It had taken months. The house was in need of several repairs and many replacements, as not only had smoke damaged the interior of the house where it had entered, ruining furniture, paint and fabrics, but the place had also been broken into. Several doors and windows required attention and Max decided to install a security system. This baffled him, as he had never considered such a thing before, but now there was Sophia.

Much work had been done on the land as well, intensive replenishing of damaged soil and replanting, as well as cultivation of the new northern slope vines.

They had ventured from the vineyard only once to attend the wedding of brother Jack and Natalie. Max had been informed of Terry and Bridgid's nuptials and called his congratulations, begging off from visiting the newlyweds due to his heavy work schedule in California. It had always been Max's intention to take Sophia for a return visit to the Vermont and the Inn when Riley's new infant arrived. He would be pleased to personally congratulate Terry at that time. Soon. Soon. Within the month.

He sat at the kitchen table with Sophia and Pullo. They ate dinner in silence, all feeling the expected exhaustion from another physically trying day. He watched his woman. She glowed with health and vitality, with love and gentle caring and he was grateful. Sophia could have easily been so severely disappointed with the condition of things at the vineyard, he fully expected her to walk away from him. But she had not. She had in essence, become the woman he hoped she would be. Nurturing, loving, balanced. She was perfection, and he told her so with his words and his touch, night after night. Perfezionare!

Pullo spent few if any nights in the house. He'd discovered a woman in town who both attracted and confused him and Max found this humorous. His attempts at explaining women of this century had fallen on deaf ears, and what else could be expected? He too had to find his way, and so would Pullo…hopefully with all his teeth intact, as he often returned home with a black eye and bloody lip. The woman's name was Sarita Donaldson and she 'packed a hard left', as Sophia described once, nursing the swollen eye for wounded legionnaire. But Pullo liked Sarita, placed bets that she would love him and even become his wife before the year's end. Max was not taking those bets.

***

He sat in the back of a pick-up truck as it bumped along the rutted road. How far had he traveled? It did not matter. From the moment he woke with a painful thud, choking in the dusty billows of that putrid, closed place, Marc Antony was driven. He'd come to learn that he had dropped into the bowels of what is called the Coliseum. Driven? Yes. Single-mindedly obsessed? Yes, for as his eyes opened he watched a vision he could not, would not accept…that of Titus Pullo of the Thirteenth walking loyally beside a man he'd never seen before. Not a man who had for year after year earned fucking trust the likes of Marc Antony! No! A stranger! Granted a stranger who carried himself as a General…but yet…

These things took full control of his mind and drove him with the passion of madness to discover the reason for such a thing. Shouting that he was Marc Antony would not have been to his best advantage before his decent into a strange place and time, and he did not attempt it now. His entire life had been a series of deceptions and adjustments, whether walking in the world of Caesar's conquests, in strange lands, among absurd religions, attitudes and civilization…or within the Senate. Even among women Marc had managed to acclimate, accommodate and adjust in order to attain his goals. This strange new world was nothing different, and he was a master at such things.

With his entire fixation that of regaining Titus Pullo, perhaps murdering him for showing such disrespect and disloyalty, he moved ahead…and this world did not make it easy for him.

He melted, melded, molded and formed. He learned to dress, to speak and to discover what he needed…and he managed to cross the earth, go far beyond the Roman Empire to seek what master had taken Pullo's allegiance.

From a Rome he did to recognize, onto a sea vessel he could not comprehend he used men, women and children to gain understanding, papers and money. He worked physical labor and accepted money for sexual favors. Marc Antony would do whatever he needed. He would find Pullo and regain his full trust and loyalty before determining how he would punish him for turning away…and late at night, alone in a small room, in a strange tent, or walking relentlessly along a road, he began to understand why this had become so important. After all…who else was there? Perhaps there would be minimal punishment…perhaps none. Marc Antony would determine such when he reached his destination.

Sonoma, California…Los Olivos Vineyard…less than fifty miles ahead. Whatever had pulled him through the dusts of time would be there; all the answers and his satisfaction.

***

Sophia rolled over, cuddling against Max. Her hands tenderly played along the soft hairs on his chest, circled a flat, dark nipple then slid down beneath the sheet and carefully cupped his sleeping sex. With the gentleness of an expert, she molded and massaged the hot flesh until it jerked lightly then slowly came to attention. Glancing up she smiled at the grin that crossed his face. His eyes still closed, he reached over and tugged her over his body with massive, strong arms.

"You are awake, Sophia?"

