Prologue
North Africa, winter 180 AD

The caravan unravelled in the yellow-reddish desert like a long, somnolent snake, as its constituents advanced, following the well-travelled path traced on the sand by hundred of other feet, hooves, wheels. The party was composed of wagons pulled by donkeys, riders mounting horses and camels and walking men, some of them free and restraining hooded ostriches, other chained to the cages than transported both humans and animals.

It was a caravan of slave-traders, their merchandises directed to the Roman province of Zucchabar, destined to its fields, its mines, its brothels, its arenas.

But someone who had been observing the slow progress from atop a rocky mountain, waiting for it to arrive on open ground, had decided that time the stock of human flesh would not reach the Roman territory.

One hundred or so mounted warriors belonging to the tribe living near the Big Oasis had been pursuing and spying the caravan for days, waiting for the right moment to strike the men who had kidnapped a group of their women and children.

And now the time to free their loved ones had come.

"We are ready," a young rider said aloud, reining his horse beside that of an older man, whose eyes were still following the procession down in the valley.

"Good." Nabdalsa, the tribal chief turned to look at his companion, and tilted his chin on the right. "I will attack on the front, Zeretes, and you from the rear. Our people are in the middle of the line and I want to keep the fight away from them."

"As you wish." Zeretes stared for a while at Nabdalsa's sun-burned features, reading his resolve and determination, then raised his hand to the side of his head and fixed the loose veil of his turban to cover his face, leaving only the eyes free. Nabdalsa did the same, before they slowly unsheathed their long, curved swords, imitated at once by the other riders. Then the warriors split in two groups and with a thunderous war cry spurred their horses to gallop and began to descend the stony slope, pointing straight to the caravan.

The attack did not last long. 

As soon as the slave-traders and theirs guards took note of the consistency of the group attacking them, and of the impossibility to resist to its force, they decided to flee and save their lives, leaving behind their stock. But not all of them were so lucky to escape, for Nabdalsa and his men were resolute to teach a good lesson to the slavers, hoping to stop their practice to of kidnapping free people to be sold to the Romans.

Finally, when the battle was over and the sand had settled, Nabdalsa led his horse along the line of driverless wagons and scared prisoners, inspecting the spoils of their victory. His was a peaceful tribe, which used force only for defence. His people lived tending fields, breeding animals and producing finely crafted utensils and potteries they sold to markets and fairs, but since they had been forced to attack, they were now going to gain as much wealth as possible by that action. Some of their warriors would not return home and the money that could be made by selling the animals would help their families to go on. As for the slaves, the tribe did not practice slavery, so the chieftain ordered all the prisoners to be set free with the means to reach the nearby town of Zucchabar.

Nabdalsa was still pondering on the wisdom of keeping the ostriches or setting them free for they were difficult to handle, when Zeretes called for him.

"Chief! Come here please!"

The warrior trotted to where the younger man was standing and stopped his horse, arching an eyebrow in enquiry.

"Look at this man, Chief. What do we do with him?"

Nabdalsa lowered his eyes and immediately understood the other's perplexity. 

The man in question was lying flat on the rough floor of a ruined wagon, very close to the cage holding a hyena that kept on snarling, with a chained monkey jumping over his legs. He was covered with dirt and sweat, and looked distinctly sick and fevered, the cause of it being an ugly wound on his left shoulder, which was infested by maggots.

"He is chained," commented Zeretes, "so he must be a slave too. But look at his tattoo! He is a Roman, a soldier."

"I see." Nabdalsa murmured as he wondered if the man had been kidnapped too.

"What do you want me to do? He is sick and he will never be able to leave with the other slaves we freed. And we cannot take him to the Oasis with us to heal him- it is too dangerous."

"I know my friend, I know." The old leader sighed, "There is only one thing we can do: put an end to his suffering. He is unconscious and will feel no pain. Do it now."

"Yes, Chief."  Zeretes nodded and, as Nabdalsa turned to ride away, he pulled out his dagger, intending to cut the wounded man's throat. But in that precise moment, the Roman opened his eyes and looked at him, although his glazed glance eyes denoted he was not really seeing him.

"Chief!" cried the tribesman, "Come back here, quickly!" There was a hint of panic in the youth's voice, and Nabdalsa retraced his steps at once, dismounting his horse in hurry.

"What is it?" he asked, leaning over his shoulder.

"Look at his eyes!!"

Both of them stared at the man's irises and the tribal leader gasped when he saw their colour: they were blue with a hint of green, shining like gems on that dirty, bearded face. They looked like the sea he had seen once, like the clear waters that nurtured the lands of his tribe.

"Chief? Zeretes' voice sounded very small, "Do you think it might be him? The Great One of the prophecy?"

"I don't know, son," answered an equally subdued Nabdalsa, as the Roman kept on looking at them with his fevered aquamarine eyes.

The chieftain sighed then intoned with reverence:

"The old Roman king is dead, Nabdalsa, I heard it in Zucchabar when I visited the market few days ago. His son has succeeded him."

"I know."

"This man is a soldier...a warrior. And he looks to be very tall and robust. He can could really be the Great One the oracle told us about." Zeretes said in awe.

"Indeed..." The chieftain nodded pensively, as he continued to stare at the wounded man, who had lost his senses again, closing his strange, captivating eyes. Was he the Great One of the prophecy? Something inside himself told him he was, even if he had never expected him to be a sick, wounded Roman...But the gods' ways were often mysterious as much as their words and mortal men could not pretend to understand them.

Nabdalsa took his decision. "Search for a good wagon to transport him as I free him. We are taking him to the Oasis."

Zeretes nodded quickly. "As you command." He ran away to execute the order, while his leader, remained staring at the big man lying there, trying to discover beyond his closed eyes the answer to his question: was he the Great One his people had been waiting for?

North Africa, spring 184 AD

"Do you want some water, My Lady?" 

Her maid's solicitous voice recalled Annia Aurelia Galeria Lucilla's attention from the contemplation of the plain, monotonous landscape she had been staring at for hours, as the wagons and the riders composing the imperial caravan advanced slowly into the desert.

That long trip, in a land not controlled by Rome, had not been planned but forced on them by the sea storm that had damaged the ship carrying them from Italia, obliging them to dock in a harbour which was not the one they were directed to.

Lucilla just hoped it was not an indication of how her travel and her "task" in the region were going to proceed. As far as her green eyes could see, there were only sand, rocks and palms to surround them, set against a blue sky devoid of any clouds. It was a sight that could as easily inspire awe, sense of freedom or boredom, depending by the observer's mood.

In Lucilla's case, it only caused sadness and sense of impotence, for each step the horses took, put more distance between her and her son. And it sharpened her sense of loneliness - she felt alone, alone as she had been for most of her life, despite being surrounded by a court ready to obey her slightest whim.

Sighing, she turned around and took the offered cup. 

"Thank you, Tiberina." She said, smiling weakly and trying to look cheerful, but failing miserably, for her heart was too full of anguish to allow her even that small acting. There was no place inside her, no secret source from which she could draw the strength to lie convincingly- Commodus had seen to it.

Lucilla sighed - she did it very often lately - and returned to look outside the wagon window, not really seeing the sand, the rocks, the palms, but reliving another time, the horror of the four years spent at her brother's side.

She knew it was useless and that was only a way to hurt herself, but she could not stop the direction of her thoughts.

Since Commodus' accession to the throne, she had lived in constant fear, for her son Lucius was the heir to the Purple, at least till her brother's wife produced a boy, something that had few chances to happen given the fact Crispina lived estranged from her husband. Lucilla had been conscious from the start that Lucius had no protection against his uncle but her, and the "love" Commodus felt for her, his sister. A love that was morbid and sick, for he harboured incestuous feelings in her regards.

It had always been so, but it had worsened since their father's hand had no longer been there to control and restrain him. Commodus had given free reign to his worst instincts, to the point where, a couple of times, only a series of fortunate coincidences had prevented him committing the ultimate, unnatural act with her.

But if she had been somehow able to control him in that regards, Lucilla had been powerless to stop her brother from venting the hate he carried inside him on the Roman populace and the Empire.

His rule had been brutal, merciless and bloody. He and his Praetorians squads had crushed everyone who had tried to oppose him, or had simply dared to raise doubts against some of his actions. He had gone as far as trying to disband the Senate, even if it had not worked for the mob had not liked the move. The revolt had convinced Commodus to step back from his purpose, and the Senate had continued to exist, although it had been purged with the elimination of many an opponent of the emperor. What remained was a group of scared men, nothing more but a bunch of puppets dancing in Caesar's hands.

Lucilla had witnessed to the death of many friends, unable to do more than beg for a merciful execution, always careful to not expose herself or Lucius to her paranoid brother's suspicions, always careful to not overstep her boundaries.

Or at least it had been so till thirteen months before...

