"Agron," came a soft voice, out of the darkness. 

Agron turned his head slowly in the direction the voice came from.  His head still ached, almost as much as his battered body.  Despite the pain, he felt himself smiling inwardly.  He knew that voice better than his own, and it was comforting to hear. 

"Agron, close eyes.  I must put torch to candle to better see what must be done."

When Nasir first brought Agron into their tent and lit the candles, the light hurt his eyes.  Nasir immediately snuffed out all but a single small candle, once he had settled his beloved onto their sleeping mat.  There was much to do to tend to Agron's wounds so they could begin to heal, and Nasir did not want anyone else taking on the job.  He had been a part of the rebellion long enough to learn what needed to be done for injuries.  All he needed was the necessary ointments and salves the medicus carried that would fight infections.  If any wound was too deep, Nasir had learned from personal experience how to cauterize it so it too could heal.  Once Agron was at rest, Nasir hurried away to get the necessary supplies.  He saw Brion and Justinus standing outside their tent and gave them a nod, indicating he was in control and not to worry.  They understood the look in his eye, and nodded back.   Once he returned as quickly as possible, he needed more light, since the moonless night had taken over outside.  His arms were laden with fresh, clean bandages and medicines. 

"Make haste, Nasir.  To set eyes upon your face again is worth any discomfort brought by light."

Nasir could not help smiling.  It appeared that Agron still loved him as much as he ever had, despite discovering that his lover had not trusted him as he should have.  They had both made mistakes, but there would be time enough to discuss that later.  For now, Nasir's only concern was making sure that Agron made a full recovery.  That, and also that they never slept apart again.  Nasir laid his supplies down and brought the torch from outside into the tent to light the remainder of the candles.  After replacing the torch, he came back to Agron, who lay prone upon his back, but had his eyes riveted on Nasir.  Agron saw the look on Nasir's face as he witnessed the full extent of the damage done to his lover's body, thanks to the blood soaked bandages that crisscrossed everywhere.

"I fear we shall grow old with matching scars someday," Agron joked.

"You jest, where there is no humor," Nasir gritted through his teeth.  "The fucking Romans shall pay for each mark you bear."

Nasir knelt next to Agron and began removing the filthy bandages from around his waist and across his chest.  Miraculously, it looked as if none of the wounds from sword cuts had become infected.  The slice across his upper chest was not too deep, but the one just below his chest on the other side went deeper.  Again a miracle blessed them.  The wound would need stitches, but it had not gone deep enough to damage any vital organs.  Nasir got to work immediately.  He had brought fresh water, and oils taken from the Roman villas, to cleanse the dirt, grime, and blood from Agron's body, paying particular attention to the wounds.  Agron lay naked and still, his eyes half-closed as Nasir fussed over him.  Although his body ached all over, Agron had never felt more soothed.  Nasir's touch was gentle.  Each time Agron winced in pain, Nasir stopped abruptly and bent over with a soft kiss and apology before returning to his loving care.  Nasir's greatest anguish came when Agron finally lifted his hands for inspection.  Although Nasir had seen the blood-stained bandages wrapped around both of his hands, Agron had not said a word about being crucified.  What he saw when the bandages fell away was totally unexpected.  Tears formed in the corner of Nasir's eyes when he realized how badly damaged Agron's palms really were. 

The spikes had made clean cuts straight through the flesh of Agron's palms.  The holes could be seen on both sides of his hands.  They were not that large, but Nasir knew that it would take a very long time for Agron to have full strength in his hands again, if ever.  He knew instinctively what that would mean for Agron's future as a warrior.  His thoughts were mirrored in Agron's face when Nasir glanced at it to see his reaction to his hands being exposed.  Now he understood why Agron had returned to them appearing as a broken man.  These particular wounds, although the least deadly, had done the most damage to Agron.  For a man like Agron, it was nearly equal to being castrated.  Nasir fought hard to keep his composure as he set about tending to the hands too.  Once he had stitched together Agron's side wound and finished applying the salves and ointments the medicus had given him, Nasir re-bandaged where needed and covered Agron's large frame with his favorite blankets.  He snuffed out the candles and slipped under the covers to join his lover.  Nasir turned on his side and slipped his arm under Agron's neck, his hand tenderly caressing Agron's cheek, while his other hand stroked Agron's arm.  He heard Agron sigh, and then the muffled sound of quiet weeping.

