Chapter 19: Discovery Ends and The Battle Begins
Commodus and Tertullian stayed awake for the better part of the night. The two worked feverishly trying to find every document detailing findings of any plots against the royal family, specifically him. Commodus was extremely disheartened to find that there were some one hundred and eleven such documents for him alone that had yet to be filed in the permanent archives. He frowned. Ursa had been wrong; the people didn't love him. He sighed heavily and looked through them all the way back to the beginning of his reign. He opened one of the scrolls from the first month he was Caesar and opened it. Tertullian peered over the young man's shoulder and frowned a little.
"Hmm, it appears you signed that document, but you didn't write it.", he commented.
"It was the last document my father had written. I never looked at it to see what it was, but I didn't think it was anything too dangerous or important. He was dying, after all.", Commodus said as he began to read over it. The first three paragraphs were always the same in these orders and detailed why the current Caesar had the authority to take this action.
'In the interest of the New Order of Rome; I, Marcus Aurelius, hereby transfer all my power and duty to my successor and friend Maximus Decimus Meridias in the hope that he will in turn transfer said power to the senate. The New Republic of Rome will be ruled only by senate, never monarchy.'
Commodus growled a little at this. Even after his death the old fool was still reminding Commodus of how much he wasn't wanted and never would be. He read further out of human curiosity.
'In the event that Maximus should refuse the position I have asked of him, I hereby decree that all obstacles in his life that cause said refusal to be removed at once. Maximus will have power over Rome, no matter the cost. Destruction of obstacles include, but are not limited to; properties, livestock, servants, and family. In the even that he falls ill and cannot take the the throne, I hereby decree that he shall be under the exclusive care of Galen of Pergamum. Should anyone contest the claim that I have set before Maximus, that man should be torn apart at every limb. This is my word and law. Long live The New Republic of Rome.'
Commodus shook terribly as he read this. Had Maximus known all along about this? If so, then why hadn't he demanded that the order for the contestant to the throne (namely Commodus himself) to be killed as Marcus had wanted? He set the document down carefully and looked over at Tertullian. Tertullian shook his head. The emperor cleared his throat and began to sift through more of the documents, still holding onto the lunatic's decree that he had read not but a moment ago.
"What are you looking for now, sire? We've found every document detailing assassination attempts on your family.", Tertullian said as he stood beside the young man.
"Yes, but what about assassinations that were carried out against another family.", he muttered softly. Tertullian looked at him inquisitively, but Commodus didn't look up towards the scribe once. "Where are the scrolls for Praetorian activity from Germania?"
"Here, sire. I had only just finished making copies of them all. Honestly, it's too much for one man to copy every tidbit of paperwork and then file it away in the permanent archives. You might think about teaching the concubines you're not using to read and write so I'll have some help.", Tertullian said with a laugh. Commodus remained emotionless as he took the stack from Tertullian. Luckily, he had kept them in chronological order, and the ones that were taken from the very end of the excursion just when his father had died, were towards the top. He read through the orders to destroy the Germanian outpost and remove permanent troops from the area that he himself had decreed. That wasn't important. He studied several scrolls until stopping dead at one of them. Tertullian noticed this and stared at his ruler with concern. The boy's face had turned very pale and he was trembling as if being confronted by a phantom of his own sins against a dear friend.
"I signed this, as well.", Commodus whispered. Tertullian moved the scroll so that he could look at it more closely. He studied it carefully for a moment.
"Yes, but you didn't write this one either. Perhaps you might think of writing your own edicts from time to time or at least reading over all that's laid before you more carefully.", Tertullian offered. "This is also Gaius's hand, but it was done in your name. When did you make this order? After reading the parchment you're holding now?"
