SquidgeWorld Archive

Gladiator Slash 5: Again, The Beginning
By Melinda

Maximus was jostled out of his reverie by one of his soldiers coming out of the celebration tent where Maximus had been heading to after leaving his own tent. He realized he must have been standing out here for quite sometime. He massaged his temples, trying to shake off the residue from the memories of the past which had seemed to engulf him. Clearing his mind, knowing that he was entering the lion's den, with all the Senator's and higher ups in Roman society, he needed to be alert.

He also knew that dealing with Commodus would be exhausting. The boy from his past, whom had ordered a slave to be slaughtered, had grown into a man, but underneath the skilled exterior still lay that vicious child. Maximus hated dealing with this man. He had learned to tolerate Quintus over the years, because of his invaluable service to the Roman army. Quintus had become a magnificent strategist, and Maximus had come to admire this part of Quintus. But, after today, Maximus would need to rethink his relationship with this man. He had hoped over the years that Quintus had changed. Maybe that fateful night had been ordered by Commodus and Quintus had been an unwilling participant. But seeing Quentin and the bruises, Maximus knew that Quintus was just as sick as Commodus. Maximus caught himself once again turning pensive, letting his mind wonder. He didn't like this mood and wondered if this boy had anything to do with this.

Shrugging, Maximus turned and walked into the tent to face the lions.

**************

Cicero approached Quentin, with the intentions of offering him help in removing his clothes, since they reeked of horse and wetness. Quentin pulled back away from Cicero's outstretched hand.

"Please...don't touch me." Quentin spoke quietly, moving across the room away from Cicero. He felt trapped. His head was spinning with all that had happened to him in the last several days. He felt this sense of doom washing over him. In just the past hour or so he had begun to feel as if someone else was walking around in his head.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to frighten you." Cicero moved away from the young man and begun to heat water to make a bath for him. "When you are ready...I can get you some dry, clean clothes and maybe you'd feel better with a bath." Cicero poured some jasmine oil into the water. He turned and watched as the young man walked around the tent nervously, occasionally picking up items, looking at them, and setting the items back down.

Quentin could feel panic setting in. He was so far from home, if he even had a home left. He was away from the people who knew him, who understood him. Something was wrong with his head. He kept looking at Cicero, wondering if he could trust this man. Would this man understand what was happening to him? Quentin didn't trust people too easily. But he was so alone, so afraid and he needed to tell someone. Who better to tell then the General's servant, especially since Quentin felt that the turmoil going on inside of him belonged to the General. Quentin felt eyes upon him and turned to see the scarred one looking at him, questioning. Perhaps Cicero was just as confused as he was as to the reason he was here.

Cicero watched as Quentin approached him, moving gracefully across the room. The young man looked at the large tub of water.

"Is this for me?" Quentin asked, not because he didn't know the answer, more to just be talking. When he talked his head got quiet.

"Yes, You look as if you haven't seen water in days. Perhaps if you soak you will feel better." Cicero stood slightly away from the tub not wanting to accidentally brush up against the boy. Quentin nodded at Cicero's explanation and decided that a bath might be what he needed. And it had been a long time. Quentin started removing his clothing, not showing any signs of shyness at being naked in front of Cicero.

Cicero watched as he disrobed and winced as he saw the bruises on the pale skin of this young man. The bruises around his neck had been prominent, but his clothing had hidden more bruises and scratches on his torso and back. Some of the bruises were beginning to fade. He admired the boy's young body. He was small, slight in stature with narrow hips coming together at his groin. Quentin had light blonde hair surrounding his small, flaccid penis, muscular thighs and shapely calves all the way down to his small feet. Cicero wondered how long Quentin had been in Quintus' clutches. The young man was lucky to be alive. Cicero wanted to know why Quintus hadn't killed this boy. Why had Quintus wanted this one alive?

"Oh...I'm so...sorry." Cicero almost cried. Quentin looked up puzzled at first then realized that Cicero was looking at the bruises.

