©2002 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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She had been laboring for almost thirty hours. It had started out normally, but after hours had passed and no progress was made, Maximus had sent a trusted servant to Emerita on a fast horse with instructions to bring back the head army physician - no other! - and to ride like the wind coming back. He had also sent a short note to Lucilla because her servant woman, Tamara, was a skilled midwife. He himself paced back and forth in the anteroom, kept out by his wife's women who felt a birthing chamber was no place for a man, no matter who the man was.

She was so quiet, it was a wonder to him. She had yelled the house down for their other children's births, not at all shy to shout at him that he was a brute and a monster to get her in such a state that she was made to birth an elephant. Once each child was safely arrived, however, it had all been forgotten and forgiven, and Ana had presented each little wrapped bundle of baby to him with a proud smile. This - this silence, this ominous lack of chatter among the women, the aura of quiet over the room they'd barred him from filled him with dread. "Edepol," he cursed finally, and decided to just kick the doors down if he had to - he was going to see Ana - be with her, by the gods - no matter who tried to stop him.

Just as he lifted his clenched fist to pound on the door, it opened quietly and Gemma peeked out. "Master!" she gasped in surprise, sidling out and shutting the door behind herself. "You cannot go in there - this is women's work."

"It wasn't women's work to get her that way," he retorted, ignoring her blush, "I need to see her - I need to talk with her - Gemma - do not keep me out." His tone changed and he stared at her helplessly, blue-green eyes beseeching, "What if - gods - what if she…dies?"

"Oh, sir - she won't die!" Gemma patted him on the shoulder with one gnarled old hand. "She'll do just fine, the mistress is fit and healthy, this babe is just taking his time about coming is all - it's to be expected at her age, after all."

Maximus raked a hand through his hair, mussing the neatly combed ebony waves. "Her age? Gemma, she's not that old. . ." he stopped. She was old, though, to be having this child. He was, after all, fifty-one years of age, and she was past forty. Maximus shut his eyes. He had hoped she'd listened to him when he had told her to put the idea of having another child out of her head, when he'd tried to make sure she was using the vinegar soaked sponge - the woman was just so determined. He opened his eyes and sighed. "Gemma - let me in there. I need to be with her."

The old woman's mouth was drawn into an obstinate line, but at the look on Maximus' face, she relented, and, for the first time, questioned why they were keeping him out when he so obviously wanted to be in. And perhaps it would be all right - stranger things had happened. "Oh, sir," she quavered, "I'm probably going to be shouted at, but - go in, the mistress may be pleased to have you with her."

Maximus opened the door, not sure what he'd find. He edged inside, shut the door behind him and paused to study the lay of the land. This was the big downstairs guest room, only it had been cleared of all the trappings an honored guest could expect and instead was occupied firstly by the large birthing chair in which Ana sat. She stared at him, surprise writ plainly on her face, and began chuckling. "I told you he would find a way in," she said to the brunette woman sitting on a stool near the birthing chair. The other woman whirled, eyes large, while Ana laughed up at Maximus, who clearly hadn't expected to find the room cool, clean and neat, with the various women inside it engaged in embroidery, reading, talking in low tones, and other pursuits - even playing at dice!

"Come, sit down, husband," she invited him, patting an empty foot stool by where she sat. "Let me reassure you that I'm well."

"I thought - it's not - you - I don't know what I thought," he managed to say, sitting on the small stool, feeling as if his knees were up by his ears, the stool was so low to the floor. He felt ridiculous. He felt out of place.

Ana realized he was out of his depth and gave him a sympathetic smile. "You're fine here - for a bit; our son is resting, apparently. Once he begins working his way out in earnest, though, I'd rather you leave."

He got an obstinate look on his face that she was very familiar with, but she could be just as stubborn, and she insisted until he agreed. "Good," she said then, sitting back with a cup of wine. "Tell me what's happening on the farm."

He gaped at her. "On the farm? Well, all the mares have got big bellies, so our stallions have done themselves proud again." He cast her a sidelong glance that had her giggling to herself, thinking of one particular stallion who had also done himself proud. "The olives are so abundant this year, I've had to order extra amphorae for the oil, and we've sent a wagonload of the fruit to Lucilla's farm because our presses are working over time as it is, and hers aren't." He remembered he'd sent Lucilla an urgent note and groaned to himself. "About Lucilla," he began.

And the doors opened to admit that very person, along with Tamara, her olive-skinned midwife from Greece. Instead of being irritated, however, Ana seemed pleased to see them, and they were shortly ensconced among the rest of the women, chattering about women's subjects that made Maximus' eyes cross. Lucilla cast him an amused look from the circle of women who surrounded her, most of them clamoring for news from Rome since she had recently returned from half a year there. His eldest daughter, he noticed with a pang, was among them. Ana saw his expression and put a hand on his arm when he would have said something, "Marcia is old enough, don't fret over her like an old hen with one chick."

