Part
One: "They Fought For You… They Fought
for Rome"
A mummer of
surprise echoed through the marble Senate chambers, but Commodus continued
anyway. "Gentlemen, let us not be
dense. I am my father's son. I have been raised to fulfill the station of
Caesar and Emperor. Will you waste
these years of preparation and training by accepting a man whom you hardly
know?
"My father
showed no sign of bypassing me until he was influenced by a general he had
entrusted with far too much power.
Power, Senators, corrupts, and it makes many a man ambitious." He smiled gently. "As for me, of course, I cannot become more corrupt."
The
gathered senators chuckled obligingly, appreciating the expert handling. When he wanted something, the young prince
was indeed convincing… And he did indeed look the prince today, garbed not in
armor, as was his preference, but in a fine toga of white; his only adornment
was the simple crown of gold leaves upon his head. Encouraged, Commodus continued.
"My father's general took advantage of his trust. He abused the power he had been granted –
all to gain the throne. We all know how
hard it is to deny an army, especially when the men love their general…"
A long
figure approached the double doors, striding forward with easy confidence, his
footsteps echoing in the long marble hallway.
Sunlight glittered slightly off his armor, lending his presence an
undeniably god-like quality. A long,
simple, cape of maroon flowed out behind him with the slight breeze created by
his movements, which were smooth, with the ease of a practiced and assured
warrior. He halted before the guards,
looking from one to the other calmly and expectantly, waiting. Neither, however, acknowledged his presence.
"Open the
doors," he said levelly, yet no quietness could conceal the command in his
voice.
The
soldiers stood fast, silent, trying to pretend no man stood before them. They were not Praetorians, nor of Rome's
Home Guard; these two men were merely hired bodyguards, probably ex-gladiators
or legionnaires. Their bearing,
however, told him that it was the latter, and he'd lots of experience with
soldiers.
"You will answer me, soldier," he
rumbled deeply, his voice all the more dangerous for its softness.
The one whom he'd fixed with his
intense gaze capitulated almost immediately.
Fortunately or unfortunately, he tended to have that effect on
people. Piercing eyes could accomplish
much when backed by steel. "We are not
allowed to admit anyone, General," he replied respectfully.
Moments ticked silently by, and
both guards shifted uneasily under his stare.
Dangerous charisma flowed from him and filled their eyes, although there
was no clear threat. "I am the Emperor
of Rome," he said softly. "Open the
doors."
"Conscript Fathers, I henceforth
ask you to follow your heads, not your hearts.
My father's memory is dear to us all, yet we cannot allow emotion to
dictate our choices. If Rome is to
prosper, Rome must be ruled by a strong emperor, born to rule –"
"Leaders are made, not bred," a
calm voice interrupted from the entranceway.
"If I recall, your father was the fifth in a line of adopted emperors,
chosen, not for blood, but for ability."
As one, both would-be emperor and
the senate spun to face the interloper, all staring dumbly at the still, yet
commanding, form. Maximus, for his
part, merely strode forward calmly, his hands clapped loosely behind his
back. He halted barely an arm's length
from his brother in law, meeting the assembly's gazes evenly, careful not to
allow the slightest hint of emotion to enter his face, save mild curiosity,
fabricated to throw them off guard.
This was a deadly game he was playing, and it was not necessarily one he
was good at, even though he had suspected that these events would happen for a
long time. Nothing, however, could have
fully prepared him for it. Then again,
he mused, the senate was probably as off-balance as he was.
That was the only good thing about
his present situation. All else, he
mused, could go to hell.
"Yet strangely enough, none of them
commanded an army," Commodus observed innocently, smiling slightly to his
rival. For a moment, their eyes locked,
and one thought passed between the two: the world had not the space for them
both. Sooner or later, the loser had to
go.
Maximus allowed his gaze to burn
into Commodus' for no longer than necessary.