"It's all right...these will heal. He did this because he couldn't get what he really wanted." Quentin brushed off the worry over his bruises as he stepped into the hot water. He smiled as he eased himself down into the water, enjoying the sensation of warmth cascading over his body.

"What he wanted? What do you mean?" Cicero was curious now. How could this young man just brush the damage to his body away so lightly?

"He wanted to possess my soul...my heart...my mind, I don't know. Quintus thought if he could have those parts of me...he could control me. He thought I would bring him power and wealth. I cannot do those things with what he wanted. Even if I could, he was not deserving, don't you think?" Quentin had chosen his words carefully. He needed an ally, someone he could trust. His head was about to bust with everything running through it.

Cicero still didn't understand. This boy was talking in riddles. He shook his head and decided to leave the questions till after the bath, after the boy had eaten. Maybe he would feel like explaining himself.

"I will go and get you some food and dry clothes, wash up. Please do not try and leave the tent. You could get hurt." Cicero warned, knowing that Quintus had friends all over the camp. He bent and retrieved Quentin's discarded clothes.

"How can I leave? I have no clothes. I don't think running around naked in this weather would be wise." Quentin smiled slightly at the thought. He could see Cicero looking at him and admired his ability to hold off his questioning. Quentin lowered himself all the way under the water, needing to get the stench of Quintus off of every part of his body. Cicero turned and left swiftly.

***************

Upon Cicero's return, he found Quentin wrapped in one of Maximus' animal furs and sitting on one of the chairs in the front room of the tent. Cicero smiled at how young this one looked, sitting there with wet hair, clean face and wide, blue eyes starring off in the distance. Quentin hadn't moved when Cicero came in, so Cicero approached him to get his attention. Quentin's eyes came into focus when Cicero touched his shoulder lightly.

"Shhhhh...can't you hear it? Your General, he's unhappy. He doesn't like where he's at. The people...make him nervous." Quentin spoke in a half whisper. Cicero had to lean close just to hear him.

"What are you talking about?" Cicero didn't like the way the boy was looking. He looked pale, almost as if he was going to get sick.

"Quintus acts as if nothing has happened between him and the General. The General ignores him. Get away from him, General...he's bad." Speaking with fear in his voice, Quentin stood up rapidly, the fur falling from around him. Cicero grabbed the fur and put it around the young man's naked shoulders. The boy's nakedness had alarmed Cicero slightly. He was so vulnerable, so small. He needed to be protected. Cicero guided Quentin to Maximus' bed and sat him down.

His eyes focused again on Cicero. He looked at Cicero's scarred face, letting go of the fur he had been holding around him, he reached up and traced the scar down one cheek and up the other, gently, lovingly. The way Quentin was looking at him was a little scary but exciting. Cicero moaned as he was again exposed to Quentin's nakedness. He realized that the boy seemed to be in a trance. Almost as if he wasn't really looking at him, it seemed as if another's eyes were looking out of the boy's.

"Quintus did this to you." It was a statement rather than a question. Quentin pulled Cicero's face down to his and kissed the scar on the left cheek. Cicero stepped back, unaccustomed to anyone but Maximus touching his face and Maximus only touched his face in sadness.

"Quentin, what is the matter with you? Snap out of it!" Cicero snapped his fingers in front of Quentin's eyes. Quentin jerked his head away from Cicero's hand, stood up and started pacing the floor. Cicero tried again to cover Quentin up, but the boy was having none of it. He kept brushing away the covering, moaning at not wanting to be touched by anything.

"The General's looking around, I can tell he wants to avoid someone...someone that he doesn't like...no...not like, he hates...he hates because he hurt you...he was with Quintus when you got hurt." Quentin walked back over to Cicero and touched his face again.

Cicero was nervous now, he didn't know what was going on. The boy was talking as if he could see Maximus now, this very minute. He watched as the boy grabbed his head and grimaced. His bruises standing out against his pale skin. Cicero felt powerless over this man.

