January 2004

HEATHER

New Year's at the Temple.  I had such fun despite the various tensions every family has that are somehow only exaggerated by free-flowing alcohol.  There were plenty of veiled looks and scowls, but lots of laughter and kisses too.  But for all of that, nothing could outshine the single heady kiss I had shared with Maximus in front of my hearth.

It had made my heart glow.

So did seeing Maximus among his family.  I knew the soldier dwelled inside of him, as did the boy... but I enjoyed watching his formal reserve before the others, a snifter of cognac in his hand.  Not dancing.  Not so much as even tapping his foot to the music.  He looked stoic as ever, but his eyes gave him away.  Anyone who knew him could see his heart shining in them.

Our eyes met across the room.  I mouthed 'So serious!'.  Laughter glittered in his eyes, but of course, he remained motionless... except to shake a single forefinger at me subtly.  It made me laugh.  I really couldn't help myself.  I mean, I love to tease and he is serious... but mostly I do it because it's fun to see what reaction I will get.  He never disappoints.  I try not to as well. 

I ran into him outside a little later on in the evening.  He seemed thoughtful and perhaps a bit melancholy.  There was less laughter in his eyes and more tension in his large frame.  I sat down next to him and put my head on his shoulder, petting his back gently.  We were very comfortable with each other after all the hours we'd spent reading and talking together.  And I knew nobody would see us here.  Maximus would not like such a display before an audience. 

He didn't say anything.  He is a man of few words, especially in his current mood.  "Maximus?"

He sighed softly, with a touch of amusement.  "Are you going to ask me what I am thinking?"

I smiled.  "I might."  He had had a big surprise revealed to him earlier in the day.  While he had been on assignment in Croatia, the family had all helped to restore the old farmhouse on the property he had recently purchased.  It was a twenty acre parcel that bordered the Temple's land.  The Brothers at the Temple had spent weeks working on it and all the Sisters had sent housewarming gifts.  I had no idea why a man as private and solitary as Maximus would choose to live so close to the Temple, but I had never asked and he had never said.  I did know that he was deeply touched to receive such a gift of time and love from his family.  For the most part, Maximus prefers deeds to words and this was a biggie.   

But instead of asking him about what he was thinking, I took a different tack.  I swirled the champagne in my glass.  "Did you celebrate the New Year in your culture, Max?"

"Certe."  He smiled at me.  "Of course we did.  January is named for Janus, the Roman god of endings and beginnings.  He had two faces, one old- one young and was often depicted entering a doorway as an old man and emerging as a young one."  He paused, gauging my reaction, though he knew I loved hearing him speak of his culture as much as I loved hearing him read to me in his own tongue.

"Tell me more....?"

"Janus- ianus.  It is the same root word as janua- ianua.  Door.  Doorway... January... janitor.  Do you see?"  I nodded.  "On this night, it is our custom that the oldest male in the family walks out of the door and the youngest male walks in, holding something burning to show the hearth will burn safely into the New Year."  His eyes twinkled as they often do when he's about to touch on something related to 'archaic' gender roles.  "And then the house is swept out by the women so the old bad luck is swept away."

"That's a lovely custom, Max."  I wondered how many years it had been since he'd taken part in that familiar ritual.  It gave me an idea.  I jumped up and thrust my glass into his hand.

"Papilio-"  He attempted a warning but I was already off.  Inside, I cozied up to Dino and gave him a cheeky kiss and some sass as I stuck my hand into his pocket and swiped his lighter at the end of our dance.  I had to hunt to find Arthur.  He had taken Angharad out for some 'air'.  Nobody had seen him for nearly an hour.  He looked disheveled and was breathing hard when I happened across them coming back inside.  Guess our Arthur had gotten some 'air' too.  Heh.

He was helpful as always, even while clinging to Angharad's hand, all slow and glassy-eyed in post coital contentment.  "A broom?  Whyever do you need a broom.... are they going to limbo?"  He smartened up his rumpled tuxedo.  "In fancy dress?"  He muttered on until I told him what I wanted to do.  "The youngest?  Me?  It would be my pleasure, an honor...."  We made a quick stop in Arthur's office for a broom and candle and then we were away.

Arthur drove.  He hadn't had any of the 'demon drink', figuring someone would have need of a sober driver before the night was out.  Turns out he was right.  Have I mentioned how much I adore him?  The four of us piled out quietly into the gravel driveway in front of Max's porch.  It was dark.  Sounds of the party drifted over on the night breeze.  We came up on the front steps and entered the dark house.  Standing in the pitch black entryway, I clung to Max's arm.  Angharad clung to Arthur's side. 

I heard Max's low chuckle as we all shuffled about.  "I do not know where the switch is."

Arthur saved the day, jumping to get it with a: "Right you are... just let me...."

Angharad grinned.  "And Arthur said: let there be light!"  Arthur tutted at her in this way that was so reminiscent of Terry.  I hid a smile and felt Max's shoulders shake.  It seemed the youngest was coming into his own.  I never had any doubt.  He is one of the Creator's boys, after all.  Arthur had us all organized in moments (with a bit of direction from Max).  I held hands with Angharad.  Max bowed slightly to us both and walked out very formally into the dark night.  I suppose there was no argument there.  He was certainly the oldest family member.

