The news about Commodus' departure from Zucchabar arrived sooner that Maximus had foreseen. As he listened to the report from his agent, his face remained impassive but he was fully conscious of the way his pulse had quickened at the imminence of the action. After all these years, Commodus was coming- and the time for revenge was at hand. After all these years, Selene and Marcus would be finally avenged.

When the man finished talking there was a long silence. 

The dusty warrior who had reported the news did not seem worried at his chieftain's silence. He had taken part in numerous raids under the Great One's orders and he would follow him wherever, for he was the bravest man and the best leader he had ever known. The Great One had led the tribe to nothing but victory and this time it would be the same. They would put an end to the Roman governor's greed by the only possible way: the tribe would have his blood. And the Great One would have the revenge for the evil done to him. The evil that had brought him, half dead, to the desert, the tribe and the fulfilment of the old prophecy.

Some times the gods are harsh to mortals but they have their reasons. 

The Great One would have his vengeance, yes, and the Lady would have her son back and then, the time for decision will come for both of them.

The gods are wise.

"Thank you, Hassim," said Maximus quietly. "Go get some rest then meet me at the council hall in an hour. You will repeat your report to the men and answer their questions while we make the final arrangements for the departure..." His voice sounded calm and unemotional. The man named Hassim automatically tightened his hold of his broad sword's handle. He knew the tone. When the Great One's voce took that cold and distant quality, it meant he was ready to fight.

Nodding, Maximus dismissed the warrior and turned around to look for a map he had no need at all to check. He knew it by heart. Yet it was a good excuse to calm down his mind before doing what he had to do: break the news to Lucilla.

Maximus did it personally. He had never been one to avoid his duties or responsibilities and he was not beginning now. Not even when going to Lucilla felt so hard and so difficult. As he walked across the keep and towards the tower where she kept her rooms, Maximus nodded absentmindedly to the people passing around and asked himself the real reason behind his discomfort. He had never been one to avoid his duties or responsibilities and neither had he ever learned to lie. Not even to himself...

"You are lying. I could always tell when you were lying because you were never any good at it."

"I never acquired your comfort with it."

"True. But then you never had to. Life is more simple for a soldier. Or do you think me heartless?"

"I think you have a talent for survival."

Damn! 

Maximus stopped dead on his track the abruptness of the gesture eliciting some curious glances from the men and women going around their tasks. There it was again! He was thinking about the past! He had been thinking about it since Lucilla had so suddenly appeared at the fortress he had come to call "home". In the beginning, it had not been so disturbing. She was indeed part of that past he had thought buried forever. But as the days passed and his plans built up, the memories  had become more and more intrusive- and al the time they had spending together had not helped him.

Now, busy as he was with his preparations to attack Commodus and rescue Lucius, he should have known better about letting those memories haunt him yet he could not free his mind from them. And everything went back time and again to Lucilla. Of course she had been important to him once. She still was. Lucilla had been his first love. That things had gone all wrong had been a doing of the gods and destiny and he had found love and happiness in Selene and their son... 

Shaking his head, Maximus went on walking. 

"Maximus, stop. Is it really so terrible seeing me again?"

Was it? He cursed under his breath.

It had been terrible seeing her for the first time after so many years, specially considering the circumstances of their last, silent meeting, by her dead father's bed... Her murdered father, he corrected himself. His last vision of her - pale, teary but hard as stone, silently refusing his also silent questioning - had tormented his feverish dreams during all the way to Africa. In those dreams, her face had contorted like that of a monster and her curled hair had coiled with a life of its own, like a mass of living snakes.

During his desperate ride to Hispania and then in the nightmarish, scorching heat of the desert that burned him out while the fever burned him in, Maximus had hated her. It had not been the first time. He had hated her a decade or so before, when his youthful dreams had shattered and his heart had been broken at the knowledge of the truth: he had loved her and she had lied to him...

He cursed again.

Who was he trying to fool? He had never hated her. Not even when she had broken her heart. Not even when he had suspected her to be Commodus' accomplice in her father's murder. She had always had the power to send him into deep turmoil. She still had it. How many years had passed since they had met for the first time? Many. And she still had the power to make him feel young and clumsy as if he had been an inexperienced boy instead of a grown up man and a hardened soldier. Maximus sighed. She had been right. Many things change, not everything. He darted a glance towards the sky and saw thefirst, evening star and hurried towards the tower. His men would be waiting for him at the hall and he still had things to do.

All things considered, she took the news well.

She had become even paler than usual but she had not lost her composure. Her lips had become an even thinner line and her catlike eyes had looked haunted with anguish but she had not lost control. Any man in his place would have felt relieved. Maximus did not. He knew the price Lucilla was paying for keeping her self control and he would have preferred that she burst into female tears like most women would have done. Even a frenzy of hysteria would have been preferable because it would have brought along some degree of relief to the pain he knew was there...

He felt oddly moved. Even proud of her.

With an obvious effort, Lucilla forced herself to speak. "So, when are you departing for the fortress?"

"Tomorrow at dawn. We have no time to waste."

"I see."

Maximus saw her slender hands tremble slightly while they held her shawl tightly around her shoulders. It was a balmy, early evening. There was no possible doubt about what caused the chill. He felt the urge to take her in his arms and offer her the comfort of his strength and the warmth of his body. But he did not- it was not the time. "Now, I have to go," he said softly. "My men are waiting for me for a last hour meeting and we have preparations to do."

"Yes... yes, go... Thank you, Maximus." Her voice was close to breaking with the anguish and tears she was struggling to swallow.

Maximus frowned. He could not leave her like this. "Is there anything... anything else I can do for you, Lucilla?" he asked quietly.

Her lips trembled as she offered him a little, sad smile. "Do you think that risking your life to save my son is not already enough, Maximus? Is not it freeing Lucius and me and Rome for my brother's madness many times more than I could ask?"

It was Maximus' turn to smile and his was as sad a smile as her, but he remained silent, inwardly knowing she would soon speak again.

Lucilla unclenched her hands and used them to rub her upper arms, the chill digging its talons in her already marble cold flesh. Egyptians said that names were power, be it good or evil... She shook herself from the unwanted thought, she straightened her back and raised her chin. "Yes, Maximus. There is something you can do for me."

His eyebrows arched slightly at her tone but he remained in silence. 

"Please, can you give orders so that my horse is ready and saddled to depart at dawn?"

"WHAT?"

At his loss of composure, Lucilla could not help but smile. It was not easy to catch Maximus unawares but she had always had a way of doing it. It was good to see that despite the years passed she still had a way to doing it.

"I asked you to-"

"I know what you asked for! And the answer is no. No, Lucilla. You are not coming with us!"

Something flashed in her catlike eyes. Something wild and dangerous. "And who is going to forbid me to go? You?"

Maximus straightened to his full height, unconsciously looming above her. It was not easy. Lucilla was tall for a woman. Nearly as tall as him. "Yes, me!"

"I am not under your orders! I am not one of your tribe's people!"

"For as long as you are here you are as much under my orders as any other person living here! We are going to war, Lucilla. Bloody, lethal war!"

Her temper snapped. With a gesture of impatience that also managed to convey something dangerous, she tore off her shawl and threw it away. "You are going to war, yes! To bloody, lethal war! And my son is in going to be in the middle of it! I am not going to let my son be killed, Maximus!"

"Lucilla..." he said making an effort to calm down and reason with her even if he knew she was beyond any reason. "I promise you that I will bring him back safe. I will protect him with my life, if need be." He saw her close her eyes and then a tear glisten and slide down her pale cheek. Before he could stop himself, he used his finger to catch it. "Lucilla..."

His beautiful, deep voice wrapped around her like a soft cloak, erasing all trace of chill, pushing the darkness away and bringing instead light and warmth. She opened her eyes and took his hand in hers, prolonging the touch when he seemed on the brink of breaking it. There was a slight resistance but it lasted what a heartbeat.

"Maximus, please, listen to me!" she said and her voice sounded firm but there were tears beneath the surface. 

"Commodus was always vicious and cruel but since he became emperor he has become worst. He is mad, Maximus! And when he finds himself trapped he will be like a wild beast!"

Maximus tried to speak, to reassure her even if he knew she was right but she stopped him. "When he finds himself trapped and he knows that you are behind the ambush, he will do whatever to twist you!"

She was right, of course.  

"When he finds himself lost," she went on, "he will kill my son..."

"Lucilla, I won't let him harm Lucius..."

"Maximus, you are a soldier! You know what war is! Many things can go wrong even in the greatest victory! You said it yourself: Commodus cannot afford leaving my son behind in Rome for fear of the Senate plotting against him! He might even have given orders to his Praetorian prefect that my son must be killed if somebody tries to take him away..."

Maximus closed his eyes in dread. How right she was! And, like her father, what a good judge of characters.

