The Sun On My Heart

By Ilaria and Steph

Flavia Cressida tightened her stola around her shoulders and took a step into the sun. It was warm in Rome- unusually warm for so early in the year -- but she could not shake the sensation of a chill. It was as though the icy fear that pulsed among the people ranged behind her had been given physical form, and it blustered between them like a wind.

The emperor, Marcus Aurelius, was dead. With him, the certainty and security that had marked the past century was gone. The new ruler, his son, had done nothing to alarm them - yet. He was a total unknown.

The man would be here any moment. Already, far along the Via Sacra, Flavia could hear the sounds of the crowd welcoming their new emperor home. The procession which would carry Lucius Aurelius Antoninus Commodus to his throne had been winding through the city for hours. Soon they would arrive.

The sound of giggling made Flavia turn and frown. Her eyes drifted over the lines of senators and ladies ranged behind her on the Capitol steps, and finally came to rest on a fair-headed girl of sixteen. It was her little sister, chatting merrily with a young member of the ordo equestor. Like the older girl, this woman’s legal name was Flavia Cressida, sometimes called Flavilla to distinguish between the pair.

To family members and close friends, she had been known as Marcia since infancy. It was the name that had belonged to the woman who had given them birth. Looking at her sibling, it was easy for Flavia to remember why she was called so: Marcia was nearly a copy of their mother. She had the same soft curls, rosebud mouth, and wide-green eyes. Even her figure- curvy and tall- was a nearly perfect match.

Flavia shifted her gaze from the girl to the young equestrian. He seemed respectful enough- though his eyes seemed more interested in the girl’s plump bosom than her conversation- but Flavia found herself disapproving nevertheless. He was an Italian- a new man -whose family had not yet ascended into the Senate. Completely unsuitable. Such matches were better off nipped in the bud.

Or maybe she was just bitter

Against her better instincts, Flavia held her tongue. How long had it been since she was the young girl smiling into poor, but handsome eyes? It seemed like a lifetime, but in reality, it had only been eleven years. It was eleven years since she had returned from the Northern frontier to a husband she had never met, her girlhood dreams of love tossed aside like an old, but cherished toy. Marcia would learn soon enough the harsh duty of well brought up Roman girls: the duty to honor their family with a suitable match, and honor their husbands with sons. Flavia, as the family matriarch now that her mother and father were dead, had the power to hold off that day at least for a while. She might as well permit one day of fun.

A commotion at the far end of the square returned Flavia’s attention to the street. The chariots were arriving. She saw the plumes of the horses as they passed around a final corner, and then she beheld the chariot bearing their new Caesar.

Commodus.

Flavia squinted into the sun, making out the young man’s silhouette. He had grown since she had last seen him- or perhaps he merely seemed taller in his purple cloak and crown. He looked so strange to her. She had been his older sister’s friend since he was in the nursery, and so it was hard to think of him as anything but a skittish, yet affectionate child.

"Marcia." Flavia firmly called her sister to attention. The time for flirtation was done. Now that the emperor had arrived, they must be on their best behavior and give the man their full attention. Regardless of what sort of Caesar Commodus turned out to be, their proximity to the throne, and visibility to their ruler, demanded nothing else.

With a final shy smile, the teenager bade farewell to her admirer and joined her sister on the steps. The younger girl studied the approaching procession with interest, her emerald eyes glimmering with excitement. "Do you think they will have a banquet at the palace tonight?" She asked, knowing very well that the answer was ‘yes’. Receiving no reply, she posed the question Flavia knew that she had always been intending to ask. "Do you think I will be invited to come?"

"I will see." Flavia said noncommittally, struggling not to grin at the girl’s eagerness. "Perhaps if you are good…."

Marcia responded to the teasing with a pout. Her lower lips protruded slightly in a childish, but pretty display of her displeasure.

"Straighten up." Her sister admonished, tired of the game. "They’re here."

In the square, below the steps, the three lead chariots had come to a halt. From the first, the young emperor dismounted, and began ascending the stairs. Behind him came his sister Lucilla, and the Captain of the Praetorian- a man Flavia didn’t recognize, but whose office was proclaimed by his black plumed helmet. She ignored the men, concentrating on the empress- her oldest and dearest friend.

The young prince, Lucius, hurried down the steps to his mother, and Flavia smiled at the scene, even as she fought a pang of longing for a child of her own. During her marriage, she had believed herself pregnant many times, but nothing had come to fruition. Just as she became certain of the signs, her bleeding would begin- heavier than usual- leaving her with an empty nursery and unfulfilled hopes. Her husband had been very old. The doctors had hinted that taking a lover- or, now that she was widowed, a new husband- might finally bring her success, but Flavia had never found the inclination. She didn’t want to marry again without love, and the more years that passed, the more it seemed that love was just a fairytale from long ago.

Lost in her musing, Flavia didn’t notice the emperor’s arrival until he was only standing a few feet away. He had reached the top of the stairs, and was greeted by children with flowers. Then his wife, Crispina, stepped forward, clasping his hand in a token gesture before slipping aside once more. The senators had his attention now. He murmured something unintelligible as his sister slid past.

"Flavia!" The Augusta held her arms open in greeting as she strode toward her friend.

The embrace was accepted, and the two women hugged tightly before finally stepping apart. The noblewoman studied the empress. Lucilla looked tired. A darkness was in her eyes- the same mute sadness that had lingered there when her husband, Lucius Verus had died.

"You look weary." Flavia said with concern.

The empress’s lips twisted into a sour smile. "Yes."

"You have had a long journey."

"Journey?" For a moment Lucilla looked surprised, as if she had forgotten the cause of her fatigue. "Oh- yes…the travel." She forced a smile. "I hardly need to tell you how long a ride it is from Germania."

"No." Flavia answered, thinking back to the happy summer that she had joined the then-princess and her father on a trip to the Germanian border. The tribes had been at rest that year- building strength for their next campaign, and the two girls had been permitted to join the expedition. Her closeness with Lucilla had grown during their long travels, and the quiet nights that they had spent in their tent. She thought wistfully of the hours they had whiled away basking in their unaccustomed freedom, gossiping about the servants and mooning over handsome soldiers- and about one of the soldiers in particular. It was the principal reason that, after so much time, the two were still close friends.

"Will there be a banquet tonight?" Marcia’s voice interrupted the older woman’s thoughts.

Flavia frowned harshly at her sister, annoyed that the girl did not know better than to address the empress without being spoken to first- even if Lucilla had changed her diapers when she was a baby.

Luckily, the woman seemed merely amused. "You may count on it Flavilla." She assured. "A banquet to be remembered for all time. There is nothing that my brother loves more than spectacles…."

"Why Lucilla, that isn’t true." Flavia gasped to realize that the emperor had joined them. "You know that I love you more than games and banquets." He tousled his nephew’s hair. "..and Lucius too…."

"Hail Caesar." Flavia said quickly, dropping into a curtsey, relived to see from the corner of her eye that Marcia had imitated her actions.

"Rise, rise…." The emperor said with a grin. "There is no formality among old friends…" He gave Flavia an indulgent smile, and then turned his attention to the other girl, extending his hand to be kissed.

Marcia took it shyly, her eyes lowered as she touched his skin to her lips. "Hail Caesar." She murmured sweetly.

"Commodus." The man insisted.

Marcia looked up tentatively.

The emperor met her gaze, offering a rakish smile that made the girl’s cheeks flush crimson. "Now…what is it you were saying about spectacles?"

"I was…asking if there would be a banquet tonight in Caesar’s honor."

"Do you wish for one?"

"I…." Marcia hesitated, clearly uncertain as to how to respond.

"All young ladies are anxious for parties." Lucilla inserted smoothly. "And I have promised her that you will not disappoint."

"Oh, no." the man said, pointedly. "I will second the promise on that score." He tore his gaze away from the girl to face Flavia. "And of course you and your sister will join us."

"Like all Romans, I welcome the chance to meet my new emperor." She answered diplomatically. "But my sister is very young, and yet unmarried, her reputation-"

"- will certainly remain untainted by a single dinner at the palace." His attention was diverted for a moment by a senator, reminding him that he was needed elsewhere. "I quite insist that she be allowed to attend." His lips curled into yet another smile. "How much trouble could she possibly get into there?"

Flavia’s shivered with foreboding as the young man walked away.

*****

The largest triclinium of the imperial palace was thronged with so many people it was almost impossible to see its marble pavement. The servants tried valiantly to find a way to deliver food and wine to all the guests but it was an almost impossible task. Flavia and Marcia arrived together and stayed one near the other until the eldest sister was approached by the wife of a senator who had been a good friend of her late husband: the two matrons began to talk about the decoration of the room and the quality of the service and commented about the difficulties they met finding suitable servants for their respective households.

Soon Marcia found herself bored with all the matter. She was still young and carefree and domestic questions didn’t interest her a bit. She knew her older sister was skilled in that field. Marcia yawned and turned her head to look to the other guests. Then she glanced toward the divans at the front of the hall, surprised when her eyes locked with Commodus’. The new emperor smiled to her and the girl shyly replied to him in the same way, before blushing when Caesar motioned her to join him. Marcia looked to her sister. She felt that she should tell her that she was stepping away, but seeing how engaged Flavia was in her conversation, she decided not to interrupt. Silently, Marcia stepped aside and began the difficult task of crossing the crowed hall.

When she finally reached the other side of the triclinium, Marcia bowed deeply in front of Commodus.

"Rise, rise," he said coming near to her and took her hand for a kiss. Marcia was stunned by his behavior and it showed in her eyes. Commodus saw it and smiled, "My dear Marcia, I am so happy to have you here. It is pleasant to have real friends near me and not only opportunists and flatteners." Commodus indicated a side of the hall with his arm, and Marcia was surprised to see him include his wife Crispina in the bunch. It was possible they were not getting along well?

The girl, her heart still not yet marred by the harshness of reality, found sad and curious that the emperor and his comely wife might not be happy together, but of course kept these thoughts to herself.

"So, Marcia, what have you being doing in these last months?" Commodus asked.

The girl lowered her eyes as she replied, "Nothing special, I am afraid, your Majesty. My sister and I went to Pynthecusa in autumn and returned to Rome only five days ago, to ready ourselves to receive our Caesar."

"Please, Marcia, we have known each other since we were children. I know a lot of time passed since that day, but I wish you to call me Commodus, not Caesar."

Marcia blushed and again and then nodded, "As you wish...Commodus."

"Good. And now, returning to the boring life you have led in the last months… I am please to tell you that it has come to an end. I am going to celebrate my father’s memory with great festivities held in his name. All of the Roman citizens will find something to entertain them." Commodus’ pale green eyes shone with excitement

"Really?"

"Yes! I plan to organize 150 days of games in the Colosseum. They will be free for all the populace, and they will be majestic." Caesar took a breath and then stared at her, "Will you come to see them, as my guest?"

Marcia’s heart seemed to skip a beat. All the attentions the emperor had lavished to her had been flattering but this strange invitation left her flustered! He was married! Accepting his offer would not be good for her reputation: even in her naivety she knew people was keen to jump to conclusions and she did not want to upset her sister.

"I don’t know, Si- Commodus.... I don’t think it would be...appropriate."

Commodus’s eyebrow climbed. "Appropriate?"

"You are.... married."

He finally understand and smiled at her innocence, "Don’t worry, my wife will be there with us-- even if she will be more interested on the fighters than in me or the people accompanying me."

"What?" Marcia was surprised by his bitter tone; he had been so cheerful till that moment.

"Look at her," he said, tilting his chin to indicate the spot where Crispina was laughing and talking with four handsome young men, "Since my return we have barely spoken ten words to each other."

"Oh," Marcia was embarrassed by his confession, "I am sorry, Commodus."

"Don’t be sorry-- just tell me you will come with me to see the games."

"I will, Caesar, I will." She said with a shy smile.

"Good." Commodus smiled again broadly and for the second time in few minutes, Marcia felt her heart flip flop in her chest.

*****

From the other side of the room, Flavia frowned while watching her sister and Caesar share a smile. What was going on? She wondered but then pushed the thought away. Marcia and Commodus had known each other from childhood, just as she and Lucilla had, and there was nothing unbecoming in their conduct.

"Why are you so displeased?" Lucilla’s voice asked her, she joined her friend.

Flavia shook her head to clear her mind, "I was just thinking about how much time had passed since my sister and your brother shared the nursery..."

Lucilla smiled briefly, "Yes a lot of time... Sometime I wish we could return to those years.... everything was simpler... safer." the last sentences were said so softly Flavia had to strain her ears to catch them.

"There is something wrong?" she asked, concern clear in her gray eyes, the sensation that not everything was all right with her friend’s return.

"No...It is just something which happened in Germania." Lucilla sighed deeply and added, "Come with me in the garden...I will explain."

Flavia did as she was asked and followed Lucilla till a low stone bench. The two women sat down but the Augusta remained silent, her eyes staring to the darkness in front of them.

"What is it, Lucilla? It is about your father’s death?" Flavia asked gently.

"Partly.... I...It....Oh, gods, Flavia, it concerns Maximus!" Lucilla said in a rush, her voice trembling.

Flavia paled. So many years had passed since that name had been said aloud but she immediately knew whom her friend was referring to. Maximus Decimus Meridas, eleven years before he has been tribune of the Felix Legion III in Germania, and now he was General and Commander of the Army of the North.

Lucilla’s only love.

Flavia’s only love.

"What happened to Maximus?" she asked with anxiety.

"He is dead, Flavia, he is dead!" Lucilla’s voice broke down with emotion.

"Dead?" the chestnut haired woman whispered as she felt like someone had just slapped her, "How.... it happened? In battle?" she finally stammered.

"No, it is much worse... He was accused of treason by my brother and.. and executed...and I could not do anything to save him!" Lucilla threw herself in her friend’s arms and began to cry, happy to find relief with the only person who had really known the depth of her feelings for the Spanish soldier, though she never knew she was not alone in her love.... and now in her grief.

*****

Marcia was beginning to get nervous as she rounded a corner and entered what another endless corridor. She had been wandering the palace for what seemed like hours. One of the serving girls had seen her sister leaving with the empress, and had tried to offer directions, but apparently the noble had missed a turn. Instead of entering the imperial gardens, she had found herself in the slaves’ alleys behind the kitchen, and then a reception area, a clerical room, and now here, in a long hall that seemed to have been converted into a gymnasium of sorts.

The teenager stepped slowly through the space. The lighting was very dim. Only a few of the torches we lit, and most of the hallway was washed in shadows.

Marcia shivered as she passed a rack of weapons. Slender, ivory handled gladii were arranged in neat rows next to shelves of helmets and armor. The arms reminded her of the equipment that the gladiators used. How curious to find it here in the palace!

The sound of rustling fabric caught the girl’s attention, and she followed it through the low light to the far side of the room. Her features displayed relief as she found an open window. The doors led to a wide balcony, and from it she could see the garden.

There was no sign of her sister.

Marcia frowned, but did not give up hope. There appeared to be a lot of people milling among the trees. The banquet was finally breaking up, and the revelers were meandering slowly toward the litters and bodyguards who would bear them home. She couldn’t make out all of their faces- but it was clearly possible that Flavia was there. No doubt she was anxious to return home. Her little sister feared a bout of temper if she made their party late.

Spying a doorway on the far side of the grounds, Marcia fixed in her mind the directions that she would have to take, and then returned to the hall. If she went down two flights of steps and turned left, she should be outside. Once there, she would walk to the center fountain and inquire about her sister.

Lost in her thoughts, Marcia did not notice as the furnishings of the apartments around her began to change. Rather than powerful, imposing pieces of furniture and art meant to impress, the rooms she walked through had a more intimate and comfortable décor. Low, soft looking couches nestled against the walls, and the floor beneath her sandals seemed pleasantly warm.

The girl walked down a staircase and opened a pair of heavy doors. She balked to find that, rather than another hallway, she had entered a bedchamber- a guest room from the looks of it. Marcia finally realized that she was in the residential section of the palace. The information was both unwelcome and comforting at the same time. Uninvited guests had no business in the family quarters. They might run into trouble with the guards- but at least if she could find the nursery she could remember her way out. She remembered vividly the hallway leading from the playroom into the outdoors. Once she located it, she could make her escape. Closing the door, Marcia quickly retraced her steps and hurried down the hall.

More doors, like the one that she had entered by mistake, lined the corridor on either side. The young woman peeked in a few, hoping that the paintings on the walls, or perhaps the furnishings would stimulate her memory and help her find her way. The last room had paintings of the Sabines on the wall above the bed…. Had her father and mother stayed there one night? She took a tentative step inside.

"You there!"

The girl froze, her blood turning to ice in her veins at the sound of an unfamiliar male voice.

"Halt!" it commanded, and she did as she was told- incapable of moving even if she had wanted to. The voice belonged to a Praetorian.

"What are you doing here?" The man demanded, his hand on the hilt of his sword as he hurried toward the wandering girl. In the distance, Marcia heard footsteps- no doubt another guard, alerted by the sound of his companion.

"I-I…." She stammered. "I was trying to find my sister. She was with the empress and…."

"Your sister, eh?" The man frowned, and grabbed her shoulder. "And what would your sister be doing in the Imperial apartments."

"She was speaking with the empress…." The strong grip on her arm filled Marcia with a sense of panic. She had never feared the Praetorians on the street. The emperor, Marcus Aurelius and his Prefect had kept them well in hand…but that was in public during the day. The feeling of the man’s hot skin through the fabric of her tunica, and the not quite disinterested look in his eyes reminded her of the danger of wandering off alone.

"The empress, eh?" The man leaned closer, exacerbating Marcia’s fears as his hand traveled from her forearm to her waist, hauling her forward. "Are you sure she isn’t providing some entertainment to our Caesar…or perhaps you were wishing to- but I might do just as well."

The man leaned forward to kiss her, but she turned her face away. "Let go of me!" She demanded. In her fear, she found the strength to wriggle away, putting five yards between herself and the guard before the stunned man realized that she was getting away.

"Halt!" He cried angrily.

Marcia ran.

Aimlessly, she rushed through the first door she saw nearly colliding with another pair of stunned guards who were standing just inside.

"Stop her!" her would-be captor demanded.

Immediately, the men converged, "Don’t touch me!" she screamed, truly panicked now. "Leave me alone!"

"What is the meaning of this!?!"

Marcia barely heard the angry voice that echoed from within the chamber, but she did observe- with relief- that the guards instantly froze.

"Caesar!" The first Praetorian said nervously. "I’m sorry…."

Marcia’s knees buckled in relief as she recognized the presence of her friend. The lax grip of the guards permitted her to slump into the carpets.

"…I caught this little serving girl slipping into one of the chambers and I thought she might be meaning to steal a-"

"A serving girl?" Commodus’ voice was cold and harsh.

"Does she look like a serving girl?"

The young emperor stepped around the girl, who was still cowering in the floor. When the Praetorian did not reply, he stepped forward.

"Well?" He challenged.

"Caesar, I-"

The young ruler bent forward, casually lifting the edge of Marcia’s stola, running his finger along the gilded trim. "Do serving girls customarily wear gilded brocade?"

"I-"

"Or jewels?"

The guard’s jaw set like stone as he decided it was best to say nothing at all.

"This woman, Praetorian, is Flavilla Cressida, daughter of General Flavius Cressidus, former senator of Rome and governor of Numidia…"

"A mistake, sire. I apologize. It will not happen again."

"A mistake."

Marcia shivered at the menace in the young man’s voice.

"I suggest that if your powers of observation are weak enough to make such a mistake, perhaps you are unsuited for the duty of protecting your emperor." Commodus gave him a threatening stare, and then turned to one of the other guards. "I want this man out of my sight. Tell Quintus that he is to be discharged at once- and that if there are any other ‘mistakes’ of this type, I may not be so merciful in the future."

"Yes Caesar." The guards that had been inside the chamber exchanged a wary glance, but exchanged their hold on Marcia for one on the first Praetorian, leading the man away and leaving the youngsters alone.

"Are you alright?" In a flash, the terrifying anger was gone from Commodus’ face. In it’s place, he wore a look of concern. Finally safe, the reality of what had almost occurred- at least, what might have almost occurred, rushed in on the girl, and she began to weep softly.

"I’m sorry, Caesar. I was looking for my sister, but I got lost and…."

"There, there…."

Through her tears, Marcia blinked in surprise as he knelt beside her and drew her into his arms.

"I couldn’t find my way. It was dark and…."

"Shhhh…. you’re alright."

Finally, the warmth of his embrace soothed her ragged nerves, and the girl’s crying abated. She sniffled softly against the emperor’s sleeve. "Forgive me, Caesar." She said when she finally regained control.

"There is nothing to forgive." Commodus drew away, but he did not release her completely. "I am glad to find you here. The banquet was awful when you left."

Marcia’s cheeks pinked in pleasure.

"The senators care nothing for food or dancing- only their idiotic debates. They can’t see that their endless squabbling is killing Rome. They’ve been writing down their silly laws for hundreds of years…and what have they done? Ended corruption? Fed the headcount? Put down rebellion in the provinces?"

If Marcia had been paying attention, she might have listed a dozen examples of the good the lex romana had done, but her mind was drifting away from politics. Somehow, the words of Caesar’s speech had gotten lost in the thick, honey tenor of his voice. His breath, clean and sweet on her cheek had become a distraction, and he was so strong…. holding her…

"-what I can do!" Commodus stopped speaking abruptly, seeming to notice the change in Marcia’s expression. "I’m boring you." He said quietly.

"No, Caesar!" She insisted. "I…I’m afraid that I don’t have a head for politics. My sister has said so."

The young man considered the statement, and then laughed at her. "Oh? And what do you have a head for?"

The girl looked at her hands. "I don’t know…silly things…silks and cosmetics…. the races…" she blushed.

"Useless things- at least tata always said so.

"Perhaps your father underestimated you."

The vehemence in Caesar’s voice made her look up, and she cowered again, seeing that the anger had returned. Commodus looked away sharply, his lower lips quivering to contain a sudden burst of emotion- and then he was suddenly calm again. He caressed Marcia’s hair tenderly. "We should find your sister. She will be worried."

*****

Flavia was scanning the great atrium for the umpteenth time when she finally saw her little sister stepping inside. She sighed in relief and then felt her stomach sink as she recognized the man who was walking near her. It was Caesar. Commodus. The man who had ordered Maximus’ death. Flavia gritted her teeth. She could not let her boiling emotions control her. She had to be gracious, polite and grateful with Commodus and then leave the palace as fast as she could. In the safety of her own room she would be finally able to mourn and shed all of the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes at any moment.

Gracefully, Flavia crossed the room and stopped in front of the younger couple, bowing deeply to Commodus, "Caesar."

"Ah, Flavia, look who I found wandering near my rooms." Commodus smiled jokingly but the older woman found the smile less innocent than only two hours before. She turned to her sister and raised an eyebrow in a silent inquiry.

"I was searching for you and the Empress," Marcia said, "But I got lost."

Flavia pursed her lips, "You should be more careful."

"Oh, don’t be too hard on her! The Palace has been just re-modeled. We changed its lay-out, and it is easy to get confused with all these corridors looking all the same."

Commodus said and Marcia shyly smiled to him in gratitude.

Her older sister did not like the look, and planned to speak with the girl once they returned to their domus.

"You are very kind, Caesar." She forced a smile, "I am afraid it is going late. We should go home."

"Yes, of course." The emperor nodded, "I wish you a good night, Flavia, Marcia. And I hope to see you again soon."

"As you wish, Caesar. Good Night." Both the sisters bowed to their sovereign and then left the room, followed closely by the young man’s gaze.

*****

Once they arrived home, the sisters separated and went straight to their respective bedrooms. Marcia had been surprised by Flavia’s silence during the ride home on their litter. She had seen the reproachful glance she had thrown to her when she had heard about her ‘trip’ in the imperial apartments, and she had fully expected a lecture about what a lady should and should not do. Instead, her sister had not said a word, but stared blankly in front of her. Flavia’s usually healthy colored cheeks paler than the moon, and her eyes seemed almost unseeing. Marcia felt that something was very wrong but she knew Flavia was uncommonly reserved.... she would speak to her only when and if she were ready to do so. Thus the younger girl simply wished her good night and left her alone.

Flavia entered her chamber and hastily dismissed her maids, telling them she did not need help preparing for bed. The two servants showed their surprise but obediently exited the room, leaving their mistress alone. Once the door closed behind their backs, Flavia removed her stola and jewels and threw them unceremoniously on her dressing table. Then she walked to her desk and sat down on the chair. I front of her, near the lamp and a couple of open scrolls there was a small figurine. It was a wooden carving of a woman - young girl - on a horse. Flavia picked it up and looked at it intently, but soon her vision became blurred as she remembered the man who had carved it and gave it to her as a gift...

It had been her first travel outside the Italian peninsula and seventeen year old Flavia Cressida had been very excited by the prospect of seeing new countries and new people, and to learn how her father lived in the unknown, mysterious and fascinating German forests. But even more enticing had been the prospect of spending months in the company of her best friend, Lucilla. The two girls had grown up together, sharing games and lessons in the garden and great halls of the imperial palace. Flavia’s family and age had made her the perfect companion for Marcus Aurelius’s daughter and that was why she had traveled to the north along with Lucilla and the Emperor, for one of his periodic tours of the legions’ camps.

The girls had occupied the long hours of travel inside the imperial wagon by reading, by playing and most of all, by talking and confiding in each other their dreams of love. During those talks the different personalities of the girls emerged fully: they were both promised to much older men whom they did not love but who were important for their families’ alliances. Thus it was unlikely they dreams of love would have come reality during their marriages. But while Flavia was ready to do her duty, and become a faithful wife and mother for her husband, no matter at what price, Lucilla had made clear she wanted romance and was not adverse to the idea of finding a lover. Lucilla had been bolder than Flavia, more ready to fight for what she wanted. During that trip in Germania she had wanted Maximus.

Flavia remembered as if it had been yesterday the first time she had seen him. He was a young, brilliant tribune who, at only 22 years of age, had been her father’s second in command. Maximus, with his blue-green eyes and ready smile, his dark hair and beard and his sturdy and impressive body, was vastly different from the young men she and Lucilla had known in Rome. He was the son of a former senator living in Hispania. The soldier had been assigned to guide and escort them around the camp after their arrival, and thanks to his easy-going attitude, the trio had become friends in mere hours.

But the friendship had lasted only a little while. Soon, for two of them, it had transformed in something much deeper.

One evening Flavia and Lucilla were in their quarters in the Praetorium when a gust of wind had blown out one of the candles. The air had not come from the door flap, but from the side of the tent. The two girls inspected the fabric and noticed that, under the pelts hanging from the ceiling, there was a hole in the wall of the tent. Curious, they peered through the hole to see who occupied the quarters next to theirs, gasping in embarrassed pleasure when Maximus appeared in their field of vision. The girls had watched him. Clad only in his loincloth, he had done some push-ups on the carpet just in front of them. Lucilla and Flavia, with a mixture of desire and guilt, had devoured the young tribune’s body with their eyes as the sight awakened a strange new sensation in their veins. They watched until the tribune crawled to his bed and extinguished his candle. Then, red-faced and eyes shining, they had finally pulled their eyes from the hole. Lucilla’s chest heaved with excitement as she whispered. "I will have him, Flavia. He will be my first man, I swear it."

And it had been so.

In the following weeks Flavia watched the romance between Maximus and Lucilla blossom. She was torn between happiness for her friend and envy. Lucilla had been bold enough to do what the other girl only dreamed to of. Flavia’s only consolation - though also a torture - was Maximus’ friendship. The young soldier had still spent a lot of time in her company, even teaching her to ride, a thing she had always refused to do before. They were both silent types, who seemed to communicate more with their eyes than with their words. Maximus appreciated Flavia’s quiet temperament, so different from Lucilla’s, even if it was clear he was helplessly in love with the young princess.

But with Lucius Verus’ sudden arrival at the camp, Maximus and Lucilla’s happiness ended. Lucilla had always known there was no way that she and Maximus could marry, and she had not planned to tell him that she was promised to her father’s adoptive brother and co-ruler. Her plan - disapproved by Flavia - had been to return to Rome, continue a correspondence with Maximus, and convince him to leave the army and join her in the Capital, where they could have carry on their affair. But her husband-to-be’s appearance had ruined everything: Maximus had learned of the imminent marriage and, hurt and furious, had confronted her in her quarters. They had fought, shouting insults to each other, while Flavia walked back and forth in the deserted Praetorium, hoping Marcus Aurelius, Lucius Verus and her father stayed away.

The next days had been terrible for Flavia, whose two best friends were both hurting because of each other. She tried to help them as best as she could, all the while struggling to contain her true emotions concerning Maximus. The situation was so tense that had been a blessing when the day of their return to Rome arrived. Maximus and Lucilla had exchanged only a formal farewell, but Flavia had received a much warmer goodbye. The tribune had presented her with a small carving he had made. It portrayed a woman atop a horse and Flavia understood the girl was she. With her eyes full of tears she had examined the beautifully detailed features of the figurine, noticing the care he had used to carve it, and trying to find the courage to tell him, if only once, how she felt about him. In she end, she had only been able to tell him, "Thank you."

"No, I must thank you for having been such a good friend."

He had replied softly before adding, "I will miss you, Flavia."

His last words had broken her and after a hurried embrace, she had almost ran to the wagon, pressing the carving to her chest, tears blinding her vision.

"Maximus..." whispered Flavia, returning to the present, to stare at the little statue which was her most precious belonging.

During the trip home, so many years ago, Lucilla had been too lost in her own misery to be aware of her friend’s distress, never noticing the carving and thus never knowing that Flavia had also left her heart in the woods of Germania, in the broad hands of a gentle, silent soldier she would not ever see again.

Flavia rose from the desk and walked to her bed, laying down on it with the figurine still pressed to her chest, as the pain she had restrained all the evening finally broke loose, and she abandoned herself to a desperate crying.

Maximus was gone...forever.

*****

Marcia undressed and lay on her couch, but was too excited to sleep. She replayed the events of the evening in her mind, beginning with how Caesar had singled her out from the hundreds of guests, and then recalling how he had comforted her when she was lost. She had all but forgotten the terror of her capture by the guards. All that remained was the thrill of being rescued. It was too bad that she hadn’t had a chance to show the emperor how grateful she was for being saved….

