Maximus' Story
Chapter 21 - The Truth
The next day, as the rays of the setting sun slanted through the trees, the legion gathered once again to greet the emperors.
As a centurion, Maximus was now permitted to participate in briefings with the two great men -- an honor which he readily accepted. The large tent in the praetorium was packed with commissioned officers of every rank. Commodus was there too but he sullenly avoided eye contact with Maximus even though the centurion, who was standing quietly near the door, silently challenged him to do so with a murderous glare in his blue eyes. But Marcus Aurelius did see the young soldier and recognition dawned on his face in the form of a slow smile and slight nod of greeting. Astonished, Maximus returned his smile with a tenuous one of his own then he broke into a full grin which he tried to hide by ducking his head. Marcus Aurelius chuckled. He did indeed like this young man.
The emperor then led the briefing which included the latest news from Rome on the status of the plague which was finally starting to subside after killing thousands of citizens in a quick, brutal death. As he often did, Maximus thought of his young friend Lucius and wondered how he had fared. Maximus also learned that the current peace was tenuous at best. The eastern front was secure but now the north was rumbling with discontent and all of the legions along the Danube were to prepare for war. The young centurion felt his stomach tighten with excitement mixed with dread. Would he be up to the task of leading his men in a real war? His thoughts were interrupted by Lucius Verus announcing that within a few days the two emperors, and a select group of men, would stage a lightening fast punitive strike on the Germanic tribe camped right across the river but, as a new officer, the young centurion did not expect to be included in that elite group.
After the briefing both emperors mingled freely with the officers and Marcus Aurelius made a point of seeking out Maximus who had not moved from his place near the door. "I thought it was you, Maximus. You were only a boy the last time I saw you, and to be a centurion at your age -- well, it's almost unheard of. My heartiest congratulations." Marcus clasped the young man's shoulder and raised his glass of wine in salute.
"Thank you, Sire." As he bowed he saw Commodus staring at them, a pale pinched look on his young face at the familiar contact between the centurion and his father, and Maximus smiled in satisfaction.
"I understand that you are to participate in the exhibition tomorrow?" asked Marcus.
"Yes, Sire."
"Well, you hardly need to prove yourself after your adventure a few nights ago, but I look forward to seeing you in action."
"Thank you, Sire."
With that, Marcus Aurelias patted his shoulder then moved on to the next officer and Maximus faced Lucius Verus for the first time. He was younger than Marcus Aurelius by about ten years, Maximus guessed, making him in his mid-thirties at best. A commander as well as an emperor, he wore full armor most of the time making his presence quite imposing. A short, stocky man with prematurely gray hair, he came only to Maximus' nose, but no one mistook his lack of stature for lack of courage. Along with General Cassius he had led the attack on the eastern infidels with great success. Unmarried, he was joined at camp by his elderly mother and younger sister who was about thirty but Maximus couldn't recall seeing either of the women in the time that they had been there.
"Maximus, isn't it?"
"Yes, Sire." Maximus bowed.
"How fortunate that you happened to be outside the gate when the barbarians attacked."
"They didn't exactly attack, Sire--"
"Only because you stopped them, soldier. Ah, yes, Rome is fortunate to have men like you, Maximus. It is precisely because of men like you that the empire remains strong and undivided.
"Thank you, Sire." The young centurion was quite overwhelmed by the attention of the two most powerful men in the empire.
"And, I owe you a note of personal thanks for risking your life to protect the people within the camp, especially my family -- and my betrothed."
"Your betrothed, sir?" Maximus asked politely.
"Yes," Lucius Verus chuckled. "Lucilla. We are to be married shortly. Am I not a fortunate man?"
A shock ripped through Maximus' body from his brain to his feet making his heart seize within his chest and choke off his air. He could only nod weakly as he gasped, his hand clutching at his throat.
"Are you alright, soldier? You look ready to faint." Lucius Verus frowned into his face, truly concerned.
"I'm fine, Sire," Maximus whispered. "Excuse me, sir, I need some air." Without waiting to be dismissed he staggered to the doorway, oblivious to the curious stares from his fellow officers and the two emperors, and he did not see the slow grin of triumph break over the dark features of the fourteen-year-old heir to the empire.
