The Perfect Match Chapter 2: Part 2, a gladiator fanfic

In the army camp Quintus was pacing back and forth inside the Praetorium, waiting for Maximus' and the other soldiers to return. The sun would set soon and he did not like the idea of his commander and friend being out in the wild in the darkness.

Suddenly the Legatus heard a commotion on the other side of the camp and saw the gates open. Quintus sighed in relief, happy that his worries had been unfounded but his good mood disappeared as quickly as it had arrived when he saw one of the sentries run in his direction, a worried and frightened expression on his face.

"Sir, something had happened to the General! His horse returned without him!"

"What?" Without waiting for confirmation, Quintus ran to the gates, where a group of soldiers had already begun to congregate. The nervous men moved aside to let Quintus pass to where Argento, Maximus' black stallion, was held in place by Cicero, the general's manservant. The Legatus examined the animal and swore under his breath when he saw dried blood on its coat and on the saddle. He looked up at the men surrounding him, and he saw two kinds of feeling mixed on their face: fear for their general -- an eloquent demonstration of how much Maximus was loved by his men -- and expectation for his own orders. They knew he was in charge now and they were ready to obey to him. Quintus did not know what to do...Send a search party? His heart wanted to do it, but his mind told him it was too risky now that the sun had all but disappeared behind the hills....He was still analyzing his options when Marcus Aurelius and his niece appeared.

"Legatus, what's going on? Where is Maximus?"

Hildegarde worked quickly, thankful that years of experience under her mother's careful tutelage had granted her hands the ability to move almost subconsciously. She removed a little piece of flint from her belt and gathered a pile of dry leaves and twigs for a fire.

Were the Romans still here? For a moment, the fear that the invaders would see the smoke and come for her gave her pause, but another fevered whimper from her patient prodded her quickly back to action. She struck the flint against a stone, blowing gently to fan the sparks that fell on her little pile of kindling, and sighing with relief as a flame sprung obediently to life.

Still working at a frenzied pace, she drew the knife that she used to cut herbs out of her basket and wiped it clean against her skirts. Then, she reached again for the stranger's leg, tilting the metal forward to ease the arrow from his flesh. The tip was lodged deeply. She hoped that she was not too late.

At last, the arrowhead came loose. Without thinking, Hildegarde slipped the metal shard into her pocket. She held her knife against the flame, heating it until the warmth radiated into the hilt, and then held it against the trickling blood, recoiling slightly at the hiss of burning skin, grateful that her patient was not awake to feel the pain.

When she drew the knife away, the bleeding had slowed. The gaping wound was cauterized, and she turned her attention to other matters. The cut along his temple was shallow, but it warned of other dangers. He had fallen from the horse and hit his head. How much damage had it done? Would he regain consciousness? What would she do with him until he did? If she left him here, he would die. Wiping away the blood with the hem of her skirt, Hildegarde considered her options.

There was an abandoned hut not far from here. It had been used as a hunting lodge long ago, before the Romans had pushed her people to the north. She had run across it on one of her foraging expeditions, seeking shelter there from an April storm. She doubted that anyone else in her village knew of its existence. If she kept him there, there would be no need for the villagers to learn of his existence...and if he awakened, he would not be a danger to the tribe.

The young woman mentally calculated the distance in her mind. It would be a struggle, but she could make it.

Quintus looked from the emperor to Antonia and then sighed. He wished that he had more time to sort the information for himself before passing it on to the emperor, but he did not have that luxury. "It appears that the troops we sent to meet with the barbarian were attacked." He said evenly, "The evidence suggest that the general was wounded- he has not returned."

Both members of his audience took in sharp intakes of breath, and Quintus watched the look that passed between the pair with interest. He noticed, for the first time, how keen an interest in the general's affairs the young woman seemed to have. It was almost as if the emperor was encouraging them.

Almost as if...

"- immediately!"

Quintus blinked, and then blushed, embarrassed to admit that, lost in his speculation, he had not heard the emperor's last words. "Excuse me, Sire, I didn't quite catch the last part."

"I said that we will need to mount a search party for him immediately. Tonight. If they think that we will tolerate this sort of trickery, they are sadly mistaken." The old man's face was animated with righteous anger.

Quintus nodded.

"And I want one of your men to take Antonia back to Vindobona."

Hildegarde felt as though she had been walking forever when, barely trusting her weary eyes, she spotted the abandoned hut in a thicket of trees. She paused to rest a moment, dropping the edge of the long tree branch that she had covered with ferns and the Roman's cloak to fashion into a make-shift sled. The trip had taken hours. It was nearly sunset, and she realized with trepidation that her mother would be worried about her. What if she and the Roman were discovered?

Swallowing her doubts, Hildegarde pushed open the door to the hut, picked up the treelimb, and applied herself to the final steps of the journey.

The hut was filthy, littered with cobwebs and the droppings of animals that had claimed it for their own. It was devoid of furniture and belongings save an unsteady table in the center of the room and a kettle that hung over the crumbling hearth. Thinking wearily of the work that still had to be done before she slept, the German pulled her patient into the rooms center, checked his skin once more for fever, and then set to work.

Back in the camp, the Emperor's niece made a little cry of indignation at the thought of being sent away so soon.

