This
work of adult
fiction,
loosely
based on characters portrayed by Russell Crowe, includes adult language
and experiences; you have been warned. No copyright
infringement
on
the original work is intended. Copyright
Reagan Kavanagh 2005.
June 2005
Words. Any individual word can have
various meanings. It can be a verb or a noun, an adjective or an
adverb. Singular or plural. The meanings of words are contextually
based; we have to understand the context before we can truly grasp the
meaning of the instant usage of any given word. The dictionary offers
two popular definitions of the word “revelation.”
Revelation.
Noun. (1) The act of revealing or disclosing. (2) Something revealed,
especially a dramatic disclosure of something not previously known or
realized.
What I got from Maximus that afternoon
in terms of a revelation fit both descriptors. He disclosed something
to me that he had withheld from everyone else he knew in this life,
save his partners. The nature of that disclosure – that
revelation, if you will - was particularly dramatic and was made even
more so by its relevance to me. He needn’t have worried about
my speaking until he had finished; I was speechless by the time he was
halfway through what he had to say, and it was some time after that
before I could manage to formulate an intelligent question. He began
quite simply, his voice mesmerizing and drawing me in as he spoke.
*
Maximus’
Revelation
“I was scheduled to fight that day and
afterward returned to my cell below the Coliseum. I was tired
– more mentally than physically – and lay resting
on the stone cot. One of the guards came to the cell, calling to me
before I saw him.”
“Spaniard!
You have a visitor.”
“On any day I fought, there was always
at least one “visitor” who came after I left the
arena. The first occasion on which that happened, I had been shocked.
It had never occurred to me that women deemed respectable –
particularly married women – would seek to buy the services
of a slave to pleasure them for a time before returning to their homes
and their unsuspecting husbands. I had refused each of them, sometimes
in anger, sometimes in sorrow and weariness with life and its
sordidness. As a soldier, I thought I had seen all that the human
condition might offer; I had not, and the rapacious appetites I saw in
Rome repulsed me.”
“On this day as on the others, I had
been taken to a holding cell and my chains attached to the restraining
rings in the wall. A woman stood in the corner, her face partially
covered by the mantle covering her hair; she had a small basket on one
arm and turned toward me as the guard left. I slumped against the wall
and looked at her.”
“I
will not serve you, Lady, any more than I have others who have bought
me for an hour in days past. You have wasted both your money and your
time.”
“The softness of her voice when she
spoke surprised me. There was no undertone of lust such as I had heard
in the past, no effort to charm me to her will. Rather, there was
compassion for one who suffered. I sensed that she also suffered,
though from what source I did not know. She stepped out of the shadows
into the light provided by the flickering of the candles’
flames.”
“I
did not purchase your services, Sir. I have brought food native to your
homeland and sweet oil for you to cleanse yourself, should you wish. I
ask only that you accept my offering in the spirit intended. My only
wish is to bring you a modicum of comfort in your time of
travail.”
“I thought back to Lucilla’s
visit when I had said that in sending her, her brother had sent his
best – though possibly unwitting - assassin. Lucilla had not
returned after my angry dismissal, but this woman could easily have
been sent by Commodus’ Praetorians. She moved closer,
extending the basket she carried to me for inspection. I could smell
the aroma of roasted fowl and sweet garum;
it took me back to the carefree days of my youth. My mouth watered in
spite of my suspicion that everything in her basket was laced with
poison in Commodus’ effort to dispatch me to the afterlife
without further delay. I swallowed and remained where I was, watching
her. She clearly knew what was going through my mind as she moved
toward a small table that was in the cell, and placed the basket on
it.”
“I
have not been sent by the Emperor to poison you, General. I wish only
to bring you whatever small comfort I may. Please, eat.”
“She opened the basket and laid the
food before me, pausing to look at me as she did so. When I made no
move to eat, she tore a piece of bread from the loaf and dipped it into
the garum,
took a bite herself, and offered the remainder to me. I watched in
silence as she chewed and swallowed. If she had been sent to poison me,
I suspected she knew nothing of the plot. I waited for several moments
and when she indicated no distress, finally took the bread from her
hand. I sniffed it first and then ate. The taste was that of the food
I knew from my earlier life, the bread similar to that prepared by
Ileana in our kitchen, and the garum
of the same quality we had purchased for our own consumption. Although
I did not want to do so, I could not stop myself, and I smiled, probably
for the first time in more than a year.”
“Thank
you. I never thought to taste of my homeland again this side of
Elysium. What is your name, Lady?”
“As I waited for her to speak, I tore
another piece from the loaf and dipped it into the garum
as I looked at the rest of the food. She had brought pickled fish and
shrimps in addition to the roasted fowl, along with Spanish olives and
fresh fruits …pears, apples, Calamata
figs, and grapes. All but the fish and shrimps were native to the lands
around Tujillo. I wondered if she had gone to the trouble to enquire as
to foods native to my homeland, or if her choices were mere
coincidence. I doubted the coincidence. She had been watching me all
the while and finally spoke; her name took me aback.”
“My
name is Cassandra.”
“I realised hers was the name of the
ancient Greek seeress, rather than one common to the Empire.”
“Cassandra
…and do you foretell the future, only to be
disbelieved?”
“She shook her head in the negative
before speaking again.”
“Sometimes,
I have …feelings …visions …about what
might be. Sometimes they come to pass, other times not, but I never
speak of them now. Even my husband does not know.”
“By that time I had eaten enough to
believe that the food she brought was not tainted and turned my
attention back to the contents of her basket. I ate sparingly, hoping
that if I did not eat it all, she would leave it, and the guards might
allow me to keep it. When I had finished eating, she removed a cloth
from her girdle, giving it to me to wipe my hands; I did so and
offered it back to her. She shook her head.”
“Please,
keep it. You will have need of it later; I will leave the basket for
you.”
“You
are kind, Lady, and I appreciate your consideration more than you can
know.”
“I searched her eyes once more and
failed to find the pity I had anticipated, seeing understanding in its
place. Her voice was low and soft when she answered.”
“You
are more than welcome, General. It is the least I can do to help one of
my countrymen.”
“One of her countrymen? I was
surprised; she did not look Spanish …indeed, I would have
thought her Germanic as she was blonde with fair skin and light,
golden-brown eyes. Of course, her ancestors may have been from the
northern reaches of Hispania, where fair skin and hair are more usual
than in the area around Tujillo. I took the cloth and placed it on the
cot. The food she had brought was a blessing because while gladiators
were amply fed, the fare was tasteless more often than not. Her next
action brought tears to my eyes. She reached beneath a cloth in her
basket and removed a small bottle of cleansing oil and a strigil,
holding them out to me. She had mentioned the oil earlier, but I had
forgotten her words.”
