*****************************

Colin stood, looking down into the large pit. It was obvious to him that Sid was responsible for this. Not far away were the remains of his campfire, not to mention the telltale tail fuzz of an English rabbit.

Eryn stood beside her Aussie, shaking her head. "I can understand Ando and Hando being too distracted...but you would think at least Arthur...."

"I know," Colin agreed, a pained expression on his face, knowing already what this would mean for him.

Eryn looked up at her companion. "There's no other way...really there's not."

Colin inhaled deeply, closing his seagreen eyes, gathering his inner strength for the ordeal that lay before him. Had he been older and looked a bit less like Elvis, he might have brought Maximus to mind as the General prepared to grab the downward- plunging executioner's sword. Finally, as gathered innerly as he would ever be, he stepped to the edge of the pit.

"Could you at least hoist the mermaid up a little?" he asked his two fellow-characters as he began the painful process of unfurling his sideburns. It was the way their interior portions slid so fuzzily across the cells of his cerebral cortex that was actually the most excruciating part of the whole unfurling process. For days afterwards he knew he would see the aurora australis on the backside of his retinas.

When each sideburn had reached its full length of twelve feet, Eryn wound them together so that each temple would bear equally its burdens. As she wound them, she slipped a decorative bead here and there. "For handholds," she smiled, though actually she just liked the look of them.

Colin sat down in the sand, grasping his entwined sideburns tightly between both hands as Eryn lowered their end into the pit. It wasn't the mermaid or even the two characters that concerned him so much as the prospect of the weight of the 3 horses. Ando actually came up quite easily, what with the strong push Hando gave her on her bunward regions.

"I'll come last," Hando called up as he gave Arthur a shove.

The Melbourner then tied the sideburns in sling-fashion about the belly of Horse.

Sweat poured off Colin's face as he heaved. Horse rose a foot in the air, but then settled back down. "I don't think I can... do...it," Colin gasped.

Hando looked at Horse, then squatted, placing his back and shoulders under its belly. "NOW!" he grunted as he struggled upwards.

Colin, Arthur, and Eryn all tugged mightily and Horse plopped up and over the edge of the pit. "Only two more horses to go!" Eryn encouraged brightly.

Colin lay back on the sand, his chest heaving. "Give me a minute," he muttered.

"HEY!" Hando called up, "Hurry up up there, willya!"

A few minutes later, when everyone was together, Colin narrowed his eyes at the errant trio. "Next time, pay more attention to where you're going!" As he gathered his sideburns into neat loops in his hand, he sighed in exasperation. They were a good four feet longer. He looked at Eryn. "I've been stretched!" he complained. He was so upset that when he refurled them into his head, he completely failed to remove the beads. Eryn realized this too late and hoped there would not, at some future and probably inauspicious moment, be strange manifestations as a result.

"Thanks, man," Hando said, clapping Colin's shoulder.

Colin managed a weak smile. "How did you end up in that?" he asked, nodding toward the pit. Hando frowned at the former Welshwoman's tail.

"This," he gritted out. "It was this...thing." Hour after hour he and Arthur had taken turns un-wobbling Ando as they got ever more off the trail to the left, their total concentration centered on keeping her slightly upright.

Colin had to agree that Sid had hidden the pit well, its surface giving no sign of its presence. "I doubt that it was meant for you," he added.

Hando nodded. "Yeah," he said, "it was most likely intended for the three old guys."

The brightness of the morning sun woke Joimus. Standing, she studied her surroundings. As far as she could see in all directions lay perfectly flat whiteness. There were not even distant mountains on the horizon. She had gotten turned around in the darkness and had no idea which way she should go. She decided finally to keep the rising sun to her back and head west, hoping to intersect the path of the race at some point.

After riding for a couple of hours, she walked beside Buttermilk, sharing her small canteen of water with the mare. The saltflats danced with wavering strands of heat, vast stretches of glistening waters lying everywhere she looked. By noon, the sun beat down from straight above. She had nothing to form a shelter with and even if she lay beside Buttermilk again, the sun would still find her. So she rode a bit and walked a bit.

On and on and on. About 3 in the afternoon she smiled, patting Buttermilk fondly. "Look at that, girl," she said, staring at the field of daffodils in front of them. Letting go of the reins, she ran happily towards the yellow blooms nodding in the spring breeze. Lips cracking under their coating of fine salt particles, she sang softly as she gathered armfuls of the flowers.