"I never gave this order!", Commodus shouted madly at the scholar. Tertullian backed away. Commodus was trembling like a terrified child and beginning to cough a little. This was always a sure sign of distress for the young man. Since surviving the plague as a boy, he had been cursed with lungs that were somewhat emotional. Galen had said that heartache, passion, sorrow, and even cold were deadly for the prince. He had advised Marcus not to send for him in Germania, lest he lose his only surviving son to the chill. Commodus looked down at the order. The document was the action that had been mentioned in Marcus's treacherous scroll. Commodus felt his heart tear into hundreds more pieces at reading it. Marcus had wanted Maximus to be free of any reason to not take the throne, he had wanted his past life wiped away save for his activities as a soldier in the legions. It was as if he wanted Maximus to have only the life that he deemed best for him.
Commodus fell forward slightly, feeling his head spinning with emotion. Tertullian moved forward to help him and allowed him to lean on him for a few moments. Marcus had ordered the death of his servants, animals, wife, and child. He had ordered the destruction of any properties that Maximus had aquired in the service of the empire. Worst, he expected Maximus to sacrifice his freedom and peace of mind in sitting on the throne for even a day. The old man was more than a lunatic, he was a soulless monster. Commodus clenched both scrolls tightly, one in each fist. Gaius had ordered that the rest of the scroll be carried out. It had to have been him behind all of this today. He had read the scroll that Marcus had set out, but how? Not even Commodus, who had tried desperately to talk with his father that night and tell him all of what had weighed on his and Lucilla's hearts for months, but the old man was more interested in giving a long speech about how terribly remorseful he was for having raised only a mourning daughter and a callow excuse for a boy.
"Your faults as a son is my failure as a father. How I lament my many failures, Commodus.", Marcus had said before trying to embrace the boy. Commodus couldn't understand how on earth his father had expected him to be tender towards him after a comment like that! It cut deeper than any blade and burned more cruelly than any torture. After that, he had stormed out of his tent and demanded the new recruits awake and spar with him. Physical exertion always calmed him. It was a better outlet than brutalizing a servant which, he was sorry to admit to himself, he had done in times past. Indeed the boy's temper had not helped his case when it came to the other courtiers and servants, but the majority understood his rage and shrugged it away as either adolescant passions still coursing through him, or the hurts he had suffered as a child still haunting him. He looked down at the scroll once more.
"But I signed it.", he muttered again. Tertullian frowned and put a hand on the youth's shoulder, comfortingly.
"You cannot blame yourself for this, Commodus. You weren't thinking. You were mourning the loss of your father.",Tertullian comforted. Commodus shook his head.
"No, Tertullian. I had nothing to mourn. I have been angry, so very angry that there has been nothing to mourn. I knew up to that very night I would not mourn the loss of my father; I sorrow for the lack thereof. I never knew the warm embrace of a father, my father never taught me to ride a horse or wield a sword or write my name. My father never told me boring stories about his exploits in times past. He never broke down into tears because of a disappointment I had displayed towards the hopes he had for me, he never had hope for me.", Commodus said softly as he sat down in the chair nearest him. Tertullian frowned. What could be said to this young ruler to comfort him that hadn't already been said by someone else in years gone by. "I should not be here. I deserve to die. If nothing else for the idiocy I have created in allowing my father's blood to continue on the throne."
"How can you say that? His blood is in your veins, not your spirit, my boy. You may bear his name, but you needn't bear his image. You've already proven that. Look around you, Rome was supposed to war against Dacia in a few months, that was his plan. You have stemmed off any violence in the provinces and even increased our ties to Germania, Dacia, and Brittania.", Tertullian said with admiration. "You've done some foolish things, no doubt, but so has every person that has ever walked this earth. No one is without fault for something, Commodus. We should simply be most cautious about what we allow to be put against our name since there will be several in our lifetime."
Commodus looked over at him and nodded. "What should I do? Rome cannot be a republic. The senate is mucking things up as it is, can you imagine if people like Gaius and Falco ruled all of the empire?"
