©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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For two days they hovered over his bed. He could see them perched at the foot and head, watching him with their cold, glittering eyes. At times, he could feel the brush of their feathers when they stretched a wing or bent to look closely into his face, hoping to see death in his eyes. Black eagles, he thought, or vultures, even ghosts from something in his past he could no longer recall. They brought coldness with them, and a stench that he knew instinctively was something to fear. He battled them back time after time, but they always returned. Finally, he was too weak to fight them and they hovered close. "Take me, then," he surrendered.

Ana bent close, "What did you say?" It had been quiet in the tent except for the general's harsh breathing, then even that had fallen quiet, so his voice startled her.

"Death," he answered, dragging his eyes open with a terrible effort. "Or a heavenly being?" This creature was beautiful, not like the black eagles. Only when she bent closer did he see it was a human, and a lovely young woman at that. "Take me," he said again.

Ana's mouth curved in a smile and she shook her head at him, "Oh no, you don't give up that easily. Is it the black birds again?"

He thought about that for long moments, finally managing, "Yes. Death birds. Let me go with them."

"No! You will not go with them, do you hear me?" She gripped his hands tightly, "I will hold you here, you may not leave."

"Don't want to," he whispered, then coughed. She dropped his hands and supported him until the spasm passed and eased him back onto the pillows. "Name?" She realized he was asking who she was.

"Anataten," she answered him, "my father is your physician, Erato."

"Ana?" he asked, "little girl?"

She realized he was remembering her from ten years earlier when she had first come to the military camp with her father to be his assistant and travel with the army. "Yes, I am Erato's little girl, but I'm all grown up now, General, you've been gone awhile in the north."

"Germania," came the dry whisper, "cold."

"Yes, so I've heard." She took a spoon and fed him water, then applied some fragrant unguents to his cracked lips. "There, is that better?" A slight nod of assent. She touched his forehead. He was still fevered. The brief lucid spell would not last long, she knew. None of them had. He seemed to fall farther and deeper into its grip each time these brief periods of awareness passed. She had almost given up on him before he awoke this time.

"The leaves are fading here," she said, but he was already gone, slipped back into his fever dreams. "I only hope you don't fade with them," she added, sighing.

Her father was temporarily gone, out checking on some patients among the endless rows of tents that comprised the camp of the Felix Legion. She hoped if Maximus was truly going to die, he wouldn't do it when she was alone with him, she would somehow feel it was her failure to do the one thing that might have saved him - whatever that was! - and she didn't want that on her conscience. Besides, he seemed worth saving, it would be a waste if he died now. He was young to have done so much in his life, and had much to give, she was sure. His men worshipped him, and she knew the old Emperor, Marcus Aurelius, had loved him like a son - her father had told her that, as had Centurion Cassius Strabo. Even the young one, the Spanish centurion, Antoninus Petronius, acted as if General Maximus was second only to the war god Mars himself.

Varrus brought heated water and helped her bathe her patient and change the bandages. The stiletto wound was draining blood-tinged fluid but was definitely improved. It was lucky for him that Commodus' nasty little dagger had struck bone and been deflected away from slicing into his kidneys or lungs as it had been intended to do. Antoninus had told them all how Commodus, fearful that a fully capable Maximus would slaughter him in the arena, had visited him in his cell after having him beaten. There, mocking the chained general, Commodus had embraced him and treacherously thrust the dagger into him, ordering the Praetorians to strap his armor on to hide the blood. It was bad luck for Commodus that the Praetorians, sickened by yet another cowardly act from the young emperor, stood back and watched as, against all odds, Maximus killed him.

"It was a monumental battle," Antoninus had told her. He had been in the Colosseum watching, waiting to see if a rescue could be attempted from there, the plot of the night before having been foiled. "Even dying on his feet, Maximus - I mean General Maximus - outfought him, and even though he was weakened, he overpowered Commodus and cut his throat with his own dagger." Antoninus had watched Maximus being carried from the arena, presumably dead, but just as the honor guard had moved into the shadows by the gate, he had noticed the fingers of the general's right hand clenching and unclenching, and corpses don't move their hands as if reaching to take a sword's pommel into their grip.

"What did you do?" Ana had asked, picturing the scene in her mind's eye.

