Defy the Eagle

by Lynn Bartlett

  Unable to bear her weight any longer, Jilana’s legs collapsed and she sank onto the ground beside Hadrian. Shaking, Jilana grasped Hadrian’s hand in both of hers and closed her eyes, willing herself not to think of what might have happened if the warrior had chosen to ignore Lhwyd’s instructions. The hand she was holding squeezed gently and Jilana opened her eyes to find Hadrian watching her through half-closed lids. Of their own volition, Jilana’s fingers spasmodically wrapped themselves around his hand.

  “You should not have come back,” Hadrian rasped out.

  “I could not leave you here,” Jilana stated, her voice wobbling. She carried Hadrian’s hand to her face and rested her cheek against it. “I have brought food and bandages. And a plan for your escape.”

  Hadrian’s eyes widened and he glanced cautiously to where the guards stood before looking back at Jilana. “You are mad.”

  “I think not.” Her voice still trembled, but there was a new note of confidence in it. She released Hadrian’s hand and searched through her medical box until she found the bread and cheese. These she broke into small pieces and would have fed them to Hadrian had he not stopped her.

  “I can feed myself,” he growled. With Jilana’s help, he shifted so that his back was braced against the tree trunk and began to eat. Jilana dipped a cup into the water bucket and set it on the ground beside him. “I want you to go now, Jilana, and do not come back.”

  Jilana stared at him. “Did you not hear me? I have a plan for your escape.” Out of necessity, their voices were low.

  “Aye, I heard, and I tell you it is madness.” Hadrian’s face was pale and he was obviously in pain, but he was once more the primipilus of the Twentieth Legion. “The guards would kill us before I could stand.”

  “There are only five guards—”

  “Five too many!”

  “Will you be silent,” Jilana hissed. “The guards have been leaving throughout the morning for the city.” Briefly, she told Hadrian about Boadicea’s plans for the temple. “The rest will leave also.”

  “They will want to be in on the kill,” Hadrian mused. Realizing that he was agreeing with Jilana, Hadrian shook his head. “Even without the guards, you cannot get me away from here. The entire camp will not pour into the city.”

  “Nay, they will not, but they will be so busy wandering about, gossiping over events in the city, that they will pay us no heed,” Jilana said eagerly.

  “Jilana, I am not certain I can stand, let alone walk,” Hadrian countered. “Just this slight movement has set my wound bleeding again.”

  “Would you rather stay here and wait for Lhwyd to use you as a sacrifice?” Jilana ground out. “Is that what you wish, to die like a stupid ox upon an alter? I offer you life, Hadrian, or at least the promise of life. If we are caught, what could be worse than the fate they have in store for you now?” Jilana was angry enough to scream and it showed in the flashing purple of her eyes.

  “Be reasonable, little one,” Hadrian began, concerned that she would attract the guards’ attention.

  “Nay, I will not,” Jilana exclaimed with as much force as their whispers would allow. “I have seen two cities and their inhabitants destroyed; I will not be reasonable when you insist upon giving up your life without a struggle when there is a chance to live!”

  Sighing, Hadrian leaned his head back against the tree. “Tell me your plan.”

  While he ate, Jilana explained. “Our best chance will be when the attack has begun; the camp will be in an uproar and most of the warriors will be gone. I will come back for you then.”

  “And I will simply walk away from here?” Hadrian questioned dryly. “What of the guards?”

  “I think they will desert their posts as well, but if they do not…,” Jilana chewed thoughtfully at her lower lip and then nodded. “I will have to bring you a disguise—a cloak, I think—something that will hide your tunic and bandages.” She looked Hadrian up and down, measuring him-He and Caddaric were nearly the same height. “Aye, I know someone about your size.”

  “Who is willing to lend me a cloak?”

  Jilana hesitated. Caddaric would discover her theft eventually, but what were stealing and Caddaric’s anger compared to what she planned? “Not precisely,” she answered softly. “But it does not matter.”

  Hadrian broke off a piece of bread and chewed it. “What will you do if the guards stay behind?”

  Jilana glanced at the guards and then turned her attention to unbandaging Hadrian’s wound. “I will find another way.”

