Echoes in Eternity

Weight of a Man

by

Reagan Kavanagh

This work of adult fiction, loosely based on characters portrayed by Russell Crowe, includes adult language and experiences; you have been warned.  No copyright infringement on the  original work is intended.  Copyright Reagan Kavanagh 2005.

DISCLAIMER – PLEASE READ:  This moment in time is a look at Maximus’ early life and marriage from a different perspective.  The work is based on Roman culture in the second century, and follows extensive research into that culture and the social morés of that time.  It is unlikely this theme will be repeated.  If a darker portrayal of military life and marriage/family life distresses you, this is NOT your cup of tea; however, I would remind you that everyone has a darker side.  How we choose to deal with that reality is much of our measure as men and women.  Reagan.  

REAGAN

“We must talk.”  That was Maximus’ version of ‘We need to talk.’  No one – male or female – can hear those words without a shiver running down their spine because you know the words that will follow are likely to be words you had prayed you would never hear.  We had just finished watching the evening news, and Maximus picked up the remote and clicked off the television.  Even if he hadn’t spoken, that behaviour alone would have told me that whatever he wanted to discuss was serious.  Maximus isn’t a man who just clicks off the television without first asking if you objected to his doing so.  I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before speaking.

“What is it, Maximus?”

“You know the man I am today, Cara, the man I have chosen to become in this life.  You do not know the man I was …and there are things you must know before we marry.  There is much in my life that I have told no one …things known only to myself and the gods …things you have a right to know before we make a final commitment to each other.  I have held these things inside for too long but now you must know of my life – all of it – because your full knowledge of me, of the man that I was, may make you wish to terminate our betrothal.  Whilst I do not wish to speak of these things, you have the right to know the man you have pledged to marry.  Were we to marry whilst you are in ignorance would be wrong.  Worse, it would be dishonourable on my part to allow you to become my wife under those circumstances.”  Jesus …what could make Maximus say something like that?  What could he possibly have done that would make him think I wouldn’t still love him, not still want to be his wife and his partner for the rest of our lives?

I’m a woman and – of course – the first thing that flitted through my head was that he had been or was currently being unfaithful to me.  Even if you know in your soul that he’s been faithful, that nasty little thought just pops into your head.  He certainly had the opportunity if he wished to avail himself of it.  God knows the world is full of women who would be more than willing to share his bed at any time he asked.  Maximus often worked late and though he always called to tell me he would be late, I had never asked him specifically what he was doing.  For all I knew, he could have been calling from someone’s apartment or a hotel room.  I knew that TEO had sublet his flat when he moved in with me, and he still had keys …he wouldn’t have had to go to a hotel.  Had he made a move on Dee and was now coming clean because he was afraid she would tell me?  That made no sense …Dee would have ripped his dick off and shoved it down his throat …right before Terry killed him.  He was watching me as those thoughts moved through my brain and I chewed the inside of my lower lip, something I’d not done in years.

“Maximus, what could you have done that would make you think I wouldn’t want to marry you?”  I could have asked specific questions but was hoping that a single, open-ended one would be sufficient.  I truly didn’t want to ask him if he was having an affair because I didn’t think I could bear it if the answer was ‘Yes.’  He had sworn to me on the night we first made love that he would never betray me in that manner and I had believed him; I still believed him.  He looked at me for a long moment and then stood, walking to the kitchen and returning with the bottle of wine we had opened on his arrival home half an hour earlier.  He refilled his own glass and topped off mine before sitting.

MAXIMUS

I had told my colleagues, Diana, and of course Cassandra, some of my earlier life on the night we met at our home prior to that memorable visit to The Barracks.  On reflection, I realised that whilst the others knew enough of my past, Cassandra did not.  During the ensuing weeks, I had forced myself to bring to mind my life as it truly was in that time, to include my own actions, many of which evoked in me a shame I had not thought possible.  I realised that Cassandra must know of those actions – of my behaviours in that time – prior to our marriage, as it was within the realm of probability that once knowing of my past, she might wish to terminate our relationship.  I steeled myself on the drive home, resolving to lay my life open to her inspection and judgment that night.

Her first thought was that I was involved with another woman, that I was unfaithful to her.  I could see the pain in her eyes.  If only what I had to tell her was that simple.  How does one explain to a woman of the 21^st century the behaviours of a man of the second, even though she had some memories of her earlier life and an academic knowledge of Roman history?  In that time, my behaviours occasioned no comment and no judgment; it was a man’s world, and women ‘knew their place.’  In this time, those behaviours were - at best - reprehensible; at worst, they were prosecutable under the law.   I took her hands in mine and looked into her eyes as I spoke.

