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Gladiator:
In the darkness and the cold of the old barn, a lonely young boy tried to cry himself to sleep, desperately but carefully shifting his position in hopes of finding a more comfortable way to rest. A small rustling noise to the side made his eyes snap to the right fearfully, but it was only Miki, his family’s old and temperamental hen. Unsurprisingly, she ignored his presence, pecking idly away at the straw-covered floor. The boy was hardly moved by this; why would anyone, let alone a chicken, care about him anyway? Finally, he drew his knees up to his chest for warmth and began to wrap his arms around them – but he choked back a gasp of pain when he moved his right arm. Tears blurred his vision, but he forced them away. It wasn’t the first time his father had come home drunk and angry; nor would it be the last that everything would be the younger boy’s fault.
Exhausted, he let his head drop onto his upraised knees with a sigh. The bruises on his face ached, and his whole body felt like it had been thrown into a wall – which it had, more than once. Breathing hurt, and he knew that he had at least two broken ribs in addition to his broken arm, which throbbed so much that he wondered if the bone had not cracked in more than one place. Neither of those thoughts was a deduction a boy of eight would usually make, but Maximus had gained lots of experience with broken bones throughout his young life. He shifted again, and bit his lip in pain, trying not to cry. He was eight years old; he wasn’t supposed to cry.
But then why did it have to hurt so much?
Morning dawned bright – outwardly and over the golden Spanish countryside, anyway – but Maximus did not wake until a hand touched his broken arm and made him cry out in pain. A curse followed as the hand moved away and his eyes snapped open.
“I’m sorry, Maximus,” his older brother, Brand, said quickly and with concern, nervously brushing his shaggy black hair back from his eyes, as was his habit. “Are you okay?”
Numbly, the eight-year-old boy nodded, blinking back tears once more. Brand looked at him worriedly, though, and the younger Meridius cursed his lack of control. Usually, Brand couldn’t tell when he was in pain. Usually he could hide it. But not right now; it hurt too much. Still, he had to try. “I’m fine.”
An unstoppable gasp of pain followed the words the moment they left his mouth, and Maximus’ tears overflowed. He shook his head in confusion, trying to clear his mind and make himself stop crying. Why did it hurt so much to talk? What was wrong with him? Broken ribs didn’t usually hurt this much! Only one thought looped repeatedly through his mind, then: Why does it have to hurt so much? Finally, he succeeded in forcing his tears back; only then did he realize he was shaking.
“Maximus?” Brand asked again, concern etched in his twelve-year-old features – he too, was older than his years, forged into young steel through trial, experience, and responsibility. “I’m going to get Mother.”
“No!” the boy cried. “I’m okay.” Unsteadily, he scrambled to his feet, trying not to cry in pain. He clutched his right arm to his chest protectively, though, as he started for the barn door, knowing that there was another day to live through.
But his older brother grasped the other arm firmly, not letting Maximus escape. “You are not,” he declared.
Tears clouded his vision as he tried to jerk away, the pain in his ribcage increasing with every movement. “Leave me alone,” he managed.
“No,” Brand said with uncharacteristic care. This was not one of their usually pointless arguments, and the older boy had clearly decided that this was enough. “You’re hurt bad this time, Maximus.”
“I am not,” the younger boy stated stubbornly, but he swayed dizzily on his feet, and was only caught by his brother moments before he hit the barn wall. Regaining his balance, Maximus pulled away, but he’d never been so woozy in his life. Suddenly, the barn walls, stalls, and the light creeping through the half-open door all bled together in a colorful but confusing rainbow and began to spin wildly, out of control. Then his knees buckled, and he was forced to fight the incoming blackness. This time, Brand was not fast enough to catch him.
His head hit the wall as he fell, and Maximus saw no more.
With the warm sun beating down upon their backs once more, he forced a smile for his brother. How could he not? Brand’s dreams were coming true, and he was escaping this place… While leaving his twelve-year-old brother behind in the dust. Two years to go, Maximus told himself firmly. In two years, the army will take me. I have to survive until then.
“Be careful, Maximus,” his older brother told him quietly as they embraced. “Don’t do anything dumb.”
“I won’t,” he promised. I don’t have to. Years ago, the young boy had learned the price of resistance, of talking back, and of defending his own beliefs – but still, nothing stopped him when he really believed. He wasn’t like his brother, who could hide his feelings inside, and he had an instinctive stubbornness that always made him bounce back from the pain. Yet there was so little left in his life to believe in, anyway, so what did one more sacrifice matter? A dark and private part of his soul had given up on life years before, yet the heart still fought on.
Then he smiled, for his brother. This was Brand’s day; why take away from him? No one would notice his feelings anyway, not even his kind and loving mother, who lived in almost as much fear as he… nor would his baby sister notice; little Nicola was only eight, and daddy’s angel knew no fear. Her life wasn’t like theirs. Suddenly, Maximus felt very, very alone in the world. But the time for feeling it was past.
