Taking leave of Germania was a sad affair in different ways for many.  There was the giddy excitement of seeing new places and having new adventures, but for Maximus and his officers, the weighty loneliness at leaving behind the land that had shaped their careers and their lives was painful.  For the general, especially, I understood it was the closing of a book of his life.

"Ancestors, I ask you for guidance."  The absence of Maximus' warmth around me woke me to the strains of his nightly supplication.  Turning, I let my eyes roam over his robed silhouette against the altar's dancing lights and listened as the warm gravel of his voice lulled me back into a half-sleep.  His communication with his gods seemed to twine among the dreams that still teased at the edges of my psyche, wrapping peacefully around my thoughts even as the cover of wool and fur nestled about me in place of his body.

"Blessed Mother, come to me with the gods' desire for my future."  In two days' time, Maximus would have to reconcile to the knowledge that his Germania would pass into another's protection.  All that was familiar to him was to be replaced by a world in which he would have to again, make his mark.  In Vindobona, he was General of the Felix Legions, a man who commanded the loyalty and love of his northern armies. For the peace that he kept between the two nations, Maximus held the trust of the German chieftains that he had fought and conquered for two decades of his life, winning their respect by working hard to uphold promises made to them.  But in a place foreign to him, he would be, essentially, nobody.  His humble farmer's heart could accept that for the solitude that anonymity afforded him, but his officer's mind, having become accustomed to being known and highly regarded, had difficulty adjusting to the idea.  In retrospect, I understand that is why he was so reluctant to relinquish control over the troops those last weeks of his post at the Danube.   If he kept it as long as possible, it staved off the gnawing fear he had not felt as a young man, that he could again tame a wild country to his hand and gain its confidence in his word and honor. 

"Blessed Father, watch over my loved ones with a ready sword.  Guard them as though they are in my arms, for all else is dust and air."  Leaving Germania meant also abandoning the ghosts of his past.  Their voices whispered to him in silent screams of memory and long-ago pain, and for the last days of our time in Vindobona I watched silently as he exorcised some and gently lay to rest those that had comforted him during his loneliness. 

My son, keep your heels down when you are riding your horse, and wait for the day we can be together so you can show me your skills.  Beloved Flavia...  And there his voice dropped and died away altogether.   

I roused myself to watch as he took the tiny figurine of his wife from the altar, turning its worn features and shape in his hand, caressing her smooth face and the raised roll representing her hair under his thumb. For long moments he simply stared at her, whatever words he spoke to her sounded only in his mind, where none could hear.  The gentle flicker of the candles caught the reddish sheen of the idol, bestowing an amber halo about it. She seemed to breathe with the life of the poplar she had been carved from that grew on her incarnation's farm. 

It felt suddenly like an intrusion to be in the room, in his bed during such a sacred communion. It was not that I had not listened to his prayers before. Every night since he brought me out of Rome I had been present as he spoke with his kin. Always I had reverently stayed as he finished, blowing out the candles and handing him his wine, but never had I observed thus, as a bedmate.  I felt shame for it.

Perhaps he felt the weight of my gaze or his conversation with his wife was over, but whatever the case, he turned to where I sat among the bed coverings that smelled of wild animal and sex.  He stared back at me, not moving, no evidence of his thoughts plain to me in the dim light that left half his face in shadow.  I was the first to look away, dropping my eyes to my hand that held a particle of wool to my chest to provide my body warmth while my heart turned to ice.  Bowing my head, I waited for a command or a sign that perhaps the rest of the night would be better spent in my own quarters.

The silence seemed to still time until the whisper of Maximus' robes turning again to their worshipful pose brought it screaming back to life.  I ventured a glance that caught his hand placing the doll back in her spot beside its companion, his son.  It also noted the frown that creased his profile as he finished his ritual.  Ancestors, I honor you and will try to live with the dignity you have taught me. 

Then there was no more light as his breath extinguished the tiny flames, only the soft pad of his bare feet approaching the bed and the brush of cloth on the wood slats of the floor when he disrobed.  A brief chill that nipped at my flesh when he took the cover away from me was replaced by the heat of his arm wrapping himself and the furs around me in the dark.  He said nothing, only buried his nose in my hair and gripped me tight.  Part of me sighed in relief and dared to breathe. The other gathered up inside my head, warning me not to let go of my trepidation.  I was still only his slave, and he had not yet told me differently. 