Once outside Maximus doubled over and drew deep, rasping gulps of cool air into his burning lungs. He felt a hand touch his back and someone call his name but he broke away and ran until he reached the back gate of the camp, barging past the guards and heading into the blackness of the night. He didn't stop running until he reached the beach where he had shared intimate moments with Lucilla just days before, Lucilla, who knew all the while that she was to marry an emperor. She had deceived him from the beginning -- toyed with him -- and he had been too blinded by love to see it.
The pain in his chest forced him to his knees and he doubled over again until his forehead touched the cool, wet sand. His grief was like a molten ball of flaming pitch, consuming his heart and burning it to ashes. Maximus rolled onto his back, dry sobs racking his body, until his rage exploded in a cry of pain that shattered the stillness around him sending an owl screeching in fright from its perch above, their cries mingling on the night air.
Chapter 22 – Exhibition
Maximus sat still as a statue atop his magnificent brown stallion, the men in his century gathered around him near the edge of the intervallum. The sheep had been chased away and wooden stands lavishly hung with silk had been constructed to accommodate the emperors, the senators and their families.
Maximus did not even look in their direction.
Lucilla sat in the stands between her father and her betrothed, her posture as still and rigid as the man on the horse who held her gaze like a vice. Her eyes followed him everywhere -- as he paraded his men past the stands, then as he dismounted and took up his sword and shield walking to the middle of the grassy field, another soldier approaching from the opposite side.
"Quintus," said Maximus in greeting.
"Maximus, I haven't seen you in a long time. Congratulations on your promotion," replied Quintus sincerely. "No one deserves it more than you." Quintus had long since come to the realization that he was not going to best his friend in any category but vowed to try to keep up with him at least. Maximus' promotion to centurion put the younger man a giant step ahead, though.
Maximus managed a tight smile. "Thank you, my friend. It has been too long."
"How about some wine after we entertain the emperors? We can catch up on some things."
Maximus nodded his agreement then the men clasped hands before they separated and stalked a few paces away from each other preparing to display their prowess with sword and shield for the assembled dignitaries.
Despite Maximus' seeming ease there was something about his expression that bothered Quintus -- a hardness in his eyes that hadn't been there before. It was unnerving.
The signal to begin vaulted Maximus to life. Quintus barely had time to raise his shield before Maximus brought his sword down in a vicious swipe that drew a gasp from the onlookers. Quintus staggered under the blow but recovered in time to ward off another cruel blast that forced him to his knees. Terror mingled with excitement as Quintus realized that this was to be no ordinary match and he raised his sword in time to catch the next swipe and deflect it. Sparks flew as steel met steel and the crowd cheered, especially the men in the 6th century, in complete awe of their young commander.
The combatants forced each other back and forth across the field with arm-numbing blows and ferocious growls. In the stands Commodus was on his feet, his hands clenched in excitement, his eyes riveted to Maximus. The man was truly something to behold in his flashing armor, his bare arms and legs rippling with gleaming muscle under a simple tunic, as he slashed and deflected, charged and danced. Now that the man was no longer a contender for the affections of his sister Commodus could admire him again as a warrior.
This fight was far more violent than the crowd had bargained for and still Maximus did not let up. On the sidelines, Darius began to grow concerned. Maximus had lost all perspective, it seemed, and looked prepared to fight to the death. His anger was fueling his energy and Quintus was holding up amazingly well but was obviously tiring under the assault. Darius moved onto the field, ignoring shouts for him to get out of the way. "Maximus," he shouted. "Maximus, that's enough! That's enough! Calm down!"
Maximus either did not hear him or ignored him and crashed another ferocious blow onto Quintus' shield. It was obvious to everyone now that Quintus was in trouble.
In the stands, Lucilla wrung her hands, knowing full well why Maximus was fighting like a demon. In front of her Commodus bounced up and down with glee. Beside Commodus her mother sat with her eyes following Maximus in a way that made Lucilla's stomach clench. She drew a shuddering breath and tried to reconcile this warrior on the field with the gentle man who had held her in is arms and kissed her so sweetly.
Suddenly everyone in the stands rose to their feet in unison, obscuring her view of the fight. Despite her fears, she rose in time to see Maximus drop his sword and dash for Quintus who writhed on the ground clutching his face.
"Did you see that? Did you see that, mother? Maximus got him right across the face. He probably killed him." Annia just beamed.
Darius reached Quintus before Maximus did and he pulled the man's hands away to see blood gushing from a jagged slash between his eyes. Darius ripped a swath from his tunic and pressed it tightly to the wound, then he looked up at Maximus who stood still and pale. "It's not as bad as it looks. Head wounds bleed a lot." His tone then turned angry. "You gave him no chance, Maximus. You could have killed him. Is that what you wanted?