"If things come to that point you may need me, Maximus," she said softly, "I used to be the only person who had influence over my brother before... before madness poisoned his mind and Falco earned his confidence... I may still have some influence over him and... and if things reach that point, I may be the only one who can buy my son's life... and also your chance of revenge..."

In the silence that followed, the flickering of the small flames in the oil lamps seemed as loud as a whip crack. 

Maximus swallowed hard then opened his eyes. Still in silence, he nodded. 

Lucilla offered him a tremulous smile while renewed tears ran down her cheeks.

"Pack lightly," he said. "Don't forget to bring a cloak and a blanket. Nights will be chilly. Have your maid prepare your provisions. Cheese, bread, olives and dates for three days. You will be given water along with the men's ration but you may want to carry a small amphora of wine. No finery, no luxuries. You will have to fend for yourself. This is no fancy trip with your father, Lucilla. This is war, agreed?"

She nodded.

"Have you a dagger?"

Lucilla sniffed loudly then cleared her throat, "No. I used to carry one around, but Commodus had it confiscated before I left for Africa...He did not want me to try to kill myself."

"I will give you one, then."

"All right."

"I will come for you an hour before dawn. Be ready."

Before she could add anything, he turned on his heels and hurried towards the door. He walked with his usual, long and self assured strides but she could feel the tension in him.

"Maximus," she called him when his hand was already on the doorknob. He stopped then slowly turned to face her. "Thank you." she breathed.

Maximus looked at her for a moment, then nodded brusquely and left the room.

The night was so hot even the breeze coming from the desert was not enough to make the room more comfortable. Maximus kicked away the blanket and lay naked on his bed, arms and legs spread as sweat cooled on his skin. A whiff of perfume reached him and he sniffed the air to discover what it was. It did not seem to belong to one of the flower-bushes growing outside his house...It was nice, familiar and strange at the same time.

"You are quite a sight, Maximus."

Lucilla's voice echoed between the walls of the small bedroom, breaking the stillness of the night. His eyes opened and he frantically groped the floor with a hand in search of the discarded blanket. What was Lucilla doing there at such a late hour? Should not she sleep to be ready to rise at dawn? And how could she see him if he was not even able to spot his covers or her? His hand was still searching for the sheet when he suddenly froze. A cool, delicate, feminine hand had just posed over his shoulder.

"Don't cover yourself, Maximus," Lucilla whispered into his ear, "I like you as you are- beautiful."

He tried to speak, to tell her men like him were not beautiful, but his tongue did not seem to work. His breath quickened as Lucilla's hand moved from his shoulder to his chest, caressing his fevered skin. "You don't know how many times I dreamed of doing this, Maximus," Lucilla murmured in the dark, as her hand slide slowly along his torso, his abdomen and finally reached his aroused manhood.

"Lucilla!"

"Lucilla!" They cry resounded in the room as Maximus woke up with a start, jumping to sit on his bed. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the chamber. The moonlight filtered inside from the shutter he had left ajar and he could clearly see he was alone. Lucilla was not there with him. The sense of disappointment that crushed over him was as sudden and painful as the realization of his manhood's insistent throbbing. Maximus looked down at his groin and discovered he was highly aroused. Aroused as it had not happened in a very long time.

Sighing he reclined back on the mattress, concentrating on breathing slowly and deeply to regain control over his body. But as soon as he closed his eyes, Lucilla's image returned to tease him with her smile, causing his member to twitch with renewed interest.

She looked like a tantalizing mixture between the girl she had been and the woman she was now. How he longed to see her laugh like during that long past summer in Gallia! He remembered the kisses and the caresses they had shared. She had been completely innocent and yet so eager and curious about her newly discovered passion. How difficult had been for him to stop them from doing what both their hearts and bodies desired...What he still wanted...Maximus groaned aloud.

What was happening to him? What did his dream and his reaction to it mean? Was just a way for his body to remind him of his needs? Somehow he knew it was not so. He had visited Atina's house only twenty days ago, and he usually he did not need to go back before two, sometimes even three months, and he went there only because he thought it was good for his health, not because of a compelling need for a woman. So why this sudden change?

The answer, of course, arrived by itself. Lucilla. His body was not burning for a woman- it was burning for her, as it had done a long time ago. And just like it had been then, it was not mere lust. It was love.

Maximus' eyes snapped open as he stared at the ceiling, overwhelmed by the enormity of the thought he had just formulated.

Love. 

He was in love. He had fallen in love with Lucilla again.

The line of reasoning he had been following during the afternoon, when he had taken the news of the imminent departure, had come to a full circle. He was in love and the more he pondered the matter, the more he realized it was true. The desire he felt to protect her, to make her happy, were not merely due to loyalty, friendship or his own desire of revenge.

Once the misunderstandings and the recriminations of the past had been cleared and pushed aside, he had come to care for the desperate woman he had found in the desert. His sense of fondness and her obvious need of help had somehow awoken his never forgotten feelings for her, and the strength she had showed in these past days had filled him of admiration. In truth, all of it was not so surprising. How many times, while sharing an especially joyous moment with Selene and Marcus, had he wished Lucilla could experience the same with her husband and son?

How strong had been the desire to write her after he had learnt of Lucius Verus' death, to offer her his comfort? 

The love and the happiness he had found with his wife and son had helped him to forgive Lucilla for her lies, and in due time, when the pain had disappeared, he had come to look at their affair with fondness. True, he had been cold with her when he they had met again for the first time in Germania, but that morning he had been shocked by what Marcus Aurelius had just told him. He had been in turmoil and he had not expected Lucilla to appear just then, and his need to be alone and think had made him react to her more brusquely than intended. Just he had been few days before, when he had told her about Lucius' presence at her brother's side. He had been hard with her - but he had been necessary, for the tribe's safety and for Lucius' too, because it would be easier to free him in the desert than in town. He had had to be hard and it had pained him very much because of the obvious distress he had caused her.

Oh yes, now everything was clear for Maximus.

The feelings he had for Lucilla had never completely died and the closeness of the past days had brought them in surface, mingling them with his need to love and be loved- a need he had begun to feel for quite some time but that he had stubbornly refused to acknowledge or admit to himself.

Until now.

He loved Lucilla. 

Again. 

Still. 

And he did not know what to do about it. Acting on his newly rediscovered affection, make it known to Lucilla and hope she might reciprocate was not an option. In just few hours they would depart for war. A great, terrible danger lay in front of them and he did not know what the fate had in store for them. It certainly was not the time to indulge in some romantic interlude, no matter how his heart and body longed to it. Even more importantly, Maximus could not risk that Lucilla might feel obligated to respond to him out of gratitude or might accept his attention because she mistook her need for comfort and closeness with something else. She was too scared and worried for her son to be asked to answer to such a delicate question. No, he could not risk making her feel somehow pressured; he would not be able to bear such an occurrence.

He would have to wait. Wait for quieter times, when he and Lucilla would be able to discuss the matter with calm and see if there were still some possibilities for them.  Wait and hope everything in their strategy went as planned, for he now had another important reason to win the battle with Commodus. He was no longer just helping a friend, a former lover, to save her son.

He was no longer leading his men against the enemy threatening their houses and families. He was no longer just searching justice for what had been done to his wife, his son and his Caesar. Nor he was no longer just trying to earn the right to be free to one day return to his home. Maximus was now going to fight for the chance to be happy - really happy - again.

And he was not going to fail.

Lucilla was already waiting for him in the cold darkness of predawn when Maximus came out of his house. She stood, pale but erect, along with the other warriors. Wrapped from head to toes in the coarse garments of the desert men, her feet encased in sturdy boots and her hand firmly holding the bridle of her horse, she looked at him in silence, her eyes burning with that feline quality that made them so intriguing, as if defying him to order her away.

Despite the awareness of his feelings the night had brought to him, Maximus had managed to catch a few hours of sleep and awoken fresh and rested. But his newly discovered love had also caused him further concerns regarding Lucilla's determination to go with him into the dangerous trip towards the fortress. His warrior mind knew she was right. If things took a nasty turn, her presence could very well be Lucius' only chance to escape his uncle's wrath. Nevertheless, going there also meant exposing her not only to the perils of the journey but also to the chance of failure and its consequences. He knew very well what would befall Lucilla if he failed... he had seen what fate his failure had brought Selene and Marcus...

"I won't fail!" he growled, repeating his late night' promise, while he buckled his sword's scabbard to his belt. "I won't fail!" There was a hint of savagery in his usually controlled tone that in the silence of the room, raised echoes in the stone walls. Maximus rubbed his eyes not out of weariness as he used to but to give himself time to regain his control. Commodus was dangerous, yes. He was twisted, cruel and vicious but it was neither of these what made him so dangerous but the way he made Maximus' control snap. It had always been one of the cardinal rules of warrior training: never hate your enemy. Or, at least, not too much. Instead, learn to understand him for it is in the knowledge of your enemy that your strength lays. Hate only leads to making mistakes and the gods knew he had made enough of them regarding Commodus.

