Glaucus' Story
Chapter 51 - The Letters
Rome
Septimius Severus paced the corridors of his great palace disinterested in the spectacular view of the Circus Maximus from the terrace of the massive new addition, or the array of cakes, cheeses and fruit that had just been placed on the table by a servant who quickly scurried into the shadows. He limped heavily, his foot, hip and knee pain aggravated by his anger despite the ministrations of his personal masseur, Proculus. "How could you let him slip away like that? How could you?" he roared at the man slouched casually in the leather arm chair. "He could be anywhere in the empire by now, laughing at us for the fools that we are!"
Plautianus just shrugged as he plucked a piece of cheese, examined it as if it were a convicted felon awaiting judgement, then popped it in his mouth, chewing with slow menace as he studied the plate for his next victim. Just as he was about the reach out again, the plate whipped out from under his fingers and crashed onto the marble floor, splintering into a hundred pieces that skidded into the far recesses of the room. The praetorian commander looked up with lazy disdain at his purple-faced cousin. Over Septimius' shoulder he caught a glimpse of the latest marble incarnation of the emperor and sneered inwardly. The man's thinning gray hair was coiled into luscious marble curls, the stone beard long and wavy as befitting a man who claimed to be, not only the rightful heir of Marcus Aurelius, but kin as well. The portrait bust would not fool those who knew Septimius but the millions of Romans throughout the empire who would never personally see their emperor would know no better as marble reproductions of the bust graced every public building from Africa to Germania. Plautianus turned his attention back to his boyhood friend. "We've done all we can do for the moment, Septimius. Those incompetent soldiers who lost Maximus' whelp are rotting in the Tullian prison and an alert has gone out to every soldier and governor in the empire to be on the lookout for the man. We'll find him sooner or later."
The emperor whirled in a rage. "It had better be sooner than later. I just know that he's going to cause me grief. If he finds that contract..." The words were too painful to even be spoken. "The prophecy. The prophecy knows. The stars know. The gods know what that bastard is up to."
Plautianus reached for a grape, biting it in half and sucking out the sweet, juicy insides before grinding up the sour skin. "We'll find him."
"When you do, this time he must be stopped, do you hear me?"
The praetorian raised his eyebrows. "I thought you wanted the contract first," he commented casually. "If you simply wanted him dead I could have done that long ago in Germania. It was your decision to let him live, as I recall."
"I need that contract and your men have failed to find it!" Severus' growing dissatisfaction with his protector and advisor spread well beyond his failure to find the elusive document. The man was growing more and more self-indulgent, gorging himself at sumptuous banquets and slaking his lust afterwards with both girls and boys. A lavish new uniform disguised his expanding girth. His depravity knew no bounds and he had even castrated a hundred grown men to serve as attendants for his daughter. But what irritated and worried Septimius most was the number of statues of the praetorian prefect that had popped up around Rome -- and the empire, no doubt. Marble symbols of his thirst for power and his ever-growing strength. He even demanded the deference shown to an emperor. Maybe Septimius' brother, Geta, was right. Plautianus was becoming dangerous. Even the man that Septimius had appointed to be Plautianus' colleague in command of the guard -- Aemilius Saturninus -- had turned up floating in the river, a victim, according to Plautianus, of an unfortunate chariot accident. The Praetorian prefect wanted no man looking over his shoulder and Septimius was well aware that he had reduced the powers of the Guard tribunes, to remove the possibility that one of them might become eligible for prefecture. The man lazing in the chair wanted to be prefect for life, not just sole prefect.
Plautianus finally rose and stretched. He was bored with these tirades every night from an emperor whose every move was governed by the stars. Plautianus was far more pragmatic. As far as he was concerned a dead man could present no threat and that damned contract would probably never be found anyway. It was years since they had received the copy and there had been no further contact from the owner of the document. Septimius Severus was emperor of Rome. His eldest son, Antoninus, and his betrothed, Plautianus' own daughter, would rule the empire one day. The future looked good, very good indeed. After all, how long could a man in Severus' condition live? But Severus was very much alive and the praetorian leader tried to feign interest in his plight. "We've been keeping an eye on Marius Vipsanius Agrippa -- you know, the son of the governor of Cappadocia -- but he has had no contact with his friend and he spends his days in the libraries as usual. He seems harmless--"
His words were interrupted by a praetorian who entered the room silently, head bowed in reverence.
"Well?" snapped Plautianus.
"I have orders to give this message directly to you, sir." The man held out a rolled parchment.
Plautianus grabbed it without a word and unrolled the missive, tilting it towards a lantern to better discern the scratched words. A slow smile creased his face and he looked at his friend in triumph. "It seems our quarry was seen in Alexandria two weeks ago and that he headed down the Nile with a young woman by his side."
Severus dismissed the guard with a commanding jerk of his head but a chill rippled down his spine. "Alexandria? Why would he go to Egypt?"
"Who knows? Maybe he decided to see the sites just like we did a few years ago. It sounds like he's got himself a woman and he's gone on tour."
"We were hardly there to see the sites! We were there to secure an insecure section of the empire! If you'll remember, Egypt supported my rival, Niger, just as they had supported Avidius Cassius against Marcus Aurelius. The Egyptians can't be trusted, with their secret lore and ceremonies. That bastard, Glaucus, has gone there to get support to mount an offensive against me... and he'll find it there, no doubt. He'll pretend to be the new Alexander, just like Niger did. He's gone there to use Egyptian magic to consult the gods."
Plautianus shrugged casually but ground his teeth in impatience. "You outlawed that, remember? The penalty is death."
"So it is. Send orders immediately to every city, town and village in the east to be on the outlook for him. I want him arrested and returned to Rome immediately."
"Even without the contract?"
"Oh, he has the contract... he has it. I just know it."
PetraMarcianus' home was a large sandstone building, two-stories high with stepped terraces wrapped in greenery. His own wife long dead, he lived there with his oldest son, Liatus, his wife Helena and their three adolescent sons. Glaucus and Maxima were moved into two small bedrooms on the second floor, each with its private terrace. Sunlight peeped through the slats of shuttered windows casting slivers of yellow across the woven carpets and bed covering. Walls were washed in white to help keep down the dust and the rooms had a bright, cheerful atmosphere. The only nod to Roman architecture was the arched doorways and Maxima loved the foreignness and simplicity of the dwelling... so different from her home in Ostia.
Marcianus, Liatus and Helena slept in two rooms on the ground floor and their three boys shared a large room, often preferring to sleep on the terrace at night. The youngsters regarded Glaucus as somewhat of a hero as they had heard their grandfather talk often of the great general Maximus. They examined the sword with reverence and pumped Glaucus with questions over dinner while casting surreptitious appreciative glances at Maxima as she shared 'girl talk' with Helena who was delighted to have female company.