"You know," she commented to Buttermilk as she stumbled and sat down heavily, "I think I'll just rest here a while." She nestled down comfortably on her side, watching the daffodils rising around her face up against the deep blueness of the sky. "How pretty," she sighed, closing her eyes.

Frankagorn had ridden off alone, a bit more south and east of the direction Maximus, Aubrey, and Russell had taken. After a few miles, he lowered the visor of his Stetson, scanning the desert. Nothing. He sighed, but kept riding in that direction.

An hour later he intersected a white line atop the tawny sand. Quickly he dismounted, touching it with his fingertips and raising them to his tongue. He smiled. "Buttermilk!" Back in the saddle, he rode rapidly, following the maptrail.

Hidoolgo was not like other horses. Often he had gotten up from his deathbed, shaken off the vultures, and galloped fiercely for many miles despite deep, bleeding wounds, torn muscles, broken bones, spears protruding here and there, not to mention the occasional arrow. Frankagorn knew he could push him now, without water or rest, across the Saltflats of Doom.

By four in the afternoon he saw a small speck way in the distance. Galloping closer, he knew it was Buttermilk, standing riderless. Before Hidoolgo had even come to a halt, he was on his feet, sprinting the last few yards. Flinging himself to his knees, he tenderly lifted Joimus' head. "Jozira," he said softly.

Her eyelids fluttered open. "Hullo, Maximus," she croaked through lips that could barely move. She waved one hand limply. "Would you like a daffodil?" He poured a little water carefully into her mouth. "Nice," she said, licking her lips. "Save some for the vase."

"Vase?" he repeated, puzzled.

"Yes," she murmured, holding up an empty hand, "for these." Her skin was hot and very dry.

He winced. "Sunstroke," he murmured under his breath.

"Maximus," she said, raising her fingers to the shoulder regions of his cape, "where is your faux fur?"

"I...I...," he stammered, then making a decision, continued, "It was too hot."

"Oh...yes," she said, nodding her head in agreement, "it would be." Looking straight into his face, she added, "I don't feel so well, Maximus. Can we go to Tuscany now?"

Stroking her salt-laden hair, he pressed her cheek to his chest. "Yes," he answered, tears forming in his eyes, "I'll take you there."

"Now?" she pursued, remembering the fountains of his gardens in the holodeck.

"Now," he replied, settling her gently back onto the saltflat and striding to Hidoolgo. Quickly he untied his tent and giving it a mighty flap, snapped it open, setting it over her. He slipped blankets and pillows under her and then set about wetting several cloths to cool her skin.

"Maximus?" she murmured.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I know," he replied, closing his eyes, "I know."

She slept then, but continued to say "Maximus" over and over. Frankagorn sat beside her, fanning her and listening to her endless litany of love for the General. After a while he heard the clatter of approaching hoofbeats, but remained where he was.

Suddenly Maximus pulled back the tent flap, letting his eyes adjust to the darkened interior of the tent. Aubrey and Russell stood closely behind him.

Frankagorn sat beside Joimus, holding her hand tenderly in his. At that moment, her head was turned toward the King and she was saying softly, "I love you...I love you with all my heart."

A sound, half-moan, half-cry, broke from the General's lips as his hands made fists in the tent material and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He spun on his heel, pushing Russell and the Captain aside, and fairly flung himself onto Argento's back.

"Maximus...stop!" called Russell, but the General was already disappearing into a cloud of saltdust.

Aubrey had come all the way into the tent and stood, staring at the couple on the blankets. "Joimus...why?" he begged.

She turned her head and he saw that her eyes were closed.

"Maximus," she murmured, "I love you, Maximus."

"What?" he gasped.

Frankagorn lay a cold cloth on her forehead then looked up at the Captain. "Sunstroke," he explained.

Aubrey wheeled, dashing out of the tent. "Where is Maximus?" he shouted to Russell.

Himself pointed at a tiny speck in the distance. "He went thataway."

"We've got to get him back here!" Aubrey cried. "It's not how it looked."

"It seldom is," Russell commented wryly.

"No, Russell, it's REALLY not. She's out of her gourd from sunstroke and thinks the King is Maximus."

"Well," Russell replied sagely, "it's good she has no seed to spill, now isn't it?"

