Maximus Overdrive

 By Bailey

Chapter One

He lay dying.  His blood was soaking the sands of the arena.  He could see her…Lucilla.  Her beautiful face was a mask of pain.  He didn’t want that.  She deserved better than to mourn him again.  He hadn’t believed at the time that she had mourned his leaving when they parted ten years ago.

She had come to Germania with her father, Marcus Aurelius.  They met and he fell in love with her. He thought at first she loved him too but once he found out that she was engaged to Lucius Verus, 'brother' and co-emperor to Marcus Aurelius, he believed she had been only playing with him.  Hurt and angry, he had asked for leave and gone home to Spain, without telling her he was leaving.  It wasn’t until recently that he realized she had loved him all along and still did.

He wanted to reach up and brush her tears away but couldn’t muster the strength.  He wanted to tell her so many things before he left, but there wasn’t enough time, enough energy.  The best he could do was to reassure her. “Lucius is safe,” he whispered.  As he said it he knew that wasn’t so. Her son was heir to the throne and therefore the target for those who would now seek the throne for their own power.  It was only temporary, but it was the best he could do. 

It was time for him to leave and meet his wife and son in the afterlife.  She released him. “Go to them.”

Maximus Decimus Meridius was neither conscious nor unconscious.  He floated on a soft cloud, no worries, no pain…waiting…waiting for?

“Jupiter, I believe you are making a mistake.  We already have such a tentative hold on humans as it is.  The One True God is replacing us and you are helping him. You shouldn’t have allowed this particular man to die.  He was popular with the people and loyal to us…a good example for them to follow.”

“You fancy him, Juno?  He is just a mortal.  Did you have him?  Is that the connection?”

The beautiful goddess was annoyed with her husband.  Even though she knew he played with mortal women, she had never taken a mortal man to her bed, although she had to admit this particular man intrigued her and made her wonder what it would be like to have him make love to her. 

As the queen of all the Olympian gods, Juno felt she should be faithful to her husband and treat mortals with the love and discipline expected of the gods they worshiped.  True…humans believed that they were merely pawns of the gods, and they were, but the truth was more than that.  Some of the gods played pranks, sometimes deadly pranks, on the mortals, but that was not the mandate.  Mortals worshipped the gods, and those who did should have been given grace.  What good is a god if he or she accepts the sacrifices and adoration only to ruin the supplicant’s life in some way?  To her it was a mockery of who they were, however her husband wasn’t interested in disciplining the lesser gods and she was powerless to discipline them herself in any meaningful way.  It irked her just the same.

Jupiter could see that his wife was angry with him.  It amused him to see it.  She was so pious in her own way that he wondered how she managed being with him.  Of course he was the supreme god of Olympus and she would lose her standing if she were to ask to leave the marriage, but he knew that wasn’t a consideration.  She truly did love him, of that he was sure, but her annoyance could generate its own kind of punishment, even for him.

So he decided to be magnanimous.  “All right, my dear!  For you I will intercede.  However, he knows he was dying and I don’t intend to change that.  I also will not change the fact that everyone, including his beloved Lucilla, knows he died.  Therefore we must set him on another course.  I will move him to another location and he will have to become his own man in a different world, with no memories of the past except language, his or others that he has learned.  Agreed?”

Juno chewed her lip and pondered his words.  Maximus was a Roman and all he was stemmed from Rome.  Could he adjust to a new environment?  Would language be enough to carry with him?  Hadn’t he adjusted over and over to become the legendary warrior he was?  Hadn’t he had to adapt to new and different tactics in bringing down the fearsome tribes of Germania?  He would be at a great disadvantage, but she was afraid that if she insisted on further grants Jupiter might withdraw his offer all together.  “Agreed.”

And so Maximus Decimus Meridius, former General of all the Felix legions and Northern armies, one-time husband and father, recent slave and gladiator, was swept up into Jupiter’s hand and moved from his comfortable cloud of oblivion and deposited in Britannia.  This was the first of several placements Jupiter made over the coming 1900 mortal years.

Jupiter was thinking of where he could move Maximus this time.  He had shown himself well time and again.  It thrilled the father god to watch.

“Jupiter, I did not agree for you to send Maximus Decimus Meridius again and again to different battle grounds.”  Juno was upset and her husband could fairly feel the rolling anger as she stood there in front of him, hands clenched and a stormy look on her usually smiling face. “He hasn’t even taken a wife in the many locations you’ve moved him to.  You’ve had enough sport with him.  Let him settle for the balance of his life or let him die and send him to his family.  Anything less is simply vindictiveness on your part.”

“Not so, my dear.  I have found that this mortal provides me with a great deal of entertainment.  He is clever and strong willed.  He is what the gods of Olympus treasured, both Greek and Roman, before we were forgotten.  He makes me remember our glory days.  I would have them back.”

“Oh, Jupiter!  We are no longer worshipped and will never be again.  The One True God owns the hearts and minds of the mortals now.”

“Stop calling Him the One True God!  What makes him more important than us?”

“He promises them what we never did.  We used the mortals for our own amusement.  He uses them to defeat his enemy but rewards them with treasures in his heaven.  They don’t need us.  Now please, allow this mortal to live his life to its natural end!”

“I will think on it,” he said.  “Now find something to do that in no way involves me!”  Jupiter waved his hand and she was summarily dismissed.

Juno held her temper, bowed and left.  She would, however, re-visit this conversation in the not too distant future.  Sooner or later Jupiter would tire of her nagging and do as she asked.  She had to be careful, though, and not push too hard for fear of his reprisal, which would probably be directed toward Maximus, not her.

Jupiter hated to give up Maximus.  He was the only human left that he could play.  You see, the gods were as dependant on mortals as the mortals were on them.  Only one who worshipped a god could be brought down directly by that god.  He could be moved by Jupiter but he could not be directly influenced by the god unless he worshipped him actively.  However, it was possible to use a different worshiper in intrigue against that mortal. 

Now, alas, everything had changed.  Maximus no longer worshipped the gods of Olympus and neither did anyone else.  The memories were lost and he became empty of spiritualism.  Jupiter had lost his direct connection with Maximus when he gave him over to Britannia.  Maximus would have worshipped Jupiter had he ended up with Suetonius Paullinus and his legions, but instead Maximus was taken in by the Iceni and they had their own religion.  As he moved from one century to another he tried to reconnect with a higher consciousness than himself but he was never left in one century long enough.  There was always war and little time for understanding a new religion.  The memories didn’t come with him and he would have had to re-establish a new understanding each time.

Since neither Maximus nor the humans of the twentieth century worshipped Jupiter, he had no one that he could manipulate.  Knowing that he had made this mistake in the beginning, Jupiter, in a temper, dropped Maximus in the forests of what had once been Gaul, alone and naked, with all the memories from his past lives.  Jupiter had never done this before.  Always he had hidden Maximus’ past from him, honoring the contract with his wife.  This time, however, he wanted Maximus to know.  It would give Jupiter satisfaction to see this mortal’s despair…and perhaps he would worship Jupiter again and give the god what he wanted…direct control over him.

Chapter Two

Consciousness came slowly.  First he shivered.  Cold, he was terribly cold.  Then there was sound.  Somewhere nearby he could hear the clapping sound of gunfire.  He knew the sound, yet somehow it seemed different. There was a distinctive smell of smoke and loud thundering sounds like cannon fire, only worse.

Maximus dragged himself to full awareness but waited a moment before opening his eyes.  He remembered…EVERYTHING, from dying in the arena and waking up in Britannia to living with the Iceni and fighting the Romans with Queen Boudicca.  He fought with Constantine in the east and was with Robin Longstride when he fought King John for recognition of human rights and he was with him when he died from a traitor’s knife.  He met Napoleon’s army and helped defeat him at Waterloo. Warring…his whole existence had been war, death, destruction.  Why? How? What happened?

He distinctly remembered his last breath and the movement of his spirit from his body.  He was on his way to Elysium and his family…then nothing before finding himself in the Northern Province of Britannia.  Over and over it had happened.  How was this possible and...why?  Was Jupiter punishing him?  He had always worshipped the father god, gave him sacrifices, and to his wife, Juno, as well.  Even though Maximus also practiced the stoic life he never forgot to worship the gods.  That was his upbringing and he hadn’t ignored it.

Perhaps it was because he hadn’t done this in so very long that Jupiter was angry with him?  Suddenly Maximus realized that with the exception of Britannia, he had been traveling forward in time.  For some reason he had been taken back in time to fight with Boudicca in 60 A.D.  He had a short painful affair with her prior to their defeat and her suicide.  The last battle he was in was during the year 1815.  He remembered that one of the officers he had been with at Waterloo had recited a tactic that had been handed down from Roman times used to defeat the Germanians.  It was from 180 AD.  It was Maximus’ tactic, he realized that now.  Why hadn’t he seen it then?  Why; because he hadn’t remembered it until now.  But why now?

All this thinking was making his head hurt and he was still cold.  Opening his eyes, he looked around slowly.  He was lying on his left side near a clearing with trees surrounding it.  Cautiously he rolled to his stomach and rose to his knees. Off to his right was a young man lying on the ground. The left side of his head was missing and he was unfortunately very dead.  He seemed to be about Maximus’ size, so Maximus stripped him and began putting on his clothes.  They were relatively clean considering he was probably a foot soldier.

Once finished, Maximus began to bury him.  He dragged the young man to a natural depression and placed rocks over him.  It wasn’t the burial Maximus would have wanted for him, but it was better than being eaten by wild animals.

