Emperor Marcus Aurelius sat on his horse, on the top of the command hill, with guards on each side to protect him. He watched as the battle slowly progressed and it became clear that the Roman army had won. Marcus hoped it would be many years before they had to go to war again, certainly not before he died. He had no wish to see another battle. He turned to his guards. "I will leave now," he said. "I have seen enough."

Maximus looked at his sword in the tree. His face was covered with blood and mud. The beat of his heart was beginning to slow down as the noise of the battle became quieter. There were other sounds now-screams from the dying and cries for help.

A small bird flew down from the top of the tree and sat on Maximus's sword. Could it possibly be the same bird he had seen before the first explosion of battle? That seemed like a hundred years ago. He shook his head and reached for the sword. The frightened bird flew away as Maximus pulled his sword out of the tree.

Across the field, doctors were trying to help any Roman soldiers who were still alive. Other soldiers were walking slowly through the men on the ground, looking for Germans left alive and killing them quickly.

Maximus walked back toward the command point, sometimes stopping to speak to a dying soldier, sometimes calling for water or medical help. He came to a low hill where the bodies of Roman soldiers had been placed, side by side.

"Let the sun always be warm on your back," he said softly. "You've come home at last."

"You're a brave man, Maximus, and a good commander," said a voice behind him. "Let us hope it is for the last time."

Maximus turned and saw the Emperor. "There's no one left to fight, sir," he said.

"There are always people to fight. More glory."

"The glory is theirs, Caesar," said Maximus, looking at the lines of dead soldiers.

"Tell me," said Marcus. "How can I reward Rome's greatest general?"

"Let me go home," replied Maximus, quickly.

"Ah, home..." said Marcus. He gave his arm to Maximus, and they walked together back across the battlefield.

All eyes followed the long purple coat and white hair of their emperor. They could see that he moved slowly and with difficulty. He was clearly in pain. Most of the soldiers realized that they were probably seeing him for the last time. And they knew Rome was not likely to have such a good emperor again.