Taking a deep breath, Maximus opened his eyes, took a glance around and wrapping the cloak around his body, left the room.

He had hoped against hope that she would think it better and remain in the settlement but she was there as he knew she would be. Nodding to his men, he went to her.

In the light of the torches, Lucilla looked even paler than the night before, her eyes huge and her mouth a thin line. Hers was a beautiful mouth but she seldom smiled anymore. And when she did, there was no real happiness in her smile or, if there was, it was too brief to warm her heart. Maximus stopped in front of Lucilla and looked at her with what he hoped was the same dispassionate look he offered to his soldiers on the brink of battle.

"The ride to the fortress is not exactly a fancy trip," he said brusquely and without even offering her a formal if not a kind greeting. "You will drink when the men do and eat when and what they eat. You will be expected to tend for your horse and sleep in the open like all of us."

Lucilla's only answer was a nod.

"Life in the desert is harsh," he went on. "The only thing you will be spared is guard duty and not out of consideration but for our safety: you lack the training and experience to distinguish the sounds of the desert would have us killed before you knew what was happening." In the light of the torches, he saw her wince slightly but otherwise her face was unreadable. "And there will be no special stops for your sake so, if you need to relieve yourself..."

"If you want to scare me, you better try something different!" Lucilla snapped back and he was almost startled by how quickly she had his real intentions. "Or have you forgotten that I am used to marching with soldiers? That I marched with my father's legions when I was little more than a girl? You do not need to worry, General! No Roman legion ever lost a single moment on my behalf! And your warriors won't lose it either!" This said, she turned around and moved as if to check her saddle but Maximus grabbed her by an arm and forced her to look at him. Her face was no longer unreadable but a mask of anger.

She was beautiful. So beautiful. Anger brought life back to her face. It was not right. It should have been happiness that did it. "Listen to me!" he said angrily, anger as good as whatever when it came to hide the deep, strong emotions she raised in his heart. "I am not only trying to scare you but to make you think! This is not a game, Lucilla! This is real war and there will be no legion to protect you! You will be riding headlong into battle!"

She struggled to free her arm but he tightened his hold. "I will be riding headlong into battle, yes!" she hissed. "And my son will be in the middle of it! My son will be in danger! How can I remain behind knowing he may die?"

Maximus sighed then let her go. Without a word, Lucilla turned towards her horse and without waiting for his help, she mounted. "Lucilla..."

"Your men await your orders," she said in a flat tone without looking at him then turned her horse around and moved towards the warriors. Inwardly cursing and not knowing whom he was cursing and why, Maximus turned on his heels and padded towards his own mount. She had been right. Many things change. Not everything.

The party marched swiftly along the dunes and the wind swept rocks. The warriors knew their way perfectly and kept on moving towards their destination at good pace, their desert bred horses strong and long winded, another clear advantage over the Roman soldiers and their mounts. Even if he tried not to make it obvious, Maximus kept an eye on Lucilla, riding amidst his men. She was a born rider but the desert demanded more than riding skills. It was an unforgiving environment where a man's strength was put to test every time, even when it came to men who were born there. Lucilla was a brave woman but the journey to the fortress could be too much for her and if she fell there was no way he could spare some of his men to take her back to the town. Not if he wanted to bring down Commodus' expedition.

By mid morning it was obvious that Lucilla was doing well. She rode in silence, her eyes fixed in the horizon. When they stopped to seek refuge during the worst of the heat, she took the water she was offered and chewed the cold, unappealing food she was given sitting with her back against a rock, slightly apart from the warriors.

Maximus padded towards her and stood looking at Lucilla, looming above her. She did not look at him.

"We cannot start a fire," he said, "The desert sky is too clear and the smoke can be seen from afar and give up our position."

Lucilla nodded in silence and went on chewing stubbornly. Maximus, who knew her well enough to recognize the vulnerability that lay beyond that stubbornness, felt the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her as if she had been just a child.

"We won't be reaching the fortress until tomorrow night so I am afraid it will be cold food until then."

She raised her eyes, looking at him for the first time since they had departed. "I can survive on cold food, Maximus. Perhaps you remember that the legions do not stop at noon for a hot meal." she said sharply.

Maximus needed all his self-control to refrain from smiling. Brave, yes. Brave and stubborn. And the Palatine had not softened her. She had always been strong and the years passed had made her even stronger. Her spirit and wild streak were still there, not gone to idleness or intrigue as he may have feared. She would be fine.

When Maximus was gone back to his men and his own cold meal, Lucilla relaxed slightly and winced at the soreness creeping through her back and thighs. She was badly out of shape and that night there would be no hot bath to ease her cramped muscles. The mere thought of the way she would feel the following day was too dreadful to even be considered. Better focus every single ounce of strength in the ride ahead.

She was tired and hot and thirsty but by the gods she would never admit it. Not to anybody and lest of all to Maximus. The cold, smoked meat was like leather and chewing was proving to be a major trial for her jaws. Besides, sand had managed its way into her mouth and her teeth grinded it along with the meat. There was sand in her hair and in her ears and nostrils and also inside her clothes and boots. The life at the settlement had not prepared her for what the open desert was. Not in the least. But the desert was also the place where she would be reunited with her son- where they both would be freed by Maximus' sword.

She had come into the desert ready to do her part to rescue her son, even if it meant sacrificing her life to save his. The warriors would trap Commodus and his men and fall on them with the savagery she had attested when her own entourage had been raided on her way towards Falco. Then, Maximus would extract his vengeance from her brother and they would be free.

Free to return to Rome. To seek retirement and forgetfulness in a province. To go ahead with their lives...

And what about Maximus? 

What would he do? Where would he go? Would he remain in his desert keep, a former Roman general turned into some sort of a tribal king? Would he remain there and send her back to Rome, send her away from his life? Or would he return to the Capital with her, claiming the position her father wanted him to have? And what about the farm she had given back to him?

Suddenly, the sheer loneliness of her life - past and future - fell on her with the force of an avalanche and Lucilla's eyes blurred with tears and she had to bite her lower lip fiercely to prevent them from running down her dry, wind reddened cheeks. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the warriors bundle up in their clothes and curl on the sand for a rest. It looked like the right thing to do, both to ease her soreness and to hide the unwelcome grief. Annia Lucilla covered her face with a corner of her desert garb and curling against the rock willed herself to rest.

When the sun was well on his way beyond the horizon and its dying light dyed the sands a bloody red, Maximus' party mounted again and rode hard till the sun was replaced by the moon and the stars replaced the merciless blue of the sky above their heads. And even then, they went on riding, taking advantage of the first hours of the night, when the sand was still warm enough to ease the chill that had men wrapped in blankets and some times seeking the body warmth of their mounts to ease their shuddering and their teeth chattering. Finally, when the wind started blowing and the cold became too much, Maximus ordered his men to stop and set camp for the night.

They chose a place well guarded by the dunes and every man set to his task with no delay. They travelled light so there would be no tents to erect but nevertheless there was a lot to do.

Doing her best to hide the stiffness that resulted from the long hours at the saddle, Lucilla took care of her horse, unsaddling it, watering and hobbling him for the night. Then she found her way among the dunes and sat down wincing and moaning and not caring in the least who else noticed. She was simply too tired. It was obvious that she was not so young anymore. She ate her food, without even tasting it, drank her water and then, even before Maximus was able to go to check her, she wrapped herself in the blankets and fell in the mercifully dreamless sleep of utter exhaustion.

The next day proceeded almost like the previous one. The party woke up at dawn, rested during the hottest hours of the day and by late afternoon, reached the mountains that surrounded the fortress where Lucilla was supposedly held prisoner. It was an ancient building, its awesome structure bringing up a sense of strength and power despite its half crumbled walls and towers. But what impressed Lucilla more that the fortress itself, but the road leading to it. It was a canyon cut between two rocky, steep mountain walls that seemed to overwhelm her with their dizzying height and the dark, threatening colour of the ancient stone...The walls loomed above her and at a certain point they curved dangerously and seemed on the verge of collapsing over her head. Overwhelmed, she could not help but spur her horse to walk a little faster to leave them behind.

The warriors did not seem concerned by the inner threat that the place seemed to represent for whoever walked there, and instead were more interested in what they would find in the fortress. In preparation of their arrival, and considering it was their chosen battlefield, Maximus had sent there some supplies during the previous week, including tents, food and medicines to tend the wounded after the battle.

Once arrived, some of the warriors began at once to raise the tents, while others tended to the horses and others started preparing the badly needed hot dinner. The place chosen to set the fire was sheltered by a high wall supporting a portion of an otherwise collapsed roof, which covered the flames and made them invisible from outside. Despite Maximus' warning that she would be treated as the men, once safely settled in the fortress, the warriors treated Lucilla as a woman and a princess, serving her food and raising a small tent all for her. One of the best hidden secrets of the fortress was its well and cistern and the men brought her two buckets of water so she could wash herself for the first time since they had left the keep. Water and the chance of being clean again were more important to Lucilla than sleep or food and she thanked the tough warriors for their kindness and foresight. Then, she hurried inside her small tent, where she got rid of her sand covered garments and washed from head to toe, relishing the feeling of the tepid water on her dry skin.

