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Maximus never asked me what happened in the temple, but I doubt I could have made him understand, anyway. That he believed in the gods, I knew, but if he would appreciate the relationship between them and me, I was not certain, so I shared little of it with him, until it was necessary. He had never seen me cry before that day, and I wondered if he thought me weak, when my red, swollen eyes betrayed my state of mind. He looked askance at me, but there was no mockery in the glance. I smiled wanly, and ducked my head, to hide the shame I felt behind my hair, which I had worn loose, as fitting to approach a goddess. He stood respectfully by, while the priest and I spoke of the matter in our own tongue.The eunuch offered to write a letter to a Druid he knew in Britannia, encouraging him to teach me the service of Brigantia there, or at least, help me interpret my dreams. He did say, however, that he doubted any of the gods required the priesthood of me since I was a healer by trade, and they saw fit to speak with me, regardless. He was convinced that the goddess had approached me, and while he did not press me for the details of the encounter, he felt blessed that it had happened there. I thanked him for his time, and walked out of the temple beside Maximus, and into the soft, silver protection of the moon.
Through dinner, I found I had little appetite. Maximus ate well, and Justinius was ravenous. Maximus watched him, remarking that if he was going to eat like a horse, maybe he should eat with them, since he was fond of the stables, of late. Justinius stopped mid-bite, and stared at Maximus, turning the deep red of the wine he had been following mouthfuls of food with. Maximus gazed back, impassive. Slowly, a smile spread across his face. Justinius glared, then chuckled at his uncle’s rare joke. Normally, I would have found Maximus’ jibe regarding Justinius’ antics with the ladies hilarious, but I was so deep in thought, I almost missed it altogether.
While I sat and toyed with my food, I looked about, seeing everything and everyone as though in a dream. Their voices were hollow and far away. I was drained, emotionally, and physically. Too much was happening, too fast, and Brigantia had said that my trials were only beginning. Her coming to me was a gift with both good and bad omens. Though I was grateful to be so favored by her, I was not sure I was the right person for whatever she and hers had in store for me.
I asked Maximus to excuse me from the table. I was a shadow on their bright evening, and decided I needed to be elsewhere. He reluctantly agreed, worry deepening the lines in his forehead. With no real destination in mind, I wandered the pillared hallways of Tigris’ home, until I found myself in the inner courtyard, with its climbing rose bushes, and marble fountain.
The whistling song of the crickets hidden in the grass of the garden soothed me, while I tried to gather myself back together. The laughter of servants, as they went about their business somewhere close by, reached me on the warm night, with the fragrance of mountain flowers in bloom. It was a reminder that life was sacred, and that it was all around me; there were millions of things worth living for, all I had to do was look for them.
Or let them find me. Maximus’ hands on my shoulders were heavy and comforting, seeming to lift the weight of the world off my shoulders, in a way that Brigantia's embrace had not, quite. He broke my reverie, but I did not start. Neither did I pull away, just let some of his strength seep into my worn-out body and soul. I would chastise myself later, for not listening for the presence of others. It might not have been Maximus that stole up behind me.
“If you want to talk, I will listen.”
“I’m just tired.” In truth, I was afraid fresh tears would spill.
“I realized that, when you didn’t wake until noon.” The smile was in his voice, and he squeezed my shoulders, lightly. If I knew his habits, then he was just as familiar with mine. He had said it in jest, but still, I felt badly. The night before, I had tried to run away, this day, I was behaving as though the world was ending. Yet, he was not put out, nor let down.
“My sleeping spells are coming back, I think.” Months without them had made me almost forget that I was so debilitated. I hated to think what they could mean, when we were back on the road to Vindobona.
“So it would seem.”
“I don’t want to be a burden, Sir.” Maximus turned me around in his hands, then raised my chin and held it, so I could look nowhere, but at him.
“Right now, you are more of a burden on yourself, than me. You’ve become your own worst enemy. It hurts me more to watch you hang your head in defeat, than any blood price or sleeping spell ever could. You have always stood strong, and proud.” He brushed a strand of hair away from my face, so that he could hold my eyes with his own, without barrier. They were luminous, tender and warm with the blue-green flame of his concern and compassion.
“Whatever happens, we will face it together. Agreed?” His palms cupped my face, while his gaze seared my heart. I returned it, trembling and hesitant, but I felt healed.
Silence fell around the house, as though the gods had suspended time for us, then Maximus dropped his hands to my shoulders again, brow knit in thought. He shook it away, and moved back toward the dining hall, claiming he was still hungry, and that I needed to eat. I begged off, to retire to my room, and sleep. It eluded me, however. All I did was lie awake, and wonder if it was blasphemy to feel safer in the hands of Maximus, than in the arms of a goddess.
