Jilana lifted her eyes to Astraea, then blinked rapidly to clear her vision. On the altar, barely visible in the light of the guttering torches, lay a dagger. Scarcely daring to breathe, Jilana struggled to her feet and cautiously ascended the three steps of the raised altar. Had she gone mad? Was her mind, unaccustomed to the brutality of the last hours, playing tricks upon her? Jilana’s fingers closed around the hilt of the dagger and she gasped softly. ‘Twas not her imagination! That the weapon was small did not alarm Jilana, for its size made it perfect for concealment. Jilana’s spirits rose as she turned the dagger over in her hands. Astraea had heard and answered her prayer! By way of experiment Jilana pressed her thumb over the point of the blade. A trickle of blood instantly appeared and formed a rivulet which ran the length of the blade. A smile of satisfaction touched the depths of Jilana’s eyes as she thoughtfully sucked the blood from her wound. No longer was she defenseless against Caddaric’s might, when he sought to claim her virginity Caddaric would meet with a nasty shock, Jilana thought as she studied the ornately worked ivory hilt.
“Roman!” Caddaric’s voice, coming from the entrance behind her, caused Jilana to start and as she turned Jilana instinctively hid the dagger behind her back.
“Curse you, Roman! Do you worship your gods in darkness,” Caddaric demanded as he blundered into a marble plinth.
“Your people no doubt killed the priestess and her attendants,” Jilana called in a voice that trembled. “No one remains to light fresh torches.” Even though Jilana’s eyes had adjusted to the wavering light she had difficulty seeing Caddaric clearly and she breathed easier. If she could not see him, Caddaric certainly could not have seen the dagger in her hands.
Caddaric frowned at the white cloth in front of him, all that was visible of Jilana. “Have you made your peace with the goddess, Roman?”
“Only a few moments longer,” Jilana answered. When Caddaric made no move to leave she added waspishly, “May I not have privacy for my worship, Briton? Or do you fear I shall call down the curses of the gods upon you?”
Caddaric snorted. “I have been cursed before, Roman, and as you can plainly see I still live. My life is charmed.” He pivoted on his heel. “Be quick, Roman, or I shall leave you to the mercy of the guards who patrol the streets.”
When she was alone Jilana quickly tore a strip of linen from her toga and, after a moment’s deliberation, tied the weapon to her inner thigh. Having arranged the folds of her toga, Jilana prostrated herself once again in front of the marble altar and its idol.
“My thanks, O wondrous Astraea, for delivering unto me the means to mete out justice. I shall not fail you or my family. The Briton shall pay, I swear it.” Jilana gained her feet with ease and ran headlong from the temple, eager to be about her task.
Caddaric’s eyes narrowed as Jilana flew down the temple steps and knelt before him. “What is this, Roman? Some new trick you have devised in order to gain yet another favor?” He drew Jilana upright but the violet eyes remained downcast, as befitted a slave.
“Nay, lord,” Jilana gasped out. Afraid Caddaric would feel the wild excitement coursing through her veins, Jilana carefully withdrew herself from Caddaric’s touch and knelt before him once again. “I shall ask naught of you for Astraea has shown me the justice of what has transpired. Though my heart longs for my family and de-j cries the slaughter of innocents, still will I serve you well. Your people, top, have been wronged. ‘Tis my fate to stand as redress for the ills done to you and your Queen by my countrymen. This Astraea has told me and this I do believe.”
Caddaric, accustomed to those who laid the blame for their defeat at their gods’ feet, gave vent to a harsh burst of laughter and strode away, leaving Jilana to follow as best she could. Puzzled by his attitude, Jilana scrambled after Caddaric, her eyes fixed on his broad shoulders. She had hoped to allay his suspicions of her by attributing her change to Astraea’s will but still he seemed doubtful. Had she overplayed her role? Jilana wondered as she quickened her step in order to keep a distance of three paces between herself and Caddaric. He must be lulled into a false security if she was to have a chance to use the dagger now riding securely against her thigh. Would a show of temper or fear achieve her end? Mayhap Caddaric thought her capitulation untimely and wondered what plot now tumbled within her mind. Do not appear too eager to please, Jilana cautioned herself. My fate has been sealed by the Iceni but Caddaric may still escape my dagger if my haste makes him wary. I must draw him slowly into my coil until he believes me totally cowed by my slavery. Then, when the Briton least expects it, my blow will fall. So lost in her thoughts was Jilana that she failed to see Caddaric stop and turn just outside the villa. Jilana plowed straight into the Briton and would have fallen had Caddaric not wrapped an arm about her waist.
