Light from the oil lamps in Maximus' tent reflected off the polished iron of the ornaments on his cuirass, turning them to burnished gold as I lifted it and placed it over his chest.  He shifted nervously in it as I slid the straps that held it in place through their buckles and tied the scarlet sash of his rank into the knot that rode proudly on his midsection.  The ends trailed down his torso to the edge of his lorica where his fingers tugged it down even as he shrugged and it lifted back into place where it was before.  He stared ahead expectantly; jaw tight as I hung his sword on his left hip and took up his cloak with its thick wolf-skin lining to fasten it about his shoulders.  I stood back to observe, making sure no smudge had gone unseen when I polished his armor that morning and that no wrinkle yet marred his uniform and breeches.  There was little to be done for those that would come from being in a saddle, but for now he was impeccable, aside from his wild hair.  Perhaps Justinius had been correct and he should have seen the barber's shears.

"Do I look presentable?"

I placed my hand over his chest, careful not to leave the mark of my fingers on the raised silver wolf head under my palm that seemed to smile approval of its wearer in the shadows.  "You look like a man born to lead other men."  In my mind's eye, though, I saw him as I preferred him- naked, clad in only in a halo of bronzed fur and firelight.

From his chest, my fingers traced a path over his freshly-shaven throat to his beard, petting and soothing him as much as I was able.  Idly I remembered the first time I had seen him, so long ago in the dank cells of the arena, when he had first inquired after purchasing me.  Someone else had dressed him then.  Had they taken such pride in his appearance as I, or had clothing him with the vestments of his office simply been another task to perform among many?  Today I would present him to my countrymen and his, to show them a vision of what could be.  Would they learn to hear his wisdom and trust his honor as I had?  

Some apparently were eager to try, or at least place a desperate bid on the famed general to bring some sort of order to a situation even more chaotic than anyone had anticipated.  For the better part of two years since Helvius Pertinax had been called back to Rome, Britannia had been without government; at least no one was certain who held the office.  Several contenders had sought that seat, but none had successfully kept it long, due to the unrest within the ranks of the army they called upon to support their claims.  The night before we entered Londinium, we were met by two senators who had kept Maximus in discussion on the subject until well after midnight.  When he finally dropped unceremoniously into bed, he had remained awake, mulling in aggravated whispers the offer they had no doubt made him and the idea of whether or not it was something he was willing to do. 

"There is no escaping it," Maximus sighed against my touch and gazed at me steadily, though it was obvious his thoughts were elsewhere.   "It seems every time I have a duty to fulfill, it requires me to serve in a capacity I care nothing for." 

"What do you want from your service?" 

He thought a moment and then smirked, a tiny smile of self-deprecation for the youthful ideals he once held.  "When you enter the army, you are told that what you will do is for the glory of the Empire.  You might have to kill, injure and subject other peoples who only want to be free to live as they wish to Rome's rule, but it will be for their own good, so that they can live as civilized human beings.  Make the world like Rome, with all its wisdom and ingenuity, beauty and education.  At times, I still believe that.  But sometimes I wonder who is the more civilized when I consider how it is we really achieved it all.  I have come to know many 'barbarians,' and they are good, decent people who have a different way of executing their idea of society and humanity.  And I simply want them to have the things they want, while still giving them the better parts of my own culture.  Do you understand?"

"Aye, I do.  Though I have only seen mostly the bad Rome has done."

"Yes.  As have others like you.  It doesn't have to be that way."

His orders from the Senate in Rome were to establish some sort of communication and trade with the Erse in Hibernia.  After, he was to lend aid to those legions in the north and reorganize them to boost their morale to endure the harsh conditions they faced every day.  When that had been accomplished, he was to turn his mind to starting truce and treaty negotiations with the tribes and bringing them into the empire peacefully and building Britannia as a solid Roman province under the leadership of the procurator. 

"Then think on it until spring, as you told the senators.   That is months away.    They agreed to your terms.   It's not like it was before."  Under the shoulder guard of his armor and through his tunic, my fingers found and traced the scar that reminded that he had almost lost his life over being asked to assume rulership of an empire.  "Maximus," I took his hand in mine, squeezing his fingers before wrapping wide strips of hide around them to protect them from the cold, "You have done things few men could, and the world knows.  It is a matter of course that they would look to you to change things.  It is not what you want, but perhaps it is what the gods kept you alive for.  Just do what the Senate has asked and keep to your principles.  Things will happen as they are meant to.  It's in the hands of the gods."  As I turned to finish packing what little bits were left before we rode to Londinium that day, he caught my hand and brought it to his lips, resting them against my fingers for long seconds.   Then he nodded and strode outside purposefully to oversee our group as we departed from the south side of the river bank toward the city.