Maximus rode blindly as though trying to outrun the sound of her words. But over and over he heard them clearly. "I love you. I love you with all my heart." He let go of the reins, clapping both hands over his ears.

Argento stepped on a small rock, stumbled, and he fell from the saddle, landing hard on his back and rolling several times. Salt coated the rust-colored cape as he finally lay still on his stomach, his shoulders heaving. Salt was in his mouth, his eyes and the sting of it was too great to lie there long. Fumbling blindly for his regimental canteen, he splashed water into his face then rinsed his mouth. He rose to his knees as some quick motion caught his still-stinging eye.

The attack leopards had been released as the attack leopards are always released in this part of the Sandbiscuit. Such surprises were the result of a less-than-careful reading of the fine print at the bottom of page 476 of the Sandbiscuit rule book. The fact that the rule book was written in Arabic was no excuse.

He struggled to his feet, unsheathing his gladius as he moved. He half-crouched, his left hand out defensively, as he attempted to blink the last of the salt from his eyes. There were three of them, running at him rapidly from different directions. He set his jaw, turning, trying to keep them all in sight.

*THWOK* A leopard rolled, lying stunned.

*THWOK* A second leopard screeched before running away.

*GLORMPF* And the remaining leopard was rendered harmless, though miffed.

"Well done, my love, well done!" complimented Biebe enthusiastically as he came up beside BugPugDogMom (hereinafter known as Buggie or some similar variation of the moment) who sat atop a large, overturned basket. "Nice kitty," he said, tapping his fingers on the wicker wherefrom whiskers and a fang or two protruded.

Maximus, taking a moment to adjust to the sudden change in his circumstances, finally sheathed his sword, bent to retrieve something from beside the stunned leopard, and walked toward the unexpectedly arrived couple. "Your puck," he said, handing the object back to the sheriff.

"Thanks!" Biebe smiled.

"No," the General added, "thank you....and you, too." He nodded in acknowledgement of the basketed Bug.

Buggie beamed. It made her day, really it did, to save the General of the Armies of the North from death and/or dismemberment. The two men helped her down from the basket and together lifted a large rock to put in her place.

"He will have chewed his way out by nightfall," Biebe commented.

Bugglette sighed.She was fond of this particular basket, but at least it was giving its wicker in a good cause. Turning her gaze from the basket to Maximus, she studied his condition. "General, " she said, "you seem quite...quite...um...salty."

He frowned, looking down the length of himself just as the actual Himself rode into view. Untying his cape, he gave it a large shake, sending salt particles flying. Buggie patted him down, trying to shake off the salt remaining on his uniform. She bit her tongue as she worked in an attempt to keep an overly large grin from forming on her lips. It was a tough job, she thought happily to herself, but somebody hadda do it.

Biebe looked at Maximus' face Something was definitely bothering the General. He couldn't remember when he'd seen such morphing back and forth from anger to deep grief and almost on to total despair. But, then, Maximus always did morph well.

"Maximus!" shouted Aubrey, leaping out of Champion's saddle and running up to his friend. "It's all right! It's really all

right!"

Maximus' jaw worked and one lower eyelid twitched as he replied, "It can never be 'all right' again. Ever!"

Russell lay a hand on Maximus' arm, nodding his head and smiling warmly. "It can, " he said. "Listen to Jack."

Jack was almost beside himself in his eagerness to tell Maximus what he had witnessed in the King's tent. "She was out of her gourd, Maximus...just like you...completely out of her gourd!"

The General's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice catching with emotion.

"Well, not exactly like you, Maximus, " the Captain ran on, "because her gourd, of course, doesn't have seeds and all and there was no rhino anyway to step on it even if it did and....."

"JACK!" bellowed Maximus.

Jack took a deep breath. "Sunstroke," he said, "it was sunstroke. She thought Frankagorn was you. All along, Maximus, it was YOU she was professing her love to...not him."

"You know this for certain?" Maximus asked, a bit of light beginning to come back into his seagreen eyes.

"Yes!" Jack said firmly, "I heard her say it with my own ears."

Maximus placed his hands, one atop the other, on his head, closed his eyes, and blew out a long breath. "The gods be praised!" he said, opening his eyes and looking joyously from person to person.

All of them returned his smile. He had suffered so much of late and, if the pattern held, would probably suffer more before long, but it was so nice to see him happy for a change...however brief it might and probably would be.