When she was done, she put on clean clothes and undid her braids. There was sand in her hair but it would have to wait till they were back at the tribe's keep. A quick brush would have to do and when it was done she felt too tired to braid it again. Besides, the smell of hot food drifted into her tent and her stomach growled with impatience. Wrapping herself in her cloak, Lucilla hurried to go outside and into the circle of light where the warriors were eating and talking. The men did not stand up but hurried to make room for her and offered her a bowl of something that looked like a tick broth with spots of fat floating on the surface and smelling strongly of spices, a loaf of freshly baked bread and a wooden spoon. Lucilla thanked them then took a look around and noticed that all talk had stopped with her arrival. After living for a while in the desert keep, she knew she had nothing to worry about those tribesmen but it was obvious that they were not used to have a woman like her around. Not wanting to make them feel uncomfortable, Lucilla took her plate and walked to a quiet corner of the fortress, away from the talks and laughs that started immediately once she stepped away.

She did not resent eating by herself. On the contrary, she badly needed to be alone and relax her already frayed nerves, even if that also meant lifting the barriers that kept at bay her many aches and body soreness.

Relaxing was a lot more difficult than she already expected but the hot food quickly prepared by the warriors proved to be surprisingly good. There was meat in the broth and also peas and the bread was a bit hard and lacking salt but she devoured it and used the last piece to clean the bowl very much as a peasant would have done. By the time she had finished, her body was protesting the abuse she had submitted it to during the last days but a full and warm belly helped ease her many aches.  Tomorrow it would be even worse... but it was the least of her problems.

Tomorrow she would see Lucius again... and tomorrow could also be the last day of her life.

Sighing, Lucilla rested her head against the dune the wind had packed by continuously blowing sand against a half-crumbled wall and raised her eyes towards the sky. The previous days she had barely eyed the starred canopy above their heads, too tense while riding and too tired when they stopped to spare an ounce of her strength looking at the sky. But now she felt oddly attracted towards its dark immensity, to the vastness that loomed above her and seemed to wrap the fortress and the mountains in a deep blue, velvet mantle.

Lucilla already knew how different it was to look at the sky in the countryside than doing it from the terraces of the Palatine but nothing had prepared her for the immensity of the desert sky. The stars looked huge and shone with an intensity that made her slightly uncomfortable. The full moon shed its silver coloured rays and they reflected on the soft undulations of the small dunes in what used to be the fortress' courtyard, creating an eerie surrounding. She shuddered.

During the day, the desert looked hard and unmerciful but somehow she could relate to its harshness and its merciless quality. By night, instead, it looked haunting. Ghostly. She shook herself. She had never been superstitious like so many Romans were.  Instead, she had grown up believing herself a beloved of the gods and when trouble had arisen she had found comfort and safety in their altars and her prayers. Even when her father had refused to break her engagement and everything about her life had gone wrong, she had gone on praying to the gods she had been taught to worship and respect, only seldom daring to protest their betrayal.

Not even loneliness and unhappiness had been able to tear her from her prayers. Not that the gods had answered them but the mere act had brought some kind of consolation that was an answer by itself. Then Commodus has killed her father and ordered Maximus' execution then taken her to Rome and unleashed his own depravity and madness on the empire yet she had gone on praying even if there was no more comfort at it and only the taste of ashes in her mouth as she pronounced the ritual words. And when her plot against Commodus had failed and he had taken her son from her Lucilla had known that the gods were not only immortal but also deaf to the mortals' grief and deserted their altars. Life was hard without the comfort of faith but, had not her life ever been anything but hard?

Sighing, Lucilla raised her eyes once more towards the starry sky then froze. A chill ran down her sore back.

A strangled gasp came out of her throat, so dry by the wind and the sand that it felt like parchment. Her catlike eyes became even huger in her thin, pale face, her mouth open in a gesture of undisguised horror. Right above her, shinning with intense, white light a star seemed to look directly at her. It was no bigger than the rest but at trail of white fire seemed to follow it as a horse's mane trails after the animal at full gallop. She knew what it was.

She had never seen one before but had read about them and knew how they looked and what they meant. Everybody knew what they meant. A comet. A celestial messenger of death and catastrophe. And it was poised right above her.

Lucilla jumped to her feet, stumbling when she got caught in her garments and then ran towards the dark, silent tower, seeking refuge even if she knew there was no possible refuge against the evil foretold by the portent.

Maximus came for his food when Lucilla had already taken hers and gone away. He had made an extra round, checking the horizon, talking with the sentinels he had posted at the canyon and making himself sure that everything was in order. Of course, it was. He knew his men and they knew him and they trusted each other but the imminence of the confrontation with Commodus made him even more wary. The warriors knew too well as to protest and instead accepted his mood, knowing that the Great One would find no fault in their preparations.

By the time he finally went to the men sitting around the fire, Maximus was tired and hungry and wolfed down his food with haste.

As a veteran soldier, Maximus knew well how a hot meal can revive the weariest men and when the broth warmed his belly and tired limbs, he allowed himself to relax. Ezena offered Maximus a cup of wine and he nodded his thanks. It was a sharp vintage like most of those available in that remote place and undiluted, adding more welcome warmth to that of the food. "Where is the lady?" he asked as he handed back his cup. "Has she already retired?"

"No, Great One," answered the man. "She took her food and went away to sit down and eat by herself."

Maximus frowned. "How long has she been gone?"

"There is nothing to fear, Great One," said the warrior. "The fortress is safe and the lady is used to some privacy she cannot have among us."

Maximus darted a quick glance towards the darkness. "I know the fortress is safe but she does not know the surroundings... I don't want her to fall down a well in the darkness or trample into some wild animal's liar."

"There are no animals in the fortress," interjected another warrior. "We checked it. Only birds and lizards and bats."

"And the lady does not look like someone to foolishly venture into a dangerous place..." added a third.

Brusquely standing up, Maximus could not stop himself from smiling. "You don't know her as I do..." he growled and turning on his heels, he hurried towards the direction where Lucilla had gone.

It took him no time to find the place where she had sat to eat her lonely dinner. The full moon light was more than enough to make out the shape of her body where she had reclined against the dune and the bowl and wooden spoon were lying beside it.

But Lucilla was nowhere to be seen.

Cursing under his breath, Maximus examined the surroundings with trained eyes and quickly found her footprints on the soft sand. When he noticed that they headed towards the half crumbled tower ahead, his hand went to the hilt of his sword and his body tensed. After a second glance around, he moved towards the shadows and moving silently and swiftly, he followed her trail towards the darkness.

It was obvious even to an untrained eye that Lucilla had not gone to the tower in a gentle stroll but her uneven footsteps showed clear signs of panic. Maximus ordered himself to calm down for the lack of other footsteps but hers spoke of no other peril but those that may lay in the crumbling stones and the rotten timber.

Lucilla would not adventure in the fortress by herself or without a torch. Perhaps something had scared her and she had run to the tower seeking refuge- but it would have been easier to cry for help or run towards the fire and the men who could protect her...

The tower was now immediately in front of him, dark stone against a dark sky. The wooden door had rotten away decades before and the opening looked like a yawning mouth giving way to even more darkness. In the shadows of the wall he could not see her footsteps. Maximus stopped at the threshold but neither could make out anything of the insides. If he had to go there seeking for Lucilla inside the tower, he would first have to return to the campfire and light a torch.

Resting against the stone wall, Maximus closed his eyes to shut off any possible distraction and eased his breath trying to hear any possible sound of distress but only caught the sounds of the night: the flapping wings of some bird or bat, the squeaking of some desert mouse, the hissing sound carried by the wind..."Lucilla?" he called softly, unwilling to disturb her if she was already scared but got no answer.

After a moment he moved from the threshold and started walking back towards the camp fire but before he could take more than three steps he stopped dead. There was something or someone somewhere close by. Tightening his hold of his sword, Maximus forced himself to listen. After a moment, his attention was rewarded by a muffled sound.

Maximus knew from experience that in the desert sounds could be as treacherous as those phantom images that deceived inexperienced travellers and lead them to their death for they could travel long distances and be easily distorted. So he pressed his lips and did his best to empty his mind and locate the sound.  It came again and not from inside the tower but from behind it.

It was a rhythmic, dry, unsettling sound he could not place. There was something animal about it but Maximus could not think of any animal that could produce it. Slowly, moving close to the stone wall and trying to make no sound, Maximus followed the curve of the tower and entered a secondary courtyard that had also been invaded by the sand.

The moonlight shone brightly and allowed him to see the dark shape crouching in a corner. It was Lucilla and she seemed to be unharmed. Sighing with relief, Maximus was on the brink of going to her when the strange sound reached his ears once more. At the same time, he saw Lucilla's body crouched against the rock and heard the painful rhythm of the guttural, desperate, primal sound.