We could fool ourselves that it would be different for him here, as removed from the rest of world as he might be.  But the truth that formed a cloud of gloom over him was that if history was correct, then no man with such a reputation as that of Maximus was safe from the scheming and shifting of position that others might employ.  He might have been destined to lead others, but had not the desire to rule over the world.  Few who aspired for young Lucius' inheritance would consider Maximus only a fellow general and a good man.  Most would view him as a rival for the crown.  If he achieved what the Senate hoped he might in this distant land and brought the legions here under a unified banner then he would be a very real threat indeed.  Others would come to beg him to take the very offer that his emperor had given him, on the premise of his good name and honesty alone.  And if I understood him, his sense of duty and honor would impel him to go. 

Antonius' words at Emerita haunted me, when he had counseled Maximus regarding those who might set themselves on Rome's imperial throne.  Lucius is a boy, yet.  Easily enough disposed of, if one goes about it right.  Severus would know how.  I know you love the boy and are devoted to his mother and the senator, but you might want to consider what problems that loyalty will bring you in the future.  Valerius and Tigris too, had admonished him to keep his eye out for possible contenders for authority over the empire.  There was nowhere he could go where they would not find him.  What Maximus might never say with words his fidgeting as I dressed him had.  It meant that he had taken all our warnings to his heart, and that the things that made me sad for my lover were weighing on his mind as well.  Only the reward could ever make it worth the heartache. 

It was that for which I prayed as we rode over the stone bridge that stretched over the sacred river Tamesa.  I had no proper votive offering to appease the gods of the life-giving waters, so I chose the most precious and rare of my plants to breathe my supplication into and toss down to them.  If they answered, their voices were hushed by the clatter of hooves and wheels as my companions passed me. 

From the time I was very small, an annual trip to Londinium was a treat and a serious event for me and mine.  We were counted on the Roman tax rolls in Luguvallium and could do our business with the army and trade there, but yearly gatherings with other tribes and celebrations were held far south, requiring the presence of all official heads of families and tribes as well as druids of all classes and offices.  Never had I entered via the riverside passage, that way reserved for military and official personnel as well as river traffic bearing business both governmental and commercial to the gates.  When I was taken from home, I had not seen the crossing point of the river but knew it was further upstream, possibly in the lands of the Dubonii on the far side of the country. 

The west, east, and north boundaries of the city were outlined by a wall that neither Rufio nor I remembered as being quite so high the last time either of us had visited.  But the south was open to the traffic that still moved up and down the banks despite the threat of early winter in the air that would bring a halt to trade and military activity until the advent of spring thaw.  Already the autumnal tides were making it difficult for smaller ships to navigate well, and I heard Maximus tell Valerius that we dare not tarry too long inland if we were going to brave the Erse sea in a few days.  I glanced at his back; thinking that several days' portions of ginger needed to be added to my list of supplies along with the medicines and things I would get in Luguvallium.  He had done well when we sailed from Gesoriacum, but the sea had been quiet that night, ignoring the rules of the late tide that should have pitched us violently into port. 

From my vantage I could see much of Londinium.  In the farthest corner were the fort of Hadrian and amphitheater, separated from the rest of the city by a branch of the river that drained into the Tamesa.  The arena was much smaller than its counterpart in Rome, but no less violent or malevolent in nature.  East of there, along the north barrier were rows of white-washed civilian apartments and small farms, the sun shining on the tiled roofs and reflecting off a paned window here and there in the right spots, causing us to shield our eyes to deflect the brilliance.  The forum, where the merchants could be heard hawking their wares to the last of the season's patrons, stood amid it all, the din rising from within drowning out the sound of other business taking place in the city.  A brown haze of dust, waste and feed stirred up by the feet of people and animals passing along the busy streets hung over everything.  Along the waterfront the domed tops of the baths rose above the skyline.  I could see tiny white shapes among the columns that I knew to be statues of gods the Roman populace worshipped, though many had taken to following the gods that walked the land long before Julius Caesar stepped foot in the territory of the Catuvellanii.  Deities from Egypt, Persia and other places had come along with those who followed the trail of money to Londinium, and temples just outside the city as well as up the way from the baths had been built to accommodate their faithful followers.  The running jest among citizens was that if you sought to worship Bacchus, the god of wine and revelry, just look for the nearest tavern or inn.

Processions of slaves dotted the shipyards, loading and removing cargo, shouting to each other spiritedly and challenging each other to contests of strength and speed up and down the dock.  The occasional crack of a whip or a shattered plank accompanied the chorus of the common slave vernacular as it hummed through the air and shortened the length of the day for the workers.  In Rome, the slang had been decidedly Roman in strength, mingled with words and phrases from peoples from distant countries who populated its streets and slave quarters; here, it was my native tongue that dominated the banter.  Not surprisingly, more than half the slaves were Celts, and most of them from the north lands, separated from their leaders and indentured to punish or remove them from a position from which they could cause more trouble than they already had.  Like me.

