Maximus' Story
Chapter 66 - Septimius
Maximus appointed Horatius, an experienced tribune, to act as legate in Quintus' absence, and Horatius took Felix III to Vindobona for the winter while Maximus headed west to visit his other legions along the Danube and Rhine. Although there was little chance of open warfare during the winter months, raids by the tribesmen were a definite possibility and he wanted the legions to be vigilant and prepared.
Bundled in wool and furs, and accompanied by a contingent of guards, Maximus made his way from one legion to the next, staying about a week with each, making sure that roads along the river route were kept passable, allowing for quick concentration of forces if necessary. All of the generals had heard about the siege and were anxious to discuss it, as well as the obvious erroneous rumors of the death of their leader. Relief swept across faces of guards, soldiers and officers alike when Maximus appeared at their gates in person. That gave Maximus a convenient excuse to talk strategy with the officers of each legion, to make sure that the generals under his command were still effectively doing their jobs.
Maximus' second mission was to strengthen to the fortifications that filled the gap between the Rhine and Danube Rivers. Ditches had been dug years ago but now he ordered a stone wall to be constructed along the entire gap as well, and for constant patrol from watchtowers positioned along its length.
A successful tribal raid could not only bring tremendous prestige to that particular tribe, but considerable loot as well. And it would mean the deaths of many soldiers and the weakening of Rome's hold in the north. Even the perception of Roman vulnerability couldn't be tolerated. Maximus hoped that the tribes would spend their winter raiding each other, as they often did.
But, if a successful raid against the empire occurred, Maximus had to be ready for swift retaliation by leading a column of troops, stripped of unnecessary baggage and carrying enough supplies for only the duration of the punitive expedition. Maximus was well aware that, in many respects, Rome also participated in the pattern of tribal warfare but with much more devastating power and effect. He hoped for a quiet winter.
Maximus had another reason for this trip: he needed to find some experienced centurions, who spoke tribal languages. These soldiers could be enlisted to attend tribal meetings if so requested by Marcus Aurelius. The emperor might try to allay the prospects of spring-time field battles this way, but Maximus was well aware that men who had attended these meetings in the past had sometimes not returned alive. They were sent back strapped over their horses, their heads missing.
Despite what some might think, winter was a very busy time for Maximus.
Having accomplished most of his objectives, he spent a few days relaxing with General Solinus of the Germanica II legion encamped near Colonia. On the second evening they were enjoying their fourth goblets of wine when they were interrupted by Solinus' servant.
"Excuse me, sirs, but there is a soldier from a legion in Africa here to see General Maximus, if he has time."
Maximus looked at a bleary-eyed Solinus with curiosity. "I don't personally know anyone in the African legions, do you?" At Solinus' shake of the head, Maximus said, "Let's find out what he wants." He nodded to the servant. "Send him in."
The man bowed and left the tent only to be quickly replaced by a tribune with a face bronzed from many hours under the blazing African sun and brown hair sun-streaked with gold. He bowed to the generals. "Sirs, I am Septimius Severus, of the African legion Augusta III."
Maximus stood and extended his hand. "Welcome, Septimius, to the frozen north. I am General Maximus of the Felix legions and commander of the northern army. This is General Solinus of Germanica II. What would make you leave the heat of the south to come here at this time of year?"
Septimius stared at Maximus, momentarily at a loss for words. "I... I'm on leave right now, sir."
"And you chose to come here?" Maximus beckoned for the man to sit down. "Judging by your accent, you were raised in Africa."
"You have a good ear, sir. I was born in the town of Leptis Magna, near Carthage."
"And what brings you so far afield?" asked Maximus as the servant poured the man some wine.
"I wanted to meet you, sir."
"Me?" said Maximus, clearly surprised. "How would you know about me?"
"Your reputation as a leader and warrior are widespread, sir. We all know how you saved the empire from the clutches of Cassius, and now I hear about a siege and your escape from death. It seems your legend keeps growing, sir."
Solinus playfully kicked Maximus' leg with his foot. "You hear that, Maximus? You're a legend!" He was slightly drunk and having a great time watching to the tribune fawn over his general. Maximus, though, was uncomfortable. "I am hardly a legend, soldier. I am simply a man who serves Rome in the best way he knows how."
"That may be, sir, but you know how better than anybody else."
Solinus belched and rose unsteadily to his feet. "If you don't mind, General... Septimius... I believe I'll head to bed now." He was steadied by his servant. "Tomorrow, General?"
"Yes, we'll meet tomorrow." Maximus suppressed a smile. "Not too early if you don't mind, Solinus."
"Well... if you'd like to sleep a bit late tomorrow, General, I understand. G'night, sir."
"Sleep well, General." Maximus smothered a grin and turned his attention back to his guest. "You came all the way here, in these conditions, just to meet me?"
"Yes, sir... mostly. I am also doing a tour of the empire. I hope to see as much of it as I can and to try to understand the problems specific to each area."
"May I see your identification, please? I'm sure the guards checked it thoroughly, but one can never be too cautious." The tribune readily produced the documents and Maximus studied them before handing them back with a smile that indicated his satisfaction. "Where have you been before this, Septimius?"
"I crossed into Hispania from Zucchabar, then traveled through Gallia to get here. I have also visited Italia. I hope to return to Africa through Macedonia and the far east, then Aegyptus and see the great pyramids."
"That’s very ambitious. You will have seen more of the empire than me. I have never been to Africa or Aegyptus."
"I would be pleased to have you visit my legion any time sir."
Maximus laughed. "From one provincial to another, I thank you."
"You're from Hispania, aren't you sir?"
"I am."
"Do you still live there... when you are not here of course?"
"I do. I have a farm near Emerita Augusta, and a wife and son. I hope to return soon for a visit, then retire there to work the land once the problems along this border are settled."
"Do you think that will ever happen, sir?"
Maximus shrugged. "One can only hope, Septimius."
"If I may risk taking more of your time, would you tell me about the situation in this region, sir?"