One of the lessons I was still learning was that Maximus showed more with actions and thoughts than he did with words when he gave of his heart. The post in Hibernia, although likely to be a peaceful expedition, was in a place considered the end of the earth and thus, foreboding in nature.  As such, it was an assignment few wanted to undertake, but the sort of challenge Maximus dearly enjoyed.  As a result, the Senate accepted the general's request for my promotion to the rank of surgeon with little trouble if a bit of dismay.  The mystery of why Phillip had given me a concise list of medical supplies to obtain from the physicians in Luguvallium when none were going with us was solved when Maximus handed me, along with my usual number of messages and notes, a letter from Gracchus with a wide, self-satisfied smile.  

"Read it."  

"What is it?"  I turned the parchment over in my hands, noting the neat script but uncomprehending the block Roman lettering that told secrets my unschooled eyes had never learned to decipher.  My bottom lip found its way between my teeth. 

"Just read it.  I wanted to surprise you."  I took a deep breath and handed it back.  

"I can't." 

"What?  But you write."

"Aye. Greek and my own language.  I never had time or opportunity to learn yours.  It was only necessary to learn to at least speak it correctly."  The general frowned, crestfallen, then lifted my chin.  There was no need to tell him that the lack of literacy in my third-spoken language bothered me greatly too. 

"Well, I guess that answers whether or not you read the messages I send with you." The smile returned, easing my embarrassment.

"I wouldn't if I could."

"There'll be plenty of time for you to learn," he assured me, then read me Gracchus' words.  I could hear the humor in them as he told of the Senate's further surprise at Maximus' use of a woman for official reasons.  But after much deliberation and careful consideration of his reasons, they had agreed that if I was able enough to fill the position, then they could overstep convention. 

I stood at attention and saluted him.  "Thank you for the promotion, sir."                                    

"Are you pleased?"  He returned the formality while I formed my reply.  

"Aye.  Just taken aback, a little."  I was grateful and happy.  Had we been elsewhere, where no one was likely to walk in, I might have wrapped my arms around him for joy.  I flashed him a smile of deep appreciation however, for which I received an answering one of pride. 

"I did consult others before I sent the request." Naturally. A woman of rank might be unusual, but he followed other rules to the letter. I understood that I must also thank Phillip. But this was a gift from Maximus that meant more to me than almost any other he could bestow, and he was well aware of it.

"Congratulations, doctor.  I'll take you to your trees and prayers when I get in.  I think you can read the other letter without my help."  His fingers brushed mine when I reached for the note.  Maximus had no explanation for the small packet with it, only that it was attached to the letter from Galen.

"You couldn't help me.  It's in Greek."  He laughed and dismissed me so I could read my colleague's words without interruption.  

Galen was brief, hailing my recognition by the Senate and sending news of the family of Gracchus.  Lucius had come upon his sixteenth winter and hit a growth spurt that kept his tailors hopping to make him new clothing before he grew out of the old.  Lucilla had contracted a type of influenza that lasted all summer but departed with the advent of autumn, and she felt fine.  Gracchus was getting older, Galen said, but was in excellent health.  Maximus and I were missed by all.  He asked after Phillip, who had been among the first of his students.  His closing statements caught my attention.

Some weeks ago, two senators were murdered by toxic means, but the culprit was like none any of our profession had seen or recorded before. It is reasonable to think you will never encounter this substance, but I feel it is a point of knowledge that will interest you nonetheless.  I sent a small, well-wrapped sample of it for you to add to those things I gave you when I saw you last.  The most miniscule amount is fatal, even if touched, so use caution when you look at it.

It is with a father's pride that I write this, child.  There is little I need to say to you that you have not already learned, and there are things I would have enjoyed discovering with you.  May your hands be steady, and the struggle against sickness and death be waged in your favor.  Perhaps someday, our paths will merge again.

 

Until they do, the peace of the gods be with you, 

Galen

Carefully folding the letter and setting it aside, I turned my attention to the lethal gift my friend had given me.   I understood why Galen had written with the stipulation that only I read it, and was glad Maximus was not curious regarding my private correspondence. 

I felt there was no need to alert Maximus; senators often had personal squabbles between them, but a well-known substance would have accomplished the task of settling trouble by fatal means. Whoever had a vendetta against those two had connections to merchants or mountebanks outside Rome with access to things like this mixture.   It was safe to assume, though, that if Gracchus knew the dead men he would have sent word to Maximus in his own letter, had the concern been serious.  I did wonder for a moment though, how many others had died in order for Galen to discern that it should be handled with great care, and shook my head with amusement.

I stored the leather-and-papyrus bound powder and letter in my private collection of precious and rare plants and things.  Phillip had given me a lovely, sweet-smelling cedar box with compartments for them as a parting gift, and I laid the sinister stuff in the very bottom, under everything else where no other could have access to it.  At the time, it was simply a thing of curiosity and little use.  I did not consider the idea I might have to use it someday. 