"I am, mio amore," she whispered into his lips, teasing him until his mouth captured hers.

The tenderness with which he loved her that morning tugged at her heart and helped her to make a final and life changing decision. They were planning to be married a year from that month when the vineyard was stable and flourishing. But a child…it had been a curiosity to her. She found she wanted to hold a babe in her arms fathered by the man beneath her. Max seemed to have little understanding or interest in her form of birth control…little interest in whether she was in fact controlling their possibilities for conception. His hand on her breasts and cock deep inside; Sophia straightened and looked down upon him. Her heart struggled, ready to burst with the fullness of the love she felt, would forever feel for Max. That morning, she would dispose of her birth control pills. Let the gods decide, as Max would often state. Let the gods decide.

Max rolled them on the mattress, suckled her breasts then permitted his body to take full control. What pleasure and safety in offering such weakness into a woman's hands…into this woman's hands. Visions of their future together, their joys and pains, of their hair gone grey and their bodies forever melded together as one soared as his blood heated to a frenzy. To know that he would grow old beside her was everything…everything. His seed was planted as her body writhed, as her path shuddered and sucked every ounce from him. Soon…soon…life would commence as it should.

But somehow Maximus knew…there were things to be done before the beginning. What those things were was unclear, but his senses and instincts fortified his soul, making him ready for the challenges ahead, whatever they might be.

***

Max walked with Pullo and Sam Garcia, his newly contracted vintner. Sam spoke softly as they strolled the vines; some pulsating with life, others struggling and choking, all standing like hopeful soldiers awaiting inspection. Max listened intently. Sam was a middle aged man who had walked away from a lucrative life in finance to follow his passion with the grapes. He and Max had talked often before the damaging fire, but never managed to set up the perfect schedule for a working relationship. When it was all said and done, Sam had humbly explained that he would decline the opportunity, even though the land was rich and the promise of wonderful wines was possible. "It is you, my friend," the Sam had said. "Until you are ready for these vines, they will not be ready for you."

But now, two full years had passed and Maximus was home. He was ready and Sam was prepared. They spoke at length about the requirements of the vineyard, of the olive groves and the possible markets for both products. The groves were mature, sturdy, highly productive and required little. They would produce fine quality oils and be profitable. But the vines, either new or delicate and long neglected, were in need of love and attention.

They talked until the morning mist had burned away and the sun was working to its zenith. Max and Pullo stood and watched Sam leave. Together on the slope, Pullo turned and grunted thoughtfully. "I will be here, Max."

Brows rose and Max chuckled. "I fully expect you to remain with us here until you are ready to leave, my brother."

"No, you know what I am speaking of. Whatever takes you from here; I will remain and handle everything to the best of my ability. I will not fail you, Maximus."

So, Titus Pullo's passage through the portal had not removed his soldier's instinct. Max nodded thankfully and sadly wondered what was coming to his life, what was about to happen, and how he would protect his future from being damaged by it all.

As they strolled over the rise together, Max's cell rang. It was not the special ring he had programmed to prepare himself for the pleasant 'Mio amore' from Sophia. It was in fact an alert chime he thought he had long ago eliminated from his phone. Eyeing the readout, his heart thumped. He was soon to understand his premonitions. "Dino," he said.

"Maxi, need ya man. Mucho, mucho important, buddy."

"What is it?" Max asked, then his eye was caught by a man moving toward them. A man with a bold swagger. The face he did not recognize, but the way the man moved…that he did recognize and he instinctively moved ahead of Pullo with a protective stride.

"Terry's wife. You don't wanna know the ransom, Max. We need you pronto."

"Where?" Max was now walking ahead of Pullo to meet the oncoming menace. The strangers march was lengthening. His face was evil.

"Vermont, by tonight. We're moving soon."

"I will be there." He slammed the phone shut but Pullo had stepped ahead of him, opened his arms and grinned.

"Antony? Antony! Could that be you?" With no slowing of his step, the man plowed directly into Pullo's chest with a vicious slam. Both men staggered and Maximus, unwilling, uninterested and unwilling to determine the extent of their conflict, simply took both by the collar, lifted them in outstretched arms and shouted.

"Not now! To the house, both of you!" Max stomped off, leaving them behind. He had his hands full with the kidnapping and with convincing Sophia to go to Vermont with him. What Pullo had done to this Antony fellow was Pullo's problem. Antony? Antony?

Max swung a turn, "Marc Antony?"

"In the fucking flesh! And who are you, soldier?"