Defy the Eagle

by Lynn Bartlett

  “Your mother was right, you need to rest,” Ede said upon seeing the pinched look to Jilana’s features. “I will see you tomorrow.” She blew out the lamps and silently made her way from the chamber. Tomorrow, she promised herself as she walked past Clywd’s hut in the slave quarters, she would convince Jilana to speak with the Druid.

  Augusta and Marcus were up half the night, discussing Jilana’s situation. The next morning, they summoned their eldest daughter and Lucius and told them of the decision they had reached. They agreed that Jilana would be allowed to bear the child.

  “You cannot be serious,” Lucius burst out when Marcus had finished speaking. “I demand that Jilana abort this thing!”

  ”You demand,” Marcus repeated quellingly. “You are not in a position to demand such a thing, Lucius. She is not yet your wife.”

  “I will not raise a bastard as my own,” Lucius said in a voice shaking with rage.

  “We have not asked you to,” Marcus said calmly, and Jilana knew that they had not yet heard the entire decision. “When the child is strong enough, it will be given away.”

  “Nay,” Jilana cried. “Father, you cannot do this!”

  Marcus frowned at his daughter. “What has happened is tragic, but we—your mother and I—will not allow it to ruin the rest of your life. The babe will be placed with a native couple, to be raised as their own.”

  “Nay, Father, I beg you—”

  “Be silent,” Marcus roared, his fist slamming against the table in front of him. His composure was destroyed and the look he gave Jilana was filled with anger and pity. “Do you know what your life would be like were you to keep this child? Decent society would be closed to you forever; you would both be outcasts! And do not think that you could remain here, in my house. The stigma would stain the rest of the family as well. Is that what you want for your mother and sister? Do you want them to be gossiped about when they enter the city?”

  “Nay, of course not,” Jilana whispered, appalled,

  “And what of the child?” Marcus persisted. “What kind of a life would he or she have? How would you support the two of you? What kind of work could you find?

  Even if you could find a way to live—and I am certain you can well imagine the kind of positions that would be open to you—what of the child himself? You know how cruel people can be, Jilana. Do you want your child to be taunted and bullied whenever he steps foot outside the door? Is that what you want for your child?”

  Jilana shook her head and felt tears sting her eyelids.

  Marcus sank back in his chair and when he spoke again his voice had gentled. “There are many Britons working for me. I will find a good home for the babe. The people he is given to will never know of his mixed heritage; he will be totally accepted by the natives.”

  “Aye, Father,” Jilana said brokenly.

  “It is for the best, Jilana,” Augusta put in, her eyes swelling with tears. “Surely you can see that.”

  “Aye.” She understood, but it was a knife in her heart to think of her child being raised by strangers, never knowing his true father and mother.

  Next Marcus, turned his attention to Lucius. “If you wish to break your betrothal to Jilana, we will, of course, understand.”

  Lucius turned to Jilana, considering. She was beautiful, intelligent, and wealthy—everything he could have wanted in a wife. She stirred the fires in his heart as well as his loins. “If we marry, this must forever remain a secret. I cannot allow scandal to touch my family.”

  Lucius’ hands were clenched into fists and Jilana stared at them. “Perhaps you should find another, Lucius,” she managed to say. “I do not think I will adapt well to Rome.”

  “Once we are away from this wretched island all will be well,” Lucius replied. Jilana raised her eyes to his and, Lucius felt his anger drain away. Once they were married, he would see to it that she was kept so busy managing his house and raising their children that she would not have time to get into trouble. “I love you, Jilana,” he said truthfully, for her ears alone. “Do you know how rare that emotion is in marriages among our class?”

  Jilana knew, all too well. If she did not marry Lucius, her father would find another candidate, for it was a father’s duty to make advantageous alliances for his daughters. Unmarried women were held in contempt and pity by Roman society. The freedom she had known so briefly with Caddaric was gone and the remainder of her life stretched endlessly in front of her. She had to survive those years. Forgive me, my love, Jilana thought as she slowly nodded to Lucius. “As you wish.”