Maximus regarded the young man before him. Septimius Severus was maybe five or six years younger than he was – which would make him about twenty-five -- and similar in build. They were also both provincials, but that is where the similarity ended. Septimius seemed very ambitious but Maximus was motivated by his desire to serve his emperor, and his need to return to his family. He took another sip of wine then asked, "How did you manage to find me, Septimius? I've been on the road for quite some time."
"I know that, sir. It has taken me weeks to track you down. At some camps I missed you by a few days; at Gallica XVI, by merely hours."
"You're tenacious." Maximus smiled.
Septimius smiled back. "I've been called that." He shifted slightly in his chair. "May I say something personal, sir?"
Hadn't he been doing that already? Maximus extended his hand in a signal to proceed.
"I somehow expected you to be a giant, sir. Seven feet tall with shoulders as broad as this room." He laughed, extending his arms wide. "It's reassuring to see that you are a normal man. A mortal man who accomplishes immortal things. It makes it much more possible for a man like me to aspire to your greatness."
To his great discomfort, Maximus felt his face flush and he turned the conversation away from himself. "And is that what you want to do, Septimius?"
The reply was very blunt. "Yes, sir."
"Well, it seems to me you are going about it the right way. You are actively pursuing your dreams in a very practical manner." Maximus stared into his wine goblet for a moment and swirled the deep red liquid before adding, "What would you like to know about the political situation in this part of the empire?"
But Septimius wasn't finished with the personal questions yet. "Your men think the world of you, sir. They'd proudly give their lives for you. How did you accomplish that?"
Maximus blinked a few times then looked away to contemplate his reply. "You know, I have been asked that many times, and I'm honestly not sure what the answer is except to say that I care for them. I see them as individual men, not merely extensions of their weapons." Maximus rested his goblet on a table then placed his elbows on his knees and folded his hands, propping his
chin on top. He looked very thoughtful and Septimius studied him intently. "I guess it comes down to the fact that I would never ask them to do anything that I wouldn't do myself," he looked at his guest, "and they know it."
The two men silently regarded each other for a moment, then Maximus sat back and folded his hands behind his head and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankle. "Now, what would you like to know about life in this part of the world?"
"Everything, sir... " Septimius dropped his eyes as he suddenly realized how much time he was demanding of the general.
"Well, let's start with the tribes that are so heartily opposed to us being in this area. It's hard to keep track of them, really, because they are very fluid. Their chiefs are constantly changing depending on which man has the most monetary influence, or the most dynamic personality at the moment. And they are constantly realigning their alliances. So, a tribe can be on its own with a few hundred men one week and then re-emerge as a power ten times that strong another.
"Are you able to keep track of all of this?"
"We certainly try to. If we fail, or make a mistake, it is to our peril. The mountainous lands beyond the Danube are controlled mostly by four main tribes -- the Sarmatians, the Marcomanni, the Quadi and the Iazyges. They're smart, strong and determined people and they should never be underestimated. They see us a threat to their way of life, and are afraid of being enslaved -- with good reason. The Roman empire has more often than not behaved in that manner." Maximus rose and clasped his hands behind his back, then paced slowly, looking for all the world like a teacher giving a lecture. "It was Trajan, of course, who pushed the empire this far north by fighting the Dacians further east of here -- a well-established civilization. They were far from being the savages that Romans like to think they were. They had a strong government, established trade and commerce, skilled craftsmen and engineers, even an alphabet. Something as simple as the iron crampons that our soldiers now use for walking on snow and ice came from them."
"Those wars are commemorated on a great column in Rome."
"So I understand."
"You mean you've never seen it?"
"I've never been to Rome. The emperor keeps me too busy here and when I have any free time I go straight home."
"You must see it someday, sir. It's magnificent. It's so high that you have to view it from the windows of nearby buildings to see the whole thing. It's colorful and the legionnaires even have little bronze swords in their hands. The story of the battles wraps around and around it in bands." He stopped when he realized that Maximus had propped his hip against a table and was
regarding him with amusement, his arms crossed. "Go on, sir."
"Hmm?"
"You were saying about the Dacians...?"
"Oh. My point is that it is too easy to dismiss our enemy as savages who deserve to be put out of their misery by the great Roman empire."
"It sounds like you admire them, sir."
"I respect them. It is always wise to respect your enemy, Septimius."
The tribune nodded, eager to receive any words of wisdom from this great man. "Does Marcus Aurelius intend to push further into their territory, sir?" Septimius knew he had made a mistake when Maximus straightened and his blue eyes narrowed dangerously. His deep voice lowered to a level that was almost a growl.
"That is classified information, Septimius. I am not at liberty to divulge the plans of our emperor."
"Of... of... course not... sir," the tribune stuttered. He took a deep breath, stunned at how terrifyingly intimidating this general could be, and he was relieved when Maximus' friendly demeanor returned.
"You must know where to draw the line in your curiosity, Septimius," Maximus said lightly.
"Yes, sir, I know. That was unforgivable of me. I'm sorry."
Maximus nodded his acceptance of the apology and said, "We certainly aren't going to relinquish land that we already have." He walked to the door, indicating the end of their meeting and extended his hand again which Septimius readily grasped.
"Come back tomorrow morning and I will have a letter prepared that will grant you entry into any of my legions along the rivers. You are welcome to visit and learn what you can about this part of the empire while you are here. Rest assured, though, that if we are attacked, I shall enlist your services immediately."
"It would be an honor, sir! Thank you, sir. Thank you for allowing me to monopolize so much of your time. You have certainly not disappointed me, sir. I can't wait to tell--"
At Maximus' lopsided smile and slight shake of the head, Septimius wisely decided to say no more and quickly exited the tent, thrilled that he had finally met his hero. And he had not been disappointed. Oh, he had not been disappointed at all!
Chapter 67 – Early Spring A.D. 175
By the time Maximus approached Vindobona, two months after he had parted ways with Felix III, he was satisfied that he had accomplished all that he had set out to do. He knew that the legions under his command were well prepared for raids from barbarian tribes but he had ordered soldiers to continue repairing camps, watchtowers, walls and other reinforcements along the Rhine and Danube Rivers anyway.