“I
thought you might enjoy this …you seem to me a man who
appreciates being clean; I should imagine you have little opportunity
for that luxury here. If you will remove your tunica, I will clean your
back for you. I shall leave the rest to you for attending
later.”
“I recall standing there breathing
deeply
at the suggestion. It had been so long since I had known the touch
of a woman’s hand - even an innocent one such as she offered
- that
I did not know what my response would be to that touch. I looked
into her eyes and was struck by her innocence …it was as if
she did
not appreciate the implied undercurrent carried by her offer. She
had spoken of a husband, which would indicate that she had knowledge
of what a woman’s touch might do to a man, but there was
another
possibility.”
“It was not uncommon in my time for a
very
young girl to marry a much older man. If that was the case in her
situation, it may well have been a long while since she had
experienced passion, thus forgetting how easily it may be aroused in
a younger man. What I imagined to be her innocence would help me
control the urges of my body if, indeed, my body were still capable
of responding. In truth, at that time I did not know if it was or
not. The desire for cleanliness in a world of squalor overrode any
reservations I felt, and I unbuckled my belt, then turned away from
her as I pulled my tunica
over my head and let it lie across
the chains that bound me.”
“When she touched my skin with the
cool
oil I imagined my mother’s hands doing the same when I was
young. She was quick and her touch light as she rubbed the oil into my
skin and quickly removed it with her strigil.
When she left that day I finished cleansing myself – she had
done only my back out of decency – and though I had only my
soiled tunica
and subligar
to wear, I felt refreshed for the first time since my last true bath
after the battle on that last night in Germania.”
Maximus stopped speaking and looked at
me before resuming.
“She is why I call you Cassandra. You
are so much like her in your empathy and acceptance. Even more than
that, you look like her. She was tall, as you are, particularly so for
that time. She was blonde as are you; your eyes are even the same
colour. I see her in you; you have her compassion and gentleness
…and more than that, I have come to love you as I loved her.
You have brought me the ability to love once more when I thought it was
no longer possible …as did she.” Maximus took my
hands in his and turned them palms up before bringing them to his lips,
softly kissing each before looking again into my eyes.
“Cara, you may believe me or
discard my words like chaff on the wind, but when I awoke in this life,
she was the first thing I searched to find, hoping that the one good
thing from my last days had somehow survived with me. I finally gave up
my quest, as it was clear she was lost to the ages.” He
sighed and shook his head slightly, seeming to remember the pain he had
felt at that reality.
“I am a man, Cara,
and I have told you that like other men, I have taken my pleasures
where I found them. I was appropriately careful – we knew in
my time that congress with unclean persons spread disease –
and I am a man of my time, even as I struggle to become a man of this
day. I assume – and truly believe - that any woman who would
open her legs for me on the first occasion on which I spent time with
her was unclean, a whore, irrespective of how she might otherwise
appear. I tell you this so that you will not fear intimate contact with
me. In the time we were apart, I went to a clinic and had the
appropriate tests done to be sure I was uninfected. On meeting you, it
mattered to me once again. If ever I saw you again, I wanted to be able
to tell you with certainty that you need have no concern regarding our
lovemaking that night …or on any future night.”
I think I nodded but, truthfully,
I’m not sure. I was simply too caught up in what Maximus had
told me over the preceding half-hour. His comment regarding his
assumptions of women who slid into his bed immediately did serve to
explain his willingness to wait until I was ready for a sexual
relationship, even as it explained his own reserve. Apparently, my
initial reluctance had been in accord with his second century
morés for respectable womanhood; it was something he
understood and prized. What he said in the next few minutes made
shivers run up my spine.
“That night we met in the market
…I saw you enter the store and discreetly followed you as
you made your various selections. I was trying to think of a manner in
which to approach you that would not frighten or offend you; that
opportunity presented itself when you went to select your produce. I
knew when I saw you that you were my Cassandra reborn, the woman I had
sought through time and space, and thought never to find. You have said
that you believe in reincarnation. If you truly do, then you will
believe me when I tell you that you are
she. We have many memories, Cara,
and in time, they will return to you.”
*
We drove home in silence. Maximus did
not push me to speak; I was too occupied with trying to sort through
all he had told me to ask questions. When we reached my house, he
walked me to the door and kissed me on the forehead before speaking,
the dogs bouncing around us in their eagerness to get inside.
“This has been too much for you to
absorb quickly. You need time to think, and to do so alone. I will
return to town tonight and call you tomorrow.” He turned and
started down the drive, and I followed him.
“Maximus, don’t leave. If you
do, I’m afraid that I’ll wake in the morning to
find this was all a dream, that you never existed. Please, stay with me
tonight.” He had stopped walking while I spoke and turned to
look at me.
“Are you sure that is what you
want?” I don’t think I had ever been as sure of
anything at that point in my life, and I nodded.
“Yes. Please stay.” He seemed
to consider it for a moment, then returned and took the keys from my
hand, unlocked the door, and stood aside for me to enter, following me
with the dogs close behind him. Once inside, he nudged me toward the
couch and made me sit before he walked to the kitchen. A few moments
later he returned, drinks for both of us in hand, and sat beside me.
“Have you any questions about what I
have told you?” I did but couldn’t formulate them
clearly at that point.
“Yes, but none that I can voice just
now.” I looked at him, at the clear blue eyes, his strong
jaw, the wide shoulders and deep chest. “What I need at this
moment is for you to hold me.” He took my glass from my hands
and set it with his own on the coffee table before drawing me into his
arms. We sat for a long time, not speaking, until I finally found my
voice again.
“Maximus …you said that when
you saw me that night in the market, you knew I was the Cassandra of
your earlier life. How did you know? What did you mean when you said
that?” He took a deep breath.
“I sensed it; that is the best
explanation I can provide. When I entered the market, even before I saw
you, I felt you …I felt a comfort and warmth move through me
that I have not felt in this time. Because of that, I knew you were
near, so I looked about for you. The only other time I had ever felt
that comfort was with her. I did not experience that degree of
…I do not know what word to use …perhaps it is
peace, even with Ileana. I loved my wife dearly, and she gave me my only
legitimate child, the son I valued above my own life. Still, our
marriage was arranged as was the case among those of our class. We were
fortunate in that we learned to care deeply for each other, though I
doubt either she ever experienced the love and passion that Cassandra
and I found with each other. I only know that my feelings for Ileana
did not approach what I felt – and feel - for you.”