“Good luck,” he told Brandus Aldric Meridius whole-heartedly, wishing, deep inside, that he could go with him. His brother was off to see the world, to join the army, to serve Rome… And in a few years, he’d be an officer because their family’s ancestors had been in the senate. In truth, though, that fact mattered a lot more to Brand than it did to Maximus. Oh, he wanted to join the army every bit as much as his older brother did, perhaps even more, but for different reasons: for Brand, it was glory; for Maximus, it was an escape. Even his brother did not know the hell his life was.
“Thanks,” Brand smiled, the excitement plain in his eyes. The rest of the family had said their goodbyes, and now the two boys, four years apart in age but twined in spirit, stood before the old wooden fence Brand had always been meaning to repair, not having the slightest clue what to say. “You’re joining when you turn sixteen, right?”
Maximus forced the lie. “Of course,” he grinned. “I’ll be right behind you,” Inwardly, though, he knew he could never wait so long. Instinct told him that waiting any longer than he had to would be suicide. There was no way he’d wait until he was sixteen… Not when he already looked fourteen, and when fourteen was the legal age at which to join the legions. To hell with the rules his father put down… the sadistic man would probably be glad to be rid of him.
Only two more years…
The thought made his heart lift slightly, even though Maximus was jointly jealous and glad that Brand was leaving. He’d miss his older brother, but this was Brand’s dream. Although he so wanted to go with him, to escape… but he would follow soon enough. Someday, he told himself, this will end.
He hit the ground hard, tears blurring his already hazy vision. Another teenage boy might have leapt to his feet, spoiling for a fight, but he knew better. This was a battle that he couldn’t win, no matter how many times he’d fought it already. A helpless cry split his lips as the next kick broke two of his ribs, and instinct brought his hands up to protect his face just in time. Angry snarling reached his ears, but Maximus remained still, wishing he could sink into the floor and just disappear. Carefully, he peeked out from behind his arms when no more blows were forthcoming, and then the sandaled foot contacted with his face. He bit back the cry, this time, and stubbornly set his jaw against the pain, until another kick to his chest made him scream.
“Shut up, you stupid boy!” the drunk voice roared, and Maximus did indeed silence himself; not because he was told to, but because he wouldn’t give his father the pleasure of hearing him scream again. He was thirteen now – one year from being a man – and he was supposed to be strong, no matter how hard that was. No matter how much his father hated him, or how much worse his life had grown since his brother had left him alone. As he remembered those facts, though, Maximus tried to deceive himself and believe that most kids spent their birthdays like this.
“What are you lying there for?” Lawrence suddenly demanded. “Get up!”
Hating every moment of his helplessness, but knowing that resistance would only mean more pain, Maximus scrambled to his feet, frantically wiping the tears off his face and trying not to add to them. Carefully, he wrapped his arms around his chest, trying to somehow protect the three or four broken ribs poking into his skin. The boy leaned heavily on the wall, wishing he could back away from his father, but having nowhere to go. He looked up at the larger man with barely controlled fear, but any control was enough to infuriate Lawrence.
No words followed; only a fist buried itself deep into his chest, knocking the wind out of him and making him cry out again. Maximus’ knees buckled, and he started to fall, but a large hand held him on his feet while the other struck him again. By the third punch, the young man was sobbing.
Fury slurred Lawrence’s words together, but they were plain enough to Maximus. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard them, either. “Oh, so now you need to cry! Do you need your mommy?” his father mocked him, and then hissed with contempt. “Baby.”
Through his tears, Maximus saw the fist coming in again. “Don’t…” he whispered, but there was no mercy.
He slipped down the wall to the floor once again, his breathing coming hard and tears even harder. Maximus tried to shut his eyes and close out the pain, pretending he was anywhere but there… But sometime solid contacted with his body, and he cried out once more. His eyes flew open, and he saw the blur of a dark, cylindrical object before hit struck his side. Only stubborn courage kept the cry inside this time. Quickly, he noticed that his father’s tool was the leg belonging to the now broken chair that had flown across the room earlier. Maximus braced himself for the next blow, but was not prepared for its force. Sudden pain raced up his left calf, and even as he tried to cut back the cry, it escaped. Blackness pressed in all of a sudden, but he fought it irrationally. Something inside him – that little gleaming of self that always got Maximus in trouble – refused to give in.
The seconds ticked by painfully, but the drunk quickly grew bored and tired. That was the only good part about his father’s explosive anger, Maximus knew… it burned bright and fast. Usually.