His mood was uplifted, also, by the sour smell of mud in the air and the tiny, tight purple buds that dotted the tree branches overhead. The sky that appeared through them was more often blue than gray now and the soft, golden sunlight flitted across the soldier's faces in lacey patterns. Patches of yellow and blue wild flowers on delicate stems poked through the crisp brown leaves that blanketed the sides of the road. Snowdrifts in the shadows of the trees shrunk daily, creating pools of still water as well as rivulets that ran down the sides of the roads only to freeze at night before thawing again in the morning sun. Squirrels scolded the unit of soldiers from the top boughs of the tall oaks and Maximus spotted a doe and spotted fawn in the woods, halting the procession so he could observe them until they scampered away, not caring that his action caused some amusement among the guards.
Maximus loved the spring. It was the time of the year for birth: lambs, goats, calves, foals, and his own baby. He smiled when he pictured his wife as she awaited the birth of their second child and hoped that she was not too uncomfortable. He clearly remembered the arrival of his son and desperately wished that he could be there to claim the baby as his own and name the child, but that honor would be left to his father-in-law who would act in Maximus' place at his request. He didn't know how long it would be before he would be able to hold the precious bundle in his own arms.
Maximus was anxious to resume his correspondence with his wife. Before he had set out on his journey along the rivers he had sent her a letter telling her that he would be unable to receive her correspondence until he returned, although he still sent her weekly letters from whatever legion he was visiting at the time. He was anxious to spend a few leisurely hours catching up on any news from Spain and he hoped that at least a couple of packets would be awaiting him.
As he approached the camp gate he was pleased to see that another story had been added, pushing its height four floors high, with sturdy stone watchtowers at each end. It was an impressive entrance to the camp which was more like a fortress now. He eyed the defenses as he passed -- concealed ditches called lilies that harbored sharp lances, as well as deep V-shaped ditches
containing spikes set on an angle to gut any man or horse that tried to jump them. The high walls were solid stone with watchtowers at each corner. He felt confident that the camp was secure.
The guards in the gate towers hailed their general and he responded with a jaunty wave and a grin. It was good to be back. As Maximus dismounted inside the gate a group of centurions and tribunes gathered around him offering warm greetings. In the process of shaking each hand, he was suddenly almost knocked to his knees from behind. Steadied by a soldier, he turned to face a frontal onslaught by furry muzzle and sopping tongue. "Herc--," he started to say but the same tongue slopped into his open mouth and Maximus screwed up his face, spitting and sputtering as he grabbed the dog by his scruff and hauled him backwards, pinning him between his knees. "Yech!' he spat as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand to the raucous laughter of the surrounding soldiers. "Well, you appear to be completely healed! Look how fat you've become!"
Maximus crouched and inspected his dog who continued to lick and paw at him. "I can't even feel your ribs. You're badly in need of some exercise, Hercules." He stood again and mockingly lowered his eyebrows and his voice. "I hope the rest of you didn't get fat like that while I was off working hard."
"No, General," ventured one centurion. "We were working very hard too."
"I can see that. The gate looks very strong and imposing. Well done."
The soldiers exchanged glances and smiles. "Tired, General?" asked one.
"Not too bad, Fabius, but I wouldn't mind cleaning up, though. I'll brief the officers after I've done that." Maximus headed for his tent, Hercules and a gaggle of soldiers right at his heel. He turned to face them, hands on his hips. "Is there something that I should know about?"
"Uh, no sir. I don't think so, sir," said a straight-faced centurion, the only one of the group who seemed to be able to control his mirth.
What were they up to, Maximus wondered? As he rounded a corner, and the praetorium came into view, he stopped dead and stared. He glanced around quickly to make sure he was in the right place then peered at the spot where his tent had been pitched. It was gone. In its place stood a sturdy gray stone structure with a pitched slate roof. Jonivus lounged in the doorway, a huge grin on his face.
"Welcome home, General." The engineer bowed as deeply as his stomach would allow and extended his arm, indicating that
Maximus was to precede him inside.
"What's all this, Jonivus?"
"It's a house, sir. We had a bit of stone left over after we re-built the gates, and we were in a building mood, so we decided to keep going."
Maximus stood in the doorway and stared inside. "A house?" he said, obviously bewildered.
"Your house, General. Come in, come in!" Jonivus tugged excitedly at his arm. "It's plain but very comfortable as you will see."
The engineer ushered Maximus into the shady atrium and the soldiers crowded around the door behind them, straining to see the general's reaction to their handiwork.
He stood just inside the door at a total loss for words. Hercules sat by his side, his long tail sweeping the floor.
Jonivus was undeterred by his general's silence. "It has all of the features of any good Roman house, sir, including the courtyard -- only on a smaller scale, as you can see. Why don't you have a look at it?"
Maximus stepped into the sunny space and crouched to inspect the flowers that had been carefully planted there -- the same delicate wild flowers that he had admired along the roadside. A beautifully carved stone bench and table had been placed in a position to catch the sunshine and were reflected in the small pool designed to collect rainwater. Maximus caught a blossom between his fingers allowing him time to master his emotions before he faced Jonivus. When he stood, his eyes were dry but his
husky voice betrayed his emotions. "You did this?"
"I designed it, sir, but the men over there -- they built it." He indicated the doorway where soldiers completely blocked the light in their bid to see and hear their general's response.
Maximus swallowed hard before facing them and saying softly, "I am overwhelmed. Absolutely overwhelmed."
Jonivus gave a thumbs-up signal to the soldiers and they laughed and pounded each other on the back in congratulations. Maximus started to walk towards the legionnaires but Jonivus grabbed his arm again. "We're not finished yet, sir. Touch the floor in the atrium."
"The floor?"
"Yes. Touch it."
Maximus knelt and spread his hand over the tesselated concrete. "It's warm!" he exclaimed as he looked up at Jonivus.
"It's heated sir. All of the main rooms are -- underground. You see, there is a furnace under your bedroom, sir, and spaces under the floor that carry the heat all over the house. You won't have to be cold anymore, sir. It's just too bad we didn't get this done last autumn so you could have enjoyed it all winter. You won't need warming pans to heat your bed now, sir. Come with me and I'll show you how it works."