"Shhhhh," Nasir whispered.  "You will never sleep alone again, my heart.  And when the morning comes, we begin our healing... in soul and flesh."

Nasir felt Agron's muscles begin to relax in his neck, and the dampness on his cheeks slowly tapered off.  He waited until he heard the familiar sound of Agron's low snore before he allowed himself to drift into sleep too.  He knew the morning would bring a flood of emotions that had to be dealt with, but he was prepared.  He didn't care what needed to be done to set things right and bring Agron back to the man he loved more than his own life.  Whatever was required of him, Nasir would give it willingly.  He now knew why Agron had left him, or at least he suspected the reason after talking with Brion, and he would move heaven and earth to convince Agron that he would never keep anything from him again... because it was the truth.

*****************************************************

Spartacus had been wise in not allowing too much time to pass before going on the march again with his people.  Normally the rites of passage for the dead among the Romans would last up to nine days, but Crassus's hatred of Spartacus was by far stronger than his desire to stick with tradition after the loss of his eldest son, Tiberius.  Instead, Crassus had a funeral mask made of the boy so that he could carry it with him as a reminder of why he must win the war over the rebels.  He then allowed the shortest time possible to have Tiberius's body cleansed and prepared for travel.  They were within sight of Rome and the grand villa that his son had been born and raised in, and his wife waited patiently for the return of her husband and son.  Crassus would not waste a moment in returning to Rome himself as long as Spartacus still lived, but he had to send Tiberius back for proper handling of his body, which would include all rites owed a nobleman of high rank.  It was the least he could do for the mother of his children, who had lost her first-born thanks to his folly in sending the boy directly into the hands of the enemy.  As for his next move, he ordered Caesar to prepare the men for their march towards the last known location of the rebels.

By the time Crassus, Caesar, and the legions arrived at their destination, Spartacus and his rebels had moved on and left nothing but cold embers behind.  Before departing the site, Spartacus devised another strategy to confuse the competing forces coming after them from both Pompey and Crassus.  While sending the non-combatant members of their flock forward towards the Alps, Spartacus split his warriors into separate bands of marauders, led by his best fighting forces.  They spread out all over, attacking one villa after another with lightning speed, and always leaving someone alive to declare that they had been attacked by Spartacus himself... proof of which was the battle cry of 'I am Spartacus' that every leader of that band shouted as the villas burned to the ground.  Then the bands would reassemble before heading out again on more raids. 

This maneuver continued for weeks while the injured rebels were ministered to by loved ones and those schooled in medicine.  With the tender care provided by concerned caregivers, many of the five hundred ex-captives began regaining their strength and abilities to fight in future battles.  Agron was among them in all ways but one.  Despite Nasir's constant attention and nursing, Agron's hands were still too weak to even hold a cup to his lips unless using both of them at the same time.  His grip failed him every time when he tried it singlehandedly.  The holes on both sides of his palms had finally closed over, leaving ugly mottled, circular scars, but the real damage was done.  The spike that pierced his flesh had miraculously missed the bones in both hands, but done severe damage to the muscles and nerve endings.  It appeared that Caesar had been right in declaring that Agron would never wield a weapon again.  As each day passed, and he saw others that had been with him in the Roman camp getting stronger and more capable of fighting again, Agron grew increasingly despondent.  Nasir became increasingly concerned about Agron's mental well-being, more than his physical health.

Just before moving out from the camp where the games had been held against the Roman soldiers, and the place where their people had been returned to them, Spartacus had a huge funeral pyre erected to cremate the only part of Crixus that remained.  It was during this solemn ceremony that Brion and Justinus finally had the chance to connect with Agron.  Despite his weakness, Agron insisted on attending the ceremony, leaning heavily on Nasir for support.  Nearly everyone was moved to tears, while filled with emotions that threatened to overcome them, after listening to Spartacus's tribute to the fallen.  As the flames devoured the last of Crixus, names were shouted out in memory of those that had died for their cause.  Agron called out the name of his lost brother, Duro, adding his name to the list of brave men and women who died in pursuit of their dream of freedom. 