Maximus mutely shook his head.
From the grass Quintus said, "I'm all right, Maximus. Help me get up, will you?"
Maximus dropped to a knee and pulled one of Quintus' arms around his shoulders while Darius took the other. They made their way slowly off the field to cheers from the men under his command that Maximus was too ashamed to acknowledge. "Quintus, I'm so sorry," he whispered.
"Ah, the scar will just make me even prettier than I am now. Those girls from the village will all want me instead of you."
As the three men left the field Marcus Aurelius turned to an aid and said, "Tell Maximus to come and see me after the games. I have some matters to discuss with him."
He regarded his daughter for a moment who sat silent and pale looking at the three men in the distance, then turned his attention back to the next set of contestants who were already on the field.
Later that evening Maximus joined Marcus Aurelias in the emperor's tent. Marcus greeted him warmly saying, "I have done nothing but hear your name since I arrived, Maximus, from the general and senators, from my son and my daughter. It seems you have made quite an impression on many people. You certainly made an impression on me this afternoon."
Maximus shifted uncomfortably. "I need to apologize for that, Sire."
"Really? Why?"
"I... I let the fight get out of hand. It was intended as exhibition only and no one was supposed to get hurt."
"It's easy for one's blood to get hot in battle, Maximus, even when that battle isn't real. You certainly gave me some idea of what those tribesmen faced the other night." The emperor laughed. "I almost feel sorry for them."
Maximus refused to accept praise so easily. "Quintus is my friend, Sire, and I injured him unnecessarily."
"Come, sit down with me, Maximus." Marcus extended his hand towards a leather chair and the young soldier accepted gratefully.
"The fighting spirit is within you, son. That is more rare than you might think and very valuable in a soldier of Rome." Marcus smiled. "You are very young to have such skills. All you have to do is learn to control and direct your displeasure at the appropriate person, in the appropriate manner. Obviously Quintus was not the object of your wrath but he happened to be conveniently in the way of your sword."
Maximus nodded, his eyes on the floor.
"If I had been through the things that you have endured in the past few days I might have been ready to decapitate any man who got in my way too."
Maximus looked up, a question in his eyes.
"My daughter came to see me the moment I arrived. She was very distraught and confessed to me that she had fallen deeply in love with you. She also told me about the dog and a few other things." Marcus sighed deeply. "I can certainly understand why she loves you, Maximus. Under any other circumstances I would encourage your love and be proud to have you as my son. Nothing would have pleased me more, I assure you. But, Lucilla is the daughter of an emperor and she has a duty to Rome just as you do. Her duty is to marry and produce a future Caesar who carries the blood of two emperors, and to that end, she was betrothed to emperor Lucius Verus two years ago. She begged me not to make her marry until she was eighteen and I relented, but she is eighteen now and the wedding is to be very soon. It may even be here in Germania rather than Rome as we cannot return there for a while. Emperor Lucius is anxious to make it official."
Marcus leaned forward in his chair and looked directly into Maximus' face. "She confessed to me that she told you of her love without mentioning the betrothal, leading you to believe that there was a chance you could be together. I don't believe that she meant to manipulate your emotions, Maximus. She truly did hope that I might relent and allow her to marry a man of her choice, but that is not possible. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sire. I do."
"But, even so, your heart does not understand what your brain grasps. Ah, I remember being your age, Maximus. I remember the intensity of love -- and the heartbreak. We all suffer it. I'm just very upset that my daughter was the one to break the heart of a young man I admire and care for so very much."
Maximus swallowed hard. "Thank you, Sire," he whispered.
"Lucilla is right, you know. You would be a good role model for Commodus. He certainly needs the influence of an intelligent, honorable and brave man such as yourself. Once again, that is my loss." Marcus left his chair and paced. "I feel that my family has not used you well in a number of ways, and I shall do what I can to make up for that. First of all, my son, daughter and wife are leaving tomorrow to stay with another legion which is stationed not too far from here. Lucius Verus will accompany them then return here alone."
Maximus felt the bile rise in his throat and he swallowed hard.
"Secondly, I grant you permission to marry, Maximus, when you do find a suitable woman that you love and you will love again even though you may not believe it now. You are one of few men in all of the Roman army to have that privilege. Lastly and most importantly there is a senator who has petitioned to adopt you as his son and I have signed the papers making you a full member of the senatorial class and subject to all of its privileges.