The girl giggled and pulled her coverlet around her chin. She should be ashamed to even think such a thing- Commodus was a married man…but he was also a very sad man. Marcia found it hard to think anything charitable about Crispina. She had all but ignored her husband throughout the banquet…and what was it he had said? They had barely shared ten words…. How lonely he seemed! Her mind occupied with the young Caesar, Marcia finally drifted off to sleep.

*****

"The games start tomorrow- free games for one hundred and fifty days."

Flavia tried not to betray the interest that she was paying to the conversation between the vegetable stall owner and the fruit seller next door. The latter, an elderly man, grinned toothlessly. "He’s bringing the gladiators back-real gladiators, not just legionnaires being put through maneuvers for show…I never thought I’d live to see the day."

"My nephew’s daughter is a cook for Senator Paulus. She says those men that come for dinner are mad as cats about all the money its going to cost. They wanted it to raise troops to hold Germania."

"Well, all I say to that is: what’s Germania to us? Timber and coal? Well that’s more money for noble’s purses, I say. I’m glad that one of them Caesars is thinking of us for a change. Let Senator Paulus take one less licker fish with his cena if he wants Germania so badly."

The vegetable salesman nodded his acknowledgement. "Besides, I doubt when it comes to it that the Conscript Fathers will be so against laying down a sestertius or two on one of the matches."

The men laughed at the remark, but it chilled Flavia to the bone. How easily manipulated the mob was! Commodus was smarter than anyone had given him credit for. He had seen that the surest, and easiest path to security in his throne was to entertain the populace- and how eager they were to be entertained! In only a few hours in the market, the Roman matron had overheard a half-dozen conversations about the impending competition.

"Are we going to go to the games?"

Flavia rolled her eyes at her sister’s almost-hopeful tone. "Absolutely not." She replied," and I told you not to mention it again."

"But Caesar said-"

"It would appear that Caesar has changed his mind." Flavia’s tone was harsher than she intended, but she simply could not survive another round of her sister’s pleading. "You have not heard from Caesar in nearly three weeks."

Chastened, Marcia fell silent once more, handing the market basket to one of the slaves accompanying the young women.

Flavia checked the wax tablet on which she had inscribed the items that they needed from the market. Satisfied that they had completed the necessary purchases, she signaled that they were ready to return to home.

*****

Marcia trailed her sister restlessly along the Vicus Patricius back to their home on the Viminal Hill. She seemed lost in melancholy thoughts. Thoughts about Commodus. Flavia thought to herself. If she weren’t so relieved at the loss of the ruler’s attention, she would feel sorry for the girl.

The morning after the banquet, Flavia had intended to put her foot down- Marcia was to remain safely at home and out of Caesar’s sight. It sounded good in theory, but the widow knew that in reality, if the man had truly desired her sister’s presence, she would not be able to deny him. Happily, the flirtation at the party had amounted to nothing. No further word from the palace had come. Marcia was disappointed, but young- she would recover quickly enough, and perhaps sooner than later if Flavia put her head to arranging a good match. Most important of all, Flavia was not forced to confront the man who had killed her only love.

The entourage rounded the final corner to home with Flavia in the lead. She was barely watching the streets around them, but the sight that greeted her in front of her house finally drew her attention.

Horses.

Three gray dappled stallions were pawing the pavement outside the door to the Flavii manse. Flavia shivered with apprehension. Horses were banned inside the city walls. Only Praetorians would have them, and Praetorians meant….

No. Flavia pushed aside the rumors about the deaths of Senator Brutus and Senator Argus. They had eaten poisonous mushrooms- not so unusual…but their deaths had occurred so closely together- and they had both been critical of Caesar’s games.

Gathering her courage, Flavia lead the party inside the door. As she had suspected, three Praetorian’s were waiting inside the atrium. One of them stepped forward and made a slight bow in her direction.

"Lady Licinia?"
Flavia frowned at the appellation- no one had called her by her late husband’s name in nearly four years.

"Yes?"

"And Lady Flavilla…?"
Marcia inclined her head to affirm her identity.

"We bear a message from his majesty." The man tendered a papyrus scroll tied with a purple ribbon.

Flavia accepted it warily, broke the seal, and began to read….

Flavia felt her heart drop to her gut as she read the rest of the message. Commodus had not forgotten his promise after all.

"What is it?" Marcia inquired hopefully. "Is it from Caesar?"

Flavia nodded slowly, trying to think of a plausible lie. It was no use. "It is." She admitted. "It is an invitation to the games."

*****

Flavia brought the mint leaves to her nose and inhaled deeply, hoping it would cover the stench of blood that came from the sands of the Colosseum. It was only midday but she was already sick of all the killings she had witnessed. The worst was yet to come. The true gladiators’ fights would begin only after lunch. Then the blood reddening the sand would no longer be animal, as it was now, but human...Flavia shivered and turned her head to look to her sister. Marcia seemed unconcerned about what was happening in the arena, occupied as she was hanging onto Commodus’ comments about the ‘spectacle’ as if he were an oracle. The girl seemed entirely oblivious to the carnage around her and to the dirty looks that Crispina threw in her direction. Caesar’s wife did not love her husband but nevertheless she was a possessive woman, who loved the power of her position. She clearly resented the special attention the girl was receiving from the emperor. Flavia wondered how it was possible for Marcia to be so naive that she did not notice what was going on or did not understand that having Crispina as an enemy might prove dangerous for their family? Perhaps, she thought, she had pampered her little sister too much. When she was sixteen, Flavia had understood very well her place in society and the things that she could not do. That was why she had sacrificed her only chance to taste love. Pursing her lips she decided it was really time to give Marcia a stern lecture. She could not avoid Caesar’s invitations, but at least she could to teach her sister the proper behavior for a lady.

*****

Marcia knew she was in trouble from the very moment she had stepped inside the family litter. Her usually calm sister was practically boiling with anger and she knew that it was directed at her. The younger girl gritted her teeth and prepared to receive a lecture about something she did - or failed to do - during the day. She frantically recalled her behavior at the games but in all honesty she was not able to see if and where she had committed some mistake. True, she had spent a lot of time speaking with Commodus, but only because he had talked her first.... surely her sister did not expect her to ignore their Caesar’s inquiries! Marcia looked once more at Flavia’s aristocratic profile and wondered if her sister had ever enjoyed some young man’s company just for the pleasure of it and not because it was her duty. The girl deeply loved her sister but sometimes their age difference- almost twelve years - made difficult to understand each other. She had been only six when Flavia married Licinius but she knew theirs had not been a happy match. Marcia also knew that this was the reason her sister had not yet arranged a marriage for her: she was hoping her sibling would find a suitable man for herself, someone of good family, that she could love, sparing Flavia the decision to condemn her to a loveless marriage like her own. Marcia was grateful for the patience, but it seemed all the young men she liked were totally unsuitable for her sister...And now there was Commodus, with his sad eyes and desire to be loved! Commodus - who liked to speak with her and appreciated her love for beautiful things. Commodus.... who was married and completely out of her range...

"Well, are you going to step down of this litter or do you plan to spend the night here?" Flavia’s annoyed voice snapped Marcia back to reality, and she hastened to leave the conveyance and follow her sister inside their home. Flavia was really angry, she thought, because she never spoke to her like that in front of the servants.

Once inside the domus, Flavia led Marcia in the tablinium and slammed the door shut.

"What did you think you were doing?"

Marcia blinked.

"Are you going to answer?" Flavia hands were on her hips.

"I...I don’t know what you mean.... I only talked …" Marcia defended herself.

"Talked? Talked! You practically hung from his lips! Your eyes seemed like those of a love-sick puppy! Marcia, you cannot go on in this way! If I could, I would order you to never see him again."

"But it is a harmless thing.... Commodus and I are only friends."

"Oh, Marcia, there is harm... Commanding Caesar’s attention is very dangerous," Flavia sighed, and her tone became calmer, "You did not see how Commodus was staring to you when you were not looking! And you did not notice Crispina’s furious glances...."

"Crispina does not love her husband, she cannot be jealous." Marcia was confident of this.

"She is jealous of her position, of her power. And that is even worse. It could endanger our family to have her as an enemy:"

"Sister, sister, you worry too much! Commodus - and Lucilla too - would never allow Crispina to harm us...."

"Caesar is a danger himself!"

"What? I don’t understand." Marcia was confused.

"You don’t know him, Marcia," whispered Flavia, coming near the girl and gathering her hands in a gesture of comfort, "He is not the gentle boy we knew: he is ruthless now, and cruel. He has no scruples about eliminating those who cross his path, even if they are innocent women and children! He is charming to us now but that could change if we make a wrong move. We must be careful."

Marcia stared at her sister, feeling there was something she was not telling her: her voice had trembled when she had spoken about innocent women and children, as if she had personally know these victims of Commodus’ supposed cruelty. "Supposed", because Marcia had no proof of it: Commodus had always been so gentle with her Marcia could not bring herself to believe to her sister’s words. However she decided to placate Flavia and so she said, "Very well, sister, I will try to be more discreet in front of Crispina, but I cannot avoid Commodus if he wishes to see me. And besides - I really believe you wrong about him. We are only friends, nothing more."

The older sister slowly nodded, "I pray you are correct, Marcia. I truly do." Then she sighed before going on, "Now go to change your clothes: it is dinner time and I am sure the cooks are already complaining because the food is going to be cold...." She forced a smile.

Marcia hugged her sister briefly and then said, "Okay, I will join you in a moment."

Flavia watched the girl sprint away and shook her head with sadness: Marcia still could not see the truth. She was still too naive, too innocent, to see the monster Commodus was.

Sighing again with worry, Flavia exited the tablinium and walked to her room, all the while trying to think of some solution.

*****

The few days later, Marcia awoke to the steady hammering of rain on the roof tiles. Throwing a stola over her shoulders, she ran to the courtyard, hoping that her ears were playing tricks on her. They were not. The sky was filled with dark, heavy clouds that showed no sign of lifting soon. There would be no games today.

Marcia put the lovely, embroidered tunica that she had planned to wear to the imperial box back into her clothes chest and helped her slave select a dress of plain dull wool. Binding her hair simply at the nape of the neck, she went down to the triclinium for the morning meal.

After breakfast, the women of the house retired to the library. Flavia began to look over the household accounts while her sister toyed half-heartedly with some needlework. Both sisters looked up expectantly when their steward entered the room with an odd expression on his face.

"A caller for you, my lady." He announced, and then stepped aside.

Marcia noticed her sister pale as a Praetorian strode arrogantly into the room.

"His imperial majesty wishes the pleasure of your company for lunch." He announced, the tone of his voice implying, quite clearly, that he resented being sent as a message boy to a pair of women.

Flavia blinked, and then said evenly. "Please thank his imperial majesty, but he must understand that it is impossible- the weather..."

"Caesar has sent his carriage for your disposal." The man said in now he would surely report that as a lie.

"Very well." Flavia said at last. "Marcia, please dress in something suitable."

Less than an hour later, the two women were rolling through the cobbled streets of Rome, warm and dry while the awkward carriage rumbled toward the Palace.

*****

"Marcia...Flavia." The younger sister pinked with pleasure at their emperor’s greeting and rushed forward to kiss his hand. He always said her name first, instead of the other way around, as was custom. After lingering with her lips a half-second longer than tradition dictated, she stepped away to permit Flavia’s greeting, shyly looking at the floor as she was directed to her seat.

Their dining arrangements were unusually intimate. Only Lucilla, the Praetorian Prefect, and his wife Antonia were present for the meal. Caesar’s sister sat in the position customarily reserved for his wife, who was nowhere in sight. In spite of the limited company, there was plenty of conversation. It turned out that Antonia was also a General’s daughter- her father had once commanded the Judean legions- and she, her husband, Lucilla, and Flavia, engaged themselves in a spirited debate about which army was superior.

Marcia was spectacularly bored. She wanted to talk, if only to pass the time, but she was completely ignorant of the topic, and wasn’t willing to embarrass herself by opening her mouth. She was stirring her soup idly when one of the servants tapped her on the shoulder. She blinked in surprise when he dropped something in her lap. It was a scrap of papyrus.

"Make some excuse to leave the table." It said simply.

Marcia’s smooth brow furrowed in confusion. Who had sent the note? Looking up, she was instantly caught in Caesar’s pale green gaze.

Commodus. Commodus had sent the note. The young girl felt a shiver of excitement run along her spine, but she tried to hold her emotions in check, at least for now. Had Flavia seen the note? She quickly glanced at her sister. No, now she and Antonia were discussing household management - did she never tire of the infernal topic? - but she wasn’t paying any attention to Marcia. Tucking the paper into her tunica, the girl made her move.

"Oh...." She moaned softly, bringing her hand to her temple and grimacing as if in pain. "Ohhh....."

Lucilla noticed the sound, studying her with a look of concern. "Marcia, are you alright?"

The girl continued the act, rubbing her skin as if trying to abate a terrible headache. "I am sorry, Augusta. I am suddenly not feeling well. I am sure that I will be better soon, I...." She paused to wince again. "I have spells from time to time. I usually lie down for a few hours and they pass..."

"Then perhaps you should have some rest. It was unwise to travel in the rain." At this, she shot her brother an accusing gaze. She summoned a servant with her upraised hand. "Please escort Lady Flavilla to a guest chamber. She needs to take a nap."

"Immediately, domina."

Marcia wanted to look at Commodus to be sure that he understood what she was trying to do, but she could not risk it. She knew that Flavia would study her closely. Luckily she did suffer headaches from time to time, and she hoped to avoid suspicion.

*****

Flavia watched uneasily as her sister was escorted from the room. True, the girl often complained of headaches- though in her opinion they stemmed more from boredom than a medical condition. Perhaps she was merely on edge. The emperor made a single polite inquiry about the girl’s health, and then began speaking to Quintus about some new gladiators who were arriving from Africa.

About five minutes later, one of the servants stepped forward and whispered into Caesar’s ear. The young man made a heavy sigh, and then rose from his couch.

"Please excuse me." He said quickly. "I am afraid that some of the senators need my opinion on a bill that they are proposing...Lucilla, would you be so kind as to entertain our guests?"

"What kind of bill?" Lucilla asked. Flavia watched the woman with interest. She knew that, even early in Commodus’ reign, the empress handled most affairs of state.

"A trifling matter, really." He said, growing a little flustered. "But it is important to know that Caesar is interested in all of Rome’s affairs...and so I bid you adieu." He inclined his head slightly, and then left.

*****

After her brother had disappeared from the room, Lucilla looked at her guests and saw they had all finished eating. "Well, " she said, "I think we can call the end of this lunch."

The guests nodded and rose from their couches. The Prefect obtained permission to escort his wife home while Lucilla and Flavia went to the porch. It had finally stopped raining and the plants and flowers in the courtyard glistened with drops of water. The women walked for a while in silence and then Lucilla said, "You seem worried, Flavia:"

"I am."

"Really? And about what?"

Flavia consider a her friend for a moment and then answer, "My sister.... and your brother." Her voice had dropped on the last two words.

"Oh. So you have also noticed the way they are looking at each other?"

"I would have to be blind to not to see it. But since you too are aware of it, how would you suggest that we put an end to this situation?"

"We should not attempt it, Flavia. Everything Commodus wants, Commodus gets."

Lucilla’s tone was very low and full of hidden meanings. Flavia stepped closer to her and whispered, "What is it, Lucilla?"

"My friend, you have always known me better than I know you, haven’t you?" Lucilla smiled bitterly and went on without awaiting an answer, "I am worried about Commodus, but not in the way you might think: I am afraid of what he will do to Rome when his grip on the populace is stronger."

"I don’t understand." Flavia looked perplexed and the other woman sighed again.

"He wants to disband the Senate. He says it is useless."

"But that would be…!"

"I know! But he is adamant and he is only waiting for an opportunity."

"And how does he plan to keep control of the empire?" Flavia raised her voice and Lucilla hurried to silence her

"Shh... these walls have ears. I don’t know how he plans to retain power, but I know he is going to establish a reign of terror...No-he has already begun."

"What?"

"Senator Argus and Senator Brutus...Surely you have heard about them..." Flavia nodded, "They were poisoned, my friend, per my brother orders. And I am afraid it is only the beginning."

The two women fell again into a long, contemplative silence, broken at last by Flavia who said, "I am going to leave Rome with Marcia. We will retire in our villa in Pynthecusa and.."

"Aren’t you listening to me? You cannot go away! Commodus will not allow it. He wants to see Marcia and if you oppose him, you will only put yourself in danger. That’s why my son Lucius is attending the games even if I cringe every time..." Lucilla spoke in an urgent hiss.

"So I should leave my sister in a murderer’s mercy?" Flavia spat angrily, but her friend did not realize the murder she was referring to was Maximus’.

"She is not in danger.... not really. Theirs seems to be only an innocent flirtation- and I hope this situation will soon improve."

"How?" Flavia’s tone was skeptic.

"What I am going to say must remain a secret," Lucilla’s tone was deadly serious and her friend nodded in agreement, "There are many people whom don’t like Commodus and they are working to bring him down. We...they don’t know yet how to act but..." Lucilla stopped talking and conveyed the rest of her message with her eyes.

Flavia nodded slowly. Lucilla had just admitted that she was part of a plot against her own brother and that meant the situation was even more serious than she had suspected. Perhaps the best thing to do was to remain silent and hope Marcia would not get into too much trouble. Lucilla was right, her sister and Commodus seemed to be indulging in a youthful flirtation: with some luck it would remain so. Flavia did not like the situation but she realized she could not do anything to change it.

"Is there something you want me to do?" she finally whispered.

"I ask you to encourage Marcia to talk to you: perhaps Commodus will say something to her which might be useful for us to know in advance." Lucilla replied after a brief pause.

"As you wish." Flavia nodded again and stared hard in her friend’s eyes, communicating to her she too was now part of the plot to bring Commodus down. She was going to do it for Marcia’s sake, for the good of Rome, for Lucilla’s and her son’s safety, for Maximus’ memory and, finally, for herself.

*****

Marcia paced the little chamber nervously, wondering if she had misinterpreted the note. If she had, then she had sentenced herself to a long afternoon of lying alone in a stuffy bedroom when she could have been out enjoying the palace. With a heavy sigh, she sat on the edge of the bed, letting her eyes wander around the frescoes on the walls and ceilings. Unlike the solid colored bedchamber she inhabited at home, this room was painted in the more typical Roman style for sleeping quarters. Marcia grinned as she tried to determine what, precisely, Apollo was doing to the little mortal maiden depicted in one of the panels above the bed.

"Inspired?"

Marcia gasped in fright at the sound of the low voice behind her. Her heart was still hammering even after she determined that the voice belonged to Commodus. She had not heard the door opening. He must have slipped in through the servant's entrance, concealed behind a curtain on the far wall.

She considered the remark for a moment before she answered. It was wildly inappropriate. Perhaps Flavia was right after all about the emperor's intentions- but rather than being insulted, did Marcia found the realization exciting.

"Perhaps." She said quietly, very slowly turning her head.

"Marcia-?" Caesar seemed not to expect her favorable response, and was suddenly uncertain about what he should do next. His awkwardness was endearing. It reminded the girl that, in spite of the power of his office, he was still a very young man- just as new to life and all its possibilities as she. How could Flavia accuse him of terrible things? True, the justice of the Caesars was sometimes harsh, but that was the way of life! Beloved old Marcus Aurelius had ordered German villages burned and criminals executed. If someone innocent had been harmed...well, she was certain that it was unintentional! Commodus was entitled to make mistakes. He was still so new to his position...so uncertain- and he wanted to please so badly.

A feeling of deep tenderness brimmed in Marcia's heart. Instinctively, she reached forward to caress his cheek, lingering for a moment, and then recoiling in horror when she realized that she had touched the imperial person without permission.

Commodus caught her hand before she could draw it fully away.

"Don't." He whispered.

"Don't?"

"Don't stop."

Caesar replaced her hand on his cheek, holding it there for a moment, his eyes closed to savor the contact. When he opened them again, a new fire burned in the green eyes. A hunger.

The next few moments passed as if in a dream. Marcia felt his arms slide around her waist, drawing her small body against his form. His fingers twined in the chestnut locks of her hair, tilting her face upwards as he claimed her lips with his own. The girl made a soft sound of approval as he massaged his mouth against hers, first content merely with the brush of their skin, but then becoming more insistent, the cool muscle of his tongue seeking for admittance.

Marcia parted her lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss, and at last her own hands became alive. She wrapped her arms around him, her hands tracing the definition of the muscles in his back, giddy with the freedom to explore his body.

They kissed for several moments, and then Marcia felt a moment of panic as Commodus pushed her back onto the bed. She had not expected things to progress so quickly, and now there was no way to stop. Marcia was torn between horror and fascination as he lowered himself atop her, the prominence of his desire pressing urgently against her thighs and filling her with a craving she had never known.

"We can't." She whispered, shivering with anticipation and fear. "Your wife...."

"My wife if nothing to me." The emperor spat, his fingers fumbling urgently with the clasp of her tunica. "Only you...oh, my love..."

His love. The desperate sincerity of his voice brushed away her fears. If loving Commodus made her a wicked and immoral girl than so it be. Marcia abandoned herself to vice.

At last, the emperor's fingers worked free the clasp at her collarbone. The fabric of her dress slid away, exposing the creamy skin of her shoulder and breast to his assault. Marcia pressed her head back into the mattress, wallowing in the sensations that assaulted her nerves, unaware until that instant that a body was capable of so much pleasure. She was achingly conscious of the erection still pressed against her legs. Without even really knowing what it meant, she understood that she wanted him to take her. To possess her. She raked her fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, leading him to her lips, wanting him to kiss her once more...

"Marcia?"

The girl choked at the sound of her sister's voice, followed by a soft knocking on the door. Her lover was equally shocked, jumping away from the bed as if he had been struck by lighting. "Marcia?" Commodus gave the girl a look of regret, and then lunged for the curtained doorway from whence he had come.

Flavia stepped into the room, pausing for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim light. Marcia was sitting up on the bed, trying to reposition one of the pins to her tunica.
Flavia arched an eyebrow.
"I...I was hot." Marcia said explained quickly, well aware of how she must look. She could feel that her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes must still be wild with frustrated desire.
"Are you coming down with a fever?" Flavia's voice was almost motherly in its concern. She laid her hand against her sister's neck. "Your pulse is racing and your skin is on fire!" She exclaimed with real concern. "I'm going to fetch a doctor at once!"

*****

By the time that Flavia ascertained that her sister was feeling better, the rain had begun again. The matron sighed with frustration. She had hoped to slip home under the pretence of using the break in the weather. Now, they would have to wait on Commodus to offer the carriage to carry them home- if he offered.

In the end, it turned out that Flavia’s suspicions were justified. The weather remained wet and blustery- and Caesar would not provide his covered cart to return them to their house.

"My sister is convinced that it was being out in the elements that brought on little Marcia’s cold." He insisted. "I could never forgive myself if she became worse. Please, make yourselves comfortable here. I will send the servants for anything you desire."

And so, Flavia resigned herself to remaining at the palace.

"Isn’t it exciting?" Marcia asked, as a slave unbound her hair and began brushing the red-brown locks to a fine sheen. "I’ve never spent the night in a palace before."

"And we shouldn’t be spending the night here now…"

"But I might get sick!" Marcia ignored her sibling’s worried tone. "Caesar is just trying to be polite."

Flavia bit back the response on the end of her tongue. She remembered Lucilla’s advice. It was simply a youthful flirtation. It was best to let it run its course- and to see if Flavilla had anything interesting to say.

"Well…perhaps you are right. Caesar is certainly solicitous of your health."

"Yes…"

Flavia noted that her sister’s cheeks flushed crimson. "He seems very solicitous of you in general."

Marcia’s expression betrayed that she suspected her sister was preparing for another lecture. "Well, we have a lot in common." She said evenly.

"Yes. I would imagine that you do."

The younger girl arched her eyebrow, clearly expecting a different remark.

"You are both younger siblings, both with fathers who were involved in the military…" Flavia let her voice trail off as though she had named only the beginning of a long list, though, in truth, she couldn’t think of a single other thing that the pair shared.

"You are right." Marcia seemed cautious, but pleased at her sister’s acceptance. "He’s terribly lonely- just like me. He needs a friend."

"You’re lonely?" Flavia was momentarily distracted from her task.

Marcia ignored the question, continuing her defense of the ruler. "Commodus isn’t bad! He isn’t like you say at all. He just doesn’t know what people want him to do. He wants everyone to like him but…"

"It’s impossible to please everyone." Flavia snorted contemptuously. "A truly wise man- a good ruler- follows his principles and knows that respect is more important than adoration." Seeing her sister’s features grow stony once more, she reminded herself to soften her criticism. "But he does seem to be doing better with the Senate." She soothed. "Just after you left lunch today he went to a meeting over something relatively minor…perhaps you are right- he simply needs time to learn.

"Yes." Marcia seemed somewhat appeased. "I am sure that you are right."

In spite of the fact that the palace was a virtual city unto itself- with a sea of bedchambers numerous enough to house almost all the nobles of Roma at once, Flavia and Marcia shared a bed.

Flavia insisted that she wanted to insure that her little sister was not frightened by the Praetorians- and she made such a show that no one seemed to suspect her true purpose- to keep Commodus at bay.

All that week, as the rains continued to fall, Flavia followed a similar plan. She avoided criticizing Caesar or throwing herself in the way of his flirtation with Marcia in any way- but at the same time, she never left them alone. She encouraged the youngsters to sit together in the library perusing scrolls, or for Marcia to watch Commodus practice swordplay in one of the many makeshift gymnasiums scattered throughout the palace, but she was always the first to bed and the first to rise- and knew where her sister was at all times.

In spite of her anger about Maximus, Flavia’s hatred of the Emperor did soften slightly. No matter what evil had tainted his heart, with Marcia he was the same, sweet-natured little boy that he had been in her youth. He truly seemed to admire Marcia for reasons beyond the girl’s physical beauty and Flavia wished, with all her heart, that her suspicions regarding his character would prove untrue. If only one of his brothers had survived to adulthood and had been able to take the throne- then Commodus might have been uncorrupted by the lust for power. He might truly have found happiness with her sister….

But none of them had lived. Commodus was the emperor of Rome. If what Lucilla said was true, he had assumed the post after murdering his own father. Flavia was far too cautious to assume that such a selfish and unstable man could harbor any real depth of feeling for a girl.

At last, the rains ended, and Flavia and Marcia were free to depart for home.

"You will be at the games this afternoon?" Caesar asked as they prepared for the journey home.

"Thanking Caesar for his invitation, we will need at least a day to settle back into our affairs…" Flavia tried to sound as diplomatic as possible. "I have been absent for a week and my business…."

"Of course I won’t make you come." Commodus said evenly, but Flavia thought that she could hear a hint of tension in his voice. "…But that is no reason for Marcia to stay at home."

"Oh, no!" the girl said quickly. "I have nothing to catch up on."

"It is settled then." Caesar said with a nod of satisfaction. "I shall meet you at the regular time."

*****

The next time Commodus invited the sisters to the games Flavia decided to go. She was tired of staying at home alone and worrying about Marcia and even if she hated the gladiatorial fights, at least she would have the chance to talk with Lucilla or Antonia, the Prefect’s wife.

They arrived to the Colosseum just after lunch, when the public executions had been already carried out and the fights with the animals had ended. As they settled down on their chairs, in the still half-empty imperial box, the gates of the mighty arena opened to admit a group of almost twenty gladiators carrying long spears, rectangular shields and various types of helmets. They formed a line in the center of the ring, just as Commodus and his entourage made their entry. As the audience called for their Caesar, the two sisters stood up from their chairs and bowed deeply.

Commodus waved to the crowd and then turned to them.

"Marcia, Flavia, what a pleasure to see you here." His eyes were amused, because he knew all too well that they would be there. "Today the games will especially entertaining: Cassius and I have decided to stage a recreation of the Battle of Carthage, when Scipio destroyed Hannibal’s army."

"Oh." Marcia’s eyes grew wide with wonder, caught in the magic of Commodus’ voice, but Flavia could only throw a look of pity to the pathetic band of slaves in the ring - the men the Colosseum editor had just labeled as the barbarian horde. She snorted: Flavia remembered her father’s descriptions of the barbarian hordes and she was sure they were nothing like these poor, almost defenseless men in front of her. Sighing deeply, she sat down and prepared to endure another round of carnage when the gates opened again to release several chariots. They were ‘Scipio’s legionaries’, and they began to circle the ‘barbarians’. The crowd cried in excitement while near her Antonia shook her head and said, "It will be a massacre, the men on foot have no chance."

Flavia nodded absent-mindly and, as the battle began, she turned to look at her sister. Marcia’s eyes switched between the arena and Commodus, and she pursed her lips upon seeing the adoring gaze. How was it possible that Marcia was so smitten by him? True he was always gracious with the girl, but how could Marcia fail to notice the bloodthirsty and cruel way that Caesar was watching the games? How could she ignore that he liked to see other men suffer and die? Other Caesars, the great Augustus included, had offered games for the pleasure of the mob, but none of them had liked them, while Commodus... A loud thud drew her attention back to the present and Flavia blinked as Commodus and young Lucius stood up from their chairs to lean on the balustrade and look down into the arena. Her eyes swept over the fighting ground and saw, to her great surprise, that, far from being slaughtered, the ‘barbarian horde’ was on its way to winning the battle. With a slight smile, Flavia watched as the blue-clad gladiators worked together following the orders of a slave now mounting a horse. He was a masterful rider who chased and killed the remaining ‘legionaries’, closing the combat and sealing their victory by raising his sword arm to the sky. For the first time in her life Flavia found herself applauding the performance, strangely captivated by the helmeted man on the gray horse.

From the corner of her eyes she saw Commodus and Marcia clapping with enthusiasm and then Caesar summoned Cassius, the editor.

"My history is a little hazy, Cassius," he said with a jovial voice, "but shouldn’t the barbarians lose the battle of Carthage?"

"Yes, sire. Forgive me, sire." Begged the editor, his trembling voice showing how afraid he was.