“Cara, since coming into this life, I have done nothing that would embarrass you or bring you shame.  I have never been unfaithful to you.  I have abused no woman or child, killed no one, never taken advantage of my physical strength or position; I have broken no laws.  In my own time, a time in which social standards were vastly different and laws ignored where those perceived to be in favour were concerned, I did many things that would now be legally actionable, many things that were morally repugnant.  It is those things of which you must know.  If, once knowing of these things, you are unable to reconcile yourself with my past, we cannot embark on a future as husband and wife.”  I watched the emotion pass across her face …disbelief?  Pain?  Anger?  The latter was not possible at this moment, as one must know of specific transgressions in order to be angry.  Fear …it was not anger, it was fear that I saw.  I took a deep breath before continuing.

“Cara, whilst you have made it clear that you wish me to be your husband, you have the right to know that I was less than an admirable husband to Ileana.  By the standards of that time, I was no better and no worse than any other husband; today my actions toward my wife would be considered abusive.  I feel that I have made the transition from the standards of a husband of the second century to one of this time, but I cannot be sure that I will always behave accordingly.  You have a right to know how I treated my first wife, as well as my other transgressions.”  She said nothing, sitting silently and watching me, waiting for me to continue.

“I understand that one learns those behaviours considered socially acceptable in any place and setting from one’s elders and from society in general; those behaviours are inculcated in us when we are yet children.  What I knew of the marital relationship, I learnt from my parents.

“By today’s standards, my father was a harsh - even cruel - man.  By the standards of that time, he was an exemplary husband and father.  He controlled both his wife and his children with a stern hand, raising that hand to all of us when he felt it necessary.  I believe that my parents loved each other, but I do not know that for a certainty.  My mother was submissive to my father, as befitted a good Roman wife.  He considered both my mother and his children as his chattel.  It never occurred to us to question his use of us, as his behaviour was no different than any other Roman male of that time.”  I stopped speaking …clearly, she now had at least one question to ask.

“Maximus, you’ve never spoken of siblings, yet now you’ve referred to at least one several times.  How many brothers and sisters did you have?”

“Five …three brothers and two sisters.”

“What were their ages, their names?  Were you close to them?” 

“My eldest brother – Aulus – died when I was still a boy, just past my tenth year.  He left home for the Army when I was small, and I have little memory of him other than as being very protective of me and my elder sister, Titia.  She was the second eldest.  Publius was older than I by two years; my mother miscarried a child between us.  Titus was born after me; Lucia was the youngest.  Titia and I were close as it was to her that I turned when my mother’s health began to fail.  As the eldest daughter, she assumed the role of mistress of the household during my mother’s illness and following her death.  I missed her greatly when she married and moved to her husband’s home.  Publius was simply Publius …today we would say he was mentally retarded.  I remember him as a gentle giant; the name Maximus likely suited him better than it did me, as by the time he reached his 12^th year, he was taller than my father.  He died in an accident shortly before I left for the Army.  Titus was scholarly, preferring time with our tutor to playing with the rest of us.  He married whilst I was in the Army, and though he lived close to what was our family home at the time, I rarely saw him on my visits home.”  I was lost in my own musing for a moment.  How does one ‘visit’ one’s own home?  Is that possible?  Yet, that is what I did.  So many things changed during my absences that I became the outsider, the visitor who was, coincidentally, also a brother, a husband, a father.  “Lucia was my favourite.  She was younger than I by almost five years, my mother’s last child.  Her birth was difficult and my mother never fully recovered from her ordeal, though she never blamed Lucia.  When she was on her deathbed, my mother asked that I take special care of Lucia, as my father resented her …likely because my mother was never able to return to their marriage bed or resume her other wifely duties following the birth.”

“You’ve never spoken to me of your family before, Maximus, other than telling me of your mother’s worry after your fall from the poplar tree when you were a child.  Why is that?”  I shook my head.

“In truth, Cara, I do not know.  Perhaps those memories are too painful.  Perhaps the memories of my childhood – which was likelier happier than most of my time - is too painful a juxtaposition to my enslavement …I do not know.”  She nodded, and whilst she did not pursue it at this time, I suspected the time would come when she would.  She considered my words for a moment, then moved on.

“Tell me of your parents’ relationship.  Do you have any notion as to what their marriage was really like?”  Whilst I had known she would ask probing questions, her doing so still gave me pause.  I realised I would find myself taking time to consider my thoughts before speaking in order to express them as clearly – and as correctly – as possible.  I wanted no vague areas for Cassandra when we had done with this conversation.

