Rome, late summer 181AD

The mob crowding the stands erupted in a roar when the Augusta Lucilla made her entry into the imperial box that overlooked the sand ring of the Colosseum, both saluting her and welcoming the beginning of that afternoon's gladiatorial games.

Lucilla briefly hailed at the crowd with her hand, doing till the end her representative duty, then sat on her marble chair and gestured to Cassius, the editor of the arena, to start with the spectacles.

Almost at once the giant gates of the arena opened and a group of gladiators wearing strange armour and helmets, and carrying shields and spears erupted into the arena, coming to a halt in its centre, just in front of the imperial box.

Upon seeing them, Lucilla lowered her head and almost groaned aloud.

It was going to be another battle.

"We who are about to die, salute you!"

The gladiators' shout recalled her to the present, just in time to listen to Cassius' introduction. Not that she really needed to hear it to know what was going to happen.

"On this day we reach back to hallowed antiquity to bring you a recreation of the second Fall of Mighty Carthage. On the barren straits of Zama, there stood the invincible armies of the Barbarian Hannibal. Ferocious mercenaries and warriors from all brute nations bent on merciless destruction conquest. Your Emperor is pleased to give you the Barbarian Horde!"

Lucilla grimaced, remembering her father's accounts of the barbarian hordes he had seen in Germania and shook her head, wondering why people did not travel to the battlefields if they really wanted to see them too.

A few feet away, Cassius had almost completed his introduction with, "...The Emperor is pleased to bring you the Legionaries of Scipio Africanus!" when the gates burst open and several war chariots galloped into the arena, one at a time.

Lucilla turned her head away, not interested to watch the bloodbath that would soon start.

It was hard enough to have to attend the games to represent her absent brother, but witness to the slaughters the staged battles always turned into, was almost impossible.

"And yet," she said to herself, "I would gladly endure a thousand of them if it would ensure Commodus remains away from Rome and Lucius."

Lucilla could not help but bless the German tribes who, by breaking the borders and pillaging several villages, had caused Commodus to leave Rome in hurry for the frontier, thus enabling her to have some respite from the constant anxiety his presence and behaviour raised in her. In truth, a part of her was very worried because of the news arriving from the North. It had been years since the barbarians had been able to break inside the Empire, not for lack of trying, but because the army had always defeated them before they could do any harm. But this time something had not worked in the Roman defensive system.

Lucilla had read the dispatches and reached the conclusion that the Commander of the Armies of the North had committed a terrible mistake underestimating the strength of the enemy. He had ignored the scouts' reports regarding an alliance between the tribes and had not acted until it was too late to stop the avalanche.

"Maximus would have never committed such a mistake," a cruel voice commented inside her, and Lucilla closed her eyes, trying to block it. Eighteen months had elapsed since the night Maximus had been killed in Germania, and yet the wound in her heart and conscience did not show any sign of starting to heal. 

A loud shout from the crowd recalled her back to the present and she was almost grateful for it, because it stopped her thoughts from wandering in a direction that would only raise pain and guilt inside her. She blinked her eyes and turned her head to look at what had caused such a reaction. Had the battle already ended?

It took her few moments to understand that the "barbarian horde", far from being slaughtered as she had predicted, was instead resisting against their much faster opponents.

Lucilla's eyebrows arched in surprise when she saw the men on foot had grouped together, knelt and formed a circle, backs to each other, their shields locked edge to edge, as legionaries would have done. A chariot approached them at full speed, but when it was close enough, the gladiators nearest it changed their positions and the angles of their shields, causing the wheels to ride up on them, thus unbalancing the cart and making it heel over on its side.

Lucilla gasped along with crowd at that perfectly executed manoeuvre, before the battle seemed to speed up as the "barbarians" ceased to simply defend themselves and started to counterattack. She had trouble following all the action in front of her, so she decided to concentrate on the man who seemed to be the leader of the "barbarians". She watched as he freed a horse from a disabled chariot and, jumping on its back, started to pursue the remaining "legionaries", killing them first with a spear and later with a sword one of his men threw to him.

Lucilla had no love for games, but she watched with breathless attention the helmeted warrior's actions, admiring his courage, his skills and the ability with whom he had been able to transform an almost certain defeat in a victory.

And when the end finally arrived, and the rider raised his sword arm to the sky in triumph, Lucilla could not help but stand up and clap, adding her approval to that of the roaring crowd. Like her father before her, she appreciated bravery and this man seemed to possess plenty of it, no matter how low his station in life was. Her eyes gazed again over his form, observing him as he jumped down from his white mount. He was a tall, robust man, with tanned skin. He moved with confidence, and despite the fact he was but a mere slave, he seemed surrounded by an aura of authority.

In that moment Cassius appeared at her side, looking very concerned.

"What is it?" Lucilla asked.

"I came to apologize, My Lady. The Barbarians should have lost the battle of Carthage."

"No need, I rather enjoy surprises." Lucilla smiled and pointed to the arena, indicating the winning gladiators' leader. "Who is he? 

"They call him the Spaniard, My Lady."

She had barely time to nod at that for just then, as if they had overheard their conversation, the crowd began to chant, with increasing force: "Spaniard! Spaniard! Spaniard!"

Lucilla looked as the gladiators walked away noticing that, while several of them played with the mob, shouting and hailing at it, the hero of the day seemed rather subdued. He did not reply to the people calling his name, but continued to walk with his head lowered.

She found that behaviour puzzling, but had no time to wonder about it for Cassius reclaimed her attention again.

Five days later Lucilla found herself back into the Colosseum for another set of games.

She was not in a good mood for the news arriving from Germania was very worrying. The legions were still fighting to regain control of the invaded areas and Commodus, instead of asking for reinforcements, was said to be negotiating a paid truce with the barbarians.

