©2001 by WILDBEARIES

This story is based on characters created in the film, "Gladiator" and in no way intended to infringe upon those characters or the story of that film. References to real people are strictly the product of the writer's imagination and meant to entertain the reader.
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The boy’s blue eyes looked up into the blue eyes of the man he admired above all others. Something important was clearly going to be conveyed, but the boy was very aware that he had disobeyed the day before by taking off into the neighboring fields after what he was still convinced was a spying marauder, so he thought perhaps he was about to get a lecture on proper behavior. “I’m listening, Sir,” he answered when spoken to.

Maximus sighed. This was no doubt one of the more difficult tasks he’d ever had to undertake - telling a young boy that the man he had always called his father was actually not the man who had sired him, and then admitting that he was the man who had. He saw no easy way to do this except to just plunge right in, so he did. “Lucius, I know you loved your father and you miss him.”

Lucius nodded, his eyes a bit bleak in the morning sunshine spilling into the atrium from the open front door. “Yes, Sir. He brought me books and soldiers.”

“Fine gifts, I agree, any boy would be pleased with such presents,” Maximus answered. “Sometimes, Lucius, for reasons that we adults find very logical but which confuse youngsters, it’s necessary for things to be hidden, for truth to be concealed.”

The young brow furrowed as Lucius thought about that. Finally, he nodded, “Yes, like when I had to be careful what I said around Uncle Commodus.”

“Exactly,” Maximus agreed, “although other reasons than fear of upsetting someone cause people to hide things, too.”

Lucius looked confused, but his face cleared momentarily. “Like when I don’t want Mama to know that I’m doing something she told me not to, so I pretend I’m doing something else?”

Maximus wondered how adept at that particular deception the child had gotten, but wasn’t going to go into the nuances of what children should and shouldn’t do at this point. “Yes,” he answered simply. “Sometimes we adults do things we don’t want other adults - even a parent - to know about, so we disguise what we’ve done, hide it, and tell another story to protect ourselves. Or to protect others.”

Lucius remembered several times, very frightening times, when he’d said something in all innocence only to have his uncle change before his eyes into an alarming, wild-eyed stranger, one who was mean to his own sister - Lucius’ mother. Sometimes, Lucius had feared Commodus would actually kill his mother, he was so angry with her. A lot of it had to do with this man speaking so seriously to him now, only when he was a gladiator, the Spaniard, and not a general. “I understand,” Lucius said now, “like when Mama lied to my uncle about visiting you.”

“Exactly,” Maximus agreed, realizing that this child, who should still be innocent of the vagaries of adult behavior and cruelty, probably did understand all too well. “When your mama was a lot younger, about ten years ago or so, she and I were friends, did you know that?”

“When you were in Germania?” the boy asked excitedly, “Did she help you and Grandfather fight the Germans?”

Remembering some scrapes Lucilla had gotten herself and him into, Maximus had to tell the truth, “Yes, she did, although she mostly got herself in trouble for disobeying her father.” He could still see Lucilla in his mind’s eye as she had been ten, twelve years ago in the encampments of the north - willful, beautiful, determined to see things for herself, determined to have him for herself and heedless of the consequences of her passion for him, the provincial-bred soldier trying to make a place for himself amongst the aristocrats in the officers corps.

“Your mother was very brave, you know,” he finally said. He didn’t add foolhardy, maddening, frustrating, daring, sharp-tongued or stubborn - let the boy have some illusions. That Lucilla had also been a most lusty young woman did not need to be conveyed to their son, either. She had actually taken his virginity rather than the other way around, by the simple expedient of climbing into his bed in the middle of the night disguised as a camp follower, and arousing him beyond control before revealing herself to his horrified gaze. Not that he’d held himself away from her afterwards, not the many times they’d been together after that, until she had announced to him that she was marrying the Co-Emperor, Lucius Verus, because she would not be a common soldier’s wife. It was only a few weeks afterward that he found out she was pregnant by him, and that their child would ostensibly be born the son of Verus and not Maximus Decimus Meridius, Centurion of no particularly exalted family.

Lucius’ blue eyes shone, imagining the sorts of adventures his mother might have gotten into when she was younger and living in the army encampments with her father. “Did she use a bow then?”

“Yes, she is very talented with a bow, as I’m sure you know.” She probably could still shoot the whiskers off a hare at twenty paces, truth be told.

“Your mother and I were very close then, Lucius. I suppose you might say, I actually hoped to marry her - before she met your father, er, General Verus, that is.”

Lucius didn't seem to catch the correction in terminology. “You were?” Clearly, the boy hadn't realized that. “So I might have been your son, Sir?” From the look on his face, that prospect wasn’t too awful, which heartened Maximus.

“Well, your mother and I weren’t exactly wise when we first knew each other, Lucius. We spent time together that we shouldn’t have - and your mother became pregnant as a result.” Not sure how much to tell the boy, Maximus paused to let that sink in.

Lucius turned the new information over in his head, quickly absorbing what the general was trying to tell him. Having spent most of his life in the royal palaces of Rome, he was familiar with what happened when women and men joined together in a way that was apparently something special. He didn't understand adults' liking for it, but his mother told him when he was older he no doubt would. He also knew what the outcome of such coupling could be - babies. His smile grew as he realized something he had actually wished for, “Sir - are you my real father?”

Grateful that the child had thought of it, sparing him from plunging headlong into some ham-handed explanation of sex, fathering children and other things he wouldn't be very adept at, Maximus thanked the gods and smiled down at Lucius, “Yes, Lucius, I am, and that means you are really my son, and I’m very pleased to be able to tell you that after all this time.”

