~~~~~ Well, here's Part 3, as promised. Part 4 is already started, and promises to
be the best yet. Sorry this one took so
long; I didn't expect to get access to a computer at all during this month
(those of you that frequent my web page know why), so my timing tends to be a
bit sporadic. Anyway, here's some
more. I'll try to get Part 4 up before
I leave for a week on Sunday.
As always, please R&R and tell me what you
think.
Robin
Part
Three: Sometimes Dreams Come True
"Senators, I did not come here to ask your permission to act. I came here simply to inform you of my intentions." Maximus' face was hard as he cut off their arguments. The past thirteen months, in which he had learned how to rule an empire the hard way, had been trying at best – and busy, to say the least. Already, he had been forced to hammer through six new laws against major opposition, stemmed, he was sure, from pure dislike for his methods rather than the laws themselves, since even the most diehard loyalist had admitted that they were long overdue, but that had been the least of his problems. In addition to that, he'd dealt with Commodus' malicious brand of politics for over two months before the prince had left the capital – something, Maximus knew, was far from permanent – and had put down a rebellion in Gaul and a solved the mess in Sicilia without bloodshed. And if that were not enough, now he had to deal with opposition to the very essence of the Roman legal system.
"You cannot execute Roman Senators without our consent!" Silavanus, one of Commodus' strongest supporters – unfortunately, though, one who had kept his nose clean, so far – objected angrily.
"I?" Maximus snarled, feeling his temper broiling beneath the surface and not really in a mood to contain it. Over the last two years, first at Marcus' side and then on his own, he had never let his temper out on the Senate floor. However, this time his patience had long flown out the window. "Allow me to repeat what I said only moments ago, Senator. Marcus Didius Julianius Falco and Lucius Cornelius Nerva have both been convicted of treason by a Roman jury in a legally conducted trial. Surely, you, who attended the proceedings, can not argue with the conduct of the court!"
"I do not question the trial's results, I question the sentence!" Silavanus shot back.
"You may question all you wish, Senator, but it will not change a thing!" Maximus thundered before he could bite his temper back. Immediately, he regretted the words, but there was no turning back as the entire Senate roared in anger. Knowing he could not shout them down – or rather, knowing he could, but unwilling to do so and make them more angry than they already were. His trained mind had recognized the fact that he'd made a mistake, and the emperor was unwilling to compound it.
So he merely let the shouting run its course and strode toward the chamber's exit, mounting the steps, and only turning back toward the Senate as a worried hush swept over the proceedings. Maximus had been long known for his ability to wait out any amount of blustering a politician could do, and walking out was not what they expected of him. Even as he faced the assembly once more, they fell silent, watching him, and waiting, certain that this would be another time that he forced them into submission.
Unfortunately, Maximus knew that they were right. But perhaps he would not do so as…rudely as they imagined.
"Gentlemen," he began softly, "I understand your reservations and your objections. I, too, wish there were another way. But my duty is to see to Rome's security, and to ensure that any threat that faces her is vanquished. Exiling men convicted of treason will not do so – not when their goal was to overthrow all that we hold dear.
"As you have argued, life is precious." Maximus soft tone suddenly turned cold once more. "These two serve as a warning, to all Rome's enemies. They carry my message – that I am not afraid to do what must be done."
Silence split the room, and finally Caesar split the silence, his voice heavy, and for the first time, hinting at emotion. "I regret the necessity, gentlemen. But sometimes sacrifices must be made in Rome's name."
On the heels of that emptiness, Maximus turned and strode from the room, his heart neither heavy nor light; he had no desire to condemn men to death, but he'd long dealt with the necessity of doing so, even when he did not like it. In that respect, he reflected, it was far easier for him to do so than it was for the others in that chamber. Most, as he'd noted thirteen months ago, had served their own time in the army, but that had rarely been on the front lines. The most vast and professional army in the world needed battalions of clerks and secretaries, and prospective politicians easily filled those roles. The choice was always there, of course, and some such men chose to fight on the front, but those types were few and far between.
Therefore, their emperor had far more experience with death than they did. He had known it first hand, seen friends and family die before his eyes, even as he destroyed the enemies of his country. Some might have asked if the price was worth paying, and he did, still, in his nightmares and weaker moments, but he had long known that he had to go on. Years ago, he'd been taught that, by a man to whom he'd sworn his life...and whose dream he still chased with dogged persistence. The senators had never stared death in the eye; to them, it was a distant and gruesome concept better left alone. Maximus, though, who had stood on the brink of Elysium himself, knew that to protect the innocent, sometimes it was necessary to take the lives of the guilty.