Careful to avoid the crowded streets along the market square, we steered our direction instead past granaries and counting houses on either side of the first street.  We passed the governor's palace along the way, guarded heavily by soldiers of the Second Augusta legion among whom we were to camp at the fort on the edge of the city. Those curious enough to watch us as we went by looked unconcerned and unimpressed by our presence- fresh troops entered the walls every day here. My inclusion with this group raised eyebrows but nothing more, and we crossed the bridge to our destination without impediment.

Valerius muttered offhandedly as we entered the barracks that at least there was no getting lost inside the fort; it was engineered just like every other encampment in the Roman army. Up to then we had been largely silent throughout the ranks, picking our way through Londinium and getting our bearings before bedding down for the short two or three days that we would inhabit it. But a visible wave of good-humored relief washed over the group and even Maximus turned in his saddle to grin at his second-in-command before the gates closed us in.  It was a short-lived reprieve, however.

If the legions beyond the walls of the city were in disarray and restless under loose command and inconsistent leadership, the garrison inside the fort of Hadrian were exemplary in their poise and attention to the detail with which they carried out their post.  But it was not out of pride that these men bore their duty so well.  The strain of oppression in their eyes alerted me to something I had not seen in many years- the ruthlessness of men who would kill any who threatened their survival.  I had met many such soldiers on the field of battle in my younger years.  Men who served under a man that some said never slept.

Nor did he ever forget a face. 

If the sneers of derision from those who caught my presence among the enlisted in our group did not prompt it, the voice that hailed Maximus compelled me to want to slowly make my way back in the procession to the slaves and hide among them.  The flat, authoritative tone of his words, offering no emotion or room for formal politeness rasped across my memory from years past, reminding that he had come to bring the isles under control.  And despite my hatred for the man, I had to admit he had almost accomplished his task.

"General Maximus, the Second Augusta welcomes you to Britannia."

Like the soldiers quickly forming ranks across the square from us, Maximus sent the word for us to present ourselves at the ready.  We would relax when we were in quarters and the day's business over.  "When he's had a chance to size up Marcellus," Rufio muttered quietly to Valerius in front of me.  The elder nodded but did not take his own eyes off the man in discussion.  From my place behind the enlisted men, where Maximus had ordered me to remain when he introduced us, I too examined the man striding over the grounds toward us.

Maximus' response was a formal nod from his seat and a mannered, "General Ulpius.  The Third Hibernia."  Ulpius Marcellus' eyes swept over us like a raptor seeking prey as Maximus named his officers one by one, then introduced the cohort as a whole.  I knew he missed nothing, not the easy rest of Rufio's hand on the pommel of his sword or the formation of our considerably smaller company into a tight block awaiting our general's command.  Maximus' gaze came to rest on me, and at the barest shake of my head begging him to ignore me and conclude his roll, darted away and back to Ulpius. 

"A rather small group if you mean to take the Erse, general."  Marcellus' eyes narrowed and trained on Maximus, examining him, attempting to dig through the layers of his calm decorum to discover what Maximus' orders from the Senate might be.   

"I have every confidence in my men," was all the reply he received.  But the meaning was clear.  That is not your business.

"It will take more than confidence to bring those beasts under control, I'm afraid.  I'm still working on their far less formidable cousins here."  I felt my lips curl into a tight snarl. 

"Then we will consider ourselves warned.  Our accommodations?"

Marcellus nodded primly and shouted sharply for an aide to show us to the rooms that had been reserved for us.  "General, I will escort you to your appointment this afternoon.  Please do not keep me waiting."  Maximus' anger was unreadable to any who did not know him, but every muscle in his face tightened in fury.  He stared straight over Marcellus' head, his features set in a mask of inscrutable dignity.  A red ball of hate swelled in my chest though, and I prayed fervently for the gods to grant me the opportunity I had been waiting for since I was twelve winters old. 

Our quarters were plain, a group of buildings that I suspected had housed cohorts long-since dispatched to the north, but they were clean and spacious enough to hold us and our belongings for several days.  The slaves with us worked at getting our things put up and attending to officers' needs.  Cassandra and I saw to Maximus' possessions in the large room at the end of the long row of cells, she accounting for everything we needed immediately while I laid his campaign skins across the narrow bed and arranged his writing implements on the table in the center of the room.   His night would be spent behind doors, logging his impressions of the journey from Vindobona to Londinium, the discussions over the meal he would partake of with the senators that afternoon and without doubt his less-than-agreeable thoughts on Ulpius Marcellus.  I mused with a sour smirk that I could help him write that part if he liked.  From what I heard before he opened the door with a decided jarring crash, though, it would not be necessary. 

