Chapter 7

Guilt and Blame. Cause and Consequence

Quintus stopped as he left the tent, he breathed deeply. For a moment there he had seen nothing in Maximus' eyes. No love, no kindness. Just cold. A coldness that had scared him. That had left him feeling that something was long past saving in Maximus' soul. Something that was irreparably damaged.  Something he had had a hand in. And it had terrified him. Maximus was right. He could no longer look him in the eye. For what was held in those cerulean depths told only of pain, loss sorrow and above all, a cold hatred. Not directed at him, but hatred all the same. And so powerful. So, so powerful. All directed at one man.

One.

Commodus.

Maximus closed his eyes. He was weary. Bone weary. His head throbbed in time with his ribs and his leg was a dull thumping ache. He looked around him, stared at the blood left by them men he had killed. Their bodies removed by the men who now guarded the tent. His tent. He sighed, a sigh of sorrow, loss tiredness, defeat. Yes defeat. For even if he was to win against the young emperor. To send his soul into the very deepest darkest depths of  Hades, Commodus would still be victorious. For he had already defeated Maximus. He had crushed him in one move by taking the very things he held dearest.

His Wife.

His Son.

His Emperor.

And his belief.

His belief that Rome was the light. Elysium on earth. For all the had seen of that great city was the stench of death and decay – and above all corruption.

He sighed again and lay back on the bed, suddenly weary. His body bowing under the pressure that he carried. And as he felt his body slip into unconsciousness he remembered the emperors words

"You have proven your valor once again, Maximus. Let us hope for the last time."
" There is no one left to fight, sire."
" There is always someone left to fight…"

He fell asleep with one name on his lips.

Commodus.

Commodus sat with his head in his hands. Senator Falco watching him.

"Emperor, you cannot continue to put your guard in the arena. They are there to protect you. Do you not see that there is disaffection with the men? They…"

Commodus stared at Falco.

"They what? The men did not perform their duty. They were punished. I cannot let men betray me Falco. If they betray me then they do not love me. If they don't love me, how will they ever follow me?" Falco flinched from the hardness of Commodus' stare.

"There is a fine line between fear and love sire, if the men fear you…"

"Then they will follow me." Commodus interrupted. Falco softened his voice.

"They may follow you, but they will never love you. And fear can be overcome. And if they do not fear you, and they do not love you. Then they will not follow you."

Commodus flinched as though struck.

"I love my people, they are my children…they will do as I command." Commodus spoke harshly, his voice faltering on the last word

Falco breathed deeply, composing himself.

"But sire, would they do as you command if someone else arose to command them? The people are yours to love, but they are also your greatest tool, your greatest weapon. With the people behind you nothing can touch you. Fear is fickle. Help the people love you sire. They will soon forget his name."

Commodus stared at Falco, his head cocked to one side absorbing his words

"Yes…I will make them love me. There is a plague is there not?"

"Yes sire, in the Greek quarter."

"Then ensure they have supplies…food and water…"

"Very good sire." Falco smiled and stood to leave.

"And Falco?" The Senator paused, and looked at Commodus questioningly.

"Yes Sire?"

"If someone were to oppose me…you would follow me? Wouldn't you?" Falco's jaw dropped open, caught at a loss for words. He knew it was fear that had sprung the question. There was a hint of malice, a challenge in the words.

Falco dipped his head.

"Of course, sire" he said softly, trying to hide the hesitance in his voice. He turned and left, striding quickly to his own quarters.

"Oh Falco…I shall be watching you…I shall watch you very carefully indeed…" Commodus whispered softly to the empty room.

Julius stood to attention as he saw Quintus approaching, blood stained his tunica from the dead men he had helped to bury, he futilely tried to brush it away. Quintus saw the gesture and he wore a smile as he approached the younger legate.

"Julius, Maximus has requested that all men be paraded within the hour. Do what you can to hide word of his presence here, though I fear that rumors are already rampant. For now, leave men guarding the gates. No man is to leave until Maximus had addressed the men. Understood?"

"Yes sir!" Julius snapped to attention and turned ready to perform his tasks, utterly professional once again.

"Julius!" Quintus called, Julius paused. He turned to face Quintus, and eyebrow raised in question. "I thank you for your help earlier. We could not have done it without you."

Julius smiled. "No thanks are needed sir, none." And with that he walked away.

Quintus paced outside Maximus' tent. The hour was nearly up and there had been no sight nor sound from Maximus since he had left him earlier. Frustrated (and though he were loathe to admit it, a little worried) he entered the tent.