“They had a long marriage …I know that my mother was 14 at the time of their marriage, and as Aulus would have been nearing his 20^th year at the time of her death, she would have been at least 34 or 35.  That was considered a long life for a woman in that time, particularly as she had given birth to six children.  I know of her loss of the child between Publius and myself; she may have lost others of which I am unaware.  She ran my father’s house competently, and he praised her for that.  She was a virtuous woman and a good mother; that also brought his praise.  I assume she was a good wife as I was never aware of his disparagement of her abilities in that regard.  I do know that they fought on a rather frequent basis but always behind the closed door of their cubiculum.  It is not difficult to hear raised voices in the silence of the countryside, particularly at night when everyone has retired.  On occasion I heard the sound of my father striking my mother and her soft cries.  I respected him but at times also hated him for making her weep.  I am not proud of the fact that I followed his example in that behaviour with Ileana; I will not make that mistake with you.  That is all I can tell you of their marriage.  By the time I was old enough to attend purposefully to the relationships between men and women, I was in the Army.”  She nodded silently.  “Are there other questions you wish to ask?”

“Not at the moment.  Why don’t you just talk, and I’ll stop you if I have questions.” 

“As you wish.”  Her silence was neither condemnatory nor accepting; she was carefully neutral, and I knew she would remain so until I had done.  “The best place to begin is with my marriage to Ileana.  When I returned home after being made Tribune, it was Marcus Aurelius’ order that I marry before returning to the front; I complied.  Two days after arriving home, I dressed in my uniform and rode to her father’s, Antoninus', farm.  I knew he had a young daughter, and though I did not recall ever having seen her, Titia had remarked that Ileana was quite fetching.  My view was that if I must have a wife, she might as well be pleasant to look upon.  Even had Caesar not ordered me to marry, it was time that a man of my class did so.  Further, it was expected that Roman males of my status marry and father children; I was already late in taking that responsibility.  After my father’s death, I owned the property as my father’s farm had passed to me on Aulus’ death; Publius was never considered as heir.  Following my victories as a general, Caesar gifted me with the lands surrounding those originally owned by my family, and I became wealthy as a result of my property ownership, but I digress.  Antoninus was in the stables when I arrived and after accepting his greetings, I asked if I might speak with him privately. 

“I was not romantic in requesting Ileana in marriage; the arrangement of marriage in that time was business conducted between men, and women had little place in the negotiations.  I said that Caesar had ordered me to marry, and I believed Ileana would be an acceptable wife.  Antoninus agreed, and the contract was signed.  Seven days later, we were married.  We did not speak of whether or not I bore his daughter any affection; I did not know her, and it would not have mattered if I had.  I was still grieving the loss of Lucilla; she was the only woman I wanted, and I could not have her.  Ileana paid the price for what I perceived as Lucilla’s treachery.  At that point and for a long while afterward, I trusted no woman.

“When I took Ileana from her mother’s arms on our marriage night and carried her into my house, she wept in fear.  I was nine years her senior, and she knew nothing of the marriage bed aside from carefully veiled insinuations from her mother and older sisters.  I expect my physical appearance also figured into her fears …I was likely the largest man she had ever seen.  My years in the Army had toughened me, and my frame – still slim when I left home to join the Army – had long since filled out and hardened in maturity.  Aside from Lucilla, my experience with women to that time had been with camp whores and professional meretricis.  I knew nothing of wooing a woman as it had never been necessary; Lucilla had sought me out and come to me willingly.  She was eager to become a woman, and it was not necessary to expend time or energy on her arousal.  I had realised early on in my sexual experience that women would gladly accompany me to my bed thus I had never needed to learn the finer arts of bedding a woman.  I had no knowledge of how to arouse Ileana and, in truth, cared nothing for whether or not she enjoyed the act.  I likely punished her as I wished to punish Lucilla.  Ileana’s feelings in the matter were not a consideration; I was a man.  She was my wife and taking my ease in her body was my right.  I was no different from other men of my time and class.  What did matter was that – if at all possible - she be with child when I returned to the front.

