Maximus' Story
Chapter 81 - Attack at Vindobona
Maximus sat on Argento in the middle of the crossroads south of Vindobona, his hands holding the reins taut, a signal to the stallion to remain still. The horse obeyed his master's wishes, his only movement the occasional ripple of a shoulder muscle and sweep of his tail to shoo away biting flies that had emerged almost overnight in the mild spring air.
The silence surrounding the horse and rider was almost eerie, broken only by the whistling of the warm wind through the pine needles high overhead. Although quiet, Argento was not relaxed. He felt the tension in the leg muscles of his master, a sure signal that something was soon to happen. Hercules sensed it too but sat calmly beside the horse, his ears pricked and his nose twitching.
Anyone quickly passing by would have thought the Roman general to be alone, but more than two hundred mounted men sat as still and mute as their commander a quarter mile or so down the road behind him. In the surrounding forests almost ten thousand soldiers crouched with equal composure as they awaited his orders.
Maximus remained as still as a statue, his only movement the sweep of his blue eyes as he constantly scanned the road ahead of him. The hot sun beat down on his uncovered head -- his helmet was tucked under his left arm -- causing sweat to bead on his forehead. He felt moisture gather at the base of his throat then drops trickle slowly down the middle of his chest under his brass cuirass.
A brown squirrel darted from the thicket to the right then stopped, startled, as it suddenly noticed the horse and dog. Hercules growled deep in his throat, the hackles on his spine rising.
"No, Hercules." Maximus voice indicated that he would accept no disobedience from the dog.
Confused, the squirrel sat on its haunches and flexed its fuzzy tail as it momentarily held the gaze of the rider. Maximus' lips lifted in an almost imperceptible smile. Hercules glanced up at his master and whined his displeasure. The small animal cringed suddenly and looked in the direction it had been heading, then turned and dashed, chattering, into the thicket from where it had come. Maximus nodded a greeting to young Jonivus who emerged from the woods like a red-headed wraith. "Well?" he asked the young man.
"I'd say they're about an hour away sir and they're headed directly for the village and fort."
"Was the evacuation successful?"
"Yes sir. Not a soul is left. They took most of the animals too. The cavalry should be here anytime, sir."
"And the fort?"
"All appears to be ready, sir, just as you ordered. Archers are on the wall." Jonivus' tone resonated with confidence but Maximus knew that the tribesmen were smart and unpredictable.
"Thank you, Jonivus. You did an excellent job as usual. Tell tribune Libanius that I need to speak to him then go join the others." Jonivus saluted then loped down the road with the grace and speed of a young gazelle, glowing with the praise of his general.
A short time later Maximus heard hooves clomping on the road behind him and he pulled the reins tighter to keep Argento from spinning around to face the new arrival as he was trained to do in battle. Libanius reined in beside Maximus. "General?"
"Libanius we're going to split into three ranks. You take three centuries and move in behind the tribesman from the west as soon as they hit the village. Make very sure that they have not left any men who can get behind you and trap you, do you understand?"
"Yes Sir."
"Tell Petavius to take three centuries and attack from the east. They are to block any escape route in that direction and keep tribesmen away from the villagers in the caves."
"And you, General?"
"I'll lead the majority of the men straight in from the south and back them against the walls of the fort."
"It'll be a terrible battle, sir," Libanius shook his head sadly. "No room for anyone to move. No room for mistakes. Hopefully this will put an end to it."
"There will be heavy casualties," Maximus concurred. "Our aim is to destroy them by attacking from four sides. Right now they believe they are taking us by surprise but they will know otherwise as soon as they see the empty village. They probably also believe that I am somewhere behind them so be very careful because they'll be watching their backs. Hopefully it will be over quickly. We'll move as soon as my cavalry gets here. Wait for my signal." Maximus saluted his tribune with his fist across his chest. "Strength and honor."
"Strength and honor, sir." Libanius galloped back down the road leaving Maximus alone again. His decisions made, he had time to consider the possible consequences of those decisions. Thousands of men would die in the coming hours. As many would be severely injured. He could be in either group. He allowed himself to think briefly of his wife and son then pushed them both from his mind, steeling his concentration on the battle ahead.
A short time later his cavalry approached on the road to his right. Maximus dismounted and crouched. Hercules quickly moved in for an embrace and he affectionately ruffled the big dog's thick fur. Then he scooped up a handful of dirt and rubbed it between his hands, raising it to his nose before he tossed it down and turned to face his men.
Olivia was wrong about the cellar being soundproof. It wasn't soundproof at all. The noise of the battle raging beyond the walls wafted through the trapdoor and down the stairs, muffled and indistinct, but recognizable. Jonivus distracted Marcus by humming loudly and playing games of knuckles. He tried to engage the boy's mother as well but she simply sat on a chair near the stairs, her eyes glassy and hands clenched into knots. Her lips moved soundlessly as she prayed for the safety of her husband.
The sound of grating on the floor above wakened the trio from their troubled sleep and prompted Jonivus to hustle his charges into the farthest corner of the cellar as he brandished a sword, prepared to defend them to the death if the man who appeared in the opening wasn't Roman.
"Olivia?" It was Persius.
"Yes, yes," she cried out as she pushed past Jonivus and ran to the stairs. "What is happening up there? Is it over?"