Lucilla and Senator Gracchus, her most trusted friend and ally, had commented on this new development when they had briefly met outside the amphitheatre, but neither of them had dared to say what they really thought for fear to be overheard by the spies Commodus had filled Rome with.

"Spaniard! Spaniard! Spaniard!"

The loud chant almost startled Lucilla, so lost she had been in her musings. She looked down in the sand ring and saw that first match was about to begin.

The gladiator she had applauded few days before had just walked into the arena and stopped in front of her. As the previous time he wore a helmet and leather armour decorated in silver, but now he carried a round shield and he had a gladius instead of a spear.

Lucilla's eyes moved to his opponents and she bit her lower lips when they rested over four tall, massive, ebony-black Nubians. They carried a shield and a sword each and when they surrounded the Spaniard, they made him look small compared to them, almost obscuring his shape from her sight.

At Cassius' signal, the fight began.

In the beginning it was a hard match to look for those who, like Lucilla, had taken a liking to the Spaniard. The helmeted warrior had to deflect blows from every direction, and on a couple of occasions it seemed that there was no chance for him. However, after a while, he managed to turn the tables on them. He killed one of the Nubians and dropping his shield to take up the dead man's sword, he went after the other three, using his superior agility and skills to compensate his being one against three. The Spaniard charged and deflected, bowed, side-stepped and attacked until, in the end, he was the only one remaining standing, as the Nubians contorted at his feet in agony.

The crowd roared and started to chant his name again, and Lucilla rose to her feet, honouring him. She had always loved when the outsider won because of his better skill, and there was no doubt that the man still standing in the middle of the arena, his chest heaving, was extremely gifted.

"Not to mention he seems to be a very handsome man...pity I have never seen him without the helmet..."

The thought, coming from nowhere, shocked Lucilla, as did the sudden bout of desire that, coursing through her body, obliged her to reach out with her hand for the balustrade to steady herself.

It had been ages since she had felt desire for a man.

So long she had thought she had forgotten how it felt.

She had not experienced it since before her marriage, when she had been in love for the first and only time in her life and had dreamed and hoped Maximus would teach her what physical love was. It had not happened and never again had Lucilla felt that longing, not even for her husband, despite the fact he had always done his best to pleasure her in their marriage bed.

And now, all of sudden, she felt again that thrill, that quickening in her pulse, that ache in her belly- and all of this for a slave whose face she had never seen. Her eyes stared hungrily at the muscled, tanned flesh of the Spaniard as he walked to the gates. She was unable to tear her gaze away, following his back till he disappeared in the Colosseum bowels.

And by the time he did it, Lucilla had already taken her decision.

She wanted that man.

And she was going to have him.

She should be shocked by that idea, and yet she was not. 

It was common enough for the rich matrons to pay for being pleasured by the bravest champions, as her mother, the late Empress Faustina had often demonstrated, while her husband had turned his head away. Lucilla had always been critical regarding her mother's behaviour, finding it unbefitting for a lady of her rank but now it was her turn, for once in her life, to drop the role her birth and society had given and imposed on her to be just a woman.

She knew it would be potentially dangerous, but that feeling, that sensation in her flesh, was too heady, too intoxicating to be ignored and this time she would have the power to try to bring it to its conclusion and have the man that had caused her that sweet torment.

Lucilla had never had Maximus, but she was going to have the Spaniard.

By the time the next evening fell, and she was introduced into a humid, stinking cell in the Colosseum, Lucilla's will had wavered more than once.

It had been easy enough, the day before, won by that long forgotten feeling, to let her body take control of her and push her to do something as uncharacteristic of her as send her trusted secretary to negotiate with the Spaniard's owner the purchase of the gladiator's "services".

Diadumenian had looked at her with wide eyes, not believing at first she had really ordered him to do what he had heard, and while she had been able to keep her gaze steady, it had been a hard task.

That morning she had woken up after a night of troubled sleep haunted by nightmares about her antics being discovered and made public, but even if they had put her ill at ease, it had not been enough to make her change mind.

Diadumenian had then come to report to her that he had made her "appointment" with the Spaniard for that very night, and had informed her he had taken the liberty to order that the gladiator would be blindfolded and chained to the wall.

"For your privacy and protection, My Lady," he had told her, but Lucilla knew him enough to understand he had tried to show her how sordid and debasing the situation really was.

She had not been angry but neither had relented.

In truth she had struggled with her conscience for the entire afternoon. It had told her not to go to the appointment, reminding her how important was her reputation and how dangerous it could turn out if Commodus discovered it, given how jealous he was. But in the end another part of her had won, the one she was less proud of. The one that can be as calculating and scheming as Commodus himself; that could lie with ease; that could even talk of the necessity of killing her own brother...

That side of her had not merely wanted to experience desire again. It had also wanted to feel in command of the Spaniard, to bend that strong warrior to her will, and by doing it delude herself she still had some control over her own life.

Standing in a corner of the badly lit cell, a black cape covering her from head to foot, Lucilla rubbed her sweaty hands on her clothes. She was nervous and her already pounding heart quickened its beating when she heard steps come her way.

"This way," said a voice, just before the door opened.

Lucilla pressed closer to the stone wall, keeping her face in the shadows, as behind her back, she could hear some metallic noises- the guards chaining the Spaniard to the wall just as Diadumenian had requested. She just hoped they would not be too short to impede all of the man's movements...

Finally the noises ceased and the guards walked away, closing the door behind them.

Lucilla waited till she heard their steps recede along the corridor, then she turned around, ready for her meeting with the Spaniard.

He was standing at the opposite side of the cell, his back against the wall. He was wearing just a blue-grey tunic with a high belt, and the fabric evidenced the taut muscles of his chest. He was even more impressive than he had been with his armour on.

