“We arrived too late to prevent Ede from going through your possessions,” Heall apologized gruffly. “I fear she took some of your clothing and a few pieces of jewelry before Clywd and I—”
“It matters not,” Jilana interrupted bleakly. “I am certain Caddaric will give Ede the rest in time. She is, after all, his wife.”
Heall started to clarify matters for Jilana but the expression in her wide, violet eyes halted his explanation. The. proud defiance she had shown at the palace this morning and again in the villa was rapidly fading as the numbing shock of the day and night past set in. Jilana swayed on her feet and with a muffled exclamation of concern Heall wrapped a thick arm around her waist and guided Jilana to the bed. “You must do as Clywd said and rest.”
Jilana shook her head. “When I close my eyes, what will I see? What dreams will torment my sleep? My family -—” her voice broke and Jilana doubled over as a terrible ache seized her heart. “Tis not to be borne, old one. Would that I had died with the others.”
Uncertain what to do or say, Heall awkwardly patted Jilana’s bowed head and surveyed the bedchamber. This room, like the rest of the villa, had been searched and all possible weapons confiscated. At least, thought Heall gratefully, they need not fear that Jilana would find the mans to end her life.
“Ah, see here,” Jilana cried. Oblivious to Heall’s efforts to comfort her, she slid to the floor and, kneeling, lifted a length of flame-colored material from its resting place. “‘Tis my bridal veil,” she whispered. The diaphanous cloth fluttered through the air and came to rest about Jilana’s head and shoulders. She touched the material lovingly, remembering her mother’s excitement when the ship carrying it had arrived from Rome. “Better now to use it as a shroud.”
“Nay.” Heall knelt and framed Jilana’s face with his hands. “There is always a reason for living, though you may not think so now. It takes more strength to live, when you are torn from all you love, than it does to die.”
“I have no such courage,” Jilana murmured, drawn by the gentleness in Heall’s dark eyes. “Your Iceni women have the strength, but I was gently raised. I am Roman, not Iceni.”
“Yet you have the courage.” Heall placed the flat of his hand on her left breast in a gesture curiously devoid of passion. “Here, in your heart, lies all the strength you will ever need—you have only to discover and use it.”
“How can you speak with such certainty?”
“I know,” Heall stated, a smile crossing his features for the first time. “When you would not bend to the Queen I saw the might of Rome as I have never seen it before. ‘Tis a fool’s mistake to believe you weak.”
“And a greater fool comforts the enemy,” came a mocking voice from the doorway. Caddaric stood behind them, his eyes narrowing when he noted where Heall’s hand rested. With apparent unconcern, Heall bestowed a final smile upon Jilana, took his hand from her person, and rose to meet Caddaric’s icy stare. “I will gladly share the woman, Heall. When I am done with her.”
Heall drew himself up proudly. “She is little more than a child, Caddaric.”
“Nay, a woman,” Caddaric contradicted, his eyes fixed on Jilana’s bent form. “Come here, Roman.”
Jilana quailed at the harsh command, but she obeyed. Remembering Caddaric’s anger when she failed to meet his gaze, Jilana forced herself to look into the hard sapphire eyes.
“Did you bed Heall?”
Jilana gasped and Heall’s features stiffened. “You do both Jilana and myself a grave injustice, Caddaric.”
Caddaric ignored his old friend. “I will have an answer, slave.”
“Heall did but seek to ease my sorrow,” Jilana said defensively.
Caddaric gave a noncommittal grunt and nodded curtly to Heall. “Leave us now, Heall.”
“Aye, Caddaric, but first—” Whatever appeal Heall planned to make died a quick death beneath Caddaric’s dangerous look and he silently left the room.
“Am I not to be shown kindness by anyone?” Jilana asked when Caddaric did not speak. “Why were you so cruel to Heall?” It did not occur to her to wonder why she spoke up for the older man.
“I will not have my warriors lusting after you when they should be occupied elsewhere,” Caddaric ground out.
“He did not lust after me!” Jilana cried indignantly. The fleeting peace she had known in Heall’s presence was gone now and her heart felt raw again. “Heall was kind, nothing more. Do not accuse him of your own rutting ways.”