  Lucius rose. “I will write to my father, telling him that our departure has been delayed, and send it on the next ship leaving Londinium.” He cleared his throat in embarrassment. “When shall I tell my family that we will leave Britannia,” he asked Jilana.

  Jilana’s cheeks flushed. “The child is due in early Martins”

  “How fitting,” Lucius said cuttingly, “that the brat should be born in the month dedicated to our god of war.” He watched the blood drain from Jilana’s face and hardened himself against the rush of pity. By demanding to have the child she had brought this trouble upon herself. He turned to Marcus. “Under the circumstances, I believe it will be best if I stay in the city. I am sure the general can find some use for me over the next six months.” He left without another word.

  Alone with her parents, Jilana asked, “Does Claudia know?”

  “Not yet,” Marcus answered.

  “I want to tell her.” Jilana rose on shaky legs. “I would ask one final indulgence, if I may.” When her father nodded she continued, “I would like to choose the family that will raise the babe.”

  Augusta exchanged a long look with her husband and when it ended, Marcus nodded. “Only keep in mind what I have said. Not a breath of dishonor must touch our family.”

  “The people I have in mind will see to it that your reputation remains intact, Father.”

  “Jilana,” Augusta gasped in dismay.

  “I am sorry.” Jilana apologized immediately, regretting her outburst. “But this is my child as well, and everyone is treating the babe as if he or she is a piece of soiled linen to be quickly disposed of!” She felt sobs choking her throat and ran from the room before she could pour out the entire story to her parents.

  “Oh, Marcus,” Augusta breathed. “What have we done?”

  “What is necessary,” Marcus replied, but his hand, when he reached for Augusta’s, was trembling. “My heart goes out to her, my dear, but what else can we do? She will marry Lucius and lead a good life, and in time, the pain she feels now will pass.”

  Augusta shook her head. “I wish I could be as certain as you. Marcus, you forgave me all those years ago. Why can you not forgive Jilana now?”

  “‘Tis not a matter of forgiveness,” Marcus said firmly. “I love my daughter and will see her safe, in spite of herself. If that means that I must rule her with an iron hand, then I will, for I will not see her made a prostitute or, at best, some man’s mistress, were this scandal to be known.” He pressed a kiss upon his wife’s forehead. “Now I must go to the city. Obviously, Jilana can no longer come to my office with me, so during her confinement, you can teach her how to manage a household.”

  “People will think it strange if she is not seen for so long a time,” Augusta mused.

  “Nay, they will not. She has been through a terrible experience; I will drop a few hints that she desires seclusion in order to recover. That should be sufficient to satisfy any curiosity. I leave it to you to break the news to Jilana.”

  ****

  So it was that Jilana, with the best of intentions, was kept in exile at her family’s villa, but the restriction had little impact upon her life. She accepted her father’s edict without protest and then calmly explained that she would send Ede to the slave market in her place. Reluctantly, Augusta agreed and, to Jilana’s amazement, so did Marcus. It was then that Jilana realized that her parents were as saddened over the treatment of the defeate
d Iceni as she. Revenge, her father had said, was an empty quest which would only deepen the native hatred for the Romans. He defended her actions to all detractors, including his youngest daughter. Claudia rarely spoke to Jilana once she had been told of the unborn child’s fate, except to say that Jilana was bringing shame upon the family and that she, Claudia, would never forgive her. Jilana accepted Claudia’s reaction and refused to be drawn into futile arguments. Neither of them would change their minds. Thankfully, Lucius joined Paulinus’ staff as a civilian advisor and was frequently gone from Londinium, and during his brief visits they discussed everything but the child. Jilana often wondered if Lucius loved her as much as he claimed.

  There were two great comforts to Jilana. The first was the expression on Clywd’s face when she told him of the babe. He was awed, at first, then overjoyed. And then Jilana told him of her parents’ decision.

  “But do not fear,” Jilana hastened to reassure him when the faint spark went out of his eyes. “Ede has agreed to take the child as her own and go north, on the condition that you go with her to help raise the babe.” Jilana grasped the frail hands between her own. “Think of it, Clywd, you will have the joy of raising Caddaric’s child—you can tell him of his father, of his proud ancestry—and I will have the comfort of knowing that my child is loved. Please, Clywd, you must agree.”

