©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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Maximus awoke abruptly, but forced himself to remain as motionless as if he were still sleeping, listening to the sounds, sniffing the air, trying to determine his situation without giving away his state of wakefulness. He heard the crackle of a fire, soft breathing from someone lying very close to him, and the wind rattling the branches of the trees overhead. He smelled sandalwood very faintly - Ana - and also the sour scent of unwashed bodies from nearby, obviously the outlaws. From the lack of noises other than snoring, he deduced that it was night and most everyone was sleeping. He cracked one eye open warily.

It was Ana lying within a hand's span of him. He slowly moved his arm until his fingers brushed her wrist. Her eyes flew open, but she was as cautious as he and didn't move, only looked at him. She studied his face, then, with extreme caution, moved her hand to feel his forehead. "You have fever," she said in a tiny whisper.

He nodded, quite aware of the heat from within himself. "Not bad," he mouthed, knowing that even in a whisper, his voice carried.

Ana shook her head, unconvinced, scowling at him. "Does the arm pain you?"

He just quirked an eyebrow, as though that was a moot point. "Bearable," he told her, though it ached like fury, and his left arm also, where he'd been struck by the cudgel. He moved to ease it and Ana's eyes immediately went to the livid bruise on his forearm. She touched it lightly and scowled even more when he winced. "Broken," she told him, though she wasn't sure.

They were so concentrated on one another, that when Garth suddenly loomed over them in the fire lit darkness, they both started in surprise. Maximus moved instinctively to protect Ana, causing Garth to snarl and kick him several times, hard. Maximus gasped but didn't move away from his wife.

Garth growled something in his native tongue, reached down and forcibly dragged the Roman away from the woman. She was a pretty little thing, and he intended to have her, despite Metellus' orders to the men to leave the prisoners alone. He took hold of her by one arm and pulled her to her feet, clapping one dirty hand over her mouth as she began kicking and struggling. "Hold still," he said in what he termed Latin, "You'll like me, all the women do." He yanked her back against him and rubbed suggestively at her buttocks.

Maximus got to his hands and knees, but was tangled in his cloak, only then realizing he was wearing his loincloth and nothing else. Cursing, he fought free of the heavy wool and stumbled to his feet - his bare feet - intent on stopping Garth's handling of his wife. He didn't have to, however, because Lucullus, awakened by their commotion, came roaring off his pallet and bludgeoned the hairy Gaul with his fists, shouting at him to let go of the woman and get back to his post. "You're supposed to be watching for pursuers, you idiot, not tumbling a wench in the snow."

Garth sneered but let go of Ana, who fell into a half crouch, panting, but obviously unhurt. "Thank you," she managed, looking up at the man she was more and more sure was a friend rather than an enemy. "See to your husband," he said in a low voice, then walked away. He was back in a moment to hand her Maximus' now dry tunic and undershirt. "Here, before he freezes."

Ana took the garments, got them on her shivering husband, then settled him on the rudimentary sleeping pallet. "Let me see your left arm," she said in a voice that brooked no negative answers. He held it out to her, a slight smile curling his mouth, and she felt all around the bruised area. "I don't think it's broken," she finally said, "but it needs wrapping." She took a strip of linen from her medicine chest and expertly wrapped his forearm, tying the ends of the bandage and tucking them in smoothly. "There, try to be careful with that."

Aching all over, Maximus nodded and lay back, wincing when his bruises protested. Good thing the Gaul had several layers of cloth tied over his ragged boots or he'd have broken ribs to contend with instead of just soreness and bruising. He sighed, trying to get comfortable. His mind went over and over things, trying to figure a way out of their predicament. The best hope, he concluded, was for Antoninus to somehow have been able to follow the path they must have left in their trek through the woods. He could only hope it hadn't snowed and covered the signs. Ana scooted close and snuggled against him, adding her blanket over the top of his cloak so they could share body warmth.

"There," she whispered, "now we'll both be warmer." Even in such circumstances as this, she took comfort from lying close to Maximus.

He put his mouth by her ear, whispering, "I counted seven of them, do you agree?"

So he had seen more than she had thought. She should have known. "Yes, and three are wounded, the one probably dead by now, the other two with minor wounds but they will be slowed down some."

He gave a huff of understanding, obviously thinking of ways out of their situation. "I'm hoping Antoninus isn't far behind us."

"We stopped hours ago," she whispered, "he could have caught up to us by now, or passed us, or even be lost in the woods."

"Not Antoninus," Maximus answered with a slight smile, "he'll be able to follow the broken branches even if snow has filled in our tracks. Besides, I left quite a blood trail - he will be able to spot that even with the snow, he's quite good at tracking wounded animals."

"You are not an animal," she shot back, but understood what he meant. Antoninus was apparently adept at hunting, which often meant tracking a wounded animal simply by following blood traces on leaves or rocky ground, or through snow. "Then, perhaps he has already found is and is merely waiting for daylight."

Maximus nodded, "Could be. We should try to sleep a little, we'll need to be rested if we have to flee or fight."