She was weeping. Uncontrollably weeping.Yet there was no hysteria in her dry, choking sobs. Instead, there was the full weight and desperation of a broken heart and a doomed soul.

She did not know how she had got there or where she was. She had simply run away from the vision of the comet and from her own fear, knowing there was nowhere to go, nowhere to escape the doom announced by the celestial messenger. Her stumbling feet had taken her in a blind run across the fortress' main courtyard and into the secondary one and when they had gotten tangled once more in her long, unaccustomed garments and she had fallen on her knees on the soft sand, Lucilla simply had had no strength to go on running and had simply bowed her head and done what she had stubbornly refused to do for so long.

She had wept. And as she did, she knew why she had stubbornly refused to do it. 

Because she knew - she had always known - that once she started weeping there was no way she could stop.

Doubling as if under physical pain, hugging herself as she had longed to be hugged for so long, she gave way to her tears and went on sobbing long after she had depleted them, her dry sobs tearing at her throat.

She wept out of primal, uncontrolled fear but also out of pain, defeat and loneliness.

She wept for her son who had been taken from her so cruelly and whom she now knew would never see again. 

She wept for her father, whom she had loved so much yet who had chosen being Caesar above being "papa" and who had also been taken from her by the same hand who had separated Lucius from her, while they were still estranged and before they could amend and recover what they had had so long ago.

She wept for her own youth, illusions and hopes, everything laid waste or gone wrong.

She even wept for her mother, whose love she so badly had needed and lacked, and even wept for Commodus, whom she had loved but could not save from himself.

And she wept for Maximus, for their own youthful love, so beautiful and so innocent and lost forever so many years ago...

Once, while taken in her litter along the streets of Rome, she had witnessed a funeral procession. It was nothing like the state funerals given to the dead emperors or the dignified processions of the diseased members of the imperial family or the rich patricians. It was, instead, a small and plebeian procession, poorly equipped and wrapped in shabby clothes, led by wailing women who tore at their hair and gave themselves to what she thought were undignified displays of grief. Lucilla knew those women were professional mourners hired for the occasion, their unsettling performance as well rehearsed as those of the tragic actors and like theirs, ready to be played time and again for the audience and some people's coin. Yet there had been something about the whole episode that had touched a fibre deep inside her heart and soul. By that time, she had been through marriage, motherhood and also widowhood and, most of all, she had learned to steel her heart against grief, loss, loneliness and all the love and warmth she craved for and could not have. But the wails of the mourners had pierced not only her ears but also her mind, heart and soul and she had felt like wailing along, even if her mourning was not for the anonymous dead they were celebrating but for herself. She had felt like tearing at her jewels and costly silks and her careful coiffure and screaming till her throat was raw and her heart gave way out of exhaustion and grief. She had felt like clawing herself, tearing her own skin till blood flowed freely, physical pain preferable to the cold numbness that had started crippling her heart since she had been taken away from Maximus. She had felt like screaming, wailing and weeping but instead she had swallowed the lump at her throat and ordered her litter bearers to turn around and carry her away from the noise and the procession. To take her away from weakness and the temptation to allow herself to succumb to pain and vulnerability.

And now... now... there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. No sanctuary or safety or hope. Fate had brought her back to Maximus after years believing him dead and with him hope had crawled back into her life, but now she knew that everything was in vain. She had ridden all the way into the desert to see her brother trapped and killed and her son rescued and now she knew that none of this would be for she was doomed and she had brought damnation along with her.

Hugging herself even more tightly, Lucilla threw her head back and wailed like the professional mourners had done but her wails came from the depths of her tormented soul. The sound that came from her lips was like that of a wounded animal, the mix of terror and pain enough to startle what creatures roamed in the night and send them flying from the source of such grief. Shuddering and sobbing, Lucilla would have crumbled on the sand but for the strong arms that wrapped around her. Along with them came a welcome wave of warmth and a familiar scent of clean, male sweat, leather and horse.

Maximus. Oh yes, Maximus...

Too spent to struggle, too exhausted to even mind being discovered by him in such a pitiful condition, Lucilla closed her eyes and let herself be engulfed by his strength and comfort.

"Lucilla!" Maximus whispered, his deep voice soothing her as much as his warmth. "Shhhhh! Lucilla, you are safe! Don't weep, my darling! Please, don't weep!"

Too late he noticed he had called her "my darling" but when he did, he did not mind. When he had seen her in the paroxysm of her pain and fear, he had run towards her even before his mind had completely registered what he was doing. He had called no one "my darling" since he had seen Selene for the last time, so many years ago- and he knew he would never call anyone "my darling" ever again but Lucilla.

Her sobs were slowly easing but Lucilla was shivering and her teeth chattered as those of someone suffering from a high fever. Maximus could have easily scooped her up in his arms and carry her towards the camp fire but he knew Lucilla's chill had nothing to do with the coldness of the night but the turmoil in her heart and mind. So he manoeuvred his body to better accommodate hers and make her more comfortable. Believing he was trying to free himself, Lucilla whimpered and convulsively tightened her arms around his body and it took lots of gentle words and soft kisses on her temple, forehead, swollen eyes and wet cheeks to persuade her to ease her embrace enough to allow Maximus to sit down, rest his back against the wall and accommodate her in his lap, as if she had been a child.

They remained in silence for a long time, Maximus cradling and gently rocking her and little by little Lucilla's sobs and shuddering diminished and finally died away but even when she stopped weeping none of them talked. Instead, they remained in each other's arms, an odd, peaceful feeling gaining them, as if the years passed had never existed and neither had all the dreadful things that had taken them away from each other and shaped them into the man and the woman they were now, perfect strangers yet so familiar at the same time.

Sniffing loudly, Lucilla managed somehow to recover her control. As she did, she rubbed the back of her hand under her nose, the gesture of a weary child who had wept herself into exhaustion. It was only then that she noticed that she was curled in Maximus' lap, his arms safely cocooning her, his warmth and strength protecting her from the chill of loneliness and the fear of darkness.

"I am sorry..." she mumbled, feeling suddenly shy. She knew she had to get off his lap and embrace and recover some degree of dignity but she did not have the strength to do it.

Maximus chuckled.  "There is nothing to be sorry about, Lucilla," he said softly, his deep voice caressing her in the darkness. "But perhaps you should tell me what scared you so badly."

Lucilla knew that he knew her well and was giving her the chance to make up an excuse for her behaviour and also to ease her heart by sharing what burdened her with him. She had always hated feeling weak, showing how vulnerable she really was but suddenly she felt too tired, too spent to pretend. Suddenly, it did not matter. Not anymore. Resting her head against Maximus' shoulder, Lucilla briefly eyed the odd star shinning above them, its cold, bright light seemingly sharp enough to pierce her soul.

"What scared you so badly, Lucilla?" he insisted and at the gentleness in his voice, she felt the last of her barriers crumble and fall.

"The comet," she mumbled. "It was the comet..." She felt more than saw his smile.

"Why, Lucilla? Have you never seen one?"

In silence, she shook her head no. 

"But you know what it is."

Lucilla gulped, a renewed fear grabbing her sore heart. "Yes."

"Then, why did it scare you so much?"

She turned in his arms, seeking his face. In the moonlight, his stunning blue eyes seemed darker.  "You know why, Maximus! You know very well!" Her voice broke and for a moment it seemed like she was going to burst into tears again but somehow, she managed to regain control.

At the anguish in her face and the renewed tension in her body, Maximus frowned. "Lucilla, what are you talking about?"

She struggled to get free from his arms but Maximus did not let her go. He eased his embrace enough to let her know that she could free herself if that was her wish but not so much as to lose his hold of her.  That seemed to calm her down but when she spoke again, her voice sounded hollow. "We are doomed," she said. "Or at least I am. The comet. The worst possible omen."

To Lucilla's ultimate outrage, he laughed. Enraged, she struggled to pull herself free but he tightened his hold of her and brought her closer to him. She resisted. She was stronger than he remembered her but, spent by her grief, she tired quickly and when she did, Maximus cradled her once more, whispering soothing words against her temple and somehow she relaxed again. "Lucilla, you know better than to believe in omens," he said once she had calmed down. "Do you remember when we spied the old augur in that camp and how we laughed when we discovered how he made up his signs to accommodate them to his needs?"

Against good reason, Lucilla laughed in return. "We were so young," she said softly. 

"And you wanted to report the old cheat to your father..." added Maximus, smiling in the darkness.

"I should have done it," she retorted, a hint of the juvenile righteousness coming back with the memory of the long forgotten episode. "A member of the School of Soothsayers should know better than cheat."

"But if you did, you should have had to confess that you had been hiding in the bushes with a soldier. And you an imperial lady and a maiden."