  Clywd raised his eyes to Ede, who stood in the background by the door of the hut. “You have agreed?” he questioned, almost fearfully.

  “Aye, old one,” Ede assured him. Coming forward, she knelt by his bed. “Once Jilana is sent to Rome, there will be nothing to bind me here, and her betrothed will not allow her to take me along. Think of it, Druid,” she said encouragingly. “There will be others like us. We will find a village, safe from the Romans, and raise the child there. Mayhap the child will take after you and inherit the sight—both the priesthood and your line will continue.” Clywd nodded slowly and looked back at Jilana. “It would fulfill Caddaric’s dream.”

  Jilana caught her breath as pain swept through her. “Aye, wise one, that it would. But you cannot continue as you have been; you must grow stronger, for the sake of the child.”

  The child gave Clywd back his reason for living. Under Ede and Jilana’s watchful eyes he began eating and his strength grew with each passing day. Thank the gods Clywd had not been recognized as a Druid, Jilana thought once when she helped him walk the paths through the slave quarters. He had been captured and beaten, but because he had been unarmed, as were most of the scattered Iceni, the soldiers had spared his life. The Empire could always use more slaves.

  The second comfort was Hadrian’s arrival. He came to pay his respects and, at Jilana’s insistence, remained at the villa rather than returning to his inn. Since her father went to the city daily, Marcus promised to book passage for Hadrian on the first available ship. Hadrian accepted Jilana’s situation without comment and Jilana nearly wept in gratitude. He offered no advice, did not lecture her, merely accepted and remained her friend. The tall, gruff ex-centurion became, for all intents and purposes, a member of the family—much to Claudia’s chagrin. A month later, when Marcus informed him that a ship had arrived in port and was bound for Rome, Hadrian announced that he did not intend to return home. Instead, he said, he would send a letter, instructing his cousin to sell the farm he had purchased for his retirement. Hadrian had decided to remain in Britannia.

  Jilana was not surprised. The first time Hadrian had set eyes on Ede, he had been dumbstruck, and he found the most absurd reasons to seek out the warrior maid, including escorting her on her daily trips to the slave market. Ede had suffered as much as Jilana; she too had seen her husband killed in that final battle, so whenever Hadrian hung too closely to her heels she sniped mercilessly at him, protecting herself from further hurt. Hadrian, however, was immune to such tactics and persevered. Ede, at first wary and abrasive, softened toward the former primipilus and soon, where there was Hadrian, there too was Ede. The sight of her two friends together brought Jilana as much joy as it did pain.

  Hadrian and Ede were married on the first of Novembris in a Roman civil ceremony; the day was also the festival of Samh’in for the Celts, so that night, in a private ceremony in the slave quarters, their vows were repeated before Clywd.

  That night, the tears Jilana had held so long at bay broke through, and she wept for all that she-had lost and all that she had yet to lose. When her sobbing ended, she felt a tiny flutter in her abdomen and placed a hand lightly over the area where the movement had occurred. When it happened again, she smiled, aware of a fierce protectiveness welling in her heart. She was doing all she could for her child; he or she would be raised in love and freedom, and since Hadrian could read and write, he had promised to send word of her child to Jilana whenever he could. She would have to be content with that, she told herself, for her life was decided. But in her heart, she longed to make the trip north with her friends.

  Heall was found the following day. He was half-starved, his arm had been broken and his color was ashen. Jilana tended him herself and when he awoke, they both wept with the sheer joy of having found the other alive. He accepted Hadrian immediately, and the two warriors passed many hours in Heall’s quarters while the older man recuperated. Heall’s heart was weak, Clywd told Jilana when he had examined his friend. He needed total bed rest in order to recover. So in the evenings the little circle of friends met in Heall’s quarters, remembering better days with laughter and tears.