Lucilla swallowed reflexively, letting her eyes skim leisurely along his body, before moving up. She wished to observe his face, but his head was in the shadows and the only thing she could see was he was blindfolded with a piece of white fabric.

The room was silent but for the sound of their combined, hurried breath and the occasional crackle of the torch. The Spaniard was immobile, his posture tense, as Lucilla kept on staring at him.

Was he afraid? Did he know what would soon happen to him? Would he do it willingly and enjoy the pleasure he would receive in return? Or would he consider it rape? Was he used to this or was it the first time?

Her stomach churned and she pushed those upsetting questions away. It was not the time to have second thoughts and she had not come so far to give up now. What the Spaniard was thinking was not her business. He was a slave and would obey her will. She wanted to give free rein to the lust that had started to course through her blood as soon as she had been in his presence and had felt the pull of his personality and masculinity- and she would do so, no matter what her conscience was telling her.

Taking a deep breath, Lucilla moved forward. Her steps echoed on the bare stone, alerting the Spaniard. She saw him shift his weight, step away from the wall and set his legs firmly against the ground, and his head came out of the darkness as he turned to face her.

In the years that would follow, Lucilla would be ready to swear her heart stopped beating when, in the flaming light of the torch, she recognized the face of the last man she had thought, imagined, hoped or dreamed to meet in that cell.

Maximus.

The Spaniard was Maximus.

She blinked her eyes, thinking they were playing tricks on her, but it was not so.

Even with a blindfold covering his eyes, there was no way she could not recognize that strong, bearded jaw. That proud, straight nose. That small, sensual mouth.

It was really him.

Maximus.

The only man she had ever loved and wanted.

The man she still loved and wanted.

The man she had not be able to save in Germania and whose death she had mourned for more than a year and half.

And instead he was alive and in front of her.

Blindfolded and chained.

A gladiator.

A slave.

The room seemed to spin around her and Lucilla walked to the nearby wall and put a hand against it to steady herself. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to calm down, as confused thoughts ran through her mind.

How was it possible for Maximus to be a slave? What had happened to him? Commodus had ordered him killed, but she had overheard the Praetorians sent to execute him had never returned. Had they decided to give Maximus to the German tribes in exchange for a fat purse? Lucilla shook her head at that silliness. Had they done so, Maximus would have been tortured and killed by the barbarians soon after. No, things had to have gone differently. But how?

There was only a sure way to know.

Ask Maximus.

Strengthening her resolve, Lucilla left the safety of the wall and walked toward the chained man, till she was at arm's length from him. She saw him tense even more and clench his fists.

"Don't touch me."

Maximus' rumbling, threatening voice washed over her and tears rose in Lucilla's eyes at that beloved sound. If she had any doubt she might have been mistaken about his identity, that voice swept them away.

Ignoring his warning, she moved closer to him and raised her trembling arm to pull away the blindfold. At the first brush of her fingers against his cheek, Maximus wrenched away his head.

"Stay away!" He growled.

"Shhh..." She soothed him, before reaching out again for the piece of fabric wrapped around his head. It was not tightly tied and it came loose at the first tug.

Lucilla watched fascinated as Maximus blinked to focus his vision and then fixed his blue-green eyes on her. She watched amazed at the array of expressions that appeared on his features as he recognized her.

Surprise. Shock. Incredulity. Rage. 

This last emotion was so strong, radiating from him like heat from fire, that Lucilla took an instinctive step back. She had not known what she could expect from him, but she had not been prepared for such a negative emotion that was so alike to hate...

He said nothing, just breathed hurriedly, and in the end she gathered enough strength to ask, "What- what are you doing here, Maximus?"

"You should know," he almost spat. "They brought me here for your pleasure."

Lucilla felt a blush of shame creep across her cheeks. "That's not what I meant. How did you end up a gladiator? What happened to you?"

"You know what happened. You were in Germania too." Maximus answered in a flat tone.

"Yes, but..." Lucilla fell silent and squeezed her brain, trying to find a way to break through his obstinate stance. "I am sorry for what took place that night...I did not mean it to happen..."

Maximus let out a short, humourless laugh. An unpleasant sound. "Should I feel grateful for your understanding?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Lucilla breathed harshly. This was not going anywhere. Maximus was refusing to communicate.

It was not the first time it happened. 

She remembered all too well his stubborn silence and unyielding stance the evening she had gone to apologize to him, after he had discovered she was promised to Lucius Verus and that all her talk of her father considering marrying her to Maximus was only lies.

He had stared at her stone-faced that long past evening, and nothing - her apologies, her pleas, her tears, her declarations of love - had softened him. She had gone to him begging for his forgiveness and assurance he still loved her, but received neither. Maximus had raised a wall around his heart and she had not been able to break through it. Just as was happening now.

"What are you waiting for?" His voice intruded into her thoughts.

"What?" Lucilla shook her head, not understanding.

Maximus smirked. "I was brought here to service you, lady. Do what you want to do, and let me return to my cell. I am tired. I wish to sleep."

Lucilla stared at him, shocked. Her mouth opened, but it took her few seconds to control her voice. "How- how can you think I could do something like that to you, Maximus? I would never do it."

"Then go away and never come here again."

Her eyes filled with tears at his cold tone. "Why are you treating me like this, Maximus? I am your friend, I wish to help you..." She seemed to have lost her pride, pleading with him as she had done twelve years before. "Please, let me help you..."

"I don't want your help. Now go away and forget you ever knew me." And before she was able to speak again or protest, Maximus raised his voice and called, "Guard! The lady has finished with me."

Lucilla felt so sad, so defeated and so tired she did not even dispute his claim. In truth, the guard should have waited for her orders, but it did not matter at that time.

The door opened and she threw a last, pained look at Maximus' unreadable face, before turning on her heel and walking away.