"It hurts...he sees that man, the one who hurt you. The General is angry. He tries to avoid this man...my head, it hurts! God, it's so cold, he's so cold...angry...he let me go, your General...he let me go." Quentin looked at Cicero, with tears in his eyes, swaying weakly, then collapsing where he was standing. Cicero ran to him, picked him up and carried him to Maximus' bed. He covered the young man up with blankets, trying to get him warm. He checked the boy to make sure he was breathing. Since Quentin was all right, Cicero sat down on the edge of the bed and watched the boy sleep. He didn't know what he had just witnessed, but whatever it was, it was either a curse or a miracle. Cicero wondered what Maximus was doing right this minute.

**************

Upon entering the tent, Maximus could feel the overwhelming need to hurry up and get away from the overpowering throng of people. There were regimental officers mingling about, Senators speaking with soldiers about the battle, higher ranking soldiers mingling with the whores who had been brought in to satisfy urges that Maximus had ordered to be put on hold till the battle was over. He liked his men lean and hungry. A man who had spent all of his energy the night before a battle in bed with a sexual partner tended to be slower, less efficient then a soldier whose nerves were honed to a heightened awareness. Sex had a tendency to cloud judgment, as Maximus had found out years ago, so he expected his men to be as he was. Of course, now the battle...no, the war, was over and everyone needed this time to relax and take the edge off.

Maximus walked over to a bowl of water and tried to wash off the blood still on his hands. The blood was dried on and wouldn't come off easily. Maximus hated the feel of dried blood on his skin but accepted it as a part of war. He dried his hands on a towel and tossed it to a waiting servant. As he turned to enter the main room of the tent he was approached by Valerius, infantry commander, and Quintus. Quintus stood apart from Valerius, he knew if he did not show honor and respect to the General in front of the men that were now gathering around Maximus, then questions might be asked he did not wish to answer.

"Maximus, your still alive? The God's must love you." Valerius and Quintus spoke at the same time. Maximus smiled at Valerius but didn't acknowledge Quintus. He had no qualms with putting Quintus where he belonged, questions or no questions. The other men laughed appreciatively and slapped the General on his back offering him some ale.

"So, Maximus, what's next for you?" Valerius asked, wondering about the army's future and who would be leading them.

"I intend to go home, Valerius." Maximus answered with a longing in his voice, matched by the longing in his eyes.

"Maximus, the farmer! That is hard to imagine." Quintus spoke without thinking. He wished so desperately that he could get some of the relationship back that had taken so many years to build.

"Dirt is easier to wash off then blood, Quintus." Maximus spoke ominously, looking at Quintus with hooded eyes. Maximus turned and surveyed the room.

Marcus Aurelius was sitting in a throne chair receiving welcomers and congratulations. Maximus smiled, since the Emperor was in his element. Maximus adored the Emperor and would miss him, but he was weary and wanted to go back to Trujillo and see his son.

He became aware of feeling another presence near him. When he looked around there wasn't anyone near enough to give him the sense that he was not alone. An image of Quentin came to mind and Maximus smiled. He didn't understand what was going on but he could feel this young man close him and he felt comforted. He wasn't sure what to think about this feeling other than he had some connection with this boy, and it wasn''t letting go. It felt almost as if the young man was standing beside him, but no...more like he was inside Maximus, looking around. Maximus shook his head and started walking over to the Emperor to honor him, when he was stopped by Commodus.

Seeing Commodus so close, approaching him without warning, alarmed Maximus. Maximus shut his thoughts...his mind down. He didn't want Commodus to see any emotion, need, or want on his face. He refused to give his enemy a hold on him. He turned a cold exterior towards Commodus.

"What can I do for you, your Highness?" Maximus bowed slightly as he spoke to Commodus.

Commodus moaned quietly, taking in a deep breath, breathing in Maximus' scent. He had almost forgotten how electrifying it was to stand in front of this man. Commodus' heart was pounding inside his chest and wondered if the General could hear it. He wanted so badly to reach out and touch the wounds on Maximus' nose and cheek that he had acquired in battle.

