Chapter 5: Mightier Than the Sword

Claude woke Aislinn the next morning. She climbed out of bed without a word, dressed, and headed into the courtyard. The emperor stood waiting, clothed in very little. Aislinn felt uncomfortable fighting him like this. Not necessarily because he was far too vulnerable, but because seeing his breath and heartbeat increase as they fought was a carnal distraction to her. She had little way of knowing that he felt the same about seeing her clad in the simple attire given to her as they practiced. Spring had settled early on Rome, April felt incredibly cool, but not bitter now that the sun had awakened a warmer season. Aislinn walked up to him, still remaining a good distance away. She bowed low. He nodded and motioned for the guards to hand her something. Quintus stepped forward, handing Aislinn a very large, very heavy Gladius. The wound on her face had calmed through the day and night. Aislinn had barely eaten for the pain that it had caused her, but she was able to rest. Now it was turning a healthy shade of dark purple. Commodus had a terrible taste in the back of his throat at seeing this. He ignored it and watched Aislinn take the sword, awkwardly, from Quintus. He watched her get situated with the enormous blade. He smiled. She had clearly never handled a large sword before. This was going to be fun and easy. He walked over to her. She was looking quite afraid at the moment.

"Something wrong, Boadicea Christian?" he asked sounding very pleased.

"Only a little something, Caesar. I...I've...I've never really used a blade like this before," she admitted while still trying to get a good hold on the handle. She was very unsuccessful.

"Hurry up," he said smiling even more. Aislinn continued to struggle with it. She finally got a small grasp around the base. He nodded. "Good, begin."

"Wait, I..," Aislinn said as he lunged. He knocked the sword from her hands. She ducked out of the way. He laughed.

"Get your sword! You're going to need it," he chided. He lunged at her again. Aislinn turned back to him, blowing a handful of dirt into his face. He shouted and tried to rub it out of his eyes. Aislinn dealt a harsh hit into his mid section. He knelt in severe pain. She reached around him, undoing the dagger he kept on his belt. She pinned him to the ground again, holding the dagger to his throat. "Not again!" he hissed angrily and threw her into the air. Aislinn landed with a sickening thud, a few feet away. He grabbed his sword and held it up to the base of her head as she lay there. She didn't move. "First lesson in swordplay, learn to hold the sword," he mocked. The guards laughed. All, that is, except for Quintus and the three men she had saved. Quintus stepped forward, bowing.

"I think she's hurt," Quintus said urgently.

"Good, then she's learned a valuable lesson," Commodus said turning to walk away.

"She's not breathing," Quintus said. He turned. He looked down at Aislinn's limp form. Quintus was right. It appeared as if she wasn't breathing. He cursed to himself. Although she really didn't mean anything to him, so he declared to his heart and mind, it was a terrible waste to lose such a wonderful playmate. He nudged her, slightly. Still nothing. His mind raced. He looked up at Quintus, who looked very concerned. He knelt and turned her over. As he touched her shoulder, she grabbed his hand and threw him to the ground. This time she pinned him with her knee at his throat. He panted heavily and stared at her with hatred.

"How dare you play on my emotions!" he yelled.

"You said that I may practice with whomever I wish, with whatever weapons I desire. Being not only a foreigner, but also a woman, I choose to fight with what I know best; the heart," she said smiling.

"It's not fair!" he cried like a spoiled child.

"Nothing is fair, Caesar," she said calmly. "Besides, you did knock the wind out of me." She laughed slightly. Filled with fury, he grabbed her leg and flung her to the side. Everyone heard a loud 'crack' and heard a shrill scream from Aislinn. Oh dear, he thought to himself. Now you've really hurt her. He stood and walked over to her. Aislinn was lying in a very uncomfortable position. Her body was simply lying in a half-moon shape on the ground, but her ankle-bone was protruding through the skin at an odd angle. Blood coursed from the wound, saturating the ground. She lay there breathing deeply, holding back screams and tears. He turned a very embarrassing shade of red as the sun began to rise. He turned to Quintus.

"Take her back to her quarters and send for a surgeon," he said. He looked back at Aislinn and the small lake of blood forming around her. "And for heaven's sake don't let them bleed her."

(*)

Commodus paced back and forth outside of Aislinn's chambers. After practice he found he had no appetite. He sat through the meetings with the senate, trying his best to listen and give sound advice. This hadn't worked. Gracchus inquired of him as to what was troubling him. He explained to the senator that a friend of his had been wounded that morning. Gracchus advised him to check on his friend momentarily throughout the day, but to not let something as trivial as the health of a fellow soldier in the way of his imperial duties. Gracchus was right. Commodus hated this, but agreed. The first time he asked about Aislinn's condition, the surgeon came to the door and told him that he was having trouble working with the bone and her skin. Commodus went to try and watch another of the games with Lucilla and Lucius. For some reason he took no pleasure in them today. He excused himself halfway through, complaining of a headache and needing to rest. Lucilla had expressed her worry for him, but said nothing more. He went back to the door of Aislinn's quarters. Her lamenting had ceased. A good sign, he hoped. He waited for the surgeon to bring him word. This time, the trouble came from the blood. Her blood was depleting and growing tired. Without thinking, Commodus asked what could be done. The surgeon replied that there wasn't much to be done, but to let her rest and recover. He nodded and slipped away. There were several documents that needed to be signed. He sat at his desk applying his seal and signature to everything put in front of him. He hadn't realized how far he had drifted out of present mind until he felt a small hand on his shoulder. He jumped and turned. Lucius stood next to him.