Dawn found Lucilla wide awake and with her mind sharp despite a sleepless night, ready to face the new day and the task she had decided to accomplish.

Help Maximus - no matter how unwilling he was.

The evening before, when she had returned to the Palace after her encounter in the Colosseum, Lucilla had closed herself in rooms and dismissed her maids, sending them to bed as she undressed and attended to her person by herself. She had needed to be alone and find again an appearance of calm.

Meeting Maximus had shocked her deeply and she had needed a lot of time to bring her turbulent emotions under control. Brushing her long, honey-coloured hair in front of the mirror had helped her to relax, although her eyes had not seen her reflection in the polished metal, but Maximus' face.

Alive, in the flesh, furious...and so very handsome.

Lucilla could not stop remembering how attractive he had been.

While confronting with him, trying to make him understand she was not an enemy, she had not been aware how his look and proximity had been affecting her. She had believed that discovering his identity and the resulting shock, had pushed away her lusty feelings, but it had not been completely true. And once back in the quiet of her rooms, she could not help but think about him.

He had looked noble and proud in the simple tunic, even more than he had been when she had seen him dressed in his uniform.

She had remembered how it had been to meet him again in Germania, after more than ten years since the last time they had seen each other. She had been impressed by the man Maximus had become. She had never stopped loving the boy he had been when they had first met, but he had paled in comparison to the mature man he was now. Quieter, more intense, commanding.

Back then Lucilla had desperately wanted to again make a connection with him and to feel again that warmth only he had been able to raise in her. But it had not gone as she had wished.

She had hoped Maximus would have forgiven or at least forgotten her past mistakes, but it had been evident he had not. He had flung her lies in her face and, stung, she had snapped at him, although she had immediately tried to win him back. The conversation had turned to her father and then to their sons and her heart had rejoiced when Maximus has softened while he spoke of his boy. For a moment it had seemed like the walls they had built around themselves were going to crumble, but he had not allowed it, walking away and leaving her alone with her longing- but not completely hopeless.

She had thought there would be other occasions to talk with him, to try to win again his friendship and trust, if not his love, but then the night had fallen, literally and metaphorically.

Her father had died and Maximus had refused to give his loyalty to Commodus, thus signing his death warrant.

Lucilla thought she knew why he had done so. She too had noticed the bluish marks around her father's neck and seen the grimace of his still face. She had no delusions he had died peacefully during his sleep as Commodus claimed. But while a part of her had wanted to react exactly as Maximus, her concerns for Lucius had pushed her onto a different path.

Although frightened by the man her brother had turned out to be, she had found the strength to tell him with no words she knew what he had done. Then she had slapped him twice - once for her father, once for Maximus - before taking his hand and kissing it- for Lucius.

They had then returned to Rome and while Commodus had proceeded to precipitate the empire in a reign of terror, Lucilla had often wondered what could have been if she had not been such a coward but used her influence, on her brother and the Praetorians, to help Maximus. She had thought she would be able to control her brother as she had done in the past, but facts had proved her wrong, and now she lived in a constant fear for Lucius and herself.

What could have been, she had wondered that night as she lay in bed, if she had helped Maximus? Would he have taken the throne? She was sure he would have been a great Caesar, honest and strong, just like her father had been. And why had a prudent man like him committed such a rash action as refusing Commodus' hand? Was it just because of his suspicions regarding Marcus Aurelius' death, or had he other reasons?

Lucilla could not help but remember how Maximus had paced back and forth in the Praetorium, after leaving her father's tent and before she had interrupted him. He had looked nervous, tense, as if he had been fighting an inner war. And he had avoided telling her why the emperor had summoned him...What had really transpired inside the tent? Had it something to do with what had happened later that night?

It was not the first time Lucilla had pondered these matters but, as usual, she found no answers to her questions...However, that night, something was different- very much so. For Maximus was still alive and he could tell her what she wished to know.

But how to convince him to do it?

He had emphatically told her he did not want to see her again- and his words had wounded her deeply, even if she could understand his feelings. He had lost every one and everything he had held dear: his family, his freedom, his rank. And more importantly he had lost his faith, so much so that he seemed to accept his fate without even opposing it.

And his destiny would lead him to certain death, in the Praetorians' hands if not in the arena, for there was no doubt Commodus would have him killed as soon as he discovered he was still alive. And once again she would have to be a witness, powerless and broken hearted...

Lucilla sat up abruptly, as an idea flashed into her mind.

There was a way to save Maximus. Nothing was lost - yet.

She could still save him, take him away from Rome, from the Colosseum and from Commodus. She had the means to do so.

It would be risky, yes, but Lucilla could not turn her head away another time. She could not leave the man she had loved her entire life alone and in mortal danger.

She would help him, one way or another, no matter if he liked it or not.

It was something she had to do if she still wanted to be able to look at herself in the mirror.

She loved Maximus and it was time to demonstrate it.

It was already dark when Lucilla crossed the threshold of a house overlooking the Ludus Magnus, the large compound that hosted the gladiators destined for the Colosseum.

Dressed in a dark cape, she was escorted only by Diadumenian, who had stubbornly refused to let her deal alone with Antonius Proximo, the man who owned Maximus- or better, the gladiator known as the Spaniard for Lucilla doubted any man could ever own Maximus. The old man had been shocked to hear his mistress' plans, but everything had changed when she had explained to him who the Spaniard really was and why it was so important to take him away from Rome.

Lucilla had revealed everything to him not only because Diadumenian was absolutely trusted, having been at her service since she was a child, first as a tutor and then as her private secretary, but also because she had felt the need to unburden herself and to receive some kind of support. It was so hard to be strong day after day, when everything she wanted was to lower her guard and relax in someone's arms. In Maximus' arms...