"Oh, I’m not disappointed," Commodus commented, "I rather enjoy surprises." He pointed to the leader of the winning gladiators and asked, "Who is he?"

"They call him the Spaniard, sire."

"I think I will meet him."

"Yes, sire."

Cassius hurried away to alert the Praetorians and Commodus turned to Marcia and asked, "Would you like to come down with me to meet this Spaniard?"

Both Marcia and Flavia started at the request. To go down in the arena with Commodus would mean declaring their relationship - whatever its nature was - to all of Rome and thus ensure Crispina’s anger. Luckily Marcia showed common sense and said, "I would prefer not, Caesar. I hate getting sand in my sandals." She smiled charmingly and the emperor accepted her refusal with grace. "All right, wait for me here. I will be back in few minutes." And speaking thus, he rose from his seat and left the imperial box. When he was gone Marcia looked briefly at her sister, and Flavia nodded in approval.

Down in the arena, a squad of Praetorians had surrounded the gladiators and made them drop their weapons. The crowd had reacted badly to the action until Commodus appeared on the sands and they understood that he wanted to praise their new hero. Flavia watched the scene with interest, inwardly wondering what kind of man was hidden behind the mask. She saw Caesar walk to the center of the ring, indicating to the kneeling slaves that they could stand. A smaller figure had joined him and Flavia saw it was Lucius: the boy must have stormed past her in a flash, since she had not noticed him leave the box.

The woman exchanged a look with Lucilla, who shrugged her shoulders, and then returned to look to the scene in front her.

Something was going wrong in the ring, because Commodus’ tone was no longer praising and admiring, but angry. Flavia frowned and then gasped as the Spaniard turned his broad back to Caesar and stalked a few step away. She and Lucilla exchanged another look: was the man mad? Why had he insulted the emperor - the man who could have set him free-by showing his back to him?

Commodus commanded the Spaniard to remove his helmet and after a loud sigh, the man did so and turned around.

Flavia’s hands ran to her mouth to muffle a shocked scream when her eyes saw the gladiator’s face. So many years had passed, and he looked older and more tired but there was not doubt the man in front of her was Maximus! Her beloved Maximus! Flavia was so stunned she did not try to make out what Maximus said to Commodus next, but she almost jumped with terror as she saw the Praetorians unsheathe their swords, ready to kill the man she had loved for almost all her adult life. Flavia cast a panicked look to Lucilla, as if to beg her to do something, but her friend was also frozen on the spot.

It was then that the crowd began to chant with ever increasing force, "Live! Live! Live!" begging, or better, demanding Caesar to spare their hero’s life. Flavia held her breath, as she mentally prayed to all the Gods she knew, and let it out in a relieved sigh only when Commodus gave thumb up to Maximus and the Praetorians lowered their weapons and retreated. Tears of joy fell from her eyes as she heard the audience call Maximus’ name and she saw him leave the arena in triumph. Feeling observed she turned around and saw Marcia looking at her with a puzzled expression and so she hurried to wipe her cheeks, smiling shakily to her sister, before mouthing, "Later." She knew an explanation was in order, but not now and certainly not there in front of everyone. Her eyes briefly met Lucilla’s who motioned to the stands with her chin. Flavia looked in the indicated direction and saw Commodus walk away, hastily followed by Lucius and the Prefect of the Praetorium. It was clear that Caesar was furious and his sister said, "I must go to him, I need to placate him." Antonia, who was standing there pale as a corpse nodded gratefully as the Augusta hurried away pursued by her ladies in waiting.

"We must also leave," said Flavia, barely looking at the Prefect’s wife, "Excuse us. Come Marcia, we must run." And before Marcia could ask why and where they had to go, her sister had grabbed her arm and led her out of the imperial box.

*****

Flavia stepped down the steep stairs of Colosseum, sparing only few glances to see if her sister was following her between the other persons running down in the street. When she finally was out of the amphitheatre, she looked around herself, trying to determinate where the Ludus Magnus, the place that hosted the gladiators, was.

"What are we doing here?" asked Marcia, having finally caught up with her sister.

"I am searching the gladiators’ quarters," replied Flavia, rising on her toes to have a better view of the crowded area.

"It is in that direction..." said Marcia, pointing to their right, "But why are you-" She was not able to finish her sentence because her sister picked up the hem of her tunic and run away. "Flavia!!" More and more confused, the girl followed her.

When Flavia finally reached the Ludus Magnus it was only to see the iron gates close behind the victorious ‘barbarian horde’. She pressed against the bars, trying to catch a glimpse of Maximus, to somehow attract his attention, but it was useless: he was surrounded by his fellow gladiators and the shouting crowd covered her voice. One by one the men were led inside the building till only the guards remained in the courtyard.

Flavia pressed her forehead against the gates and, closing her eyes, began to cry: now that the adrenaline rush was ended she fell all her tension and ruined hopes crash on her like a stone.

She started when a hand suddenly touched her back and she whirled around, looking at her sister with wild eyes.

*****

The scene shocked Marcia. Never in all her life she had seen her sister behave in such away. But she knew something very serious had happened, and it was somehow connected with that gladiator, the man called Maximus. However it was not the time to ask questions: she simply opened her arms and Flavia ran to her, pressing her face against the fabric of her tunic as she continued to cry. Marcia caressed her back and whispered quiet words to her, trying to calm her, feeling ill at ease and very worried. She was used to being the one comforted, not the one doing the comforting and she did not know what to do. In the end Flavia’s sobs stopped and she raised her head, brushing the tears from her eyes and blowing her nose.

"I must look horrible," she said with a weak smile. Marcia shook her head in negative and Flavia went, "Here, come with me, I need some wine."

They reached a caupona and sat down on a table. If the owner was surprised to see two women alone, he did not show it but hurried to bring them two cups of watered wine and some bread and cheese. Flavia gulped down half of her glass and then, turning toward the expectant face of her sister said, "I own you an explanation of what happened today."

"Yes, you do." Commented Marcia without resent.

Flavia sighed and began, "All of this started eleven years ago, during the summer Lucilla and I spent in Germania, visiting with the emperor our father’s camp. You were probably to little too remember it, but it was just before I married..." she continued to talk, telling her sister everything had happened that summer, from the first moment their father had introduced her the young tribune till the moment Maximus had given her his parting gift.

Marcia was stunned to discover the passion and the love her sister harbored for Maximus, and which showed in every word, in every longing look she threw to the Ludus Magnus. Flavia had always seemed so cold, so distant. But perhaps, she was merely reserved...

"I am sorry," the girl said, posing her hand over Flavia’s. "I never imagined it."

"How could you have? You were only a child and I never told it to anyone. Even Lucilla does not know." She sighed. "I am so worried about what Commodus will do now..."

"Why?" Marcia sounded defensive.

"Oh, I have yet to tell you the rest of the story-- the reason why I don’t trust him...." Once again Flavia lost herself in explanations, recounting everything Lucilla had told her about the night when Marcus Aurelius had died. Marcia listened to the terrible tale of a son killing his father and then ordering the late emperor’s most trusted general killed along with his family, the innocent woman and child Flavia had referred to days before. The young girl could not believe to what she heard but she knew her sister was not lying...but what did that mean? Was it possible that the man she loved could be such a monster? A patricide? No, it could not be...Commodus was too gentle, too kind to have done such cruel thing...Unbidden the images of the young Caesar laughing upon seeing a gladiator being stabbed to death jumped in her mind and she pushed it away.

"Lady Cressida, your presence is required from the emperor." The cold, unfeeling voice of the Praetorian snapped her out of her macabre thoughts.

"What?" she asked.

"Caesar ordered me to bring you the Palace."

"Oh," said Flavia, paling, "Just let me pay the bill and then we-"

"Caesar requires only Lady Flavilla’s presence." The guard stressed before taking the girl for the elbow and dragging her up.

"Hey!" began Marcia, trying to free herself, but Flavia shook her head, "Go with him. I am going home and wait for you there."

"All right."

The older of the Cressidae sisters could only watch with worried eyes as Marcia was led away by the Praetorian, praying the gods to look after her.

*****

Marcia marched along the corridors of the Imperial palace, tripping over the hem of her skirt, and nearly stumbling to the ground. The Praetorians escorting her never slackened their pace. One of them caught her under the arm, dragging her through the corridor until she once against found her feet. The urgency of their actions, and the blackness of their expressions only increased her fears.

Was what her sister said actually true? She hadn’t believed it was possible...but she could not forget the angry way that Commodus had dealt with the Praetorians on the night she had been lost in the palace.... or the terrifying darkness in his face hours before when he had stalked out of the Colosseum. Why was she here? Was it possible that Commodus knew, or suspected Maximus’ connection to her sister? He had to at least know that he had served under their father in Germania. Did he think that Flavia knew that he had been here all along? That she had known? For the first time, Marcia understood why her sister was so afraid.

The guards led her into an open courtyard, and the girl blinked in the brightness of the sun.

"Stop." One of the men said roughly, giving her a final shove as they came to a halt. Marcia regained her breath, and then looked around her.

A cold chill ran along her spine. Two rows of archers were arranged inside the courtyard. Their weapons were drawn. Marcia followed the points of their arrows with her eyes, making a little cry of horror as she saw two men bound to poles awaiting their execution. The emperor was standing between them, Prefect Quintus Laetus at his side. Marcia was too far away to hear what Caesar was saying, but she could read the look in his eyes: madness- a madness born of fury, and not a defect of the mind. Her fingers clenched in the folds of her dress. Was Commodus going to kill her too? What had she done?

The young girl stood rigid with terror as she watched the scene unfold. The archers waited patiently for the order to fire. The taut bows strained their muscles. The weapon shook uncertainly, and the men exchanged wary frowns as Caesar stood directly between the men.

Marcia’s attention turned to Quintus. She had never seen his skin so pale. His jaw tensed, and then he lifted his head.

"Fire."

The arrows sluiced through the air in a single volley, burrowing into their victims with a sickening suction sound. Marcia felt her knees go weak. Again, the steely grip of the guards would not let her collapse completely to the ground, and so she hung limply in their arms. She could barely raise her eyes again. Caesar was still alive, standing between the lifeless bodies, untouched save for the splatter of blood upon his tunic.

I can’t be sick.... The young woman struggled against the instinct to heave out the contents of her lunch. She wanted to be brave, but it was hard when she didn’t even know precisely what she needed to fear. What was Commodus going to do?

The ruler seemed barely to notice them. His head tilted upwards toward one of the balconies. Marcia followed his gaze. The space was empty, but she knew that it belonged to one of the family apartments. Had Lucilla been watching? Crispina?

We can’t afford to have Crispina as an enemy... Marcia felt the urge to vomit again as she recalled Flavia’s admonition. Had the empress regained her husband’s favor? Was she to be punished for what had happened at the games?

"Bring her this way."

Marcia’s attention returned to the present as the guards nudged her forward once more. They were taking her to Caesar, toward the posts where the soldiers were cutting their previous victims down...

Commodus didn’t seem to notice their arrival until they were only a few feet away, but when he did, his lips twanged into a bitter smile. "Marcia." He said coolly, "I’m so pleased you could join me. You left the games in such a hurry that I was afraid that you were feeling unwell." the bitterness in the ruler’s voice was palpable.

Marcia’s throat felt very tight and dry as she mustered a response. "I am sorry Caesar. We thought that you had departed, and my sister-"

"Yes, always Flavia..." he hissed, "Well, we need no longer care what she has to say."

"Caesar?" The girl’s voice was high and trembling. What had he done to her sister? She had left her alone at the caupona... Commodus’ words eased her tension only slightly.

"You are under my authority now. You will live here at the palace."

"Yes, sire."

Marcia gave a panicked look to Quintus Laetus, but he averted his eyes. She was trapped.

"Come with me."

Obviously, the emperor did not expect voluntary compliance. The two burly guards continued to propel her after him, their rough fingers digging painfully into her skin. They re-entered the palace, winding through the corridors until they reached a heavy door. The throne room.

"Leave us." Commodus said as they stepped inside.

The guards, and Prefect Laetus, complied, closing the door behind them with an echoing clang.

Commodus ignored the girl as he crossed the marble floor to the throne. He settled into it gingerly, running his hands over the smooth wood, almost as if he believed that the object itself somehow rejuvenated his power. He leaned back, closing his eyes briefly to indulge in a moment of stillness, and then he leaned forward, his emerald gaze fixed on Marcia.

"And do you hate me now too?"

"No." The woman took a shuddering breath. It was true, in spite of everything- in spite of the cruelty and the madness, in spite of her fear for her own life, even now she could not bring him to despise him. She wanted to help him- to change him back into the man she had believed he was. "I don’t hate you Caesar."

"Commodus." He reminded her sharply.

"Commodus." She repeated meekly, a single tear broke through her control and trailing along her cheek.

"You’re crying." The young man observed, his voice unreadable.

"I’m afraid."

Speaking the word aloud made her fears suddenly too real. In spite of the danger, the confession had undimmed her emotions, and they washed over her now in a flood, causing her to cry in earnest.

"Marcia!" Rather than angry, the emperor looked concerned. He held out his arms.

The girl hesitated before stepping forward. She read his face, clearly noting the lines and furrows that this single, evil day had etched into his boyish skin. The rage that burned behind his pupils was gone. They were haunted, hunted, and afraid.

At last Marcia’s resistance broke, her own fear replaced by compassion once more. She had been frightened by the actions of a single man- a man over whom she had some modicum of control- he had the insurgents and malcontents of an entire empire at his heels. He had been forced to struggle for all that he had. Not even his own father had trusted him or believed in him! The girl felt a bitter smile upon her lips. Didn’t she know how it felt to fail everyone’s expectations? In her father’s eyes she had never been half so valuable as her sister. To Flavia herself she had been a constant disappointment.

Marcia stepped into the warm circle of his embrace, no longer caring if she was held in the arms of a murderer. He clutched her tightly, as though reassuring himself that she was really there. "I would never hurt you." He insisted. "Never.... I love you, Marcia."

"I…I know." Marcia’s voice trembled. She forced herself to raise her eyes, "I love you." She said in a small voice.

Commodus was silent, and the words seemed to echo through the vast chamber. The emperor’s eyes were unreadable: distant and unfocused. "Why?" He said at last.

The girl blinked at the unexpected question. "Why?"

"Why do you love me?" Caesar’s voice had taken on a hint of the bitterness he had carried in from the courtyard. "Because I am powerful?" His fingers toyed with the bloodstains on his tunic. "Rich?" He met her eyes, "Because you think that it is what I want to hear?"
His voice was wounded-Marcia felt tears welling up in her eyes once more, and she didn’t both to hold them in check as she sunk to her knees at the emperor’s feet. She honestly did not know the answer he sought. She was too new to her emotions to ever question their source.

"I thought you would love me back." She said at last. "No one ever has before…."

Commodus continued to stare, but slowly his jaw began to tremble. The girl could see on his face the war that raged in his own heart. He was willing to love, but trust- after so many disappointments- was harder to chance.

"Marcia…"

At last, his resistance seemed to break. Strong arms closed around her, drawing her back onto the throne. She submitted fully, her body limp as her head was pressed tenderly against Commodus’ chest. The emperor stroked her hair thoughtfully. "We are alike, you and I…" he whispered. "Alone…"

"Not alone." The girl lifted her chin to meet his gaze. "Not anymore."

In an instant, his mouth had covered hers. His lips like a hot brand against her skin. The actions were more urgent than the first kiss they had shared, more deliberate. There would be no interruptions from Flavia. Tonight she would be his.

Marcia roped her arms around his neck, crawling further onto his lap as their kiss continued. She traced his ear with her fingertip, and then arched her back against him as his own hands raked slowly down the film of silk that covered her back. At last he reached her bottom, caressing the soft curves before continuing down her legs, finding the hem of her garment. He delved beneath it. The tunica snaked upwards to her thighs, exposing the moonlight pale of her skin.

The emperor hiked the garment to her waist, and then paused, kissing her deeply again. His lips moved along her neck to her shoulder, this time unfastening the clasps there with ease.

The windows to the throne room were open, and the sounds of the night floated in on the breeze. The air was very cool, and the heat of Commodus’ touch was a welcome respite from the chill. She melted beneath his touch, his hands moving unhurried over her body, as if memorizing its mounds and hollows. He moved possessively over her breasts and stomach, her bottom and back, her limbs….

His initial exploration complete, the emperor’s attention returned to her chest. He caught her nipples in his hands, pinching their petal-pink tips Marcia arched her back, first in pain and then in ecstasy as he milked the delicate buds, rolling and pulling her skin. He massaged her breast with the rest of his hand as his finger and thumb worked their delicious torture.

Marcia’s tunica was still bunched around her waist, permitting her the freedom of movement to shift her weight. She slid a knee on either side of his hips, straddling him closely. Forcing herself to focus, she sent her own hands into action, caressing his buttocks, and back. Slowly finding her courage, she caressed the powerful muscles of his thighs, following the tendon in his inner leg upwards until it met his groin.

Even through the heavy folds of his rich garments, his arousal was evident. The girl’s soft hands found the throbbing column of his flesh, tracing its outlines through the purple folds of his tunic. Her fingertips brushed across its tip in feathery, staccato touches that elicited a soft moan. The sound filled her with a sense of power- and of need. Deep within her core, she felt a tightening- a craving- the same hollow urgency that she had experienced the week before.

Caesar’s fingertips released her breasts and trailed over the ridges of her ribs and stomach. He paused at the waist of her loincloth, toying with the edge of this final barrier to her flesh before wrenching it aside to claim the secret treasures between her thighs. Marcia’s body seized as he found her clitoris, his expert strokes extracting a shudder from her body and stoking the fire of her longing a hundred fold.

"Caesar…" She begged. "Commodus…please…"

"Please?" The tone was teasing and light, but in its undertones, there was an echo of the desire that consumed her. He repositioned his hands. One of his fingers dipped inside the rim of her sheath. His stopped suddenly as the evidence of her virginity blocked his progress and his features betrayed a look of surprise at finding it intact.

"Marcia…" He said uncertainly, meeting her eyes in question. His inquiry was answered in a look of both innocence and surrender. His expression changed. "Mine…" He growled against her neck, his hands finally ripping away the last vestiges of her dress. "Only mine…"

"Caesar!" The sharp chill of the evening air against her skin made Marcia start. "Not here!!!" At once, she remembered where she was, and of the danger of being seen-of the certainty that they had been observed already. The skin of her back grew flush as she felt, almost like a physical touch, the eyes of the slaves that peered from the shadows.

"Let them watch." Commodus answered huskily. "Let them see how beautiful you are…" he inclined his head to kiss her shoulder. "Let them see that you belong to me." His lover closed her eyes as she felt his hands once again between her legs. He traced around her opening, bathing his skin in the wetness of her body. "Mine." He spoke the word savagely again as his fingers plunged within her. Marcia’s body convulsed, overcome with exquisite, tearing pain as he plundered her maidenhead.

The girl bit her lip to keep from crying out, blinking back tears, as he pressed deeper within her, readying her to accept him. He pressed the prominence of his desire against her stomach in promise of what was to come. The throbbing member burned against her skin. After an instant, her pain transformed to pleasure, but the actions of Commodus’s hands were inadequate to quench the aching within her womb.

Marcia moaned her arousal, once more catching his lips in her own. She moved against him desperately, struggling for control as she fumbled for his coverings. She pushed his tunic over his stomach, wrenching his loincloth free to grasp his bulging erection in her delicate hands. Her caresses were bold, begging him to complete the act.

Commodus resisted for a moment. The girl felt a wrenching hollowness as he withdrew his hands. He wiped the blood of her innocence on the edge of his tunica, where it blended with the dark dried maroon of the earlier stains. Then, one palm grasped her bottom, and guided her to his manhood, finally impaling her on his flesh.

Marcia’s breath came out in a hiss as their bodies melded into one. She was overcome with a sense of excruciating fullness as her body strained to accept his swollen member, but she sighed with unspeakable pleasure as he began to move. The girl buried her face against his neck, holding tightly to his shoulders as she allowed the emperor to indulge his desires as he would. She luxuriated in the feel of his breath on her back- first slow and deep, and then fast and shallow. She felt- like an echo of the ever building tensions within her own center- his body rushing toward its release, and she was suddenly shocked by her power. Commodus possessed her, but at this moment, he was hers as well. The emperor, Caesar, master of Rome. Here, on his throne, in the center of his empire, he was a God on Earth- but also still a man, hopelessly enslaved to the ecstasy that only she could give.

Commodus’ hips lifted off the throne as the urgency of his thrusting increased. He tilted Marcia’s hips toward him, subtly increasing the pressure against her nerves, and finally pushing her beyond control. "I love you…" She murmured helplessly as waves of pleasure crashed in around her. She heard him answer as if far away, and then, as if overloaded by sensation, her consciousness began to fade. She felt him twinge inside her, and then a pleasant, sticky wetness as his seed spilled against her womb, and finally he was still. Caesar’s body slumped forward against her own.

Slowly returning to awareness, Marcia sat up and cradled the emperor’s head against her chest. She stroked his hair, damp with sweat, away from his forehead, and peppered his skin with soft kisses.

"Tell me that you love me again." He murmured. Still weak from exertion, his voice was needy and uncertain.

"I love you, Commodus." She answered without hesitation.

"Do you mean it?"

Marcia regarded her lover. A God and a monster. Her most hated enemy and dearest friend. Gods help me. She thought, cradling him against her breast. Gods help me. "I do."

*****

Flavia lay in her bed with her eyes tightly closed, but she was not asleep. How could she rest with her sister a virtual prisoner in the palace, and Maximus- her beloved Maximus- alive, but in mortal danger?

How much the world had changed in just a few short weeks! That evening, she had borne the pain of losing someone that she had loved, thinking that there was no greater hurt in the world. Tonight she knew that her assumption had been wrong. It was far, far worse to know that someone was alive and in need- and yet be helpless to offer assistance, or even hope.

Maximus. In many ways it was better when she had believed him dead. At least then she was assured that his suffering was complete. Who knew what lay ahead of him now? Would Commodus, who had not spared the general’s wife and son, now show mercy to the man who threatened his throne? Would he attack his rival in the open, or in the dark of night? Would he be subjected to torture? Shame? Or would Caesar simply arrange for him to be conveniently forgotten, living the rest of his life in the dim, airless tunnels beneath the Colosseum? Oh, Maximus, I will help you. Flavia’s whole heart cried out the promise, even as she admitted to herself that there was very little that she could do to help. I will find a way….

Prying her thoughts away from the Spaniard for a moment, the woman’s mind turned toward the plight of her sister. She was with Commodus now. The best that she could hope for the girl was that the young man would continue to treat her with the tender attentions of a lover, and not debase her as a slave. How she wished that she had not told little Marcia of the horrors that the emperor had done. Knowing his darkness had not removed her from his grasp. She was trapped now, and the knowledge could only frighten her worse than whatever she was currently suffering.

Flavia shivered, a heavy blanket of guilt settling over her heart as she considered her own fault. Marcia should never have been free to trifle with. She should have been married long ago- with a husband to protect her from the Emperor and the walls of her own home in which to hide.

Although she was weary, the woman could not find any sleep. Her mind would not grow quiet. Sighing with frustration, she tiptoed out of bed and into the hall. Flavia took a torch from one of the sconces in the wall and crept silently through the house, inspecting the rooms as she passed. The servants had long since retired to bed, and the big house seemed empty and dead.

Flavia was checking the larder in the kitchen when the heavy fall of the doorknocker made her gasp in surprise. She trained her ears on the sound. It was coming from the rear entrance- the doorway that the servants used. Picking up her skirts, she hurried to investigate.

It was a woman. The matron’s heart leapt with joy at the sight of the neatly embroidered stola wound round the lady’s head. Could it be Marcia? Had she escaped? In a flash, Flavia began to outline what they would need to do. They must leave the city and travel for the villa, from there they could hire a ship and send word to their bankers in Rome and….

Another knock drew the woman’s attention back to the present. She threw open the door.

"Marcia!" She cried, opening her arms to accept the girl into her embrace, but the action faltered as she recognized that the woman in the doorway was not her sister. "Lucilla."

The empress of Rome stood on the steps to the servant’s quarters. She blinked her light eyes in confusion- almost as startled to be greeted by the mistress of the house as that lady was to find her.

"What are you doing?" Lady Cressida asked, instinctively reaching for Lucilla’s shoulder and ushering her into the house.

Lucilla looked nervously over her shoulder. "Spending the night with you…" She said cryptically, indicating that they should remain silent until they had moved to more private quarters.

The Augusta trailed Flavia to her room and shut the door.

"I am sorry to call so late." She said quietly, "And even sorrier to implicate you…I…." She swallowed. "Oh, Flavia, I’ve been to see Maximus."

"Maximus?" She sat down on the end of the bed, trying to piece the story together. "You saw him? Where? At the Ludus Magnus?"

The emperor’s sister nodded her head. "Yes. I told Commodus that I was going to your house for a late dinner. My escort left me at the door and I slipped away unnoticed through your garden…." She looked at her hands. "I had to see him…. Oh, Flavia, do you know what this means?"
Flavia shook her head, feeling very dim-witted as her exhausted brain struggled to understand. "Are you going to save him?" She said at last.

"No- Flavia, do you not see? Maximus is going to save us!"

Quickly, the Empress began to speak, informing her of the emperor’s reaction to the appearance of his rival- and the impression that the behavior had left with the Senate. "If we are going to act, we must act quickly." She said evenly. "Maximus can call the northern army. They are camped at Ostia. My brother wants to send the Legions to Africa to trap game for his infernal fights, but sensible heads convinced him to wait until the summer…He is still reluctant but I am sure I will convince him to do so...."

Lead the army… Flavia frowned, suddenly realizing why she was so unsettled by the other woman’s words and actions- she wasn’t interested in how she could help Maximus- she only cared about how he could help her.

Flavia was stunned by the sudden clarity with which she finally saw the couple’s relationship. Lucilla had never wondered for an instant if Maximus would want her…if he would strive to please her. She had assumed, as was the privilege of her beauty and birth, that he was another man to serve her whims. At seventeen, it had pleased her to be in love…and now? It would please the Empress if he lived- or died- for the furtherance of her schemes.

"I told my brother that I would remain at your house through the night…" Lucilla chatted on, though her audience barely listened. "They will come for me here in the morning…. do you trust your servants?"

"Implicitly." Flavia answered, absolutely confident in her words. Her staff was relatively small, but impeccable. They would be discreet.

"Excellent." The empress looked at her hands, and then inclined her neck toward a cot. "We should go to bed. Morning will come very early- and I don’t know when we will have a moment for rest again."

*****

When Marcia awoke, hours later, she was in the Imperial bedchamber. The silk of the sheets was cool and soft against her skin, and she lay with her eyes closed for several moments before committing to being awake. As she lingered in the twilight between dreaming and consciousness, her thoughts returned to the evening before. Marcia’s hands brushed guiltily over her thighs as she remembered the passion that she had shared with the emperor, first in his throne room and then here in his bed.

Commodus…Marcia turned to her side, reaching out her arms to draw him back into her embrace, finally opening her eyes when she grasped only air.

The emperor was already gone.

Frowning, the woman left the bed, shrugging her tunica over her shoulders as she crossed toward the door. She stuck her head into the central hallway, drawing it back in quickly as her eyes lighted squarely on Crispina. Marcia closed the door, leaning back on it heavily as she allowed her knees to buckle and her body to slide slowly to the floor. What had she done? Surely everyone in the palace knew what had happened by now…and what should she do next?

*****

Flavia watched as Lucilla and her escort left her home and sighed with relief. During the almost sleepless night she had decided what she wanted to do and now it was time to act. She called her trusted steward into the tablinium and wrote him the necessary papers to instruct her banker to withdraw a huge sum of money, then sent the man to retrieve it. After that, she gave orders to the house staff to tell any visitors that she was gone and that they did not know when she was going to return. She also said where she might be reached, at the Ludus Magnus, but only in case Marcia should need her. Before going away Lucilla had told her that she was going to inquire about the girl and Flavia hoped to get news as soon as possible. However, since there was nothing she could for her sister now, she was going to take care of Maximus.

When the steward returned with the money, she divided it into two purses, one of which was safely locked inside the arca in her room, while the lone slave who was going to accompany her to the gladiator school would carry the other. Flavia then put on a simple cape and carrying a small basket she left the domus, closely followed by her servant.

*****

When they reached the huge building of the Ludus Magnus, Flavia marched to the gates and called one of the guards, "I wish to see the Spaniard’s owner. I think his name is Proximo."

The man smirked, knowing all to well what rich matrons wanted to do to with the gladiators, but Flavia’s icy gaze made the grin disappear from his face: she was clearly someone not to cross. He hastened to open the gates and let her inside along with her slave. He led them across the courtyard where some fighters were training, inside a building and then up a staircase, until they reached a closed door. The guard knocked.

"Yes?" a thunderous voice called.

"There someone who want to see you, master. A lady."

The door was opened at once by a large man with gray hair and beard and a tanned face. His clear eyes swept quickly over Flavia, assessing immediately her social class. Satisfied by the fact she looked very rich, he gestured her inside with his arm, "Domina."

Flavia followed Proximo till his desk and sat down on the chair he offered to her.

"What can I do for you, domina?" the lanista asked, sitting in front of her.

She took a deep breath and said, "I am here to see the Spaniard." Outside she was cold and detached but inside her chest her heart was running like a racehorse.

Proximo’s reaction was similar to his guard’s but once again Flavia put him back in his place with a cold stare: evidently her father, the general, had passed more to her than his good looks.

"Ah...I see, domina. Well I think it could be arranged, even if it is unusual to meet the athletes during the day. And of course this will be...expensive." the lanista said, as if he was sorry for the inconvenience.

Flavia smiled and then motioned her slave to bring her the bag with the money. The man did so and she dumped it on the desk, opening the leather strings to show Proximo it contained only golden aurei.

"Money is not a problem, as you can see."

Proximo nodded, staring at the money: it was even more than the sum he had received when he signed the contract with Cassius, the Colosseum editor.

"I think here there is enough money to buy Maximus - and the rest of your gladiators, I might add - but I have no intention to get you in trouble with Caesar. He would have you killed if you dared to sell Maximus," Flavia studied the large man, who seemed to be unable to stop staring at the gold, "However you can have it all the same...."