Things were happening so fast that Maximus could hardly grasp their significance. "What is his name, Sire?"
"Marcus Licinius Marcellus, but I have already been told that you wish to keep your own name and so you shall. You will meet him later this evening but you need not have any further relationship with him or his family if you do not desire it. The adoption is really just a formality."
"I don't know what to say, Sire."
Marcus stood before him and Maximus rose to his feet. The older man's smile was so kindly and full of concern that Maximus dug his fingernails into his palms to keep tears from welling. Marcus grasped the young soldier's shoulders with both hands and said kindly, "It is best that you do not see my daughter again, Maximus. She is confined to her room until she leaves tomorrow. Forget her, son."
Maximus nodded miserably.
"When emperor Lucius Verus returns in a few days we shall prepare to make a punitive expedition across the river to make it clear to the barbarians that insurrection will not be tolerated. I want you to be part of that expedition, Maximus."
The centurion's jaw dropped. "It will be my honor, Sire."
Marcus laughed, "I want to see the energy and skill that I witnessed today directed at the German infidels." Maximus smiled in return. "Good, now let's meet your adoptive father and then you need to get some sleep. We both do."
When Maximus finally left the emperor's tent that evening he looked neither left nor right as he headed to the praetorium gate. Thanks to Marcus Aurelius he saw his future more clearly now, knew what he was capable of doing and what he wanted to accomplish. Nothing would stand in his way -- and no one.
Tearful green eyes watched his straight back and strong shoulders disappear through the gate. Lucilla had lurked in her doorway all evening hoping for a glimpse of Maximus and for some sign that he had forgiven her, but she knew now that he hadn't. She collapsed to her bed and wept bitterly at what her life would become now and what it could have been.
Chapter 23 - The Raid
Maximus shivered as the cold spring rain beat down on his head and turned the shore line to ankle deep black mud. His stallion tossed his head impatiently at being forced to stand fully armored in the downpour and Maximus patted his neck in sympathy. The movement bared his own neck to the storm, though, and frigid rivulets trickled inside his armor where it dampened his undergarments making them clingy and itchy.
Maximus was one of a hundred select men who would cross the River Danube at first light and stage a surprise punitive attack on the barbarian army on the opposite shore. The Romans were badly outnumbered but their lightening raid would be supported by a full scale attack by the entire legion, if needed, with the aim to establish a safe Roman army base on the north shore of the river. The other Felix legions were on high alert in case backup was needed.
It was still dark -- maybe five in the morning -- and dawn would be late today because of the gloomy weather, but it was this weather that would probably protect their lives. The chilly north wind ensured that sounds from the Roman side would not drift across the river, and the low, gray clouds and fog rising off the water would conceal them from lookouts posted on the opposite shore.
Darius sat on one side of Maximus and Quintus was on the other. In front of them were emperor Lucius Verus and General Patroclus. Behind them were approximately ninety other legionnaires, all specially chosen for their superior fighting skills. All of the men were as miserable and as nervous as he but not a sound could be heard except the impatient snorting and pawing of the horses.
Maximus looked to the east and noticed a slight brightening of the sky. The signal would come soon to drag the heavy rafts into the water from their hiding place in the forest. He mentally checked his weapons -- the swords and shield that were strapped securely to his side. Over half of the men were archers and they would lead the attack on foot, killing as many tribesmen as possible, throwing the enemy camp into disarray before the cavalry charged in.
Spies had done their job well and the Romans knew intimately the layout of the camp as well as enemy numbers. The orders were clear -- attack, kill and return to the safety of the river where archers would be waiting under the command of Marcus Aurelius to send hundreds of arrows across the water to discourage any tribesmen remaining alive from following.
It was light enough now for Maximus to distinguish water from land and he listened for the command to proceed. It came within minutes. The heavy rafts were launched and Lucius Verus and General Patroclus boarded the first one, their horses plunging into the water to swim behind. Maximus, Quintus and Darius followed on the second raft with four other soldiers. Maximus shuddered as the cold water flooded his boots. He immediately took up a paddle and started moving the raft out into the wide river. Quintus also paddled and Darius held the reigns of their horses swimming behind, their splashes masked by the pounding rain.
