VISIONS OF A FUTURE PAST

By Ilaria

This story assumes that you have seen the movie 'Gladiator' and that all scenes occurred as they were depicted in that movie - with just a ‘little’ difference…J

“Go to them…” Lucilla whispered, tears in her gaze and voice. Maximus closed his eyes and let himself go, leaving behind the mortal world to enter the tunnel of light that stretched in front of him and…

…and waked up with a start, his breath hurried, his body covered by a thin sheen of cold sweat. He looked around and stared at the familiar view of his tent, warm and cosy despite the chilly wind that blew outside. As his breath and heartbeat calmed down, Maximus concentrated on the light of the lamp at his bedside. He lost himself in the play of lights and shadows the tremulous flame created on the tent’s walls, trying to regain control over his shaking form and to forget the terrible images of his nightmare. But the sight of Selene and Marcus’ burnt bodies hanging from two crude crosses in the garden of his home in Hispania was so vivid, so detailed, so impressed into his mind that it was impossible to banish it. He shivered again.

“It was only a nightmare, probably caused by having Commodus so near and by Marcus Aurelius’ decision to make me his successor.” Maximus said to himself, lying down again.

A sharp pain assaulted him at the left side in the region of his kidneys - just where Commodus had stabbed him in his dream. How was it possible? He sat up again and patted the mattress of his cot to check if there was something poking out of it that might have caused him that discomfort.

There was nothing wrong, but the pain remained.

Maximus sighed aloud. “Probably I slept in an unusual position and my muscles, still sore from yesterday’s battle, cramped up,” he mused, “A walk outside might loosen them.”

He put on a wine-red robe to cover his nightshirt, and donned a pair of sandals, for he did not plan to stay outside for long, and the idea of kneeling to tie his boots was especially unpleasant in that moment. Once dressed, Maximus left his tent and went outdoor.

The cold, nightly air hit his face, sharpening his thoughts, but it did not dispel the nagging sense of uneasiness that had seeped into his bones. He continued to walk along the wind-whipped path of the Praetorium, barely acknowledging the greetings offered by the soldiers on guard, almost not noticing how his steps took him near the Emperor’s tent. Maximus stopped in front of it, unsure of what to do. He was the only person not belonging to the imperial family to have access to that tent every time he wished, but he was wondering if it was appropriate to disturb the old sovereign so late at night only because he had just had a bad dream. However the need to ascertain that Marcus Aurelius was right was too strong, no matter how embarrassing it would be to explain it to Caesar. So he nodded to the Praetorians guarding the entrance of the imperial tent and brushed past them, moving as silently as possible in order not to disturb Marcus Aurelius, who might be sleeping or, as it often happened, writing.

Maximus advanced slowly further inside the large, well furnished quarters, his ears tense in the attempt to discover in which room Caesar was.

A strange, unusual noise caught his attention, and it alerted him.

It sounded like a moan, or a suffocated, muffled scream.

His warrior’s instinct coming to life, Maximus quickened his steps and reached the most private area of the imperial quarters, pushing aside the fabric that separated him from Caesar’s chamber.

The sight that welcomed him left him paralyzed for a few seconds.

Exactly like in his dream, Marcus Aurelius was kneeling in front of Commodus and the young man was pressing his father’s face against his own body. To a superficial glance it could have seemed an embrace, but there was nothing loving in the way Commodus’ hands held the older man’s head in an iron grip, nor on his contorted face.

In the moment he realized this was not a dream but reality, Maximus sprang to action, attacking Commodus from the side, hitting him violently in the ribs. The Emperor’s son grunted in pain and let go of his father’s head to grab his sore flank.

Marcus Aurelius fell backward and Maximus rushed to catch him, taking the frail body into his arms as he struggled for air.

“Marcus, are you all right?” he asked anxiously, worried beyond words for the man he had come to consider like a father much long before he announced to him his decision to adopt him.

The old man nodded weakly, although his breath was still laboured, his mouth open in the attempt to inhale air to soothe his burning lungs.

Maximus smiled, happy to have arrived in time, but his relief was short-lived for he saw Marcus Aurelius’ eyes widen in alarm as he stared at something behind his own back. He had barely the time to let Caesar go and to spin around that Commodus was on him, roaring with rage, a dagger in his hand.

“I will kill you!” he screamed, “I will not let you take away what is mine!” The youth’s eyes were burning insanely and very dangerously.

Maximus’ arm stretched out, grabbing Commodus’ wrist and deflecting the blow aimed at his neck; then he threw all his weight against the other man, pushing him on the side, away from Marcus Aurelius who, still sitting on the ground, was watching the scene with horrified eyes.

