By the time Tiberina had finished helping her to get dressed and doing her hair, Lucilla had a pounding headache. She did her best to ignore it. Headache was always the consequence of insomnia combined with her memories of love, hope gone wrong and happiness turned into a bitter, private Hades. She had never learned how to avoid them but at least she had learned how to dissimulate them and even how to control them till they became something bearable. And when she failed - as it happened every now and then - there were always potions to ease them and help her sleep.

When Tiberina was done, Lucilla eyed herself in the small, polished mirror and winced inwardly at the sight of her face. She was paler than usual, her eyes looking huge and haunted in her thin, angular face. There were shadows below them and her lips were pressed tightly against each other in a line that spoke about tension and inner pain. Lucilla forced herself to relax but only managed to lose her control over her headache. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and tried again. If she could not regain her control over the pain, she would feel nauseous and be unable to eat her breakfast. And even if Tiberina remained cheerfully unaware of her mistress' mood and more worried about the damage the desert sun could do to her skin than about her insomnia, Lucilla knew there were other, sharper eyes around who could see beyond the façade. And she did not want to argue again over her lack of appetite with Ayan. The woman who cared for Maximus' home was not exactly bright but she was shrew in the way servants are and her never ending chatting could attract unwanted attention over her present mood.

As Tiberina finished putting her combs and brushes and pins in their boxes, Lucilla's Nemesis entered the room carrying a tray overloaded with food. At the mere sight of it, her stomach churned. "Good day, My Lady," said Ayan as Tiberina hurried to make room for breakfast at the nearby table. Lucilla mumbled something that passed for a greeting.  "With your permission, My Lady, said Tiberina, "now that Ayan is here I will go down searching for some lye soap."

Lucilla arched her eyebrows quizzically. Her headache raised some degrees.

"Your stola, domina," went on Tiberina. "I need the soap to clean the fabric that was splashed with wine."

When Lucilla failed to answer, Ayan took command. "Go," she said. "I will take care of your lady."

Tiberina darted another look towards Lucilla and she gestured vaguely. The maid left the room leaving her with the older woman. "Bad thing splashing wine on your clothes, My Lady," commented Ayan as she worked setting the table. "But there is good lye soap here that will clean it and you will never notice it was ever soiled."

Maximus' house-keeper placed a chair in front of the table and when Lucilla failed to move she gestured her to come.

Standing up took all Lucilla's will. Her head seemed as if it had been made of finely blown glass and as fragile. Her movements were wooden and her stomach rebelled at the idea of eating but she forced herself to sit at the table. Ayan's satisfied look turned into a worried one. "My, my," she said. "With due respect, My Lady, you look really awful this morning. Are you feeling sick? The desert is cleaner and healthier than those horrible Roman towns but some times it is too hard for those who are not used to it. You look too pale. Do you want me to call a wise woman? I can-"

"No, Ayan, no. I am fine, thank you. It is only that I am tired. I... did not sleep well last night."

Ayan snorted. "Again? What in the gods' name is the matter with the youth?" she growled. 

Before she could prevent it, Lucilla arched her eyebrows again. Her headache escalated. She winced. 

"I grew up hearing my mother say that it is old people who cannot sleep, not the youngsters yet I am old but I seem to be the only one who can sleep soundly nowadays- when they let me, of course!"

"What- what are you talking about, Ayan?" asked Lucilla more to interrupt the woman's seemingly endless flow of words than out of interest.

Ayan snorted again. "The Great One!" she said. "He does not sleep well either! His lights remain on till very late in the night and he gets up long before the sun rises! I go to him in the night with a cup of spiced warm wine and find him pacing his room. I scold him and he smiles. He takes the wine I give him and tells me to go to sleep but, how can I go to sleep when I know he is awake in his room, pacing back and forth?"

Lucilla pinched the bridge of her nose. The last thing she needed to hear about was Maximus' own insomnia. She ordered herself not to ask for details...She did not need to worry. Ayan was more than ready to provide her with them. "When he wakes up it is still dark but he dresses and goes to the walls. He pretends to revise the warriors and the defences but I know better..." Lucilla closed her eyes, the woman's voice droning in her ears. "When I know he is up, I get up too and stop him before he goes out for some food. He always scowls and sends me back to bed but, how can I sleep knowing he is up and restless? So I tell him and he ends up sitting with me in the kitchen and eats his breakfast. Thanks be given to the gods, nothing can spoil a man's appetite and the Great One is not different! When I ask him what keeps him awake he smiles and tells me not to worry my pretty head..."

Lucilla rubbed her burning eyes to avoid covering her ears to shut out the talkative woman's voice.

"... he knows how to make me laugh, the Great One. And when I ask him if it is the weight of the prophecy that spoils his sleep, he tells me I am a nosy old woman..."

Lucilla swallowed hard.

"...but he is not serious about it, My Lady. He is just making fun out of me. He is the gentlest man in the world, he is..."

"You cannot imagine how gentle he is, old woman," whispered Lucilla but her barely audible words were lost in the torrent of Ayan's.

"... and I tell him what he needs is a wife to warm his bed and many children to keep him busy. But he looks at me and says that I need a husband who can keep me on the short leash and then he laughs and ..." With a sigh Lucilla forced herself to open her eyes and look at the woman fussing around her.  "... but I tell him he cannot go on going to Atina's house forever. He..."

"Atina's house?" asked Lucilla before she could prevent herself. 

Ayan snorted for a third time.  "Yes, My Lady, Atina's house. That's where the Great One goes when his manly needs demand it."

So there was a courtesan in his life. That Atina or perhaps another woman from her... "house". A courtesan. What had she expected? In her mind, Lucilla saw Volumnia's magnificent nudity as clearly as if the other woman had been there.  "... there is nothing wrong about visiting Atina's house. A man has needs and he has to attend to them otherwise he ruins his health. But a man also needs a wife and children and if I ever saw a man who needs a wife that it..."

Trying to take her mind from Ayan's words, Lucilla summoned all her strength and took the cup in front of her and sipped the lemon flavoured water she had been served. Lemons were sharper this side of the world and she added some more honey.

"...but he is a mysterious man, the Great One. He keeps his secrets and..."

"What do you mean, he is a mysterious man?" she interrupted Ayan, grabbing the chance to take her away from her tale about Maximus' intimacy.

The older woman looked stunned at the interruption but quickly recovered. "Well, when he was brought here by our late chief..." she started then hesitated. Lucilla felt vaguely amused at the idea of the talkative housekeeper sudden reluctance to speak. The gods willing, she would be unsettled enough to go away or at least change the subject. But Ayan's need to talk about her master and the thrill of an audience like the encumbered Roman lady sitting at the table was too much to resist, especially for that day she seemed to show more interest than usual.

"When he was brought here, the Great One was very ill and he took a long time to recover. He was very weak, ravaged by fever and thirst. And when he gathered enough strength to leave his bed, he tried to take his life."

Lucilla gasped and let her cup fall. It crashed on the table, spilling its content then rolled over the table's side and fell on the floor.

Ayan hurried to mop the puddle.

Pretending to leave her room to do it, Lucilla stood up and moved back towards her bed.

"Oh, yes. That was exactly what I felt when I got word about it," said Ayan as she went on cleaning. "He was our Great One yet he tried to take his life."

"W-What d-did he do?" asked Lucilla, blood still roaring in her ears at the mere thought of Maximus' attempted suicide.

"He tried to slice his veins or at least that is what I heard."

Lucilla pressed a hand against her mouth. When he had woke up from his feverish nightmares and started the way back into health, Maximus had tried to slice his veins. The traditional, honourable Roman way to put an end to suffering and get oblivion. His only way to be reunited with the wife and son he loved and who had been taken from him along with his rank and his estate. The only way to free himself from the defeat and the pain caused by her own brother.

"... but our late chief was a wise man and helped the Great One to understand who he was and why he had to go on living. He nursed him back to health himself." Ayan had finished cleaning the floor and now was serving Lucilla more lemon flavoured water.  "It took time to bring him back to health and even most to heal his spirit. You could see his body had healed but he kept to himself despite the men's efforts to engage him in their daily activities. The women, of course, were the worst, competing for his attention even when he had eyes for none of then. Then, Nabdalsa ordered both men and women to leave the Great One in peace."

