But he would not be able to yet. Commodus had followed the man to the guest room, curious of what
he was up to. To his horror, the man
had a knife, and was sneaking in the shadows of Maximus' bedroom. There sat the disgusting piece of flesh,
Cicero, looking happy for himself.
Still, Commodus knew that if the man struck now, nothing
but disaster could result. Using his
highly toned, muscular arms he grabbed the man, one arm around his shoulders,
the other clamped around his mouth.
Shining eyes turned on Commodus' angry face. Commodus drug the man away to an empty guest
room and finally let him go. "You
idiot! What were you doing?"
"Highness! I saw
you, so mad! So ever mad! I-I…wanted to help you!" the man declared,
obviously nervous.
"And I thank you for that! But let me decide how it is best to go about this! Do you understand?" Commodus said, trying
very hard to keep his tone not too harsh.
"Yes, Highness. Forgive me, please!" the man knelt with the
grace of an elephant, kissing his Prince's hand.
"Your forgiven. But
from now on, I want to make sure you completely and utterly understand this-no one acts without my orders!"
"Yes, Great One. Oh
please…" the man kissed his Prince's hand again, silently praying for his
safety.
Cicero thought he heard a man's voice down the empty hallway,
but he did not dare leave the haven of the bedroom. He wanted Maximus to return. He was aching to know this man more…he seemed so interesting. And kind. God where is my Master? It's been more than twenty minutes! Surely it could not take this long to get
food…
And just as
those thoughts were released in his brain, Maximus strode in the room,
frowning. "I'm sorry, Cicero…ran in to
some people I knew…they wanted to talk to me. It took forever. But I got the
food!" he said gently, chuckling while putting down a tray of food on a small
table across the room.
"I understand,
Master. Thank you for the food, Master,"
Cicero said, still unsure of himself.
Maximus walked over
his bed, offering a hand to his new lad. Poor boy, I wonder how he is? He has to be over eighteen at least.
Probably never was fed properly when he was with Commodus. Merciless bastard…
Maximus smiled
as Cicero slowly took his much larger hand. Cicero's hands were raw from all the scrubbing and cleaning he did. But this was okay, no one had any use for
baby soft skin in the army. He guided
the youth over to a chair and gently sat him down. "Eat, my boy. There is
plenty more where it came from," Maximus said cheerful. He flopped down in a chair across from Cicero
and picked up a lamb chop.
Cicero nearly
did a double take when he saw all the food. Why there must be six lamb chops
there. Does my Master really expect me
to eat all of these? How could anyone
eat that much? Cicero glanced down
the crack between his chest and the table. You could clearly see each rib…trace each one with your finger.
Apprehensively
and cautiously, he picked up a greasy lamb chop. He bit off a little bite, which tasted like pure heaven to
him. He closed his eyes as he savored
the juicy meat…
Maximus could
not help but have a little chuckle in front of him. It was like the boy had grew up on nothing but bread and
water. Then again, maybe he has. Maximus
shook his head sadly. "Cicero," he
addressed the lad.
"Yes, Master?"
he replied slowly.
"How are you,
lad?"
"Fifteen now, Master, but I'll be sixteen in a week, I think. If I got the date right…" he went on, sadly.
Maximus tried to
keep his face from showing the shock he felt. He hasn't even reached his sixteenth birthday? Sixteen was considered the age of
manhood. You couldn't join the army
until you were sixteen. Cicero probably has seen more than I have in
his short life. Wow…I guess I am that
much older than him…twenty-six seems ancient next to sixteen…
"M-master?"
Cicero spoke up, questing Maximus' sudden silence. "Master d-did I do something?" he stuttered out.
Maximus returned
from his thoughts and gave a good look at his boy. "No, lad, I was just thinking. When is your birth date?"
"November
sixteenth, Master,"
"Lad, this is
the sixteenth! Well, by the look of the
time, it's now early on the seventeenth."
"Oh," Cicero
said sadly with a sigh. Then he
remembered himself. "Master, thank you
again for the food, I'm in your debt."
Maximus found
himself shaking his head. "No, no,
Cicero. It's alright. Let's get you into some clean clothes and
put into bed. I'm tuckered out…I don't
know about you."
"Yes, Master,"
Cicero said, stifling a yawn. "Yes, I'm
very tired." Maximus grinned, watching
the boy yawn. Oh Cicero, I wish you could be an innocent sixteen year old boy…you
deserve to be… He dug out a
too-small tunic that belong to himself and handed it out to Cicero who gladly
took it.
"You didn't
dress me in this wrap, did you, Master?"
"Nope, Commodus
must have right before…" he let his sentence drop short, not wanting to go that
direction.
Cicero had no
shame changing in front of his Master. God knew he had done it enough times…Maximus could not help but looking
out of the corner of his eyes at Cicero's slim, almost delicate body. He is
so skinny! He must have been starved…
Cicero rejoiced
in feeling the clean clothing around his cold, tired body. For once he was full and all he wanted to do
was curl up under a cover and fall asleep…
"You can sleep
in this bed, Cicero. I'll go sleep in
the other room, there's a bed in there too." Maximus said with a small smile.
"Thank you,
Master," Cicero muttered, feeling sleepier by each passing second. He used his last energy to walk over to the
bed and crawl in. Once there he curled
up in a ball and fell fast asleep.
Maximus suddenly
thought of his son back in Spain…he would see him soon…he blew out the candle
and walked into the other room.
Unfortunately, from weariness, he forgot that without a candle you cannot see in the dark. His shoulder met with the doorway. "Oh, shit!" he muttered, silently shaking his head in his clumsiness.