"Maximus!" he called softly, rewarded with a grunt from the bedchamber. He headed towards the room, "Maximus?" he called again, but fell silent as he saw his general asleep, sprawled on the bed still wearing his heavy bronze curiass, and in the grips of a nightmare.

"Grumph…mmmm…no…" Maximus muttered fitfully in his sleep, a fine covering of sweat across his face. Quintus noted how his features seemed pale and drawn. He reached out to him, and grasped his shoulder, shaking it gently.

"Maximus! Wake up…Maximus…" Despite expecting it, he jumped as he felt the point of a dagger press against his throat. He glanced down and saw Maximus staring at him, his eyes holding the same cold glare as before. He cleared his throat.

"Maximus! Its me…the men are starting to parade. The hour is almost up I thought…"

Maximus blinked once, slowly and deliberately before lowering the blade.

"I know it is you Quintus." Maximus said softly, sleep still heavy in his voice. "That is why the blade stayed in my hand and not in your throat." He said sharply.

Quintus sat up, taken aback by the harshness of Maximus' tone.

"You have not forgiven me…" Quintus muttered softly

"What?!" Maximus hissed

"For my betrayal," Quintus continued softly "You have not forgiven me for my betrayal in Germania."

Maximus looked at him, stared hard at his friend, and he could almost see the pressure the betrayal held over Quintus, he could see it in the set of his shoulders.

"I have forgiven you Quintus. You were doing your duty. We have been here before. I forgive you, with all my heart I forgive you…but I cannot forget."

"Maximus…I…" Maximus raised a had, stopping the flow of words.

"I hold nothing against you Quintus. For a short time I blamed you, but I have often contemplated what my own reaction would have been if our positions had been reversed…and I know that I would have come for you, just as you came for me. It is a friends duty…" Maximus stared hard at Quintus "…and you are my friend. Do not forget that."

Quintus raised his glance to look Maximus in the eye, the coldness had once again disappeared, but Quintus could still feel the betrayal and hurt radiating of Maximus in waves. His eyes once again holding the same sad mix of hurt, pain, loss and sorrow. And of a betrayal so deep it could never be removed.

"I will jot forget, Maximus. And I am grateful for your friendship."

"No gratitude is necessary Quintus, we have been friends for too many years and through too many campaigns to owe any debts. I see the burden of your guilt you carry Quintus, and it saddens me. I tell you again that if it were not you it would have been another – with you in a grave, and you have helped me now far more than another man would, or could have helped me. And for that I owe you…"

"But…"

"But nothing! You are resolved of guilt Quintus. If it were not for you I may not have made it here. If it were not for me you would not be here. If Marcus had not requested I be his heir we would still be in Germania…or home." Maximus' voice faltered as he mentioned home.

"Do you remember the last time you were home?"

"Two years, two hundred and sixty-four days, and this morning."

"Or if he had made his announcement public we would be in Rome, with you in the Senate…" Quintus spoke, his voice soft with wonder

Maximus smiled openly.

"Finally he understands! No manner of wishful thinking will change the past Quintus. Here is here, and now is now. Nothing is going to change that. Nothing!" Maximus grasped Quintus' shoulders hard, staring into his eyes as he spoke, driving the truth home. "Now lets not speak of it again." Maximus added softly. Quintus nodded.

"Agreed."

Maximus stood, rubbing his eyes hard, he flinched as he put weight onto his injured leg.

"Are you well Maximus?" Quintus asked concerned

"I am well." Maximus answered curtly. It was all Quintus knew he would receive in way of answer from his General, who would rarely speak about his pains, preferring to retreat into his bolt hole to lick his wounds in peace and quite. Quintus could still see the pain etched on the strong proud face though, the weariness that tugged at his entire being.

They both jumped as they hear a voice outside of the tent.

"General Maximus!"

Quintus opened the tent, his hand ready on the hilt of his sword. His stance relaxed as he saw Julius waiting before him.

"The men are ready sir!" Julius spoke, at attention.

Maximus appeared before Quintus could answer.

"Julius! It does me good to see you!" Maximus spoke softly.

Julius grinned "It does me good to see you too sir!" he spoke softly, no more words needed. Maximus dusted at his tunic, suddenly nervous in the seriousness of the situation.

He glanced at Quintus, who smiled at him nervously.

Maximus stood tall, he breathed deeply and strode through the tent flap. He paused as he saw Cicero holding Hercules waiting for him. Maximus nodded his hello before swinging himself onto his horse. Hercules fidgeted in his excitement, and Maximus could feel his blood quicken in the familiarity of the situation.

Slowly he walked his horse towards the parade ground, flanked by Julius' men. Quintus at his side. And every inch the general.

TBC