"How?" Proximo almost squeaked out.

"You won’t sell the Spaniard’s ‘company’ to anybody else. He is reserved for me and for me alone. What do you think?"

The lanista stared at her open-mouthed: in all the time he spent in the business he had never heard such a request! He looked at the woman like she was a strange being: she seemed so cold, but what kind of fire burned under her fair skin? But perhaps it was not how it looked, he thought, as she saw her bite her lower lip as she waited for his answer.

"All right, I accept," he said in the end, not caring about the woman’s reasons but only about her money, and he saw her smile with relief, not lust. "However I hope you will forgive me if I want our agreement put on papyrus."

"There is no problem at all, as long my name remains a secret."

"Of course, lady---?"

"Cressida, Flavia Cressida."

"Like the famous general?"

"Yes."

Proximo nodded and then summoned his scribe to write the contract, leaving the lady’s name blank and then adding it himself when the servant was out of the room.

After she signed the contract, and gave Proximo half of the money, Flavia stood up and said, "I wish to see Maximus now."

"Of course, domina. He is not training today so you can have him all by yourself. However tomorrow will be different, because he has to practice for his next match." The lanista wanted to be sure she understood how things went around there.

Flavia swallowed hard at the mention of the next match but then nodded, "I understand."

"Good. Now, domina, if you would wait here for few minutes, I am going to instruct the guards to take him in a quiet place."

"Yes, that’s will be most pleasing." Flavia smiled and Proximo, after bowing his head to her, walked to the door. "Just a moment!" her voice stopped him, "Make sure there is a table and two chairs in the room. Maximus and I are going to eat lunch together."

The lanista’s eyes threatened to pop out in shock but in the end he merely nodded and walked away.

Once alone with her faithful servant, Flavia dropped on the chair, her heart beating wildly. She was going to see Maximus again...After eleven years since they had last spoken to each other, she was going to be alone with him again. Would he remember her? Would he be angry? Or would he accept her offer of comfort and friendship? Her offer to help him?

I will know soon enough, she thought, as she waited for Proximo’s return, Soon enough indeed....

*****

A few minutes later Proximo was back and gestured her to go with him, "If you please, domina."

Flavia stood up and, gripping the basket with all her strength, and followed him through the corridor, until they reached another room.

"Maximus is here," he said, pointing to a door near which stood two guards.

Flavia looked at the men and then to the lanista. "They are for your protection." He said.

"There is no need. The general would never hurt a woman." And speaking thus, she grabbed the knob and pulled the door open, leaving her slave outside to wait with the guards.

The room was sparely furnished with a table, two chairs, a basin and a low cot in a corner. Flavia took it in a flash, before her eyes focused on the man pressed against the wall in front of her. Maximus.

He was wearing only a rough but clean blue tunic, a leather belt and his sandals and Flavia’s breath caught in her throat as she studied him. He was more muscled than she remembered and more lean. His skin was tanned and his beard and hair freshly trimmed. He was staring at her with a defiant expression on his rugged, handsome face, and she felt her heart twist in her chest.

They stared to each other in silence for a long time, distance and social classes separating them. Flavia saw Maximus study her, but saw no cognizance on his features. In the end he broke the silence by growling, "I don’t know what you want, lady, but I have no intention of cooperating."

"Brave words from a brave man," Flavia said and watched as Maximus frowned, as if he was trying to place her voice. "I am not here to hurt or use you in any way, Maximus, I just want to help you."

The Spaniard moved some steps in her direction and said softly, "Your voice is familiar to me but I don’t know who you are.... Forgive me."

Flavia felt tears well up in her eyes and searching inside her dress, she took out her little carving and put it in his hand. Then, as he bent his head to study it, she removed her cape and stola, so that all of her face was visible.

When Maximus’ eyes met hers again, they where filled with wonder, "Flavia..." he whispered, "how...how have you changed."

"For better, I hope." She tried to joke, but it was a lame effort. They stared at each other again, both feeling uncomfortable, until Maximus asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you." She said sincerely.

"Why?"

"Because I wish to help you."

"Did Lucilla send you here?" he asked with narrowed eyes, "to convince me to help her?"

"No, she does not know I am here. Nobody except my trusted servant knows."

"Then you should leave, this is no place for you, lady Cressida." Maximus stopped looking at her and fixed his gaze on the wall over her head.

Flavia bit her lip. She knew the meeting would not have been easy, but she was not ready to give up.

"I am going to stay here, and we are going to eat lunch together, Maximus." And speaking thus, she walked to the table and put her basket down, beginning to take out a flask of wine, a bottle of garum, then cheese, salted meat, olives, bread...

"Stop it!" Maximus’ hand stilled her wrist and he hissed, "Flavia, you cannot stay here. You will ruin your reputation."

"I only want to eat lunch with my friend. I don’t see anything wrong in it."

"I am not the same man I was the last time we saw each other... I am a slave...a gladiator.... an infamis...." Maximus’ voice died, as he once again turned his head away.

Flavia’s eyes filled with tears at his defeated tone and she put a hand on his cheek, gently obliging him to look at her again. When their eyes met she asked, "Who carved that figurine, eh? Please answer me."

"Flavia, I don’t see-"

"Who carved it?" Her gray eyes bore in his blue once, forcing him to reply.

"I- I made it."

"Then you are indeed the man I knew. The man who taught me to ride, the man who taught me the name of the trees, the man who made me laugh and blush telling me dirty jokes.... The man who was best friend...and still is. You are that man Maximus, you and only you." They stared at each other and Flavia saw tears slowly overflow the rims of his eyes and slid down his cheeks, just as was happening to her. In the end, without neither of them knowing who moved for first, they found themselves in each other arms, giving and taking comfort in their desperate embrace.

*****

Marcia huddled against the door, not knowing what to do until she heard a rustling of the curtains covering the servants’ corridor. A small Thracian girl stepped in.

"Ah, my lady. You are awake." She said simply. "His majesty has requested your presence for lunch. You should dress now."

The Roman girl's eyes widened in surprise, but she followed the maid willingly, almost grateful for the excuse to rely on someone else to think. The slave put a silken wrap around her shoulders and led her through the suite, then down a flight of stairs into a marble-tiled bath. Clouds of steam rose from the citrus-scented water, making the air seem heavy and moist.

The servant removed the wrap and Marcia's tunica, unbinding the girl's long chestnut hair and then directing her to step into the water. The emperor's lover did as she was told, feeling as though she were in a dream as the Thracian, and two other attendants who had joined her, began their work.

The first slave poured a lemon-fragranced oil on her legs and carefully scraped it away with a bronze strigil. A second girl began washing her hair, and the third lifted her hand and began to clean and shape her nails. When they were finished, she was removed from the water, wrapped in silk again, and led to a nearby antechamber where yet another servant began to arrange her hair.

Marcia had always had a slave to assist her with dressing, but never to the extent she was experiencing at the palace. Rather than the simple coiled braid that she usually wore during the day, the skilled hands of the stylist coaxed her hair into an intricate weave which began at the nape of her neck and ended in a cascade of curls that tumbled from the top of her head onto her shoulders and back. The arrangement was held in place with a heavy silver tiara encrusted with small but elegant pearls. Matching earrings were placed in her ears, and a cuff of gleaming silver slid onto her arm. Finally satisfied, the caretaker surrendered her mistress to the dressing slave, who draped Marcia into a purple-gray tunica with silver trim and a stola of bloody maroon gauze.

At last, there was nothing left to do but step into her sandals. Marcia did so, staring at herself in the mirror with only the barest recognition.

She looked like Lucilla.... or Crispina- a princess, not the simple girl she had been the day before. Of course, her family was wealthy. She had always had nice things- but not exquisite things, not like this! Marcia smiled to herself as she imagined Commodus' reaction to the transformation...and then her smile fell as she imagined someone else. What would Crispina say?

The question was about to be answered.

"This way, my lady." The Thracian who had wakened her bade. " Lunch will be served in the main reception area. Caesar is entertaining guests."

Marcia's stomach tensed in foreboding, but she did as she was told.

The room was buzzing with voices by the time the party arrived. Ten couches had been arranged in a U-shape around the emperor's own, and a bevy of toga -clad senators were chatting amongst themselves as they waiting for the meal to begin. Caesar himself had yet to arrive. Lucilla, Crispina, and other ladies were also absent and Marcia swallowed nervously, wondering what she would do.

"Marcia."

A warm voice caused the girl to turn, and her heart hammered in excitement as she greeted her lover. "Caesar..." In spite of the intimacy they had shared, her surroundings and lifelong training compelled a formal greeting.

He laughed at her, drawing her tightly into his arms as if they were alone in the room. "Silly..." he scolded, then covered her lips in a soft kiss. "How did you sleep?"

She blushed. "Quite well.... Commodus." She forced herself to say his given name, and then smiled shyly. She looked over her shoulders at the senators and tried to extricate herself from his embrace. "We mustn't let them see us..." She whispered.

The expression on the emperor's face darkened. "Why not?

"Because...they...we...." the girl faltered in the shadow of his frown.

"They do not dictate to me how to conduct myself." Commodus glowered. "What do they care? They have whores and mistresses..."

Marcia flinched at the characterization, but bit her tongue.

"Hypocrites." he spat angrily, hitching his arm under Marcia's and hauling her into the room.

All conversation ceased immediately.

The hairs on the back of Marcia's neck stood on end as she felt two dozen pairs of eyes upon her. Even the servants, who surely knew what had transpired the night before, were gawking. Only Commodus seemed unconcerned.

"We're certainly quiet this morning." he said sarcastically.

At last, one of the men found their tongues. Senator Falco rose from his couch and bowed respectfully. "Ave, Caesar." he said in a honeyed tone. He studied Marcia with open curiosity. "What a beautiful ornament you add to our company." He commented.

Commodus nodded his head, appeased somewhat. "It is Lady Cressida, surely you remember."

"Ah, yes. I believe we have had the pleasure of seeing her at the games."

Behind Falco and her lover, Marcia saw some of the other senators whispering excitedly. One of them gestured, and she turned, her blood turning to ice in her veins as she saw the object of his action.

Crispina, surrounded by her ladies in waiting, was standing on the steps leading into the room. Her gaze was imperious, resting just above her rival's head as though she was too exalted to sully herself by acknowledging the other's presence. The tension in the room became palpable, and, at last, Commodus turned to see what was going on.

"Ah, Crispina." He said coldly to his wife. "To what do we owe the honor of your presence today...all the handsome errand boys busy with work?"

The senators, and Marcia shifted uncomfortably. The empress, however, merely narrowed her eyes, otherwise unresponsive to the insult.

Seeming disappointed that he had failed to rouse her, the emperor turned his gaze away, leading Marcia with him to the plush purple couch at the head of the room. "You won't be needed today." He said casually, drawing his lover next to him as he settled in front of the table. He caressed Marcia's hair in a manner that was both tender to the girl, and taunting to his wife. "...Or tonight."

The young girl's cheeks flushed crimson.

Still, Crispina did not react.

Clearly bored, Caesar reached for a grape. "I think, my dove," his tone was still icy as he spoke to his spouse. "That the air on the coast might do something for your complexion... you're looking so sick and cross these days...perhaps Caprae." He smiled malevolently, "General Laetus will attend to it."

Around her, Marcia heard the guests take a collective intake of breath. Caprae. Caesar was not sending his wife on vacation- he was exiling her! Although her lover seemed calm, Marcia could feel the fear, anger, and confusion pulsing around her as though it were a living thing. What new madness is this? She could almost hear their thoughts.

She raised her eyes, intending to search the reaction of Senator Gracchus, a man she considered neutral, hoping to gauge what the reaction of the populace would be. Instead, her eyes fell on Crispina.

The look the woman gave her was one of pure hatred. Rather than helpless fury, they seemed deadly calm and intent. She has power yet. Marcia realized with a shudder. She will hunt me down if it is the last thing that she does...

The girl held the gaze as if hypnotized, unable to break away until the heavy hands of the guards, "directing" the Augusta to the door broke the spell. Even when she was gone, Marcia stared at the doorway in trepidation.

"Eat something, darling."

The unnatural ease in the emperor's voice had the opposite effect than that which he intended. He really is insane. In spite of her love for him, Marcia understood, at last, that Commodus was losing control. How much longer would it be until his madness finally pushed the senators further than they were willing to go? The girl shivered once more as the presence of the black-plumed praetorians that surrounded them transformed from protection to a threat. What would happen to him then? What would happen to them both?

*****

Hours later Maximus watched Flavia leave the room, feeling contrasting emotions war inside his heart. On one hand, he was happy she had gone because he was still embarrassed to be in her presence in his such a low state of life, but on the other hand it had been pleasant to spend time with someone who knew the real Maximus and not only the gladiator called The Spaniard- someone who seemed to understand him well. Maximus had been surprised by how Flavia had remembered his tastes in food and the meal they had shared had been the best he had in a long time, probably since the last time he had been home...home. Maximus swallowed hard and pushed the thought away, grateful she had not questioned him about his tragedy. He smiled as he thought that Flavia seemed to have sensed he did not want or was not ready to talk about what happened to him, and they had spent their time mainly in silence, simply basking in the awareness the other person in the room was a friend, a real one, not someone who wanted something from the other. She had offered to help him to escape, in case he had a plan and needed money to corrupt guards or such, but he had adamantly refused: partly because he had no intention to flee his destiny and partly because he did not want to put her in danger. He had made Flavia promise to never to raise the topic again for fear that someone might overhear them.

The door was opened once more and Proximo entered in the room, drawing Maximus’ attention. The lanista threw a look to the cot, seeing it was undisturbed and then looked at the table where still were some remainders of their meal. He shook his head and said, "Well, General, now I have really seen everything." He grinned and went on, changing topic, "How was your meal?"

"Very good." Maximus replied, seeing no point in denying the truth.

"I am glad." Proximo paused a little, "She is a strange woman."

"She is a great lady," corrected the Spaniard, staring hard in his master’s eyes to make it clear he was not going to discuss Flavia anymore.

"Did she tell you that you will see her again tomorrow?" the large man was pleased to see Maximus’ eyes widen, "No? Well, General, it seems your friend is very fond of you, she purchased all of your ‘free time’ for a lot of money."

"Why?" the Spaniard murmured.

"I don’t know, but you will be able to ask her tomorrow, after your training session. Now come with me, it is time to return to your cell."

Lost in thought Maximus nodded and followed Proximo out of the room.

*****

During the trip home Flavia continued to think about what had happened in the Ludus Magnus. Things had been almost perfect, at least considering their situation. After those first awkward minutes, she and Maximus had felt comfortable in each other presence and ate their meal in amicable silence. The lady had been pleased to see how he wolfed down the meal, not like a hungry man, because he was well fed, but like someone who was tasting something really good. She had given him a little bit of pleasure and felt happy about it. And even if she had been disappointed he had not accepted her help to organize an escape plan, she had been touched by his concern for her safety. They had not talked a lot after he made her promise to never again speak of escape plans, because there were no really safe topics, but Flavia hoped that their communication would improve in the following days as his trust grew. She remembered that she had not told Maximus she was going to visit again the next day, but she pushed the thought away when the sight of her villa recalled her attention about other matters. Marcia. Had she returned home?

As she stepped inside the domus she immediately asked to the slave who had hurried to free her from the basket and her cape, "Is my sister home?"

"No, domina. But the Augusta Lucilla sent you a letter. It is in the tablinium."

Flavia nodded, acknowledging his good work and then walked quickly in her study, picking up the folded papyrus and breaking the seal.

Lucilla’s note was short and to the point:

Flavia read the letter twice before putting it down. Lucilla had been careful in her writing but the message between the lines was clear: Marcia was Commodus’ prisoner and Flavia could not do anything for her, except pray that the young man’s feeling for her sister were genuine and enduring...but how long could the situation continue? When would someone decide Commodus had done enough damage and that it was time to eliminate him?

I hope it is sooner than later, she thought, for the good of Marcia, Maximus and Rome.

*****

The next day Flavia arrived at the Ludus Magnus once again escorted by her slave carrying her money. After some moments spent in Proximo’s office to take care of the business at hand, she was led once more in the little room where Maximus was waiting for her, looking out the small window with his arms joined behind his back and the legs slightly parted: the stance of a soldier at rest, she mused. He turned around and their eyes met but they did not speak until the door was closed, leaving them alone.

"Good afternoon Maximus," Flavia said, placing her basket on the table.

"Flavia," his voice sounded cold and she pursed her lips.

"What’s wrong?" she asked.

"Proximo told me you purchased all of my ‘free time’ during my stay in Rome..."

"Yes, that’s true."

"Why did you so?"

Flavia sighed, "I did it for a lot of reasons. Do you want to sit while I tell you them?"

"I prefer to stand."

"As you wish." Flavia began to pace the room, her long cape swinging behind her. "I ‘reserved you’ for myself because I desire to spend time you. It is simple like that."

Maximus left his place near the window and walked to her, "No Flavia, there is something more and we both know it."

I want to stay with you because I love you! Was the sentence she wanted to shout but she could not do so. "I purchased all of your free time to spare you the indignity of being considered a stud and obliged to ‘service’ rich and bored matrons."

Maximus flushed at her explicit comment and she smiled upon seeing how that battle-hardened soldier was embarrassed. It was such a sweet, innocent reaction...

"I know all too well how the ladies of the nobility entertain themselves, I hear it in detail every time I attend a party and I could not bear to see that happening to you." She sighed, "I don’t have the power to protect you from him," and there was no need to explain to whom she was referring, "but perhaps I can make your life here a little more bearable. Please don’t be angry."

Maximus smiled slightly and then took both her hands, bringing them to his lips and kissing first one and then the other. "I am not angry, Flavia, I really appreciate your concern. It makes me feel a human again. But I am worried about the danger you might be in…and I don’t know how can I thank you, how I can repay you...."

"You can do it by simply being yourself. Do you remember in Germania, how we used to talk to each other about everything?"

Maximus nodded softly, "Yes."

"Well, I would love to talk with you again: I need a confidant, now more than ever." Flavia’s voice trembled and Maximus squeezed her hands in silent support, "I have a sister, Maximus, a sweet young girl who is all the family I have left. I love her so much.... and she is now practically a prisoner in the imperial palace."

"Why? How?"

"Commodus claims to be in love with her and doesn’t want her out of her sight. My - my presence is not appreciated in the Palace and I have not seen her in days...I don’t know what is going on, or what he is doing to her...Oh, Maximus I am so scared!"

Once again, without knowing who was the first one to move, they found themselves in each other’s arms. "I am so sorry," he whispered caressing her hair, "but you can count on me if you need to unburden yourself."

"Thank you," she said, stepping back to flash him a quick smile, "In a city full of spies it is very rare and precious to have a trusted friend."

They stayed silent for several moments until a rumble from his stomach broke the spell. As Maximus put a hand on his belly to avoid further sounds, she merely chuckled in amusement and said, "Come, you must be hungry."

They moved to the table and together they began to roam inside the basket, playing like children to see who was the fastest at removing the food, and laughing softly when their hands closed at the same time on the same items. Flavia was happy to hear Maximus laugh, she was sure it was not something he did often, but she had to be careful not to show on her face the sensations that the brush of his calloused hands on her skin were arousing inside of her. If she ever had a doubt that her love might have abated in the past eleven years, her reaction to those few gentle, casual, touches were proof enough her feelings. Far from lessening, they had only increased. She wondered if and for how long she would be able to keep them concealed as she had done in the past.

*****

Like the day before, the luncheon dragged on for hours, and the afternoon sunlight was already soft and golden by the time Caesar and the senators who had been his guests departed to discuss the management of Rome. Marcia was glad for the chance to slip away. She had not been alone since she left her sister’s house three mornings before, and she needed a few moments to collect her thoughts. She trailed slowly down the hall, marveling at what a short time ago that it was when she had gotten lost, nearly running into trouble with the guards when she had stumbled into the emperor’s apartments. So much had changed!

Thinking of the past reminded Marcia of her sister, and her features sagged as she wondered what the other woman was doing. Was she worried about her? Marcia wished that she could send a message. She did not think that Commodus would forbid it, but she didn’t know whom to ask to carry a note, and she was certain that Caesar would be angry if she left on her own. She should ask one of the handmaidens what to do.

Resolving to write a letter right away, Marcia hurried back toward the Imperial apartments- but her footsteps faltered as she reached the heavy door. She had returned to the bed she had shared with Caesar- but was she welcome there? Should she wait until summoned by the ruler to return? The day before Commodus had taken her there by himself after lunch, but today....

The woman frowned at the problem, remarking to herself that the servants were never around when she needed to ask them a question. The hall was deserted, and it was only late afternoon!

Frowning, Marcia began a purposeful search for the absent slaves, pushing open the room to Caesar’s chamber and- finding it empty- moving along to the next doorway along the hall.

The girl pushed open the heavy doors and stepped into an unfamiliar chamber. Like the emperor’s room, the furnishings were sumptuous and well made, but the room seemed lighter and more feminine. The scent of sandalwood permeated the air.

The smell was familiar, and Marcia felt a sense of unease as she tried to place it. Her first instinct was to close the door and walk away- but there were voices drifting from the next archway. Feminine voices. She needed only step inside for a moment.

The girl walked quickly across the thick carpets and through the opening in the wall. The voices fell abruptly silent.

Marcia’s blood turned to ice as she recognized the women. Two standing figures were palace slaves- their status announced by their simple attire and foreign faces. The woman sitting between them was Crispina.

The Roman girl felt goose bumps on the skin as the Augusta trapped her in an icy gaze.

"Lost?" The mock-sweetness in the woman’s voice was chilling. Instinctively, Marcia took a step away,

"Forgive me, Augusta." The girl murmured. "I have disturbed you." Marcia continued backing toward the door. Logically, she knew that she had nothing to fear from the empress- from the former empress- but the haughtiness of the woman’s expression- the reptilian shrewdness in her eyes made her balk.

"Oh no, my pet." The older woman remarked casually. "You have not disturbed me… you’ve granted me a much needed vacation. I will leave tomorrow morning and I look forward to that moment." Her lips raised on the corners, displaying her canine teeth. "You must be proud of what you’ve accomplished."

"Proud?"

"Helping the emperor make himself the laughingstock of Rome…" Crispina looked away momentarily, rearranging a coil of pearls that the slaves had not packed to her satisfaction. "I thought he was doing a wonderful job on his own, but you certainly have added flair to his performance. I had feared he was going to be merely an inadequate emperor- but with your help, he’s setting up a spectacular farce."

"Farce?" Marcia answered with another clipped syllable. Her features were tight, steeled against the fury she felt, but dared not display.

The empress laughed. "Taking his whore to lunch with the Senate."

Commodus’ lover stiffened, her cheeks flushing pink. "I’m not a whore…" She said sharply.

"No?" Crispina pretended that the information was a revelation- and then her features relaxed as though she had just remembered something. "Oh- that is right. You aren’t actually being paid…. well, bed and board I suppose." Her teeth flashed. "But in other respects…"

"Commodus loves me!" Marcia said furiously. "And I love him…"

"Love?" The empress laughed. "You ignorant child! He doesn’t want you, Marcia Cressida. He wants you to want him. There is only one woman he loves- that he has ever loved."

"You?" It was Marcia’s turn to taunt.

The Augusta shook her head, unwounded by the barb. Her eyes glimmered maliciously. "Lucilla."

Marcia’s stomach tensed, and her confidence faltered. Lucilla? Lucilla was his sister. It made no sense at all.

"I’m telling you this as a friend." The hollowness of Crispina’s voice did not try to hide the lie. "You are such a little thing to let yourself be hurt…but you will see soon enough. Every kiss. Every touch…. it isn’t for you Marcia."

"Silence!"

The vehemence in the girl’s voice surprised even herself, and the empress fell obediently still. The women glared at each other while, in the background, the slaves shared a look of nervousness.

"You may believe what you wish…" Crispina added at last. "Believe that he loves you- that you can make him good…but I know the truth. Rome knows the truth." She smiled evilly again. "Soon you will know the truth as well."

*****

Flavia paced back and forth in the corridor in front of Proximo’s office. She was aware that her behavior was not befitting a lady of her status, but she didn’t care. She was nervous and she didn’t mind showing it. Maximus was supposed to fight again that afternoon and she was scared for him. She had not attended the games because Commodus had not gone to see them himself, and she was grateful to have been spared the cruel spectacle, but now the waiting was straining her already tense nerves.

The sound of approaching steps made her stop and she held her breath as Proximo appeared in the hallway. The lanista had a big grin of his face, which became even wider then he saw Flavia, "Good evening, lady."

"Proximo,"

"Have you been waiting long?"

"Long enough,"

"I am sorry, but the crowd called for Maximus to do an encore and, as an entertainer, I could not deny them." Proximo widened his arms in apologize as Flavia let go a relieved sigh.

"Where is Maximus?"

"He is in the baths, washing. He will be brought to you in few minutes." Proximo unlocked the door and motioned for her to precede him inside his office where, once more, several gold coins changed hands.

*****

When Maximus arrived to the room Flavia was already there and the food was on the table.

"Good evening, my lady," he said as the guards left them alone.

"Good evening, Maximus." She smiled, seeing how handsome he was with his hair still damp and his skin shining with oil. "Do you want to eat now or do you prefer to rest a bit on the cot?"

"I would like to relax for a while, if it is alright for you."

"Of course it is."

They sat down on the cot, glasses of wine in their hands, and Maximus closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the wall.

"Was the match hard?" she asked softly.

"Not terribly.... at least not physically." He replied without opening his eyes.

"And.. emotionally?"

"Very difficult. I had to fight against four Britons, four women...." his voice was a barely audible murmur.

"If you want to talk I am here, you know you can confide me." She whispered knowing there was more he wanted, and needed to say.

Maximus opened his eyes and met hers, "Thank you. I-I hate to combat in the arena but to fight against women is even more terrible. In all my years spent in the legions, I never, ever intentionally harmed a woman or a child, even when they tried to harm me. I always thought that there was no honor in harming weaker creatures that were only paying the price of their husbands’ and fathers’ mistakes. But now, I cannot choose, I cannot follow my code of honor. It is they or I."

"I am sorry, Maximus," Flavia said, painfully aware of how empty those words were. She wanted to help him but she did not know what to do.

"Every time I thrust my sword in the flesh of a woman my eyes see my wife... It does not matter how different the fighters are from Selene, I always see her...It is as if I am killing her, over and over again..." his voice died in a whisper as he squeezed his eyes tightly to avoid to shed tears.

"Oh Maximus!" feeling her heart breaking, Flavia turned on the cot, and pulled him to her breast. He did not resist to her action, but let her cradle him as if he was a child, her hand gently caressing his back. After a while he stood up, and looked at her with a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude.

"Don’t say anything," she said, stopping him from thanking her yet another time and he nodded. Maximus took a deep breath and said, "Perhaps is better to eat our dinner before it get cold."

"Good idea."

He stood up and then helped her to do the same, escorting her to the table and pulling back the chair for her.

"Such a gentleman you are," she joked and was relieved to see a small smile curl his lips upward.

"Always, with a lady like you." He sat in front of her and for the next several minutes the only sounds in the room were those of chewing and drinking. After a while he said, looking deeply into her eyes, "You never spoke to me about your marriage... Were you happy Flavia?"

She was surprised by his question but nevertheless she did not hesitate to answer, "As much as you can be when you marry someone out of duty and not out of love. Licinius was a good man, much older than me, and good-natured. There was never love between us, but we respected each other. Perhaps, if we had been given a baby, something deeper might have been born by that respect...but the gods decided otherwise."

"I am sorry," murmured Maximus, hearing the longing in her voice, "You would have been a wonderful mother, I am sure of it."

She smiled weakly, "I have not yet buried all my hopes to become one, I still have some good years in front of me to bear a child. All I need is a man..." Flavia said the last words with a cocked eyebrow, giving to them an amused tone, and thus Maximus did not notice the hungry and wishful way she was staring at him.

"Well," he said with a grin, raising his glass, "I wish you luck for your search!"

"Thank you," she replied, as her glass touched his own.

*****

Marcia walked slowly through the Imperial gardens, trying to ignore the slave that paced a few steps behind her, and the Praetorians a few steps ahead. After more than a week in the Imperial palace, Marcia had determined that the main difference between living with Caesar and living at home was one of scale. At her own villa, the gardens could be crossed in a minute or two, while she could easily wander here for hours. At home, she had always been under the watchful eye of her sister, just as she was under guard now.
Her sister.
Marcia sighed as she thought of Flavia. She wondered, not for the first time, what her sister was doing, and when they would be able to meet again. They had not spoken since the games where the gladiator called the Spaniard had revealed himself as General Maximus.
In a few days, the Spaniard was set to duel again. She had heard Commodus talking about a man named "Tigris" who had never been defeated. Marcia was certain that the former soldier was going to lose.... - and she was frantic at the thought of how her sibling would feel. She hadn't known, until Flavia's revelation, that her big sister was even capable of love. How terrible it would be to lose someone you cared about so deeply!
"It is cold, my lady. Would you like to head back inside the palace now?"
The inquiry of the slave, carefully modulated to appear as solicitation for her mistresses health, rather than boredom with walking, brought a scowl to Marcia's face. The imperial slaves, rather than being better trained than the ones at home, were far too impressed with their own positions to know when to hold their tongues.
Marcia toyed with the idea of permitting the girl to go back indoors and then thought better of it. The servant was there for her convenience, not the other way around. "I think that I would like to take another turn." She said haughtily, turning down another path. She studiously ignored the exasperated sigh. Who was a chambermaid to tell her what to do? She was the empress of Rome! Well, almost the empress. The girl's hands twisted nervously in her skirts as she walked. It was no longer a secret in the palace that she was the emperor's lover. The emperor had no qualms about exercising his appetites for her in any area of the palace- public or not, and he had made her his consort for all of his meals and public functions. No one had commented about the relationship- at least, not where she could hear it, but she could feel disapproving stares as she sat next to him at the races, or shared his couch at dinner. Even Lucilla and Antonia, during the interminable sewing sessions they shared while the senate convened, kept themselves a little apart. They addressed her as domina, but their eyes added silently "mistress..."