"But, uncle, I-"

Marcus lifted his hand in agitation, a gesture clearly foreclosing any protest. "I won't have you underfoot with a battle in the works."

"Underfoot!" Antonia grumbled, in a tone that implied, if given the chance, that she could wield a gladius as well as any legionnaire along the line....but she controlled her temper, seeing it was not the time to discuss with her uncle. More important matters claimed his attention.

In only a few minutes the search party was organized -- almost all the men milling around volunteered to go and Quintus had only to select the lucky handful who would be permitted to go and feel useful, leaving the rest behind, waiting for news. The Legatus decided to lead the squad himself, with the emperor's approval. He also decided to ride Argento in the hope that the horse would take him back to the place were Maximus been.

The squad party that left the camp was comprised of twenty men in full armor, carrying torches. Just after entering the trees, Quintus released Argento's reins and freed the animal to wander where it wanted, straining to notice any signal from the beast. Inside the woods it was already dark and the flames from the torches created subtle plays of shadow and light on the soldier's faces, highlighting their determinated expressions. After what seemed like an eternity, Argento slowed his gait and cocked his head, showing interest in the clump of brush on the left side of the road. Quintus raised his hand and the column stopped. Argento snorted and so did some of the other horses, disturbed by something. Quintus retook the reins, gripping them tightly. A vague sweetish smell reached his nose...a smell he knew all too well: the smell of blood. Unsheathing his sword he directed the horse toward the brush, closely followed by the other soldiers. It took them few moments to reach a clearing among the trees and see the terrible scene in front of them. Many corpses were lying on the ground, some of them already victims of the wild animals. Quintus dismounted, imitated by half of his men, while the others remained on alert against possible dangers. The Legatus began to walk between the dead, kneeling to examine their faces. He discovered the bodies of the scouts and other soldiers mingled with those of some barbarians. The fallen legionaries had been deprived of their swords but their armors were still on place. The painful examination lasted only few minutes and in the end Quintus sighed in relief. Maximus was not among the dead.....but where was he? Did the authors of the ambush capture him? How badly was he wounded? The legatus turned to his men: they were looking to him expectantly. The knew that the men would gladly search all night for their general, but a strong wind was beginning to blow and it was risky to roam the woods with the torches. Quintus turned to a centurion and said, pointing to the corpse of one of the scouts. "Take off their cloaks and wrap them over their faces: this will protect them from the animals till tomorrow when we will came back to bury them."

"Yes, sir."

When the painful task was completed, Quintus mounted Argento and gestured to his men to follow him away from the clearing and back to the camp. The night was so dark and the wind so strong that none of the Romans saw the ruined bushes near the road side nor noticed the little column of smoke raising from the bottom of the hill.

Hildegarde was awakened by a low moan. Coming suddenly to her senses, she fought a moment of terror as, disoriented, she could not locate the source of the sound. Finally, in the dim light of the dwindling flames she made out the face of her soldier and she sprang quickly to her feet.

He was awake!

"hwhaarramei?" He asked in Latin. To her untrained ears, the rounded, lyrical words sounded like a song.

"You are safe." She answered in her native tongue.

"Safe?" He echoed. He frowned, seeming to try the feel of the word on his tongue. "Safe?"

She blinked in surprise. He knew what she was saying!

"You are in a hunting lodge....do you remember? There was a battle."

"A battle..." He repeated, shaking his head. "Did I fight?"

She blinked. Didn't he remember? "Yes. You we struck with an arrow."

She gestured toward his thigh, the bright red of the cauterized wound in vivid contrast with his golden skin.

"Hurts."

"I know." She scrambled for her herb basket. "Here." She tendered a piece of bark. "Chew this."

The man did as he was told, grimacing at first at the bitter taste and then sighing in relief as the pain in his thigh eased.

"You are?"

"Hildegarde." She said, a little frightened that she had dared to tell him her real name.

"My wife?"

The girl blinked, shivering slightly at the prospect, but answering too quicky "No!"

"A lover?" The voice was innocent, but the question filled her with a shimmer of heat. Her lover! A Roman....

"No. " She answered again. "A friend." Hildegarde's hands nervously sorted through the herbs in her basket. Were the questions sincere? Did he really not remember?

Quintus was bone weary when he returned to the camp. He went at once to inform the emperor about the result of the searching party. Marcus Aurelius was not pleased by Maximus' disappearance but he was hopeful his general was still alive. He dismissed Quintus with a nod of his head and the legatus retired gratefully. It was late and he was anxious for his bed, but there was still one task that he had to attend to before going to sleep: Caesar expected him to evacuate Antonia, and he needed to inform the girl of the arrangements that had been made for her.

"Which room is Antonia in?" He asked his servant, ignoring the arched look that the inquiry received. Damn protocol. He was tired. He wasn't going to send a servant to fetch her just because it was unseemly for an unmarried man to enter a woman's bedchamber. There was no one to see him anyhow.

The slave gestured down the hallway, and Quintus walked quickly in the indicated direction.

"Sir!" Antonia's handmaid jumped to her feet as the soldier neared the door. "You can't go in there!"

"I can and I will." He blustered, and then paused with one foot in the doorway. What if Antonia had just gotten out of the bath? What if she were changing?