He sighed. "Lucius, you're not supposed to be in here. Where is your mother? Aren't you supposed to be napping right now?" he asked trying to compose himself. The senators and scribes had long since left the office. Lucius looked up at him.

"I went to see her," he admitted.

"Who?"

"The girl, the Christian," Lucius said softly. "I think she's going to die, uncle."

His heart sank. "No, no, Lucius. She's just injured. When you're in the regiments someday, you'll see far worse," he said reassuringly to both of them.

"She's pale, like marble. And growing cold except on her face and leg. The surgeon sent for poisons to frighten her heart into working faster," Lucius said. It was a radical remedy, giving a victim poison to shock the system into fighting back. It had been said that it worked on the countryside, but Commodus had never seen or heard of it working in civilized areas. He grabbed Lucius by the shoulders.

"Have they given it to her?" he asked.

"No," Lucius choked. "Please don't tell mother! She'll be so angry!" Lucius wailed. He threw his arms around his uncle and held on tightly. Commodus had only felt Lucius cling this tightly to him once, when news came of his father's death. He looked down at the boy and embraced him affectionately. "I don't like it, uncle. I don't like to see people dying," he whispered.

"Me neither," Commodus replied. He forgot, as was the habit of all Romans that he had watched people die for sport. This was different. He knew this girl. He may not have been tied to her, but he knew her. Not just that, but this process of death was slow and agonizing for both of them. To make the matter truly bad, he had been the cause of this. He stood and leaned forward, still holding onto Lucius' shoulders. He looked into the boy's face as he wiped away tears and straightened himself. "Go to your mother, Lucius. You need her. I'll see to the girl. She'll be fine," he said.

Lucius nodded and began to walk away. "She said to tell you something in case she died," he said sadly.

"What?"

"Her name, its Aislinn," Lucius said. He walked away to find his mother. Commodus hurried over to Aislinn's quarters. As he arrived, so did the messenger bringing the hemlock. He told the young man to wait outside for his instructions and raced inside. Aislinn lay on her bed, looking horrible. She was indeed pale as marble and a little grey as well. He reached down and grasped her hand, cold and slightly damp. He touched her face, burning hot and very moist with the sweat of a fever. An infection must have set in from something in the courtyard. He looked at the surgeon. He had never seen this man in the palace before; he must've been a local physician. Commodus excused him and sent for his personal physicians to come immediately. He looked up at the confused surgeon.

"This girl is my property, she's an exotic treasure. She should be cared for as if she were artwork," he explained. The man bowed low and left, calling for the servants to fetch the imperial doctors. Commodus waited, terrified. He looked out the window as clouds began to roll ominously over the city. He frowned. In mythology, rain was never a good sign. He looked down at her again. Her necklace, still draped around her throat, lay with its 'cross' side up. A thought crossed his mind. Perhaps this would work, it was worth a try. He knelt and folded his hands around Aislinn's. "God of the Christians, hear my prayer. I am emperor and demand you spare her life," he breathed. Thunder rumbled. Aislinn's chest ceased moving, her breath had stopped. "I said I demand you spare her life!" he said louder. Lightning crashed, and another loud crash of thunder ripped through the capital city's sky. Commodus looked at her for a few moments; she was turning paler and colder. He felt true fear grip him. "Please, please, don't let her die," he began to whisper holding her hand to his face. "Please spare her."

"They're here, Caesar," Quintus said from behind him as the physicians entered the room. Commodus stood, composing himself and motioned for them to tend to her quickly. They signaled for him to leave them. He did so, but waited outside the door, looking helpless. Quintus took note of this. He didn't see weakness in his ruler, instead he saw something amazing. For the first time in his life, Commodus was thinking of someone other than himself. Sincerely thinking of something other than himself. After a moment, the door opened and a surgeon looked at him smiling.

"Her fever broke quickly. It was only a minor reaction to the blood-loss. She will live, but needs a few days to recover," he said. Commodus nodded and tried to push past the man. "There is much blood in the room, Caesar. You yourself could become ill from it. Let her have the evening to regain strength and then go and speak with her."

He thought about arguing with the man, even ordering his way in. For now, the emperor felt helpless, but willing to do what was necessary to allow Aislinn to heal. Aislinn, a beautiful name. He nodded to the man and ordered that whatever was needed or asked of Aislinn be brought to her. He walked away with Quintus at his side.

"Well, sire, whatever God you were praying to before we arrived smiled on you. Not just anyone could have survived such a wound," Quintus said. Commodus said nothing, but thought about this. It all seemed very strange. Aislinn certainly won't strong enough of body to have withstood that assault and lived. Had her God answered him? If so, why hadn't he answered his demand the first time? Why did he only answer when the emperor felt truly desperate, like begging for her life? He blocked the thoughts from his mind as best he could and went to find his sister and nephew. They needed to be together at the moment.