By Ilaria and Stephanie





The Perfect Match



Germania, 176AD



1

The nights were very cold and long in Germania. After suffering through so many months of such nights, even the prospect of a conversation with the Emperor left General Maximus Decimus Meridius uncheered. He missed his wife and son, and his sense of loneliness had grown to cast a shadow over everything he did. Only sleep brought relie. Then he could visit his little family in his dreams and pretend that the war was already over.

In his tent Maximus dropped to his knees in front of a little shrine and murmured his prayers to his ancestors. Then he picked up the tiny figurine of his son, Marcus, and whispered, "My little boy, how are you? Are you still trying to ride the dog? Be patient! One or two years more and you will be able to ride a pony... A pony, Marcus! The next time that I am home we will go the fair and choose it....It will be the most beautiful pony of all the province. What do you think?" Maximus closed his eyes and, in his mind, he heard his son's delighted laughter. Smiling slightly, he opened his eyes again and put the statue back in its place, trading it for the image of his wife. "My dearest Selene, beloved wife, I miss you so much... Almost two years have passed from the last time we saw each other and I can't express to you how I long to be with you again... I want to smell your hair, to kiss your skin, to hear you whisper in my ear, I want to..." Maximus stopped to talk to gently caress the wooden figurine with his fingertips and then kissed it almost reverently, but the action gave him no comfort. It only made his longing deeper. He needed to go home, to be close to his family, and to live as a farmer... With luck, it would be soon, but the northern tribes were too aggressive, and too unpredictable to allow the General to leave the frontier for more than a few weeks. And so he stayed, doing his duty as he had always done.

The strain as beginning to show.

Maximus rose reluctantly and walked to his bed. He needed rest. The next morning would be a trying day. The emperor, Marcus Aurelius, was arriving at the camp, and the young general was anxious to prove his competence in handling his new command.

It was not just professional pride that motivated Maximus' desire to please the emperor. Years before, the general- then a mere lieutenant- and the Emperor's daughter, Lucilla had been in love. Theirs had been a passionate, bittersweet affair- so typical of young romance. For a few, beautiful winter months the Spaniard had tasted love for the first time. It didn't matter that Lucilla was a princess and he, a mere "new man" from the provinces, struggling to prove himself in battle. He had dreamed that they could share a future together…but then, at the emperor's word, those dreams had come crashing down.

Maximus was older now. He could appreciate why the emperor had sent Lucilla so suddenly back to Rome. He could see, from a logical, political perspective why the girl's marriage to Lucius Verus had been so important.It was all for the best. He loved Selene, princess or not. He was happy. But his pride had still been wounded. A part of him longed to make Caesar think, for just a moment "If only...." as he had so often himself.



*



Maximus woke before dawn the next morning, anxious to reinspect the camp and meet with his officers one last time before the ruler arrived. The men gathered in the command tent, picking at a breakfast that the servants had prepared, a few of them threatening to nod off at every lull in the conversation.

After the meeting, only the chief Legatus, Quintus Clarus, remained. He had been with the general since they were both boys, running errands for General Claudius in their first campaign against the Germans. Only Quintus knew the whole story about Lucilla, and so he was more indulgent than the rest to Maximus' frantic preparations.

Maximus studied his friend carefully as he chewed a piece of honeycake. It was remarkable how different the two men were. While the Spaniard was powerfully built with dark hair and golden skin, his friend was lighter and more compact. Maximus had hailed from the provinces, while his friend was a true Roman - the son of an up and coming member of the Ordo Equestor who traded in grains that farms like the Spaniard's produced. Maximus was a natural leader, while Quintus was a natural soldier. Maximus was a family man. The army was Quintus' love.

That morning, the last difference seemed the most significant. Still reminiscing about Lucilla, Maximus wondered idly if Quintus had ever been in love. Surely Maximus would have known, but he could not recall the Legate ever having mentioned one woman more than the rest. This was not to imply that his friend was chaste- the Spaniard grinned to remember how his friend used to scramble to remember the names of the farmer's daughters who rushed to greet him on the army's return to their little towns. There seemed to be a different one in each city and, though he was sometimes jealous, Maximus was glad that he did not have the stress of keeping them straight! Quintus was older now, and too focused on his career to indulge in such behavior, but his friend hoped that he would take the time someday to experience a relationship like the one that he shared with Selene.

Selene. Maximus' smile deepened as he thought of his wife. She was everything he had dreamed of in a woman- gentle, loyal, hardworking- every day spent without her made Maximus more anxious to return home.

Maximus was still lost in his thoughts when his servant, Cicero entered the room and bowed politely.

"General, the emperor has just arrived."





2



The Imperial carriage was impressive from the outside, but on the inside, it was just as uncomfortable, and just as boring as any other wheeled conveyance. There was nothing to do for days on end other than lie on soft couches and hope that your traveling companion had something interesting to say. The emperor had become so accustomed to roaming across the empire in this fashion that he had almost come to enjoy the solitude of the rides - there was nothing he loved more than to curl up with a scroll of philosophy and lose himself in the mind of Seneca and other great philosophers, but his fellow traveler, his niece, Antonia, was very bored.