“And Artair? Was he also kind?” Caddaric caught Jilana’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Raise not your voice to me, slave. You have caused naught but trouble since this morn and tonight you left my presence without asking permission—for that alone I should beat you!” Something snapped inside Jilana and with a hissed intake of air she raised her hand to strike, only to be brought up short by Caddaric’s silken warning. “Do not tempt my wrath, Jilana, for only you will suffer should I lose control.”
Jilana slowly lowered her hand and backed away, relieved that Caddaric did not follow. Instead he kicked aside the litter on the floor and, crossing the room, seated himself on one of the two remaining chairs. The hard, blue gaze leisurely traveled the room, then settled upon Jilana with such intensity that she felt compelled to speak. “Where is your wife? Ede, I believe you called her.”
“I have no wife.”
“But Ede—”
“I have no wife,” Caddaric repeated calmly. His eyes caught and held on Jilana’s veil. “And you will have little use for a bridal veil. Remove it.”
Jilana pulled the veil from her hair and draped it carefully over her arm. “How did you know this is my bridal veil?”
The tremor in her voice apparently amused Caddaric for he smiled insolently. “The same way I know that if I search hard enough I will find a pair of saffron shoes and a tunic of finest linen. On your wedding day you would have been crowned with a garland of flowers. I have spent much of my life in the company of your countrymen. In fact, I even lived in Rome for a time. I know your ways, Jilana; you have no secrets from me.” He glanced once more about the bedchamber and shook his head. “We left you little enough, but ‘tis just as well. Now you will learn the Iceni ways.”
‘Never,” Jilana retorted. “I am a Roman, not an uncivilized barbarian! Slave or not I shall never decry my :customs.”
Caddaric raised a mocking eyebrow. “We shall see.”
A knock sounded at the door and at Caddaric’s answer a procession of Iceni entered, Clywd at their head.
Two men deposited a large wooden tub a short distance in front of Jilana while another built a fire in the brazier. Steaming water was poured into the tub by the other Iceni warriors and the two women in the group placed food and wine upon the low table just to Caddaric’s left.
“Enjoy this night’s revels,” Caddaric instructed coldly when his people were finished. “On the morrow you will set the villa in order—tell that to those who are seeking their sport below. Tell them also that I have claimed this chamber and everything in it as mine. Now go.” The speechless Iceni filed out of the chamber and Caddaric turned to Clywd. “My order included you, wise one.”
Clywd smiled. “As soon as I have tended your wounds I shall depart.”
“I will look to them myself, as I did in the legion.” Caddaric sighed at Clywd’s pained expression. “In a day, two at the most, we will begin training for the battles to come. At the moment, however, I crave only peace and a great deal of privacy. Give me your medicines, Clywd, and be on your way.”
“Artair told me of your injuries,” Clywd sniffed. “If infection sets in you may lose both leg and life.”
“Have done, Clywd,” Caddaric growled, his impatience showing. “If I have need of your powers I shall call for you. ‘Til such time, have the goodness to grant my request.”
After a fruitless debate with his son Clywd left, muttering under his breath, but his pouch of herbs and salves rested at Caddaric’s feet.
> Jilana glared at Caddaric. “Why bother to stop the looting? Venta Icenorum is in ruins. All those who could possibly care about their homes and possessions are dead.”
“Your Roman treasures are of no concern to me,” Caddaric heartlessly explained. “An army must have discipline. That is what enables your legions to win their battles—even when the situation appears hopeless they unquestioningly obey orders. My people must learn to do the same and their education begins now, before they reach a battlefield.” The corners of his mouth twitched a travesty of a smile at Jilana’s wide-eyed gaze. “Surely your betrothed—the brave tribune—discussed the for discipline with you.”
“I am am a woman, not a soldier, and Lucius treated me such. I leave the business of war to men,” Jilana said stiffly. “You have no right to laugh at the dead.”
A strange look crossed Caddaric’s face. “I would not have you find me lacking when compared to the noble Lucius.” With a slashing motion of his arm he indicated tub. “The bath is for you, Roman.”
Jilana spared the tub a disparaging glance. “I will cleanse myself as I always have—in a proper bath.”
