DISCLAIMER: I, the author, do not own the characters from the film THE
GLADIATOR and this fan-fiction is a creation of my mind and to be used for
entertainment purposes only. However, no piece of this work is to be
reproduced or copied without my permission. It's every author's dying wish
not to be plagiarized.
SETTING: During the movie, towards the end where the plot against him is falling into place. Specifically, the day where Senator Gracchus is arrested at his home by Praetorians under the command of Emperor Commodus.
The day was a beautiful example of nature at its undiluted best. The Senators were all afforded with homes that were striking to the eye, and kept so by servants that kept themselves very clean and presentable in the process. The servants had no rights in Rome, but seemed to do their jobs as if content and choosing to be as they were.
A handsome Roman man, in his twenties, was in charge of keeping the yard clean. He would have done everything that came inclusive with the yards except his master, the Senator known as Gracchus, was insistant that he feed the animals they raised for food. While not identifying with the people as much as one should he did however attempt to, in his words, be a man "for the people." Among the others of his status, he was modest. Gracchus had no mistresses, no illicit affairs on the side. He took some pride in it, and while distant and sometimes appearing cold, he was honest.
Gracchus scattered seed from a handwoven basket to the chickens which scraped and plucked up the food with hungry beaks. They clucked with the simple satisfaction that they had being able to get seeds so easily from the clean raked dirt. Their intelligence did not allow them the discomfort of knowing their deaths were imminent.
Rumbling in the distance, it sounded like thunder from a cloudless sky. Impossible, thought the servant, glancing upward at the sky as he paused. His eyes traced the path to his master, whom he admired for his wealth and modesty. Gracchus seemed oblivious, absorbed in the beautiful day and his work. The servant smelled the blossoms of lilac from the gardens and returned to his work of pulling unsightly weeds from the sides of the path.
What the slave could have never known was that Gracchus absorbed himself in thought. There was a paranoia deep set in his eyes, and a fear that any moment there would be a sword come down upon his neck for his treason to the Emperor. Lucilla was in mortal danger, as was General Maximus Decimus. As the people shouted for Maximus in the Collisseum, Emperor Commodus became agitated.
At the very last Senate session, Commodus had stared him in the eye and given such a poisonous look that Gracchus believed the Emperor knew what was going on. Lucilla had confided to him, in delicate words, that Commodus was suspecting betrayal and that his sleepless nights became frequent. Insomnia was a dangerous condition to toy with, as each night without precious sleep caused inhibitions to lower and anguish to rise. She feared for her son, Lucius, and was justified. Yet she put on her facade to face her brother each day.
His servant broke the trance he'd established, causing him to look up and over. The man's lips parted over "Praetorians," a word that everyone had come to fear except the man whom controlled them -- Commodus. Respectfully, the servant added in his title, "master."
Senator Gracchus turned to face the black legion, swallowing his fear like a hardened lump in his throat. Commodus's paranoia and insomnia had won out, it appeared. The Praetorian's officer and leader announced his title fully, and explained in no length of words that he would be arrested for suspicion of treason to the Emperor.
"I acquiesce to your custody, officer. I hope the investigation will reveal what a true servant I am to the Emperor Commodus," Gracchus lied with his best face of innocence. The Senate honed such traits and skill. His fingers loosed the basket of seed, as his arm was seized and he was given no respect for his society's stature. Like a slave, the experience unfolded.
Additional hoof-beats interrupted the arrest, and the Praetorians acted like stone. A white stallion, adorned in the best saddle and silk decorations with an eagle emblazened on either side of its rump signified the rider. Emperor Commodus had come out, personally, to arrest him. Gracchus lifted his eyes reluctantly.
"Leave us a moment, Osric," he smoothly commanded, with a flick of his wrist in leather gaunlet. Osric nodded stiffly, and held the reins to the stallion as his commander dismounted. The stallion was led away, and the legion moved off in calculated steps. Commodus stared from under the canopy of his thick brows to again pierce the soul of the Senator.
"Emperor Commodus, you would have me arrested?" Gracchus asked, softly, testing his boundaries. When he saw the sword caught the sunlight and twinkled, he stopped. The Emperor bore the face of a man who had not slept for many nights, and the control that only someone like he could exude with complete confidence.
"You, Gracchus, would betray an Emperor. No better than the heathens in Germania, or the thieves in the dark shadows of Rome." Commodus spoke in a detached voice, an emotionless tenor of an executioner.
Gracchus barred such thoughts from his head, and fought to appear innocent and unknowing. He wondered if Commodus had struck in paranoia, or because he had gotten words out of Lucilla. Perhaps, a servant had eavesdropped to their clandestine meetings and been paid off for what he could say. The loop-holes were doubling back, and he had a hard time swallowing it down.
