Chapter 10: Throwing a Wench in the Gears

After the evening meal, Aislinn was allowed into the throne room to tell stories of her homeland. Aislinn recanted many amazing tales of Finn McCool, The Washer at the Ford, Ceridwen the great Hag, and so on. She even threw in some short and rather funny songs about the heroes. After a long while of listening, Lucilla told Lucius it was time for bed. He whined, but agreed to go on. He walked up to Aislinn, very ceremoniously. Lucilla tensed and some of the guards drew a little nearer. Aislinn stood perfectly still as the little prince walked right up to her.

"Those were lovely stories. Thank you," he said bowing to her. Aislinn nodded and bowed as well. He ran past her to his room, still excited about every word he had listened to.

Aislinn breathed a sigh of relief. Lucilla looked a little angrily at her and then walked away. Commodus shook his head and walked over to Aislinn.

"Don't mind my sister's worrying. She doesn't think you are evil, but she fears for her son," he comforted. Aislinn nodded.

"I bid you good night, then, highness," she said with a bow to him.

"Not so fast. The night is still young. While those tales might have entertained my nephew, there are a few more that I would like to hear," he said walking back to the throne and sitting down. He appeared so aloof and untouchable in his royal gear. Aislinn almost preferred him half-naked than to feel so out of place around him. She stepped closer and breathed deeply.

"What would you hear from me, highness? I have very little else to share than what I've told you. Other myths of my people are quite complicated and very long," she explained.

"My men tell me that it was on this day some years ago that your Messiah was executed," he said.

"You mean mur...," Aislinn began. Commodus lifted his brow at her and she silenced. She knew that defending what essentially happened right now would cost the lives of several of her brethren. "I didn't know the day, highness."

"Now you do. And I know the report of what happened. I should like to hear from a Christian, the account of your Messiah's life, death, and alleged resurrection," he mused as a chalice of wine was brought to him. He motioned for something to be handed to Aislinn. A servant offered her a wrap for her shoulders since it was growing cold, and a goblet of water. She thanked the servant and then thanked him and began to regale a marvelous account of the life of the Christ. She told of the humility and beauty of his birth, the wonderment and miracle in his ministries and youth, and finally the sorrow and tragedy of his death. Commodus listened carefully and felt truly moved by this. Even if this were not the son of a god, this story would be incredible. He fought back a few tears, they retreated quickly and he composed himself. "That was... (Ahem)... interesting, Aislinn. But I thought that your Savior was raised from the dead?"

"Ah, so you wish to hear the Christian account in truth, and not just from the point of a Roman," she said with a smile. He said nothing and nodded for her to continue. Aislinn wove the rest of the story into a magnificent tapestry of hope and release. Commodus actually felt relieved to think that Jesus of Nazareth was not dead. He shook himself. What was he saying? For all he knew, she could have been spewing lies at him like a fussy infant. He gave a slight smile.

"An amusing story, Aislinn. Why should I believe it?" he said with a yawn.

"Because it is true," she said.

"Prove it's true."

"Prove me wrong," she countered. He sat forward, a little angrily, and then sat back. Her smile was so tempting, so inviting. He could've taken her the other night; he could very well do so now. He climbed down from the platform and walked up to her. Aislinn tried to take a few steps back, but he grabbed her arm and held her in place. "Is there something wrong, highness?" she asked feeling her mouth go dry with fear. He looked down at her, devouring her with his eyes. Lately she had made him more and more aware of the fact that he was not just emperor, he was a young man. "Caesar is something wrong?" she said more loudly and urgently. He turned her to the side a little and then patted her back affectionately.

"No. I'm just admiring your faith for such a silly thing. Romans have much more extravagant tales to tell of our Gods and their feats of strength and magic. Yours is just too..," he waved his hand trying to find the right word.

"Believable?" she offered.

"Yes! That's it! Believable! I mean aside from a few details the story very well could've happened now. It's almost as if none of it was...," he trailed off looking into her sincere eyes. "As if none of it were fantasy."

She looked at him with admiration. He looked down, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and afraid. He turned away and held his head, breathing quickly.

"Highness?"

"Go back to your room," he ordered softly. Aislinn reached up and touched his shoulder gently. He forced her away from him. "I said go!" Aislinn cowered a little and then ran back to her chambers. Commodus went quickly into his own room. He lit as many of the lights as he could and then sat with his knees up at his chest behind his bedside table. He looked around like a frightened deer. What if Aislinn's story were true and there was only one God? If Aislinn's story were true, then he and his family had angered this God, monumentally so. He rocked back and forth, trying to escape the thought of one all-powerful being watching him cower like a small boy.

(*)

Morning practice was more silent than ever. Commodus did not say anything to Aislinn, even in jest. Aislinn remained just as silent, but much focused. It disturbed him. She was affixed on him. Every time he looked at her, she was looking right into his eyes. Every time he saw that straight gaze he could hear her asking him; You believe me, don't you? You know the truth. He's watching you right now and you know it. What are you going to do about it? Say nothing and allow your sister and nephew to burn with you in hell?

He finally let out a loud roar when he could take it no longer. Without thinking, he slammed his fist into Aislinn's shoulder. Aislinn flew back, and landed on the ground, wailing. Quintus looked angrily at his ruler as he helped Aislinn to stand. Normally this would've enraged the emperor, but right now he was in too much shock of what had just happened. Quintus glared at him as servants began to help her back to her quarters. He stormed over to him.