Once he had learnt the truth, Diadumenian at once approved her actions and had insisted to be the one purchasing Maximus from Proximo, so that her involvement would remain unknown, but Lucilla had declined his offer. She suspected she would have to use her influence to convince the lanista to do as she wished.

Proximo received them in a small room that looked like a study. He offered them wine and a seat, but Lucilla refused both, and the white haired man understood she did not want to lose time.

"What can I do for you, lady?"

"I want to buy the Spaniard."

Proximo's eyes first widened in surprise, than narrowed with malice. "Was he so good two evenings ago?"

Diadumenian gasped at the insolence and moved a step forward. "How do you dare to-" 

Lucilla silenced him with an imperious gesture of her hand.

"Yes, he was."

Proximo smirked. "Good. But I am afraid, lady, you will have to keep on enjoying him in the cells. He is not for sale."

"You have not even heard how much I can offer for him."

"I don't need to. The Spaniard is making me very rich in the arena and I quite doubt you can match that amount of money."

"What you say is right," Lucilla said, moving further into the room and picking up a small pot, looking at it as if it was something extraordinary, "but for how long? Aside from the fact the Spaniard could be killed every time he steps into the arena, we both know that if he keeps on winning and putting on such displays, the crowd will ask for his freedom when Caesar returns, and I can tell you my brother won't refuse their request."

"Your- your brother?" Proximo stammered and paled under his tan.

Lucilla pushed back her hood. "Yes, my brother. Commodus. He will be back soon and I will be the first one to tell him to free the Spaniard. As you may know, my brother is very fond of me and will do as I ask. And you will lose your slave, without getting a single as in compensation." She paused and looked intently at Proximo, who swallowed hard. "That is, if you don't sell him to me now...I offer your 350.000 sestertii or a property in Lucania. What do you say?"

"You have illustrated your point very well, My Lady," the lanista replied with a bow of his head. "I cannot but agree with your considerations."

"So you accept my offer?" Lucilla tried to remain calm and not show too much eagerness, not betray her other emotions.

"Indeed I do, My Lady."

"And what do you want? The money or the land?"

"I want the money and the land. My Lady." Proximo stared boldly at her as her secretary gasped.

Lucilla stared back, nodding once. "Done."

She gestured to Diadumenian and watched as her secretary sat down at a desk and pulled his writing tools out of his bag.

For the next several moments Lucilla and Proximo discussed the various clauses of the deal while Diadumenian took notes on a wax tablet. When every point was satisfactorily resolved, he wrote two copies of the contract on pieces of papyrus. Proximo observed him with hawk-eyes and Lucilla looked outside the window, at the gladiators' cells opening on the courtyard where Maximus was probably asleep, ignoring what was going to happen to him.

When the documents sanctioning the change of ownership of the Spaniard were ready, Proximo and Lucilla signed and sealed them, then a bank draft for 350.000 sestertii and act of property of a farm in Lucania exchanged hands and the deal was completed.

"Diadumenian will come at dawn to collect the Spaniard," said Lucilla, as she pulled up her hood and prepared to leave. "Have him ready to travel."

Proximo bowed his head. "As you command, My Lady."

"And don't tell him who has bought him. He will discover it in due time."

"Of course."

"Good."

Lucilla nodded, looking calm and cool, but her heart was beating wildly.

Maximus was no longer a gladiator and soon he would be out of Rome and away from danger.

She had done it.

She had saved him.

The ride to Baiae had never seemed so long to Lucilla, even when, as a young child, she had been eager to leave the confines of the Palace to spend some time at the summer villa, in her family's company. Those weeks away from the rigid ceremonials of the imperial court had always been special for her, because it was the only occasion her father stopped being a Caesar to become only her tata, always ready to play with her and her numerous siblings.

Many a year had elapsed since then, but the villa in Baia had always remained a favourite of hers, so much that her father had given it to her as present when Lucius had been born, and she had spent several summers there, enjoying the sea and the sun with her son.

That year, however, had been different. Commodus had not allowed her and Lucius to leave Rome, for he had wanted both of them near to "enjoy" with him the 150 days of games he had organized to commemorate Marcus Aurelius.

Lucilla could only bend to his wishes, inwardly cringing every time Lucius was forced to see something his young eyes should have not, and when her brother had left for Germania, she had lost no time to send Lucius to Baia, away from the games and the heat of the Capital.

But as the imperial caravan trotted South along the Via Appia, it was not only the nostalgia for her son that made Lucilla restless and unable to concentrate on any of her usual travelling pastimes, such as sewing or reading.

More than ten days had passed since Maximus had been purchased and sent to Campania, and she looked forward to seeing him again. Well, to be sincere, Lucilla was also struggling to control her anxiety, for she had no idea of his reaction.

Would he be angry she had interfered with his life? Would he listen to her reasons? Would he understand she could not have acted differently?

She had ordered Diadumenian not to say anything to Maximus, for she wanted to be the one to do so, but when she had made that decision she had not known she would be forced to remain in Rome for ten more days. She had thought to leave the next afternoon, but then the news had arrived that another bout of plague was spreading in the Greek quarter, and she had to postpone her departure and give the necessary orders to face the crisis. Despite her annoyance and her worries, Lucilla had found the situation somehow amusing. She was a widow and thus, by a juridical point of view, she was little more than a minor who, by the law, would need a tutor to care for her business. And yet every one who counted in Rome - and even much of the mob - knew she was the person they owed the few good things Commodus' rule had brought them. She, and handful of senators that stubbornly put the empire's needs before their own, constantly risking Caesar's anger by telling him what he did not wish to hear.

Once the crisis had abated, Lucilla had hurried to leave, wanting nothing more than to embrace her son, and see again the man that could have been his father if things had gone differently...

Lucilla had barely stepped down her wagon in front of her villa, when Lucius appeared, running in the courtyard wearing only his loincloth. Behind him came one of his guardians carrying his robe, but there was no way that middle aged woman could keep up with the excited youngster.