Lucilla fixed her eyes on her hands, primly folded on her lap. They still looked like that strange creature trapped in the fisherman's net. A starfish her father had called it. A flat, pale, lifeless creature.

"... was wise, Nabdalsa was. He knew the Great One needed something to care for so his spirit could heal and gave him one of his mares and her foal and asked him to take care of them because the foaling had been difficult."

Without even noticing, Lucilla smiled. You could always trust Maximus to care for the others. And horses had always been his heart's weakness.

"...so he started recovering. Everybody could see it and little by little he became interested in other things like the crops, the caravans and the tribe's story and before we could even notice it he became one of us." Ayan stopped and Lucilla raised her head. The housekeeper was frowning, lost in her own thoughts. "He became one of us, as he should for he is the Great One. The prophecy says so...He came to us to fulfil it as we were told so long ago."

Ayan blinked then smiled to Lucilla, gesturing her to come back to the table. "Come, My Lady. Come and have your breakfast. If you don't eat, you will not be able to sleep and if you neither sleep nor eat you will get sick."

Despite her reluctance, Lucilla noticed that she was hungry. And when she nibbled at the fig Ayan put in front of her she also noticed that her headache had retreated to a dull feeling in the back of her skull. "For sure your Great One is an extraordinary man," she said just to feel the silence, Maximus' tribal nickname sounding strange in her own voice.

Ayan smiled with obvious delight.  "Of course he is, My Lady! The most extraordinary man you can imagine. Now, if he only were not so stubborn and got himself a wife and a bunch of children..."

Maximus and Lucilla were proceeding side by side, as their horses negotiated the stony, steep road that led back to the town from the pastures. That morning, Maximus had convinced Lucilla to ride with him there in the hope to distract her from her glum thoughts and to help to forget, at least for a while, the worries for her son.

They were still waiting for news from the men he had sent to Zucchabar and he knew the wait was hard for her already strained nerves. In the past few days Ayan had been reporting to him the Roman lady was not sleeping well and had wondered if he might do something to assuage her tension.

His housekeeper's words had not been really necessary, for the shadows under Lucilla's eyes were a clear mark of too many restless nights and he had noticed them before, but till that morning he had not come up with any ideas to help her. Maximus wished to be able to reassure Lucilla, to promise her everything was going to go well, but he had never been a good liar and he could not tell her something he was not certain of. He was fairly confident in his plan and in his men's fighting skills, but a battle is won only when the last enemy is dead or has surrendered. It was a lesson he had learnt during his long years spent on the frontier and he could not forget it. The time spent warring for the Empire had also taught him to wait and be patient, but he knew he could not patronize Lucilla about it. He remembered all too well the terror that had gripped him during that seemingly never-ending ride from Vindobona to Trujillo, and he could imagine what kind of anguish and anxiety were now plaguing her.

No, he could not teach her anything, but at least he hoped the visit to his horse herd had somehow lifted her spirit a little. The landscape was so beautiful, with all that luxuriant green that looked like a grass stain on the saffron coloured fabric of the desert, and the sight of so many newborn foals moving around on their spiky legs had filled him with tenderness. Turning slightly to glance at Lucilla, Maximus wondered if his effort had been successful.

She was looking straight ahead, seemingly lost in her thoughts, and her delicate features were unreadable. 

He fought the sudden desire to embrace her to give her comfort as he wondered if he had been right to take her there. He pondered the wisdom of showing her, a mother scared for her child, the sight of mares caring for their babies. He had not thought about that possibility, for that spectacle had never failed to lift his spirit.

No, that was not true. That had been a time when even that had not been able to cheer him...Lulled by the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses, Maximus let his mind wander and return to the past...

It had been the only time in his life when he had not be anxious to return to his home, or had not been happy to see the familiar landscape of Trujillo welcome him. He had taken the longest possible route from Gallia to Lusitania, but he had not been able to leave behind the memories of the last few months. The memories of Lucilla and their love- or at least what he had thought to be love, for while he had been sure of his feelings, he had not been so certain about hers. The awareness she had been lying to him all the time had wounded him deeply, but the knowledge of her betrayal had not been enough to kill his love.

Marcus Aurelius, who, to Maximus' great shame, had been the one to break him the news of Lucilla's engagement with Lucius Verus, had sent him home with the good-natured advice to find himself a good girl he could marry, but the young Spaniard had no intention of following it. His heart had still belonged to Lucilla, and no amount of will power could change that.

 

Once at the farm, Maximus had been received by his mother's warmest embrace and by his slaves' happy reception, but that welcome had not dispelled the cold in his heart, no matter how hard he had tried, at first, to be cheerful for the woman's sake. She had believed, as the entire household had, he had returned home for good and in the beginning he had not had the will to tell them otherwise. He had been hurting, but not so much to have been blind to the pain his decision to remain in the army was going to cause to his mother. So he had decided to keep the news for himself, even if Cornelia Meridia had understood from the beginning something was wrong with her only son.

In truth it had not been such a difficult deduction. Maximus, the youth who had been known to spend all his time on leave working with his slaves in the fields, riding up and down the hills and going in town to meet his friends at the inns, had transformed into a solitary, taciturn man who avoided company as much as possible.

Nothing of the things that had always liked to do or had raised his enthusiasm, had seemed to interest him anymore. He had spent much of time closed in his room staring at the ceiling, prey of an apathy he had done nothing to shake. Sometimes he had gone out for some walk, usually when his mother had tried to enquire about his behaviour, for he had not wanted to confront his demons.

However, Maximus had not been able to keep on fleeing his problems forever. After two months of living with a man who had looked more like a moving statue than her son, Cornelia Meridia had decided she had enough.

So one evening she had bolted the door of the triclinium were they had been dining, and confronted him. Caught unprepared by her unexpected move and shocked by the steely determination he had seen in his mother's usually concerned and soft eyes, Maximus had finally told her what was bothering him. It had been difficult for him, a private man by nature, to bare his heart to another person and to show to someone else he was not as strong as he believed. It had taken much of his courage for him, an adult man, a multi-decorated officer who would soon command a legion, to admit he still needed his mother's help. But he had done it, he had asked for her comfort, and just the mere act of unburden his heart had been a lot of good to him. Cornelia Meridia had listened to everything her son had to say without judging him, but simply being there for him, supportive and full of affection as she had always been, soothing him as she had done many times when he was a child.

The next morning, after a good night of sleep, the first in too many a month, Maximus had felt better and saddling his favourite horse, he had ridden out to the hills that surrounded Trujillo, to the place where he knew the wild ponies that roamed those lands went to foal. He had tied his steed to a tree set at the foot of a hill, then he had scooted forward on his belly, till he had reached the top and looked down to the fertile valley below. He had watched the just born foals run and play under the mares' and the stallions' watchful gaze and he had smiled delightedly, as he had done when you had first discovered the place, as a ten year old boy.

That smile had been the first sign Maximus had begun to heal. 

In the following days, he had gradually started to spend more time outside his room and in other people's contact, and by the end of the week, he had almost returned to be his normal self. He had gone to work in the fields, enjoying both the physical exercise that fuelled his appetite, and the warmth of the Spanish sun over his skin. He had ridden to visit his childhood friends and had gone with them in town, visiting the inn, playing dice, and gambling at the races.

Then his mother had decided it was time for Maximus to follow Marcus Aurelius' advice, which he had mentioned to her. She decided her son had to marry and forget Lucilla once for all.

One morning, while at breakfast, Cornelia Meridia had casually commented to have met their neighbour Gneus Calpurnius' daughter at the market the day before.

"She has grown up well, Maximus. She is beautiful and with good manners. You should think to ask her father for her hand."

"Mother!"

"It is time you marry, Maximus. It would be better to do it now, before you leave again, and this girl is just what you need: she is demure, obedient, and young. She will give you many children. I have already talked with Calpurnius and he said he would be interested in a union between our families, if you agree. We have organized a meeting for this afternoon, so you can see the girl by yourself and then maybe discuss the details with him..."

Maximus had wanted to protest, to tell her he was not interested, but then he stopped to ponder his mother's words.

She had been right, of course. 