Marcus Aurelius' daughter closed her eyes as she thought of the events that had led to her participation to the conspiracy that should have freed her from Commodus forever.

She had been too tired to stand against him alone, too exhausted to be the only one still fighting to preserve her father's dream, and she had forgotten one of the most important lessons her mother, the late Empress Faustina, had taught her.

She had given her approval to a plot against her brother. 

Everything had seemed perfectly organized, ready to be set in motion, until the moment someone had talked to the wrong person and they had been discovered.

Commodus' rage had been boundless. 

He had everyone involved in the plot tortured and killed, their families and household slaughtered, their money confiscated. He had destroyed everyone but Lucilla, whose punishment had been somehow worse.

She had been forced to attend all the executions, wondering if she too would soon be strangled or stabbed by the sword, and when the killings had ended, she had been sent in exile to Caprae, away from the Capital, away from Lucius, unable to see or communicate with him.

Unable to know how he was - or if he was still alive...

It had been a period of never-ending anguish for Lucilla, compared to which even the long years of her loveless, sad marriage had been nothing.

Time had seemed to never pass for her in the villa emperor Tiberius had built in Caprae, as each new day had elapsed identical to the previous one.

She had spent hours after hours staring at the sea, dreading the arrival of Praetorians sent to kill her, and desperately wishing her sight could stretch as far as Rome, to allow her to see what was going on there.

She had filled her evenings with prayers, begging the gods to protect her son and help her. 

Asking forgiveness to her father and to the love of her life, Maximus, for not acting in Germania when she still could have done something to stop her brother.

She had even pleaded with her mother- whose advice  never to involve herself in a conspiracy she had always followed, until that only, fateful time- to help her to deal with Commodus, the late Empress's favourite child.

When she had finally been recalled in Rome, after a year of almost complete isolation from the rest of the world, her nerves strained and her spirit almost broken, she had been ready to do everything Commodus wanted to remain near her son.

She had even been resigned to succumb to his incestuous attentions if that would ensure Lucius' safety- but her brother had other plans for her.

"You will marry again," he had coldly announced her as soon as they had been alone, "Your future husband is Falco." 

Lucilla had been shocked by the news. 

Commodus had always been obsessively jealous of her, and she remembered how he had disliked seeing her married to Lucius Verus. But despite her astonishment, she had obeyed the order with an impassive face, not even daring to protest, knowing there was nothing she could do to change her brother's decision.

After all, despite the strangeness of it, that no-win situation had not been new to her. 

Already once in the past she had been forced to marry a man she did not love. 

She had fought and rebelled back then, even threatened to take her own life, but now she no longer had strength or will to do so, nor she could dare to enrage Commodus even more.

Senator Publius Helvius Falco was his most trusted ally and the mind behind several of Caesar's worst actions. He was an ambitious man and certainly had convinced the Emperor he would be able to control his sister well, gaining in the same time more prestige for himself and his family.

Lucilla had never liked him and dreaded the idea of sharing his bed, of letting him touch her...

However, she had tried to see the positive aspects of the matter. 

She had thought it could not be any worse than she had suffered in her late husband's careless hands for, at least, in the past Falco had showed admiration in her regards, something it could not be said of Lucius Verus. More importantly, Lucilla had hoped to be reunited to Lucius after the marriage, and she knew her son's nearness would help her to bear everything destiny had in store for her.

But her hopes had been quickly shattered. 

She had learned that during her exile, Falco had been sent to Africa as Proconsul and that she was bound to join him there, while Lucius would remain in Rome, away from her.

Upon hearing the news, Lucilla had finally found the strength to try to reason with Commodus, to beg him to let her see her boy at least for few moments, but he had been deaf to her pleas. He had coldly ordered her to behave, otherwise Lucius would pay for her mistakes. The threat in his voice had been unmistakable and she had bowed to his will, defeated.

Her voyage to Africa had been quickly arranged, for Commodus wanted her and her entourage to leave as soon as the navigation season opened, while he would follow her in a later time, just to attend the wedding. As the preparations proceeded, Lucilla had scored her only success when she was allowed to take with her some of her most trusted servants, included Tiberina, one of the maids that had been with her since her youth.

And during her sojourn in Rome, she had also discovered the real reason behind her forced marriage. 

Unable to sleep, she had spent many a night reading the dispatches coming from Africa, thus learning that while she was in exile, Falco had been appointed as a sort of supreme Proconsul, in charge of all the provinces located there. One of his first moves had been to launch a series of attacks along the frontier, trying to extend the Roman domination beyond the centuries- old borders. His plan had yielded him some initial success, then the tables had been turned, and the Roman army had been defeated several times by the Berbers tribes living in the lands Falco wanted to conquer.

Those brave warriors- who were reported to fight as well organized and trained as a legion- and their leader, a mysterious man called the Great One, had stirred some sympathies in the African provinces, not to mention a lot of discontent about the taxes increase necessary to maintain the troops.

Commodus was now trying to regain ground there by marrying Lucilla - well-loved by the populace - to Falco, with the hope her presence and political skills would help to restore peace in the area. Indeed Caesar had arrived to the point of telling her he pretended some results by the time he would arrive to participate at the wedding.

Once again Lucilla had lowered her head in obedience, decided to do everything she had to do to keep Lucius safe.

And now there she was, travelling along the hot Numidian desert, just outside the border of the province bearing the same name, ready as she could ever be to do her "duty" to her brother. In her heart, however, she sided with the tribes who were so courageously defending their homes from the attacks led by men who cared nothing for the good of the Empire, but only for their own ambition.

The wagon came to a sudden stop, snapping Lucilla out of her reverie, as she reached out a hand against the wall to avoid a fall.

"What is happening?" she wondered aloud, blinking her eyes to adapt them to the relative darkness of the conveyance, but before Tiberina could try to offer an explanation, she heard one of the Praetorians escorting them shout, "We are assaulted by marauders! Prepare for the attack! Create a defensive perimeter around the wagon! Quick!"

Lucilla's heart began to pound and she pressed her face against the grating protecting the window, looking anxiously outside.

"Oh blessed gods!" She exclaimed in horror when she saw the size of the group of mounted warriors galloping in their direction, their long, curved swords shining under the sun.

"What is happening, domina, what is happening?" Tiberina asked, before imitating her mistress and looking outside, only to scream in sheer terror when she saw one of the marauders sever a Praetorian's head, the force of the blow making it fly in the air and land several feet away from the body.

Lucilla was horrified, but tried to remain calm while the battle raged outside and the sounds of killing and death filled her ears.

The Praetorians fought valiantly, but they were too few and soon it became clear they would not resist for long. 

Marcus Aurelius' daughter looked around her for a way to escape, but there was none, for there was no possibility of reaching the horse's reins, nor of leaving the wagon without someone opening the door from outside. She remembered complaining about the fact with Commodus, when they had travelled together to Germania, and he had replied by laughing and telling her nobody would ever dare to attack an imperial carriage escorted by Praetorians...

"You were wrong, brother," she hissed, cursing him for putting her in that situation and for forbidding the guards to let her even carry a dagger with which defend herself- or put an end to her own life.

"What we do now, My Lady?" Tiberina cried frantic, her eyes wide and pleading.

"We stay silent," commanded Lucilla. "We are going to hide and hope these brutes will not find us." Her voice was tight with tension, for she knew their chances were really small.

Her thoughts went to Lucius and she felt pain and regrets wash over her: would she ever see her boy again? Shaking her head, she pushed at her maid's shoulders. "Quick! Lie under the bed!"

Terrified, Tiberina obeyed to her mistress' order, as Lucilla did the same, rolling beneath her own cot. 

Then the waiting started.

Outside the sounds of the battle had died, replaced by raucous laughs and by words said in a language the two women cannot understand.

Lucilla could hear the marauders moving around, probably ascertaining how much the attack had yielded them. Then they began to knock on the wagon's walls and from inside the women listened as the men rummaged with the locks, before the back door was opened and lowered to the ground. Lucilla's breath caught in her throat, as she remained motionless, but for turning her head to check Tiberina. The maid seemed on the verge of tears and Marcus Aurelius' daughter willed her to be strong, for the slightest sound might be their downfall.

Two loud thuds were heard as a couple of marauders climbed inside the wagon and walked around, throwing open the chests they found in search of jewels and other precious stuff. The men spoke between them and Lucilla thought she caught a note of urgency in their voices. Perhaps they were in a hurry to leave the place, and that could turn to be their salvation...

Suddenly the men fell silent and in the stillness of the little space Lucilla was able to discern their harsh breathing and...Tiberina's sobs! Lucilla turned alarmed in her maid's direction. If she was able to hear her, they too could- she had to get rein of herself at once! But before she was able to articulate further thoughts, two pairs of dusty boots appeared in her line of vision, then the men knelt near the bed, looking under them.

