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.

 
Late June 2005

MAXIMUS' MEMORIES
I thought back on when I had known Cassandra the first time, those last few weeks spent in the bowels of the Coliseum. Unlike her own memories of that time which seemed to require some degree of provocation to emerge, my own are as clear as if those events happened only yesterday.

After the day I met her – when she had come bringing me food and cleansing oil - I was not scheduled to fight for a week. Proximo was a mercenary, but he had also been a gladiator; he did not throw us continually into the arena merely to make money. He allowed us ample rest between matches to avoid having us butchered in the ring if we fought again too soon. Cassandra had come again two days later, a full five days before I was scheduled to fight again.

I was resting after a sparring match with Hakken. I had cooled off as much as the heat of the Roman summer would permit and was lying on my cot, dreaming of the baths and how it had felt to be truly clean. I heard the scrape of the key in the lock and the now-hated call of the guard.

“Spaniard! You have another visitor …come along!”

The ever-present leer was on his face; I longed to smash it to pulp, permanently erasing the evidence of his pleasure at my discomfort. I rolled onto my side and sat looking at him for a moment before standing and following him. He spoke to me over his shoulder as we walked.

“You must be something special, Spaniard. She couldn’t even wait until you fight again.”

Clear implication that whomever she might be, she had been here earlier in the week, on the last occasion I had fought. Several women had come after my last fight. Cassandra had been the first of three who had come that day and the next, and I had sent the others away. Surely, it could not be her; she would risk too much by coming here again with the possibility of having someone recognise her. We entered the visitors’ cells area, and I was shoved into one of them and toward the tethering wall. As the guard made to fasten the chains to the manacles at my wrists, I heard her soft voice.

“No! Do not bind him. He will neither harm me, nor try to escape.”

To leave me unchained would be risking entering the arena himself, still the guard turned in the direction of her voice and shrugged as he left the cell. She must have paid him particularly well on that day.

“If he does, I will kill both of you.”

He stated the words calmly, as a simple matter of fact. But for that, I might have tried to escape. I may have been willing to end my own life but would never risk hers. I turned to see her standing in the shadows, stepping forward only after the guard left us. She again carried a basket, larger than the one she had brought earlier in the week, and moved forward to place it on the small table, the cell’s only furnishing aside from the rough-hewn stone cot against the wall. At the top of the basket were fruit, cheese, and another small, roasted fowl. She placed the foodstuffs on the table, a small cloth covering them, then moved toward the stone cot, placing the basket there before turning to me, her hands clasped together at her waist.

“I have brought food and other things that may give you small comfort.”

I looked sharply at her; surely, she would not have been so foolish as to try to smuggle in a weapon. She smiled then, as if reading my thoughts; I wondered if she could do so, if she had the ability to divine my thoughts at that moment. She turned back to the cot and removed the cloth on top of the basket’s remaining contents, taking things out in turn. A large bottle of oil, a strigil, several small towels, white linen binding cloths, and, to my amazement, a tunica made of soft, blue wool. I raised my eyes to hers in disbelief as she spoke.

“When I was last here, I brought cleansing oil but left you in soiled garments. Today, I bring more oil and clean clothing. I will take the garments you wear now with me and return them clean.”

Her voice was firm but soft, and she stated those words as if having clean clothing was the most natural thing in the world for a gladiator, a slave with nothing of his own. I was stunned, not having had clean clothing since before leaving Zucchabar so many months before. I felt the hot sting of tears in my eyes; this was something Ileana would have done, had the opportunity been presented to her. She, too, would have sought to bring comfort to one who had lost hope, humanity where none existed.

I turned away, not wanting her to see my tears, but she moved with me, reaching up with one hand to wipe away the moisture as it fell. When her fingers touched my cheek, I gasped. The warm strength of her hand, the softness of her skin, a kindness I had almost forgotten existed …the shock went straight to my loins, and I was stunned. It was the first time I had felt life there since before Ileana’s death. I had thought that part of me dead and had been grateful for the loss; it had kept me from suffering in the night, as did my fellows. I was suddenly rigid with need and turned brusquely away from her, wanting to spare her the embarrassment of my sudden wanting. Facing the stone wall, I placed my hands on it and leaned my forehead against the cool stone. Her touch on my shoulder was so light that it was almost a whisper.

“General …do not turn away from me. There is no need for shame between us. I am no blushing maid and am not distressed to find you a man like any other.”

My voice was rough when I answered her.

“You do not understand. Were it not for my gratitude at your kindness to me in this moment, I would throw you to the floor and take you now! Do not think me without feeling or believe my reserve limitless, Cassandra!”

She said nothing, but I felt her take a step back, hearing the rustle of cloth as she moved. I stood silent and unmoving for a time, struggling for control, and finally turned to see her watching me from where she sat on the cot. She stood and took a step toward me.

“May I call you Maximus?”

I nodded.

“Will you remove your tunica, Maximus? You cannot reach to clean your back. I will do so for you, if you will permit me.”