It was his duty to marry and produce sons to perpetuate his family line and since he could not have Lucilla, he could as well wed Calpurnius' daughter. It had not mattered he did not love her. He was sure he could adapt to live with a girl if he felt some friendship and fondness for her, and he was certain he could be a gentle and dutiful husband for her. After all, very few marriages were based on love and, he had reasoned bitterly, love had only brought pain and hurt to him.

It would have been better to leave it to the poets and let his mind, not his heart, rule his actions.

So Maximus had gone to the appointment with steely determination, concentrating on the task ahead as if it had been a battle- but this had been a battle he could not win.

From the first moment Calpurnia had been introduced to him, Maximus had known he could not ask her to become his wife.

There had been nothing wrong in her. She had been beautiful and graceful as his mother had said- but she had not been Lucilla.

He had found himself observing each detail of her face, each of her gestures and compare them with his lost love's. And of course, he had found her lacking in every way. Her smile was not as cheeky as Lucilla's. Her eyes were not as sparkling. Her features were not as refined. She was too short... It had been a good thing Calpurnia could not read his mind, and it had been even better she had not been informed of the real reason behind his visit, otherwise she would have been wounded by his cold and brisk behaviour.

Back at home, Maximus had reported the episode to his mother, who had dismissed it with a shake of her shoulders.

"Don't worry, my son. Just let me spread the news you are looking for a wife and see how many fathers will come to knock on our door. I am sure you will find a girl that will appeal to your eye and make you forget the Emperor's daughter."

He had not been too convinced, but had let his mother have her way, in the hope the next time he was going to meet a girl, Lucilla's memory would not haunt him so much.

Cornelia Meridia's predictions proved true, but not so Maximus' hopes.

In the following months, he received plenty of visits by farmers, merchants and local politicians who wished to create an alliance with the young officer who was said to be Marcus Aurelius' protégé, by marrying their daughters to him. But every time Maximus had gone to meet a potential spouse, he had carried with him Lucilla's memory and judged every girl on her standards. Many a time he had found them lacking in something, but it had been even worst when they had been too much like she had been. Maximus could not bear to marry a constant reminder of what it had been and could never return. And he was too fair to impose to an innocent girl to live with a man who, when he looked at her, was in reality seeing another woman.

And then, when he had begun to think he was a hopeless case and it would have been better to forget the idea, something totally unexpected had happened. Someone had caught his interest and held it on her own merit, and not because something in her look or in her gestures reminded him of Lucilla.

Indeed she had been the complete opposite of Caesar's daughter- and her sight had awoken his heart again. 

It had been a late September afternoon and Maximus had been standing in Camillus Appianus' library for several minutes, making a polite conversation as they waited for the older man's daughter's arrival. Maximus had not wanted to meet more girls after what had happened all the previous times, but his mother had insisted, arriving to the point to reveal him she had dreamed about him finding his future wife that very day. He had listened amused and unbelieving, but had nevertheless complied with her request, although he had made clear it would be the last time. And while he waited for the girl's arrival, Camillus' constant talking had been reinforcing his conviction: he was tired of fathers declaiming their daughter's praise as auction-sellers did with their lots.

Finally the door had opened and a well-modulated voice had spoken. 

"Forgive us, but a clumsy maid spilled some perfume on Camillina's dress and we had to change it."

Maximus had turned to face the door and looked at the newcomers standing there. One was young Camillina, a little, pretty thing staring demure at her feet. The other was a woman in her late twenties, tall and graceful, with a mane of long, curly, black hair and expressive brown eyes, which were looking straight at him, with interest- and approval.

"Legate, let me introduce you to my sister, Selene Camilla and to my daughter Camillina."

Maximus had bowed to both the ladies, then followed them outside in the porch, where they had sat down to a table. Camillus had then tried to involve both his guest and his daughter in a conversation meant to show Maximus how well the girl would fit with him. But things had not gone as planned.

Camillina had uttered just a few words, and only when directly addressed to, and Maximus had soon stopped trying to coax her, his attention completely reserved for the girl's aunt. The widow of a merchant from Emerita Augusta, she had been visiting her recently divorced brother, and she had a determinate view on many a topic among those they touched in a conversation that soon had excluded father and daughter. She was learned and cultured, but not too sophisticated to not like and appreciate the simple country life as it often happened with matrons used to live in town. Her replies to his questions or affirmations had showed Maximus Selene Camilla was a mature woman who still possessed a great degree of playfulness. That had dichotomy had enchanted him, for he could not remember to had ever met a woman like her.

"Do you also breed animals in your farm, Legate?"

"Yes, I do. Horses and cattle."

"Horses! I like so much to ride and care for them...but my brother here does not even allow me to approach his stable..."

"I told you many times, Selene, a stable is no place for a woman."

"How monotonous you are, Camillus! Keep on telling me so and I will pack and return to my home."

"Oh no, don't go, Lady Camilla! You can come to visit my stable, if you wish..." 

Maximus had blurted out those words on an impulse, and they caused different reactions. 

Camillus had looked at him almost scandalized. 

Camillina's shoulders had drooped, by now aware there would be no engagement between them. Selene instead had stared at him and had smiled, curving that full month of hers he had suddenly felt the need to kiss. He had blushed at the thought, and when he had raised his eyes to look at hers, he had understood she had not missed his reaction.

Her smile had become even wider. 

"That would be wonderful, Legate. I would truly love to see your farm; it must a beautiful place by the way your eyes shine every time you talk about it. When would it be most convenient for you?"

They had agreed for the following morning. However, when Maximus had arrived to Camillus' villa with a cart to take Selene to his farm, she had to cancel their plans. Her brother had to leave the house in the early hours to deal with some kind of trouble connected to his shipping business, Camillina had gone to visit her mother, and she had promised to remain at home till one of them returned. Maximus had been disappointed for he had looked forward to show her his estate, but the feeling had not last long for, not only Selene had promised to visit the next day, but she had also invited him to enter inside the house and spend some time talking in front of a good cup of wine.

He had accepted without thinking twice, and ended up spending almost four hours in Selene's company. They had not been alone, of course, for one of her maids had been present as decency dictated, but she could have as well not existed, so wrapped in each other they had been. Their conversation had been more serious and poignant than the previous day's, as they had discussed his military career, her marriage, their childhood and their vision of life. They had both been very sincere with each other, and by the time Maximus had taken his leave, he had known his search had ended: he had found his future wife. She was not a girl, but a grown-up woman, the ideal companion for a young man whose experiences and subsequent meditations in the previous months, had matured beyond his years.

His mother, of course, had been ecstatic to hear the news, but she had been aghast when, the next day, she had seen the woman he had taken to visit the stable and the house. Maximus had noticed her stricken face, but had decided to deal with it after he cared for another, more important matter.

Selene and he had gone out for a ride- alone- and after several moments spent in silence, Maximus had stopped his horse and asked her, point-blank, to marry him. He had thought he would have to work hard to convince her, but it had not been so. Selene had accepted- amazed but without hesitation. After a marriage based only on duty and respect, she had never imagined she would so gladly give up her newfound freedom to marry again and discover love in the arms of a man she had met only three days before. And after suffering a broken heart with Lucilla, believing it would never mend, Maximus had been shocked to learn he could feel such deep emotions again. He had stammered, for once without words, at her prompt, positive answer. She, instead, had wept with joy, confessing him she had been hoping for it from the first moment their eyes had met, but not really thinking her dream would ever become reality, for she was not the woman a man of his age and in his position would typically wish as wife.

He had comforted her through her tears, and they had ended up making love in his olive grove, too carried away and awed by what had happened between them to even try to restrain themselves.

Maximus had been swept away again by the love he had tried to repudiate and by losing himself in it he understood it was what he really needed. He needed love and Selene. He knew many a man would consider it a weakness, but he did not care. He had only one life to live, and he wanted to experience it at his fullest.

As soon as Selene had returned to town, he was hit by his mother's protests, but he had been ready for them.

"Are you out of your mind? That woman is at least five years your senior and she bore no children to her late husband- she had only two miscarriages!"

"I know. And I don't care, mother. I love her and I am going to marry her."

"Love! Has not it caused you enough problems yet? Proceed on this path and you will find only pain...Please my son, don't be foolish..."