Persius didn't respond. Instead, he hauled open the door and soon his booted feet appeared on the stairs. He slowly descended and Olivia gasped when she saw his face - bloodied and grim. She was too numb to move and stared at him almost stupidly. "Are you hurt?" she asked as her legs started to tremble.
"No, I'm fine."
"You're covered in blood..."
"It's not mine. I've been helping to bring the wounded into the infirmary.
Jonivus hustled forward. "Olivia, see to your son," he ordered as she continued to stand and stare at her brother. She didn't respond. "Persius, what's happening? Did we win?"
"We maintained control of the fort, if you can call that a win. No villagers died."
"Maximus?" Olivia asked in a fearful voice. "What of Maximus?"
"Mama?" Marcus huddled in a far corner, frightened and alone.
"What of Maximus, Persius?" Her fear escalated as her brother remained mute.
"Mama!" Olivia moved quickly and grabbed her son in her arms, muttering words of comfort that she knew would have no effect at all. She again approached her brother who was looking at Jonivus.
"Persius, what of Maximus!" Her voice was shrill with fear.
"He's wounded -- badly. They're tending him in the field." He looked at Jonivus again. "Your son didn't make it. I'm sorry. He died defending his general."
Jonivus flinched like he had been struck. Olivia sank into the closest chair and broke into uncontrollable sobs. Marcus started to cry, too, in reaction to his mother's grief.
Persius hung his head. "I've never seen anything so terrible... imagined anything so brutal."
Jonivus patted Persius on the shoulder -- so young, he thought. Just like his own boy. "Is Maximus bad?"
"Yes," Persius whispered. "A thigh wound -- an arrow. It's bleeding badly and the surgeons are worried."
Jonivus nodded. "I'll care for Marcus," he said as he took the shivering youngster from the sobbing woman. "You help your sister get control of herself then take her to her husband." Jonivus hoisted Marcus into his arms and the child's little leg rested on the man's ample stomach. "Where did that kitty go, Marcus? Hmm? Come and help me find the wee kitty."
Marcus hugged him tight. "Where's Papa?" he asked, fearful that his mother's grief had something to do with his father. "Where's Papa?"
"You'll see your papa soon, child. Now let's find that kitty..." Jonivus wandered into the dark recesses of the cellar hugging the small boy and wishing he could turn back time.
Persius crouched beside his sister who dabbed at her eyes and hiccuped as she struggled for control of her weeping. "I'm not sure that you should go out there, Olivia."
"I must see Maximus."
"You won't do him any good in this state. You know him. He'll worry more about you than about himself."
"That's true." Olivia managed a little laugh. "Just give me a few moments and I'll be all right." She blew her nose then sniffled. "Poor Jonivus."
"Yes, but there are thousands of other fathers who lost sons today. There are bodies everywhere -- Roman and Germanian. It's hot... the flies are starting to come. It's not a site for you to see, Olivia."
"I must get to Maximus so if I have to see it then--"
"Wait until they bring him in."
"No." She stood, much stronger now and very determined.
Persius rose too and pulled a cloth from inside his tunic, slightly damp from his body heat. "Here... cover your nose and mouth with this. The bodies are starting to rot already and I vomited twice just trying to get in here."
Olivia smiled at her brother ruefully. "Thank you, Persius, for being here with me."
He simply nodded. "The atrium is already full of injured men and the surgeons are operating. You'll have to avert your eyes."
"Blood doesn't bother me."
"There's more than just blood. Besides, many of the men are naked."
Olivia scoffed, "Persius, I grew up with four brothers, I have a husband and a son. What could any man have that I haven't already seen? Now take me to Maximus!"
Persius smiled as he led the way back up the steep stairs.
"Men," she muttered. "They all seem to think they have something so special in their pants!"
Persius chuckled for the first time in three days. His sister would be just fine
Chapter 82 – The barbed arrow
Maximus was lying on his stomach among the trees in the small wood that separated the village from the fort, either having fallen that way or been turned over by the medical personnel who tended him. Marcianus was in the process of immobilizing the general's right leg -- where an arrow projected from his thigh at an odd angle -- so he could be transferred to a stretcher that lay on the ground beside him. A tourniquet had been tied near his groin to staunch the bleeding but his thigh, stripped of its clothing, was running red with blood. Iron rust powder, intended to suppress infection, produced an alarming red-brown color where it mingling with the blood. His uninjured leg was pushed uncomfortably out of the way and bent at the knee. His eyes were closed, his hands balled into tight fists and his mouth open pulling in uneven breaths of air.
Hercules lay nearby, panting, and keeping a close watch on the proceedings. Whenever Maximus groaned the big dog growled a warning to his tormentors and had to be shushed by his master. Occasionally he wandered over to sniff Maximus then lick his face reassuringly.
Olivia dropped to the blood-soaked ground beside her husband, stunned to see her strong man down and helpless.
"My Lady... good," said Marcianus as Maximus' eyes flew open. "You're just in time to help me talk some sense into this stubborn soldier."
Maximus groped for her hand and she squeezed his tightly in both of hers. "You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice uncharacteristically small.
"How could I not come," she whispered close to his ear.
"...never wanted you to see this." Maximus groaned and clenched his teeth as Marcianus slipped boards along both sides of his leg and started to carefully strap them together.