He started to respond indignantly, but stopped. She was right, he was being too doting of the girl, and she was old enough - she was old enough to be married, truthfully, not just ask about Rome and the doings there. "Permit me to worry a bit over our daughters, and I will allow you to fret over our sons," he said affably.

Estrella, the brunette on the other stool, looked up from her embroidery and giggled. She had eyes for young Lucius Verus, and had in the course of conversing with him, heard him complain that his mother and Ana both kept too close tabs on him given that he was five and twenty.

Maximus, who didn't know a thing about the two of them, merely gave her a puzzled look, sending her into another paroxysm of laughter because he looked so much like Lucius in that moment. She suddenly found a pressing matter on the other side of the room and walked away before her laughter got out of control. Ana watched her fondly, deciding not to enlighten her husband at this point. "And now," she told him instead, "I wish you to leave. I will send for you when it's time."

"Ana," he began to protest, but when every woman in the room suddenly faced him with the identical expression of "you don't belong here" on her face, he beat a hasty retreat from the room after kissing his wife once.

After he left, they cooed over how handsome he was, how he still cut a dashing figure both afoot and on horseback, and how lucky Ana was to have such a superb specimen of manhood for her husband. "And still virile!" the seventy year old widow of a neighboring farmer exclaimed, rolling her eyes ecstatically. Everyone else joined her laughter, including Ana, who had to admit that, yes, Maximus was still quite virile, thank the gods, and potent as well. She patted the mound of belly where their son worked his way down and exchanged looks with Lucilla across the room, who had four healthy sons of her own fathered by the still devilishly handsome Valerian. The eldest was twenty and the youngest was four, so they had late babies in common, or would have once this one was here. "It only took a couple of rides for me to conceive of my own stallion," she said, grinning lewdly. More laughter. Maximus would have been scandalized, she knew, if he had been allowed to stay.

As for that gentleman, he had saddled Leo and was shortly riding down the rows of the apple orchard checking on the progress of the apple harvest. It was winter again, but it was early and the weather was mild so far. The apples were crisp and sweet. He cadged one or two from the pickers, climbed down and fed one to Leo and ate the other one himself. Excellent, he thought, and told the orchard supervisor that. "Good work, the harvest is the best ever."

Leaving smiling faces and proud hearts behind him, he mounted once more and rode down to the pond. It was mid afternoon and he thought it was warm enough, so he dismounted, tethered the horse where he could graze, and stripped off his clothes, hanging cloak, tunic, drawers and belt over some low tree branches. Then, nude and unconcerned, he strode onto the bank of the pond and dove off a large boulder he'd had dragged there for just such use. His body cut the water's surface smoothly, but it was, after all, chilly, so he shouted in reaction as the temperature instantly cooled him. He came up shaking his head like an otter or a seal, and began swimming back and forth across the length of the big pond, arms moving in a slow, perfect rhythm, feet kicking just enough to help propel himself along. When he tired of that, he turned onto his back and just floated, gazing up at the sky, totally relaxed.

He was unaware he was being observed. Indeed the watcher had seen him swim before, years before, and had seen him as naked as he was now. She had even been intimate with him, many times, and borne him a son. Augusta Lucilla walked out of the high reeds around the pond and watched him swim, still finding him beautiful to look upon over a quarter century after he'd gotten their son on her, and despite her passion for Valerian. Actually, that fervor had waned somewhat lately, and he was, she thought, spending himself in the bed of one of the household servants instead of hers, she just wasn't sure which one. And that hurt.

Perhaps, she thought, that was why she found herself standing where she was, her eyes coveting the dark-haired Spaniard she had been so passionate about years before. Her body had never forgotten him, nor had her heart, despite her long marriage to Valerian. And now, when she must have made some sound and Maximus looked up and saw her, she didn't blush or turn away in confusion, she instead smiled, and sat on a fallen log, waiting for him to come out of the water.

"Lucilla," he chided her, "I cannot come out while you're sitting there."

"I don't know why not," she retorted, stifling laughter. "I've already seen everything you've got; seen it and more."

"Edepol," he cursed under his breath. Never mind that she was right, it just wasn't right for her to be where she was and him as nude as a statue of Apollo. "At least turn around so I can climb out and get my tunic on."

"Oh, pooh," she pouted, "you've gotten stodgy in your old age, Maximus."

"Old age!" he exclaimed, indignant. He swam to the shore, climbed to his feet and strode out of the water, just angry enough that he didn't care if he was naked or wearing full regimentals. "Old age," he repeated, standing in front of her, dripping from every place on his body it was possible to drip from.

Lucilla grinned and examined him from head to toe, then reached out with her long, slim fingers to flick some water off the head of his thick, long shaft. "Perhaps I was wrong about the old age," she teased, her eyes fastened on his groin. "Apples and phalluses," she commented, licking her lips.