Cornelia Meridia had tried in every way to make him change idea, but the man listening to her words was not her son, the hurt youth who had needed her help only few months before. He was Legate Maximus Decimus Meridius- and he had taken his decision.

Maximus and Selene had been married eighteen days after their first meeting and almost exactly nine months later they had welcome the arrival of their son Marcus, a beautiful, healthy boy who had silenced Cornelia Meridia's concerns once for all. Maximus had then left for the frontier feeling a better, stronger man, and carrying with him a most important reason to do well and soon what Marcus Aurelius had asked him to do: win the war against the Germans that threatened the Empire. And each time he had returned home for the winter break, it had been like living in Elysium for months on end, enveloped by the warmth of his family's love...

Maximus remembered riding with Selene up and down the hills surrounding their estates, her loose hair waving in the wind as she teased him to catch her. He recalled their swimming sessions in the farm's pond, naked and in the middle of the night, finding exciting the risk to be discovered as they loved under the moon. He relived their visits to markets and fairs in Emerita Augusta, walking together hand in hand, uncaring if the others frowned at them or not, or chasing behind a wide-eyed, curious Marcus who wanted to see and touch everything...

Maximus smiled broadly at the memories then he suddenly froze, as if someone had thrown a bucket full of chilly water over his face. He instinctively pulled at the reins, causing Niger to stop and open his mouth in the attempt to loose the pressure of the bit.

At his side, Lucilla stopped too and looked at him enquiringly. "What is it? Maximus? Are you all right?"

He stared numbly at her for a while, then blinked his eyes to focus his vision, "I am fine, Lucilla. Fine as I have not been in ages."

She tilted her head, not understanding and he explained, speaking slowly as he organized his thoughts. "I had been thinking about my family for quite a while, and I have suddenly realized I was remembering the happy moments I spent with my wife and son. It the first time it happened. Since they day I found their broken bodies, the mere thought of them had brought pain to my heart- instead today it brought me joy." Maximus gestured with his hand, not really sure he could express in words what he was feeling. "I think the wound caused by their death is finally healed, Lucilla, for the pain of losing them is no longer obscuring the joy of having had them." He smiled briefly, and swallowed hard.

Lucilla smiled back and it reached her eyes. "I am happy for you, Maximus. And I am sure that from Elysium your wife and son are equally joyous." Hers were not just empty words of circumstance- she had really meant them and Maximus could not help but notice how easy was for her to understand him. But it was nothing new...she had always been able to do so, since that first night her father had introduced them in Gallia.

They remained still for several instants more, sharing that moment of sudden communication, then resumed their walk toward the town, silent but somehow still connected by a new understanding... or was it an old one?

When Lucilla returned to her lodging at the tower, her clothes and hair were covered with fine, desert dust and her heart mildly troubled. The sight of her lady sent Tiberina into a frenzy, shouting for water and a bathtub to be sent to her bedroom and mumbling about how slow the local servants were. Distracted by her own musings, Lucilla paid no attention to her maid's complains and soon her voice retreated in her mind to an annoying buzzing, very much like that of a summer bug. The ride had not been a long or demanding one but Lucilla felt more than a little sore. She sighed. Too much pampering in Rome, too much been carried around in a cushioned litter. It had softened her. There had been a time - not so many years ago - when she had ridden beside her father all the way to distant provinces and never felt tired by the end of the daily march. On the contrary, she had found each step of the journey invigorating and exhilarating, be it that it was hot weather or cold. Her father had been proud of her, saying good humouredly that she was as strong as any legionnaire. Papa had been teasing but there had been so much pride in his voice that Lucilla had felt that her heart would burst out of her own...

Her father, the emperor.

Suddenly, Tiberina's buzzing became unbearable. Lucilla pressed one of her hands against her temple in an attempt to silence her maid's voice but only managed to elicit more protests. Blinking, Lucilla brought her eyes into focus to see that Tiberina was rubbing her hands with oil as she chastised her lady about the damage the reigns could do to her delicate skin in such a dry climate as that of the desert.

"Enough!" snapped Lucilla. 

Tiberina winced, then lowered her head as she mumbled, "Forgive me, My Lady."

In the silence that followed, the usual sounds of the fortress reached Lucilla's ears with ringing clarity. Horses' hooves. Booted feet marching on the walls. The clinging of swords. Voices. Somebody's cough. A child's joyous cries. Lucilla tiredly rubbed her eyes.  "I am sorry, Tiberina," she said, "I am... I am tired. Leave me, please. I think I will lie down for a while before taking my bath."

The maid darted a glance towards the bathtub already half filled with steaming water. "Yes, My Lady," she answered, then added, "The water will become cold. Would not you prefer to take your bath first?"

Lucilla closed her eyes and sighed then smiled. Tiberina had been with her for many years. She should have known better: her maid was especially skilled when it came to saying the last word. "The bath will have to wait," she said as she opened her eyes, slightly wincing at the headache insinuating in the back of her skull. "Besides, it is warm enough to take a cold bath."

Dismissing her maid with a gesture before she could open her mouth again, Lucilla turned around and padded towards her bed, wincing again as the slight pounding in her temples warned her about the imminent onslaught.

When the muffled sound at her back told her that Tiberina had left closing the door behind, Lucilla turned towards her travelling chest and opened it. The vial was at the bottom, wrapped in a leather pouch to protect it and hidden beneath a pile of beautiful clothes. Finding it, she moved to stand up but was stopped by the soreness in her back. She sighed. Hopefully, the medicine Galen had prescribed her when her headaches deprived her of peace and rest would also take care of her soreness. She measured the dose carefully with the help of a little, ivory spoon tied to the cord used to close the pouch. As she did, her hand trembled and Lucilla cursed under her breath.

She was tired and sore after the ride yet not so many years before she had been able to ride all day long. Rome had softened her- badly. Besides, she was not as young as she used to be. The unwelcome thought had her snapping to attention. Leaving the vial and the spoon on the table, Lucilla turned towards her polished mirror and studied her reflection carefully. The shiny surface returned her the face she knew so well it barely concerned her any more. After a moment or so, she stood up and pushed the curtains aside and the desert light streamed into the room reflecting on the mirror and making her blink. When her eyes finally adapted, she sat at the mirror again and looked at her face with single minded intensity. Yes, that was what she needed. Not the soft glow of the oil lamps but harsh, unmerciful light. That kind of light that revealed every single line and imperfection.

Lucilla seldom thought about her age. She had ceased considering herself young a lifetime ago. It had happened shortly after that conversation with her mother in the privacy of the empress' perfumed apartment. Truth was she had ceased being young the day her father had refused to break her engagement with Lucius Verus but she had been able to sustain the illusion of youth for some time. Then... then it had not mattered. Life had lost all promise of happiness and freedom, all hope of love. And when they are gone forever, no one can be considered young no matter how short in years his or her life had been.

At an age when it should had bloomed with possibilities, Lucilla's life had turned into barrenness. There had been some good things, of course, Lucius' birth the most important one. And when her husband had died, nobody had challenged her right to raise him as she wanted- until Commodus had made himself emperor. But Lucilla did not want to think about her brother now. She could not afford thinking about him, suspended as she was on the brink of one of her headaches. With the ease born of a long practise in the arts of survival, she pushed him off her mind as she returned to her line of thinking. 

The fact that her father had not imposed her a new husband counted, of course, among the few, good things of her life. Somehow, she had not been surprised. They had never talked about it even if she knew that the emperor had listened to some proposals. Marcus Aurelius had never brought up the subject and Lucilla had been grateful for the small mercy she suspected had been his way to apologize for forcing her to marry his adoptive brother.

Lucilla's headache turned into an iron band tightening around her temples making her gasp.

Her father. She had been thinking a lot about him since she had arrived into the desert keep. Something had broken when he had refused to free her and allow her to marry Maximus. Something precious that could never be repaired. Something both mourned in the depths of their souls. And now he was gone forever and there was no chance to save whatever was left of their former closeness and love. Lucilla had learned not to think about that other form of love as she had never completely learned not to think about the only man she had ever come to love. In the years passed since the late emperor's death - the late emperor's murder, she corrected herself - she had depended more than ever on her wits and skill to survive and avoiding to think about her father had been an important part of her own, private fight. And those wits and skill that had raised Maximus' derision...

