Caddaric, flanked by Heall and Clywd, stepped into the clearing and watched Jilana disappear. Passion flamed in his blue eyes as Caddaric plucked the abandoned basket from the ground and studied its contents.
“A most beautiful woman,” Clywd murmured appreciatively. “You should have answered her call, Caddaric.”
Caddaric snorted in disgust and cut himself a generous portion of mutton. “To what end, Druid? ‘Tis not my wish to find a dagger in my back before I have had a chance to avenge our Queen.” Both Clywd and Heall chortled over his words and Caddaric shook his head.
“‘Twould not be so amusing had your footsteps been shadowed for the past few hours.” His reprimand did little to extinguish either man’s mirth and with a resigned sigh Caddaric glanced at the spot where he had hidden. “Come forth, Ede, the wicked Roman is gone.”
The taunting note in Caddaric’s voice brought a low cry of outrage from the trees and a moment later a tall, lithesome young woman followed her voice into the clearing. “Wicked Roman! Bah!” Ede glared at Caddaric. “She is little more than a child—an easily frightened child as well.”
Caddaric shrugged and handed Ede the basket. “Eat.”
Ede tossed her head, sending the loose mass of moon-silver hair shimmering defiantly. “I will starve before Roman food passes my lips!” When Caddaric shrugged again, totally indifferent to her outrage, the flecks of green in Ede’s eyes snapped to life. “Who is she, Caddaric? Why does a Roman woman ride from the safety of the town and call for you?”
“So you admit she is a woman.” Caddaric grinned, finding Ede’s jealousy amusing. “It gladdens my heart to know your eyesight is so keen. Had you named her child again you would have remained behind tonight. I want none to fight who cannot distinguish child from adult or post from Roman.”
Ede was not to be diverted. “Who is she, Caddaric?” she hissed.
“A Roman. The same Roman who yesterday extended her hand to Queen Boadicea and earned her life,” Caddaric said calmly.
“The same Roman who gave our brave Caddaric flowers,” Heall put in gleefully.
“By the gods!” Ede’s hand fell to her dagger. “I shall kill her with my own hands.”
“Nay.” Clywd, too, entered the conversation. “By the Queen’s own command this one is to be spared and given to the warrior who captures the Roman Procurator.”
Ede’s face glowed with malice and she eyed Caddaric as he leisurely bit into one of the wheat cakes and handed the basket to Clywd. She waited impatiently until the two older men retired some distance away to share their meal before continuing. “Then I shall capture the Procurator. Does that suit you, Caddaric?”
Caddaric raised a mocking eyebrow. “Do you ask my permission, Ede? Or do you but toy with the idea of having a slave? In truth, I doubt you would find Jilana of little help in building a fire or sharpening your battle-axe.”
His knowledge of Jilana’s name added fuel to Ede’s jealousy. “You would use her well, no doubt!”
“Enough.” Caddaric’s patience and amusement had reached their limits.
“Nay,” Ede spat. “I know you well, Caddaric. You want this woman for yourself. I have seen the hunter’s gleam in your eye often enough to know what it foretells.” A sad catch colored Ede’s voice. “Why do you take such delight in causing me pain?”
“You cause your own pain,” Caddaric told her bluntly. At the tears which welled in Ede’s eyes, however, Caddaric softened. “Ede, ‘tis over between us. We parted nearly six months ago.”
“You loved me,” Ede protested, her chin trembling.
“Mayhap, for a time.” Caddaric took her strong hand in his. “Brave as you are, glorious as you are, I could never take you to wife. In the time we shared together your jealousy ate like a canker at my mind and soul.”
“But if you took me to wife in front of our village and your father—”
“Nay, Ede.” Caddaric interrupted as gently as possible. “You would not change, nor would I. Choose another, Ede; any warrior in our village would die of happiness if you honored him as you have done me.”
Ede pulled away from Caddaric. “I will have no other! From the time we were children I have sworn you would one day take me to wife and you shall. If I must destroy your Roman slut then—”
Caddaric delivered a calculated slap to Ede’s cheek and when she fell into sullen silence he warned her coldly, “Touch one hair on Jilana’s head and you will earn my hatred as you have just earned my wrath. She will be mine, Ede, mine. I will tolerate none of your interference!”
