Diana did not sleep a wink the night Quintus and Didius called on her

Diana did not sleep a wink the night Quintus and Didius called on her. Julia, exhausted by the day's events, began snoring the moment her little head hit the pillow. This should have allowed her mother to rest easier, but it did not. She paced the floors of their room for many hours, before it dawned on her, with amazing simplicity, what she must do.

Pulling a heavy wooden chest out from under her bed, she began filling it with their belongings quickly, more tears streaming down her face atop the dried salty residue of earlier that evening. Not all of the things they had acquired would fit in, so carelessly she began throwing old tunicas and other garments down onto the floor. There was no time to waste. They would leave as soon as possible, once Didius had paid his little 'inspection' visit.

* * *

Antoninus thought at length of Diana, as he did every minute of every day, laying out his merchandise at market the next day. When they talked, he had noticed that she was somewhat reserved in what she told him about her past, but it bothered him very little, as there were many things she didn't know about him either. Sharing so many secrets so soon made him uncomfortable; first he wished to wait until he had her heart, her promise to be his wife.

Born in the middle of the reign of Marcus Aurelius, his ambitious father had named him after the Antonine dynasty under whose rule the Empire had so far flourished. Nonetheless, his son had never seen any need whatsoever for airs and pretences based on one's status. His great-uncle had wished for him to take his place in the Senate upon his death, yet Antoninus had absolutely no interest in politics. He made a more than sufficient living in this more honest part of Rome, selling splendid handmade pottery in old Greek designs. Some people called him an artist; he called himself a tradesman.

His life was almost complete. He had money, a good home in a modest villa nearby, good friends, and now Diana. When they had first met, he had thought her somewhat clumsy, though thoughtful, sweet-tempered and an unfailingly good mother. He saw her true beauty where others saw plainness, and he had replaced her almost constantly brooding expression with many a rare smile. Now he loved her – he was in no doubt whatsoever that she had been placed on this earth to be his forever. He planned to ask for her hand that evening.

* * *

Meanwhile, the morning was agonising for Diana, who by sunrise felt too exhausted to continue packing. She could not do so anyway once Julia awoke, for fear of panicking the little girl who had done nothing to deserve this burden. Much to her mother's further worry and dismay, however, she seemed to know what was happening already. The child lay abed for a long time, staring at the ceiling reflectively, while Diana stood by the small window, shivering. "That man is coming today, isn't he, Mama?"

"Yes, darling," she replied, her voice trembling even more than her body. "But there's nothing to worry about. You will stay silent if he speaks to you…though that is normally impolite, there is no reason to be mannerly with these people. I won't let him touch you. Do not move from my side while he's here."

Julia nodded knowingly. "I already knew that I should do all that."

Three endless, excruciating hours later, Diana all but cried out with shock and trepidation when several loud knocks sounded on their door. Squeezing Julia's hand and ordering her again to sit still and be quiet, she rose stiffly, breathing deeply. Quickly she reminded herself that this was not Quintus, the man she despised more than anyone in the world at this moment – it was merely his bumbling manservant.

She opened the door slowly, revealing his nervous, smiling features. "Good day, Madam."

"Good day, Didius." She saw no reason to show him any respect by addressing him as 'sir'.

He ignored the barbs in her voice and manner. "May I come in?"

"Of course." The door creaked open, her hand a vice-grip on the handle. Diana was determined to remain in complete control of the whole repugnant affair.

Didius entered, his steps small and nervous, hardly making a sound as he crossed the rug-covered floors of the small apartment. Behind him, Diana swept up Julia's short, stout frame into her arms and stroked the little girl's long hair to try and calm her. Why must you be so intelligent? she asked her silently. Why must you sense every little thing that happens, good or bad? I fear for you…and not simply because I think I might lose you today.

At that moment, as mother and child both burned invisible holes into his back with their fiery eyes, Didius swung around, his own gaze full of dread and his voice crackly with nervousness. "I feel I must say something to reassure you, Madam."