"Life is more simple for a soldier. Or do you think me heartless?" 

"I think you have a talent for survival."

But things had changed and she found time and again thinking about her father. Had not she even sent a desperate prayer to his spirit not so long ago? It was Maximus, of course. The reason why she found herself thinking about her father and the past was no other but her unexpected meeting with the Spaniard after years believing him dead. And Maximus also was the reason why she was there, sitting in front of her mirror, for the first time ever seeking in her face for the signs that would tell her that it was not only her soul that had aged but also her flesh- and fearing to find them.

The metallic surface showed her a face that was a bit too thin, with high cheekbones and an elegant nose, a small mouth that had not relaxed in many years and a firm chin. Her skin was still fair and pleasant to the touch even in the harsh climate of the desert, the gods be blessed for Tiberina's mule-headed stubbornness when it came to applying oils and creams to keep it young and elastic. There were fine lines in the corners of her green, catlike eyes and her mouth. No hint of grey marred the lustrous hue of her curls and her neck looked firm like that of a younger woman. Lucilla studied her reflection in the dispassionate way she had have studied that of another, beautiful woman who had have raised her jealousy, challenging herself to find out the flaws that another woman's eyes would find.

She studied her reflection as if it had been Maximus' wife...

At the mere thought of the woman she had never known and who was now dead and gone, her headache pounded ferociously and she hurried to pour some water on the powder and gulp the bitter tasting, resulting potion. Screwing up her face at the awful taste, Lucilla used the back of her hand to rub it from her lips then burst into bitter laugh at the coarse gesture. Still laughing, she forced herself to her feet and closed the curtains then padded tiredly towards her bed and dropped on it. Crossing a forearm on her eyes, she sighed and forced herself to relax as she waited for the medicine to work its magic.

Maximus. Everything always came back to Maximus. It had always been like this. He had always had been the one to turn her life upside down but with his mere presence. He still did.

"Many things change."

"Many things, not everything."

Now Maximus said his wounds had finally healed, that he knew they had because he could recapture the beauty of his days with his wife and son instead of being haunted by the grief resulting from their murder. And his words had sent her running to her mirror, desperately looking at it for wrinkles and white hairs, for the flaws that would make her undesirable to the only man she had ever come to love, as if she had been a girl instead of a woman in her thirties. Pathetic. She felt pathetic.

But the medicine was working its magic and the headache was receding. Blessed Galen. He was not like those other pompous imperial physicians who offered grand speeches and little help. Instead, his medicine always brought, if not cure, at least relief. And some times, he did not even need medicines to make people feel better but a few, well chosen words. The medicine was working its magic, yes, and not only the pain was receding but she felt herself relax and become drowsy.  She had lied to Tiberina when she had told her she wanted to lie down for a while but now it seemed a good idea. Perhaps a short nap would help. Her mind drifted and behind her closed eyelids she saw a landscape that she had used to cherish in those times when she still had dreams and hopes: the green, undulating hills surrounding a fertile valley in the heart of the Spanish province.

Lucilla's mouth curled into a soft smile.

Dreaming is always easier when drifting along the world that lies between the ugliness of real life and the unknown that awaits us in deep sleep. Perhaps it's there were hope comes from. Drifting somewhere beneath the surface and above oblivion, Annia Lucilla took note of the first thing she would do when she woke up: returning Maximus his farm, in the hope he will be able to enjoy it as soon as Commodus was gone. "Thank you, papa..." she mumbled then turned on her side and fell deeply asleep.

Lucilla awoke from her nap refreshed, her headache vanished due to the medicine and rest. Even her body felt stronger and not so sore after the exercise. The water was still warm enough for a quick bath. She thought about calling Tiberina to help her but rejected the idea. Deep sleep had not only brought relief to her sore body but also some degree of peace. Her maid's good intentioned meddling would shatter it to pieces. Coiling her hair with the help of some ivory carved pins, Lucilla slid into the bathtub with a sigh of relief.

When Tiberina discovered her mistress already bathed and well on the way of dressing herself, she was simply horrified. Feeling stronger after nap and bath, Lucilla decided she could endure the woman's fussing and allowed her to brush her hair and coil it in the elegant way she preferred. It was the kind of hairdo that favoured her thin, high cheeked face, ideal of the elegant halls of the Palatine but highly unsuitable for the rustic ones of the desert keep. But Lucilla was already decided to indulge her faithful maid.

Tiberina had barely finished arranging the pile of curls when there was a discreet knock at the door. 

"A message for your lady," said a man dressed in the simple garment the desert people preferred. "The Great One asks her to meet him at the north wall. I will escort her to him..."

"The lady is not ready..." started Tiberina.

"I will wait for her," interrupted the messenger, clearly not used to have his leader's orders contradicted by a female.

Tiberina, of course, was neither used to have her own decisions contradicted by a simple tribesman who had never in his life set a foot on a decent Roman home, much less on a palace. "You may go. When the lady is ready, I will escort her."

"The Great One ordered me to escort your lady and that I will do. I will wait for her outside and when she is ready I will take her to him. You will remain here."

Before Tiberina could object, the man bowed, turned on his heels and walked away. The maid was appalled and needed some time to react. By the time she had her wits gathered, Lucilla was well on the way of putting on a light wool tunic. The sun was already going down the horizon and even if the fortress' bricks still retained its warmth the cool, desert night would fall soon. Besides, at the night wind was always cold at the walls.

"M-M-My Lady, what are you doing?" she managed to babble.

"Did not you hear, Tiberina? I am awaited at the north wall. Now stop whining and help me with this tunic!" said Lucilla with more than a little hint of impatience. Maximus' unexpected summons to the wall could only mean one thing: he had news from Commodus. "Move Tiberina! And bring me my green cloak!"

By the time she climbed the stairs to the north wall, the horizon was aflame with the dying sun. Lucilla found Maximus standing by the defences, his forearms resting on the stone, his eyes lost in the contemplation of the hills beyond, his desert garments flowing in the early evening wind.

He looked cool and calm, a warrior very much at ease in the safety of his well guarded keep. But Lucilla knew better. Long before she had learned to read his body better than she had learned to read his face.She saw the subtle signs that told her he was alert and wary, fully aware that things were close to taking a major turn. She had been right: he had news about Commodus. In silence, she padded towards him and stopped by his side, resting her forearms on the sun baked stone.

"He is coming," said Maximus without looking at her. 

Lucilla felt a chill running down her spine.

"My men have just brought word that Caesar is awaited in Zucchabar in a few days."

The derision in Maximus' tone when he pronounced the word "Caesar" made her involuntarily shudder. "I see," she managed to say.

Maximus turned slowly towards her, the red light of the dying sun bringing flames into his blue-green eyes.

"When he and his entourage arrive in the city, it will be easier to gather information. It is small and uncomfortable," he went on in a flat, emotionless voice. "His quarters will be crammed and there will be plenty opportunities for eavesdropping. I am told he brought few servants along with his Praetorian escort and Falco's own household will be badly over burdened. They will need extra hands. That is where my men will come in. In a few days, I will have a complete report about Commodus' plans and his resources."

The wind pushed Lucilla's cloak open and she hurried to close it over her breasts. It was soft and warm, made of the finest wool of the empire and beautifully dyed. It should have been more than enough in the early night breeze but could do nothing to keep her from the kind of chill that had engulfed her. "So it has already started," she whispered.

Maximus offered her a humourless smile. "Yes, Lucilla, it has."

Their eyes remained locked for a moment then, moving in unison, they averted them and fixed their glances in the landscape quickly disappearing in the increasing darkness.

It had already started.

The lights were on, the musicians silent but alert, the chorus had taken its place and the main characters slowly converged on the stage. Everything was ready for action to start and the drama to develop. And soon at least one of the characters would fall never to stand up at the time of the ovation. It only remained to discover was who would be on the receiving end when the steel struck for this drama was hard, real life.