"No, I would never think of it," he managed to respond.
"Don't be foolish with me, Senator," Commodus mocked the word with a twist of his tongue. "You cannot pour your honeyed lies into my ear and believe me to think of them as truth."
The armor and adornments of his clothes clicked and whispered as the Emperor moved forward, his shoes scraping over the dirt of the path. Gracchus stood still, trying his best to keep eye-contact with the younger man. Commodus smiled bitterly, closer now, inspecting the other man's face with a failing detachment.
"It's no secret that I believe Rome is supposed to be a republic, Emperor, yet my thoughts are all that I have," Gracchus said, softly.
"Silence! You take me for such a fool! I can smell the betrayal like a stench of corpses. A fitting description," he hissed in reply, "for death is common among the prisoners where I will take you. If you're truthful, then your death will not be a tax on your conscience."
"Emperor, please--" the Senator tried to interrupt, knowing the plague and death that ran in the prisoner's dungeons. An investigation would be long-hauled for him, over years, and Commodus could merely hope that he would die. Gracchus knew he would die over years, that he could not survive among younger and healthier competition. "I beg you to reconsider. As a whole, the Senate wishes Rome to be restored to a republic. Will you arrest the entirety?"
He regretted his words as they left his lips. He'd always a response, a counter-argument, a retorting vexation in his head to whatever people said to wound him. But in retort to the Emperor, Gracchus had been openly and vehemently warned many days ago in session. With Praetorians at his back, and a sword to his side, Commodus could forego the investigation and give the sentence of treason -- death.
Commodus did not reply quickly, nor smile bitterly as if accepting the hit in stride. He stared, an expression which progressively turned to a glower. His upper lip curled back, and he inhaled a breath between his teeth and exhaled it as he spoke. "Do you remember months ago," he spoke quietly, like a breeze would wash his words away, "when you interrupted me? I promised you something, and although you will not embrace a dying man because you are smart... you will be close enough in quarters for the plague to embrace you."
Gracchus's eyes widened, and Commodus stayed close long enough to witness the fear and surprise. It fed him, enough that the dominant man smiled again in a bitter method and turned away briskly. He gestured at the Praetorians, who lurched forth to seize the Senator. The officer held the stallion's reins as Commodus mounted the beast, and pulled the reins with a harsh intensity. Whirling, the white horse half-reared with a whinny before riding off in gallop which decayed to canter as the Emperor met with the entourage he'd come with down the path.
SETTING: During the movie, towards the end where the plot against him is falling into place. Specifically, the day where Senator Gracchus is arrested at his home by Praetorians under the command of Emperor Commodus.
The day was a beautiful example of nature at its undiluted best. The Senators were all afforded with homes that were striking to the eye, and kept so by servants that kept themselves very clean and presentable in the process. The servants had no rights in Rome, but seemed to do their jobs as if content and choosing to be as they were.
A handsome Roman man, in his twenties, was in charge of keeping the yard clean. He would have done everything that came inclusive with the yards except his master, the Senator known as Gracchus, was insistant that he feed the animals they raised for food. While not identifying with the people as much as one should he did however attempt to, in his words, be a man "for the people." Among the others of his status, he was modest. Gracchus had no mistresses, no illicit affairs on the side. He took some pride in it, and while distant and sometimes appearing cold, he was honest.
Gracchus scattered seed from a handwoven basket to the chickens which scraped and plucked up the food with hungry beaks. They clucked with the simple satisfaction that they had being able to get seeds so easily from the clean raked dirt. Their intelligence did not allow them the discomfort of knowing their deaths were imminent.
Rumbling in the distance, it sounded like thunder from a cloudless sky. Impossible, thought the servant, glancing upward at the sky as he paused. His eyes traced the path to his master, whom he admired for his wealth and modesty. Gracchus seemed oblivious, absorbed in the beautiful day and his work. The servant smelled the blossoms of lilac from the gardens and returned to his work of pulling unsightly weeds from the sides of the path.
What the slave could have never known was that Gracchus absorbed himself in thought. There was a paranoia deep set in his eyes, and a fear that any moment there would be a sword come down upon his neck for his treason to the Emperor. Lucilla was in mortal danger, as was General Maximus Decimus. As the people shouted for Maximus in the Collisseum, Emperor Commodus became agitated.
At the very last Senate session, Commodus had stared him in the eye and given such a poisonous look that Gracchus believed the Emperor knew what was going on. Lucilla had confided to him, in delicate words, that Commodus was suspecting betrayal and that his sleepless nights became frequent. Insomnia was a dangerous condition to toy with, as each night without precious sleep caused inhibitions to lower and anguish to rise. She feared for her son, Lucius, and was justified. Yet she put on her facade to face her brother each day.