Antonia's presence on the journey had been hastily arranged, and Marcus hoped that she did not regret her decision to come. She had been recently widowed and, though she did not mourn her elderly, ill-matched husband, the vexation of her return to the palace, and the pressure to marry again, had made Rome tiresome for her. He hoped that the change in scenery would do her good-Not that Marcus himself wasn't thinking of her marriage! Just hours after he learned of his niece's husband's death, he received a letter from the General of the Felix Legions inviting him to conduct an inspection. An idea had come to Caesar in a bolt of inspiration: Maximus was his most promising General- a possible successor to the emperorship someday. Antonia was his most beloved niece. What better way to bring the Spaniard into his inner-circle, while insuring his own line's succession to the throne than an alliance between the pair?

Antonia and Maximus must marry. Marcus Aurelius had invited her to Germania with no other purpose in mind.

Smiling at his own cleverness, the Emperor spent the last hours of their travel reviewing the plan within his head. Of course the General would desire the girl. She was as beautiful as Venus herself. In spite of her unhappy marriage, Antonia had only improved with age. At 22, she was twice as lovely as she had been as a 17 year old bride. Her figure had settled into the delightful contrasts of tapered limbs and ample curves. Her once blonde hair had darkened into bronze, spun through with gold, and her smile, though rarer, was just as lovely as ever. Caesar did not doubt that the attraction would run both ways. Maximus was a handsome man, with a powerful masculinity that women seemed to find irresistible- and after the five awful years with her husband, Antonia was bound to be pleased with a man her own age. There might be small problems- for one thing, Maximus was already married- but Marcus anticipated that they would be easily overcome. He doubted that Maximus loved his wife. The woman was a provincial- uneducated, inelegant, and hardly a match for Antonia on any level. The emperor doubted that Maximus had loved her to begin with- they were married only months after the man had lost Lucilla.

Lucilla.

Marcus frowned as he recalled the incident, wondering if Maximus held a grudge. The general had only been a boy when the relationship had ended, an assistant to one of the legates- barely worthy of Ceasar's notice if not for his unmistakable promise. Lucilla had been betrothed, to Lucius Verus, Marcus' co-ruler, almost as soon as her father had become the emperor. It was important. It was her duty, and had to outweigh a teenage infatuation.

Even if the General's feelings were stung, Marcus took comfort in the knowledge that he would more than make up for any insult soon. Everything would work out better than any of them had hoped. Lucilla was happy in Rome with a small son. With any luck, Antonia and Maximus could celebrate the birth of twins in nine short months.

It was going to work.

Marcus Aurelius was certain.



*



"Caesar." Maximus bent his head downward in reverence as the purple-clad emperor stepped down from the carriage and into the center of the camp The general was amazed at how much the other man seemed to have become in the few years since they had last met. Marcus' hair was white now, and the short steps from the carriage to the ground seemed to strain his aged frame.

Maximus was about to lead his guest to the Praetorium when he saw the emperor reach back into the carriage.

"And now." Caesar had said with a smile. "Let me introduce my surprise...."

A hand had appeared from the dim interior- a distinctly feminine hand. Just for a moment, Maximus had felt the sickening certainty that it would belong to Lucilla, as though his early morning musings had somehow conjured her to life- but his fears were not realized. The woman who stepped from the shadows was just as dazzling as the emperor's daughter, and though she seemed familiar, the general did not know her name.

"Maximus?" The familiarity of her hail made him frown in puzzlement. Where had they met before?

A smile broke across the woman's features. "Don't you recognize me? It's Antonia...Antonia Claudia- I'm all grown up!"

In a rush, the general's memories came back, and a smile that was equal parts relief and nostalgia replaced his look of concern. "It couldn't be- you look like a girl." He teased.

The woman seemed amused by the joke.

Antonia Claudia. The transformation truly was remarkable. Maximus had not seen the woman in 12 years- since she was a child and he a very young man himself. She was the daughter of Maximus' beloved commander, General Claudius.

Although Claudius had received his position by virtue of marrying the then-Caesar Antonius Pious' daughter, Claudius had been the most gifted commander that Maximus had ever known. In Maximus' opinion only time and circumstances- in particular the lack of any pressing wars to fight- had prevented the man from making a mark on Roman military history as bold as Scipio Africanus or Julius Caesar himself. Everything the Spaniard had learned about command had come from his mentor's mouth. He had worshiped him as a hero.

Claudius' wife had died very young, and Antonia, his only child, had come to be a fixture at the camp. Her tenure had started as a brief visit but, in the end, her father had determined that he could not bear to part with her. After a while, the men of the Felix Legion wondered what they had ever done without their pretty, precocious little mascot. She was her father's shadow, attending every duty except his fights in battle. She haunted the stables, played quietly in the corner of every officer's meeting, and rode on the front of the General's saddle at each inspection. She polished her father's armor worshipfully and, much to the amusement of the fellow officers, commented on tactics as though she knew what she were saying. In the end, her dedication to her father had almost deadly consequences. During the siege of the oppidium at Augusta Vindelicorum, General Claudius had ridden into battle and not returned. Antonia escaped from her nurse and went to search for her tata on her own. They had found her the next morning, barely alive, lying in the snow next to her father's corpse.