In the darkness outside, Arthur struck Dino's lighter and was illuminated in a small circle of golden light that grew brighter when the candle caught.  He walked in, his back straight with pride at having been asked to be a part of this ritual.  Max rejoined us moments later, speaking softly; a beautiful passage in flowing Latin. 

When he was finished, Angharad and I swept out the bad luck.  The four of us stood together on the porch afterwards.  Max nodded to us all.  "Thank you for helping me prepare my house for the New Year.  I was an unexpected kindness."  In lieu of more words, he shook Arthur's hand and clasped him tightly before turning to kiss Angharad's cheek and then mine.  He said nothing else but squeezed my hand and when our eyes met, his sparkled wetly with emotion. 

And later, he returned the favor, celebrating the arrival of the New Year, as was custom in my culture.  The clock struck midnight.  An impressive display of fireworks was touched off outside.  And a boy kissed a girl under the shimmering stars. 

April 2003

HEATHER

Winter became spring.  My knowledge of Latin grew.  So did my knowledge of Maximus as we spent more time together reading and talking.  Although, a different awareness had been growing between us since Christmas.  I had tasted his mouth.  He had inhaled my breath.  Our relationship was still chaste, but I had begun to dream of him.  Sexually.  Sensually.

He had admitted to dreaming of me too, though he'd never given me any details- except once when we'd had far too much wine.  His confession had been in Latin, naturally.  Maximus is far too disciplined to ever be completely careless.  He had spoken rapidly (and with a bit of a slur) but I had caught a few words:  Breast.  Pleasure.  Needy.  He stopped abruptly, still clearly in the middle of his dream, but his bashful look told the rest of the story well enough. 

It seemed a very natural progression.  He had asked me to make love with him in the corn in the spirit of innocence to honor Flavia's memory.  Two strangers had become friends.  One day we would become lovers.  It was only natural that our desire to kiss and touch grew as we drew closer to that time.  But we weren't there yet and to be honest, there was nothing I loved more than lying in his arms and simply talking. 

Being granted an unfettered glimpse of Max's great soft heart was an extraordinary gift.  He spoke to me of his youth, of Flavia and Lucilla.  He spoke to me of the present, of Croatia and Karolina.  He did not speak to me of the Sisters he loved, nor I to him of the Brothers who'd touched my heart.  In our time together, being the girl to his boy was enough.  More than enough.

It was a cool spring night.  Maximus had turned up unexpectedly at my door as he does from time to time.  He's lucky I was home.  I was lucky I was home.  But he knows he's welcome anytime, just as he knows to make himself at home, even if I am gone.  He doesn't have a key, but he knows where I keep the spare hidden.  I can always tell when he's been there.  He's better at making beds than I am.

Tonight he had simply turned up out of the blue, looking a little travel weary and in need of a good hot meal.  We shared a bottle of wine while I cooked for him and afterwards, I invited him to come soak in the hottub with me.  He sipped cognac.  I had more wine.  Seeing his naked body and revealing my own felt different now.  Neither of us looked upon each other lewdly, but there was a tension between us now that had nothing to do with boys and girls and everything to do with men and women.

Max diffused it as directly as only he can.  He simply drew me close and kissed me deeply.  Just once.  Just to acknowledge the change between us and then he broke the kiss and settled back into the water in a pose of utter relaxation.

He didn't want to talk at first.  He just wanted to stare up at the night sky.  It was cloudy.  The moon played hide and seek with us and a light rain fell off and on.  It made his hair sparkle with wet misty drops and made the water feel warmer in contrast to the cold gray night.

Eventually he started to talk, no doubt eased by the heat of the water and the fine liquor warming him from the inside out.

"I never answered you.... about the slaves in my Father's house."

"I know."  I turned my face up to feel the cool spring rain tickle my skin.  

He chuckled.  "The truth is that I did look at them, but I rarely took one.  It was unmanly to abuse my power."

I considered that, and also wondered why he'd chosen this particular topic.  "What about the girls who looked back?  Were they the ones you chose?"  If he didn't shy away from this topic, I wouldn't either. 

He gave a curt nod.  "Of course.... if they made an advance.... it was their choice."  He sighed.  "I think my Father sent them sometimes, though.  I would send them away then.  I did not want that."  A scowl formed on his face.  "He used to be angry with me- accuse me of not being man enough."

Max?  Not man enough?  Never.  "That's terrible!"

"It was our way.  They thought that was how we would learn.  Our slaves were our property.  If they had children, then we had more slaves."  How easily he spoke of it.  But then, he'd also been one himself.

What he'd said was true, but I could tell that wasn't what had caused his scowl.  "How difficult for you when I am sure you must have wanted your father to see you as a man."

Max shrugged.  "That is how young men were treated.  If you think that a hard regime- imagine the Legions.  You would never survive a week."

I laughed at his charmingly casual arrogance.  Well deserved arrogance, I might add- but I didn't say so.  "Of course not.  It would be silly to think I could.  I am not a man and have no desire to be one any more than you want to strain to push a child into the world."  He pulled a face and 'tsked' at me for my graphic imagery. 

"I always had a stubborn streak," he allowed.  "It was my mother's trait."

Pfffff....  Blame it on the woman!  "Hmmm.... 'Would I, Quintus?' does come to mind...."

He chuckled.  "Stubborn or not, if a woman came to me of her free will... then I would take my pleasure."

I snorted softly.  "I don't know many men who wouldn't."