It was midmorning and Maximus went in search of Lucilla to tell her that some of the men he had sent into Zucchabar had just reported him. In the last few days she had looked less tense than she had been just after her arrival, and he hoped the good news he had to give her would help to keep her so. The day before she had witnessed the training manoeuvres he had staged between the rocky mountains surrounding the Big Oasis, in a place that strongly resembled the gorge where they planned to trap Commodus. Maximus and his men had simulated the attack and worked on the various possibilities in which the fight could develop depending by the Praetorians' reaction. He had been satisfied by his men's work and when he had joined Lucilla and Tiberina in their observation point, he had noticed Marcus Aurelius' daughter had looked relieved- reassured by the tribal warriors' efficiency. Maximus had been happy to see it, for she needed to relax, to lower her guard at least for a while, for even the best bow would break if the string is pulled too much.

Maximus found Lucilla in the tower garden, sitting on a bench in the shadow of a huge palm. Tiberina was there too, and upon seeing him, she bowed her head in salute. Lucilla instead seemed to be too engrossed in what she was doing to notice him. She had an unrolled scroll on her knees and her face was a mask of concentration. Maximus stopped to observe her, admiring how the sun made her hair shine like polished gold mixed with copper. Then he saw her frown, pick up the scroll and turn it in her hands, on the right side, on the left one, upside down. Her puzzled expression brought a smile on Maximus' lips as he resumed his walk.

"Can I help you in some way?" he asked stepping near the bench.

Lucilla started, her hand running to her chest. "Maximus!" she exclaimed with a smile, "You scared me! I did not hear you arrive."

"I am sorry I startled you - I did not mean to, but you were so caught by that scroll."

"Oh yes, the scroll." Lucilla's smile widened.

Maximus tilted his head to take at the papyrus and Lucilla turned it in her hands to make it easier for him. 

"What is it?"

"It is a collection of short tales...like Phaedrus' Fabulae. Ayan gave it to me. Of course I cannot understand them, but each story is accompanied by little drawings that are very nice to look at. Animals and strange creatures I have never seen before..." Lucilla shrugged.

Maximus nodded.

"Are you able to read the Berber language?"

He shook his head. "No. I have never been very good with languages."

"Oh yes, I remember how you struggled to read Xenophons' work about horses in Greek." Lucilla smiled again and Maximus withheld his breath: for a moment she had looked like the girl she had been when she had helped him to translate an especially difficult passage of that book.

"I recall it, all too well! And I am afraid to say I did not improve in these years. It is a blessing almost all the Amazighs speak some Latin."

"Amazigh?" She stared at him curious.

"Yes, that's how they call themselves. The name "Berbers" is just a corruption of the Greek word "barbaroi", foreigners, but, of course they are not foreign to these lands- we are."

Lucilla nodded, pensive. "They are right."

There was a moment of silence, then Maximus said, "I came here to tell you I got word from the warriors I sent to Zucchabar. They had been successful on spreading the news you had been kidnapped, and they know for sure the rumour got to the governor. My men have yet to diffuse the notion you are held prisoner in the ruined fortress for we don't want Falco to arrange a rescue party now. We will wait till Commodus is here, which is a matter of days, if not hours. He must be very close."

Lucilla listened with attention, before nodding. "Thank you for telling me."

"You are welcome."

Silence fell again over them and Maximus wondered if he had something else to say. As he was doing so, his eyes fixed on the city gates, he realized that even if he had taken her outside the walls for a ride, he had yet to show her the settlement. Perhaps that was the good moment to offer himself to be her guide. After all, he had nothing to do: he had already issued his orders to the men leaving for Zucchabar and had decided to let his warriors rest for the day, with no training sessions scheduled during the afternoon.

"Lucilla?"

"Yes?"

"Would you like a tour of the town?" He asked returning to face her.

"Now?"

"Yes. If you like the idea, of course."

"I do, very much." Lucilla rolled up the scroll and gave it to Tiberina, who promptly took it inside the tower. 

When she reappeared, her mistress was walking beside Maximus, her hand posed on his forearm, and she looked so eager that he had to restrain a smile. It was so good to see her like this- so much better than see her attractive face strained by worry and anguish - and he just wished to be able to keep her always so.

"Where do you live, Maximus?"

Lucilla's question caught him by surprise. They had been touring the settlement for about two hours, but it had never crossed his mind she might wish to see his place. "Oh..." He cleared his throat, "I live in a house near the Eastern gate, not very far from here."

"Can we go to give a look at it? Ayan talked about it this morning, and she made me curious." He wondered what his talkative housekeeper had told her about his place- it was plain and little and there was nothing special in it. However Lucilla was looking at him with expectation and he simply knew he could not refuse her, no matter it was almost lunch time and that it was beginning to be very hot.

"All right, let's go. It is in that direction."

Maximus led her in a street on their left, so narrow that it forced them to press closely to each other to keep on walking side by side. He slowed down his steps, wanting to remain a little behind to allow Lucilla more freedom of movement, but she imitated him and by her expression it seemed she had not even realized it. It was another signal she searched for physical comfort, and given what she had gone through in the last year spent in exile, he could not but understand her need. Finally they stopped in a larger square and he pointed at low, stocky building made of bricks. As all the other houses in the town his yellow-reddish colour made it blend with the desert and the mountains surrounding them.

"Here we are. As you can see it does not amount to much. Probably Ayan exaggerated in her descriptions."

"Well she did- a little bit. I was expecting a building like this, but I thought it to be bigger." Lucilla crossed the deserted square and stopped in front of the door, looking at the roof and then at the windows opening high on the wall.

"No, it is pretty small," Maximus commented joining her. "I have only four rooms: the kitchen, my bedroom, Ayan's and the study. Plus the bathroom, but it is so little you cannot call it a room. But I don't complain, I don't need a lot of space. I spend much of my time in the valley with the horses or in the council hall."

Lucilla nodded, still looking at the building. "It is certainly different from a typical Roman domus or an insula," she said, "but I like the style."

She went on talking but Maximus did not hear her, as his mind followed another thought. An image of his farm had suddenly flashed in front of his eyes- and just as it had happened few days before with his memories of Selene and Marcus, it had been a happy one. The villa had appeared to him as he had always remembered it during the long years he had spent in away from it, fighting in some forsaken place. "How is it now?" He wondered. Did he really want to know? Was he ready to listen to something he might not like? Yes he was- he needed to know. Blinking his eyes, he returned to the present. "Lucilla?" He called and when she turned to face him he added, "May I ask you something?"

Something in his tone had to attract her attention, for she walked closer to him and looked straight at him. "Of course."

"Have you ever been in... Trujillo? Have you ever visited... my former estate?"

Her eyes widened, then she shook her head. "No, I have never been there. I have been told the vegetation is luxuriant despite anyone tending at it...but I never visited." Lucilla lowered her eyes and added, in such a low voice he had to strain his ears to hear her. "I could not bear to go there and see your house burned and destroyed...and knowing you were dead...I never forgot the descriptions you made of the place back in Gallia..."

"When we imagined visiting it together," Maximus finished for her in his mind. Yes, he remembered those conversation quite well...He recalled how Lucilla had never tired of hearing him describe the simple life of the Spanish countryside. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to talk past the lump that threatened to form in his throat. "I understand. But perhaps you could go to visit it in the future, now that you know I am alive..."

Lucilla's eyes returned to stare at him. "Maybe. But first I will have to ask to owner for his permission or his invitation."

"The owner?" Maximus paled under his tan. "But I thought- I thought it was yours...You told me..."

"It was. It was mine till ten days ago." Lucilla bit her lower lip, as her hand searched for something beneath her clothes, finally taking out a piece of folded papyrus. "Here Maximus," she said, and her voice was trembling slightly, "This is yours. I was just waiting for the right moment to give it to you."

Maximus reached out his hand, conscious only of the blood pounding in his ears. He took the papyrus and unfolded it with shaking fingers, reading and rereading it until its meaning sank in his brain. Lucilla had given his home back to him. His house in the hills above Trujillo- the place where he had been born and lived all his life away from the army...The black soil, the olives, the vines, the figs, the apples, the pears he had tended with love and care...The kitchen garden that had smelled of herbs in the day ... jasmine in the evening. The giant poplar...the wild ponies...

It was his- again.

Maximus' eyes blurred as his shaking increased. He was overwhelmed by such powerful emotion he could not even try to control... His home...his home...