After dinner they gathered around a cracking fire that cheered the room and cast off the evening chill, and chatted about Rome and Petra and the weather and food... anything but the fate of Maximus while young ears were listening. Glaucus stilled his fingers when he found them drumming impatiently on the arm of his chair and he was almost envious of Maxima as she busily helped Helena in the kitchen. Finally, Liatus shooed the boys off to bed and the men talked quietly a while longer until they were certain that the youngsters were asleep.
Finally, Marcianus rose from his worn leather chair and walked slowly into his bedroom. Glaucus now noticed the slight stoop and wondered how old the man really was. Much older than Maximus, he had said. Did that mean his sixties? Seventies? Was he as old as Jonivus?
He returned a short while later with a large packet wrapped in soft leather. Glaucus shifted to the edge of his seat as Marcianus placed it on the table and proceeded to gently unwrap it. "Your father kept everything," he said. "All of his letters from your mother are here, as far as I know. They are very old so be careful how you handle them."
With trembling fingers Glaucus smoothed them flat and gasped as the face of a child was revealed when he moved his hands away. A boy, no older than six or seven. His brother, Marcus. "My god, my god," he breathed. "I had no idea what he looked like." He then spoke to Liatus without glancing up. "Would you summon Maxima?"
"Of course," said Liatus as he rose and walked into the kitchen.
A moment later Maxima excitedly flung herself on the floor beside her brother's chair and reached for the drawing.
"Be careful," warned Glaucus. "The charcoal smears.
"It's him? Our brother?"
Glaucus nodded.
She squinted and wrinkled her nose. "He doesn't look like us."
"He looked more like Olivia, as I recall," said Marcianus. "He was a sweet boy, a little impish but very sweet when he was at the camp with your mother. Your father was so proud of him. I'll never forget the time he dressed up like a little general and rode around the camp with your father on his huge horse. He charmed everyone, that youngster."
The edge of another drawing caught Maxima's eye and she tugged it out of the pile while Glaucus still examined his brother's face. "Here's another picture of him when he was even younger. He's sitting on a pony. Your mother certainly was gifted, Glaucus. Look at the buildings in the background. Are they on the farm?"
"They could have been, but they aren't there now, I'm afraid. Anything that wasn't stone burned to the ground."
Maxima dug into the pile again.
"Be careful," warned Glaucus.
"Here!" she said with triumph. "Here's your mother." With just a moment's hesitation she passed the image of the smiling woman to her brother. "She was very beautiful," Maxima said quietly, her enthusiasm tempered by a twinge of jealousy.
Glaucus simply stared at the self-portrait -- the first time he had ever seen his mother's face. Maxima was right, she had been beautiful with large, dark eyes, long, flowing black hair and full lips. She stood in front of her house with her hands on her hips as if teasing the viewer, proud and carefree. Ever since he'd learned of his true parentage he had tried to picture her face by combining the features of her siblings but he had succeeded in conjuring only the most ghostly visage. Now, here she was, right in front of him, her features finally clear. He looked at the picture in silence, burning her image into his brain.
The edges of the image were soft and blurred where fingers had clutched the parchment, slightly smearing the charcoal. In the bottom right corner was a blurred thumbprint and Glaucus gently placed his own thumb in the place where his father's had been.
Suddenly, Maxima's gasp penetrated his thoughts and he glanced down to see her staring at parchment that she held in her shaking hands. He gently set his mother's picture on the table and placed a hand on his sister's shoulder as he bent to see what was causing her so much distress.
It was a drawing of a Roman general in full uniform standing on the steps of his house in Spain -- drawn by his wife from memory, no doubt. Glaucus grasped his sister's hands to steady them even though his own felt suddenly numb.
"It's a remarkably accurate picture. It looks just like him," Marcianus said softly before he rose. "I'll leave you two alone."
The picture was clearer than the others had been, the edges sharper, as if handled less. He appeared young, noticed Glaucus. In his late twenties, probably. Shortly after he was promoted to general by Marcus Aurelius, no doubt. He looked proud yet wary, his brow slightly furrowed as he stared beyond the step, maybe pondering the long journey ahead. His hair was cropped short. Two wolf furs swung from his broad shoulders over a long cape and carved cuirass. He looked handsome and strong. Invincible. But he hadn't been invincible at all. He had been murdered. He had been murdered without ever knowing that he had left a living son and daughter. Glaucus' eyes blurred with tears. Maximus. Finally, he had seen his father's face... a face so much like his own.
Chapter 52 - The Contract
They spent the next day in Maxima's room pouring over Olivia's correspondence and looking again and again at the images created by her, knowing how fortunate they were to have this visual record of their lost relatives.
Olivia's letters to her husband were chatty and informal, full of information about the farm -- planting, harvesting, the birth of new animals -- that brought the burned-out home to life in Glaucus' eyes and made its loss ever more painful. She talked often of Marcus and how quickly he was growing, and scattered quick sketches of him throughout the text. It was also obvious that she missed her husband with unimaginable pain even though she tried to temper her loneliness to avoid causing Maximus even more distress at their separation.
They found references to the poplar tree where their sister was buried even though Olivia did not mention the child by name. She referred instead to the garden at its base and how she spent much time there among the flowers. In one letter she obviously responded to a request by Maximus to carve an image of their daughter by saying it was too soon. At Maxima's confusion, Glaucus explained, "My mother not only drew pictures but she made carvings as well... amazing carvings. I used to play with wooden horses she made when I was very little, long before I knew who made them. Apparently she also made little figurines of herself and my brother that our father could carry with him."
"What happened to those?" asked Maxima from her usual place on the floor.
"Cicero -- my father's servant -- took them. When Cicero disappeared Jonivus retrieved Maximus' sword but the carvings were gone. He must have had them with him and they're probably lost forever. I'd give a great deal to have those."
"It seems strange, holding these letters that our father held... reading the words that he read. It makes me feel closer to him, somehow -- especially now that I've seen his face." Maxima glanced at the drawing of her father that she had propped up on the table, constantly in sight. "He looks exactly like I hoped he would."
Glaucus nodded silent agreement. They had found other sketches of Maximus but none were as clear and regal as this treasure. He thought again of the painted-over portrait in Germania. How magnificent it must have been.
"Look at this letter, Glaucus. There is a lapse in time between this letter and the last one and your mother says that she had not been well. Father must have been frantic when her letters stopped."
With a curious frown Glaucus accepted the letter then paled as he read the date. "This is her first letter to Maximus after my birth," he said quietly.
"But... there's no mention of you."
"No." Glaucus rose and moved to the terrace, raking his hand through his hair in a gesture that his sister had come to know signaled fatigue or distress.
A few moments later Maxima wrapped her arms around his waist from behind and rested her cheek against his back. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I forgot." After a moment she added, "How could she keep that from him?"
"I don't know... it's difficult to understand her state of mind at the time. She must have been far more anxious than her words would indicate. She almost lost both her son and her husband just a few months previously so maybe she was still distraught. And her daughter was buried beneath the poplar tree."
"But, she could have told him later--"
"My uncle tried to convince her to do so but she refused. She left it too long and probably thought that Maximus would never forgive her for keeping such a thing from him." He shook his head slowly. "Who knows what she was thinking?"