He ignored my teasing.  "But if I thought that she was only there because she had been instructed by my Father to teach me...."  he made a noise of disgust.  "I didn't want my Father's leavings."

"I can understand that."

"He was a hard man- a good man- but we clashed a lot, especially as I became older."

"That is the way of strong fathers and sons, I think."

His face softened.  "I was different with my own son.  I was told I was too soft- that I should beat him more."

It was hard to imagine Max needing advice about anything.  He always seemed so self-assured... but I suppose parenthood challenged him too.  Nature plays no favorites.  "What kept you from doing so if it was what you had known as a child?"

He gave me an unreadable look.  "I never raised a hand to him.  I never beat a slave.  Never beat a horse.  Would I beat my own son?"

"Of course not."  I laughed quietly.  "But I find it interesting that a woman doesn't make that list."

He challenged me.  "Why would a woman make that list?"  Then he turned on a dime.  "Do you really think me capable of that?"  A serious question.

I smiled but answered truthfully.  "Women are more willful than slaves or horses."  And I also knew in his culture beating a woman was acceptable.  But then I turned my answer on a dime too.  "But if you didn't beat horses or slaves, then no, I doubt you would beat a woman."

He sighed.  "You were right before.  I have been driven by women to places that others could not drive me."

"We're good at pushing buttons," I mused.

"Indeed."  His wry grin made me laugh.  "And as a younger man, used to using his strength, it was hard not to resort to that form of inducement with a willful girl."  Somehow, I couldn't imagine he'd had too many willful girls in his past- or at least not many where he'd had to use force to get what he wanted. 

I sipped my wine and thought about what he'd said.  "You are not a cruel man, but you are a violent man in the right circumstances.... so I can understand that."  But he was no longer an untried younger man, unaccustomed to controlling his urges.  Years of service and discipline had tempered him.  To a point.  I thought of his hand wrapped around Lucilla's slim neck.   

He shrugged again and I had the sense he was testing me, watching me intently to gauge my response and reaction to his words.  "Beating a woman into submission was not frowned upon."

"I thought not, but I don't see you as the type of man to prefer that recourse."  His comments were typically Maximus.  Somehow informative without ever really giving away his hand before he was ready. 

He smiled cryptically.  "I know my Father hit my Mother on occasion, although not often and he paid the price for it in other ways."

I laughed at that.  "I am certain he did!  Men have their power.  We have ours."  I pictured numerous burned or undercooked meals.  A cold bed.  A colder wife.  "When we control the kitchen and the hearth, that can be unpleasant- especially in a hard world where men look to a woman to provide softness and comfort."

He nodded.  "They loved each other but they had a stormy marriage.  My mother was a gorgon."

I snorted.  "It sounds like she'd had to be."

He shook his head as the memories washed over him.  "She thought nothing of slapping my face or boxing my ears- even as a man."  His deep laugh rumbled in his chest.  "And then she would cry and hug me to her."  Well, of course she would.  He would always be her little boy.  She had carried him and cradled him, fed and watched over him as he grew.

"Yeah?"  Somehow, I didn't think Max was quite as innocent as he had painted himself there.  "And as a man, did you ever do or say anything to deserve getting your ears boxed?"

"What did I say?  Very little!"  He chuckled.  "She once objected because I came home on leave and went straight to my betrothed before I saw her.  Later, she slapped my face before the slaves and told me I was a worthless son."

"Oh, Max!"  That was awful.  "Wanting to see your woman on leave?  That doesn't sound so surprising to me."  To say nothing of how difficult it would have been for a man like Max to be chastised in front of others.

"She told me that if I put a fancy little - she used a word that is something like 'piece' - before my own mother then I should be ashamed of myself.  That I was like all the other men... thinking with my member."

The quaint word made me laugh.  "And did you feel shame?"  I wouldn't have.

"Of course not!  But I hung my head and took it like a man.  And then Father and I laughed about it later."

"Ahh.... well, at least something good came of it."  No doubt it had been difficult for his mother to see another woman replace her as first in his heart. 

"She was my mother- all mothers spoke like that... but then when she got together with her friends, they would all boast about their sons."

"I imagine she would have had quite a list."

He affected a woman's voice.  "My son is so dutiful..... handsome, brave, woman throw themselves at his feet...."  he ticked them off his fingers.

I giggled.  "I like how you threw that last one in there."  I pretended not to see his stern look for that comment.

"I could listen to her and her friends and shake my head.  If only it were true!"  I laughed harder.  Max really is very funny under all that stoicism.  "Once her friend was boasting of her son's promotion and another was proud of her son's good marriage.  I had nothing to commend me."  Now that I didn't believe.  "So, you know what my mother said?"

"I am afraid to guess!  I hope it had nothing to do with your 'member'," I teased.

"It did."  He took a healthy swallow of his drink.  "I overhead the slaves telling the story later."

"No!  How embarrassing!"

He nodded.  "I was so ashamed because I had come in and greeted the women before they left.  Now I know why they were all so amused."

"That is terrible!"  Still, I couldn't stop laughing.

"My mother was a singular woman."

"Well, you are a singular man."

He smiled.  "How amusing to recall these stories.  It has been too long."  He refilled my glass.  "Now you must tell me your most embarrassing moment.  It is only fair."

"True.  Fair is fair."  I told him and he laughed aloud, rich hearty laughter.