Caddaric chuckled. “Mayhap you have not noticed that no hot air flows through the hypocaust. The fire has burned down, which is why the rooms are heated by braziers. Unless you can stoke and fire the furnace, Roman, I advise you to take advantage of my generous gift, no matter how crude it may seem.”
“While you watch?” Jilana demanded incredulously. Mixed bathing was prohibited by Roman law but Jilana’s consternation stemmed from another source. Stripped of clothing, her only weapon would be discovered and all would be lost.
“A fine display of maidenly virtue,” Caddaric applauded in a less than admiring tone. “Unfortunately, your outraged sensibilities are of less concern to me than possibility of contagion from the dead. Disrobe, Roman, and rid yourself of the stench of death.”
Jilana’s eyes darted about the room, seeking a way to shield herself from Caddaric’s avid gaze. At last, when her search yielded naught, Jilana asked in a quivering voice, “Will you at least turn your back?”
“And deny myself the only pleasure this day affords?” Caddaric laughed mirthlessly. “Nay, Roman, I think not. Imagine me to be your beloved Lucius if ‘twill make the deed easier. You willingly shed your clothing for him, I have no doubt.” Caddaric’s voice hardened. “Do as I say or I shall strip you with my own hands.” When Jilana’s terrified eyes glanced toward the door he added, “A guard stands beyond the portal and the door to the gallery has been barred on the outside. Will you obey me, Roman, or must I make good my threat?”
Trapped, alone, Jilana decided upon the only course of action left to her. That she would most certainly die at the hands of the Iceni guard outside the door Jilana instantly accepted; but she would die happily, with the knowledge that her dagger lay buried in Caddaric’s heart. Accordingly, Jilana presented her back to Caddaric and began to disrobe. The cloth fell from her shoulders, leaving her back exposed to Caddaric, and Jilana held an arm to her breast to keep the material from slipping further. Her free hand, hidden from the Briton’s view, crept beneath the folds of the toga and closed around the dagger’s hilt. The dagger slid easily from its sheath and Jilana silently called upon Mars to guide her aim.
“Cease your dallying, Roman,” Caddaric called out imperiously. “You have been told—”
With a low cry Jilana allowed her clothing to fall to the floor and, turning, she flew across the chamber to deliver a mortal blow to her enemy. A look of disbelief crossed Caddaric’s face when he found himself attacked by a naked madwoman armed only with a sacrificial dagger. Had it not been for the blood lust shining in Jilana’s eyes, Caddaric would have laughed at her pitiful attempt at revenge. As it was, Jilana’s arm arced downward With terrible surety and Caddaric effortlessly parried her blow by simply bringing his own arm up to meet hers.
The delicate bones of Jilana’s wrist connected with Caddaric’s well-muscled forearm with a loud crack, and Jilana gasped at the numbing pain which tore up her arm. Caddaric’s free hand closed around her throbbing wrist and the next moment the hand which had thwarted her attempt on his life wrenched the dagger from her hand.
“You are mad,” Caddaric growled. He tossed the dagger to the floor and released Jilana. He had not reckoned on the extent of Jilana’s determination, however, and Caddaric grunted in pain as a dainty foot landed a telling blow against his right thigh. Snarling, Caddaric wrapped arm around Jilana’s waist and easily hoisted her over | shoulder.
“Put me down!” Jilana shrieked. “You insolent barbarian—” Her words dissolved into a scream when the palm of Caddaric’s hand smacked across her exposed posterior. Tears stung Jilana’s eyes but before she could voice her outrage at this latest abuse, she was all but hurled led into the bathwater.
“Now you will bathe,” Caddaric thundered, blue eyes dark with fury.
Anger and pain merged, turning Jilana into the madwoman Caddaric had already named her, and in that moment she knew only that she had to fight and go on fighting until Caddaric ultimately defeated her. Honor demanded no less. “I will not obey you,” Jilana spat. Her hands had instinctively balled into fists and in a final, desperate show of rebellion she struck wildly at Caddaric. She saw nothing save Caddaric’s mocking face, felt nothing save the wild, primitive need to hurt Caddaric in retribution for the destruction of her world. Her blow was ill-timed, for Caddaric had seen the gleam in her eyes and taken a step backward. Now he stared pitilessly down at her and laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. She had earned his wrath, this Jilana did not doubt, and even as she wondered what punishment would befall her, Caddaric’s hand descended and she was pushed beneath the surface of the water.