He shook his head as if to clear way the thought.

"Antonia." He called loudly. He would give her warning, at least. "I'm coming in."

Antonia barely looked up as he entered. She was sitting to a little table while one of her servants combing her glorious hair, which lay loose around her shoulders. For just a moment Quintus simply stared, enchanted by the play of shadows and lights that the lamp cast on her bronze mane.

"May I help you, Legatus?" Antonia's stern tone broke the train of thought.

Quintus shook his head and cleared his voice, "My Lady."

"You just shouted 'Antonia' loudly enough to wake the dead, and barged into my room without permission, and now you are calling me 'My Lady'? You should decide, Clarus, whether you want to be a gentleman or a rough soldier." Antonia did not look at him, keeping her eyes fixed on the piece of polished silver she was using as mirror.

Quintus gritted his teeth at the caustic comment, his expression darkening, "My Lady, I wanted to inform you tomorrow at dawn you will leave this camp for Vindobona's under the escort of legatus Flavius. I advise you to be up and ready for that time -- so maybe it would better if you went to bed soon, instead of wasting time in front of the mirror."

Antonia turned and glared at him, "I will be ready earlier than your men. And now, Good Night, Legatus."

Quintus jerked his head in an irritated approximation of a bow, "Good night, Antonia," And then he walked away.

That night it began to rain. In the beginning it was only few drops but soon it transformed in a waterfall so strong that it damaged the roofs of the stables and the kitchen tent. It even began to seep inside the tents. The soldiers woke up in the middle of the night to transfer the food supplies in a dry place.

When finally the rain stopped in the morning, the ground was covered with pools and ankle-deep mud.

Quintus swore as he took note of the situation. Any traces of the General's whereabouts were being erased. Furthermore, it was clear that Antonia's departure would be postponed because of the condition of the roads. The way for Vindobona was mostly downhill and with the thick mud it was risky to travel by wagon. The wheels did not have enough grip on the ground, and might stick in the sticky earth. With a sigh, Quintus walked to the emperor's tent to brief him on the situation. While he approached his destination a strange thought crossed his mind....he was actually relieved Antonia was not going away, at least not now. The legatus frowned, where had that thought come from?

Hildegarde stuck her head out of the hut and looked at the sky with relief: after the terrible rain of the night before she was happy to see the sun.

She turned back inside where her patient was still asleep and knelt near him. Touching his brow, she was pleased to discover that the fever was almost gone.

Without even noticing it her hand began to caress the sleeping face, her fingers combing the short beard until a strong hand covered her own and stilled her moves. Hildegarde blushed crimson, ashamed to have been discovered but when she looked at his eyes she saw they were still closed.

The Roman had reacted to her gesture in his sleep and the girl's breath caught in her throat with a feeling she was not able to define when he rubbed his cheek against their joined hands.

"Hildegarde! Are you here my daughter?"

Her mother's voice, coming from outdoor snapped the young woman out her dreamy state and freeing her hand, she stood up and ran outside.

"Hildegarde!" exclaimed Rodelind, her mother, "Thank Odin you are all right! I was so worried."

"Mother, as you can see I am fine. I found a shelter for the night. I am sorry if I worried you…." The two women embraced and then stepped apart. Hildegarde saw her mother's smile disappear as her eyes stared at something and following her gaze she saw she was staring at her blood-covered dress.

"What happened? Are you hurt?"

"No mother, the blood is not mine..."

"No?" The older woman quirked an eyebrow inviting her to go on.

"I- I found a man yesterday near the road....He was badly injured and fever was beginning to set in.I helped him."

Her mother smiled, "I always knew you are a good healer. Where is he?"

"He is in the hut." Hildegarde motioned with her head.

"Let me go to see him..." Her mother began to walk to the hut and the young woman followed her, "Mother you must know a thing, he is a ..."

"A wolfman!" her mother exclaimed with horror when she saw the wine-red tunic of the sleeping man.

Hildegarde recoiled from the horrified look that crossed her mother's face.

She saw in the older woman's eyes, all of the pain of her husband's betrayal, and the fear of living all her life struggling against the invaders. For a moment, the young German was ashamed.

Her mother was right. She should not have helped the Roman. They were

conquering and cruel. Unfeeling....

...but not this one.

In spite of herself, Hildegarde's feelings of distaste refused to linger.

She had watched her soldier for too many hours to doubt his true nature.Yes, some legionnaries were cruel and savage, but this man was very gentle and kind. He would not harm her.

At last, the older woman found her voice. Its tones were softer than expected. "What happened?"

"He fell of his horse."

"He is so clumsy?"

"No...he....there was an arrow wound. I think it was a raid."

Rodelind considered that. "A raid? Not one of ours, at least- I saw the warriors at council only last night." she frowned deeply. "But that is bad news as well. Strangers in our lands? What could they want?"

"Probably another alliance." Hildegarde answered, eliciting a nod of agreement.

"Perhaps..."

"Mother, he would have died."

Rodelind swallowed. Her daughter could see that her initial conviction- to order her daughter to leave the man to die- was wavering. She had been a healer for too long to deny aid to someone who needed it- even an enemy. "Is there fever?" She said after a long pause.

