignore events?  First I wasn’t supposed to continue helping Lucius, and now, I’m not to go outside because of what I might see?”

“Do you know what I did?”  Maximus asked, flinging off his cape.

“Do I need to know?”

“I had my soldiers run those young men through with swords and then send them back to their families, in the attempt to intimidate the men who’d sent them near the fortress as spies.  I made an example out of them.  They might have been young, but they are the enemy, nonetheless.”

His expression was challenging and angry, as if he expected me to fly into him and judge his actions.

“Are you seeking to emphasize that to me or to yourself?”  I asked quietly.

“I don’t have to justify my decisions to you!”

“I didn’t ask you to.  I trust your judgement You did what you felt was necessary.”

He shot me a withering glare.

“And do you accept what I felt was necessary?”

“Maximus, I’m not questioning you.  It is your right to exercise your judgement and make what you feel is the best decision.  I accept that.”

“Do you?”  he growled.  “Do you really?”

I stared at him, saying nothing.

He took a deep breath and turned away.

“Maximus, come sit down,”  I insisted. “There are things we must discuss.”

He turned back, his eyes clouded with impatience and a boiling anger that lay just below the surface.

“Such as?”

“Such as the fact that you keep locking things away from me, inside yourself, even after we agreed that we would talk.  Some things are too heavy to take on alone.”

“I was a soldier before I met you, Selene, and I made it through without discussing anything with anyone.  I don’t need an advisor.”

“I’m not trying to be one.  You are fully capable of deciding what you must do in any situation, but when your actions set you so much on edge, I need to know why.”

“Some things aren’t up for discussion.  I don’t have to explain everything to you.”

“You talked to me about the worry you have over the dangers your soldiers face,”  I reminded him.

“So I did, but I don’t intend to talk about this.”

“Why?  Because you didn’t want to have to sentence three boys, little more than children, to death?”

He face became instantly flushed, his eyes blazing with blue flames.

“So you do judge, after all?”  he accused, his voice low.

“I do not!”

“Then why phrase the question as you did?”

“To get you to talk to me!”

It doesn’t matter that they were boys!”  he insisted.  “It’s unfortunate that they were, for those I’d really like to have punished were the ones who put those boys up to their actions in the first place.  Cowards sent them out to spy on us, unwilling to take risks themselves, willing to let children take the consequences they deserve.  Nevertheless, those boys had to be executed in order to send a clear message to the Germans, namely that we will tolerate nothing from them.  And if it comes down to their forces or mine, I do not hesitate to kill theirs, regardless of their age.”

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t.  You don’t understand that I will kill whomever, in whatever fashion, I have to.  I am a different man in battle, Selene.  Much different than the one you know.  I face no qualms there about whatever I must do.  I simply do it, no questions asked.  There is often no time to think, only to react, and if children have to sometimes be sacrificed, then I accept that.”

“Yes, I’ve seen that you do.  But regardless of the coldness, the ruthlessness, you feel when you have to act, when you return home and the battle is over, your conscience plagues you.”

“My conscience is not plaguing me!”

“Yes, it is, but you fight it.  Maximus why are you trying to drive me away this night?  I know when you push me away, and you cannot deny that you are doing so right now.”

He said nothing, only continued to glare at me.

“There is no need for you to be so defensive,”  I declared.  “You came in here, this evening, ready to do battle with me.  Why did you think I would judge you for today’s events?”

“You know you do!”

“I do not!  I don’t like the fact that three boys, only in their teens, lost their lives, but if you hadn’t ordered their deaths, someone else would have.  This is war.  I understand that.  You are not a cruel man, but you have to do cruel things.  There is a difference, a major one, in fact.”

“I never intended for you to see anything like that, for you to see me behave in such a fashion.”

“Obviously.”

“It is not something a wife should have to see her husband do.”

It all became so clear.  He was so afraid I would think less of him, not love him quite so much, because of his actions.  It was one of the reasons, besides my safety, that he had wanted me to stay home.

“Let me ask you something,”  I insisted, in response.  “If the positions were reversed, would you think less of me?”

“That is not the point!”

“That is the point, and you know it.  Maximus, why is the possibility of your injury, or even your death, a taboo topic, and why are you angry at me because I know what you did today?”