"A little embarrassment is good.  Saves us from too much pride...."  He reclined back, looking full of himself.  "Actually, my mother's comment had a surprising result... but perhaps I should not say."

"Hey, I told you my story."

"And I told you mine."

I snorted.  "Not all of it, apparently."

He grinned.  "I will demand another favor from you if I go a step further."

"Very well, I accept."

He seemed even more pleased with himself.  I forget what a brilliant tactician he can be when he wants to.  I wondered what I had gotten myself into, but couldn't be bothered to ask.  I was too intent on hearing the rest of his story.

"My mother had given birth to me when she was seventeen, so she was still a relatively young woman when I turned that age myself.  Her friends were all married women, but of varying ages."  Ahh... so her friends would have been attractive to him.  Interesting.  "It was a small community.  A few weeks later at a wedding, one of her younger friends made me a proposition."

"That sounds interesting."

"Most interesting."  He smiled, wiping the spring rain from his face.  "It was not uncommon for married women who had children to take lovers."

I remembered what he'd said about Flavia, married to a man forty years her senior.  "I can see why, especially if her husband was much older."

"Yes, but she was not old.... late twenties."  His smile changed, became slightly more predatory.  Maximus the lover.  A part of him I didn't yet know.  "She was ten years older than I was... and her husband was older than both of us together."  I nodded, encouraging him to continue.  "She was beautiful and needy.  I was bored on leave and horny..... this was before I met my wife," he hastened to add.

"Sounds like a volatile combination."

"It was.  We both enjoyed ourselves and it was a fascinating experience for me."

I felt a softening inside me.  Only a very strong man could share such a vulnerable thing as his blossoming sexuality.  "Did she teach you?  Or was it a meeting of equals?"

"She was no virgin and I think there had been other lovers before me- but not many.  She was naïve.  I was experienced enough, but not perhaps as considerate a lover as she wanted."  Imagine Maximus' raw sexual response before he had been tutored in the ways of love.  I felt my head swim.  "So, we taught each other."

"A good match then."  And I am equally certain she enjoyed his youthful.... exuberance.  "What was her name?"

"Claudia."  His eyes sparkled.  "We would meet at social gatherings and she would address me as a boy.... and then later we would meet and I would show her the man."

His words made a spiral of heat coil low in my belly.  "I bet you liked showing her just how much of a man you were."

"Indeed."  He swirled the drink in his glass.  "I saw her off and on for several years.  It was a ritual of my leave to make an assignation with her."  At that he laughed.  "So, my mother had a hand as a procuress.  I often wondered if she knew."

"Mothers don't miss much."  Mine certainly never did.

"True.  She would give me a look when I had done another of my disappearing acts.... and I suspected she had some idea."

"I'm sure she did.  Surely her friend would have said she had a new lover she was pleased with."

"Yes, and she would have told her other friends.  Named me even.  It would have found its way back to my mother eventually, I think."

"I bet you gave her many sleepless nights- or at least nights where she went to bed with an amused smile."  He seemed so smug.  I laughed at the look on his face.

"She loved to think of me as the rogue.  All mothers do, even when they chastise you for it."

"Of course.  Why wouldn't she wish for her son to be a successful man in the world who also had the softer passionate experiences that make the rest of life worth living?"

He sighed.  "She saw some of my successes.  She was at my wedding.  She lived to see the birth of my son and learnt of my first command, but she died before I rose very high."

"I'm sure she was very proud."  I touched his arm softly.

"She was.  And she had something more honorable to boast about than the size of her son's penis."  I'd seen it.  She was perfectly within her rights to brag about it.

We laughed, but having recently lost my own mother, I understood the pain of that loss.  "I'm sorry you lost her."

"Better then than later.  I would have not wanted to be the cause of her death."  I squeezed his hand in support.  "She had a good life and saw her children grow and marry and have children of their own."

He had told me he'd had two sisters, one older and one younger.  "No wonder she liked bragging about you.  The only boy.... and a rising military star to boot... to say nothing of your 'member'."

He put on his stern disapproving face but ruined it by smiling.  "We Spaniards always spoil male children.  I was a little emperor when I was a tiny child.  The mothers spoil and the fathers beat."

"That's quite a line to walk."

"One learns to walk that line... although my Greek was always appalling.... I never escaped a beating for it."  His eyes twinkled.

I thought of my own dismal failing at math and shook my head.  "I'm sure you excelled in other areas."

"I was a good student generally, but never very carried away by academic study."  He sighed.  "I would hurry everything to be out on my horse or at the exercise ground."

"I can see that."  A man who preferred living life over reading about it in books.

"I could speak Greek well enough, but I had little patience with the wranglings of the philosophers.  They could make black into white with their clever words.  I never took to it.  I was never carved out for the law or the political arena."  No, just another kind of Arena. 

I raised my eyebrows.  "Perhaps if Flavia had been reading it to you, hey?"

He huffed in amusement.  "Hard to make Plato erotic... but she could have read anything and I would have listened."

I thought about that he'd revealed about his childhood leanings.  "What you said before- it reminds me of something Dino told me once.  He said that men like you and Terry and Lachlan- you all chose the same kind of life but that it chose you too."

"He is right.  There is no other way that I could have gone.  From my earliest boyhood, I was infused with the martial spirit and I loved to fight.  I have always loved to fight.  I was forever covered in bruises and cuts from scrapping with the bigger boys, slaves even...." he closed his eyes, lost in the past.