Earlier today, when he had seen Maximus with his father, he had had this overwhelming desire to hurt his father. How could his father hold Maximus' respect and loyalty, but refuse to give it to his son? Commodus loved his father, but his desire had not lessened for Maximus over the years. Matter of fact, it had grown. Commodus had had a daily commentary sent to him by messenger, letting him know every move Maximus had made in the last fifteen years. He had had one of the court painter's go to several battle fronts and paint portraits of the General for his own private use. At times Commodus had felt his obsession was getting out of hand, but the idea of not knowing about Maximus and what he was doing would have driven him insane. And now, with the Emperor's throne in his grasp and the chance to have Maximus by his side, fighting for Rome, was intoxicating.

"Come Maximus, let me introduce you to Senators Giaus and Falco." As Commodus did the introductions, he couldn't take his eyes off the General. He knew that Maximus still had the slave from that fateful night, in his service. He had imagined Maximus making love to that slave over and over.

When Maximus had married to a woman from a neighboring village, Commodus had hidden among the guests for this arranged marriage. Wanting to see with his own eyes if Maximus was in love with this woman. His heart had leapt with joy when Maximus had turned with his newly acquired wife on his arm and walked from the ceremony. Maximus' face had been impassive. No desire, love, no anything had been on his face. He was doing his duty towards his father. Maximus would continue to do his duty for Rome, when he, Commodus became Emperor. He was sure of it. Maximus was loyal to a fault. Throughout the years, he had watched Maximus perform his duty, to Rome, to his wife, to his men he led in battle. He would continue to do so and Commodus would revel in the joy of Maximus being with him again.

Maximus was getting bored with the Senators chatter and turned to excuse himself from the conversation, but Commodus grabbed his arm. Maximus looked at the hand on his arm then back at Commodus.

"Once again, your Highness, how can I be of service to you?" Maximus turned slightly to disengage Commodus' hand. Maximus would never underestimate this one again. He would always remember his place in the scheme of things when he was around this one.

"Come General, you are a great man. I wonder...would you continue to serve Rome once I am Emperor?" Commodus asked.

"My loyalty lies with Rome, your Highness." Maximus stated, "And now if you will excuse me, I would like to say my goodnights to the Emperor before he retires." Maximus turned to leave.

"Lucilla is here. She still remembers you fondly." Commodus spoke hastily, grabbing at anything that would keep Maximus near him. Maximus stopped and looked once again at Commodus. Commodus could melt into those blue eyes if only Maximus would let him.

"I am honored by her remembrance and I wish her well." Maximus spoke coldly, not allowing even the mention of Lucilla to break his hold on his emotions. He bowed to Commodus, turned and walked quickly over to the Emperor. Commodus moaned and rubbed his hand over his erection, wishing he could be relieved by the General's mouth but knowing he would have to settle for a slave tonight. He turned and looked for Quintus, it had been too long since they had had one of their games. Tonight would be a good night for one, especially with Maximus so near to help keep Commodus' imagination going.

***********

Cicero wet Quentin's face with a damp cloth waiting for the boy to come to. The strain on the boy's face earlier had been frightening. And the things he had been saying was confusing. Slowly, the boy started coming around. He opened his eyes and focused on Cicero. He sat up, holding his head.

"I'm sorry...I...this hasn't happened in a long time." Quentin mumbled, shaking his head to clear it.

"This has happened before? And what is "this" that just happened?" Cicero asked, sitting back a little bit, to give the boy room to move. Cicero turned and reached across to the food he had brought and placed it on the bed. Maybe Quentin would feel better if he could eat while he talked. Food always brought out conversation in people. Quentin looked at Cicero, debating on whether to tell this man. He reached for some bread and cheese, chewing slowly, thinking. He decided to take the plunge and trust this man. Quentin noticed that he was naked and attempted to cover himself a little more.

