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240 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published May 1, 2000
"Maximus the farmer was Maximus the general for one more battle. One last battle, and he could go home."
"There was an aura about the commander of the Northern armies when he fought—men felt it, ally and foe the same. He was a beautifully efficient machine of war: he fought smart, wasting not an ounce of energy, economizing his moves, saving his breath, and looking for his spots. He saw openings, angles, and trajectories and got his horrendous killing blow in before the enemy had time to draw back his weapon. But more than that was the searing core of self-belief, the confidence that he could vanquish any of Rome's foes no matter the odds."
"Let the flowers never fade. Let the sun always be warm on your back. But better than this, all the beloved dead returned to you, as you return to them. Embrace them. You’ve come home at last."
"Such a small, formal exchange to cover so much of life, so many complicated experiences and feelings."
"In the vineyard on the south slope Maximus buried his wife and son at nightfall. He dug deep graves in the black loamy soil that had nourished the grapes and olives in his fields, and the figs and pears and apples in his orchards. He patted down the mounded earth gently over their defiled, broken bodies. He was weeping, almost fainting from his wound, his hands buried in the dirt. He looked up to where the kitchen garden used to be by the house he had built with these same dirt-streaked, bloodied hands, where the herb and the jasmine his wife had planted scented the air.
He spoke to his dead loved ones through his tears. Lie in the shade of the white poplar, my loves. Do the meadow flowers smell sweet? Wait for me there…"
"The children aptly mirrored the strange double reactions that gladiators evoked wherever they went: fascination and revilement, heroes and criminals, the doomed and sometimes the redeemed."
"Once mounted on the big white stallion, he was again the ruthless dealer of death of the Felix Regiment."
"It was drama — a great fighter stalked by death in its most beautifully deadly disguise."
"Did Gracchus actually just see the mob throwing good and trash at the Emperor? Laughing at him? These acts of incredible courage were hanging offenses! All of it inspired by one extraordinary, resolute man."
"Maximus was armored and waiting, listening to the building roar of the crowd in the great arena beyond. The sound now meant something new to him — power. Power that he could wield. Power to avenge the murder of his wife and child. Power to finally carry out the bidding of a great man whose wishes had been subverted by his monstrous son."
"Maximus walked through the wheat field, letting the grain spikes trail through his fingers… The lovely woman stopped and turned. She called to the boy, who stopped running and looked back. He then started running back along the road, toward the man in the wheat field, toward his father, coming home at last."
"Juba still heard one voice in the giant arena, though — that of Maximus, the great fighter, asking about his home in Africa, talking about his own home in Spain. Maximus saying to him at the time of truth to have 'strength and honor.'"
"He carefully buried the figurines there, in the spot where their loved one had died. He covered them over with the earth that carried their loved one's blood, so that they would have an easier time finding each other in the afterlife."
"Now we are free. This place will become dust, but I will not forget you."