He stared at me, his jaw still rigid, his mouth set, the vein in his forehead throbbing.  But his eyes, which moments before, had been shooting sparks, suddenly revealed his pain.  He must have realized that such was the case, by the way in which I looked at him, my heart aching for his hurt, for he suddenly looked angry again.

I went to him and put my arms around him.  He stiffened immediately, but at least he didn’t pull away, even though he wouldn’t return my embrace.  It is exceedingly difficult for a man such as he to let someone else help shoulder a burden he believes to be his alone.  It doesn’t come easily for him to be comforted; it goes completely against the grain of how he believes he should conduct himself.  Yes, he has let women comfort him, of course, but it had been done through sex, not through talking and sharing and intimate gestures.  I know he believes he should be soothing me, but my need took second place last night.  I held onto him, running my hands up and down his broad, powerful back, absorbing its heat, feeling the powerfully honed muscles beneath my palms.  I thanked the gods that I had finally regained his trust; for so long, I had wondered if I would.  In truth, I knew last night would show just how much trust he did still have in me, after all that had happened between us.  Last night, my role was to chase away demons, allay fears, and remind him of my love and its power; I was to be his haven, his sanctuary.           

“What is hurting you so badly, my love?”  I asked, looking up at him.  “What is tearing at you so inside?”

He remained stoic, unwilling to answer.  He looked away, and now, it was my turn to take his face in my hands and make him look at me, as he has so often had to do, when my courage faltered.

“Tell me what is wrong,”  I insisted.  “You can tell me what you can no one else.  I will always keep your secrets, and your heart, safe.”

“Even when they concern you?”  he asked.

“Yes, even where I am concerned,”  I replied, knowing in what direction he was headed.  “Perhaps there most of all.”

He looked down and me, putting his arms around me at last.

“I know you worry about losing me,”  he responded.  “I see fear on your face so often, and I know you want to talk, and I become angry at myself, because that is what you need reassurance about, reassurance I can’t provide.”

“I know.”

“And it is not just because I can’t control, like every other man, the time and circumstances of my death.”

He stared into my eyes, seeing me but seeing his fears as well.

“Selene, I am so afraid of losing you,”  he confessed.  “It’s the worst fear I’ve ever known.  I never even knew I could have such a fear until I found you.  Whether it be on the battlefield or whether it be because my actions repulse you, I cannot lose you in death or in life.”

I took a deep breath, feeling his pain, feeling what it had cost him to make such an admission, proud man that he is.

“Listen to me,”  I insisted.  “You will lose me, when you die, Maximus, if you do so before me, but it won’t be permanent.  You would wait for me in Elysium, just as I would for you.  But as far as thinking you might lose me, in this world, due to your actions, think again.  Nothing could ever make me love you less than I always have, regardless of what you do.”

“But you are so conscious of life, so solicitous of it.  I see how you treat animals, how you use your knowledge of medicine to help others, how you respect life...I can’t be that way...”

“As a soldier, no, you cannot.  The rules in battle are very different than those in everyday life.  But I know the kind of man that you are.  I know how loving and gallant your heart is.  I know what it cost you to do the things you must.  I know you feel fully justified in fighting a man, on equal terms, but I know that anyone less than that, attacks your conscience viciously.  I knew when I saw what you did, what your actions would cost you.  I saw it when you walked in the door.  You wish to hurt no one, and you hate to hurt women or children.  Only a truly honorable man, with a caring heart, will feel as you do, and though I hate to see the struggle within you, it makes me know that you are still the man I fell in love with.”

“After Lugdunum, I felt you didn’t need to witness anything further to make you think that I was cruel or unfeeling,”  he admitted.

“Will you forget Lugdunum?”  I asked.  “It’s over.  We were both guilty of wrongdoing.  But even you must see, in the long run, painful as it was, it has brought us closer together.”

I pulled his face down towards mine and kissed him long and deeply.

“Never, as long as you live, ever give a second’s worry to the thought that I would judge you, think less of you, or that you would ever lose my love.  You won’t, not for any reason.  You are my heart.  I am no man’s judge, least of all yours.  Never again must you doubt that my love would ever be in question, whatever you might have to do.  It is as fixed as the stars.”