Maxima moved to stand beside her brother, facing him, with the terrace wall against her lower back. "It would have all worked out if Commodus hadn't murdered the emperor. Maximus would have returned home after that last battle in Germania and been presented with a beautiful baby boy. How could she ever have guessed that he never would come home?"
There was a twinge of anger in her brother's reply. "My father lived a very dangerous life and my mother knew it... she saw it herself. She knew full well that he might never return, that he could die on the battlefield without ever knowing about me."
"It was a risk she seemed willing to take."
"She lost."
"We all lost, Glaucus. We all lost."
Brother and sister joined the family for evening dinner, exhausted after their long, emotional day of living Olivia's memories. Marcianus tried to keep the tone light by discussing the weather and the children's latest antics, but it was obvious by their silence that Maxima and Glaucus were unsettled. The old man finally reached out and touched Glaucus' hand. "Was it that hard?" he asked gently.
The young Spaniard nodded. "It's very difficult reading the thoughts of my dead mother, Marcianus -- of peeking into her life, and the lives of my father and brother -- without being permitted to share them."
The old man nodded with sympathy. "Yes, I'm sure that it is."
"Marcianus... would you tell us some tales about our father?" pleaded Maxima. "The letters have given us some insight into Olivia's life but not his."
"All of his letters were lost when the farm burned," added Glaucus.
Once again, Marcianus nodded and this time he smiled. "I would be delighted to. Where would you like me to begin?"
"When you first met him," responded Maxima and she settled onto her couch in an unconscious imitation of Liatus' three boys who had stopped aggravating each other at the promise of stories about the great general Maximus, and now sat in rapt attention.
"Well, that was a very long time ago and I was a much younger man... and Maximus was very young indeed. I knew of him, you see... we all did --word of heroic exploits travel fast among legionnaires -- but I didn't actually meet him until he was promoted to general and transferred to Felix III where I was chief surgeon. He arrived on the back of a magnificent black stallion--"
"Named Scarto," the oldest boy chimed in.
"Yes," laughed Marcianus, "yes... Scarto. And he was dressed in such finery. Flowing cape, wolf furs. He looked every inch the general despite his youth. And he had been chosen by Marcus Aurelius so he had our respect before he even dismounted. He had our respect... but what he quickly earned was our love."
Maxima blinked back burning tears as she adjusted her skirts, smiling when she noticed that her brother's eyes were also misty.
No one noticed the shadows lengthen or Helena quietly light the fire, so caught up were they in the adventurous tales of general Maximus. Marcianus spoke of his general in almost reverent tones -- of his exploit and his injuries, his stubbornness and his seriousness, his generosity and his empathy. It was clear that Marcianus had lost a very close friend and Maxima knew that he hurt almost as much as she and Glaucus did.
When the embers had died low and Liatus had carried his boys off to bed, Marcianus rose and quietly headed into his bedroom again. He returned with another leather packet, this one much smaller than the first. He hesitated slightly as he held it towards Glaucus. "I debated about whether or not to give you this. I am still not at all sure if it is wise or whether it should simply be burned. But... it is not my decision to make. It is yours."
Marcianus unrolled leather and carefully handled the official document that had been concealed within. Glaucus caught a glimpse of precisely-written script with two signatures... and an official seal. A seal of office. The seal of an emperor. He just stared at the document on the table before him and even Maxima knew enough to curb her natural exuberance and grab it from his gaze. She sat quietly, studying her brother's strangely impassive face.
Marcianus took his seat then asked quietly, "Aren't you going to look at it?"
"I know what it is," whispered Glaucus. "You had it. You are the one who contacted Septimius Severus."
The old man was aghast. "How... how did you know I did that? How do you know about the contract?"
Maxima supplied the answer. "My father told my mother, Julia, when they were together in Ostia. We knew that Maximus was Marcus Aurelius' choice for emperor, but we didn't have the proof." She extended her forefinger and slowly slid the document towards her. "Now we do."
Glaucus still hadn't moved. "This must be the emperor's copy."
"Yes, I removed it from his dead body. Maximus must have had one too. I don't know what happened to that one."
Glaucus finally looked up. "It's in my mother's grave in Spain."
Marcianus drew a shuddering breath. "Oh, I see."
"This document was the catalyst for my father's death," said Glaucus evenly. "Somehow, I thought it would be more than just a piece of parchment... it has caused so much grief."
"It's the intent, not the parchment."
"Of course," replied Glaucus as he finally took the contract from Maxima and held it in his own hands. "So light," he commented, "to have so much weight."
Marcianus' face seemed even older suddenly, the furrows etched even deeper by the dying light. "I am glad to be rid of it, finally. I... I tried to use it to re-establish your father's good name but it was useless. I don't even know if the emperor got my letter and the copy I sent him."
"Oh, he got it all right," said Glaucus. "This document cost my father his life and almost cost me mine." At Marcianus' questioning look, Glaucus continued. "I couldn't understand why Septimius Severus was so concerned about me until Julia told me about this document... then everything made sense. He wants this badly and he thinks that I have been hunting for it too -- and I suppose, indirectly, I have been. Now I can do what you tried to do and clear his name... prove that he was Marcus Aurelius' heir, not his murderer. The old emperor was dying. My father had no reason to kill him to gain the throne; he only had to wait a short time until the old man died. Commodus had every reason to kill him." Glaucus barred his teeth in an almost evil half-grin. "Oh, how heavy this document is. It has already killed my father... and it can unseat an emperor."
"Is that what you want, Glaucus? To claim the throne for yourself? You would have a strong claim, you know, and Severus has many enemies," said Marcianus, totally unsure what was going through the young man's mind. "There are many who would support you. People who were loyal to your father. It's your legacy."
Glaucus shook his head. "My father's farm is my legacy. I intend to fully restore it, and the detail in my mother's letters will help me do that. Other than that, I simply want to do what I set out to do, Marcianus. Find out what happened to my father -- which I have almost done. Find out why -- which I have already done. And clear his name and avenge his death -- which I am going to do."
"Commodus is dead--" started Marcianus.
"But Quintus may not be. It is time to return to Rome."
There was silence for a long while.
Helena finally said, "We had hoped that you could stay for a while. We hardly ever see anyone from outside Petra."
Maxima smiled sadly at her new friend. She, too, knew that it was time to leave.
"There's Lucius too. You might look for him," volunteered Liatus.
"Lucius Verus? Yes, I'd considered that. He and Quintus were in the arena with my father when he died and he might be able to offer further insight into that final fight. I don't know where he is, though."
"In exile, probably," added Marcianus. "Or dead."
"Apparently not," replied Glaucus. "Severus alleges that he's a relative of Marcus Aurelius, thus strengthening his claim to the throne, so he couldn't very well mistreat the man's grandson -- at least not publicly. Lucius Verus is probably alive somewhere in the empire."
"Big place, the empire," commented Liatus.