*****

Flavia gave the slave, which greeted her at the imperial palace an imperious look.

"I’m sorry domina," the man said nervously, "But I was given instructions that Lady Marcia was not.."

"I’m not here to see my sister." Flavia said sharply, "I have an appointment with the empress."

"Lady Lucilla?" The slave said unevenly. He looked over her shoulder as if wondering if he should comply or not.

"Yes. She has summoned me." Flavia saw his resolve beginning to break. "I would hate to refuse an Imperial order or keep the Augusta waiting."

This seemed to cinch the deal. With a nod of his head, the old steward opened the door and permitted her inside. "I will send someone to fetch her directly." He said, turning into the main hall. "If you would wait in the reception area...."

His voice trailed off, and Flavia did as she was bid. She paced the small room nervously. What if Lucilla refused to see her? She might not realize that her friend had been forced to trick the servants. It doesn’t matter. Flavia thought to herself. This has gone far enough. I am speaking to Lucilla if I have to battle through an army of chamberlains to get there.

Luckily, it did not come to that. In a few moments, the servant returned. "The Augusta will see you now." He announced, and led her deeper into the palace.

In spite of the urgency of her mission, Flavia could not help but crane her neck into every hallway or ajar door that they passed, hoping for a glimpse of her sister. By now, the gossip at the palace had filtered spread through the Urbe, so that, rather than wondering what her sister was doing, she wished that she could turn off the steady stream of information. If gossips were to be believed, Commodus was behaving infamously- first sending his wife to exile, and then rubbing Marcia in the Senate’s nose. It was a comfort to know that the girl was not in danger of physical harm, but her reputation was beyond repair. Perhaps she should have acted sooner, both for Marcia’s and Maximus’ sakes, and not wait for someone else to do it. But what was done was done and she would have to deal with the result of her inactivity later.

Flavia subdued her thoughts as they stopped in front of a high, polished door. "Here." The slave said simply, holding the opening wide enough for her to pass though. The door closed heavily behind her.

"Flavia!" Lucilla said, rushing forward. There were no attendants in the room, something that the noblewoman found odd. "What do you need? Is something wrong?"

The Augusta looked uncharacteristically nervous. She glanced over her shoulder slightly. For a moment, Flavia thought that the curtain had moved.

"I wanted to talk to you about Maximus." She answered after a moment.

"Maximus?" Lucilla blinked.

"Yes. We have to help him, if we don’t act, your brother is going to have him killed."

"I am sure that my brother has his reasons," Lucilla’s voice was hollow and faintly tinged with sarcasm- but Flavia was still dissatisfied with the response.

"What reasons? The fact that Maximus should be the true emperor of Rome? That your father was murdered?"

Instantly, Flavia wished that she had not spoken. First, such a declaration was clearly treason- and in the dangerous climate of those days, could easily be grounds for her death. Of even greater concern, however, was the fact that it betrayed a secret: now Lucilla would know that she had been to visit Maximus.

To her credit, the Augusta did not react immediately. She seemed to digest the words carefully.

"True emperor?" She arched an eyebrow. "So you would put another man in his place."

Flavia averted her eyes, but did not deny it.

"I wonder.. how far..would you be willing to go?"

The old friends shared a look. Could they trust each other?

"As far as I must," Flavia said at last, throwing her caution to the wind. "Something must be done. I cannot wait another day while Maximus’ life is in danger and my sister is...." Her voice trailed off, but Lucilla nodded sympathetically. She turned her head backwards again, her eyes resting on the heavy draperies.

"Come out, Senator Gracchus. There is someone that I want you to meet."

Flavia took in a sharp intake of breath as an elderly, but stately man emerged from the heavy folds. He gave Lucilla a questioning look that seemed to say, "Are you sure?" but he met the visitor’s gaze with confidence.

"My lady." He murmured, bowing his head. "I am at your service."

"Senator Gracchus, this is Lady Cressida, the wife of the late Senator Licinius. Flavia, this is Senator Gracchus." She bit her lip and then forced a dark smile. "Welcome to our conspiracy."

Lucilla motioned that they should follow her deeper into the apartment. Flavia arched an eyebrow when they went to her chambermaid’s room.

"I sent her to the market." Lucilla explained. "I think that the room is secure- no one bothers to spy on slaves." She paused a moment after making the remark. "Well, they didn’t used to..." Breaking herself away from the thoughts, the Augusta turned to Flavia. "Surely you know by now the feelings of the equites and senators concerning my brother."

Flavia nodded her head.

"He is becoming more arrogant and self-indulgent every day. The headcount- the workaday folk of Rome- love him...for now. He caters to their every whim, knowing as long as he can keep them looking the other direction, he won’t have to provide any real government at all."

"But it can’t last forever." The senator stepped forward, the heavy folds of his toga lying heavily across his arm. "He is already selling the grain reserve and pulling back some of the legions from the frontiers and disbanding the auxiliaries. The governor in Britannia hasn’t received any allowance for his road building projects, and taxes in Egypt have been raised again."

Flavia finally found her voice. "And no one has said anything?"

Lucilla’s face turned sour. "No one notices anything unless it is right beneath their nose. Even the senators and knights would rather hedge their allegiance until the dice are cast." She swallowed. "They won’t oppose us, but they won’t help us either."

"Help us do what, precisely?" The other Roman lady arched an eyebrow.

The empress’ cheeks anger seemed to sag. "Assassination." She whispered at last. "Commodus must be killed."

Flavia’s lips formed a silent ‘O’. Her hands twined nervously in her skirts. What sort of an answer had she expected? There was no other way out...But poor Marcia...!

"How?" She whispered finally.

Gracchus nodded his head to indicate that the Augusta should reply.

"Poison." Lucilla said at last.

"But doesn’t Commodus have all of his food and drink tasted? How will you administer it?"

The pair of original conspirators shared a look. "Therein lies the problem." The man said. "From time to time, the Augusta prepares a sleeping tonic for her brother- but what if the poison were to fail, or something else were to go wrong. If the Augusta were implicated- or even suspected of a plot to overthrow her brother, she would be executed- and our access to Caesar might be so limited that we could never be close enough to make a second attempt."

Flavia mulled over what they told her.

"Lucilla is the only one he trusts?"

The empress looked hesitant. "There is one other person who could do it..."

Flavia frowned, unable to guess.

Gracchus sighed. "Your sister, Lady Marcia."

"But she would never help our cause. She’s blind to my brother’s faults- too in love to think properly."

Flavia swallowed, warring within herself. She wished that she had never become privy to the scheming. Then she would not have to make the choice that now confronted her: help them use her sister, or allow her love to languish in prison, risking death every time he stepped in the arena.

"You are only half-right." She said at last in a small voice. "She is too in love to think properly, but it will work for us, not against us."

"What do you mean?" Being a man, Gracchus found the idea harder to follow.

"I mean that Marcia is easily led. She loves the emperor with all the fiery passion of youth, and if she thought that he did not reciprocate her feelings...."

At last, the senator understood. "Can you do it?"

Flavia looked to the empress. "Find a way for me to meet my sister...I will take it from there."

*****

Flavia met Marcia in a secluded area of the large imperial garden. The girl was sitting on a marble bench, near a fountain, an arm stretched out lazily to touch the water in the pool, as she watched the little fishes in it swim back and forth.

"Marcia?" Flavia called softly.

Her sister turned around sharply, her joyous welcoming expression soon transforming in a worried one.

"Flavia!" What are you doing here? Commodus does not want you near me...." The older woman noticed how she had called the emperor by his name and not by his title, but refrained from commenting it. "Don’t worry, Lucilla is keeping him busy on the other side of the Palace." She smiled, "So, I see you are well."

Marcia nodded, "Yes. You too look fine."

Flavia smiled and then motioned with her head, "Walk with me." Marcia stood up and moved to her sister’s side. Together they roamed the gardens, admiring the blossoming flowers. It was only mid March but the plants were already full of multicolored buds. After a while Flavia decided it was time to tell her sister why she was there.

"Marcia," she began softly but with decision, "this is not a courtesy visit. I am here to advise you."

"Advise me about what? Commodus? Are you going to tell me to stay away from him now?" Marcia’s tone was hard.

"If it were possible for you to follow such a request-- yes, I would tell you so. But it is not possible and so I am here to inform you that powerful persons, people who care for Rome and the Empire, have decided that Caesar is too much of a danger. He is destroying everything his father fought for and he plans to do even more damage."

"How can you say so?" Marcia retorted, even if in her heart she knew it was the truth. She was all too aware that Commodus spent only a little time caring for the rulership of the Empire, devoting the majority of his time to the attendance of games, parties and sword practice.

"I know because...because," Flavia’s voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, "because I am part of a plot."

"What?" Marcia squeaked out.

"You heard me. I am part of a plot that involves senators and noble ladies. We cannot bear to see the Empire being destroyed and we cannot wait to see the persons we love being killed by a corrupt ruler."

Marcia tried to digest what Flavia had just said: it seemed such an incredible story, her sister, the perfect Roman matron, plotting against her Caesar! "Why are you telling me?"

"Because we need your help."

This time the younger woman was so shocked she was only able to stare at her sister with wide eyes and open mouth.

"We want to use a poison, a quick, painless substance which will not make him suffer. But we need someone close enough to him to give it to him...Someone he trusts..." Flavia stopped and gestured to Marcia with her head.

"Me?" The girl was frantic: it was not possible her sister was asking her to kill the man she loved.

"Yes, you."

"No, no," Marcia shook her head in earnest, "I could not do it to him!"

"Marcia, he is going to be killed in one way or the other, it is only a question of time. If you do it now, you will spare him a brutal murdered, and if he dies now, his good memory will be preserved. If we wait, his actions and planned actions will brand for eternity as a monster."

"But I love him! I need him! How can I kill him?"

"He is no longer the boy you knew.... He is like a rabid dog, dangerous even to the people he loves, and he must be eliminated." Then Flavia added, hoping to give her another push, "Lucilla also thinks so."

But the revelation did not receive the hoped result. Marcia’s voice was cold and firm when she said, "No. No, I cannot do that. And I won’t. I am sorry Flavia, but nothing you can say is going to convince me. If Lucilla wants to kill him, then she will have to do that by herself. And now, forgive me, but I must return to my room and get ready for dinner."

And without a second glance, she hurried away, trying desperately not to burst in tears.

*****

The following morning Flavia was awakened once again by the noise of the rain hitting the roof of her domus. She walked to her window and stared with annoyance at the black clouds in the sky. She had no intention of losing a single hour of the time the gods were granting her with Maximus, but she knew that going out during such a downpour would almost surely mean arriving at the Ludus Magnus soaked to the skin. Taking her litter was out of question. It was too recognizable and she did not want to attract attention.

Oh, what the hell, she thought, it is only water, and it will dry. And with that thought, she left the window to prepare for her day. She had some business to care for before she could join Maximus and the sooner she completed it the sooner she could depart. As she dressed she pondered if she should speak to Maximus about her meeting with Lucilla and Gracchus, but in the end she decided it was better to stay silent both to avoid worrying him and to prevent giving him false hopes, since their plan was still far from being put in practice.

*****

Maximus was in the room where he always met Flavia and was waiting not so patiently for her arrival. The time he passed with her was becoming increasingly important for him and he looked forward to it. He liked Flavia’s attitude toward him, he liked that she never asked anything from him but let him move and speak as he wanted, never forcing him. Since that terrible night in Germania he had never permitted himself to relax, living always on the edge, but now, in her presence, he finally could drop his guard and, by doing so, he had realized how badly his weary nerves had needed some respite. The brief hours of rest enabled him to be more focused and ready during the remainder of the day, and in his mind and heart a slight change of attitude was beginning, concerning Commodus. His desire for revenge was making Lucilla’s proposal to have him meet her politician more attractive. He had always thought that eliminating Commodus - or trying to do it - would have to be his last action, but perhaps he could look out and see if there was any way to accomplish it without being killed. Listening to Flavia describe her villa in Pythecusa, a small island near Baia, the reknowned sea town in the Southern Italian coast, had made him wish to visit it one day. He still missed his family very much and the pain of their loss was far from gone, but now a ray of light had pierced his dark future. He was beginning to hope again. And he thought that, perhaps, it was time to contact the Augusta again to listen to her plan. Maybe listening to her would enable him to do what he needed to do and at the same time help Flavia too. He could hear in her voice, every time she spoke, how much she worried about her little sister, Marcia. Flavia did not like when he thanked her, she said there was no need between friends, but still he wanted to show her his gratitude and what better way to free her from her unending worry?

Maximus was still lost in thought when he heard the door open; quickly he turned around to greet Flavia, a welcoming smile on his face.

"Good afternoon, my lady," he said at usual.

"Well, Maximus, ‘good’ is not exactly the word I would use to describe this afternoon. Damp, wet and cold would be more appropriate," she commented with an amused smile, taking off her dripping cloak and arranging it other the basin. Then, as Maximus approached her ready to help as he could, she removed her wet stola too, remaining with only her white, gold trimmed tunica on. The dress was damp too and it clung to her body, underscoring her full and womanly figure. Maximus stared amazed at her breasts, the tops of which were clearly visible thanks to the tunics plunging neckline. He did not remember such luscious curves when they were in Germania.... And then, when he thought that he could not be more surprised, he saw her uncoil her hair, and shake her head, making little drops of water fly in every direction. Maximus remained frozen on the spot, stunned by the transformation undergone by Flavia: she no longer was a cold, almost untouchable matron but a tantalizing Nymph, whose curling chestnut hair shone beneath the lamplight. He became aware of his arousal in a sudden, almost painful way, feeling betrayed by his body’s reaction to her beauty. How could he feel such a way for Flavia when, only two days before they sat together discussing his late wife? But that sobering thought did not bring his body under control, it only made him get angry with himself. Clenching his fists he turned his back to Flavia and walked to the window, hoping the cold air would cool his hot spirits.

*****

Flavia let out the breath she was withholding when she saw Maximus turn his back to her. She had been stunned when, just after she had finished combing her hair with her fingers, she had thrown a look to Maximus and noticed his smoldering stare and the telltale bulge beneath his tunic. Her heart had started to race as she saw him react to her in the way she had always hoped for, and she had waited in breathless anticipation for his next move.

His turning away from her was not what she had wished him to do and she realized she had to act quickly if she wanted her dream to become reality. She could not let him to retreat into his shell.

Flavia walked behind Maximus and slipped her arms around his waist, her hands brushing his hardness.

"Don’t," he angrily said, removing her hands and slipping out of her embrace to face her again.

"Why not, Maximus, if we both want it?" she asked quietly.

He began to pace back and forth, trying to voice his reasons, but her spicy perfume in his nose was making difficult concentrate on everything else outside his desire. "Flavia, this is no good, I could be killed tomorrow...I..."

"You won’t be killed tomorrow," she said with certainly.

"But this..." Maximus stopped as she walked in front of him and blocked his path.

"I want this, Maximus...Please," Flavia reached out a hand to caress his cheek and he moved his head away as if he had been burned. The longer she lingered near him, the more excited he became and he did not know how much longer he would be able to control himself. It had been so long...

He shook his head, both to deny her words and clear his mind, "You don’t know what are you saying...you don’t mean it..." he said hoarsely, backing away.

That sentence made Flavia’s carefully checked temper snap, as desire, rage and other feelings mingled together, "Don’t dare to tell me I don’t know what I want! I have always known what I wanted, since I was seventeen!" she shouted, "But then I was not free to do as I desired. I have never been able to do so, there was always something more important: my duty to my father, to my husband, to Rome. My needs have always been secondary.... But not today. Today I have the chance to follow my heart and I have no intention to relinquish that chance!!"

Flavia ended her tirade and glared at Maximus: having thrown her dice, she waited for his reaction.

They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, panting, sweating, their eyes burning with anger and arousal. The tension that charged the air was almost tangible.

Maximus’ eyes left Flavia’s to drop to her heaving breasts. With a groan of need he understood that this was a battle he could not win. He wanted her too much. In two rapid strides he was next to Flavia, gathering her in his arms, slamming her against his chest and claiming her lips for their first kiss.

In spite of his urgency, the kiss was a tender one. The fire within him was contained in the soft, seeking warmth of his lips against her. Flavia molded her mouth to his, her lips parting eagerly to admit his tongue. She shivered in delight as she felt the first tentative lick against her teeth, then the roof of her mouth, and then he pressed the wet muscle fully inside of her, stroking, tasting and probing her, mimicking the true object of his desire.

Flavia moaned as he pulled away.

"We..must..not..." Maximus groaned through clenched teeth.

Flavia could see a war behind his eyes. He was still fighting against his emotions, he didn’t like that he was unable to control them.

"No..." she murmured, twining her arms around his neck and dragging him back to her lips. She would not give up now. She had wanted him too badly, for too long to allow him to escape when he was finally in her grasp. "You are all I ever wanted," she confessed, her voice almost desperate as she raked her fingers through his short hair. "It was agony to be with you in Germania all those years ago, pretending that I felt only friendship."

"You?" Maximus managed only a single word before she buried his mouth against her shoulder. She did not want to answer his questions- not now. Now was not a moment for talking, but for feeling.

"Make love to me, Maximus." She begged, finally allowing him to move away.

Her body tensed with nervousness as she awaited his response. Hesitation flickered behind his eyes, and she seemed to feel his thoughts, in the shivers that sliced through her belly as he wavered between ‘yes’ and ‘no’.

At last, the suspense was too great to bear, and Flavia slid to her knees at his feet. She wrapped her arms around his hips, planting her head in his lap and nuzzling the bulge beneath his tunic.

"Surrender," she hissed, nearly driven to madness by the feelings that the evidence of his desire excited in her flesh, "surrender..."

As if in answer to his plea, his knees buckled. He slid to the floor beside her, catching her once more in his arms.

"I don’t want to need you so badly," he murmured.

Flavia nodded at the words, but did not allow them to sting her. She understood his feelings. Hadn’t she felt them too? Each miserable night in her marriage bed had been spent with longing for the man she could never have. Maximus lived in her memories as a constant reminder of what her husband could never be. It was dangerous to want too badly, to need, it was better to be controlled by one’s head.

Flavia sighed as Maximus pushed her back onto the cold stone floor. There was the cot in the room, but they were too crazed to pause for niceties. In a single rip Maximus stripped away her tunic, pawing her flesh with a craving like the beasts that were penned nearby.

The woman’s own hands seemed to move without conscious thought. They slid along his powerful thighs, following the well-defined sinews to the curve of his bottom. She slid her fingers beneath the edge of his loincloth, probing the damp heat of his skin before tearing the garment away.

As she worked, Maximus continued to run his hands over her skin. She shivered in ecstasy as his mouth closed over her breasts and one of his hands dipped between her legs to measure her readiness to receive him.

Flavia gasped with delight as his battle-calloused finger slid inside her sheath. She knew without the moan of satisfaction that seeped through his lips that she could take him. She was slick and hot, aching for him with a frenzy that she had never known. The ache in her womb throbbed through her body, growing with every heartbeat. She needed him now.

Without waiting to pull his tunica from his shoulders, Flavia arched her hips against his shaft. She parted her legs to him, inviting him to taste all the hidden wonders of her womanhood.

"Surrender," she whispered again. The word ended in a jagged hiss as he slammed into her with all of his strength. Her head ached back against the stones. She was momentarily disoriented by the waves of pleasure that sped through her nerves, barely able to regain her presence of mind soon enough to brace herself against the second thrust.

Maximus drove into her with abandon. The fear and uncertainty of his existence was discarded as he became, with Flavia, simply a man, given over to a man’s desires.

And such a man! Flavia cradled his head tenderly as she recovered from the initial shock of his entry. She moved her hips against him in a slow circle, urging him to use her however he desired.

Oh, Maximus. We’ve wasted so much time... Even as her flesh rushed toward release, Flavia was full of regrets. They had squandered so many precious hours- first in Germania, and then here in Rome. It always should have been like this.

The woman’s attention was turned from her thoughts as she felt a new stab of delight. The Spaniard’s hand had found the place where their bodies joined, and he rubbed his thumb against her most sensitive flesh.

"Maximus!" Flavia had never experienced anything like the crush of pleasure that racked through her frame. She was helpless against the sudden climax, and her body convulsed in slow waves. Pleased, the soldier’s hand slipped away. He repositioned his hips, driving into her again. And again. And again.

And then his body began to tremble. Flavia’s hands tightened on his buttocks, pushing him almost through her as his body found its own release. Deep within her core, the hot jets of his seed pulsed against her womb, inspiring a second tremor of pleasure through her nerves.

At last, Maximus was still. He slumped weakly against Flavia’s chest, his head against her breast. She began to caress his still clothed shoulders in large soothing circles, not minding the cold, hard, stone beneath her back. She concentrated only on Maximus’ warmth and weight. Her eyes closed to savor the feeling and, almost without being aware of it, she fell asleep.

*****

When Flavia woke up, she found herself lying on the cot. Maximus was near her, turned on his left side, his head supported by his elbow. He was looking at her intently as his right hand traced mindless patterns on her skin. She smiled at him and felt her heart flutter as he replied in the same way. Then her eyes moved from his ruggedly handsome face to slide down his body: he had taken off his tunic and she devoured him with her gaze. His muscled shoulders, his broad chest, his taut stomach, his...Flavia was thrilled to discover he was once again ready for her. Her eyes returned to his face and her smile widened. Then she opened her arms and parted her legs in a silent invitation that Maximus accepted eagerly.

This time was different from the first: it had the same passion but not its frenzy. They took time to discover and savor each other and their joining was even more satisfying. In the end Maximus once more collapsed over Flavia, burying his face in her neck, panting in her ear as she stroked his hair.

"I love you," she whispered in the increasing darkness of the room, "I love you so much." He did not reply, but she had not expected him to do so. She had only felt the need to say those words aloud, for the first time in her life: for so long she had dreamed to do so, and now finally, the dream became reality.

Few minutes later, lulled by the soothing sounds of the still falling rain, they fell once more asleep, safe and warm in each other’s arms.

*****

The bright sun shining on Rome that afternoon seemed to beg pardon to the citizens for the terrible downpour of the previous day. Flavia smiled as a sunbeam caressed her face, thinking that even if the climate of March had been crazy as the proverbs claimed it to be, for once it had been to her favor. Her smile widened when she remembered Maximus’ reaction to her wet appearance and then she blushed as her memory returned to what they had done the afternoon and night before. The images were so vivid, so alive, she suspected that it would not been difficult for her to attend the games that day: she was sure that with just a little concentration she would be able to leave that place of death with her mind and return to the room where she and Maximus had shared so much pleasure.

Flavia sat down on her assigned chair in the imperial box and wondered when Commodus was going to arrive. She wanted to see Marcia. So many days had passed since the last time they had been together. That morning, just after she had returned home after spending the night with Maximus, a palace messenger had brought her Lucilla’s invitation to attend the games. In her already excited mood she had almost jumped with joy. And now she awaited, with barely concealed impatience, the arrival of the imperial entourage and her sister.

Down in the sand wagons full of bread were circling the ring as Caesar’s servants threw still hot loaves to the hungry crowd, which received them with screams of joy. These were transformed in a roar as finally Commodus stepped in the arena.

"Caesar, Caesar, Caesar!" the screams of the audience followed him as he took place on the imperial box.

"Caesar," said Flavia, bowing deeply.

"Ah, Flavia, it is a pleasure to see you again," Commodus said giving her his hand to be kissed. "I am sure Marcia will be delighted to inform you of the news."

"As you say, Caesar," the woman only nodded, not knowing what to think of his last comment or why he seemed so pleased with himself. Then she straightened up and saw Marcia. Her little sister looked wonderful, dressed with clothes befitting an empress and her hair intricately arranged. She was smiling and her skin was flushed with a healthy shade of pink. However, Flavia noticed lines of strain around her eyes and mouth.

Flavia approached Marcia a little hesitantly, not knowing how she would react to see her again after the abrupt end of their conversation in the imperial gardens. However her sister did not seem to hold a grunge because she embraced her warmly, saying, cocking her head, "You look radiant, Flavia. You are almost glowing..."

Flavia smiled and whispered in her ear, "Maximus." It was only a word but Marcia understood, nodding her head and making a gesture with her hand that meant ‘later’, and then went to sit near Commodus. Flavia finished greeting the rest of the group, Lucilla, Antonia and her husband, and then sat down on her chair, concentrating on what was happening on the arena. A four-horse chariot had just entered the ring, carrying one of the tallest and biggest men she had ever seen. The crowd reacted enthusiastically at Tigris of Gaul’s appearance and the guests of the imperial box began to whisper to each other, wondering who would be forced to fight that giant of a man.

All except of Marcia, who threw a worried glance to her sister. She had seen how happy the woman looked and even if she had not understood exactly what she had meant with her remark, she knew Maximus was the reason of her joy and Marcia was afraid she would lose him very soon.

Flavia paled as, acclaimed by the crowd chanting his name, Maximus walked in the sand ring. Why was he there? She wondered. He should have fought the next day, Proximo had told her so. That’s why she had been allowed to spend all the night with him, because he would have time plenty of time to rest. Flavia bit her lower lips as she compared Maximus to Tigris: her love was a big man but near the other gladiator he looked very small... "Oh please gods, don’t let him be too tired," she prayed, as gripping the sides of her chair, she prepared to watch the combat.

*****

Luckily for Flavia, Lucilla and Marcia, all worried, even if for different reasons, the fight was brief and once again Maximus emerged victorious from it.

But their sigh of relief was short lived as Commodus stormed out the imperial box and marched down in the arena ring to confront with his nemesis. Marcia moved near Flavia, who was standing near the edge of the box, and covered her sister’s hand - which was gripping the marble balustrade - with her own, in a gesture of silent support. They watched with withheld breath as Caesar and Maximus confronted in the center of the arena and, even if they were too far away to understand what they are saying, Flavia was able to see rage and then sadness appear on Maximus’ face before he turned his back to his tormentor and went away.

"How, for gods’ sake, you can like such a monster?" the older sister finally said with contempt.

"I don’t like him, Flavia, I love him and I hope my love will heal him from a life without affection." Marcia’s voice was fierce.

"And Commodus? Does he love you?"

"Yes, he told me so." The girl replied, pointedly ignoring Crispina’s remarks that every kiss and caress was meant for Lucilla and not for her.

"Oh, Marcia! You cannot be so idiot! So blind! He loves only himself!"

"How can you say so?" Marcia snapped, "You don’t know him! No one knows him as I do!"

"And since when have you become an expert in reading human nature? Or do you claim experience, rather than study? Oh, my child, I fear you are going to be deeply wounded." Flavia put her hands on Marcia’s upper arms but her sister shook them away, "Don’t call me child, I am no longer one! And I am tired of your constant patronizing! You are just like father, always telling me everything I do is wrong or silly or stupid! I am sick of it, I can care for myself!"

Flavia stepped back from Marcia too hurt to be angry. Never before Marcia had reacted so badly and she did not know what to do. Sensing that Lucilla was looking at them, she simply commented, "I hope you are right, Marcia." And returned to sit on her chair. Her younger sister saw her defeated and hurt expression and her first reactions was a desire to ask for her pardon, but Quintus’ arrival, carrying Commodus’ orders to join him at once did not allow her to do so.

*****

When Flavia arrived to the Ludus Magnus for her daily visit to Maximus darkness had almost fallen. She knew she would be able to stay with him only for a short time but she wanted to ascertain he was all right and she hoped to find some comfort in his arms after the terrible fight with her sister.

He was waiting for her sitting on the cot and she was relieved to see he seemed to be fine, at least physically, but his face was pale and unreadable. He nodded to her as she stepped inside the room but otherwise he did not show any sign of greeting or pleasure upon seeing her again.

Perhaps he is merely tired, Flavia tried to reassure herself, but was not able to shake off all of her worry. She knelt near him and said, "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted," Maximus said in an impersonal tone.

"Here with me I have a massage oil which will make you feel better.... Just remove your tunic and let me work," she smiled to him but he shook his head in negative.

"This is no good, Flavia, you must stop coming here."

She was stunned, "Why?" she blinked and went on, after he did not reply, "Is it because of yesterday?"

He nodded with his head, without looking at her.

"Are you- are you regretting what happened?"

"Yes. It was mistake, Flavia. An enormous mistake." Maximus swallowed hard and then, deciding she deserved the truth, he added, "It is not your fault, it is only mine. I betrayed the memory of my wife and I cannot forgive myself for it." He looked at his hands and following his gaze she saw he was clenching two small, carved figurines that looked like a woman and a child.

"But surely...surely she would love to see you happy again...."

"I betrayed her." He said coldly, "I behaved like an animal in heat while the man who murdered her and my son is still alive and while their souls are still screaming for revenge." His fists closed around the carvings as his face contorted in self-loathing.

His voice was hard and full of resolution and Flavia became aware that nothing she said would make him change his mind. She nodded sadly, even as her heart seemed to break in her chest.

"I-I understand Maximus, and I won’t return to see you, if you so desire, even if you will remain ‘reserved for me’. But please know it was not a mistake for me, it was the most wonderful night of my entire life." And speaking thus she bent forward, brushing his lips with her own, and then stood up and almost ran to the door, stopping just few second to say, "If you need me, tell Proximo to send me a message. He knows where to find me." And then she left the room, hoping to be able to restrain her tears till she was away from that building.

How was it possible that a day began so beautifully had transformed in a nightmare in just few hours? Was this the price she had to pay for a little happiness? Or were the gods punishing her for some unknown fault?

Flavia had no answers as she returned to her cold and lonely home.

*****

Marcia nestled next to the emperor, listening to the sounds of the palace at night. Her lover was already asleep, his breath soft and regular as he dreamed, but Marcia’s mind was too full of worries to find rest.

Another day had come and gone with no sign of her monthly bleeding, and she was beginning to notice other signs of pregnancy as well: nausea in the morning before she ate, tenderness and heaviness in her breasts, and a terrible tiredness that would not leave no matter how many hours she slept.

If only Commodus would divorce Crispina! Then she could tell him her news. Tonight, the babe that rested in her womb was an unwanted bastard, but if the empress were put away, he could be an heir- then Caesar would want to marry her- surely!