Caddaric watched as Ede fled, sobbing, into the forest. He had not meant to be cruel but it was the only choice Ede had left him. Caddaric ran a hand through his hair, shrugged off the unpleasant scene with Ede, and joined his father and Heall.
****
Night came again to Venta Icenorum and as the strengthened Iceni force crept from the forest and scaled the walls of the town, Lucius, strode from the villa to the garden and found, as he had been told, a slender woman seated on one of the marble benches. As he covered the distance between them, Jilana turned and the breath caught in Lucius’ throat. Here, in the moonlight, Jilana was more startlingly beautiful than she had been during the preceding hours. Her hair—artfully threaded with seed pearls—had been swept up to reveal the slender column of her neck and the right shoulder was bared by her toga while an ornate brooch held the fine linen in place over her left. She had clung to him tonight, deferring to his opinions in all things; and though Lucius knew her changed behavior was due to the presence of Catus Decianus, he still hoped Jilana had at last accepted the responsibilities of her position. Lucius stopped in front of the bench, smiling when Jilana rose and looked at him hopefully.
“The Procurator is gone,” Lucius told her. “He and his guards left some time ago; by now they are on the road for Londinium.”
“The gods be thanked.” Jilana breathed a sigh of relief and returned his smile. “All is well.”
Lucius nodded. “Will you come inside?”
“Nay—not yet.” Jilana took his hand. “Come, Lucius, enjoy the garden with me.”
“I must report for duty within the hour,” Lucius began, only to be silenced by Jilana’s quiet laugh.
“Must you always be a soldier, Lucius?” Jilana twirled away from him, and, overcome by relief at Lucius’ good news and the heady wine she had drunk at the meal, struck a pretty, teasing pose. “A maid likes to be wooed, Lucius, not told of time limitations. Why is it you have never wooed me with honeyed words?”
“I—” Lucius hesitated. The glib ease with which he addressed other women was conspicuously absent with Jilana.
“When you first sought my company, my father was most concerned,” Jilana teased, sensing his discomfort. “‘Twould seem, beloved, that you have a reputation for seducing women with your sweet tongue. Father even went so far as to warn me that I must not allow you to touch more than my hand.”
“Jilana, we will speak no more of this,” Lucius ordered harshly.
“You have not spoken of it at all,” Jilana impudently reminded him. “At first I feared you to be a great, lusting animal who would tear off my clothes if I but smiled at you.” She grinned. “‘Twas soon obvious your appetite was much curbed where I was concerned.”
Lucius reddened, grateful for the distance which separated them. He loved Jilana with an intensity bordering on reverence, but that did not diminish the physical desire she engendered within him. “Come inside, Jilana.”
“Nay.” Jilana walked back to Lucius, hips swaying seductively. Placing a forefinger squarely in the middle of his chest she began to circle him, drawing her finger across chest, arms, and back as she walked. “I am yet a virgin, Lucius. Did you know?”
“I expected no less,” Lucius croaked, fighting the heat searing his blood.
“Many women my age are not,” Jilana continued matter-of-factly. “Even Claudia had a lover—in Rome. She told me.”
Lucius choked, not kn
owing how to respond. Now instead of her forefinger, Jilana’s hand was making a path across his upper torso and the blood pounded in Lucius’ temples.
“We will soon be wed, Lucius, and still I do not know the feel of your lips against mine.” Jilana stopped walking and gazed at Lucius. “Claudia told me of the joys she found in her lover’s arms. Is it so with all women?”
“‘I—I do not know,” Lucius replied. “Mayhap.”
“Did your women find pleasure in your bed?”
Lucius groaned and, keeping his arms rigidly at his sides, met Jilana’s gaze. “So they claimed.”
Smiling, Jilana pressed herself against Lucius, her mouth only inches from his. “Will you deny your betrothed what other women have known?” Abruptly her teasing manner fell away and Jilana whispered, “You are to be my life, Lucius. Will you not at least kiss me and tell me that while we may not love each other we will at least share passion? I must know, Lucius; ‘tis important to me.”