Both Maximus and Commodus landed on the floor, but the youngster did not let go of the dagger and, as soon as he was standing up, he charged again. Hindered by his robe, Maximus was not quick enough to avoid the blow, but luckily the blade only cut the fabric of his clothes, not his flesh. Maximus jumped back and threw off his robe, as he and Commodus circled each other like two angry wolves.

“Commodus!” Marcus Aurelius called as he finally regained enough breath and strength, “Put that dagger down!”

“No! He has taken everything that is mine: Lucilla’s love, your affection, my birthright- he has to pay! You will love me once he is dead, I swear!” His voice was acute and trembling.

“I beg you, my son,” insisted the Emperor, slowly raising to his feet, advancing the fighting men with his hands stretched out, the palms up. “Let go of that dagger. We can talk about this… It does not have to end this way.” Caesar’s voice was now frantic and, as he kept on controlling Commodus, Maximus could hear the tears in it.

“I am your son only when it suits you! The other times I am nothing! But I will now prove my worth, Father. You will see I am better than him- better than you!” And with a savage cry, he threw himself against Maximus, the dagger raised high over his head, but the general was quicker and counter-attacked, unarmed but for his strength and determination, striking Commodus with his fist then butting his head with his elbow. The dagger then fell to the ground and both men launched over it, one rolling atop the other on the carpet covered pavement, before the younger man grabbed the weapon again and scrambled to his feet.

Maximus was stronger and heavier than Commodus, but his desire not to harm the prince, in order not to cause further grief to Marcus Aurelius, and just to disarm him made him less incisive than the other, who was only intent to kill.

In the end, when Commodus tried again to slash his neck and actually cut his skin there, Maximus had to capitulate and leave aside a part of his good intentions. He grabbed hold of the hand with the dagger, still aimed at his neck and cupping the back of his opponent’s head with his other hand, he slowly turned the blade around, pointing it at the boy’s throat. He hoped that would be enough to make him surrender, but when Commodus made another, desperate attempt to free himself, the steadiness of Maximus’ arm faltered and the blade came down, entering the young man’s throat.

A look of surprise and perhaps regret washed over Commodus’ face, before he fell down at Maximus’ feet, life having already left him.

It was over.

The general let go of the bloodied dagger and knelt down to close the boy’s eyes with his fingers, before standing up again. He was breathing harshly and his ribs ached where Commodus had punched him hard. Perhaps they were even cracked, but it did not matter at that moment.

He turned around to face his emperor, conscious that his nightshirt was splattered with the blood of the old man’s only surviving son- the son he had just killed.

“I am sorry, Caesar,” he murmured, his head bowed.

“As I am, Maximus.” Marcus Aurelius walked to where Commodus’ body laid and slowly knelt down. “It is such a waste. Not only his death, but his entire life too. He could have done so many things… It was all my fault. I have been a failure as father, and this is my punishment.”

“Marcus…” Maximus’ hand posed on the other man’s bony shoulder.

“Shhh, Maximus. Don’t say anything. I know you did not want it to end this way and I feel the same, but perhaps, there was no other way. My son…has become like a rabid dog and… and…” Marcus Aurelius’ voice died and Maximus fell to his knees in a flash, taking the old man in arms, offering his support to him, as he cried out all his pain and desperation.

§§§§§

It was almost dawn when Maximus returned to his tent, wishing to catch some sleep before another day of wondering about how many of his men would die or survive would begin. He had spent the night at Marcus Aurelius’ side, comforting the him through his loss and helping him to arrange Commodus’ body in a way that the cause of his death would not be so evident. Marcus had asked him not to spread the circumstances in which Commodus had lost his life, for he wanted for his son to at least leave a good memory behind. He had agreed, wanting to spare his friend further pain.

Once inside his quarters, Maximus removed his robe, then walked to a chest and took out a clean nightshirt, to replace the blood-stained one he was still wearing. Then he sat on the bed, removed his sandals and with a sigh stretched out on the mattress, willing his muscles to relax. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts wander in the prelude of sleep, when all of a sudden an image of Selene’s and Marcus’ twisted and blackened bodies flashed in front of his eyes, so terribly detailed he almost choked with the stench of burnt flesh that assaulted him.

Maximus bolted upright on the bed, his heart beating wildly, his mouth open to gulp air as he tried to dispel the horror and the desperation gripping him.

“My gods,” he thought, “Why do they continue to haunt me? Commodus is dead- he can no longer harm them…or can’t he? What if he has already dispatched the Praetorians? What if my family…Selene! Marcus!” Maximus jumped out of the bed, put on his sandals and without even bothering with the robe, he ran out of the tent, across the Praetorium and back to Marcus Aurelius’ quarters. He stepped inside and walked straight to Caesar’s study, where he had left the old man less than half a hour before.

