©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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"Who are you?" It was the voice that had haunted him for months as he recovered from the wound in his shoulder and the deeper wounds to his soul.

"My name is 'Gladiator'," he said hoarsely and turned to exit the bloodied sands of the arena, his way blocked by the surrounding Praetorians. He stared icily at the one closest to him, who had the grace at least to look down.

"Stop! How dare you turn your back to me?" The offended voice echoed in his head and he paused, forcing himself not to turn around, not to take the broken arrow head and gut the owner of that voice, even though it was the thing he wanted most in the world.

He sighed, lifted off the masked helmet and turned to face Commodus, fixing the stunned young murderer with a killing look, held back from acting on his urge only by the presence of young Lucius Verus. In a clear, carrying voice, he answered, "I am Maximus Decimus Meridius - Commander of the Northern Armies, General of the Felix Legions, father of a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife, and I will have my vengeance - in this life or the next."

"It can't be! You're dead. . ." the pale youth in the ornate armor fell back a step or two as the truth sank in. "Guards! Arrest him!"

"No!"

He sat up, fighting off the blankets and rolled to sit on the side of the bed, breathing harshly, the sweat rolling off his skin. "Gods, not again," he muttered, rubbing his face wearily.

Ana sat up and touched his shoulder, expecting the startled jump when she did. "Maximus, what is it? Were you dreaming again?" The dreams of the arena, of Commodus and of battles in Germania had begun to haunt his sleep since they had returned to his villa outside Trujillo the week before. What she had thought would be a pleasant respite from his military duties had turned into a pleasant series of days but a wearying span of nights, with Maximus unable to sleep without disturbing dreams. Ana was afraid to upset him by fussing over him, yet was often the target of his snappish temper - and Maximus forced himself to stay awake hours after he would normally have been peacefully slumbering.

He shook his head - the remnants of the dream still holding him in thrall until he stood and padded barefoot to get a drink of water from the pitcher on the table. He drank it down, found a towel and wiped the sweat off himself, then returned to the bed. "Ana," he finally said, "I believe I am going to go insane if I don't stop dreaming like this."

Her heart turned over. It was the first admission of the cause of his distress since they had been at the villa. Perhaps he would confide in her now, allow her to help him. She scooted over beside him and put her arms around his shoulders, resting her cheek against his back. "Never that, you're one of the sanest people I know," she told him firmly. "But what troubles your sleep so, dearest? Let me ease you if I can."

He had stiffened at her touch, but finally relaxed a bit and drew her forward, seating her in his lap, leaning back against the cushions with his legs on the bed. "With you to fight my demons, who am I to resist you?" he teased.

She smiled in the darkness. First the admission, then the joke - perhaps he really was going to let her in on what was bothering him. "A weak man," she joked back, "if my little self can overcome you."

"Hmmf," he snorted softly, then sighed. "I've been dreaming of the Flavian Amphitheater, and Commodus. Every night - sometimes when he bade me remove the mask and I wanted so badly to kill him, but Lucius was there and I couldn't - not in front of the child. Sometimes about him coming to me when he had me chained in the gladiators' punishment area. The dreams fill me with such hate - and I had thought to have left all that behind by now."

Ana knew Commodus had tormented her husband before that last fight, that he had sent the Praetorians to beat him while he was chained and helpless to fight back, and then, thinking him sufficiently weakened, had come to taunt him about his fall from grace. And, of course, to stab him in the back with the poisoned stiletto, so he would be too weakened to be much of an opponent when they fought. "Carus," she asked after turning this all over in her mind for a few moments, "could it be that you're remembering all this, and it's bothering you now because being here has triggered your memories of Selene and Marcus?"

He didn't answer for a long while, and she sat up to look him in the face, although in the darkened room all she really could see was shadows and the gleam of his brilliant eyes. "Maximus?" She touched his cheek, surprised when her fingers came away damp. Her heart squeezed, "Oh, my love, I understand now - being here has brought it all back, hasn't it? Instead of remembering happier times, you've been thinking of the day when you found them." She couldn't make herself say, "when you found them dead, burnt and crucified," that would have been too cruel.

"Yes," he finally answered her, his whisper almost inaudible, then he allowed her to kiss him, to wipe his face and caress his aching head and stiffened muscles until he slid down on the pillows and lay against her, the storm of his emotions spent. For the moment, at least.

