“Will you never cease protecting me, Heall,” Caddaric asked wryly when the men fell to discussing Heall’s words.
Heall shrugged and examined the buckle of his cuirass. “You said yourself that if we must do battle with the Romans we must learn to obey orders if we are to win. I sought only to lend the weight of my years to your sound judgment.”
“Then you believe my way is best?”
Heall grinned, his silver beard parting to expose twin rows of white teeth. “If I did not, I would never have allowed you to persuade me to wear this hated uniform. We will be in and out of the town before the Romans know we were there.”
Caddaric nodded, then faced his men. “Go back to the forest and wait, my friends. Word will reach you soon enough.”
Without further argument the warriors disappeared and a moment later Clywd came forward from the trees.
“Greetings, wise one. Have you begged protection for us from your gods?”
“Always you mock the gods and still they favor you.” Clywd shook his head despairingly. “Did they not deliver the woman into your hands?”
Caddaric went white with shock, all too aware of Heall’s curious eyes upon him. “Your gods confound you, Druid.”
“Nay, my son, I see most clearly. Tis you who are confounded.” Ignoring Heall, Clywd halted in front of his son and asked bluntly, “Why did you let her go, Caddaric? She was yours for the taking.”
“The time was not meet,” Caddaric snapped, effectively ending the conversation. He adjusted the baldric— from which hung the gladius, or short sword—to a more comfortable position on his shoulder and motioned to Heall. “Come, ‘tis long past time. We do not want our entry into the town to attract unwanted attention.” In his fury Caddaric did not notice that he ground the wildflower under his heel.
Clywd gazed after his son and old friend, a haunted look coming into his eyes. “Oh, my son, it would have been kinder to claim her now! Why did your defiance of the gods not extend to this woman?” Heavy-hearted, Clywd turned and melted into the trees.
****
“Where have you been?” The sharp words halted Jilana upon her entrance into the villa and, turning, she found Claudia regarding her angrily. “We have all been waiting for you,” Claudia added waspishly. “Even Lucius.”
Jilana swallowed convulsively. “Lucius? Lucius is here?”
“Lucius is here,” Claudia mimicked acidly. “By the gods, Jilana, you act more like a barbarian than a Roman!”
“I act like myself,” Jilana retorted hotly. “What I do is none of your affair!”
“We shall see.” Claudia turned and ran toward the front of the villa. “Father! Mother! Lucius! Jilana has returned.”
Sighing, Jilana trudged after her sister, oblivious to the richly tiled, mosaic floor over which she moved and the furnishings that had been imported from Rome by Augusta. Her meeting with the centurion weighed heavily upon her and Jilana strove to order her chaotic thoughts. She must surely be wicked to allow a chance meeting with that man to disturb her so. She would be Lucius’ wife soon—it was to him that her allegiance would be given, as well as that brief flare of passion the centurion had brought forth. I will not think of him, Jilana told herself fiercely. I will not!
“Jilana!”
Jilana gasped, the bouquet of wildflowers trembling in her grasp as her father’s voice jerked her rudely from her thoughts. Without realizing it, Jilana had started up the steps to the second story of the villa and she blushed furiously as she turned and met the four pairs of eyes staring at her.
Marcus Basilius took a step forward and waved his daughter down from the stairs. “Come here, Jilana.” Jilana meekly obeyed, following her family and a glowering Lucius into a spacious room littered with couches, pillows and low tables. She stood stiffly in front of her father while Marcus seated himself on a couch, arranged the folds of his toga, and fixed Jilana with an unwavering gaze. “You will now explain, daughter, where you have been and why you did not see fit to tell anyone of this house that you were leaving.”
“Father, I—” Jilana gulped and lamely held out her bouquet. “I went riding and stopped to gather these flowers. I fear I lost track of the passage of time.” Claudia snickered and Jilana sent her a quelling look.
“What are we to do with you, Jilana? You have been ordered again and again not to ride outside the walls of the town alone, and yet you persist in defying me! Why?”
Jilana lowered her eyes to the flowers. How could she explain to him that she was more at ease in the forest than she was in the villa? What words could she use to describe the peace the oak groves brought to her heart? “I do not mean to defy you, Father.”