They landed upriver from the barbarian camp and assembled there for the attack. All of the men were thoroughly chilled and shivering, as much from nerves as from the icy crossing. Maximus swallowed deep breaths to calm his breathing and looked at Darius and Quintus who were mounted nearby. "Strength and honor," he said with calm conviction and they looked at him in surprise.
Darius smiled. "Strength and honor, Maximus." He leaned over to clasp his friend's hand.
"Yes. Strength and honor," Quintus replied very seriously and did the same.
All eyes turned to Lucius Verus to await the signal. Smoke from early morning campfires drifted over the trees -- an inviting smell under normal circumstances but an indication that the tribesmen were stirring. Lucius Verus raised his arm in the air. When he dropped it, fifty archers charged on foot into the forest towards the camp. They were soon lost to the sight of the cavalry but the surprised shouts then screams of sleepy men indicated the success of the archers' mission. Lucius Verus raised his arm again and Maximus felt his muscles tighten. The sword fell and General Patroclus and the cavalry charged into the dark forest towards the camp, swords drawn and raised.
Maximus emerged into the clearing right behind the general and brought his sword down in a vicious swinging arch to send the head of an unfortunate tribesman spinning through the air before it hit the ground and rolled in the mud. He raised his sword high again sending sprays of the dead man's blood onto his armor and face. Maximus quickly disposed of two more men who were running in panic. It unnerved Maximus somewhat to bring his sword down upon a man who had no more defense than his upraised hands. His powerful arm and sharp sword could slice through a man's neck as if it were nothing more than a knife through bread.
The young centurion was almost relieved to see many of the tribesmen finally arm themselves and attempt to organize a counter-attack. Maximus spurred his horse in their direction right behind the general. With a roar, Patroclus dispatched two of the men with mighty thrusts of his sword. Maximus matched him blow for blow and the two Roman warriors sent the tribesman scurrying back to the cover of the trees.
"Maximus!" the general shouted and pointed with his sword behind the young soldier. Maximus swung his horse just in time to face a counter attack from the woods and sliced his way through the Germanic tribesmen. The rain continued unabated and the ground quickly turned to a quagmire of mud and blood. The horses started to skid and the men on foot slid to their knees in the sticky mess. Maximus used his forearm to rub the drops from his eyes and took a quick look around to access the situation. Bodies were everywhere, most of them the long-haired tribesmen but at least a dozen Romans were down too. Maximus could not tell who they were.
The sound of fighting finally died down and in the distance Maximus heard Lucius Verus shout the command to retreat to the shoreline. He and the general were the farthest away from the rallying point and Maximus turned in his saddle to see if Patroclus had heard the command. What he saw sent a shock through his body. The general was on the ground, pinned under his horse that had slipped in the mud. Seeing the Roman leader down, some of the tribesmen who had escaped into the woods were creeping back towards him. As the horse struggled to rise an arrow pierced its neck and its head dropped with a thud into the mud. Maximus frantically urged his stallion between his trapped general and the tribesmen using his shield the take the impact of a half dozen arrows. He screamed for backup but could see no one, and the solid curtain of rain drowned his words.
Chapter 24 - The Raid (continued)
Maximus squinted, trying to estimate the number of men he was facing. At least a dozen, he thought -- far too many for him to even consider attacking, so he would simply have to stay alive himself and protect his general as best he could until somebody in the legion realized they were missing.
A high-pitched sound made Maximus jerk up his chin just before an arrow thudded off his chest armor with a mighty blow, sending him reeling backwards and spooking his stallion into rearing. He grabbed at the horse's rump but his hands slid on the rain-slicked hair and he tumbled backwards into the mud, his sword and shield still clutched in his fists. He rolled as he hit the muck and found his footing just as the next volley of arrows was launched. They thudded harmlessly into his raised shield. As the tribesmen prepared to fire a fresh round Maximus scrambled backwards, stumbling over the general's dead horse then tumbling on top of the trapped man as the arrows slammed into his shield. Maximus wondered vaguely how many more it could hold.
"Are you hurt, sir?" he asked anxiously.
"Mostly my pride, Maximus," Patroclus grimaced, "but I can't feel my leg or move it from under the horse."
"Where's your shield, sir?"
"Under the horse. I don't know where my sword is. I lost it when I fell." The general's voice was strained.
