(((At the request of someone who was 'tired of all the ridiculously accurate information on Celtic culture', I deliberately added some true historical fiction . . . Beltaine is not held from May to August; it is held between May 15 and May16th. Lughnasadh, the festival held for the great Lugh (nephew of Nuada Airgetla'm), is held from July to August. There . . . something inaccurate.)))

Chapter 11: The Beltaine Incident

Falco paced back and forth unnerved until the emperor entered the senate room that afternoon. He looked at him and motioned for him to speak with him to the side for a moment. Commodus nodded and walked over to the senator.

"You are looking fit today, highness. more than usual," Falco flattered shamelessly. Commodus ignored the comment knowing fully that Falco always had an ulterior motive. The man was useful every now and again to stroke the emperor's ego when no one else would do it, but he had no need of it at the moment.

"Did you need something, Falco?" he asked quickly.

"Yes, sire. I just wanted to apologize for my daughter last night. I was sure that her nurses had trained her well enough to pass as a noblewoman. I am exceedingly sorry that she displeased you so much in just seeing her that you turned her away," Falco said.

"Oh...well...I..," Commodus stammered feeling a little embarrassed. His conduct in front of the candidates had been inexcusable. He wished he had spoken more with his father and brother-in-law about how to properly treat a noblewoman. They were such finicky and delicate creatures, they almost scared him. "Oh, it wasn't her fault. I was in bad spirits last night. I believe she would've been quite charming otherwise."

"So you'll give her another look, highness?" Falco said excitedly.

"Well, what I meant was..."

"Excellent!" Falco said clapping his hands excitedly. Commodus didn't know what to say or do. He was sure that if he began to protest, then Falco would brutalize the poor girl. He sighed heavily. He could allow for one night of passion with him, then be done with her. That would please Falco and prove once and for all that he didn't need a woman. What would Aislinn think about you doing this? he wondered to himself. He shook the thought away. He didn't care what the Christian girl thought any more than he cared what his sister thought. A rather silly decision on his part, because he generally cared a great deal for what his sister thought of him. "I will have her sent to you as the sun sets, Caesar. You won't be disappointed!"

He nodded resolutely. He sat through the long and tedious meeting of the senate, dreading the evening. He could barely concentrate and felt a terrible headache coming on. He knew of only two cures for such an ailment, either a special draught his sister made that often made him sleep for half a day, or a good long practice session with the recruits. He thought about ordering a second round of sparring with Aislinn. He had afforded her several days of rest after her injuries that he felt were a tad unnecessary. He decided to send for her the moment the meeting was over. Quintus went immediately and brought Aislinn to Commodus, who sat at his desk signing more documents. She bowed.

"Hail, Caesar," she said uneasily. He never called her to him for civil conversation. He looked up and then motioned for the scribes and Quintus to leave.

"My head hurts, Aislinn. I need for us to meet once more in the courtyard today," he explained.

"Of course, sire. Is there something else? You could've ordered me to join you outside," she said curiously.

"I know," he sighed. "I think that since you have been very patient with me for your race, I will give you another favour tonight, anything you ask within reason," he said. Aislinn shifted and looked eager and afraid at the same time. He stared at her with great interest. "Is there something you would like, Aislinn?"

"Actually yes, highness. You see, it is Beltaine," she said.

"It is what?"

"It is Beltaine. The festival of fire. It begins tonight. I would very much like to be permitted out by the fires to celebrate," she said.

"How do you celebrate this festival? Any bloodletting or promiscuity?" he asked in a reserved tone.

"Absolutely not! If there were, as a Christian I would refuse to celebrate it!" she shouted. He noticed that she looked hurt that he thought of her people as wild animals. He stood and walked towards her.

"I know that, Aislinn. I just wanted to be sure. Then what will you do to celebrate?"

"Dance and sing," she explained. "You could join me if you like."

His stomach and heart fought to leap out of him at the same time. He wanted desperately to see this, to hear her sing and see her silhouette in front of the fire. He frowned and almost growled at the thought of what he had semi-agreed to earlier with Falco.

"No, Aislinn. As emperor it would be very inappropriate for me to join you," he said. "You are given my permission to begin this celebration as soon as the sun goes down. I will inform Quintus and the other men."

She bowed and smiled brightly. She couldn't restrain herself at the thought of something so wonderful; she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Oh, thank you!"

He stood very still with his eyes wide open in surprise. It was a good surprise, but still shocking. Before he could return the favour, she stepped away and bowed low. "I'm sorry, highness. So sorry, it won't happen again," she promised.

Commodus was really beginning to think Aislinn was some kind of nobility. She apologized, bowed, spoke, and moved gracefully. She seemed to know for the most part what was appropriate and what wasn't for the both of them. He wondered then, why she was being so agreeable for the time being. She must've really wanted to get home. She couldn't really have respected him, could she?

"It's alright, Aislinn. You were overcome. This festival must be very important to you."

"Oh it is sire! It's one of the greatest and it's certainly the longest. It lasts until August," she said.

"How many festivals do you celebrate?"

"Oh, there's Imbolg, and Beltaine, and Samhain, and...," she listed.

"Sow-wayne? What's Samhain?"

"Samhain is our new year. It is a very sacred festival. On the last night of the old year, we light many fires and speak of the past. On the second night, we all huddle around one enormous fire; dancing and singing, and we speak of magic and tell great stories. On the third night, we light the fires again and speak of the future. Many edicts and treaties are signed that night. Many marriages take place as well," she explained. He looked at her very curiously. Why would she tell him of her traditions? Didn't that make them less sacred?

"How is it that as a Christian you are permitted to celebrate such things?"

"God does not condemn celebrations. He wants his children to be happy. As long as our celebrating remains within the boundaries he has given," she explained.