"My Lady," Marcianus explained as he worked, "your husband has taken an arrow in mid-thigh, as you can see, but the location and position is worrisome. As you can also see, it penetrated from the back and is angled towards the inside of his leg, not the front. Unfortunately, because of the heavy muscle, it didn¹t go right through. This is one time when being muscular is not an advantage. It's one of our own arrows so at least we know what we are dealing with."
Olivia was shocked. "His own man shot him?" Her hand froze where it was stroking her husband's hair.
Maximus managed a tight smile. "No, not intentionally. My leg jumped in the way of an archer's intended victim."
Marcianus ignored Maximus' attempt at levity and continued. "It's not poisoned, we know that, and the blood is a lovely, healthy shade of red. It's flowing evenly so we know the arrow did not hit the femoral artery -- but it came awfully close. It also came close to nerves that could have been severed and rendered his leg permanently useless. So, all in all, he's lucky. But... it is one of our most deadly arrows -- heavily barbed -- so I can't pull it out without shredding muscle, tendons and flesh... and probably the artery and nerves too. To do less damage I will have to shove it right through his leg and out the other side, through sections of his flesh that are presently uninjured... my Lady, are you all right?"
Olivia's hand fluttered to her forehead. She was sure that she was going to faint.
"Olivia?" Maximus pushed his shoulders off the ground but Marcianus shoved him back down, unintentionally grinding his general's face into the dirt in his impatience to get on with his work.
"Take deep breaths, my Lady," said the surgeon. "I'm sorry. I should not have talked to you so plainly."
Maximus spit out the dirt and leaves. "Where's Marcus?" he demanded.
The deep breathing had worked and Olivia's head and stomach had settled. "He's with Jonivus," she replied.
Olivia couldn't tell whether Maximus' sudden cringe was due to the surgeon manipulating his wounded leg or the mention of the camp's chief engineer. Maximus turned his head and Olivia followed his gaze to the opposite side of a pine tree where she could see the back of a head covered in blood-soaked wavy red hair. The young man's body sprawled lifelessly among delicate yellow and blue flowers. She stroked the back of her husband's neck in an attempt to sooth him. "He knows, Maximus," she whispered. "He's taken it as well as can be expected."
"My Lady, stand back. We're going to lift him onto the stretcher." Olivia caressed her husband one last time then did as Marcianus asked. The attendants moved in immediately: two of them plus Persius at his shoulders, two supporting his good leg, and the other -- plus Marcianus and another surgeon -- handling his splinted leg. "On the count of three. One... two... three -- lift!"
Maximus buried his face in his hands to muffle his uncontrollable cry of pain as his body was lifted.
Marcianus was entirely unsympathetic. "Serves you right. You won't take the drug that I offered to put you to sleep."
Olivia was horrified. "Maximus -- take the drug."
"No... I can't. I must remain conscious. I still have to make important decisions. I can't be unconscious."
Olivia was baffled. "Well, you'll be unconscious when Marcianus performs the surgery." She glanced at the surgeon who looked back at her with one eyebrow raised and his lips pursed.
"I told you I needed your help with this stubborn man. He elects to have surgery without anesthetic and I can't dissuade him."
Panic rose in Olivia's throat. "Drug him anyway," she instructed Marcianus.
"He wouldn't dare," growled Maximus, his words ending in a yelp as the stretcher was lifted. Hercules growled.
"He's right, my Lady. He's my general and I must take my orders from him. If he wants to be stubborn and foolish and moronic and... imbecilic... then I can't do anything about it."
Olivia grabbed Maximus' hand and walked beside the stretcher as they picked their way through bodies frozen in contortions of death. She hardly noticed any of it. Her mind was strictly on her husband's predicament. "Quintus can be in charge while you're unconscious," she suggested.
"He's injured and in surgery right now too -- his left arm was slashed right to the bone."
"There must be somebody else. You have many officers."
"No, Olivia. Please don't say any more about it."
"You can't be serious!"
"I am, and I'm in no mood to argue."
Olivia frowned and looked at Marcianus. "What did you call him? Stubborn...?"
"...and foolish and moronic and imbecilic, I believe, my Lady."
"I can add a few more to that," chimed in Persius. "How about difficult, willful, unreasonable..."
"...and stupid," added an attendant who quickly looked away when Maximus glared at him.
"You take great liberties with a man when he's helpless," the general snarled.
"Helpless," scoffed Marcianus.
Olivia didn't know whether to hug her man or swat his behind which was so temptingly within reach of her hand. She had certainly seen touches of this side of his personality in Spain but she had never imagined that he'd be as obstinate as this.
Maximus groaned when the men carrying the stretcher slipped and skidded on the blood-soaked ground as they stepped over and around dead and dying soldiers. Instead of resting, Maximus examined the dreadful aftermath of war with a practiced eye. Olivia gazed around feeling somewhat dazed, not sure that what she was seeing was real.
Women from the village shrieked and tore their hair as they searched through the bodies for loved ones. Children gathered on the edge of the woods, confusion and horror on their dirty, tear-stained faces. Surgeons and medical attendants moved from man to man assessing injuries and establishing priorities. All activity ceased momentarily, though, when they saw their general pass by on a stretcher, a sure indication that his injury was severe. They saluted him and Maximus raised his hand in what he hoped was a reassuring response.
