Maximus looked at the slaves

Shadows and Dust

Maximus looked at the slaves. Most if them looked confused to be standing out of their cells in the middle of the night. A trusted few – Juba and Hagen that knew of Maximus' plan to assassinate Commodus looked confident

All enemies of the Emperor die!!

Maximus looked over to where the Praetorians hammered at the gate.

"I only need moments, so do not be careless with your lives." He grasped Hagen's hand "Strength and Honour." he whispered, squeezing the huge Germans hand. He would miss the hugely strong Germans presence. Maximus moved to Juba, whispered the same words to him, he pressed his forehead to Juba's, knowing that he would miss the black man more than anything. He gave Juba a swift pat on the shoulder, before turning and running into the passages under the cells, he heard a noise above him, and knew that Proximo was dead. He paused; the sadness that overwhelmed him was unbearable.

He turned one last time before turning around, he saw the Gladiators fighting the Praetorians that had broken into the courtyard and grinned. The might be out numbered, but they were Gladiators, and god, how they could fight! He watched Juba and Hagen fighting easily, and hoped that he would see them again. Shadows and Dust, Maximus thought sadly.

Maximus raced through the tunnels, grabbing a flaming torch along the way, stopping only to retrieve his armour that Proximo had given him. When he had received the cuirass, it had been plain, but Maximus had added his horses, and a giant poplar tree, lovingly decorated in silver. Paid for with the money he had earned in the arena. He grasped his sword. It felt oddly comforting to have the weight in his hands again. His Gladius was not plain, like the weapons the other gladiators used, but had a gold inlaid handle, although not to the standard of his fine bone handled sword, Maximus had last seen in his tent in Germainia it was a fine blade.

He felt better now that he was cased in his comforting armour, not as open and vulnerable. He breathed a sigh of relief as he exited the tunnel. It had been uncomfortably claustrophobic, and Maximus had constantly worried about attacks from behind. The tunnel was barely wide enough for him to turn and defend himself.

Maximus smiled as he saw his servant Cicero with 2 horses, he made a note to release the man who had served him so loyally. Maximus whistled long and low, so that it carried only to Cicero. He turned, and saw his master, grinning broadly when he realised that he had done it. Maximus grinned back stupidly when he realised that Cicero had bought his two horses, Scarto and Argento. At the foot of which stood Marcus – his dog.

"Cicero." He began "I can only wonder at how you managed this!" He beamed at the older man. Cicero smiled back. He knew how much it took to make his master grin like an idiot, only Selene had received that smile from Maximus. Cicero appreciated the response. It was more than he could have hoped for.

"Lets go sir," Cicero looked at him. "it's a long ride to Ostia." He said playfully before he galloped Scarto through the field and into the night with Maximus hot on his heels.

"What do you mean...gone?" Commodus asked Paulinus. The poor young praetorian officer trembled in front of his emperor.

"We stormed the house as ordered Caesar, the gladiators fought back, and when they surrendered, he had vanished. No sign Caesar." Paulinus tried to force himself to sound brave, as he stared at a point slightly above Commodus' head, unflinching.

"And Proximo?" Commodus asked. Not that he really cared, that snivelling old man would never betray Maximus' whereabouts. Gladiators protected each other.

"Dead, Caesar." Paulinus said, fearfully.

"I wanted him bought to me, praetorian. I told you as such. Who killed him?" Paulinus looked into the mad eyes of the emperor, and thought of the old man. He must have been stabbed at least 40 times. When Paulinus had got to his room, he lay in a bloodied crumpled heap on the floor. His beloved rudius lying by his side.

"I don't know, Caesar." Paulinus answered truthfully.

Commodus looked at Paulinus. He hated this snivelling little brat, newly promoted to Lieutenant, and thinking he ruled the roost, always eager to please the emperor – and that made him suspicious. "Go." Commodus snapped savagely. Paulinus snapped to attention and turned to leave the room. "Oh, and Paulinus?" Commodus called him back.

"Caesar?" Paulinus asked questioningly.

"Next time I give you an order, I expect it to be carried out to the full, or you will find yourself in the arena. The prisons have been feeling rather empty lately...Do you understand?" he asked the terrified officer.

Paulinus stared at the emperor, unable to comprehend what he had been told; he could only nod dumbly to the emperor, who stood, expecting an answer before he left the room.