Gentle fingers trailed its way from his belly button to his throat, then cupped his chin lightly, and Maximus opened his eyes as soft lips met his own. Smiling into the kiss, he wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her close. For long moments, they embraced each other, simply lying together in the early morning sunlight as it drifted through the nearest window. Finally, their lips came apart, and Lucilla snuggled closer to him, burying her face in his chest. Inhaling the sweet scent of her hair, the emperor closed his eyes.
"Good morning," he whispered playfully.
She looked up at him and kissed the tip of his nose. "I thought it was time you woke up."
"Did you now?"
"Or maybe I was just lonely," Lucilla replied, kissing him again, softly and not with passion, but without the rush of a young lover's embrace.
"Ah, so the truth comes out…" Maximus chuckled quietly but his tone quickly turned apologetic. "I did not even notice you come in last night."
"You were exhausted," she replied easily. "I understand."
Gently, Maximus kissed her cheek. "Sometimes, I think that I ask you to understand too much."
"Sometimes, dear, you forget that I was the daughter of Rome long before I married you…" Lucilla smiled slightly, but though her eyes were earnest, they were also saddened ever so slightly. "I know duty, my love. I know it well."
"As do I," Maximus replied, finding his voice suddenly heavy. He had never loved anyone the way he loved Lucilla, and knew no other emperor had ever allowed a wife to work so closely by their side, and yet there were times when he believed that he did not deserve the trust and the understanding she so freely gave. "Though sometimes I hate it."
"I think we all do, at times."
Unable to help himself, the emperor snorted almost bitterly. "I hate this job."
"You are good at it." Once more, her light fingers stroked his cheek, but he only shook his head and sighed. Then, however, the fingers on his face became not so gentle, and Lucilla forced him to turn and look in her eyes. "No, you listen to me, Maximus Decimus Meridius. Like it or not, you are a good ruler. I suspect that history will call you great…I know I do." Again, she smiled gently, but as always there was limitless strength in her eyes. "You are accomplishing what most emperors can never dream of, much less succeed in. Do not ever doubt that, my love. And do not ever doubt yourself."
"I don't." With and explosive motion, Maximus sat up in bed, shaking himself loose from her touch until she rose with him and placed a hand on his chest. "I just wish your father had chosen someone else…"
Silence stole them both for a moment, for husband and wife had loved the old emperor alike. Finally, she spoke quietly. "I know…and I know how hard this is for you," Lucilla said softly. "But like you, my father had a duty to Rome – to pick the best man to follow him."
"I miss him," he admitted suddenly, surprising himself with the words, for even with Lucilla, he rarely allowed himself to dwell upon the past. The future was too full for that, and yet, sometimes, he really did wish for a change, any change – in all the dreams he'd had in life, ruling Rome had never surfaced.
"As do I," his wife replied, laying her head on his shoulder, and Maximus placed an arm around her as they both remembered. "The people of Rome know it, too, Maximus, and they would love you for that if for nothing else, because they know you loved him."
When he raised a quizzical eyebrow, she continued. "Your speech at his funeral was something even I did not think you could do. I did not think you could show that much emotion in front of strangers, because I know how your life is been. They do not know that, but what they had seen, before that, was a very controlled – and sometimes cold – man. When you opened up before all of them and told them how you loved my father, they loved you, because they knew you were telling the truth."
"I was," Maximus said heavily, remembering once more how he had tried and tried again to write an appropriate speech, and had finally succeeded, only to throw it away when standing before a million people and speak from his own heart. Snatches of his words came back to him then, but he hardly recalled the rest. For one of the few times in his life, he had opened himself completely, and though under control, as he always was, he had allowed others to see to his heart. It was not something he had done before – not around strangers, at least – but in the end, it had helped ease his grief.
"My father knew you would hate this." Lucilla looked up at him. "But he knew you loved Rome more."
Finding a half-smile within himself, Maximus looked in her beautiful eyes. "I never believed in anything before I believed in Rome," he whispered. "He taught me to believe. In that way, I am thankful to carry on his dream…and proud that he chose me."
"Your love for him was the only reason you said yes," his wife replied. "I know that. So did he. If any other man had asked, you would have laughed in their face and walked away."
"You're probably right," the emperor agreed. "Maybe that is why I bear this burden so carefully – because it is his legacy, and not only because I love Rome."
Soft lips brushed against his own. "And that is one of the reasons I love you so much," Lucilla whispered. "Because you will not let this change who you are."
"I love you too," he whispered, feeling his heart lift once more. Only Lucilla could truly understand the hardships and the joys he carried within him, and only with her could he freely discuss things he knew would never be repeated. Not only did she mean the world to him, but she was his right hand – and his heart. Smiling, Maximus bent his head to return the kiss.