Justinius left early the next morning, to supervise the loading and transportation of goods, while Maximus and I lingered, to say goodbye to Tigris. After I finished getting Maximus’ and my things together, and the horses ready, I went to meet him and our host at the training ground. Gunthar, the Northman, was sitting on the bench above where Maximus and Tigris were engaged, using the wooden radii that Gunthar had offered to me, the day before. I looked at Tigris’ gladiator-trainer, noticing the pink welt, about the length of a blade, which rose across his back.
“My master?” I was gingerly examining it. It was going to be bruised and aching, for the better part of the week. He nodded.
“I should have moved back, and not sideways.” I agreed, as I watched the punishment the general and Gunthar’s owner were giving each other. Judging from the way Maximus fought, however, I was not convinced there was much Gunthar could have done to escape Maximus’ blow. The general’s former reputation as the best gladiator in the Empire was deserved. Tigris was huge, but maneuvered quite well, and used his weapons as extensions of himself. But he was no equal for Maximus’ eyes that saw every thrust of the radius aimed at him, nor the general’s speed. Maximus ducked in time, to avoid being hit in the head by Tigris’ weapon, bringing up his shield, to knock his opponent backwards, and tripped him. Tigris landed with a crash. Maximus stood over him, laughing.
“You didn’t learn the first time? You almost lost your foot, and your life.” They walked to where we were seated, grinning at each other. Maximus looked up at me, and motioned to the tiny ring with his chin.
“Aren’t you tired?” The sweat was pouring from his face and soaking his tunic. He was breathing hard. But the excitement was plain, in his eyes. He was enjoying himself.
“Not yet. I need some real competition.” The other men snorted derisively, at his implication. “Or has a life of ease made you soft, too?” Tigris whistled nonchalantly, at his challenge. I was not about to let it go, unanswered.
“I’ll be right down.”
When I reached him, he was removing his shirt. My breath caught, as he revealed hardened muscles, defined by the sheen of perspiration. I thought of the day- had it really been mere weeks before- when I had first looked at him like a love-struck young girl. Little would come of my ogling him, I decided, other than I would lose our match, and I had no intention of that, so I buried every thought of him as a man, and looked at him as an opponent.
“Do you realize,” he handed me one of the wooden swords and a shield, “that you have been out of the ring almost a year, now? You’ve been with me since Julius, of last year.” It did not seem that long. Of course, for the first four of those months, he had been gone on campaign, and I had been left with Lucius and his family.
“Truly? It seems like forever,” I smiled wickedly. He snickered, and led the way to the arena.
Tigris flipped a denarius, to decide who would have the first drive. Maximus won the toss. I felt the still-familiar crunch of sand under my boots, and ground my toes in, while I waited for the general to begin his initial drive. At thirty-and-eight winters, he was still very fast, and he came at me hard, weapon raised, aiming for my shoulder. He was right-handed; I was now so used to using my left for most everything, that I used that as my main sword arm. I had to turn into his swing to block it. It worked to my advantage however; I knocked him back with my shield, and danced into a position where I could swipe at him, back-handed. Above us, Tigris and Gunthar were calling out suggestions and encouragement, to me.
Maximus looked up at the observers, pretending dismay and betrayal, that they had abandoned him, in my favor. I used the opportunity, to thrust my radius toward his ribcage, but he saw it coming in just enough time to deflect the blow downward, with his own. He slammed his body into my shield, beating it with his weapon over and over, and pushed me back toward the wall. If he got me up against it, he would have the match. I sought a firm hold on the sand and held my ground with everything I had, for a few moments, then feigned giving in. He believed it, and shoved at me, again. I spun aside, causing him to lose his balance, and crash face-first into the dirt. There were whoops and peals of laughter from above.
Maximus rolled onto his back, sweeping my feet out from under me, with his shield. I lay there, stunned, while he rose, pointing his radius at my throat. He was grinning; he held the victory in his hands. “It would appear that the mighty Boudicca has been defeated, yet again.”
“It would appear not.” The tapered end of my weapon was digging into his privates, in plain sight of our two spectators.
“Finish him!” Tigris bellowed; he and Gunthar were howling with hilarity, and jerking their thumbs in the signal to kill, that we all knew so well.
Maximus sighed and held out a hand, to help me up. “You win.” When he pulled me up to where I could see his eyes, there was no hint of anger or embarrassment there, simply a proud twinkle. Behind that a gentle fire blazed with something else, altogether, but I could not put my finger on it. It warmed me through, though, and burned, when he brushed my hand with his, as he took the weapons from me, to put them away.
“Well done,” he congratulated me hoarsely, as he dressed. I often wondered, after, had we been pitted against one another, in a real match, would I have won? I was content to never have to find out. Sometimes though, I think a physical battle would have been much easier to wage, than the one we were fighting with our hearts.