He shrugged slightly, in the Gallic fashion indicating acceptance and
which he had acquired at some point in time. “The heart goes
where it will; we are not permitted the luxury of choosing its
path.” He stopped talking for a bit, took a deep swallow of
his drink, and seemed lost in thought for a while and then turned to
face me.
“All I know with certainty is that you
are the reincarnation of the woman I loved two thousand years ago. I
know it as surely as I know I will take my next breath in this life. I
do not ask you to believe me now. I ask only that you not discount the
possibility. As I told you earlier, in time, you will remember our
former life. I do not know when that will happen, or how it will be
revealed to you, I only know that it will
happen. Can you trust me in this?”
I sat looking at him. And yes, strange
as it sounds, I believed him. After all, I had managed to believe that
he was the man from the film and had no doubts that by some quirk of
time and fate he had crossed that invisible barrier between worlds and
had entered this one. I had accepted that Maximus was alive and with me
in this time. I don’t know why or how I had managed to
convince myself of that. If a client had told me that tale and appeared
to believe it, I would have diagnosed her as schizophrenic. I believed
what Maximus had told me that night months ago, and I believed him now.
He said there were things he had not yet told me about his relationship
with that first Cassandra. I sensed that I knew things about that
relationship that he did not, though how I knew that – or
what they were - I did not know on this day. Finally, and perhaps even
more important than believing Maximus, I trusted him.
“Yes, Maximus. I believe you
…and I trust you. I have no idea why, but I do.”
He smiled and sat back, pulling me close again and I snuggled into his
warm bulk. The next thing I knew I was in his arms and being carried
down the hall to the bedroom. He sat me on the side of the bed and
knelt to untie my hiking boots, slipping them from my feet before
looking up at me.
“It has been a long day. You need
rest.
Get ready for bed. I will tend to the dogs and join you when I am done
with them.” I nodded as he left the room. I undressed as I
listened to him call them to the kitchen and feed them, then let them
out for their nightly romp before coming to bed. I finished my usual
bedtime routine and was just settling into bed when he returned,
stripping off his shirt as he walked into the room. I smiled at him.
“You should be illegal in all 50
states.” His eyebrows shot up as he looked at me.
“I beg your pardon?”
“No man should look that
good.” He laughed and shook his head at me, completely
dismissing the reality that he’s the best specimen of a man
I’ve ever encountered.
“You are overtired.” He
walked into the bathroom and I lay back, listening as he brushed his
teeth and urinated, then washed his hands and returned nude to join me
in the bed. He settled in and pulled me close, kissing me softly before
he turned out the light.
“Sleep, Cara.
I will be here when you wake.”
*
Before Maximus returned to his loft
Sunday afternoon to collect clothing for the coming week, he asked me
to consider something.
“Am I correct in thinking that at the
end of this month you will have the remainder of the summer off? You
will not be teaching again until the fall?”
“Yes, that’s right. I was
hoping that we might spend a bit more time together, so declined the
offer to teach the second session. Why?”
“I would like you to consider
something. I want to take you to the part of Spain where I was born
and grew to manhood. Following that, I would like us to go to Rome,
back to where we began.” That caught me off guard. I had been
to Spain and Italy years ago, but if I made this trip with Maximus, I
knew the experience would be vastly different from those earlier visits.
“Okay …I’ll think
about it. How soon do you need to know?”
“By the end of the week, if possible.
If I am to take leave, I need to arrange it around Thorne and
O’Reilly’s schedules.”
“Yes.”
“Yes?” I smiled at him.
Sometimes the man is just too easy.
“Yes, of course I’ll go with
you.” His expression went from somber to surprised to joyful,
all in the space of about two seconds.
“You will? You are sure? You do not
wish to think on it a bit longer?” I nodded.
“Maximus, I would go to the ends of
the
earth with you. Haven’t you realized that?” He
shook his head in wonder before answering that one.
“I had hoped you would, but I did not
anticipate so rapid a decision.” He may think he knows women,
but he really doesn’t know us all that well. What man does?
“You need to learn something every
salesperson on the planet figured out years ago when dealing with
couples. If you want a decision, ask the woman and you’ll get
it quickly. She knows what she wants, and she knows what her man wants
…it’s just that women make decisions more quickly
than men. Now, go get your clothes for the week and get back
here.” I didn’t volunteer to go with him, deciding
I’d get dinner started while he was gone, and, as had been the
case so often since Maximus came into my life, I needed to think. He
left for town with a thoughtful look on his face. That comment about
women making up their minds more quickly than men was obviously
something that had never occurred to him.
*
While Maximus made his trip into town
and back, I started dinner and then sat with a glass of wine, thinking
about what had made me accept his offer of going to Spain and Rome so
quickly. It’s unlike me to make snap decisions, but at that
point, I was up for anything that would shed more light on his comments
of yesterday …those about my remembering the time I had
known him in an earlier life.
When I was still in Foreign Service,
I’d done a lot of traveling of the so-called ancient world.
I’d cut a wide swath through Italy, Greece, and Egypt, as
well as the Middle East – Syria, Jordan, Lebanon, and the Gulf
States - reveling in the opportunities I had to travel the world on
someone else’s dime. As I sat I leaned my head back against
the top of my chair, thinking, and suddenly remembered my first visit
to Rome prior to my marriage. I’d been on a student tour of
the Coliseum one day and as was my wont, had wandered away from the
group, doing my own thing. The original floor of the structure had long
since decayed, and from the stands, one could see the tops of the walls
once covered by the floor, walls that had segregated the various cells
and animal pens, as well as those reserved for the gladiators. I had
left the rest of my group in the stands without a second thought and
made my way out into the middle of the arena, picking my steps
carefully along the tops of the walls.
Suddenly the room of my home seemed to
recede into the distance and I was back in Rome, back in the Coliseum,
but it wasn’t on that trip I recalled so clearly. I was there
for the very first time ….
I
felt the crowds pushing in all around me, screaming their bloodlust,
smelled the acrid sweat on the unwashed bodies surrounding me. I
shielded my eyes from the merciless glare of the sun and watched the
drama unfolding beneath me in the sands of the arena.