“What are you planning? I wonder,” Caddaric murmured as he gazed into the startled violet eyes. “Vengeance?Retribution?”
“Nay, lord,” Jilana whispered, fearful that the press of their bodies would reveal to Caddaric her precious weapon. “Release me, I pray you.”
Misunderstanding the anxious note which entered Jilana’s voice as their bodies touched, Caddaric said, “I shall not abuse you unless you fight me. You have known enough men to understand that we prefer compliance to resistance. Do not be alarmed,” he continued as Jilana’s lips parted to give voice to a denial which Caddaric would never hear. “Though I would have wished you a virgin, that you have known a man’s touch will not affect your purpose.”
“My purpose,” Jilana sputtered, only to be silenced by Caddaric’s mockingly arched eyebrow.
“You will find me a tolerant master, Jilana,” Caddaric informed her airily. “And if you please me, a gentle bed mate. Mayhap in time you will be free to return to Rome and be none the worse for your experience.”
“I have never set foot in Rome,” Jilana spat, her temper igniting under the Briton’s casual assumption of her lack of chastity. “Nor am I likely to do so since only your death will put an end to my slavery.”
“Do you wish my demise?”
“Aye, most heartily,” Jilana answered wildly. “‘Twill save not only my life but my virtue as well.” Caddaric laughed softly and Jilana quivered with indignation. “That you find my situation amusing I do not doubt. I expect nothing more from a barbarian!”
A smile lingered on Caddaric’s lips and he nodded, pleased with Jilana’s response. “You are a vixen, Jilana, admirably suited for what must be.” At her confused look Caddaric’s smile broadened and he bent so that his mouth was only inches from Jilana’s. “Now retract your claws, dream witch. You may rail at me in private, but not in front of my men.”
Jilana’s eyes widened at the order delivered in such a soft voice. “I shall not—”
“You shall obey me,” Caddaric interrupted in his deceptively mild manner. “I welcome your spirit—indeed, I feared you had lost it to your goddess—but the continued well-being of your exquisite body depends upon obedience.”
Her anger simmered restively but the thought of her dagger comforted Jilana. Let the Briton believe he had won. Jilana lowered her gaze. “I hear and obey, lord.”
Caddaric took her chin and forced Jilana to meet his :. “I dislike it when you do not look at me when you speak.”
Jilana met the now-cold sapphire eyes and shivered. “I hear and obey, lord,” she whispered. “Thy will is mine.”
Caddaric nodded shortly and, with one arm draped around Jilana’s shoulders, pushed open the door to the a. The scene which greeted Jilana rendered her speechless and she stood numbly beside Caddaric. The villa, her home, had been turned into an Iceni camp. Torches crackled in their wall holders, small oil lamps flickered on the low tables and braziers had been set at intervals throughout the reception hall. Iceni warriors and warrior maids—engaged in the various pursuits of cleaning their weapons, eating, and generally ransacking the villa—welcomed Caddaric hurriedly and eagerly returned to their tasks. From the other rooms of the villa came t
he excited babble of voices and a sick feeling went through Jilana as she realized her family’s treasures were being gleefully discovered. A silver goblet—one of a set Augusta had brought from Rome as part of her dowry—rolled crazily at Jilana’s feet and she fought the „~i pulse to pick it up. Caddaric walked forward into another room and Jilana dazedly moved with him, stepping over serving platters, heaps of clothing and scattered, inexpensive jewelry. Claudia’s cosmetic box lay discarded upon the mosaic floor, its jars of creams, rouges, scents and dyes haphazardly opened and then discarded. Oh, Claudia, Jilana thought wretchedly, how I wish you still lived so that I might tease you about your vanity.
“Greetings, Caddaric.” Jilana blinked away her tears and watched coldly as Artair, the Druid and another man Jilana did not know came toward them. Jilana recognized her father’s new cloak swinging from Artair’s shoulders and her hatred of the man increased a hundredfold. He, too, would feel the kiss of her dagger, Jilana vowed.