Soldiers worked in teams to strip the thousands of dead Germanians of anything useful before they heaved the bodies into carts. They used blood-soaked cloth bags to scoop up body parts such as limbs and heads and threw those into the carts too. Once full, the carts headed away to dispose of the casualties before coming back for more. Dead Roman soldiers would be handled later after all were identified. Olivia gagged at the sight and the smell, searching her clothing for the cloth Persius had given her.
"Wait. Stop. Stop!" ordered Maximus, his own agony momentarily forgotten as he passed the soldiers who were handling the Germanians. "Where are you taking the bodies?"
"By the river, Sir. The wind is blowing from the south so the ashes might as well blow over on them instead of back on us when we burn them."
"Are there bodies already down there?"
"Yes, Sir. We've been taking them there all morning." Marcianus groaned when he heard that news.
"Well, get them away from there!" ordered Maximus. "Take them east over near the caves instead."
"Sir? It'll take hours to take them that far." The soldier was confused. What difference did it make where the bodies were cremated?
A spasm of pain knocked the breath from Maximus so Marcianus continued his instructions, fully understanding his general's concerns. "Soldier, those bodies will decay quickly in this heat. Blood and contamination could get into the river then into our wells. We would all get sick. Do as your general says and don't question him!" The orders were quickly passed from man to man and the soldiers set out to rectify the problem.
Maximus' pale face was so contorted in pain that the surgeon was not at all sure that the general had heard his words. "Move along, he ordered the attendants. I need to get this man into surgery quickly."Chapter 83 - Surgery
"Maximus," said Marcianus to his patient who was lying on his back in his own bed, his wife sitting beside him. "I am going to say this as clearly as I can." He folded his arms across his chest and regarded his patient whose injured leg was bent at the knee and elevated on a footstool piled with cushions. "That arrow is in a very awkward position. If you move so much as a fraction of an inch while I am extracting it the artery will be severed. If it is, you will die. It is as simple as that. There isn't a surgeon in the empire who could prevent you from bleeding to death. If we're lucky and don't hit the artery then the nerves could be damaged and you will be crippled."
Maximus kept his eyes lowered avoiding the doctor's gaze, and his wife's.
"The pain will be so terrible that you will not be able to remain still even after we tie you down and have ten men restraining you. "
Olivia closed her eyes and rubbed them with her fingertips, then she massaged her temples and sighed miserably.
"Maximus," continued Marcianus, "if you respect me at all you will not make me perform the operation on you while you are awake. I could never live with myself if I were the cause of your death."
Maximus remained silent but his eyes slowly roamed over his leg which was packed with mold from bread to temporarily inhibit infection from developing. His pain was under control thanks to liberal doses of drugs.
"I know you feel you need to be awake, and you certainly did notice that problem with body disposal -- hopefully on time -- but you are not invincible, Maximus. You cannot even imagine what this pain will be like."
"Is Quintus awake?" asked the general.
"He will be soon."
"Leave me alone with my wife."
Marcianus hesitated. "I'll prepare a table. We need to do this soon." Maximus nodded and the surgeon left the room, closing the door behind him.
Olivia stared at the mural of her husband, so strong and invincible on his black stallion.
Maximus reached for her hand and she reluctantly relinquished it. She wasn't sure how she felt at this moment. Angry? Resentful? Maybe she was simply disappointed. "You'll probably just pass out anyway," she said bitterly, "after irreversible damage has been done."
"I want you and Marcus to move into a tent outside the praetorium. Infection and disease may start to spread before too long. There is almost no way of preventing it when so many men are injured and there are so many bodies. It's not safe for you to remain in this house."
"As you wish."
Maximus raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Olivia, I make the decisions that I have to make, not that I want to make."
"Oh, Maximus... I am terrified of losing you." She caressed his beard-stubbled face with the back of her fingers. "You have a son. Please think of him."
Maximus nodded. "I am. I am. As soon as Quintus is awake, I'll let Marcianus put me out and operate."
Olivia almost flung herself into his arms before realizing that, if she did so, she would cause further injury to his leg. She gently kissed his lips instead. "Your beautiful thigh is going to have a terrible scar. I'll have to kiss it every night."
Maximus smiled. "I look forward to that, but it may not be so terrible. Marcianus has miracle fingers." Olivia kissed him again. "Go tell Marcianus that I am ready when Quintus is... and take Marcus away from here. I don't want him to see any of this."
"Jonivus already has him at his tent."
"You go there too."
"I want to stay close to you."
"Please... be with our son. I don't want you to see what is about to happen to me."
Olivia nodded. "Of course, of course." Her face crumpled and tears pooled in her eyes.
"Stop that," Maximus chided gently. "Don't let Marcus see you upset. Everything is going to be fine. Over the next few days I think Jonivus may need you more than I do anyway. I'll be groggy and I'll have almost the entire medical staff of the camp fussing over me." He released her hand indicating that she was to leave. "I love you," he whispered.
"I love you too." Olivia rushed out quickly, not daring to look back.
The camp infirmary was a well-organized, efficiently-run place -- just like all other aspects of the army. The room was sectioned off into areas where injuries of a similar type could be treated -- broken bones set here, operations performed there, recovery in another area. Surgeons were skilled in general medicine but also had their own area of expertise and they were aided by highly skilled assistants.
