Underneath the apple trees
Maximus's memories of his wife.
This is a companion story to 'Lost to him' and 'Alone without him'. It is set just before the final battle for Germania, at the beginning of the film.
Disclaimer: Some characters and quotes in this story come from the film Gladiator and are property of Dreamworks. I am making no profit from my work.
Germania
Snow falls, cold and white. The wind whips against my skin. The hard dark mud resounds when my feet fall apon it.
My horse is not far away, foaming on his bit, bright armour shining on his head. His feet stamp the ground impatiently and he tries to escape from the men desperatly holding his reins. He spins and rears, eager for the exhilarating rush of galloping, his proud head tossing, his eyes rolling. He squeals and tries to bite his wardens, turning on the spot with glinting hooves.
I glance around at the thousands of men who call me General. They would die for me, willingly throw themselves in front of a sword rather than see me die. I wonder how many of them will survive to tell their children of this battle.
In two weeks I will be at home in Hispania, harvesting the wheat with my wife and son close by. If I close my eyes I can imagine walking over our fields, trailing my fingers over our wheat, the same way I trail my fingers through my wife's hair. I can imagine her hair now, black and thick, heavy. The way it smells, like jasmine and musk. That scent will be in my mind forever.
Other memories of my wife flood into my head. Her skin, soft and golden, the way it turned as sweet as honey under my lips. Her smile, warm and bright enough to light the sky for a thousand days. Her dark eyes, deep pools that I could be lost in for a thousand years. If I could trap an instant in time it would be that moment when I first kissed her, when her lips yielded against mine and her body trembled. When I pulled the soft folds of her fire coloured veil away from her glorious hair and kissed her neck softly, and then slipped her stola off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground. She stood, her body alight in the glow of the oil lamps that lit the room. She was soft and pure, the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. The sweet smell of jasmine and musk rose surrounded us as we made love, the only sounds soft sighs and moans, and the slight whisper of sheets against bare skin. Afterwards, I held her in my arms until she slept, staying awake simply to watch her sleeping and to touch her skin and hair.
The last time I saw her was almost four years ago. The day before I left we had risen early to walk in our apple gardens. The dew was still fresh on the grass, and blossom hung heavily on the trees. I reached up and picked a few tiny flowers for her. She put them in her hair, which hung loose and free. She laughed and then walked deeper into the orchard, her hips swaying slightly underneath the simple loose dress she wore. I followed, and she led me until we were at the back of the garden, far away from anyone else. We lay under the apple trees and made love in the grass. Her hair was covered in tiny droplets of dew, and a few tiny leaves were caught in it. She had never looked so beautiful.
********
Hispania
A warm breeze breaks the stillness of midday. Hot sun beats down on my shoulders, dust flies up as I walk. It swirls and then settles. The heat makes my head spin. Our goats lie, eyes closed in sleep underneath the cool shade of the apple trees. I walk until I reach the end of the orchard, where the largest tree spreads its branches high, almost as high as the wall which it grows against. I sit, resting my head against it's trunk, and close my eyes, listening to the soft rustling of the branches. Where is he now? Fighting? Resting? I have waited more than three years for him to return. I cannot wait much longer.
It was here that we were last together, underneath the tallest apple tree in the early morning. The blossom that had fallen onto the soft grass was white. He trailed light fingers over my skin, through my hair. He whispered that he would come back and kissed the tears away from my eyes gently. Then he had pushed my stola from my shoulders and kissed my neck and the tips of my breasts, drawing me closer to him. We made love slowly, both aware that it could have been the last time. But it wasn't the last time. He is alive, and he promises me that after one more battle he will come home. I have waited so long to hear his voice, to feel the touch of his hands on my skin. It will be soon.
********
It is almost time to leave the memories of my wife and go to battle. After this one last fight I will stay with her forever.
I dreamt last night that she walked into my tent and sat on my bed, watching me sleeping. She woke me up and I kissed her. I lay with her in my arms and talked to her. She said not to be away for much longer, and I told her I would be seeing her soon. She smiled a little sadly, and then she left and I woke, alone. I miss being with her so much, but it will not be long.
I nod to the man holding Argento, my black stallion. He brings him to me, and as soon as I take the reins the horse stops screaming and rearing, and lowers his head to my palms, blowing as a token of friendship.
'It will not be long, old friend.' I whisper. 'One last battle, and then we will be at home again.' He snorts at me, and then I mount to go to war.
The end.
Thank you everybody for the great response to my other stories, I hope you enjoy this one too!