Lucilla could not refrain from laughing and even if there was a hint of pain in her laugh, the sweetness of shared warmth and memories flowed in her veins like good wine. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his shoulder. Maximus lowered his eyes to see her better in the moonlight. Years had not taken from her beauty but instead added to it giving extra character to her facial bones and a renewed female quality to her slender body. Tired and spent, her eyes still reddened by weeping and her hair lose and tangled, she looked vulnerable, fragile and even all the more beautiful. Feeling his body stir, Maximus shifted uncomfortably, hoping to hide from her the effect she had on him.

"Your men don't seem worried about the comet," whispered Lucilla against his flesh and the soft blowing of her breath on his neck renewed his masculine awareness. "How is it that they don't fear it?"

"The peoples from the desert don't think like the Romans do," he answered, talking a good distraction from his growing arousal. "They know a lot more than us about the stars, so they know there's nothing to fear from them. It is men's malice that it is to be feared."

At the oblique mention of the threat ahead, Lucilla shivered and snuggled closer to Maximus. His only answer was to tighten his hold of her and kiss her temple again.

"I am sorry, Maximus," she whispered. "I don't know what happened to me."

"Shhh! There is nothing to be sorry about," he repeated. "You are tired, that is all."

"I behaved like a fool and a coward."

"No, Lucilla, you did not. And you know well that you are neither a fool nor a coward. You are nothing but brave and strong."

Lucilla's fingers absently tugged at his tunic, the gesture so much like that of a child that it filled Maximus with renewed, overwhelmed tenderness.

"I should have left you behind," he said softly.

She snapped to attention. "Maximus?" 

He went on talking as if he had never heard her. "I should have left you behind and safe. I should have locked you in the keep if need be."

"Maximus, what are you talking about?"

He smiled wanly. "I should never have brought you here. It's too dangerous for you."

Lucilla let go her hold of his tunic and searched for his hand. "I came because I wanted," she said. "If you had left me behind, I would have followed you. I would have escaped and followed you."

Maximus' smile became wider but not happier. "No, Lucilla. If I had locked you in the keep, you would never have escaped. If you are here is because I was weak enough to let you persuade me to come."

It was her turn to smile. "It was not weakness. You know I have to be here when Commodus arrives. My son may need me. You may need me."

Maximus looked at her thoughtfully then sighed. "Your son may need you, yes, but the reason why I allowed you to come is because I wanted you to be close. I could not stand not seeing you now that I had found you again."

Lucilla's eyes widened at his words but she could find nothing to say. Maximus went on talking. "It was weakness on my side. It's nothing new, is not it? You always managed to turn my resolution upside down."

At the deep, unequivocal emotion in his voice, Lucilla swallowed hard. "I came because I wanted to, Maximus. I would do it again."

He closed his eyes and shook his head no. Then, he opened them again and locked them with Lucilla's. "You risk too much," he said softly.

"I have much to pay for," she answered back and they both knew she was not talking about the failed plot that had put her son in that dangerous predicament. She was referring to her seeming betrayal so long ago and to her failure to back him when he had refused to swear allegiance to Commodus at the foot of her father's dead body.

"You have nothing to pay for. You love your son. You are strong for him."

Strong. Oh yes, since that fateful day when she had been taken away from him and given to a husband who did not love her, Lucilla had been nothing but strong. Yet, it had been useless. As useless as her efforts to give her marriage some semblance of happiness. As useless as her efforts to guide Commodus away from his own darkness. As useless as her efforts to forget that she had once been happy and had dreams. As useless as her efforts not to long for love, hope and Maximus...

"I am tired of being strong," she said lowering her eyes, unwilling to let him see the depth of her own failure. "My brother hates all the world and you and your memory most of all, even if he believes you dead and buried for years."

"Because your father chose me."

Was this what he really believed? Was Maximus blind to the truth or just unable to acknowledge it? "No," said Lucilla carefully articulating her words, "because my father loved you... and because I loved you."

Maximus heart missed a beat at the intensity behind those simple words then he tenderly took her hand and brought it to his lips. "A long time ago," he said softly.

Lucilla shuddered at the touch of his lips on her skin. "Was I very different then?"

He seemed to consider her words and offered her a slight smile then raised a callused finger towards her cheek.

"You laughed more," he whispered as he stroked her soft skin and Lucilla felt herself blush under the gently rasping touch. Suddenly she felt shy as a maiden. Shy as she had never felt when she had been so and had discovered love and arousal in his arms.

"I have felt alone all my life, except with you," she whispered, her throat so tight that she was surprised to hear her own voice.

Maximus took a shuddering breath, his heart racing as madly as if he had been an untried youth. Lucilla averted her eyes. Suddenly she felt not only shy as she had never been but too self conscious of being so close to him, curled on his lap and wrapped in his warmth, a nearly forgotten tingling racing along her body, awakening it, making her restless. "We should return to the camp..." she said but she sounded not in the least convincing to her own ears.

"Yes," breathed Maximus and his tone sounded as lacking of conviction as hers.

They remained immobile for a moment, each waiting for the other to move first. But when they did, they did in unison and not apart. Instead, they came closer, giving up any pretence of control or denial. Their lips touched tentatively then more boldly as the kiss deepened and the quiet warmth they had shared turned into searing flames.     She sighed against his mouth and he lost no time to insinuate his hungry tongue between her parted lips and Lucilla welcomed the sweet invasion, shivering as her body rediscovered the long denied intensity of their passion. The kiss seemed to go on forever, its sweetness mingling with its intensity in a way that was as intoxicating as the strongest wine. When they finally parted, both Maximus and Lucilla were breathless and panting, burning yet shivering as if they were fevered. She pressed her lips for a moment then parted them to speak but before she could form a word, he tightened his hold of her then crushed her mouth under his, devouring her, drinking her passion and making her drink from his. Digging her fingers in his shoulders, vainly seeking an anchor in the storm of their unleashed hunger, Lucilla moaned against his lips and again when she felt his hands roaming along her flanks, her back, her breasts.

"This is it!" she thought. "This is it! This is Maximus, not a dream! This is Maximus making love to me..."

Suddenly, he tore his mouth away from hers, freeing her from his embrace at the same time. Dizzy with passion and, deprived of his support, Lucilla nearly crumbled on the sand and it took all her strength - what little of it was left to her - not to collapse. Her head spun around and her eyes blurred while the night desert wind blew cold against her fevered body.

"What-" she started when she recovered her senses but when she saw Maximus rubbing his eyes then his beard she stopped dead.

"I am sorry," he whispered hoarsely.

"Maximus..."

"I am sorry," he repeated, "I don't know what happened to me."

Lucilla felt as if she had been doused with a bucket of icy water. Somehow, she recovered her voice. "Maximus..." she started again, but he had already averted his eyes, the anguish painted on his features so intense that she felt her heart tighten.

"I am sorry, Lucilla," he said again in a flat tone. Maybe he had not regained control over his face but his voice sounded perfectly expressionless. "Don't worry, it won't happen again. We should return..."

Lucilla grabbed his tunic yet he still refused to look at her so she cupped his bearded chin and forced him to turn his face towards her. "Maximus, why are you sorry?" she asked, her voice on the verge of breaking and tears on the threatening to spill.

He swallowed hard. "I should not have. I don't know what happened to me..."

"You don't know?" she asked and now her voice sounded strangled. "You don't know?"

Maximus shook her hands off.  "What do you want me to say?" he growled. "That I acted like an animal? That I treated you like a... like a..."

"Like a whore?" she growled back.

Maximus winced then hissed, "Yes! Like a whore! You are a decent woman and I... I..." He choked and to his absolute outrage, he saw a smile slowly spread over Lucilla's face. And for once, her smile was one of happiness. Growling in frustration, he grabbed her by her forearms and shook her roughly. "Do you know what I could have done to you? Do you know, Lucilla?"

"Yes, Maximus! I know!" she snapped back. "You would have done what you should have done so many years ago!"

Maximus' eyes opened very wide and he looked as if she had slapped him. Somehow, he recovered the use of his voice. "You don't know what you are talking about!"

Lucilla shivered but neither out of cold or fear. On the contrary, a feverish warmth spread along her body, her skin tingling with arousal. Suddenly, after so many years of loneliness and helplessness, she felt powerful. The feeling was exhilarating in its intensity and like nothing she had experienced before. "Do you know what you are talking about, Maximus?"

He looked at her for a moment then pushed her away. Lucilla stumbled but managed not to fall on the sand covered courtyard.  "You are a decent woman, a widow... and I was on the brink of dishonouring you."

Unable to go on looking at her, Maximus averted his eyes once more.

Lucilla remained in silence for a moment then spoke in a low but clear voice. "There is no dishonour in love."

Maximus turned around to look at her, his eyes burning with intense emotion that was as arousing as it was scaring. It was Lucilla's turn to swallow but she refused to avert her own eyes. "I love you, Maximus," she whispered.

He closed his eyes, clutching his hands into tight fists.

"I never stopped loving you, nor loved any other man."