The apothecary and his assistants prepared medicines which they stored in jars which were then kept inside cabinets, away from light and heat. Dried leaves, bark and roots hung from the wall, waiting to be ground fresh into medicines as needed. Tar for treating stumps bubbled in a pot. Scalpels, needles, tweezers, saws, sponges, sutures made from dried animal gut, cautery sticks, drills and forceps were cleaned and organized awaiting use. Statues of the Greek god, Aesculapius, as well as goddesses Panacea and Hygeia kept careful watch over the proceedings.
Maximus lay on a table in the atrium near the courtyard for maximum light, and lanterns illuminated the shadowed areas. Dishes, cloths, bandages, sponges and medical instruments were laid out on a nearby table, along with drugs to inhibit infection and discourage fever. The general was naked except for a blanket discretely covering his middle section and his right leg remained propped high. He was surrounded by four surgeons and six assistants. The apothecary hovered nearby.
"What are you giving me?" Maximus demanded as Marcianus handed him goblet of hot milk tinged an unappetizing-looking greenish color.
"Do you have to question everything?"
"What are you giving me?" Maximus insisted.
"Opium. A very strong dose this time. It's a drug that we buy from the east and it's very expensive but quite effective. After you take this you won't care what I do to you." Marcianus' words were light but his heart was heavy. He had never performed such an important operation in his life. This was the emperor's favorite general, not to mention a man that he cared for very much himself and his light banter with Maximus helped to calm both men. "I'd just as soon you're unconscious before I manipulate you into a rather... undignified position. You're going to be quite naked, your legs spread wide and the right one lifted." Marcianus smothered a grin. "I'll have to be very careful or I just might castrate you while I'm at it." The surgeons snickered.
"Your attempts to reassure me are a total failure. Give me the opium before I change my mind and elect to go through life with an arrow in my leg." Maximus tasted the liquid and screwed up his face at the bitterness but then downed the whole thing in a few gulps. He lay back and closed his eyes, placing his life in the hands of the accomplished camp surgeons. He heard Marcianus speak to him but his voice sounded very far away as his own body started to relax."
"How do you feel?" Marcianus asked after a few moments.
"Wonderful," Maximus murmured, his voice slurred. Slowly, his head dropped to one side.
"Sweet dreams, Maximus. You will wake up in your own bed before you know it."
Chapter 84 – Recovery
Maximus moaned slightly and turned his head, causing his brain to swim with dizziness. He felt a cool hand brush his forehead and realized that he was sweating. He tried to push the blankets down to cool his overheated body but they were firmly hauled back up over his unresisting arms. People spoke but he could not understand their words. He drifted off... He moaned again and tried to talk, his own ears discerning nothing but a jumble of inarticulate sounds. Hands touched his face, his hands, his arms.
He licked his parched lips and tried once more. "Thirsty..." Immediately a glass of liquid was raised to his lips. It tasted slightly bitter but he was too thirsty to care. He drifted off again...
Warm sunlight kissed his ear and he rolled his head to capture its life-affirming warmth full on his face. "Feels good," he murmured.
"Maximus? Maximus? Can you talk to me? Are you awake?" Olivia whisperedurgently.
He felt cool lips on his forehead and soft hair brush his cheeks. He raised a hand and captured a few strands of those silken tresses but his arm started to tremble and it collapsed back to the bed. "Weak..." Maximus heard someone say. He tried to open his eyes but they seemed glued shut. His other senses finally managed to send coherent messages to his brain, though, and disclosed where he was. He was in bed -- his bed -- and his wife was sitting beside him.
"Olivia," he whispered.
"I'm here, darling." She squeezed his hand and pressed her cheek against his forehead. "He feels hot."
Who was she talking to?
A hand moved over his face, too large to be his wife's. "A bit warm but nothing to be concerned about."
"Marcianus?" he rasped.
"Yes, I'm here. You came through surgery just fine and are in the process of recovering."
Maximus managed a feeble smile. "Thanks."
Marcianus chuckled. "You're very welcome." He moved close to Maximus' ear.
"You're missing an arrow but you'll be happy to know that I left you whole in other ways."
"What time is it?"
"Forget about the time. You are to sleep and recover. Surgeon's orders."
Maximus struggled to open his eyes. A white flash slammed through his brain and he groaned, clutching his head in both hands. They were shoved away and immediately a soothing, cool, wet cloth covered his forehead and eyes.
Olivia pressed it gently against his temples.
"Don't worry, my Lady," said Marcianus. "He is just suffering symptoms of withdrawal from the anesthesia and I had to give him quite a large dose."
Maximus pushed back the cloth and opened his eyes very slowly, testing the light. His wife's lovely, concerned face came slowly into focus. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it then rested his cheek against her fingers.
Olivia caressed his hair with her other hand. "Welcome back," she whispered.
"Where have I been?"
Olivia laughed. "Oh, in places only you know. You've been muttering some very strange things the past few days." Marcianus shook his head in warning -- too late.
"Few days? How long have I been unconscious? What day is it?"
"Will you relax," said the surgeon. "The camp is still safe, the empire is still in Roman hands, Marcus Aurelius is still in command. Everything is as it should be. Just rest."