"Yes," smiled Glaucus wryly. "I'm starting to realize that. The route we took here was memorable, to say the least, but hardly fast. Is there a better way to get to the sea? Anywhere where we can get a ship to Alexandria where our ship awaits us?"
"There is far less desert to cross if you head north instead of west -- through Masada where you will find a good Roman road to the coast courtesy of a major building initiative by Septimius Severus himself. You can be there in a matter of days if the weather is good," said Liatus. "I'm sure your guide knows that way."
"I'll talk to Hamoudi tomorrow and see if we can hook up with a caravan. It'll be safer that way," said Glaucus as he looked at his sister.
Hamoudi nodded as Glaucus explained what he wanted to do and the little Nabataean guide promised to have everything organized within two days. True to his word, at dawn of the second day Maxima and Glaucus once again perched atop camels after saying emotional goodbyes to Marcianus and his family. Glaucus thought that the caravan was rather small. It consisted of two laden carts pulled by oxen along with an assortment of pack mules and six anonymous men swathed in billowing white robes with striped head coverings -- some on foot and a number on camels.
As they approached the darkness of the massive crevice known as Siq -- and the exit from Petra -- both Glaucus and Maxima turned and waved to the group huddled in the shade of the Treasury. They waved back and Glaucus heard "God be with you!" shouted many times. Suddenly brother and sister were enveloped in darkness and the city of Petra disappeared as if it had never existed. They emerged from the other side into blazing sunshine and miles and miles of rocky desert painted in the soft petal hues that they had grown to love. This time, though, they remained in the comforting shadow of the long sandstone ridge rather than strike across the open desert.
Glaucus found his travelling companions curious. Huddled inside their robes they remained totally silent. He didn't expect them to communicate with him but they seemed to ignore each other too. Maybe it was simply the Nabataean way.
Within a few hours Maxima was once again grinding sand in her teeth and she buried herself in her robes as she had done before. The day was uneventful and they pitched their tents in late afternoon, Glaucus and Maxima apart from the Nabataeans, arranging the tents so that the opening flaps faced each other. Nobody would be able to approach Maxima without Glaucus hearing.
Inside his tent Glaucus rummaged through his pack until he found the two leather-wrapped bundles and patted them before returning them to their hiding place. He punched the sand until the biggest humps were level then settled down inside his blankets for the night.
He had just started to doze when Hamoudi ripped back the flap of his tent. "Come with me," he said.
"Wha--? Why? Where are we going? What's wrong?" murmured Glaucus.
"To get water."
Glaucus sat up, fully awake. "We already have enough water to last for days. We don't need any more yet."
"Must get water while we can. There is wadi up the cliff side. Come. Come quickly."
Much later, Glaucus realized that Hamoudi's urgency should have alerted him to the danger ahead. But it hadn't.
Chapter 53 - Ambush
Glaucus tried not to trip over his cape as he struggled up the steep, rocky hillside after Hamoudi, two clay jars in his hands. Every few moments he stopped to glance back into the camp that was softly illuminated by three camp fires, but no one was stirring. The only sound was the wind and the distant crackling of embers. Once again he wondered why they needed more water but he had to trust his guide's judgment as the man knew far more about desert travel than he did.
It was almost dusk by the time they reached a small plateau and Glaucus stopped to catch his breath. "Well? How much further?"
"This should be far enough, I think," said a man in perfect Latin who stepped out from behind a large rock. Glaucus whirled to face him and the two clay jugs dropped from his hands and shattered. Before him stood one of his travelling companions, his white robes thrown down to reveal the black cuirass of a praetorian. He was quickly joined by another, then Glaucus detected movement behind him. He turned his head quickly to see two more of the emperor's guard. Hamoudi was nowhere in sight.
Glaucus slowly walked backwards until all four praetorians were in his peripheral sight. His fingers wrapped around his father's sword under his black cape. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice deep and steady, but his heart hammering in his chest. "I don't believe I broke any laws while in Petra."
"Let's dispense with conversation, shall we?" said the leader of the four men -- the first one who had revealed himself. "We have orders to carry out and I'm anxious to get back to Petra. I can't stand the desert, especially at night. You never know what dangers lurk here," he sneered.
"Orders?" asked Glaucus, although he was sure he knew what the orders were.
"Yes. This place marks the end of your journey. The wolves will dispense with your remains very quickly. The woman will be taken back to Petra for the amusement of the men." The man's stance was remarkably casual, and so was that of his soldiers. Clearly they did not expect to meet any difficulty performing their task.
"You plan to kill me?"
The sneer widened. "That's the idea."
"On whose orders?"
"I don't believe that is any of your business."
"The emperor? Did Severus issue the order?" Glaucus had a firm grasp on the sword and he eased it slightly from the scabbard.
"It came from Rome. That is all you need to know."
"I would think that the emperor would want me very much alive. Are you sure of your orders? It would not bode well for you if you disposed of me prematurely."
The black-clad men snickered but three of them glanced at their leader with uncertainty which prompted the man to saunter towards Glaucus. "I know exactly what the orders say. But I have a question for you. Are you really the son of General Maximus?"
"Yes. Yes, I am."
"Well... it shall be my honor to kill the son of the traitor who murdered Marcus Aurelius." As he spoke the emperor's name the praetorian drew his sword and lunged for Glaucus who ducked as he side-stepped the blow. He whirled to face his opponent and discarded his cape in one seamless motion, his sword now fully revealed, clutched in his hand and ready. As the praetorian prefect regained his balance, the other three sprang into action, acting as one as they raised their swords ready to strike.
For a moment shorter than the blink of an eye, Glaucus considered his predicament... and he turned and ran. This was not the place to battle four armed opponents. He had no idea where he was going but he needed a location where he could deal with them one at a time. Skidding on some loose stones, he scrambled higher up the mountain path that narrowed as it ascended, the sides of the rugged slope now almost vertical. His own harsh breaths masked those of the men who were right at his heels. Just as he felt a hand grasp at his foot he rounded a sharp bend and bumped into something soft. Without a moment's hesitation he grabbed the body in his powerful arms and whirled around. Hamoudi shrieked as two swords pierced his stomach and Glaucus used the Nabataean's body as a shield as he pushed hard downhill then twisted to the side sending the lifeless Hamoudi and two of the unbalanced praetorians hurtling, screaming, over the side of the cliff.
Halting his own downward skid he used his free hand to steady himself sending sharp shards of red stone digging into his flesh. The ever-increasing darkness cast deep shadows around every outcropping and Glaucus was unsure what was rock and what was man. He could only assume that the other two guards were still behind him... and still climbing. He could probably find a hiding place among the crevices and rocks and be safe until morning but the praetorians would likely take out their anger and frustration on his sister in ways that he didn't even want to imagine. No... hiding was not an option. He would have to kill them.