Ana slid her arms around his waist, "Hold me then, I can only sleep in your arms now, I fear."

He held her close, his chin resting on top of her head, and even though he thought he wouldn't sleep, he did manage to doze a little, waking as the sun rose and pinked the trampled snow around their campsite. He glanced around carefully. Garth was sleeping, standing propped against a tree about twenty yards away, supposedly on watch. Another man, also asleep, was about ten yards back down their path from Garth. Everyone else appeared to be sleeping.

It was unnaturally still, not even a sparrow twittering in the branches. Maximus moved slightly away from Ana and rolled onto his back, then onto his other side. The rising sun struck a glint off something metallic about fifty feet away on the west side of the camp. He was sure it was nothing related to the outlaws, and his surmise was confirmed when, an instant later, he caught the low chirping hoot of a screech owl. In the daylight? He grinned to himself. Antoninus. It had to be - he wore an amulet in the shape of an owl, had done for years. Maximus turned back to face Ana and found her staring at him, apparently awake. "Be ready," he mouthed, and wished he had his boots. He didn't relish fleeing or fighting barefooted in the snow, but if needs dictated it, it would be so.

Ana's blue eyes widened, but she quickly gathered herself even while remaining under cover of the blanket. "And you?" she whispered to Maximus, knowing he was sore and bruised.

"Fine, worry about getting out of the way. . ." Before he could complete that sentence, a long dagger, flung with expert accuracy, thumped into the ragged blanket they lay on, exactly between them. Ana jumped slightly, but Maximus' steadying hand on her arm kept her from making much noise, and his wolfish grin told her that the knife was from one of his men, intended for his use. He pulled it free of the ground and sat up, looking around as though just waking up, in case any of the outlaws should be looking. "Still sleeping, the fools," he whispered.

The owl hooted again, closer this time, and Maximus indicated that Ana should get to her feet as though going to relieve herself. When she did, he rose a moment later, and when he saw a red-clad arm signaling the charge, he shoved her behind some bushes and onto the ground. "Stay there," he barked in a voice that brooked no argument. He clasped the cloak fastenings and held the long dagger like a sword, standing barefoot and half dressed in the snow as his men rushed silently forward into the clearing. Just as the first of them leaped over the brush into the campsite, he heard Antoninus bellow, "Maximus!"

"Here!" he answered, and joined the group of lightly clad legionaries - cavalrymen on foot judging from their gray tunics with red borders - as they rushed into the camp and surprised the outlaws. Only Metellus and Lucullus seemed to realize what was happening and they were the only ones who fought with any kind of concerted effort. Garth and the other ragged men either surrendered without a fight, or were dispatched forthwith on the blades of the attacking Romans. Maximus ran through the snow and engaged Metellus himself.

Antoninus tossed him a gladius, which he held in his right hand, the dagger in his left, and Maximus grinned at the furious Metellus, "I still have Roman steel for you, deserter."

"You'll have to kill me then, General, for I've no intention of giving up like the rest of these poxy cowards." Metellus crouched, his sword at the ready. Maximus gestured to the other Romans to stay back, and he stepped forward to meet the first thrust of Metellus' blade.

Steel flashed and sparked as the blades met and the two men shoved back from one another, each driven by the force of the other's strike. Maximus feinted to his left and swung the sword overhanded with his right hand. When Metellus parried that strike, he stabbed over Metellus' arm and sank the dagger into his shoulder. Metellus jumped back, yelling, the blade stuck almost through his shoulder, blood streaming. "Hurts, does it?" Maximus taunted.

"You bastard," Metellus ground out, managing to get the dagger out of his arm and tossing it onto the ground out of Maximus' reach. "I should have killed you when I had the chance instead of being greedy for ransom."

Maximus smiled amiably, "Yes, you should have," he agreed. He was standing calmly, barefooted in the snow, wearing only his cloak over one tunic, but looking as unconcerned as if he were in full regimental battle dress and boots. He gestured to Metellus, flicking his fingers in a "come hither" gesture, "Come now, surrender or be sent to Hades, it's your choice."

Ana, watching from the shelter of the brush, was fascinated at seeing a side of her husband she had only suspected existed before now. If she were Metellus, she thought, she would have already thrown down her sword and given up rather than continue to face that cold, blue stare.

Metellus thought for a moment, appeared to hesitate, then flung himself at Maximus with a wild shout. Their blades met again with a clashing, sliding screech of metal on metal, then Maximus began slowly advancing on the man, driving him back to where he came up against a wall formed by the Roman soldiers who stood in a circle around them, their leather armor serving as a bulwark against any blows he might choose to strike against one of them. Metellus, knowing he was losing, seeing his death in the implacable face of General Maximus, advanced on him one last time, swinging his blade wildly. He left himself open to Maximus' sword, and Maximus drove forward, stabbing him through the chest with so much force the tip of the blade emerged from Metellus' back.