"Your God sounds more like a father," he mused.

"Yes, highness. Now you understand," she said smiling. He stopped and turned a little angrily to her. He was a Roman. He was emperor; he was not supposed to be conversing about treason with a foreigner. He needed to concentrate on his duties for the evening.

"This festival of sow-wayne, when is it held?" he asked.

"I believe it is in your month of October, on the thirtieth day. That is the first night," she said. She looked down, realizing that he was irritated with her faith.

"Good. Then the time for us to meet in the arena draws closer. I will fight you in the next year," he stated proudly.

"But highness, you said..," She began. Before he could yell at her she bowed low and spoke softly. "I'm sorry, sire, I forgot your words to me upon arriving. We will meet on the third day of Samhain."

"Good then. Go and prepare for your dancing and singing after we spar again," he ordered motioning for her to leave. She nodded and left quickly.

He sighed. It would be a long night.

(*)

Drachma, Falco's daughter, was brought to his chamber later that evening as the sun went down. She had long, dull black hair, listless brown eyes, and poor skin. Still, she had a nice face and a fair voice. She was tolerable for the moment. They spoke about small things, with a great deal of effort, for a long while. Then Drachma slunk closer to him as he sat across from her.

"Oh sire. I feel my heart near bursting in the presence of such greatness," she cooed kneeling in front of him and putting her chin on his knee. He coughed and stood, pulling her to her feet. "Oh!" she said feigning surprise and deliberately fell, causing him to catch her. "Oh, sire. I feel so short of breath in the face of your magnificence. Take me to the window so that I may breathe the cool, cool night air."

He groaned. He walked quickly and rather carelessly over to the window. Drachma sighed happily standing beside him. He frowned and focused on the scenery. He noticed the fires in the distance. He watched smiling. Aislinn's form was beautiful, as lithe and wild as the fire itself. He wondered where she had learned to move like that. Did all of her people dance so splendidly? He began to lose himself, hearing her voice distantly. It sounded like a bird, a rare bird, singing to the moon to comfort it as it wandered through the night. He sighed and smiled.

"It's so beautiful, isn't it, sire?" Drachma asked peacefully.

"Yes, she is," he muttered thoughtlessly.

'She!" Drachma exclaimed pushing him away. He turned to her, looking very shocked at what he had said and how he was feeling. "That strange mad-girl cavorting about by the fires? The senate is right; you are out of your mind!"

"Don't say that! You have no right to say such things!" he shouted. He raised his hand to strike her, but stopped. He froze with his hand a little above him, staring at her. He couldn't hit her. Before, he had no obstacles between him and his rage and he certainly never blurted out such nonsense. It was Aislinn! She was infecting him like a disease! He had to be rid of her! He grabbed Drachma by the arm and tossed her out the door to one of the guards. 'Take her back to her father. Bring that Christian, Aislinn to me! She has gone too far this time!"

Quintus stared at him in disbelief, but obeyed. Commodus went back into his room, pacing, until Aislinn flew into the room. She walked up to him and slapped him as hard as she could across the face. He shouted and aimed to strike her back; Aislinn ducked out of the way and grabbed his hand, twisted it, then forced him to the floor with his back facing up to her.

"How dare you afford me such a favour and then rip it away from me! Is it not enough that I was without my family this night? What in the name of all that is on earth is going through your head!" she ranted.

"You!" he yelled.

"What about me?"

"You know very well, what. I know you can feel me every time my heart jumps for you. Every time my anger rises for you. Every time my fears are assuaged and brought on by you! You are tearing me to pieces!" he shouted. Aislinn let go of him and turned him over. This time she was straddling him, looking down in a very serious manner. He continued to glare angrily at her. "Why can't you just leave me alone? Why can't you just be silent and still before me so that I have nothing haunting me throughout the day?"

"My silence upsets you. My words upset you. My stillness upsets you. My vigor upsets you. What am I to do, just lie down and die?" she said. Her face turned to looking horrified. He looked up at her worriedly. "That's it, isn't it? You really want me dead, don't you?"

"No!" he said defensively. He suddenly realized that he was being truthful. At the moment, he really didn't want her dead. He scooted up and put his arms around her so that she was sitting on his legs and he was sitting upright. He held onto her. "No, Aislinn. I don't want you to die. Not tonight," he soothed. He had thought that this would've been enough to calm her, but instead she began crying and trying to get quickly out of the room. He held onto her. She fought him. "Aislinn!" he yelled very loudly. She quieted a little and looked at him. "Don't fight me, not right now."

"Why not? I sit before a man who has vowed to take my life and then desecrate my people! What do you expect of me, Commodus? I am in hell here!" she cried. He looked at her with concern as he pulled her close to him, slowly, affectionately. He held on tighter as she released all of her hidden fear and sorrow through tears onto him. She had used his name. She wasn't afraid right now, she was desperate. He continued to hold onto her and let her cry until she stopped shaking and wailing loudly. She laid her upper body against his, exhausted from her sorrowing. He looked down at her and stroked her head softly.

"Please don't be angry with me, Aislinn. If I had known you before, I never would've put you through such horror," he whispered. Again, he felt truth in his words. He was feeling remorse for his actions, but gladness for having known her at the same time. He also began to feel relief coming to him as she became quiet and still. She put her arms around him slowly, wanting more than anything to be held by someone. If she had been nobility, he realized, and then she had never left home. He had thrown her into a completely foreign world, literally. He held onto her again, now rocking a little. Even if Aislinn was of an enemy's land, she had laid herself vulnerable before him. He felt no urge to take her, no hunger to ravage her. He wanted only to see her at peace for the evening. She slipped into a sound sleep as he held onto her. He sighed and closed his eyes. "If I had been born in your homeland, would you have loved me?" he wondered aloud.