I
was no longer in the present. I was back where I had begun, almost two
thousand years earlier, a freed woman in Ancient Rome, attending the
games with friends who had cajoled me into accompanying them that day,
telling me that the most magnificent gladiator they had ever seen was
to fight that day. Against my better judgment, I went with them because
I knew of whom they spoke, having heard of how he had twice defied the
Emperor.
I had managed to get through the first
few fights without being violently ill but only because I kept my eyes
down for the most part. And then he was there, in the center of the
arena, pitted against two much larger men, both of them heavily armored
while he wore only a simple leather lorica and carried a gladius and
small shield. I watched in fascination as he literally danced around
the two larger men and realized that their heavy armor served only to
slow them down. I knew that he was taunting them, drawing them in more
closely, making them careless. One of the two raised his arm to strike,
exposing his side as he did and as swiftly as lightning, the man I had
come to watch moved in, burying his gladius almost to the hilt in the
space between the armour plates of other man’s now
unprotected side, withdrew it, and stood back as the heavier man
crumpled to the sand.
He
turned to the second opponent, a man now clearly worried about the
outcome of a battle with one he had earlier considered a smaller,
weaker man. And though smaller, my gladiator was clearly superior, both
in skill and in humanity. A few moments later, having disarmed and
disabled the larger man with a sword blow that almost severed his arm,
my gladiator stood over him, sword raised as he looked at the Emperor,
listening to the roar of the crowd urging him to kill his opponent. But
even before the Emperor had the opportunity to give the thumbs-up or
thumbs-down, my gladiator turned and walked from the arena, clearly
having had enough of killing on that day. I had left my friends in the
stands, rushing past them and out to the stairs, then down into the
cooler air of the courtyards, gasping for breath. I leaned with my face
pressed against the coolness of one of the marble pillars until I was
able to think clearly and walk without stumbling, then made my way home
in silence.
I returned the next time he fought, a
week later, and by now knew that his name was Maximus, that he had been
Rome’s greatest general and had heard rumors that his wife
and son had been murdered at the Emperor's command. This time I came
alone to the games, not wanting to hear my friends’ sexual
fantasies where Maximus was concerned, not wishing to see them dicker
with the guards after the fight in their efforts to purchase his body
for an hour. I knew they had done so the previous week and that he had
refused to accommodate the one who offered the most money in return for
his “services.” He had walked away from her, and she
had returned home, frustrated, to her husband’s bed once more.
Maximus’ fight that day had
the same end as the last one with his refusal to take the life of the
man he defeated. I watched the royal box and saw the fury on
Commodus’ face as Maximus again defied him in silent dignity.
After the fight that day, I had stopped at the food stalls and
purchased foods I knew were native to Spain. I had intimate knowledge
of what Maximus might like, having traveled to Spain with my husband,
but I had also been born there. I took the food with me when I went to
the cells and purchased an hour’s time with this man who so
fascinated me. I was taken to one of the more private cells and told to
wait as a guard brought Maximus to me. I knew that he would consider me
another frustrated housewife wanting only to bed him before returning
to my boring life. I wondered at his reaction when he found that was
not what I wanted from him.
The guards brought him into the cell
and chained him to the wall, leers on their faces as they offered
coarse words of encouragement to him on their departure. I stood in the
corner, the basket of food on my arm as he turned to look at me,
contempt and sorrow written plainly on his face as he spoke.
“I
will not serve you, Lady, any more than I have others who have bought
me for an hour in days past. You have wasted both your money and your
time.” He leaned wearily against the wall as he looked at me.
I
believe that I caught him off guard when I explained that I wished only
to bring him food and the means with which to cleanse himself. I stood
quietly after speaking and extended the basket of food to him, finally
stepping closer so that he could reach it. He did not move, only
continued watching me as if trying to decide if I was baiting a trap
for him. I realized that he assumed the food to be poisoned, suspecting
that I had been sent by the Emperor to dispatch him to the afterlife
without further ado. He made no move toward me or the offered basket; I
looked around the room and seeing a small table, moved it closer to him
and placed the basket on it.
“I
have not been sent by the Emperor to poison you, General. I wish only
to bring you whatever comfort I may. Please, eat,” and opened
the basket and laid the food in front of him. Thinking that if I ate
first and suffered no ill effect he might then eat, I tore a piece of
bread from the loaf I had brought and dipping it into the sweet garum,
took a bite myself and offered the remainder to him. He watched in
silence as I chewed and swallowed and when nothing happened, he finally
extended his hand and took the bread from me, sniffed it, and finally
put it into his mouth and chewed. A slow smile moved across his face as
he swallowed, and he looked at me, those piercing blue eyes looking
deeply into my own.
“I thank you. I never thought to
taste
of my homeland again this side of Elysium. What is your name,
Lady?” He asked the question as his hands tore another piece
off the loaf, dipping it into the garum as he looked at the rest of the
food. I had brought pickled fish and shrimps and a small roasted fowl,
along with Spanish olives and fresh fruits from the area around
Tujillo, which I had managed to learn was his home.
“Cassandra.” He raised one
eyebrow and his hand, which had been reaching for a shrimp, stopped in
mid-air.
“Cassandra
…and do you foretell the future, only to be
disbelieved?” His hand moved again, taking the shrimp and
popping it into his mouth, chewing hungrily. I shook my head.
“There
are times when I have …feelings …visions
…about what might be. On some occasions they come to pass,
other times not, but I never speak of them. Even my husband does not
know.” He nodded, and returned his attention to the basket,
selecting another shrimp, a bit of fish, and a fig. I noted that he ate
sparingly and with reserve, though he seemed to enjoy what I had
brought. When he had done, he looked about for something on which to
wipe his hands and finding nothing looked down at his stained tunica. I
stopped him before he soiled it further, handing him a cloth that I had
tucked into my girdle before leaving my home. He accepted it and wiped
his hands, then made to hand it back to me.
“Please,
keep it. You will have need of it later as I intend leaving the basket
for you.”
“You are kind, Lady. I appreciate
your
consideration …perhaps more than you know.”
“You
are more than welcome, General. It is the least I can do to help one of
my countrymen.” He looked sharply at me before speaking
again. I knew that I didn’t appear Spanish, but my people
were from far northern Spain, where fair skin and light hair are more
common than in the southern area around Tujillo. He nodded again and
tucked the cloth into his belt. I reached into the basket under the
food and brought forth a bottle of cleansing oil and handed it to him.
“I thought this might bring you
comfort
…you seem to me a man who would appreciate being clean; I
should imagine you have little opportunity here.” He nodded
again and turned the bottle over in his hands.