Maximus frowned as he remembered the wailing little girl being drug to the carriage that

would return her to Rome. Her nurse, relieved to escape from the camp at last, had tried to cheer her with tales of the finery she would wear and the parties she would see. She was nearly a princess, and would be living in the palace with her uncle- but the girl had been inconsolable.

The army was her home.

Maximus was happy that she had returned at last, even though he was surprised to see, in spite of her protests, how much she had changed.



Remembering of his manners, Maximus bowed to the emperor and to his guest and then gestured with his hand, "If you want to follow me, Caesar, Antonia, I will show you your quarters."

Marcus Aurelius nodded and as the General began to lead he and Antonia through the Praetorium, a satisfied grin creased his aged features. Distracted by the thousand nagging problems of the Empire, he had forgotten that Maximus and Antonia already knew each other. Seeing their reunion, and noting that they seemed to get along so well already had been a beautiful surprise. Caesar was certain that his plan was destined for success.



*



Before stepping inside the tent, Antonia stopped and took another deep breath, hoping to avoid being overwhelmed by the memories that washed over her at the sight on the military camp.

Twelve years.

For twelve years she had been cloistered away in the opulent, but stifling palace. At last she felt as though she were home. The tart smell of men and dirt and horses was like perfume to her nose, and the steady clank of metal from the ferrier's like a soothing heartbeat that calmed her ragged nerves. Being asked to come here by the emperor had been like a lovely dream- she had barely believed her good fortune when her uncle had suggested the journey, and each weary mile between Rome and the German frontier seemed to take an eternity as she neared her destination.

Antonia smiled a bit as Maximus took her arm and led her into the Praetorium. He had been like a doting older brother to her many years ago, showering her with little gifts and generous praise. Her father had seen his potential and always kept the man close by teaching him what he could, and offering guidance in his career. Claudius' daughter was proud to see what Maximus had become: a general, strong and proud, all of the things that she, as a Roman, admired the most.

"...weren't expecting a lady..." the General's half-mumbled apology brought Antonia back to attention.

She grinned faintly. "I hardly require any accommodation. Don't you still

have my rug stored away somewhere?"

Maximus smiled, remembering how the girl used to fall asleep at the feet of the officers when they played dice after dinner. "Somewhere." He answered gamely. "But I think the emperor would prefer we gave you a bed." He stopped at the door to the little ante-chamber where he and Quintus sometimes gathered for drinks or conversation and gestured for the Emperor to enter.

"Caesar." He said respectfully, waiting for the older man to select a seat. He took Antonia's hand again and led her to a chair as well. "Antonia."

The trio sat in silence for a moment, their expressions twisted into awkward, if happy smiles. They were pleased to be in each other's company, but the formality that seemed appropriate in the presence of the Emperor stunted conversation, and so they merely stared at each other until the assistant commander appeared.

"Caesar." Legatus Clarus bowed deeply. "General." He nodded his head in acknowledgment. "And-"

Quintus Clarus caught his breath. The woman sitting in front of him was the most exquisite creature that he had ever seen. A princess, obviously- making this note, he adjusted his expression so that it reflected merely friendliness, rather than outright awe...

"Antonia." Maximus supplied quickly, enjoying the look of momentary confusion that clouded the man's features. "Don't you remember, Quintus? Little Antonia Claudia."

Quintus blinked, and then he groaned inwardly.

Oh,no...

3



Unknown to Maximus, Marcus Aurelius, Antonia and the rest of the Roman castrum (camp), a pair of green eyes was surveying the scene not far away.

Hidden between the bushes on a little hill, a young woman was watching the happenings in the Praetorium with a mixture of fascination and fear. Her fingers twisted nervously in her intricately braided chestnut hair as she observed the arrival of the imperial carriage. It was massive and surrounded by a swarm of black-clad soldiers. Its appearance was so frightening that it had distracted Hildegarde from her task of collecting medical herbs and berries.

This was not the first time that Hildegarde stopped to observe the Roman camp. She was not spying for her people, she simply felt a great curiosity about the feared invaders, and especially about the man who commanded them. She had seen the powerfully built, dark-bearded man for the first time only few months before. She had run across him at the edge of the camp which bordered the forest while he was tenderly nursing a new born foal whose mother had died. Hildegarde had been impressed by the gentleness of the Roman's gestures. She had scaled a nearby tree and watched him until he went away, his voice and his handsome looks echoing in her mind for many nights. After the encounter, she had made a habit of watching for him during her errands in the woods. Sometimes, as today, she even ventured near the camp.

As the Roman commander and the newcomers disappeared in the tent, Hildegarde rose from her hiding place and turned back into the thick forest, picking up her overflowing basket of herbs. The time for daydreaming was over. It was time for her to return home and help her mother prepare medicines.



*



The walk to her village was long and difficult, requiring the girl to ford a wide stream and scale a steep cliff, but Hildegarde had made the journey so many times that she was able to complete it in only two hours.

As she walked along the center of her little village, she saw other members of the tribe lower their eyes and change directions, while the women called their children back in their homes. The young woman was used to such behavior, and should have been numb to its effects, but her heart still twinged with pain every time that it happened.