"Stay here," Maximus ordered as Hercules seemed inclined to follow them down the steep stairs. Jonivus positively beamed as he showed off his skills. "The floors are supported on stone piers -- you see, sir?" asked Jonivus as he held a torch high for Maximus' inspection. "The furnace is here and is fed by wood. We have quite a supply of wood in these parts, sir. The floors will heat up slowly, but once they do they will stay warm for a long time." He looked at the beads of sweat developing on Maximus' forehead. "Sorry, sir, I know it's very hot down here but we won't stay long. You can see that the heat and gases from the fire go under the floors and then pass through tile-lined flues in the walls before the escaping under the eaves of the roof. It's called a hypocaust system and only the best homes have them. What we'll do is warm it up for you in the late afternoon, sir, so the house will be warm at night, then let it cool in the morning so you won't be roasted out during the day. This way, sir."
The heat underground was oppressive and Maximus quickly followed the engineer back up the stairs, wiping the sweat out of his eyes with his sleeve.
"Let me show you your bedroom now, sir. There's one for you and another for a guest, like the emperor, and Cicero has a small one so he can be close by.
They moved back out to the courtyard then into an exposed corridor supported by columns before pushing open a heavy wooden door to enter the bedroom. Jonivus shut the door behind them to illustrate that light could enter the room from a series of iron-grilled windows high in the wall. At night shutters could be closed to keep the heat in or left open in the summer to let the heat escape.
Maximus gazed around him. The room was much larger than his tent had been but his bed, couch, trunks, desk, chairs, cupboard and rugs had been moved in and carefully arranged the way they had been in the tent. All of this thanks to Cicero, no doubt, who was currently fussing with linens in the large cupboard, his back to the visitors.
"Cicero, did you know I was to have a house?"
"Nice to have you back, sir. No, I didn't. Not until they came to rip down the tent. I had a very short time to get your belongings organized and out." He cast a derisive look at Jonivus who ignored him.
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Cicero," Maximus said, "but it looks like you will benefit as well from the warm floors."
"Yes, well that part's nice but don't expect Hercules to sleep beside your bed anymore. We tried out this place last night and I put him in your bedroom to get him used to it. In the middle of the night I heard him whining and scratching at the door. I let him out and he made a bee-line for the courtyard where he threw himself into the pool then lapped it almost dry. He slept the rest ofthe night out there."
Maximus glanced at the dog and noticed that he was already panting so he let the big animal outside again. Maximus shrugged at his engineer. "He's not used to such luxury, Jonivus." He shifted uncomfortably. "Quite frankly, I may be somewhat uncomfortable myself when I know my men are freezing in their tents and I am warm in here. A little guilty, you understand."
"Sir, you are not an ordinary soldier and you should not be treated as one. Rest assured that the officers and soldiers discussed whether or not we should go ahead with this house and the answer was an overwhelming 'yes'. The men who built it gave of their time freely... and so did the one who decorated it."
Maximus' eyes followed Jonivus' pointed finger to a painting of a magnificent golden eagle with it's wings wide-spread over the door of his bedroom.
"A youngster named Polybius did that," explained Jonivus. "He ground all the pigment himself and he's mighty proud of it. He painted that eagle while the walls were still wet so it should survive for a long time. He'll paint the rest of the plaster walls for you when you decide what you want on them, sir."
Jonivus wasn't finished with his surprises, though. He pushed open another door off the bedroom and proudly proclaimed,
"And this here is your private bath. Also nice and warm."
"I don't know how to thank you, Jonivus."
"The look on your face when you first saw this house was all the thanks I need, sir. I hope you can spend some peaceful and restful time in your new home-away-from-home."
Maximus did a slow circle around the room and turned to Jonivus and Cicero with a gleam in his eye. "Why don't we do more than warm the floors of this place? Jonivus, go tell the cooks to prepare a feast and let's have a party. All of the men are invited -- although I hope they all don't show up at the same time. I don't know any other way of thanking them."
Jonivus was enthusiastic. "That's a wonderful idea, sir. The men who built it would love to show it off to the others."
"Make sure you introduce me to those men because I want to thank each one personally."
"Of course, sir," called an elated Jonivus as he headed for the camp kitchens.
Maximus shouted after him, "And tell the cooks not to be stingy with the wine!" He then sat down on his bed and whistled for Hercules. Moments later the big dog poked his head around the doorframe but seemed reluctant to enter the room.
"Hercules, come over here." Maximus pointed to a place between his feet and the dog put his tail between his legs and trotted over."
Maximus smiled and scratched behind the animal's ears as he addressed Cicero in an accusing tone. "You let him get fat."
"What! I!" stammered the servant. "I'll have you know, sir, that that dog got fat all by himself."
Maximus raised his eyebrows waiting for an explanation.
"His leg healed weeks ago but every day he goes from tent to tent looking for sympathy and food. I watched him one day and do you know what he did? He walked quite normally until he got close to the door of the tent, then he started to limp and whine. When the soldiers came outside they fussed over the poor hurt doggie and gave him food. He went from tent to tent doing this. When I warned them not to feed the dog they just said I was being mean!"
Maximus laughed and grabbed Hercules by the chin but the dog refused to meet his eyes. "From now on your rations are cut, Hercules, and the soldiers' tents are off limits." He ruffled the dog's fur then let him retreat to cooler climes again.
"Do you have my mail, Cicero?"
"Yes, sir. There's not very much this time." Cicero handed Maximus two letters.
"I told Olivia that I wouldn't be here" Maximus frowned as he inspected a letter from Spain that was not in his wife's handwriting, "Šo get my mail."
Cicero turned and headed for the door. "While you do that, I'll just go and ..."
But Maximus did not hear Cicero's last words because he was scanning the letter from his brother-in-law, Titus. As he did, he slowly sank to the bed, his legs like water and his hands trembling so hard he could barely make out the words.