“Ileana fought me fiercely that first night; had she simply submitted, the experience would surely have been less painful for her, but I did not consider that.  I had been long without a woman.  I could have visited the meretricis in Emerita Augusta in the week prior to my marriage but did not.  It was our belief that if a man withheld himself for a time, it was more likely that his wife would conceive.  As I have said, it was important that she be pregnant when I left.  She scratched me grievously with her nails in her efforts to stop me; I slapped her so hard that her lip was bloodied, telling her she could do her duty as a Roman wife willingly, or I would tie her to the bed and take what was my right.  She submitted.  From that day forward, she submitted in silence, even after I had made an effort to learn how to arouse her.  I set the tone for our marital bed that first night; I have regretted it since coming into this life because in my relationship with you, I have truly come to know what Ileana and I might have experienced in our bed – in our marriage - and did not.”  I was silent for a time, waiting to see if she had questions or would make a comment.  She did nothing more than take a sip of her wine and wait for me to continue.

“When I left her and returned to duty six months after our marriage, I did not know she was with child.  She had bled regularly since our marriage, and I was displeased with her.  I gave much thought to divorcing her because of what I perceived as her infertility but, as a function of her youth, determined to try again to impregnate her on my next leave.  It is only since arriving in this time that I have learnt fertility lies with the man as well as a woman.  At the time, I blamed her for not having conceived.  I had hoped that on my return to duty and on the next occasion I saw Caesar I could report not only my marriage but coming fatherhood.  When I saw him, I reported that I had obeyed his order to marry.  He asked of my wife, and I told him she was comely enough.  He asked if she was with child.  It was shameful to me to say that when I left she was not; it never occurred to me that she might have conceived, and I did not know of it.

“I returned home some 11 or 12 months later to find myself the purported father of a son, a babe still a tiny infant.  Ileana had not written to inform me of her pregnancy, as women did not write of such things.  The one letter I received from her spoke of the harvest and the birth of a new foal, nothing more.  On seeing the child, I flew into a rage and refused to acknowledge him as my son.  We argued and I struck Ileana again, hitting her so hard that she stumbled across the room and fell to the floor as our child screamed in his cot.  I was so angry that I sent her to her father’s home for a fortnight, insisting she take the child with her.  I could not bear to look upon him; I felt she had betrayed me as Lucilla had done. 

“A week after Ileana’s departure, my chief groom approached me in the stables.  His wife was Ileana’s maid; she had told him that Ileana had failed to bleed on schedule less than a week following my leave-taking the preceding year.  The babe was small as he was born eight months after my leaving; she must have conceived only days before I had left.  It was not surprising that Marcus was small, as she was a small woman, and he was born two weeks early though at the time, I did not make that connection.  I assumed he had been conceived following my departure and had been born immediately prior to my arrival.  The groom – Rufus - told me that Ileana had left the house only to visit her father’s farm on two occasions whilst I was gone.  She had made no visits to Emerita Augusta, no visits to neighbours whilst I was away; she had remained at our farm but for the visits to her family home.  No man had visited my farm since I had returned to duty and now returned home.  Whilst at her father’s house and at home, she had kept strictly to the house, surrounded by her women.  There was no possibility that the child had been fathered by anyone other than myself.

“It took me a week to swallow my pride and go to fetch her from her father’s house.  When I did, I asked that his family come to our house the following day for the dies lustricus.  I raised my son above my head and called him Marcus, after the Emperor.  As you know, until I returned and acknowledged Marcus as my son, he had no name and no status.  I later learnt that until my return and the dies lustricus, she had called him fili faustus.  I never apologised to Ileana for doubting her; it was enough that I had acknowledged Marcus as my son.  She would not have expected an apology though I deeply regret not having begged her forgiveness.”  I stopped and took a sip of my wine, looking at Cassandra before going on.  “Cara, I have so many regrets from that life.  I only pray that you can forgive the man I was.”  She had been sitting in her chair, but now moved to sit beside me on the couch.  Her voice was soft when she spoke.

“Go on, Maximus.”

“Over time, I came to care for Ileana deeply and believe that I did love her; I think I had learnt to love her before my departure for Germania following our marriage, but I also know that I was never in love with her, as I know myself to be with you, Cara.  I believe she came to care for me, though the warmth that distinguishes the relationship I have with you did not exist in our marriage.  But for her reticence in the bedroom and what I thought at the time was her lack of fertility, I truly had no complaint with her.  Insofar as the rest of the world could see, she was a good wife.  She ran the house well, and the staff respected her.  She was a good hostess on those occasions when my position necessitated the invitation of guests to dinner.  Unfortunately, I never trusted her, but at that time, I trusted no woman.  In truth, I trusted no one other than Caesar, least of all my wife.  I had been taught as a boy that women were not to be trusted; it was our way not to trust women.  Lucilla reinforced that generic lack of trust, and I saw no reason to change that view.  I knew personally of several men who had acknowledged children that could not possibly be theirs simply to save face.  I was away for so long, why should I expect my wife to be different than any other?  The possibility that she might foist another man’s child off on me was unthinkable and that was why I reacted to Marcus’ birth as I did.  It is possible to love someone and not trust them, and that was what I did with her.  I suspect she felt the same of me.