"You must sleep, love," she murmured, resting her head on his breast, arms around him. "In the morning we will talk of what we can do about this. Nothing can defeat us if we face it together, you know."

"When did you become my protector?" he asked sleepily, his lips finally quirking in a smile.

She touched his mouth with her fingertips, "The night they brought you to the castra at Ostia, almost dead, wet as a drowned rat."

"Oh, I'm sure I was the picture of masculine pulchritude," he said with a short laugh.

"More like a beautiful wounded man whom I could not let die without trying everything to save his life."

"Beautiful? Men are not beautiful, woman, how many times must I tell you that?" He turned onto his side, lying in his normal sleeping position, pulling her against him so her backside snuggled into the bend of his groin and his arms wrapped around her.

She turned and looked back at him, "You were beautiful - even wet, skinny, bloody and ill - it must have been my first look at you naked that did it."

"Hussy," he whispered in her ear, and she thought he might say some further things, some more erotic things, but his soft breath stirring the wisps of her hair a few moments later told her he had fallen asleep. She patted his hands where they rested at her waist, and closed her own eyes, hoping she could shut her mind down enough to sleep a little herself. No one could have been more surprised than she when she next opened her eyes on bright sunlight streaming into the bed chamber.

She was alone in the bed, but heard her husband's voice outside the room, and realized he was speaking to Antoninus, who was with them. "I don't think it's anything to be concerned about," he was saying, "but ride over, find out who it is and come back when you know. It's probably the new owners."

Antoninus agreed, and she heard his booted feet stride off down the hall as Maximus came back into the bedroom. "What's happening?" she asked, getting up to use the latrina adjoining their chamber.

Maximus was combing his hair - grown a bit longer, but still neatly trimmed - the comb causing the healthy locks to lie neatly against his shapely head. He was in a plain dark blue longsleeved tunic over a white undertunic, blue flanneled trousers cross gartered with plain leather and his riding boots. His slim waist was cinched with his wide leather belt. Even plainly garbed, to her he looked like a prince. "Stop drooling," he teased her, reading the gleam in her eyes, "I just got dressed and I'm hungry - we can play later."

Ana pretended to pout, but she swiftly dressed in garments similar to his, even to the trousers, rather than her more feminine stola. Today, she knew, they were to ride around the perimeter of the farm and look at the land, plan where to pasture horses and where to grow the wheat and rye in the fertile ground. It was largely overgrown, nothing having been planted since that last autumn when he had dreamed only of joining his family and harvesting his crops. "Let's eat, I'm famished," she said when she was clothed, her hair plaited into a single thick braid tied with a strip of blue linen.

He smiled warmly at her, obviously rethinking his claim of severe starvation, but she took his hand and started to the triclinium, so he returned to his more austere plans for the day, shelving the erotic play for later. Besides, he was hungry - his stomach growled as they settled at the table and the housekeeper brought them fruit and cheese and freshly baked breads to break their fast. "Thank you, Gemma," Maximus said.

The woman, who had served his family for years while he was away fighting, nodded and smiled, pleased to once again have him in his house, and the house rebuilt to its former beauty. "Would you like ale or water?" she asked.

"Both, thank you," he responded. When she brought the two pitchers, he sent her off to get on with her day and poured ale for himself and water for Ana, who preferred not to drink the strong brew in the morning.

"How can you drink that now?" she wanted to know, nose wrinkled as he swallowed.

He set the cup down and grinned at her, "In the army, Ana, we drink this like water. Oftentimes the water is undrinkable in a place we may be camped, and the only safe drink is the ale or wine. And since my soldiers did not drink wine on duty, the ale sufficed to quench their thirst."

"Oh - yes, I suppose so," she admitted, although she had imagined that was the case, she just liked to tease him, if only to get to hear his wonderful voice patiently explaining something to her.

"You knew that already," he announced, grinning at her as he popped grapes into his mouth, then began eating a dish of stewed apples with cinnamon. "Gods, I missed these - nothing like them anywhere else."

"I love them too," she admitted, and ate her own apples, licking her lips greedily to get the juices off her mouth.

Maximus' eyes were fixed on her lips as she smacked them and her little pink tongue licked the sweet cinnamon off. "Gods, when you do that, I swear all I think of is how to get that mouth occupied with something more earthy."