I felt him breath a sigh of relief and he sat down on the couch, gathering me into his arms.  We were silent for several moments, while I laid my cheek against his chest and stroked his face and hair, luxuriating in the feel of him next to me.  He rubbed my back and kissed the top of my head, but when I looked up into his eyes, and they met mine, I could see, even though he believed in the sincerity of my words, that he was still troubled.  He wanted to dispel any doubts I had that he’d ever show his brutal, ruthless side to me, that it would ever again spill over into our lives, as it had in Lugdunum.

As I lay in his arms, an idea struck me.  I wanted to show him I accepted every aspect of who he was, without condition.  I wanted to lay to rest, once and for all, his worries that I couldn’t accept the sometimes brutal man he had to be, and I also wanted to dispel all vestiges of Lugdunum.  What I had in mind seemed a bit dangerous, but I decided to risk it.  There was only one way to settle things.

I led him upstairs, drawing a hot bath, beginning a game of seduction.  I stroked and caressed his body, loving the feel of his warm skin, covering his powerful muscles, slick and wet.  His hands were all over me, anxious to arouse and titillate, but though it would have been so easy to slip under his spell and surrender, I coaxed him to our bed.  By then, he was already highly aroused, his eyes dark with desire, his breathing a little heavier, his penis huge and hard, standing up straight against his stomach.  His hands reached for my breasts, as his mouth devoured mine, and he moved to lay me down beneath him, but I shook my head and held him back. 

“Tonight, I want you to let me love you,”  I whispered.  “Will you surrender to me completely?”

He looked at me, puzzled and a little surprised, but I could see a gleam of curiosity mix with the excitement already in his gaze.  He’d always allowed me such freedom in loving him, willing to engage my curiosity, my preferences, and my need to experiment, but he is always the dominant one, nonetheless.  He isn’t that way in an attempt to use his authority against me, for he is an exquisite lover, never neglecting my needs, even while he seeks to satisfy his own; his dominance is merely part of who he is.  As such, I’d never really loved Maximus, physically, with a compulsion to be the stronger of the two of us; I didn’t think he would permit it, for one thing, and for another, I’m ashamed to say that, up until now, I’ve probably taken more than I give.  I don’t want that pattern to continue; I want to offer comfort, succor, and sustenance, to infuse him with the hope, strength, and power he needs; my plan included an attempt to help him find those things, by handing the reins over to me, but I was going to take things even a step beyond that.  I am learning, by degrees, that though Maximus considers it a matter of not just pride, but who he is, as a man, to care for me, in all ways, he is all too human, needing me to understand, support, and accept all that he must do and the toll that it takes on him. 

I caressed the back of his head, feeling its contours, gently massaging his scalp, enjoying the silky texture of his hair, while he thought over the terms I’d suggested for the evening.  My fingers finally traveled to his strong neck; I loved the feel of the strong ligaments and tendons under my fingertips, the warmth of his skin.  I whispered how very much I loved him, while I let my hands run across his solid shoulders, and I felt him, at last, relax in my arms, assenting.  He finally pulled away from me enough to look into my eyes, and I took his face between my palms, as I met his gaze, my thumbs stroking the softness of his beard.  I leaned forward and kissed him softly, deeply, thoroughly, loving the taste of him, a mixture of man, need, and his own unique flavor.  I gently pulled on his lower lip with my teeth, tugging slightly, and then I turned my attention to the upper one, lapping at it with my tongue.  My own hunger growing, I explored his mouth, softly stroking the roof of it, then the inside of his cheek, and finally caressing everywhere that I could, while he moaned deep and low.  He reacted by plunging his own tongue deep, thrusting with it, but when I caught it and sucked gently, then a bit harder, while at the same time, I began stoking the silky skin of his bare back, he grunted harshly, his breath increasing.  I love the heat of his flesh, the texture of his skin, the latent power I feel beneath it.  He broke away to kiss the hollow of my throat and then suck softly upon the skin of my neck, before nuzzling it, his beard rasping enticingly against the delicate flesh, and my hands slipped from his back to his tight, taut belly, stroking the down that furred it.  He tensed and grasped me tighter, and when he at last raised his head to look at me, his eyes were as dark as an approaching storm.

Taking him by surprise, I pushed him back onto the bed and firmly straddled him, the insides of my calves pressed against the outsides of his thighs, my knees against his hips.  I positioned myself so that the petals of my by now dripping sex hovered just above his erect, straining phallus, barely grazing it.  He tried to grab me, and the mere look in his eyes made the ache between my legs became a merciless throbbing.  I slid my hands down his magnificent torso, thick, powerful, and solid, like the statue of a god come to life. 