“But you do so, nonetheless,” Marcus said gravely.
“And she rides in those disgusting tunics the barbarian women wear,” Claudia put in with obvious relish. “Just look at her, Father, she—”
“That will be quite enough, Claudia,” Marcus interrupted. The warning flashing in his dark eyes sent Claudia back to her pillows where she glared at both her father and sister.
Jilana’s cheeks flamed as Lucius’ eyes dropped to her short tunic and then to the gleaming length of leg below.
“Well, Jilana,” Marcus questioned. “Have you nothing to say?”
“Nay, Father.” Jilana bowed her head over the flowers.
“Is it your wish, then, to continue to humiliate your family with your behavior?” Her stricken look was answer enough and Marcus softened. “I have been harsh with you, Jilana, and I did not intend to be; but you must be aware that you are no longer a child. ‘Tis long past the time when you should accept the responsibilities of your position.”
“You frightened us all, Jilana.” Her mother, Augusta, joined the conversation for the first time, her quiet voice carrying more rebuke than Marcus’ harsh words.
“Forgive me, Mother, such was not my intent.” At the pleading look in Jilana’s eyes, Augusta opened her arms and Jilana flew into them. “It will not happen again, Mother,” Jilana whispered. “I promise.”
“Tell your father,” Augusta whispered in return.
Jilana did so and Marcus nodded, a forgiving smile on his lips. “‘Twas not such a large mistake, for all we have made of it. Go now and change, we must leave shortly.”
“Aye, Father.” Casting a wary glance at Lucius, Jilana ran to do her father’s bidding.
“You are far too lenient, Marcus,” Lucius said when Jilana had vanished into a room on the second level. “Jilana is beautiful but she must learn where her duty lies.”
“Would you have me whip her, Lucius? Or mayhap shackle her so that she cannot indulge in the freedom she holds so dear?” When Lucius made to speak, Marcus gestured him to silence. “Jilana will be your wife soon enough—I will wager you fare little better at managing Jilana than I have. Claudia, take Lucius to the garden and wait for us there.”
When they were gone Augusta went to her husband’s side and took his hand. “Lucius Quintus may be a fine soldier, but I fear he will make Jilana unhappy. At first I thought the marriage a wise decision but now—”
“Hush,” Marcus commanded. “All will be well.” He rose and brushed his lips across Augusta’s forehead. “Jilana is very much like her father, is she not?”
Augusta nodded, her violet eyes clouding in remembrance. “Her spirit is his, and her need to be free. Oh, Marcus, had I not been so young, so angry with my parents for marrying me to a man who would take me away from Rome, Jilana would have been your child instead of—”
Marcus placed a finger over her lips. “Our first years together were not easy for either of “us. We were married to cement an alliance between our families, but the passage of time has brought us more and we should be grateful. From the moment Jilana was born I claimed her as my own and, I confess, I found her far easier to love than our Claudia.”
“We should tell Jilana,” Augusta worried. “She has a right to know, Marcus.”
“Nay.” Marcus glanced up the s
tairs and then guided Augusta toward the garden. “Jilana did not come from my loins but from my heart, and I have long since forgiven you your Briton lover. The truth of Jilana’s conception you and I will carry with us to our graves.”
Augusta bit the inside of her cheek to keep the full truth from escaping. One other knew of Jilana’s true parentage; he had, in fact, known of the child she carried before Augusta herself had been certain of the fact, had seen the subtle changes in her body and been overjoyed. But his joy had changed to disbelief and then rage when Augusta had told him that she was staying with her Roman husband and would raise the child as a true citizen of Rome.
His rage had been terrifying, all the more so because he did not give vent to it. Instead, he had withdrawn into himself, the only sign of his anger the waves of tension radiating from his hard muscled body. She had been afraid he would beat her, but he had not. He had looked straight at Augusta, and the agony in his eyes had torn away the shield she had built around her heart. Augusta had realized then that she loved this incredibly gentle man who was her lover, the father of her child, but she could not leave all that she knew and make a life in some remote village with this Iceni warrior. ‘Twas impossible; she was not brave enough. And he had seen the determination in her face and known that arguing would avail him naught. So he had turned his back and walked away from the woman he loved and the unborn child he had already come to cherish.