Wouldn't you just know it, night chose that very instant to fall. The saltflats were a harder surface than the soft, tawny dunes and so when it fell, it shattered with a great, resounding crash.

"My God!" Russell exclaimed after his ears had finally stopped reverberating, "Nights in Australia do not arrive like THAT!"

Hisses and growls attracted their attention to the basket. The attack leopard was nearly loose. The 5 of them mounted quickly, heading back toward Frankagorn's tent. Biebe, admittedly more used to snowmobiles than horses, worked hard at controlling his spirited mount.

"He's a fine piece of horseflesh," Russell commented, riding up beside the sheriff. "Did you give him a fine name?"

Biebe grinned. "Babieca," he replied. "Biebe's Babieca."

"Wow!" said Russell, running his palm down Pooh's neck, "That's a mouthful."

Buggers added, "It's the Cid's steed, you know." She had pronounced 'Cid' with the Spanish 'ee' sound.

Jack laughed heartily. "You had better not talk of 'seeds' when Maximus is around!"

Maximus frowned in the pale light of the shard he was carrying. "Aubrey," he growled, "I find no humor in that." But his heart was so happy he couldn't maintain the frown and his lips curved into a very male grin.

"I'm sure it was right here," said Russell, dismounting in the darkness. "Yes," he added, "here are marks from where the tent was."

The light shards were of little use by this time, but he held a large one close to the saltflat and could see definite traces of tent pole indentations.

Maximus was puzzled...and angry. "Why didn't he wait?" He turned in the blackness. "Where could he have gone? Which direction?"

Russell gathered 5 or 6 shards together and, crouching low, moved them over the nearby area. "Here!" he called. "Two horses were here and headed....," he stood, "that way." He pointed west and north.

"Back to the course of the race," Maximus added. His shoulders sagged. He had been days without sleep, but he headed toward Argento anyway.

"Hold on, Maximus," said Russell kindly. "Rest. Just a couple of hours."

"I must....," Maximus started.

"A couple of hours," repeated Russell. "We all need it."

Maximus stared northwesterly into the darkness. He lifted his left boot toward Argento's stirrup but his right knee nearly buckled from weariness. He knew if he closed his eyes he would simply fall over, so he reluctantly unsaddled Argento and settled down, wrapping his cape about himself and laying his head against the saddle. Within seconds he slept.

Buggie sighed contentedly as she nestled next to Biebe, her head resting comfortably atop his bearskin hat. Soon she, too, was asleep, only awakened from time to time by the General's calling "Joimus," in his dreams.

"Up!" shouted Maximus impatiently. It was nearly dawn. They had slept almost the entire night.

"What about breakfast?" grumped Aubrey. "I'm getting too old for this."

"No, you can't do that, " chortled Russell, "not unless I make a sequel, that is. Characters are forever the age of their films, remember, while I...I..." he stopped, suddenly shocked by the realization that someday he would be 95 and all the current characters would be in their 20's and 30's except for Jim who would always be 40...and the women were forever epily 33.

Aubrey grinned widely at the likelihood he would never have to leave his late 30's. "Not bad," he said, nodding in approval, "not bad at all!" He sized up Russell, "Perhaps YOU are getting too old for this!"

Russell just glared, knowing that he weighed less at 40 than he had at 30 whilst the good captain, according to some less favorable reviews, could almost give Jeffrey a run for his money in certain areas of rotundity.

Jack, with that uncanny way characters had of knowing what Himself was thinking, drew himself up to his full height, which was, of course, exactly the same full height as Himself's. "It was MY idea not to get as large as they wanted me to, you know!"

"Actually, Jack, it was MY idea," Russell retorted as he turned to saddle Pooh.

Jack sighed. Sometimes life was just so convoluted. "No breakfast, then?" he murmured regretfully.

Russell gestured towards the ground. "Eat some salt and pretend there are eggs under it."

Meanwhile, back at the actual path of the Sandbiscuit, Terry was having a problem. The tent pegs kept detaching from the burlap and his equipment had dragged on the ground the last several miles, blunting its tip rather badly. Annsmac was distraught. She had lubrication, she had polish, she had pliers and wrenches, staples and duct tape but had somehow embarked on the Sandbiscuit with not one thing to use in unblunting the K&R agent's equipment. She stood there, tapping her foot, staring at it.

"It's just too long," commented Lucilla, passing by. "You need to prop it up somehow."