I took his hands, so strong and square, rough with calluses from practicing with his sword each day, and kissed them, thinking of how, even though they wielded heavy weapons, and, in doing so, would take the lives of perhaps hundreds of men before the spring and summer were over, they were so exquisitely skillful, patient, and knowledgeable as a lover, his touch pure magic.  I sucked the fingers of his right hand, eliciting a soft groan, and then, I released them to caress his thick forearms, corded with muscle, loving the feel of the soft hair that covered them.  I then guided his hands to one of the four, thick wooden bars in the bedstead and ordered him to keep them there.

“Agreed?”  I asked softly, looking directly into his eyes.  

“Are you testing my willpower?”

“Only for pleasure’s sake, but you have to do as I ask.”

“Why?”

“Because tonight you are mine completely, and I want to be the commander tonight.”

I stroked his face and held his eyes with mine.

“Are you strong enough to surrender to me entirely?”

He smiled wickedly.

“I think I’m strong enough to be withstand your assault.”

“We’ll see,”  I murmured, and his eyes widened in surprise.

“What, precisely, have you got in mind?”  he asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”  I murmured, giving him a wicked look of my own.                     

I stroked the heavy, bulging muscles of his upper arms, running my fingers up the inner skin of them, more exposed than usual, because they were raised above his head, and then, I let my fingers dance over the outer flesh, tracing the letters of the SPQR tattoo of the legion, marking him as one of their own.  I’d done it so many times before; the mark has always seemed such an intrinsic part of him, but last night, I wished it gone.  It reminded me of how much of a claim the Army had on him; it seemed like a brand.  I finally laid my hands on his shoulders, and I wondered how many times I had laid my head on them, as he held me close.  Each part of his body was so precious to me.  I bent down and nuzzled his neck, and then, I bit, hard enough to sting.  He jerked, taken by surprise, and I soothed the bruise by lapping at it with my tongue; I wanted my mark on him if the Army was going to have one; mine wouldn’t be permanent, but it would sting for a few days, enough perhaps, to remind him that I had more of a claim on him than the Army ever would.

He was staring at me when I raised my head.  He said nothing, but I saw realization dawn in his eyes, of the reason behind my action, and a soft, knowing smile played on his lips.

“My claim is stronger than anyone or anything else’s ever will be,”  I vowed.

Flames leapt into his eyes at my words, and the beat of his heart, beneath my palm, was hard and fast.

I turned my attention to his torso once again.  Sleek muscles stretched across his wide chest, firm and solid, with the near hardness of granite, and I let my fingertips glide down and across them; I marveled at the power I could feel just under my hand.  I traced the hollows between his breasts and stroked the dusting of hair there, lightly caressing the distinctive marks, here and there, that dotted his skin.  There was a triad of small moles just above his left nipple, and I bent and kissed them, before laving his nipple with my tongue, feeling it harden; there was another scattering of them just between the lower part of his rib cage and the top of his belly, and he grew still when I licked them.

“No use trying to be stoic now, soldier,”  I teased.  “I know you’re ticklish there.”

“Your turn will come,”  he threatened, his eyes heavy lidded and dark with desire. 

“Just keep your hands where I can see them,”  I ordered.

“You’re a harsh taskmaster,”  he remarked.

“You don’t know the half of it,”  I quipped.

I returned to my explorations.  There was a scar, a small nick, on his left upper arm, just under his tattoo, as well as two small ones, just above his right elbow, and a small but deeper one a few inches from his collarbone; all had been incurred in battle, delivered by especially swift enemies.  There were also scars on his right knee which he’d gotten from a fall, landing on a sharp rock.  I kissed all of them with reverence, letting Maximus know that while I hated the idea of him going to war, I respected not only who he was but what he did, whatever it involved.  I also hoped that he knew that I understood that it cost him dearly, in so many ways, every time he led men onto a battlefield.