There were two silver tags that had hung on the man’s neck like a necklace or talisman.  There was writing that gave a number and a name, Ronald D. Smith 36542107 T42  43 O C.  Maximus had learned English and how to read and write it while staying in the greenwood with Robin, his wife Marian and the other outlaws.  He learned changes in the language when again he was in the company of English troops at Waterloo. He wasn’t sure of the importance of the tags, so Maximus pocketed them, hoping possibly to find someone who knew the boy. 

Having recalled his beliefs along with his history, Maximus commended the boy to any god the boy might worship.  He personally gave thanks to Jupiter for giving him back his memory.  He picked up Ronald Smith’s M1 Garand rifle and started walking in the direction of the gunfire.

He had no idea what the fighting was about but during the time he spent with  Robin Longstride and the months that led up to the battle between his forest men and the barons of the north against King John, he found that there was a great deal of animosity between the French and English.  He had also learned that it took very little to antagonize a fight between the two countries.  He had fought with the English every time, even though he hadn’t been aware of any conscious decision. 

Each time he had been moved by Jupiter he came to awareness as a grown man, not as a new born child.  Each time he was treated as someone who'd lost their memory.  This time, however, he could use his past as a reference, but he would need to keep the information to himself or run the risk of being considered crazy.

Jupiter watched as Maximus moved quietly through the forest.  The ultimate warrior was afoot again.  Jupiter was amazed that the mortal accepted his past and moved beyond the memories.  Now that Maximus had again remembered to worship him, it gave the god the opportunity to once again use him as sport and control him.  He couldn’t do that before, could only watch and not participate.

Maximus moved quietly toward the sound of gunfire.  He didn’t really want to become involved in another war, especially since he wasn’t sure what side he should be on.  However, he assumed that since the young man’s name sounded English and since it was also written in English that he was in or near England and that Ronald was English or of English descent.  At least it wasn’t French.

As he eased up near a small stream he could clearly see six men, in the same clothes as he was wearing, defending themselves against a larger contingent of men on the other side of the stream.  One man on the other side of the stream was shouting what seemed to be orders in a language that sounded like Prussian.  Maximus recalled it from the battle at Waterloo.  There were Prussians there, allies against Napoleon.  A man on Maximus’ side was also shouting orders in English, but with a different accent.  All the while each side was pouring round after round of rifle fire at each other.

“Moody!  Move to the left!  I don’t want these bastards to out flank us.”

“I can’t, Sarge.  I’m hit.  Can’t move my right leg.”

The sergeant was looking around for some sort of way out of this predicament when he spotted Maximus half hiding behind a tree.  “You there, take the left flank.”

Maximus quickly darted from his tree to just beyond the kid with the leg wound.  He dove to the ground flat on his stomach.  Although he’d used a musket in the battle of Waterloo, this rifle was different.  He wasn’t sure just how to work it but after a moment of watching the kid, he figured it out. 

The kid was doing his best but it was obvious his wound was beginning to take its toll.  He was on his belly as were all the men in his squad.  Finally, Moody simply stopped shooting and laid his head on the ground. Maximus was impressed.  The wound would have made even the strongest man whimper, yet the kid hadn’t uttered a sound. 

Maximus could see he wasn’t more than about 18.  It always bothered Maximus when the younger men died.  They had much to live for but didn’t have the time.  He was grateful when Moody moaned.  It meant the young man was still alive.  He wouldn’t be for long if the men on the other side of the stream kept them pinned down.

Maximus summed up the situation and made a decision.  He stood up and fired several shots then turned and ran back the way he’d come.  He heard the sergeant yell, “You yellow bastard, get back here!”

The Americans couldn’t simply retreat as the unknown soldier had just done.  They all had various wounds and wouldn’t stand a chance.  They just kept firing, hoping to keep the enemy from over-running them.

Once Maximus reached the more dense trees he turned north and crossed the stream further upstream than where the conflict was.  He circled and came in behind and on the Germans' right flank.

One of the American soldiers stood and threw a grenade.  He was hit by a German bullet and went down.  The grenade fell short and exploded in the middle of the stream.  Maximus saw this and realized that he also had similar weapons on his waist band.  He moved cautiously from tree to tree until he was close enough to lob two grenades into the German contingent.  The moment he tossed them he began firing.  His grenades killed and wounded several men.

As the Germans turned to concentrate their fire on Maximus, it opened up the opportunity for the sergeant and his less wounded men to catch the Germans in a cross-fire.  The Germans on the left flank turned and ran, leaving their fellow soldiers to die or be captured.

The sergeant crossed the stream with two of his men.  Only three of the Germans that were left, were alive.  They surrendered.

Maximus guarded them while the Americans did their best to tend to each other.  The sergeant came to Maximus.  He had a wound to his upper arm and needed attention as much as the others.  Only Maximus was untouched.  “Sorry I called you a coward.  I thought you were running out…leaving us alone.”

“I should have told you what I was going to do, but I was not certain if any of these Prussians knew English.  I did not wish one of them to spoil my surprise.”

The sergeant smiled and offered his hand for a shake. “Well, I’m glad you did.  I’m Sergeant Don Bale. Is that what the English call Germans, Prussians?  You are English, right?  What’s an Englishman doing in an American uniform?”

Bale was tall, over six feet with sandy brown hair and emerald green eyes.  He would be considered handsome to the ladies and his handshake was firm.  That told Maximus that he was a strong, confident person.

Maximus thought fast.  “I am English born and raised, but American by choice.”  Since he remembered that the men he fought with at Waterloo considered Maximus too formal, he introduced himself as 'Max Meridius.' 

He could see acceptance and a little pride that an Englishman had apparently given up his heritage for the new world nation.  Maximus knew about the country called the United States and that it was often referred to as America.  The men at Waterloo often spoke of the new fledgling nation, some with respect, some with disdain.  All of them respected the fighting spirit that the new nation had shown to England and the world.

“Well, Max, I need you to head off to the northwest and see if you can find someone to take these men off my hands and find a medic if you can.  Ours was killed two days ago.  By the way, what company are you with?”

Maximus was on shaky ground at this point.  “I am with…”  Suddenly a thought came to him.  “Company C.”  Jupiter planted the thought so Maximus wouldn’t be under suspicion.  He intended to have much more sport from him.  “I do not know where they are.”  Maximus hoped to get information so he could avoid meeting up with them.  If he were made to report to his company, they no doubt would sooner or later realize that they had no one in the company named Meridius and he didn’t want to have to explain himself.

Sergeant Bale shook his head. “Man, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but they got hit hard and most of them are dead.  How’d you get here?”

“I do not know.  I do not remember.”

“Shell shock probably.  Doesn’t seem to have lessened your ability to fight.”

Maximus smiled rather sadly, “No, no matter what happens, I can still fight.”  He couldn’t help but ask himself how many more times he would have to fight.  “Be on the lookout. Those men may try to return and finish what they started.  I will be back as soon as I can.” 

They watched as Maximus headed northwest.  Only twenty minutes later he spotted another squad and led them to Bale and his men.  They were all taken to a small village nearby for medical treatment.  The leader of the patrol assumed that Maximus was part of Bale’s squad and left him there to await further orders.

Moody’s leg wound was bad enough to get the kid sent home, but not bad enough to end his life.  Maximus talked to him just before they loaded him onto a transport headed behind allied lines.  He thanked Maximus for breaking the deadlock and saving them.

“Jupiter, you were supposed to let him go, or let him die.  Why are you still manipulating him?”

“Oh Juno!  First of all, he is again worshipping us.  He may very well talk others into recognizing us again as well.  Wouldn’t that make you happy?”

“No, it wouldn’t!”  She truly did love her husband but he was often mean-spirited, a trait she dearly despised.  “You lied to me.  We agreed that he should be allowed to live, but in another place and without memories.  You never said he would be made to die over and over, never fulfilling his need to have another family or join the one he lost.  He deserves better.”

“And he shall have it!  I have brought him this far to find the wife he deserves.  Once this conflict is over he will control his own destiny.  Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Juno thought on his words.  “You mean you did this to bring him to her?”

“Yes, why else?”

“You could have done that in the beginning.”

“I could have, but it would have been too far a stretch for him to accept without memories in between.  He would not have adapted.”

“So he now remembers all of his past lives?”

“Yes, I thought it best to allow him all of his memories.  It will help him in this, his last life.”

Juno had been played by her husband before and she didn’t believe his reasons for one second.  However, when dealing with Jupiter it was often better to allow him to believe he was winning.  She would eventually intervene directly when the opportunity presented itself. Now, however, wasn’t the time.

“All right, but I want results, not another move.”

“Are you challenging me, my dear?”  Jupiter’s timber and inflection indicated that he wouldn’t tolerate her challenging him outright.  She knew she needed to tone back or face his ire.  Even she could not overstep her authority.  However, she was not without her own ways of handling the situation.

“Challenging?  No.  I’m simply reminding you that you have struck a bargain and you need to honor it.”  With that she turned and stormed out of the huge room, leaving Jupiter to ponder her words.

Chapter Three

Command decided that reforming Company C would have to wait until new troops arrived.  It was also decided that Meridius would be kept with Bale’s squad under Lieutenant Blake’s platoon, Company B. 

Two weeks later, Corporal Meridius and his new found friends, left the village on patrol.  The squad was sorely short handed but there wasn’t much they could do about it.  Casualties had been high and the Germans were stubborn.  Though the allied forces were slowly gaining ground and pushing them back, it was costly and slow.

It either rained or snowed non-stop for four days.  Sergeant Bale and his men were tired, cold and wet.  They had only 'C' rations to eat and they weren’t much better than slop.  They hadn’t encountered any Germans for the last two days.  Funny that.  Meridius seemed to think that they were withdrawing for an eventual push...waiting, conserving their men and ammunition for the eventual surge west.