"What is it about fighting that you like so much?"

His eyes opened, bright and intense.  "The pitting of myself against another.  It is physical and mental too.  It is not about inflicting pain.  It is about proving myself.  Always wanting to be better, stronger, braver."

"Well, you've certainly done that.  Quite impressively, I might add."  His face said he enjoyed my praise.  Maximus the warrior.  He was every bit as fascinating to me as the boy and the man, though I knew of the three of them, I would see the warrior the least often.  He would not like me to see the terrible things he is capable of. 

"I liked to make myself take on opponents who should have beaten me.  Sometimes they did.  But they would always shake my hand after because big as they were, I would never back down."

Just talking about it seemed to have energized him.  "You have a very wild spirit in you in that regard."  A world away from the man who would let his mother box his ears- and yet, the sense of enduring strength was the same.

"Yes, I was wild.  As wild as the local horses... but quiet and a loner."  Except with Flavia.

I finished my wine and set the glass aside.  "I bet it pleased you that your son wished to be one.  I can imagine you felt the same way as a boy."

"I did."  His face changed as he thought of his little son.  "I remember that well."  

"How wonderful to relive that in your own son."

"Yes, it was.... but he was more like his mother in other ways.  He was a dreamer and more gentle by nature."

"A water spirit not a fire spirit, then."

"Yes.  Just so.  I wished for him to be different than me.  I did not want him to have a soldier's life.  As much as it was in my blood, it was not the life I wished for him."  I asked him softly what life he had envisioned for his son.  "I wanted him to be a good man, to know love, to be a loyal citizen, perhaps a local figure of note."  His eyes grew wet.  "To grow old and fat in the safety of his sleepy province."  Not ground under the hooves of a warhorse.  He didn't need to say it.  It was there in his eyes.

"You must have been such a fine papa, bellus." I said softly.

"He was my pride and joy.  Worth more to me than any honor I ever won on the battle field."  An interesting comment, considering it was his own honor that sent the Praetorians after his family.  How that must have wounded him when he saw the consequences of his actions.

"Your love of him is clear.  Strong and bright after all this time."

"Love never changes, papilio.  It only lies deeper as the years pass.  You learn to accept it and I will see them again.  One day all of us will be dust and air.  We are all part of the same ether."

"That is quite a story from Claudia to here."

The serious mood seemed to shift and lighten.  "Indeed.  Now, for my favor..."

"I wondered when you would get around to that."

"I want you to come to my house.  I want to walk with you on my land."  I opened my mouth to answer but he continued on.  "I want to kiss you among the vines."

I nodded.  My heart was beating very fast.  "I want to kiss you now," I whispered.  He reached for me.  His hands were warm from the water.  His lips were cold from the spring rain.  His tongue was hot as it teased the seam of my lips, asking for entry.  It was a very controlled kiss. 

I was thankful for his stoic reserve.  Naked and aroused, it would have been easy to go too far and spoil our plans to honor his memories of Flavia.  He wanted to relive a time of innocence laying together under the summer sun.  I wanted it just as much.  Something precious and private, built slowly over time in a world where bodies and favors were bartered much too easily.

He broke the kiss before it could become too deep.  "Go to bed, papilio," he ordered gently.  He must have seen the question in my eyes when I rose to leave and he did not.  "I want to be alone with my thoughts and to enjoy the peace here."  He looked openly at my naked body as I stepped out.  His eyes lingered on my breasts and then lowered to the dark curls between my legs.  I covered myself hastily.  I did not want to tease and a sexual heat already burned in his eyes.  For all his tenderness, he was much too dangerous a man to tempt in such a fashion.

We said a quiet goodnight and I left.  My towel, sodden from the rain, dripped on the floor.  The light rain was turning heavier.  I returned a few minutes later with a fresh dry towel to leave for him, but paused at the French doors leading outside.  He was standing naked on the deck, letting the spring rain cool his fevered body.  His back was tight and his head deeply bowed.  When he turned, I saw the reason why.  He was impossibly hard.  I could see the thick column of flesh bob slightly with every beat of his powerful heart. 

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass and cupped a hand between my legs.  Oh, Maximus.... I feel the same ache.....

He stood there a long time.  Well after the cold, rainy night had chilled his skin and softened the impressive stand of flesh between his legs.  He seemed as much a raw element of nature as the wind and the rain.

And just as lonely.

May 2003

HEATHER

Maximus met me at the airport early in the morning on the last day of April.  I was excited and a little nervous.  There was so much I wanted to say to him.  I pulled the palla he'd given me more securely around my shoulders.  It comforted me.  So did the sight of him, waiting there for me, looking as solid and safe and wonderful as only Maximus can look.  It felt good to see him again and when we shared a brief embrace, I can only say it felt like coming home; a strange blend of excitement and peace as his arms slipped around me and he breathed in the fragrance of my hair.  He was his usual stoic self while we were in public but in the privacy of the parking garage, he kissed me deeply after loading my bag into the car.

We drove out into the bright spring sunlight.  He made absolutely no effort at all to conceal the heavy erection tenting the front of his slacks, but instead of it seeming lewd or driving us to deeper passion, it seemed intimate and comfortable.  Another vulnerability shared.  His body had responded to my kiss.  He just smiled, acknowledging my blush of awareness with a small nod and then we simply talked as he drove us back to his property.