The emperor was writing, but his head snapped up upon hearing someone enter the room, his brow frowning at the sight of Maximus and his shocked face.

“Maximus! Are you all right? Is there something wrong?”

“Marcus, I need to go home. Now. For just a few days, but I need to go.”

Caesar’s frown deepened at his general’s urgent, almost frantic tone. He stood up and circled the desk to stop in front of the younger man, looking into his eyes and seeing how haunted they were.

“What is it, Maximus?”

The Spaniard lowered his gaze. “Caesar, I- I had a dream tonight, in which I saw Commodus kill you- exactly in the same way I caught him trying to do…”

Marcus Aurelius nodded, surprised but not overly so. “A vision from the gods?”

“Perhaps, Marcus.” Maximus raised his head to meet the other’s eyes, “This was not the first time I have had strange dreams or visions, but it was by far the most detailed… and it did not end there…” He took a deep breath and pushed on, “In my dream Commodus ordered my family’s death because I refused to swear loyalty to him. Marcus… the Praetorians had burnt and crucified my wife and son and I cannot push those images out of my mind… Please let me go home, let me see with my own eyes that they are alive and well…” Maximus knew he was begging, and that it was not a behaviour befitting a man of his rank, but he did not care.

The desperation in his voice did not escape Marcus Aurelius, so he nodded slowly. “I understand. Go home, Maximus, take all the time you need to visit your family. Rest for a while and then return to me when you feel better. I will wait for you in Rome- there are many things we have to do together, many things I must teach you before my time comes to an end. But they can be delayed for a little while. However, I ask you to wait for the time necessary to make your adoption and designation as my successor known to the Senate and the army. You can go to your tent and prepare for your journey as I arrange for the ceremony.”

Maximus bowed his head. “As you command, Caesar.” His expression softened, “Thank you, Marcus.”

The old man raised his hand, brushing his words away, “There is no need, my son.” A smile, “Now go, I will send someone to call you when I am ready.”

Maximus bowed again and walked away, his mind already planning his journey home.

Less than two hours later Maximus, now officially Marcus Aurelius’ son, left the camp, galloping home atop his trusted Scarto, the fastest of his two battle steeds. Behind him, struggling to keep his pace, came twenty soldiers of the Felix Legion, that Caesar had insisted he took with him, for the heir to the Purple could not cross half the Empire alone.

Maximus was almost blind to their presence, conscious only that with each step his horse took he was a little closer to his home and his family.

§§§§§

In the light of the early morning, as the sun shone brightly over the gently rolling hills of Trujillo, Selene Meridia watched as Marcus, her eight-year-old son, lunged a snow-white pony in a little round enclosure, encouraging and praising him. The dark-haired, dark-eyed woman smiled at the sight of her boy so intent in his work, his tongue sticking out in the effort to control the sometimes wilful animal.

“He is so much like Maximus,” she mused, and her heart twisted in longing, as it often happened when she thought about her long-absent husband.

When she had married him, Selene had known Maximus was a brilliant officer destined to do great things, and the pride she had felt, had helped her to bear his frequent absences. But he had never been away for so long as this time: it was almost three years since the last time they had been together and her loneliness was becoming increasingly harder to bear. The long letters he sent home could not carry with them the sound of his voice, the warmth of his laugh, the tenderness of his caresses or the passion of his kisses. Selene needed his presence near and even more so did their son. Marcus needed to spend time with his father, to learn to become a good man like him.

In that precise moment, the boy let out an excited cry, “Look Mama, the soldiers!”

Selene looked in front of her and saw a battle flag approaching fast along the private, tortuous road way that led to their farm, as many horses raised a cloud of dust at their passage.

Marcus screamed again with joy, let go of the lunge and ran out of the enclosure, sprinting across the wheat fields to reach the cypresses-lined path, calling “Papa, papa!” at the top of his lungs.

Selene ran behind her son, a hand pressed to her chest to still her hammering heart. Was Marcus right? Was Maximus finally coming home? Would she be able to embrace him and lose herself in the blue-green of his eyes? Or were those soldiers bringing her the news of his death?

Marcus had come to a halt in the middle of the path, waiting for the riders to come closer, and she stopped too, shielding her eyes from the glare, to look hard at the approaching soldiers. One of them was riding a little ahead of the others and Selene felt a bout of elation when she recognized Maximus’ bearded face.

The face she dreamed of every night in the hope that would be the last one she would spend alone- and now the dream had come true.