"Haven't you done enough to her? What more do you want to prove to her?" he raved. Commodus was in the habit of either hitting or yelling at someone that challenged his actions. This time, he was stunned. He looked away. Quintus was right. He had brutalized Aislinn more than a dog with a bone. He felt himself begin to cry furiously as he stalked away. He walked into the throne room after dressing. His sister approached him.

"Are you ready for them, brother?" she asked.

"For whom?"

'The candidates. The senate suggested that you try and select a wife today from their daughters," she reminded.

He groaned. "I don't remember consenting to this," he mumbled. "This really isn't the day for such things."

"You told everyone yesterday that you would give this a try. The people are concerned."

"Concerned for what? The warmth of my bed? I don't need a wife, Lucilla."

"Please, brother. Just humour them," she said. As Lucilla motioned towards the door, several young ladies were escorted in one after another. All were quite pretty, in their own ways. Some seemed to be well-groomed, some could quote long epics, some had voices as high as nothing else he'd ever heard before, and some were well-trained in how to please a Roman man. Still, he dismissed every one of them. He allowed a short interview for the first seven, but by the time number fifteen had been escorted in, he'd simply look away and announce 'next'. Lucilla frowned and the senators were getting a little peeved. Falco did not look angrily at the emperor when his daughter was refused, but instead dragged the poor girl out by her arm, hissing insults and reprisals at her. Commodus frowned. After a moment there was a long pause. "You're not even trying, brother!" she yelled.

"Of course I'm not trying; I don't want to do this! It's stupid! The throne already has an heir and I'm quite content to sleep without the incessant naggings of a female that isn't related to me!" he growled loudly.

"At least give the next one a full moment with you," she said firmly. He was about to protest as the doors opened and Gracchus entered.

"Oh no, you're not putting in a bid, are you?" Commodus groaned.

"I'm married, sire," he explained sarcastically.

"That's not what I meant."

"I have no eligible daughters, either."

"Both are a relief. What do you want?" he asked impatiently.

"To speak to you privately, sire."

Commodus looked at him in confusion, but the old man seemed to be sincere. He motioned for Lucilla to leave them. She did so, storming away in a huff.

"What do you want to say to me, Gracchus?" Commodus said with irritation. "Do you want to tell me that every Caesar in Rome has been married? That every good ruler rules with a woman at his side? That I'm too young and inexperienced to be unmarried as a ruler?"

"No, sire. You've been doing fairly well as Caesar so far," Gracchus said. Commodus was completely taken aback by this. Hadn't Gracchus stood against him most of the time on the senate floor? Hadn't this man accused him of being a selfish, spoiled little boy?

"What did you say?"

"You are doing very well, Caesar. But I do wish that you would be firmer where it matters," Gracchus said. Commodus looked at him in even more confusion. He had gained a reputation as being quite cruel at times, how much firmer did Gracchus want him to be? "Your sister treats you like a child. This is a little understandable since she is your older sister and was raised with you. But some of the senate also sees you as a child. Call them to their mistakes, make them answer for not showing you respect. Don't be ruthless and blood-thirsty, but show them that you are not going to just ignore insults to your intelligence."

"Gracchus, do you realize the irony of what you're saying? By instructing me you yourself are treating me like a child," Commodus said.

"No, sire. If you were but a child, I would not expect you to understand my words and heed my counsel," Gracchus said getting closer to him. He put his arm on his shoulder. "Commodus, I watched you grow from a very young boy to a man. It is time for you to take charge of Rome as those who have gone before you have. Now, I believe the first thing you should do before retiring for the evening is apologize to the Christian. Quintus said you caused a terrible wound on her while she was still recovering from your last assault."

"I didn't mean to break her leg! It was an accident!" he yelled. Gracchus remained calm as Commodus composed himself. "Thank you for your guidance, Gracchus. I shall not soon forget it."

"Very good, Caesar. Good night," Gracchus said before walking away.

Commodus didn't even give himself one more moment to think about what to say before heading for Aislinn's quarters. He instructed the guards to wait outside as he entered. He told Claude to do the same. Aislinn was lying on her bed, her shoulder wrapped in bandaging. He winced at noticing all the marks he'd left on her. The still healing bruise on her face, the tightly splinted ankle, the now forming bruise on her shoulder. He sighed and walked over to her. She was sleeping soundly. Obviously Claude had given her a little something to alleviate the pain. He sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. He reached out and for the first time, touched her tenderly, unrestrained. He traced the shape of her face, stroked down her throat, glided his hand easily over the centre of her chest then drew his hand off to the side. He looked down deeply at her. She was very beautiful for just a commoner from the highlands. Her hair glowed red, like bursts of fire. Her eyes were closed softly, her thick eyelashes making perfect smiles underneath the lids. Her mouth, her lips, so full and sensual. He was overcome and leaned down; placing a very soft kiss on her lips. She felt so soft, so wonderful. He moaned pleasurably, thinking of how much he had taken from her without giving him hatred in return. He felt her shift beneath him. As he drew away and opened his eyes, he noticed that her eyes were now open. He said nothing, but placed his hand gently over her eyes, giving the universal gesture for, 'go back to sleep, darling'. She kept them closed as he stood and left.

Aislinn opened her eyes when she was sure he was gone. She breathed in very deeply. He was so handsome, so gentle, she thought. What are you saying? He imprisoned you! He fights with you for sport! her mind screamed at her. She smiled. He then laid back. Even if he was a danger to her people both in the highlands and in all the known earth, he was still handsome and gentle. She enjoyed his company. No, she was enjoying him.