Without warning Glaucus emerged from the trail onto a broad, totally flat plateau -- and the top of the mountain. There was nowhere else to go but down the other side which was a sheer drop. He turned quickly and faced the trail just in time to confront an emerging praetorian. The man's fury at the death of his companions gave him added strength and he bellowed with rage as he charged at Glaucus, his sword raised high. Seeing an opening, Glaucus side-stepped the blow then jabbed fiercely at the man's chest forgetting, in the darkness, about the black cuirass. His blow simply glanced off the metal ineffectually and left him open for attack. He felt, rather than saw, the slash across his shoulder but knew it was just a flesh wound. The stinging pain jolted all of his senses to their maximum intensity and he whirled again, aiming low this time, but the praetorian had managed to move just far enough that the slash missed its mark.
Glaucus scurried backwards and stood blinking into the darkness, unable to see a thing. He stilled his breath and stood motionless, allowing his ears maximum effectiveness. He soon heard it, a muttering of voices to his left. But he couldn't see them. Dressed in black from head to toe the praetorians simply melted into the night. He glanced down. His own short black tunic afforded him the same protection but his bare arms and legs could give his position away. He regretted shedding his cloak.
"We can see you, you know," came the taunting, sing-song words. "An excellent target. Tell me... how are you feeling? My partner tells me that he is sure he got you."
Glaucus remained silent... listening... every muscle taut. He heard the soft crunch of boots as the two men separated and stood facing him, slightly off to his sides. He still didn't move.
"You certainly haven't done anything to make your papa proud tonight, have you? You were lucky... just lucky when you killed those other two. Or... maybe they survived the fall and are visiting your lady right now."
Glaucus shuddered but remained still... silent. Oh yes, they could see him alright. They were positioning themselves to come at him from two sides simultaneously.
"You don't stand a chance, you know. Why don't you just give up and let us kill you quickly. There won't be much pain... only a momentary twinge, I assure you."
"You're certainly not your father, are you?" the second one sneered. "Maximus would have killed all of us by now. He was good, that one. Legendary... a legendary traitor. Too bad his son's so spineless."
Glaucus ground his teeth but held his position. Suddenly the moon broke from behind clouds flooding the plateau in a soft, silvery light. "There," Glaucus grinned slowly. "That's better. Now I'd say we're even... two of you -- armed to the teeth -- against the son of Maximus with no armor and one sword. Yes, now I'd say we're even."
The praetorians didn't even have time to scoff before Glaucus launched himself at the man who had slashed him. He knew exactly where to aim for this time -- the throat. His sudden bravura startled the man for just a moment, enough time to give Glaucus the advantage. Unencumbered by heavy armor, Glaucus moved with lightening speed, the shriek of a wild man tearing from his throat and echoing across distant peaks. He ran at full height but just before he reached the man, who stood with legs apart and sword readied, he fell to his knees then sprang upwards with a vicious jab that caught the startled praetorian just above the cuirass and drove deep, snapping his neck as it emerged just below his skull. The spray of blood soaked Glaucus' face as he fell and rolled just in time to avoid a killing blow from the other praetorian. He was on his feet in an instant but not before he had grabbed the dead man's sword.
The praetorian leader seemed genuinely impressed as he confronted the young man who brandished two swords but his voice retained its taunting tone. "Are you sure you know what to do with those, son? Hmmm? Your father certainly did, but do you?"
"You don't know anything about my father," growled Glaucus as the clouds moved in again and the soldier disappeared.
"Oh, but I do," came the voice from the darkness. "I saw him perform quite a trick with two swords in a small, dusty place called Zucchabar. Of course at the time I had no idea I was watching the infamous General Maximus. He was simply a slave known as The Spaniard." He was quiet for a moment before adding, "Are you interested in hearing about it?"
Glaucus remained silent for a long time and the praetorian waited patiently like a cat toying with a doomed mouse. "Yes," he said finally.
"Of course you are. Well, let me see, it was in 180, I believe, and Commodus had just become emperor." The man's tone was almost conversational and Glaucus knew he was being lulled into letting his guard down. "To ensure that there were no uprisings in the provinces, praetorians were sent into places where they aren't usually posted and I was unlucky enough," he snorted, "to be sent to the dry and dusty Zucchabar. The place was almost as bad as here."
Glaucus tried to keep his body flexible and ready but his muscles wanted to be either rigid or relaxed.
"The only amusement was a small arena in the middle of the town and people flocked there every day. Maximus was simply one of a rag-tag group of slaves owned by a man by the name of... of..."
"Proximo."
"Yes... Proximo. Have you heard this story?"
Glaucus didn't reply.
"Well, he quickly distinguished himself from the others and the crowds loved him. They had never seen anything like him... immensely gifted with a sword, and very, very vicious. He didn't play with his opponents, he executed them. The people used to vote, not on which gladiator would win, but on how long it would take The Spaniard to dispose of an arena full of men."
Glaucus let his arms drop but remained tense.
"The time I remember most was when he entered the arena wearing some sort of armor made of leather strips."
The armor he had been wearing when he had arrived at Julia's?
"He bowed to his opponents -- five or six of them, I think -- indicating his respect for them. And then he quickly dispatched them one after another. The crowd was screaming, of course. They loved the blood. He then... no, let me think for a moment... he grabbed a sword from the body of a dead gladiator and brandished them both before he killed the next man with two swords in the gut. Then he pulled them both out and used them to decapitate the man. I can still see his head rolling in the sand. It was a rather vicious display because the man was already dying. But he knew how to play to the crowd, that one. He was good."
There was a long silence.
The praetorian continued in a soft tone. "But you are not your father, hardened by so many years of fighting and death. You may think you can handle two swords but you can't. Put them down, Glaucus."
Glaucus raised the swords again. He could almost see the arena that the praetorian had described. It might not have been much larger than the plateau on which he now stood. He could picture the crowds, hear their screams. And he could see Maximus, in his black leather cuirass, proud and strong despite his slavery. Maximus had never given up and neither would his son. "If I die tonight it'll be with a sword in my hand, just as my father did." With those words he lunged, screaming at the final praetorian, but he feigned and ducked at the last moment and the praetorian's sword found nothing but air.
"You little fool," he snarled, but Glaucus was on him again, realizing now that he was much faster than this praetorian who was encumbered with armor. Now, if only he could see what he was doing... and as if by magic, the moon appeared again. Using his right hand and Maximus' sword, Glaucus struck out then danced away, causing no physical damage but playing a psychological game just as the praetorian had. Bouncing on the balls of his feet he never stopped moving, working around and around the man who whirled in the middle of his vortex. His exhilaration gave him strength and he poked at the soldier high and low, never striking him but ensuring that he could feel the wind from his whizzing swords.