"What can you possibly say that will reassure me? Your master wishes to take my daughter from me."

Didius frowned. "My master acts upon his own selfish ambitions. Because he does not believe that your daughter is actually your daughter – a sentiment that, I, for one, do not share – he does not believe that you will grieve if separated from her. He has very little compassion for anyone, Madam. Least of all for women and children. You must, must, accept my apologies on his behalf."

Diana felt some of her composure begin to fail. Her heart bled, momentarily, for this poor servant – before she reminded herself not to trust him, under any circumstances. This was no time to take foolish risks. Not where Lucilla's baby, nay her baby, was concerned.

"And what if I accept your apologies? Then am I supposed to hand Julia to your master without feeling, and just accept the brutality of both our fates?" Gradually, her voice was raised to shouting. "Do you have any idea what it is to raise a child? Any child that you love, regardless of whether you gave birth to it or not?"

Tears began to fill the young manservant's eyes. "No, I do not, Madam. But I am not blind to the predicament you face. I knew the first time I heard of my master's plan that no woman, least of all you – for I have heard of your goodness, Diana – would give up her child so easily. I do not expect you to give up Julia now or ever."

The woman's shivering subsided, just a little. "Then what am I to do?"

Didius's gaze fell from the formidable, tormented figure before him to the little girl stood at her side. He recalled his master's conviction that Julia's father was indeed the General Maximus. The child clung to her mother's shabby skirts, staring back up at him boldly, her eyes almost too large and to fiery for one so small and so young. He tried to smile at Diana.

"I am going to do my duty and report back to my master. He plans to visit you himself in three days' time; by then I hope you will do the right thing for yourself and the child and leave this place, and never look back. She is blameless and deserves a better life than the one my master wishes for her." The servant's forehead creased with the beginnings of rage. "He has no claim to her. No claim to anything…yet he wants everything that is not his, and was never meant to be."

Diana almost did not hear that last comment. Her memories of Quintus were as hazy as those of the General, or Emperor Commodus, or her father. Had she blocked every man out of her recollection entirely? "I had already planned to leave; very soon, in fact. If we go, will your master punish you?"

Surprised that she should be concerned, he took a moment before answering. "I doubt it, though I'm willing to take the risk. He thinks I have no gumption, least of all to refuse to carry out his wishes." Didius smiled, albeit bitterly. "He knows nothing of me, really, the stupid man." He turned to leave, despite little Julia's attempts to hold eye contact with him.

"Didius, wait," Diana said, suddenly and inexplicably feeling totally drained. A sharp pain cut through her forehead as she gazed down at Julia. "Does she look like the child of a Spaniard to you?" The word 'Spaniard' was her only reminiscence of any description of Maximus. She had only lain eyes on him as he had fought in the Colosseum – from up in the Imperial box, where she had accompanied Lucilla, those few times that her stomach had allowed it.

Julia's hand tightened loyally around her own as Didius turned back to them both. Once forcing himself to examine the child properly, all he saw was a miniature carbon copy of the late Princess of Rome. As far as he could see, there was nothing of the legendary general in her.

* * *

Antoninus began to grow nervous as he left his villa for Diana's building, steeling himself to ask her to be his wife. He had lost count of the number of times they had liased in secret, the number of times he had rehearsed these moments in his mind. Yet now he was still uneasy. Part of him, he could just about admit to himself, was afraid she would reject him. Even as every look she gave him, every chaste kiss and embrace, seemed to beg him to ask her.

The semi-darkness of early evening seemed suddenly oppressive as he approached her building, expecting to see her waiting outside for him. But the area was deserted. Before this could begin to worry him, however, a new problem walked slowly towards him from down a nearby road.

A man, slightly younger than Antoninus, approached him a little too confidently for his liking, a small, sardonic smile on his face. His clothes were suspiciously grand looking, not quite seeming to fit with his already impudent-seeming manner. Antoninus bowed his head in greeting, hoping that the stranger would pass him by completely.