Hildegarde and her mother had lived as outcasts in a hut in the far corner of the village for nearly ten years, when disgrace had fallen upon them through the actions of her father...That winter, while most of the tribes were starving through a year of famine and endless siege, he had betrayed his people to the Romans, telling them where the tribe's precious supplies - dwindling stores of food and weapons- were stored. Since he was a member of the council, he knew the plans for a scheduled attack, and revealed these as well, causing the death of hundred of Germans. His actions had not been to save his people from starvation, or merely to spare his own life, but also to secure some lands further south in the Roman empire where he could ensure his own prosperity. Hildegarde remembered, as it were yesterday, how he looked as he rode away alongside the enemy, leaving his wife and daughter behind, uncaring of their fate.

The fact that she and her mother were still alive, was due solely to their gifts as healers, skills the tribe desperately needed, because of the constant war and continuing hunger.

Hildegarde sighed as she arrived home at last. She wiped the mud from her feet and then pulled back the covering on the door, disappearing inside her little hut, safe from the harsh glances and the half-whispered insults for a few hours more.





4



Maximus remained with the Emperor and Antonia for the better part of the day. Quintus had stayed with the group for only a short while, tending to business in the camp during the general's absence. Maximus was relieved to finally steal away and join him. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the company- he had far too few distractions here along the frontier- however, Antonia's quiet, feminine presence had only exacerbated his longing for his wife. He wanted to get away and find Selene again in his dreams.

"Maximus!" Quintus looked concerned as he approached the commander. "I was about to come and find you."

"Yes?" The general tilted his head, noticing for the first time the muddy scout that Clarus was dragging behind him. "What is it?"

"News from the front, sir." The tired looking legionnaire stepped forward, his weariness accenting his words. "Two of our spies assigned to the Quadi have gone missing, and the men we sent after them found the village completely deserted. All of the Southern tribes seem to be collecting their belongings and heading out."

"All of them?" Maximus frowned. "Does this mean-?"

"Yes sir." The subordinate soldier anticipated the general's line of thought. "They might be massing for an assault. News seems to be moving down the river. We don't have any idea yet which direction they are heading."

The look of displeasure on the commander's face deepened. "Have they reached the Brown Bear's tribe?" He asked, thinking of the little village which sat only a two hour march from the camp.

"No, sir. At least, not that we can tell."

Maximus had many more questions that he wanted to ask the man, but he could read the look of exhaustion in his face. The Spaniard had confidence that, whatever the tribes were planning, they weren't ready to act on it yet- they still had a lot of distance to cover before they amassed enough manpower to threaten the mighty legions. He would let the soldier rest and speak with him again in the morning.

"Thank you. You're dismissed. I'll expect a more detailed report in the morning."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." The scout saluted gratefully and then backed away from the tent.

Maximus stared after him, mulling over the meaning behind the information in his mind.



*



Because it was clear that the General had decided to defer action on the problem until the morning, Quintus left the command tent quickly and headed through the Praetorium to his own quarters. He was so lost in thoughts that he had almost collided with Antonia before he recognized her presence.

"Legatus." She said neutrally, stepping out of the way.

"My lady." He murmured with equally ambiguous intonation. Antonia Claudia was the last person he had expected to see stepping out of the emperor's carriage, and the distraction was far from welcome. He didn't affirmatively hate the girl- if anything, she should hate HIM, but she did make him uneasy. She called to mind the worst version of himself- the way he had behaved when he was barely more than a boy- something he had worked very hard for the past few years to forget.

Antonia had been in love with him. At least, she had claimed to be in love with him. With a single, offhand smile passing by her outside the Praetorium one April morning, he had called down all the passion and angst of a pre-teen crush, and he had not handled it well....Quintus sighed as he remembered that spring of so many years ago, as Antonia had tried on him all the 'seduction' techniques her teen-aged mind and heart could muster. She was always near him, angling for a seat at his feet even when he met with her father, and she always found new ways to spend time with him.

Quintus remembered clearly one day when she had arrived asking him if he was willing to help her with her studies. It had been an innocent request and he had answered positively.

She had picked up a volumen and told him she needed to learn how to read the verse of a poem with the appropriate metric cadence. Quintus had taken the scroll, wanting to read a passage to show her how it was done, but after few verses he had stopped, stunned by what he was reading. A quick glance to the title informed him Antonia had given him a copy of Ovid's 'Ars Amandis', the most scandalous book of his age- and surely not the genre of reading Antonia's tutor would choose. The young soldier had turned to the girl and caught her dreaming glance, suddenly understanding what was going on. After that day he had tried to avoid Antonia because he did not want to reject her openly, but his efforts were all in vain. So certain of her young love, she would not be deterred.

It had ended at last only when he had sent the girl back to her tent crying. His actions had not been intentional...Antonia had simply burst into his tent while he was kissing one of the of the camp followers. Quintus had not idea how long that the girl had stayed there and watched them, he only knew that suddenly the quiet of the place had been shattered by sobs and turning his head he had seen her young face streaked with tears. "Antonia..." he had started to say, reaching for her, wanting to explain, but the girl had escaped, running through the camp all the way to her father's tent.