“I was not faithful to Ileana when I was away.  I know my film intimates that I was, but such was not the case.  The film was made in this century and was not entirely faithful to second century morés.  It is a 21^st century version that comports with current values and has little to do with the reality of my time.  The film portrayed me as an honourable man by the standards of this day; there was much it did not reveal about that time or about me.  I was considered honourable, a virtuous man in my own time as well, though the behaviours associated with honour and virtue between the centuries are vastly different.  No Roman male would have gone years without the comfort of a woman’s body and none would have even considered such an absurd notion.  We believed that it was detrimental to a man’s health to withhold himself, and self-release was not considered but for the most extreme of circumstances.  Women were available; we took our ease with them, with or without their consent.”  Her eyes widened at my last statement, but as she did not speak, I continued.

“The aftermath of any battle necessarily left a large number of dead and dying men on both sides.  Fortunately for Rome, the majority of that number on the northern front were among the Germanian tribes.  Those surviving the battle ran for their lives, taking with them those wounded who might survive.  Those beyond help were left on the battlefield to die in agony.  When those fleeing in the aftermath of a battle reached their encampment, the women of those not returning hastened to the battlefield in an effort to save their men and, if such was not possible, to attempt to recover their bodies.”  I stopped and drained my glass.  What I was to say next should not surprise her academically; however, studying a culture and speaking to one who had lived in it were entirely different matters.  Her glass was almost full and the wine bottle only half empty; however, I required stronger spirits.  I walked to the bar and retrieved the bottle of scotch, carrying it to the kitchen.  Taking a glass from the cabinet, I filled it half full and put in a bit of ice before returning to her.  I spoke as I sat.

“Cassandra, what I will tell you now is brutal …it may permanently alter your opinion of me and any feelings you have for me.  Do you wish me to continue?  If you do not, I will leave now and not trouble you again.”  She touched my face, her thumb tracing over my lips before she answered.

“You’ve come this far, Caro.  You need to finish this, for your own sake as much as whatever you feel you owe me in confession.”  I took a deep swallow of my drink and nodded.

“It was customary to withdraw our men from the field in the aftermath of battle and wait for the arrival of the women.  Men become like animals after a battle.  There is an exhilaration, a hunger that demands satiation.  In the presence of so much death, there is a need to affirm one’s own life.  That affirmation is sex; it makes a man feel more alive than any other activity.  We would await the arrival of the women, allowing them to disperse over the field of battle in search of their men …and then we would strike.  We took them mercilessly, Cara, we raped them over the bodies of their dead and dying men, watching the look in the eyes of those still alive as they saw their women ravished by the force of Rome.  The screams of the dying were replaced by those of their women.  We demanded release, and we took it.  Whilst some of the women fought us fiercely, most did not as we would cut down those who resisted us as quickly as we had their men.  There was a secondary motive in what we did, but it did not justify our atrocity.  We knew the women would spread the word among their own tribe, and that warning would spread to other tribes …defeat at the hands of the Empire is total.  Do not defy Rome …she gives no quarter; do not expect it.”

REAGAN

I had known what he would say before he got the words out.  When he made that last statement, he wouldn’t look at me, his eyes turning toward the French doors on the north side of the house, and he looked out into the grey autumn sky.  I knew he had turned away from me because he was ashamed; I could see the tears pool in his eyes and slip silently down his face.  It is not possible to feel shame if one has no conscience, if one has no wish to change past behaviours.  I stood and moved in front of him, taking his face in my hands and turned it to mine.  I wiped away his tears with my thumbs and pulled his head into my breasts, holding him as his arms went round me, and he wept.  A few minutes later he recovered himself and spoke again.

“I have not told you everything yet, Cara.  There is more …so much more.”  I sat again, taking his hand, and waited for him to resume.

MAXIMUS

“In that time, my behaviour and that of my men was expected and accepted.  In truth, I was a rapist, no better than a wild and savage beast.  I raped my wife on the night of our marriage; in truth, each time she did not come to me willingly, I took her by force.  I knew that was what my father had done to my mother; he had told me that not all women were willing and often must be forced to undertake their duties as a wife.  When I entered the Army, I heard that same statement from other men.  I was raised to believe that the taking of Ileana’s body was my right as a husband, as a man.  I did not perceive that my behaviour was unacceptable.”  Her words were soft, rational.