Marcia bit her lip, wishing again that her life could go back to the simple routine that she had cursed for its monotony. Was it just this past summer that she had lounged in the gardens at Pynthecusa, fretting over which frock would look the prettiest for visiting the country with her friends? How quaint her problems seemed now, a mere season later, when the toils of the entire empire seemed to hang about her shoulder.

There were footsteps in the hall, and Marcia craned her ears to the sound. The guards were changing. The night was half past- and still she could not sleep. She tuned her ears to the steady sound of their pacing outside, hoping the soft noises would lull her to sleep.

She frowned as the walking suddenly stopped, and the muted sound of masculine laughter drifted into the chamber. What were they doing outside? She tensed as the footsteps inched toward the doorway, and then relaxed as a girlish giggle floated through the air.

They were flirting.

Marcia snorted indignantly at the door, and then tried to settle down again. She knew that people joked about the emperor being afraid of the dark, but she had seen- very quickly- that the dangers of the night were all too real. She touched Commodus’ cheek tenderly, and he stirred in his sleep.

"Mmmmmmm…." He murmured happily, smiling to himself.

"I am here with you, darling." She whispered, pleased by his reaction.

"I love you." The words were like a sigh, and from the wide, drowsy smile on his features, she knew that he was still asleep. Marcia’s heart began to pound. I love you. Whether conscious or not, he had thought it. She leaned toward his lips, wanting to wake him with a kiss when he spoke a final word.

"…Lucilla."

The happiness that she had floated on was suddenly yanked away, and Marcia’s heart seemed to fall into the pit of her stomach. She had almost forgotten Crispina’s taunt from weeks before, but now it returned to her more potent than ever.

A thousand dark emotions seemed to flow through Marcia at once. Pain. Then fury, and finally jealousy- a jealousy so potent that it seemed to boil through her very veins. She knew that the emperor had other women. There were dozens that lounged in the baths waiting for his summons, and at least two dozen more girls noble birth and otherwise spotless reputation who had vanished from parties only to return, hours later, with a too-knowing grin- but they were different. They were distractions. She could easily share Commodus’ body- but not his heart.

She doesn’t love you back!
Marcia wanted to scream the words, to slap him across the face with them until she could make him understand…but, of course, she did not.

No one was less deserving of his affection than his sister. She was all smiles and indulgence in his presence, but apart from him she plotted for his death.

The girl was chilled by the sudden clarity with which she saw the future. For a moment, the man beside her was transformed. No longer was he the handsome, virile young emperor- but a corpse: pale and cold, stuck down by his sister’s hate.

And I will help her. In her anger, the weight of her love for Commodus had lightened just enough to tip the balance of her resolve. Commodus wanted her, but not enough. It was Flavia who earned her loyalty now. It was Flavia whom she could not betray.

The footsteps in the hall resumed again, but the woman could not her them. At last, her mind was still, but she had not found rest- only a numb oblivion, and the terrifying suspicion that she would never sleep easy again.

*****

Marcia’s hands trembled as Antonia stirred the last bit of powder into the cup. "He has to drink almost all of it." The Praetorian’s wife admonished the girl for the umpteenth time. "Every drop you can manage. We had to distill it so that it would pass the taster, so don’t refill his glass until it is empty- and for the Gods sakes, don’t let the slaves swoop in and give him another glass. Marcia do you hear me?" Antonia regarded the younger woman with a look of exasperation. "Quintus?" She said to her husband. "Could you give us a moment alone?"

The Prefect nodded his head gravely and stepped outside.

Marcia shirked from Lady Laeta’s grasp. "I understand." She said weakly, almost afraid to meet the other woman’s gaze. They were all so brave-- so sure of what they were doing!

"Marcia, look at me."

Reluctantly, the girl did as she was bid, and was surprised to see Antonia’s features arranged in a look of compassion, rather than accusation. "I know that this will be hard," She said quietly. "I know that you ...that you love him- but that is why this must be done."

The object of her words made little sign of comprehension.

"You know that he...isn’t right." The noblewoman phrased her allusion to the Emperor’s madness as delicately as possible. "You know that he is drifting farther and father away from the man that he wants to be- the man that you see inside. If we stop him now," She was careful not to use the word ‘kill’, "then there is still hope for his memory to live on untarnished.... think, Marcia. What do you want his legacy to be? That he plunged the empire into chaos? Abandoned our borders to savages? Drained the treasury?" The patriotic appeal had no effect, and so she lowered her voice. "Do you want your sister to die?" At this, Marcia’s lower lip began to tremble.

Antonia looked at her hands. "It is getting late," She whispered. "we must act now."

The young girl nodded her head, accepting the cup with shaking hands.

"Careful!" her companion said sharply, her tone an expression of the tension she felt. She stepped into the hallway and signaled her husband, and then she laid her hand on Marcia’s shoulder, leading her to the hall. "This way." She said. "He is in one of the galleries. The two of you should be alone."

*****

Commodus squinted his eyes into the darkness of the chamber where he stood. The sun had nearly set behind the hill and the dim light that trickled into the room cast deep shadows on the floors and walls. He would call the guards to light the torches soon. He didn’t like to be in the dark alone, not here of all places.

Caesar’s sharp green eyes faced forward, centering on the bust of Marcus Aurelius that sat on the podium before him. The likeness had been taken when Commodes was only a boy. The young vibrant face of the then-emperor was a visage that he barely remembered. It could have been so different. He thought with despair, almost able to feel his father’s reproachful spirit in the cool air that swirled around him. We might have been friends. The young man reached his hand toward the cold marble, lightly caressing the contours of one smooth cheek. Might have been. But it was not. Marcus Aurelius had never believed that his son was fit to come after him. He had never even offered a chance, preferring instead to leave his legacy to a rough-and-tumble provincial that had never even been to Rome. But your plans failed as well, didn’t they, father? I couldn’t make you love me, but you could not make me do your will. The young man’s features hardened as his hand moved from the cheek to the chin of the statue, and then to the neck, grasping it tightly, remembering. And soon my victory shall be complete.

"Caesar?"

Commodus dropped his hand abruptly, spinning around to face the intruder.

"Leave me!" He hissed.

There was a slight pause, and then the sound of light footsteps backing away. "I’m sorry." The voice murmured.

A familiar voice.

"Marcia?" The anger drained from his tone. "Is that you?"

"Yes, Caesar." Came the reply. "I am sorry to disturb you, I-"

"It’s alright." He said softly. "I didn’t recognize you." He extended his hand into the shadows. "Come."

*****

Marcia stepped forward slowly, her small body shaking so badly that some of the wine sloshed over the edges of the glass, the garnet liquid splattered like blood against the tile floor. "What are you doing?" she asked quietly.

Commodus didn’t answer. She followed his gaze to the statute of his father.

She shivered.

"You look tired, my love." She whispered, her voice cracking on the final words.

"I am tired." He answered hollowly. He turned to face her, but his eyes seemed to pass through her body. "So tired...why don’t they love me, Marcia?"

"Wh-who?"

"Them," He waved his arm in the direction of the window. "I’ve given them everything they wanted.."

"They do love you, Commodus." She replied, trying to gather her courage.

"Then why do they cheer for Maximus?" Marcia bit her lip, unsure of how to respond.

"That’s all I ever asked for." He said hoarsely. "I’ve always tried so hard, but it was never enough ...never enough."

"Caesar!"

Leaving the wine on a table, Marcia rushed forward, hesitating only a moment before pulling him into her arms.

"It is enough for me." She said hoarsely, tears welling up in her eyes. She didn’t care what Antonia thought, or if Commodus was really in love with Lucilla or even, Gods forgive her, if her sister would die at his hands. She knew too well what it was to be ignored, or worse, to be intentionally overlooked.

"You brought me a glass of wine?" the emperor extricated himself from her arms and stepped toward the goblet.

Marcia’s heart leapt to her throat. This was the moment of truth. The world seemed to slow as Caesar crossed the room. Illogically, a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She was amused at the realization that- for this fleeting moment in time- she was the most powerful woman in the world. Without anyone else knowing, she held the life of the Roman Emperor in her hands. For this instant, she was the Goddess who could change the fate of men- and yet she was still too weak to defy her own heart. No matter what he had become, Commodus was still the man that she loved. He was all that she had.

Time suddenly sped forward again.

"No!" Marcia lunged forward, hurling her body toward the table. She fell short of the cup, but her elbow jarred one of the slender table legs. The drinking vessel jarred violently, and then tipped to the side, spilling its contents and smashing into a thousand pieces on the floor.

The emperor blinked in surprise, while Marcia cowered on her knees, unsure of how to explain her behavior.

"You’re bleeding."

The emperor’s voice broke her from her trance. Glancing down, she could see that he was correct. One of the shards had lodged in her forearm, and a thin trail of scarlet trailed across her skin.

His green eyes rested heavily on the cup, and then he met Marcia’s gaze. She could barely meet the look, ashamed of the concern that she saw in the jade orbs. If he only knew…

"I’m sorry Caesar. I just remembered that it wasn’t a vintage that you liked. If I weren’t so clumsy..."

"It’s all right," he murmured. "Have a slave tend to your arm. I’ll be with you soon."

"Yes, Caesar." She answered numbly, and then stepped into the hall.

Quintus was waiting just outside the door. He arched his eyebrow in alarm, the gesture deepening the scar that slashed across his forehead. "Is it..?" He began quietly.

"Slave!" Commodus’ voice echoed from inside the chamber as he called for an attendant to clean the spill. Marcia winced at the sound, lowering her face to her feet.

"I will not betray you, Prefect." She whispered, her voice tinged with helpless rage, "but I will not further your plans. Caesar may die, but not at my hand...it will have to be enough."

Hoping that he did not see the tears that flooded her eyes, she sprinted into the hall.

*****

Maximus was resting in his cell after his morning session of training, laying on his side straw filled bed, looking at the two small figurines resting near his pillow, when the door opened and Proximo came in.

"General, you have a visit. Come with me," the lanista’s voice was a bit nervous.

Maximus stood up at once, wondering whom it might be. Was it possible that it was Lucilla and her politician? His manservant, Cicero, had informed him to expect the Augusta the day before and he hoped that his wait was finally over.

The Spaniard approached Proximo and was surprised when the lanista gave him a soft, deep blue robe to cover his coarse, dirty tunic. He thanked the other man with a bow of his head and arranged the dress over his shoulders, before following his master outside and across the courtyard.

The room he was led in was sparsely furnished with a long table and two benches, weapons hanging from the walls, and a pot on a fire, but Maximus barely noticed it, his gaze fixed on the woman standing there. Lucilla.

"Leave us," she commanded to Proximo and he obeyed, leaving the room after a slight bow of his head.

As soon as they were alone the Augusta turned her head and called, "Senator Gracchus,"

As white haired man with a distinguished look came out from behind a wall and walked near them, the Spaniard sat down on a bench.

"General," the senator addressed Maximus, respect clear in his voice.

Maximus nodded in greeting.

"I hope my coming here today is evidence enough you can trust me." The politician went on, but Maximus’ reply showed he was not convinced of anything. His trust had been betrayed too often. He exchanged a brief glance with Lucilla and then asked without looking at Gracchus, "The Senate is with you?"

"The Senate?" Gracchus said, stepping nearer to him, "Yes, I can speak for them."

"Can you buy my freedom and smuggle me out of Rome?" Maximus went on without losing time in pleasantries because he was not that kind of man and because he needed to know if the plan he had concocted was going to be accepted.

"To what end?"

"Get me outside the walls of the city. Have fresh horses ready to take me to Ostia. My army is encamped there. By nightfall of the second day, I’ll be back at the head of five thousand men." There, he had said it.

Gracchus was appalled by what he was implying but it was Lucilla who spoke, "But all the Legions have new commanders, loyal to Commodus."

"Let my men see me alive and you’ll see where their loyalties lie." Maximus knew his words might sound arrogant to some ears but it was the simple truth: he loved his men and he knew they loved him. And he was aware they could be his only chance to accomplish what he wanted to do: realize Marcus Aurelius’ last command, avenge his family and repay Flavia’s kindness by freeing her little sister from Commodus’ paws.

Finally Gracchus seemed to find his voice again and exclaimed, "This is madness! No Roman army has entered the capital in a hundred years."

"Gracchus-" Lucilla’s voice showed impatience but the Senator interrupted her, almost shouting, "I will not trade one dictatorship for another!"

Maximus would have liked to snort at what the man was implying but he realized Gracchus did not know him and so he could not know that he was not at least interested in grabbing the power for himself. He only wanted to do what his Emperor had asked him to do and then retire to some quiet place and try to build himself a new life away from Rome, war, and politics.

That was, of course, if he survived the battle.

"The time for half measures and talk is over, Senator," he said curtly.

"And after your glorious coup, what then? You’ll take your five thousand warriors and... leave?" Gracchus was skeptical and ironic, as if what he had just said was ridiculous.

"I will leave," answered plainly Maximus, "The soldiers will stay for your protection, under the command of the Senate."

"So, once all of Rome is yours, you just will give it back to the people," the senator was still unconvinced, "Tell me why?"

Maximus stayed silent for few seconds, trying to formulate a sentence which would show all of his good will and sincerity, "Because that was the last wish of a dying man," he said softly, looking at Lucilla to be sure she understood what he was really saying. Then he added, "I will kill Commodus. The fate of Rome I leave to you."

Gracchus and the Augusta exchanged a glance and she nodded without reservation. The Senator turned to meet Maximus’ eyes and said, "Marcus Aurelius trusted you. His daughter trusts you. I will trust you." It was a big leap of faith for the politician and Maximus acknowledged it with a small bow of his head. "But we have little time. Give me two days and I will buy your freedom. And you-" Gracchus walked to Maximus and he stood up, grasping firmly the hand offered to him, "you stay alive, or I will be dead." The two men stared in their eyes for several seconds then the politician said to Lucilla, "Now let’s go."

Maximus watched them leave the room, musing that the next two days would be among the longest of his life.

*****

Marcia rubbed her eyes and came slowly awake. It was always disorienting to greet each morning in the elaborate surroundings of the Emperor’s bedroom. In spite of the weeks- now months that she had spent at the palace, she always half-expected to find herself in the cramped but comforting confines of her chamber at home.

It was nearly daybreak. Squinting through the open window, she could see a pale glow on the edge of the horizon behind the hills. It would be dawn soon. How long had it been since she had arisen before the sun? Something had awakened her...but what?

Instinctively, the woman turned to the side of the bed where Commodus lay, and her breath caught in her throat when she discovered that he wasn’t there.

Had something happened to him? Had they taken away?

Still groggy, she struggled to remember, until the smooth, taut lines of the bed linens informed her that he had never come to bed at all.

Where could he be?.

Her first thought was that he was lingering in the arms of a courtesan, but after a brief stab of jealousy, she pushed the idea away. She knew that he found pleasure with many women, but she was the only one that he allowed to hold him through the night- and besides, there had been no banquet or gathering the night before. The last time she had seen him, he had been with his nephew, reading. She had left before Lucilla arrived...

Lucilla. Marcia felt another pang of envy simply by thinking the other woman’s name. In spite of her resolution on the night of the failed poisoning- her recognition that, no matter where the Emperor’s affections lay, it did not change her love for him- she could not stifle the pain that he would select someone so undeserving to cherish. Had he been with Lucilla then? Cradled against her breast while he dreamed?

Exasperated with herself, Marcia flung the blankets back and sat up. She would not be able to rest again until she found Commodus, so she may as well go and look for him. At the sound of her stirring, a slave slipped quietly into the room.

"Has something disturbed you, my lady?" The girl asked quietly.

Marcia shook her head. "I am up early this morning...bring me my wrap.... do you know where I might find the emperor?" she tried to keep her tone casual, but she knew that the question, coupled with her unusual behavior, must around suspicion.

"He was in one of the reception rooms- with Senator Falco..."

"Senator Falco?" Marcia frowned. The man was certainly here early...or late.

Without waiting for further explanation, she shrugged a stola over her shoulders and slipped into the hall.

The Praetorians that she passed seemed unusually vigilant- as though something was making them nervous. She half-expected them to halt her progress as she sprinted through the hall to the room that her servant had indicated, but they did not. One of them stepped obligingly aside as she peered around the doorway into the room. She could see the senator- looking preternaturally calm, and someone sitting in a chair- their back was turned so that she couldn’t tell whom- and finally, Commodus.

Marcia’s features sagged in relief at the sight of his face. She had been half-afraid that something terrible had happened… that Lucilla and her friends had succeeded at last in bringing him to harm.

One of the Praetorian’s coughed, causing the girl to turn around. Another cadre of guards was moving down the hall, their faces dark and purposeful- Marcia arched her eye to see Prefect Laetus at their head.

At the last moment, she stepped to the side, letting the men storm past her in a swirl of their capes.

She watched as Senator Falco stepped forward, spoke with Laetus in whispers, and then returned to Caesar as the Praetorians filed away.

"It is done." He said quietly.

Marcia studied her lover’s face as he slowly turned around. His eyes were cold and snakelike, lit by an inner fury that burned like a pale blue flame.

"And what of my nephew and what of his mother?" The girl did not know what had incited his obvious rage, but it chilled her to the very bone. His words pricked shivers along her spine. "Shall they share her lover's fate or should I be merciful?" He paused to smile sarcastically. "Commodus the merciful...." And then he turned toward the window again. "Lucius will stay with me now and if his mother so much as looks at me in a manner that displeases me, he will die. And if she decides to be noble and take her own life, he will die. And, as for you," He wheeled on the figure in the chair, which Marcia now realized was his sister. "you will love me as I have loved you."

Marcia felt a stab of pain in the pit of her stomach, but she was too transfixed to turn away. "You will provide me with an heir of pure blood so that Commodus and his progeny will rule for thousand years." The girl stifled a sob, amazed that Lucilla could remain so untouched. A single tear slid along the woman’s cheek, but otherwise she was unmoved. Her passivity proved only to incite her brother. "Am I not merciful?" He said rhetorically, and then he bent forward. For a moment, Marcia thought he would kiss her, but she turned away. Marcia winced as Caesar pinched Lucilla’s jaw with his fingers, forcing her face towards him, and then screamed. "AM I NOT MERCIFUL?"

Behind the door, the Praetorians, and Prefect Laetus shared a look, but the emperor’s lover barely noticed them as she slumped to the floor. Hot tears streamed down her face. The end was near. It was only a matter of time. Her hopes that he could be cajoled or tamed into control were lost. The line had been crossed. Now, either Commodus would rule as an acknowledged tyrant...or he would die.

*****

Flavia was awakened by someone pounding on the door of her domus. She opened her eyes for just a moment, and then turned on her side to return to sleep. That night had been horrible, full of nightmares, with terrifying images of a burning Rome...Flavia’s eyes snapped open in the darkened room. Those images had not been a dream! She had really seen fires scattered in various parts of the town when she had gone to take some fresh air on the terrace, trying to push away the fear left by a nightmare in which Commodus killed both Marcia and Maximus. The matron sat up on her bed and quickly donning a robe, went on the terrace and scanned the city landscape. From the high position of her villa she had a clear view of Rome’s lay out and she could see the smoke that still rose from many locations of the city.

What happened? She wondered, but before her mind could formulate an answer she heard someone knock on her door.

"Come in."

Her maid entered and said with a deep bow, "Forgive me, domina, but this message had just arrived from the Palace."

Flavia crossed the room and took the folded papyrus, almost breaking it, hoping it was a letter from Marcia.

It was not. It was another invitation to attend the games that afternoon but, to her utter surprise, it did not come from Lucilla, but from Commodus himself.

Flavia sighed as she wondered why Caesar had invited her after having made clear he did not want her around to dictate Marcia. Marcia! Perhaps it had been her to convince Commodus to extend an invitation to her.... Feeling her mood slightly improve he ordered to her ancella, "Tell the other girls to prepare my bath, we have little time, I must be at the Colosseum within two hours.

"It is already done, mistress, we knew you would soon wake up." The maid bowed her head and Flavia smiled.

"Well done."

As she followed the girl out of the chamber her thought returned on the reason of why Commodus had invited her to the games. Thinking about the gladiator combats made her mind run to Maximus: more than ten days had passed since the last time she had seen him and she was worried about him. The only consolation was he had not fought again after the match with Tigris, probably because there are no more opponents strong enough for him, but he was still in mortal danger, he would have been so - like all of them - as long as Commodus lived.

*****

When Flavia arrived at the mighty amphitheatre, she showed Caesar’s invitation to one of the Praetorians guarding the gates and the man immediately led her to the imperial box. The Colosseum seemed fuller than usual and there was something different in the atmosphere, as if the audience was expecting something special. As she crossed the stands following the Praetorian, Flavia threw glances down in the arena ring and saw that the sand, far from being stained with blood as it usually was after the morning games, was still immaculate. A group of children was throwing red petals onto the ring and she wondered why.

Finally she reached the imperial box and stepped inside, her eyes scanning the place. Commodus and Quintus were nowhere in sight, but Marcia, Lucilla, Lucius and Antonia Laeta were all here, sitting stiff on their chairs. As protocol dictated, Flavia went first to greet Lucilla and saw shocked by her look: her friend was pale, her eyes puffy, and her skin without any kind of cosmetics. She tried to ask what was going on but desperation on the other woman’s face made her enquiry die on her lips.

Thus she turned to her sister and felt her breath caught as she saw the same desolate expression painted on her young face.

Feeling more frightened than she had ever been before, Flavia forgot all of her manners and dropped to her knees in front of Marcia, taking both of the girl’s chilly hands between hers and whispering, "What is happening Marcia? Please tell me."

Her sister’s green eyes filled at once with tears, "I am sorry, Flavia, I am so very sorry. I tried to do it but just I couldn’t..."

Flavia blinked her eyes, not understanding, "What are you saying? Marcia, I don’t understand…What’s going on here? Where is Commodus?"

"He-he is down in the Colosseum bowels.... he is going to fight...."

"Fight?" Flavia frowned. She knew of Caesar’s fixation for swordplay-but this! "Are you afraid for him?" she asked gently, trying to understand why Marcia was so scared, and also trying to make amends for their fight.

"Yes....No...Yes...Oh gods, Flavia, he in going to fight Maximus!" Marcia exclaimed, "He just told us."

"What?" Flavia’s voice was almost a cry as her heart began to race.

"During the night there was a riot.... Maximus tried to escape but he was caught. And now Commodus wants to end the matter once and for all in the arena. He is sure to win.... That’s why you had been invited, he wants everyone to watch his triumph." Marcia swallowed hard and looked away..

Flavia slumped at her sister’s feet, too shocked to react. Now everything fell in place: the fires, the strange invitation, Lucilla’s and Marcia’s desperation...and now her own. Because it was not necessary to be a genius to understand that one of them would soon lose the man she loved. With a strength she did not think to possess, Flavia rose again on her knees and opened her arms to her sister, taking and giving comfort from the desperate embrace that followed.

They stayed like that for several moments until the trumpets announced that something was happening. Flavia freed herself from Marcia’s arms and stood up, walking to her chair and falling to sit on it, as her eyes never left the arena, where a strange formation was slowly emerging from the bowels of the Colosseum. It took her some time to realize what it was: a testudo, the renewed military Roman turtle formation, created by the Praetorians’ large black shields. As the platform reached ground level, the imperial guards broke the position and ran away to create a great circle in the sand around three men: Commodus, Maximus and Quintus. The crowd let out an exultant shout when they understood what was going to happen and Flavia turned her head, to look at Marcia and then Lucilla. The two women looked exactly as she knew she looked: pale, tense, terrified, with their fingers gripping the arms of the chair so strongly their knuckles were white. Then she turned her head again, just in time to see Maximus slowly bent down to pick up a sword lying in the sand. There was something strange in his moves, he did not seem as quick as usual, but she had no time to wonder about it because Maximus raised his sword and, pressing his left arm against his side, charged with a roar. Commodus parried the blow and attacked back as the two men began to dance back and forth along the space delimited by the Praetorians.

Flavia saw Maximus manage to knock Commodus' legs out from underneath him, making him fall flat on his back to the ground and her breath caught for an instant as the Spaniard tried to chop off Caesar’s head, but the younger man rolled away and jumped back on his feet. The matron watched Maximus breathe deeply and, always pressing his arm against his side, attack again with determination as Commodus did the same. She watched Maximus swing his sword back at Commodus with great force, but as he spun back, Commodus’ blade cut his right calf. Flavia’s hand ran to her mouth to stifle a scream as she saw the wound begin to bleed and Maximus leaning heavily on his sword to keep his balance. What was going on? He looked so weak, barely able to stay on his feet but the wound to his leg did not seem so serious...However he seemed to regain his strength because he charged Commodus again with all his might, finally cutting Caesar’s arm, causing him to drop his sword.

"NOO!" The cry made Flavia turn at once and she saw that Marcia, had left her place behind Lucilla to run to the box exit. However, before she could do anything, the Praetorians on guards blocked her. "Return to your seat, lady," said one of them with a cold, menacing voice. Marcia’s fearful eyes ran to meet her sister’s and the older woman could only shake her head. Defeated, Marcia returned to her chair and Flavia turned to look to what was going on in the arena. Her relief about what had just happened was short lived because, instead of finishing Commodus, Maximus stayed still, staggering on his feet, looking miles away from that place, as his hand let the sword drop.

"By gods’ sake, what are you doing?" she cried to him as Commodus recovered his wits and called Quintus for his sword.

However, to the imperial box occupants’ surprise, the Prefect did not comply. And more, he ordered his men to do the same.... and they obeyed. Commodus’ right hand reached for his left sleeve and he took out a hidden dagger from it. The crowd shouted outraged as he charged Maximus with it. But luckily the Spaniard reacted in time, unarmed but for his strength and fury. Flavia watched Maximus strike Commodus with his fist punching, and then butting his head with his elbow. The younger man tried to strike back but he was no match for his opponent, who, with one hand cupping the back of Commodus' head, used the other to force the dagger back into Commodus, unfeeling to Caesar’s pounding blows on his back.

Withholding her breath Flavia saw Maximus slowly plunge the dagger into Commodus' throat, deeper and deeper until it can go no further and then she watched mesmerized as the emperor’s body crumbled into the sand, life having already left him.

An unnatural silence settled on the Colosseum as the on lookers took note of what had just happened. In Flavia’s heart the joy for Maximus’ victory was battling with her sadness for Marcia and the nagging feeling something was terribly wrong with her love. He was still staggering, barely able to stand on his feet. And then she saw him reach out a hand and move it as if he was pushing open a door only he could see as Quintus walked near him and called for him, "Maximus? Maximus!" his voice sounding desperate.

Maximus blinked and Flavia saw him lock his knees to continue to stand right and said, his tone quiet and commanding.

"Quintus." A pause, "Free my men. Senator Gracchus had to be reinstated. There was a dream that was Rome, it shall be realized. These are the wishes of Marcus Aurelius."

Flavia’s heart constricted in pain as she realized those not only the late emperor’s last wishes, but Maximus’ too. He was voicing his will in front of all the Colosseum because he was dying. Lucilla understood that too, and rising quickly from her chair, left the imperial box, closely followed by her son. Flavia instead remained at her place, her hands gripping the marble parapet as she heard Quintus shout to the guards, "Free the prisoners! Go!" The Praetorians departed and the Prefect returned to look at his former commander, as for asking, "Is there something else?" but Maximus had no time to reply because he collapsed heavily to the ground, immediately reached by Lucilla who knelt near him.

"No!" cried Flavia, "Please gods, don’t let him die!" she murmured again and again but soon she became aware her prayer had not been listened to, because she saw Lucilla touch her hair in desperation and then bent her head.

"No," murmured Flavia shaking her head, "No, no, no..." But, as the tears began to run along the cheeks, she understood it was pointless to deny the reality: Maximus was dead and his body was going to be carried out from the Colosseum with the honors attributed to a hero, while Commodus’ body was let behind in the sand, untended and forgotten...Commodus... MARCIA!

With a start Flavia became aware that lost in her pain she had totally forgotten her sister! Feeling guilty, she turned around to see the imperial box was empty: everyone, including her sister had left. Oh gods, where was she? The woman looked frantically along the still crowded stands and then to the arena ring, as she noticed many people pointing to it. She followed their gestures and saw a small figure kneeling near Commodus’ body. It was a woman dressed with purple clothes. Marcia.

With a strangled cry, Flavia left the imperial box and run down in the sand ring.

*****

Marcia did not turn when she heard the running steps approaching her on the sand, nor when someone dropped to their knees near her. She continued to caress Commodus’ lifeless face with delicate fingers.

"Marcia?" Flavia called softly, putting an arm around her sister’s shoulders. The young woman looked at her with unfocused eyes and whispered, "Do you see him, Flavia? He is so quiet. I never saw him so peaceful when he was alive." Marcia’s voice was full of wonder and her sister frowned: she had expected Marcia to cry, to pull at her hair, to show all of her pain and she was confused by her unreal calm. Or perhaps she is merely shocked, thought Flavia. She too could not say to be well: she was cold even if the sun was still high in the sky and her hands trembled. Flavia returned to watch at Marcia, which was now arranging Commodus’ body in a more ordered position, straightening the limbs of the corpse. That usually was a task reserved to the slaves but Flavia let Marcia do it, seeing the care she was putting in it: she too would have done the same for Maximus.... Maximus. The tears threatened to spill again but Flavia forced herself to stop them. That was not the time or the place to cry. As if to underscore her words, a shadow obscured the sun and a voice said, "You must go away, ladies, this is no place for you."

Flavia raised her head and her eyes met Quintus’. The Prefect went on, "The mob had just begun to destroy his statues and the confusion is spreading fast in the city. I have arranged for a group of my men to escort you home but you must leave now."

"Thank you," Flavia said, understanding the seriousness of the situation. She rose to her feet and pulled at Marcia’s shoulders, "Come on, darling, we must go."

"No," her sister shook her head in earnest and resisted to the pulling. "We cannot leave him here all alone."

Flavia exchanged a look with Quintus and the man stepped nearer, taking the younger woman for her upper arms and making her stand up. "He will not be alone, lady Marcia," he said looking in her eyes, "I will take care of him."