  There was a note of quiet determination in her voice and Hadrian gave up the battle. She would try to free him and probably they would both die in the process, but as Jilana had said, anything was better than waiting for Lhwyd to use him as a sacrifice. He winced when Jilana pulled the bandages free, but shook his head when she asked if the pain was great.

  It was difficult to rebandage the wound, but Jilana managed, with Hadrian resting against her shoulder, to cause as little discomfort as possible. There was seepage from the wound, but it did not appear to be infected. Jilana pulled the length of bandage as tight as she could in hope that the binding would stop any bleeding that might occur when Hadrian moved.

  “Do you need opium?” Jilana asked when Hadrian was sitting back against the tree. “I can get some if you do.”

  Hadrian shook his head. “It would put me to sleep, and then what would you do?” He smiled at the weak jest, but when he saw the look of pain that darkened her eyes, Hadrian took her head and carried it to his bandaged chest. “‘Tis not so bad, Jilana, I swear.”

  Jilana succumbed to the comfort she saw in his eyes and eased her head onto his undamaged shoulder. Just for a moment, she promised herself; just for a moment she would give in to the fears and uncertainties that plagued her in spite of her brave words and then she would be strong again. Hadrian’s hand gently combed through the tangled mass of her hair, drawing a sigh from her. “I will set you free,” she whispered, and prayed to any god who would listen to help her fulfill the vow. She felt Hadrian stiffen and drew her head back, wondering if she had unwittingly caused him pain.

  “Get up, Jilana.”

  The cold, hard voice was like the lash of a whip and Jilana bolted upright. Caddaric stood not three feet away, his face impassive as he took in the sight of the two of them nestled together. But his eyes. Ahh, gods, his eyes were a deep, fiery blue that threatened to burn holes right through her! Jilana saw, in that moment, that Caddaric was furious, and unless she could placate him, all hope of freeing Hadrian was lost.

  Jilana came to her feet as quickly as she could. As if he could sense the danger facing them, Hadrian grabbed Jilana’s hand, but she shook him off and took the three steps that brought her directly in front of Caddaric.

  Before Jilana could speak, Caddaric looked her up and down contemptuously and said, “You are a faithless bitch, are you not? You would have driven your beloved Lucius to murder within a month.”

  Behind her, Hadrian swore at Caddaric for his words, but Jilana’s arm was already in motion. Hurt and angered beyond reason, she put all her weight behind the blow, but Caddaric lazily caught her wrist before her hand could make contact with his face. As his fingers closed over her delicate bones in a crushing grip, the ramifications of her action dawned on her and Jilana’s face drained of color. “You…” Her throat tightened in fear and Jilana had to force the words out. “You gave your permission,” she reminded him.

  “For you to treat their wounds, not lay with the men!” Caddaric tightened his grasp and took a perverse pleasure in Jilana’s gasp of pain.

  “I did not—”

  “Your name is Hadrian?” Caddaric asked the man on the ground.

  Hadrian nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He struggled to rise, to put himself on an equal footing with this towering Iceni, but the slicing pain in his side sent him groaning back to the ground.

  Caddaric pulled Jilana to his side, and since her arm was still upraised, she was
lifted off her feet in the process. While she was still suspended in mid-air Caddaric released her wrist and Jilana went spilling to the ground. When she gave an exclamation of pain he did not spare her so much as a glance. All his attention was riveted on Hadrian. “Tell me, primipilus, were the joys of her body worth your life?”

  Hadrian’s eyes narrowed angrily. His voice, when it finally emerged, was even harsher than usual. “I cannot say.” His dark eyes strayed to Jilana and softened in sympathy when she barely met his gaze before burying her face in her hands.

  “How tragic,” Caddaric snorted. “You, however, made a favorable impression, enough so that last night she begged me to free you. Shall I tell you what she offered me in return?”

  Hadrian stared coldly back at Caddaric, but a vein pulsed in his temple. “If you want to know if the Lady Jilana shared my bed, why not ask?” Hadrian taunted in a low rasp.

  Caddaric’s face whitened. “I rejoice that my aim was not true, primipilus. This way I have the joy of watching your humiliation at the loss of your command,” he retorted. Their eyes locked and the two men stared at one another.