“It was acceptable in your time, Maximus.  It’s only by our standards today that you stand in judgment of your actions.  You have adopted the moral code of this time, and by that code, you condemn yourself for having been a man of your time.  Don’t punish yourself for being the same as every other Roman male.  You are no longer that man.”  I took a deep swallow from my glass and continued.

“When I returned to Germania following my visit home and acknowledging Marcus as my son, I was angry and frustrated.  Ileana was nursing my son and as such, untouchable to me.   There were no female slaves at my farm that I found acceptable for taking to my bed, and I could not bring myself to visit the diseased meretricis in Emerita Augusta.  Once back in Germania, I determined to take a mistress in the nearby village as several of my fellows had done and spent several weeks going into the local market when I was off duty, and time permitted.  My intention was to find a comely widow who would accept me in return for my protection and the money I could offer to make her life easier.  On one of those visits I saw one of my infantrymen with a beautiful woman; they seemed to know each other intimately.  I followed them when they left the market – they were too engaged in each other to notice me – and discovered that they had set up housekeeping.  On several subsequent occasions, I returned to watch the house and learnt that she had borne him two children; clearly, their relationship was of several years duration.  I once saw him with a female child of no more than three years and was close enough to hear her call him pater when he picked her up in his arms.  There was also a boy of about four or five.  It was obvious to any who saw the four of them that they were a family, but I ignored that reality.  By that time I was too caught up in my lust for his woman.

“Several months later we were on patrol  The man was one of the infantrymen I had chosen to go with me; he was a good soldier.  We were attacked and outnumbered, though our force was superior in skill and armament.  At one point I realised the man was surrounded, standing no chance of survival unless one of the cavalry officers rode to his assistance.  I was engaged, but being on horseback, I had the advantage and could have beaten back those opposing me and ridden to his defence.  I did not.  I turned away; he was killed.  I never even knew his name.”  Cassandra closed her eyes for a long moment, breathing deeply before opening them and again looking at me.  I expected to see condemnation in her eyes; what I saw there was sorrow.

“Rather than permitting my men the usual rewards of victory, I gave orders to take the bodies of our dead back to camp immediately.  The dead man’s comrades knew he had a woman in the village but no knowledge of her identity.  I said that I had once seen them together and knew where she lived.  I said that I would go into the village and tell her of his death, then bring her to the camp to claim his body.  I ordered the surgeons to clean the man’s body so that it was presentable for her.  I took the time to bathe and dress in a clean uniform and had my aide clean and polish my lorica and helmet before going to tell her of her man’s death.  I took three guards with me to make myself look more imposing; I was 25 years of age, a heartless and arrogant fool. 

“She opened the door when I knocked; her face went white when she saw a Roman officer standing before her.  She knew he was dead before I spoke the words.  She collapsed in my arms, weeping with despair.  Her name was Ethelinde.  I picked her up in my arms and carried her to the bed in which she had lain with him, the bed in which she had borne his children, laying her there to weep in her grief.  I said that I would take her with me to the camp to claim his body so she might bring him back to the village for burial.  I asked if there was a woman I could get to stay with her on her return, someone to help her prepare his body according to the custom of her people, as I knew that would serve to assuage her grief.  Showing her that consideration would further my own cause later. I knew from my own sources that they had married according to her customs.  I sent one of my men to fetch her mother.  The mother remained with the children whilst Ethelinde went with me to the camp.  I returned to the village the following day, taking an honour guard with me to show the Empire’s respect for a fallen soldier and attended his burial.  I explained to my men that having seen the couple together and knowing that they had children, I could do no less than help his woman in her time of need.  I am quite sure they did not believe me.

“A week later, in the evening, I returned to her house.  She allowed me to enter, and we spoke again.  He had taught her Latin, and whilst it was rudimentary, with my knowledge of her tongue, we communicated well enough.  I asked if she had any means of support for herself and her children; I had known her answer before she spoke.  She was destitute, having been largely outcast by her people when she took up with a Roman soldier.  I stood and paced the room for a few moments, pretending to consider options.  In truth, I had carefully thought out precisely what I would say and do.  I turned back to her and said that I could provide her a small sum that would get her through the next several months whilst she mourned her husband, but nothing more unless there was a return accommodation.  It was not necessary to tell her what that accommodation must be.  She looked at the floor, then across the room to the cot where her children slept.  Her words were so low and soft that I had to strain to hear them.  She said, “I will do whatever you wish.  You are a good man.  You allowed me to bury my husband rather than spend my life not knowing what had become of him.”  Had she known truly what I had done, she would have cut out my heart with her late husband’s dagger; I deserved it.