She had met my outburst with calm, my basest need with no hint of womanly outrage. I took a deep breath and turned away from her, unbuckling my belt and tossing it onto the cot, then removed the filthy tunica, standing with my back to her, clad only in my subligar. I heard her move toward me, and her hands reached around me to the knot that held my cloth in place, her strong, nimble fingers tugging at it until it loosened, and she deftly stripped it away from me. She stepped back and dropped it to the floor with my soiled tunica. My arousal was so complete that I could scarcely breathe, yet she had not yet touched my flesh other than to wipe away my tears and to untie my subligar. Her voice was gentle behind me, floating on the air like the wings of a small bird.

“I have no wish to humiliate you, Maximus, but you cannot put on clean clothing unless you are clean first. You cannot cleanse your back …please, let me do this for you.”

I knew that if I spoke, I would weep. I nodded once before again placing my hands on the stonewall, laying my head against it in resignation.

Moments later, I felt her hands on my shoulders, massaging the cleansing oil into my skin. More oil, and she moved down to my waist. I gritted my teeth and my breath hissed between them as she applied her hands to my buttocks and thighs and down the backs of my legs, my need now so great that I could barely stand for the pain of it. She stepped away and returned with the strigil, moving it quickly over my shoulders and upper arms, pausing only to wipe it clean on one of the small towels. I felt the instrument against the planes of my back, then moving over my buttocks with practiced skill. Clearly, she had done this before for her husband. Stopping only to wipe the blade after every few strokes, she moved down my legs to my feet, standing at last, and I felt rather than saw her turn her back to me as she spoke quietly.

“You may turn now and complete the process yourself, Maximus. I will avert my eyes.”

She sat at the far end of the cot facing the wall, head bowed and eyes closed, regal in her silent dignity. I picked up the bottle of oil and poured some into my hand, then began the process on the front of my body. I moved quickly over my chest and arms, then attended to my legs and feet, leaving my belly and groin for last. I knew that I would spill my seed when I cleansed myself there, and to have done that area first and then have to clean myself a second time, was both a pleasure and a pain that I would allow myself only once. I lay the strigil on the cot before reaching behind me for the oil as I continued to face the wall. She caught my hand in hers, and I felt the flames leap from her touch, passing like a current through my body to my phallus and groaned audibly with the pain, closing my eyes as I did. When she spoke, her voice caught, and I opened my eyes, turning to look at her. She stood nude before me, her face flushed with embarrassment.

“It has been too long for you, Maximus. I neither can, nor do I wish to take the place of your Lady, but do not spill your essence on the stones of the floor. Take the comfort I offer and remember the joy you felt in her.”

She had removed the basket and bottle of oil from the cot; they lay on the floor along with the strigil. She had placed my soiled clothing on the cot as a barrier between human flesh and cold stone. Unable to think because of my need, I caught both of her hands and pulled her to me, my mouth claiming hers angrily, my phallus rigid between us, hard as stone against the warmth and woman-softness of her belly.

My hands moved over her body of their own accord, caressing and kneading her high, firm breasts, stroking down the softness of her hips to between her legs. She jumped as my fingers parted her folds, and while I felt her breathing increase in tempo with my own, she seemed somehow at a loss. Had I not been so focused on my own need, I would have heeded her behavior. I moved her onto the cot, positioning her on her back, my lips devouring her body, moving from her mouth to her neck, to her breasts, then down her belly toward the dark blonde curls at her apex. I raised her knees and parted them, looking from her face to her sex; she turned her face to the wall, as if in shame. My hands parted her folds, stroking, seeing the blood rush to the surface, making her pink and full.

I kissed the soft curls before moving lower, my tongue reaching for her sweetness, even as she tried to pull away. I held her in place as my mouth found her and plundered her sweetness, finding her tiny bud and sucking it until I felt her shudder and cry out, tasting the sweet honey as it flowed from her, then moving up to kiss her lips, seeing amazement in her eyes when I did. I raised myself from her body, bracing above her on one hand as the other swept my still rigid phallus in her wetness before seeking her opening, resisting the urge to seat myself immediately, wanting to savour the feel of her walls take me inside their beckoning warmth.

She stiffened as I entered her, but I halted only momentarily; she was more than wet enough to permit me easy entry. I attributed her reticence to not having known me as a man and to being a chaste wife, having been with none but her husband. Too far lost in my own need, I did not heed the warning signs, ignored the rigidity inside her until I pushed hard and heard her cry out in pain even as I felt the warm rush of something more than a woman’s usual moisture. I placed my hand at the point of our joining and felt her wetness, then brought my hand up to where I could see it …blood. Edipol! She had been intact, a virgin.

Her words came back to me. She had said she was no blushing maid …she had not said maiden. She had not denied her virginity; she had simply withheld its fact. I had taken from her that prize a woman can give but once, and I had nothing to offer her in return. I started to withdraw from her body, but her hands on my back stopped me.

“No, do not leave me. I chose you; please do not deny me this.”

Leaning up slightly, she kissed my mouth as her hands moved over my body. My thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion. She had been virgin. She was married. She was no child not yet ready for a man’s touch; she must have been 18 or 20, possibly older. My eyes went to hers, deep pools of amber flooded with tears that streaked back in to her hairline.

“Please, Maximus. Teach me …give me this part of yourself to remember, I beg of you!”

I leaned down and kissed her softly, whispering as I did.

“I will try not to cause you further pain, Cassandra.”