Finally, he caught the man turning one way while he was going the other and he thrust out with a short, stabbing stroke that went clean through the praetorian's right shoulder and out again before the man knew he had been gored. As he grasped his arm in shock, Glaucus hacked at his exposed knees eliciting a string of curses. To add to the man's distress, Glaucus laughed aloud as he kept twirling and thrusting, occasionally parrying a poorly-aimed counter-attack, waiting for the man to get careless. He didn't have to wait long as a mixture of anger, fatigue and frustration took its toll. The man tried an upward jab, aiming for Glaucus' stomach but the younger man swept his sword in a graceful arch down and across the praetorian's wrist opening a nasty cut, then leaped back before his opponent's sword came anywhere near him. Then, he thrust with his right hand and, when the praetorian moved to protect that side, Glaucus stabbed with his right, up and under the cuirass where it pierced the soft flesh of his gut and sank up to the hilt.
Stunned, the praetorian could only stare wordlessly as blood started to bubble from his mouth. Glaucus slowly withdrew the sword and the man teetered but did not fall. Glaucus stood directly in front of the praetorian's glazed eyes and flashed both swords back and forth, crossing and uncrossing them in a deadly rhythm. The praetorian knew what was coming but he was helpless to prevent it and with one quick crisscross thrust of Glaucus' swords the praetorian's unseeing eyes stared up at Glaucus from the ground where his head lay detached from his body which then plunged to the ground like a felled tree.
Glaucus stood staring at the carnage, his chest heaving with exertion. "Is that what it was like in Zucchabar, praetorian? Was it something like that?" he spit venomously. He finally raised his eyes to find a huge silver-gray wolf sitting quietly on a flat rock watching him, his intense eyes positively eerie in the moonlight. Glaucus stood rooted to the spot, his swords and shoulder dripping blood, and stared at the magnificent beast. He felt no fear. Instead, man and beast regarded each other with undisguised respect and understanding.
A shrill feminine scream from the desert floor soared up the mountain side and Glaucus turned his head to face the trail. When he looked back, the wolf was gone. Glaucus took one hesitating step forward then turned and ran for the trail as the next scream reached his ears.
Chapter 54 - Flight
Glaucus half slid down the trail slamming painfully into unseen rocks, stopping just long enough at the small plateau to feel for his cape before he hit the desert floor, his body and face shrouded in black.
In the dying light of a small campfire he saw a disheveled Maxima restrained between two praetorians who were clutching her upper arms in vice grips as their eyes strained into the darkness for signs of the other soldiers, their swords ready. They muttered indistinguishable words but their posture was one of concern.
Glaucus crept forward, carefully choosing his steps to avoid even the slightest noise. When he was close enough to the trio to hear Maxima fling curses at her captors, he stooped and groped for a rock, discarding a few until he found one of substantial size and weight. Standing, he threw it with all his might into the darkness beyond them where it crashed into another rock, causing Maxima to gasp and the two men to start and abruptly shift their gaze in the direction of the noise. After a brief conference, one praetorian released Maxima's arm, lit a torch from the fire, and headed towards the place where they had heard the noise. His partner shifted the point of his sword until it rested, threateningly, on Maxima's breast.
At the same time Glaucus moved with stealth and speed behind the tents to emerge to the rear of Maxima and her captor. He tossed a rock between the praetorian's feet and, when the man glanced down, Glaucus drove his sword under the soldier's helmet from behind, the tip emerging from just beneath his chin. At almost the same moment he clasped his hand around Maxima's mouth to keep her from screaming. The praetorian dropped to the ground with only a gurgling whimper.
"Shhhhhh!" Glaucus whispered fiercely. "How many more are there?"
Maxima drew three great shuddering gasps when he removed his hand. "Just the one that followed the noise." She turned in his arms to face him. "Glaucus, wha--"
"Not now," he whispered. "Walk over there into the darkness." He turned her in the direction from which he had just come and gave her a little push. "Lie on the ground and be very quiet. I'll find you when I am finished."
On quaking legs, Maxima did as she was bid, crouching low but ready to spring and run if necessary. She had heard Hamoudi go to Glaucus' tent earlier and tell him they needed to fetch water. Then she had fallen asleep, and what seemed like hours later, had awakened with a jolt to distant screams. Calling her brother's name she had exited her tent and walked right into the arms of two praetorians. Ignoring her pleas to tell her what was happening, she stood immobilized between them listening to screams and cries coming from the mountain top, then inexplicable silence. When she felt one loosen his grip, she ripped her arm from the other's grasp and bolted in the direction of the trail. Within moments she was grabbed from behind and screamed out her rage and fear. She screamed again as they dragged her back towards the fire. Shortly after that, one of her captors had gone to investigate a noise and the other dropped dead as a hand covered her face -- her brother's hand. Now she crouched low, her heart hammering so loudly she was sure it could be heard all the way back to Petra. The moon suddenly emerged from the clouds and Maxima crouched lower as the desert sand reflected the soft light, before settling in the shadow of a boulder.
A short time later she heard her brother call her name. She stood on shaking legs. "Over here!" she hissed. Within moments she was in his arms having the breath squeezed out of her. When they separated, he gently took her hand and led her back toward the tents and the fire. The praetorian's body was gone, it's place marked by a dark stain in the sand. Nervously, she ran her hands over her stola then glanced at her palms, confused by their stickiness. "Glaucus," she shrieked with sudden realization. "You're hurt. You're hurt. You're covered in blood!" She pulled his cape aside intending to search for wounds but his hands stopped her.
"I'm soaked with blood but very little of it is mine. I'm all right." Now that the killing was over he felt drained and numb. He had never killed anyone before and now he had disposed of six men within the last few hours. He had always wondered what it felt like to kill... what Maximus had felt as he had disposed of the enemy, and now he knew. He felt nothing, not elation, not despair... nothing. He raised Maximus' sword, dripping with the combined blood of six men, and gazed at it in silence before saying quietly, "This is the first time that this blade has seen blood since my father's fingers touched it." He had wondered whether soldiers rejoiced and celebrated after killing the enemy but he knew now that they didn't. There was no joy in it. He sighed and wiped the blade on his toga before settling it into its sheath. "We have to leave. Now. All of the men who were with us were praetorians, with the exception of Hamoudi and he was helping them. He led us into this trap."
"Where is he?" Maxima was sure she already knew the answer.
"Dead, like the others." His tone became brusque. "Gather your things. We'll take two of the camels and we can take no more than a minimum of supplies. As soon as we can we'll try to find desert horses so we can move faster. There is no time to lose."
"Glaucus, we don't know where we are going. We'll get lost in the desert and die."
But Glaucus was already rolling the tents. "We'll follow the mountain range then I'm sure we'll soon find a good road. We have to disguise this place and make it look like we never stopped here. You finish doing this then hide the other animals. I have to get rid of the footprints and blood then dispose of the corpses. Tomorrow, more praetorians will come from Petra and I don't want them to find the bodies right away. We need more time."
But Maxima persisted. "Glaucus, it just isn't wise to start out alone. We need a guide. We need--"
"Maxima," Glaucus interrupted, "the emperor will no longer hunt for me just because of who I am. He will hunt for me for what I just did. Do you understand? We have no choice but to go on alone."
Maxima nodded mutely, dread settling into the pit of her stomach like a lump of cold lump of porridge.