Maximus slid lower in the mud using the body of the horse to absorb the impact of the arrows but he knew that the tribesmen would soon try another approach. Patroclus was buried up to his hip under the dead animal and pressed deep into the muck so Maximus knew he could not free the man without help. He twisted his body so his back was against the horse and his foot kicked something hard. It was the general's mud-covered sword. Maximus grabbed it and wiped off as much grime as he could then held it up slightly to let the rain take care of the rest. As he did so he noticed Germanic swordsmen armed with crude weapons running from tree to tree. Arrows on one side and swords on the other. How in the name of the gods was he going to manage this?
Maximus covered the general with his own shield ignoring the man's warning of the foolishness of the act. "Maximus, I am down. You have a chance to save yourself. Take it."
"No, sir."
"Maximus I am still in command!"
"Of course, sir, but you are not in a position to make decisions. Please trust me to do that right now."
Patroclus gazed up at the determined look on the young soldier's face -- a frightening look, really. His jaw was set in a hard line and his narrowed eyes were steely blue. The general simply nodded. In this desperate situation Patroclus could not think of any soldier he would rather be with than Maximus.
The young centurion knew Patroclus would be attacked the moment he left him so he waited for the tribesmen with swords to charge, wondering how many arrows the men behind him could possibly have left. He had no shield and his helmet was long lost in the mud, making him very vulnerable indeed but the archers were having trouble now finding their mark in the driving rain. The next volley of arrows sank into the dead horse but also flew into the trees and buried themselves deep into the mud on either side of them. Because of the inaccuracy of their shots Maximus knew that they would cease shooting as soon as the swordsmen attacked for fear of hitting their own men. It was just matter of time.
A primitive, high-pitched shriek from the woods raised the hackles on Maximus' neck and he leaped to his feet, a sword in both hands. Six tribesmen emerged at a run from the thick undergrowth and charged him. As one went down face first in the mud, Maximus felt a hard jolt in the back of his left thigh that almost sent his sprawling and he glanced down to see the point of an arrow emerging from the front of his leg and wondered briefly why he felt no pain.
He looked up just in time to see a sword above his head descend quickly in the direction of his neck. He swung his left arm up hard and the two weapons collided sending the tribesman's blade flinging through the air to land in the muck. With a ruthless stab of his right arm he gutted the now unarmed man and kicked his body backwards to collide with another tribesmen sending them both down. With one quick leap he was on the man who was still breathing and beheaded him in one clean swipe.
His leg was beginning to throb now but Maximus had no time for self pity as the four remaining tribesmen spread in an arch around him. A high-pitched whine from behind prompted Maximus to duck and the arrow intended for him buried itself deep in the heart of the closest swordsman. The man dropped like a stone and Maximus now faced three very wary men. One called out an order to the archers, an order that Maximus hoped would stop the arrows.
His quick eyes darted back and forth from man to man as his enemy obviously tried to figure out how to take this mud-covered Roman demon with blood spurting from a nasty wound in his leg. Maximus curled his lip and snarled then shouted obscenities. He knew they were unlikely to understand his words but they would certainly recognize the threat in his deep, growling voice. He saw what he was hoping for -- a glimmer of uncertainty in the eyes of the man on his left. With lightening speed Maximus drew back his right arm and launched his sword through the air. An instant later it pierced his enemy's neck and the man crumbled to the ground, his eyes wide and staring.
Maximus tossed his remaining sword to his right hand just as a wave of dizziness swept over him. A quick glance down revealed a leg that was running red with blood. The throbbing pain was spreading too, from his thigh downwards into his calf and upwards into his hip. The remaining two Germanians regarded him with satisfaction, realizing that all they had to do was wait until this Roman dropped, which he obviously soon would, then move in and kill him and the man under the horse.
"Maximus, Maximus hold on. Hold on," urged Patroclus from the ground, his voice very weak.
"Yes, sir" replied Maximus, his voice not strong now either.
Maximus took a step forward and reeled as white hot pain surged through his body. He dimly heard the laughter of the two remaining tribesmen and plastered another snarl on his lips as he glared them again. He was astonished to see their smug looks turn to horror as they slowly backed away then spun around and ran back into the woods. Dizziness forced Maximus to his knees and as he sank to the ground dozens of arrows dropped the two tribesmen dead in their tracks. Disoriented now, Maximus twisted around and stared up into the pale, worry-lined face of Darius. "What took you so long?" asked the exhausted centurion as he slowly crumpled into the mud and sweet oblivion.