"I want to talk to Quintus."
"Later."
"Now." He struggled to sit up and Marcianus rushed to force him back down.
"Maximus, if you don't calm down I'll have to drug you again."
"And how do you propose to do that if I won't drink the stuff?" Maximus' eyebrows were raised in challenge despite his obvious lack of strength.
"I think that maybe ten strong soldiers could make you behave long enough to get it into you. Right at the moment I make decisions concerning your health and Quintus is busy dealing with the camp after the battle. You have nothing to think about at all except getting well again."
Maximus gingerly tested his right leg and a severe bolt of stomach-flipping pain shot through his right side from ankle to armpit. His face contorted and his body stiffened in agony.
"Maximus? Marcianus!" cried Olivia.
"Get more opium," Marcianus grimly instructed his assistant.
A day later -- three days after the operation -- Maximus awoke again. This time he elected to listen to the signals coming from his body and remain calm and sedate.
"You're getting quite a beard," his wife teased him. "The orderlies will come in later and clean you up a bit."
"How long have you been sitting by my bed?"
"Since they brought you here after the operation."
Maximus drew her fingers to his lips and kissed them. "Where's Marcus?"
"He's with Persius and Jonivus. Jonivus seems to need him right now. Marcus
is having a good time but he misses you and asks for you constantly."
"He'll have to wait a while longer to see me. I don't want him near this infirmary."
"I know. He'll wait. In the meantime he's playing kickball and picking up all kinds of bad habits from the soldiers -- words I never hear you use -- except when you are in pain and unconscious, of course." Olivia's mouth was twisted in a wry smile.
"I've been cursing a lot?"
"Unbelievable." Olivia shook her head to emphasize the point. "Poor Marcianus has taken a lot of verbal abuse from you. And you've been issuing orders to soldiers only you could see. I think you commanded an entire battle in your sleep. You also must have thought that I was still in Spain because you seemed very concerned about a letter that you had to write to a woman."
"A letter?" he asked, confused, then he blanched as the meaning dawned on him and quickly changed the subject. "How much longer does Marcianus think I'll have to stay in bed?"
"Another few days or so, then you can get around a bit with a crutch but you'll have to rest a lot. It'll be a while before you're on horseback."
Olivia smiled, glancing at the mural. "Your stallions will miss you.
Hercules certainly does. He can't understand why he's been banished from the house and he whimpers like a puppy." Her demeanor became very serious.
"You've never been injured this seriously before, have you?"
Maximus shook his head. "No, not like this."
"Maximus... promise me that you won't allow Marcus to follow you into the army. After what I have seen, I couldn't bear the thought of another man that I love living such a dangerous life. You've given enough to the empire that, surely, you are not required to give your son too. "
"He won't be a soldier, I promise you that. But, you know... a soldier's life is mostly very dull -- nothing but hard work and chores." Maximus looked up as the door creaked open and a scarred face topped with thick, dark hair peeked around the opening. "Cicero! Come in. Come in." The strain of slightly raising his head caused the pain to course through his skull again.
Cicero beamed as he walked into the room. "The men wanted me to see for myself if you are all right, sir. They won't take the surgeons' word for it."
"You can tell them that I am fine, as you can see."
Maximus' face was pale and drawn and Cicero regarded him doubtfully, then he looked with disdain at the medical mess in the room. "I'll clean this up,
sir. I know how you like things to be orderly."
"You don't need to do that right now, Cicero," murmured Maximus as his servant started to roll up his sleeves.
"I'd like to, sir, if you don't mind. It'll give me something useful to do.
It makes me feel like I'm helping you in some way. I won't if it bothers you, though."
"There's nothing you could do to make me feel worse than I already do, I assure you."
Olivia placed a cool cloth on her husband's forehead again. "I'll leave you gentlemen alone and go see what our son is up to. I haven't seen him since early this morning." Olivia kissed Maximus, smiled at Cicero and left, her step lighter than it had been in weeks.
Maximus watched Cicero through slitted eyes as he efficiently tidied and straightened the room-- folding and piling blankets, rinsing off table tops, returning furniture to its proper position.. Maximus was content to let him work, comfortable in the familiar sounds of Cicero's presence. He had dozens of questions about the camp but couldn't seem to find the energy to ask more than one. "Cicero, how's Quintus?"
"Oh, his arm is in a sling and its pretty sore but he'll be all right. He's resting most of the time in his tent but he has a handle on things, sir. Do you want to talk to him?"
"Tomorrow."
Cicero nodded and continued to work, straightening bundles of papers and maps, and organizing unopened letters that awaited Maximus' attention. His back to Maximus, he did not see the general's sudden change of expression.
"Cicero, do you have any idea what happened to a letter from Rome -- a personal letter -- that I received while I was at Castra Regina? It's probably in with my belongings somewhere."
"I didn't see it when I packed up, sir."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, very sure. All of your letters are bundled here and there's nothing like that."
Maximus scowled in confusion and slid lower down in the bed, wincing at the pain the motion caused.
"I'll leave you now, sir. If you need anything just call out and I'll hear.
I'm sleeping right outside your door."
Maximus nodded, his eyes already closed. Julia--? What was her last name now? The tumultuous events of the last few weeks had wiped that important tidbit from his memory. Maybe it would come back to him if he slept.