I worked my way down to his belly, his huge, heavy shaft standing straight up against it and already beginning to weep.  But instead of turning my attention to it, I focused upon his strong, thick thighs, running my hands down their length, delighting in the soft skin and smooth hair that covered such mighty, rock hard muscles.  As I looked up, I saw the tendons, in his thick, strong forearms, flex, as his hands gripped the wooden post so tightly I thought he would snap it.  As I watched, the latter held me mesmerized; there was such strength, even in his fingers.  I worked my way down up his calves to his thighs again, loving the feel of his fevered flesh, now quivering beneath my palm.  Finally, I focused on his straining penis, licking the tip, slowly swirling my tongue around it, and then, I slid him into my mouth, stroking the sensitive underside of his member, again and again, watching him strain upwards as I did so.  I love the taste and smell of him, the feel of his most vulnerable, yet powerful, flesh in my mouth.  I cherish the part of him which gives me so much pleasure and which leaves him weak in the wake of his own.  I sucked him steadily, greedily, taking him in deeper, while I reached down and gently stroked his sack.  He grunted and spread his legs wider, while I massaged his testicles, finally releasing his shaft, to take one into my mouth and gently suck upon it.  I could hear Maximus panting, his body growing rigid in his attempt to control himself, but when I used my finger to apply pressure, to the sensitive spot just behind his scrotum, I heard him hiss and curse.  I let go of his testicle to attend to its twin, still using my finger to keep up the pressure, and I felt his hands suddenly atop my head, fisting in my hair.  I returned to sucking his penis, taking him in deep, allowing my throat muscles to tighten around him, as I slid him up and down a few times, before he began thrusting, using every bit of self control that he had to keep from pumping hard.  Just seeing the effort that it took, his face flushed, his groans coming from deep within his chest, the muscles in his body rigid, made me nearly crumble with my own overwhelming desire.  

My intent was to drive him to the point where he lost all control, and if Maximus’ reaction, his eyes wild, his face bathed in sweat, his breathing harsh, while his hips kept pushing, was any indication, I was on my way to that goal.  I knew he was going to reach for me in a moment; when he has been upset and wants solace and comfort, he usually wants to be inside me.  But I had to pull away before that moment arrived, if I were going to do what I intended.  I was so aroused by now that I wanted nothing more than for him to plunge deeply within me and take me hard and fast, but that would occur soon enough.

He reached down to grasp my arms, telling me he needed to be inside, when, to his surprise, I pulled away.

“Selene, what in the name of the gods, are you doing?  he hissed,  “I cannot take any more!  I have to have you now!”  

His expression was feral, his face a portrait of uncontrollable desire and raging frustration, and I knew I was openly courting danger.  Maximus was exceedingly aroused, and he was on the verge of losing control; however, that was my intent, to make him abandon it entirely.  Such an endeavor wasn’t without risks, though.  He would never hurt me, but he might be rougher than he intended, his need raging, and if he were, he might be upset, after the way he’d almost treated me in Lugdunum.  He was afraid of losing control, after that incident, but I needed to reassure him that he could.  He needed to know that I, too, was strong, and that he could let go of his restraint, that I was no longer afraid, after the last time that he had nearly done so.  I just hoped that my plans didn’t backfire, for they so easily could.   

He reached for me, intending to roll me beneath him, but I stood up and backed away.  I saw confusion in his face, until I backed towards the table in our room, large, solid, and heavy.

“You want me, come after me,”  I coaxed.

He stood, torn between what he felt compelled to do, and at the same time, repelled by the last time he’d attempted to take me over a table, in Lugdunum, when he’d been consumed by fury.

He cursed vehemently, his expression both angry and pained.

“Selene, why?”  he asked.  “Why do you ask this of me?”

“Because I was us to be free again, completely free, to do whatever we wish.  Whether it’s because you think that, because you have to do brutal things, you would treat me badly, or whether it’s because you came close to doing so in Lugdunum, I want you to know that I trust and love you completely.  And I want you to know that with me, regardless of how wild your passion, you would never hurt me, just as I will never judge you.  You are my love, my life, my very breath.”

I entreated him, with my eyes, to hear all I had to say. 

“I don’t want any regrets from the past holding us back nor any belief, on your part, that I don’t accept all of you, both gentle and brutal, completely.  You play different roles, but with me you must be who you truly are, and I want us to feel free to love each other in whatever manner we wish.  You took me in every conceivable way, including on tables, before Ludgunum, but you haven’t since that night, and I’m tired of any restrictions.  We never had any before.  Maximus, let go with me.  Put all the doubts and ghosts aside.  You are the man I trust, and you can trust yourself with me.  Love me with all the passion in your heart, and know that I will do the same with you...always.”