When we arrived, he carried in my bag and gave me a tour of the place.  It was a lovely house.  The Brothers had obviously put a lot of time and effort into restoring it and it was decorated beautifully, like something out of House and Garden magazine.... sort of French country meets California mission style.  He left my suitcase in the first of the two spare rooms.  It was light and airy, lots of white with blue and yellow accents.  He showed me the master suite next.  It was impressively ornate, rich colors and dark heavy wood.

"This is your room?"  I couldn't help but ask.  He shook his head and then I understood.  He might entertain there, but he didn't occupy that room.  It fit the reputation of the man but not the man himself.  "Where do you sleep?"

He showed me to the other spare room.  It was small and plain.  The patchwork quilt I'd made him for a housewarming gift was on the bed.  There was a stack of books beside his laptop on the deck and an open book on the nightstand beside a vase of flowers.  It was a farmer's room.  A soldier's room too.  I wondered if he kept a knife under his pillow here as well.  Other Sisters had written of it and it made me sad to think he didn't feel safe even in the bosom of his family.  Was there no place he found true peace?   

I fingered the quilt lightly.  I thought he would like it because it was soft but functional as well as a gift of time and love.  I never imagined he would sleep under it when he was here, though. 

He smiled at me.  "There is much anima in that."

It was made of scraps of flannel in tones of rust and green and gold.  Earth tones.  And I had subtly quilted into it the Latin words he had written to me once.  Things at the core of what a man is.  Vis.  Fidus.  Moderatio.  Piety.  Dignitas.  Honor.  Virtus.  As well as other words from the same lesson: Cor.  Amor.  Femina.  Vir.  Famila.  Domus.  Fundus.  Terra.  "I'm glad you like it."   

"Why wouldn't I?  It was made by your hand to bring me comfort."

"Made with love."  I smiled and the serious moment broke.  "For those nights I'm not around to read to you, bellus."

He just shook his head and chuckled as he led me from the room.  "Come, walk with me.  I want to show you the property."  It wasn't overly large.  Max's eyes were twinkling as he spoke to me about the place.  Twenty acres was hardly a farm, he'd said.  His family lands had been hundreds of acres, but then, they'd had to live off the fruit of their labors for an entire year.

The property seemed bigger than it was, surrounded as it was by rolling hills.  One might imagine it went on forever but for the Temple, visible on one of the hills above.  I grinned and poked him.  "Big brother, hey?"

He 'tsked'.  I shrugged.  We walked hand in hand through the vines.  They had started to leaf out and were a beautiful verdant green, but the grapes wouldn't be ready for harvest until late summer.  I wondered if I'd get to see it.

Maximus had said he'd wanted to kiss me among the vines.  I wanted to kiss him too, but not with God knows who at the Temple looking on.  I may be a free spirit, but I am an intensely private person.  Max and I had only started sharing that part of ourselves with each other, let alone anyone else.  Still, I couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said to me.  Couldn't stop thinking about kissing him either.

"You are blushing," he said with a wry twitch of his lips.

"It's the sun," I teased.

"I think not."  So superior.... and such laughter sparkling in his eyes.

"Oh yeah?  Just what do you think it is then, hotshot?"  I should have known better than to provoke him, but I just couldn't help myself. 

He smiled at my teasing and then simply said: "Me."

I blushed.  (He was right!)  He preened a bit, stood a bit taller, shoulders a little straighter.  Is there a man alive who doesn't like to know he has that effect on a woman?  I hardly think so.  I poked him and he grunted.  "Bellus would not have said that to Flavia."

"Perhaps not..."  He took my hand in his.  "But he thought it often enough."  Most likely because it was as true then as it was now.  "Her face told on her as yours is doing now."  I blushed deeper and he touched my cheek with a soft look in his eyes.  "And I find it just as attractive."

He kissed my lips softly, just once, and then tucked my hand into the crook of his arm as he showed me the rest of his property.

Three days later, he surprised me when he asked me to leave our 'everything bag' behind when we went out walking.  We had read to each other under the olive trees and sitting on a blanket under the shade of the vines.  Today it seemed he was in the mood for walking, not reading.  It made me smile, remembering how he'd spoken of his youth.  More interested in engaging life than reading about it.

With the late afternoon sun warming our shoulders, we walked in the opposite direction of the Temple, into a stand of oak trees that lay at the edge of his property.  It was quiet and serene.  Sun filtered down through the branches, warm and golden.  The wind smelled of sage and springtime.  Max's palm was rough and sure against mine.  A butterfly floated by on the afternoon breeze and came to rest on a nearby log, its wings fluttering open and closed as it crawled along.       

Max stopped walking.  "Shall we alight here too, papilio?"  I nodded and we settled back on my palla in the warm grass, watching the wind move the branches above.  We said little.  That's one of the things I like about Maximus.  He appreciates silence and the simple beauty in the land around him... although I think it was more than the land that held his interest that afternoon. 

I felt his touch.  

A single fingertip stroked up the inside of my wrist.  I closed my eyes and smiled.