I did try, though I know I was not successful on that day. The first time is painful for a woman; I remember Ileana’s tears on the night of our marriage, and she was not the first virgin in my experience. Cassandra was no different in that regard than any other woman. And she was right …it had been too long for me, and I was unable to hold back long enough to give her pleasure. Later, as I lay collapsed on top of her, feeling her long fingers drawing lazy designs on my back, I prayed to the Gods that I would be given another chance to make her feel as a woman should, a chance to thank her for the comfort she had given me in this day. I heard the clatter of the guard coming back and sat up, shielding her from his lustful gaze as he peered into the cell, unable to keep the anger from my voice when I spoke.

“Leave us! The Lady is indisposed; I will call you when she is ready to leave.”

I heard his crude remark as he moved away, telling me he would return shortly. Cassandra stood quickly, reaching for her subligar and wrapping it swiftly about her body, then pulling on her short tunica, followed by her stola. I dressed more quickly than she and stood waiting for her to look at me. When she did so, I asked the question.

“Why were you intact? You are married …or was that a lie?”

Even though she wore a marriage ring, I made my voice deliberately harsh, hoping to force the truth from her if she was inclined to lie. She looked me full in the eyes as she spoke.

“Yes, I am married. I have been so for almost twelve years. When my husband married me, I was a child, too young to take to his bed. I stayed with the housekeeper, playing with my dolls and the children of his late wife until my 14^th year. My husband is older than I …much older. By the time I was old enough for him to take to his bed, he was no longer capable.”

She took a ragged breath.

“I honour my husband, Maximus. He is a kind and gentle man, and he has been good to me. I keep his house, care for his needs, spin his wool, and manage his affairs, but I go alone to my bed each night. Until two days ago, I had told myself that was enough. When I met you, I realized it was not.”

Tears came to her eyes, and she struggled with dignity to maintain her composure.

“I wanted – just once – before I leave this plane, to know what it felt like to be in a man’s arms, to know what my friends speak of, to understand their longing. I knew when I met you that you were …are …an honourable man, that you would never speak of this, that there would be no risk of hurting my husband. Even more than that, I wanted you and no one else. There will never be another.”

She stopped speaking and quickly picked up my soiled tunica and subligar, now stained with her virgin’s blood, stuffing them into the bottom of the basket and placing a small towel on top of them. She turned back to me as she wrapped the food in the cloth that had covered it and handed it to me.

“I ask your forgiveness, Maximus. I deceived you, and I will ask the Gods’ forgiveness as well as your own.”

Moving toward the basket, she picked it up before speaking again.

“I will clean these for you and have my maidservant return them to you tomorrow. I will not trouble you again.”

She turned quietly, but I caught her hand as she moved to the cell’s door to wait for the guard’s return.

“Cassandra …wait. I ask that you not abandon me now. For the first time since my wife’s death, I feel something other than anger.”

I gestured toward the cot.

“We need not do this again. That is up to you, but I ask that you not deny me your company. I know that my end in this life draws near; give me leave to spend a small part of it in the solace of your company.”

She seemed uncertain and looked as if she would weep again. I moved to her, taking her in my arms, stroking her hair.

“Come back to me, Cassandra.”

I held her face in my hands and kissed her. The guard reappeared, and I stepped away, my hands going behind my back as the guard stood aside for both of us to leave the cell. He pointed the way out to her, and she moved away, then stopped and turned back to me.

“If it is your wish, Maximus, I will return.”

She turned then, walking rapidly away. The guard shoved me along the corridors toward my usual cell. I smiled to myself, rich with her memory; I could taste her sweetness on my tongue and smell her fragrance on my skin. They would sustain me until she returned.

Over time, I had learnt that Cassandra had married at the age of ten and spent four years in her husband’s household before being deemed sufficiently mature to be taken to his bed. Sadly, by the time her husband deemed her sufficiently mature to take to his bed, it was too late for consummation of their marriage. The virility of his youth was gone, and she remained virgin until that day in the cell in the bowels of the Coliseum. She had been intact when I met her in spite of having been married for 12 years by that time. I sighed, remembering again my horror when I saw her maiden’s blood on my hand.

REAGAN’S MUSINGS

We left Spain three days later on our way to Rome. Maximus believed it was there that more memories of the time we had spent together in a former life would return to me. He was correct. We checked into the Grand Hotel de la Minerve, the hotel in which Maximus always stayed on his trips to Rome. The Concierge greeted him as we walked into the lobby, all but breaking a leg as he skittered around his desk on sighting Maximus entering the door. Following his effusive greeting and as he turned and preceded us to the check-in desk, I looked at Maximus.

“You must tip very well.” I’ve done a lot of traveling and you never get that sort of instant recognition unless you’ve given someone a very good reason to remember you. He gave me that look …you know, the one that he gets when he’s trying to sort out exactly how much you really might know and then apparently decided that as I’m not a jealous woman, there was no need to dissemble.

“He has assisted me in obtaining certain …accommodations …in the past, and I have made his efforts worth the time spent on my behalf.”

“You mean he’s found top notch call girls for you as opposed to street hookers.” I grinned as I said it because watching this man squirm a bit was just too good to let pass without enjoying it a bit. Now he frowned and pursed his mouth. I call that his prissy look.

“Cassandra, I have always been discreet and taken appropriate precautions. We had not met when I was here on previous occasions, and I ….” I cut him off at that point.