"Maximus? Are you all right?" Concerned, Lucilla raised a hand to touch him, but before she was able to complete the gesture, he grabbed her arm and pulled her against his chest, embracing her with all his strength and kissing her cheek, before burying his face in her neck and weeping. It was the only way his dazzled self found to express his feelings and blessedly Lucilla let him have it without protesting, even if he was crushing her. Instead her arms rose to hug him back, as she too buried her face in his neck.

Maximus regained his control gradually, and when he realized how he had behaved he felt embarrassment wash over him, but there was nothing he could do about it, but live through it. Gently, he freed himself from Lucilla's arms and stepped back, waiting for her to look at him. Her eyes were shining and he understood he had not been the only one to shed tears in the shared warmth of their embrace. "Lucilla," he murmured, his voice throaty and thick with emotion. "I have no words to thank you for what you have just done."

"You don't need them. For first, your home should have never been taken away from you. And for second, nothing I can give you will be ever enough to pay for my mistakes and to thank you for what you are doing for Lucius and myself."

"You have nothing to pay for...and you don't need to thank me for helping you. It is my pleasure. My reward will come when I see you and your son happy and free."

"That is how I want to see you, Maximus. Happy and free to return were you belong."

Silence fell over them, as they looked at each other with intensity. There was nothing more to say. Or better, there was still very much to be said, but neither of them was ready to say or hear it.

It was too soon.

Or perhaps it was too late.

Maximus did not know, but he was aware they could not remain staring at each other in the middle of the square. Not only that would cause a lot of talk among the tribe, but also the sun had reached its zenith and it was risky to stay outside during the hottest time of the day. "Come," he murmured, forcing himself to move toward his house, "let's go inside. We need to go in the shadow and eat something." A sudden smile appeared on his face, "I think it is time you try my lentil soup."

"Your lentil soup?" Lucilla's elegant eyebrow arched. "You cook, Maximus?"

"Sometimes I do, much to Ayan's outrage... Every legionary is able to prepare his food!"

Lucilla smiled back. "Good! I cannot wait to taste your soup."

Together they disappeared into his house, leaving their troubles outside, at least for a little while.

Three days later, Lucilla was summoned to the council hall. The messenger was the same servant who had taken her to the north wall and Tiberina received him none too gently. The man ignored her in the same way he had done the previous time and the maid had been forced hastily in retreat. She was still mumbling and protesting while she helped Lucilla change her sandals and coil her hair. Secluded in the privacy of the tower, she had developed a linking for informality that never failed to appal her maid.

Maximus' summons could only mean one thing: there was news about Commodus. News so important that he did not want them discussed anywhere but in the safety of his headquarter. Forcing herself to remain calm and endure Tiberina's fussing proved to be a major trial but somehow she managed to survive it. And when she finally stepped in the corridor and the servant who had been waiting for her bowed brusquely and marched her towards Maximus, she suddenly understood why the man was always so short tempered when it came to her maid: no house servant had either the alert quality of that man or moved with such a swift, panther like grace. At close range, his lose garments were not enough to hide the fact that he was no servant at all but a soldier, probably one of Maximus' most lethal warriors, ready to act as a bodyguard if need be. The knowledge that Maximus wanted her protected by one of his trusted men should have been comforting. Oddly, it only brought unwelcome dread.

The hall where Maximus had been hosting what was clearly a war council was square and with a high, smoked ceiling. The wide, strong walls that kept both heat and chill out sported no windows. The double doors were made of wood, so precious in that country, and reinforced with an abundance of iron. There were long, sturdy benches along three sides. On the fourth, there was a dais where a high backed, wood armchair stood and beside it a table covered with parchments.

By the time she arrived, the last men attending the council were leaving, stern-faced warriors talking among themselves in hushed voices. They barely gave her a glance, their minds obviously busy with whatever the Great One had informed them. When she entered the room, Maximus was showing her his back as he fingered the parchment on the table. He was leaning over the desk and his sword, sheathed in its scabbard, was by the maps he was studying. The soldier-servant closed the doors behind her in his usual, brusque way. The resulting sound startled Lucilla, who turned around to see her suspicions confirmed: the man had closed the double doors and now rested his back against them, his arms crossed on his chest, looking more like a statue than like a man.

There was a chuckle at her back and Lucilla turned around to find herself looking at Maximus. His even, white teeth flashed against his dark beard. "Oh, yes. Ezena is no servant but one of my most trusted men," he said, "But I suppose you already noticed."

"I did, but only a few moments ago" admitted Lucilla slowly padding towards him. He was smiling, yes, but his smile did not touch his green-blue eyes.

"I am afraid your maid does not take him well but it is a necessary precaution."

"Do you mean that I may be in danger? Even in this settlement?"

Maximus looked at her for a moment then sighed and started rolling the map he had been studying. "I trust my men's loyalty. I trust them to die to the last one to protect this place and whoever is inside it. But you can never be too cautious. Life taught me so."

A flash of pain obscured his eyes and vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. It lasted but a second but was more than enough to send a chill down Lucilla's spine. Maximus sobered and straightened to his full height. Standing on the dais and dressed in his long, flowing, dark, desert warrior's garments, he cut a more than impressive image. "Lucilla," he said, "I had you brought here because I am busy and there are things we need to discuss."

She darted a glance towards Ezena, then looked back at Maximus. "You have news...?"

He nodded. "Commodus has arrived in Zucchabar. He has already settled at the governor's palace. Needless to say the lodging did not meet the imperial approval."

Lucilla nodded and as she did, she could her feel tension mounting. So he had come. Commodus was in Zucchabar and the first act of the drama was ready to unfold.

"He brought enough of his Praetorians to send the city into a frenzy of fear. They keep the gates closed and have turned the whole place into a military camp. Some rich merchants were forced to leave their own homes to be used as the Praetorian officers' lodging and headquarters."

"Have... Have your men seen... him?"

Maximus gestured with his head. "They have. The young emperor has been drilling his... troops... personally."

Lucilla forced herself to ignore the derision in his voice as he pronounced the word "troops".  "What about Falco?"

"My spies tell me that the governor is never far from him. He cannot afford to lose whatever hold he has on your brother after losing his sister to a bunch of dirty, desert bandits." answered Maximus.

Lucilla nodded.

"There is something more..." he added and something in his voice had Lucilla become suddenly and painfully alert.

"W-Wha-?" she started but before he could go on talking, Maximus gestured towards his warrior with his head.

"Leave us, Ezena," he ordered talking over Lucilla's head to the man at the door. "Wait for the lady outside and when we are done talking, escort her back to her rooms."

Ezena bowed in silence and left the room closing the doors behind him. Maximus slowly descended the three steps of the dais and stopped in front of Lucilla. "Commodus is in Zucchabar," he said in a flat, emotionless tone. "But he is not alone."

Confused, she blinked rapidly. What was he talking about?

Maximus took a deep breath then said as gently as he could, "Lucius is with him."

Blood left Lucilla's face and her skin took first a ghastly pallor, then an ashen quality. Her mouth opened and moved but no sound came from it. Her ears rang and black spots danced in front of her eyes. As in a dream, she saw one of her long-fingered, pale hands reach for Maximus and at the same time she felt a chill engulfing her body that was like nothing she had ever experienced. Lucius... Lucius was in Zucchabar... Commodus had brought him along... Her brother had brought her son along with him... and to the trap that was ready to spring.

Something cold and hard was being pressed against her lips. She tried to turn her face away but she was trapped by what seemed to be iron bands wrapped around her body. Had she been trapped by Commodus' Praetorians? Had she been taken to some dark dungeon where she would remain chained for the rest of her life? Panic rose. The pressure against her lips became impossible to avoid and she parted them. A liquid was being forced into her mouth. Wine. Strong and undiluted. She swallowed reflexively and it burned her throat. Coughing, she struggled against the iron bands holding her and little by little she regained her senses.

There were no iron bands holding her. No dungeon. No darkness. She was in Maximus' hall and he was holding her tightly with an arm around her waist while he forced some wine through her lips.

"That's better, Lucilla. The wine will help you..."

She coughed once more, then blinked to clear her blurred eyes. The burning sensation the wine had left in her throat had moved down to her stomach where it settled as a steady fire that warmed her body but could do nothing to warm her cold hands and feet and her chilled heart. Lucius was in Zucchabar. Her son was so close... How long had it been since she had seen him for the last time? How long since he had been taken from her? Her son... Her baby... Her Lucius... The most useful weapon her brother could use to control her.