Annsmac, of course, did not agree with the 'too long' statement, but found some merit in the concept of 'propping'. She would have to await a storyline change for the actual unblunting procedure, but at least she could prevent further wearings away, could she not? Mounting Midnight, whom she had named in a rather "Rowdy" moment (good luck on that one to the younger crowd of readers), she asked Lucilla to hand her the far end of Terry's equipment.

Lucilla smiled. If only she had seen Buggie's smile of the evening before, she would have known how similar they were. "Really?" she asked.

Annsmac gritted her teeth. "Really," she replied. "I can't hold it and get on my horse at the same time, now can I?"

Lucilla stooped and picked the end of it up. "Ooff! I didn't know it was so...heavy," she remarked.

"Careful!" Annsmac cried, "Don't dent it!"

Lucilla just rolled her eyes, remembering the incident back in Egypt one night. "Me?" she said coyly. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Ladies," came a deep, rumbly voice. "I AM present, you know."

Lucilla grinned down at the equipment in her hands. "Yep, Terry," she agreed, "present and all... accounted for."

Annsmac began to feel she had probably asked the wrong woman for assistance. "Here!" she said, impatience rising in her voice. "Hand it up to me." Lucilla gave the equipment a sharp boost up to Annsmac's waiting hands.

"OW!" cried Terry, wincing. Annsmac propped it behind her pommel and wrapped duct tape around and around both objects.

"Hmmmmm?" observed Lucilla. "Don't you think it's a little...bent...that way?"

"It's fine, Lucilla," Annsmac snapped.

"Well, personally, I think you two look like an outrigger canoe," Lucilla stated with conviction. She did have a point. The two horses were now connected stiffly and would have to move carefully at the same pace or severe disjointing of equipmental sorts would surely occur. Terry looked quite concerned, in fact.

"Gotta go," Lucilla called, "Just be sure no vultures come to roost." She walked toward Cisco, chortling under her breath. "Good boy," she said, smoothing Cisco's mane before she mounted. Cisco had been in Dances With Wolves, you see, and Lucilla...still...had a particular wolf in mind she would like to "dance" with were that overly-possessive Joimus to remain with the King. Joimus had often been the bane of Lucilla's wolf-plots. Speak of the bane!

At that moment Frankagorn rode into the main camp of Sandbiscuiteers, Joimus on the saddle in front of him, looking rather like a wrung-out dish rag. BertiWise almost spilled her croutons as she ran up to Hidoolgo. "What happened?" she cried.

"I..I..got lost," Joimus croaked, her voice still not back to normal, "but Frankagorn found me."

"Why did you go off alone in the first place?" Berti queried, having hung around detectivefolk for a long time now.

Joimus looked up at Frankagorn, who shook his head 'no' silently.

"I...I...," she stammered, searching for some excuse that did not involve the laying down of buttermilk maptrails.

But Berti had seen Frankagorn's negative headshake and so she cleared her throat, smacked her lips a bit and said, "Never mind. We're just glad you're back safely."

Joimus gave her a wan smile, grateful to Berti for not pursuing the matter.

Bud came up to take Joimus from Frankagorn's arms. He glared at Berti and her salad bowl as he brushed past her, carrying the still-weak Joimus to a blanket. As the Pittsburgher rested her head on his shoulder, she thought of how she had always found a certain degree of Maximus in the cop. And they were both so passionately intense about their womenfolk. Then too, Bud was the second character she had met after her Maximus. She wondered vaguely, though, why Berti was still carrying Mary's salad bowl and why Bud seemed angry with her. She would have to ask her about that later.

"Where is Maximus?" asked Zack, who seemed to tag along a lot with Bud these days.

"I've not seen him," Joimus said as Bud set her down without thinking just a yard from Susan and her planter. Joimus' eyes narrowed at the sight of the abundant gourdlings. "And I prefer it that way," she added. Her eyes, though, simply could not turn away from the presence of the fruit of Maximus' seed. How beautiful they were. But, then, they WOULD be wouldn't they? They were his, after all. Her chin quivered and tears formed in her eyes. She had always...thought....

In a swirl of cape and sand, Maximus rode into camp.

Frankagorn had ridden slowly through the night, holding Joimus carefully and leading Buttermilk, but the General had galloped the entire way. His heart was full of the wonder of knowing that his Joimus loved only him. He fairly leapt out of the saddle, running to her and flinging himself to his knees beside her. "Joimus!" he cried, his seagreen eyes sparkling with joy and love.