“Maximus, I don’t care who you slept with in the past. That’s history. All that is important to me is that I’m the only one you’re sleeping with now.” His frown disappeared.

“You are not upset?”

“No, I’m not upset, and I truly don’t mind; as I said, I didn’t know you then. Maximus, you’re a man, and I would expect you to have had women in your life. It’s hardly as though either of us were virgins when we met. Of course if I caught you with another woman now, I’d probably emasculate you and rip her face off.” He laughed as he shook his head.

“I will never understand the workings of a woman’s mind.”

“Good. You aren’t supposed to, anymore than woman are supposed to understand the workings of a man’s mind. That’s what makes it fun.”

We checked in, and the concierge took us upstairs to our suite, helped the bellman put our luggage away, and disappeared. I walked through the suite and into the bathroom and just stood there, gawking like a schoolgirl. Maximus came silently up behind me, encircling my waist with his arms and spoke softly into my ear.

“Would you like to try the whirlpool?” Actually, it was more the size of a small swimming pool and definitely suitable for a small orgy.

“Sure …as long as you don’t think we’ll get lost in it and have to send out an SOS.” He let go of me and was already stripping away his tie as he walked to the bath and turned on the taps.

“I am an accomplished swimmer, Cassandra. The only distress call you may need is one that would save you from me.” Sometimes a girl just gets lucky.

Since the day that Maximus told me about the Cassandra of his former life, I had been having what I can only describe as flashbacks, some while waking, while others took the form of dreams. Snippets of that earlier time with Maximus had begun to intrude more and more into my consciousness. At first, I had struggled against it then finally decided that unless I knew where Maximus and I had been together – and what we had been – I couldn’t truly go on with our present relationship in the manner we both wanted. I gave myself over to the memories and simply allowed them to come when they would.

I remembered more about my visits to Maximus, first in the so-called visitors’ cells in the bowels of the Coliseum and later at Proximo’s Lyceum, where he had given us a small room in his house. The first time I had gone there after Proximo had rented the villa and surrounding grounds, moving his gladiators from the Coliseum into more pleasant accommodations, I assumed the lanista would consider me a professional whore chosen by his chief gladiatore to ease the needs of his flesh. More likely, he would think me one of the many frustrated women who had attempted to purchase Maximus’ time between matches in the arena. Surprisingly, Proximo had always treated me with the greatest respect. I had no idea what – if anything - Maximus had told him of me; I only knew his treatment of me and was grateful for his courtesy and the time his beneficence afforded me with Maximus.

After the first time I had been with Maximus intimately, I had hungered for his touch, awakened in the night longing for the feel of his hands on my body, his arms around me, and his strength inside me with a need previously unimagined. Once awakened, my physical desire and need of him knew no bounds. Seven weeks after our first encounter and for the first time since my courses had visited me in my 13^th year, I failed to bleed on schedule. I was both terrified and overjoyed, praying to the Gods that I was with child, yet having no one in my husband’s household I felt could trust to discuss my secret and its implications. In desperation, I turned to the one woman I knew who would understand …the woman into whose House I had been sold as a small child, the lady who had given me my own freedom at the time of my childhood marriage to a freedman who had once been the servant of a member of the Senate. Her Royal Highness, Lucilla, daughter of Marcus Aurelius and sister to the man I hated most in this world, the Emperor Commodus.

I sent word to the princess at the Palatine Hill requesting an audience, sending prayers to the Gods that she would grant my request. Later that same day a messenger came to my door, bearing a message with the Imperial Seal. The bearer said he was to wait for a response and take it to his Lady. I broke the seal with trembling hands and read her words, my tears making it difficult to see them. The note was written in the hand I remembered so well, as it was Lucilla who had taught me to read and write. This revelation had come to me in a dream one night as I lay in Maximus’ arms.

I looked at the young man who had delivered her message.

“Tell your Lady I will be there as she commands.”

He smiled before speaking.

“I will deliver your reply. I am commanded to return following that, and wait in your kitchen until half an hour before dusk. Come then, and I will take you to my Lady.”

I had rushed through the preparations necessary with my staff before the dinner hour, and told my husband that I must attend a friend laboring long in childbirth. I said that I did not know how late I would be returning home. His kindness in giving me leave to go tore at my heart; I thank the Gods he died before he knew of my perfidy, before he knew of the child I carried beneath my breast.

I had seen Lucilla but rarely since my marriage but most recently and by chance, as I was leaving the Coliseum after one of Maximus’ fights only two weeks past. I had been standing in the passageway that led from the Royal Box to the lower corridors, having fled there because it was darker and cooler than the other passages, and I was faint from the heat. I had not known then that I was already carrying his child. I was leaning against the cool walls of the passageway, when I heard the command familiar to all in Rome.

“Make way! Make way for her Royal Highness!”

I had shrunk against the wall, lowering my head and my eyes automatically as she swept past, and then she paused. I heard her take a step back and stop in front of me and trembled. Her hand touched my face before she spoke.

“Cassandra? Is it truly you?”

I opened my eyes and knelt before her.

“Yes, My Lady.”

Her hand taking mine brought me to my feet.

“Do not kneel before me, Cassandra. We have known each other too long and far too well for that.”

“Thank you, my Lady.”

She smiled and tutted at me.

“It has been too long, my old friend. Will you come to me tomorrow so that we may learn what has transpired with the other since last we saw each other?”