Chapter 25 – Accolades
"Maximus, drink this," commanded Darius as he propped up the injured man's shoulders.
Maximus gratefully gulped the wine then accepted a second flask and did the same. His bleary eyes told him he was in his tent but had no idea how he gotten there. "How--?"
"Don't talk," commanded Darius. "The surgeons will be here in a minute, as soon as I get you drunk enough to remove that arrow."
"General--."
"I said, don't talk!" Darius tried to sound angry but did not succeed. "Crushed leg and broken hip. He'll be sent back to Rome to mend." Darius looked at Maximus thoughtfully. "He told us what you did. Pretty impressive, my young friend. Pretty impressive."
"Where were--?"
"Where were we?" Darius interrupted. "Here. Drink another one. We were half way back across the Danube with our archers picking off the remaining tribesmen when we realized that the two of you weren't on any raft. Your horse joined us for the return trip but you didn't. The general and his horse were nowhere to be seen. It took us a while to get the shooting stopped and turn the rafts around to find out what happened to you." Darius' voice became quite gruff. "I knew you'd be alive. You're too damn stubborn to die. Keep drinking."
Maximus downed his forth flask of the sweet red liquid and was thankful to finally feel the painful throb in his lower body dull considerably.
"You've lost a lot of blood, my friend. If that arrow had been just a bit further to the right... well. You'll need to rest for a while after you've been fixed up." Darius' voice floated away as Maximus' head lolled sideways on the older centurion's shoulder. Darius gently laid him back on the bed and gestured for the surgeons to enter. They carried a frightening array of instruments and Darius knew the removal of the arrow was going to be harder on him than it would be the sleeping man.
Maximus slowly climbed back to consciousness and immediately his body sent signals to his brain for the throbbing ache to return. At least it was centered in his leg now and didn't torture his whole body. He must have mumbled something unintelligible because Darius was immediately by his side placing a cool hand on his forehead.
"Don't try to move, Maximus. The arrow has been removed and the wound cleaned but it took the surgeons a long time. The arrow splintered in your leg and it was covered in filth. You've got a fever but the surgeons are sure it'll go away soon. They have ordered complete rest and no visitors but me. Not even the emperors can come in and they are both anxious to talk to you."
Maximus nodded his understanding and closed his eyes drifting off into oblivion again.
He awoke late the next day thirsty and hungry, good signs according to the surgeons. The day after that he was sitting up and complaining of boredom. Darius distracted him for a while with board games but Maximus was not accustomed to inactivity and the confinement made him grouchy. Darius finally snapped at him, "You look like a piece of shit, you know." He wrinkled his nose dramatically. "And you smell like one too."
"Thanks, Darius. I want a bath."
"You can't get that leg wet."
"Well the rest of me can get wet."
"You're not supposed to leave this tent."
"Then bring the bath here. And I'd like it hot, if you please." Maximus looked at Darius with raised eyebrows. When Darius didn't move Maximus jabbed him with an elbow.
"You're getting obnoxious, you know." Darius softened his words by ruffling Maximus' hair. He pulled his hand away in mock disgust. "Yech!" he said. "You've still got dried mud in your hair and who knows what else. I'll get the bath."
Hours later Maximus emerged from his tent freshly bathed and wearing clean clothing with a crutch under his arm and Darius by his side. He limped heavily as he made his way across the camp -- a very slow process since everyone wanted to stop and congratulate him, especially the men in his century who were more in awe of their young leader than ever.
He eventually reached the stable area and found his horse contentedly munching hay. "Traitor," he said as he rubbed the animal's nose affectionately. "Decided you'd rather have the comfort of your stall than help me out, huh?" The brown stallion nuzzled his hand in return.
"Sir?"
Maximus looked around at the young soldier behind him -- a boy no older than he was when he first joined the legion."
"Yes, Flavius?"
"The emperors would like you to join them in their tent, sir."
Maximus peered across the camp at the high-peaked tent. "Right now?"
"Yes, sir."
"Tell them I'm on my way but it may take a while."
Flavius grinned and scampered off.
"Come in, come in, Maximus," Marcus Aurelius gestured from inside the comfortable quarters he shared with Lucius Verus. He observed the young man's heavy limp and offered encouragement with a smile, something that came very easily to the emperor's face when he regarded this young man who had become his favorite. "No, no, don't even attempt to bow. It is we who should bow to you. Sit. Sit down right here so we can talk."