“If you will lower the top of your
tunica, I will clean your back for you. I shall leave the rest to you,
for attending later.” He hesitated for a time and finally
smiled again, then unbuckled his belt, removing it and then turned his
back as he raised his tunica over his head though he could not remove
it because of the chains. He was now clad only in his subligar, and I
opened the bottle, pouring a small amount of oil into my hands to warm
it before spreading it gently over his back and down to his waist. He
tensed slightly at my touch, and I wondered how long it had been since
he had felt the softness of a woman’s hand.
I rubbed the oil gently into his skin,
appreciating the strength in the hard underlying muscles, trying to
divorce myself from the thoughts that sprang unbidden in to my mind
…thoughts of his hands doing to same to me, and I felt the
flush move up my chest and across my neck and face. Thanking the Gods
that he could not see my face, I reached back into the basket for the
strigil I had brought and began scraping it lightly over his skin,
wiping the blade on the hem of my gown, as I had neglected to bring
another cloth with me for that purpose. When I had done, he turned
slowly to face me as I stood unmoving, as one turned to stone.
Just as suddenly as I had been
transported into my past, I was returned to the present. Maximus had
returned – I had heard neither his car pull into the drive
nor his entry into the house - and was sitting on the couch a few
inches away, silently watching me. He reached out and brushed away the
tears I had not realized were streaking down my face before kneeling in
front of me.
“You have remembered.” I
nodded slowly, though not sure if I had been dreaming or if this had
indeed been a memory of a past life.
“What do you recall?” I told
him haltingly, stopping often as I watched the emotions move over his
face. When I had finished he took my cold hands and held them in his
own. “Do you believe?” He had affirmed everything I
had told him and I knew he wasn’t lying to me. When this man
cares about someone, when something is important to him, he is
incapable of a lie. I sat looking at him, wondering if what he had told
me earlier had planted false memories but, as he had given me nothing
specific, I did not believe that to be the case. I finally spoke.
“Is there more?” He nodded
slowly.
“Will you tell me?” He took a
deep breath and shook his head.
“No. It is important – for
both of us – that anything further you may recall be
untainted by my words. I worry that if I say more, it may impact what
you truly know. It is important that what you come to know and believe
henceforth, not be influenced by my memories. However, as your own
memories return, I will confirm them for you insofar as I am
able.”
I had no further recollections for
several weeks, and by that time we were in Rome.
*
The last time I had been in Spain I
had spent the first two days of the visit recovering from what may have
been the worst case of alcoholic remorse (you may spell that
“hangover,” and you would be correct) I have ever
experienced in my life. That experience still stands head and shoulders
above any subsequent effort I’ve made at drinking myself to
death. In fact, I get a headache just thinking about those few days.
When I told Maximus about it, he laughed.
“I cannot imagine you in such a
condition. What prompted such unlikely behaviour on your
part?” I shrugged.
“Youth? Total and complete stupidity?
A
momentary death wish? Trying to forget that I was with my husband, and
we’d had an argument that pretty much ruined the trip for me?
Pick any or all of them and you’d be right. Maximus, the
reality is that I’ve done some very foolish things in my
life and have been lucky to survive them on a couple of occasions.
That episode was likely one of them because I was ill for days
afterward from the alcohol poisoning I’d managed to inflict
on myself.” He put an arm around my shoulders, shaking his
head and laughing as we walked. We were in Madrid, having flown in the
day before, and as Maximus had never been there, we had scheduled a few
days for me to show him what I recalled of the city before moving on.
At that point we were on our way out of The Prado, our minds still in a
whirl after taking in only a minuscule amount of the art treasures
ensconced in that museum.
We made our way back to the hotel and
undressed, climbing into bed for the requisite siesta
before leaving at eight for our dinner reservation at Casa
Botin, Madrid’s oldest
and probably most famous restaurant. I knew Maximus would love Casa
Botin, as they specialized in
foods he would recall from his own time. The house specialties were
roast sucking pig and roast baby lamb. The restaurant was established
in 1725, though the location had been on the caravan route from the
Middle East to Europe for centuries before that. It had begun as a way
station, a place to rest, take on food and water, and purchase fresh
horses and camels for the remainder of one’s journey. The
restaurant is on the original site of the way station.
I had succeeded in getting us a table
in the old wine cellar, now divided into several small, private dining
rooms. We had one of them to ourselves, and for once, Maximus had no
objections to my feeding him bits of food with my fingers
…nor did I object to having him my suck my fingers after his
taking the food from my hand. Think about the dinner scene from Tom
Jones and you’ll have
a fair idea of what our evening was like. We barely made it back to the
hotel, and down the hallway and into our room before we were ripping
the clothes off each other in our eagerness to continue what
we’d begun at dinner.
After two days in Madrid, we headed
south and west to Toledo. Toledo is an island within a country because
it lies between the forks of a river and is completely surrounded by
water. It was a perfect fortress, and the Alcazar fortification there
has existed since the Middle Ages. We prowled through that and then
moved on to El Greco’s castle to see his paintings. While he
enjoyed the museums and art work, what impressed Maximus most about
Toledo was the Toledo Steel …that being their swords and
other implements of war. From his own readings in history, he was
familiar with swords made in Toledo and thoroughly enjoyed the
opportunity to observe some of the weaponry at his leisure. I was lucky
to get him out of Toledo and on the train back to Madrid. We hired a
car and left Madrid early the next morning for what had one been the
province of Emerita Augusta in Roman Iberia, the area where
Maximus’ family’s farm had been.
The present-day city of
Mérida (now you know where the name Meridius derives,
don’t you?) is the center point of the lands that comprised
Emerita Augusta and lies south and west of Madrid, fairly close to the
Portuguese border. Maximus had booked a room for us at the Tryp Medea
Hotel Mérida, and we checked in shortly after three in the
afternoon. It wasn’t all that long a drive from Madrid but we
had taken our time and enjoyed the scenery, as well as each
other’s company. The hotel was a bit more modern than we
actually wanted but was the only establishment in the immediate area
that had king-sized beds, as well as a pool and gym on the premises.
Other hotels had the pool and gym, but the bed was the clincher for us.
I’d slept with Maximus more than long enough to learn that
when he’s tired or stressed, he sprawls. He would have taken
up all of a double bed at this point because while we were enjoying
ourselves immensely, the reason for this trip was stressful for both of
us, and far more so for Maximus than for me.