“Not once in that time did I ever think of my own wife at home in Spain.  I did not think of my own son without a father.  I thought only of my lust for Ethelinde, my desire to possess her.  I killed her husband in order to have her.  We arranged that I would come to her at any time I was not on duty, that it was not required that I send her word of my coming, as she would entertain no other man.”  I stopped speaking for I could no longer force the words out of my mouth.  There was more regarding Ethelinde that Cassandra must hear, but at that moment, I could not go on.  The saying of the words thus far had brought me a guilt so oppressive that I did not think I could take my next breath, and yet I continued to breathe.  I forced myself to continue.

“Ethelinde was my mistress for more than two years.  She bore me a daughter, though the child did not survive her first winter.  When the garrison moved to another village, I left her without a backward glance; she had served her purpose.  I did leave her an amount of money that, if spent wisely, should have supported her for several years.  Sexually, I treated her more humanely than I did Ileana for the first few years of our marriage, but that was likely because she was completely submissive.  When I was with Ethelinde, she cooked for me and tended to all my wants.  She was both willing and accommodating in bed and always pleasant and agreeable in her manner.  She never refused me and, on occasion, took the initiative.  I found that flattering; it appealed to my masculine pride.  I do not know whether she actually enjoyed our congress, but she did teach me a bit about how to please a woman, thus I suspect the act was not entirely odious to her.  With time and experience …and knowledge of women in this time, I have tried to become more considerate in bed, more sensitive to a woman’s needs.”  I looked from where I had been focused on the contents of my glass to see Cassandra’s soft smile.  Perhaps I had accomplished that goal.

“Throughout the time I was with Ethelinde, I never once initiated a letter to my wife.  I was too busy …at least that was the excuse I made to myself.  In truth, I was not interested in what was going on at home unless my son was ill or there was some problem at the farm.  Though I had admitted to myself that in my way I loved Ileana, had she died, she could have been replaced; it was always thus with a wife in the Empire.  My son was my immortality and thus, infinitely more valuable to me.  Wives were expendable; sons were not. 

“I rarely received letters from home – from Ileana - more than twice a year.  I answered them when I had time but did not let the requirement to do so interfere with my duty to Rome or my time with Ethelinde.  I had settled into a comfortable relationship with her that was very much like a marriage.  She was my woman; it was that simple. 

“The next time I returned home, Marcus was just past his third birthday.  I was amazed at how rapidly he had grown and proud of his childish accomplishments.  I spent time teaching him to ride and began breaking a wild pony for him in order that my master of horse could continue his training on my return to duty.  Ileana no longer refused to accommodate me in bed; at times, I think she enjoyed the act, though I cannot be sure.  I am sure that I never asked her if she was satisfied.  It was enough for me that I was, and bedding her no longer necessitated a struggle.  Perhaps I employed with her some of the things I had learnt whilst with Ethelinde.  Perhaps that made the act more pleasant for Ileana.  In truth, I have no answer for those musings.

“Whilst home on that occasion, I realised that Marcus was becoming more spoilt than a boy should be.  He clearly lacked the strong hand of a father when it came to discipline, and I undertook to remedy that matter.  One morning after Marcus’ riding lesson, I sent him to get his mother and bring her to me at the stables.  I watched him walk toward the house, and I returned to the horses.  A time passed, and Ileana did not appear.  I went to the house seeking her and asked why she had not come as I had requested.  She said she did not know that I had sent for her.  I replied that I had sent Marcus to summon her; she replied she had not seen him since before I took him for his lesson.