Her kindness and memory of me took my breath away. I nodded.

“Yes, my Lady. I would be honoured.”

She turned to one of her bearers.

“Follow this Lady home so that you will know where to go tomorrow. You will bring her to me at the Palace, at whatever time she says is convenient. I will make myself available.”

She turned back to me.

“I must go …Commodus expects me. I will see you tomorrow? Certe?”

“Yes, my Lady, and thank you.”

She swept past me, gone as quickly as she had come. That was the beginning of my renewed relationship with her Royal Highness, the Princess Lucilla. Had I known then the implications of that chance meeting, I would never have believed the gift the Gods had chosen to bestow upon me.

Lucilla’s servant, Appolodorus, was waiting for me in the kitchen as dusk approached. He was dressed simply and had told no one his name, only that he was taking me to the home of a friend who had asked I attend her as she laboured in childbirth. I told my housekeeper that I did not know what time I should return and asked that she insure my husband was comfortably in his bed at the time I usually assisted him there. I pulled my cloak over my head – no respectable Roman matron went abroad with her head uncovered – and followed Appolodorus out the door and into the street, looking back to see if anyone followed. We went to the end of the street, rounded the first corner and then a second. When we turned the second corner, I saw Lucilla’s litter waiting in the shadows, recognizing it from the many times I had seen it in the City. Appolodorus held the curtain aside for me to enter.

“My Lady sent her litter for your convenience.”

I clambered in, having never been in a litter before, and the curtains fell into place and closed out the surrounding city. Feeling the litter leave the ground as the bearers picked it up and moved toward Palatine Hill was a strange experience. We moved swiftly through the darkening and increasingly deserted streets and then onto the Palace grounds. The litter was lowered to the ground, and Appolodorus opened the curtain, holding out his hand to help me alight. We were in a small courtyard, and he indicated that I should follow him.

We entered the Palace, and I followed him down a series of hallways until we reached what must have been the entry to Lucilla’s private chambers. Appolodorus knocked twice on the door, and Lucilla herself opened it.

“Cassandra, my old friend. Come in!”

She stood back, allowing me entry as she turned to Appolodorus.

“I will summon you when she is ready to return home. Thank you for bringing her safely here. You were not followed?”

I heard his negative response, and he took his leave. She turned to her maidservant who stood beside the fire on the far side of the room.

“Leave us.”

The woman nodded and backed out of the room through a door on that side, closing it as she exited. Turning back to me as I removed my cloak, Lucilla held out one hand for it, taking it when I hesitated, and placed it on a small stand close to the door through which I had entered. She took my hand and led me across the room to a small couch in front of a low table laden with fruit and cheeses. She sat, patting the seat beside herself, and when I joined her, she looked me full in the eyes.

“What it is that troubles you, Cassandra? Your note said there was a matter of some importance you wished to discuss with me. How may I help?”

I ducked my head, my face flaming as I spoke.

“My Lady, I …I am with child.”

Her response was predictable.

“Cassandra, that is wonderful news! You must be thrilled; your husband must be so proud, for a man of his age to ….”

She stopped, seeing the look on my face.

“What is it, Cassandra?”

The look on my face gave her pause, and Lucilla took a deep breath before continuing.

“The child is not your husband’s?”

I nodded, my throat choked with tears of shame even as I thanked the Gods that the child in my belly was Maximus’.

”Are you sure the child cannot be your husband’s?”

I nodded again, finally finding my voice and spoke.

“It cannot be Servius’ child, my Lady. He hasn’t …we never …he can’t ….”

Words failed me. Lucilla nodded and took my hands in her own.

“Look at me, Cassandra.”

I did.

“Is Servius no longer capable of fathering a child? Is he unable to perform his husbandly duty for you?”

I nodded again.

“When did he last accommodate you, Cassandra? Is it remotely possible he could be convinced the child is his own?”

I shook my head, took a deep shuddering breath, and spoke rapidly, the words tumbling out before I lost my courage.

“My Lady, he has never …accommodated me. As you know, I was yet a child when we married. I was fourteen before he took me to his bed and by then, he could no longer …you know what I mean, my Lady!”

I was horribly embarrassed and flaming red from the neckline of my gown to the roots of my hair. She let out a chuff of air.

“Cassandra, if I am to be your confidant, you must call me by my name. You know it well.”

“Yes, my La …yes, Lucilla.”

She smiled and squeezed my hands.

“That’s better. Now, let us speak of options. When did you last bleed? Does anyone in your household suspect your condition?”

“It has been almost two months, and now, when I arise in the mornings, I am ill. I cannot eat nor even keep water down before mid-day. I do not think anyone suspects as yet because I send my maidservant to her own quarters each night; she is not in my room when I awake. I have always slept alone in my chamber; her not being with me is nothing that arouses suspicion. As for the sickness, my household often does not see me eat until mid-day, except possibly for a piece of fruit from the bowl in my room. But now, I cannot keep even that down. Servius is not aware of the illness each morning …we have never shared a sleeping chamber.”

She nodded.

“Do you think he would support this child, acknowledge it, to protect you?”

I shrugged.

“In truth, La …Lucilla, I do not know. I do know that he has always treated me with the greatest kindness. He has often apologized for his inability to …he has said that he wished he could give me a child. He has said he believes I would be a good mother.”