“Maximus!” she cried, as excited as her son, forgetting her dignity of a matron and ran down the lane, her hands raising the hem of her tunic to be faster. In front of her Maximus and his men had come to a halt and he had hasted to dismount, he too running in her and their son’s direction. He reached Marcus first and falling down on his knees, he pressed the small body of their child against his chest, as the boy threw his arms around his father’s neck.

Selene slowed down her pace, then stopped near her husband, waiting for her turn to receive his hug, totally blind to the soldiers lined in front of her. Almost without volition her hand moved to caress Maximus’ neck, feeling his pulse beat wildly under the soft skin.

At the feeling of her touch, Maximus raised his head to look at her, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

“Selene…” he whispered, letting go of Marcus to slowly rise to his feet. They looked at each other for a few, long moments, and Selene thought her husband seemed very tired and too thin. Then all her coherence vanished as Maximus’ strong arms pulled her into his embrace as beside them Marcus giggled and clapped in glee.

Selene hugged him back, happy beyond words to have him near her again, the man she had been so lucky to marry out of love and not out of duty, as it happened very often to women. She wanted to laugh and to cry at the same time, but in the end she pressed her face hard into his neck, sniffing again that musky scent that was uniquely Maximus’, as her hands caressed his armoured back, that broad back that seemed to…tremble? He also seemed to be murmuring something, but she could not understand what.

Selene pulled back her head and whispered, “Husband…” One of her hands left his back to touch his cheek and turn his head to her and it was then that she became aware that what he was murmuring were not loving endearments, but a chant of “You are alive, you are alive, you are alive…” that made her frown.

“Maximus,” she said louder, freeing herself easily from his embrace, for it was as if his arms had not the strength to stop her. She stepped back and looked at his face: there was something strange in his expression, which confirmed her earlier thought. He had stopped murmuring and was now staring at her, and he looked exhausted, perhaps even sick, his cheekbones more pronounced than usual.

“Maximus,” Selene repeated, feeling worry rise in her as he again failed to answer. “Are you all right, my husband?”

His answer arrived in the most scary way: he staggered, then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed like a fallen tree.

“MAXIMUS!”

“PAPA!”

“GENERAL!”

Selene, Marcus and one of the soldiers cried in unison, before kneeling at the unconscious man’s side.

Maximus’ wife was frantic as she touched his cheek: he did not seem fevered- in truth he felt even too cold considering the climate. “What happened?” she asked the centurion kneeling near her. “Is my husband sick? Has he been wounded?”

“No, my lady. He was fine during our journey, although he was in great hurry to arrive here, and he has not be wounded. I cannot understand what happened.”

Selene bit her lower lip. She was worried but tried to remain calm in order not to frighten Marcus even more. The boy was at her side, his wide eyes fixed on his father’s still form, his little fists clenching and unclenching in a mannerism that was so alike Maximus’s it made her heart ache.

“Centurion,” she said after taking a deep breath, “please help me take my husband inside the house. I will immediately send one of the servants to fetch the physician in town.”

“Yes, domina.” The soldier motioned with his head and soon four worried legionaries had raised their commander’s body over their shoulders, carrying him to the pink-stoned villa sitting atop a little hill, while Selene and Marcus followed closely, hand in hand to give and receive comfort.

§§§§§

Night had fallen on the Spanish countryside and the big villa was silent, its occupants already abandoned in the comfortable arms of Morpheus- all, except for Selene, who was sitting by the bed where her husband slept, finally quiet after three days of delirium. In truth, Maximus had already experienced moments of peace, but this was by far the longest one, and his wife hoped the improvement was going to be definitive, and that soon he would wake up feeling well.

Selene’s hand moved to cup Maximus’ cheek and she smiled when, even if unconscious, he pushed himself more against her palm, his beard tickling her skin.

“What’s troubling you, my love?” she wondered aloud for the umpteenth time in the past three days. Philippus, the surgeon she had summoned from Trujillo, had checked Maximus from head to toe and found nothing wrong with him, except for the fact he was too thin and seemed plagued by a complete exhaustion and by a constant worry something terrible had happened to her and Marcus.

The centurion that commanded his escort had told Selene and the doctor his general had been very anxious to reach the farm, and that for the entire trip he had insisted to keep the fastest possible pace. While happy he had not been wounded, Selene had been worried by what the physician and the centurion had told her, and the bouts of delirium her husband had experienced, sometimes for hours, had scared her more than she wanted to admit. She was afraid that, after years of war, death, brutality and danger, something might have snapped inside Maximus’ mind. She was terrified he might slip into insanity and prayed to the gods not to let it happen.