Quintus had watched her go with a mixture of relief and guilt. Relief because it was finally ended, guilt because it had ended so badly.

He had never wanted to hurt her. And unfortunately that was only the beginning of a terrible period for Antonia. Only ten day later, General Claudius was killed in battle and the girl was forced to leave the place she called home for Rome.

Quintus had felt guilty for a long time, berating himself for ruining what should have been her last happy days in the camp, but with time he had come to realize it was all for the best. A clean cut takes less time to heal.

All these thoughts flashed through Quintus' mind as he took note almost unconsciously of the beautiful woman she had become. She too seemed to study him, especially the scar on his forehead, caused by a barbarian's stone nearly 5 years before.

"Excuse me." Quintus murmured, taking a half-step past.

"Excuse me." Antonia echoed.

And then she walked away.





5



"There you are!" Hildegarde's mother always seemed to be peeking her head out the door at precisely the same instant that her daughter was coming home. The girl lowered her head. She was late, and from the look on her face, it was clear that the older woman knew precisely where her daughter had been.

"I got the herbs." She said, pushing the brimming basket forward in the hopes of avoiding another fight.

"I see." The woman's eyes narrow. "I suppose that you had to go far to find them."

"The patch at the edge of the lake is thinning." Hildegarde lied easily. "I thought it would be better to find a new source."

"Hrm..." Was the only answer, and the younger girl suddenly wished that her mother had yelled at her- the strange acceptance was unnerving. "You had a visitor this afternoon."

A groan. So that was it- Godeoc had come calling for her again.

Hildegarde had conflicted feelings about her tribesman's attempts at courtship. On one hand, it was a relief- for so many seasons she had watched the other girls in the camp take husbands and birth children of their own. She had watched, enviously, as the young women followed the broad backed warriors into their little huts and emerged, as if on schedule, at the end of the snows with a rounded belly and a smiles on their faces. How she longed to have a baby of her own, and a husband- someone to share the lonely nights, but she knew, too well, that such a thing was unlikely. Her father's treason had soiled her too deeply. No one wanted to sully themselves with an association.

No one before Godeoc.

Hildegarde sighed as she thought about him. She should have been pleased with the attention. He was a brave warrior. A fine hunter. A widower- respected, and with two sons and a grown daughter of his own. The village had been shocked when he had appeared at the healers' hut to inquire about the unwed girl. Hildegarde's mother had been ecstatic, and the girl herself had felt, for the first time in many years, hope that her loneliness would end. But there was simply no spark. She had tried to fall in love with him, painfully aware that she might not get another chance at romance, but she had failed. She had too passionate a nature to pretend things that she did not feel.

Hildegarde sighed again and lowered her eyes as she sat on the ground and began to methodically separate the various types of herbs.

Her mother watched her work for some minutes before shaking her head. She loved her daughter so much. She was only good thing to come from her marriage, but the girl's passionate, romantic nature was going to create her more problems than give her benefits. The older woman was not insensitive or cruel: she too had wanted love when she was younger and she thought that she had found it in Hildebrand's arms. He had been dashing and charming and she had fallen for him almost at once, but he had never truly loved her nor their daughter...not even his people. Godeoc was everything Hildebrand had never been: reliable, wise, a true son of their tribe. Of course he was a bit old for Hildegarde and not very attractive but he was the reality while the Roman commander her daughter seemed to like so much was only a dream ...or a nightmare. The sooner the girl realized it the better....Godeoc was not going to wait forever.



*



That evening Marcus Aurelius began his 'campaign' to have Maximus fall for Antonia and vice-versa. Since his niece had retired early because she was tired from the travel, and since he had the opportunity to speak with Maximus alone, the Emperor decided to investigate the man's feelings about his marriage.

"So Maximus, how much time had passed since the last time you visited your home?" he asked, sipping a bit of his wine.

Sitting in a chair in front of the Emperor, Maximus swirled the wine in his cup and replied, "Almost two years."

"It is a lot of time." Marcus Aurelius commented neutrally.

"Yes." Maximus sighed deeply and then blushed as he realized the Emperor had heard him.

"You seem troubled Maximus: is it because of the tribes?… or something else?"

"No...it does not concern the tribes, we are ready to reply to any possible attack." Maximus reassured quickly his monarch.

"So?" Marcus Aurelius quirked an eyebrow.

"I...Forgive me, Caesar, but it is...private. It concerns my wife..my family." Maximus turned his head away, unable to voice aloud his loneliness and his desire to go home, if only for a little while. He was speaking with the Emperor of Rome, a man who had in his hands the destiny of millions of people, who was confronted every day with enormous decisions....How could he bother him with such a small matter?

"I understand." replied Marcus Aurelius, patting his knee. Then he added, "Why don't we call an end to the evening? I am sorry to admit the travel had exhausted me and I bet you rose before dawn to inspect your camp-" He grinned and Maximus replied with a smile, "-and so we are both dog tired. Our discussion about the Marcomanni and Quadi can wait till tomorrow morning."

The General nodded and stood up. "I agree, Caesar. I wish you a pleasant night. And please let me know if you need anything."