She burst out laughing at his honest confession, and rose from her chair. To his disappointment, however, she practically skipped out of the room, calling back to him to hurry up, she wanted to ride and be outside, not sit around indoors and waste the nice day.

Maximus sighed, wiped his mouth with a linen napkin, and followed after her. "Women," he said to himself, "always getting a man het up and then witholding the reward until later." At least with Ana, he mused, the "later" always came to pass. Sometimes sooner than later, actually. He grinned, and stretched in the sunlight as he stepped outside.

Drusus led up Scarto and Pulcher, helping Ana mount while Maximus leapt into Scarto's saddle unaided. "Antoninus and a party of ten men have ridden over to check on the activity nextdoor," he told his general.

"Good, I told him it might be the new owners moving in, but best to be sure. We don't want any brigands destroying the house or coming over here, thinking to steal from us."

Drusus nodded and finished checking the cinches on Ana's saddle. "It's fine, my lady," he said, then turned to Maximus. "The perimeter guards have seen nothing - and they've been patrolling the whole area, sir, just as you asked."

Maximus had brought a whole unit of the cavalry with him, a necessary precaution since there had been raids on villas and farms in the area and some cattle and horses, as well as food stores and other things had been stolen. He was determined to catch all the outlaws and punish them appropriately. His first concern as governor was to restore order and the Roman peace to Spain. And that meant putting an end to the thievery, vandalism and worse.

"Good," he said now, gathering Scarto's reins, the horse dancing in impatience to be off. "We're going to ride the perimeter ourselves - follow us and bring two others with you, just in case we stumble over anyone who shouldn't be here." Maximus and Ana cantered down the side of the hill from the villa and onto the road that led across the farm to the western perimeter. Drusus and his two men followed at a discreet distance - close enough to keep an eye on his commander, yet far enough to not intrude on his private time with his wife.

They rode for several hours, stopping at midday to dismount and sit on the fallen stones of an old building foundation, eating the food Gemma had packed for them. Ana licked the juices of the cold roast chicken off her fingers and wiped her hands dry on a small linen napkin. Maximus eyed her with a smile, once again marveling at her appetite for everything life had to offer. If it hadn't been for the presence of the three cavalrymen not fifty feet away as they consumed their meal, he might have acted on that thought. Instead, they exchanged knowing looks and stored the energy away for later.

"What was this building?" she asked him, looking at the scattered stone blocks and scorched timbers.

"Hay storage for my workers' animals," he answered. "The Praetorians knocked it down, along with everything else, when they came to accomplish their mission."

"Will you build it again?" She put her small booted foot onto one stone, thumbs tucked into her belt, her cloak blowing lightly about her as she looked over at him.

Maximus, who was thinking he might have to find some privacy with her after all, shook himself mentally and stood up. "Yes. It's the only one not yet restored, actually. The dwellings that were near here were too badly damaged - I will have all my people closer to the main house from now on. I will not have them so distant, away from protection again."

Upon hearing that Maximus had returned to his farm, they had been visited by a steady stream of his former workers, come to seek employment and safety once again under his service. Ana had been amazed at the emotion many of them expressed on seeing their master - though they were not slaves and he was not their owner - restored to his rightful estates once again. Already at least a dozen families dwelled in the repaired buildings they had once called their homes, and more lived in the temporary shelters of army tents, brought from Emerita in two large wagonloads, along with foodstuffs, bedding - all the necessary accouterments of living.

One man, a sunburnt, somewhat bandy-legged man of undetermined age, had come leading a horse that was quite obviously related to Scarto. "This is Aquilla's last foal, sir," he had told an astonished Maximus, "full brother to Argento."

Maximus had laughed and patted the snorting young stallion, who head-butted him and danced around, showing off for him. "How?"

The man, whose name was Atticus, had been in charge of the stables, it turned out. "I secreted him and his dam away when the Praetorians came, sir. It was easy enough - we just walked away over the hills, through the shelter of the southern trees there, and sought sanctuary about ten miles from here with the Brindisi. They were kind enough to hide quite a few of us until those pigs gave up hunting for us and went back to their sties."

"I must ride over there and thank them for their care, then," Maximus said. "I have known them for years - and always we've been friends - but to take such a chance with Commodus' lackeys was very daring of them."

"It was they who came back here after, sir - after, um, all was finished. We came and saw to the graves, and made sure all was properly done."