About an hour later Cicero knocked on the door to Maximus' bedroom. Hearing no answer, he pushed it open with his shoulder, his arms full of linens to be out in the cupboards. After lighting a few candles he hummed as he worked, organizing Maximus' clothing into piles according to use. Finished, he turned and started violently, his hand flying to his heart. Maximus was there after all, sitting in the same spot Cicero had last seen him, his face buried in his hands, his body rocking slowly back and forth.
"Maximus?" Cicero inquired softly, afraid to startle him.
The rocking continued. The floor at Maximus' feet was littered with wadded up papyrus. "Maximus... are you ill?"
Maximus started to nod then shook his head instead, his face still buried.
Cicero moved swiftly towards the door. "I'm going to get a surgeon."
"No... NO!" implored Maximus, causing Cicero to turn and approach him slowly. He gasped when Maximus finally lifted his face -- his mottled cheeks and puffy red eyes a clear indication that he had been crying.
Maximus drew a shuddering breath and whispered, "My baby's dead. Cicero, my daughter is dead."
Chapter 68 - Grief
Marcianus sat on a leather-bound chair and watched Maximus pace, tying to offer what little comfort he could.
“Why, Marcianus? Why did it happen? Why couldn’t she live?”
“Maximus, the letter says that your daughter was born many weeks before her time—“
“But Titus said that she looked perfect; that she was flawless.”
“On the outside maybe, but her little lungs may not have been fully developed, or her heart. His letter says that she lived for a few hours but she wasn’t strong enough to survive outside the womb on her own.”
“But why was she born too soon?” Maximus pounded his fist on the carved oak desk in a mixture of grief, frustration and anger.
“I don’t know. It happens often, I’m afraid. I know that is no comfort to you now, but it does happen often. Maximus, both you and Olivia have to understand that it was no one’s fault. It just happened.”
Maximus grabbed a page of papyrus and thrust it towards his friend but Marcianus’ eyes never left his general’s stricken face.
“The second letter is from Olivia. She wrote it a few days after our daughter’s death. She blames herself, Marcianus. She feels that she did something to precipitate the premature birth. She says that she feels that she has failed me. Look—look at the tear stains on it.”
“Then you must write her a letter right away assuring her that is not true.”
“Of course it isn’t true,” moaned Maximus, “but she blames herself anyway. And my son can’t understand what has happened to his baby sister.”
“It’s difficult for anyone to comprehend, much less a child. I know this won’t help, Maximus, but I have lost two children, both boys. When it happens it seems like the world should stop but it doesn’t. The sun keeps rising. You go on living.”
Maximus stopped pacing and stared at his friend. “I’m so sorry, Marcianus. How did they die?”
“The first was born dead and the second was a situation very much like yours, but he lived for a few months.”
“Were you there when it happened?”
“Yes, both times. I’m a surgeon and I still couldn’t save them. You couldn’t have saved your daughter either. Don’t torment yourself.”
“My father-in-law didn’t even have time to claim Maxima as my daughter, it all happened so fast. I could have at least done that if I had been there. She died without being acknowledged as my daughter.
“That’s just a formality, Maximus.” Marcianus had known Maximus since he was a boy and he felt the loss of his friend’s daughter in his own heart. “Maxima. Who named her?”
“Olivia did. She didn’t want our baby to die nameless. She is buried in one of my favorite spots on the farm. Under a tree—a huge poplar just inside the front gate to my farm.”
“Maximus, when a very young baby dies it is usually for a reason. If she had lived she may have suffered and you would not have wanted that.” Marcianus rose and grabbed Maximus by the shoulders to force him to stand still for a moment. “Look, why don’t you go to Olivia? You need each other right now.”
“I can’t, Marcianus.”
“Why not?”
“The emperor has forbidden all leaves.”
“He’ll make an exception for you.”
“Too many exceptions have been made for me already. Do you notice anyone else around here with their own house? No. No,I will not leave.”
“I could give you medical leave.”
“No, Marcianus.” Maximus shrugged free of his grasp. “IŠ I appreciate your concern but I will be fine and so will Olivia. I cannot leave at this time. Maybe in autumn when things quiet down again.” Maximus looked at the closed bedroom door and sighed heavily. “Do the men know?”
“Yes. When the party was cancelled they wondered why and we thought it best to tell them. They don’t know all the details.
Maximus, let me give you some advice based on experience. Take time to grieve and don’t try to force yourself to get over the loss of your child too soon.”
Maximus nodded. “They won’t understand, will they?”
“Who?”
“My men. They won’t understand why I am so upset over the loss of a girl child.”
“They may not. Few man can afford the luxury of female children.”
“Do you understand?”
“Yes, I do. Nothing will replace her Maximus, but you are young and will have more children... healthy sons and daughters; and they will give you dozens of grandchildren; and you will die an old, old man surrounded by generations of loved ones.”
A smile briefly touched Maximus’ face before it dissipated, replaced again by sadness tempered by hope. “You think so?”
“Of course. Now, I am going to leave and give you the time you need to be alone, and I’ll tell everyone else to leave you alone until you wish to seek their company. Let me warn you, though, if I do not see you within a few days, I am coming in to get you. You can grieve without isolating yourself as you have a tendency to do.”
Maximus’ eyes widened momentarily, then he scowled. “You’re the second person who has told me that.”
“It’s true.”
He made a gesture of futility with his hands. “I don’t mean to do it.”
“I know. It’s just the type of man you are but sometimes you think too much.” Marcianus smiled warmly then headed for the door, his eyes drawn to the golden eagle above the frame. Watch over your general tonight, he said silently to the symbol of Rome’s greatness and power, then looked back at Maximus. “Do you want me to let Hercules in?”
Maximus bent and touched the floor. “There’s no point. It’s warm so he won’t stay.”
“You know where I am if you need anything. Goodnight, Maximus.”
“Thanks, Marcianus.”
Maximus stood still for a long while before finally moving to his desk where he collected ink and papyrus. How could his world feel so empty after losing a child he had never even seen? And how would he ever find the words to express his pain to his wife and offer her comfort at the same time?
Claws raked the outside of the door. Maximus opened it to find Hercules sitting, staring up at him with luminous brown eyes.
“You want to come in? I’m warning you, it’s warm in here.”