She giggled – a rare enough occurrence. "Prove it," Lucilla challenged him playfully.
Still smiling, he wrapped his arms around her and flopped back against the mattress, pulling her down with him. "If you insist," he whispered in her ear, and then their lips found one another again.
"You are sure you can do this?" Commodus asked the other man quietly, his dark eyebrows creasing in decision.
"Of course, Highness," his companion replied confidently. "It will not be easy, but it will be done. For you – and for Rome."
A thin smile lit the prince's face. He had waited, had bided his time, had been so careful to concede a graceful defeat…It had been so hard to bite his tongue and to appear to support that nobody that his father had chosen as an heir – but now it would all be worth it. His birthrate would finally be his. "I thank you then," he said graciously. "You will be paid as arranged – upon delivery."
"There is no need to assure me, Highness," the mercenary said. "I trust in your word."
Commodus smiled, feeling truly satisfied for the first time in years – for the first time since that fateful day in Germania when his father had told him of his intentions – How could he do that to me? Haven't I always done all he asked of me? Inside, his mind whirled and his heart burned. He'd never understood what his father saw in one lonely, insignificant Spanish general that he could not see in his own son. What was it in him that Marcus Aurelius had hated so? What was it in Maximus that the old man had loved so much more? Why did life have to be so unfair.
I'll show you, Father, he
thought to himself. I'll show you
how wrong you were to bypass me. I'll
be great, and all Rome will kneel before me.
Including your precious Maximus.
"Last one to dinner is a rotten egg!" Lucius cried, rushing forward and barely getting the jump on his stepbrother Julius, who quickly scurried after him.
"Hey! That's not fair!"
Laughing, the two ten-year-old boys ripped down the hallway, with Lucilla and Maximus following not far behind, albeit at a more leisurely pace. They smiled to each other as they watched the two boys both had learned to call their own – but more importantly, in the past two years, the boys had learned to be brothers. Both respective parents had worried, at first, about how each son would react to the other, but their fears had been unfounded. Within months, Julius and Lucius had become all but twins. Best of all, though, was that neither had found the time to become jealous of their one year old baby sister, Serena. They were too busy playing with one another.
Slowly, the five of them had formed a family, and both boys had gained the companionship and parenting that they'd lacked throughout their early years. Maximus was partially ashamed to know that he spent far more time with his son now than ever before, even with all the traveling he did as Caesar – as much as he hated the role, he was grateful to spend more time with his rapidly growing family. In fact, it had become hard to imagine a time without Serena, Lucius, and Lucilla…and he had no desire to discover what that would have been like. Indeed, Lucius was nearly as much his son as Julius was now, for the young boy had lacked a father for nearly all his life, an experience that Maximus could well understand. He'd not ever spoken to Lucilla about it, but he'd made a silent oath to himself: Lucius would never know the loneliness he had known.
Lucilla slipped an arm around him, laying her head on his shoulder as they walked. "They make it so…interesting around here."
"Don't they?" Maximus grinned, until a crash cut him off. "Not again…"
"Oh dear," his wife said simultaneously.
Quickly, they moved around the corner, only to find both boys caught up in a tangle of porcelain and what used to be priceless antique vases. Husband and wife looked at their children with bewildered glances for a moment, and then turned to one another with amused smiles. "Well," Lucilla continued philosophically, "I never much liked those anyway."
"Ugly," Maximus agreed, even as two guilty boys turned wide eyes to their parents.
"We're sorry," Julius spoke first.
"We didn't mean to!" Lucius agreed.
"I tripped coming around the corner," Julius added.
"And he ran into me," Lucius continued for him.
"Then we both hit the table," Julius finished.
They both smiled innocently. "It was an accident. Really."
Unable to keep a stern face any longer, Maximus found himself struggling not to laugh at their unconscious collaboration. Smiling, he then reached down to help both boys to their feet. "I thought we already had the discussion about running on marble floors," he said lightly.
"Dad!" both whined together, and finally, both he and Lucilla burst out in laughter.
"All right, all right!" he chuckled. "I know you two are only kids. Now, I do want you to promise me you'll be a little more careful next time!"
Lucius and Julius giggled together. "Okay," Julius said for them both.
"We promise," Lucius finished.
"Then let's go eat dinner," Lucilla said pointedly, causing both boys to turn and grin at each other, thoughts aligned –
But each parent grabbed a child before they could go ripping off once more.
"At a more sedate pace," Lucilla dictated.