Lucilla stared with horror at the dark face smiling cruelly at her and instinctively tried to move away from it. But there was no place to go, and the man had no trouble grabbing her and pulling her out from her hiding place. She was hauled to her feet with little ceremony and dragged to the door, as the other man did the same with Tiberina.

Lucilla tried to resist, kicking and struggling, but she was no match for her captor who, laughing aloud mockingly, threw her out of the wagon.

She landed painfully in the sand, soon joined by Tiberina. Squinting in the sun, the two women stood up, slowly backing away as the marauders surrounded them, looking at their bodies with unmistakable lust. Lucilla shivered in dread when her back connected with the hard wood of the wagon and sent a brief prayer to the gods as her captors closed in, trying to ignore the pleading looks Tiberina was throwing at her, in search of the protection her mistress could no longer offer her.

It was in that moment that a ferocious war-cry resounded in the hot air, coming from their left side. All the heads, the women's included, turned and Lucilla gasped when she saw who had shouted.

It was a man, dressed in black from head to feet and mounted on an equally dark horse. 

They were galloping at full speed, headed straight for them, the beast's legs touching the ground with such rapidity and lightness it did not even raise sand. It seemed to fly over the yellow-red soil, its neck stretched out, its ears pinned, its long mane whirling in the wind like its master's cloak.

Behind them, at brief distance followed a group of riders, they too racing in their direction.

The marauders reacted to the sight by breaking the circle surrounding the women and running to their horses, some of them looking for an escape route, other to fight, as the approaching group, their dark leader included, unsheathed their swords, making their intentions very clear.

Lucilla did not waste time. 

She knew what was going to happen and she thought it would be a good occasion to flee. But first they had to stay alive and not be involved in the fight.

So she grabbed Tiberina's arm and hissed, "Quick, let's hide under the wagon! We cannot stay out here in the open!"

Both women threw themselves under the wagon, seeking protection near the big wooden wheels.

From that position, Lucilla saw the black-clad rider launch himself over a group of marauders, killing two on of them in a the blink of an eye.

He was very fast, ruthless and deadly, but despite everything Lucilla thought his movements were somehow graceful and not led merely by brutality. And she was surprised to discover the man's sword was not as curved as the ones used by her captors or by his own men. It was straight- a spatha, the Roman cavalry weapon. How curious.

She returned to concentrate on the battle, not wanting to lose the chance to try an escape; there were several loose horses and perhaps they would be able to catch two of them and gallop away, for she was not sure about the newcomers' intentions regarding them. As far as she knew, they could even be worse than the marauders that had first attacked their party. And yet Lucilla could not bring herself to act, for a part of her was too captivated by what was happening in front of her eyes.

Oh no, she had no passion for killing and death and never had liked the gladiatorial games Commodus was crazy for, but something in the way the rider in black and his men fought stirred her interest.

Those warriors moved around the battlefield with discipline, not disorderly as the marauders, and protected each other while fighting, behaving more like a trained army than tribal people.

After few more minutes of observation, it became clear to Lucilla that her captors had no chance against the better organized opponents.

"Just like the reports said," Marcus Aurelius' daughter thought, understanding in that moment she was seeing at work some of the warriors who had been able to defeat the soldiers sent by Falco.

Finally the battle was over, and when the sand settled and the swords were sheathed again, Lucilla could see none of her captors had been left standing.

The black-clad man was riding around and gesturing to his companions, giving them orders. Several men dismounted and, without laughs or cries of jubilee, walked among the fallen Praetorians and marauders, inflicting final blows to the wounded. Other men instead herded the loose horses, but nobody tried to rob or mutilate the corpses as it often happened in such occasions.

In truth Lucilla thought there was no joy in the air, just a great sadness. 

It was a very strange reaction by the victors, but before she could muse more about it, a horse stopped in front of her hiding place, throwing a shadow over her.

Lucilla raised her head and discovered it was the leader of the group. He was looking at her leaning over the saddle, and she could not help but stare back.

His black clothes - loose breeches, tunic, cloak, turban - blended with his horse's corvine coat so well that man and beast looked like a single being, like a mythological centaur. But what really caught Lucilla's attention were his eyes, the only features left exposed by the veil covering his face. They were blue-green and seemed completely foreign to a place where all the local people had dark eyes. They were also beautiful and intelligent and were staring at her with intensity.

Lucilla felt her skin tingle under that burning glance and, scared by such reaction, she straightened her shoulders and got hold of herself. But still she continued to stare at the man, until another rider flanked him.

"What do we do with the women, Great One?"

Lucilla was surprised to hear the man speak in a heavily accented Latin, but not so much to not notice how the black-clad rider had startled when he had been spoken to- as if his mind had been miles away from that place.

"Great One?" Pressed the other warrior, a man in his late twenty with a long scar marring his right cheekbone, when he received no answer. "Are we going to take them with us?"

The man known as the Great One finally nodded and after a last, long glance to Lucilla, he turned his horse around and trotted away.

The other rider instead jumped down the saddle, moved closer to the wagon and bending forward he reached out with both his hands to the two women still hiding behind the wheels.

"Don't be afraid," he said in Latin with an encouraging smile, "nothing will happen to you."

Lucilla stared at the offered hand for an instant, then nodded to herself and accepted it, later imitated by a much more hesitant Tiberina.

As the gates of the fortified city became closer and closer, Maximus Decimus Meridius, tapped his horse's sides with the heels, breaking to a canter to flank Zeretes, who was riding several feet in front of him.

"Take the women to the little tower," he told to his second in command as their mounts fell in step, "and make sure they do not lack anything. They are guests, not prisoners. I will talk with them in a later time."

The younger man nodded in agreement, before trotting away to give orders to the riders in charge of the women.

Maximus watched him go, then reined his stallion Niger around, and pushing him to gallop, he quickly left the rest of the party behind. He directed to the nearby hill that had been his private retreat since the day he had accepted to live with the Big Oasis tribe and been know with the name of the Great One.

The small height overlooking the city and valley with its fertile fields and luxuriant pastures, had always been the place where he found easier to find peace and think, and the gods knew how many times he had needed to do it in the past four years.

As he dismounted, leaving Niger free to wander and graze, Maximus thought back to when he had wearily climbed the hill for the first time.

It had been after he had recovered from the infection that, spreading from the wound inflicted to him by that Praetorian in Germania, had extended to his entire body, causing high fever and delirium. He had been close to death for days, weeks perhaps, but the care of a black-skinned man first and of the tribe's healer later had saved him.

Maximus had not felt like thanking them. 

Indeed his first action, as soon as his awareness had returned and the tragic reality of his family's death had crushed over him, had been to try to kill himself. What meaning had life without Selene and Marcus? They had been his reason for living and now that they were no more, he could not bear his pain and guilt.

Maximus closed his eyes as he remembered how he had snatched one of the healer's surgical knives and how he had left his house and then the citadel, walking up the little hill, away from the people that might have attempted to stop him.

He had knelt on the grass and tried to slice the veins at his wrists, but he had miserably failed for, as much as he had longed for oblivion, he had not been able to press the sharp blade against his skin.

He relived the terrible anguish of those moments, when his sight had blurred with unshed tears and his hand had shaken so badly, gripping the useless knife till the moment he had thrown it away.

He had bent forward till his forehead had touched the ground and wept in pain and defeat, pouring out his all-consuming grief and misery.

It had been then he had suddenly become aware he was no longer alone. 

Raising his reddened eyes, he had found himself looking at a grey haired and bearded man standing a few feet away. 

It was the same man he remembered from his fevered dreams in the desert and in the healer's house. His brown eyes were fixed on Maximus and by his expression the Spaniard understood he had been there for a while and knew what had happened - or had not - there. They had silently stared at each other for a while, then the older man had approached Maximus and had spoken in a strongly accented Latin.

"You are a survivor, Roman," he had said with quiet certainty. "Surrender is not for you. You will go on living, no matter how terrible is your pain or how hard it will be. You will not give up."

And so it had been, although it had taken time for him to accept that truth. 

For many months he had keep hoping the terrible heat of the African summer would kill him. 

For many months, while negotiating the stony path that led to the tribe's pastures he had hoped his horse would unseat him, throwing him against the rocks lying several feet below.

But it had been useless. The gods, being his or those of the tribes had decided he had to keep on living.

Then, little by little his desperation and his apathy had decreased as. He had taken interest in the desert settlement and discovered it and its inhabitants could offer much to him. 

That life could still have much to give him.  

And he had decided to take it.

Maximus blinked, returning to the present. 

He looked around searching for place to sit, the echoes of those long past days' agony still alive in his heart. He had no doubts it had been Lucilla's unexpected sight to bring back those painful memories- and it was not ended yet.