Tertullian shuddered. Gaius was foul enough, but Falco was without redeeming qualities of any kind. Not even his physical appearance made him worth having in the senate. He took the documents out of the emperor's hands and set them on the desk.
"You should go and sleep for now, sire. Tomorrow is already filled with hardships from these past few months.", Tertullian said as he placed both his hands on Commodus's shoulders.
The young man stood and began to walk towards his bedchamber silently. He felt the guilt of his father's cruelty wearing on him like a yoke about his neck. He walked slowly and emotionlessly to his bed and collapsed on it. Maximus had every right to hate him, he was resopnsible for a child's blood. The though of being guilty of innocent blood was enough to turn a hardened general's stomach into a raging storm of pain and nausea, but to think that the innocent was a child was worse. He laid his head against the pillows at the back and cried softly. He had thought about how best to deal with Maximus while in the archives. The thought of making the brute fight the emperor he was so adamantly defying in the arena came to settle on his mind. He couldn't do that. Maximus shouldn't have even been in the arena. He sat bolt upright. Maximus had been furious with him in Germania and had supposedly deserted the regiments after refusing the young Caear's hand in friendship. Firstly, why had Maximus refused his hand other than the obvious wanting to get home to his family? Second, why had he repeatedly brought up his father's death to him and referred to it as a murder when confronted?
He stood and began to pace. The two finally clicked. Maximus had indeed refused Marcus's request for the Spaniard to assume leadership, but was in agreement with him that the heir to the throne shouldn't take it. The reasons for that were somewhat personal, but Commodus expected that, after he had beaten the older man in a fight when Maximus had made a snyde remark about Lucilla. Maximus somehow felt that in lieu of not recieving the throne, Commodus had lashed out in an ultimate act of violence against his father and killed him. Anyone who knew Commodus intimately, which was only a very select few, knew that he was what Gracchus called 'a whole lot of thunder and not much of a storm'. This meaning that while Commodus was incredibly tempermental and explosive at times, he rarely caused more than superficial damage if causing damage at all.
The worst he could remeber doing was slapping a servant girl so hard that she had bruised terribly for weeks. He had tried in secret to make sure that she was alright and make ammends, but had been far too embarrassed to apologize in person. Commodus was capable of many things fair and foul, but certainly not murder. Maximus would want him dead if he continued to think this, regardless of the young Caesar's claims to the truth. He knew what he had to do. Maximus deserved to know the truth, and he himself deserved to die. In his father's absence, his blood would pay for the blood of poor Selene and Jarius. The woman and child had been terribly wronged, but at least they could no longer be harmed by the stupidity of politicians without restraints. He sighed and sat down at his desk, sifting through a few of the documents he had yet to sign. Morning would arrive soon enough, and then it would all be ended.
The sun wrapped its celestial fingers around the horizon over the capital and lifted the curtain of night. The brilliant rays revealed an array of blues, oranges, and soft pinks. Commodus looked out his window. His eyes were darkened and heavy from lack of sleep as of late. He sighed and took one last look at the magnificence of the capital. He hoped that Maximus, while he had been favoured by his father, would not repeat the old fool's mistakes. The weight of the crown was too much for him to bear anymore, perhaps it always was. He gathered his thoughts and then went to the door, giving orders that detailed what was to be done with Maximus. After the guards left the room, he walked over to his wardrobe and stared at a unifrom of white. It looked like marble, grand and timeless. This would be fitting for the occasion. He dressed slowly and then left the room.
In the cells below the arena, Maximus stood waiting for the end of this whole matter to come at last. His arms were chained to the sides, above his head. He was satisfied in knowing that Cicero was alive, and that the cunning lad and Ursa were sure to escape and get the little stoat off the throne once and for all. He tensed as the doors to the entrance opened and allowed in the young emperor, dressed in perfect armour and ablaze with determination. He looked up towards the cieling and breathed deeply. The crowds that had already gathered at the colosseum shouted furiously for Maximus. Commodus looked at him directly, standing only three feet away from him.