They were currently bivouacked, trying to rest a little.  Maximus had gotten used to coffee, something he’d never had before.  He was making himself a cup while they talked quietly.  He had seen his first tank today and marveled at its strength and ability to move without horses or oxen.  He tried not to show surprise but there were times it was difficult.  He nearly gave himself away the first time he saw a jeep.  It was hard to understand many of the weapons, like the bazooka and the flamethrower. He did his best to listen when others talked and he never commented on anything he wasn’t absolutely certain he understood.  It had been easier when swords and shields were used, although, the killing was just as bloody and merciless.

One of the young men in his squad, Scott Abernathy, had spoken with one of the men in another patrol and he said that they’d have the Germans out of France in two weeks.  “What do you think, Max?”  They always asked Max his opinion once they found out that he was good at predictions.

“I believe the private is a little premature.  We will be facing another surge.  The Germans know they cannot allow us to move into Germany and if they give up France, eventually that is what will happen.”

“Hey, Max, how do you know so much about warfare and strategies?”  Carl Hurst was a young, handsome kid from Cincinnati.  He’d been a butcher in a little shop.  He never thought he’d see the kind of butchery war was.

Maximus though a moment. “I taught history.  Much of what I taught was centered on military strategy.”

“Where was that, Max?”

He remembered a man he met during the Battle of Waterloo.  The man was badly wounded but seemed to need someone to listen to him.  He told Maximus he was an American who joined the English against Napoleon because his family was originally from England and he still had relatives there.  He talked about the city he came from, Bainbridge, Maryland.   He said it was beautiful there, rolling hills, green grass and trees.  He had been raised near a military academy.  The boys that went there were all very disciplined but he felt sorry for them.  They didn’t have the chance to be like other kids their age.  He seemed intrigued that any parent would subject them to that kind of life when they were so young.

Maximus could relate to that.  He had been only twelve when his father packed him off to the army.

“I taught military history at a military academy in Bainbridge, Maryland.” 

Bale watched Maximus as he spoke with the other men.  He didn’t talk much but when it came to discussions of battle tactics they looked to him.  He wasn’t just a corporal, anyone could tell that.  He was too well versed in how to run a war.

“So, Max, tell us who was the toughest army in history?”

“There were several armies that were memorable, Carl.  I tend to lean toward the Roman Army.  They were well organized and well trained.  They were highly successful for centuries.  The Spartans were fierce fighters as were several other armies. But, the difference in armies was not their fierceness, although it comes into play, it was their discipline and the need to expand their empire.  Alexander and his army changed the face of the known world as did several other rulers whose armies were formidable.  Rome, however, managed to expand her empire and absorb the cultures that they conquered. The Roman Empire lasted for centuries and that is more rare than you might believe.   Rome’s light shown for centuries because of her armies.”

 

“Tell us about them, Max.  I know they were hard to defeat.  What was the biggest rout?  Tell us a story.”

Maximus thought a moment.  “The defeat of Queen Boudicca in Britannia was probably one of the worst.”

“Boudicca?  Who was she?”  Calvin Thomas came from Idaho.  Just out of high school, he was a red head with large blue eyes and freckles across his nose.

Maximus smiled, “Well, Calvin, from the looks of you, the two of you could be related.  Boudicca was a tall, fire-haired queen of the Iceni.  Her husband, King Prasutagus, had signed a treaty and acknowledged allegiance to Rome.  When he died, Caesar expected to control the Iceni instead of extending the treaty they had with the king which stated that his kingdom be split equally between his two daughters and Caesar.  Rome did not allow women to inherit at that time and as a result, Queen Boudicca was forced to watch as her daughters were raped and enslaved.  They were only about twelve years old and Boudicca swore vengeance. 

"She raised an army of Britons from a variety of different tribes and plundered several large Roman cities, not the least of which was Londinium…London to you.  Suetonius Paullinus, the military governor and general of that area, took only twelve hundred men and defeated Boudicca’s army, killing about 80,000 out of 100,000 while losing only 400 of his own men. Even though those numbers were reported by Romans, they were very near the truth.  I would call that a considerable rout.”

“How could they lose with that many soldiers?”

“First, Calvin, they were warriors, but not soldiers.  The Romans were better trained and better equipped.  They were disciplined.  They listened to orders.  Boudicca had many men, but not many soldiers.” Maximus looked very sad and it was not lost on his audience.  “Her fight, though fought with great heart, was not fought with strategy.  She would not listen when told not to fight Suetonius on an uphill slope.  He had the advantage.  She was not a tactician.”

“You almost sound like you were there, Max.”  Carl smiled as he said it but the look on Max’s face said he wasn’t far off the mark.

“Excuse me.”  Maximus got up and walked toward a tree as if he needed to relieve himself.

Bale noticed that usually when Maximus talked it was military related.  When questioned about his personal life he quickly ended the conversation with as little information as possible.  Bale was beginning to suspect that Maximus was not what he seemed to be.  He could be a German infiltrator or a very clever German deserter.  He would have to check with command and see if they could verify that he was a part of Company C originally.  For now, Bale would watch him and use him.  However, if he found that Maximus posed a threat, he wouldn’t think twice about killing him.  The fact that he saved them could be part of the disguise.

Calvin got up and walked over to where Bale was sitting on a huge rock.  “Hey, Sarge.”

“What’s on your mind, Thomas?”

The kid sat next to Sergeant Bale and leaned close so the others couldn’t hear.  “Sarge, I lived most of my life in Idaho, but for about six years we lived in Bainbridge, Maryland.  Now the thing is, there is a military academy in Bainbridge, but the catch is, it’s been closed since 1931.  I guess the depression hurt the business.  That’s the only military academy in Bainbridge.  Max couldn’t have been teaching there, not recently anyway.  Now…he can’t remember how he got here, but he can rattle off stories and strategies as if he did them for years.  When he talks it’s like he was there.  Gives me the willies.  I don’t think he is what he says he is.”

“And just what do you think he is?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered.  “I just know something isn’t right.”

Bale looked the kid in the eyes, “I think you should keep this to yourself for now.  I’ll check with command and see if they have any record of him in the files.  We don’t know for sure that Max is a problem, and he did save our lives, so we need to give him the benefit of the doubt for now.  Watch him, though, and let me know if he does anything suspicious.”

Thomas nodded and went back and sat down with the others.  Max was just returning, walking toward them.  There was something about the man that Bale couldn’t put his finger on.  He was intelligent, and had an air about him that in no uncertain terms proclaimed him a warrior.  But whose side was he on?

Just as Max reached the others the scream of cannon fire split the quiet afternoon.  From somewhere to the west and south came round after round of flesh-rending destruction.

“Down! Everybody down!”  Bale was hit with shrapnel and folded.  The men covered themselves as well as they could.  Luckily, no one else was hit and the barrage ended rather quickly.

Max was the first to reach Bale.  Amazingly, he wasn’t hurt badly.  He would, however, need medical attention.  Hurst and another man named Carlyle helped Bale get to the small medical camp not far away.  Once they left everyone looked to Maximus for orders.

Chapter Four

Sergeant Bale was kept for two days, allowing his wounds to 'settle'.  He had several pieces of shrapnel removed and the wounds sewn.  There were so many casualties that unless you lost a limb or couldn’t stand, they patched you up and sent you back to your platoon quickly.

During the two days he was there, his platoon leader, Lieutenant Blake, came to see him.  He told Blake about Meridius and the inconsistencies in his story.

“So…what?  You think he’s a spy or something?”

“I don’t know, Lieutenant.  I just know that something isn’t right.  I’m requesting that you check and find out if he is who he says he is.”

“No problem, Bale.  I already did. I just haven’t gotten the report back yet.”  Blake patted him on the arm as he left. “For now you just rest.  I need you back out there day after tomorrow.”

After Blake left, Bale whispered to himself, “I hope you are who you say you are, Max.  I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes if you’re not."

“Did you say something, Sergeant?  Can I get you anything?”  The pretty nurse that was attending them came to see how he was doing.  She was tall, with long dark hair, twisted into a bun in back.  She didn’t have makeup on but looked like a goddess without it.

“No, just thinking out loud, thanks.”

Jupiter was watching as Maximus led the men through the trees and around a clearing.  His sixth sense was tingling and he quickly gave the men hand signals to disburse according to his directions.  They proceeded along in a staggered line.  Gunfire came from the right and Maximus wheeled them to come in from the left of where he reckoned the fighting was.

As they came to a drop off, some twenty or thirty feet, they could see the German line and the Americans beyond.  They had come up on the backside of the Germans who were dug in behind several large rocks.

Maximus quickly motioned for his men to flank the Germans, both right and left.  Once they were in position he took his bayonet and unfastened it from his rifle.  On his ‘go’ the men charged the flanks of the Germans while Max went straight down the embankment with nothing more than his bayonet knife in his hand.  It put Maximus in mind of the charge down the hill during that last battle before the Germanians were defeated. 

He shouted a blood curdling yell and drew the attention of the Germans toward him while his men came in from the sides.  So surprised were they that Maximus was nearly three quarters of the way down the slope before they reacted.  His men had the advantage and quickly dispatched the enemy.

Only one man was left alive and he came at Maximus with a bayonet of his own.  This was the arena Maximus understood above all others.  He was comfortable with swords, knives and such.  He knew the man had no chance.

For a moment, Maximus simply stood there, motioning the man to put the weapon down.  When it was clear he would not, Maximus accepted the challenge.  He motioned his men to stand clear and they watched as Maximus parried and danced, waiting for the clean kill.  It came quickly.  The man was impaled by Maximus’ blade and was caught in close.

Every man there, from both Maximus’ squad and the other squad, watched Maximus hold the man in an embrace while slowly lowering him to the ground.  They could see that he took no pleasure in the killing, and there was sadness and respect. 