As he lowered himself on the grass, Maximus let his mind return again to the past, to the last time he had seem Marcus Aurelius' daughter and to what had happened later, from his Emperor's death to the discovery of Selene's and Marcus' corpses.

It was a journey through his most terrible times, but blessedly, he was not assaulted by the heart-breaking pain he used to feel, but only by a deep sense of melancholy.

As the late Nabdalsa often told him during his recovery, time was indeed the great healer.

Maximus sighed and leaning forward looked down at the valley stretching at the bottom of the hill. 

The Amazigh called it the Big Oasis, but it was so much more. Enclosed and protected by mountains and beneficing from underground rivers, the land was as fertile as his farm in Trujillo had been, producing different kinds of vegetables for the people and plenty of grass for the animals. It was a piece of Elysium on Earth, and Maximus was proud to call it home and to fight to protect it, even if it meant going against Rome and the Empire he had served for so many years, sacrificing everything he held dear for it.

Maximus sighed again, louder. 

Seeing Lucilla again was stirring up too many contrasting emotions, too many questions and doubts on matters he thought settled for good.

If he did not stop his musings in time, he would end up remembering their story together and that was something Maximus wanted to avoid at any cost. It was a closed chapter, and he needed to concentrate on more pressing problems, such as discovering if other bands of marauders had invaded their territory and why Lucilla was travelling in the middle of the desert and away from Roman lands.

He sighed for a third time and stood up, walking to where Niger was grazing and, jumping into the saddle, he left behind his private retreat, which for once had failed to bring him the peace he craved.

The sounds and the smells of a very lively town had been filtering inside the room for quite some time when a light knock on the door announced to Lucilla and Tiberina their breakfast had arrived.Without waiting for an answer Ayan, the plump little woman who had been caring for their needs for the past four days, pushed the door open using with her hip and crossed the room to put a tray on the table.

"Good morning ladies," she saluted them in Latin, "did you sleep well?" It was her usual morning comment, and the Romans nodded with their heads, not really believing it would make a great difference to the other woman if they had slept well or not.

Ayan smiled and began to arrange the table for their meal, frowning when she noticed the abundant leftovers from the previous dinner. "Oh no, this is not good!" she exclaimed, half-disappointed, half-outraged because her efforts in the kitchen had been wasted. "You must eat! The Great One wants you to eat."

Lucilla threw her a brief look, feeling a bout of resentment and the need to say aloud what she thought about what the so called Great One wanted or not. But she kept silent, moving instead to the window and looking outside. Tiberina and she were lodged at the second floor of a building which looked like a tower used to guard the citadel and its surroundings. Their room was square, clean and comfortable, more than she would believe possible given the place they were, with the thick walls preventing it from getting too hot. The tower was located near one of the gates of the city, and from its two windows, it allowed her to dominate the area. The right one overlooked the walls and the landscape that spread outside of them. The left one instead opened on the town and stretching her neck Lucilla could see every street and every narrow road, and watch the buzzing activities held there. The politician in her could not help but been fascinated and even surprised by how well kept and organized the place seemed to be. From her vantage point she could see how many different shops and vendor's stalls opened on the streets and she was ready to swear there was also a small bathing resort. Indeed the city seemed to possess everything any typical settlement in the Empire could offer, with the only difference the streets did not follow the Roman squared, perpendicular pattern, but had developed in tight circles.

Lucilla was also amazed by the luxuriant vegetation, both wild and cultivated, that she could see stretching beyond the walls and she concluded it had much to do with the reason that had pushed Falco to try to annex those territories to the Empire. There was so much water in the area and, in her mind's eye, she could perfectly picture an aqueduct carrying the precious liquid to other thirsty Roman towns and lands.

Oh yes, Lucilla could see it quite well. In truth, had she been in the governor's place, she too would try to get that result, but she would certainly use different means to obtain it. A commercial treaty perhaps, some concessions - but never a war. She would never try to snatch everything away from the tribes, but of course Falco was like Commodus, and none of them knew the meaning of the word "fairness".

Thinking about her brother and future husband was enough to precipitate Lucilla in an abyss of worries. She should have reached Zucchabar the previous day. Falco was not aware of the storm that had forced her ship to dock in another harbour...What if he thought she had escaped? What if he wrote Commodus she had disappeared and her brother thought it had been done on purpose? What would then happen to Lucius?

Her anguish was so strong a whimper left her lips, catching Ayan's attention. She noticed how Lucilla was twisting her hands and, thinking that beautiful, elegant woman was worrying for her own fate, she almost ran to reassure her.

"My Lady," she exclaimed solicitous, trying to take her hands in her own, "why are you so worried? You must not be so afraid. You are under the Great One's protection, and nobody will harm you." The plump woman smiled and trying to coax Lucilla to do the same, she looked outside the window in search of some inspiration. She found it in the shape of the Great One himself, walking in the streets followed by a bunch of screaming children who begged for his attention. His back was turned to the tower, but his broad shoulders and proud posture made him clearly recognizable.

"Look mistress," Ayan said, pointing to the street, "it is him. Look how the children surround him! They wish to hear one of his stories about the strange lands beyond the sea." Her smile became wider. "I am his housekeeper, you know? I take care of him. And I can tell you he is kind, honest and wise. A very good warrior too - it had been him teaching the tribes how to defend themselves from the Roman army... And to think he is a Roman himself!"

That bit of information raised some interest in Lucilla as she wondered if this man knew who she was- she remembered the way he had stared at her, but she had been too distraught to notice if he had given signs of recognizing her.

At her side Ayan did not see she had lost the other woman's attention, and continued to tell her about their leader. "He was saved from the slave-traders four years ago, when our late chieftain, the wise Nabdalsa, recognized in him the man a prophecy had told us about... The Great One who would one day save us. And indeed he had, more than once, since the old Roman king had died." She looked again outside the window, but the Great One was no longer in sight. "He is such a good man. Pity he is always so alone. I believe he lost his spouse and son in some tragic way before the gods brought him to us..." Ayan sighed and turned to face Lucilla, finally noticing the Roman matron was not paying attention to her and probably had not for a while. Shaking her head, she moved away from the window and back near the table, where she picked the tray with the leftovers, then walked to the door. But before she left the room she turned to Tiberina and murmured, "Try to coax your lady to eat. And take her outside. There is a beautiful garden in the back of the tower, cool and pleasant to the eyes. I am sure it would do her a lot of good, she cannot always stay closed inside this room."

The maid nodded, indicating she would do her best, and the other woman walked away, leaving mistress and servant alone.

"It's very nice, don't you think so, My Lady?" 

Tiberina's eyes swept again over the luscious garden surrounding them. She was happy her mistress had finally decided to go there, for the place was really beautiful, cool and perfumed by flowers she had never seen before, not even in the park of the Imperial palace in Rome.

Sitting on a stone bench near her maid, Lucilla nodded distractedly, as her eyes too ran over the trees and the bushes, but not to admire their beauty. 

It was the eighth day of their "sojourn" inside the Berber citadel and she had finally decided to act instead of merely waiting for the events to unfold.

Truth to tell, she had shaken her apathy away a couple of days earlier, when she had asked to Ayan to carry a message to her chieftain, the Great One. Lucilla had wished for an audience with the man, in the hope to convince him to let her go, but despite her continued promptings, her request had not been granted. Thus, unable to wait anymore, she had come to the conclusion she had to find a way to escape the town and return into Roman lands.

The prospect of travelling in the desert without protection was scary, but she was ready to do it, for Lucius' life might depend on it.Lucilla had begun her preparations by observing how the sentinels guarding the wall gates behaved, judging how scrupulous the controls were, and discovering they were pretty loose for the people leaving the town, while they were stricter for the newcomers. She and Tiberina could do it- but they needed help to find male clothes with which to disguise themselves, plus horses and provisions for their journey.

Luckily, the tribesmen had carried the chests that contained her jewels along with her dresses from her wagon to the tower, so she had the means to pay for what she needed. If Fortuna kept on smiling at her, she would be able to find someone willing to help her to get it.

As if on clue, Lucilla caught a movement on her right and turning her head saw that there was someone looking at her from behind a tall bush.

It was a young man- no probably a boy in his mid teens - and his eyes were wide with fascination as he kept on staring at her, so absorbed in his contemplation he did not even noticed she was now looking at him.

Lucilla smiled inwardly at his expression. 

Probably the olive-skinned, dark-haired and dark-eyed youth had never seen a woman that looked so different from him and the females of his tribe. She was conscious that her height, proud bearing, honey-coloured hair, fair skin and green eyes had to look very exotic to the boy- and she wondered if there was a way to use that fascination to have him help her...

"Well, I have nothing to lose and everything to gain by giving it a try," she thought, gracefully rising to her feet and motioning Tiberina to remain where she was.

The youth finally reacted when he realized she was moving in his direction, but to Lucilla's relief he did not try to turn and flee. Instead he remained standing where he was, seemingly rooted to the spot.

