Maximus heard the commotion outside his tent.  Although exhausted, he recognized the angry tones of soldiers, arguing.  He rose quickly from his cot, dressed only in his sleeping tunic, as Cicero threw the heavy cloak around his master’s shoulders.

Assuming his full height and straight posture, he strode out into the cold night air.  Dim torches showed a group of four of his men and a small bundle, lying on the ground, at their feet.

The centurion spoke tensely, “General, Sir, the men found this ‘creature,’ going through our food supplies.  ‘It’ should be dealt with harshly for being so bold.”  Maximus put his fingers to his lips, signaling silence, and crouched down, lifting the coarse cloth from the bundle.

There cowered a dirty, blonde-haired imp - girl or boy, he was not sure.  So thin, with pale, fear-filled eyes that gazed up sadly at him.  ‘It’ clutched a hard loaf of bread to its chest.

One of the soldiers suggested that they be allowed to “have their way with it” and then, “quickly get rid of it.”  Maximus stood tall on hearing these threatening words and ordered the men to leave, “Now by the gods!  We’ve had our fill of blood today.  Go!”  Humbled, the soldiers saluted and left their General with the ‘creature.’

Maximus reached out his big hands to the child, thinking that this was a girl child and pulled her up.  She looked so frail and small, standing there in front of him, as she shivered in the cold.  Gently, Maximus swung the long edge of his cloak around her and the weight of it moved her against him.  She instinctively wrapped her tiny arms around him, as far as they could reach.

Together they walked into the tent as Cicero eyed them with caution.  When the trusted servant saw the child, he went to set a place at table for her - wine mixed with water, bread and some warm soup.

She huddled at the low table as Maximus sat in a chair opposite her.  “Name?” he asked.  Then pointing to himself, he said, “Maximus.”  She mumbled, “General,” bowing her head and he nodded, smiling quietly.

“Name?” he asked again and pointed to her.  “Mara,” she stammered as she raised the cup of wine to her lips.  The liquid burned going down, but helped her to feel warm and good inside.  “These warrior men make powerful drink and fight brave against my people,” she thought.

Maximus saw that she was very hungry, but pulled the bowl away from her before she ate too much, too soon.  He motioned to her and she stood, moving cautiously toward him.  He raised his open, right hand and she placed her palm against his - small fingers next to his wide, strong hand.  Closing his hand over hers, he drew her to a curtained corner of the tent, where a bath had been readied earlier for his use, but now, for hers.

He pointed to the tub and the pitchers of hot water nearby.  As he turned to leave, the girl caught his hand up in both of hers and touched her forehead to his scarred knuckles.  “Thank you, Max-i-mus,” she whispered in a small voice.  She looked up shyly at him and was rewarded with a warm smile that started in his eyes and moved across his face.  He bowed slightly to her and stepped out, pulling the curtains closed behind him.

With that, Maximus gently sought the comfort of his bed.  He placed the loaf of bread next to his head.  Cicero kept a silent watch in the general quarters, until he too fell asleep.

  Maximus awoke early the next morning, his conscience clear - only to find that the girl had left sometime in the night.  She had taken the bread, leaving in its place on his cot, an evergreen sprig and the amulet of a bear.  “What a strange encounter,” Maximus considered as he moved to his place of quiet prayer.

The day was dreary and gray with cold rain.  The men were miserable and Maximus allowed them time to set things right in the camp, tend the animals and provisions.

Evening came swiftly with no moon as a storm began to rage, buffeting the tents and the Romans’ spirits.  Many men longed for their homes - dry beds and warm women to comfort them - in their sleep.

Maximus, too, dreamt of home - the golden sun, giant poplars, laughter and play with his young son, the warm kisses and smooth skin of his beloved.

On returning to her home, Mara animatedly told the story of her Roman protector as her mother sat, absorbed in thought and wordless prayer.  Mara’s mother, Cora, was a learned healing woman, revered by her people.

For countless ages, their people struggled to survive, living as one with the earth.  Within recent years, strange warriors from afar were intent on subjecting them to their rule.  When this proud people resisted and fought back against the Romans, they were brutally wounded or killed for their defiance.  However, there were more ways to fight back than with the club and spear.

From the time she was a little girl, Cora heard the ancient prophecy sung around the campfires of her tribe.  The old ones pointed to her as they spoke and nodded knowingly.  When she became a woman, she received the gift of “second sight,” to see the prophecy more clearly and to allow others to do so.

The days and nights of desperate suffering that her people withstood so valiantly brought Cora to know that the time of fulfillment was near.  So she risked her young daughter, her dearest one, sending her to seek out the Roman leader to test him as a man.  From what Mara told her, she knew now that he was not only a great leader in battle, but also a noble and righteous man, for he had defended one who was defenseless in his sight.  He understood well those who boldly acted out of hunger and desperation.  This was the man, whom the elders foretold long ago.  Cora was destined to seek an intimate union with him and the time had come.

By now, she knew that Maximus would be struggling with grogginess, while Cicero would be fast asleep - heavily drugged by the tasteless elixir, which Mara had slipped into their wine before she left.

Sending Mara to her sister’s hut, Cora set out, moving invisibly through the rain.  As the cold winds howled, the Roman guards huddled closer, seeking some semblance of shelter from the downpour.  Cora mouthed a spell for stealth and the gods allowed her to silently enter Maximus’ tent.  The lamps burned low, casting strange shadows, as she removed her fur cloak, her blonde hair flowing heavily down her back.  She was tall and voluptuous, her hips wide from carrying three children.  (Only Mara still walked with her in this life.)  Her knee-length gown was made of sheer, pale-gold gauze.