Selene caressed her husband’s cheek for one last time, then got up, circled the bed and laid down at his side beneath the covers. Maximus’ body was pleasantly warm, although unresponsive, when she snuggled against his side.

“Be well soon, my love,” Selene whispered, kissing his cheek, before blowing out the lamp and closing her eyes.

§§§§§

When Selene awoke the next morning Maximus’ muscled arm was wrapped around her waist and it tightened its grip when she tried to move.

“Maximus?” She called softly, for she was lying on her left side, her back turned to him, and she wanted to discover if he was awake or if he was merely reacting by instinct, as the night before.

“Yes?” He answered softly, his breath fanning her hair.

Selene turned around without dislodging his arm, and they faced each other, their heads resting on the pillow.

“Welcome back, my lord,” she murmured, using the formal appellation that was in reality her most cherished endearment for him, for he was the lord of her heart. “You scared me.”

“I am sorry.” Maximus’ arm left her waist as his hand rose to trace her cheek with his index finger, from her cheekbones to her mouth, and she could not resist to the temptation of kissing his fingertip. “I did not mean to faint and frighten you,” his blue-green eyes were full of remorse, “It’s just that I was so relieved to see you and Marcus alive and well that I-” His voice died as he moved his head forward to kiss her.

There was no passion in his gesture, but an infinite tenderness that made her heart sing, for it was exactly what Selene needed. She responded to him, then asked, “Why were you so worried?”

Maximus shook his head. “I don’t wish to talk about it now. I feel so tired, Selene, as if all my strength is gone.”

“Then sleep, my love. Rest. The doctor says you are exhausted. We will have time to talk when you feel better.” Selene’s hand rose to caress his hair and bearded cheek, soothing him as if he were a child.

Maximus’ eyes were closing, but he struggled to keep them open. “Will you be here when I wake up?” He asked, a bit of anxiety colouring his voice.

“Of course, Maximus. I will always be here for you. Now sleep.”

She kissed his forehead.

Maximus smiled gently. “I love you…” he whispered, then he closed his eyes, relaxed against the pillow and fell asleep.

“I love you too,” Selene murmured back, observing his face, studying each line, each detail of that beloved landscape. He looked so young when he was sleeping, so much alike the boy with whom she had studied and played in her childhood, never imagining that one day their friendship would evolve into the deep love that now joined them.

Selene smiled, kissed Maximus’ cheek one last time, and then freed herself by his slack arm, deciding it was time to start her day. She knew that in his room Marcus was waiting for news, and she looked forward to tell him that his papa was feeling better.

§§§§§

In the following days, Maximus stayed in bed, sleeping most of the time, but also remaining awake enough to eat and talk with Marcus, conscious that his boy needed to be reassured he was really fine. Marcus was used to seeing his father always around the farm when he was home, always busy doing something, and he was upset to see him lying in bed all the time, despite the fact his mother had assured him his papa was not sick.

Maximus too did not like the situation: he was used to having endless energies and was angry with himself for worrying his wife and son so much. But he could not change the fact he was deadly tired and that there was nothing he could do but sleep and eat, in order to regain his strength and hopefully leave that episode behind.

As for Selene, her anxiety lessened as the days passed and she saw her husband gain back his weight and spend more and more time awake, while his nightmares had stopped. She knew Maximus would soon be all right and more than once she caught herself daydreaming about how she would really welcome him as soon as his strength returned…

§§§§§

Eight days after Maximus’ arrival, he and Selene were sleeping in their bed, caught in a loose embrace. It was early afternoon, and she had decided to join him for a nap, after an especially tiring morning spent at the market.

The window of the room was open and the breeze coming from outside had been carrying in the perfume of the herbs down in the kitchen garden. Then all of a sudden, the wind changed direction, and the delicate scent was replaced by the acrid smell of smoke, coming from a bonfire at a nearby farm. Selene did not notice it, as she continued to sleep, safely cradled in her husband’s arms, until a loud scream broke the peace of the moment.

“NO!”

Selene bolted upright in bed, startled by the cry of pure agony that had echoed straight into her ear. At her side, Maximus was no longer sleeping quietly, but thrashing around, shaking his head, as if he was desperately trying to fight something.

“No… not you…why did it have to be you?” he was almost moaning and tears streamed down his cheeks, “Forgive me my love…it was all my fault…” His tone was so distraught, so utterly defeated and mournful it broke her heart and Selene decided she could not let him suffer like that a moment more. She touched his arm calling, “Maximus?” When he did not react, she took him by the shoulders and shook him hard, raising her voice too, “Maximus!”