For a moment, it looked as though he would. But no such luck. He strode closer to Diana's building than where Antoninus stood, watching him intently, before turning at smiling at the other man. "Good evening," he said, with mock cheerfulness.

"Good evening," Antoninus replied flatly, turning away dismissively.

"You are a friend of Diana, are you not?"

He turned towards the stranger, frowning incredulously. "I don't believe that is any of your business, sir."

The man seemed unperturbed. His face grew serious as he spoke, his tone full of bitterness. "She was my business once. When both of us inhabited much higher stations than this." He turned and cast a jaded glance over the empty, darkening square around them.

"Why should that concern me?" Anger, a sentiment Antoninus was unaccustomed to, built in his voice as he listened in amazement.

"Because," Mercifully, the stranger began to walk away. "Now may not be the best of times to consort with her. I've followed her movements since we were separated some time ago – for I have every right to – and I have a clear idea what is about to happen. Those men who visited her just this week are more powerful than she realises."

"Men visit her?" Antoninus almost wheezed in disbelief. Why hadn't he known? Why hadn't she told him?

The other man's face twisted into a wry grin. "But of course, she wouldn't want to spoil her tryst with you by telling you of them. She is a woman of secrets, sir. I merely thought that I should warn you. Goodbye."

Antoninus, paralysed with shock, merely stood gaping as the stranger took his leave. He stared back, his eyesight misted over with tears, at Diana's window on her building, before turning groggily to walk away. If she was in trouble with some higher power, there was simply no way he could propose to her yet. His heart sinking, he wondered at this sudden turn of events, and then cursed himself for not sensing that anything was awry before, when all the warning signs were there: her secrecy and quietness, her blatantly upper-class mannerisms, her reluctance to allow him to court her openly. She could not possibly love him if she could hide so much.

* * *

Julia sat on her bed, watching her mother closely as she raced around the room in paroxysms of fear, throwing yet more belongings into the wooden chest that had sat collecting dust in their room for five years. Diana had let her long dark hair fall out of the pin she wore unfailingly, letting it fall around her face. Her cheeks were flushed red as tears streamed sporadically down them from her glowing eyes. Not even the little five-year-old girl missed the irony that, even as her mama had probably never been more miserable, she had never looked more beautiful either.

"Mama?" Julia said quietly, looking at the mess of things strewn around her and wondering how she might try to help. "What's happening? Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes, baby," Diana replied feverishly, smiling forcedly. "We have to leave. It might be a long journey, but we'll be all right. I've travelled a long way before."

"Do we have to leave?"

"Yes."

"Is it because that man's master wants to take me?"

Diana stopped short of packing Lucilla's jewellery box into the trunk. She looked imploringly at the child, and wondered why she had thought that, having seen Julia for himself and seen that there was plainly nothing of the legendary Spaniard in her, Didius would convince his master to leave them alone. How stupidly naïve of her, and how damaging for the innocent little girl.

"That man's master will never take you from me, Julia. You are my daughter. Don't ever doubt that."

"Then what did you mean when you asked if he thought I was a Spaniard?"

Diana's heart sank. "I didn't mean anything. I told you, I'll tell you all about your father when you're old enough to understand." The woman wrapped the precious golden box in a soft piece of wool and placed in deep down in the chest, beneath their clothes. "You're far too young to know of these things. I should never have let you stay here while that man was here."

She sat down, suddenly, on her own bed, feeling nauseous. The headache that had been plaguing her for several days had returned with a vengeance today. Taking a large draught of water from a cup left on a low table nearby, she tried to fight the fatigue and sickness threatening to overcome her. This was no time for her constitution, already weak, to fail her.

Only Julia sensed how ill her mother was becoming. She knew they would not be going anywhere, and that Diana would never be strong enough to protect her on her own.