"Good morning," she greeted him, praying the gods he understood Latin.

"G-Good morning," babbled the boy, as his cheeked flushed red.

Lucilla suppressed a smile. "What's your name?"

"Oxyntas, lady."

"Oxyntas," she making a show of tasting its sound on her lips, "It is a beautiful name and it fits you well."

Oxyntas needed a little time to realize he had been just complimented, and when he did, his cheeks reddened again.

"Do you like this garden?" enquired Lucilla, as she pondered how better approach the matter in her heart.

"Yes, lady."

"Do you come here often?"

"Yes, lady."

"Do you know it well?"

"Yes, lady."

"Would you mind showing me around? You could tell me the names of the plants- there are so many I don't know."

This time Oxyntas did not reply with "Yes, lady", for he remained mouth agape for few instants. Then he recovered his wits and straightening his back, said, "I will be honoured, lady."

"Good." Lucilla smiled at him, and posed her hand on his forearm, absentmindedly noticing the contrast between his dark olive skin and her fair one. The boy too looked down to where her hand rested and bushed crimson for a third time, before starting walking along the garden well-tended paths.

During the following half hour, Lucilla let Oxyntas guide her around, showing her interest in his explanation and doing her best to make him at ease and prepare the ground for her request. When she thought it was time, she suddenly came to a halt causing her companion to stop walking and look at her in surprise.

"You are such a good young man, Oxyntas," Lucilla began, "and I sense I can trust you."

"Of course you can, lady." The youth replied, a bit perplexed.

"I need your help, Oxyntas." She said without preambles, "I need to leave this town and return to the Roman lands."

"W-what?" the boy's eyes opened very wide.

"I must return inside the Empire's borders, Oxyntas; my son's life might depend on it." Lucilla twisted her hands as her eyes pleaded with him, with no hint of deception in her glance.

"Then you should talk with the Great One ..."

Lucilla shook her head, silencing the youth. "I have been trying to contact him for the past several days, but he did not come to visit me, and I can no longer wait...Please, Oxyntas, help me..."

The boy nodded. "I will, lady." A deep breath, "What do you want me to do?"

"I need man's clothes for me and my maid, and two horses. I also need food and water and a map of the area." Lucilla took off her gold bracelets and earrings and gave them to him. "Here, use these to pay for our things. I think they should be enough to cover the costs, but I have more jewels in my chests, should you need them."

"They will be enough, lady. My family breeds horses and I will borrow three from our herd."

"Three?"

"I will come with you, lady, you cannot travel alone in the desert without guide and protection."

"The gods bless you,Oxyntas!" Lucilla's eyes filled with gratitude as she took the boy's hand between hers. "Thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart."

The boy straightened his back, feeling proud and a bit embarrassed by that emotional display. He gently freed his hand and stepping back he said, "It is my pleasure to help you, lady." A smile. "Now I must go- I have to organize our journey. We will leave during the night, when the chances of you being recognized by the guards will be fewer. What about meeting here at midnight?"

"It is perfect, Oxyntas."

"Good." The boy smiled again, in an attempt to reassure her, bowed his head in salute and walked away. Lucilla stared at his retreating back for few instants, then went to inform Tibernina about the new developments.

It was early afternoon and Maximus was working in the study of his house, using the hottest hours of the day to tend to the bookkeeping of his horse breeding business. He had inherited it from Nabdalsa, the late chieftain who had saved his life and always treated him like a son, and chosen him as his heir when he had felt death approach.

Maximus closed his eyes and leant against the back of the chair as, unbidden, the voice of another gentle, generous dying man returned to echo in his mind.

"I want you to become the Protector of Rome after I die..."

Marcus Aurelius' words sounded as clear as they had been four years before, in that cool tent in Germania, and Maximus hung his head in defeat.

He had not been able to do what his Caesar had asked him- although he had tried, and paid a terrible price because of it. The Empire was in Commodus' immoral hands, and the results of his bad rule were everywhere to be seen.

And he, who had once been Rome's most loyal servant, was now opposing Her, fighting Her legions to preserve the freedom of the people who had saved him, receiving him with open arms and giving him a second chance to live a good life.

In the beginning, Maximus had not be happy to discover his existence seemed to have been already decided by a prophecy attributed to a god whose name he was not even able to pronounce. But as time passed and the new Roman governor became greedier and greedier, he had come to believe there was a hint of truth in that prediction, and he thought Marcus Aurelius would approve what he was now doing. The late Caesar had been above all a fair man, and he would not tolerate what Commodus and his governor Falco where doing to people who had done nothing against Rome.

He picked up his stylus and tried to concentrate on the business at hand, but his mind kept on drifting away- and it was not difficult to guess why.

Indeed Maximus knew the cause quite well: Lucilla had been staying in town for days and he had yet to face her. He had ignored her requests for an audience for, he had to admit to himself, he was somehow scared about how he might react to her.

The day he had rescued her, he had been too shocked to do more but stare at her, but now he had plenty of time to think about her, about their past- and especially about that last night in Germania, when he had seen her weep near her father's corpse.

"Had she a hand in the murder?" He wondered for the umpteenth time. "Did she agree with her brother?" Those questions had plagued him since the moment he had laid his eyes on her face- those beautiful, delicate features he had once loved, kissed and caressed.

As he usually did, Maximus tried to block those thoughts and the memories they conjured, but this time it was too late. 

He returned with his mind to the summer of many years before, when he had been a tribune in Gallia Narbonensis, and the Emperor had come to inspect the province and the legion where he was serving, bringing with him his sixteen years old daughter.

Since the first moment he had seen her, Maximus had been enchanted by Lucilla.

She had been completely different from the girls he had seen and met at home or during his service in Germania and Gallia, the most beautiful creature he had ever the privilege to look at.

They had met one evening at dinner, when Marcus Aurelius had introduced them. Caesar had embarrassed Maximus by covering him with praises for the good job he had done against the Quadi, and he had blushed to the roots of his hair, mentally kicking himself for behaving like a school boy in front of that elegant, sophisticated girl. But, amazingly enough, she had not considered him a simpleton but smiled at him and dragged him in a discussion about the situation in Germania, surprising him with accurateness of her comments.

He had found it extremely easy to speak with her and, from that moment on, they had been almost inseparable, as much as his duties and her being Caesar's daughter allowed them to be. He had escorted her during rides, showed her around the camp, and even taken her to the nearby town theatre a couple of times.

He had fallen in love for the first time in his life and thought he had reached the sky, when Lucilla had confessed to feel the same for him and that her father, having noticed her feelings, was seriously considering the young tribune as a future husband for her.

Those words had fuelled Maximus' passion and they had done plenty of kissing and touching. 

The temptation to let themselves go and make love had often been almost too much for both of them, but his self-control had been strong enough to avoid their committing something irreparable. And also very dangerous, for it turned out Lucilla had been promised to Lucius Verus, the Co-Emperor, years before.

Marcus Aurelius himself had told Maximus, uncovering all the lies Lucilla had been telling him in the hope to convince him there would nothing dishonourable if he taught her the joys of physical love. There had never been any chance for them: she had played with him to get what she wanted, and he had been fool enough to believe her. Their farewell had been bitter and caustic, with harsh words flying in both directions, and when Maximus had left the camp to return home, he had cursed her name with each step his horse had taken.

Back then, Maximus had not be able to forget or forgive Lucilla's lies and the pain they had brought to his somehow inexpert heart, and the distrust caused by that long past episode was still stirring doubts in him.

Intellectually, and with wisdom he had acquired along the years, he was now aware Lucilla had then acted with the rashness of a sixteen year old that lusted for life and love, not really meaning to hurt someone else in the process. And perhaps, naively, she had really believed she could convince her father to let them marry...Her "betrayal" had been nothing compared to what Quintus had done to him in Germania.

Maximus also had to admit he too had not been entirely free from responsibilities, for he should have known there was no way the Emperor might decide to marry his daughter to a provincial like him, no matter how good his family was.

Oh yes, he knew all those facts very well, but he did not know if Lucilla, who had been so good at lying back then, had cried with sincerity near her dead father's body...

A knock on the door snapped Maximus back to present and he blinked a couple of times before calling, "Intra!"

The door opened and a young man appeared on the threshold. "May I disturb you, Great One?"

"You never disturb, Oxyntas. Come in and take a seat." Maximus smiled as the boy did as bidden, sitting with his hands trapped between his thighs. He looked around the room for a while, avoiding the older man's eyes, then he said, "I have something to tell you, Great One. It regards...the lady in the tower."

Maximus' eyebrow arched in curiosity and he gestured the youth to continue.

"I- I talked with her this morning. We- we walked in the garden and...she..." Oxyntas' voice died, as the lowered his eyes, blushing embarrassed.