"There was. I gave him birch…"

A nod. "You've done well. The fever is almost gone." She ran her experienced eyes along the body, pausing when she came to the arrow wound and massaging it gently with her fingertips. The Roman moaned in pain at the touch, his eyelids fluttering as if to open.

Rodelind's hand drew quickly away. "Infection."

"I know. I tried to cut it out, but...."

"A poultice?"

"Mistletoe and fennel...I didn't have the rest."

Another sigh. "What will we do when he awakens?"

"Take him back to the village?"

"The village! You aren't serious."

"He doesn't remember!" Hildegarde began speaking quickly, desperate to explain all the details of her plan before her mother had a moment to protest. "He hit his head, and his memory seems to be gone. I spoke to him in Quadi and he answered....he thinks that he is one of us!"

"One of us?" The voice was clearly skeptical.

"Yes..." Hildegarde knew that she was jumping to conclusions, but she was frantic at the thought of leaving the man alone to fend for himself in the dark woods. If he didn't know who he was, he would not remember his way home. Even if he did, the woods were dark and unfamiliar to a stranger.

"Mother, he might die."

The older woman's features clearly conveyed her displeasure, yet Hildegarde's heart leapt with the certainty that she was going to agree.

"You can get some of father's clothes..." She suggested, urging her mother to the door. "When he awakens we will see if he can walk."

"The rest of them will come after him." Rodelind chewed her lip nervously.

"And what will we tell the others?"

"That he is a hunter I ran across collecting herbs in the woods....assuming that they even bother to ask." For once, it was a blessing that they were ostracized from the town. It could be weeks before the other villagers noticed their charge.

Her mother nodded unhappily. "Very well. He may stay until he is healed....but if his memory returns…"

Hildegarde nodded before her mother spoke. "I know. He would be dangerous." She said without conviction. Inwardly her heart was swelling with joy. The soldier- HER soldier was coming to live in her hut.

Marcus Aurelius was not pleased by the latest turn of the events. Not only was his general missing but now the plan to take his niece to a safer camp was postponed. The old emperor sighed as Quintus made his report but there was nothing more that he could do. Even Caesar, had no control over the weather or nature. He could only hope that the sky would remain clear the long enough for the sun to dry the roads.

On the other side of the Praetorium, Antonia smiled with relief, being perhaps the only person pleased by the rain that would allow her to spend a few more days in the outpost among the hills. She was happy there. The place reminded her so much of the camp where she had grown up. Of course, like the others, she was concerned that the heavy rain might have erased clues that would lead to Maximus. The entire camp was worried about the general's fate, and the emperor's niece was no exception. Still, there was nothing for her to do. She could only pray for him.

That afternoon the rain began to fall again, forcing Antonia to stay in the Imperial quarters. The young woman was beginning to tire of being cloistered indoors; she had spent three weeks closed in the wagon, doing nothing other than read and talk with her uncle. Now she longed to walk, to move and to enjoy some time outdoors. The prospect of spending long golden afternoons in the forest had helped her bear the long boring trip from Rome, but now the thoughts only taunted her as the dismal weather robbed her of escape.

Finally reaching the end of her patience, Antonia exited the Praetorium, covering her silken dress with a heavy, waterproof sagum borrowed from a legionnaire. She walked single-mindedly toward the stables, heedless of how the deep mud caked on the hem of her tunica.

Dresses could be cleaned.

Antonia lowered the cloak to her shoulders as she entered the barn, smiling in delight at the many fine animals stabled there. She moved from stall to stall, petting the horses that she found there, lingering by Argento, the powerful stallion that belonged to the General, and to the little bay foal nearby.

A wax tabled hung near the stall door noted the foal's name.

"So you are Scarto, eh little one?" Antonia said, reaching into her pocket for a piece of apple she had saved from her lunch. "You are beautiful."

She stroked the little animal's muzzle for a lot of time, and her presence began to attract the soldiers' attention. The woman was so beautiful- like a pearl among the stones- that most of them simply stared in awe. After a while one of the soldier was bold enough to approach.

"Do you like horses, My Lady?" he asked.

"Very much so, Soldier, I have loved them since I was very little and my father took me to inspect the camp sitting on the saddle with him."

"Your father, My Lady?"

"General Claudius."

"You are the daughter of the famous general Claudius?"

"Yes." Antonia smiled at the young soldier's awestruck tone.

The man noted her bemusement and looked at his feet, "I have heard a lot of things about him, from General Maximus and other people..."

"Really, soldier? Come on, tell me what you heard...."

Soon Antonia and the legionary lost themselves in conversation and the girl forgot all about the rain and her imminent travel for Vindobona...lingering in the stables and listening to the sometimes colorful expression of her companion, brought her back to the times when she was a child and her father's camp mascot. It was a wonderful feeling and she wanted to revel in it as longer as possible.

"Hello?...Hildegarde?"

The girl let out a breath that she did not know she had been holding as the soldier awakened once more and stared around the room. He had called her by his name. He was still speaking Quadi. His memories of his other life had not returned.

Her plan was moving forward.

"Match..." She smiled shyly at the name she had invented. It meant "mighty"- a name her people sometimes used to refer to the Roman conquers. It suited him well..."You are awake."

"Yes."