"I wasn't sure what to do," Antoninus answered honestly, "so I bribed the guards to let me down into the catacombs under the arena, and I eventually found where they had taken him. It only took a moment to see he wasn't dead, just sorely wounded. I gave him water, got him onto his feet, and got him out of there before the Praetorians could come and finish him off."

"And that's when you guided him into the sewer tunnel?"

"I stumbled across it, and I remember Cassius was to wait with a boat if the general came out that way the night before, so I got him started walking in that direction because I knew it was only a little way and he'd never make it to the Tiber docks. I went there, stole a boat, and got to the rendevous point just as the general fell into the water. I was just in time!"

"A lucky happening," she agreed. She wished more of that kind of luck would befall her patient now. He was muttering in delirium again, his breathing harsh and raw. He had kicked off the sheet and tried to get off the cot, so she reluctantly had Varrus bind him to it again.

"Please," he protested this time, "no chains."

"Shh," she soothed him, wiping him down with icy water before pulling the covers over him again. "It's for your own good."

"Damn you," he choked out, struggling against the linen bonds until his wrists were chafed and raw.

"He will not quiet," Varrus commented, looking to her for instructions. "What shall we do?"

"Fetch my father," she decided, and sent him on his way. "All right, General Maximus, no chains." She cut the linen bindings and freed his wrists and legs. He was immediately quiet and she was surprised a few moments later to see his eyes were open, looking up at her as she gently rubbed a soothing ointment into the abrasions. "Hello," she tried.

"H-hello," he whispered, and she realized he was definitely lucid, the first time this had happened so quickly. "Ana, is it?"

"Yes, sir. Let me give you water, would you like that?"

He nodded weakly, so she lifted his shoulders, supporting him while she held a small cup of water for him to drink. "Take your time," she murmured, "don't drink it too quickly or you'll spew it up."

He drank thirstily, the first time she had been able to get more than a couple of spoons full down him. "That is excellent," she encouraged him, "I believe you'll get better now."

He sighed as she gently helped him lie back. "What day?"

"This is the third day," she explained, setting the water flask down on the tent floor.

He was silent so long she thought he had slipped back into his feverish dreams, but then he said, "I must not stay here, they will come looking."

"If you mean the Praetorians, they already have. We hid you well, though, and they left empty handed. I think they believe now that some arena fanatics stole your body and secretly buried it."

"So, I am dead," he whispered, "that's good, it's better for - for everyone."

She wondered if he had been about to say "Lucilla", and wondered yet again who that fortunate lady was to have this man continue to be so concerned about her. "Are you sure? You would not want me to find your lady and let her know you are safe here with us?"

He shook his head, "No, I don't know where you could find her. Perhaps they killed her and Lucius."

The prospect of that clearly upset him, so Ana determined that she would find out who the lady was and get word to her somehow that the general lived. "Where do you think she would be?" she questioned him.

"Palace," came the weary voice as he fought to stay awake and answer her. "Lucilla Aurelia Verus," he said and Ana dropped the water flask in surprise.

"The emperor's sister? This is who you are worried about?" Exalted company indeed.

"Yes," he managed, then gave up the effort to speak, exhausted. He only squeezed her hand, pleading with her with his eyes. "Dead?" came one last question.

"No, very much alive, she was given an escort of men from the Felix and passed through here yesterday on the way to her home in the country. It never occurred to me she was the Lucilla you meant." She smoothed his damp hair. "I am sorry, I would have told her you were here, had I known."

He shook his head slightly, then was asleep. His fever appeared to be down, and when her father arrived, she was pleased to tell him it had been a false alarm and their patient seemed to be better.

Erato examined Maximus for himself before agreeing with his daughter. "You're doing well with him," he complimented her.

"Are the men in the camp all right?" She rolled some clean bandages before stacking them on the table.

"Yes, all doing well. Lady Lucilla's escort ran into some trouble though, they just arrived back in camp and will have to set out again. Something about lame pack horses."

Ana looked up, "Lady Lucilla is the woman he has been calling for, father."

"Is it so?" Erato realized he should have guessed that, given events long past.

"Yes, I think we should bring her to see him, it would ease his mind."

"I must think on that," her father said. Ana hoped he would agree with her and they could ease both the general and the lady, who must be grieving him.