His servant broke the trance he'd established, causing him to look up and over. The man's lips parted over "Praetorians," a word that everyone had come to fear except the man whom controlled them -- Commodus. Respectfully, the servant added in his title, "master."
Senator Gracchus turned to face the black legion, swallowing his fear like a hardened lump in his throat. Commodus's paranoia and insomnia had won out, it appeared. The Praetorian's officer and leader announced his title fully, and explained in no length of words that he would be arrested for suspicion of treason to the Emperor.
"I acquiesce to your custody, officer. I hope the investigation will reveal what a true servant I am to the Emperor Commodus," Gracchus lied with his best face of innocence. The Senate honed such traits and skill. His fingers loosed the basket of seed, as his arm was seized and he was given no respect for his society's stature. Like a slave, the experience unfolded.
Additional hoof-beats interrupted the arrest, and the Praetorians acted like stone. A white stallion, adorned in the best saddle and silk decorations with an eagle emblazened on either side of its rump signified the rider. Emperor Commodus had come out, personally, to arrest him. Gracchus lifted his eyes reluctantly.
"Leave us a moment, Osric," he smoothly commanded, with a flick of his wrist in leather gaunlet. Osric nodded stiffly, and held the reins to the stallion as his commander dismounted. The stallion was led away, and the legion moved off in calculated steps. Commodus stared from under the canopy of his thick brows to again pierce the soul of the Senator.
"Emperor Commodus, you would have me arrested?" Gracchus asked, softly, testing his boundaries. When he saw the sword caught the sunlight and twinkled, he stopped. The Emperor bore the face of a man who had not slept for many nights, and the control that only someone like he could exude with complete confidence.
"You, Gracchus, would betray an Emperor. No better than the heathens in Germania, or the thieves in the dark shadows of Rome." Commodus spoke in a detached voice, an emotionless tenor of an executioner.
Gracchus barred such thoughts from his head, and fought to appear innocent and unknowing. He wondered if Commodus had struck in paranoia, or because he had gotten words out of Lucilla. Perhaps, a servant had eavesdropped to their clandestine meetings and been paid off for what he could say. The loop-holes were doubling back, and he had a hard time swallowing it down.
"No, I would never think of it," he managed to respond.
"Don't be foolish with me, Senator," Commodus mocked the word with a twist of his tongue. "You cannot pour your honeyed lies into my ear and believe me to think of them as truth."
The armor and adornments of his clothes clicked and whispered as the Emperor moved forward, his shoes scraping over the dirt of the path. Gracchus stood still, trying his best to keep eye-contact with the younger man. Commodus smiled bitterly, closer now, inspecting the other man's face with a failing detachment.
"It's no secret that I believe Rome is supposed to be a republic, Emperor, yet my thoughts are all that I have," Gracchus said, softly.
"Silence! You take me for such a fool! I can smell the betrayal like a stench of corpses. A fitting description," he hissed in reply, "for death is common among the prisoners where I will take you. If you're truthful, then your death will not be a tax on your conscience."
"Emperor, please--" the Senator tried to interrupt, knowing the plague and death that ran in the prisoner's dungeons. An investigation would be long-hauled for him, over years, and Commodus could merely hope that he would die. Gracchus knew he would die over years, that he could not survive among younger and healthier competition. "I beg you to reconsider. As a whole, the Senate wishes Rome to be restored to a republic. Will you arrest the entirety?"
He regretted his words as they left his lips. He'd always a response, a counter-argument, a retorting vexation in his head to whatever people said to wound him. But in retort to the Emperor, Gracchus had been openly and vehemently warned many days ago in session. With Praetorians at his back, and a sword to his side, Commodus could forego the investigation and give the sentence of treason -- death.
Commodus did not reply quickly, nor smile bitterly as if accepting the hit in stride. He stared, an expression which progressively turned to a glower. His upper lip curled back, and he inhaled a breath between his teeth and exhaled it as he spoke. "Do you remember months ago," he spoke quietly, like a breeze would wash his words away, "when you interrupted me? I promised you something, and although you will not embrace a dying man because you are smart... you will be close enough in quarters for the plague to embrace you."
Gracchus's eyes widened, and Commodus stayed close long enough to witness the fear and surprise. It fed him, enough that the dominant man smiled again in a bitter method and turned away briskly. He gestured at the Praetorians, who lurched forth to seize the Senator. The officer held the stallion's reins as Commodus mounted the beast, and pulled the reins with a harsh intensity. Whirling, the white horse half-reared with a whinny before riding off in gallop which decayed to canter as the Emperor met with the entourage he'd come with down the path.