Her smile broadened. "Are you hungry?" Hildegarde's mother had returned to the village to prepare for the stranger's arrival, but before leaving, she had supplied her daughter with a meager ration of food. The girl offered the crust of bread and strips of dried venison to the Roman, and he tasted them tentatively.

"Good." He murmured, swallowing the rest of the meat-strip with gusto. "Water?"

She brought him a cup.

"How are you feeling? Can you walk?"

The man tested his leg. "I think so. Where are we going?"

"Home."

The man blinked.

"To my home." Hildegarde explained quickly. "It will be easier to tend to you there. You were wounded in a battle..."

"What sort of battle?"

She swallowed. Her mother had warned her not to bring up too many memories from his past. To do so would tempt his recollections would return. Between them, the women had concocted a story that the stranger was a hunter in the woods who had journeyed west from one of the neighboring tribes. He had been caught by Roman scouts and left for dead....Hildegarde thought of the armor and helmet that she had hidden under the bed and hoped that he didn't ask too many questions.

The Roman merely nodded at her explanation. He continued eating his food and, when it was gone, rose unsteadily to his feet.

"Hurt..."

Hildegarde nodded, almost feeling his pain herself. "It will be better soon. My mother has a potion-"

"Your mother?"

"She is the village healer. She will make you well...." Hildegarde rushed forward as the man began to stumble. "Rest for now. We must wait until mother returns with clothes before we leave."

The stranger nodded, glancing downwards at his stained tunica. "Roman?" He said strangely.

Hildegarde nodded. "Yes...you...your clothes were...." the girl struggled for a lie. "Ripped. I took this from...a soldier."

The man frowned, rubbing his hand along the smooth, blood-stained fabric.

"It fits."

"Yes."

She bit her lip, wondering for a moment if her fabric of lies was about to come unwound. There was a moment of uneasy silence, and then a smile brought the stranger's ruggedly handsome features to life.

"Thank you." He whispered.

Hildegarde only smiled.

Antonia and the soldier -- whose name she discovered was Fabritius - talked for almost a hour, and as engaged in the conversation as she was Antonia barely noticed that it had stopped raining until a pale sunbeam filtered downward through the sky. The young woman inhaled deeply relishing the clear damp smell of earth and grass, so happy to be in the camp, and wishing that she could remain there forever. She wanted to mount one of the horses and go for a brief ride....But how? There was no way that her uncle would let her go outside and it was impossible to pass in front of the sentries without being noticed. As she reflected on these things, Antonia saw a group of soldiers returning from another, useless round of searching for Maximus. Antonia's gaze was attracted by a flash of metal in the light, caused as a sunray danced across the helmets of a rider. She held her breath as an idea crossed her mind. She noticed for the first time how many helmeted soldiers came and went through the gates without the sentries stopping them. Was it possible that the same thing would work for her?

Smiling coquettishly at Fabritius, Antonia said, "I would like to take a walk now that is no longer raining....Could you show me the camp? I would like to see the kitchen, the place were you keep the spare armor.....everything."

The young soldier blushed under her flirtatious gaze and nodded, "Of course, My Lady, I will be honored to show you around."

"Good." With a bold move Antonia took the soldier's arm and, side by side the pair began to cross the camp. Their actions were followed by a dozen pairs of eyes- Fabritius' friend's envious ones and by Legatus Clarus' stare. He had noticed Antonia speaking with the soldier before, and he did not know whether to be relieved she had found something to do -- he was half afraid she might create problems if she were bored -- or to be jealous of all the kindness she demonstrated to the other man while she seemed to be always so cross with him.

The legatus shook his head and walked to the briefing tent: another searching party had just returned without any sign of Maximus and he need to study the maps and decide where to send the next one.

The members of the village seemed to line the streets as Hildegarde and her soldier struggled home, Match limping on his one good leg, and Hildegarde struggling under the weight of attempting to support him. News of her arrival seemed to have proceeded her, and she was grateful for the clothes- retrieved by her mother from a half-forgotten stash of her father's old belongings- that hid his true origins. It was obvious that her initial plan, to sneak the Roman into the town, would have been a miserable failure. All along the way she could hear people whispering around her. Their voices spoke not their usual snide comments, but rather, wonderment as to where Hildegarde could have found such a handsome stranger.

"Just a little bit further." The girl encouraged Match when he stumbled on a stone in the middle of the path. "We are just on the edge of that clearing."

"Not near the other houses?" He frowned. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"We are used to the danger." Hildegarde was not yet ready to tell him of her ostracization. For some deep reason that she refused to admit even to herself, she wanted him to think well of her. She would try to hide her shame a little bit longer.

Hildegarde's mother met them at the front door, sliding her body under the Roman's other arm and relieving her daughter of some of the weight.

"I was worried about you." The older woman whispered. "People were...talking..."

Her daughter nodded. "We had trouble making it up the hill. I am sorry if you worried."

The other woman merely shrugged. Together, they helped the man into a chair, and retired again to the kitchen.

"Would you like some food?" Hildegarde asked, her own stomach rumbling at the smell of her mother's delicious soup.

The stranger nodded. "Yes...and then...perhaps there is somewhere that I could wash?"

Another nod. "We have a basin. I will heat some water for you after dinner."