We settled into our room then went
for a walk. He pointed out the various ruins, most of which had been
new when he last saw them and which he recalled from his childhood and
youth. This part of Spain was the heart of Roman Hispania and had been
called “Little Rome.” Evidence of the Roman
occupation was everywhere, from the aqueducts to the amphitheatre, and
it was here that the administration of the Empire south of Italy had
been located. We walked across the Roman bridge that still spans the
Guadiana River, a bridge built 2,000 years ago and which still has
sufficient integrity to carry the heavy traffic entering the area. In
an effort to preserve its integrity, it has been decommissioned as a
vehicular bridge and is now used only for foot traffic. I looked at
Maximus, questions bubbling over. He ran one hand over stones worn
smooth with time and waited, as if he knew I was about to speak.
“You have crossed this bridge
before?” He smiled and nodded in that way he has.
“Many times. On foot, on horseback, in
wagons bringing supplies to our farm and taking our own goods into the
city for sale …and as a soldier.” He shook his
head before continuing. “The last time I crossed this bridge
before today was when I left my farm for the last wars on the Germanian
frontier. I had thought the next time I crossed it would be on the day
I returned home at the end of that campaign, hopefully having been
released by Marcus Aurelius so that I might return to being a farmer.
That dream was never to be realised.” He looked off into the
distance toward the fields slightly south and east and my gaze followed
his. That must be the direction of his farm. He was silent for a moment
before looking back at me.
“Tomorrow, I will take you to my
home.”
*
We headed to the shops’ area
as soon as it opened the next morning. Maximus wanted to stay at what
had been his farm for a few days and had checked with the current
owner to be sure that was permitted. The man had been surprised when
Maximus called him the evening before, but after explaining that the
land was part of his ancestral home, had given his permission for us to
camp on the property for as long as we wished. We bought a small tent,
sleeping bags, cooking and eating utensils, food, and then Maximus
surprised me even more by purchasing a bow and arrows, along with
hunting and skinning knives. When I looked at him in curiosity, I got
that smile again.
“I am still proficient with a bow, Cara.
The owner of the land gave me consent to hunt for small game. If you
have never eaten fresh roebuck or boar roasted over a camp fire, you
will be pleasantly surprised.” It seemed that every time I
turned, I was finding out something new about this man. After
purchasing what we needed for our trip, we returned to the hotel and
loaded everything into the hired car, and with me as navigator, off we
went. Halfway there, Maximus grumped about the fact that the twists and
turns of the road made the trip longer than was necessary. When I asked
how else he thought we might have made the trip, he turned and smiled
at me. “On horseback, of course.” Oh. I smiled
weakly. Of course, that brought up another topic we had never explored.
He immediately caught the reservation in my eyes.
“I know that you ride …are
you less experienced than I thought?” While my answer was
forthright, it did require explanation.
“Yes and …yes.” He
caught my pause and raised an eyebrow at me.
“Either you ride or you do not, Cara.
Which is it?” I sighed. Do you have any idea how difficult it
is for someone born and raised in Texas - where horses are probably
more common than dirt - to acknowledge that it’s only been
within the last few months that she can stay on a horse once it begins
to move?
“Well, I do know which end of the
horse
goes forward and which follows.” He grunted. “And I
know that one always mounts from the left.” Another grunt.
“I know that feet go in the stirrups and that you steer with
the weight of your body …the horse will go the direction
your head is turned.” At that point, Maximus pulled the car
off the road onto the shoulder, cut the ignition and turned to look at
me.
“I see …yet you and Diana
ride every Saturday morning, do you not?” I nodded.
“Then how is it that you know so little?” Okay, so
sue me. I giggled.
“Maximus, my mother would never allow
me to ride as a child. She felt that “little
ladies” – her term, not mine - should not ride
astride a horse. I was told that when I was grown, I could take riding
lessons if I wanted to learn. My first riding lesson was two weeks
before I met you.” I doubt he would have been more shocked if
I had slapped him.
“Why did you not tell me
this?” I looked at him.
“It simply never occurred to me. You
never asked, and I never intimated that I rode well,
and it never surfaced as a topic of conversation. If you’d
ever indicated any interest, I’d have told you immediately
…I’m not ashamed of being a beginning rider;
it’s just my reality. You never indicated any interest in
going with me to the stables; if you had, I’d have told you
at that time. I didn’t think it was important …is
it?” He shook his head slowly, a soft, bemused smile on his
lips.
“No, it is not important. However, if
you like, I think I can accelerate your learning process somewhat.
Diana need not know if you prefer it that way.” He managed to
say this with a perfectly straight face, and then his reserve began to
crumble. At first he chuckled. That gave way to a giggle. The giggle
gave way to outright laughter, and finally he was laughing so hard that
he had tears in his eyes, and I was laughing with him. Come on, now.
It’s funny, and you know it.
*
A few hours later we topped a small
hill, and Maximus pulled the car to the side of the road, cutting the
ignition before unfastening his safety harness. He got out of the car,
and I followed him as he walked through the tall grasses and stood at
the crest of the hill, arms crossed over his chest as he looked down
toward the fields below. As I stood beside him, he put an arm about my
shoulders and pulled me close, then pointed into the distance.
“There …the wall. Do you see
it?” He was pointing at a low wall made of large stones, with
a break of perhaps thirty feet in it. I nodded. “That wall
was built by my father when Caesar granted him these lands on his
retirement from the Army. Do you see the dirt path that lies in the
break of the wall?’
“Yes.”
“The road leads to where my ancestral
home stood …and where my wife and son are buried. When I was
a child, I played in the giant poplar that stood to the left and just
inside the wall. I once fell from its branches and knocked myself
unconscious when I landed in the dirt below. One of my
father’s grooms found me and thought I was dead
…until he made to pick me up, and I emptied my stomach on
him. Apparently, I had hit my head on a stone and suffered what today
we would recognise as a concussion.” He smiled, shaking his
head at the memory. “It was a week before my mother would
allow me out of the house; she was convinced that if I got out of her
sight I would fall to the ground dead. Of course, as soon as she turned
her back, I was away, down the road, and back up into the tree,
climbing higher than before just to prove to myself that I could do
so.”
The image of this man as a child
climbing and falling out of a tree was so precious to me that I felt
the tears gather in my eyes; the fact that Maximus had behaved as do
all young boys was infinitely endearing. I wondered if his son had
climbed that same tree, and if he, too, had fallen from it. Maximus
seemed to read my thoughts.