Though he gave no outward sign of his emotions, Caddaric inwardly seethed over the sacking of the villa. He had hoped to spare Jilana this sight, and while he would not deny his force their right of plunder, Caddaric had given orders that the looting be done in an orderly fashion.
“This could not be stopped,” Clywd explained softly, understanding the flame in his son’s eyes. “When the blood is fevered naught will cool it, though Heall and I did our best.”
Caddaric nodded and turned a disdainful eye on Artair. “You wasted little time in adding to your coffer, Artair.”
A knowing gleam entered Artair’s eyes. “You like it, Caddaric? ‘Tis yours.” He unclasped the cloak and offered it to Caddaric. “I willingly share all that I have with you,” he added softly, but the generosity of his act was diminished by the fact that Artair looked, not at Caddaric, but at Jilana as he spoke.
“I have clothes enough,” Caddaric replied easily. He thoughtfully fingered the material before smiling at Artair. ‘“Tis a sturdy bit of cloth which will keep you warm during the nights to come. A wise choice, Artair.”
Artair’s face reddened with anger. “You, of course, will have no need of material for warmth.”
“Nay.” Caddaric glanced at Jilana’s flushed cheeks. “I shall be warmed in ways most tender.” Jilana shot him a look of pure loathing and Caddaric chuckled. “Patience, my pet, the time grows ever closer.”
Jilana would have shrieked in outrage had not a tall, lithe woman hurled herself against Caddaric’s chest at that moment. Thrown off balance by the unexpected embrace, Caddaric was forced to release his hold on Jilana and, stepping away, she watched in amusement as the Briton and the woman crashed to the floor.
Spread-eagled, his efforts to escape effectively hampered by the arm which curved behind his neck and the other around his waist, Caddaric had no choice but to remain motionless as a pair of soft lips fastened hungrily upon his mouth. Ribald laughter filled his ears and, looking up, Caddaric swore silently as he saw the corners of Jilana’s mouth quirk. When at last his lips were freed Caddaric stared coldly at his attacker. “Have you done, Ede, or shall I complete here what you would have started had it been within your power?”
Caddaric spoke so softly that only Ede heard the taunting words. Her face turned bright red, then deathly pale as she rose and waited for Caddaric to do the same. “The day was long in your absence,” Ede ventured timidly. “What kept you from us?”
The mocking expression Jilana was beginning to know so well appeared on Caddaric’s face. “We are in revolt, Ede. Had you forgotten? I have several duties which now require my attention.”
Ede’s eyes narrowed wickedly. “I do not believe duties required you for an entire day.” She stared at Jilana with ill-disguised hostility. “Artair said you found a way to claim this creature but I did not believe him. I shall carve your beating heart from your breast, Roman,” Ede threatened.
Jilana regarded Ede curiously, thinking that the Briton would be incredibly beautiful if her features were not twisted with malice. Jilana shrugged. “Do as you wish, I certainly cannot stop you. My life is held in the hands of the one who owns me and if he wishes my death, so be it.”
The placid response caused Ede’s mouth to work soundlessly while Caddaric bestowed a warning frown upon an uncaring Jilana. Clywd hid a smile and Heall shifted uncomfortably when Caddaric’s gaze fell upon him.
“I warned you Ede would not be pleased,” Artair put in, his good humor restored. “Apparently two women is one too many.”
A muscle worked in Caddaric’s jaw. “Were I you, Artair, I would see to my own affairs.”
“Aye, Artair, ‘twould be a blessing not to hear the air whistling through your empty head,” Ede agreed vehemently. “The Roman will merely make our lives easier when we march through the land.”
A hoot of laughter from the bystanders greeted Ede’s pathetic rationalization and, despite her stature, Ede appeared to shrink in front of Jilana’s eyes. “The Roman will make Caddaric’s nights easier, ‘tis true,” came a shout from somewhere behind Jilana. “Our only hope is that he has enough strength left to march and fight!”
Even Caddaric laughed at that remark and without sparing Jilana a glance, he steered Ede away from the circle of prying eyes to a place of relative privacy.
“Do I embarrass you?” Ede asked spitefully, jerking her arm from his hand.