Lucius took Jilana in his arms. “We will share more than passion, Jilana, that I promise.” He touched his lips to hers.
Jilana closed her eyes, willing herself to feel the shiver of delight she had experienced when the centurion had touched her yesterday. Lucius’ kiss was not unpleasant, but it stirred no flame within Jilana and she was vaguely relieved when it ended.
Lucius stared at Jilana, his dark eyes blazing as he drank in her beauty. He dared not touch her again, not while his blood ran so high. To preserve her honor he must take Jilana inside, deliver her safely to her father, then leave and find a woman to assuage his need. “Will you come inside now, beloved? My time grows short.”
Jilana shook her head. “Bid my parents farewell and then I shall see you to the gate.” As Lucius walked to the villa Jilana contemplated his retreating figure and sighed inwardly. Why could she feel nothing for the man she would wed when the mere touch of a mysterious centurion sent her heart racing?
“Lady Jilana!” Jilana started and, turning round, probed the shadows for the source of the whisper. “Here, lady. In front of you—by the garden wall.”
Jilana gasped. “Centurion?” Surely her mind had conjured the image of the man half concealed by shadows!
“Aye, lady, ‘tis I,” Caddaric answered softly. Relief washed through him when, after a hasty glance over her shoulder, Jilana hurried to where he stood.
“I thought never to see you again,” Jilana said. She came to a halt just inches away from the tall soldier and found it impossible to control the mad leaping of her pulse. “How did you find me, Centurion? Why have you come?”
“Finding you presented no problem, lady; I had only to ask directions of one of the citizens of the town. Your father is well known.”
Jilana studied the grim set of his jaw and her heart sank. “Are you here to chastise me as well?” “For what reason, lady?”
“My actions of yesterday. Family, friends, Procurator—all have wagged their tongues over me. ‘Twould seem all of Venta Icenorum has a personal interest in charging me with my duties as a Roman citizen. Were you sent to do the same?”
“Nay, lady.” Caddaric looked at the villa and then back to Jilana. “Has your betrothed also rebuked you?”
Jilana nodded. “Do you know Lucius Quintus?”
Caddaric shook his head. “I heard him tell the Procurator you were betrothed.”
“Aye—five days hence I shall be made his wife.” Sudden desolation engulfed Jilana and she smiled wanly. “When his duty here is ended, we shall go to Rome. For me there will be no more early morning rides to the meadow.”
“The world changes, lady.” Over the top of Jilana’s lead Caddaric watched four men enter the villa. Boadicea’s revenge had begun. “Forgive me, Jilana.”
Jilana’s confusion at his words changed rapidly to fear she realized he had spoken, not in Latin, but in the native tongue of this land. “You are Briton!”
‘Iceni,” Caddaric clarified softly. “This night the cracks apart for both of us, Roman.”
The centurion’s eyes were filled with the promise of death and Jilana reeled backward. “Father! Mother!”
Her scream was joined by another from the villa and Jilana turned to flee only to find herself caught in the centurion’s arms.
“Do not cry out,” Caddaric warned. “As you value life, Jilana, do not fight me. You are to be spared.”
” My family,” Jilana sobbed, struggling to free herself, traitor! Let me go!”
Annoyed, Caddaric shook her roughly. “When it is time, death will find you; do not tempt the gods.”
“Nay!” Without thinking, Jilana rammed her knee up centurion’s groin and found herself instantly released. Not sparing the groaning man so much as a glance, she turned and ran into the villa before the centurion could recover.
Carnage—absolute and complete—greeted Jilana. Throughout the house servants lay dead or dying and Jilana fought back a scream as she stumbled through the halls. Where were the soldiers? Surely by now their neighbors had heard the screams and given the alarm! Jilana flew from room to room, her horror growing with every step. Where were her parents, and Lucius and Claudia? Had they escaped? When her search of the lower floor proved fruitless, Jilana picked her way over the bodies lining the, staircase and searched the bedchambers.
“Jilana!”