“Dirty German!”  One of the other squad’s men came over and spat on the dead man and demolished his face with his rifle butt. 

Like a flash Maximus grabbed him by the throat.  He shouted in the man’s face, “Do you think he wanted to be here anymore than you do?  What atrocities have we committed to his friends?”  Max reined in his temper. “When we forget that our enemies are also men, men with families and friends, we forget that we are men.  We become what we think they are, barbarians.”  He released the man but kept a hand on his shoulder.  Very quietly he said, “If we become uncivilized, then we do not fight for civilization, only for our own blood lust.  Do not forget your humanity.”

Jupiter sighed.  Perhaps he was wrong.  Maximus was getting soft.  He might need to spur him with some sort of lesson.  His humanity was showing and it wasn’t pretty.

Two days later, while they were finishing digging in for the night, Calvin called to him.  “Hey, Max! A runner from command said they want you up there.”  Maximus was just finishing cleaning his rifle when Calvin walked up. 

“Now?”

“No, Max, at your convenience!  Yes, now.”  Calvin was almost sorry to tell him to go.  He was afraid that it had to do with what Bale and he discussed.  What if Max was an infiltrator?  They would put him up against the wall and shoot him or maybe interrogate him in ways that would make him wish he was shot.  He hated to admit that even if Max was the enemy, it would be difficult to see him as one.

Maximus arrived at the command center, one of the few buildings in the small village that was undamaged, and was told to wait in the next room.  He walked in and saw a table with a map and pieces of wood with little banners.  They represented Company A, B, C (now reformed with new recruits) and D. There were battalion flags and smaller figures representing the platoons and squads that were scattered over the map.  He realized this was the plan for the coming push against the Germans.  He also realized it was all wrong.  If he was correct and the bits of info he gathered from other squads was any indication, the Germans were going to stage a full offensive like an arrow through the middle of the country, splitting the allies (mostly American) in two.  Divide and conquer, it was an old concept.

“So what is your opinion of our battle plan, Corporal Meridius?”

Maximus turned to see Lt. Colonel Hamilton, Company B’s commanding officer, standing there watching him.

“Sir?”

“I’ve been told that you taught strategy at a military academy.  Of course I know that doesn’t quite match West Point, but I was assured that you could tell me my weaknesses as well as my strengths.”

For a moment Maximus considered bolting for the door, however, Colonel Hamilton’s aide and a couple of soldiers were blocking the doorway.  They obviously were onto his disguise.  He was well and truly caught.  He knew it. So, the best he could do was to minimize the damage.  “Sir, I only spoke about that which I know.”

“I believe that, Corporal.   But I would like to know your real name and rank.  And, I want to know where you were born and what country you serve.  You see, I already know you aren’t American or English.  You didn’t teach in a military academy in Maryland, so who are you?”

“You asked me about your strategy for the coming battle.  I believe the Germans are mounting an offensive and are going to strike here,” he pointed to a spot on the map.  “They won’t wait much longer since it is already difficult to move through the mud and snow.  If the weather worsens they will have to wait until closer to spring.  If they do, they lose the advantage and possibly the war.  They need to split our army in two and drive a wedge between our supplies and our troops.  If I were you, Colonel, I would urge General Ralston to move troops, here, here and here.  Use tanks here, and here so we can catch them in a reverse pincer.”

The colonel stood there for several moments.  Meridius’ evaluation was spot on.  The board had been set up wrong purposely to see what he knew and to give incorrect intel to what the colonel thought might be a German spy.  “Who are you?”

“Suffice it to say that I am not your enemy.”

“Give me your name and rank and maybe the intelligence boys will go light on you.”

“My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius and I am a soldier.  My rank is of no consequence.  I was born in Emerita Augusta, Spain and I have been a soldier my entire life.  I am not your enemy.”

“Spain?  Are you an exile?”  The colonel knew that many Spanish citizens were exiled in France right after Franco’s regime won the civil war. 

Maximus wasn’t certain about the politics of Spain at this time, but being an exile seemed to be closer to one of the underground or a freedom fighter, so he said, “Yes.”

“Why are you passing yourself off as an American?  You don’t have a Spanish accent, in fact you sound English.”

“I know a variety of languages, Colonel.  The reason I am wearing an American uniform is because I woke in the field naked and cold.  I truly do not know how I came to be there, but there was a young man lying dead near me and he was wearing these clothes.  Since he did not need them any longer and I did, I borrowed them.  I also buried him in the best grave I could manage.”  Maximus reached into his pocket and pulled out Ronald Smith’s dog tags.  As he reached for them the two soldiers raised their guns and pointed them at him.  “These were on the young man.”

The colonel reached for the dog tags.  “Well, they look real enough, don’t they?  But I’m afraid that these are counterfeit, just like the man who wore them.”

“Sir?”

“These dog tags weren’t made by the United States Army; they were made by the Third Reich.  You can tell by the edges of the metal.  Real dog tags have smooth rounded edges.  These aren’t rounded.  Oh, they’ll pass if you’re just wearing them, but you can feel the difference.  That brings me back to who you are and why you have fake dog tags in your possession.”

“I told you, sir, that I found them on a dead soldier.  I needed his uniform.  When I met up with Sergeant Bale and his men, he assumed that I was American.  I allowed him to continue to believe that.”

“Why?”

“Because, I needed to be a part of something.”

“You could have told Sergeant Bale who you were.  Why didn’t you?”

Maximus wanted to tell him that Bale wouldn’t have believed him if he had.  Instead he said, “I wanted to avoid this very situation.  I do not belong to any particular organization and would be useless without the army.  I am a soldier.  I need to do what soldiers do.  Have I done anything so far that would indicate I am working against you or your mission?”

“No, no, you haven’t.  In fact you’ve shown that you are an exemplary soldier.  But that doesn’t mean you aren’t waiting for the right moment to do whatever you may have been sent to do.  I’m sorry but you will be taken for interrogation.  I would suggest that you be as candid as possible.  They aren’t known for their patience.”

Maximus had heard about some of the 'interrogation' techniques that the axis countries used. He wasn’t sure if the allies also used them.  And, he was aware that torture was one of the oldest arts in mankind’s history.   He would rather die than face being tortured. 

The colonel motioned the two soldiers to take him into custody and Maximus allowed them to think he would go quietly.  However, the moment they reached the front door, he made his move.   They had hold of his arms on either side. He quickly stepped back throwing both men off balance while loosening their grip.  A quick elbow to the chin of the man on his right sent the man to the ground.  The moment he let completely go, Maximus punched his other guard in the face and bolted out the door and into the street.

It wasn’t easy to run, between the rubble from prior bombings and the fact that the little village was overrun with allied troops.  Maximus gave it his best.  He got nearly to the end of what was left of the block before a bullet hit him in the back.  He went down thinking that maybe this time he would get to see his family in Elysium.

“Let him go, Jupiter.  He has suffered enough.”

“Not yet, not yet.”

Chapter Five

Lieutenant Pollard knocked and waited for Lt. Colonel Appleby to say, “Enter.” He walked in, saluted and waited for the Colonel to return the salute. 

He did and said, “Sit.”

Pollard sat down across from the Colonel and waited.  Appleby looked up from the report he was writing.  “So, how is he?”

Pollard slightly shook his head, “Not good, sir.  He’s delirious.  I spoke to the nurse whose been attending him, Shelly Wilson.  She gave me some curious insight.”

“Oh, what was that?”

“Well, sir, she said he’s been speaking in several languages but not once has he spoken in Spanish.  There is something that is similar but not Spanish.”

“A dialect, perhaps?”

“Possibly.  Also, he was mumbling something while I was there and I asked what it was.  She looked at me and said, 'You’re not Catholic, are you?'  When I said ‘no’ she said, “If you were you’d recognize it…it’s Latin.”

“Latin?  Latin’s a dead language.  Only scholars and priests learn Latin.”  Appleby lay down his pen and asked, “Are you saying he may be a priest?”

“I have no idea, sir.”

“This Nurse Wilson, who is she and how does she know what he’s saying?”

“According to her, sir, she went to Catholic school and her parents demanded that she know the ‘language of the church’, not just for Mass but have a considerable working knowledge. You see she apparently wanted to become an ancient history professor at one point and the knowledge would have been invaluable to her studies.  Her parents hoped she would eventually become a nun.  She wasn’t interested in becoming a nun and once she graduated high school she decided she wanted to become a nurse instead of an historian.  She went to nursing school and afterward moved from England to Spain near Merida.  Then, when the revolution started she came here.  She lived right here, just outside the village and worked as a nurse with the only doctor they had.  When the Germans destroyed everything and the allies moved in she began helping with our wounded.”

 

“Well, Pollard, I guess that explains who she is and why she’s here.  I can understand her language expertise and how she knows so much about his accent, but it still doesn’t answer everything.  I sent a request to a friend of mine who is living in Spain.  Although we aren’t technically at war with them, they are still Axis sympathizers.  I need to know what side Meridius was on, whether he lives or not.”

Pollard nodded and added, “I will tell you this, Colonel; wherever he’s been, he’s been through a lot.  He has scars all over him, serious ones.  He’s even been whipped.  His entire back bears the scars.  Nurse Wilson mentioned that his wife, Selene and son, Marcus, were murdered at his home in Trujillo.  He apparently speaks of them during his delirium.”

Appleby sat back and contemplated what was said.  “I know Franco was brutal to those he considered traitors. Could it be he murdered this man’s family to make a point?”

“Who knows, sir?  I guess we’ll just have to wait until he gets better and ask him…if he gets better.”