The older man smiled again. 

Lucilla was a beautiful, fascinating woman, certainly different by anyone Oxyntas had ever seen, so his reaction was not surprising at all. Maximus waited for a while then, since they boy remained silent, he spurred him to continue.

"All right, you went to the garden and you talked with the lady- what happened next?"

Oxyntas swallowed hard, sensing he had been somehow recalled to order and straightening his back went on with his story. "The lady asked me to help her to leave the town and return to the Roman lands. She said her son's life might depend by it and that she needs to leave as soon as possible. She gave me her jewels to pay for horses and provisions." The boy took a deep breath and looked at Maximus. "She was really worried, Great One, very much so. I told her I would help her, for I wanted to reassure her and ease her pain. However I thought better to inform you before acting. I don't know if you have some kind of plan for her...She said she wanted to talk with you but that you refused..."

Maximus sighed and pursed his lips. He was not angry with the boy nor with Lucilla, for they had done nothing wrong and, any case, it was his fault. He should have talked with her the day after the rescue and not leave her alone to wonder what he and the tribe planned to do to her.

She must be so scared, he though. And worried about his son- Lucius, if he remembered correctly. But why had she said his life might depend on her returning inside the Empire's borders?

There was only one way to know: ask her.

Maximus returned his thoughts to the boy looking anxiously at him. "You did well, Oxyntas, both in reassuring the lady and coming to me. Now leave the matter in my hands, I will deal with it."

"Thank you, Great One." The youth looked quite relieved and he stood up, ready to go.

"One moment!" Maximus stopped him. "When did you agree to meet her? Tonight?"

"Yes, at midnight, in the tower's garden."

"Good. Thank you."

Oxyntas bowed his head in salute and soon he was gone, leaving Maximus alone to ponder how best to confront with Lucilla.

The time to get and give some answers had arrived.

Time seemed to never pass as Lucilla waited for midnight to arrive. 

She was very nervous and only her sheer will prevented her from pacing back and forth. Instead she remained motionless near the window overlooking the garden, watching as the town fell asleep and spurring Oxyntas to come as soon as possible.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Lucilla caught a dark shape moving near the garden entrance.

"Thank you, gods," she thought, before turning to face Tiberina, who was sitting on her bed, their belongings ready at her side.

"It is time to go," she whispered, picking up one of the bundles. 

The maid's eyes widened at her words. She was not convinced about the escape and she would have preferred to wait and see what was going to happen. The tribe had treated them well till that moment, more like guests than prisoners, and she was not keen to face the many dangers they could meet in the desert. But of course she could not leave her mistress alone, both out of duty and affection. So she stood up and took the other bundle, following Lucilla outside the chamber and down the rows of stairs.

Moving in absolute silence, Marcus Aurelius' daughter unbolted the door and slid inside the garden, following the gravel covered path enlightened by silver moonbeams.

She could see the boy waiting for her semi-hidden by a low tree, and she called softly, "We are here, Oxyntas." 

Lucilla had just completed the greeting when she suddenly realized the dark shape standing nearby was too tall and broad-shouldered to belong to her intended guide. A cold shiver of dread ran along her back, but before she could anything, the stranger turned around, his clear eyes shining in the moonlight.

He was not Oxyntas- he was the tribe's mysterious chieftain, the Great One.

They stared at each other for a while, then he said, "Oxyntas will not come. He sent me in his place."

Lucilla gasped. There was something strangely familiar in that voice speaking in perfect Latin. It had been muffled by the veil covering the man's face, but still it had sounded deep and low, like the distant rumble of a thunder. She frowned, trying to remember where she had listened to a similar one, but her musings were interrupted when the man moved closer to her and raised his arm.

Lucilla stepped back alarmed, fearing he might want to hit her, but he did not. Instead he brought his hand to his face and pulled at the veil. There was a moment of stillness, as he kept staring at her, then he removed his hand and let the fabric fall.

The woman's mouth opened when she saw the man's features but no voice left her tight throat. It was not possible... it could not be... Maximus! Of all the people she could have imagined to meet in Africa, he was the only one she could not even contemplate, for he was-

"It cannot be you..." she stammered, her face pale as a sheet, "You died in Germania..."

Maximus shook his head. "No. The Praetorians sent to execute me failed. I am still alive, Lucilla."

The sound of this voice, pronouncing her name as only he could, warmed her heart and helped Lucilla to regain some of her composure. She took several deep breaths to calm her trembling, fighting the need to reach out a hand and touch him to attest he was really in front of her. But she resisted and when she finally felt better, she murmured, "I think we need to talk."

"Yes," Maximus replied softly, "we really do."

They stared at each other for some instants more, she drinking in those dear features she had never believed to see again, then he tilted his head indicating the tower. She nodded in agreement, and turned around, tracing back her steps to the tall building, turning often to check if Maximus was following her and wondering about what other surprises fate might still have in store for her.

Maximus and Lucilla were sitting in front of each other in one of the tower spare rooms, she on a couch, he on a chair. They were alone, as she had commanded Tiberina to wait for her in their chamber. The other woman had not looked too convinced, but had bowed to her mistress' will.

Maximus studied Lucilla as silence stretched between them. The room was lit by several lamps and the flames danced over her face, making the lines around her mouth and eyes look deeper. Somehow they did not seem to be only marks left by the time, for her skin was still as soft and fresh as it had been when she was a girl.

He was aware he was staring at her and that it was not polite, but he was unable to prevent himself from contemplating that face emerged from his past and that was now causing him a surge of nostalgia for the life he had left behind. Was it because her refined features and proud posture reminded him of her Marcus Aurelius and of everything the late Caesar had symbolized for him? Of the light that was Rome? Of how he much missed the spirit of Rome?

Maximus fought the need to groan aloud. That was not the time for philosophical musings. It was the time to know what Lucilla had been doing in the desert and what she meant when she had said her son's life might be in danger if she did not return soon in to Roman lands.

He cleared his throat and saw Lucilla start at the sound, realizing only then she too had been staring at him lost in thought.  "So," he began, remembering the brief exchange they had in the garden, "I suppose you wish to know why I am here."

Lucilla nodded, and the slight movement made her honey-coloured hair wave, causing Maximus to stare at it, mesmerized. How much time had passed since he had seen a woman with hair like that, so long, curly and fair! He gritted his teeth, marshalling his thoughts back on topic.

"As I told you, I was able to escape the Praetorians and, although I was wounded in the fight, I was able to take two of their horses and gallop home, wanting to save my family. Did you know Commodus had sentenced my wife and son to death?" Maximus asked abruptly, watching her reaction closely.

Lucilla nodded slowly, lowering her eyes. "Yes- but he told me only when we were back in Rome, when...when he gave me your former estates to me... as a present."

Maximus breathed harshly. His lands...how much he longed to see them again...his fields...his trees... He swallowed hard, stubbornly ordering his mind to not drift away. "Did he tell you my family was burned and crucified while they were still alive?"

"Yes." She hung her head. "I wept for them." She murmured.

"As you wept for your father?" Maximus was unable to restrain himself for asking that cruel question. Lucilla had seemed sincere till that moment, but he needed to know for sure.

Although he was no longer prey to the all-consuming rage that he had felt in the year after his family's brutal murders, he needed to know without any possible doubt, where Lucilla stood and were she was standing.

She raised her head and looked straight at him, saying, her voice clear and tight with emotions. "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."

The tears in her eyes and the anguish in her tone convinced Maximus: she was sincere and truly terrified for her son. Lucius, a boy of Marcus' age...

"Why did you say to Oxyntas Lucius' life might be in danger if you don't return to the Empire territory soon?" he asked gently.

Lucilla took a deep breath, and dabbed her eyes with a corner of her palla. "A little more than one year ago, I was informed of the existence of a conspiracy against Commodus and it was asked me to support it. My brother was - and is - ruining the Empire, causing revolts and discontent everywhere with taxes increases and forceful, unjustified repressions, while in the meantime he is emptying the State treasure chests with useless expenses and wars. He is killing everyone who tries to oppose him. I wanted for this reign of terror to end, so I gave my approval to the plot. But something went wrong and we were discovered. Commodus was furious with me and..." Lucilla swallowed hard to dispel the lump in her throat, as her hands kept on tormenting her stola, something that did not go unnoticed to Maximus. "He took Lucius away from me and sent me to exile in Caprae...I have not seen my son in more than one year, Maximus. My brother does not allow us to meet and he enjoys torturing me with the description of what he will do to my child if I only dare to look at him in a way that does not please him. Now he has decided I have to marry Senator Falco, the mind behind many of the atrocities he has committed... Perhaps you remember him, he was in Germania four years ago."

"Yes, I remember him and his tricky questions, and I know he had been appointed as a sort of general Proconsul here in Africa." Indeed Maximus knew he was the man behind all the bloodshed he had to witness in the past year or so.