Lucilla smiled and rose, walking to the back door of her chamber, opened it and called for her maidservant and, when she appeared, told her to bring us wine.

“If he truly feels as he says, he will likely acknowledge the child as his own, if for no other reason than to preserve his own dignity and to make his fellows jealous!”

She smiled and turned to the door as her maidservant knocked and entered with watered wine and goblets.

“Thank you, Aspasia. You may go now; if I have further needs, I will summon you.”

The woman bowed low, backing out of the room, and closed the door, leaving us alone again. The next questions Lucilla asked shook me to my very soul. Maximus had told me of his former relationship with her, but I never dreamed she would ask the things she did. How would the Augusta Lucilla react to learning that the child I carried was that of her own former lover?

“And what of your lover? Is he married? Will his wife make trouble should she discover his liaison with you?”

I took a deep breath and decided to answer as honestly as I could, while trying not to reveal the identity of my child’s father.

“He is not married; his wife died some time past.”

Lucilla nodded.

“Has he children?”

I shook my head in the negative. She knew that Maximus had fathered a son, and I felt sure she knew that both his wife and son were dead; her brother had them murdered. How could she not but know? To tell Lucilla that the father of my child had a son and a wife, both dead, seemed courting disaster.

”May I ask where you met this man?”

I would answer that question, though when I did I knew she would think him a plebian, and I would let her think as much unless she pressed me. What she thought of me did not matter, as long as she did not discern Maximus’ identity. I affected a shamed posture before I answered her and dropped my voice to a whisper to accommodate that attitude.

“I …I met him in the Coliseum …at the games.”

I had not counted on her next questions, much less her ability to discern my poor ability to lie to her.

“Cassandra …is this man a plebian …or perhaps, and I think more likely, a Senator?”

She had pressed me and now, I was caught. I would not dishonour Maximus by deliberately calling him a plebian, when nothing was farther from the truth.

“He is not a plebian.”

“So …he is a Senator, or at least a man highly placed?”

Keeping my eyes down, I nodded. She was relentless.

“I did not hear you, Cassandra? Yes or no?”

“Yes!”

I kept my head down but looked at her through my lashes. She stood and paced in front of me for a moment before turning to face me.

“Cassandra? Look at me.”

I had no choice. I did as she commanded, and she asked again.

“Is this man highly placed? Is he a man of substance? Will he acknowledge this child?”

How to answer her questions? Maximus had been highly placed. He had been a man of substance and was a man of dignity and compassion. And yes, I knew beyond doubt that he would acknowledge his child if he knew of its existence, but he would certainly die in the arena long before its birth, so what possible difference could that make? What did it matter? I decided to deny any inference that he was a man of any honour whatever. Let Lucilla think I had lain with a Senator who had used me solely for his own gratification and spare Maximus her scrutiny. I raised my head and looked her full in the eyes when I spoke.

“He is a man of substance, but he wants no encumbrances; I doubt he would even acknowledge lying with me. He would certainly never acknowledge this child.”

Her eyes pierced mine, boring into my soul. Her hand went beneath my jaw and raised my face fully to her own.

“Do you speak to me truthfully, Cassandra?”

“Yes, Lady …Lucilla.”

She stood and turned away from me for a moment, then spun around, crucifying me with her gaze.

“Cassandra, I will say to you what I once said to the man that I loved as much as my own life. You are lying. I could always tell when you were lying because you were never any good at it!”

I flinched. Although he had not used her precise words, Maximus had told me of her having made that accusation to him on that day so long ago in Germania. I could find no voice to answer her.

“Cassandra!”

I looked up at her.

“Is Maximus the father of your child?”

I had awakened as abruptly as if I had been plunged into a tub of ice water, shaking violently, cold, and sweating at the same time. I had cried out and awakened Maximus.

“Cara! What is it? Have you had a nightmare?” His voice was rough with concern, and he held my shoulders, looking at me closely. I almost threw myself into his arms, sobbing in the lingering aftermath of the dream, now with full recognition of our past life.

“Hold me, Maximus. Hold me. Never let me go.” His arms went around me and pulled me into his bare chest. One hand stroked my back much in the manner as one would to soothe a troubled child while his other arm held me like a steel band. When I was able to control my breathing, I pulled back and looked around. I could see the stars of the Roman sky through the open windows of our suite. Maximus let me go long enough to pick up a glass sitting on the bedside table and handed it to me.

“Drink.” I did, breathing deeply as I returned the glass to him. He looked at me closely; there was no need to turn on a lamp as the moon was full and the room almost as bright as day.

“What time is it?” He looked at his watch.

“Just after three. Did you have a nightmare?” I wouldn’t exactly call it a nightmare, but the end result had been the same.

“Maximus, I’ve been having flashbacks recently …and dreams.” His eyebrows went up and I could see the light of recognition flash in his eyes.

“And what are these flashbacks and dreams?”

“You said that you wanted me to remember our time together in our former lives without your prompting them …I think that’s what is happening.”

“And what do you recall?” I closed my eyes and let the rest of the dream come back to me.

The tone of command in Lucilla’s voice forced me to look at her.

“Cassandra!”

I stood, meeting her gaze.

“Is Maximus the father of your child?”