The three settled down to their supper quietly. It was clear from the soft look in his eyes that Match wanted to talk, but he had forgotten his past, and had very little to say. He encouraged the women to speak, but this was not as easy as would be expected. Hildegarde and her mother had long ago worn out amusing topics of conversation. Rodelind knew, or suspected, almost everything about her daughter's life, and she didn't care to speak of the past, since her memories were so painful. Hildegarde, in turn, had no one to speak to but her mother. She was out of practice, and the words would not come, though her heart had a thousand things that she longed to say to the foreigner.

At last the meal was concluded, and the girl hung a kettle over the fire to warm. She fetched a bar of pine-scented soap from a box, and set it next to a soft woolen cloth. "Here." She said, presenting the Roman with items and a bowl of steaming water.

He took them, and then looked around the one-room hut. Hildegarde did not know what he was looking for at first, but when he grinned with embarrassment, her cheeks instantly flushed, and she lunged toward one of the corners.

"Here." She said, quickly. "We can drape a blanket over the loom. It will give you some privacy. Mother and I will go outside. You may call us if you need anything."

The stranger nodded, still smiling.

Hildegarde gathered her shawl and exited the little dwelling. She circled the house to the side yard where her mother was stringing the herbs that she had found the day before onto racks for drying. Without speaking, she picked up a bunch of mint sprigs and began twisting them into a little bundle, trying not to think about what was going on inside.

The girl had tried to convince herself that her interest in the Roman was merely idle interest in the unknown, but as she sat on the dirt, only a few feet from where he was washing, she admitted to herself for the first time that those feelings were not entirely the truth. More than mere curiosity had called her to the Roman camp. She was intrigued by his customs, but she was more captivated by his gentle manner and easy charisma. He was tall, strong, powerful...

She wanted him in the way that a woman wanted a man.

"Not like that!"

Her mother's voice brought Hildegarde's musings to an abrupt end. She had wound the cord around the mint so tightly that the stems had broken. The older woman sighed in exasperation, and her daughter worked quickly to repair the damage. Had Rodelind suspected where her child's thoughts had wandered?

The following day, Antonia rose at dawn. Being careful to avoid making any noise, she braided her hair tightly, before putting on the most modest and un-feminine tunica of her wardrobe, a maroon shift she had taken with her in case the weather was especially cold. After lacing her shoes, she tiptoed silently across the tent without waking up her maids and slipped outside. As she had predicted, she was just in time for the change of the guards, when the Praetorians who had stood for the night shift were relieved by their rested companions.

Antonia listened for the four men to exchange greetings, and then, keeping herself low and hidden behind the tents of the Praetorium she was able to escape without being seen.

Ever vigilant, the girl crossed the camp, until she arrived at the big tent were the armor and the uniforms were kept. She donned military dress quickly, drawing a helment over her broze curls, and a pair of heavy boots over her delicate feet. She picked up a sword and scabbard, and then, dressed as a perfect soldier, her long hair tucked beneath the helmet and her cuirass -- she marched out of the tent, trying to imitate the long strided walk of the legionaries surrounding her. Antonia strode with purpose to the stable, transmitting the idea that she had a task to do. She knew it was easier to escape notice if you gave the impression of business.

When she arrived at the horses, she retrieved a bridle and a saddle from the tack room and saddled the chestnut mare she knew be Fabritius' mount. The animal was easily handled and in few minutes, Antonia was sitting on its back, headed for the gates.

The sentries let the woman pass without any problems and as soon as she was out of their sight, Antonia pressed her heels in the mare's flank and coaxed her into an easy canter. The feel of the wind caressing her face, taken with to the luxuriant green scenery surrounding her and the sensation of powerful muscles moving under her seat, made Antonia feel free for the first time in years ....perhaps since her father's death. Back in Rome, her husband had never permitted her to ride, even when they spent their summers in his villa in Tusculum. He said a lady did not ride. Antonia had resented him for his pompous patronizing....she was not a simpleton, she was General Claudius' daughter and the emperor's niece, she certainly knew what was right or appropriate for a lady to do-- but her husband had never appreciated her abilities. She felt guilty to admit it, but she was happy to free of him......even if she suspected that her uncle was already planning a new marriage for her.

Though the prospect of another husband was far from amusing, Antonia could not help but smile. Marcus Aurelius was a kind, gentle and clever man, but he was no good at playing matchmaker. The young woman remembered his less than subtle attempt to throw her into Maximus' arms and almost burst into giggles when she remembered the general's comically pained expression when he had realized what his Caesar was trying to do.

Lost in her memories Antonia did not realize how far she had wandered from the camp until the rain began to fall again. A very un-ladylike word escaped the lips as she stopped the mare and looked around, uncertain as to how she should proceed. The drizzle was growing steadily harder, and she did not know if it would be best to find a shelter and wait for the shower end or to return to the camp. In the end she opted for the first alternative: she knew her absence was not going to remain undiscovered for long and she guessed that an occasion for her to slip away again was going to be non-existent. She was going to pay for her escapade....her uncle's tirades were rare but terrible. Antonia's absense would surely stoke his tember. In light of these facts, the woman felt it was better to use her freedom to the fullest for as long as she could.