3 May 2004

MAXIMUS

I wanted her.  Wanted her as much as the boy had wanted Flavia so many years ago; a crazy feeling that was soft and sweet but also wild and exciting.  This afternoon had the same feel, languid and slow, but my senses were so full of her that my head spun dizzily.  It was truly the best of both worlds- a boy's mounting excitement at the knowledge he will soon get to touch and kiss his girl, but it was underscored by a man's knowledge of his body and how to use it.  An unfair advantage given the parameters of the deal we had struck, but one I could not help but use.  I may wish to taste innocence again, but I am a man.  I cannot go back and unlearn the lessons of my life, nor do I wish to.  

Still, the careful crafting of our relationship to let it develop as it had with Flavia that summer so long ago lent to this precious time an unusual feeling of heady innocence that I had not anticipated.  I had allowed her to come to know a different face than I typically showed, and with it came a unique intimacy, infused with an almost childlike sense of wonder.  It had been a long time since my hands had trembled at the thought of touching the soft swell of a woman's breast.  There was a tremor in them now, however, although I knew it was more to do with who was lying beside me than by any carnal act we might explore together.  It is an easy thing to find a woman who moves your flesh.  Quite another to find one who moves your heart.

I remembered how it felt to touch Flavia.  To feel her soft breath against my lips and to savor the sensation of her breast against my palm while her fingers tickled along my hairless jaw.  I felt that same sense of awe as I began to touch the woman beside me now.  Only a fingertip at first, trailing shyly, but with intent up the inside of her wrist.  Such a delicate place on a woman.  Under her satiny skin, I could feel her pulse beat faster at my touch.  I smiled at the success of my small campaign.  We seemed to move toward each other, drawn by some unseen thread.

I plucked a piece of grass and used it to softly tickle her throat and lips.  Long ago, the boy had done so because he had needed a moment to regain his composure before he disgraced himself.  The man had done it simply because he liked to see a pink flush steal over her skin.  We kissed.  The boy had felt an overwhelming desire to mount her and move his hips.  The man felt it too, but knew how to shunt it aside- though it was harder than I expected.  I wanted to rub against her.  To feel her under me.  To feel her rub back. 

She sighed softly into my mouth and smiled.  I felt her melt into me.  A woman's surrender.  It was as exciting today as it had been to a boy of fifteen.  I could make a woman want me.  A heady thing to any male, old or young.  She stroked my jaw, exploring my beard and skimming my throat with curious fingers, hesitantly moving them inside my shirt to trace along my collarbone. 

My hands wandered too.  Her hair was shiny and fragrant.  The skin of her cheek was smooth and soft but I wanted to feel the warm curve of her breast under my hand.  The boy had fumbled.  The man did not.  But I had not expected the wild thrill that surged through me at the sight of it.  Under her thin shirt, her nipple pebbled in my fingers and I think we both hummed softly with pleasure.

"Me tange."  Touch me.  I was unsure if I voiced my desire aloud to direct her or if it was in response to the feel of her fingertips on my skin.  I was sweating under my clothes.  I drew in a deep breath and tasted her on my lips.  For a handful of giddy moments, I was that young boy again, lost in a feeling that defied explanation. 

The shy touch of her hand on the front of my pants brought me back to myself.  It is a good thing I have learned such stoic control.  I smiled at her, lazy in the summer sunshine and drunk on the taste of her.  She looked at me with a question in her eyes as I chuckled softly and moved my groin against her hand.

"Maximus?"

I looked down to where her fingers were lightly tracing my erection.  The sight of it triggered a memory long buried.  I shared it without hesitation.  "The first time Flavia did that, I disgraced myself."  I had been mortified as I felt my body give up its seed.  Unmanned by a simple touch, I'd rolled away to hide my shame, red-faced and confused by the feelings inside of me.

"There is no disgrace in that," she whispered to me.  

A nod.  "Flavia said the same.  Her cheeks had burned but she told me not to hide the proof of my manhood from her."  I had anyway.  I was not secure enough to let her see me in such a vulnerable state.  I felt like a babe who had wet its swaddling.  I had ridden home at speed, angry at my body for betraying me.  I did not want her to think me weak- or worse- to laugh at me.  I would not back down from any challenge issued by a boy, but a slender girl could send me running. 

"I don't want you to hide it from me either, bellus."  Her use of that name was deliberate.  I hesitated, aware of what she wanted- and also aware what it would be admitting to myself if I shared it with her.  My mind was made up before she spoke again.  "Please, Maximus...."

Please, Maximus.  Trust me.  Let yourself be vulnerable with me.  Let me hold you while you touch Elysium.  I heard her wordless plea and felt an answering call echo inside of me.  I met her soft gaze and nodded.  I do nothing in half measures.  I lay back and gave myself fully to the moment, covering her small hand with mine and rocking into her palm as I loosed my iron control.  Without it, I would not last much longer than the boy had.  A naked response to the intense feelings her nearness stirred in me.  She kissed my temple as I rubbed against her hand.  I felt my orgasm rise.

She held me.  I shuddered in her arms.  My eyes rolled back.  I made no sound, save for my erratic breathing as my body shed its seed in creamy waves.  I jerked against her palm, pressing harder as the sensation against my cock changed from the rough rasp of cotton to the warm slide of slick seed.  It felt good, like rubbing myself in a woman's wetness.  I experienced no embarrassment in sharing it with her.  I had been on the edge for days and the sweet release left me spent and weak.  She held me, rocking me gently while my heart slowed and I came back to myself.

