The vigil, who walked me out of the palace, looked vaguely familiar. Once he'd spoken, he removed all doubts. He was the guy who tried to stop his Captain from pummeling me with his fists. Daylight revealed that he had broad, honest features, flattened nose sitting askew on his face and bushy brows. Obviously, he was a fan, and he also won handsomely when we beat Brutus.

"No one's better than you! Every time you take to the sand, it gives me chills!" He jolted me with his elbow. "No wonder the Empress kept you for questioning till sunrise, eh?"

If this was a trap, he lay it clumsily. However, one can never be too careful, so I ignored the air quotes and said nothing that could implicate me in fornicating with Messalina Augusta. Instead, I said, "Victor is Inimicus... Jupiter, I can't get used to this news!"

The vigil clicked his tongue sympathetically. "The slave traders can only line their pockets, not to do their job properly."

Actually, they did exactly what their job demanded of them. They dragged Victor to Fidelium in chains and sold him on the slave market. I doubted my new friend would agree. "Yes, it was terrible to be betrayed like that."

"The treacherous snake snuck right into Fidelium too." The vigil shook his head with the 'what the world is coming to?' expression.

I cleared my throat, fighting nausea. I didn't have to defend Victor to this man or anyone else, and at any rate, he'd never get a fair rap in Fidelium. His ancestors would judge him, just like he wanted them to. So, I knew I didn't have to say anything, but, but, but...

"The saddest thing, Victor could have eclipsed me." It must have been that special pride a master has in his star student that made me say that. If only I had more time with him, he would have been without equal. Now, this future was lost, like our night together was lost.

"Bollocks!" The vigil guffawed. "He's barbarian scum. That's no match to Fidelis. You'll beat him with one arm tied behind your back!"

Fans... nothing ever dissuaded them. Or Fidelis overall in their superiority. I stifled a sigh. "Can't wait to go against Inimicus."

"Can't wait to see it!"

His beaming countenance gave me an idea. It was a long shot, but it was better than nothing. "Say, friend, could you pass a word around that I don't want Inimicus harassed? I hate it when guys aren't at his absolute best before I go against them. It feels like cheating the fans."

The vigil bobbed his head. "Can't make it too easy on you. Eh, eh?"

The more his smile widened with anticipation of a good show, the more I felt drained. It was like this man was transforming the feverish, fractured events of the last night into reality I had to deal with. It could have been a nightmare before, now I couldn't deny that all of it had truly happened. Victor attacked Messalina Augusta, and I went to bed with her to beg for mercy. I also felt the full weight of the price I had paid for it, my upcoming deathmatch with Victor. The whole of Fidelium would gossip about us this afternoon.

Old dog Maximus would kick butt of the odious Inimicus! Can't miss it! Viva Fidelium!

They wouldn't whisper about the conspiracy against Claudius Caesar, because I couldn't trust anyone with such dangerous information. Except, maybe... maybe... There was one person who could help me. Going to him would humiliate me. I'd sworn that I'd never see him again, but I had already stooped so low in my efforts to help Victor, this extra wouldn't matter.

I stumbled as a vestige of hope glimmered in my heart.

The guard bumped my shoulder. "Don't tire yourself out so much with... you know..." he added the two-tone whistle. "You need to be in top shape, champ to take on the interloper!"

"Don't worry, I won't overtax my stamina," I promised him. "So, keep Victor healthy, will you?"

"No worries, Maximus, I'll make sure nobody as much as spits on the barbarian cur."

"Thanks, much appreciated." We parted ways, and I marched across Fidelium to see Rufius Fulgentius at his villa.

I know, Senators, I know... I waxed poetic about my disrespect for my boss, but a gladiator couldn't knock on a nobleman's doors without his owner's permission. Better yet, if he came with me.

Of course, Rufius Fulgentius said 'no'. He also said I would be the death of him, and many other unflattering things... before coming with me.

He wouldn't shut up about how surprised he was and how grateful I should be during our four-hour ride out of Fidelium to the countryside. And we rode together, in a small hired cart pulled by a team of donkeys. The things love made me do...

Finally, I couldn't stand his prattling. I already felt like slime for running to my first lover for help, so Rufius Fulgentius demanding gratitude was just too much.

"You're going along with it, noble Rufius Fulgentius, because I'm the only man who could clear your name of suspicion of treason by defeating Victor," I said.

"Inimicus!" he wailed.

I jumped off the cart and walked next to the donkeys, who snapped their yellow teeth at me and bayed. This was the most pleasant company I'd had since last night.

By the time we approached Aurelius Titus' sprawling country estate, the landscape turned idyllic. The villagers cut the barley crop to stubble on the purple cheeks of dirt. Cattle dotted the hills backing the villa. And the orchard rustled with the leaves clinging to the tree branches, and lost a few with every gust. It reminded me of hiking the grounds of the Asclepius' temple with Victor... and as soon as it did, 'idyllic' wasn't the word for it anymore.

Focus. You came here to see Aurelius Tutus, not to meander through your memories. Though how I was going to accomplish this when facing my first lover, I had no idea.

From this distance it looked as if Aurelius Titus had done well in following his father's wishes.

These lands belonged to the heiress he married. Her father and her siblings all had died within the first five years into their marriage, leaving Aurelius Titus one of the wealthiest landowners in the Empire. While what I offered was my heart—and who would want my heart?

Rufius Fulgentius, the donkeys and I approached the villa down the wide gravel path, bordered in aspens and marble urns. The only thing the place lacked, compared to the Senator's mansion where Aurelius Titus had grown up, was the lake. However, he had a fountain with a marble statue of Tiber watering the land. Other, more local, water spirits surrounded him with radiant smiles and more watering juggs.

By the gurgling and spraying water, a schoolmaster lectured a gaggle of boys. Perhaps, he was describing the clever hydraulics that made the fountain work. Perhaps, he taught them the same stuff about the Crossing that they taught me in the public grammar school.

Two curly heads in the students' midst shone identical gold, another reminder that Aurelius Titus was fortunate with his father's choice for his wife. These boys would be Aurelius Titus' middle children, as they looked around six or seven.

The grandeur of the villa had an invigorating effect on Rufius Fulgentius. The moment his sandals touched its marble floors, his back straightened. He even hummed something bracing, while we waited in a sitting room to the side of the entrance. The silk cushions agreed with his cushioned buttocks and his expression said, 'I can get used to this'.

The slave went to fetch Aurelius Titus right away, but we were made to wait for an hour. Our host wasn't entirely without courtesy, though. The slave came back with his apologies and refreshments: sliced apples and cider, cheese and flatbread. This hearty country fare was served in such a generous quantity, I didn't have to fight with Rufius Fulgentius for every morsel.

When our host finally showed up, it was clear he didn't spend this time cleaning up to impress us. His gray tunic was undecorated, sandals—worn, fingers and left ear—stained with ink. But Aurelius Titus had never needed fancy clothes to be beautiful. In my reckoning, he looked his best without...

Country living softened his sharp features a little, and he had a hint of a growing stomach under his loose tunic. It became more apparent than twelve years ago that the slight sag along his jawline would eventually become the second chin.

But, what left me speechless for a moment was his hair. It didn't recede from his forehead or temples, or lose their luster. Where Messalina Augusta's went to the red-gold shade with age, her brother kept his very blonde appearance. He cut his hair short, so it curled like electrum wire, hiding gray if he even had it.

His eyes didn't change either. Still green, still bewitching... Twelve years after my first love had cut me loose, my heart skipped a beat when their glance roved over me.