His eyes snapped open and he blinked several times to focus his vision. When he saw his wife kneeling at his side, he stretched out both his arms and pressed her to his chest with such a force it was almost painful. “You are alive … You are alive…” he kept on repeating, just like the day he had arrived.

“Of course I am,” Selene murmured, when she was able to pull back from his embrace and speak. “Why are you so afraid I could be dead?”

“Because…. No, I don’t want to speak of it,” Maximus’s tone was low, weary.

“But perhaps you should,” she insisted gently, squeezing his hand.

“I know…but not now…” His eyes turned to look at the window. “They are burning something outside…”

Selene sniffed the air too. “You are right, but it is coming from Marius’ farm; I saw a big bonfire while returning from the market this morning. Probably the wind changed direction and it is now pushing the smoke here.”

“I don’t like it. Can you please close the window?”

“Of course.”

Selene stood up, did as he had asked, then turned to face the bed again, watching concerned as Maximus hugged himself. He felt her eyes on him and smiled weakly, “I feel so cold…a cold inside my bones that does not go away… as if I was dead…”

His wife’s eyes widened in worry and distress at that analogy, then she firmly shook her head. “Oh no, my lord. You are alive, like me, and I am going to show it to you.” An idea had just flashed into her mind, and she had decided to put it into practice at once.

Maximus looked at her perplexed, not catching the meaning of her words, then his mouth opened in surprise as he saw Selene disrobe in front of him, shedding all her clothes until she was naked. His avid eyes ran along her form, drinking in all the details of her voluptuous body, then followed her as she circled the bed and returned to kneel at his side on the mattress. His hand rose slowly to caress her breast, but she pushed it away. “Let me do everything for you,” she whispered. And before Maximus was able to reply, she had thrown away the sheet covering him and was pulling up the hem of his nightshirt.

“Raise your arms,” Selene commanded and her husband obeyed without hesitation, helping her to get rid of the garment. Once they were both naked, she looked straight into his eyes, that were no longer deep pools of misery, but were starting to burn with his inner fire, and whispered, “Now you must promise you will not move nor try to touch me.”

Maximus’ lips curved in a lopsided grin, “It depends on what you plan to do to me…”

Selene smiled back, seeing her plan was already working. Her husband was indeed feeling better. Even his manhood, which had remained asleep like him all the previous days, even when she had washed him, was now giving evident signs of interest.

“Promise.” She insisted.

“I do.”

“Good.” Selene bent down and kissed the tip of his nose, but not the mouth he had hopefully offered to her.

“Not yet, not yet…” she teased and Maximus let out a groan of playful frustration – another signal he was doing much better – which turned into a moan when Selene lowered her head and bit him in the spot where his neck joined his shoulder, something that never failed to drive him wild. His manhood swelled and hardened under her hungry stare and she too moaned with pleasure, anticipating how it would feel inside her, before she continued her assault on her husband’s body.

First his neck, which was thoroughly kissed and licked, savouring the delicious saltiness of his skin. Then his broad chest, which was caressed, kissed and nipped, his chest hair smoothed and combed. Selene had to push away Maximus’ hand when she dedicated herself to his hard, small nipples, for he had tried to press her mouth against his chest, since he was loving so much the way she was sucking and nibbling at them. She stopped her ministrations and frowned at him. “You promised, Maximus.”

He groaned aloud, but obeyed, spreading his arms wide on the mattress, his fists now clenching the sheet. She rewarded him by tracing large, lazy circles with her fingertips over the silky skin of his pectorals, that became narrower and narrower as they approached his nipples, that were then lightly pinched. Maximus moaned aloud and his back arched as he offered himself to her.

“Again…” he breathed and Selene was more than happy to repeat her actions, aroused by how her husband was at her complete mercy, his big, handsome body covered by a thin sheen of sweat, his muscles languidly flexing and relaxing in response to her moves. His head was thrown back against the pillow, his mouth was open in pleasure. He was beautiful beyond description and Selene had to struggle with herself. A part of her wanted to hurry with her foreplay, wanting to feel him inside her as soon as possible, for her own body was melting with desire. Another part, in turn, wanted to linger, to stretch out that moment, for it was the first time she had seen Maximus so open, so trusting, so completely and totally abandoned to her care.

Selene took several deep breaths to calm her excitement, then she resumed her activities. She slid her palms long his flanks, following the curve of his ribs, down to his flat abdomen, her thumbs massaging his muscles as the other fingers lightly tickled him. Then she moved to his lower belly, where his hair was thicker; her fingers combed the soft, dark brown curls, then she tugged at them, that little bit she knew he would find pleasurable. Maximus’ hips arched up as his still neglected manhood became even harder, a clear drop of fluid appearing on its tip, and rolling down the shaft. Selene caught it with her index finger and brought it to her lips, tasting it with a wantonness she did not believe to possess.