“Get away from me!” Lawrence suddenly snapped at him, and not needing to be told twice, the young Spaniard jumped to his feet –
And crumbled to the floor with a cry as his left ankle refused to support him. His tears, once so bravely repressed, overflowed, almost progressing into sobs, but Maximus’ youthful courage held that back. Rough hands suddenly grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to his feet, and Maximus felt like fainting from the pain as weight descended upon his left ankle. However, his father’s fury was much more immediate and frightening than any pain could have been; he looked at Lawrence through his tear-filled eyes and bit his lip to keep his agony inside.
“I told you to get out of here!” The man’s alcohol-filled breath was hot on his face, but before he dared a reply, Maximus was thrown forward, and he cried out, stumbling, and barely catching himself on a nearby chair before he fell to the floor once more. A quick glance backwards revealed his father’s watchful gaze, and he knew that if he fell again, he’d be beaten far worse than he had already been. And he had only seconds before Lawrence ran out of patience.
Slowly, Maximus pushed away from the high-backed chair he’d clung to, testing his leg. Fiery pain shot upwards the moment he put weight on it, and he choked back the scream that rose in his chest. He had never been in so much agony in his life, and he could not even imagine how much walking would hurt when standing his left ankle felt like it would kill him. But there wasn’t any choice in the matter.
Trying unsuccessfully to hold back tears, Maximus limped to his room.
Brightness twinkled lightly in the sky, and Maximus imagined that the gods were happy tonight. He sat on his bed, staring out the window and toward the heavens, thinking of futures and what could be. He was not usually a dreamer, but at night things were a little different, and he could, for once in his life, afford to wonder, since there was no one around to beat the fact that daydreaming was a useless habit into him. Indeed, the villa around him was sound asleep, and had been so for several hours. This time of night, when the wind blew softly and the stars shone without prejudice, was the only freedom he knew, and he had several hours until dawn, when the dream ended.
A chill ran down his spine. Of course, he was not planning on being around come dawn. There were too many things to be done…
For a moment, indecision paralyzed him. Should he really…? Was it worth it…? But only a dark future beckoned before him, and Maximus knew he’d give anything to escape the road he was trapped on. If he stayed any longer, somehow he knew he would die. His father did not know what kindness was, and the closer his middle son grew to manhood, the harsher the beatings became. They used to be for a reason; or, at least for the sham of one, but now Lawrence seemed not to care. Maximus was a convenient scapegoat, and whenever the father was angry, the middle son paid. The mistakes were rarely his own, since after a lifetime of abuse, Maximus had learned to make very few. Some might say that the experiences had honed his senses and fed his courage, but he knew inside that his heart had broken years ago. Despite that, he hesitated.
He had planned this for years, only not to do so quite so soon. Yet it was time… and he could not bear waiting any longer. What the world held, he did not know, but anything and anywhere had to be better than the hell his life had daily become. He didn’t want to live through another birthday like the last, and that meant he had to disappear by dawn.
Quietly, he shouldered the small pack he’d made for himself and picked up the short, hand-written note he’d penned in the other hand. Maximus glanced at it once, tears filling his eyes, although he’d long since memorized the words. He was leaving for good now…and no matter how much of a hell it was, this was the only home he’d ever known. Angry at his own loss of control, the boy shook his head, focusing on the letter. Reading it was almost his own personal test.
Mother,
I’m
sorry, but I can’t stay here any more.
I
love you, and Nicola. Tell her that I
said goodbye.
Maximus.
A deep breath quieted the emotion riding up within his soul. It was time.
He crept out of his room, and made his way down the hallway to his right. As Maximus peeked in the door, he was taken by the most beautiful sight in the world: Nicola, his ten-year-old baby sister, the angel of everyone’s eyes, lay at peace, dreaming her happiest dreams. A slight smile touched her lips, suddenly, and Maximus knew he’d miss her. He also knew that she would never understand why he’d left. Before he could lose his resolve, he slipped the note into her room, knowing that the little girl would give it to their mother. Maybe then his father could only curse and trash it after the letter had done all it needed to do.
Gathering courage, he took one more breath. So, silently, he tiptoed out of the house and into the barn, quickly saddling Eclipse, his father’s stallion. The small chestnut looked at him in confusion, but was still. He seemed to sense that he was needed, and Maximus was grateful for his warm and forgiving presence. Horses were so simple, he reflected. If you treated them well, they did as you asked, and sometimes even loved you for it. Why couldn’t people be like that?
He led the stallion outside and mounted. The estate was still quiet, and everything was at peace. Quickly, he nudged Eclipse forward toward the family gates. When he reached them, he urged the stallion into a canter, leaving his memories to bite the dust behind the horse’s hooves. The past was behind him, and perhaps the future would not be so dark. His old home faded quickly in the distance, and he never bothered to take even the slightest glance over his shoulder. His eyes were fastened on the future.
Four days later, Maximus Decimus Meridius met with the legions’ recruiters for the first time, without looking back.
The journey begins.