As Agron and Nasir started to leave the gathering, they found themselves face to face with Brion and Justinus.  There was a moment of awkward silence as Agron stared straight at Justinus.  Nasir felt Agron's arm shaking as it lay over his shoulder.  No one spoke.  Agron's eyes seemed glued to Justinus's face, as if he was searching for answers to questions unspoken.  Justinus did not smile, nor did he frown.  He waited, sensing he owed it to Agron to let him do, or say what he must first.  Surprisingly, it was Brion who took the lead.

"It gladdens heart to see you back in arms that missed your presence far too long, Brother!"

Agron's eyes shifted to Brion.  He saw the warmth and sincerity in Brion's eyes.

"A place I shall never part from again as long as breath is in me," Agron responded.  He glanced back at Justinus again and then returned his gaze to Brion.  "It gladdens heart to see my friends again.  We must break words soon, to stand on solid ground once more."

"When you are ready, Agron.  We will break bread and words.  No secrets will divide us... in flesh or spirit."

It was the beginning.  The entire camp was on the move the next day, but once they had settled in a central location after that, the two couples finally got together to discuss all that had been kept hidden from Agron.  Agron was relieved to know that Justinus was actually only half Roman, although he laughed ironically when he learned that the best part of Justinus's character came from his Roman mother and not his Celtic father.  Agron's face reddened with anger as he learned when, and under what circumstances, Nasir discovered Justinus's secret.  He calmed a bit when he learned that one of the two men who had threatened Nasir had been dispatched by his own hand at the gate of Sinuessa, while the other met his fate at the end of Brion's sword. 

"A fate most deserved," muttered Agron.

"Agreed," responded Justinus.  "He was father in name only.  Just as he was Celtic in name only.  Even truer, he was human in name only.  The beasts of the field bear more honor than he who gave me life."

"I beg forgiveness for being instrument of their deception, Agron," remarked Brion.

"You?  What part did you play in this drama?"

"It is I who did not trust as I should have.  Too many days spent hearing venomous words spoken, regarding Romans, whilst working together formed doubts.  I've witnessed far more of the dark nature of such thirst for vengeance than Justinus or Nasir.  I feared not for self, but for what I must do to protect Justinus if you were blinded by your rage, and numb to Nasir's pleadings."

"I understood your feelings, my friend... and hold no malice, as I would behave in like manner if roles reversed.  It stood reason for trust with Nasir's well-being that I laid at your feet upon departure. "

"Brion takes on more guilt than deserved," Nasir interrupted.  "I gave promise not to reveal their truth for just cause... it was not mine to expose... but made weak attempt to divert their course of action in keeping silent.  I feel great shame in such failure."

The couples were seated around a small fire-pit where they had roasted a rabbit for their dinner.  Agron pulled Nasir closer to him, laying his arm around Nasir's shoulder and bringing their foreheads together.

"Do not speak of shame to me, Nasir.  Never have I known a man with less cause for shame than you.  Our stories are written in the book of life, and this chapter is over.  We begin anew...."  Agron turned to Brion and Justinus.  "...as lovers, and as friends."

The four men lifted their cups and gave a salute to the future.  Much had changed in the short time the two couples had been together.  There was a certain loss of innocence now, but they exchanged that for a maturity that boded well for the future of them all.  The important parts of their relationships, with their lovers and each other, was still very much intact, and stronger than ever.  There were no more secrets left to cause a rift in the fabric of their friendships.  They would stand by each other in every way.  They knew that their futures were even more uncertain than before, with two powerful armies... that of Crassus and Pompey... seeking to end their rebellion as swiftly and as permanently as possible, but they also knew that they would not make their destruction an easy task for either Roman.  Even if history would not remember any of their own names, the name of Spartacus would never be forgotten.  Of that, they were all certain, and they were proud to be a small piece of the tapestry of the life of Spartacus... the great rebel gladiator.

To be continued...........