In her own bedchamber Jilana froze, recognizing the centurion’s voice. “Juno, protect’ me,” Jilana murmured. Moving to the door, she pressed an ear to the wood and strained to hear the approach of the centurion.
“Jilana, hear me. There is no place to run, not for you. Should any Iceni happen upon you, you will be put to the sword. The Roman garrison has been taken—only I can protect you now.” On the first floor of the villa, Caddaric paused, alert for any sign of movement. The sight of the dead servants touched him not; his concern was purely for the Roman witch of his dreams. He had to find her and place her under guard until he found Catus Decianus—for her sake as well as his own. Minutes passed with no response and Caddaric grew angry. “Jilana, come to me! Do not be so willing to court your own destruction.”
“Better death at the hands of my enemies than shame,” Jilana whispered. She dropped the bar into place across the door as quietly as possible and ran to the second entrance to her room, a door which opened onto the colonnaded gallery at the back of the house. The other bedchambers opened onto the gallery as well, but Jilana shrugged off the thought. The centurion—the Briton— had not left the lower floor, so she still had time for flight.
Once on the gallery, Jilana hid behind one of the columns and peered cautiously at the courtyard below. No bodies here—praise the gods!—nor any sign of movement. A feeble ray of light came from one of the stable windows to her right and a spark of hope flared in Jilana’s heart. Surely her family was there—they had managed to escape the villa and now were planning a way to find refuge from the senseless slaughter. Keeping a watchful eye on the courtyard, Jilana unstrapped her sandals and slipped them from her feet. If any Iceni still prowled the villa and its grounds, no sound must give her away. Silent as a wraith she ran from pillar to pillar, the sound of her own breath roaring in her ears. The gallery’s staircase loomed out of the darkness and Jilana offered up a silent prayer of thanks to Juno, the guardian of women.
“Jilana.” A hand on her shoulder spun Jilana around and she came face to face with the Briton. “I told you there was no escape. Now come—”
With a despairing cry, Jilana raised her arm and swung, striking Caddaric full on the side of the face with her sandals. Caddaric stumbled backward, regaining his balance just as Jilana reached the bottom of the stairs. A low growl escaped his lips as Caddaric charged after her. Her heart pounding, Jilana raced toward the stable, all too aware that the Briton was coming closer with each passing step. Still, she was ahead of the Briton, and if all else failed, once in the stable she could find a weapon with which to defend herself. Jilana glanced over her shoulder to determine how far the Briton lagged be
hind. The next moment her foot connected painfully with some object on the ground and Jilana found herself sprawled on,the paved courtyard.
“Little fool!” Caddaric reached down and pulled Jilana to her feet.
“Let me go,” Jilana pleaded. There was no escape for her now, for the Briton had twisted both her hands behind her back and was holding her tightly against his chest, but some primitive instinct forced her to ask for her freedom. A sob caught in her throat when, glancing down, she saw the body of the gardener. Raising terrified eyes to the Briton’s grim face Jilana whispered, “If I am to be spared, as you say, then why not free me? No one need know! Allow me a horse and by morning I will be far away.”
“Nay. I am ordered to bring you to Queen Boadicea.” Tears slipped from her eyes and Caddaric steeled himself against the tug of his heart. “Even if I could free you, I would not. As a Roman, alone in Iceni territory, you would be killed by the first warrior who stumbled upon you.”
Jilana shook her head miserably. “Why are you doing this? My father was ever kind to your people. Why have you killed the servants and my family?”
Caddaric’s face darkened. “Are you so lacking in wisdom that you cannot guess what is happening, Roman? ‘Tis not your villa alone which has been invaded.” Jilana shook her head once again, this time in confusion, and Caddaric cursed softly. “The Iceni are in revolt; by first light Venta Icenorum will belong solely to my people.”
“Revolt!” Jilana’s voice was a horrified whisper. The Romans feared rebellion and slave uprisings above all else, especially in far-flung provinces like Britannia where the full might of the Empire’s military could not immediately be brought to bear. Roman civilians bore the brunt of such insurrections and Jilana remembered with sickening clarity the tales of rape and atrocities which occasionally took place at isolated villa. But not here. Surely not here!
Defy the Eagle Page 5