Nurse Shelly Wilson took the time to wipe down the man called Meridius.  He was burning up and she needed to bring down his temperature.  He suddenly opened his eyes and she again noted that they were greeny/blue.  He was a handsome man, well built and solid.  “Selene?”

“No, I’m not Selene.  My name is Shelly.”  She could see it wasn’t registering.  He was still in the land of torment.  She wished she could take that away. 

He drifted off but woke again just as Shelly was finishing with him.  “Lady Marian, I am sorry.  The traitor acted…before I could stop him.”   He stopped and panted, wheezing as he spoke, “I am responsible for Robin’s death.  Forgive me…I’m sorry…please forgive me.  If I could have died in his place I would have.”

He drifted off and Shelly again wiped his fevered face.   How could he have so many sad encounters?  The lieutenant said he was probably a soldier in the Spanish Civil War, but it didn’t add up.  She had lived several years in Spain in the town of Merida which was once known as Emerita Augusta under Roman rule.  She knew most of the dialects and he wasn’t speaking one she could identify.  His Latin was impeccable as was his English.   Trujillo was a fair sized city and Emerita Augusta was mostly a tourist attraction.  It was a well preserved ancient Roman ruin. He had mentioned both cities in his delirium.

Juno watched as Jupiter smiled.  He had something up his sleeve, she could feel it.  It had something to do with the woman.  She would keep an eye on things.  If Jupiter had chosen this woman for Maximus then he had chosen well.  However, she still didn’t trust her husband.  She was sure he would try to renege on his promise.

Ten days later, “Well Lieutenant? Anything new?”   Lt. Col. Appleby turned as Lt. Pollard saluted and walked in.

“Well, sir, he’s becoming more lucid.  Nurse Wilson says she’s had short conversations with him.  She doesn’t think it wise to move him yet and Dr. Conway agrees.  He relies heavily on her expertise, says she should have been a doctor.  They think he should be well enough in a week or so.”

The colonel thought for a moment. “I got a letter from my friend in Spain.  He checked everywhere he could, birth registers, military files, even school registrations.  The only place he could find the name Maximus Decimus Meridius, in Emerita Augusta or Trujillo, was a reference to the Spanish general of the Roman army.  Furthermore, Emerita Augusta isn’t a city in Spain anymore.  It’s just ancient Roman ruins that are within the city of Merida.”

“So his name isn’t Meridius?”

“Well, if it is he’d be about 1900 years old.  There’s an interesting story about that particular general, though.  He supposedly served directly under Marcus Aurelius and, depending on whom you believe, his considerable accomplishments and his name were stricken from the Roman annals.  That’s what the Spanish believe. Most historians, however, don’t believe he ever existed.  They think that Aurelius’ son, Commodus, took his father’s position when the old emperor died of some unknown illness.  He reigned for about 10 years then was murdered by a wrestler named Narcissus. 

"However, a completely different story is held as truth in Spain.  It seems that they believe Commodus killed his father and stole his crown.  They have a document that shows Meridius as being Aurelius’ choice as his successor, not his son.  They also believe that Commodus ordered Meridius executed and his family to be killed and his home destroyed.  He escaped his executioners and rode home to save his family.  He was too late.  Somehow he ended up as a slave and became a gladiator.  Commodus was hosting months of games at the amphitheater in Rome and somehow, Meridius and Commodus ended up fighting each other. Meridius won, but he was mortally wounded.”

“That’s spooky, sir.  Meridius has had nightmares that indicated his family was murdered and his home burned down.  Maybe he’s transposed the story to himself and he really believes he’s Meridius re-incarnated.”

“It gets spookier than that, Lieutenant.”  Col. Appleby shifted in his seat.  “Meridius’ wife’s name was Selene and his son was Marcus, apparently named for Marcus Aurelius.”

Pollard grimaced, “Those are the names Nurse Wilson said Meridius keeps calling to, Selene and Marcus.  A man doesn’t call to someone he doesn’t know personally, does he?”

“I wouldn’t think so.  According to the keepers of the document, everything that pertained to Meridius was secreted out of Rome and sent to Spain for safekeeping.  Apparently Marcus Aurelius’ daughter, Lucilla, had been in love with Meridius when she was young and she was afraid that they would obliterate all records of him once the new regime took power.  So she gathered everything she could that would honor him and sent it to Spain.  The Spanish people had been extremely proud that one of their own was so accomplished and they willingly hid his things with the idea that one day they would reveal them.”

“And?”

“And one of the things that they still have is a bust made from the death mask Lucilla had made before sending it to Spain.  Marcos sent this picture along with his letter.  It’s a picture of General Maximus Decimus Meridius’ bust.”

The colonel handed the picture to Pollard.  When he saw it he took in a startled breath.  “It’s him!”  He looked up at the colonel and saw concern in his eyes.  

“It can’t be him, but I will allow that he is the spitting image of the general.  Now I need to speak with Meridius as soon as he is able.  I don’t think we are dealing with a spy. More probably he’s crazy and has, for some personal reason, taken the general’s name.”

“But…what about his military expertise?   Colonel Hamilton said he was right in pointing out where and how the push would come and what we should do to counter it.  He knows about war and how to run it.”

Colonel Appleby shook his head. “I don’t know, lieutenant, that’s why I need to talk to him, the sooner the better.”

Maximus lay watching as Nurse Wilson attended to one of the newly arrived wounded troops.  She moved with efficiency and grace.  Her long dark hair had come out of its bun.  It reminded him of Selene’s hair. 

The pain of finding his family tortured and dead was still as fresh as the day he found them.  Would that pain ever go away?  Probably not.  The guilt would certainly never be gone.  It was after all, his fault.  He should have kissed Commodus’ ring and sworn allegiance as Quintus said.  Too late he realized his mistake…it would forever be…too late. 

Nurse Wilson turned and saw Meridius watching her.  “Corporal, you’re awake.  How are you feeling?”  She came to feel his forehead.  It was cool.  Good. The fever seemed to have broken.  Unfortunately, that meant he would be leaving soon.  She really would have liked to spend time with him, in conversation, not as a patient.  He had touched her in a special way and she wanted to get to know him.

Maximus tried to smile but failed miserably.  Instead it turned into a grimace.  “What happened?  I do not remember.”

She picked up his wrist and checked his pulse.  “You ran from the intelligence boys over at command.  They shot you.  You were really lucky. You should be dead.”

“I cannot die. He will not let me.” 

“Who, who won’t let you?  Jupiter?”  He looked sharply away and she added, “I know you worshipped him sometime in the past. You called upon him to let you die.  You were very vocal.”

He looked back at her.  “No one but a crazy person would do that.  The gods do not exist anymore, not for many hundreds of years.”

“Are you saying you’re crazy?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer that.  Perhaps he was.  How else could he explain his existence?  “I do not believe I am insane, but I cannot say I am totally sane either.”

He had to get up.  He couldn’t stand lying in bed another moment.  As he tried to sit up he heard, “Where do you think you’re going?”

He raised his head and both Lt. Pollard and a lieutenant colonel he presumed was Pollard’s superior stood looking at him.

“Corporal Meridius!”  Nurse Wilson’s sweet voice exclaimed.  “You’re not strong enough to get up yet.  Please lie down.”  With that she placed her hand on his shoulder and lightly pushed.  He lay back down.  “If you need to relieve yourself, I can get Nero.  He can help you.”  Thus she covered the possibility that he was trying to leave. 

She left looking for Nero, the old man who was attempting to do whatever he could for the Americans.  After all, they were trying to drive the Nazis out of his homeland.

The colonel stepped forward and addressed Maximus.  “Mr. Meridius, or whatever your name is,  I’m Lt. Colonel Appleby and I’m with intelligence.  Lieutenant Pollard and I need to ask you some questions.  Please answer them as succinctly as possible.  I warn you that if you don’t, there could be dire consequences for you.  You are, after all, by your own admission, a Spanish born citizen and you were wearing an American uniform and tried to pass yourself off as an American.  That in and of itself defines you as a spy.”

“I’m sorry, Colonel, but my patient needs to take care of certain bodily situations.”  Shelly Wilson had returned with Messr Nero, the former mayor of the village.  “I wonder if you would wait outside for a moment while Nero helps him?”  She noted that Appleby was movie star handsome with big brown eyes and brown wavy hair.  He reminded her of Clark Gable.  She smiled at him and waited for his response.

“As you wish, ma’am, but you,” he said, turning back to Maximus, “you best not try to run again or next time you might not be so lucky.”

As the colonel moved away along with the lieutenant, Shelly whispered, “When you stand, faint.”

Maximus looked at her. “Faint?”

“Yes, faint.  Nero and I will get you back in bed and I will insist that you are not well enough for interrogation.  Faint.”

So…he did.  The moment he managed to stand, he fainted.  However, to Shelly’s surprise, it didn’t look contrived.  “Lieutenant, we could use some help!”

As Nurse Wilson and Nero were getting him onto the bed, (not an easy feat considering his size) Lt. Pollard came to help while Col. Appleby looked on.

Once they had him firmly ensconced, Shelly shook her head at the colonel.  “I’m sorry, sir, but he is not well enough for interrogation.  Perhaps tomorrow?”

Colonel Appleby pointedly spoke to Shelly.  “I will have a 24 hour guard on him from now on, so don’t think this…time…will buy him the opportunity to escape.”

“Sir, I don’t believe he wants to escape.  I’m sure he isn’t interested in being tortured.  I can’t say that I blame him.”

With that the colonel scowled at Shelly and told Pollard to have a two man guard placed on Meridius until further notice.  After looking long and hard at the man, he turned and left along with the lieutenant.

When Maximus finally woke up it was the next morning and Shelly was sitting on the side of his bed wiping his face with a cool cloth.  “Are you with us now?”