  ‘“Twill be nice to raise a grandchild,” Heall said one night, his eyes resting fondly on Jilana. She gave him an odd little smile and he realized what he had said. Nervously, his eyes dropped to the cup of mead he held. “I mean—”

  “I know what you mean,” Jilana said, touching his arm in a gesture of understanding. “You helped raise Caddaric; ‘tis only natural you think of this babe as your grandchild. In truth, you honor me.”

  The brief autumn gave way to winter, and Jilana spent much of her time inside the villa, not wanting to risk the icy paths as her balance grew more precarious. From Augusta she learned how to manage the villa with its many intricacies. She planned the evenings in which her parents entertained their friends, from planning the menus to overseeing the servants. She did not, of course, attend the feasts, but that did not matter. It was enough to know that she was learning the skills that would hold her in good stead once she was in Rome. During the evenings, her friends would gather in Jilana’s bedchamber and she and Ede would sew small things for the babe—Ede was growing quite skilled with a needle under Jilana’s tutelage— while the men talked or diced.

  It was on one such evening that Augusta came to Jilana’s chamber bearing a tray of confections. “I thought you might like some of these,” Augusta said brightly as she sailed into the room. “They are truly excellent—” Her voice died when she saw the group. “I am sorry, Jilana, I thought ‘twas only you and Ede and Hadrian.”

  “You need not apologize, Mother,” Jilana assured her, rising to take the tray from her hands and set it on a low table. “Come, let me introduce my friends to you.” She pulled Augusta toward where the others sat or reclined on cushions, chairs and couches. “This is Clywd,” she said, touching him on the shoulder, “and this is Heall. They were most kind to me, Mother, both treated me as if I were their daughter. They are very dear to me.”

  The two men had risen when Jilana introduced them, and Augusta gave them a weak smile. “I remember Heall, of course,” she said in a voice that sounded oddly choked.

  “Oh, of course,” Jilana exclaimed, smiling. “He led you out of Venta Icenorum. Thank you for my family’s lives, Heall.” And with that she kissed him soundly on the cheek and smiled up at him.

  “I must go.” Augusta, always the most polite of women, whirled and all but ran from the room.

  Puzzled, Jilana watched her go, and then shrugged. “She is probably afraid one of the guests will wonder where she is and come searching for her.” With a mischievous smile,
Jilana patted her burgeoning stomach, settled back in her chair and reached greedily for the sweets her mother had brought. She was oblivious to the strained look that passed between Heall and Clywd.

  The new year brought another visit from Suetonius Paulinus. The governor-general met briefly with Marcus in his office and departed without seeing anyone else. Shortly thereafter, Jilana was summoned to her father’s office.

  “Sit down, Jilana,” Marcus ordered when she arrived. His face was white and strained, and when Jilana was seated he said bluntly, “Your activities with the Iceni are at an end.”

  Jilana’s heart gave a wild thud against her ribs and then seemed to stop beating altogether. “Why?”

  “Why?” Marcus echoed, fury lending an edge to his voice. “Because Suetonius Paulinus, in his capacity as governor-general, has ordered it stopped.”

  Jilana sighed. She had expected something like this. “And if I do not?”

  “Then he will arrest you,” Marcus informed his eldest daughter, “and confiscate my business and property.”

  Fear ran the length of her spine. “Gods!” Paulinus was utterly ruthless; Jilana did not doubt for a moment that . he would do as he threatened, and not even for Caddaric’s memory could she place the life of their unborn child, or her family, in danger.

  “My feelings exactly,” Marcus said grimly. Distractedly, he shuffled the scrolls and parchments littering his desk. “I love you dearly, Jilana, but not even for you will I place my family in jeopardy.” His hands ceased their

  restless movement and he looked sadly at Jilana. “You have found and freed nearly two hundred of the rebels; be content with that.”

  “Have I a choice?” Jilana asked bitterly. “Nay, Father, I do not blame you,” she added when his mouth thinned. “I blame our glorious Empire, which is built upon the backs of slaves and controls our lives so completely.” She shivered and knew the coldness came from within her, for the room was heated with the hypocaust as well as braziers. “Ede is in Londinium.”