I took a deep and shuddering breath before I spoke, lowering my eyes as I did.

“Yes, My Lady, …he is.”

I was prepared for her rage. I expected her to call for her guards to arrest me, to send Praetorians to Maximus’ cell and bring him immediately to execution. Her next act was the last I had anticipated. She took me in her arms and cradled my head on her shoulder, holding me as I wept.

“Shhh, shhh, Cassandra. There is no need for tears; no woman could wish a better father for her child, nor a child be more fortunate in his father. Hush …hush now; we have much to do.”

She tilted my face up to hers as a mother would with her child and wiped away my tears. She sat beside me, taking my hands in her own.

“The first thing we must do is remove you from your husband’s house. We must keep you beyond suspicion, away from the women with whom you have gone to the games …away from any and everyone who would be likely to guess that the child you carry is not your husband’s. You will return home tonight and carry on as usual; tomorrow you will attend the games, and I shall be there as well. We will appear to meet innocently after the games in the passageway as we did last month. I will take you to my bosom and order you to return with me to the Palace. I will send word to Servius that I have need of you now, that I require a woman I can trust as my personal companion and as nurse for Lucius, and that I require you to move into quarters here immediately.”

I looked at her in trepidation. What if Servius said no? She smiled, as if reading my thoughts.

“Servius will not refuse me, Cassandra. I gave you your freedom in order that he might take you to wife. He will agree; he has no choice.”

I nodded slowly, in a state of shock. What would I tell Maximus? I never knew which days he would fight, and we had agreed that he would send his former servant, Cicero, to Servius’ house on the days prior to those on which he was to be in the arena. What would Cicero tell his master when he saw me no more? I voiced that concern to Lucilla. She thought for a moment before she spoke.

“Would Cicero keep our secret to protect Maximus?”

“I don’t know for sure …but I think he would.”

She smiled and nodded.

“Then we must take him into our confidence. I will station Appolodorus close to your husband’s house, and when he sees Cicero go there, he will bring him to us here. Tomorrow after the games, you will return here with me. I will send a message to Servius asking that he have your maidservant collect anything you might wish to have here and give it to Appolodorus for transport. There is no need for you to return there; he will not expect you to do so after receiving my message. Make a list of what you wish Appolodorus to bring from your home. The sooner we get you away from your husband and his house, away from all who know you as his wife, the better for all concerned.”

“I must return one last time …there are things I wish to bring with me that none other than I know where to find.” She nodded her assent, and I left shortly thereafter.

My head was whirling. I had held the barest hope that Lucilla would offer advice as to what I might do. Instead, she had taken charge completely, protecting not only myself and my unborn child, but Maximus as well. I could not comprehend that she would take such risks for a woman who had left her house 12 years previously, particularly when that woman was with child by a man she herself had once loved. I knew that I would ask the Gods to bless her throughout eternity.

I returned home late, half-dead with fatigue and fell asleep still in my clothing. My maidservant awakened me early the next morning; there was a man at the slaves’ entrance asking for a word with me. It could only be Cicero. I sent her to tell him I would wait on him shortly, set about combing my hair and splashed water onto my face. I felt the now-familiar gorge rise and vomited into my chamber pot. After rinsing my mouth and spitting, I prayed the nausea would not return before I had dealt with Cicero. I made my way to the kitchen, and on to the merchants’ and slaves’ entrance where he waited.

“My Lady.”

I stepped out the door, and he followed me to the shadow of an olive tree in the back courtyard of our house.

“My Master bids me tell you he will fight today. He did not know in time to send you word yesterday.”

I felt the same cold spasm of fear in my belly that I did each time Cicero brought me this news and nodded.

“Tell him I will be there …and I will come to him after.”

He smiled, bowed, and left me to my plans. I could not risk sending a messenger to Lucilla two days in a row. On meeting her after the Games, I would tell her that I needed at least a few moments with Maximus before going with her to the Palace, that he expected me this day. After last night, I felt she would grant me that favour.

I opened my eyes and told him what I had recalled thus far. Maximus was shaken; he had held no clue, not the vaguest notion that I had carried his child. He had gone to his death when I was in my fourth month without ever suspecting that his seed would go forth into future generations. I could see the muscles working in his throat as he attempted to speak, and then gave up the effort. Tears welled in his eyes, and he shook his head in disbelief.
 

MAXIMUS

“Cara, why did you not tell me at the time? It was my right to know that you carried my child.”

She looked away momentarily, as if backwards in time, then back into my eyes.

“What would your knowing have accomplished, Maximus? You would have worried about us, and that would have distracted you in the arena. You might have tried to escape, and while Proximo might have allowed you to do so, if you failed to appear in the arena, Commodus would have searched for you until he found us, and he would have killed you then. You know that he would have killed me as well to ensure my silence, and your child would have died without the possibility of ever having been born. By keeping my counsel – and my silence – I kept Commodus and his Praetorians ignorant of my existence.”

May the gods preserve men from women who think. I could see her logic, but I will never understand the thought processes of women, even should the Gods grant me ten lifetimes. Did she think I would not want to know everything she recalled concerning our time together, all of her memories, most of all the knowledge that she carried my child? Had she been so unaware then as not to have realised that I could have arranged for her safety and care, and that of my child, prior to my death and would have done so? Did she not realise that my own memories of those times had often been the only succor that sustained me on those endless nights in a cell at the Coliseum, or those at Proximo’s lyceum? Did she not even consider the fact that in the long nights I have spent alone in this time before finding her again, that my dreams were filled with her as we were together, so long ago? I was exasperated but attempted to appear calm. My heart beat heavy in my chest even as I forced the words from my lips.