Did he still live? Augusta wondered now. She had never seen him again and after a few years she had stopped fearing that one day he would reappear and shatter her well-ordered life. And if he appeared now, ‘twas possible he would not recognize Augusta and he certainly would not recognize Jilana as his daughter for she bore no resemblance to her father, only a striking resemblance to her mother. Aye, Augusta rationalized, Marcus was right. ‘Twas best to leave the past buried, undisturbed. Marcus need never know that a third person was privy to their secret, for that third person posed no threat. Marcus spoke and Augusta raised her face to him and smiled, relegating her thoughts to a far corner of her mind.
It was a breathless Jilana who joined her parents and Lucius, but none could fault her appearance this time. Every strand of red-gold hair was neatly braided and coiled and her white toga fell in graceful lines from her shoulders to her ankles. Even Lucius, for all his ire over Jilana’s behavior, could not resist her incandescent beauty and the pleading in the depths of her violet eyes, and he unceremoniously left Claudia’s side to go to his betrothed.
“I hope I have not inconvenienced you, Lucius,” Jilana said quietly as Lucius bent over her hand.
“Nay, Jilana.” Lucius’ dark eyes burned as he gazed at Jilana. “To see you thus is worth the delay.”
Jilana colored. “Did my appearance cause you concern as well, Lucius? If so, I do apologize.”
“I have no wish to humble you, Jilana,” Lucius replied gently. “But to choose today of all days to go riding alone—” He shook his head. “When you are at last my wife, I will see to it you do not place yourself in needless jeopardy.”
“You confuse me, Lucius. I was in no danger this morning.”
“Jilana, you are such an innocent,” Lucius sighed in exasperation. “Yesterday Catus Decianus disinherited the widowed Iceni queen and her daughters and claimed authority over the Iceni. Had you been present, you would have seen how the Britons reacted, how angered they were by the loss of their queen. We may be forced to bring the. Iceni to heel if they do not accept Caesar’s will.”
“Must they bow to Caesar,” Jilana asked sadly, remembering the times she had seen Queen Boadicea riding with her husband across the open plain near Venta Icenorum. “Can we not leave them their pride, at least?”
“Do not be absurd,” Lucius replied crisply. “There is pride enough to be found in being part of the Empire.”
“For us, perhaps, but for the Britons?” Jilana spread her hands eloquently.
“You do try my patience,” Lucius snapped. “Were I you, I would not be so hasty to question the Empire and Caesar. Caesar’s wrath is great and it has been known to extend to disloyal Romans. Guard your tongue, Jilana!”
“I am not disloyal,” Jilana cried, quickly lowering her voice when her family turned as one to stare at her.
“You will be able to prove that soon enough, Jilana. Come.” Keeping Jilana firmly at his side, Lucius steered her to her waiting family. “We are ready now, Marcus.”
“Where are we going?” Jilana demanded when they stepped through the garden gate onto the street.
Claudia, walking in front of Lucius and Jilana with her parents, heard Jilana’s question and called over her shoulder. “The Britons are about to feel the might of Caesar’s word. By sunset the entire island and all its wretched natives will have learned to listen when Rome speaks.” She would have said more but Marcus clamped a firm hand on Claudia’s arm and gave her a warning look.
“I do not understand.” Jilana looked at Lucius, truly seeing him for the first time that day. Instead of a toga he wore an iron-plated cuirass, from his left shoulder his gladius hung in its baldric and a dagger was suspended from the right side of his belt. His helmet—the detachable earpieces menacingly in place—was slung over his shoulder, and Lucius’ black hair glinted in the sunlight. Suddenly afraid, Jilana stopped and placed a hand on Lucius’ arm. “Why are you in full armor, Lucius? There is no battle to be fought here.”
“But there is, Jilana,” Lucius countered. “We go now to see Boadicea cast down. This is Caesar’s will. In a matter of hours she will be stripped of her title, her palace, and her possessions. When that is done she and her daughters will be sent from the town to return to the mud and wattle hut from which they sprang. All that was hers will be Caesar’s. So it has been so ordered.”
