Chapter 7: Weaponless Battle

Commodus allowed Aislinn to rest for two more days. He only went in to see about her when she was asleep. This way he avoided speaking to her and seeing her gaze at him. For some reason, her eyes were what scared him the most. She was commanding in her looks. He hated this because he often felt inclined to obey. He sent a physician in the morning she was supposed to spar again. The physician came out of the room to give a report.

"Sire, she may not be able to walk anymore," the physician said nervously. "The wound is most unusual. I've only seen these fractures on legionnaires."

"She's a Celt, she can do anything physical. She is strong, that is why I had her brought to me," Commodus declared. The physician shifted. He sighed. "What do you recommend?"

"I propose that if Caesar wants to continue training her, she said this is what you had been doing, and then you should let her observe for a few days. Have her test her walking skills everyday and if you're sure she's improving then let her back into the training circle slowly."

"She's a warrior, she doesn't need to be handled delicately," Commodus said indignantly.

"Yes, Caesar. However, she is also a woman. A strong woman, but still a woman. Their strengths, even as warriors, are different than men," the physician stated. "You will make sound judgment yourself, I am sure."

He nodded and gestured for the man to leave. He walked into Aislinn's room. She was looking the window closest to her bed, still awake. The physicians had recommended that she be given a combination of eastern poppy and barley ale to ease the pain. Lucilla told her brother that the poppy was wise, but since the girl was a Christian, she might abstain from drinking the ale. He offered her the mixture and she accepted it without question. The pain was intolerable otherwise. He walked over to her side and looked down at her.

"Is it healing well?" he asked lifting the cover on her leg to look at it. There was no more blood seeping through the dressings, so the healing must've been going much better. "It looks improved."

"It is, Caesar. You were very kind to have tended to it so faithfully," she said with slight affection. She was beginning to feel a little fond of him despite the position he'd placed her in, he could feel this and it frightened him. "I will be ready to fight tomorrow."

"The physician seems to believe that you are still in a delicate state," he added.

"The physician does not decide my fate. I feel much stronger, highness. You have taken very good care of me," she said.

"Very well, then. I will see you tomorrow," he said with a bow. She nodded.

He left without another word. As he passed two of the servants in the hall, he heard one speaking softly and urgently to another.

"How will they do it? The gladiators are well guarded," the one said.

"His sister might help, or Senator Gracchus. They think Caesar's out of his mind," the second replied.

"Well he has been acting strangely lately. I just hope that the Spaniard, Maximus, can defeat him outside the arena when they carry this out. Otherwise the emperor might slay all of Rome," the first added. They hurried off quickly. Commodus silently followed for a moment. The two servants entered the senate room and spoke for a moment with Falco. Commodus scratched his head for a moment in confusion. If Falco knew about an attempt on his life, why hadn't he said anything? Perhaps it was just more silly rumors. Still, if he was at risk of being assassinated, then the throne would definitely pass to Maximus. Maximus had already tried to assault his sister once. No doubt the cad would kill poor Lucius and then have his way with Lucilla. The thought alone enraged Commodus almost beyond his limited patience. He sent for Maximus to be chained doubly in his cell, fed and watered only once a day and to be watched by men at all times. He was not to enter the arena again.

(*)

That night, Aislinn slipped out of her bed. The wound had healed very well, and the women in her family had inherently strong legs and ankles. She began to walk on the leg cautiously. It didn't hurt quite as badly. She needed fresh air. She went to the door to see if the guards would ask the emperor if she could walk around the courtyard for a moment. To her surprise there were no guards at the door at all. Either they were abandoning their post, or Caesar had decided that she was too badly wounded to do anything drastic. She smiled and walked curiously into the palace. She decided to only have a quick look as to what it was like and then leave immediately. Once inside, she found herself far too curious to just take a quick look. The masses of statues, art, tapestries, incense, and fine furniture thrilled her. She walked among them, completely amazed. Before she knew what she was doing she had wondered into the royal bedchamber. She stopped dead when she entered an area and saw Commodus sitting behind a bedside table. She jumped and ducked behind a pillar. She peeked out. He hadn't seen her. She smiled and went to quietly walk away. Suddenly she heard him gasp, and then realized what he was doing. He was crying. She stood and cautiously walked around the room to where she was behind him. He was lamenting on for something deeply, sincerely, whatever had hurt him had cut him like a dagger. She was moved with incredible compassion and gently touched his quivering shoulder. He reached up, thoughtlessly, and grasped her hand. He sniffed and pulled her hand closer to his face. "Oh, sister. Why don't they love me? Don't I give them what they want? Am I not generous to the people? Why do they conspire against me?" he wept.

"Caesar..," Aislinn began softly. It was obvious to her from the beginning that Latin didn't hide a Gaelic accent at all. He whirled around and looked up. He growled and stood over her angrily. She backed away, frightened.

"What are you doing in here!" he yelled. He raised his hand to strike her, but caught sight of the still healing bruise on her face. He lowered his hand slowly. "Go back to your room, Aislinn," he hissed.

"Caesar, please..," she said pleadingly. He glared at her. She stared up at him for a moment and then shook her head. "Your people do love you, highness. But they are still just children and you need to learn how to be a father."

"How dare you!" he said loudly. "How dare you imply that I do not know how to rule!"

"Knowing how to rule and knowing how to govern as a parent are two different things, highness. The people are children. Indulging their whims makes them spoiled. If they are spoiled then they cannot love anyone least of all you. See to their needs not their wants. You are already seeing to their needs wonderfully, you should simply make celebrations truly spectacular for them by making them special, rare, not commonplace."

He stared at her in total disbelief. She looked away fearing that he would strike at her again this time in complete hatred because of her correction to his policies. He grabbed her face and turned it towards him. He was overcome with emotion right now. He looked down at her, hungrily. He wanted her right now. The conflict within him was screaming at him to control something anything, and she was an easy target. He pulled her face to his and kissed her fully. Aislinn remained very still. His other hand wandered behind her, pulling her flush with him. She still made no effort to pull away. Both his hands now cradled her head, lips still affixed to one another, passionately. He moved his hands down, their destination quite obvious to her, but still she remained quiet. His hand brushed her medallion and the cross etched in it glinted in the candlelight, shocking his eyes for a moment and bringing him back to sanity. He pulled away and looked down at her. She was bright red in the face and breathing heavily. She turned and left as quickly as her leg and a half would carry her. He watched her, followed a little, and then watched to make sure she went back into her room. He stood unmoving for a moment. He looked to his left where the night watch were coming, making their rounds. He ordered two of them to watch her door and then turned and left. He sank down onto his bed back in his room. He could've taken her; he could've ravaged her there and then. She wasn't fighting him. Why? he wondered. First, why hadn't she fought, and second, why didn't he? He closed his eyes. Maybe he was getting a little too close to her. He would have to remedy that. She was an enemy, a particularly unusual one, but an enemy none the less. He was truly going to enjoy ending this.