With a sigh, Maximus opened his eyes and looked at her. "She is so beautiful!" he thought. Under the moonlight, she looked paler than ever, her finely chiselled features like those of a sculpture of the finest marble, her huge green eyes luminous like the stars above their heads. The night breeze gently moved the soft tendrils surrounding her face. Her body was wrapped in the shapeless desert garments but Maximus remembered it too well from those long ago, free, happy days of their youth. His palms tingled with the memory of the flesh he had just caressed through the rough fabric...

Lucilla shivered slightly under his unwavering gaze, the hunger she had learned to rein so carefully like a wild beast gnawing her belly. With trembling hands, she undid the clasp of the brooch that kept her cloak in place and let it fall. When she started undoing the knot of the cord that closed the neck opening of her tunic, her hands were shaking so badly that, after three attempts, she tore at it viciously till it snapped.

"Lucilla..." gasped Maximus. "What- what are you doing?"

"What I should have done so many years ago!" she answered hoarsely and the wild hint in her voice sent fire flowing along his veins. As she spoke, Lucilla grabbed the front of her tunic and tore it open. The fabric tore with a dry sound and Maximus gasped again as her breasts - small but perfect and marble coloured under the moonbeams - revealed themselves through the opening.

"Lucilla..." he repeated breathlessly, "What are you doing?"

She shook her hair away from her face, the movement revealing her breasts to better advantage.  "Don't you want me, Maximus?" she asked and her voice sounded unusually husky. When he failed to answer, Lucilla pressed on, "Look at me, Maximus and tell me that you don't want me!"

"Don't do this to me, Lucilla," he said softly.

But she was not ready to let him go. Not on that night that could be the last of their lives. Not when death and damnation loomed above them. "Look at me, Maximus," she repeated. "Look at me and tell me that you don't want me!"

"You know I do!" he roared and Lucilla jerked back as if he had hit her but recovered quickly.

"Then why do you reject me? Why, Maximus?"

Sighing, he shook his head slowly. "You don't understand..." he growled. "You don't understand."

"What is it that I have to understand? What, Maximus?" she pressed on and when he failed to answer she added, "Is it because of her? Is it because of your wife?"

Maximus' eyes acquired a haunted look and for a moment Lucilla thought that she had gone too far yet it was too late to take her words back. Unconsciously straightening her back, she raised her chin and silently defied his wrath.

But Maximus did not jump at her as she expected. Instead, he lowered his eyes. "It has nothing to do with my wife," he said as if he had been talking with himself. "It is... It is about... us." For a moment he remained silent then raised his eyes and Lucilla saw that they were not haunted anymore burned with such intensity that could only be born from passion.

"I love you, Maximus," she said softly. "I love you and I want you. I don't ask for your love, just that you don't leave me alone tonight..."

At her words and the sight of her pale beauty, Maximus shuddered and Lucilla saw him silently struggle against himself even if part of him knew well that he was already defeated. Raising her hands to her shoulders, she silently slid her tunic down her body, exposing her naked torso to his gaze. "Take me, Maximus," she murmured. "Make me yours tonight. Make love to me, Maximus."

He shivered again, his hands trembling with the need to touch her, his eyes unable to leave her bare beauty.

"Take me, Maximus," she coaxed again. "Do to me what you did that night to Volumnia." At her words, he snapped to attention but before he could speak, Lucilla offered him a sad smile. "I saw you that night, Maximus. I saw you with her..." her voice drifted in the night breeze and he felt his throat tighten at the memory of the night when he had tried to drown his sorrow in the beautiful courtesan's body.

"How-" he managed to say.

Lucilla's smile became broader.  "I went to your tent," she said. "I could not let you go like that, believing I had betrayed you... hating me."

"I did not hate you." he interrupted.

"I know. Now I know." She darted a glance towards the starred sky, the comet's threat now forgotten at the urgency of love and need and truth. "I went to your tent," she continued, "to make you understand. To force you to hear me and understand. But you were with her."

"Lucilla..."

"I hid in your tent's anteroom," she went on as if she had not heard him. "I saw you... and her. I told myself I had to go but I could not... I watched you."

Maximus felt himself blush at the memory of what had happened that night and the mere thought of what Lucilla had seen... He had called for Volumnia in anger. He had never gone to a woman in such a mood before in his occasional relationships with whores and women who were amenable to spending some time with a handsome soldier, most of them widows with children to support. He had always been generous with them, both with his coins and his body and they had made him a favourite, even those who took men into their beds only because there was no other way to put food on their tables.

He could have gone to Volumnia at any time. The courtesan had repeatedly sent him invitations through her servants but he had always refused them, knowing that if she was half as beautiful and skilled as he had heard she was, she had to be dangerous to any man long deprived of his home and any kind of tenderness. Yet that night he had sent for her. He knew Volumnia only serviced men in her own house and the invitation was an open challenge from a man too intoxicated with by his own grief to keep himself under control. The courtesan had been even more beautiful than he had expected, a living goddess made of gold and ivory, quick witted, sharp tongued, smart and maddeningly sensual, her fabled skills enough to drive any man crazy. She had aroused him, made him aware of his own body as he had never been- and his anger had grown along with his arousal. His control had snapped and he had turned towards her not with violence but with the urge to subjugate her, to dominate her, to show her that she could manage every man but him... He had played her as an instrument, aroused her to the point of madness and then denied her release. Volumnia had had no compunction demanding from him what she had the right to demand but Maximus had played with her, toyed with her need, with the notion that she had chosen him among all the other men and came to him when she did not go to any other. He had forced her to beg him and relished when she had done, the hint of fear in her eyes as she released that tables had turned and she was the dominated one adding to his wild satisfaction.

He had given her what she wanted, using her hard and bringing them both to violent release, vainly seeking to lose himself in Volumnia's magnificent body, vainly seeking for oblivion and forgetfulness- only to feel Lucilla's absence with such an accurate intensity that it was physical pain. It had been then that he had shattered, that his grief had taken control and had him sobbing the loss of his love in an unknown woman's arms.

Volumnia had been gentle to him. She had accepted him not with the mechanical patience of a whore but with the understanding of a woman whose way of life has taken away her honour but not her kindness. Maximus had awoken in her arms before dawn. The courtesan looked pale and tired and had made no effort to make small talk like the women of her profession did before demanding their payment. With awakening, the memories of the previous night had returned and with them a kind of shame Maximus had never experienced before. He had tried to apologize but Volumnia had dismissed his words with a tired gesture and a sad smile and, after making herself sure that he was well, she had dressed and gone away. He had given her twice the money he knew she charged her clients but she left if on his desk on her way out. Maximus had sent the money to Volumnia's house through his manservant but he had come back with the news that the courtesan had left the city and moved to Rome.

And now, after so many years, Lucilla was telling him that she had been hidden in his tent's anteroom while he... while he... Maximus felt vaguely sick.

"I saw you... and I heard you..." she hesitated, "I heard you cry my name when you... when you..."

Somehow he managed to swallow the painful sob that threatened to strangle him.

"I needed you that night, Maximus. As much as you needed me. As much as I need you now."

Under the silver light of the moon, he saw tears sliding down Lucilla's pale cheeks.

"Don't leave me alone, Maximus. Not tonight. Love me, Maximus... just tonight... love me..."

Maximus raised a trembling hand and touched her cheek with the pad of his roughly callused forefinger, absently tracing the path of a tear as it slid down, leaving behind a tiny rivulet that looked like liquid silver. Lucilla shivered at his touch but remained immobile despite the urge to come closer to him. Once his finger reached her chin, it went on sliding down her neck and she gulped reflexively. On and on it went, caressing the hollow at the base of her throat, then tracing the valley between her breasts and she felt goose bumps rise at its path. It continued its journey, sliding down her stomach, leaving a trail of flames, till it was stopped by the waist of the coarse pants she was wearing under her tunic.

"You are so beautiful," whispered Maximus while his finger reversed its way, sliding up her torso. "Even more beautiful than I remember." Slowly, languidly, his finger pad circled one of her breasts and Lucilla gasped, a tingling sensation spreading from her already tight nipples down to her belly.

Unable to move, unable to talk, barely able to breathe, she saw his blunt digit moving so tenderly over her skin, tracing her breast time and again, lazily describing its contour, the circles becoming smaller and smaller as it moved closer and closer to its centre and the fire radiating from the hard nipple.

Maximus saw his finger moving as if it had had a volition of its own, gently tracing the turgid, proud breast exposed under the moonlight. It was warm and soft, her skin like silk under his touch and, faint as the contact was, it sent fire up his hand and his arm. "You are so beautiful," he repeated as his circling finger closed on the hard, cinnamon coloured nipple. "So beautiful..."

Lucilla gasped at his touch, a wave of heat spreading along her body. That was it- what she had been longing for so many years. His touch. His hand on her bare flesh. And the promise of more- much, much more. Maximus' hand cupped her breast and she bit her lips not to cry. The big, warm hand, bronzed by the merciless desert sun gently closed around it, the contrast between his darkened skin and her pale one so startling that it could not but remind the myth of the blazing sun coupling with the silvery moon.