"I tried to locate you some more clothes, but with everyone in the middle of celebrating the victory of today, the task was impossible. As soon as Maximus gets back we will see if he had something he would be willing to lend you. All of my things I'm afraid are wet. I just washed them earlier, before you came." Cicero explained as he saw Quentin's slight embarrassment at his nakedness. Cicero then sat back to listen to the young man.

"When I was little, I guess maybe my fourth or fifth summer, this incident happened which made me realize that I was different from the other kids in my village. I could not remember a time when I didn't know what my mother was thinking and the same was for her with me. We could sit in the same room and never open our mouths but still held conversations with each other. I thought everyone could do this. My mother said that she could do the same thing with my father, but I don't know if I could, because my father went off to war when I was young and I never saw him. I do remember my mother crying one day and she told me my father was dead. It wasn't till I got older that I realized my mother had felt him die."

Quentin looked up sheepishly, trying to read Cicero's face, wondering if he believed what was being told him. Not seeing disbelief in Cicero's eyes, Quentin continued, "some of the kids in my village had been picking on me, trying to fight with me, when my mother had shown up out of the blue and ran the other kids off. I was no where near my home and I had never opened my mouth to call for her, but she had heard me anyway. The other kids started to stay away from me, thinking I was crazy. I grew up with people thinking I was crazy, not understanding. My mother told me that this sense of knowing, this feeling as if we were connected only happens with people who are a part of us. She said if I ever felt connected to someone else, for me to stay with that person, not ever leave. You see, I didn't feel just anybody. Only certain people, my mother, my brother who was the same as me, and a friend I had..." Quentin's words were beginning to slur, he was getting sleepy, with a full stomach and wine in his system. He stopped talking and looked at Cicero.

"He loves you...you mean more to him then anything in the world, except his son." Quentin spoke, reaching out and touching Cicero's face.

"Who...Maximus?" Cicero didn't want this boy to go to sleep yet. Not all of his questions had been answered. Quentin scooted down into the covers, laying down.

"Yes...the Spaniard, he loves you. He's a powerful man." Quentin yawned.

"Why are you saying this? How do you know all this? How did you know about my face and how it happened?" Cicero demanded softly. Quentin opened his eyes and looked at Cicero.

"When your Maximus touched me out by the stalls, something happened. I don't know what, I've never felt this for anyone except for my family and that one friend. They're all dead now. I'm the only one left. He touched me, entered me. He's apart of me and I can see what he's thinking..." Quentin yawned again and stretched like a cat. Cicero smiled at the soft movement of this young one's body. "...what he's feeling, sometimes, he's very closed...his feelings...especially with that mean one around...he shut me out so..." Quentin drifted off to sleep without completing his sentence. Cicero leaned over and gently kissed Quentin's forehead.

Cicero rose and cleaned off the bed. He walked around the tent and got things organized, trying to digest what Quentin had said. Maybe Quintus had thought he could control what this boy had going on in his head. Maybe that was what Quentin had meant about Quintus be angry at not getting what he wanted.

And what about Maximus? Cicero wasn't surprised about Quentin proclaiming Maximus' love for him. He had always known Maximus loved him. Even though Maximus very seldom showed it. And he never showed it sexually. Maximus felt that sex was a waste of good energy. Sometimes, Cicero had wanted so desperately to touch Maximus, make him feel like he had before Commodus had done his deed, but he knew that Maximus would not accept his advances. And what friendship they had would be put in jeopardy, so Cicero had contented himself with the relationship they had.

After Cicero had gotten the bath water started for Maximus, he sat down once again by the sleeping boy. Cicero didn't know how to explain it but he felt attached to this young one. Maybe his paternal needs were coming out. He didn't know, he just wanted to be close to him. Cicero laid down by the sleeping man and dozed off.

