Mars

Chapter 2: The isolation of the gods

He lay foetal-like, clutching his legs. He was extremely tired and not just from his activities. He felt emotionally drained, for he had never opened up to anyone other than her and his sister, yet he could not receive love from either of them, and in the end that's all he wanted - love.

As the air began to heat up again with the rising of the sun and the smell of summer began to fill the room, Commodus realised he had not had a wink of sleep. He stood and stretched, every muscle in his body flexing and began to dress himself in his robes before walking onto the balcony. This was his life. He never slept well and in the morning the opposite side of the bed was empty. He thought that was another reason his father hated him - because he could not find a wife. He heard footsteps behind him and he turned, seeing his sister standing by the column that bore his name.

"Where is your whore?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Where is yours?" He replied. She smiled and walked over to her brother and they embraced. She felt there was something odd about his hug today, it was not as passionate as it once was, he was cold.

"Did you not sleep?" Said she, examining the circles under his eyes.

"Not tonight." He smiled faintly. "I was thinking."

"Like all great men?" She mused.

"Of course!" He turned away and looked out upon the city. "It's strange. People walk around with security - because they are loved."

There it was again - that word. For some reason it was all her brother could speak of since his twelfth birthday - love.

"All creatures are loved by the gods." She assured him.

"But sadly, not I, because I am unnatural." He looked at her with pain in his eyes.

"You know father was only angry when he said that." She defended her father, like everyone else.

"Indeed." He sneered. "I'm leaving now. It's time for me to walk the streets once more." He stated.

"You're obsessed with the streets." It was almost like she was degrading him.

"It's where the people are - our people." He stressed the word. It was something lacking in emperors - the desire to mix and talk to the people they were supposed to care for. In his mind, you could not rule an empire without talking to the citizens to uncover their problems. He knew the Senators were the voices of the people, but he wondered how much they actually cared for them, as they strutted around with their clean robes, full stomachs and young mistresses as the people they were supposed to speak for were dying of disease and starvation. No, they were not the voice of the people - they were the voice of themselves.

He was about to perform an act that people would adore him for - he would give food to the first beggar he saw. That was one of the virtues - charity.

So he ventured out onto the street where myriads of people were pushing their way about without a real care for others. It made him jump back slightly at the uncultured manner in which they acted. Didn't they know who he was?

He managed to pass the Colosseum without being harmed, which was where he found his first casualty. A crippled old man scrounging on the floor for crumbs. He was painfully thin, practically invisible next to the well built prince. He was practically naked as his toga were simply rags and his long white beard trailed along the floor.

"Good day sir, what is your ailment?" Smiled Commodus, trying to be friendly.

The man looked up at him with his yellow eyes and curled his lip up like a jack russell about to pounce. Commodus stepped back slightly and held out the bread at arms length. The cripple looked from the bread to the prince, the prince to the bread, so many times it made Commodus ill. Eventually the man snatched the bread from his outstretched hand and spat upon his robes.

"How dare you? Don't you know who you face?" Gasped Commodus, his face beginning to burn.

"I know who I face and I despise all who sit in their palaces growing fat whilst I and my family starve in the streets they barely set foot in." Snarled the man.

Commodus paused a moment, thinking of a reply. "I have fed you, are you not grateful?"

"One loaf of bread is nothing compared to a lifetime eating merely scraps." With that the man hobbled away along with - Commodus noted - the bread.

So that was that, his attempt to be charitable had blown up in his face. The encounter had left him slightly shaken and untrusting of the world outside, so he returned to his quarters in the palace in defeat and humiliation.

"That was quick." Said a low female voice. Lucilla emerged out of the shadows clutching a scroll that her brother immediately looked at. "Don't worry, it's not a death sentence. It's just a story mother wrote a long time ago." Commodus nodded, relieved, although he was sure he would not be sentenced to death. "Tell me what happened."

He walked over the throne, slumped in it and sighed deeply. "I had an encounter." She raised an eyebrow, which urged him to continue. "A man told me he despised me...and that I was fat."

"All rich men have more meat. For food and otherwise." She joked. "Do not dwell on the ramblings of an old man, he is merely bitter because of the actions of his forefathers. He does not know you to despise you."

"Still, I don't like to be told it." He began to bite his nails, a habit he had not yet grown out of. "Is it normal to be surrounded by people and still feel like you're..." He paused. "Alone, naked and in a dark room."

"No." She replied, he understood. "But then again, you're not normal are you?"

He was about to snap back a remark when she vanished, gliding out of the room and back into the shadows like a ghost. He threw back his head and began to think.

"Sire, your father requests your company at dinner." Said a subject with a rifle-straight back.

"Of course." Commodus faked emotion and stood, following the man to the dinner hall. It would do him good to eat something.

The hall was empty except for Lucilla and his father. The food was already set down and he took his place to the left of his father, much to his disliking. The atmosphere was solemn and quiet as he passed his eyes from one face to the other.

"What has happened?" He questioned them suspiciously, Lucilla couldn't know anything he didn't, she couldn't - she's not that quick.

"Well, now that I have both of you here I may as well tell you." Said the Emperor.

"Yes?" He spoke quickly and harshly.

"I am departing from Rome to watch the last battles in Germania." He smiled weakly.

"Is that all? I thought you must have been dying!" Laughed the Prince.

"Well I am, I have been dying now for many long years." Answered Marcus. Commodus rolled his eyes as Lucilla smirked. "As for you and your sister, I would like you to stay here. Gracchus is going to be my voice."

He felt like shouting, yelling, hitting. Gracchus? That incompetent oaf? "Will you excuse me, I seem to have lost my appetite." He rose and left.

"Have I offended him?" The father said to his daughter.

"Of course not, he's just being Commodus." She smirked back. "Is that so bad?"