He nodded.

“The next time I ask you to do something you needn’t be so thorough.”  She smiled as she said it and Maximus couldn’t help but smile with her.

He liked what he saw. She had a slender but voluptuous figure.  Her eyes were violet with flecks of gold, her skin creamy as milk and she had straight even teeth.  All in all a very beautiful sight to behold.  He hadn’t really looked at a woman since his time with Boudicca.  Of course he had women.  No man could go forever without the comfort of a woman, even a whore.  But he never gave a woman his heart after his wife died, except the Iceni queen.  She took him into her and her to him.  But she wouldn’t listen to his council and lost the war to Suetonius Paullinus.  He watched as she committed suicide before they could enslave her and he died trying to protect her body from the mutilation he knew they would visit on her.

“I thank you for trying to help me, but I fear you have only delayed the inevitable.  They will not be careless about watching me again and if I were in the colonel’s position, I would do the same.”

“Are you what they think you are?”

“What is that?”

“A spy.”

“No.”

“What then?”

Maximus didn’t want to tell her his story but he needed to tell someone and something about her said she would understand.  He sighed and began.

“I was a general a long time ago.”

“It couldn’t be that long ago.  You’re only, what, thirty-five or thirty-six?”

He rustled in the bed and she moved to prop him up using a blanket and his pillow.  As she accomplished this, two new MP’s arrived to relieve the guards who were on duty all night.  The other two wounded soldiers were gone, both having died in the night.  The colonel had sent word with the new MP’s that no one else would be quartered there until Meridius was gone.  One of them explained this to Shelly and Maximus listened as he did. Once he finished explaining they stood on both sides of the doorway to the small room, making certain that Maximus would not escape.

She turned back to him for a moment and he spoke so the MP’s couldn’t hear what he said.

“I am much older than I look.  You might even say I am ancient.”  He really didn’t want to look crazy to her but how else could she perceive him if he told her the truth?  He looked away as he spoke. “I was born in Emerita Augusta, Spain in the year 145 AD by current reckoning.”  He couldn’t look  at her; he didn’t want to see the pity in her eyes now that she knew he really was insane.  “I joined the Roman army when I was twelve and eventually became a general.  Emperor Marcus Aurelius and I became very close during those years and he treated me as a son.  He asked me to become Protector of Rome when he died and we signed contracts to that effect. 

"However, the evening of the signing, I believe he told his son what he planned and Commodus killed him.  You see, he always hated me and could not accept his father excluding him from the throne.  He assumed the position of Emperor and had me sent to execution.  I knew he had sent Praetorians to murder my family and I escaped, trying to reach home before they did. I was too late.  I found my beautiful wife tortured and burned on a cross alongside my eight year old son.”

He felt a hand on his arm and when he looked up at Nurse Wilson he could see the tears flowing freely down her face.  She took his hand and squeezed.  “I’ve heard this all before, Maximus.”

“When I was fevered?”

“No, when I went to the museum in Emerita Augusta.  I saw your bust.  I know who you are.”

“How?”

“The princess, Lucilla.  She thought that they might destroy your name and erase it from history, the damnatio memoriae.  So, she sent many of your things to Spain for safekeeping.”

“Then you know how and when I died.”

“Yes,” she said in a whisper.  “How did you come to be here?”

“I do not know for certain, but I believe Jupiter is playing with me.  I keep dying and returning in another place and in another war.  I am not the enemy.  I only wanted to belong.  I only wanted to help where I could.  I keep hoping that the next time I die I will be allowed to go to my family.  It has been so long…”

“No, Maximus.  Please, no.  I want to know you, the real you not a cold marble bust in a museum or as a character in an accounting of history.  Please do what you need to do to stay alive.”

“Shelly, I need you!  We have more wounded coming in.”  Dr. Conway stood in the doorway.

“I’m coming, doctor.”  She looked down at Maximus.  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”  She squeezed his hand and left.

Chapter Six

There were so many wounded that Shelly was up all night helping Dr. Conway and the medics that brought the men in.  She was exhausted but looking forward to checking on Maximus.  When she walked into the small house she found that he and his guards were gone.  She frantically searched every building they were using for the wounded, but he wasn’t there.  She finally went to the command center to ask about him.

Lt. Blake was just leaving as she arrived.  “Lt. Blake, I went to check on Corporal Meridius and he’s not there.  We didn’t release him to travel.  Where is he?”

Blake could see the concern on her beautiful face.  He, like most of the men who were in the area, owed Nurse Wilson a great deal, whether it was due to her care of their friends or themselves. She also reminded them of why they were fighting.

“Shelly…I believe they’ve taken him for interrogation.  Col. Appleby was afraid that he might try to escape again and he didn’t want to take the chance that he might be killed this time.”

“But he isn’t up to that yet.  I’d like to see him, please.”

“I’m sorry; I really don’t know where they took him, but I’m sure he’ll be fine.  Now, can I walk you back to the church?”

Shelly knew Lt. Blake liked her.  Most of the men did.  It wasn’t that Blake wasn’t worthwhile; he was handsome with large green eyes and dark brown hair.  He had a wonderful smile and was soft spoken.  He wasn’t however, a dark-haired Spaniard from ancient Rome. “If you’re sure he’ll be all right?” 

“I’m positive.  Besides, if he’s a spy or something, I’d just as soon you weren’t around him anymore.  This is already no place for a lady and who knows what he was up to.  If it means that much to you, however, I’ll check with command from time to time and see how things went.”
 

She smiled at Blake. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I appreciate it.” 

It never hurt to keep friendships with those who could help you and she might need him for information regarding Maximus.  He may not know where they took him, but he might be able to find out the outcome of his interrogation.  She absolutely had to know what would happen to him. 

Maximus lay on the small cot inside the building that intelligence had taken as their command center.   It was several miles from the village that Shelly was in.  He was surprised that there were several other men with him. 

The building must have been some sort of government center at one time since there was a large hall and several small offices off to the side.  The hall was where they were currently being held.  The windows that ran down the length of one side of the room had been covered over with wood.  The double doors at one end were apparently locked on the outside, with guards standing watch just outside the doors.

Maximus wasn’t feeling especially good.  The ride from the village to this place was rather long and uncomfortable.  He wondered if Shelly knew they had come for him.  What would she feel when she found out?  He realized suddenly that she meant a great deal to him.  Why was that?  He barely knew her.  She was kind to him and gentle.  He needed that.  It was gratitude, then, nothing more.  And, she was so beautiful; of course his wounded self would reach out for her.  But he knew that she had also reached out to him.  She knew of him, of his past, and hadn’t retreated from him.  Most women would consider him crazy and be afraid.  But not her, not her.

“I’ll ask you one more time. How did you know where and when the push would come?  You aren’t a teacher and you aren’t a corporal in the American army, so who are you and how did you know?” 

They were interrogating him again.  This had gone on for the last week.  They kept at him for hours.  They deprived him of sleep and withheld food and water.  They promised next to start gruesome physical punishment like pulling out his nails with pliers and drilling holes in his teeth.  The list was long and ugly.

“Answer the man!”  Maximus felt the backhand across his face, breaking his lip and leaving another bruise on his face.  He was so weary, Maximus began to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

He couldn’t stop laughing. It wasn’t a joyful sound. It was more maniacal.  This only increased his interrogator’s frustration and in turn increased his ire.

“Stop laughing!” Slap.  “Stop!” Punch.  “If you don’t quit I’ll…” Slam.

Maximus woke in a dark room.  He could barely breathe and hurt everywhere.  He wanted to move to see if anything was broken, but he wasn’t keen on feeling the sharp pain that would accompany it.

The door suddenly opened and the bright light nearly blinded him.

“Meridius?  Christ!  Pollard!  Get a doctor!  Just hold on.  We’ll get you help. Just hold on.”

He could see Colonel Appleby once his shadow cut the glare of the light behind him.  “Are you not entertained?  Are you not entertained!”  Maximus fainted.

Two days later Colonel Appleby sat on a chair next to Maximus’ bed.  Pollard stood behind him.  Meridius was mending, but it would take time for him to fully heal.  They had both been appalled at the sight of him when they opened the door to his little room.  His interrogator had continued his work even after Maximus fainted.  He had added two broken fingers, three cracked ribs and a knife wound from the collar bone diagonally down his chest to his hip bone on the opposite side.  It was the work of someone who all too clearly enjoyed his work.

“I’m sorry, Meridius.  I was called away and Pollard was sent to another area while I was gone.  The two men that were assigned to you weren’t briefed properly and in truth, I hadn’t expected you to be questioned until I returned.  If I had known, I wouldn’t have allowed them to do this.  They’re being brought up on charges as we speak.  Having said that, I need you to tell me who you are and why you’re here.  If I don’t get satisfactory answers they will reassign you to someone else and it will start all over.  I wouldn’t want to see you go through that again.”

Maximus smiled, “Do you think you can intimidate me, sir?  I have been tortured by the best. I have been beaten, whipped, stabbed in the back, my family murdered, my home destroyed, suffered wounds in battle and sent from one war to another over the last 1900 years.  What do you think you can do to me that has not already been done?  I welcome the end.  I only hope this time it is…the end.”

“So you believe you’re the Spanish general, Maximus Decimus Meridius?”  Appleby watched his subject’s eyes.  They didn’t waiver.

“I am.”

“How do you explain that?”

“I cannot.”

“How can you believe something so fantastic?”

Maximus sighed, “It is not a belief.  I am who I am, sir.”

“Everyone in Spain knows the story of General Maximus. They have the contract that Marcus Aurelius signed along with Meridius’ signature.  There are several other things that have been kept, along with a bust that looks similar to you.  However, it could be any one of a thousand Spaniards. Is there something unique that you know that would prove to me that you are him?”