"Don't worry, Maximus, I have everything I need. Good night."

"Good night." Marcus Aurelius waited until Maximus exited the tent before letting a slow smile appear on his face; his predictions had been right, Maximus was really unhappy with his marriage, his pain an almost tangible feeling. The Emperor was a bit sad for the younger man -- after all, he cared for him very much -- but if all went how he had planned, in few months Maximus' sadness about his married status would be only a memory.





6



"Caesar?"

Maximus nodded his head sheepishly as he entered the small room of the

Praetorium where Marcus Aurelius was settling down to lunch. The general tugged at his tunica nervously. He was late. The servant who had delivered the invitation had insisted that he wear his full regimentals. Maximus hadn't yet determined whether this was a request of the emperor, or merely the busybody request of an imperial retainer overly impressed with his own grasp of protocol but the Spaniard was not willing to take any chances.

Assembling the appropriate medals and armillae had taken Cicero longer than expected. Maximus hoped that the emperor would understand the delay.

"Maximus." The Emperor said cheerily. He seemed to size up the man's appearance, and then nod approvingly. "How nice of you to join me .... how ....terribly impressive you look." He added cryptically. Then, he gestured to the spread of food before them. "Come, join me for lunch."

Still uncertain, Maximus did as he was told. He waited for the ruler to select his own food before choosing from among the simplest of the dishes.

"Excellent!" Marcus Aurelius declared. He seemed to look to his companion for agreement in the opinion, and Maximus nodded.

"Yes, sire. Delicious."

"My niece selected everything you know. Wonderful taste...and so comfortable in the camp. A woman's touch certainly makes life on the frontier more bearable, doesn't it?"

The general arched an eyebrow, not really sure what the older man was

Getting at. "Yes." He said after a pause.

"Antonia was raised at a Legionary outpost, you know."

"Yes, Caesar." Maximus nodded. "I knew her. I served under her father, General Claudius."

"Excellent man."

Maximus could agree this time with feeling. "Yes, sire. A genius. It was a privilege to serve with him."

"A pity he never had a son."

"Yes."

"Of course, his excellent daughter more than makes up for that, I suppose."

Maximus grinned. "Yes, sire. I'm sure that Antonia could take the field if we needed her." He grinned at the notion, his remarks only half in jest.

Encouraged by the joke, the emperor continued. "Perhaps Antonia will have a son someday and give the dear General the heir he deserves...." He looked up, carefully gauging the other man's expression. "I wonder what kind of son you and Antonia might have had together."

Maximus blinked. He and Antonia together...what an odd suggestion. He wasn't thinking....But then, the emperor's lips curled up in a smile and Maximus relaxed. He was imagining things.

"I'd hate to be the German that had to fight him, sire." He answered with a smile.

Both men took a drink of wine, and there was silence for a moment.

"Are you ever lonely here, Maximus?" The emperor said at last, reaching for a clutch of grapes.

The general could not hide the truth from his eyes. "Yes, sire. Terribly."

"It's a hard life, I think."

"A good life, but hard. Yes, sir."

"It would be better to have someone to talk to who understood the conditions you live in."

"Oh, there are three or four thousand men here who know exactly the sorts of conditions I live in." Maximus answered with another grin. "It'd be nicer to have one who didn't understand but had a pretty figure and smelled--"

"Uncle?"

Maximus' voice died as he turned toward the doorway. Antonia was standing there. Like the general, she was clad in over-formal attire. She had on a sheer blue dress with a deep V neck trimmed in gold. A gold cord crossed between her breasts, and then tied at the waist. Her hair was held back by a sapphire-embellished tiara.

"Antonia." The older man rose partially from his chair and gestured for her to enter the room. "What a pleasant surprise to see you in this part of the Praetorium at this time of day...."

"Surprise?" Confusion distorted the girl's pretty features. "But your servant told me to--"

"Join us!" The emperor spoke over the girl.

She hesitated. "I'll call a servant to bring a chair."

"Nonsense!" He grinned. "There's plenty of room on the General's couch. Maximus, you won't mind sharing with a pretty girl, surely."

Maximus swallowed, uncomfortably. He WOULD mind. It was just barely proper for women to recline on couches as they dined to begin with, but to share a couch with a married man....

He could tell that Antonia was against the idea as well. "Really, uncle" She continued warily "...it would be no trouble just to-"

"I insist." His voice was surprisingly firm.

Antonia gave Maximus an apologetic look and then lowered herself onto the couch.

"No, not like that!" The emperor sighed as his niece leaned to the left, intending to align her body in the opposite direction of the general. "My dear, you won't be able to join our conversation at all...That's right...." He encouraged as she reluctantly shifted position. "Maximus is a married man. I daresay he's snuggled up to a beautiful woman...Though, perhaps not as beautiful as you."

Maximus forced a smile, unwilling to insult his wife with agreement and unwilling to contradict the emperor with denial.

"There now."

Maximus struggled awkwardly to reach his plate without touching Antonia.

She was lying on her side directly in front of him now. He could smell the herbs of the oil that she used to wash her hair, and feel the heat radiating though the thin fabric of her dress.