Maximus's memories of his wife.
This is a companion story to 'Lost to him' and 'Alone without him'. It is set just before the final battle for Germania, at the beginning of the film.
Disclaimer: Some characters and quotes in this story come from the film Gladiator and are property of Dreamworks. I am making no profit from my work.
Germania
Snow falls, cold and white. The wind whips against my skin. The hard dark mud resounds when my feet fall apon it.
My horse is not far away, foaming on his bit, bright armour shining on his head. His feet stamp the ground impatiently and he tries to escape from the men desperatly holding his reins. He spins and rears, eager for the exhilarating rush of galloping, his proud head tossing, his eyes rolling. He squeals and tries to bite his wardens, turning on the spot with glinting hooves.
I glance around at the thousands of men who call me General. They would die for me, willingly throw themselves in front of a sword rather than see me die. I wonder how many of them will survive to tell their children of this battle.
In two weeks I will be at home in Hispania, harvesting the wheat with my wife and son close by. If I close my eyes I can imagine walking over our fields, trailing my fingers over our wheat, the same way I trail my fingers through my wife's hair. I can imagine her hair now, black and thick, heavy. The way it smells, like jasmine and musk. That scent will be in my mind forever.
Other memories of my wife flood into my head. Her skin, soft and golden, the way it turned as sweet as honey under my lips. Her smile, warm and bright enough to light the sky for a thousand days. Her dark eyes, deep pools that I could be lost in for a thousand years. If I could trap an instant in time it would be that moment when I first kissed her, when her lips yielded against mine and her body trembled. When I pulled the soft folds of her fire coloured veil away from her glorious hair and kissed her neck softly, and then slipped her stola off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground. She stood, her body alight in the glow of the oil lamps that lit the room. She was soft and pure, the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. The sweet smell of jasmine and musk rose surrounded us as we made love, the only sounds soft sighs and moans, and the slight whisper of sheets against bare skin. Afterwards, I held her in my arms until she slept, staying awake simply to watch her sleeping and to touch her skin and hair.
The last time I saw her was almost four years ago. The day before I left we had risen early to walk in our apple gardens. The dew was still fresh on the grass, and blossom hung heavily on the trees. I reached up and picked a few tiny flowers for her. She put them in her hair, which hung loose and free. She laughed and then walked deeper into the orchard, her hips swaying slightly underneath the simple loose dress she wore. I followed, and she led me until we were at the back of the garden, far away from anyone else. We lay under the apple trees and made love in the grass. Her hair was covered in tiny droplets of dew, and a few tiny leaves were caught in it. She had never looked so beautiful.
********
Hispania
A warm breeze breaks the stillness of midday. Hot sun beats down on my shoulders, dust flies up as I walk. It swirls and then settles. The heat makes my head spin. Our goats lie, eyes closed in sleep underneath the cool shade of the apple trees. I walk until I reach the end of the orchard, where the largest tree spreads its branches high, almost as high as the wall which it grows against. I sit, resting my head against it's trunk, and close my eyes, listening to the soft rustling of the branches. Where is he now? Fighting? Resting? I have waited more than three years for him to return. I cannot wait much longer.
It was here that we were last together, underneath the tallest apple tree in the early morning. The blossom that had fallen onto the soft grass was white. He trailed light fingers over my skin, through my hair. He whispered that he would come back and kissed the tears away from my eyes gently. Then he had pushed my stola from my shoulders and kissed my neck and the tips of my breasts, drawing me closer to him. We made love slowly, both aware that it could have been the last time. But it wasn't the last time. He is alive, and he promises me that after one more battle he will come home. I have waited so long to hear his voice, to feel the touch of his hands on my skin. It will be soon.
********
It is almost time to leave the memories of my wife and go to battle. After this one last fight I will stay with her forever.
I dreamt last night that she walked into my tent and sat on my bed, watching me sleeping. She woke me up and I kissed her. I lay with her in my arms and talked to her. She said not to be away for much longer, and I told her I would be seeing her soon. She smiled a little sadly, and then she left and I woke, alone. I miss being with her so much, but it will not be long.
I nod to the man holding Argento, my black stallion. He brings him to me, and as soon as I take the reins the horse stops screaming and rearing, and lowers his head to my palms, blowing as a token of friendship.
'It will not be long, old friend.' I whisper. 'One last battle, and then we will be at home again.' He snorts at me, and then I mount to go to war.
The end.
Thank you everybody for the great response to my other stories, I hope you enjoy this one too!