“I can tell you my story from my perspective.”  And so he did.  He began with the night of Marcus Aurelius’ death and told his story up to the moment he died in the arena.  “If Commodus had not stabbed me in the back before the match, I would not have died that day.”

Pollard spoke, “Well, you filled in some of the gaps in the story, but that could be your imagination.  How could we verify it?”

Maximus thought for a long moment. “You said Spain has a contract that both Marcus Aurelius and I signed?”

“Yes, Lady Lucilla sent it to Spain for safekeeping.”

“If that is so, then the contract she sent was Marcus’ copy.  He must have placed it somewhere that Commodus would not find it or Commodus assumed that the contract had not been signed yet.  You see, it was a true contract, not a will as other emperors used to designate their successor.  Marcus wanted me to return the empire to a republic.  He did not wish me to be emperor, only the Protector of Rome so he set down in writing what my powers were and to what end they would be used.  I initially did not want it, the responsibility.  I only wanted to return to Spain and my family.”

“So why didn’t you refuse?”  Colonel Appleby couldn’t imagine he was being drawn into believing Maximus, but somehow he couldn’t help himself.

“Marcus Aurelius was like a father to me.  He needed someone he could trust, someone who would not misuse the power he offered.  Commodus was not a moral man and his father knew it.  There simply was not another choice, and so I accepted.”

Pollard listened to the story and suddenly asked.  “You said that it was Marcus Aurelius’ copy.  Did you have one, too?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to your copy?”

“When I returned to my tent I knew I would need my copy of the contract to show my troops.  I believe they would have followed me in any case, but I needed them to see that I was legitimate and that they would not be standing with a man who only wanted power.  I slipped it under my lorica just before my executioners arrived to take me into custody.  I still had it when I arrived home.  I put it in the money hole inside my home.  I was fevered and tired, not to mention devastated at what I found.  I was not myself.  All I could think of was that I needed to hide the document and then tend to my family.”

Maximus closed his eyes and tried to block out the horrid scene that had greeted him when he arrived at his villa so long ago. 

Lt. Pollard was also being swept into Maximus’ story. “Then it would still be there, in the hole?”

“After 1900 years, sir?  I suppose it’s possible, but I doubt my villa is still there.”

Appleby leaned forward and placed his forearms on the top of his thighs.  “I have a friend in Spain.  He’s the one who checked your name and found only the Roman general.  He said your home had been rebuilt and used by a family for generations.  They kept the story alive and finally turned the villa into a tourist attraction.  If a contract from 180 AD had been found it would have most likely been given to the museum in Merida.  Since it hasn’t been, there are only three possibilities; one, someone has it and doesn’t want to give it up; two, it hasn’t been found or three, it’s been destroyed.”

“There is a fourth possibility, sir.  I might be crazy and just making this up.”

“And are you?”

“No, sir.  I swear on my life, it is all true.”

Appleby studied him for a moment.  This was insane.  There is no way that this man could be from the ancient past, and yet, Appleby believed he was.  It was there in his eyes, the honesty.  It was in his bearing, the consummate military leader.  Perhaps he could impose on his friend once more to check with the people who took care of the tourist attraction known as “La Casa del General Maximo” and see if they would allow him to look for the second original document.

“Can you tell me where the money hole would have been?”

“For what purpose, sir?”

“I might be able to get my friend to go to the villa and look for the contract.”

“Why would you want to go to that trouble?  Nearly everyone thinks I am a spy or insane.”

Appleby smiled.  “I guess I just want to be able to say I met a real Roman general.”

They spoke a little longer and it became obvious that even if Maximus told Appleby where the money hole had been, there was a real possibility that it was covered up when the villa was rebuilt.  People in those days rarely cleared the old materials away; they simply built on top of them.  In that case, it would be nearly impossible to identify where the document might be.

It was apparent that Maximus was in need of rest so Col. Appleby ended the session.

He lay there thinking of his home and somehow Shelly popped into his head.  He would love to see her standing at the front door waiting to welcome him in, like Selene used to.  He suddenly realized that contrary to what he told Col. Appleby, he wasn’t really ready to die.  After all, he’d done it over and over.  What he really wanted was to find some peace and love.  He’d even like to have children.  Would that be possible now?  He didn’t know.

“Jupiter, he is enamored with this nurse.  Please, allow him his freedom so he can make a life with her.”

“We shall see, my dear.  We shall see.”

Juno had enough.  Her husband wasn’t going to release Maximus unless forced to.  So, it was time for her to act.

Chapter 7

“Max, it’s time.”  Scott Abernathy started to touch Maximus but met with a knife to his throat.

Maximus saw the startled look on the kid’s face and apologized.  “Sorry, Scott, old ways die hard.”

He looked around as the rest of his squad slowly woke to the first light of dawn.  It was good to be back amongst them.  Appleby had come to him only days after speaking with him about retrieving the document.  Even though he sent a request to his friend in Spain, there wasn’t enough time for an answer to be received.  He simply went on faith that Maximus was what he said he was.  They needed every man jack that they had to counter the 'battle of the bulge' as it was coming to be known.  The Germans were fighting like mad dogs and the Americans were hard put to counter them. 

So, Appleby told him, “I’m going to do what I never thought I would.  I’m going to manufacture a story to cover your being here and in turn you are going to swear allegiance to America and go back to what you do best…winning a war.”

That was how Maximus Meridius returned to his squad.  After a conversation with Col. Appleby, Lt. Colonel Hamilton told Lt. Blake that Meridius had been sent by British intelligence to root out a spy.  Meridius was indeed a Spanish general who actually fled to England right after the Spanish Civil War.  He offered his services to the allies and they accepted.  The story he gave Bale, the false dog tags and the fact that he seemly wouldn’t give personal information to anyone, was all contrived so that he would eventually be seen as a spy and interrogated.  It was a long process but absolutely necessary. 

The good part was that the spy had been caught.  He was well placed in intelligence and even participated in Meridius’ interrogation.  Now that the intrigue was over, Max had requested to be sworn into the American army and would eventually be considered for citizenship.  All of this was related to Bale and he in turn told his squad.

Shelly couldn’t believe it when Maximus had come to see her before rejoining his squad.  He explained what Appleby had done for him and he told Shelly he hoped they would have some time to talk.  Unfortunately his squad was ordered out and he never got the chance to see her again.  As the troops moved further and further east the village became a holding point for all the wounded who were being sent home or elsewhere for treatment. 

She spent long hours treating those she could help but Maximus was never far from her mind.  She could tell that he was open to more than a friendship and she prayed that he would come back to her.

The men had been happy to see him return.  Bale was especially glad, since he had never gotten over the idea that he had somehow wronged the man who had saved them more than once.

Over the next four months Bale’s squad along with the men of Company 'B' distinguished themselves on the field of battle.  They fought like tigers and the tide was turning.  Although Max had been fortunate enough to escape being wounded, he tempted fate once too often.  He charged a machine gun nest after the Germans had killed Abernathy and Hurst.  He cleared out the nest but was wounded several times in the course of action.

His last thought before dying, was not of spending eternity with his wife and son, it was of Shelly and the possibility that was dying with him.  “Please, Jupiter not again.”

Jupiter sat contemplating the plea from Maximus.  Should he allow him to die and use him again?  Or should he be allowed to live in this time?  Jupiter saw Maximus’ thoughts of Shelly and turned his own to his lovely wife.  He would spend eternity with Juno and at times it seemed a curse.  But more often, he delighted in her company and her council.  She was beautiful, loving and intelligent.  She made his existence lively and whole. 

In a moment of total clarity he saw what all mortals saw.  Life is fleeting and should be savored.  Maximus had not had that opportunity since Jupiter began moving him.  He reached out his hand and touched the dead man.  “I release you from my care.  Go to your family and know this…the game was never better than with you as my champion.  I was entertained.”

Sgt. Bale checked Max for a pulse.  When he couldn’t find one, he ordered Calvin to get the squad moving.  It was with sincere regret that he left Maximus.  He whispered, “I am a better man having known you, sir.” 

Juno was watching with Jupiter.  “We cannot let him die.  He has earned the right to a decent life.”

“I already released him, Juno.  He is no longer under my care.”

“Well, I haven’t released him.”  With that the beautiful goddess evaporated and like a mist and covered Maximus with her protection.  She gave him life again.  Then she waited, surrounding him with her spirit until one of his own found him.

“Hey, Sarge!  There’s a live one over here.”  He checked the single dog tag and exclaimed, “It’s Meridius!”  These were soldiers who were trailing behind the front line squads. He was alive, just barely.  Their medic was well known in Company B.  He was the best medic in the army some said.  He reinforced that notion by getting Maximus to the holding village alive.  Max had become a legend and everyone who knew him hoped he would live.

Shelly was about to find somewhere she could take a break and maybe catch a couple of hours of sleep.  It seemed the stream of wounded would never end.  She had given up her own bed and was currently sleeping wherever she could find a spot.  Since the village had become an official holding point, several more medics had been assigned permanently to help Dr. Conway and her.  It still wasn’t enough but it helped.

She thought about Max. She’d heard his name over and over since he’d left.  Some of the wounded spoke of him as if he were Apollo or Mars and that worried her.  He was risking himself needlessly to save others.  She was proud of that, but what if he was killed?  They wouldn’t get the chance to have that important conversation.

Just as she was walking out of the church where they brought the worst of the wounded, a jeep arrived with a man on a stretcher across the back. 

“Nurse! Nurse! I need your help!”

She was so tired she almost told him to get one of the others to help him, however, the thought that maybe one day it would be Maximus kept her from saying it.  This man deserved attention as much as Max did.  So she walked over to see what kind of wounds he had.