Seeing her suck her own finger with such intent enflamed Maximus even more.

“Selene!” he cried, “Free me from my promise!” The plea in his voice was as desperate as her need to feel him touch and possess her and she murmured, “Yes Maximus-”

She had not the time to complete the line, for he surged up, embraced her and fell back on the mattress with her in his arms, before quickly rolling on top of her, his burning erection throbbing against her belly.

“Selene,” Maximus whispered before his mouth ravished hers in a long, passionate, soul searching kiss. “You taste so good…” he said freeing her lips and burying his nose into her neck, “You smell so good… So warm… so alive… so mine…”

“Yes Maximus, yours, always yours my lord…” her fevered hands caressed his back as she writhed beneath him, intoxicated by his nearness.

Maximus kissed her again, hungrily, in a demanding way, then proceed to touch and caress her everywhere, his hands gentle yet possessive as he rediscovered her long-dreamed curves, and he rubbed his body against hers, wishing to feel every inch of her skin come in contact with his. And when he had his fill of her with his hands, he tasted and loved her with his mouth, nibbling and suckling her breasts and all the spots that made Selene moan aloud and press his face harder against her skin. Their passion mounted, each of them taking as much as giving, rolling over and over on the bed, kissing, biting and caressing each other, driven by a need that went beyond the physical, wanting to forget together the loneliness and the worries of the past years.

Maximus brought his wife to pleasure first with his hands and mouth, then he entered her, as her body was still quivering, rekindling her flames. They cried out together at the sensation of filling and be filled, and Maximus began at once the mating dance. He took Selene hard, too charged up with emotion and long-denied desire to even try to go slow and make it last. He groaned and panted as he thrust at a frantic pace, his wife encouraging him with her own moans of pleasure, her body arching to take him deeper, her fingernails scratching his back as she anchored to him in the storm of their passion. Finally his control snapped and Maximus cried out, coming with a loud groan of pleasure-found and pain-forgotten. Upon hearing it, echoing inside the walls of their bedroom and inside of her, Selene went over the edge again, her inner muscles milking her husband’s precious seed, as a part of her mind sent a prayer to the gods, asking them to bless that wondrous joining with a child.

When they recovered their awareness, Maximus and Selene were still in each other’s arms, still intimately joined, a happy smile gracing both their faces.

Maximus kissed his wife’s cheek with tenderness, “I am sorry, I was too rough.” He whispered, conscious of the ardour with which he had taken her.

“No,” Selene tightened her arms around him, “You were exactly what I needed.” She raised her head from the pillow to kiss him back.

The next several moments were spent in almost complete silence, as they kissed and caressed gently, sharing tenderness and whispering endearments into each other’s ears, both of them waiting for the other to fall asleep. But it did not happen, for their coupling had left both husband and wife full of energies and wide awake, a welcome feeling, especially for Maximus.

“Well, this is an occasion to remember: we will not have to wonder who will fall asleep first!” Maximus smiled, flashing his teeth and Selene laughed.

“Indeed!”

Then he returned serious, “I think it is time we talk, my love. I owe you an explanation and I also have something very important to tell you.”

Selene nodded, as solemn as him. Maximus rolled onto his back, and when he was comfortable with her head resting on his chest, he began his tale.

“All started the morning after the final battle, about a month ago, when we inflicted a definitive defeat on the German tribes. Caesar summoned me into his quarters and told me he wanted me to succeed him as ruler of the Empire after his death.”

“He what?!” Selene head snapped up as she stared at her husband with an expression of disbelief.

“You heard me,” Maximus replied softly. “He wanted me to become the Protector of Rome after his death and transform the Empire back into a Republic.”

“Oh.” Selene was stunned, but also very proud her husband had been granted such an honour and she was convinced Marcus Aurelius could not have made a better choice. But, although she had always sensed Maximus was destined to greatness, she had never imagined he would one day rule Rome, and she was not sure she liked the idea. Selfishly, she wanted him to stay home with her and Marcus. They had already been apart for too long. She wanted him just to be her husband, not a general, not a politician. Just her Maximus. She suffocated those egotistic thoughts and showing a joy she did not really feel, she commented, “And of course you accepted.”

“Not immediately.” Maximus brushed a strand of her unruly hair from her face, pushing it behind her ear. “I did not want that position. I just wanted to go home, to return here to you and Marcus. You know I have never been ambitious.”

“I know, my love. You had always wanted to do your best in your job and in everything you did, and you have been rewarded for it.”