Her breast was small but proud of its perfection and fit so well in his palm that he could not but marvel, guessing the rest of her would fit so well too... At the mere thought, his aroused manhood grew even harder. So much that Maximus winced for it was painful.

"Please..."

Lucilla's voice brought him back to reality. Her eyes looked huge and burned with emotions too intense to be described with simple words. "Please, Maximus... Make love to me... Just tonight... Make me yours..."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Are you sure, Lucilla?"

She offered him a wan smile, "Make love to me, Maximus. Do to me what you did to Volumnia!"

He shook his head no, "Don't mention her. She was..."

"A courtesan? A whore?" interrupted her. "Indeed. But she was a woman first... and she... she loved you."

"No!" Maximus' other hand gently covered her lips. "Don't-"

Lucilla moved away from his fingers, "Why, Maximus? Why you don't want to know about us? Why don't you want to know about those who loved you?"

"It's not what you think..." he breathed.

"Then what is it?" she pressed on.

Maximus shook his head again. How could he tell her how had it been seeking the sweetness of her virginal body in the experienced flesh of a beautiful whore? How could he tell her about the shame he had felt at his own behaviour? Using the body of a woman who sold it to pursue release and pleasure was fair, in the same simple way that it was fair killing a worthy foe in battle. Using her to punish another one was betrayal and dishonour in the same way it was betrayal and dishonour killing an enemy while his back is turned. How could he tell her how it had been to take Volumnia in anger and betray both her and Lucilla with his petty cruelty? Most of all how could he tell her that, since Selene's murder, he had lived without love - real love - for so long that he was afraid he would not be able to take another woman as a man takes not a whore but the one he loves and who loves him?

Lucilla was waiting for an answer but no words came from his mouth. Instead, he grabbed her and crushed her against his body, pressing his pelvis against hers, letting her know the degree of his own need. Letting her know what she was asking for.

The coarse fabric of Maximus' garments rasped Lucilla's bare skin but she barely registered it, the heat and hardness of his body overwhelming her, making her dizzy, leaving her breathless. He buried his face in her neck, greedily kissing, licking and sucking at her tender flesh, the damp heat of his lips and tongue searing her as if they had been burning coals, his ragged breath roaring in her ears, his big, strong hands grabbing her buttocks, kneading her round, full flesh.

Lost in a whirlwind of passion and need, Lucilla moaned loudly as she slid her fingers through Maximus' short cropped hair, marvelling at the rediscovery of the silky quality she remembered so well. "Please..." she panted, not knowing what she was asking for, only that she needed him, that she needed Maximus then and there. "Please..."

Regaining some degree of control, Maximus freed her and tugged at his cloak, throwing it away, his hands clumsy in his haste to rid himself of his clothes. Breathless, Lucilla saw him undo the lacing then tug at his tunic till he managed to take it off, tossing it around then standing up to deal with his boots. By the time his hands went to his pants' laces, Lucilla's mouth was dry and shivers ran up and down her spine. After some more tugging and kicking, Maximus' pants fell on the pile of his already discarded clothes and he rose to his full height, clad only in his loincloth, the bleached piece of linen stretched to its limit in a vain effort to cover his engorged manhood.

Kneeling at his feet, Lucilla licked her lips. She had asked Maximus to do to her what he had done to Volumnia that night in his tent and there he was, glorious in his near nakedness, looming above her, silently reminding her what the courtesan had done to him with her mouth. What Lucilla had thought obscene... She gulped. She had to do it. She could not fail him after making such bold demands and confessing the way she had spied on him while he was with that other woman.

Looming above her, his feet firmly planted on the sandy courtyard, Maximus took a deep breath vainly trying to regain some degree of control. His manhood throbbed in unison with his madly racing heart. At his feet, Lucilla looked small and fragile, very much like a girl and as fresh and as innocent as one. She had asked him to do as he had done to Volumnia but he could not. No man asked certain things from a decent woman. Not at least when they made love for the first time...

Lucilla's hands shook him off his reverie. Slowly, hesitatingly, she was sliding her palms up his thighs, moving towards the ties that kept his loincloth in place. He gasped loudly and tried to say something, to tell her she did need do it, that he would give her what she wanted, what was her right as a woman who is loved by a man. Before he could say anything, her hands tug at the ties and freed him of his scant undergarment. When his manhood sprang free mere inches from her face, Lucilla had to bit her lower lip fiercely to restrain herself from crying.

Over a decade before, hiding in the shadows of his tent's anteroom, she had seen him naked and aroused but not even that had prepared her for the sight of his swollen, hard virility, sprouting from a nest of abundant, brown coloured curls. She swallowed hard. There was no way she could-

Maximus' hand gently caressing her head brought her back to reality. She closed her eyes for a moment, giving herself to the tenderness of his soft stroking, so soothing, so encouraging.

"Lucilla..." he whispered. He wanted to tell her that it was not necessary. That she did not need do it. He tried to speak even when his body was screaming, demanding that he grab her hair and forced his manhood into her sweet, promising mouth.

Lucilla swallowed again then ordered herself into action and, taking him in her trembling hand, clumsily stroked him then opened her mouth as wide as she could and took him in. Maximus hissed as the damp heat closed around him. Reflexively, his fingers grabbed a handful of her hair, tightening his hold of her.

Lucilla thought she was going to choke. He was too big and she was too inexperienced. She felt like gagging and blushed crimson, not at what she was doing but at the thought of disgracing herself while trying to pleasure him. Clumsily, hesitatingly, she tried to do what she had seen the courtesan do.

Once he had regained some degree of lucidity, it took him but a moment to discover that she did not know how to pleasure a man with her mouth. She did not know how to move her lips, how to use her tongue to increase his pleasure, how to relax her throat to properly accommodate him, how to keep her teeth out of the way...She was hurting him more than she was pleasuring him but it was oddly arousing to know that despite the years passed and her marriage, he was the first man she had taken in her mouth. That she had braved her inexperience to give him what she had seen another woman give him.

Slowly, trying not to startle her, Maximus slid his hand towards her nape and gently pushed her away from him. She resisted for a moment, rebelling against letting him go despite it was obvious he was not obtaining any satisfaction of what she was doing. When he finally managed to free himself, Maximus lost no time in kneeling by her side and took her face between his big, strong hands. Her luminous eyes were blurred with unshed tears and he felt a dull ache in his heart.

Lucilla tried to say something, perhaps to apologize, perhaps to ask him to teach her how to please him but he did not pay attention. Instead, Maximus covered her face with soft, lingering kisses and she forgot whatever she wanted to say and even how to talk. His mouth fluttered down her throat then traced a path of fire around its base and moved to the other side, reaching her earlobe and gently nibbling at it. Moaning, Lucilla arched against his naked body, pressing her own bare torso against his, her puckered nipples hard as pebbles against his skin, the friction sending burning coals along both their bodies.

Maximus gently pushed her on her back as his lips trailed her shoulders and the upper slope of her breasts. When Lucilla's back touched her discarded cloak, his mouth moved down and reached the fullness of her breast, licking it avidly then engulfing the hard nipple and sucking it first slowly and tenderly then with increasing fierceness. His beard was rasping the tender skin, his teeth softly nibbled the delicious bud and he pinned her when she writhed and moaned under his hunger. Maximus told himself that he had to slow down, to be gentle, that he was bruising her with his ardour but his body had taken control ... and her nipples were like ripe fruit, sweet and begging to be tasted, to be rolled on his tongue, to be nibbled and enjoyed.

Breathless, Lucilla closed her eyes, shutting off the night, shutting off everything but the feeling of what Maximus's lips and tongue were doing to her. The tingling became ache, so acute that it was pain, of a kind she had never known before for it hurt but also made her long for more. The tingling spread from her nipples to her belly and from her belly down to some secret place, deep between her thighs. The secret, deep place that burned and throbbed first then screamed to be touched as it had done that night, when she had seen Maximus take Volumnia on his narrow, military cot.

Struggling to move beneath his weight, Lucilla managed to grab the ties that held her pants in place and tried to undo them while Maximus' avid mouth moved towards her other breast and repeated the sensuous demands.

She was still struggling with the ties when he freed her nipple then raised and moved her trembling hands apart. Lucilla whimpered but he calmed her with a caress then undid her laces and tugged at her pants, sliding them down her slender hips, stopping for a moment to take her boots off and drop them aside then free her from her riding garment.

Her legs were long and beautifully shaped like those of a nymph. Maximus slid his hands up their silky expanse marvelling at her perfection as she lay on her dark cloak, naked but for the gauzy piece of linen covering her pelvis. He went on caressing her legs, his hands moving up and down, up and down, modelling her calves, her thighs, coming closer and closer to the heat that throbbed mercilessly at the very core or her.</