“I found Marcus in his cubiculum, playing with one of his toys.  I asked why he had failed to tell his mother that I wished to see her.  He did not answer.  I asked again and a third time.  At last he said that he had told his mother.  Ileana was behind me, and I turned to look at her.  She knew better than to lie to me; though she said nothing, I knew that she had told the truth, and my son had lied.  I asked Marcus if he had lied to me, and he acknowledged that he had.  It was a childish lie, but a lie nonetheless.  I struck him across the face …not hard enough to make him fall, but enough to make him cry out and run to his mother.  I grabbed him away from her and shook him, telling him to accept his punishment like a man rather than a girl.  Ileana took Marcus from me and left the room.  She moved into his cubiculum that night and did not share my bed again before I returned to duty.  She did not speak to me for three days; when at last she did, it was to berate me for my harshness with a small child.  I had no answer for her and turned away in silence.  I had done to my son what my father had done to me.  It was the Roman way to expect the immediate and absolute compliance of a son with his father’s wishes.  A father was expected to be harsh with his sons; to do so was a virtue.  It was our way of preparing them for the harshness of life beyond childhood.  I did not strike Marcus because I did not love him.  I know in this time the phrase is trite, but I did it because I did love him, because I wanted to prepare him for the pain of life as a man, as well as to teach him lying is not honourable, that it did not comport with Roman virtue.

“As before, I had hoped she would be with child when I left, but this time it was not to be.  She began to bleed the day before my departure.  I think she took pleasure in telling me that my seed had found no home within her womb.  Her scorn was no more than I deserved. 

“When next I went home, we had attained a truce with the Marcomanni in the area of the garrison, and I was granted leave until Caesar recalled me.  That was the longest I was home during our marriage.  Ileana was reserved when I arrived, and Marcus – though possibly not remembering the cuffing I had given him – behaved predictably …he barely remembered me.  On realising that, Ileana posited that perhaps my son and I might start anew.  I made a deliberate effort to understand that he was a child, that perhaps it was not required that I follow my father’s model of child rearing.  Marcus strained my patience, but in the time I was home that leave, I managed to raise my hand to him no more than twice and then only to grasp his shoulder and shake him lightly in order to gain his attention to my words.  I am not proud of the occasions on which I did that but did feel I had accomplished a great deal in changing my behaviour toward my son.  When I left that time – and it was the last time I saw Marcus or Ileana alive – he wept on my departure.  He asked that I promise him I would return safely …he said that he loved me.”

“When I reached home after Marcus Aurelius’ death and found Ileana and Marcus burnt and crucified, I wept with despair.  I had finally reached a place within myself that allowed me greater understanding of what a husband and father should be.  I had taken no other long-term woman whilst on the front, making use instead of the camp’s followers as did my men.  Caesar was at the front much of that time, and numerous discussions with him regarding his views of marriage and fatherhood – and the mistakes he had made - had given me significant insight to my own behaviour.  I had come to understand that whilst my father did only what he knew, it was not required that I emulate him in his relationship with his family.  I had at last reached a place in which I truly wanted to be with my family, to love and comfort my wife and my son, and they had been taken from me in the cruellest possible manner.  I would have taken them and fled the Empire, willingly forsaking everything I had – my lands, my wealth, my position, anything – for another chance with them, and that chance had been ripped away from me, from the three of us. All I could think of in that moment were my child’s last words to me, his childish voice saying that he loved me …and my chance to tell him that I loved him in return was gone forever.”

REAGAN

“He said that he loved me.”  Maximus’ repetition of his son’s words struck me like a dagger.  Children and dogs have an ability to forgive and continue to love their abusers that is beyond understanding.  Maximus had gone silent as he lay against my breast.  I knew he was crying because I could feel the dampness on my shirt where I had pillowed his head on my breast, and I could feel the sobs that wracked his body though he made no sound.  Had I looked at his face, I doubt I could have seen his tears through my own.  I could not imagine how difficult it must have been for Maximus to make the decision to tell me what he had this night …and the pain it must have cost him to say the words was past my comprehension.  Beyond doubt, he was the most courageous and altruistic man I had ever known …courageous because he felt he had to tell me of his earlier life …altruistic because he knew full well that his confidence could have caused me to walk away from him forever.

In truth, I was not surprised by what I had heard; I had suspected at least parts of what he told me this night simply because of what he had not told me in the past.  I realised Russell Crowe’s comment on the Gladiator DVD had been totally accurate.  Rome had conquered the world and the Empire was the world’s greatest civilisation at that point in time, but its glory had been underlaid by absolute brutality.  Had the Romans not been brutal, they would not have conquered and thus, would themselves have been conquered.  I stroked my fingers through Maximus’ hair before I spoke.

“I love you, Maximus.”  He waited a moment before responding.

“You do not wish me to leave?”

“Never.  I would be lost without you.  The man you were has made you the man you are …the man I love.  I want to marry you, Maximus.  I want to be your wife.  There will be no white flag above my door.  I’m in love …and always will be.”

MAXIMUS

The gods had heard my entreaty and had responded.  She knew the worst, and loved me still.

NOTES 

Meretricis

Professional prostitutes or whores

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