"Would you pass the quail?" Marcus said to no one in particular, and as a result, both Maximus and Antonia reached at the same instant, their bodies colliding softly, and their limbs tangling in confusion as each tried to get out of the other's way.

Antonia flushed with embarrassment as the general completed the task, then moved away once more.

"Well, Antonia, how are you enjoying yourself so far?" The emperor said after they were settled down again.

"Very well." Her muscles relaxed somewhat. "It feels like I am home again."

"Yes. I am sure that the fresh air will be good for your health....not that Antonia was ever unhealthy!" Her uncle quickly explained. "True, she hasn't had a baby yet, but that's hardly her fault. I'd say the right man will have you pregnant soon enough."

"Uncle!"

Antonia was scarlet now, even te back of her neck, directly in the line of the general's vision, was flamed with embarrassment.

Maximus looked at the girl, and then at her uncle, suspicion finally hatching with a feeling of nauseousness in the pit of his stomach.

"We were speculating earlier on what fine sons Maximus might be able to make with you." The emperor laughed and the general, for Antonia's sake, forced a smile, but inside he was fighting a sense of panic. Why hadn't he noticed it before? Marcus Aurelius wasn't idly speculating on what sort of offspring the youngsters might have. He was actually planning it!

"Your majesty, I...er...." Maximus started to rise from the couch.

"You aren't leaving!" It was an order. "We've only just begun... Surely there's nothing so urgent as to deprive you of some pleasant company and conversation."

"The....Germans..." Maximus murmured, suddenly feeling very hot.

"Yes. The Germans." The emperor grinned merrily. "Which reminds me- I asked one of the tribunes to prepare a briefing for me at noon and it has completely slipped my mind... General, I'm sure that I can trust you to entertain my niece while I attend to it....don't bother moving, I'll be right back..."

Maximus opened his mouth to protest again, but nothing came out. In a flash, the emperor was gone. He and Antonia were alone.



After several torturous moments of embarassed silence, the lunch came to its end. Both parties lingered unhappily- unsure if the emperor had given them permission to leave. Caesar appeared at the end, disheartened to find both his companions silent- and sitting as far apart as circumstances would allow. Still, he perservered until a servant -- to Maximus' and Antonia's great relief-- came near the general and whispered in his ear. Maximus' head snapped up and, after quickly cleaning his mouth he stood up, "Excuse me, Caesar, but the scouts have just returned. I must hear their reports."

"Go, Maximus, go, you don't need to excuse yourself to do your job."

Marcus Aurelius was not entirely pleased about how his efforts to push his niece in the general's arms were going, but he was willing to bid his time and the military matters had to come first.

Maximus bowed to Antonia and left the tent.



*



The scouts were waiting for Maximus in the tent they used for briefing. Quintus was already there, studying an unrolled map on the table.

"So, what is the news?" Maximus asked stepping inside after gesturing to the scouts that it was not necessary to snap in attention.

"The Quadi are covering their traces well, General. We have not be able to discover their final destination. We don't think they plan to attack this camp but there are marching north, to Castra Regina or maybe Augusta Treverorum." the legionary's voice was almost apologetic.

Maximus pursed his lips, clearly dissatisfied by the vagueness of the reports, he had hoped to have more precise news. The other scout began to speak, "However, sir, we may have a chace to learn more. While we were returning we met a barbarian along the road leading to this camp. The man stopped us and told us in sketchy Latin that he is willing to sell us information about the tribes' movements..."

Maximus' eyes lit up: he did not particularly like the traitors, even if he was aware the barbarians had a different code of honor from his own, but he knew that many Roman's victories had been acquired with the help of barbarian defectors. "And so? What did he say?"

The two legionaries looked at each other, "Sir, as I said his Latin his very bad. He was only able to tell us few sentences. We tried to speak with him but - aside from the sentences that we mentioned- he doesn't seem to speak anything else other than Quadi idiom and our translator had already returned..."

Maximus nodded, understanding the problem. The two scout in front of him were trained to spy the Marcomanni, not the Quadi, but the disappearance of the two informers originally assigned to the Quadi, had forced a quick change of plans.

"Where is this man?" the general asked.

"He is hidden in the woods three miles beyond this camp. He refused to come in the camp . Nothing we said was able to convince him."

Maximus nodded again and turned to his chief Legatus, "Quintus, would you please tell the groom to saddle my horse? I am going to ride out and meet this barbarian." At his friend's surprised glance he added, "It seems I am the only one able to understand his language."

In a flash Quintus remembered a winter of years before, when Maximus had become the object of a lot of teasing in the camp because he was paying a camp follower not for her 'services' but because he wanted her to teach him her language. He rememberer how his friend defended himself from the jokes, stating that he wanted to know more about the enemy -giving rise to a while new set of bemused remarks.....But now it seemed it was Maximus' turn to laugh.

Quintus bowed to Maximus, silently acknowledging his prescience, and walked away to alert the stables.

The general turned to the scouts, "Wait for me in the stables; I am going to inform the Emperor and then I will join you."

The legionaries nodded and the three men left the tent together.