Before sunrise the change in the sound of the clip-clop of the camels' hooves alerted the drowsing travelers that they had indeed found a road. By sunrise they had also found a desert spring and a small village where they purchased coarse-spun local clothing and burned their own bloodied garments. After stopping for brief refreshment they were on the road again, headed for a town were they were told they could buy fleet horses. Only then would they dispose of most of their provisions and travel and light and quickly as possible.
By dusk they were riding two beautiful white stallions, small by Roman standards with slightly concave faces and delicate noses, that flew over the sands like the wind. Glaucus and Maxima relaxed slightly when they realized that they were probably moving much faster than word of the massacre at the mountain could travel, or any praetorians from Petra. Still, they journeyed by night if there was enough light, and camped in remote places far away from humanity.
Days later, filthy and exhausted, they reached the seaside town of Caesarea Maritima, where they persuaded a fisherman to take them to Alexandria by offering a handful of golden coins. Able to relax for the first time in many, many days, Glaucus and Maxima lay on the fishy-smelling deck and slept soundly despite the tossing seas.
The familiar lighthouse at Alexandria offered no comfort to the weary travelers -- a city well patrolled by legionnaires and representatives of the emperor. Glaucus settled his sister into a ramshackle inn by the docks, frequented by sailors and women that they purchased for an hour or so. With instructions to bolt the door and open it for no one, Glaucus went in search of Captain Aemilius to take them back to Ostia. He prowled the seedy haunts of sailors for an entire frustrating day before he found one of the men who had sailed to Alexandria with them and the sailor soon found Aemilius. His surprise at Glaucus' rough appearance quite obvious, the captain none-the-less agreed to be ready to sail within hours after warning Glaucus that the price of bribes to open the ports at both ends of their journey could be quite costly. After being needlessly cautioned by Glaucus to be very discreet, Aemilius left to round up his men.
They slipped out under the cover of darkness, guided by two tugs with captains pleased to suddenly have very heavy purses. They sailed directly for Crete where they stopped just long enough for fresh provisions. By the third day of the following week the lighthouse at Ostia gleamed on the shoreline of Italia. They dropped anchor well out to sea and slipped into a small boat which unloaded them on the beach not far from Julia's villa. Maxima felt her stomach churn. How would her mother react upon seeing her wayward daughter for the first time in months?
Chapter 55 - Return to Ostia
Julia's face slowly drained of all colour as she gaped, open-mouthed at the two bedraggled travelers who stood sheepishly in her dimly-lit atrium. An instant later she clutched Maxima in her arms and the two women wept quietly in the shadows as Glaucus nervously raked his fingers through his disheveled hair. Obviously relieved to see her daughter, would Julia reserve her wrath for him? Finally, Julia released her grip on Maxima and stroked her hair and whispered a few words to her before ordering servants to draw a bath. She watched her daughter depart then she turned her attention to Glaucus.
He decided to take the initiative and try to divert what was surely coming. "Hello Julia." His voice sounded hollow in the vacuous space.
She tilted her head and regarded him thoughtfully, then said in quiet, measured words, "For weeks after you left, Glaucus, I was in an almost constant rage directed mostly at you. I thought you had lied to me. That you had arranged to have Maxima meet you on the ship and even hidden her there... that you had enticed my daughter to join you in your dangerous mission." Julia sighed deeply as if to relieve herself of tension. "Apollinarius finally convinced me that Maxima was quite capable of plotting and carrying out such a feat all by herself and that you were probably a victim of her deceit just as I was." She narrowed her eyes. "Is that true?"
Glaucus nodded with some reluctance and found it difficult to look into her eyes. "Captain Aemilius found her when we were a few days into our journey -- just far enough away that we were unable to turn back. She had been hiding in a barrel in the hold." He shuffled his feet like a schoolboy caught in a prank. "I... I'm sorry, Julia. That was a bad decision. We should have turned back anyway even if we had to row all the way. I take responsibility for that."
After a moment's silence she asked, "Do you have any idea how sick I have been with worry?"
"I can imagine."
"No, you cannot imagine," Julia replied with a touch of anger as she approached him. "You cannot imagine at all."
Glaucus nodded and stared at the black and white marble floor under his feet until Julia gently grasped his bearded chin in her hand and raised his head. He finally looked into her red-rimmed eyes.
"I wondered if I would ever see either of you alive again."
Glaucus nodded and admitted, "At times I wasn't certain that you would either."
Julia finally grasped Glaucus in a brief but heartfelt hug then drew away, wrinkling her slender nose. "You need a bath too."
"Yes... it's been a while."
"Well, you shall have your bath and some sleep. Then you will tell me every detail about what has happened since I saw you last. Do you understand?"
"Yes, m'Lady," replied Glaucus, feeling the need to revert to her formal title at the moment. He continued to feel like a naughty schoolboy who had just been thoroughly chastised for a caper then forgiven unconditionally. Would Julia be so gracious once she heard their story?
It took Glaucus and Maxima over an hour to tell that tale to an audience of two who listened with rapt attention, interrupting only occasionally to clarify a point. Julia remained composed until they reached the part where Glaucus described their escape into the desert after killing the praetorians. She twisted her hands in agitation.
Noticing the action Maxima tried to reassure her. "Mama, we're fine, as you can see," thinking that her mother was upset by their close brush with death.
Glaucus knew better. "Julia, the praetorians don't know that Maxima is Maximus' daughter. They don't even know her name. They referred to her as my "woman." I'm not sure why they didn't ask Hamoudi who she was but they just made assumptions. They're looking for me, not her. She'll be safe here."
"Here!" exclaimed Maxima, as she stiffened abruptly then looked from Glaucus to her mother. "I'm not staying here!"
Three voices said in unison, "Of course you are."
Glaucus continued in a stern tone, "You are not coming with me on the rest of my journey, Maxima. It is too dangerous, as you are well aware. There will be no hiding in barrels this time."
Maxima started to reply but her mother interrupted her. "Glaucus is right, darling. Listen to him. You must remain here where it is safe."
As Apollinarius opened his mouth to add his support, Maxima stated defiantly. "Yes, I realize that the journey to find Quintus and Lucius will be too dangerous for me. Believe me, after the ambush at the mountain, I am quite happy to stay put for a while."
There were three sighs of relief.
"But I am not staying here, mother. There is nothing for me here anymore. I am going to the apartment in Rome."
Julia hesitated momentarily then realized it was best to compromise with her determined daughter. "Well... yes, that can be arranged."
"And I won't be under house arrest, either. I will go out as I please."
"With accompaniment, of course," insisted Julia. "All young women your age are accompanied when they leave their homes in Rome."
Maxima knew that she could lose bodyguards quickly if she so desired, so she agreed then quickly changed the subject. "We found it, you know," she stated in a cryptic whisper.
"Found what?" asked Apollinarius who was too weary to play games. "What did you find?"
Maxima cast a sidelong glance at her brother who nodded his permission for her to continue. "The contract... and Glaucus' mother's letters to Maximus. There are drawings with them. Marcianus had them." She was elated at her mother's look of surprise.