“You embarrass yourself.” Caddaric’s voice was cold. “Where is your pride, Ede? To throw yourself at me in front of those who know us both is unworthy of you.”
“I do not care!” Ede pushed distractedly at the mass of pale hair. “I saw you this morn with the Roman—you treat her not as a slave but as a treasure. Your eyes soften when you look at her and I can sense the fire in your blood. Beware, Caddaric, lest you become possessed by her!”
Caddaric pursed his lips. “Does Artair please you, Ede, or do you but use each other?” Ede gasped at this sudden change of conversation and Caddaric smiled slightly. “Did you think I did not know? There are few secrets in our village and, in truth, it gladdened me to know you had chosen another. Artair will treat you well if you but allow him the opportunity.”
Ede shook her head. “Nay. Artair is besotted by your Roman slave. Last night, when the fighting was ended, he spoke of nothing else.” To prove her point Ede gestured to where Artair stood apart from the rest, his eyes never leaving Jilana. She stole a glance at Caddaric. “He knows well how to please a woman when darkness falls, yet ‘tis you who brings happiness to me in the light of day.”
“Do you think to make me jealous, Ede?” Caddaric’s fingers tangled in Ede’s hair, recalling briefly the pleasures they had shared. In spite of everything he wished to spare Ede more pain.
Ede raised her eyes to Caddaric, delighting in his touch. “Our nights were pleasant ones, Caddaric. Much ill will would be laid to rest if you gift Artair with the Roman.”
Suspicion entered Caddaric’s mind and with a cruel deliberation his fingers tightened in Ede’s hair. Ignoring her cry of protest Caddaric drew her hard against him.
“Twas you who plotted that Artair should claim Jilana, was it not?” He gave Ede a rough shake. “Tell me, Ede, and quickly, or I shall strip you of what little pride you possess.”
The woman is a plague,” Clywd sighed. “As long as clings to Caddaric he will find no peace.”
Jilana unwillingly looked at Caddaric and smiled as he embraced Ede. So the Briton had a jealous wife who obviously had no intention of sharing his dubious favors, Jilana thought with relief. The threat to her virginity faded and she turned her attention to the Druid and his companion.
“This is Heall.” Clywd performed the introduction when Jilana’s violet eyes lingered on the warrior. Heall inclined his head to Jilana beneath Clywd’s undisguised interest.
Heall’s stare was disconcerting but Jilana met it steadily. He studied her face with bright, brown eyes, intent upon its every line and then, as an afterthought, considered the gentle curves beneath her tog
a. Jilana stiffened in outrage. She had been leered at enough for one day. “You seem bent upon the same course as the noble Caddaric. When two minds are so alike there is generally a tie of blood. Am I to be shared by father and son, graybeard?”
“Though I love Caddaric as a son, he is not of my line, you mistake my intentions,” Heall replied in a raspy voice. One of his large hands came up to stroke the silvery beard that flowed down his jaw to his chest. “I noted I only that you appear fatigued and your gown is soiled. Clywd and I managed to preserve your bedchamber against destruction, so if you wish, I shall take you there so that you may change and rest.”
This unexpected kindness took Jilana aback and she stood in silence for several moments. “I—I thought—” she stammered and then shook her head. “The Brit— Caddaric will be angry if I leave without first begging his permission.”
“Will he indeed?” Clywd’s blue eyes snapped with amusement and he glanced at his son. “Do you now fear his wrath when only this morning you called upon all your gods to curse him?”
Jilana’s chin rose. “I fear him not!”
“Good.” Clywd smiled. “Then go with Heall and allow your soul a brief respite from its pain.”
Jilana allowed Heall to take her arm and lead her through the villa to her chamber. “Is he a seer?” she demanded of Heall as they ascended the steps.
Heall spared her an almost gentle look. “Clywd is… Clywd. He listens carefully to the gods and they in turn grant him special powers. At times he has been known to look into the future and see what awaits us there, and on occasion he sees into a man’s mind and heart.”
Jilana shivered. If what Heall said was true, Clywd would be a dangerous man to be with when thoughts of her vengeance upon Caddaric were so strong in her mind. Heall opened the door to her bedchamber and to her dismay Jilana saw that torches and lamps had been lit here as well.
Defy the Eagle Page 9