He stood staring at me, his eyes never leaving mine.  I held his and beckoned.  He hesitated for a moment, as if trying to stave off memories, his expression full of hurt, and then, in one swift movement, he grabbed me, pushed me over the table, stroked my drenched cunt, until I nearly screamed with longing, and then, at my urging, pushed himself in slowly and deeply.  This time, unlike before, I cried out, not in fear, but  in pure abandon and pleasure, telling him how good he felt so deep inside. 

“Deeper!”  I insisted, and he complied, his breath hot on the side of my face.  He raised my hips and took me with more force, still thrusting slowly, but I kept urging him on.  He grunted as he increased his speed, and I jerked my hips in response, crying out for more.  He was so close, and so was I; he reached around me, and finding my tender nub, he rubbed it, in rhythm to his thrusting, and my reaction was almost instantaneous; I screamed his name, my muscles clenching him tightly as I was carried higher and higher on a wave of rapture; he roared as he juddered within me, stiffening and thrusting twice more, before collapsing across my back.

“Cara, mea cara,”  he murmured.  “I love you so.”

I felt tears strike the back of my neck, and my heart swelled with love.

“As I do you,”  I responded, reaching a hand back to caress the side of his face.  

We lay together for a few moments longer, and then, he withdrew from me and helped me up.  Thoroughly dazed, we guided each other back to bed.

“That was a gift, cara,”  he murmured, holding me close, “and I thank you for it.  I needed to let go of that night in Lugdunum completely...along with other things.”

“I know,”  I responded.  “We’re all right again, but I don’t want any restraints on what we do with each other, nor must you ever think that I consider you cruel or unjust.  I know who you are, Maximus.  I know the man inside, and I know you are fair and just, even when your decisions seem harsh.  It’s time to let go of Lugdunum and of anything else between us.  With each other, we can be who we are; we can show each other what we don’t others, and I don’t want that to ever be at risk.” 

“How is it that you know me so well, that you understand so much of who I am inside?”  Maximus asked, his eyes full of emotion.

“You are so much a part of me.  I love you.  I have since the moment I saw you, and I always will.”

His said nothing, but he looked away, his eyes misting.  He looked back at me, and one single tear slipped down his cheek.  I kissed it away, while he pulled me close.

“All is forgiven, my love, and all is accepted,”  I whispered, and he nodded.

“Besides, I miss being taken over a table,”  I insisted.

I felt him chuckle, and then, he gave in to a full, hearty laugh that was music to my ears.

“Honestly, cara, you are never at a loss for words or surprises.” 

Time and again, we loved each other last night, sometimes tenderly, sometimes with barely restrained passion.  I felt nothing less than worshipped, as if my body were a sacrament of which he was partaking, even as I devoured him, the sustenance I craved.  There wasn’t an inch of our flesh that was left untouched by the other.  Ours was a language that needed no words, and all that needed to be said was.  There was nothing that held us back, no barriers we did not breach.  He drank from me, as if he were a man dying of thirst, rousing my body to peak after peak of ecstasy, until I lay limp and boneless, and then, he brought me to fulfillment again; I suckled and swallowed him until the walls rang with his hoarse cries and loud roars.  When he slid into me, I sobbed at the sensation merely of being filled with him; he’d made me long for him until I was wild, unable to control myself.  As the night wore on, there were times when he took me gently, loving me slowing, pushing in so deep; then, he took me hard and fast, until I swore I’d never find all the pieces I’d shattered into.  But whatever way he loved me, I knew he did it with nothing held back, freer perhaps than he’d ever been, since he handed over some of his control at long last, not of his body so much as his heart.  Despite the fact that he is going away soon, I feel so much closer to him; I’ve regained his trust and he has offered parts of himself that I never thought he would.

21 March

This morning, Maximus left, he and the Felix Legion III, the sheer number of its members a mighty sight indeed, departing.  I’ve dreaded for this day to come, but now it finally has.  Well over a week ago, I could feel the temperatures warming, the wind not possessing such a sharp edge.  The snows have begun to melt, the scouts, who have been out and about, verifying that there is not enough snow left now to seriously impede the progress of the legion’s advance.  Time is of the essence now; General Hevius and Maximus are anxious to get the troops moving; they are tired of waiting any longer to deal with the rebels.