From outside the Colosseum arrived loud cries and shouts and sounds of commotion. "You must go," the Prefect said with urgency. He gestured with his arm in the direction of the gates and four Praetorians appeared. "Escort the ladies to the Cressidi domus at once."

"Yes, Sir."

Flavia put again her arm around Marcia’s shoulders to lead her away as the guards surrounded them. The younger of the sister threw another look to her lover’s body and then began to walk away.

*****

Flavia closed the door of Marcia’s room and slowly crossed the hall, walking in the total darkness till she reached her room. Once there pushed open the window and then sat to her desk. A silver shaft of moonlight enlightened the little carving standing on the table and Flavia caressed it with the tip of a finger. The scene was familiar, as if she was living it again. Once in the past she had mourned Maximus’ death, thinking it was heartbreaking, but now it so much worse.... and not merely because of their added memories, but because their last moment together had not been a happy one...Flavia’s eyes filled with tears: she had not cried during the day, except for whose few tears just after Maximus had collapsed, perhaps because she was too shocked, perhaps because it was unbecoming for a high-born lady, or maybe because she had needed to be strong for Marcia too. But now the weight of her loss crashed on her, and the pain was so strong she was barely able to breath as her throat constricted. Why had it happened? Why the gods had taken Maximus away another time? Flavia squeezed her eyes and in her mind she saw Maximus bow his head and smile as he always did greeting her. A moan left her lips as she pushed the image away: the few stolen days they had together no longer looked like a blessing but only like a curse. Was she destined to be haunted for the rest of her life by the sound of his voice as he murmured passionately in her ears, by the feel of his body atop of her? By the sensation of his battle calluses hands caressing her with an almost unexpected gentleness?

Oh gods, please help me.... Flavia bent on the desk and, cradling the little carving between her crossed arms, lowered her head on them and abandoned herself to her pain.

*****

Flavia did not know for how long she had been crying when a noise reached her ears and she became aware someone was knocking on the gates of her domus. Flavia’s head snapped up. It was very late, well past midnight.... Who could be to visit them at such hour? A shiver ran along her spine. Marcia had been Commodus’ lover, it was a known fact.... was it possible they wanted to eliminate her because of that? Quintus and Lucilla were her friends and they knew Marcia was not a danger, but what about some of the senators? Her mind worked frantically: she had no armed guards in her staff and the door of the villa would not resist long under the push of determinate soldiers, if they were indeed soldiers came to arrest her sister. It was better to go the door and see who it was and behave like the perfect matron she had always been.

Flavia brushed away her tears, wrapped her stola tighter around her, stood up and left the room. In the main hall she met all of her still sleepy-eyed servants and nodded to them, before reaching the door and asking, "Who is?"

"Flavia? Is that you?" called an anxious voice- a woman’s voice.

"Lucilla?" she was not able to hide the surprise - nor the worry - from her tone.

"Yes. I need to come in, it’s urgent."

Without thinking twice, Flavia opened the door and to let her friend pass, utterly surprised when the Augusta motioned two men carrying a stretcher to precede her inside.

"What-?" Flavia began but Lucilla shook her head.

"The guest room is ready?"

"Yes...But -"

"Show us the way, we need to put him in bed as soon as possible."

"Him?" Flavia walked nearer the stretcher and peaked at the dark sheet covering the body atop of it. In the darkness she could not make out any detail but, when her fingers brushed the covers away from the lower part of the man’s face, she jumped at the feel of a hot bearded cheek. Maximus! Her wild eyes ran to meet Lucilla’s and her friend nodded.

"He is alive. I-I feigned he was dead in the Colosseum to protect him. But he is very seriously wounded and I need your help to keep him safe, I don’t know what will happen in Rome in the next days."

With her heart in turmoil, Flavia nodded and said, "You came in the right place. Now follow me," and grabbing the lamp one of her servants had lit, she led Lucilla and the men carrying Maximus to the guest room.

*****

A few minutes later Maximus was laying on the bed, the cover tucked around him while one of the men who had carried his body, a small Greek with a rapid walk and agile hands, began to fuss around him, checking his pulse, watching his pupils and touching his forehead.

Flavia watched the scene with almost unbelieving eyes. She had received so many shocks during that day she was not sure she was really awake. Lucilla walked near her and whispered, "He is Galen, my father’s personal physician and trusted friend. The other man is his son."

Flavia nodded and then asked, almost afraid to hear the answer, "What’s wrong with Maximus?" During the match he had been wounded to his right calf but she doubted it was the cause of his fever.

"He has a stab wound in his back. Quintus told me Commodus inflicted it before their combat. My brother wanted to be sure to win," Lucilla’s voice died in a whisper, as she mentally thanked the gods that his plan had not worked.

Flavia nodded again, as inside her anger struggled with worry. Stabbed in his back! Truly Commodus had not a bit of honor or decency. Her thoughts wandered to Marcia and her broken heart, but her attention was drawn back by Galen’s voice.

"His condition is stabilized, Augusta, but the next two days will be critical. We need to keep his fever down and his body hydrated as he fights against the infection. The weapon used against him must have been very long, but luckily it did not puncture any vital organ. However I suspect it scratched the membrane covering one of his lungs and that could led to complications...but I will be able to be more precise in a few days.".

The women nodded and Flavia said, "Tell me what needs to be done and we will follow your instructions to the letter."

"Good," the small Greek smiled and began to speak, as Flavia’s steward began to write all the prescription on a wax tablet, even if he suspected his mistress would remember them without any help.

*****

The next few days were among the hardest Flavia remembered as she watched Maximus fight for his life, spending almost of her time near him, helping Galen when it was requested and feeling powerless when the man she loved thrashed in the bed, a victim of fever induced nightmares. Flavia lost the count of the times she was awakened or called away from something she was doing by Maximus’ hoarse cries. On one occasion he even called her name, making her run to him hoping to find him awake, only to discover that he was still delirious.

And Maximus was only one of Flavia’s worries, because Marcia also required her attention. Her young sister was still in shock because of Commodus’s death. She still refused to talk about her feelings and spent all of her time closed in her room. She ate and bathed but they were automatic actions, done only because they were usual and only when someone told her to do them. Flavia was scared buy her silence and unseeing eyes and asked Galen to visit her more than once, but the doctor did not find anything wrong with her, at least physically. His advice was Marcia was suffering a sever shock and needed time to cope with it and that, probably, she would be willing to talk when she would feel ready. Flavia nodded at the Greek’s words and decided to don’t push her sister and to wait till she decided to speak. It was not easy for her because the sight of Marcia’s always-pale face and haunted eyes was breaking her heart, but she had no choice.

*****

Three days after the final combat Maximus’ fever broke and he woke up for the first time. It took him some moments before he could open his eyes, but when his sight improved he discovered himself in a room where he had never been and he wondered where he was. Turning his head required an enormous amount of exertion but when he did it he discovered he was not alone in the room: someone was sitting on a chair at his bedside. Maximus squinted his eyes and in the dim light he was able to make out the other person’s features. It was a woman and she was sleeping, with her chestnut hair falling on her shoulders.

"Flavia...." He thought his voice would sound louder but it was a mere whisper. However it was enough to make the matron snap awake. Maximus saw her blink her eyes a couple of times and then focused them on his face.

"Maximus," she murmured, her eyes filling with tears as she incredulously took in he was awake. Her cool and gentle hands touched his forehead, cheek and neck and she sighed with relief as she sensed his fever was almost disappeared.

"Welcome back, Maximus." She said to him and then smiled with joy.

"Thank you." He replied with a weak grin of his own and then watched as she stood up.

"I must alert the doctor you are awake. I will be back soon."

He nodded slowly and watched her leave the room, before turning his head away and closing his eyes. He was so tired...

Few minutes later, when Galen and Flavia arrived in the room, they found Maximus sound asleep, but this time it was a good, restful kind of sleep and the doctor nodded with satisfaction.

The worst was over.

Maximus Decimus Meridas was going to survive.

*****

However the problems were far from finished. As Galen had feared, the dagger had indeed damaged the membrane which covered Maximus’ lungs and even if the infection did not kill him, it caused a persistent cough, whose spasms racked Maximus’ body all the day, not letting him rest or eat properly. Flavia was appalled and worried by how thin and pale he had become in just ten days and her fear to lose him returned.

The doctor was worried too and one day approached her after having visited Maximus.

Flavia was at her desk, studying the house accounts, but she raised her head at once as she heard the old man enter the room.

"Any change?"

"Just a little improvement in the General’s condition. He is feeling better today and I think he is now strong enough to travel."

"To travel?" Flavia frowned.

"Oh, I am sorry, domina, I forgot to tell you. I spoke with the lady Lucilla and we think it would be better to transfer the General on the coast, where he will be able to breath the sea air which will be beneficial for his lungs."

"Ah. How generous from you to keep me so informed," Flavia snapped sarcastically then added, "And where do you plan to take him?"

"The lady Lucilla says you own a villa in the South, on an island.... it would be perfect for him.."

Flavia nodded and lost herself in thought. How many times she had dreamed to take Maximus to Pynthecusa and tour the island with him, to show him the wild beauty of the place. Now it seemed that dream might become realty even if Maximus was not in the condition to appreciate landscapes. And more, the change of scenario might be very good for Marcia too.

Or at least she hoped so.

Three days before her sister had finally stepped out her room and, wandering for the house, she had arrived to the room where Maximus was. Flavia, who was sitting with him, had jumped on her feet, not knowing how the younger woman would react to discover the killer of her lover was still alive. But Marcia had simply looked at him with glassy eyes murmuring, "So Maximus, you are also still walking on this Earth? Did they forget to put a coin in your mouth too?" Flavia and Maximus and exchanged a surprised glance but nothing more because Marcia had turned on her heels and disappeared.

Flavia ran behind her and catching up with her had asked, "Why did you say that to Maximus? Who is the other person you were referring to?"

"Commodus." Marcia had said, her voice tinted with deep sadness. "They did not put a coin in his mouth and so he has not the money to pay his journey to the Afterlife."

Flavia swallowed hard, "Who- who told you so?"

"He told me so. He is here, always near me, wanting to go away but been unable to do so."

Those last words shattered Flavia. Was it possible Marcia was going mad? She had talked about it with Galen and the doctor, after examining her sister, had to admit it was a possibility and had suggested keeping the girl under constant surveillance.

Flavia sighed deeply and returned to the present. The Greek doctor was looking at her with a worried expression and she realized she had been lost in thought for a long time.

"Don’t worry, Galen, I was only thinking about the things we need to do to organize the travel to Pynthecusa. I suppose you want Maximus leave as soon as possible."

"It would be better, domina."

"All right, I will give the necessary disposals."

*****

Maximus was resting on the wide terrace overlooking the sea and was watching the ships lazily move along the coast

between Neapolis and Baia. It was a warm, sunny day and his eyes roamed the expanse of the landscape without meeting obstacles.

He was feeling better that day: the cough had been quiet for the third night in row and his chest no longer hurt every time he breathed. One more day of doing nothing more strenuous than picking up a scroll and then he would finally begin to move and exercise again. And this time Galen would not have the upper hand in the discussion he was sure was about to come!

Maximus smiled as he thought about the old Greek. He liked the man and, even if he had no intention of telling him so, he knew he had been right to insist for him to stay quiet for at least twenty days after their arrival in Pynthecusa, both because he was too weak and because he had needed the time to sort out what to do with his life.

When he has begun his quest for revenge, he had not thought he would survive Commodus and neither had wished to do so. But with time, the pain for his family’s loss had somewhat decreased while his will to live, the same will who had carried him through hundreds of battles and combats, had returned and his desire to die had gone away. And now he suddenly found himself free and without any duty to perform, master of his own life. It was the first time in almost twenty years. Before the ship which took him on the island left Ostia, Lucilla and Gracchus had presented him with a scroll declaring he was once more a free man and the senator had promised him that as soon as possible he would get back all of his lands and money which Commodus had taken from him when he had declared him a traitor. Maximus trusted him and so he was spending his period of forced rest thinking about what he wanted to do next. Would he return in Hispania? Or would he settle in the lands Marcus Aurelius had given him in Tuscania? He did not know and he was not in hurry to find an answer: Flavia had told him he could stay in the island for all the time he needed and he had accepted her offer gratefully, even if she was part of his problems.

Flavia. Maximus smiled as thought about her. She was without doubt his best friend but he knew she loved him in a very different way and that made him uncomfortable. He would have liked to be able to reciprocate her feelings, but he was not able to do, because she was a constant reminder of how he had betrayed his late wife’s memory...

The Spaniard snorted, frustrated with himself: just few minutes before he had admitted he wanted to go on with his life, but nevertheless he seemed to be unable to forget his past or forgive himself for having been too human. He sighed deeply. He liked Flavia a lot but he could not give her what she desired and that made their relationship a bit tense.

*****

Flavia was standing on the high cliff overlooking the sea atop of which her villa was. The rock was tall and steep, covered with little bushes and flowers, its wild beauty breathtaking. Few feet under her, in a very quiet area of the sea, where the force of the waves was broken by rocks which created a sort of natural pool, Maximus was swimming back and forth, cutting the water with slow, measured strokes. He was gradually building back his strength and stamina and slowly but surely his handsome body was filling back with muscles as his skin glowed with a bronzed, healthy tan. Flavia loved to watch him exercise, often accompanying him when he took long walks on the island or when he spent hours simply basking under the sun as Galen had advised him to do before returning in Rome. The relationship between she and Maximus was almost returned as it was before the day they had made love. Almost, because it could never return to be the same. Maximus now knew the deepness of her feelings for him and that made him slightly more guarded than before in her presence. The casual touches of the past had disappeared as if he was afraid of her.... or perhaps of himself. Flavia did not know what to do. Part of her wanted so much to experience again the magic of that far away afternoon, and to throw herself in his arms, but she did not want to press Maximus with her desires, afraid he might decide to go away and leave her alone, now that she desperately needed him. Marcia was slipping more and more in madness with each passing day. She seemed to live in a place where no one can reach her, spending some days in absolute silence and other talking to Commodus. She was also sick in the mornings and Flavia was looking forward to Galen’s return to check Maximus’ condition to ask him to visit Marcia too. The matron was afraid her sister might have caught some kind of contagious bug, because she was not feeling very well either, and seemed always tired and struggling to keep her food in her stomach.

*****

A few days later, the older of the Cressidae sisters waited in the atrium while Galen completed Maximus’ examination. She was sure the Imperial physician would find the general in perfect form but yet she longed to hear him tell her so.

Finally the door of Maximus’ bedroom opened and both the men exited in the hall grinning.

"Thank you again, for everything," said the Spaniard, shaking the Greek’s hand.

"It was my pleasure, General."

Maximus turned, flashed a brief smile to Flavia and said, "I will leave you alone now, I have a letter to write."

The woman nodded and, as he walked away, she concentrated all of her attention on Galen.

"So, it is everything all right with the General?"

"Yes, domina. His lungs are completely healed and he will not suffer any kind of after effects."

"Thank you gods." Flavia smiled briefly, "I pray you will be able to give me good news concerning my sister too or, at least that you will be able to help her."

"I will certainly try my best." The man’s features were unreadable as his eyes drifted around the hall. Not wasting any time, he asked, "May I see her right away?"

"Of course."

Flavia led the man down the colonnade that faced the sea, then up a flight of stairs to Marcia’s room. She knocked on the door once, and then eased it open. She sighed in relief to see that her sister was decently dressed, and that her hair was combed. She was sitting on the floor, in the corner of the little chamber, looking over her shoulder as if she had been caught at something naughty.

"Go away." She said simply.

"No, darling, not today," Flavia said in soothing tones.

"We don’t want your company."

We. The older woman winced at the word. Marcia was speaking of Commodus. She still insisted that he was nearby, lurking in the corner of the room, or just outside the window. Even the thought sent shivers along her sister’s spine.

"I’m sorry, but he’s traveled a long way," Flavia said weakly. With a shrug of apology, she turned to the doctor.

"I will take it from here." Galen said. His hostess nodded gravely. "I will be waiting in the impluvium."

*****

"My lady? Mistress?"

Flavia blinked her eyes, disoriented for a moment as she slowly came awake. Her limbs were stiff and her skin was cold. Very slowly, she realized that she had fallen asleep on one of the couches.

"My lady?"

Galen was the voice who had called to her. He was finished with Marcia.

The woman looked toward the hole in the roof, only to find starlight. It was late.

"Is she-"

"I don’t know how I can help her." The doctor said bluntly. Flavia’s face abruptly fell. "I’m very sorry." The man said sincerely, "But I fear that her mind too far damaged. She believes that the emperor is haunting her and in truth, the old doctor’s voice softened, dissolving the fantasy might be almost as cruel as letting her remain mad." He smiled sadly. "She loved him very much."

"Yes." Flavia nodded her head. She had never found a reason to believe that the late Caesar had reciprocated Marcia’s feelings, but there was no denying that the girl’s own emotions had transcended mere teenage infatuation. "I believe she did, though I can’t say why."

"Commodus did have redeeming qualities." The shock that Flavia felt must have shown on her face, because the man continued. "You forget that I knew him as a small child. He loved his mother very much and he was a very loyal child. If Marcus Aurelius had realized that..."

"But instead, he murdered his father." Flavia spat the words, glad that she no longer had to hide them for fear of persecution. "And now he has destroyed my sister as well. So, you cannot help her? What should I do?"

The physician sighed. "There is nothing to do. I can give her draughts to make her sleep, but not to ease her mind. You might send her away, I suppose..."

Flavia shook her head vehemently. That was not an option.

"But there is something else that you must know." The man swallowed, as if he were preparing to deliver important news. "You know that your sister was...intimate with the emperor?"

Flavia blushed and nodded her head. "Yes. Why?"

Galen ignored her question. "There are rumors that the two were wed...Is there any truth to that?"

This time, the woman’s answer was in the negative. "If there is, I have never been told- and I don’t think that Marcia would try to keep such knowledge from me."

The man acknowledged her words with a grunt. "Well, perhaps it is just as well."

"Just as well for what?"

"For the empire." He said forcefully, then his voice lowered again., "And for you. Your sister is pregnant."

Flavia gasped. "I can’t tell the exact date that the pregnancy occurred, but based on when she arrived at the palace- and the date of Caesar’s death, I can estimate that the child will come in December."

Flavia felt as if the world were spinning. Pregnant. Did the Gods never tire of their sport? Suddenly, her knees felt weak, and she clutched for a chair.

"My lady!" Galen said sharply. "Are you all right?"

"I am fine." She replied, still trying to concentrate on her breaths. "I have simply been tired recently. I haven’t been able to take a breakfast in the mornings and.."

"No breakfast?" The old Greek squinted shrewdly, appraising her complexion. His dark eyes skimmed her form, resting on her waist- a little thicker than he remembered from Rome. "Forgive me, my lady." He said in the same calm voice that he had used earlier. "But is there any chance you might be with child as well? Would it be possible? I am asking because you are showing all the signs." the man was cautious, not wanting to offend her if it turned out there was no chance for her to be pregnant.

The woman could not respond to his words. Pregnant. First Marcia, and now herself. She had never even considered such a possibility after Maximus had finished fighting in the arena and come to live on the Isle of Pynthecusa. Now that she considered the idea, however, it made sense. Her moon blood had not appeared since they had left the capital. Taken in conjunction with her morning sickness, and the constant, aching heaviness of her breasts, it slowly evolved into a certainty.

Without warning, a tear slid along her cheek.

"You are displeased?" the doctor sounded incredulous - and rightly so. He knew she was not married but he was not blind, he had seen how much she loved General Maximus, and he was sure the child would be welcome by the Spaniard. After all, men desire heirs...sons…

"No." She said weakly. "Simply surprised." Flavia looked at her hands. "Thank you for meeting with Marcia...you must be tired."

The old man nodded, understanding instantly that she was in no mood for talk.

"Yes, my lady. Thank you. Would you call a servant to show me to my room?"

"Of course." She replied, snapping her fingers in signal for a slave to enter to serve their needs.

She whispered some instructions to the girl, and then watched as the servant and the doctor disappeared into the house. Only when the sound of his footsteps had echoed away did she allow herself to ink to her knees and acknowledge what had just occurred.

Pregnant. She thought again. Her almost impossible dream of bearing Maximus’ son would soon come true.

Now she had to tell him. But not this evening, she needed time to recompose herself first.

*****

The following morning, Maximus was on the terrace, writing a reply to the letter in which Senator Gracchus had informed him he had been reinstated to his former status of free citizen belonging to the senatorial class and that he had been given back all of his estates in Hispania and Tuscania, when Flavia walked near him, a tense expression on her face.

Maximus sensed her presence and put down the pen, raising his head to meet her glance.

"Flavia, may I do something for you?" he asked with a smile.

"I need to talk to you," she said and sat in front him.

"Of course." He watched at her with expectation and then frowned as he noticed how nervous she was, "Is there something wrong?" he asked with worry, thinking about Galen’s examination of Marcia. He knew the doctor had spent almost all the previous afternoon with the poor girl, but he did not know his conclusions. However, from the tense lines on Flavia’s face, he could only surmise there was not good news.

"I don’t know...I don’t think so..." Flavia sighed deeply and then blurted, "Marcia is pregnant."

"Oh." Maximus paused a little before adding, "Are you sure?"

"Galen told me so."

He swallowed loudly and said, "Commodus?" It was an unnecessary question but the only one is shocked brain was able to formulate.

"Yes."

"I see." He fell silent and turned to look at the sea, stroking his hand across his beard, and down into his throat, trying to sort out what he was feeling or should feel. He had never believed that children had to pay for their fathers’ sins but now he would have seen how strong this conviction really was.

"Maximus?" Flavia’s voice called him hesitantly, "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I am.... but I will need time to get used to the idea."

"I know it is not easy for you."

Maximus nodded and turned to look at the sea, seeming miles away from that place.

"Maximus?" Flavia called again.

"Uhm?"

"There is something else I must tell you."

He returned to look at her, tilting his head with curiosity.

"Marcia is not the only one to be pregnant...I am too."

"What?" this time Maximus was not able to cover his surprise, "You too?"

Flavia nodded, her lips pressed in a thin line.

Maximus stood up and began to pace, "How is that possible?" he asked before adding quickly, "Yes, I know how it works, but how it is possible for two sisters to have accidental pregnancies at the same time?" he passed his hand in his short cropped hair in frustration.

"Well, Marcia’s condition is not so surprising, she had been with Commodus for three weeks. As for myself.... my condition is not totally accidental." Flavia commented.

"No? Then please explain it to me what do you mean."

The woman’s eyes bore in his ones, "You know I have loved you since I was seventeen...." Maximus nodded, remembering her whispered confession the night they had made love, and she went on, "And you know I had always desired a child." He nodded again. "When I began to see you in the Ludus Magnus, I started to hope something might happen between us. I-I did not plan for it to happen but I wanted to be ready if the gods decided to grant me my wish."

"And so?" he invited her to go on.

"So I took some berries and teas the doctors say to ensure conception." Flavia lowered her eyes, before returning to look at him, "Please don’t be angry, Maximus, I only did it because I love you and desired to have something to remember me of you in case...in case..." her voice died as she waited for his reaction.

Maximus dropped to sit once more and made a deep sigh, "I am not angry, Flavia, it’s only that now all is more complex. I-I have yet to sort out my feelings, what I want to do with my life and now this..." his voice died as he gestured vaguely with his hand. He leaned back against the chair, stared at the sea and then, after a long silence, said in a quiet tone, "Is there a pontifex here on the island or it is necessary to go to Baia to find one?"

"Why do you want to know it?" she asked as her heart began to beat wildly.

"Because I don’t want our child to be illegitimate. I cannot promise to be a real husband to you, not now, Flavia, but I will be a real father for our baby."

Their eyes locked and Flavia’s face widened in a happy smile. She knew Maximus was not ready to commit his heart, that he had yet to forgive himself for his supposed betrayal of his dead wife’s memory, but she was hopeful one day he would do so. She had to be patient: she had waited eleven years for him, surely she could wait a little bit longer. They both stood up and after an awkward moment of hesitation, Maximus circled the table and went near her, hugging her tightly. He embraced her not like a lover, but as a friend. For the moment it was enough for Flavia.

*****

Maximus was in the porch of the villa watching two doves courting each other in the inner courtyard: it was the end of June and the mating seasons was at its fullest. As he watched the birds jump from a bush to another, and swirled the wine in the glass in his hand, he thought for how much longer he would have to wait before Lucilla would come to confront with him. The former empress had arrived on the island unannounced, that morning, and not finding anyone in the villa, she had returned to Baia, just in time to see Maximus and Flavia getting married in the forum. He had seen her shocked expression and now he knew it was only a matter of time before she came to talk with him about his marriage and about Marcia’s pregnancy.

Maximus sighed as he thought about the girl. He liked her and he was utterly saddened by her condition. It pained him to see such a beautiful young woman live in a world inhabited by only ghosts. Sometimes she would slip out of it for a little time, giving him glimpses of the intelligent person she had been before her love for Commodus had caused her madness.

Commodus, Maximus thought, he seems to have destroyed everything he had touched: his father, his lover, the Empire, my family.... And now he is going to leave behind a son or a daughter.

The General was terribly confused about how he felt regarding the whole matter. His emotions were strong and contrasting. He took a sip of wine and then turned around as he heard the sound of approaching steps.

As he had predicted, it was Marcus Aurelius’ daughter.

"Lucilla," he said gently.

"Maximus," she stopped in front of him, and took a good look at his body, "I am happy to see you so healthy."

"I must thank you for having Galen take care for me," Maximus smiled.

"It was the least I could for you." She said, biting her lips to avoid saying more. Then she took a deep breath and went on, "I was surprised to learn about Flavia’s condition."

The Spaniard stiffened, he had hoped their conversation would stay away from that topic, but he was aware it was a remote hope. Not knowing what to say and still feeling guilty for what he had done in the Ludus Magnus he stayed silent, quietly sustaining her glance.

"You don’t have to tell anything, Flavia explained me. I- I never knew about her feelings." Lucilla said again, before adding with a sad smile, "I wish you happiness, Maximus, and I hope we might remain friends, in spite of what happened in Rome." She turned her head away, but he raised a hand to gently make her look at him again, "We will always be friends, Lucilla. I know why you did what you did and I have forgiven you. You did it for Lucius’ sake...I would have done the same to save my son. So why don’t we put a stone over it and forget the past?" Maximus looked deeply in her eyes, as he kissed one of her hands, and Lucilla nodded with decision.

"Yes. Yes, you are right, we must think about the future." Her tone gained conviction along the way.

They smiled to each other as the two old friends they were, but before long the woman’s expression became serious again. "We must speak about Marcia’s pregnancy," she said.

"I know. Come, let’s sit on that bench." They did so and Maximus went on, "What are your thoughts about it?"

"I am confused. On one hand we are speaking of the un-born child of my brother, on the other we are confronting with a possible heir to the throne and this is making Gracchus very nervous."

"He knows about it?" Maximus enquired.

"I had to tell him, this kind of news could not be kept secret."

"I see. But the child is illegitimate, how can it be a danger for the Senate?"

"They are paranoid, Maximus. They are not thinking straight. They see dangers even where are none. I must tell you I am relieved you are living on this island with an armed escort composed by your legionaries, while the Felix Legions control Rome, because I am afraid some senators consider you to be a possible obstacle."

The Spaniard nodded, he too had thought about it.

"And you Maximus, what do you think about this child? I spoke with Flavia and she told me you also have contrasting feeling about it."

"I think it is not surprising...Truth to tell, Lucilla, I am very confused. Commodus does not deserve to have an heir, and I feel my blood boil every time I think Marcia is bearing that monster’s child. However, I don’t believe I could ever bring myself to harm an innocent baby...I could never do to it what Commodus’ did to my own son. ...." Maximus lowered his head and shook it.

"I understand," said Lucilla, "I understand you very well. Let’s just hope the baby Marcia’s carrying is a girl, that will make everything easier and safer for everyone involved."

The Spaniard could only approve. "You are right. Let’s pray the gods it is a daughter."

Flavia pushed gently on her rounded belly and smiled at the answering kick of her child. She loved it when her baby did so and her joy made her face look radiant.

"What it was this time, a foot or a hand?" Maximus asked and the woman raised her head to see her husband leaning against the wall, just inside her bedroom.

"A foot," she answered, and then added, "Our child is very lively today. Do you want to feel it?"

Maximus’ eyes widened, "Do you really mean it?"

"Of course. Come here."

Flavia watched the Spaniard cross the room and sit near her on the bed. He raised his hand but stopped at mid-air not really knowing where put it. "Here," she said guiding him to the right place and then she willed their child to reply in some way to its father’s touch. It was the first time Maximus touched her belly and she did not want him to be disappointed. The baby seemed to hear her thoughts because it promptly kicked again. Flavia watched as the man’ eyes widened and then filled with tears.

"Th-thank you," he whispered, trying to pull away, but Flavia covered his hand with hers, "Don’t go, stay a little bit more."

Maximus nodded curtly, and caressed again her belly a couple of times, feeling his child move in answer, before taking his hand away. This time, Flavia let him go. He looked around the room for several seconds, before returning to her eyes and saying, "It is such a wonderful sensation...I never felt anything like this before."

"No?" Flavia was surprised, "But your...." she stopped, unsure of how proceed.

"I was not home during Selene’s pregnancy. Marcus was already four months old when I saw him the first time." Maximus smiled sadly, "I lost so many precious moments..." his voice died and Flavia reached out to cover his hand again.

"I am sorry," she said with sincerity.

Maximus nodded and then took her hand and brought it to his lips for a light kiss. Then he let it go and changing totally subject he asked, "Do you want something special for dinner?"

"Not really, I am not very hungry. What about some roasted fish?"

"As you wish, my lady." Maximus winked to her and stood up, "I will go to speak with the cook."