"Exactly. The office was a reward for his "loyal service" to my brother." Lucilla did not even try to hide her sarcasm and disgust.

"As you are?" Maximus asked softly, struggling with himself to refrain from taking her hands in his and stop their nervous movements.

"Yes- I suppose so. But I am here also to show the populace that Marcus Aurelius' daughter approves what Falco has been doing here. Commodus sent me here in advance with the order to stifle the discontent that is spreading in the provinces before he joins me for the wedding. But my ship was forced to dock in a harbour not belonging to the Empire and I was travelling to Zucchabar when my party was attacked...and you know the rest."

"I see." Maximus was aware he and his men had a big part in the development of the situation Lucilla had been ordered to resolve, and he wondered if she knew it too.

As if she was reading his mind, she said, "You have yet to tell me how you ended here, Maximus, and why the tribes call you the Great One. Your fame has even reached the streets of Rome, you know? I have been reading about you during my journey..." There was a slight smile on her lips, as if the whole matter was somehow amusing for her, and he found himself smiling back, before sobering again and tell her the last part of his story.

"After I found my wife and son dead, I buried their corpses and then collapsed, victim of the fever I had developed during the ride from Germania. I cannot know for sure what happened next, but I believe that some slave-traders saw the smoke still rising from the ruins of my house and came to give a look, searching for something still worth some coins. They found me and dragged me away. When I regained my senses, I was already in the desert, but I was not really aware of that was happening to me. Then the caravan was attacked by members of this tribe. It was later explained to me that the slavers had kidnapped some of their women and children and the men had come to freed them. The tribe found me still fevered and decided to take me with them because-" Maximus stopped, not knowing how to explain to Lucilla why those desert people had been to keen to accept him first as one of them, and then as their chief.

"They took you with them because of a prophecy about your blue eyes..."

Maximus was stunned. "How do you know it? This news too arrived to Rome?"

Lucilla smiled and, for the first time, it reached her eyes, making her look younger. "No, it did not. I heard it from Ayan. She is a very talkative woman, and told us many things regarding you; she was trying to reassure us."

"I see."

"But she did not reveal why they call you "Great One"."

It was Maximus' turn to smile. "It is really simple. When I joined the tribe, they asked for my name and then they wanted to know what "Maximus" meant. I told them it means "great". It somehow stuck and I thought since I was starting a new life, I could as well take a new name."

Lucilla nodded. "And how did you find yourself fighting against Rome?"

"I am not fighting against Rome- I am fighting against Commodus and Falco." Maximus stressed, his face suddenly hard.

"I know." Lucilla hastened to placate him, even leaning forward to touch the back of his hand. "You would never go against Rome and Her ideals."

"Yes. I am just helping these people to keep their lands and their freedom. They are not like the Germans; they don't pillage our villages or kill our travellers. They are peaceful farmers, breeders and merchants, who use force only for defence. The tribes of the area were ready to share what the gods had granted to them, but it was not enough for Falco. He wants everything, and he had replied to our attempt to negotiate a deal by having our messenger crucified in public."

"My gods! I did not know about it!" Lucilla was horrified.

Maximus shook his head, experiencing again the pain and the rage of those days, when he had understood the dream that was Rome, Marcus Aurelius' dream, was almost dead- but that he could keep it alive, albeit in a different way.

He rubbed his nape with a hand, trying to push away the fatigue that was threatening to crush over him, for he was paying the price of several nights spent sleeping little and badly. "What do you want to do now?" he enquired "Do you want to go to Falco? Marry him?"

Lucilla lowered her eyes to look at her hands. "It is not a matter of what I want, but of what I have to do for my son's sake. I must protect him till he will not be old enough to not need it any longer. I have no choice."

Maximus heard the desperation and the resignation she had not even tried to conceal and it somehow touched a cord inside him. He remembered the girl she had been, so full of life and always smiling, and cringed at her now defeated tone. What had they done to her to make her lose her inner sparkle? Had the terror she had been living in broken her spirit?

Turning his head to look at a window, he warred within himself. 

He wanted to help her. 

For she was a mother fighting for her son. 

For she was Marcus Aurelius' daughter. 

For she was Lucilla, the first woman he had ever loved- and never forgotten. 

But could he risk dragging the people he had sworn to protect in a war that was not theirs? 

In truth, they were already in war, but still...Maximus was torn between two different and equally strong loyalties and it took him a lot of time to take a decision.

In the end he set his jaw and returned to face Lucilla, who was looking anxiously to him."I will help you to leave your prison of terror," he said, concise and determinate.

"How?"

"I don't know yet, but I will find a way, I promise."

Lucilla's eyes filled with tears. "Thank you, Maximus. Thank you so much..."

They both stood up at the same moment and before realizing what they were doing, they stepped in each other's arms, embracing with strength; expressing in that way all the emotions they had kept bottled inside them for so much - too much - time.

The large council hall was full of men that paced or talked gathered in little groups, with one eye turned to their companions, the other fixed on the door, waiting for the Great One's arrival. The summons had been unexpected and now the tribesmen were wondering about its cause.

Finally the door opened and their chieftain's massive frame stood up against the sun filtering inside. Silence fell on the assembled men as they moved aside to let their leader pass.

Maximus walked between the two wings of warriors, greeting some of them along the way with his head. Once arrived to the opposite side of the hall, he stopped and turned around, facing the assembly.

"Brothers!" He called aloud, saluting the warriors.

"Great One!" was the resounding answer.

"I have summoned you here today because I need your help and your counsel. As you know, I have always been honoured and awed by the faith you placed on me three years ago, when you chose me, a foreigner, as your chieftain. That day I swore to do of my best to rule the tribe and to protect its people, and I hope to have done my duty well."

"You did, Great One!" was the immediate, sincere answer and Maximus swallowed hard before continuing.

"Now I am here to ask you a favour - and a big one too. I ask you to help me to obtain my revenge against the man that fours years ago burned and crucified my wife and little boy and destroyed everything I held dear in my previous life."

A chorus of murmurs rose from the assembled men, for it was the first time their leader had spoken about his personal tragedy. All the tribe had always known the Great One had carried inside him a terrible pain - the prophecy had been clear about it, and so had been the sadness that had animated the man's eyes when he had first joined them. And now they could understand why.

"Who is this man, Great One?" Asked Zeretes, giving voice to everyone's question.

"The Emperor of Rome, Commodus."

The murmurs rose in intensity and volume as Maximus went on. "One of the women we saved from the marauders is Lucilla, Commodus' sister and the wife-to-be of governor Falco. But she is also the daughter of a man I loved like a father. A just, compassionate man who before dying asked me to not allow to his immoral son to rule."

"You mean he asked you to be his successor?" Zeretes enquired again.

Maximus smiled sadly. "Yes. Marcus Aurelius - the old king of your prophecy - wanted me to succeed him, but his son killed him before he had the time to make it official. Then he sentenced me and my family to death. I was able to escape, but not so my beloved. Now Lucilla's presence here had given me an idea to avenge all of them and probably to also put an end to the war that has been staining these lands with blood. But I need your help and your approval for it might be very risky for the tribe, and I don't I have the right to drag you in it if you don't feel like following me. So the choice is all yours."

Maximus fell silent and watched as the men got closer, forming groups, talking lowly and hurriedly among themselves. Little by little and with increasingly conviction, they began to nod to each other before returning to face him.

Zeretes looked at the assembly a last time, then stepped forward and exclaimed, "The tribe is with you, Great One. Just give the order."

The men underscored his words with a loud "Yes!" than caused a lump in Maximus throat.

"Thank you," he said, swallowing hard, moved by their loyalty. "Now listen, this is what we are going to do..."

When Lucilla woke up the next day, it was already midday and the sun filtered inside the room from a crack in the wooden shutters. She looked around a bit embarrassed to have slept so late, but the feeling was short lived for she realized it was the first time since she dared to remember she had woken up well rested.

The night before she had gone to bed with Maximus' scent still filling her nose and his low voice promising to help her, had lulled her to sleep. The awareness he was alive had filled her heart with long forgotten joy and hope, and kept at the nightmares that most often than not haunted her. For the first time since that forsaken night in Germania she had awoken looking at the new day with bright eyes and a relieved heart.

Not only Maximus was still alive, but he was no longer angry and resentful with her as he had been the last time they had met. He seemed to have forgiven her for the lies, t old a lifetime before, lies that had wounded him more than she had ever imagined.

Lucilla was not proud of her behaviour back then, but she knew that, should she go back to those times, she would act again in the same way, for knowing love with Maximus had been, along with Lucius' birth, the most precious experience of her life. The only moments she had understood how beautiful was to be a woman, the only moments she had not felt alone.

Her line of thought was interrupted when the door opened slightly and Tiberina put her head inside checking if her mistress was still asleep. Lucilla smiled to her and the maid entered the room.