Turning the mare toward the thick of the forest, Antonia began to search for a place to wait for the end of the storm.

Hildegarde was barely able to sleep at all that night. She was too conscious of Match's proximity, and too confused by the strange feelings that she had finally acknowledged. Was she really falling in love? As lonely as she was, she hoped that the answer was "no". She knew, deep within her heart that her soldier would someday realize where he belonged. Even if it were many years, she would live in constant fear of being discovered. Would he forgive her for her lies? Surely he could appreciate that she had brought him here to save his life. If she had left him in the woods, he would have died....

The same thoughts were still plaguing the girl as her eyes fluttered

reluctantly open in the first rays of dawn. She could hear movement beside her, and soft, muted voices. She came awake quickly, looking toward the kitchen where Match and her mother were engaged in quiet conversation.

"Hildegarde." Her mother called, noticing that the young woman was finally awake. "Eat your breakfast. I have told Match that you will show him around the town this morning before you begin your chores."

The girl nodded quickly. Even though she feared what the villagers might say about her in the stranger's presence, she was anxious to show him her town. She knew that the Roman did not remember his origins, but she was still excited at the prospect of demonstrating her own way of life, since she had observed his from afar for so long.

The village was small, and so the tour did not take long. Still she took pride in showing him the well where the members of the tribe drew water when they chose not to walk to the spring, the wide meadow where the animals were raised, and finally, the grove of slender oak trees where religious ceremonies were held. The stranger asked many questions, attempting to piece together his own memories of similar places in his home. Of course, the attempt was useless, Hildegarde smiled sympathetically, appreciating the futility of his task and regretting the frustration he was feeling. The Roman did not ask questions about her. She was disappointed, but also relieved. No sense dredging up bad memories- though HE was hardly in a position to hate her for being the daughter of a traitor, whether he understood it or not! They talked about neutral topics, returning to the hut at least half an hour later than they had planned.

Rodelind was cross, and Hildegarde worked to complete her chores in record time. She understood that she was already courting her mother's displeasure. She would not risk having the stranger sent away, and so she moved quickly, grateful for the assistance of an extra set of hands..

Quintus had just completed the afternoon briefing with his officers when a Pretorian stepped in the tent.

"Legatus Clarus, Caesar wishes to speak with you."

Quintus nodded and after straightening his uniform followed the black clad soldier to the imperial quarters, mentally reciting what he would say about the fruitless search for his friend. As badly as he wanted to deny it, the possibility that Maximus was lost forever was becoming higher and higher with each search party that returned empty handed.

The chief-Legatus entered the tent and bowed deeply, "Caesar."

"Legatus. Any news about Maximus?" Marcus Aurelius asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"No, your majesty, nothing."

"I suppose you are enlarging the radius of the search...."

"Yes, Caesar but the rain has washed away any possible trace. We have no clue regarding the direction that the enemy took nor from where they arrived. We wanted to use the dogs, but the rain ruined that possibility too."

"Yes," the old monarch let out a sigh. "At least I hope you will soon be able to transfer Antonia to Vindobona. I don't like to have her here with the tribes so agitated and dangerous."

Quintus nodded his head. "This morning it rained for only a few minutes and now a strong wind is blowing from the north. I think it should dry the mud in few hours and barring new rains tomorrow the roads should be good enought to travel."

"I am glad to hear it. Please, go to my niece's quarters and inform her of the news." The emperor saw that the officer had understood his orders, and then he moved toward a couch. " I am feeling a bit tired today -- I am no longer young and all this rain is no good for my old bones -- and I wish to rest, so I will be more 'alive' for dinner." Marcus Aurelius smiled gently and Quintus replied with a bow of his head before walking away.

Since Quintus was already in the Praetorium the trip to Antonia's rooms was brief. Remembering what had happened two days before he stopped outside of opening and calling to one of her servant said in a voice loud enough for Antonia to hear "Would you please alert your mistress Legatus Quintus Clarus is here, hoping that she will be kind enough to concede him the honor of a visit."

The maid's eyes widened at his overly flowery speech and then said, "I am sorry, Sir, but my lady is not here."

"Not here? Well, were is she?" Quintus saw the girl exchange a look with

another, older woman and then stare at her feet. "We don't know, Sir, my lady was already gone this morning when we got up."

"What?! Why don't you say anything?" the legatus barked and the young maid began to tremble.

"We did not see any reason to do so," said the older lady-in-waiting, putting an arm around the girl's shoulder. "The Domina likes to spend time alone. Even in Rome she often spends hours outside the villa. They saw nothing unusual in her behavior."

Quintus grumbled but then said more gently, "All right, I did not mean to

frighten you. Carry on with your duties, I will find your mistress by myself."

Quintus walked around the camp, asking his officers if sanyone had seen Antonia that day but he received only negative responses. In the end he went to the stables and asked to see Fabritius. The soldier arrived quickly and snapped at-attention in front of him.

"Relax, legionary, I just wanted to know if you saw the lady Antonia today."

"Ehm...I...No, Sir, I did not see her." Fabritius seemed very nervous and Quintus sensed that something was not right.

"Do you have something to say to me?"

The younger man bit his lower lip and then admitted pitifully, "My horse is missing, Sir."

"What do you mean 'your horse is missing? Are you implying that someone took it?"