Flavia watched him leave the room and let out deep breath. She was still so excited he had accepted her offer to caress her belly: even if he had done it to feel his child move, it was nevertheless the most intimate gesture he had done since their night of passion in Rome, and she hoped it was another step forward in Maximus’ emotional healing. Since they day they married, they had lived like husband and wife, sharing everything except a bed. They did everything together - from playing dice to planning their future once the baby was born, from choosing the flowers for the garden to worrying about Marcia. However Flavia was far from desperate: she had seen encouraging signs in Maximus and she hoped he would one day become her husband in every sense of the word. For the moment she contented herself with casual touches and hugs, especially loving the evenings they spent together reading in the library, her head resting against his chest while they sat on the couch. Maximus was an educated man, but his education had been centered on very practical matters such military history, math, geography, law; he knew nothing about poetry, philosophy - except for the precepts of the Stoics - and literature but he was a willing student and quick learner and they spent many hours talking and discussing everything. And Flavia loved the time they spent together, because she knew Maximus was getting more and more comfortable around her.

*****

Time passed and before Maximus realized it, it was already Mid-October. An autumn chill had descended on the countryside. In the mornings, an eerie mist rose up from the sea, covering the land in a thick fog. Still, the family did not depart for Rome. The island was much safer, especially in light of Marcia's condition. If it were known, or even suspected that she carried the former Caesar's baby in her womb, she would almost undoubtedly meet an unfortunate end- either from the Republican reformers who sought to wipe out every trace that the tyrant had existed, or from would-be successors, displeased with the prospect of yet another rival for the throne.

In truth, even Pynthecusa was too close for the General's comfort. Although he did not consider himself in love with Flavia, he had tender feelings for her, and he felt somewhat responsible for her sister's condition. He wanted to keep them safe at any cost. If possible, he would have returned to Spain- but it was too late in the year, and too far for breeding women to travel. Even the villa in Tuscania, in a sleepy town beyond the notice of the politicians in Rome, was unavailable, since it was undergoing extensive repairs.

So they simply waited, knowing that winter would fall, and their fates would soon be decided.

*****

"Enjoy yourself! But be careful!" Flavia said again to her servants and slaves left the house and walked to the beach.

"Don’t worry, mistress, we won’t get you in trouble!" exclaimed her steward.

The matron smiled, "I know, but in these days I am very anxious."

"There is no need to worry, mistress. You must only rest and take care for yourself." Replied her cook, waving her hand as she stepped on the boat, which would take her and her companions to Baia.

"I will do so. See you in two days!" Flavia then fell silent as she watched the boat leave the quay and navigate to the open sea. Even at that distance she could hear the laughter of her servants, who were obviously happy to spend a day of total vacation in Baia for the Saturnalia, the December holiday when the slaves become masters for one day. Flavia had always respected the festivity, thinking that a happy servant was better than an embittered one, and she had wanted to honor it that year too, even if the prospect to prepare a dinner for herself, Maximus, Marcia and the soldiers who protected them, was not exactly pleasurable: her belly was so swollen that it was difficult to move between the tables in the kitchen. However Maximus had promised to help her as he could and she was willing to bet her cook had left something ready for them, or at least so it seemed, by the delicious smell coming from the oven.

*****

It was late afternoon when Flavia was awoken from her nap by the sound of a door slamming shut. She stood up and went outside her room to check what was going on and almost walked against Maximus.

"Be careful you two," he smiled, taking her by the shoulders, before quickly caress her belly.

The woman replied to him with a grin of her own and then asked, "What are you doing?"

"I am checking all the windows and doors. In the last hour the wind has begun to blow very hard and I am afraid a storm is coming in this way."

"Oh," Flavia pursed her lips, "Did you check Marcia’s room too?"

"Not yet."

"I will go."

"But the stairs..."

"Don’t worry, Maximus, I am fine and I want to take some exercise." She briefly touched his bearded cheek with her fingertips and he caught her hand, bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss.

"As you wish." The sound of another door slamming shut spurred them to move quickly, before the wind might do some damage.

Flavia watched as her husband left the house, deciding to take a final look indoors for herself. She started in the study- one of the few rooms that her sister still ventured into and, finding it empty, struggled up the stairs toward the family area of the house.

The mother-to-be pushed the door to her sister’s chamber open and peered inside. The bed was empty, and the room in perfect order. There was no sign of Marcia.

With a sigh, she returned to the hall. She was about to walk away, when a small sound caught her attention. It was a cross between a grunt and a moan.

"Marcia?" Flavia’s heart began to beat rapidly, and she strained her ears to listen for the sound once more. The house was very quiet. For a moment, she thought that she had imagined it…but then the cry repeated, louder than before.

Though she had just checked the area, she knew that it was coming from her sister’s bedroom. The matron rushed inside, finally noticing her sister, huddled against the floor.

"Marcia!" She cried with concern, awkwardly slumping to her knees to gather the other woman into her arms. "What is wrong? Is it the baby?"

"It….it started near dawn." The younger girl acknowledged. The pretty face scrunched in pain again, but in spite of the discomfort, her eyes had a happy glow. "Commodus says that he will be here soon…he is anxious to see us…

"Commodus?" Flavia frowned.

"Our son…"

Marcia’s breath left her again as another contraction began. Flavia looked at her sister with concern. The pains were very close together. The girl was right. The baby would arrive soon.

"Can you stand?" She asked quickly. "It would be better for you to walk than to lie here on the floor. I will go and fetch the birthing chair and a knife."

"The doctor…."

"All of the servants are gone." Flavia said calmly, "But you and I will manage on our own." She tried to smile bravely. "There can’t be that much to it, can there?"

Marcia shook her head and tried to focus on the process that was bringing her child into the world. Flavia helped her younger sibling to her feet, and then headed for the door.

"If you are tired, lean against the bed." She advised. "I will return quickly."

Flavia sped through the house, cursing under her breath for the ill luck that had sent all of the servants away. She had tried to appear confident in her ability to bring the baby for her sister…but in truth she was very afraid. As a childless woman, she had been excluded from the birthing room in her home- and her knowledge of the process was composed of overheard conversations, and reading in medical texts. She hoped that her sister’s delivery would be as easy as it seemed.

Flavia went to the kitchen and gathered the supplies that she needed, as well as the special chair used for the actual birth, then she started upstairs again. She paused by the window, scanning the coastline for Maximus, but he was nowhere to be seen.

*****

Two hours later, after having dragged safely on the shore the boats belonging to the family, Maximus returned, finding the house very quiet. The atrium and peristilium were empty, as were his and Flavia’s bedchamber, and he frowned with concern when he did not find his wife in the kitchen either.

"Flavia?" He called into the house.

There was no answer, and he felt his pulse begin to race. It was so near the time that their baby was to arrive. What if something had happened to her? The icy fingers of fear had begun to trail along his spine when at last he heard her voice.

"I am here."

Maximus strode quickly through the house to where his wife was standing, drawing her into his arms and appraising her worriedly. "You look tired." He said grimly.

Flavia nodded weakly. "I am exhausted." Noting her husband’s deepening frown, she continued. "I have been with my sister. She has born her child." She hesitated for just a moment before delivering the final news. "A son."

Maximus did not say anything, but she thought that she could sense his displeasure. "Indeed?" He said tightly. "And is it sound?"

Flavia nodded. "A beautiful child." She said softly. "Healthy and strong. I believe that he will live, unless-"

"And his mother?" The Roman woman was glad to be interrupted, sparing her the torture of voicing aloud her fears that her nephew would not meet a natural end.

"She fared very well." Flavia smiled faintly. The past few hours had been the most lucid that her sister had experienced since the death of her lover. She was glad to have shared them, knowing too well that the madness was less likely to get better, than to get worse. "They are resting now.

"Let them sleep." Maximus recommended. "I will see the child in the morning."

"And then?"

"That is up to the Gods to decide."

*****

The storm worsened the following day, a heavy rain adding to the raging wind while the sea waves crushed against the stony coast of the island, dissolving in tall, foamy splashes. Maximus looked at the fascinating spectacle, feeling that it was somewhat appropriate for the tempest going on in his heart. He had not slept that night, pondering again and again what he had to do with Commodus’ son. He had prayed the Gods for a girl but they had not listened and now he found himself preyed upon by doubts and indecision. Sooner or later he would have to take a decision because Lucilla and Senator Gracchus knew Marcia was due in December and they would soon ask for information about the newborn- about Flavius, as the baby had been named, to honor his mother and his grandfather. The Spaniard sighed and then frowned as the sound of a door slamming against the wall snapped him out of his dark thoughts. Why was a door open? Last night he had checked all of them before going to bed, ensuring they were bolted. He walked across the house, guided by the cold wind entering inside and reached the kitchen servants’ exit. Maximus put his head outdoor looking around him but he didn’t see anything in the driving rain, thus he closed and bolted the door and returned in the hall, wanting to check Flavia’s condition: she had been so tired the evening before, both because of her fatigue and the worry for her sister.

Maximus walked to his wife’s bedroom and knocked softly, not wanting to wake her if she was still asleep.

"Come in," Flavia’s voice called and Maximus stepped inside.

The woman’s face widened in a happy smile when she saw him, "Good morning."

"Good morning to you, my lady." He liked to call her so and he knew Flavia was aware it was not a formal greeting but an

endearment, "How are you feeling today?"

"I feel much better than yesterday: our child was quiet tonight and I rested well." Flavia smoothed the sheets covering her huge belly.

"I am glad to hear it. Do you wish to eat your breakfast in bed?"

"I would love it, Maximus, but I need to get up and check Marcia."

"I see. Well, I am going to boil the milk while you get ready and then I will help you to your sister’s room." Maximus’ tone did not admit protests and Flavia was more than happy to obey him.

"As you wish." They smiled to each other and then the Spaniard left the room.

*****

Twenty minutes later Maximus and Flavia were outside of Marcia’s bedroom.

"I will wait for you here," the Spaniard said and his wife nodded as she pushed the door open.

The chamber was dark, the wooden shutters still closed. Moving as silently as she could, Flavia found the bedside table and lit the lamp, only to stare stunned at the empty bed.

"Maximus!" she called, returning to the door and opening it.

"What is it?" asked her husband.

"Marcia is not here."

"Oh. And the baby?"

Flavia walked once more in the room and found Flavius sleeping in his crib. "He is here and he seems fine."

"Stay here with him, I will search the villa for Marcia."

"All right." Flavia sat up the bed and listened to Maximus’ retreating steps.

*****

"I am sorry, General, but we could not find any sign of lady Flavilla." The centurion said, as he tried to don’t soak the carpets in the atrium with the water dripping from his sagum.

"Have you searched all the garden?"

"Yes, Sir, we looked everywhere."

Maximus sighed and stroked his beard, "Then we must enlarge the range of the search. Wait for me here while I speak with my wife and then I will come with you."

"Yes, Sir."

The Spaniard walked away and went to Flavia’s bedchamber: she was waiting for news and raised her head hopefully as she head his steps.

Maximus shook his head slowly. "The men have not found Marcia yet. We are going to search the beach and the road leading to the forest. I am going out with them but first I wanted to know if you needed something."

Flavia shook her head in negative, "I am fine, Maximus."

"And the baby?"

"He is still sleeping: I suppose Marcia fed him before going…going away." Flavia’s voice died in a whisper. Maximus crossed the room in two strides, dropping to his knees near the bed and embraced her as tightly as her condition allowed him. "We will find her, Flavia, I promise you."

"I know Maximus, I know." She hugged his neck for several more moments, gaining strength from his warmth, then let him go. Maximus stood up, brought her hand to his lips for a kiss and murmured, "Try to don’t worry too much. I will be back as soon as possible."

Flavia nodded and watched him leave the room.

*****

"General!! General!!"

"Yes?" Maximus shouted, trying to be heard over the noise of the crushing waves, wind and the rain.

"We found her, Sir!" the soldier’s voice sounded strained to Maximus’ ears and he ran on the beach, dreading what he would see.

Marcia was sprawled on the sand on her back, her limbs spread and her neck bent in an awkward angle. Maximus knew before bending down to touch her cheek that she was dead.

"What do you think happened?" he asked to one of his men, as he arranged the body in a more natural position.

"Well, sir, I think the Lady went in the garden and walked too close to the edge of the cliff. The ground is very slippery ..." the crushing of a wave covered the man’s voice. The Spaniard nodded but in his heart he was not sure it had not been a suicide. Marcia’s face did not have the terrified look of the victim of an accident; but the calm, relaxed features of someone who had finally found the peace she was looking for. Maximus sighed, then took the body in his arms and stood up. Followed by his men he began to climb the steps excavated in the rock which led to the villa, inwardly wondering how he was going to inform Flavia about what happened and how his wife would react to the news.

*****

Flavia stood up from her bed as soon as she heard noises coming from the atrium. She put a robe over the tunic and walked out the room, arriving in the all just in time to see a man - it was difficult to say who it was because all the group was covered head to feet with military sagums - lay Marcia on the couch. There was something very strange in the limpness of the body and a shiver of fear sliced her belly. Moving as a sleepwalker she began to cross the room. One of the men saw her and touched the shoulder of another sagum-clad figure, who gestured to the other to go away, before turning to face her.

Flavia watched Maximus push down his hood and take off his dripping cloak, and gasped upon seeing his drawn features.

"I am sorry," he whispered to her and the woman understood that the worst had happened.

"Marcia..." she said with a trembling voice.

Maximus shook his head, "She is dead."

Dead. Flavia started to tremble and her husband was on her in a flash, drawing her in his arms and pressing her head to his shoulder, offering her is comfort, but she freed herself from his arms, walking unsteadily to the couch where her sister’s body was.

Flavia had done just few steps when she gasped as a sharp pain shot through her belly. Instinctively, she doubled over, but the pain did not lessen. Instead, it settled in the small of her back, gripping her tightly, and bringing her to her knees.

"Flavia!" Maximus barked in surprise. He lunged forward, grabbing her arms and trying to bring her to her feet, but her body was too heavy and limp to move.

After a moment, the agony ended. Feeling as though she had just been released from the grip of a giant, the woman was able to move again. Her lungs filled with air in a sharp gasp, and she wobbled weakly to an upright position.

"My lady...." Maximus was nervous, and he wore an expression on his face that Flavia had never seen before.

He is afraid.... She realized with a start, the comprehension bringing no comfort.

"What was it?" He asked quickly. "Is it...?"

"The baby."

Flavia’s voice sounded unnaturally calm as it floated to her ears.

"But its too soon...." The edge in Maximus’ voice resonated with the dread that had begun to churn in her own stomach.

"I know." She said quietly, wishing that she could assuage his fears, but it was all too true. Only yesterday, she had

witnessed the same signs in her sister. Her sister.....

Flavia buckled again, but this time not from physical pain. Her eyes filled with tears as she crawled toward the girl’s small, motionless body. "Marcia...." She murmured, reaching for one of the small, pale hands. She recoiled in horror at its touch- clammy and damp from the sea and the rain. A howl of anger and pain formed at the back of her neck.

"Come away..." Maximus commanded, his strong arms drawing her back. "Come away...."

The woman tried to resist him. Her awkward shape made it difficult for him to maintain a grip, but her efforts were stalled by another wave of pain. She crumpled to the floor once more, and when she was able to stand again, a warm, sticky liquid had soaked her skirts.

"Flavia...." this time, the General’s voice sounded in warning. Without waiting for a response from her, he called to one of his men. "Centurion!"

Boots echoed on the stone floors of the villa as one of the soldiers entered.

"Send someone to Baia for a doctor."

"But the storm.." the man began, but the look on his commander’s face stilled his tongue. "Yes sir."

"And send someone else inside to help me with Lady Maxima." He nodded his head at his wife. "The baby is coming, and there is no one to tend her."

The legionnaire nodded his head and darted outside.

In a few moments, more footsteps returned. Flavia turned her head as her body was lifted from the ground. She felt as if she were flying. The relief when her contractions ended was so sharp, that it felt like ecstasy. She felt only half conscious, feeling Maximus’ arms around her, but nothing more.

"....blood!" Flavia made out the single word, but the other sounded mingled into an unintelligible rumble, like the echo of

thunder heard across the sea.... The rest of her senses were half-numbed as well. She tasted sweetness on her tongue, and smelled it in the air. Her body felt very warm...and she saw a shape in the corner....it looked Marcia.....but wasn’t she dead?

There was someone beside her, a man. He was watching her grimly, a look of darkness on his face...

*****

"Flavia! Flavia!" Maximus tried to rouse his wife, but it was no use. She was completely unconscious. Perhaps it was for the best. He could not bear to watch her in pain. Her labor seemed to be progressing quickly- too quickly. It had been brought on by the shock of her sister, and was too soon....

The general felt completely out of his element. He would rather face a hundred German warriors alone than confront what he had to do...but there was no alternative. All of the house servants were gone. He had demanded that his soldiers set off across the bay for help, but he knew too well that, regardless of whether they obeyed him or not- and if the Gods were merciful and actually allowed the boat across- there was no sum of money that would tempt a doctor back across the angry sea. He was alone. Only he could save Flavia’s life.

Maximus peeled away the fluid soaked dress and found a cloth to clean Flavia’s legs. Gently wiping her skin, he was relieved to find that the rust-colored liquid was not blood after all- at least, if it were, his wife was not currently bleeding. The liquid that had protected the child in her womb was faintly tinged red, and he had mistaken it in the dark.

The soldier walked to the window, peering over the stormy sea until he heard his wife moan softly again. She was still asleep, and the sound was unconsciously made, but it still tugged at his heart. How cruelly he had mistreated the woman! She loved him so deeply- loved the real Maximus from long ago, not the super-human hero turned to legend after his feats in the Colosseum. Now she was suffering to bring him a child, and he had repaid her by keeping his distance, not giving her the love she deserved.

"Oh Flavia..." he whispered, stepping near his bedside again. "I do care for you. I am either too stubborn - or too foolish- to admit it. If you awaken...." He shook his head, refusing to accept the thought. "When you awaken, I will make things right. We will start anew. We will begin our lives together by letting go of the past."

Flavia’s features relaxed as the pain passed again, and Maximus took her hand. He held it against his cheek, stroking his own beard with her delicate fingertips.

"I love you, Flavia..." he whispered. Then, replacing her hand on the mattress, steeled himself for what he had to do.

*****

Flavia’s eyes opened slowly. She felt very tired, but something was urging her to wake up. She felt an odd sensation near her chest. A tickle. There was a tugging, and warmth.

The woman rolled slightly to her side, and the sensation ceased. It was replaced by a low wail.

"Careful!" A soft voice admonished.

It was Maximus’ voice.

Flavia was confused for a moment, and then she blinked in astonishment. "My...my baby?" She asked in amazement.

The general stepped forward, easing her shoulder back onto the bed, and rearranging the tiny bundle against her breast. "Our baby."

She looked down as her eyes misted with tears. "He is so small..."

"Perhaps, but he strong. He is a fighter."

"Like his father then."

"Yes."

The pair shared a tender smile.

"Did you bring the baby?" Flavia asked after a moment. She had noticed that none of her servants were about.

Maximus nodded his head. "Yes...and I would sooner lead an army against the shores of Eire than do it again..." his tone was light, but she wasn’t quite sure whether he was teasing or not until he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "I was afraid that I was going to lose you..."

Flavia looked away. "Would that be so terrible..." She asked, instantly ashamed of her petulance, but unable to stop herself. "You could start over without me...with Lucilla...."

"I don’t want Lucilla." Maximus’ index finger slid beneath her chin, drawing her eyes toward him once more. "I want you."

He waited for the import of his words to settle in.

"Me-?" Flavia gasped, unable to complete the sentence.

"I love you, Flavia." the general whispered, his eyes shining with tears, "I am sorry that it took so long to realize how much you mean to me. I- Seeing our baby come to life made me realized there could not be anything wrong in what happened in the Ludus Magnus between us, if our actions created such a beautiful miracle as our baby....I am sorry I make you suffer all these months, but I promise you to make amend, I-" Warm fingers pressed on his lips, silencing him.

"You don’t have to apologize, Maximus, I understand what happened to you. The only thing it matters to me is that we are together," Flavia took a deep breath to get past the lump in her throat and added, "I love you too."

Without further words Maximus widened his arms and wrapped his wife and son in a tender and joyious embrace.

Outside the house the wind calmed down, the rain stopped to fall and the storm left place to peace, as if the nature was celebrating once more the victory of the life over death, the triumph of the joy over the pain.

*****

An insistent shaft of light entering from the window woke Maximus. He turned in the bed trying to block it out and was surprised to discover a warm body pressed against his side. He opened his eyes, feeling disoriented at first, and then smiled as he realized he was in Flavia’s room. Maximus leant on an elbow and looked at his wife: she was deep asleep, the shocks and the fatigue of the past day and night having caught up with her, but her face looked relaxed. He bent down to gave her a light kiss on the cheek and then stood up, walking to the small cribs standing a corner of the room. The babies were still sleeping, their faces pink and healthy in the new daylight. The Spaniard stared a long time at his little Maximus, admiring his perfect hands and feet, his dark hair and tiny features, feeling as his heart was about to burst with happiness; then he looked at the other baby and he sobered immediately. Little Flavius was sleeping with a small fist thrown near his head and the face turned to the side. He seemed so peaceful, but Maximus could not help to wonder what kind of soul was sheltered inside the tiny body. Was he already tainted by Commodus’ blood? Or was he immune to it? These were questions that nothing but time could answer- and time was a luxury Maximus did not possess. He had to make a choice and it had to be done now, before the servants returned. Maximus stared at the child for a very long time, listening to what both his mind and heart were telling to him, and then he nodded with decision: there was only a thing to do….

*****

As Maximus stepped into the atrium, the soldiers ran to him, sporting wide grins on their hardened faces.

"Congratulations, General," they told to him, shaking his hand or slapping his back, obviously happy for him. Maximus replied to their gestures, moved once more by the love the men showed to him.

"Come with me," he said, "I know it is still early and you should not drink while on duty, but this had been a long night and we deserve to celebrate with some wine!"

The legionaries approved in earnest and followed Maximus in the kitchen.

*****

They were drinking and speaking amicably when one of the soldiers threw a look out of the window and said, "General, a boat is approaching the island."

Maximus walked near him and frowned: it was not the villa boat carrying the servants back home. It was much larger and it was carrying a woman, a man wearing a white toga, and five Praetorians officers.

Oh Gods, they had arrived sooner than predicted! He thought before giving orders his men, "I am sorry the celebration has to be interrupted, but I need you in full alert while these people are here."

"No problem at all, General." Said the chief of his escort and the other soldiers nodded, putting their glasses on the table and marching away to take their positions.

Maximus watched them go, then ran to his room to change his clothes and prepare himself to receive Lucilla and Senator Gracchus.

*****

"General, it is a pleasure to see you again!" Senator Gracchus greeted as soon as he stepped on the terrace, "You are in much better form that the last time I saw you in Ostia."

"Thank you Senator," replied Maximus, shaking hands with the politician, "The air, the sun, and the sea had been wonderful doctors."

"I agree. Personally I don’t like the sea very much, now more then ever after spending two days in the inn waiting for it to calm down enough to travel here."

"This had been the strongest storm in the last five years, or so I have been told by my wife."

"How is Flavia?" Lucilla interrupted, walking near Gracchus and then adding, "Good morning Maximus."

Maximus smiled to her, kissed her hand in salute, and said, " She is asleep. She is very sore, very tired, but basically well, considering what happened here in the last two days."

"Oh?" Lucilla and the senator exchanged a look then Gracchus said, "And... how is lady Flavilla? We know the end of her pregnancy is near..."

The Spaniard’s face darkened at once. "She is dead."

"What?"

"She died yesterday evening, from falling down a cliff. I -I am afraid it was a suicide. She was so distressed because her baby had been born dead and in her already confused state she was unable to cope with the tragedy."

"The baby was stillborn?" Lucilla asked, needing confirmation.

"Yes. The girl was dead when Marcia delivered her."

Maximus tried not to fidget as he waited to see if Lucilla and Gracchus would believe him. In the end they simply nodded, relief clear on their faces.

"We are sorry for Lady Flavilla, it was a terrible tragedy.... but as for the girl- it was probably for the best." Gracchus stated plainly.

"Yes, probably." Maximus sighed deeply.

"And Flavia?" asked Lucilla truly concerned for her friend, "How did she react to her sister’s death?"

"She was devastated, of course, but didn’t have a lot of time to think about it because the shock accelerated her own labour: she has spent the night giving birth to our sons." Maximus beamed.

"You have had twins?" Lucilla was stunned.

"Yes, two boys, Maximus iunior and Flavius."

"Oh....well, I think congratulations are in order!"

"Thank you." Maximus accepted Lucilla’s kiss on the cheek.

They shared a moment of silence then Maximus asked, "Would you like to come inside and stay for lunch?"

Gracchus and Lucilla looked at each other and then the senator shook his head, "Thank you for the offer, but we must return in Rome at soon as possible. The storm made us lose more time than predicted and we don’t want the others to become suspicious about our trip."

"I see. Well, we will see again when we return in Rome next year."

"Of course, General." Gracchus shook Maximus’ hand, "Remember there will be always a place for you in the Senate."

Maximus smiled, it was the same thing the politician wrote in all his letters, "We shall see, Senator, we shall see."

The older man nodded and said to his companion, "I will wait for you at the boat." The man knew about the friendship existing between Maximus and Lucilla and wanted to give them some privacy.

The pair watched as Gracchus walked away along the path leading to the shore, and then the Spaniard turned to the former empress, "Have a nice trip and say ‘hello’ to Lucius for me."

"Of course." The woman smiled, then added softly, "Take care, Maximus. And thank you..."

"For what?" Maximus arched an eyebrow.

"You know for what: I have always known when you are lying and this time is not any different." She quickly kissed his cheek and then turned around and followed Gracchus.

Stunned Maximus remained to watch from the terrace until the boat disappeared from his sight.

*****

The general returned to the house. As he was crossing the atrium he heard Flavia’s voice call for him.

"Maximus?"

He entered the chamber and stopped surprise to see her lying on the bed, her back supported by a pile of cushions, with both the babies suckling from her breasts.

"How....?"

"I asked Optio Claudius to help me. He is a true gentleman." Flavia smiled, "Come here."

Maximus walked to the bed and sat down, watching the children receiving their nourishment. He caressed gently Maximus iunior’s head and then, after a little hesitation, he did the same with Flavius.

"I heard you speaking with Gracchus and Lucilla." Said his wife her voice trembling, "What you did was…truly noble."

"It was the only decision I could make with my heart. Flavius is innocent and he does not deserve to pay for his father’s sins. But-but it will not always be easy for me to ignore that he is Commodus’ son." The Spaniard shook his head, all of his boiling emotions showing in his gaze.

"I know, my love, I know." Flavia put the sleeping babies in the middle of the bed and motioned Maximus to come near. He did so and she took his face between her hands, caressing his cheekbones with her thumbs, "I know it will be difficult, but I will help you in every possible way. You won’t be alone to bear the weight of your decision." They stared deeply in each other’s eyes and then, as it often happened between them, they fell in each other’s arms without knowing who was the first one to move.

"I love you," Flavia murmured.

"I love you too," he echoed. Maximus then buried his face in his wife’s neck. As she kissed his head, he thought, not for the first time, that with a woman like her anything was possible and with her support even the task of raising his worst enemy’s son no longer looked like it would require superhuman effort.

*****

Maximus squeezed Flavia's hand and stepped out into the bright sun, toward the platform of rocks and wood that stood at the far end of the yard. He had asked his wife to remain indoors, but she insisted that she should remain by her little sister to the end. Flavia looked very small and tired as she lingered in the faint warmth that the winter sun afforded. Her face looked radiant, but careworn- as if the struggle between joy and grief which was being waged beneath her skin had manifested itself on her features.

Perhaps it was better that she had come. The gathering was pitifully small as it was. Maximus was there, along with his soldiers- whose appearances were compelled out of duty rather than affection for the poor dead girl. A few of the household slaves had taken time from their day to mourn their departed mistress, and Fulvia, the old nursemaid, now tending Maximus Iunior and Flavius just as she had their mothers, had come as well. Still, the yard was emptier, by far, than Marcia had earned. Maximus still remembered her as a sweet, and innocent girl. He lamented that her life had been tainted by the emperor's touch.

"It is time..." one of the men, a centurion that Maximus had placed in charge of the ceremony whispered. The Spaniard nodded, taking a final look over the little body before he stepped away.

Marcia was ravishing. She had been dead for two days, but the winter chill had preserved her beauty. She was wearing a scarlet tunica, embroidered in gold. Her chestnut hair had been neatly combed, and styled to hide the bruise at her neck, so that it seemed she were merely taking a peaceful nap. After a moment's hesitation, the soldier laid his hand against her cheek, both to offer a final caress, and to reassure himself that she was really gone. The chill of her skin provided an instant answer. Shaking his head in sadness, he bent forward to draw the linen shroud over her face.

A legionary standing behind him stepped forward with a torch. Even without turning around, Maximus could feel its furious

heat radiating against his back.

Soon Marcia would be gone, taking with her the final memories of his most bitter enemy.

The general began to turn so that he could accept the torch, but paused. Something was missing. Something had not been done. He searched his memory for the source of the nagging doubt.

Maximus shivered as he heard Marcia's voice in his head. He had almost forgotten, dooming the girl to the same fate that she imagined had befallen her lover.

Reaching into his pocket, Maximus drew out a golden aureus. The metal glinted in the sun as he drew back the covering a final time, parting the woman's lips slightly to slip the coin inside.

It wasn't enough.

Maximus shuddered as his heart rebelled against what his mind was willing him to do. He reached into his pocket a second time.

Commodus did not deserve happiness. He did not deserve peace-But Marcia deserved both. His love for Flavia demanded that he do everything in his power to see that she was finally at rest- and he knew that the girl would never cross the river Styx without her love.

With trembling hands, he reached forward, pressing a second coin between the pearly rows of teeth, before easing Marcia's

jaw gently closed.

"Farewell, unfortunate girl...your baby is safe." he whispered quietly, his words lost in the rush of the winter wind. "...and to

you my enemy..." he glared forward, almost as if he could glimpse the shade of Commodus, hovering behind the pyre.

"Your debt is paid..." He swallowed hard before adding. "For this life."

And then he turned away.

Maximus nodded his head to the centurion as he walked back to his wife. He held her hand, then slid his arm around her waist to support her as the torch touched the funeral bier, and the tongues of golden flame began to spread. The scented wood and incense that had been tucked beneath the body ignited quickly, masking the scent of death with its heady perfume as the body of Marcia disintegrated into ashes and dust.

THE END