Jilana paled. “And if the Queen resists?” The foreign centurion’s words suddenly took on menacing proportions.
“The orders will be carried out,” Lucius repeated softly. “No resistance will be tolerated.”
Jilana looked about her, all thought of the unknown centurion fleeing as she saw other Romans making their way to the Iceni part of Venta Icenorum. Now her ears were open, as well as her eyes, and in the distance she heard women’s screams, men’s harsh shouts, and the sound of children crying.
Lucius heard the sounds as well and he tenderly framed Jilana’s ashen face in his hands. “‘Tis Caesar’s will, my heart. All the land in the city is to be taken from the Iceni by any means and delivered into Caesar’s coffers.”
“This is not just,” Jilana whispered.
“‘Tis not for us to decide, Jilana. I follow orders and so must you.”
“Nay!” Jilana shook her head. “I will not see this—I want no part of this vile deed!”
Lucius’ face hardened, all tenderness evaporating. “Virtue of your birth has made you part of this. You will go and witness Caesar’s might, Jilana, though I needs must carry you to the Iceni palace!” He clamped an iron arm about her waist and forced her back into the pedestrian traffic.
Jilana resisted Lucius’ efforts with all her might, but to no avail. He was far stronger than she, and when at one point she refused to walk, Lucius fairly dragged her forward. “How can you be so cruel?” Jilana gasped, a sick knot beginning to form in her stomach. “Let me go, Lucius!”
“Nay,” Lucius said grimly. “Your father has indulged you overmuch, Jilana. You are a Roman, though you seem to forget it, and this is one time you will behave as such. No one will say my wife refused to see the sentence of Rome carried out upon the Britons.”
“Lucius, I beg of you, do not force—” Jilana’s protest died abruptly as they entered the Iceni portion of the town. Horrified, Jilana halted and gazed about her. To her right lay the body of a man, his tunic stained with blood. A woman crouched beside the body, her anguished wail sending an icy prickle up Jilana’s spine. Farther ahead a young woman was crumpled in the doorway. Her short tunic had been torn to little more than a rag and there were ugly
bruises on her arms and legs. Jilana knew, instinctively, that the woman had been used most brutally, and Jilana cried out softly at the sight of a dagger plunged up to its hilt in the woman’s chest. Wherever she looked Jilana was greeted by scenes of carnage, and the violet eyes filled with tears.
Silent, inwardly shocked by the havoc Roman troops had visited upon the helpless and defenseless, Lucius pulled Jilana forward. Blood—Iceni blood, Lucius did not doubt—pooled in the streets and more than once Lucius caught Jilana when she stumbled and nearly fell. ‘Tis not this Caesar meant by his order to reclaim Iceni property, Lucius thought as he hurried Jilana past the devastation. What had these Britons done that had caused them to be put to the sword? They found Marcus, Augusta and Claudia waiting at the palace gates and with a sob Jilana wrenched away from Lucius and threw herself into her father’s arms.
“I know, child, I know,” Marcus murmured soothingly. Over Jilana’s head he met Lucius’ eyes. “Did you not skirt the Iceni quarters?”
“Nay. We were borne along by the crowd.” Lucius had the good grace to look sheepish when Marcus shook his head in disgust. “I will leave Jilana with you and be about my duties.”
“Young fool,” Marcus muttered when Lucius disappeared into the crowd, then he turned his attention to Jilana.
Claudia watched bitterly as her father’s golden head bent to Jilana. It had always been thus—Marcus cared more for Jilana despite her outlandish behavior than he did for Claudia with her perfect, Roman manner. Maliciously, Claudia noted, “One would think Jilana sympathizes with the Iceni, the way she carries on. How can you tolerate such an outburst, Father?”
“I tolerate it because I can imagine quite well what your sister has seen,” Marcus replied, his low voice lashing Claudia into silence. “Mayhap we should return the way Jilana came so we can see how you fare.”
Claudia sniffed and turned to her mother. “Let us enter, Mother, for if we tarry longer because of Jilana’s weak constitution we shall miss seeing the barbarian queen humbled.”
Defy the Eagle Page 2