"They call for you. Do you hear them? They wish to see the wonder of your talents over and over again. The general who became a slave, the slave who became a gladiator, the gladiator who defied his emperor.", Commodus said. To anyone around him, the last few words would seem to have been said in sheer malcontent, but again those small few that knew the young man well knew that he was hiding an enormity of sorrows. "It's a sriking story, really. One that will live for centuries, I am sure. But first, it must end. And what end could be more glorious, than to face the emperor himself in the great arena?"
"You would fight me?", Maximus asked in confusion.
"Why wouldn't I? Do you think that I am frightened of you magnificent prowess?", Commodus asked, this time getting close to the man's face and definitely showing anger alongside the sorrow. Maximus glared into the young man's eyes.
"I think you are frightened of your own magnificent weakness.", he retorted.
"Unlike Maximus the invincible, who is without blemish or fear?", Commodus spat back angrily. Maximus chuckled.
"A friend once told me that death smiles at us all, all we can do is smile back.", Maximus said clamly.
"Then I wonder, did that selfsame friend smile at his own death?", Commodus said taking Maximus's chin in his hand harshly.
Maximus focused on the furious young man before him. "You should know, Commodus. He was your father until patricide removed him from his place in the world that still needed him."
Commodus tensed incredibly. He resisted every urge to beat the gladiator within an inch of his life. Instead he trembled as he looked into Maximus's eyes.
"A world that needed him, or just a man?", he retorted. "You loved my father, I know this. I loved him, too. By love we are brothers, aren't we?" Maximus glared at him hatefully. Commodus stood in front of him, simply trembling like a leaf for a few moments. He looked down, breathing sharply, then raised his head slowly to face Maximus. He opened his mouth to say something else, but instead lost all control. He fell onto the man, weeping loudly. "What have I done? Why couldn't I have been born of another family? Why should I suffer this fate? I am so alone!"
Maximus held still. The poor boy was obviously in the final stages of losing his mind. Commodus composed himself slightly and then moved back a little, still holding onto Maximus's head with both hands and looking deeply into the slave's eyes for somekind of pity or comfort. No such luck on either account. He sighed and turned away.
"Give him his armour. Remember my orders. After the battle, he will have what he has deserved for some months now.", Commodus said sadly. Maximus, or course, thought that the youth was referring to a desire for him to have been dead ever since he refused his hand. Commodus, on the other hand, meant that Maximus would be given the scrolls detailing what had transpired at the end of the reign of his father... in the event of the new emperor's death. The two men climbed onto the platform with a large troop of Praetorians surrounding them as they ascended into the arean itself. Commodus smiled as he felt the sun's warm light across his face. If eternity was even a fraction better than the worst day at the palace, then it would be worth it to go. The ground was littered with millions of rose petals. While Commodus felt he deserved to be killed, he also felt it highly inappropriate for commoners to see royal blood on the sands of the colosseum. The Praetorians parted, leaving the two to fight one another. Maximus was feeling a little cofused. He still wanted the little weasel to die, but what had sparked this sudden outburst of remorse? He cleared his mind as he raised his sword. To his dismay, he found he could not get the question out of his head. He began to swing at the young emperor. Commodus made a slight movement backwards, but it was obvious that he was not trying hard at all to best the Spaniard. After five minutes of this, Maximus stopped and looked directly at the young man. Commodus was now covered on his arms, legs, and twice on his face with superficial cuts and bruises. Maximus stared at him in disbelief.
"What's wrong with you, you fool? Why aren't you trying to kill me? You know what I can do to you!", Maximus exclaimed angrily.
"Do it. I hardly think I would be undeserving of it.", he said sadly. Maximus stared at him in shock for a moment. Commodus suddenly threw down his sword and knelt in front of Maximus. "Do it, just be done with it." Maximus frowned. Something wasn't right here. He drew in a deep breath and lifted his sword over the young emperor's neck.