For as long as I have known the properties of plants and their various uses, women have come to me for all manner of remedies from cures for illness to love potions.  But none have been as requested as the mysterious means to stop reproduction or terminate it.  And mixing the first dram of pennyroyal for my own use in over a year was very difficult.  Had practicality not won over the daydream of possibly carrying a child of Maximus', I might have dispensed with the need to prevent it altogether.  Eire would be no place to be pregnant.  I had duties to fulfill as translator and physician and I would carry them out.  I could not do that heavy with a baby.  And I was not willing to trust that I might not be able to conceive either.  For women who choose the path of war, the line between duty to continue the human race or to stave off the eventuality of pregnancy while protecting other women and their children is never easy.  I chose the latter.  

Cassandra watched me over her cup of the tea I made for us the morning after I first lay with Maximus and frowned. Her dark eyes followed my every movement, noting that I balked at drinking.  "It's not that bad, when you get used to it."

"I know.  I've taken it before."

"Then why wait?  Get it over with."  Rolling my eyes, I dragged my cup closer.  "How was it?" she asked as I swallowed some.

"Awful.  Just like I remembered."  The bitter potion left an aftertaste as it burned my tongue and throat.  The grin that she flashed in answer was so wide I knew we were not discussing the same subject. 

"They," she waved in the direction of the harlots' quarters, "will be so unhappy to know that."  

Sheepishly, I laughed.  "I meant the tea is awful.  And some of them do know how it is with him and are not telling you about it either," I said pointedly.  Cassandra nodded.  She knew she would get no confessions.  I wondered if she herself had the desire to share the general's bed. 

Seriousness settled between us again, until she indicated the pennyroyal.  "Does he know?"  

For a while I did not reply, only sipped the hot liquid in front of me and chewed a slice of bread thoughtfully.  Finally, I shrugged. "He will." 

"Do you think he will be angry when he finds out?"  There were women who were kept by masters for exactly that purpose- breeders of more servants.  

"No.  He knows I supply the harlots and you.  It would be an oversight if I didn't keep myself from becoming pregnant."  When the smile that threatened to divulge the secrets of the night before escaped, she giggled.  That was all the information she needed.  But I had no intention of hiding from Maximus my need to stay barren for the duration of the time I served him.  When he asked, and he would after months went by without any sign of new life growing within me, I would tell him.  Some women advise that a man should never know our mysteries.  I say that depending on the man, there is no need for mystery.  I was a soldier for all intents and purposes as long as I stayed in the employ of the army.  Only behind closed doors, when discretion could be relaxed, did I become any other form of woman.  And Maximus would understand and affirm my decision, however badly he might want to be a father again.  And though I did not admit it to myself then, I had another reason for my desire to remain childless.  Only, I hid it behind the mask of responsibility.

Cassandra was quiet again and we finished our brew without words between us.  As I set my vessel down for the last time, she picked it up instantly. It was habit and I let her.  But she spoke while she gathered it with hers in one hand, the solid chime of metal against metal absorbed by the mud and wood walls of the room.  "I want to go with you."  Cassandra was my friend, and I knew her as I knew Justinius and Maximus.  But I studied her then as I had the first time, weighing her options here and there, and how best to help her survive in the world.  She would never ask or beg to be included in the journey, just express her desire of it and leave it at that.  She knew us well enough to know that it would be Maximus' decision in the end, but he would make the best one for her and for anyone else her presence would affect.  That he had let her come with us the day we left my dead sister behind was evidence enough of that.  She was self-sufficient beyond employment as his housekeeper, and was no hindrance to us.  And she was strong, in a way that one would not normally consider a woman to be.  She did not need weapons or size to prove her courage.  She just did what she felt she needed to do.

Frankly, I had no desire to leave her behind either.  I needed her.  Whether she realized it or not, or I did, I was learning from her by living with her, by watching her and listening to her when she spoke.  She was my family. When the gods took my sister away, they gave me Cassandra in her place. 

"It's a hard land," I warned her.  "Not like here, not even like Britannia.  It's cold and the people there unfriendly and cruel to strangers at times.  We will be the only women.  And the Celts in Eire are not my people. I can call no favors for us."

"I know these things.  But there is nothing here for me."  I mulled that.  She was right.  There was nothing but prostitution and possible slavery for her if she stayed. The protection she enjoyed in my company and under Maximus' roof would be lifted when we rode away, and while Justinius was respected and well liked, he would be too busy to look after her.  Her modest side business earned her enough money that she could live alone for a while, but the truth was that she would be an easy target for slave hunters or unscrupulous men. 

"I will ask the general."