“How bad is he?”  She listened while the young medic told her about his condition.  He finished with, “Ma’am, it’s Max Meridius.  We can’t let him die.”

Shelly’s heart nearly stopped.  She gently pulled the blanket off his face.  It was indeed Maximus.

“Get someone to help you get him into the church.  I’ll go arrange a place for him.”

The medic ran into the church and grabbed a soldier who was waiting to see if his buddy would live.  Meanwhile Shelly cleared a spot for them to place the stretcher.  Once they got Maximus situated Shelly began removing his clothes.  There was blood everywhere and his pulse was fast and thready.  She leaned close to his ear. “Maximus, it’s Shelly.  Please don’t die, please.  We haven’t had that conversation yet.”

Juno finally abandoned Maximus to the care of the mortals.  She waited until she was sure he would no longer need her help.  When she arrived back at Olympus Jupiter welcomed her.

“I want you to know, my dear, that you have done Olympus proud.  You shame me when I think of how I used him.”

Juno smiled.  She couldn’t believe Jupiter had accepted her lesson.

“However,” he continued, “I did very much enjoy the diversion.”

She should have known.  Her husband had learned nothing.  As she turned to leave, he grabbed her lightly and turned her to him.  “I also want to tell you I finally understand the difference between mortals and gods.  It is not the power that we wield; it is the lack of appreciation for life.  I want you to know, that even though we don’t die, we have expired.  We no longer have their adoration and thus our lives are not fulfilled.  They, on the other hand, understand all too well how important life is.  I love you, Juno.  I will always love you even to the end of time.”  And then he kissed her until she swooned.

Shelly had a long, hard time keeping Maximus with the living, but somehow she managed.  They wanted to move him to better facilities, but  that had to wait until he was well enough to travel. 

Sgt. Bale heard from another squad leader that they had found Max near death but got him to the village still alive.

Bale sat with Calvin Thomas, now Corporal Thomas.  “I know Max was dead.  There wasn’t a pulse, nothing.  How could I have been so wrong?”

“Sarge, don’t beat yourself up.  With the wounds he had and all, it was a mistake any of us could have made.  Max would be the first to tell you that in war mistakes are made.  No matter how hard we try….  Maybe we can go see him and you can tell him you’re sorry.”

“I’m just glad I was wrong and that someone found him before it was too late.”

During his recuperation Max and Shelly had several conversations.  He made it clear that he was interested and she made it clear she was also.  He intended to move to the U.S. once the war was over and would she come with him?

All too soon he was moved to Paris.  There he would be allowed to fully recover and then it would be up to him if he wanted to go to America.  Bale had put him in for the Congressional Medal of Honor and even if he didn’t win it would be an important reference.  He decided he wanted to buy a farm…in Iowa perhaps.  He didn’t, however, want to leave Shelly here.  He needed to have her with him when he made the crossing.

Marcos Echanis, Appleby’s friend, arrived at the villa of General Maximo.  He had contacted the owners and explained that he wanted to look for the money hole.  He only wanted to verify if it was there and if it contained a document.  Of course any treasure that might be found was theirs.  They agreed and relayed the request to the caretakers. 

It was Sunday and the villa was not open for tourists.  He knocked on the door and an older gentleman allowed him in.  They spoke for a moment and Marcos explained that he was looking for an old document, and where he would like to look.  The old man nodded and left him to poke around.

Three hours later Marcos was no closer to finding the contract than he was when he arrived.  He had poked and prodded several stones with a tire iron but came up empty.  Finally he gave up.  It was becoming dark outside and the old man had come and told him he would have to leave soon.  He was about to go tell the man ‘thank you’ and leave, when a beautiful woman walked into the atrium where he’d been looking.  She smiled and asked him, “So, you haven’t found it yet?”

“The document?  No, I’m afraid if it’s here it’s been covered over by the new foundation.”  She was so beautiful and almost ethereal.  She seemed to cast a spell on him and he didn’t mind.  He hadn’t realized that anyone but the old man was here.

“Come,” she said and beckoned to him with her hand.

At the front door she pointed to a stone that lay in the corner of the entrance.   It was a large flat stone like all the others.  She said, “If you are looking for Maximus’ copy of the contract, it is there.  If you are looking for anything else, you will find only money and jewels.  Please tell Maximus he is free.  It is his time to live.  We hope he has many children to carry his name and ask him to tell them stories of the gods, so we won’t be completely forgotten.”

Marcos stood there stunned as she simply evaporated.  The old man came back and indicated that he should leave.  “I will leave. Just give me two more minutes, please.”

He used the tire iron to pry up the stone.  As it lifted, they could see glittering gold, silver and bronze coins and beautiful jewelry.  The old man waited until the stone was completely off and he could see how much treasure was there.  Then he ran to the telephone and called his employer.

On the top, tied with fine cord, was the contract.  Marcos wanted to open it, but after 1900 years he was afraid it would disintegrate in his hands.  He waited until the owners arrived and they could see how much treasure there was.  He didn’t want them to think he might have stolen anything if he left before they arrived.

He showed them the document and asked that they allow him to take it to the museum in Merida.  There it could be examined for authenticity and preserved.  He promised that they would be given all credit for finding it and they agreed. 

Before he left, the owner, Alejandro Cardenas, gave him a bag of assorted coins.  “If it weren’t for you we would have never found the treasure.  You deserve a reward.”

Maximus was just finishing putting on his clothes.  He was being released from the hospital and had been given the opportunity to travel to America via military transport.  They were going to send him there to work behind a desk.  He refused.  He wanted to finish what he started and sitting behind a desk was a waste of his training and talent.  As much as he wanted to stop warring, now wasn’t the time.  Besides, he wanted Shelly at his side during the crossing.

Shelly.  Just her name made him warm inside.  She wouldn’t understand his need to return to the war, but she would accept it.  She was that kind of woman.  They had their conversation, several as a matter of fact, and she was more than willing to marry him.  In fact, when he asked her, she threw herself into his arms and kissed him.  He was surprised, as that wasn’t how he was raised. 

He hadn’t actually asked Selene to marry him. It had been a contract that his father and her father had signed.  Since Shelly’s father was in England and his father was dead many centuries, he couldn’t reasonably worry about not asking permission, however Shelly wanted him to meet her family and they would go to England before sailing to America.  Maximus knew contracts and arranged marriages were part of the past.  Things weren’t done that way anymore, but he would ask her father’s permission as a formality.

He picked up his gear and turned to the doorway.  There stood Col. Appleby.  He quickly saluted.  Appleby returned the salute.  “I should salute you first, General.”

Maximus didn’t catch the significance at first.  Then a smile crossed his lips. “He found the contract?”

“Yes, yes, he did.  However, he had some rather unbelievable help if Marcos is to be believed.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“He said a very beautiful woman showed him exactly where it was and then told him to tell you that you are free and that she hoped you would have many children and that you would tell them about the gods.  She said that way they wouldn’t be forgotten.  Once she finished, she simply vanished right in front of Marcos’ eyes.  It really shook him.  Who do you suppose it was?  Your wife maybe?”

Maximus smiled, “No, Selene would not have cared about the gods being forgotten.  I think it might have been Juno, Jupiter’s wife.  I believe she protected me when I was so injured.  I could feel her arms around me, holding me like my mother did when I was small.  She is, after all, the mother goddess.”

Appleby handed Max a box with a pouch in it.  “Marcos sent this.  He said it is yours.  It’s only a small part of what they found.  He wished he could have sent it all, but the current owners were already generous enough to give him this.  I guess he didn’t want to press the issue.  I think if you sell those coins the money will pretty much buy whatever you want.”

Maximus took Appleby’s forearm in the old Roman handshake.  “Thank you, sir.  You have been more than a friend in all this. I hope to go to Merida before leaving Europe and see my villa.  I would also like to meet Marcos and thank him in person.”

“I’ll give you his address.”

Only weeks later the museum in Merida announced that they were in the possession of the second contract signed by Maximus Decimus Meridius which proved without doubt that he should have been Marcus Aurelius’ successor.  This created quite a stir in the archeological world.  If this were so the history books would need to be re-written.

Maximus didn’t get to ask Shelly’s father for her hand as he died of fever only months after Shelly wrote to her family.  After his death, Maximus could find no reason not to marry Shelly  and so they were wed in a small church in the village next to the one where they’d met.  It was still intact through all the bombings and the minister still lived there.  Only Maximus and Shelly were there for the ceremony, along with 2^nd Lieutenant Don Bale, who stood as Maximus’ best man and witness.  The next day both men returned to the war and both men were thankfully still whole when it ended. 

Max and Shelly made the journey to Spain and met Marcos Echanis.  He was not only gracious, but he took them to see Maximus’ villa.  He kept sneaking looks at Maximus during the journey.  It was hard to believe this was really General Maximo.

When they arrived at the villa, both Marcos and Shelly waited until Maximus had a chance to have a moment to himself.  He walked around the left side of the villa and stood looking at a patch of grass.

Shelly finally joined him.  “What is it, Max?”

“This is where I buried them.  It used to be a vegetable garden.”  With that he kneeled down and prayed that his wife and son were happy in Elysium and that they wouldn’t mind waiting a little longer to see him.  He whispered,  “Selene, I hope you understand that I needed another wife.  Life is too lonely to live only in memories.  I love you and always will, but I love her, too.  Please be happy for me.”

They made the trip to England and then left for America. 

Maximus and his wife had five children, three boys and two girls.  They were raised on a farm in Iowa.

“I wonder, Juno, if he ever wishes he still had a legion at his command?”

“I don’t think so, Jupiter.  He seems most content.”

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