She went to bed near midnight, curled warmly on her cot under a soft wool blanket. Autumn had put a nip in the air, and when she felt the need of another blanket, she arose and padded barefoot into the main part of the tent to check on the general in case he required more covers. She took a folded blanket with her, just in case, but stopped on the threshold of quiet room. Someone was there, hovering over his bed. She found her dagger and took a step closer. "What do you want here?" she said, hoping she didn't sound like a scared rabbit.

The figure started in surprise, and a slim white hand reached up to brush back auburn hair and a delicate woven veil. "I will not hurt him," came a soft voice.

"Lady Lucilla?" Ana guessed, sliding her knife into the folds of the blanket, glad she wouldn't have to use it to defend her patient.

"Yes," the woman stepped into the soft light of the oil lamp and Ana saw that she was weeping, silver trails of tears down her pale cheeks and more falling as she looked. "You have saved him!" she added. "Bless you for that." She stepped up to Ana and embraced her gently. She smelled of jasmine and was quite beautiful up close.

Ana smiled at her, "He was awake not long past, the first time he's been lucid since they brought him here."

"I still cannot credit that he is alive," Lucilla said, wiping her face. "I was going to my home in the country, and would never have known he was right here if our horses hadn't come up lame and we had to turn back."

"Fate," Ana pronounced firmly. "You are not meant to be apart, I think."

Lucilla smiled gently, "You would not say that if you knew our history with one another, but I agree that Fate has played a strong part in this."

The general stirred and opened his eyes. He looked from Ana to his royal visitor as though he was having a dream, then Ana said, "You have a visitor, General. I'll leave you alone." To the Lady Lucilla, she whispered, "Don't tire him too much, he's still very weak."

Lucilla nodded, but she had eyes only for Maximus, and knelt by his bedside with her arms around him and her face tucked into the hollow of his neck. Ana heard her whisper to him, "I thought I'd lost you." She tiptoed out, meeting her father in the anteroom. She exchanged smiles with him, glad he had told Lucilla that her Maximus was not dead after all.

Ana returned to her cot and surprised herself by falling asleep almost immediately. Her father awakened her at dawn and she broke her fast before going to check on her patient, sure he would be better, especially given his late night visitor. She almost skipped into the bedchamber of the tent, only to stop dead just inside it. Lady Lucilla was there, pacing back and forth, looking very upset.

Ana looked from her to Maximus, who was half off his cot, struggling to get to his feet. She ran to stop him. "What's going on?"

Maximus, sweat rolling off him like heavy raindrops, fought to get away from her quelling hands. She realized he was furious when he shouted at Lady Lucilla, his voice barely more than a thread, "No, no, no! Why did you do that?"

Lucilla stopped her distraught pacing and put her hands over her face momentarily, dropping them to say, "I had to think of my son."

"Auugggh! I am thinking of your son," Maximus grated, still trying to get off the camp bed. "Lucilla - I crawled through the bowels of Rome, thinking only of you."

"I am not worth such devotion," Lucilla said flatly. "Lucius and I are retiring to my villa in the country. He will be joining us there, do not even think of coming there when you are better, it would not be safe for you."

Confused, Ana deduced from their exchange that something had happened that upset her patient mightily. He had given up trying to get out of bed, but he was still in the grip of a great anger. "Shh, do not upset yourself so," she chastised him.

Maximus shrugged her words aside, "You can undo this," he said to Lucilla. "You have not consummated it yet."

Lucilla shook her head, "No, Maximus, I cannot undo this."

Her meaning sank in and he realized what she was telling him. "You lying bitch! I cannot credit that you have done this to me yet again. Get out of my sight!" His voice broke and he began coughing, struggling for breath, while Ana did her best to get him calmed down and to take slower, deeper breaths. When she looked up, Lady Lucilla was gone.

The coughing fit over, Maximus lay back against the pillows, exhausted and pale except for the fever spots over his cheekbones. Ana got him to take a little water, but he refused more than that. "Sir, you must calm down and you must have more fluid - you are still feverish."

"I do not care," he said flatly, turning his face away from her.

"What has upset you so?" She realized she had no right to ask, but felt driven to, given that he was her patient and she cared about him. She caught hold of his wrist and leaned across him so she could look into his face. His eyes were brimming, which startled her and made her heart squeeze with pity. "Sir - Maximus - please, let me help."