"Mother!" cried the boy, rushing into her arms.

"Lucius!" she exclaimed, pressing his body against her own, unconcerned about the display they were giving to the household. Most of the people living and working at the villa had been there since she had been a child, and she was not embarrassed to behave just like a mother in front of them.

Loosening her embrace, Lucilla stepped back to get a better look at her son. He was tanned and healthy, his hair longer and sun-blenched and she could swear he had grown since the last time she had seen him.

"You are taller, Lucius," she commented with a smile, ruffling his hair.

"Really?" the boy beamed at her.

"Oh yes. It will not long before you reach and then shoot past me. Your father and grandfather were both tall men and I am sure you will be too."

"Great!" Lucius grinned. "But I also want to be strong. A man tall but not robust is not that good. He is like a slim tree the wind can easily break. Instead I want to look like an oak." Lucilla was about to comment on that little piece of wisdom, when the boy added, "I want to be like the gladiator living here in the villa. Tall and strong."

Lucilla's mouth opened in surprise. Lucius knew about Maximus? How did he discover the man was a gladiator? How much did he know about the whole matter?

"Mother? Are you all right? Did I say something wrong?" Lucius touched her arm, concerned.

"Yes, I am all right. I was just wondering how do you known...our guest is a gladiator?"

"Diadumenian told me..."

"I had told him to say nothing until I was here," she whispered with a frown.

"I know, but- but I was most insistent, Mother." Lucius glanced briefly at his bare feet, before adding, "And also very curious. You see, Mother, when the wagons arrived, it was already night, and I was in bed, sleeping. But they made so much noise they disturbed me. I opened the shutters to see what was the cause of it: an unknown man was making a lot of resistance while several of our servants pushed and pulled at him. So I dressed and ran down, wanting to know why they were treating him so badly. Diadumenian spotted me before I could put a foot in the courtyard and told me to stay away, for the man was dangerous. So I looked while he was dragged away and then I asked Diadumenian why the stranger was dangerous. He told me I would have to wait for your arrival to know more, but I was too curious..." Lucius lowered his head again and this time he did not raise it, until his mother prompted him to do so.

"What did you do?" Lucilla crossed her arms on her chest, looking sternly at her son.

"I blackmailed Diadumenian...I told him I would try to discover it by myself if he did not revealed it to me, and that meant going near that man...That scared him, thus he capitulated and told me the stranger is a gladiator."

"I see." Lucilla shook her head. "What you did is wrong, and unfair in Diadumenian's regards. He cares for you and it was bad to take advantage of his fear."

"I know, Mother. I am not proud of what I did. I will ask Diadumenian's forgiveness as soon I can. What do you think?" Lucius looked at her hopefully and she nodded.

"All right."

The boy smiled in relief, then the excited expression returned to cross his face. "Why did you have a gladiator brought here, Mother? Do you want to have him fight in the local arena?"

"Absolutely not! You know I hate the games. I had sent that man here for other reasons." Lucius opened his mouth to say something, but she silenced him with a look. "I will tell you when the right time arrives. Now return to your play as I get settled."

Lucius nodded, knowing his mother could be inflexible when she decided so. He gave her a brief hug, then went away, running toward the beach.

Lucilla smiled with fondness, then moved inside the villa. 

She was greeted by a maid who helped her to remove her palla, while another one offered her a cup of watered wine and a plate of sweets to quell her appetite while they arranged a more sumptuous meal.

Lucilla ate only one of the biscuits, more out of consideration for the cook's work than for real hunger. Her stomach was contracted because of what Lucius had told her, about Maximus having been treated badly. She had given orders he was not to be harmed or abused in any way and she had hoped to have been obeyed.

"My Lady?" 

Diadumenian appeared at her side while she was still munching and she greeted him with a nod, before indicating he should follow her.

They went to her study, and while they walked, Lucilla commented, "My son told me what happened the night you arrived, about how he blackmailed you to know Maximus' identity."

"Oh mistress, I am so sorry to have disobeyed you but-"

"Shh, Diadumenian, I know why you did so. I am not angry, but if I were you I would expect to receive a contrite boy's apology this evening." Lucilla pushed open the door of the tablinium, and went to her desk, where she sat down, before asking what really mattered to her. "How was the journey?"

"Fine, My Lady. The general was mostly quiet during the trip, and he did not make any attempt to escape. The problems started when we arrived here." The secretary's voice died.

"What do you mean?" Lucilla stomach tightened even more as she saw her fears become reality.

"The general did not take well to be dragged away from Rome and even less to be kept in absolute ignorance of the reason behind this change in his life."

"I see." Lucilla murmured. 

"Forgive me, My Lady, but I don't think you can. The general is furious. Completely out of his mind and dangerous. So much so, I had to order to keep him chained, because none of the servants feel safe in his presence. I just hope seeing you and understanding he is among friends will calm him."

Lucilla nodded, speechless and gestured Diadumenian to leave her alone. She had not imagined such a thing. She had thought Maximus would be curious, perhaps a little scared about his sudden sale, but certainly not so angry to oblige her secretary to restrain him. Diadumenian was a very compassionate man, and if he had ordered Maximus to be chained it meant he had found that extreme measure necessary. And the implications frightened Lucilla. She had wanted to help Maximus, not to cause him even more pain and denigration.

Lucilla closed her eyes as she rested her head against the back of the chair for several moments. When she opened them again, there was a new resolution in their green depth.

She would not leave Maximus in the darkness a moment more.

She would go to him.

Now.

Lucilla followed Diadumenian to a room in the left wing of the villa. One of her gardeners, who seemed to have been on guard, saluted her with a bow.

"My Lady."

"Gneus. How is he?" She gestured to the closed door with her head.