Maximus lay on his side, facing the open space as Cora came softly to his bed.  She stared at him for a long time, drinking in the power of his build, the sun-drenched color of his skin.  His face glistened with sweat and Cora reached out to soothe his brow.  A low moan escaped his lips and she felt his breath flow over her, as he slept.  “The gods have forged him from deep within the earth,” she thought.  “So strong and virile.  Their fires burn hot within him.”

After long moments, he slowly opened his eyes.  Cora marveled at their deep blue-green hue, shaded by thick eyelashes.  She spoke giftedly in his tongue, “Hail, Maximus.  I have come to be with you, my love.”

At first, Maximus seemed dazed.  Oddly, he was not startled.  Unknowingly, he had shed his inhibitions earlier when he drained the last drop of potion, mixed in his wine.  Drawn to this apparition, who shimmered as she knelt before him, he gazed into her clear blue eyes, smelling the forest scent in her golden hair.  Reaching out slowly to this ghost-woman, he touched her smooth face.  This was real flesh, cool and yielding.  She pulled his fingers to her parted full lips and gave them a gentle, sucking kiss.  He trembled at the warm wetness of her mouth, so foreign, yet so familiar and his eyes narrowed with passion.  Placing her hand to his chest, Cora felt his strong heart, beating hard and then, faster at her sure touch.

Something about her seemed familiar to him now and he murmured, “Mara?”  She replied, “No, I am Cora,” as she took his strong hand in hers.  Gently, she placed that calloused hand on her breast.  Her skin was cool and firm beneath his fingers and Maximus sighed with an unknown desire, coming from deep within him, as he closed his hand, gently kneading her full breast.

As Cora pressed closer and slipped soundlessly into his bed, Maximus enfolded her in his powerful arms, draping his leg across her thigh.  He felt feverish, thirsting for her cooling touch.  His bow-shaped lips anxiously sought her mouth, her long neck, as his short beard made her skin tingle.  Her mouth was sweet and open to him.

Cora eased in closer to his muscular side and gently pushed his tunic up his hip.  She longed to see him naked, next to her.  Maximus rocked toward her, as his phallus began to ache, growing hard as she firmly stroked his length.  She gasped at the feel of his manhood, so thick and throbbing in her hand, wet and smooth at the tip.  From somewhere deep inside, Maximus longed to possess her and was intent on having her soon, very soon.  “By all the gods. . .” he gasped and instantly smelled her hot female scent, openly inviting him. 

Cora moaned as she moved surely under him, her gauze tunic tearing apart as she became trapped there under him.  She was now naked beneath the weight of him and met his dark green gaze with a purposeful smile and a long, deep kiss.  He pulled back as she helped him strip off his tunic.  They touched warmly now, skin to skin. 

“Come, Maximus, my love.”  He answered her with a low growl and his tongue entered her mouth, tasting, exploring, controlling her in this moment.  She ran her fingers through his short, dark hair, then moved her hands insistently across his strong jaw, reveling in the texture of his beard, memorizing the shape and feel of his manly face.

In her language, she urged, “Give me your seed, Great One,” wrapping her legs tightly around his waist and guiding his phallus to her swollen mound.  Maximus hissed as he rubbed himself hungrily against her warmth, becoming harder and making them both breathlessly expectant.  She was wet-hot for him and he was ready, pushing himself fully into her.  She mouthed his name, seductively licking her lips, his chest, as he pulled back and thrust deeply into her, slowly, completely.  Their skin glistening in the dim light, they breathed together - exchanging kisses, leaving sighs in the other’s mouth.  They moved together and apart, over and over, their hearts beating in unison with the wild, raging storm outside.

“Cora - corazon,” Maximus rasped breathlessly into her ear as he increased his sure pace.  “Yes, Great One - by the gods, may we now be one.”  At her words, strange to his ear, Maximus groaned aloud and yielded all control as he shot his hot seed, pumping and throbbing, into this dream, this woman unknown to him.

Cora trailed scratch marks along his thick neck and back as she met him in their passionate release, accepting this hot gift from him, her throbbing muscles drawing him in deeper.  She reached for and placed the bear amulet around his neck, kissing his chest.  Maximus blinked hard, his eyes shining and dark, as he stared into her glistening, serene face.

For him, there was only slight realization now.  “Who are you?” he whispered hoarsely.  “I am the woman of your enemy.  Now your life is within me.  By the gods, you have given me a son - who will grow into strong manhood - like you.”  Cora clung to his neck as she poured out these words.  “He too will be a fearless and noble warrior, Maximus.  Worthy of you, his Father.  Behold,” trailing her long fingertips across his eyes, she drew him into the vision of an ancient prophecy, “Your blood, your descendants from among my people will bring Roma - the Corrupt One - to utter destruction.”

At the clarity of her words and the shocking second sight, which she bestowed, Maximus shook and mournfully rasped, “No.  No.  Roma - Victor.”

“For now, dear one, only for now,” she replied.  With great sadness, she kissed him deeply and, as quietly as she had come, she withdrew and was gone.  His divinely sculpted features and marvelous blue-green eyes would remain with Cora in her dreams and, in her waking moments, through a son.

As for Maximus, he was powerless to fight the lovers’ sleep, granted by the gods, which settled heavily upon him.

At dawn, Maximus awoke, tentatively fingering the bear amulet at his neck, his skin welted and tender from scratches.  “What. . .happened. . .here?” he cried, as he struggled to sit up.  Suddenly, he spied a pale piece of golden gauze next to his leg.  Then, he knew and remembered - the dream, heavy with his passion - was to be forever real.

In the stillness of that morning, the rain and wind were no more.  Maximus silently wept for his two sons and their mothers - one woman, dark-haired, the mother of his love; and the other, shimmering gold, the mother of his enemy.

By the gods ~ her gods ~ one prophecy was fulfilled.  The storms would rage again.

FIN