“Yes, Marcus climbed that same tree,
and he also fell. I wonder how many other small boys fell from it
through the years? I have thought of what Lucilla’s son would
have made of it, had I been able to bring him here. I wonder if he knew
how to climb a tree. I suspect he did not.” I wondered what
Maximus had looked like as a child and an adolescent. Had he been as
gangly and awkward as most boys? While it did not seem possible that
this graceful man beside me could ever have been anything but what he
was today, I knew that he had been a child, a youth, a young man, and
finally, the soldier in whom Caesar reposed his ultimate trust. In my
mind’s eye, I saw him as a chubby-cheeked little boy, then
approaching his teens with all the awkwardness that implies. I imagined
what he must have been like at 14 or 15, his body beginning to fill out
and the first hint of a beard beginning to shadow his cheeks; I would
bet he gave the local girls a run for their money. I lay my head
against his shoulder for a moment before speaking.
“How did you spend your days as a
child?” He smiled in memory.
“I was busier that you might think.
While children were allowed to be children for a few years, we quickly
assumed adult roles.” I sank to the grass and sat, crossing
my legs Indian-fashion and looked up at him. He leaned against the tree
we had been standing under and looked back out over the fields below
us before speaking again. “When I was very young, I was
allowed to play freely around the house, though not permitted to wander
farther than the barns or stables. By the time I was six, my father and
his chief groom were teaching me how to break and train the wild ponies
that roamed these hills; father wanted me well skilled before allowing
me to work with his breeding stock and the horses we sold to the Roman
Army. We raised and bred the ancestors of what today you know as
Andalusians. They were warhorses, and the Army required a great many of
them for the Cavalry. My father was one of their suppliers and took
great pride in the quality of our stock …as did I. He had
risen through the ranks from a cavalry officer to general; I followed
his path. He knew the life of a soldier and was well aware that a good
horse often meant the difference between life and death for its
rider.” He sat beside me and smiled before continuing.
“While on leave at various times, I
bred the mare and stallion that produced both Argento and Scarto,
trained them on subsequent leaves, and took them back with me to the
Germanian front shortly after my marriage to Ileana.” He
sighed deeply. “I have often wondered what became of them
after my enslavement. They were gentle with me but fiercely resistant
to having anyone else ride them. I suspect their high spirits
– which I had prized so greatly and encouraged –
may ultimately have lead to their being slaughtered as rogues. Today,
Andalusians are known for their gentle disposition …in my
time, they were warriors.” I could see the thought of their
having been destroyed caused him great pain and remembered the scene
from his film when he was attending to whichever of them he had ridden
in battle that last day. He was silent for a time before speaking again.
“Of course I did not spend all my time
working. As I approached my teen years, I roamed these hills with boys
from nearby farms, as well as with the sons of the farms’
workers. We hunted together – that was where I first
perfected my skill with a bow – and often stayed out for days
at a time, hunting, tracking game, sleeping under the stars. I got into
the usual dust-ups common to boys of that age and suffered the
concomitant blacked eyes and bloody nose, not to mention countless
skinned knuckles. I was no different than any other boy. I have only
good memories of that time.” A question popped into my mind,
one that wasn't important, but I wanted to see his reaction.
“Maximus …did you ever get
into a fight over a girl?” I tried to keep my face straight
when I asked, honestly I did, but at the sudden frown and prissy look
on his face, I lost it. I laughed until tears ran down my face, and he
finally realized that I knew the answer but had asked to get his
reaction; he began to laugh. When we had managed to get ourselves under
control again, he gave me a look that told me absolutely all
– and more – than I’d ever expected to
hear. I was actually a bit surprised when he chose to tell me about her.
“I was just past my 14th
year, and preparing to leave for the Army. I fancied myself in love
with the daughter of a neighbour’s servant, and the
neighbour's son also had feelings for her. She was a year or two older
than we and – according to rumour – experienced.
Her name was Lydia, and she was the most beautiful woman I had ever
seen …black hair that reached past her waist, eyes as blue
as the summer’s sky, breasts that were high and full and a
slim waist. My mother had once commented that she had hips made for
childbearing.” He stopped talking and watched me for a
moment, as if attempting to gauge my reaction. I nodded for him to
continue.
“The night before I left home, I stole
away after dark and rode to the neighbour’s farm to tell her
goodbye, intending to pledge my undying love and ask her to wait until
I returned so that we might be betrothed. Of course I did not consider
that only officers – and high-ranking ones at that - were
permitted to marry, nor did I consider the difference in our social
stations as I fancied myself in love. In the vernacular of this time, I
suppose one might say I was "thinking with my prick." When I arrived
and made to tether my horse outside the barn, I heard noises coming
from within, moans, as if someone was in pain. I went inside to see
what was the matter and found her in the arms of my friend and pulled
him off her, thinking that he was somehow hurting her. Obviously, I had
no knowledge of sex at that time or I would have backed away quietly
and taken my bruised ego off to war. Needless to say, my friend was
less than pleased, and we fought. That was the only time I came near to
losing any of my teeth, as he knocked three of them loose. As soon as I
reached the front and realised what camp followers were, I made it my
business to acquaint myself with the pleasures of the flesh
…and that was the last time I mistook lust for
love.”
Maximus had not been so very different
from boys raised on farms and ranches in this time. I suppose that
adolescent experiences with regard to friends and sex are timeless; we
all seem to have to learn the hard way. I knew about boys like Maximus.
Tomboy that I had been, I had run with boys much like him when I was a
girl in South Texas. Of course my mother wouldn’t allow me to
spend the nights they spent out on the prairies with them, probably for
fear of my natural curiosity – and that of the
boys’ – overtaking me, but I had been free to roam
those prairies with them during the long days of summer. As Maximus had
done with a bow, those days were the time in which I had developed my
early skills with firearms. You never roam the prairies of the
Southwest without carrying at least a sidearm, as once they decide to
strike, rattlesnakes don’t wait for you to run back to the
house and grab your 12-guage …nor do cougars, and cougars
were not a protected species at that time. I was lost in my musings
when Maximus took my hands in his.
“Are you ready to move down the hill?
We must locate a place to pitch our tent and set up for the
night.” I nodded. As long as I was with Maximus, I was ready
for anything. We put on our backpacks, locked the car, and started down
the hill.
*
By the time we had hiked two or three
miles, I was hurting. I’m in good physical condition, but I
was no longer accustomed to carrying a 60-pound pack laden with
supplies. At one point I stopped, shrugged off my pack, and sat.