“Tell me now, Cara …did my child …our child …survive? Did you survive its birth?” So many women died in childbirth in that time, as did the children they bore or attempted to bear. No woman went to her birthing bed without her husband or lover’s fears accompanying her. She nodded, a true and honest smile breaking her countenance like the sun striking fields of golden wheat.

‘Yes, she did, we did. She was born five months after your last fight. I thanked the Gods I was in my fourth month at that time. Lucilla felt had I not been that far along, I would surely have miscarried when you died.”

A daughter …I had a daughter, and both she and Cassandra had survived. Ileana and I had entreated the Gods for a daughter after Marcus’ birth, but I was not home long enough after his birth for her to conceive a second time.

I had a daughter! I felt the hot sting of tears in my eyes as I thanked the Gods for allowing one of my children to survive me, one child not sacrificed to my arrogance in refusing to take Commodus’ hand. I felt Cassandra’s soft hand on my cheek, and I pressed my own against it. I opened my eyes as the tears fell, seeing tears on her face as well. I pulled her into my body, loving her more in that moment than I had thought it possible to love. Somehow, I found my voice.

“What did you call her? Did she bear my name? Will you tell me of her?” That seems a foolish question to those of this time, but in mine, all children bore their father’s name, in feminine form of the father’s name if the child was a daughter. She smiled at me.

“Of course she did! We – Lucilla and I - named her Decima Meridia Postuma. Senator Gracchus adopted her, giving her the protection of his status. We called her Meridia and raised her together, along with Lucius. Lucius could not have loved her more had he been her full brother, and his excitement at knowing you were her father was boundless.” She stopped speaking for a moment, likely at the confused look that must have been on my face. Her hand touched my cheek, concern on her face once more.

“Maximus …I must ask you this. Are you …were you …aware that Lucius was your son? Lucilla confided in me shortly after Meridia’s birth. She was carrying your child when she married Lucius Verus; he acknowledged the child in order to protect both Lucilla and his own reputation. She never stopped loving you; surely, you know that. She told Lucius the truth of his paternity after Meridia was born. Maximus, Meridia grew up as she should, with her brother, your son, Lucius.”

I could not speak; my head was reeling. I had a daughter, born of my love for Cassandra, and now I knew that my eldest son, the one conceived with Lucilla before my marriage, had survived me. I had suspected that Lucius was my son, though Lucilla never confirmed it. We never spoke of the possibility that she might have carried my child. When I had met her again in Germania before Marcus Aurelius’ death, she had said her son would be “nearly eight years old.” Thinking back over the years, the timing of our relationship and its demise when Marcus announced her marriage to Lucius Verus …everything fit together like the pieces of an insane puzzle. The knowledge of that irony would have driven Commodus even deeper into madness. My wife and my only legitimate child had died at his hand, yet the children borne of the only two women I had loved aside from my wife – his beloved sister and my Cassandra - grew up in the Palace. My son was the ultimate heir to Marcus Aurelius’ throne, my only daughter the adopted child of Senator Gracchus. I shook my head in wonder and looked at Cassandra …this woman who had followed me across time and space that we might again be together in this life, in this time. But what of her after that last day in the arena, what had her life been?

“And you, Cara. What of your life after that last day?” She sighed deeply before speaking.

“My life was physically comfortable, spent with Lucilla and our …your …children, but I never stopped mourning you, nor, I think, did Lucilla. I suppose we were an interesting pair as we aged, Maximus. Two women who had loved the same man, each bearing him a child, neither of us taking another husband or even a lover after your death …two women, bound by their mutual love of one man as well as for each other and our children …and always connected by our shared sorrow.” She sighed again, shook her head slightly, then smiled.

“We told our children all we knew, everything we could remember of you, and they revered your memory. Lucius was especially blessed, as he had known you as a man; he had a clear memory of you, where Meridia did not.” She smiled – a soft smile, tinged with sorrow - as she looked at me.

“When Meridia married, Lucius stood as in your place as Gracchus was long dead by that day. He gave her to her husband in your name as the father who gave her life, then honoured Gracchus as her adopted father. While he loved and respected Gracchus, Lucius loved and honoured you more than you can ever know, Maximus, even though he knew you for so short a time. He was so proud and felt so blessed, to have been your son …to have been the son of the Saviour of Rome. That was more important to him than anything else in his life. He once told me that in having you as his father, he knew he was truly of royal blood.” I felt again the hot sting of tears in my eyes.

My sons, my daughter. What more could any man ask than that the woman, or women, he loved bear him healthy, happy children and, most important to a man of my time, that they speak well of him to those children? Truly, the Gods had blessed me, in that life …and in the next.

*

We left Zurich a week later, just after midnight on the fourth of July, having gone there for a few days before returning home. We might have stayed longer in Rome, but there was no need. We had accomplished what we needed in that place, and it was time to return home. We had plans with others on the afternoon of the fourth and would not be so discourteous as to cancel at the last moment.


NOTES