Hercules entered the room with quiet dignity, his claws clicking on the cement floor, then quieting as he stepped on the colorful woven rug beside Maximus’ desk. When Maximus sat down to write, the big dog placed his chin in his master’s knee, not shifting a muscle for the hours that it took for Maximus to pen the most difficult words he had ever had to write.
Chapter 69 – Quintus Returns
Maximus sat astride Argento on the hill directly above the camp and stared at the forest on the opposite side of the Danube. After repeated tugs on the reins, the stallion finally won the privilege to lower his head and chomp at the roots of succulent new shoots of grass. Yellow butterflies flitted around the horse's nose and he snorted repeatedly to shoo them away, occasionally tossing his mane to discourage biting spring flies that buzzed around his ears.
A huge bumble bee droned lazily towards Maximus and he watched it coming, transfixed by the graceful flight of such an ungainly insect, until it came so close that his eyes crossed trying to focus on it and he ducked out of its way. The bee then dove towards a bright yellow flower that waved above Hercules' head as he lay low in the grass. The dog's jaws snapped at the bee mercifully missing the bug that then meandered away, leaving Hercules to return to his original position. His eyebrows twitched as he eyed newly dug holes and patiently waited to pounce on any young rabbit unfortunate enough to show its head.
Maximus distractedly waved a hand in front of his face to force away the mosquitoes and black flies as they searched for easier prey than the horse. He slapped his neck as one found the soft skin behind his ear. Maximus scratched at the offended spot then ran his hand over his sun-warmed neck, resigned to accept the inconveniences of spring along with its pleasures.
The man on the horse appeared to be totally relaxed, even drowsy, but his eyes and mind were focussed on the thick forest on the opposite side of the river where the full leaves now made it impossible to detect any movement within the trees. So far everything was quiet but his scouts had told him that the two largest tribes -- the Marcomanni and Quadi -- were holding intense meetings and could to have formed an alliance. That was not good news.
"I thought I'd find you here."
Maximus twisted in his saddle to face the familiar voice.
"Sleeping under the warm sun, were you? Wouldn't the barbarians love to find you like that. Good thing your guards are looking out for you," grinned Quintus as he edged his horse beside his general's.
Maximus grasped his legate's hand. "Quintus, it's wonderful to have you back. How are you, my friend?"
"Just fine, and glad to be back." He glanced across the river. "It's nice to see that all is quiet."
"It won't be for long, I'm afraid. Come, let's sit over there in the shade. I want to hear all about your trip." Maximus dismounted and headed for a couple of large rocks jutting from the side of the hill beside a grove of young oak trees. "You look well."
"I am well," replied Quintus as he settled among the buttercups, his back against a boulder. He plucked a strand of grass and chewed on the succulent end. Maximus sat beside him on a flat rock, one knee drawn up supporting his right forearm, while Hercules continued to try his luck at the rabbit holes.
"Is there any news from Rome?" Maximus prompted when Quintus remained silent.
"Nothing politically exciting. Calpurnius Piso and Salvius Julianus were elected consuls shortly before I left. The big news is that the empress died a month ago."
"Annia Galeria Faustina died? Commodus had mentioned that she was not well." Maximus had met the empress only once and had not been particularly impressed with her, but she had been the wife of his emperor and he hated to think that Marcus Aurelius was distraught. "Is the emperor there?"
"The whole family was there when I left and Rome was officially in mourning."
"Did you see them?"
"No, but my father told me that Commodus is extremely upset and that Lucilla is comforting both her brother and father."
"I guess that means that we won't be seeing Marcus here for a while. Let's hope the Germanians behave themselves." Maximus then shifted moods with a quickness so familiar to Quintus and turned the conversation to personal matters. "What about you?" he smiled. "How was your trip?"
"Fine."
Maximus quirked an eyebrow. "Married...?" he ventured.
"As ordered."
"What!" Maximus burst out laughing causing Hercules to momentarily stop his hunting, his ears alert to his master's voice. "Quintus, you are nothing if not a dutiful soldier." He nudged his companion's shoulder with his elbow.
"What's her name?"
"Antonia."
"Antonia," Maximus repeated. "Where did you meet her?"
"At our wedding."
"Hmm, an arranged marriage. Such a romantic."
Quintus shrugged. "You're the family man. So... tell me, what was it this time? Another son?"
Maximus turned his face away and stared at the distant purple peaks. "A daughter."
Surprised at Maximus' solemn expression Quintus asked, "That displeases you?"
"She died shortly after birth."
Unaccustomed to sentimentality, Quintus groped for words to express his sympathy. "I'm sorry," was all he could manage.
Maximus nodded.
They sat in silence for a while, Quintus decidedly uneasy. "I hear that happens a lot... babies dying. It... it's not like you actually saw her..."
"I did, Quintus, in my mind. She looked exactly like her mother. Beautiful with black curls and fair skin. She had a sweet smile and voice like a little bell."
"Don't dwell on it, Maximus. It was obviously not meant to be."
"You know, Quintus, many people have said that to me lately, and I've thought about it a lot, but what I don¹t understand is this: if I was not meant to have a daughter then why was she conceived in the first place?"
"Maybe you were meant to lose a daughter."
"And why would that be?" Maximus challenged.
"Maybe it makes you an even stronger man. Maybe it makes you appreciate life more. Maximus...," Quintus' voice held a touch of exasperation, "you question too much."
Silence.
Quintus glanced at the firm set of Maximus' jaw and searched for some way to lighten the conversation. "I saw your new house. Getting a touch soft in your middle years? Heated floors, an indoor bathroom... pretty soon you'll start looking as round as Jonivus, you'll be so spoiled."
Maximus' lips twitched. "Jealous?"
"Damn right."
"Well on cold, blustery nights you can join me for a game of chess... before you retire to your dark, frigid tent to shiver all night."
"You're too kind."
"I have to admit that I've never felt so safe in any camp. Even if the barbarians got through the gate they'd still have a tough time getting to me, all snug in my own little fortress."
That gave Quintus the opening he'd been looking for to turn the conversation back to business. "Did you say that you expect trouble from the tribes soon?"