7



A hour and half later Maximus, the two scouts and five soldiers acting as an escort were riding in the woods, searching for the place were the spies had left the barbarian. The forest was very thick and the trees were maddeningly similar and so the scouts took a long time to find the exact spot, a little clearing surrounded by bushes.

"German!" one of the legionary called as Maximus looked around him. He did not like their position....there was something wrong in the air. He could not hear any bird singing…

The General's right hand had just begun to caress the bone and gold-inlaid hilt of his sword when a ruffled head and bearded face peeked up from behind a tree trunk at the far edge of the clearing.

"Soldier?" the man said with a harsh voice. "Want to speak? Me tell you things."

His Latin was almost unintelligible and Maximus moved in the front, saying in the Quadi's language, "German, I speak your language. Come out so we can talk together."

The barbarian looked at the big man on the horse and, sensing his authority, left his hiding place. He had not taken more than two steps forward when an arrow arched through the sky, piercing his chest, and a voice shouted in Quadi , "DEATH TO THE TRAITOR! AND DEATH TO THE ROMAN DOGS!"

In the blink of an eye Maximus and his men were under a hail of arrows coming from the midst of the forest.

"Retreat! Retreat!" the general shouted as one of the legionaries fell to the ground, an arrow planted in his neck. The Romans turned their horses to escape but the forest seemed to swarm with barbarians armed with swords. They greatly outnumbered the Romans and Maximus felt desperation grip his guts as one by one his men were picked from their horses and killed. Suddenly he felt a jolt of pain in his right thigh and looking down he saw the stick of an arrow protruding from his leg. His wine-colored tunica was absorbing his blood but Maximus could feel its warmth coating his calf. Gritting his teeth with determination and assisted by his horse's courage, he dove forward into the barbarians surrounding him and unleashing sword blows to right and left, he was able to open an escape route from that place of carnage. When he was a safe distance away, Maximus stopped the horse and with a supreme effort broke the arrow stick, leaving only a small section attached to the point planted in his flesh. The pain was terrible but it allowed him more freedom of movement. At last, steeling himself, he resumed his escape.

As Argento galloped to the camp, Maximus began to feel light-headed for the blood loss and his balance on the saddle became unsteady. His limbs were weak, and the slickness of the blood on the leather made it even more difficult to hold his seat. The general grasped Argento' mane tightly as he struggled to remain upright, but when the horse stumbled over a hidden hole, there was no way for Maximus to avoid falling. He landed heavily on the ground and since the road was on a steep hillside he started to roll away, along a leaf-covered incline with little to break his fall. He crashed against bushes and young trees, before hitting his head against a rock. Maximus barely had time to utter a cry- and then all was black.



*



Hildegarde was walking slowly among trees. In her hand she had the medicine chest but it was not a search for more herbs that had sent her to the forest, it had been her desire to find peace and a quiet place where be able to think. She had a choice to make. She had to decide wheather tell to Godeoc she was not ever going to marry him or if she would accept his courtship. She had to pick between the security and the respect Godeoc could offer her and her dreams of love. If she held onto them, she risked an entire lifetime alone. Hildegarde was so absorbed in her dilemma and in her doubts that she almost didn't see the loose horse galloping in her direction. It was the sound of its hooves that snapped her from her reverie and she jumped off the road quickly to let the beast thunder past. A bit shaken, the girl watched the animal and then frowned as she realized the horse had carried a saddle and a helmet. "A Roman horse." she thought as the image of the Roman commander who often appeared in her dreams flashed in her mind. Hildegarde began to walk again, wondering about the fate of the horse's lost rider. What happened to him? Was he alive? Was the soldier roaming the woods trying to find his beast? Was he coming in her direction, or toward her village? She felt a prickling of fear and decided to leave the road and use a little path below it. She walked down the hill and once more turned home, losing her mind in thought.



*



This time it was a moan to call Hildegarde back to reality.

She looked around her, noticing how the bushes covering the hillside had been ruined by something and then she gasped when she saw a scrap of red cloth and a flash of metal glinting behind a rock. The girl stopped, unsure about what do. Her healer instinct fought with her fear. A second moan helped her to decide. Slowly Hildegarde walked around the rock and gasped at the sight before her. As she had already guessed it was a Roman soldier- but what soldier! It was 'her' soldier! A brief glance to his blood covered face was enough for her to recognize him. He was lying on his back, his legs splayed awkwardly. One of his arms was on his chest and the other to his side. Hildegarde dropped her basket and knelt near him, touching his neck gently. The pulse was racing and his skin was soaked with cold sweat. The young woman knew that she need to ascertain his injuries before she could move him. Very gently she began to touch his face and his head until her fingers found a cut and a bump just over his brow, hidden by his hair. Hildegarde frowned: the cut was not deep enough to have caused his condition and she continued her exam, a little hindered by his armor, with all its unfamiliar buckles, straps and leather. In the end she saw the broken stick of wood protruding from his thigh and understood where the real problem was. She bared the leg and looked at the damage closely: the flesh around the wound was hot and swollen- a sure sign an infection was already setting in. Hildegarde quickly calculated how long it would take to her to return to her village, alert her mother and come back. There wasn't enough time. She had to act alone.