Ana found her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. She was unable to look away, staring as the outlaw soldier fell onto his side, blood bubbling from his mouth, cursing Maximus and Rome with his last breath. He went still and silent in a moment, blood hissing into the snow, forming a red pool around his body. Ana let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She glanced around, a thought hitting her suddenly - where was Lucullus? She had seen him at the beginning of the short battle, but then he had seemingly melted into the woods, gone in a trice. She ran over to Maximus and said urgently, "Lucullus - the other one I'm sure is a soldier - he ran into the woods."

Maximus didn't recall which soldier she was speaking of, having been mostly insensate when they had first arrived at the campsite. "I'm sure we'll track him down," he told her, then shivered, as if his body had just realized he was barefoot in the cold with very few clothes on. "Can someone find my boots?" he asked, and six of the soldiers jumped to do his bidding. Ana hid a smile. Even half naked and with no boots on, he commanded such respect from his men that no one dared laugh at his state.

Antoninus, however, walked over to his general, eyed him briefly, and grinned. "Diced away your clothing, sir?"

"Hmmf," Maximus grunted, then grinned at the centurion, "Nothing that interesting, I'm afraid. Edepol! Could someone find my trousers while they're at it?" He wrapped the cloak around himself and shivered, adding, "Be sure they're mine and not some flea-ridden outlaw's."

In due course they found Maximus armor and weapons scattered where the outlaws had left them. His trousers, however, were found on the body of a scrawny, very dirty dead man, and everyone thought it best not to remove them given the number of lice on the man's body. "Never mind," Maximus commented, when he'd seen the body. "I'll just wrap my cloak around my legs and hope for the best."

They did find his boots and greaves, which kept the wind off his lower legs, and once he was warmly garbed in his tunics, armor and cloak again, mounted on Belarus, Ana helped him tuck the cloak around his thighs to keep the wind out. Antoninus lifted her onto the saddle in front of the general, threw one of the fine wool blankets stolen from her wagon over her, and assumed that would keep both of them warm on the trip back to rejoin the Felix, which was camped where they had been the afternoon before. Ana's belongings were trussed onto the backs of the cart horses, and the whole group quickly set off back down the path toward the legion's encampment.

A party of three men hunted for Lucullus for over an hour but found no trace of him. Ana, hearing their report later, was more certain than ever that he was somehow not the outlaw he appeared to be and that they hadn't seen the last of him. Maximus, not having had more than a brief glimpse of the man, wasn't so sure.

It would not be an easy thing to ride into one's camp in front of five thousand troops without one's trousers, Antoninus mused as Maximus did just that. Nobody, even the rawest recruit unfamiliar with the general's reputation, dared laugh, though they did cheer when he rode into the small praetorium with his wife riding in front of him. He managed to dismount and keep his dignity, and even accompany Antoninus for a short talk in the command tent with his other officers, all the time keeping his cloak wrapped around himself in the frigid air. After making sure the men were safely encamped and that no further trouble had ensued since his capture the day before, he was very grateful to turn command over to the tribunes.

Ana greeted him as he made his weary way to his tent. "Drusus has hot water waiting for you," she told him, helping him off with the cloak. Drusus came forward and unbuckled the leather breastplate, took it and the sword belt and hung them on their stand, then unlaced the caligae.

"Come sir," he said, noting how tired his general looked and also taking in the bandages on either arm, "I took the liberty of having the small tub unloaded and filled with hot water for you, I thought you would appreciate it."

"More than you know," Maximus said gratefully. He stepped into the water and sat down, bending his knees to fit into the smallish tub, but still enjoying the heated relief of the water, even on some chapped areas of his thighs where the wind had managed to reach in spite of the cloak. "Ouch, that stings," was all he said, but Ana was busy unwrapping his right arm, checking her neat stitches, so she didn't notice the reddened areas on his upper legs at first. When he shifted uncomfortably for the third time, she stopped what she was doing. "If you cannot sit still, I cannot look at this wound properly," she said in her best physician's tone of voice.

"I cannot sit still," her husband informed her, "because the water burns like fire."

"It isn't that hot," she retorted, then saw where he was pointing. "Oh. Wind burn. Keep your thighs out of the water as much as possible," she ordered, then giggled at the perplexed look on his face. "I know, it's a small tub, but do your best, I'll put some ointment on the red spots when you're dried off."

She helped him bathe since his arms were both sore, scrubbing his back for him with a horsehair brush while he groaned in delight. "Sleeping on the ground in winter is not my favorite activity," he explained as she helped him dry himself.

"I have heard that as one ages, one gets soft," she teased, earning herself a flip of his wet towel across her buttocks when she went to get his clean shirt from Drusus. She yelped with laughter, then he picked her up and dunked her in the tub, necessitating removal of her soaked clothing. When there was only sloshing and giggling coming from the bed chamber, Drusus thought it might be politic to remove himself from the tent, and went to dine with Antoninus and hear the full story of how they had tracked and found Maximus and Lady Ana. He didn't come back until very late.

Maximus didn't get any ointment on his wind burned thighs until very late, either, but it was so enjoyable when Ana finally did rub the soothing medicament into his chapped skin that he didn't really mind. After that, he slept like the dead until morning.

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Copyright 2001 by wildbearies

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