"Marcianus had the contract? In Petra?" Julia repeated as if trying to understand how such a thing could happen.
Maxima continued. "He and Cicero divided up my father's belongings on the night that the praetorians took him to be executed and he kept them all this time."
"It is the contract that belonged to the emperor," Glaucus clarified. "Marcianus found it when he was alone with Marcus Aurelius after his death. He took it because he knew it would be important. We have it now."
"So you see," said Maxima triumphantly. "It was all worthwhile." She rose and left her mother's apartment without another word.
Julia nodded, reluctantly agreeing. "Be careful what you do with it, Glaucus. It is a powerful document."
Apollinarius nodded. "If the emperor finds out that you have the original he will stop at nothing to get it... and to dispose of you."
"I realize that, but it is the tool I need to clear my father's name."
"You must hide it, Glaucus, until you are ready to use it," stated Julia. "Somewhere where no one can find it unless authorized to do so. You can't risk carrying it with you and being caught with it. You can have copies made and witnessed, and carry those instead."
Glaucus considered the truth of their words. "I can't leave it here..."
"No you can't," said Julia with certainty, "but I may know a place where it will be safe."
"Where?"
"At the Temple of the Vestals," replied Julia.
"Oh, yes. That's perfect!" chirped Apollinarius. "My dear, you are so clever. Of course... the Temple of the Vestals. And you have the means to gain an audience there."
"Why there?" asked Glaucus with some confusion.
Apollinarius was pleased to answer him. "The Vestals do much more than keep the sacred fire burning, my young friend. They keep there all of the most important documents in Rome." He looked around conspiratorially and whispered, "The temple contains even state secrets. Wealthy Roman families keep their wills there, and even the royal family are confidants of the Vestals."
"Well then that's the last place I'd want to leave it," exclaimed Glaucus. "They might tell Severus about it--"
Apollinarius interrupted before Glaucus could work himself into a state of agitation. "The document must be put into the hands of the high-priestess of Vesta -- for her eyes only -- and she is the cousin of Marcus Aurelius. She remains loyal to him still and loathes Severus. She is quite elderly but very strong still, so I am told. She will not betray you."
"But how does a man like me obtain an interview with the high-priestess?"
Julia and Apollinarius exchanged glances. "There is a way--" started Julia, but she stopped when her daughter re-entered the room dragging a heavy pack along the polished marble floor. Her white robe trailed behind her and she was barefoot, having abandoned her slippers during her absence. Her scrubbed face and flowing hair gleamed with youth and excitement.
"They're in here. Do you want to see them?" asked Maxima as if the conversation had stopped when she had left the room only to resume now that she has returned. Two heads nodded enthusiastically and Julia and Apollinarius shifted forward in their chairs as Maxima deposited the pack between them before dropping to her knees and rummaging through the contents. She impatiently discarded items of relative unimportance and plunged up to her elbows until she found what she wanted. Her demeanor changed now to reverence as she cautiously unfurled the contract and placed it into her mother's waiting hands.
Julia and Apollinarius bent over the parchment, reading every word three or four times before the old man raised his head in wonderment. "Such simple words," he stated. "Such a simple document to hold so much power. It is hard to believe."
"That's exactly what I thought when I first saw it," said Glaucus, as he turned his attention to Julia who still stared at the document -- more precisely, at the bottom of the contract -- at Maximus' boldly scrawled signature. Finally, she raised her head and re-rolled the document without a word.
Maxima glanced at her mother with uncertainty then her enthusiasm took control again and she dug into the pack once more. She didn't see Apollinarius reach over and pat Julia's hand or the tremulous smile Julia gave in return.
"Here they are," said Maxima with delight. "The letters. Wait until you see this, mama."
Glaucus tried to caution her. "Maybe we could do this later--"
Maxima ignored him. "You want to see these don't you, mama?" Without waiting for a reply she handed a precious letter to her mother then sat back on her heels waiting for the reaction.
Julia drew a deep breath then slowly unrolled the parchment, surprised to see charcoal shading rather than words. It unfurled slowly, from the bottom up, revealing nothing at first but finely rendered vegetation, the kind you might see along any roadside. Then a step was revealed and booted feet standing upon it. Once the boots were fully revealed, along with the bottom of the sweeping cape, Julia knew what she was about to see. It was a drawing of Maximus -- the first time she would see his face since his death, except for the visions of him that were constantly in her mind.
At Julia's hesitation, Maxima started to urge her mother to continue until her brother's strong fingers wrapped around her upper arm and squeezed painfully. She clamped her teeth shut and forced herself to relax as she cast her brother a withering glare.
The uniform was revealed now: the strong bare knees and dark tunic; the carved cuirass with the wolf's head; the long cape that brushed his knees; the two wolfs' pelts draped over his shoulders with casual grace. It was exactly what he had been wearing the very first time she had ever seen him. Julia closed her eyes, not sure that she had the strength to continue -- to see the man she loved interpreted by the hand of the woman he had loved most in his life. But she forced her fingers to go on -- and finally his face was revealed. A young face, strong, somewhat distant, distracted... so very, very handsome.
She thought that she had been prepared, knowing what was coming, but the impact of seeing him in some form other than dream or memory sent her reeling and she groped for the arm of the chair as she felt her face flush. Minutes passed -- maybe hours for all she knew. They were together again in Moesia, she and Maximus. She teased him as he resisted her advances at the banquet, all the while trying to control the quaking in her limbs caused by her nearness to this powerful man. Then they were alone... behind the curtain...
Voices drifted into her consciousness and she jerked her head up to look directly into the concerned blue eyes of... her daughter. The room came back into focus and the fire crackled in the hearth.
"Mama... mama are you alright?" asked Maxima in some alarm. She had never seen her mother like this. Glaucus, too, was mumbling words of worry. Apollinarius simply stroked her arm in support, understanding more than any of them what she was feeling.
Julia licked her lips and looked down at the drawing in her hand. So perfect. So like him. But it was only parchment after all, not warm flesh. "I... I'm fine. I'm fine. It was just a... a shock to see his face. I thought never to see it again." As if to prove her words she mustered a tenuous smile and carefully rolled the drawing. As she handed it to Glaucus she said, "Such a treasure, Glaucus. Even more so than the contract in many ways."
"I know, m'Lady. Thank you," he replied as he took the precious drawing from her and tucked it into his tunic.
"Your mother was very accomplished."
"Yes. Thank you."
Julia smoothed her tunic and steadied her trembling hands. "Well, it's been quite an evening and I'm very tired. I'm sure you must be too, despite your earlier rest." She started to rise.
"Julia, wait. Please," said Glaucus. "You started to say something about how I could get an audience with the high-priestess of Vesta..."
Maxima looked at her brother with great interest but held her tongue for once.
"Yes... yes," replied Julia. "If you would all wait here, I will return momentarily." Three pairs of eyes watched her trim figure depart, two pairs alight with curiosity and the third with knowing.