Unlike the younger man, he was not there to prove a point. He was not there to spite the prince, nor
was he there simply to deny his rival what he most desired. The enmity between them had crossed and poisoned
the entire time the two had known each other, but the Spaniard knew far better
than to let it affect him – unlike Commodus, who was now silently gloating over
his small victory. Abruptly, he tore
his eyes from the fair prince and turned to the senate once more, catching the
other's confused frown as he did so.
Maximus allowed himself a brief moment of inner triumph; step one was
accomplished, for he'd not get in a personal battle with Commodus on the senate
floor.
"Gentlemen, we all come from different
backgrounds. Mine happens to be in the
army." Spreading his hands, palms up,
in a gesture of peace, Maximus drifted forward as he spoke, more comfortable in
these surroundings than he would have ever dreamed of being. Thank you, Marcus, for that. "Most of you have served your time on the
front, as I have, and you understand the privilege and duty that it is to serve
Rome. I have been fortunate enough to
do so well.
"In any case, this is not the
subject at hand today." Smoothly and
unnoticeably, he circled the senate chamber, looking each member in the eyes as
he moved, receiving slight nods in return from many of the men. They did, indeed, know what was at
stake. "Today, my brother-in-law" – he
nodded slightly to Commodus as he spoke, acting far more gracious than he felt,
but long months of training under Marcus Aurelius had taught him to keep his
more…rambunctious nature in check – "has asked you to deny my confirmation as
Emperor and chose him instead."
Carefully, he kept his eyes away
from Commodus. If he didn't, Maximus
knew he would never have resisted the need to skewer the younger man
with a death glare. Power hungry,
he thought to himself. You'd think
he might have learned by now.
Instead, though, he kept his peace, and allowed the silence to stretch
into eternity, broken only by his footfalls on the cold marble floor. The assembled Romans did not dare speak, for
to do so would be to brave the darkness that threatened to overtake their
world. Abruptly, then, Maximus stopped
motion and spun to face them, his voice still calm and reasonable.
"Marcus Aurelius' wishes are
clear. You may not know me well, and
you may not like me, but he chose me as his heir. I did not ask for this power, nor did I want this responsibility,
but I am here." Only then, did he turn
and allow his gaze to burn into Commodus'.
"And I will be damned if I see his
dream fail."
Together, they stepped into the
marble hallway outside. Black and white
could not have further contrasted the two; one was flushed red in
embarrassment, while the other was unreadable as a plain plaster wall. Maximus was aware that many of the
praetorians called him the Iceman behind his back, yet he took perverse
pleasure in that fact, at times. It was
awfully useful.
At the moment, however, it just
served to accentuate Commodus' feelings.
The younger man could not possibly have expected to win, yet he surely
had not foreseen the landside results of his plea – nearly the entire senate
had voted in favor of Maximus. Only a
few die-hard loyalists had sided with the young prince, for most of the men had
known Commodus since childhood, and had a fair idea what type of ruler he would
be. No matter how power-hungry some of
the senators were, and how they yearned to control an emperor, they knew that
the uncontrollable Maximus would be a far sight better than the unstable
Commodus. Most had not wished for a
strong emperor; they knew now that they had a strong man, and that his
rule would likely be as such, but even those who'd wished for a weakling knew
that the general would be easier to deal with than the prince.
Suddenly, but not unexpectedly, the
prince stopped, barely having allowed the doors to slam shut behind them. Livid, he turned to Maximus, who merely
waited for the inevitable explosion.
"This is not over," Commodus stated
with surprising control.
Meeting his gaze, Maximus replied,
"I'm sure it's not."
"I will win."
"Don't do anything stupid, Commodus," Maximus
replied quietly. He hated the younger
man for himself, but would see no harm come to him, in the name of not the
young man, but for his father. The old
emperor had never asked him to promise that, but Maximus had made that pact
with himself.
Marcus Aurelius' son spun to him
with surprising fury. "I have friends,
Maximus," he hissed. "I am the prince
of Rome."
"And I am its Emperor," the former
general replied calmly. "Do not forget
that."