"Yes, Sir. And...and..I am afraid it might have been the lady Antonia."

Quintus frowned, "Why?"

"Well yesterday she told me how much she loved to ride and how she to go into the woods. She asked a lot of questions about my horse... I thought she was just being polite and friendly, and…." The boy blushed and let his voice trail off before he finished seriously. "But now I am afraid she decided to do something about it."

Quintus cursed under his breath, as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Lost in thought he gestured to Fabritius to return to work, then he wandered through the camp until he found a quiet spot in the shelter of a gnarled oak.

He was now certain that Antonia had taken the horse and left the camp for a ride. But how had she slipped through the gates without being noticed? The sentries would have surely stopped her… The legatus rubbed his hand over his eyes and groaned. How could he inform Marcus Aurelius his niece was missing? First he had to tell the man that his general had been lost…and now his niece? He simply couldn't do it. He had to find her as soon as possible, before dinner so that Caesar would never knew about what happened. Quintus returned to the stable and quickly saddled his own horse. Then, with the animal in tow walked to the tent of legatus Valerius, the third officer in the camp chain of command, and briefly informed him of what was going on. Valerius, a big man with short curly hair, nodded with understanding and promised to take care of the camp and the emperor till Quintus' return. After that the chief legatus jumped in saddle and galloped out of the camp.

"That's enough-" It was nearly sunset before Rodelind's voice interrupted Hildegarde and Match's toil. The girl was hoeing some maize in the garden, while March chopped wood for a fire. "Hildegarde. Come inside. You must wash for dinner. You'll be late."

"Late?" The girl frowned in confusion.

"Yes Godeoc will be here soon."

Hildegarde felt as though her heart had stopped in her chest- Godeoc, here! She had promised him an answer tonight!

Match let the heavy axe fall to the ground and turned to look at the pretty girl with whom he had spent the afternoon. Godeoc. The name meant nothing to him, but he could tell that the girl was agitated. He smiled at her, wishing that he could do more, and then returned to stacking the wood while she went into the house to wash.

He gathered the heavy logs easily in his arms and carried them to a pile behind the hut. His thigh still burned with pain, making the physical activity difficult, but he was persistent. It felt good to be repaying his hostesses for their hospitality.

Who were these women? He had puzzled over the question for days, certain that if he concentrated hard enough he would be able to pull the answer from his clouded mind, but it was no use. He simply could not place them. He would have to base his suppositions on the present- an equally difficult task.

From Rodelind's quiet nervousness he drew the suspicion that he, or his original tribe, posed a threat to the village. She was generous enough, and applied her medical skills diligently toward his recovery...but there was something missing in her eyes: Trust.... It was as though she expected him to turn into a monster at any moment.

It was much more pleasant to think of Rodelind's daughter. Hildegarde trusted him. He smiled as he thought of the girl, remembering how lovely she looked lying on her furs beside him in the tent. He had almost reached out and touched her, intending to draw her close, and then he remembered their conversation from the day before. She was not his wife. She was not his lover....

Had they been before? Was that the answer? It would certainly explain why the mother did not trust him, and would be true to the elusive feeling in his gut that he had seen her before. There was an image, and nothing more. He was near an animal of some sort, a small creature...standing in a glen...he had looked up and then- at the moment he remembered Hildegarde's face, the memory would slip away. He sighed in frustration .

"Match? Will you join me for dinner?" The warrior looked up, smiling. It seemed that Rodelind was forever calling him to a meal. He wondered if they would ever have a deeper conversation....perhaps he would learn why she was so sad, where her husband had gone, and why they lived apart from the village...

Carefully cleaning the axe on the edge of his tunic, he headed back indoors. He blinked in surprise when he saw Hildegarde. She was wearing a different dress than she had been earlier- and her mother was weaving flowers into her hair. The effect was charming...but there was something wrong. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her lower lip was trembling.

"Is something wrong?" He leaned toward her without thinking, reaching as though to caress her cheek.

"Your meal is on the table."

The sternness of Rodelind's voice made him startle, and he did as he was bidden, unable to tear his gaze away from the sniffling daughter.

"Wipe your eyes." Rodelind's voice was gentler as she spoke to her daughter. "You knew that this was going to happen. You hoped for it once. There are worse things."

The girl nodded glumly, dabbing her eyes on her mother's apron. "B-but..." The women began to whisper, and Match could no longer make out the words. Sighing, he turned his attention to his meal.

Back in the woods Antonia was growing frantic. Between her riding lost in

thought and the her search for a shelter, she had totally lost the road for the camp. She had already been wandering in the forest for hours, trying to

find the little path. She had even tried to free her mount, hoping the mare had a better sense of direction than she but that was not the case: once free, the beast was only interested in grazing. She was doing that even now, while Antonia tried to analyze her situation: she was lost in the middle of a forest full of barbarians, she had no food and her clothes were still damp from the morning rains and she had no doubt that she would freeze after sundown. Her only hope, she decided -- aside from the remote possibility that she might find the road again -- was a search party. Antonia cringed at the thought: her uncle would be furious, and justly so! She had been inconsiderate and impulsive, but she was willing to pay the price if only it meant that she would return quickly to the safe walls of the camp.