  The lengthy silence brought Jilana’s face out from the barrier of her hands and she looked on helplessly while the two men conducted their mute battle. At last Caddaric spoke and Jilana had to strain to hear him.

  “Did you take her?”

  Hadrian’s nostrils flared and it took several seconds before he had enough control to answer. “I was not so fortunate.”

  Caddaric nodded, once, and turned on his heel. Without a word he took Jilana’s wrist, pulled her roughly to her feet and started off.

  “Centurion!”

  The barked command froze Caddaric in mid-step. Beside him, Jilana could feel Caddaric stiffen in reaction. Reluctantly, he turned back to Hadrian, who gave a self-satisfied nod. “The legion leaves its mark, no matter how hard you may try to erase it. Your skill with a short sword betrayed you.” His lips twisted into what might have been a brief smile. “What legion?”

  “Does it matter?” Caddaric parried. “‘Twas a lifetime ago, in a different world.” He paused, then grudgingly added, “Were it within my power, I would give you my sword.”

  Hadrian inclined his head in thanks for the offer. Both men were well versed in the legion’s code of death before dishonor. “I fear, I would not have the strength to fall upon its length even if it were within your power.”

  The antagonism faded and for a moment the two men regarded each other with mutual respect. Then, in a jerky, almost-forgotten gesture, Caddaric brought his right fist to his left breast before turning away and dragging Jilana behind him.

  Stunned by all that had happened, Jilana could do little more than stumble along in Caddaric’s wake. Not until they reached their campsite did Jilana have the events sorted out to her satisfaction and when Caddaric released her she stood nervously beside the dead campfire.

  “Why did you salute Hadrian?” Jilana asked in a small voice.

  “Because he was—is the primipilus. He has worked his way up through the ranks, taken care of his men, endured the snubs of those officers whose commissions were purchased either in gold or political favors.” Caddaric’s voice trailed off and he looked at Jilana impatiently. “I fought him and found him a worthy opponent, yet because I was rushed I did not make certain he was dead and now he is denied the honor of dying on the battlefield.”

  Jilana took a moment to absorb the knowledge that Caddaric had grievously wounded Hadrian. “Then you understand why I must try to help him?”

  His brooding expression vanished and Caddaric glared at her. “You will not go near him again.”

  “Caddaric, plea—”

  “I forbid it!” Caddaric thundered. He took Jilana by the shoulders and gave her a quick, brutal shake. “He has been humiliated enough in front of you. And if you wish to cushion a man’s head upon your bosom, ‘tis mine you will cushion. Do you understand?” Jilana nodded shakily and Caddaric let her go. “You will stay here today. If I learn that you have disobeyed me, gone to him, I will—” Caddaric swore feelingly and stalked away.

  He would go to the city, Jilana thought as she watched Caddaric’s retreating back, secure in the belief that she would do as he had ordered. Jilana tossed her head and started around the tent toward the horses. No matter the consequences, she could not leave Hadrian to Lhwyd. And it was nearly midday, the time when she would have the best opportunity to smuggle Hadrian away from the other prisoners.

  The horses whickered in greeting and twitched their ears forward in interest when Jilana neared them, but they were well-mannered beasts who did not object when she paced the tether line to examine them. Of the six horses, a golden stallion caught Jilana’s eye. The stallion was tall, with a deep, strong chest and a glint in his eyes that promised a spirit to match his strength, but Jilana rejected him as a mount for Hadrian. Hadrian needed endurance in a mount, but in his weakened condition, Jilana doubted Hadrian could control such a horse. Her next choice was a roan gelding. Praying that this horse had a gentle temperament, Jilana untied the tether line and led him to the wagon where Caddaric stored his saddles.

  He seemed gentle enough, Jilana thought as she held the woven halter with one hand and stroked the horse with the other. He playfully butted Jilana’s shoulder and she petted his soft nose, then flipped back the canvas which protected Caddaric’s equestrian tack. Taking the first bridle that came to hand, Jilana slipped the bit into the horse’s mouth and then slid the leather strips over his ears.