Once outside, Paulinus leant wearily against the wall and closed his eyes. That was close.

Maximus cursed as he limped beside a limping Argento. Blood ran freely down his leg from the deep wound in his thigh, despite the dirty bandage tied tightly around it. He looked ahead at the figure of Cicero, also walking beside Scarto, who was also lame, having cast a shoe just after Maximus fell from Argento.

Maximus and Cicero had ridden for the best part of the night, and Rome was far behind them. Not wanting to risk exposure by travelling on the open road, they stuck to the fields. Upon coming to a fence, Cicero spurred Scarto on and cleared it expertly. Maximus, turned back to give himself a bigger run up. Argento had never been the best of jumpers. Always wanting to have a look before take-off, which often ended in Maximus ending up on his neck. Maximus was determined that this would not happen this time. He headed Argento to the fence, a natural hedge, reinforced with post and rail on the other side. Maximus spurred Argento on just before take-off, however, as soon as Argento's legs left the ground, Maximus knew that something was wrong. Argento's right hind had caught in the hedge, mid air; he twisted frantically to rid himself of the branches that grasped him. Maximus, weary from hours of riding, fell from the saddle, Argento landing heavily on top of him.

Hearing the fall, Cicero turned and galloped back to Maximus. He dismounted next his pale general and frantically lifted the struggling horse off his master's chest. Maximus closed his eyes as pain washed through his body. Maximus knew that he had broken ribs, his chest burned every time he drew a breath, but that was nothing compared to the fire that radiated from his leg.

He glanced down, and immediately wished he hadn't. A piece of the fence protruded from his left thigh.

Maximus struggled into a sitting position, groaning in pain, he tried to stand. Cicero hurriedly ran forward to support his general. Grasping Maximus around the shoulders, the two staggered a few paces before Maximus sank wearily to his knees, before laying down.

He looked at Cicero. "Pull it out." He said, gesturing to the spike. Cicero looked at him fearfully.

"I'm not a surgeon." He whispered, blanching at the sight of so much blood.

"Neither am I." Maximus replied, reaching for the stake. He didn't want to pull it out himself, knowing that he'd likely do himself more damage. But it needed to come out, and soon. He knew for Cicero's pale complexion that he could not do it.

Maxims grasped the stake gently and flinched as the sudden movement sent pain rocketing down his leg. Closing his eyes, he gave the wood a swift tug, screaming in agony as pain washed over him. Mercifully, the pain became too much, and Maximus passed out.

Quintus stood before the emperor, unsure of why he had been summoned. Commodus had become much more violent lately, the games had increased in intensity with Commodus' increased efforts to win over the population, and yet they screamed for Maximus, and jeered when the emperor showed himself.

Commodus' hatred for the general had intensified over the last week, and had risen to a fury when he realised that his favourite arena meat had escaped. Commodus looked at Quintus, mad eyes focussing on the older man. "Quintus. Where is Maximus?" he asked calmly. Quintus looked at him sharply. He had not been expecting this.

"I don't know, Caesar."

"You don't know? Your men have been looking for him, haven't they?" He asked, feigning interest.

"Yes Caesar, but…" Commodus cut him off sharply.

"And yet they have not found him. If these men were halfway competent, they would not have let him escape. I want him found within 2 days Quintus. If he is not, I will personally choose 15 of your men to fight in the arena. The fights have become so…boring without Maximus. Wouldn't you agree?" Quintus looked at Commodus, horrified.

"Oh, Quintus?" Quintus looked at Commodus warily. "You fought with Maximus, didn't you?" Commodus asked, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"Yes Caesar, I have been his second in command virtually since I have joined the army – since he was a Centurion." He replied, not knowing where the emperor was going with this.

"Good." Commodus answered with a smile. "If he is not found soon, I am sure that the crowds will find you just as entertaining." Commodus laughed as Quintus stalked angrily out of his quarters.

Maximus forced his eyes open, grimacing at the pain he felt in his body, his leg ached unmercifully, and each movement created stabbing pains through his ribs. Maximus watched Cicero lead a limping Scarto. Perfect he thought, both horses lame, him injured, and Ostia still at least 2 nights hard ride away. It would take them at least a week if they had to walk.