“Even if the rewards have not always been to my liking- as this time.” Maximus sighed. “Marcus Aurelius gave me till the sunset to think about his offer and about the reason he had chosen me- and in the end I could only accept. Selene, you should see him! He is so fragile now, so concerned about what will happen to Rome after his death. I could not say no to him. He has been like a father for me for many years, I could not let him down as his own son had done.” Maximus’ eyes begged his wife to understand him, but there was no real need for it, for Selene knew how much he loved the emperor. She nodded before adding, “What happened next?” What she had heard till then did not explain his exhaustion and nightmares.

“We signed the contracts that same evening, when I retired to my tent early for I was tired. During the early hours of the night I had a terribly detailed nightmare, in which Commodus, upon discovering his father’s decision, strangled Marcus Aurelius and sentenced me to death…and you and Marcus too.” Maximus swallowed hard, and his arms tightened around her. “It was so horrible, Selene. In the dream I was able to escape my executioners, and I ran here to try to save you and our son, but-” He was now trembling and his face was a mask of unspeakable pain.

Selene hugged him harder, comforting him, dreading his next words, but knowing he had to say them aloud, as she needed to hear them. “But?”

“But I – I was too late. They – they had already burned and crucified you and our boy and there was nothing I could do but bury you.” Maximus was now crying, shamelessly showing her his pain, “Oh Selene! It was so terrible... The sight of your blackened, tortured bodies…the stench of burnt flesh…the sensation that the most important part of me had been ripped away from me…the guilt for causing such an atrocious death to the two people that most mattered to me…the desire to die for life had no meaning without you and Marcus…” His voice broke and he sobbed like a child, pouring out all his anguish, caused not only by his nightmares, but by years of constant worry and tension. Selene wanted to cry too, but strengthened her resolve, knowing she needed to be strong for him. She rolled onto her back and reversed their positions, pulling his unresisting form into her arms, pressing him against her and cradling his head near her breasts.

“Let it go, Maximus,” she whispered, her hands tracing large circles on his back, “It was just a nightmare. Nothing happened to me and Marcus…”

“But you don’t know the rest,” Maximus murmured against her skin. “The nightmare continued… and it got even worse. I did not die on your tombs as I had hoped, but was captured, enslaved and forced to fight as gladiator...” He shivered and took a deep breath, “But in the end I was able to kill Commodus and take my revenge, before I too died. It was then that I woke up, covered with sweat and panting. I was badly shaken and I went outside my tent, thinking a walk would help me relax. Almost without realizing it I reached Marcus Aurelius’ tent and out of a sudden impulse, I decided to check him. I went inside and I surprised Commodus intent on strangling his father- exactly how it had happened in my dream.”

“My gods!”

“Indeed. I saved Marcus Aurelius and then Commodus and I fought, and he got killed. Several hours later, I returned to my tent, wanting to sleep, but as soon as I closed my eyes those terrible images of you and Marcus returned. I already knew my dream had been more of a vision of a future which could have been- but what if Commodus had already sent out his Praetorians? I felt the overwhelming need to come home and ascertain you were fine. Those images had haunted me every night of my journey, not allowing me to rest… I was afraid to fall asleep and I lost my appetite too…”

“And it caused your exhaustion…” Selene swallowed hard, thinking about the pain her husband must have had suffered. “But now you are sure, are you not?” she asked caressing his back, “You know now that I am alive and so is Marcus…”

“Oh yes…” Maximus flashed his boyish grin to her, “You are most definitively alive.” He tilted his head and they kissed slowly and languorously. Selene felt his manhood harden against her belly and a shiver of desire ran along her spine. Her hands moved down his back to caress and squeeze his taut buttocks, but he stopped her.

“Wait! I must tell you something. Now.”

Selene looked at him, curious about his serious and anxious expression.

“Will you come to Rome with me?” He asked quickly, actually worried she might say no, “Will you help me bear the weight of my new duty?”

“Of course I will come! Did you need to ask? Oh Maximus, my love, you know I would have gladly gone to Germania with you if it had been safe enough. I don’t want to be separated from you again. I would follow you anywhere, my lord, for my home is where you are and I am sure Marcus will love it too- he needs and wishes so badly to spend time with you…” She swallowed the lump in her throat and saw her husband blink back his tears. But one of them escaped his control, sliding down his cheek, and she traced its path on his cheek till it disappeared into his beard.

“I love you,” Selene whispered.

“I love you too,” Maximus murmured back. Then he lowered his head and proceeded to show her again the depth of his love, his nightmares completely forgotten as life returned to be a beautiful dream, and the future a mystery he and his wife would unravel together, day by day.

THE END

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