Chapter 85 - Fever
In the middle of the night Maximus was awakened by voices in the atrium beyond the door of his bedroom. The heavy wooden door muffled and distorted every sound but could not disguise the tone of panic in the sounds. He thought he heard a woman speak then a child cry. Could it be Olivia and Marcus? The moonless night enveloped the room in blackness and Maximus felt very helpless lying in the dark, unable to move beyond merely shifting his body slightly in the bed to search for comfort.
"Cicero!" he shouted. "Cicero!" There was no answering voice or response at the door. Where was the man? "Cicero!" he called again. Surely someone heard a voice that could command an entire legion of soldiers. Frustrated at the lack of response he lay fuming, trying to ascertain just what was happening in the atrium. Had there been an accident? Was there a fire? Maximus sniffed the air but found no evidence to support that theory.
His level of alarm escalated when he heard people running and furniture scraping on the tile floor as it was shifted. "Cicero!" He waited a moment before bellowing out, "Anyone!" There was still no response. He tested his leg by flexing it gently and the now-familiar pain shot through his thigh causing his hip and knee to throb too. Despite the suffering, if somebody didn't come to him soon he would get out of bed and investigate for himself.
A child's scream pierced the night air, clear and chilling. Maximus' heart stopped -- there was only one child in the camp that he knew of. He threw off his blankets and stretched to touch the woven carpet beside his bed with the toes of his left foot. Pressing his palms into the bed he balanced on his hands and grimaced as he slowly transferred his weight to his good leg then gingerly lifted his hips off the bed. "Arghh!" he cried out as the blinding pain ripped through him. He held his position, though, despite his shaking arms, and continued to move until his injured leg lay right at the edge of the bed. Taking his full weight on his buttocks, he used both hands to lift the bandaged leg over the side of the bed, tears of pain blurring his eyes and sweat beading his forehead. He now shifted his total bulk to his left leg and stood up letting the injured limb simply hang limp, his left hand clutching the bedside table for support. Now what? He couldn't walk.
Maximus dragged the small table in front of him and shifted his weight to his hands then stepped forward with his left foot. Then gradually, agonizingly, he dragged the injured leg forward. By the time he reached the door by repeating this motion over and over, his head was swimming with the stabbing pain. Maximus reached for the knob then remembered with a shock that the door opened into the room and he was blocking its way. How could he have been so stupid? In pure, raging frustration and fear he screamed for attention. "Cicero! Marcianus! Anyone!" He banged the table violently against the door.
"General?" asked a voice muffled by the thick wood.
"Cicero? It's about time! What's going on out there? Is Marcus all right?"
Cicero pushed on the door almost knocking Maximus off his feet. "General, are you out of bed?" asked Cicero in disbelief.
That statement got everyone's attention and heads snapped up all over the atrium.
"Maximus, what do you think you are doing?" demanded Marcianus who had rushed to Cicero's side.
"Marcianus, I heard a child scream. What is going on out there? Is Marcus hurt?"
"He's not hurt, Maximus, but he is ill. He has a fever -- an extremely high fever. We're trying to keep him from convulsing. Now if you want to help go back to bed and let me deal with your son," Marcianus snapped, his voice trailing off as he stalked away.
"Cicero, help me," Maximus begged, his limbs trembling with fatigue and fear. He could hear his son crying. "If I try to move, I'll fall. I have to get to Marcus."
"What can I do? Can you move off to the side so I can open the door?"
"Papa!" cried Marcus, his little voice shrill with pain and panic.
Maximus raged against his helplessness. He could lead battles, stage sieges, best any man with weapons, but now he couldn't even get out of his own bedroom. He gathered his strength and threw the table aside where it hit the wall then bounced to the tile floor with a crash and shattered. He then tried to hop on his left foot to the side of the door but his leg went out from under him and he slammed to the floor alongside the table, feeling just as broken and useless. He rolled out of the way of the door, the exertion and suffering plunging him into semi-unconsciousness.
Alarmed by the commotion then sudden silence, Cicero cautiously entered the room. "Sir?" he asked as he took a few steps forward and his toe connected with the body on the floor. He dropped to his knees beside Maximus. "Sir?" he asked in panic as he shook the prone man and called into the atrium for assistance.
Maximus groaned and blinked, trying to focus on his servant's shadowed face. Mercifully groggy, the general was checked for broken bones then lifted by four attendants and placed on a stretcher. He was alert enough, though, to stop them as they tried to return him to his bed and ordered them to take him to his boy.
Olivia did nothing more than glance at him when Maximus was placed on the floor beside her. She crouched beside a tub full of cold well water bathing her son as she tried to sooth him with smiles and encouraging words. The child shivered, his teeth chattering as he used his small hands to try to protect his naked body from the shock of the cold water. As the liquid gradually warmed more cold water was added and the child continued to shiver and cry. Marcianus directed the operation, constantly gauging the boy's temperature with an experienced hand.
"Marcus... Marcus," called Maximus gently as he grasped the lip of the tub and pulled himself into a sitting position, not allowing his face the luxury of so much as a grimace.
"Papa!" Marcus cried and reached for his father's large hand. Maximus clasped his son's small hand in both of his.
"He's ill?" Maximus asked his weary wife, his own pain-ravaged mind unable to formulate a less obvious question.