Cicero had suggested abandoning Scarto and Argento, in favour of stealing some others from a nearby farm, but Maximus could not bring himself to leave his horses. They were all he had left of his family. Marcus trotted dutifully at his masters heels, grateful for the slow pace.

Maximus cursed as the dog jumped playfully up at him, scratching at the blood soaked bandage that entwined his masters thigh. Despite the tourniquet tied tightly above the wound, it still bled, and he knew that the wound would have to be cauterised – before he bled to death.

Maximus whistled shrilly and sat down, Cicero turned, and hurried back to his general, looking worriedly at the pale, tired man by his side.

"Build a fire." Maximus told him, "I need to take care of my leg – then we can cook dinner, once Marcus has caught it." Cicero nodded, and headed into the woods, too tired to answer, leaving Maximus to hobble the horses for the night.

Maximus muttered soothing words to the big dark bay stallion as he checked the wound on his right hock. Argento trembled as strong hands gently held the leg, and flexed the joint. Thankfully, the bone was undamaged. Just a deep cut that ran a risk of becoming infected. Maximus poured half of his water onto the wound, the tore at his tunic, before tying the strip of cloth around the cut. Maximus patted the big horse on the shoulder and whispered apologies to him. Argento had always been his favourite. Strong, fast and brave – the stallion had saved his life in battle more times than he cared to remember.

Next Maximus checked Scarto. The big chestnut was more nervous than the bay, and skittish in battle. Maximus ran his hand down the horses near fore, and examined his hoof. It was split and sore from when he had lost the shoe.

Maximus decided that he should send Cicero to the local village to have Scarto re-shod – and to buy Maximus a new horse. They would camp here until Scarto was sound – no more than a day or 2, the use Argento as a packhorse. Whist he was still lame, they would not be able to go above a walk, but at least it would ease the throbbing in Maximus' leg.

Maximus jumped as he heard a noise, and breathed a sigh of relief when he realised that it was only Marcus, a very dead hare clasped firmly in his jaws. The wolf dropped the hare at his master's feet, before disappearing into the woods again.

Maximus leant against a tree trunk, and began skinning his dinner. He was so intent on what he was doing, he never heard Cicero approach – a pile of wood in his arms, and a bloody hare balanced precariously on top. Marcus loped at his side, his tail thumping happily, and another hare in his jaws, and looking pleased with himself. He had good reason to be. They would eat well tonight.

Cicero looked at Maximus, "Let me see the leg, sir." He asked him gently. Maximus obeyed, letting Cicero examine the still bleeding wound. "It will have to be sealed sir" Cicero said finally, reluctant to inflict any more pain on his general. To his surprise, Maximus nodded complacently, and handed him his dagger. Cicero held the blade in the flames, and the 2 men sat in companionable silence as they waited for the blade to heat up. Once the blade had turned a glowing amber, Cicero glanced at Maximus, and he nodded. Maximus picked up a bone from his dinner and bit down. He grunted in pain as the searing heat sealed his wound. Soon the pain became too much and he passed out.

An hour later Maximus awoke to the first rays of light. He looked for Cicero, and was alarmed when he was no-where in sight. He smiled when he saw his servant approach from the woods, his hair dripping wet. Cicero took in his expression and smiled at his general.

"I thought you'd left!" Maximus laughed in relief – stopping only when pain lanced his sides.

"I'd never leave you like this!" Cicero laughed back. Maximus decided that this was as good a time as any to tell him.

"Why not? You have your freedom." Cicero looked at his general, unable to comprehend what he had just heard. Tears shone I his eyes as he realised the extent of the gift his general had just given him.

"Thank you." He managed, before needing to turn away.

Maximus felt awkward at all of the emotion, and he turned back to the fire. He knew how Cicero felt, to have your freedom after being a slave. But Maximus had only been a slave for 18 months. Cicero had been one all his life.

"I need you to go into town today Cicero." He told him, Cicero looked at Maximus shocked. They had been avoiding the towns purposefully, often taking long detours to avoid them. "Scarto only needs a new shoe, and we could buy another horse for me – Argento will be our packhorse." He added hurriedly, letting Cicero know that he had no intention of leaving him behind.

Cicero nodded. He knew that Maximus would never admit to his leg troubling him, but Cicero knew the immense pain he must be in, and knew that Maximus would never be able to walk another night with that wound.