"She has married Senator Fulvius in order to protect herself from a forced marriage to some Praetorian."

Married someone else? Ana thought in shock, but tried to be practical. "And to protect her son also, I'm sure, sir."

The general barked a short laugh that ended in another coughing spell. When he had it under control, he whispered fiercely, "Our son - Lucius is our son, not just hers. I had thought to be the one to offer protection to her. After all this time - after everything - she sold herself again without waiting for me."

She sorted this out, and realized the implications. Lady Lucilla's son, Lucius Verus, was actually the son of General Maximus? "Then she married Senator Verus to - to - " she was at a loss for words to describe it, but Maximus finished it for her.

"She married him when she realized she was carrying my child. She thought a soldier who was about to travel to the ends of the Empire was a poor choice for a husband and father, so she took the choice away from me and married before she told me of the babe."

"She did not trust you to care for her?" Ana was aghast. Surely this man was the most honorable and trustworthy of men?

"Correct," he answered bitterly, turning away from her once more. "And now, please leave me alone."

She spoke to him, but he would not answer, and when she attempted to untangle the rucked blankets for him, he gave her such a fierce look that she fled the room. She went out into the crisp morning air and just stood, breathing in and out, thinking of what she had just learned. "He will give up now," she said to herself, "and I cannot let that happen."

"Gods, help me persuade him otherwise," she prayed to herself, and went to find her father.

Four days later. . .

Ana sat on a stool by Maximus' bedside, patiently dropping water onto his lips, applying salve to the fever cracks in his mouth, bathing him over and over in the coolest water she could find. Her father suggested rubbing him down with corn alcohol, so she tried that. The potent stuff seemed to cool him as it evaporated, so she used that alternately with the icy water Antoninus and Cassius brought from the nearby aqueduct. She and Varrus spent hours caring for him, keeping the black birds he dreamed of away. She was so exhausted, she could barely think, she just knew - for whatever reason - she could not just let him die.

He muttered something now, and she looked up from wringing out a compress. His eyes were part way open and he was looking at her. "Why?" came the dry whisper, barely audible.

"I can't let you die," she told him.

He grimaced and again whispered, "Why?"

"You have things to do," she answered, wiping his face with the cool water. He closed his eyes briefly as she gently wiped them with the compress.

"Good," he commented, "t-thank you." He dozed, then blinked awake again, eyes glittering in the lamplight. "What things?"

She was getting used to having disjointed conversations with him. He often didn't realize hours or even days had gone by between fragments of their talk, but this was only a few moments. She found that encouraging. "There's news of the Felix III. It's being moved to Spain."

She saw her words sink in, saw his mind click over and wondered what he would be like with all his faculties intact. He'd been an overwhelming presence to the ten-year-old Ana, but now she was an adult, and she longed to see him whole once more. "Spain?"

"Yes. There is a problem with a rebellion near some town, I can't recall the name of it, something Augusta. They're being sent to quell it and re-garrison the camps."

"Emerita Augusta," he whispered. "Near my home." A nerve jumped in his cheek as he ground his teeth. "What was my home," he amended himself. He sighed, choked, and began coughing. His whole body was wracked by it. Ana called Varrus, who helped her support Maximus. He coughed until he was so exhausted, he was barely able to gasp for air between the spasms.

"This is going to kill him," came her father's voice from the doorway. "He has lung fever now, you know that is almost always fatal."

"Yes, father," she murmured, smoothing the general's damp hair out of his face. He was so pale, and had lost flesh. His ribs showed now under skin discolored with bruises. He was fading before her eyes, and it infuriated her. "There must be something we can try," she thought aloud.

Erato looked up from a scroll he was reading. "I have looked in the texts. I cannot find anything else."

"We must keep looking," his daughter said firmly. "I refuse to give up."

Erato studied her determined face. "You have lost your detachment, daughter. That isn't for the best."

"I believe that it is for the best," she answered him. "Varrus, help me change this linen, it's soaked." She and the huge soldier deftly changed the linen on Maximus' bed, then put him in a clean, dry cotton shirt. Keeping him comfortable and clean was important and she would not shirk that. Varrus took the bundle of soiled linens to the laundresses while Ana began searching through some very old scrolls in the back of her father's traveling library chests. Maybe there was something there to help him.