"Good morning, My lady."

"Good morning, Tiberina."

Lucilla sat up on the mattress and let her maid attend to her face, clothes and hair, for once enjoying her care without feeling prey of that anxiety that often pushed her to ask to her servant to hurry, even when the only things waiting for her were long hours of worries and tension. Of course, she was still very concerned for Lucius, but now, at least, she was no longer alone in her battle against Commodus. 

Maximus was at her side now, ready to help her- ready to risk his life for her and her son as she had not be able to do for him and his family.

"I must beg his forgiveness" she thought as Tiberina brushed her long curls. "I must tell him how sorry I am for not even trying to help him..." That consideration had plagued her for years and she had always believed she would carry that guilt to her grave, but now the gods had offered her another chance. She could not change her actions but at least she could tell Maximus how much she had berated herself because of them.

Her dressing complete, Lucilla ate some breakfast Ayan had brought in, enjoying the food as she waited for Maximus to come to visit her as he had promised her to do the past night, before they separated.

She had not to wait long for, probably alerted by Ayan, Maximus knocked on the open door just as Lucilla was standing from the table.

"May I come in?" he asked and his deep, rumbling voice sent a thrill along her spine, just as it had happened the first time she had heard it- fifteen years before, in Gaul, when Marcus Aurelius had introduced them.

Lucilla remembered that Maximus had blushed as her father had praised him for his heroic behaviour on the battlefield, and that show of shyness and embarrassment had enchanted her.

"Of course!" she replied, returning to the present and quickly glancing at her dress to be sure it was all right.

Maximus crossed the room to the table and in the bright light of the day he looked even handsomer he had been the night before, when she had watched the flames dance over his straight nose, strong chin and small, full mouth. He was again dressed with clothes as dark as his short hair and beard, and Lucilla could not help but wonder if he used the black fabric as protection against the sun, or he was still mourning his late family. She hoped it was only the first case, for Maximus did not deserve to keep on suffering for so long and she...she... Lucilla blocked that thought at once. How could she think about such a futile matter considering what lay in front of her? Of them? Considering the dangers and the risks she had yet to confront with?

But still her heart beat a little faster when Maximus smiled to her and lowered on the chair in front of hers, prouder and nobler in his simple clothes than Commodus would ever look, no matter with how much purple and gold he covered himself. It was something that exuded from his inner self as her father, who had loved Maximus as much as her, albeit in a very different way, had remarked once.

"Lucilla."  He bowed in salute, then turned to face Tiberina, who was folding a stola, repeating the gesture. "Tiberina."

"Maximus." 

Lucilla too looked at her maid and tilted her head. The other woman understood and few seconds later the door closed behind her back, leaving them alone.

"I trust you slept well," Maximus began.

"Yes, I did. Thank you."

"Good, you looked very tired yesterday." He bent his head on the side and observed her face, as her heart leapt at the concern she had heard in his voice.

"I have been having troubled sleep since Commodus became Caesar, but last night I really slept well."

"I see." Maximus stared briefly at his folded hands, before returning to look straight at, his gaze urgent and intense. "Lucilla, I must know till what point you want my help."

She blinked her eyes in confusion. "I am afraid I don't understand."

Maximus pursed his lips. "I gave a lot of thought about your words and I believe there is a way to get rid of Commodus once for all. But I want to be sure this is exactly what you want, for once the plan is set in motion, there will be no way to stop it, for it will be too dangerous for my people and the other tribes living in this area."

"How do you intend to act?"

"If I remember correctly, last night you told me Commodus will come in Africa to attend the wedding..."

"Yes, that's right. He told me he would leave a month after my own departure. At the moment he should be in Greece, visiting the area."

"Then it is perfect, for it means he will sail before any dispatch about your disappearance Falco might send to Rome arrives to destination. And it is also highly probable he will arrive in Africa escorted only by his Praetorians."

Maximus paused and Lucilla nodded, confirming his reasoning.

"I have the means to spread words inside the empire where is the location where you are held "captive". Of course I am not referring to this town, but to an abandoned fortress several miles away from here, just outside the Roman border. It is surrounded by tall mountains, and there is only a way to get there, through a narrow canyon. It is the perfect place where to stage an ambush. If I know Commodus well, he will feel so outraged because someone has dared to kidnap his sister he will decide to teach them a lesson in person."

"You are probably right. No- you are more than right. Commodus will certainly think his Praetorians to be able to win and will follow them in the hope to witness to some carnage, as he had already done during some revolts that had been sedated in blood." Lucilla's eyes brightened as she followed the line of her thought and saw the various ideas fall in place like the pieces of a mosaic. "Falco, who is not a stupid man, will try to stop Commodus from going, telling him to be prudent, but if there is something my brother does not like to do is to listen to someone's advice, especially if it is good...Yes, it could work very well."

"And once he is trapped inside the gorge..." Maximus looked at her with meaning.

"Yes?"

"You have yet to answer to my question, Lucilla."

"Are you asking me if I want to see Commodus dead, Maximus? Is this what you need to know?"

He breathed deeply. "Yes. I need you to be sure this is really what you want." 

He leant forward on the chair and looked at her with frankness. 

And she understood in that moment that had she asked him to spare her brother's life, the life of the man that had destroyed everything he held dear, Maximus would respect her wish and found some other, more complicate and dangerous way to help her and Lucius.

"Don't you want him dead?" she asked, unable to stifle her surprise.

"Yes, I want him to die for it is the right punishment for what he did to my family and your father. But the rage I first felt when I recovered my illness and that made me imagine time and again to kill him with my bare hands is gone. Living in this place and with this people," and he gestured with his hand to indicate the desert settlement as his voice softened, "had brought me an inner peace I thought lost forever. I understood I could not live nurturing my spirit only with vengeful thoughts. So, if you ask me to be merciful with your brother - I will be. I am not like him, I would never cause an innocent to suffer."

"Innocent, Maximus?" Lucilla pursed her lips and shook her head. "I am not one. It is my fault if Commodus has committed much of his deeds."

He frowned, "I don't understand."

"If I had acted the night he killed my father, if had used the influence I still had on him, perhaps your family would be still alive. I should have interposed myself between you two and help you to gain the time to raise the army and protect yourself. But I did not...I was too shocked by what had happened, too scared by Commodus to do something..."

Lucilla lowered her head and stared at her hands and morbidly wondered how much innocent blood stained them, how many deaths she had caused, directly or indirectly, with her actions?

"You were not the only one to have committed a mistake that night," Maximus said bitterly, making her raise her eyes to look at him. "I should have kissed your brother's hand, or at least, I should not have trusted Quintus as I did. If instead of returning to my tent I had gone to men's barracks, then my wife and son would probably be still alive and perhaps now the Senate would be ruling the Empire."

"The Senate?" Lucilla looked at him in confusion.

"Your father had told me he wanted Rome to return to be a Republic, Lucilla. He told me the morning he died. I should have acted as Protector for the time necessary to accomplish the transition, but Commodus killed him before Marcus Aurelius was able to make his decision official."

"I understand." 

Now Lucilla knew what had really happened that day: why Maximus had been so shocked and elusive when they had met in the Praetorium, and why Commodus, who had always showed love for their father, had suddenly committed such a terrible act.

She sighed and returned to their previous topic, confirming again, "Commodus must be eliminated, Maximus. I tried to redeem him in these years, but there is no hope. He hates the whole world and nothing and nobody could change it. He must die."

Yes, he had to. The boy she had once loved was gone forever and only a monster remained- and that could be no mercy for him.

"Then it will be so." Maximus said with finality. "I will send my men inside the Empire border at once, we don't have much time."

Lucilla nodded and raised her head, her eyes following him as he stood up. She thought he would leave immediately, but instead he covered the few steps separating them and stopped in front of her chair. He offered her his sun-burned, calloused hand, which she promptly took in her own. "Everything will be fine," he whispered looking down at her. "Trust me."

"I do, Maximus. I have always trusted you." She murmured, her face raised to meet his blue-green eyes. Then she added, spurred by a sudden urgency, "I am just sorry that I have not given you many an occasion to trust me..."

"Shhh." He gently squeezed her hand. "That was the past; it no longer matters. And I trust you, otherwise I would not risk the tribe's safety for you."

"Simple and straight to the point," Lucilla thought, "So very Maximus'..."

They smiled at each other, then he pointed to the door. "Now I must go. I will return later."

"Yes." Lucilla let go of his hand and watched as walked away and exited the room, leaving her alone to deal with the emotions his last words had stirred up in her. The past mistakes no longer mattered. Maximus had forgiven her- and he still cared for her, enough to put himself and his tribe in danger for her and her son.

But- but could it be enough to hope for something more? And more importantly, was it right for her to hope for something more in a moment like that?