"Thank you."  She ducked her head shyly and walked away.  In her wake, another idea struck me.  Even in Eire, the conditions for her would be the same.  Harlotry and work as a maid or something menial.  The only difference between herself and a slave was that no one claimed ownership of Cassandra.   

Justinius was unhappy with her decision and begged her to stay, but she wisely pointed out that his parents would be less than agreeable to the match.   He stated he did not care, but her mind was made up.  She had more of a future in Hibernia, she claimed, looking after the general and me.  I knew it was because she could not bear to make him sadder.  It was easier to break his heart by circumstance than by revealing her true reasons for going away.  She simply did not love him.

Maximus wanted to take Justinius with us but it was better, he would tell me later, that they parted company.  They were close, and at times it had been a matter of contention among other officers, regardless of the fact that Maximus often demanded more of his kinsman than he did of anyone else.  And too, Justinius needed to stand out from Maximus' considerable shadow and carve himself a reputation other than being the nephew of the great general.  For Maximus, though, it was painful to lose this time with the young man he considered more a son than a nephew.  And who knew how long it would be before they were again in one another's company?

As for me, I left behind a dear friend.  As we said our goodnights, I memorized the gentle command that was already creeping into his voice, fast replacing the uncertainty of youthful subordinance.  The matter-of-fact way he spoke of his future with the Felix III and what he hoped to accomplish now that he would be on his own with only the memory of Maximus' guidance became a prayer that I uttered for him to his gods and mine. 

As we gazed up at the stars, talking of family and love and promising to get word to the other if the future turned dark, he asked, "Do you have any messages for my mother?"  He inclined his head toward where Maximus stood patiently waiting for his turn with his nephew.  His approval was quite clear. 

"Only that we are well, and that I miss her.  Tell her all the news you know.  Please leave out that I was almost taken away from the general, though.  She'll worry."  He nodded, smirking.  But I wasn't finished.  "Tell her I will write to her when I am able.  And that I haven't had to hit him. Yet."  Snorting with laughter, we parted company. 

A breath of first snowfall stole through the house the last morning, its chill settling in every corner and open space, a reminder that time to get north was at hand. The fires were long dead, as neither Maximus nor I had cared to leave the other long enough to stoke them during the night. Icy fingers of impending winter pried through the blankets to steal the warmth of our entangled bodies away.  In the predawn, while my task-ridden brain warred with my body's distaste at venturing away from the heat of my lover's embrace, I thought on him.  Turning in his arms, I gazed on the face that seemed so serene and boyish in repose in the pale light from the window above. It belied the worries and concentration it bore during his days, hardening the planes of his cheeks and setting his jaw rigid in determination to face the battles brought to his door each morning.  His rare smile played at the corners of his mouth, hinting of dreams that were gentle and sweet in contrast to the nightmares of his past. 

Shifting to snuggle into his chest, I played first with his crocodile tooth, turning it in my fingers and pressing the point into the pads one by one until the light smattering of his chest hair intrigued me more and demanded the worship of my hand and lips. In this position it was difficult, enclosed as I was, not to hurt my face, which still sent sharp reminders that it would be some time yet before I was able to press my nose to him and breathe in his scent.  Traveling further down, my fingers twined and stroked the dense fur of his stomach, tickling over the rise of his hips and memorizing the flutter of muscles and organs as they moved in time with his exhalations.  He rolled over onto his back to accommodate my exploration, though he gave no sign of waking.

My eyes rested over his face, gauging the flicker of lashes over dreaming eyes, the twitch of beard-covered jaw in response to whatever visions played in his mind, wondering what magic possessed his heart that he slept on.  A thick arm grasped me close, buried under my hair, warming my bare shoulders as I touched and stroked the expanse of male that was Maximus. I traced his delicate lips, the one feminine feature in the masculinity that overshadowed all else about him.  But even they had the power to completely overwhelm with a single kiss.  I licked my own in response to the memory of nibbling tastes and arduous feasts partaken of by the object of my attention. From them I grazed his whiskers with my nails, delighting in the smile that graced them sleepily.  Spreading my fingers over the opposite shoulder from the one my cheek chose to rest on, I teased his collarbone and measured the width of it.  I considered his powerful build and his strength, reveling in the tenderness that tempered them when I was gathered up and pulled to lie over the top of him. 

It was not something he told me, just a thing he showed me when even in sleep he reflexively tightened his arms about me or wrapped a thigh around my own, pressing me deeper into his body.  When he whispered in his dreams tender endearments and pet names for me, nuzzling my hair and sighing contentedly, I knew I made him happy.

Gasping in surprise and giggling when his arms imprisoned me against the evidence of his morning's desire, I whispered, "Were you asleep?"