My eyes opened.  She was watching my face and kissed me softly when I reached for her.  I looked down.  There was a wet spot on the front of my pants that no boy could have ever made.  I was not embarrassed, but I felt vulnerable and would have been as deeply hurt as the boy if she had laughed at me.  How fragile we men are, stripped bare before a woman.

I knew my papilio would not wound me when I lay so helpless before her, but her quiet words still eased my mind.  She buried her face in my neck as if she was the weak one and I was the rock and whispered: "You are so beautiful to me, Maximus."

I felt proud and strong.

Life moves in such strange circles.  With Flavia, I had tried to act like a man and had felt like a boy.  With Heather, I had acted like a boy and felt like a man.  It is ironic how we men can prove ourselves time and time again on the battlefield and still need a woman's assurance to truly feel like a man.  With her soft words in my ear, I felt as if I could best the whole of Rome's great army.

Such is the power of women.

I felt the wet trickle of both seed and tears.  She was crying for me, moved to tears by what we had shared this day, under the afternoon sun.  I made myself vulnerable and in doing so, found strength. 

And such is the power of men.

In the aftermath of that summer afternoon long ago, Flavia had blushed and stammered, as embarrassed as she was curious about the workings of a man's body.  Heather was not any more embarrassed with me than I had been with her.  She openly looked at the wet telltale stain, ran a fingertip over it slowly and brought it to her mouth, tasting me before she put her head on my chest and closed her eyes. 

"Someday, bellus...." she sighed with equal parts contentment and longing.

I smiled and put my arms around her.  "Someday soon, papilio."  But not yet.  

Her touch changed, no longer sexual but simply intimate.  I stroked her hair and kissed her temple.  "Do you want to go back to the house?" she whispered. 

I shook my head.  I did not mind the wetness.  I would not want anyone else to witness it, but I was raised in a different time.  I found this modern notion that lovemaking should be neat and tidy, amusing.  Sex is messy.  Our bodies ooze and spurt, drip and sweat.  It is a natural thing, earthy and primal.  Sensual.  I like it.  I always have.   

We lay together in the sun, warm and languid.  We watched the clouds.  Well, she did.  I am a man.  I dozed.  I am no longer a green boy of fifteen, fighting a cockstand every time the wind blows.  It took me some years, but I have come to appreciate the intimacy found in a woman's arms after we have writhed and sweated to completion.  Therein lies the real peace.  That nameless thing a woman gives that can somehow ease our darkest demons.  I smiled, lost in pleasant thoughts, both of the past and of the girl in my arms.

"Maximus?"  I opened my eyes.  Her voice sounded less light and more serious.  "I need to talk to you about something."  Need.  She needed to talk.  Need not want.  I sat up, uneasy now. 

"What is it?"

"I have to tell you something.  I am selling my house.  I'm going to be moving."

Moving?  Was that all?  I was mildly annoyed she had couched it in such a way that it had worried me, but it was outweighed by the fact it wasn't something more serious.  "Washington is not the only state with cornfields."

She smiled at my teasing.  "I am thinking of going a little farther than that."

Beyond the states?  "How far?"

"Europe....  Italy."  I sucked in a breath but thanked the Gods she had said Italy and not England.  "There is nothing to hold me here now."

My brow furrowed.  I knew she had recently lost her mother but she had other family here now, brothers and sisters....  "I do not understand."

"I'm out," she said softly.

"Out of what?" I asked, afraid I already knew the answer.

"Everything.  My passwords don't work anymore...."  I felt a wave of impotent anger but shunted it aside.  It would do me little good.  I needed a clear head.

"Why?"

"I don't know.  Just one day they didn't work anymore."  She shrugged.  "I guess I broke a rule."

"Which one?"  A General's thinking.  Already looking for ways around the block in his path.  

"All of them, I think."  Her words were playfully flippant but her eyes were sad.

I tried to lighten the mood.  She likes my smile and it never fails to move her.  "At least you did not defy an Emperor."  The look she gave me said: Didn't I?  I was not amused.  I touched her face, bringing her small chin up.  "Do not make the mistake of thinking this changes anything between us-"

"Maximus-"

Her concern for me was obvious but I would not let her withdraw from me.  Not now.  "Do not worry, papilio.  I make my own path... and as you know, I have never been very good at adhering to the rules of a system that no longer serves my purpose."  Her fingers smoothed over the scar on my arm where the mark of the Legion once rested.

Tears filled her eyes.  "I know.  But I also know it wasn't an easy path, Max."

I nodded.  She was right.  It had not been easy.  "It led me here," I said simply.  I could not make it any more plain.  Her hand found mind and squeezed tight.  "Now... tell me of Italy.  I have extensive knowledge of the region.  Do you wish my help in finding a new home?"  Her expression said she did, but that she had been afraid to ask.  I tsked at her.  "You tell me often enough not to hold myself back with you.  I am wearing the proof of it even now."  She laughed and so did I.  "I expect the same of you.  Like for like."  I stroked her cheek and kissed her gently.  "Do not shy away."  She whispered to me that she would try not to.  "Tell me what you want to do."

She smiled.  "I was hoping you might come with me.... help me find a place... a little apartment somewhere.  I don't need much."  She didn't have much either.  That I did know.  Less now that she did not have access to the Family's deep coffers.

"When?"  I had an assignment in Romania coming up.  I would be leaving for it soon.  

She sighed and snuggled into my side.  "By the harvest."

Three simple words and I knew her mind.  She wished to be settled before the corn was ripe.