"I resent being spoken to like a raw enlisted man," he was saying, tearing at the belt that held his scabbard in place and the bindings on his hands.  

Valerius closed out any ears that might hear by pushing the door shut quietly and sliding the bolt home.  "You know he is getting your measure.  You handled it well, my friend. Although I was rather hoping you might get to demonstrate those skills you are renowned for," he laughed.

Maximus threw him a withering glance and handed me his sword and cloak before sitting heavily in the chair at the table I had readied for him.  He turned his eyes from the other man to me, hunting for something that I pushed deep into a black corner of my mind to hide better.  It was enough that my face had already given away my discomfort with such proximity to my old enemy without further alerting Maximus to things I was not ready to yet reveal.   I pretended not to note his examination at all, busying myself with hospitality toward his first officer.  Valerius nodded gratefully when I held my hand out for his weapons and cloak.  Maximus addressed him again with a flat, "He has influence here that I don't, Valerius.  Until I know who his allies are, I don't dare let him get the better of me."

"True enough.  I suggest, however, you spend the day getting yourself familiar with his character and gaining a few friends of your own.  Start with the senators.  They approached you, not him.  He's served out his time."

"He's still here."

Nobody wants him anywhere else, if what Rufio tells me is true.  He's hard to serve under, but he does bring a sense of order with him."

"Yes.  Order.  And only that," Maximus observed, motioning for me to stay when I moved toward the exit.  He was not yet finished with me, it was clear.  

"Then you should be for convincing the senators that it will be the same with even better results when and if you take the seat, general."

"I am not telling them anything while he is present."

"Then you have two extra days in which to approach them on your own.  Do it."  

"You are right, of course."  Maximus took a deep breath and they spoke on other matters then, laying out maps and discussing the route to Luguvallium, though I had already been informed it was up to me to lead them in the correct direction.  Maximus recalled Justinius' notes on the land below the wall, while Valerius relayed all information Rufio had given him.  Each brief was punctuated by a query for confirmation from me.  I gave them what I was able, but my reticence tempered commentary on the indigenous peoples and what I knew of them.  By the time they were finished drilling me, they knew only that the Maglonensis clan was the largest of the area and that I had come from Voreda to the south of them.  They had simple grasp of the terrain and a sense of the tensions that they might encounter.  I was quick to point out that since our stay there would only be days enough to get what provisions we lacked before sailing for Hibernia, that it would probably be nothing to worry about. 

After Valerius took his leave, Maximus occupied himself with a few final words in addition to those already scratched across the parchment during his meeting.  Cassandra looked at us and announced to me that she was taking Lupa outside for air and to fertilize the ground.  I warned her not to go alone but to take a slave or two with her under the watch of the guard.  Maximus looked up when she left, and waited a few moments.  My hand found the end of my braid and twirled it between my fingers. 

"The two of you will quarter with the slaves," he began, sliding his stylus into its well.  He searched my face in earnest, without any obstacle to his attention.  Pursing my lips, I dared to gaze back, careful not to give too much away until I deemed it the proper time, though I understood that if he pressed it would not be my choice.  "I am well aware that you know him.  That was obvious to me.  If he knows you is for you to tell me.  You are precisely the thing he could use against everyone in this camp in any case, if he is going to make trouble.  I would rather he not have the information that you belong to me directly.  Agreed?"

"Aye."  

"Boudicca."  

"Sir?" I answered formally, but I knew the misery inside my heart caused my voice to break and that he must have heard it, because he came around the desk to stand in front of me. 

Know Ulpius Marcellus?  How many times had I sat across a treaty table trying to convey the words of a people who only wanted to be left alone to live as they chose, begging from him a lifting of the burden of his iron-clad hold on our peace of heart?  And when the pleading had fallen on his deaf ears, how many times had I faced him on a field of battle or taken his men in ambush to get the point across? 

When Maximus took me into his gentle, worried embrace, I wished for at least the thousandth time that instead of the Danube, his emperor had sent him to the isles to bring the rebellion to a more peaceful solution.  But Marcus Aurelius had not wanted Ulpius Marcellus in Germania.   I closed my eyes to the haunting images from my past, hiding in the dark hollow of my master's arms. 

"I will want to know everything you remember about him.  It need not be tonight, but soon."

"Yes."  

Do something for me today, though?"  He nuzzled my hair and brought my face up to his.  

"Whatever you wish."

"When I release everyone for leave, I want you to go and get reacquainted with your country.  Enjoy yourself.  The rest will wait."  I smiled obediently, but it was lost under his kiss.