Maximus Must Die

Chapter Five

He limited his world to these four walls to let his mind free but it remained caged, focused upon one question: What kind of world are we making when the people of Rome prefer a slave in the arena to their father?

It was his responsibility to make the world as it should be. But he did not understand how he had made this world, this isolated race. It was all too easy for his children to be referred to as 'the mob', but they were not 'the mob' in his mind, they were his children and all he wanted to do was love them.

His father loved Maximus, and he loved him still, yet he continued to defy him and task him in front of his children. And they love him for it. Just as Marcus loved him for it. That was the sad truth, Marcus Aurelius, his father, took great mirth when Maximus confronted Commodus and taunted him with his sly, subtle ways. It was always as if he weren't in the room with them, it was just Marcus and Maximus sharing a 'private joke'.

And what do I do but fight for them?! I give them games to please them. I strangle dissent to give them peace. I empower the Praetorians to give them order. What more can I do?! He was amazingly frustrated. He threw himself onto his chair and gripped his knees, desperately searching for the answer, hoping it would just pop out under his nose as if he had not been looking for it after all.

Say I should fight him, in the arena. Let my children see who the Gods truly favour.

And what if he should win? It was back, that overpowering voice of doubt gnawing away at his common sense. A God is more powerful than a man...

No, he couldn't think of that. If Maximus beat him, his legacy would be lost and he would be but an echo of laughter throughout the halls of history.

But I need to know - why do they love him?

He will not kill in the arena. He is merciful. As they all wish they were in their own hearts. And for that moment in the arena they are merciful too. For a moment... they are Gods. Offering life. But who can be more merciful than the Emperor of Rome?

He continued to mull the thoughts over repetitively in his head until he heard the light footsteps of his phantom-like sister. He sat quietly and still, wondering whether she would trouble herself to speak to him. It seemed that Lucilla had taken a vow of silence since Maximus' arrival, leaving him alone most of the time, giving him plenty of space to 'think things through'. This was probably the reason he had slid so drastically into depression - the result of thinking too much, as thinking too much is dangerous and unhealthy.

She entered his room, much to his liking - it showed she actually cared, but she turned as quickly if not quicker to leave.

Where have you been? I sent for you. He wanted to make it known he was looking for her, he wanted her to know he needed her. Every moment they were apart he could feel himself being dismantled by the senate as they wore him down. Five hundred against one, the odds were against him but he was determined he'd win.

Please brother. She started walking over to him.

He knew she'd been with Gracchus, but she didn't know he knew. But he wasn't sure about her motives - was she conspiring against him?

What troubles you?

It wasn't a sincere question, she was desperate to be somewhere else, desperate to get back to her lover, Gracchus. But she couldn't get back to Gracchus, for he would be safely locked away very soon.

Does Gracchus have a new lover? He'd catch her out. Even the slightest flicker in her eyes would reveal whether they were an item or not. There wasn't a flicker, not even a spark.

I don't know.

I thought you had seen him. He infects everyone like a putrid fever. For the health of Rome, the Senate must be bled and he will be bleed too, very soon. She didn't know what he had done, Gracchus was behind bars and would soon be executed. It was joyous, he would be rid of the sermonising, preaching, the dull drone of the old man's voice defying him like the Spaniard.

But not tonight.

He didn't pause to think on this statement, but he should have. She was just mesmerising, again reminding him of a goddess, of their mother - the perfect woman. The day Lucilla married Lucius, Commodus felt a tiny bit of him disappear. They were no longer brother and sister anymore. She was no longer innocent. It felt different, she wasn't the same, he never saw her. She gave birth, proving she had fornicated, had committed adultery. Commodus couldn't stand this thought - his pure older sister touched by hands unworthy of her divinity. But Lucius II, he was another example of perfection and Commodus loved him deeply, as much as any father could. And when his real father died, Commodus was free to reclaim his family, but this was again threatened by the feelings she had for Maximus and Gracchus. What could he do? He had no ideas anymore. He was about to say something to her, tell her about what he had done. He opened his mouth but found no sound and so moved to sit on the edge of his bed Do you remember what our father once said?

He sat. It's a dream, a frightful dream...life is. Do you think that is true? This phrase made him smile slightly, life was quite funny when he looked at it. It was amusing how much misfortune he could suffer.

She sat next to him and examined his face, hers lined with sympathy and concernedness. I don't know.

Did she not? He wasn't so sure about what she was telling him. This was another part of life with Maximus he hated, he was beginning to lose trust in his sister where once he would have sworn by her word and entrusted his life to her.

I think it is. And I have only you to share it with. He desperately wanted something more comforting than a mistress. He wanted a wife, someone who would give him an heir and love him unconditionally. Lucilla moved closer to him and a sudden pathetic, boy-like dependency came upon him as he realised his solitude and rested his head against her shoulder. She was so warm, so soft. He leaned her back and lay her upon the bed. He was overwhelmed by her beauty. Her eyes were so serene, her nose petit, her mouth plump. He put his fingers against her lips.

Open your mouth. She responded and he moved his fingers from her lips to his own, tasting what she tasted. He wanted her to love him, to feel what he felt for her. When he was with Lucilla he felt no sexual attraction to her, he just had a strong need for her to protect him. He wanted to be like Lucilla, be someone his father loved yet he loved wholly as well. She was like a mother to him, someone he could turn to in times of woe. But all of this didn't matter, for his feelings for her would be deemed in the public eye as incestuous and would give the public another reason to dislike him. He was possessive of her and needed her company, for he was extremely quick to jealousy if anyone else spent even a moment of their time with her. Their relationship was confusing, even to him, so he just pressed his head to her shoulder. All he wanted was intimacy, but nobody was prepared to allow him to have it. He was desperately lonely and again I remind you he was desperate for love.

You know I love you. He knew she was afraid and it sickened him to think that she thought he would force her to bow to his will. How could she have such a low opinion of him? To think that he would make her sleep with him against her will. If all he wanted was sexual satisfaction he would turn to Amorina, Celeste or Mira, goodness knows they were there for him in the past.

And I love you.

He smiled to himself, content with the thought that at least one person shared his feelings and loved him back. He pressed his head against her shoulder and fell asleep quickly, exhausted after days of insomnia - he had found the comfort he needed.