"I'm not now," the growl vibrated against my throat.  "You're going to wear me out, you know."

"I know ways to take care of that."

"Hmm."

"We have to leave soon."

"It's too cold.  Let's wait until spring," he mumbled into my good shoulder, leaving the tingling imprint of his kiss in my skin.   

"We're already packed."

"So, we'll unpack," he decided, grinning against my breast.  Shaking my head, I went back to my study of him, outlining muscles and letting my fingertips send messages to me about his scars until I came to the one that intrigued me so much.  My fingers traced the edge of the raised round scar between his ribs, noting the tension that seized him as they explored. Nestling onto his chest while I continued my sightless examination, I heard myself whisper his name. 

"Maximus." His hand found mine and took it away from the object of its attention, but held it tight between us as he gently rolled me under him to look down at me.

"Do you know how long I have waited to hear you call me by my name?" he asked.  I nodded, not wanting to break the moment.  But the question that had been on the tip of my tongue since waking to his prayers and trying not to worry what this added dimension of our relationship meant to him still begged asking.  From the moment I had begun to call him 'Sir' in refusal of his invitation for me to designate him with the familiarity of his name, the class line had been drawn between us, master and slave.  But secrets still remained, bridges to cross over one by one to our destination as time slowly drew us closer to my past.  "Say it again," he begged. 

Slowly, trying to keep from stuttering it around my heart as it tried to force the word from my lips, I repeated, "Maximus."  

"This is the music that will play in my ears all day," he said hoarsely.  And mine would resound with the sweet catch of emotion in his voice as he confessed his joy into my hair while we lay cocooned in the bedcovers, wrapped tight in the other's arms. 

"Will you tell me about it?" I hesitated to ask, but it came tumbling forth.  He sighed deeply, reaching to rub his beard before settling back on his side and pulling the blanket around us.

"You're raising ghosts from the dead, sweet.  Ones I would rather no longer haunt me.  They plague me enough without tempting them out of their tombs by speaking of them."  His gaze held me steadily, meaningfully, memories flooding his vision with flashes of hate, pain and unspeakable grief. I wished I had never asked.  Our peace was broken by my forwardness.  Protesting that he need not let the spirits loose and assuring him that it was not necessary I know, I wiggled free of his arms to rise and tend to last minute things that were being neglected in favor of lying in bed with my master.   A firm hand on my hip brought me back into the circle of his arms and legs, commanding me to stay.  He turned my face to his and shushed my apologetic murmurs.

"Look at me," he ordered, compelling me to obey.  "I don't want to hear that it is not your place to ask about things, again.  Do you understand?" I looked everywhere but at him; at the bare walls of the house, the few cases left to fill with what possessions we had not already put away, the lonely pieces of furniture that adorned the room still that would stay after we left, at everything but his eyes.  But I shook my head in answer. 

"I just..." 

"I know."  His thumb traced over my lips to hush them.  "You need to hear it, though, and it should come from me.  It just hurts.  Like it hurts you to tell me your stories when I ask you. I want you to know who I am, especially since we are going to your country.  You will probably hear rumors and stories."  He broke then and made me face him, eyes reaching deep into mine, to hold my promise that I would trust him.  "And I want you to be able to separate truth from lies.  Agreed?" 

"Aye."  I knew what he meant.  News always hits the isles last.  By the time it does, very little shred of credibility is left in the words.  In the northernmost regions of Britannia did that fact keep the fires of hostility burning because those that governed over the Celts there chose to keep those truths hidden. In Germania, our hearts bound Maximus and me because we were removed from loyalties that could very well create trouble between us.  He was well aware of that, I realized, though I refrained from divulging yet what exactly he could find out when he took me home.  And who knew what things were being said about him, even that far away from this wild land, as news of his coming and his reputation went ahead of him?  I remembered the inhabitants of the gladiator cells and the tales that had still been spread about Maximus even years later, while I fought over the sands of the arena.  And there was no determining what things Maximus would discover about me and be persuaded to believe were true and not.   It had been some years since I had been a rising name on the rolls of the chieftains, but some surely would remember me there. 

But one thing at a time.  We drew deep into the covers to escape the biting chill and faced each other as man and woman, no barriers of ownership or rank to separate us, fingers entwined between our bodies.  For what seemed like hours, though it was only until the sun's rays stretched through the panes of the window and spilled light that burned the cold away from our shelter of wool and fur, I listened carefully to Maximus.  I lived with him the past that had brought him to this point where we lay together warm and ready to face a new future.  In the land where Maximus' tale began, something had changed between us that would set our course for life, though I did not recognize it then for what it was.