Maximus nodded. "It's too quiet. There hasn't been a sign of trouble on either side of the river and you know how unusual that is this time of year. Our scouts fear that the main tribes are forming an alliance and that could mean big problems for us when they finally figure out how to govern it."
"Then we must keep the men well prepared. Drills every day." Quintus was relieved that the talk was no longer personal. They were soldiers. Soldiers didn't dwell on personal matters.
"Yes. Complacency is another of our enemies."
"Would you like me to handle it?"
Maximus nodded again. "Now that you're here I'm free to travel the river road and monitor the forts and camps to ensure that all of the legions are as ready as ours."
Quintus was pleased to be given the responsibility of commanding the legion once more. This time he wouldn't make any mistakes.
The two men rose and mounted their horses. They continued discussing their plans as they trotted back to camp, Hercules ahead of them, racing off his frustration after an unsuccessful day of rabbit hunting.
Capítulo 70 - Colonia
By early September, Maximus knew the 2500 mile river route so well he thought he could ride it in his sleep -- and he wasn't sure that he didn't sometimes. He had long since stopped noticing the beauty of the majestic countryside and simply stared straight ahead as he rode letting his mind drift and his guards lead the way. It was the only time now that he got to be alone with his thoughts and he relished these moments of privacy where he didn't have to talk military strategy or make decisions involving the lives of thousands of men. Spring had melted into a sultry summer with barely a notice from Maximus, then summer had transformed into crisp autumn with as much attention.
After over last three months of peace, during what was usually the most volatile time of the year, it was growing increasingly difficult to keep the soldiers' minds on their jobs when they couldn't see any immediate threat. Many thought that the time spent on daily drilling could be put to better use but Maximus reasoned that the long period of peace was simply breeding even more vicious assaults than usual. More than a few men had to be disciplined by their generals for insubordination, but none in Felix III, fortunately, because Quintus was doing a good job of keeping the soldiers on task. Maximus had seen little of his home camp -- Vindobona had become simply a place of rest along his route.
Maximus could smell the smoke from the cooking fires in the village near the camp and he rotated his head to work the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. He longed for his own bed and his personal belongings. The little carvings were always with him, of course, but he didn't carry anything else of his family for fear of loss or damage. Olivia's letters and drawings were carefully squirreled away in his chest and he hoped new correspondence would be waiting for him.
As he and his guards passed through the village he raised a hand to acknowledge the friendly greetings of the locals. Their very existence depended on this military camp and General Maximus made sure that they were paid a fair wage for their crafts and produce. Village whores hiked up their skirts a bit higher as he rode by, and thrust their breasts forward so their nipples strained against the thin fabric -- but Maximus ignored them as usual. These women had made wagers on which one of them would get him first, but so far none had collected. The had to settle, instead, for the enlisted men and called out to the guards by name as they rode by, to their great embarrassment in front of the general.
Maximus felt the tension drain from his body as the camp gates closed behind him and he dismounted, passing Scarto's reins to his handler. He acknowledged the greetings of his men but wasted no time trading pleasantries as he headed for his house. His foot no sooner touched the first step, though, when he hesitated, his attention drawn back to the gates as their heavy groan indicated that they were once more swinging open. He turned and shaded his eyes to examine more closely the disheveled rider who galloped into camp at an unusually frantic pace, his lathered horse heaving and gulping air.
The man slid off the distressed animal and grabbed the nearest soldier by the shoulders, almost shaking him in his haste to relay his message. Maximus watched the soldier's eyes widen then waited on the step as he approached Maximus at a run.
"Sir!"
"What is it, soldier?"
"That man, he's from Colonia. He says the camp's been raided and that almost everyone is dead."
Maximus was wary. "He's a soldier with Germanica II?"
"That's what he says, General. He's demanding to speak to you."
"Give me a few moments then send him to me here. Make sure he's well guarded. We don't really know who he is."
"Yes, sir."
But Maximus didn't even have the chance to step into his atrium before he heard a frantic voice call out to him from the gate: "General! General!. You must come quickly! Colonia. Colonia has been raided!" The courier's voice cracked with emotion. "They're deadŠ they're all dead." He took a step towards Maximus but was halted by the guards.
"Where's Quintus?" Maximus asked the soldier.
"He's with the patrol, sir, outside the camp."
"Find him and tell him I need him."
"Yes, sir." Maximus started to turn away. "Sir?" the soldier added.
"What is it?"
"Please be careful, sir. It could be a trap." He immediately dropped his eyes in shame at offering unrequested advise to this powerful general.
"Thank you, Claudius. I shall be careful." Maximus dismissed him with a smile then turned into the shaded atrium where his smile dissolved as he rubbed the fatigue from his eyes.
"What's your name, soldier?"
"Paullus, General."
"Paullus, are you a soldier with Germanica II stationed at Colonia?"
The young man nodded and raised his bloodshot eyes to meet the calming gaze of General Maximus. "I was, sir. There's few left. Butchered. All butchered." He glanced at the two armed guards standing at attention beside his chair and his chin quivered with emotion.
"When did the raid occur?"
"About two weeks ago, sir. At night."
"Who raided Colonia?"
"The Marcomanni, sir. There were thousands of them -- more men than were in our entire legion -- and they attacked at night while we slept. They slaughtered unarmed men..." The sentence ended on a strangled sob.
Maximus nodded to Cicero who gave the distraught man cool watered wine which he downed in one long swallow.
Maximus rose and paced, his hands clasped behind his back. "What happened to your general?"
"He's dead. General Solinus is dead. I know that you don't necessarily believe me, sir, and I don’t blame you. But, I saw you at Colonia no more than a month ago. You ordered the north wall to be built higher and extra patrols outside the gate. You stayed three days, I think. And the time before that, that soldier from Africa visited you there. Remember?"
Maximus sighed and rubbed his neck to try to check the headache that was growing there. "There are many legions much closer to Colonia than this one. Did you alert them on your way here?"
"Yes, sir. They are sending men to Colonia but General Nonius told me to keep riding until I found you."