Her father had long since retired to his bed when she unrolled a very fragile old scroll. "For instances of the lung fever," she read, not daring to get excited. The last one she'd found had ended with a remedy of horse dung poultices. "Frequent snow baths to reduce fever," it said. Well, cold water would have to do, there was no snow in Ostia. She read on, making some notes on her ever present wax tablet. "The patient must be turned often to avoid settling of the evil humors in the lungs. When coughing produces no sputum, the patient must be placed across the bed, face down, and the upper back must be percussed to expel the poisonous matter and clear the airway." This was something she'd not found before! Her fingers flew as she made notes.

"The patient must be made to take an abundance of liquids, especially honeyed wine for the constitution, boiled chicken broth for salts, likewise boiled broth from ox or cow. Most important is water to flush the bad elements from the system and keep the kidneys functioning well."

She grinned into the gloom of the tent. Her fatigue had dropped away despite its being well after midnight. She read on, smiling at some of the archaic instructions, such as "bacon fat must be utilized to ease the cough". She wondered if you rubbed it on the patient's chest or made him eat it? It wasn't specific. "When feeding such a patient, health of the bowel is as important as that of the lung. To keep the bowel functioning, feed small meals on a frequent schedule, and include mashed apples, pears or pomegranate to both soothe the troubled gut and keep it working." She wrinkled her nose, but it was necessary. Varrus, bless his kindly heart, had been dealing with the more personal tasks such as keeping their patient clean in that way. He treated the general as if he were a small infant, with tender patience and gentleness. She blinked away tears, thinking how much his men loved him.

"Lastly," the text concluded, "an infusion of mustard mixed with camphor and goose fat can be boiled down to a thick paste and used as a poultice on the chest. Spread liberally on the skin, apply clean flannelled wool over the poultice, and allow the patient to inhale the vapors several times daily to improve the breathing and soothe the air passages."

She rolled up the scroll and shoved it into her box of treasured medical data. Yawning, she checked her supply of medicines, made a list of what she would need in the morning, then went to check on her patient one last time before snatching a couple hours of sleep.

He was sleeping, his breath rattling, chest moving more swiftly than she would have liked, but at least he was still breathing. She touched his forehead with the inside of her wrist. Hot. He would need one more washing down before she could sleep. She fetched the basin and cloths set by for that purpose, and pulled the covers back. The bandage on his thigh was clean and dry, the wound closing neatly because of the packing her father had done the day he cauterized it. She checked the pad over the stiletto wound, also dry, but marked a little by drainage, although it did not have a foul odor to it. Good, no poisons in there to make things difficult.

Ana pulled the voluminous cotton shirt open, exposing Maximus chest. The soft material slid farther open than she meant it to, exposing the general's whole torso. Even thin, even with the discolored bruises from the Praetorians' rough treatment, he was a beautiful man. Her palm skimmed up the flat stomach and onto the muscle of his breast as she told herself she was only checking on a patient, though she really knew she was coveting him shamelessly. She left her palm on his chest for a moment, feeling the thud of his heart under her hand, wondering what it would be like to lie against that chest, with him healthy, and listen to his heart beat. She shook her head at her folly and began sponging him with the cool water, wiping down every inch of his body, first the front, then - turning him onto his side and propping him with cushions, she wiped down his back. Shoulders, waist, hips, thighs - was there no part of him that wasn't handsomely made? She hadn't found it yet.

Her eye alighted on his left little toe, which was somewhat crooked - no doubt from being trod on by a horse at some point. She smiled to herself, thinking she had found that imperfection that marked him as human and not god-begot.

"I'm cold," he said hoarsely.

His voice, coming as it did in the middle of her bathing his nude body and thinking lust filled thoughts, startled her and she spilled the remnants of water in the basin on him. She looked up, disgusted with herself, but he was apparently in the midst of a dream. She mopped the water up as best she could, then, rolling him from one side of the bed to the other, managed to remove the wet linens and get dry ones under him before pulling his shirt closed and tying the laces. Tomorrow she would poultice him, and feed him as the scroll suggested and hope for some positive results. Her palm brushed his cheek, which felt somewhat cooler, and, prompted by an impulse she didn't want to name, leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth.

"Goodnight, Maximus Decimus Meridius," she whispered, "tomorrow my work begins in earnest."

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Copyright 2001 by wildbearies