©2001 by WILDBEARIES

This story is based on characters created in the film, "Gladiator" and in no way intended to infringe upon those characters or the story of that film. References to real people are strictly the product of the writer's imagination and meant to entertain the reader.
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A Roman legion on the march is an awesome sight. Fifty centuries, each consisting of a hundred men, all the baggage wagons necessary to move their armor, weapons, foodstuffs, supplies of all kinds, cavalry units on horseback, foot soldiers marching in ordered ranks, and behind the military came the wagons and animals of family members, camp followers and assorted hangers-on.

Maximus and his officers rode at the head of this impressive array, at least at the beginning, eventually falling back to move up and down the line of soldiers, having brief meetings on horseback, talking with scouts and couriers, keeping an eye on the moving mass of humanity that was Felix III. In Italy it was not like marching through the hostile woods of Germania or the plains of Dacia or deserts of Egypt - they were on home ground and the people they encountered along their way were Romans and friendly. "Different than slogging through the woods, eh, Donatus?" Maximus joked with his long-time Tribune.

"No mud, for one thing," the officer replied with a grin. "And no fur-covered Marcomanni."

"No arrows out of nowhere," Maximus went on with a grin. "Boring, right?"

Donatus nodded. "Yes, but I like it!"

Maximus pulled up Belarus and circled back where Erato and his daughter rode in a large wagon filled with all the medical supplies an army doctor was liable to need. Ana smiled as he galloped up, making the horse rear. "Good morning!" she called, having been asleep when he had risen before dawn to to begin his day. He cut such a fine figure on horseback, she thought, especially now that he was rested and the color was back in his face. She was pleased that she had played a large part in his return to health and vigor.

He bowed with a flourish, inclining his head to Erato as well. "I came to see if you wanted to ride your mare for awhile."

Ana nodded and stood up, moving to the edge of the wagon. Maximus put his arm around her and lifted her easily onto the horse in front of him. "I'll bring her back safely," he promised her father, then cantered off toward the lines of horses moving in the control of the cavalrymen.

Ana had hold of a handful of reddish mane, but enjoyed the ride because Maximus had his arm around her and she felt safe under his control. He made sure she was securely seated, then galloped back to where Pulcher and his other horses were under the care of the head stable officer. "My wife's horse," Maximus gestured at the pretty gray. An aide ran to saddle and bridle the horse, then led her away from the moving mass of horses, off to the side of the road. Maximus helped her mount and waited while she had a brief argument with the mare about who was in charge. "She's as exciting a ride as the stallion," Ana joked, the mare firmly under control.

Maximus' grin widened, and he quickly remounted the sorrel. "Come with me, I'll take you up to the head of the column so you can see the cavalry units riding in formation."

Ana trotted the mare after his much larger horse, then quickly got her into a smooth canter that was like rocking in a cradle. "Oh, you beauty!" she said softly, patting the sleek pale gray neck. She caught up to her husband and rode alongside, loving the wind in her face after hours of riding the slow-moving wagon.

They rode along the lines of marching men, rumbling wagons, wheeled caissons bearing the war machines - now dismantled and stowed on the large carts for travel - and eventually reached the mounted troops at the front of the column. Maximus waved in response to salutes from the cavalry officers, and led Ana to the top of a small rise where they could sit their horses and she could see the large group of riders.

They were impressive indeed. They all wore leather breast plates, many with the medallions and battle ribbons won in hard-fought campaigns decorating the fine leather. For the most part, they wore the red cloaks of the Roman army, but one unit - Maximus personal unit - wore cloaks of deep blue gray and each had the insignia of a running wolf on his breast plate. This was the Wolf's Bane cavalry unit, and they were the elite cavalry of all the legions. The horses' bridles were studded with silvered metal plaques that caught the sun and gave off flashes of light. Their harness jingled with silvered buckles and chains, their saddle cloths were deep gray with red borders, and the officers' helmets were all crested with gray. Ana thought they were the most extraordinary sight she'd ever seen.

Maximus watched her, enjoying how her eyes shone as if she couldn't get enough of looking at his unit as they rode by. He signaled to Antoninus, who was riding at the head of the unit, and the hundred riders sped up to a canter, then to a gallop, pulling away from the main column, circling through the large field beside where Maximus and Ana sat their horses, forming into lines of horse and rider that wove in and out, forming into circles, squares, and back into columns again to eventually re-establish themselves at the front of the whole legion. Ana clapped her hands in delight. "Thank you for letting me see that!" she exclaimed to Maximus. "I've only heard about them - this was so special, seeing them!"

Maximus laughed, enjoying her delight. "They've been practicing," he told her. "That was especially for you."

"I loved it," she said honestly. The sound of the rumbling supply wagons drowned out all talk at that point, so she followed Maximus back to her father's wagon and reluctantly dismounted, letting him take Pulcher back to the horse lines. Maximus lifted her onto the high seat and promised to visit her again during the day, then remounted and galloped off toward the front of the line again, leaving her gazing after him.

"Your heart is showing," her father teased.

She smiled. "Yes, I'm sure. I can't help it."

"He's a good man," Erato said, "he'll watch after you, keep you safe."

"Father, you talk as though I were a wayward child, unable to keep myself out of trouble."

"Allow me a few more days of such talk," he answered, "soon enough you will only have time for him, and then there will no doubt be children to keep you occupied as well. And I can't see you giving up your healing, either."

She touched her father's hand, "But I'll always be your daughter," she said softly. "That won't ever change."

Erato smiled and shook up the reins. "I know that, but you're his wife now, Ana, and he is an important general. You'll have responsibilities there as well."