The boy grinned, his mind obviously well able to grasp all the nuances of what he had been told, and also what was not being said but only hinted at. “So, I’m not the heir to the Empire?”

“Would that be so bad?”

He shook his head emphatically, “No, I don’t want to be - the Emperor doesn’t really have that much fun, and there’s always somebody around to keep him from doing interesting stuff or getting hurt. I wouldn’t like that much.”

“Neither would I,” Maximus confided. He slid a bit closer on the stone bench, daring to put a friendly arm around Lucius’ shoulders. “So you would like being my boy?”

Lucius glanced up, grinning, “Oh, very much, Sir! Will you take me with you to the army camp, Sir? And teach me all about horses?”

“Sometimes, and yes,” Maximus answered the double question, “but you must also be obedient and not go chasing off after spies and the like, Lucius. After all, you don’t want to give your poor mother cause for alarm.”

“I understand.” The boy studied his sandal-shod feet for a few minutes before asking, “Would that make Lady Ana my stepmother, Sir? I like her an awful lot - not as much as Mama, of course, but she is very nice.”

“I’m not sure, we’ll have to sort that part out,” Maximus thought perhaps Lucilla would not be too happy to have Lucius call Ana anything other than by the honorific of “Lady Ana”. “For now, I’d suggest you continue to address her as Lady Ana, would that be all right?”

“Yes, after all - it would be confusing to have two mama’s,” the boy answered in perfect logic.

Lucius drew his somewhat skinny legs under him and perched beside Maximus on the bench, smiling, eyes bright. “Sir,” he finally asked somewhat tentatively, “might I - call you Papa?”

Maximus' throat suddenly tightened, taking him by surprise, so he only nodded, and when Lucius launched himself into his arms for a hug, he thought he would just dissolve, remembering the last time he had held his other son, Marcus. But this child was alive, and he could protect him, could help him grow into the kind of man he had hoped Marcus would have done, so he held him close to his heart for long moments, neither of them speaking, arms tight around one another.

Watching from the corridor, Lucilla stuffed her knuckles in her mouth to keep from sobbing aloud. To see Maximus with their son, to see him tell their son the truth of his parentage, was moving beyond what she had thought it might be. Seeing the look on Maximus’ face when Lucius impulsively hugged him made her heart thump right up in her throat. She felt the urge to weep at the expression of pained love on Maximus’ face, and realized exactly how much it had hurt him to be denied the son he had given her, especially after the cruel death of his other child. A soft linen handkerchief was handed her, and she wiped her eyes, looking up to find Ana standing beside her, an expression of understanding on her face. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Ana only nodded, close to tears herself, but she didn’t intrude. She vanished down the hall, leaving Lucilla alone outside the atrium where father and son now sat leaning companionably against one another, discussing the finer points of horses. Lucilla wiped her eyes again and moved away from the atrium, outside into the herb garden where she could blow her nose, get hold of her scattered wits, and compose herself once more.

Maximus, meanwhile, got to his feet and took Lucius out to the paddocks where Scarto and the other horses were contentedly grazing. He lifted his son onto the top railing and they continued their discussion of conformation, bloodlines and the advantages and disadvantages of different types of horses. Antoninus and the other legionaries were searching again for any trace of their unwelcome visitors from the day before, but not holding out much hope of finding anything. They rode in at intervals to report to the general. Lucius was thrilled when he was allowed to remain in his seat on the railing and listen to the adult discussion. Maximus was pleased that the boy didn't interrupt, although he could tell he was barely able to suppress his excitement.

"Would you like a ride on Scarto?" he asked, thinking that was a fitting reward for the boy's good behavior.

"Oh, yes, please, Papa!" Lucius jumped down and followed his father to get the bridle and saddle, making a conscious effort to imitate his father's every move and posture. Observing this from the portico, Ana smiled widely, as did Lucilla, who came out just as Maximus lifted their son onto the back of the black stallion. "I knew he'd talk him into that," she commented.

"Actually, I think it was Maximus' idea," Ana replied, "but I've no doubts Lucius would have coaxed him into it sooner or later, boys being what they are."

Maximus, mounted on a sturdy bay stallion just arrived from Emerita, led Scarto and Lucius out the gate of the paddock and onto the road. "To the front gate, but no faster than a canter, understood?" they heard him call to the excited boy.

"Yes, Papa - to the front gate." He urged Scarto forward, and once the horse realized the much lighter weight of the boy was all he was going to have to carry, he set off at his ground-covering canter, Lucius whooping with delight from his back.

Maximus, apparently feeling himself being watched, turned and saw the two women on the portico. He gave a wave of his hand, turned and galloped off after his son. Had it not been for the difference in coloration, Lucilla thought, there would have been no mistaking the fact that they were father and son. They sat their horses alike, had a similar light touch on the reins, and obviously were thrilled to be outdoors and ahorse on a sunny day like this one.

"The acorn doesn't fall far from the tree," Ana said, echoing Lucilla's thoughts.

"No," the princess agreed, for once not taking her usual Patrician tone, "it was time for Lucius to know who he is and who is father is, time and past time, actually."

Ana turned to look at the older woman. She wondered at the contemplative tone Lucilla had just used - there was more to this than just having a boy get acquainted with his father, but she couldn't come right out and ask the princess what she meant, or if she was planning something. She would no doubt be dismissed out of hand anyway for having the impenitence to ask. This was going to call for more finesse. "Well, time to see about the noon meal," Ana finally said, and went into the house to do just that, and also to think about what else could be on Lucilla's mind.

Meanwhile, the two riders - one large, one much smaller but obviously cut from the same cloth - rode happily down the sunny road.

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Copyright 2001 by wildbearies

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