"You did the right thing, Paullus. I'll leave for Colonia in the morning with some of my cavalry. I can't leave this fort defenseless." Maximus raked his hands through his short hair. "I just hope I don't find any more raided camps along the way."
"Maximus? Is there trouble?" Quintus inquired from the doorway.
Maximus regarded his legate with weary eyes. "It's begun, Quintus."
The putrid odor of burning flesh assaulted Maximus' nostrils before he could even see the camp. A guard behind him gagged but the general coughed, swallowed hard and continued on. He galloped around the bend leading to the camp gate and drew Argento to a sudden halt, totally unprepared for the extent of the devastation that he saw through the missing gate. Inside the scorched walls, the camp was almost non-existent -- not much more than a pile of burned-out rubble. Soldiers that had reached the camp before him were wearing cloth masks over their noses and mouths as they burned the remains of the soldiers of Germanica II, white ash swirling around their heads. When they saw Maximus they nodded then proceeded with their grim task.
The legate from XV Primigenia approached him. "It's terrible what happened here, General. At least three thousand dead inside the camp and another thousand or so in the woods -- cut down as they tried to escape. They were gutted, heads split open... terrible."
"Where there any survivors?" asked Maximus as he surveyed the damage from his horse.
"A few, sir, but most have refused to talk."
"Why?"
"Too ashamed, I would think. Ashamed that they didn't die with the others."
"I'm going to set up camp with my men on the hill upwind of this place. Send a survivor who will talk to me at dusk. I want to have a look around." Maximus' immediate concern was to discover how the tribesmen had taken the camp so completely by surprise that they could kill almost all of the inhabitants. It must not happen again.
He poked and prodded the ground around the base of the scorched stone walls, stirring up dirt and white ash, but finding evidence of rope, knotted to form ladders. That could have been how the men had scaled the walls. Further investigation revealed sections of sturdy timber boards that had obviously spanned the ditches with their pointed spikes that surrounded the outside of the walls. But putting those in place would have taken organization and the guards should easily have had time to alert the soldiers to the invasion. Obviously, the guards had been silenced before then. But how? There should have been close to thirty of them on duty at the time.
He needed to talk to the survivors.
Maximus smiled and offered the shaken man a seat before sitting down opposite him. "What is your name, soldier?"
"Licinius, sir," said the man in a tremulous voice as he hunched uncomfortably in his seat, his arms folded around his waist.
"And where are you from, Licinius?"
"Spain, sir, like you." Licinius lifted his eyes for the first time, as if pleading for understanding from a fellow provincial.
"Really? Where in Spain?"
"Bilbilis, sir."
"Ah... I've been through there many times. It's a beautiful place."
Licinius whimpered and nodded.
"Licinius, I'm sure you're anxious to go home -- and you certainly deserve a long leave after what you have been through."
"I don't deserve--"
"You did nothing wrong, Licinius," Maximus interrupted. "You were lucky to survive."
Tears streamed down the man's face and he choked out words that Maximus could barely hear. "I hid."
Maximus sighed. "Well, under other circumstances that might not have been inadvisable, but not in this case. I understand that the soldiers were ambushed and badly outnumbered."
"Yes, sir."
"What I have to figure out is how this happened to make sure that other camps are not vulnerable in the same way. I need your help to do that. Do you understand?"
The soldier nodded.
"Can you tell me what happened -- what you remember -- in as much detail as possible?"
"I woke up in the middle of the night -- it was pitch black outside -- when guards started shouting. We ran outside in our nightclothes -- me and hundreds of others -- and we saw the general's tent in flames. The guards were shouting and pointing to it. So, we ran to get water and do whatever we could. There was so much confusion..."
"Did you see the general?"
"No sir. He never came out. The flames spread fast because it was windy and all of the men came running out of their tents."
"Obviously without their weapons."
"Yes, sir. Weapons wouldn't be much good to fight a fire."
Maximus nodded his agreement. "Do you know if the guards remained at their posts while the fires were burning?"
"I think some did, sir, but I saw some come and join us -- it was the general's tent, sir -- we had to try to save him."
"I understand, Licinius. I'm not trying to place blame; just to understand the events of that night. Is it safe to assume that while the soldiers were trying to put out fires the tribesmen came over the walls?"
"Yes, sir. All of the walls. They came from all directions, screaming and shouting. They had fearsome weapons and they just cut men down left and right. We didn't have a chance."
"Can you describe the tribesmen -- what they were wearing? Their weapons?"
"They had real long hair, sir. Some tied it on top of their heads so it hung down like a tail but mostly it hung around their faces. The leaders sometimes wore helmets -- tall pointy things. They wore tunics with long sleeves, I think.
Some had capes -- real crude things."
"Their weapons?"
"Shields made of wood -- some tall oval-like and some more rectangular -- and scooped like a dish. They had axes and some had swords. They had javelins too, and bows."
"Did any wear armor?"
"I don't think so, at least none that I saw."
Maximus digested this information. "What did they steal?"
"Everything, sir. Weapons, clothing, armor, horses, carts, animals, food -- everything. They turned our own weapons on us. I saw them shove soldiers into tents then light them on fire and burn the men alive. Others they hacked down and gutted. It was terrible..." Licinius broke down and sobbed.
Maximus rose and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've told me what I need to know, Licinius. As soon as you are up to it we'll send you home. Go now and get some rest. You'll stay in this camp with my men."
Licinius left the tent hiccuping and sniffling, wiping his nose on his sleeve. As soon as he was gone Cicero entered the tent with a packet in his hand. "A courier just delivered this, sir. It has the emperor's seal." The servant faded into the shadows as Maximus broke the seal and read the missive, unconsciously stroking his bearded chin as he did so.
"Cicero."
"Yes, sir?" replied the general's servant as he re-emerged into the flickering light.
"The emperor is with XXI Rapax legion between the rivers and he wishes an account of the massacre. I'll ride back there first thing in the morning. You may as well stay here." Cicero left to make the preparations and Maximus stood for some time with the letter in his hand staring at the wall of the tent. Instead of bleached canvas, a beautiful vision with green eyes and dark auburn curls danced before his eyes.
Lucilla was with her father. Lucilla was in Germania.