"Yes, Father," she said demurely, then they both burst into laughter since she was anything but a demure milksop of a daughter. "I'm so glad I decided to rejoin you and the army instead of remaining in Alexandria - I would never have found him!"

"I remember you following him around when you were barely ten," her father reminisced, "you got under his feet on several occasions. No doubt a harbinger of the future, had we but known."

"I'm sure I was a trial to my husband back then," Ana agreed. She had been enthralled with the young officers, especially the good looking dark one from Hispania who road like a centaur. He had such unusual eyes - sometimes green, sometimes blue, sometimes almost silver if the light was just right - and he always had a smile and a gentle word for her, even when she, a skinny ten year old, got in his way.

Erato grunted agreement. The wagon rumbled onward and she mused on the past, remembering one incident in particular.

The Felix legion, under General Claudius Clarus, had been newly returned from a posting in northern Africa. They were camped in Ostia, awaiting orders to proceed to their next posting - which would no doubt be Germania - and she had come to stay with her father after her mother had died from a lingering fever. It had been good for her to have the change of scene, and it had helped her handle her grief to be with her father and the huge legion instead of cooped up in their empty, echoing house in Alexandria.

Ana, as dirty and raucous as any of the young sons of officers and the like, rode her pony up and down the rows of neatly aligned white tents, daily looking for something interesting to watch or some prank to get into. She dressed like the boys in tunic, sandals and short trousers, and wore her hair plaited into a ragged braid to keep it out of her way. With her wiry strength and bold ways, she was soon the leader of a little group of children around her own age, and they became the bane of many an officer's existence. She drilled them on the parade ground like the elite cavalry units. She led them on forays into the countryside around the castra, getting in the way of horsemen on legitimate errands, and several times careening through the parade ground when one or the other of the cavalry units was training, disrupting the neatly formed lines of horse and rider, leaving chaos of squealing horses and irate men in their wake.

She had led a group of ten children, ponies at the gallop, right through the lines of Centurion Maximus Decimus Meridius' horsemen one afternoon, bringing their entire drill to a halt as horses bumped into one another and the riders tried to keep from injuring the children on their much smaller mounts. What had been a well organized, complex maneuver involving changing formations at the gallop turned instead into a tangled mass of shouting men, rearing horses and a very angry centurion catching the reins of Ana's pony and stopping her from escaping. "Hold there, boy!" he had snapped, obviously furious. "That's the second time you've played havoc with my drills and I want to know whose urchin you are so I can tell your father he needs to curb his son's behavior."

Ana, amused that he thought she was a boy, had tried to yank her mount's reins free of his grip, but to no avail. "I will not tell you," she had boldly answered him, mainly because she knew her father would not be pleased at what they had been up to when he thought she was off playing harmless game with the other children.

The young centurion had fixed her with a piercing, silver gaze that gave her a cold chill down the spine, then nodded, "Right. Come with me, then, boy," he had ordered and led her off the parade ground and off to one side. "Dismount," he said curtly.

Ana obeyed, realizing she may have bitten off more than she could chew. The centurion - the one she had thought the best of all the cavalry officers - was not amused at her antics, and she knew she was about to either be shouted at or probably beaten for her temerity. She dismounted without questioning him.

He also dismounted and just stood, staring at her, taking in the dirty, torn tunic, well-worn sandals, scratches on arms and legs, and the sprinkling of freckles across the nose. His eyes narrowed suddenly, "You're Erato's daughter, right?"

"Damn it," Ana had exclaimed, "I didn't think you'd know me."

He had grunted and tucked his whip under the edge of his saddlecloth. "I didn't, not until this moment. Does your father know what you do during the day with your little band of pony troops?"

"No," she had admitted, looking down to study her toes.

He was quiet a moment and she looked up, finding his gaze much less harsh than she had thought it would be. "If you promise me you will never disrupt a cavalry drill again, nor ride through the lines of horsemen leaving havoc in your wake, I will not tell your father what you've done."

"Truly?" Ana had breathed, relieved at the sudden reprieve.

"Truly," he answered firmly. "Do I have your promise?"

She grinned, liking this officer very much. "You do, sir. Now, may I go?"

He tossed her back onto her pony and sent her on her way with the warning that he had better not run into her - literally or figuratively - in any way that interfered with his men's performance of their duty.

"You won't!" she had promised, then sank her heels into her pony's sides and galloped off, gathering her little "cavalry" troop and leading them away from the parade ground. He heard her yelling like any one of his fierce riders, and smiled to himself. Children - he just hoped she lived to grow up and didn't break her neck in some damn fool stunt before then. He remounted and set his men into their drill again. "By the tens," he shouted, and quickly forgot about the small, wiry girl with the skinny body and the large blue eyes.

Ana, however, did not forget, and seized every opportunity during the time before the legion marched for the north to watch everything Centurion Maximus did, memorizing the way he sat his horse, how he almost never raised his voice, but instead conveyed his orders to his men by gesture, facial expression, and hand signals, only rarely speaking to them above a conversational tone. His force of personality was much more imposing than any shouted orders would be. When her brief time in Ostia was over and she went back to Egypt to continue her education in her aunt's house, the Hispanic centurion was the one she missed the most.

She had hoped to meet him again one day, never knowing what Fate had in store ten years in her future. Ana looked up and waved as the wife of one of Maximus' officers hailed her from her seat on another wagon. She jumped down and ran over almost like that wiry little girl would have done, climbing up to sit with the other young woman to gossip and chatter for awhile, and lessen the boredom of the march up through Italy. Always, in her mind's eye, that young officer rode, metamorphosizing into her husband. She was so lucky to have been in the right place at the right time - she might have missed helping to save him.

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Copyright 2001 by wildbearies