Maximus settled himself into the soft chair and returned the emperor's smile shyly. "Thank you, Sire."
Lucius Verus emerged from the shadows and approached the young centurion's chair. Maximus started to struggle to his feet again but was stilled by a hand on his shoulder. "Maximus, please stay seated. I owe you an apology."
An apology?
Lucius continued. "You see, I should have noticed that Patroclus wasn't with us and instead it was you who did so, then stayed to defend his life even though you were badly outnumbered and injured as well. I can't tell you what a wonderful act of selflessness that was."
"Anyone would have done it, Sire. I just happened to be closest to him."
"No, Maximus, you are wrong. Because you do not hesitate to perform such acts of bravery you assume that all men would, but you are wrong. I have led armies all over the empire and seen more than my share of brave men. I have never seen one like you -- a man so young with your combination of courage and intelligence. You're only twenty, aren't you?"
"Yes, Sire, but I'll be twenty-one soon."
Lucius Verus smiled at that. "All of twenty. Well, Maximus, you have saved the life of one of my favorite generals and that act will not go uncompensated."
Maximus didn't know what to say. He looked at Marcus Aurelius who continued the praise. "You embody all of the characteristics that I admire the most in a soldier: discipline, perseverance, a tremendous sense of responsibility, the ability to endure physical and emotional pain selflessness it's all so natural in you."
"Maximus." The young soldier turned his attention to Lucius Verus again. "It is unusual for a man your age to be promoted so quickly but Marcus and I cannot see the point of making you wait years as you go from one grade of centurion to the next. We hereby advance you to the highest level and your pay will increase accordingly. The next step for you will be tribune. We've never had a tribune under the age of twenty-two, I don't believe, so you might have to wait a year or two -- but I doubt that you'll have to wait longer."
Maximus was truly stunned. He looked from one emperor to the next, his mouth open but no words forming in his brain.
Marcus threw his head back and laughed. "You do not need to say 'thank you,' Maximus. You deserve this honor. It is not a gift -- you have earned it. One of the current tribunes will be temporarily promoted to general until Patroclus can reassume that post -- if he ever can." Marcus leaned closer to Maximus and dropped his voice. "As you know, being a tribune does not necessarily mean that a man has battle smarts, Maximus, as you do. The main job of a tribune, after all, is to preserve the authority of Rome in the army." Marcus glanced at Lucius then looked back at Maximus. "We are going to rely on you a great deal to act as advisor to the new general and he will be instructed to listen to you."
Maximus simply started at his mentor trying to absorb the impact of his words. His leg ached unbearably.
"You look very tired," said Lucius. "I am sure your wound is causing you much pain so we won't keep you any longer tonight. But before you go, General Patroclus wants to see you. We are sending a well-armed contingent to Rome tomorrow and the general will return there to recover. My wife, mother and sister will accompany him there, as will Marcus' wife and son."
"Your wife?" Maximus regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.
"Yes. Remember I told you that I was to marry Lucilla? Well, I did so very quietly when I accompanied her to Felix III. Not quite the wedding I had hoped for but Marcus thought it best to not to wait any longer."
Suddenly Maximus did feel very tired indeed. "Congratulations, Sire."
"Thank you, Maximus. Some day I hope you find a wife as lovely and charming."
Maximus stared at the floor and did not reply.
Lucius extended his hand to the injured man and after a moment's hesitation Maximus allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Marcus rose too and patted the young man on the shoulder.
In sympathy, no doubt, thought Maximus.
Lucius continued talking as they walked. "I am going to remain with Felix III to prepare them for occupation of the north bank. I had fully intended to do that here with Felix VII, but with a new general and it's best soldier injured I think it's wise to give you more time."
Maximus was very aware that Marcus Aurelius was right behind him, his hand still resting on his shoulder. He limped to the bedchamber of the general's quarters where a heavily sedated Patroclus lay on his back on the bed, his crushed leg bandaged from thigh to foot and propped up on cushions. He opened his eyes as Maximus approached and reached for his hand. His grip was weak and he squeezed Maximus' fingers without saying a word.
"It was an honor, sir," replied Maximus to the unspoken words of thanks from a man he admired very much. The general closed his eyes and Marcus Aurelius gestured for the centurion to follow him out of the room.
"Go now and get some rest," said Marcus. "We need you back up to full speed as soon as possible."
As Maximus limped to the door he wondered what the gods could possibly have in store for him next.