Slowly she turned her gaze from the gourdlings to the General of the Armies of the North. A piercing pain stabbed through her breaking heart as she looked at him as levelly as she could manage, then said softly, "Go away."

Buggie squeezed Biebe's arm tightly. "His happiness didn't even last out the epi!"

"Does it ever?" Biebe commented.

"Truly," Bugsworth added, "you always hurt the one you love...and, my, does she ever love the General."

Jewelie turned away. The sight of Maximus' face was beyond bearing. "Oh, Jim!" she sobbed. "The angst of it all...it's....it's...too much."

"I know," he said, feeling quite wary of epilife himself. It was true that Max Baer had killed two men in the ring, but THIS! This was unspeakable. Baer he could bear, but he was not at all sure he had it in himself to withstand epiplots.

"You do," said Russell. "I myself am in yourself and so my Himself that is part of yourself is the same, though older and more experienced characterly-speaking, Himself that was myself being Maximus' self and, that being the case, I myself can tell you yourself that you DO truly have it in yourself to withstand the epiplots as I myself have been doing for quite some time."

Never in all the history of epidom had quite the same gurggling sound of utter horror ever risen from the throat of a character as rose from that of the newcomer's as he gazed in anguish at the man who, except for the bare torso with the scorched cuff and the bit of a collar, looked exactly like himself...for, of course, Himself ALWAYS looked like Himself, or in this case, himself.

Russell frowned in concern. He had put in too many hours running in the parks of the world and paddling the kayaks of the world and even giving up tobacco, not to mention carbs, to whip this fellow into shape and now just look at him! "See here, Braddock, " he said sternly, "enough with the anguish already. Look at Maximus. Now that's REAL anguish!"

As, indeed, it was. Maximus was speechless. He literally could not form a sound. He felt impaled on a thousand spear tips. Every muscle in his face seemed to be working at once as he held his hands slightly out, palms up, fingers spread wide and stiff. Slowly his fingers curled as his head bowed.

The King, still astride Hidoolgo, waited silently. Lucilla, mounted on Cisco, held her breath. Timing was always everything...both in life and in epis. Just then the topmost gourdling broke loose from its siblings and, falling from the planter like a baby robin from its nest, plopped onto the blanket and rolled...coming to rest against the General's right kneecap.

Maximus stared down at it.

Joimus stared down at it.

The entire cast stared down at it.

It was smooth and ovoid and pale green with an almost invisible coating of light fuzz. It was adorably cute.

Joimus closed her eyes as a single large tear trickled down her cheek, then, aided by Bud and Zack, she stood and walked away.

Jewelie and Jim held onto eachother tightly, trembling. "Is there an exit sign?" Jewelie whispered, her voice quavering.

"I...I...fear it is too late, Jewelie," Jim replied quietly. "I think once you have arrived in epidom, you are trapped for life."

Jewelie shook her head sadly, "We are doomed then."

Jim bit his lip. "Perhaps I should have taken that job at the Alamo after all," he mused. "It was a...happier...story."

"But," protested Jewelie, "Ron jumped ship."

Jim looked kindly at her. "There were no boats at the Alamo, Jewelie...that was Weir, not Ron, who had the boats."

"Somebody talking about Peter?" asked Aubrey.

"Peter won the Oscar," commented Frankagorn proudly.

"He did NOT!" the Captain bellowed. "I know. I wasn't there...nobody was there...but I know!"

"I wasn't there, either," Frankagorn countered, "But Peter had PLENTY of folks with him!"

Jim and Jewelie quietly slipped away from the group, heading for their horses. Sid smiled. He had slipped, unseen, into camp and watched all that transpired from behind the collapsible outhouse. His plan to impit the General, the Captain, and the actor had come to naught due to Ando's fishy business...but this...this was even better than having Maximus devoured by leopards. He WAS being devoured...but by his Joimus! How on beyond perfect it was. Licking his lips with the pleasure of it all, he watched carefully as Maximus continued to stare down at his gourdling.

The General had not even raised his eyes to watch Joimus' departure. He felt her going as does the hillside when cloud-shadows block the sun and were it possible for it to rain within one's soul, a great and pounding wetness fell within his own. Helpless, he simply remained kneeling and let it surge until it had become a steady, grey November drizzle. His body slumped then, a great sandcastle washed by waves, losing its form.