"As usual. Brooding and uncooperative. He has eaten, though, and also washed. The previous days he refused to do it."

"Oh." Lucilla swallowed hard. "Is he still chained?"

"Of course!"

"Do you have the keys?"

"Yes, they are here, mistress." Gneus fingered them as they hung from his belt.

"Give them to me."

"What?! My Lady, you surely do not want to free him!" The gardener sounded almost outraged, as Diadumenian shifted his weight from a leg to the other, ill at ease.

"I will do what I believe is right. Now give me the keys." Lucilla stretched out her hand.

Gneus threw a pleading glance at the secretary, as if begging him to make her reason, but the other man just looked at him, resigned. So he untied the keys from his belt and handed them to Lucilla.

"At least allow us to come inside with you!" He begged her.

"It won't be necessary. I have known Maximus for many years. He would not hurt me."

Diadumenian stepped in front of her. "My Lady Lucilla, forgive my boldness. You knew General Maximus, but I believe he is a different man now. He is the Spaniard, a ferocious gladiator- not your long-time friend. You must be very prudent inside there, and do not hesitate to call should you need help."

"I will be very cautious, I promise." Lucilla patted his hand. "Now open the door and let me inside."

Gneus and Diadumenian exchanged another hesitant look, but both knew they could only obey. 

When their mistress set her mind on something, nothing and no one could push her away from her intended path.

Lucilla's blood pounded in her ears as she watched Gneus pull the bolt and open the door. Clutching the fabric on the front of her dress in an unconscious attempt to comfort herself, she stepped inside the room.

It was large and comfortable, luminous even if the windows were located very high on the wall. There was a bed, a table with a chair, and a basin with a pitcher in a corner.

Lucilla took note of everything with just a quick glance, before her eyes stopped on Maximus.

He was standing near the bed, leaning against the wall where stood the rings to which his chains were fixed. He was dressed in the same blue tunic he had worn in Rome, and he looked well, although his beard was in need of a good shave; of course Diadumenian and Gneus had not trusted to give him a razor. But what really caught her attention were his eyes. They seemed to shine even more intensely than she remembered, emanating blue sparks like sapphires set against the golden bronze of his face.

It took her a moment to understand they were burning with rage, but she realized it an instant before Maximus' features contorted in a grimace and he charged against her.

"YOU!" He sputtered viciously, before the chains at his wrists restrained him. "I should have surmised it was you! Last time you were not satisfied, and you want more?!"

Lucilla felt the urge to back away from the rage emanating from him, but she forced herself to remain where she was.

"Maximus, it is not what you think."

"No? And what is it then?" He hissed, the chains still stretched to their limit.

"I am trying to help you..." She pleaded with him.

"Did not you hear me last time? I told you I did not need your help!"

"Indeed you needed it!" Lucilla almost shouted. "Maximus, you were a gladiator! You could have been killed any day in the arena. And what do you think would have happened upon Commodus' return in Rome? The crowd would have asked for your freedom and you would have to face my brother-"

"Yes!" Maximus cried, giving another pull to the chains. "That was exactly what I was aiming to! But you ruined everything!" He glared at her and turned slightly away.

"What are you saying, Maximus? Commodus would have never set you free- he would have you killed as soon as he recognized you. That's why I took you away. I can give you your freedom- I will give it to you..." Lucilla spoke softly, soothingly and took a couple of steps forward.

Maximus whirled on his heels and grabbed her by the throat with lightening speed.

"You don't understand," he hissed, bringing his face very close to hers, "I don't want to be free! I want to kill your brother..."

"What?" Lucilla stammered, acutely aware of the warmth of his breath on her cheek and of his hand on her neck, holding her but not squeezing.

"Do you know what he did to my family? They were burned and crucified while they were still alive."

"I knew nothing..."

"Don't lie to me!" He shook her.

Lucilla swallowed hard. "I wept for them." 

It was true. She had done it after overhearing one of the Praetorians sent to commit the murders give his report to Commodus.

"As you wept for your father? As you wept for your father?" Maximus hissed again, but he no longer sounded so enraged.

"I have been living in a prison of fear since that day. To be unable to mourn your father for fear of your brother. To live in terror every moment of every day, because your son is heir to the throne. Oh, I have wept." Lucilla told him, her eyes never leaving his, opening her soul in front of him.

"My son was innocent." His voice was now a mere whisper broken by emotion.

"So is mine. Must my son die, too, before you will trust me?"

Maximus released his hold on her throat and stepped back. "What does it matter if I trust you or not?"

Lucilla thought hard about how use that little opening to break through his defences. 

"I can help you to have what you want..."

He looked at her, sceptic. "How?"

"My brother has enemies, most of all in the Senate, but so far they had not dared to stand up to him because of the lack of good alternatives to him. They do not want to cause a civil war, and need a strong leader...You could be that man..." Lucilla's voice turned persuasive.

"They oppose him, yet they do nothing?" Maximus leant back against the wall, shaking his head in disbelief.

"There are some politicians who have dedicated their lives to Rome. One man above all. I could arrange a meeting with him..."

"Why should I meet him? I do not care for politics."

"This man wants what you want."

"Then have him kill Commodus!" Maximus roared, and his voice echoed in the room and her heart.

Lucilla blinked back her tears of frustration. Once again he was refusing to let her in. She tried a different tactic.

"I knew a man once. A noble man. A man of principle, who loved my father and my father loved him. This man served Rome well."

Maximus swallowed hard, and lowered his eyes. "That man is gone." He murmured, "Your brother did his work well."

"I cannot believe it." She said firmly. "That man is still here. Hurt, beaten down, disillusioned, sad, but not defeated. I know it is so. You just have to let him come back to the light." Maximus stared at her and did not reply, but Lucilla got the impression he was struggling with himself to keep his emotions under control. "Let me help you," she whispered, moving closer to him. "Let me help him out of the darkness."