It will be several months, at least, before Maximus can return to the fortress; he and his legion must make their camp far away, since the Germans are attacking at great distances from the fort.  They are drawing the Army out into the open, towards their strongholds; it is a dangerous practice, giving the Germans a lot of leverage; the enemy have laid their plans well.  I hate to think of Maximus having to camp out in the cold, unable to return to me, longing to see me as much as I do him, but this is the what we both must endure.  I will not cry nor complain; Maximus doesn’t deserve to have to deal with my fears and frustrations.  He expects more from me than that, and I will not dishonor him by refusing to be strong.  If he can deal with what lies ahead, so must I.

He held me close, murmuring endearments and kissing me repeatedly, just inside our door, before he stepped outside.  He reminded me there were plenty of soldiers left here, at the fortress, for my safety, and then, he assured me he would be back, even if it took a few months, and admonished me not to worry.  I nodded, finally accepting the fact that he would always insist he was invincible, knowing that he had to cling to such a belief as a source of strength.  It is necessary, for the frame of mind he had to be in, to carry out his duties.  I hadn’t realized that initially, but I do now.  In fact, I’m beginning to realize a lot of things, since I came to Germania.  Sometimes, I feel a very different woman than the one who left Trujillo.

It was difficult to watch Maximus step out onto the grounds of the fortress; I could feel the change come over him when he did; my gentle Maximus had become Legate Meridius, exuding confidence, strength, and dignity.  I could see the gleam of admiration and respect upon the faces of the men he would command; he is a natural born leader, who treats his solders well, expecting no less of himself than he does of them, and by the looks they give him, I think they would follow him anywhere.  I am so proud of him; it grieves me to think that he thought I would ever judge him for his actions, for I know how honorable he is. 

He looks regal in his armor; his servants keep it polished, and with his wool cape, the fur of a fox attached to it, to keep his neck warm, he appeared stunning.  As I watched him walk away, I locked away, in my mind, the sight of him, so handsome and capable, so formidable and majestic, praying fervently that he would be successful in his mission, returning to me safe and whole.

I watched him ride away, after giving me one long last look, his hand raised in farewell. I fought back tears, knowing he didn’t need to see them, but his image was a blur as I stood gazing at him, with all the love in my heart.  He smiled, but there was sadness within his own eyes, and already, my heart ached sharply, and my arms felt empty.   

He left without knowing my secret.  I finally carry his child.  Back in December, I’d worried so much about not conceiving a child, and now, finally, I have.  I’m three weeks late for my courses, and only twice have I ever been more than a few days late.  I chose not to tell Maximus because he is far too preoccupied with the business of war, not needing extra worry, and, in addition, the first three months of a pregnancy are always the most likely time to lose a child; if I should miscarry, I do not want Maximus to know that I lost our baby.  I know he will be happy, but worried, nonetheless.  We should have been careful that night he surrendered so much to me, but once again, we allowed ourselves to be swept away.  Maximus has that power over me, as I do him.  Nothing else matters but loving each other when we are together.

A baby born in November.  Maximus won’t be granted leave until September, and I won’t be able to set off on a journey back to Hispania at seven months pregnant.  It seems I’m destined to have a child in Germania.  This means another year here.  I smile ruefully.  Certainly, Maximus did get more than he bargained for; I didn’t want us to be apart, and it looks as though we won’t be for quite some time to come. 

I long to see home again, but truthfully, I don’t want to be there without Maximus.  I am afraid of bearing a child here, but the course has been set, provided I can carry this child to term.  I can’t be sorry for what has happened, and indeed, during the nights when I am so full of fear, worrying that Maximus could be taken from me, the knowledge, that his child is growing within me, helps me to regain a sense of calmness.  My mind, which has always been overly active, insists upon imagining all sorts of scenarios which could occur, all manner of death that Maximus could meet.  I tremble and cry when they become so vivid, but when I concentrate upon my baby and think about the moment when I see Maximus holding it for the first time, the fear fades somewhat, if not entirely.  It is always with me, but as I rest my hands upon my belly, I find the resolve within me to endure the long wait before Maximus returns.