"Mom…" Julius glared at her even as Lucius looked pleadingly at Maximus, who did not loosen his grip on the child's arm any more than Lucilla let loose Julius from her own hands.
"That's enough, you two," the emperor finally said. "We are going to dinner, and we are going to do so without destroying any more of the palace. Understood?"
"Yes, Dad," both chimed together.
"It is done." The mercenary spoke quietly as dawn broke once again over Italia. His voice was quiet, and his face cloaked by shadows, but the meaning was unmistakable.
"Good."
Commodus' whisper was barely audible, but his nod was not so subtle. The prince smiled to his newest employee, outwardly portraying the gracious and noble Roman to perfection. Only someone who knew him well could have seen the long-restrained and murderous hatred behind those dark pupils, and only a close companion could have seen the tense control in every motion he made. However, the mercenary was not informed enough to guess its true meaning, and far in the darkness behind him, a single shadow moved.
The silence stretched long before the mercenary asked, "And my reward, Sire?"
Sharp and bright eyes snapped to stare maliciously at the other for a moment before Commodus regained control of himself. The would-be-emperor softened his gaze with an effort as he said smoothly, "Of course you will receive what you deserve."
The man bowed. "I thank–"
The next words never made it past his lips; a sharp gurgle sounded instead as a rough hand clapped over his mouth and a knife stabbed into his back. The mercenary's body buckled, but Clodius Albinius held him tightly, and though the former praetorian was out massed by his captive, he was by far the stronger of the two, and he contained the dying man easily. Finally, all life left the mercenary and he went limp; only then did Albinius release the larger man and allow his body to slide to the floor. Then he, too, bowed to Commodus, before he walked away.
For a long moment, the young prince stared dispassionately at the body lying on his marble floor. Such sacrifices, he knew, had to be made, yet their impact upon him never changed. He often wished that he could feel for these strangers, but he found himself colder these days than he had once been. It had started in Germania, he knew, when his loneliness gave rise to a rash action he'd never have otherwise taken…If he hadn't possessed the gall to kneel before me, he thought wistfully, that never would have happened.
Then again, while I am wishing for impossibles, I might as well wish that Maximus had not walked in the room then.
In a brief fantasy, he allowed his mind to wander. Yes… then Maximus would have been dead, and the mob would have worshiped Commodus – it would be his name they screamed as he reentered Rome in triumph. Everything would have been as it should be. The son of the emperor would have succeeded him; the light of Rome would have brightened as Commodus showed his people a vision like none they had ever seen before. Everything would have been perfect. He would have seen to that. The senate would have understood that Rome had changed; or if not, he'd have made them understand. The people needed a father; only he could provide that for them, and he would have, if that bastard Spanish general hadn't interfered. If Maximus hadn't stolen the love of his father and his sister… Everything would have been perfect if he hadn't. Everyone would have loved Commodus if he hadn't.
Even Lucilla.
He missed her love. He missed her counsel. Heck, he missed just talking to her. But she'd betrayed him, just as his father had. Fortunately, that did not mean that she had to die. It only meant that she had to pay. Commodus was no fool – he knew his sister would never willingly love him again. So he would make her pay instead. He would make her pay for all the pain she had caused him.
First she would watch her husband die.
There would be no quick death for Maximus. No soldier's death. No dying by the sword. There would be nothing honorable about it. Nor anything secret. No, the usurper would die a traitor's death, with all of Rome to see it in the Coliseum. That would be a fitting end to the games Commodus planned to honor his father. There would be nothing better than watching Maximus die before those who cared for Marcus as much as his son had – until the general had manipulated the kind, old, man into becoming something he was not.
Crucifixion would be too kind, even though that was how it would end.
But that would only be the end…After one hundred and eighty days of games. He'd fight, Commodus decided. He'd force Maximus to fight like the nobody he was. Oh, but he was good, the prince knew – after all, he'd fought the general himself, long ago – so the odds would have to be stacked. However, Commodus knew he'd enjoy having Maximus tortured.
But he'd laugh even harder as Lucilla watched.
That, he decided, would be a fitting end.
And it will be, he promised
himself. It will be. I will receive my birthright. I will tear away from him everything that
should have been mine, and I will destroy all that he loves before I am
finished with him. Except Lucilla, my
poor dear and misled Lucilla. Her I
will spare, for I, too, will need an heir. She will move from the wife of one emperor to the next, and if she loves
me, perhaps I will be kind. A dark
smile fleeted across his features. Revenge,
sister, will be mine.
~~~~~ I do have a question – this, in combination with
"Echoes in Eternity," is on the verge of turning into a series of its own. Anyone have an idea what to name it?
As always, please R&R and tell me what you
think.
Robin