"And what of my nephew and what of his mother? Should I be merciful? Commodus  the merciful. Lucius will stay with me now and if his mother so much as looks at me in a manner that displeases me, he will die. And if she decides to be noble and take her own life, he will die. And, as for you, you will love me as I have loved you, and will do everything I tell you to do.... Am I not merciful? AM I NOT MERCIFUL?!"

The echoes of Commodus' maddened voice roared in her mind.

She had tried to protect Lucius. To save him. To save them both. To save Rome by freeing all of them from her brother's rampaging madness and cruelty. But she had failed- the plot had failed. She had been discovered and exposed. She had been reported to Commodus and he had taken Lucius from her. He knew her well. He always had. He could have charged her with treason against the throne and sentenced her to death and had her sent to exile at some tiny faraway island, left to live her days in loneliness and hunger, sleeping on the bare stone floor as many an imperial daughter and sister had been.

Forgotten to the world, shivering in the dark winter nights, haunted by the memories of her past life and with the ghosts of

those days as her only company, till they became more real than real life because even being tormented by ghosts was better

than being tortured by the harshness of hunger, cold and rape by the soldiers confined there to keep an eye on her.

He could even have had her executed. Run through or beheaded by a tribune's sword, the small mercies granted to imperial ladies in disgrace who had failed to take their own lives.

But Commodus knew better. He had allowed her to live and sent her to conduct a pampered life in Caprae, lodged in the luscious villa Emperor Tiberius had built there, enjoying all the comforts, as if she were in Rome. He had not sent guards and spies to control her every move, as if she were enjoying a long vacation. And when she had been finally recalled in Rome, he had left her plenty of freedom in the palace, not even confining her to a special wing.

He knew he did not need to worry about her escaping or plotting against him again for as long as he had Lucius in his hands.

She had failed her son. She had failed her father. She had failed Rome.

Why had not she killed Commodus when she had had her chances? Why had not she pretended to accept his attempts of seduction to get close enough and stab him in his bed? Why she had not poisoned him while preparing his tonic? Why had not she found the strength to shed her brother's blood to save her son and her father's legacy and Rome?

"Why?" The sound of her own voice startled her. Darkness. She was surrounded by darkness. 

"Commodus could not afford to leave Rome without him, so he took him first in Greece and then in Africa."

Maximus' face slowly came into focus. His voice was firm but gentle, an anchor in the darkness that had engulfed her. "He has enemies," he went on patiently. "If he leaves Lucius in Rome he would be basically dropping him in the lap of his opponents. No matter how hard he has stricken the Senate, there is always going to be someone ready to rise against him, provided he has a chance to get the necessary support. Lucius is the only surviving male of the imperial family. Adopting him would be enough to strength a senator's claim to the throne. You know how it works."

Oh yes. She knew. 

Little by little, Lucilla gathered her strength. She noticed that she was sitting side by side with Maximus on one of the long, sturdy benches and he was holding her close with an arm around her shoulders and the empty cup was resting at his feet. "Have your men seen him? Have they seen my son?"

Maximus nodded. "They tell me he is fine. Commodus keeps him closely guarded but he is fine. Lucilla, your brother could not afford to leave Lucius behind when he left Rome and he also cannot afford to leave him behind when he leaves Zucchabar to come looking for you. He will take your son with him wherever he goes."

Lucilla lowered her eyes to her hands, lying lifelessly on her lap. Why was it that in moments of distress the sight of her long, pale fingers always brought back the memory of that creature trapped in the fisherman's net?

A starfish, her father had called it as he explained that was the way the natural philosophers had named the creature. She had frowned in childish puzzlement and then she had invented an explanation for the incomprehensible fact that a fish could resemble a star. What had happened, she told herself, was that a little star-child who felt very lonely had been playing around in the confines of the sky and became reckless. It had fallen all the long way to the sea and once there the little star had found impossible to return to the sky. It had been lonely and scared but then it had made friends among the fish and other sea creatures and when the other stars had finally discovered where it was and had tried to bring him back to the skies, the star-child had refused to go back because it had found an enchanted world where it had many friends to play with. An enchanted world where the star-child was free to wander around and where it would never be alone again. Years later she had told the little story to Lucius. He had giggled and cried with delight and asked her to tell it again and again and again, the story of the star-child turned into a fish never failing to make his eyes shine...

"Again, mama! Tell it again! The star-child tale, mama! Tell the star-child tale again!"

Forcing herself back from her memories before they pushed her into madness, Lucilla turned towards Maximus.

"What do we do now?"

"We proceed as we already agreed. We bring Commodus out of Zucchabar and into the desert. And then, we trap him."

Lucilla sprang to her feet. "No, Maximus! We have to think about some other way!"

Maximus raised his eyebrows quizzically. "Lucilla, what are you talking about? We agreed about the ambush. We have been working on this plan for weeks."

"But we have to change our plans! We cannot go ahead with the ambush! Maximus, my son will be there! My son will be in danger!" She could hear hysteria rising in her voice.

Maximus stood up and gently took her by her shoulders. There was a glint of steel in his eyes but his voice was soothing and gentle. "Lucilla, there is too much at stake. We cannot afford to change our plans. We have gone too far and you know it. There is no possible way to change it now."

She shook his hands off and took two steps back. "Maximus, please! There has something else that can be done!" she begged as she wringed her hands. "Please! Why... Why not kidnap him in Zucchabar? You have spies there... for sure you can send some men there who can..."

"Who can what, Lucilla?" he asked and there was no trace of warmth in his voice any more. "Break into a city whose gates are closed even during the day? Enter the governor's house with a Praetorian squadron controlling every door and window? Take Lucius from his closely guarded apartments? At what cost? The lives of my men? The failure of our plans?" When she failed to answer, Maximus went on. "And supposing all of these can be done, that we can break into Zucchabar and the governor's house and take Lucius, how are we supposed to take him out? Even if we could, Commodus would throw all his manpower against us. They would hunt us like rabbits and when they are done with us, they would come after the tribe. I won't have their blood on my hands, Lucilla. I swore to protect them, and won't break my oath. Not even for you..."

The words were out of his lips before he could stop them. Cursing inwardly - for his blunder but also for his harshness - Maximus pressed his lips tight. Why was it that she always managed to make him lose his control? How was it that she always managed to have him voice his deepest feelings- even those he worked so hard not to even acknowledge?

"Many things change."

"Many things, not everything."

With a mighty effort, he forced himself back from his reverie only to see that Lucilla was visibly shivering.

She balled her slender hands into tight fists. "It is my son we are talking about, Maximus," she said in a hollow voice. "You cannot expect me to accept... You cannot expect me to put him through mortal danger."

"It is not you who puts him through mortal danger but Commodus."

"I failed him!" she yelled, "I failed him and it is my failure what put him in danger!" She looked at him wild eyed, her hair partially loosened from its coiling and streaming down her slender shoulders in an auburn-coloured cascade. Despite the tension, Maximus felt the urge to take a lustrous tendril and rub its softness between his fingers. She was so beautiful in her pain and her fury, a lioness ready to kill to protect her cub! And so vulnerable despite her strength.

"Lucilla..."

"I failed him and he is paying for my failure! You don't know how if feels to have failed your own son..."

But he did. Too late, Lucilla remembered that he knew too well what it feels like to have failed your own son.

And she saw the confirmation in the pain and bitter anger that flashed in his eyes. Pain and anger that made him look vulnerable despite his strength. Suddenly, Lucilla felt the urge to take him in her arms and comfort him as if he had been Lucius. She felt the urge to take him in her arms and kiss his pain away and tell him that everything was going to be all right..."I am sorry," she mumbled. "Oh, Maximus! I am so sorry..."

He nodded in silent understanding then breathed deeply to recover his control.

"We are not changing our plans," he said softly but there was no possible doubt about the determination beyond the gentleness. "Success depends on bringing Commodus to us in our terms. We go ahead as we planned. My men had already started the rumours that you were taken into the ruined fortress and are kept by a tribe. Commodus' agents will soon catch it and get into the desert. And when they do, we will be waiting for them."

It was Lucilla's turn to nod. He was right. The time for words and half measures was over. The first act of the drama had already started.