Maximus had embraced the man then, to the stableman's acute embarrassment, and thanked him for his kindness. "More than you know, Atticus, it eases my mind. My late wife was always fond of your family."

"And the little master, too, sir," Atticus had added hoarsely, turning away so as not to weep in front of the general. Maximus merely squeezed his shoulder, not wanting to provoke further shyness from his long-time employee, and promptly rehired him and set him to taking care of the horses he was gathering to restore the breeding operation.

"I have sent several mares and a young stallion ahead from Italy, Atticus. Because they came by ship and I had to march with my legion, they've been here for some time already, growing fat and bored. I trust you and your sons will see that they are properly exercised and trained." He patted the glossy neck of the chestnut that looked so much like his lost Argento, "What is this one's name?"

"Revenge," Atticus said firmly, "I named him for an emotion we all feel strongly, sir."

"I have taken my revenge, never fear it," Maximus told him. "Commodus is dead, and I've no doubt his successor will eventually be overthrown by someone more to the taste of everyone, but for now, I am in the good graces of the Imperials once more, and as governor of Hispania, I intend to restore some order and safety to the whole country."

Coming back to the present from her reverie, Ana allowed Maximus to help her remount, and they rode back to the villa, circling around and approaching from the front, by the main road. As they rode through the double arched gates and then through the olive groves, Maximus noted that there seemed to be some activity at the house. He pulled up and beckoned Drusus and the two cavalrymen forward. "See what's going on," he ordered.

The three galloped off, while Ana and Maximus came at a slow amble. "Surely there is nothing to fear," she said, looking at the tightly set face of her husband.

"I will make sure of that first," he told her, then looked up as Drusus galloped back to them, an odd look on his face. "What?"

"Sir, it's visitors - the new owners of the farm next door."

Maximus breathed a sigh of relief, "Just as I thought, but best to be safe." He turned to Ana, "Come on, let's see who they are - maybe we'll be friends, or at least, cordial neighbors."

Ana agreed, and they cantered up the road to the circular area in front of the pink-stone villa. As they got closer, she heard Maximus curse - something so filthy she imagined her ears would have been singed if she'd been closer to him at the time - and she looked at him in astonishment. "What is it?"

His mouth set in a grim line, eyes icy silver, he grated, "Our neighbors - it is, after all, someone we know."

Surprised, Ana looked. A woman stood on the front portico, her hands on the shoulders of a youngster - a boy with dark blond hair. The woman was graceful, obviously Patrician from her bearing and dress, and her auburn-glinted hair was curled and dressed befitting someone of that station. Ana thought she looked familiar, and then, with a sinking heart, realized who it was.

"Lucilla," Maximus said in a clipped, cool voice. He looked from her somewhat austere, pale countenance to the youngster standing in front of her with an eager grin on his small face. "And Lucius, how are you, young sir?" He dismounted as he asked, noting how the boy gazed in delight at Scarto.

"I am fine, sir," the boy enthused, gazing up at the man he had last seen in Rome months before when he had come to the Palatine at the behest of his mother and the emperor. "This is one of your horses, isn't it, sir?"

"Yes, that he is. This is Scarto, and there are more in the stables. I'm sure you would enjoy seeing them." He gave Drusus a meaningful look, and the young officer quickly dismounted and led the excited boy off to see all the horses, leaving the adults standing on the portico in tense silence.

"Maximus," Lucilla began, "I know you won't believe this but..."

He interrupted her with a sharp wave of one hand, "Enough, Lucilla, I'm in no mood to hear one of your tales." He turned to Ana and drew her up beside him, "My wife will no doubt extend the hospitality of our home to you, but you will excuse me if I find other duties calling me away." With that he kissed Ana's cheek briefly and strode off after Drusus and Lucius.

Ana and Lucilla stared at one another. "This is not well done of you, your Highness," Ana said.

"No need to call me that," Lucilla corrected her, hugging herself as though chilled, which she might have been given the fine fabric of her stola and palla in deep green wool and silk. "May we not at least be cordial, if not friends?"

"Of course, come inside, the wind is picking up," Ana felt like a bumpkin in her trousers and tunic and boots, but she nevertheless led her guest and apparent new neighbor inside, wondering what in the world was going to happen now.

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Copyright 2001 by wildbearies

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