He would have laughed if he wasn't suddenly so angry with her. "Lucilla, I'm going to put my clothes on and go back home. If you turn around and walk away, I'll forget this happened."

"What if I don't want to walk away?" she asked in her throaty voice. She got to her feet and stood right up against him, heedless of his still damp form. "What if I want this?" and she darted her clever hand forward and took hold of his sex.

Maximus fought not to panic, but he actually found himself worrying that Ana would come upon them and think he'd brought this on himself, never mind that she was back at their home in labor with their baby. "Let go of me," he said in his command voice.

"Oh, all right, but it might have been nice, you know," she said, disappointed. She did let go of him, although she did it by running her hand down his whole length, caressing him as she went. She actually felt his cock leap at her touch, and wondered how long it had been since he'd been able to find release with his very pregnant wife. She decided to find out. When he moved to walk past her and get his tunic, she stepped to the side with him and blocked his path. "How long?" she asked him in a low voice that he remembered well.

"How long what? Leave off now, you're making me angry." There was the tunic, not two feet away and it might as well have been two hundred with her there in the way.

"How long since she let you mount her, silly - look at you - your shaft is the size of your horse's already and I've only barely touched you."

"Lucilla!" he protested, and tried again to go past her, but to no avail. "Must I be rude to get you to stop this nonsense?"

She shook her head slowly, licking her lips, making him wonder what was happening because that little action she had just done had suddenly given him a cockstand like it might have given one to one of his sons. "Either you must be rude," she answered him, "or you must oblige me. And I'm not inclined to take no for an answer."

Totally flustered by his body's response to her touch and her words, Maximus, nonetheless, was determined to get away from her. He feinted to the left and when she moved that way, darted back to the right, got his clothing off the tree limb and pulled the tunic over his head since it was the quickest thing to put on. Then, he faced her, hands on his hips, so angry he would have cheerfully throttled her if she hadn't been who she was and the daughter of the man he revered above all others. "Lucilla, I realize something must have happened between you and Valerian for you to act this way with me after all this time, and I'm truly hurt that you would presume upon what I've looked on as a friendship - nothing more! - to behave in this manner."

"Pish and tush," she said airily, truly amused at his indignant words. His eyes flashed silver sparks at her, and the red on his cheekbones that bespoke his displeasure only added to his male beauty. "I wanted you, I thought I'd make a try at you - don't get in a temper over it."

"A temper?!" he exclaimed. "A temper is when I'm annoyed with one of the children, or if a worker has botched a job, or the household accounts won't come right. What I feel at this moment is betrayal, Augusta, and that is not very nice."

He walked away from her, managed to get his trousers on and pulled up without exposing himself to her avid gaze, and put on his boots, lacing them up a bit unevenly, but at least they were fastened. He buckled his wide leather belt, raked a hand through his wet hair and walked over to mount Leo. Then it hit him how far from the house they were. "How did you get down here?" he asked, looking down at her from the horse's back.

She shrugged, "I walked, I left right after you did. You must have ridden around for awhile - I saw you ride up just as I got here."

"You watched me undress and dive into the water?" he asked, aghast. When she nodded, smiling, he closed his eyes briefly, fighting for control of what he almost said on that subject. "All right, it's over and done with, now climb up here behind me and I'll take you back to the villa - it's nearly an hour's walk in those sandals and that stola, and it will be dark by the time you finally get there."

She wasted no time demurring, but took hold of the proffered hand and let him lift her onto the broad back of the horse behind his saddle. She sat sideways because her stola wasn't made for horseback riding at all, but she had both arms wrapped around his still-slim waist, resting her upper body against his muscular back, breathing in the clean scent of his damp skin. "Thank you for the ride, Maximus," she said in her low, throaty voice, her fingers rubbing him through his tunic. Gods, his body was still so beautiful, she thought. He must be ten times the lover now as when they'd last been together. She shivered, imagining it.

"Behave yourself," he snapped, and kicked Leo into a canter. If she kept up the touching and purring, he thought in total distraction, he wasn't sure he could govern his body's response, and as much as he loved Ana, it had been six weeks since their last encounter - her belly was simply too big and he worried too much over her safety to allow himself to mount her or take her in any position at all. He was frustrated, angry and responding to the touch of a woman who knew everything there was to know about how to touch him, how to make him as ardent as she wanted - he just hoped he was strong enough -mentally and physically - to resist her.

Leo cantered back through the now deserted orchard, his muscular body moving smoothly even with the double load. Maximus wished he could fly like Pegasus. Lucilla, about to slide her hands down far lower on his body, wished the horse would come up lame so they'd have to stop. Oh well, she told herself, faint of heart never won the day, and she put both hands down where his thighs met, finding him hard, heated and twitching, the folds of his tunic having hidden that from her.

He literally snarled in angry dismay while her pleased laughter bubbled out and echoed merrily through the apple trees.

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Copyright 2002 by wildbearies

Click on Maximus for Chapter 40