“Do as I order, lest I change my mind and drown you for the trouble you have caused,” Caddaric said harshly when Jilana came up sputtering.
The madness had passed, and the bedchamber and its furnishings suddenly came back into focus. Jilana bit back a sharp retort and looked away from Caddaric to the where her dagger lay. She had failed. Failed! Her enemy still lived and she was now utterly defenseless—all was lost to this fearsome Iceni. Silently, hating the fact that she had no choice but to obey, Jilana scrubbed her flesh fiery red under Caddaric’s watchful gaze. She stepped from the tub and faced the Briton defiantly, daring him to comment upon her nakedness.
Fully aware of what she expected, Caddaric merely offered Jilana a towel, and when she all but tore the cloth out of his hands he favored her with a taunting smile which belied his burning anger. “Mayhap I should cut out your tongue. You are quite bearable this way.”
Something in his eyes sent a splinter of fear shivering up her spine and Jilana inadvertently retreated a step. She dropped her towel in the process, an action which seemed to amuse her captor.
Caddaric’s amusement quickly vanished when the door opened and a group of six Romans, Artair at their head, entered the chamber. Artair’s greedy stare rested solely upon Jilana and a mortified blush spread across her face. Ah, Juno, that these men should see her thus! Humiliated to the very depths of her soul, Jilana was surprised—and shamelessly grateful—when Caddaric snatched a palla from the floor and wrapped her trembling form within its folds.
Caddaric swung back to Artair and fixed him with a dangerous look. “What is the meaning of this, Artair?” Slowly, Artair dragged his gaze from Jilana to Caddaric. “I am offering you the service of my slaves—as a gesture of good will. They will remove the tub and see to any of your needs.” He shoved the first man toward the improvised bath. “Do as I say.” The man looked fearfully at Artair but made no move to obey, not even when v Artair prodded him with the point of his sword.
“He does not understand our tongue,” Caddaric informed his fellow warrior. “I doubt any of them do. If you wish these men to be of service to you, Artair, either speak to them in their own language or teach them ours.”
“By the gods, I will not,” Artair sneered, a petulant
look settling over his face. “I waste no time pampering slaves! If they cannot obey me they are useless and I will send them to join their countrymen.”
As she realized what Artair meant, Jilana started forward with a low cry, only to be caught in one of Caddaric’s arms. “You cannot let him do this thing,” Jilana implored, her wide eyes searching the Briton’s cold features. “Oh, please, you cannot!”
“The slaves are not mine. I have no part in their fate.” Without so much as looking at her, Caddaric drew Jilana back to his side. “Artair! Since you plan to dispose of Romans, do so elsewhere. I wish my chamber as uncluttered as possible.”
Jilana shivered at such callousness and felt herself gathered more securely against the Briton’s chest. Nor was the movement lost on Artair. Smiling slightly, he pointed sword toward the Romans. “What say you to a trade, Caddaric? My six for your one. In this way we both have slaves who will obey us.”
“Nay, Artair, but I will allow Jilana to act as interpreter if you desire.” Caddaric’s fingers tightened warningly on Jilana’s shoulder through the folds of her cloak.
“Tell your people what is required of them, Roman.” Jilana did so, in a trembling voice, and was vastly relieved when her countrymen obeyed without protest.
“You see, they are willing,” Jilana ventured to the glowering Artair. “If you would but show them what you want allow me to teach them the Celtic tongue—” “Be silent,” Artair shouted, his face reddening. “The time your wagging tongue insults me I will have your head on a pike!”
Jilana instinctively shrank against Caddaric, her only source of protection, and firmly clamped her lips together. If Artair claimed insult she would indeed be killed. Slaves had no rights—a bitter fact, but one Jilana knew she must accept if she wished to live and avenge herself and her family.
The male slaves were gone now and Caddaric allowed bis full anger to show. “You risk much with such a weak ploy, Artair, including your life. I will neither trade nor sell this woman—yet. The next time you wish to see me you will present yourself courteously, not in such a brazen manner. Now go.” Artair was nearly out the door when Caddaric added, “And, Artair, do not threaten my slave again. I alone mete out her punishment.”
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