Watching, a tear formed again in Russell's right eye. Often he said, "I am not Maximus," but, truth be told, a great deal of him was and there had been times not so very many years gone by that he and the General had been one. Russell lost touch with that, it seemed, but Maximus never did. And now everyone but Joimus, Bud, and Zack held their combined breaths as Maximus reached his right hand out and ran his forefinger feather-lightly along the curve of his gourdling.

Susan had walked up, standing nearby, bits of gourdvine hanging like fringe from the bottom of her skirt where BertiWise had torn the nursery section loose. The General tipped his head, looking up at her with seagreen eyes that swam with confusion and pain. Susan's heart broke for him.

She had, yes, wanted the fruit of his seed, but she had never intended him to suffer so. She knelt, the gourdling lying between them on the blanket.

"Maximus," she said softly, "You do not know this, but I have wanted..oh.. ever since I discovered that you had pitched your Roman tent in the forests of Germania in southern England not more than 12 miles from my little cottage...and I did not know you were there...I..I...," she stammered, not knowing how to express what lay in her heart. "I wanted some small... part...of you. Something I could call my own." She inhaled deeply. "Then, on the bomb-laden bus when Alex slammed the brakes and your seed spilt out of Lucilla's curved piece of gourd shell and got on my dress... well...." She blushed. "I...I...couldn't...wash it off. In fact," she confessed, shame deepening the reditude of her facial flush, "I...made a seedbed for it and deliberately let it germinate." She hung her head. "And now Zack has left me and Joimus has left you and...I'm...I'm just so very sorry, Maximus." She raised tear-filled eyes and looked at him. She was so sincere, so lovely with her dark hair waving down the sides of her sweet English face.

Russell nodded, understanding completely. He was well experienced with the women of the world wanting some piece of him. In fact, once upon a time, the former Welshwoman had even gooched his buns and, rumor had it, was not yet satisfied. And, too, he knew that if even more truth were to be told, that many of the women of the world actually hoped to find Maximus when they encountered Himself. It was, often, why he liked to grow his chestnut mass or even the almost shoulder-length blond tresses to wave wildly about at concerts and such. It was just so NOT Maximus.

He looked at the General, kneeling there in his rust-colored cape, and thought how, of all his characters, he seemed to wear Maximus like a cape he could not detach. He was quite fond of the Roman, truly he was, but did not care for it when it was thought that Himself WAS the Roman even though the Roman was Himself.

"What are we to do?" Susan asked worriedly.

Bud and Zack had returned by then. "How could you want another man's seed, Susan?" Zack accused, obviously still very hurt by her desires.

BertiWise spoke up. "But ARE they really another man's seed?" she asked, addressing the group entire. "Can anyone here find ANY difference in the seed of Maximus and that of Zack?"

Russell chewed his lip, pondering this.

Sid made a little sound deep in his throat, knowing his computerized self had no real seed in his hard drive. Sure, he could make copies of himself onto floppy disks or CD's, but it just wasn't quite the same. It was an ego thing and was one of the chief reasons he disliked the General so. When Maximus walked alone into an arena, he was just so damn "male" he practically left a trail of seed behind him on the sand in spite of the rhino having been changed to tigers.

Every female eye centered in on the lip-chewing Russell.

"YOU!" BertiWise announced. "It's...ALL...you." Every female head nodded in acknowledgement of the utter truth of Berti's wise words. "These are YOUR gourdlings...which makes them the gourdlings of every man here." She bowed slightly to Hidoolgo's rider, "With the exception of the King, of course."

Sid frowned. He was not even being considered in her wrap-up. He narrowed his eyes, wondering how best to make her pay.

Blithely, Berti continued. "I would suggest to you, Zack," she said, indicating the planter, "that these are equally yours as well as the General's." She encouraged, "Think about it. If it were not for Himself being yourself as well as Himself being the General's self, none of your selves would have ever even seen selfhood, would they now?"

Zack looked confused, but she could see a light just beginning to dawn somewhere deep in the seagreenness of his eyes.

"Some of you are older," she nodded toward Aubrey, "and some of you are younger," she nodded toward Johnny, "but no matter that. Each and every one of you is yourself only because Himself was yourself and he brought with him his," she paused and grinned at the uncomfortable Aussie, "his...seed...to each of you."

Russell cleared his throat. "Berti, could we...um...change the topic?"