No answer.

Just a brief, almost unnoticeable nod after a long pause, but it was enough for Lucilla. Her heart almost jumped with joy. It would be a long road but they could make it. They would make it.

"Give me your hands, Maximus." She commanded softly and he obeyed, allowing her to free him from the chains.

"Thank you," he whispered, rubbing his wrists.

"There is no need." She answered, before adding, if only inside her mind. "I could not bear to see you treated like this a moment more." Then she said aloud, "I will leave you now. I am tired from the ride and I believe we both need time to think." Deep in her heart Lucilla hoped Maximus would ask her to stay a little longer, but he just nodded.

Thus, after giving him a last, long look, she turned on her heels and left the room.

Diadumenian and Gneus were anxiously waiting for her and they sighed in relief when she stepped out in the corridor, closing the door behind her.

"How did it go, My lady?" The two men asked in unison.

"As well as I can expect." Lucilla rubbed the bridge of her nose. She was exhausted.

Gneus moved to bolt the door, but she stopped him. "It is not necessary; he is a guest not a prisoner."

The gardener looked at her perplexed, but did not comment. Lucilla then turned to her secretary and ordered, "Bring some clean clothes to the general and also a razor- his beard needs a good trimming. And be sure to have the chains removed from his room."

Diadumenian nodded, albeit not completely convinced, but Lucilla did not notice as she started walking along the corridor.

Five days later Lucilla stepped out in the garden, after having given strict orders to not disturb her for any reason. She needed silence and quietness to find a solution to the worries plaguing her regarding Maximus.

She had been so filled with hope after their first encounter, but the next meetings had not gone as she had expected.

Maximus did not talk. Nor he was interested to hear what Lucilla wished to tell him- and it was quite a lot. She wanted to talk about their past and what had happened in Germania, and ask his forgiveness for all the pain she had caused him, but he simply refused to communicate with her.

Or with anybody else, for what it mattered.

Maximus spent his days alone, mostly closed in his room or walking in her estate or along the beach.

The first time he had gone out, Lucilla had feared he might leave for good, and when he had returned few hours later, covered in sweat as if he had been running, she had searched for something to say, but words had failed her again.

What must I do with him? Lucilla wondered, as she strolled along the neatly trimmed fences and well-cared for flowerbeds. I wish nothing more than help him, but how can I do it if he refuses to listen and to talk to me? I never stopped loving him and seeing him like this pains me. Would he believe me if I told him the truth? Maybe he just needs time, but it is a luxury we don't have. Commodus might return at anytime. Perhaps I should simply face him and force him to hear what I have to say...

That last thought caused her mind to wander in an unexpected, completely different way. Lucilla imagined having Maximus dragged in chains into her room, completely at her mercy. After all, she was his owner and the law gave her every right over him... It was a heady fantasy, and her breath quickened as the images flashed in front of her. She would force Maximus to listen to her declaration of love, and then she would demonstrate to him how much she desired him... touching him everywhere, his chest, neck, face, legs, until his body would scream for hers as she did for his...and then...then...Lucilla forced herself to stop. They were just a bunch of sordid fantasies, unbefitting a woman claiming to love a man. She could never submit Maximus to such humiliation and he would never forgive her if she did. No, there had to be a different way and she had best to find it instead of losing time with such idiocies.

It was then Lucilla became aware she was not alone.

There was someone else in that part of the garden. She could hear muffled voices come from beyond a tall fence, although she could not see anyone. Lucilla tensed her ears and arched her eyebrow when she realized one of the voices was Lucius. She then held her breath when the other voice talked again and she recognized it. Maximus.

When had Lucius befriended him? For how long had they been talking? Her mind was full of questions, but she decided to not pursue them. Careful to not make any noise, she walked closer to the fence, and the marble bench she knew was beyond it. That was why she could not see the boy and the man.

"May ask you something, sir?" Lucius was saying at that moment.

Lucilla heard no answer, but supposed Maximus must have nodded, for her son went on, "Have you known my mother for a long time?"

"More than ten years. Why are you asking?"

"Because when she told me about what happened to you, sir, I got the impression she liked you a lot; I wanted to see if it was the same for you."

Lucilla's eyes widened in surprise.

The evening before, she had summoned Lucius to the room that housed the lararium and once there, in front of the family shrine, with Marcus Aurelius' figurine as witness, she had revealed to her son who Maximus really was and what had happened in Germania the last time she had met him. It had been her first, real adult conversation with her boy, but she believed he was old and clever enough to understand the situation. Of course, she had not revealed to Lucius that Commodus had probably killed his own father, but had made sure he realized he absolutely could not tell his uncle Maximus was still alive.

Lucius had solemnly nodded, and Lucilla had known he would never break her trust, but she had not imagined she had betrayed her feelings for Maximus so much her son had noticed them.

Beyond the fence the conversation continued, with Maximus saying, "I too like her. I always have."

Lucilla's heart skipped a beat.

"Then why you don't talk with her?"

"It is a long story, Lucius, not suitable for such young ears." She guessed Maximus wanted to change topic, but Lucius did not.

"Are you angry with her because she is your mistress? Because you belong to her?"

There was a rustling noise and Lucilla had barely the time to hide behind a tree before Maximus' head and shoulders appeared over the edge of the fence. "I do not wish to discuss it, young master. Forgive me."

The top of Lucius head peaked, barely visible. "There is nothing to forgive, sir. I was too nosy. I will leave you now, so you can continue your walk."

Lucilla heard steps walk away on the gravel covered path, then a loud sigh as Maximus sat down again on the bench. She remained where she was a while longer, then carefully returned to the villa, her mind lost in thought about what she had just heard. If she was right, in that conversation, there was the key to unlock Maximus' defences...and she had to use it well.