Maximus turned a few moments later, realizing that I was no longer just
behind him, and returned to me. I spoke before he did.
“I don’t want to hear a
single word about women and their lack of stamina. I’m out of
condition, and I know it.” He smiled as he removed his own
pack – which was a good 20 pounds heavier than my own
– and sat beside me, pulling a bottle of water from the loop
on his belt and handing it to me. I opened it and drank, small sips and
not many of them, and gave it back to him. He took a few sips, then
closed it and sat it on the grass as he looked at me.
“We can rest here for a time; it is
only about another mile to the spot I have in mind for the night
…assuming it is still similar enough to my memories for me
to recognise it. I cannot imagine that the tributary from the Guadiana
on which our farm and the others in the area depended for water has
disappeared. The land is as lush and fertile as I remember and it would
not be so without a good water supply.” Well, there was that.
About another mile …okay, I could do this. I stood and bent
for my backpack, shrugging back into it as Maximus stood and did the
same. I looked at him.
“Let’s go find your camping
spot. I’m tired of lugging this pack all over southern
Spain.” He laughed as I had known he would, and off we went.
We set a leisurely pace and within 45 minutes, we crested yet another a
small hill and Maximus stopped, pointing down into the little valley,
and there it was …a perfect spot. There was a small stand of
trees about a hundred yards from the river, the land flat until a few
meters from the river, where it sloped down to the river’s
banks. Maximus’ smile at finding something relatively
unchanged was beautiful. We hiked down the slope to the trees and
dropped our packs, then scampered to the river’s edge and
knelt in the gravel there, laughing as we dipped our hands in the
clear, cool water, and splashed it on our sweaty faces. He smiled again
before he spoke.
“I was concerned about recognizing the
spot. The trees are different, of course, but this is the bend in the
river where my friends and I camped on many occasions. It is open
enough that you can see all around you, so we did not fear being set
upon by slave traders (he shuddered at that thought), as we would be
able to see them and get away long before they could reach
us.” He looked around and nodded. “Is this not a
beautiful place?” It was breathtaking, the mountains in the
distance and absolutely nothing around us but the river, trees and off
in the distance, a few grazing cattle.
“You’re sure the owner
doesn’t mind us camping here?”
“Not at all. I specifically mentioned
this spot and told him we would like to camp here if I could find it.
He gave his approval as long as I killed nothing but hares or perhaps a
small deer.” Oh, that. Right. We were roughing it in the old
eat-what-you-kill fashion. “Can you manage setting up the
rest of the camp if I help you first with the tent? I would like to see
what I can find for our dinner.” As long as I
didn’t have to be the one to kill and gut Bambi, I could
manage and told him so. He laughed again, and I realized that for the
first time since I had known him, Maximus no longer had the lines of
tension in his forehead and around his eyes. It was if time had moved
backward for him, erasing the pain, leaving him a younger and
untroubled man.
“I can set up the tent without you,
Robin Hood. Go find something for dinner; I’m
starving.” He got out of his pack, retrieved
the quiver of arrows attached to it and slung it over his
shoulder as he picked up the six-foot bow. He
reached down to his ankle holster and got his 9mm Glock, handing it to
me as he spoke.
“If you need me, fire one shot, no
more
unless it is in self-defense.” I nodded. He leaned down and
kissed me. “I will return within the hour.”
“You’d better. It
won’t be long until sundown, and I don’t plan on
spending the night out here by myself.” He strode off back up
the hill toward the heavier tree line and disappeared from sight. I
turned toward the bundle attached his pack that was our tent and freed
it, then went about setting it up. It was done in less than five
minutes, as tents made today are designed to be idiot-proof. After
accomplishing that, I tossed our sleeping bags into the tent and began
gathering wood for our fire. With the trees in the area, that was
quickly done as there were small branches all over the ground. I broke
them into the appropriate sizes for a fire, laid it, and then got out
the small skillet and pot we had brought with us, along with the
military issue mess kits we had purchased. Okay. I was ready, now where
was my knight in shining armor with dinner?
Within the hour that he had promised,
I looked up to see him striding down the hill toward me, but with
nothing in his hands other than the bow. Damn. Looked as if
we’d be having beans for dinner; I should have known better.
As he got closer I could see something on his back and stood to meet
him. He strode into the camp, looked around, and smiled broadly.
“You are very competent …and
I have brought our dinner.” He reached over his shoulder and
retrieved what I now saw was a waterproof bag. He sat and placed it on
the ground as he reached for the bottle of water I had been sipping
from a few minutes earlier. I reached for the bag but he stopped me.
“No, do not touch it. We do not know what diseases they may
carry. I imagine I still retain my ancient immunities, but I would
prefer you not handle the raw carcasses.” They? What
“they?’”
“They? What’s in the bag,
Maximus?” He opened it as he walked toward the river and
squatted in the shallow water, withdrawing two carcasses, already
decapitated, skinned, and gutted.
“Wild hares, a buck and a doe. We have
sufficient food for a day and a half, possibly two days.”
Maximus was as proud of himself as any boy could ever have been, and so
was I. By the time I'd completed that thought process, he was
washing the carcasses in the river and handed me the bag.
“Rinse it well inside and turn it inside out. Try not to
touch the inside as you work, then lay it on the ground.” I
did and when he’d finished washing the amazingly plump little
bodies, he laid them on the bag before returning to the campsite,
talking as he went.
“Where is the soap?” I told
him, and he brought it back with him, along with the filleting knife
I’d insisted on buying when we purchased the hunting and
skinning knives. He made quick work of dismembering the carcasses and
brought them back to the campsite, the pieces now tucked neatly inside
the righted bag before returning to the river to wash his hands. I was
hungry but could wait if he wanted.
“Do you want me to start the fire now,
or wait a while?”
“Now. I am hungry, and it will take it
half-an-hour or more to burn down.” I had been a good girl
scout and got the fire going with no problem, then dug around in my
pack for one of the two bottles of wine I had slipped in without
Maximus have realized it. We only had the tin cups from our mess kits
to drink it from, but you don’t need Waterford to enjoy a
good Spanish Rioja. Maximus grinned as I produced the bottle and a
corkscrew (I always
have a corkscrew with me, and yes, there is a story there), opened the
bottle, and sat it off to one side to breathe. Maximus looked at me
curiously.
“How did you manage to slip that into
your pack without my seeing it?”
“I’m sneaky, Maximus. And now
you know all my secrets …well, most of them
anyway.” We laughed together as we walked to the tent to open
up the sleeping bags.