"Soon," Berti continued, "I'm sure it will happen any time now. But first the gourdlings must be attended to."

"Yes," Susan added, greatly concerned,"what WILL become of them?"

BertiWise smiled. "I like to think of them as all the yet-unformed characters Himself will one day give life to, characters that will grow, take shape, and someday even come into epidom as Jim has done."

Jewelie gasped. What a terrible fate to befall such young and innocent gourdlings! "Do..do..they..have to...come here?" she asked.

"Wait and see, Jewelie," Berti consoled, remembering Cort beholding ceremonies and Maximus standing in the sunset on the butte with his cape blowing. "We have our moments."

Jewelie was still not convinced...not until the sunlight suddenly sparkled the highlights of her lovely hair and Jim, unable to resist, enfolded her in his strong arms and kissed her until her breath was almost gone. "OH!" she exclaimed, "On second thought."

Susan picked up the gourdling, pressing it to her cheek. "But what of these NOW?"

ertiWise considered. "You are missing something, I can tell," she said, then smiled as Zack, who had disappeared briefly, came out of his tent. "Look, Susan." The Englishwoman turned as Zack approached, holding a small, potted blue poppy.

She blinked her eyes several times. "Is it real?" she asked wonderingly.

"In epis, Susan, reality doesn't matter," Berti said softly. "You know that by now."

Indeed, Susan did. She rose to her feet and took the small pot in her hands, smiling at Zack. "It's much...lighter...than the planter," she said, her gaze sliding to where the planter sat. "It's GONE!" she cried. "It's GONE!" The planter and every one of the gourdlings had disappeared.

"Yes," Berti explained, "they've gone to that special place where the fruit of Himself must wait until the 'goosebump factor' calls them forth into selfhood."

It was rather like Maximus' dog. It was easier for the storyline if they simply no longer had to be dealt with. One minute they're biting Barbarians in the mud, the next...

they're gone.

Sid shook his head, muttering, "That's a bit too pat, if you ask me!"

Bunny ran her fingers down his sleeve. "I had something...else...in mind to ask you, Siddums," she said. He smiled. Epidom did have its moments. Even for villains.

Maximus had not said a word during all this. The gourdlings were no longer a plot device. His emotions had been jerked violently from one extreme to another and it took him a moment to recover himself. Well, you know, the Maximus portion of Himself anyway.

"Joimus!" he breathed softly. She did not know the gourdlings were gone! "Bud!" he cried, standing and grasping the cop's arm. "Where did you take Joimus?"

Bud, who was staring at the now salad-bowless Berti, pointed absently at a nearby tent. "We have much to talk about," Bud said, indicating he wanted her to come and walk with him. How beautiful she looked, all flushed like that from her long speech. He reached into his pocket and, pulling out a genuine policeman's doughnut, offered it to her. "Have you lost your taste for salad, my dear?" he inquired.
 

Berti smiled in her inward parts, knowing that "croutons" would always hold a special place in her dreams, but quite in the mood for a bit of round sweetness.

Joimus sat alone in the dim light of the tent, her face buried in her hands, her long pale hair loose and falling forward around her like a veil. Maximus had entered so silently that she had no awareness of his presence until he moved some strands of hair with his hand. "Joimus," he whispered. Her body tensed, but still she kept her hands in place. "Joimus," he repeated.

Her mind kept repeating, "Go away," but all the rest of her, heart, soul, spirit and body wanted nothing more than for him to enfold her completely.

"The gourdlings," he whispered, "they were Himself's... they were...all...of ours." A blue eye peeked out between two separating fingers.

"Not yours...alone?"

"No," he said, the corners of his mouth beginning to curve upwards at the sight of her eye. "Come," he said, pulling her into his lap and wrapping his cape about them both in that way he knew she loved so dearly. "Come...home," he murmured.

She slid both arms under his armpits and curved them tightly around his back beneath the cape, locking her hands together. He leaned back against the pillows, taking her with him, kissing her hair.

She lifted her face, wet with tears, looking at him, noticing his own tears. "Home," she sighed, "I'm...home." She pressed her cheek against his that their tears might mingle.

Aubrey pulled back the tent flap, shouting, "HURRY! You HAVE to see THIS!"

( DIRECTLY CONTINUED AS "TORONTO TRIBULATIONS"... The um, sorta almost true story of the filming of Cinderella Man, sorta)