"He was fine when he went to bed. I woke up in the night and heard him struggling to breathe. When I felt his forehead he was burning with fever so I awakened Marcianus and we rushed him here." She continued cooing to her son and running a soaking cloth over his face as she talked to her husband.
"Why does he have a fever? What illness could he have? Is anybody else sick?"
Olivia could not answer her husband's questions so she concentrated on her son and replied simply, "I don't know."
Marcianus returned with a concoction in a drinking glass. "He's had enough for now," he said to his assistants. "Lift him out and place him on the table. Keep the bath cold because we may have to put him back in at any time. Olivia, hold him because we must get this willow bark medicine into him and it's very bitter. I've got some sugar here to coax him."
Olivia sat on the table with her wet son in her arms crooning soothing words but when she held the glass to his mouth he turned his head away and pressed his lips together determinedly, shaking his head.
"Cicero, help me get into a chair. I can't even see him from down here." Soon Maximus sat beside his son, encouraging him to take the medicine mixed with milk. He wasn't any more successful than his wife. "Marcus, if I drink some, then will you drink it?" Maximus took the glass from his wife and took a healthy sip but was unprepared for how totally vile the liquid was and couldn't suppress a shudder. "Well...," said Maximus, forcing a smile to his lips, "that certainly is disgusting but it's good for me so I'm going to drink it anyway. Marcus, I'll take a sip then you can take a sip, all right?"
The child looked reluctant but seemed agreeable to try something that his papa would drink. After one little sip, though, he stubbornly refused more.
"Marcus the cold water isn't much fun, is it?" sympathized Olivia. "By drinking this medicine your fever may go down so you don't have to go back into the water. If you drink it quickly you won't even taste it. Look! Papa is going to drink more."
A half hour later, using a combination of coaxing, cajoling and bribes, the child had consumed all of the liquid and was nodding off in his mother's arms. Marcianus took the boy from his mother and lay Marcus on the table, leaving him uncovered while assistants rubbed barley alcohol into his body to help draw out the fever. In another few hours they'd have to do it all again.
His worried parents consulted with Marcianus who reassured them that no one else at the camp had a fever caused by anything other than an injury. "Then what is causing it?" demanded Maximus.
"Water, I suspect."
"You just said no one else was sick. How could that be if his fever is caused by water contamination?" asked Maximus. He looked at the tub. "If it's water why are we bathing him in it?"
"It doesn't take much to make a child ill and I don't think it's our wells." Marcianus wearily pushed back the long strands of gray hair that had escaped their tie at his neck. "Has he been playing near the river?"
Olivia looked at Maximus then back at the surgeon. "I don't know. He has been in the care of my brother and Jonivus for about five days."
"He shouldn't have been outside the camp," added Maximus, a sense of dread overtaking him.
"I'll talk to them," said Olivia as she hurried away to question the two distraught men who were standing just inside the door of the house.
His wife gone, Maximus tugged on Marcianus' hand and pulled the surgeon down to his level. "How serious is this?" he asked in a low voice.
"Very serious. We must get his fever down and keep it down. A prolonged high fever is especially dangerous in a child because it can leave his brain damaged... or worse." Marcianus regarded his general with tremendous sympathy. He was slumped in a chair in obvious physical and emotional pain. His face was very pale and drawn, and bright red patches had leaked through his bandages, a sure sign that some stitches had been ripped out in his struggle to reach his son. He was past danger, though, and would heal eventually, so Marcianus elected to ignore the bloody bandage for the time being and concentrate on the sick boy. He rose to his feet again.
Olivia returned with Persius in tow. Jonivus lagged behind them. Before Olivia could say a thing Persius blurted out, "Marcus was bored so I thought he'd like to play with children his own age. I... I took him down to the river because the village children play there. He was guarded by a dozen armed soldiers. I couldn't see the danger, Maximus. I didn't know the water was contaminated. It looked clear and didn't smell bad." By the time he had finished, Persius was shaking and close to tears.
Maximus said nothing as he stared at his sleeping son.
Marcianus added an explanation. "The snow on the peaks has mostly melted so the river isn't running quite as high and fast as it was. It has left pools of still water at the bends and, because it's been so warm, contamination has fed on whatever fluids from the bodies managed to seep into the water. It is not bad enough yet that you'd be able to see or smell it, Maximus." Marcianus felt that he had to defend the younger man and the camp's engineer. He knew how dangerous Maximus could be when pushed past the point of rationality and it wouldn't take much to do that in his current state.
"We must keep the village children away from that area. Are any of them ill?" asked Maximus, his voice oddly devoid of emotion.
A surgeon who had been listening to the conversation from the shadows stepped forward. "Yes... three. Another one died a few hours ago."
Maximus heard his wife struggle to choke back emotion but he did not take his eyes off his son and said evenly. "Send soldiers out at first light to flush out those contaminated pools and keep everyone away from the river for a few days. Closely monitor the well water." He looked at Marcianus. "Have the village children who are ill brought here. They are to receive the same medical assistance as my son."
As Maximus was speaking Jonivus had quietly worked his way to stand behind his injured general and now placed his hand on his shoulder. Maximus grasped it with his own shaking hand and squeezed hard, one man having recently lost a son and the other in danger of losing his.