*****************

Maximus could feel the tension leave his shoulders as he walked away from Commodus. It had been a long time since he had to keep so strong a hold on his anger. Sometimes, he still couldn't believe that he could feel so much anger and loathing for Commodus. Maximus had avoided Commodus over the years, even though the relationship he had with Marcus Aurelius had grown. Maximus knew that the Emperor had tolerated him when he and Lucilla had been an item, but that had all changed when the incident with Commodus and Cicero had taken place.

Somehow, and Maximus had never been able to find out how, Marcus had found out about it and summoned him after one of the many battles with Germania. Maximus had been a Captain of his own regiment, The Felix. He had just returned from his arranged marriage, his wife dutifully pregnant, when the summons had been sent for him. Marcus had praised him for his honesty and strength he had shown for a lowly servant.

After that he had brought his regiment to be stationed near the Emperor and they had built a relationship together out of mutual respect. After Maximus' father had died, Marcus had been the one to comfort Maximus. It was during this time that Maximus found that he loved Marcus and thought of him as he thought of his father. Sometimes, Maximus wondered why Marcus paid all this attention to him, but most of the time he just enjoyed the man's company. So tonight, he wished to thank the Emperor and let him know that perhaps his life would be a little empty without him near.

Marcus looked up and smiled as he saw Maximus approach him. He admired and loved the General with all his heart. Maximus had grown into a fine man, and sometimes Marcus' heart ached when he wished that Maximus had been born his son instead of Commodus. But then the guilt would come with such thoughts, so Marcus would push them away and just enjoy the moment with Maximus.

"Emperor." Maximus bowed and kissed the ringed hand that Marcus held up to him. He looked up into the Emperor's eyes and smiled at the joy he saw there. Maximus hated seeing the Emperor in pain, but tonight he was in fine form.

"Ah...Maximus. Rome honors you! You have done a great service for my country, my son." Marcus leaned forward to whisper in Maximus' ear. Maximus smiled at the endearment.

"Father, I do you great honor. How are you feeling tonight?" Maximus spoke with concern, he worried about the Emperor getting to tired. As he looked at the Emperor, Maximus felt fear wash over him. He stood up and looked around the room, wondering where the feeling had come from.

"I am doing fine. Maximus...what is it?" The Emperor watched as the General's ever vigilant posture had come up. He wondered what was wrong.

"I'm not sure...maybe nothing." Maximus looked back at the Emperor, trying to hide what he was feeling, not wanting to worry him. But the feeling persisted and was growing stronger.

"Marcus, I must bid you good night. I'm tired and want to retire early." Maximus bent close to the sitting Emperor. Marcus reached out and took Maximus' hand and held it to his own lips.

"Thank you, Maximus! Your loyalty had been a strength for me to lean on. Please, tomorrow, come and see me early. We have much to discuss before you are to head home." Marcus let go of Maximus' hand, but Maximus let it linger near Marcus' aged, weary face, lightly brushing the soft gray hair on his cheek. Maximus nodded at the request then turned to leave.

Once again, Maximus felt the fear wash over him, but this time a face flashed across his mind at the same time. The face was Quintus, only he was angry and yelling. Maximus searched the tent, but found Quintus standing near Commodus talking adamantly about something. Maximus had this huge urge to run out of the tent. He felt something pulling him. He winced as if in pain, when another image flashed across his mind, this time it was Quentin and he was crying, pulling away in fear. Maximus walked rapidly to the exit of the tent, trying not to run but feeling he had to get to his tent as fast as possible.

Commodus had watched Maximus and his father hiding behind Quintus' back so as not to be seen, in case either of them had looked up and over in his direction. When he had seen his father take Maximus' hand and kiss it, the rage in him had come barreling out, and he had to hold onto Quintus shoulder tightly. But Maximus brushing his father's face with his hand in such a gesture of love and respect had been the last straw. Commodus had to get out of the tent. He turned Quintus around and ordered him to find a slave and bring him to his tent on the other side of his father's. When Commodus looked back at his father, Maximus was gone and his father was getting up to leave. Commodus didn't wait for his father to take his leave, he turned and furiously walked out of the tent.

END