  The reins trailed on the ground. Jilana took a cautious step backward, and then another, watching. The horse ignored her. His tail swished and he rubbed his jaw along a foreleg, but he made no move to run away and Jilana breathed a sigh of relief. As long as the reins trailed on the ground, the horse would remain in place. Quickly, she saddled the horse and then tied him to the back of the wagon.

  The last item was Hadrian’s disguise and Jilana hurried inside the tent. With none of the hesitation she had felt yesterday at touching Caddaric’s things, Jilana opened his kist and searched through it until she found what she was looking for. She took out a plain, undyed wool tunic, set it aside and continued her search until she found a cloak. In fact, there were two cloaks, one bright blue and the other a subdued brown. Jilana pulled the brown cloak from the kist and carefully repacked the other clothing. With any luck, Caddaric preferred the blue cloak and it would be some time before he discovered the theft of the brown one.

  Folding the cloak and draping it over her arm, Jilana set out at a leisurely pace. As she had hoped, the Iceni camp was in turmoil. People scurried in all directions, talking excitedly about what was to befall the temple and making plans to take what they could from Camulodunum before it was razed. Horses and wagons were being driven into the city, adding to the confusion. Not even a woman in chains could distract the Iceni from the satisfaction that was close at hand.

  Hadrian, his back braced against the tree, watched the behavior of the prisoners through narrow eyes. All were frightened, a few wept openly. With the removal of the bodies this morning, the once proud citizens of the capital had made themselves as comfortable as was possible on the hard ground and resigned themselves to their fate. As he had. A less than glorious end to his otherwise successful military career. Hadrian gave a short bark of laughter and winced at the pain that shot through his right side. He. rubbed the damaged portion of his chest, glanced idly around, and felt his mouth drop open in astonishment. Jilana was marching toward him as if her presence was the most natural thing in the world. Hadrian’s eyes widened at the sight of the hideous brown garment she carried on her arm.

  Jilana stopped beside Hadrian and smiled serenely. “Tis time to leave.”

  Hadrian gaped up at her. “You are mad.” But he felt hope spring back to life.

  “No doubt.” Jilana reached down and helped Hadrian to his feet. “Put this on.” She shook out the cloak, revealing the tunic she had stolen. “Not even this cloak will h
ide the blood on your tunic,” she prodded when Hadrian hesitated.

  With a nod, Hadrian struggled out of his own clothing and knew a moment of embarrassment when he stood unsteadily in front of Jilana clad only in his loincloth. She, however, seemed unconcerned with this lack of modesty, and merely stepped forward to help him into the fresh tunic. Once he was clothed, Jilana swept the cloak around his shoulders and tied it securely at the neck. Her medicine box still lay on the ground and Jilana took a moment to close it and swing the strap over her shoulder.

  “Now we go.” Jilana took Hadrian’s arm and led him away from the prisoners. The other captives were so lost in their own misery that it seemed none of them noticed Hadrian’s odd departure. Or if they did, they gave no sign.

  “The guards are gone,” Jilana observed in a smug tone.

  “I know, I saw them leave,” Hadrian replied dryly. They were away from the prisoners now and surrounded by the enemy. Hadrian’s hand fell to his side, where his sword would have hung, and encountered air.

  Jilana noticed the betraying movement. “There is no danger, Hadrian. The Iceni are too busy with their own plans to worry about a prisoner escaping.” Her words did nothing to dispel his nervousness and Jilana squeezed his arm reassuringly. “There is no need to hurry. Just lean on me if you grow weak; ‘tis not too far.”

  His body was weak, Hadrian discovered when they had covered only a short distance, and the jostling he received at the hands of the Iceni who were hurrying to Camulodunum caused pain to spear through his side. Against his instincts, Hadrian found himself leaning against Jilana’s lesser strength. He paid little attention to his surroundings, needing all of his energy to concentrate on the increasingly complicated task of walking, until Jilana gently pulled on his arm and led him into a campsite. He recognized the style of the leather tent at once, and so hesitated to step inside when Jilana held the outer flap open for him. With the destruction that had transpired since the uprising, Hadrian wondered if the ghosts of the soldiers who had once inhabited this tent still dwelled within it.