Eboracus waved the guards out. He poured himself a cup of wine from a flask sitting on a side table and drank with a heavy sigh. He did not offer Diana a cup. He put the cup down and turned to her with a bright smile.
“My Lady Diana.”
Diana stretched her mouth into a smile too. “Your Excellency.”
“These are sad times we move in, are they not?”
“Your Excellency?” She was puzzled.
“I speak of those troubles we all face. Some of my predecessors had the most illustrious careers here in Eboracum. They saw seasons of bounty, their people well fed, content and fortune amassed everywhere. The land was peaceful. In their time the gates of this city were open to all. The guards would greet each visitor with good wishes. It was a joyful time, then.”
“It was also a time when the legions were here,” Diana pointed out sweetly. “No one would dare disrupt the Emperor’s peace with armed soldiers patrolling the city.”
“No, indeed. Rome was at its mightiest, then. Did you know that there were once nearly twenty thousand people living here?” He shook his head in awe. “It must have been quite something to have been the bishop of such a city.”
Diana remained silent. She had learned long ago that Eboracus took his time getting to the point. She had no intention of saying anything that might prejudice her position later on.
Eboracus sighed. “Troubled times, indeed. Now we examine each person who passes through the gates, we deal with famine and war and disturbances upon all fronts. There is no money and Rome is far from here.”
Diana nodded as if she understood but she had no idea where Eboracus was taking the conversation.
“Rome is not here anymore, so in many ways it is up to me to be a good example to my people, to show them the way Rome expects its citizens to behave. To guide them. Did you know that I held you in my hand when you were but a babe, still in swaddling cloths? I christened you myself and welcomed you into the sanctity of Christ’s church.”
Diana bit her lip. Either Eboracus was lying, or else he had simply mixed up her and her brothers, for of the three girls in Diana’s family, only Lucilla, the oldest, had been christened by Eboracus. Diana and Minna had been anointed and named by traveling priests who happened to call on the estate for a night’s food and shelter around the time they had been born.
“I have watched you grow up, Diana. With the passing of your dear mother and father, I feel a measure of responsibility for your welfare.”
Diana recognized that at last he was arriving at the reason for this “meeting”. She kept her silence.
“I have learned since our conversation yesterday that your brother Verus is no longer living on the estate. Without your brother’s presence, it means that you and your sister and infant brothers are essentially unchaperoned. This is quite unorthodox and not something that I can condone. The matter is compounded dreadfully by the presence of those pagan ruffians who are living there.”
“They are professional soldiers and they are manning beacons in the area.”
“My dear, I am concerned for your safety, living cheek-by-jowl with such unprincipled and immoral folk.” Eboracus’ small eyes narrowed and his voice rang. “It will not do!”
Diana clenched her jaw. She could not tell the Bishop of Eboracum that her concerns were nothing to do with him, because he had many ways of ensuring that they did become part of his affairs. Instead, she tried to appease. “Your Excellency, the soldiers live quite apart from the womenfolk. They go about their business and do not interfere with ours. In fact, they actively assist us. I and my sister are surrounded by older matrons at all times—”
“I’m sure your conduct has been more than exemplary,” Eboracus overrode her. “But you reached a marriageable age some years ago and because of these troubled times little was done to secure your future. While your father was alive I had no need to oversee his arrangements for you. Now that he has gone ahead, it is up to me to ensure that you are taken care of properly. Anything less would not be Christian.”
Diana felt her heart thud once, heavily. It hurt. She had no idea what Eboracus had in mind but the direction of his conversation was enough to warn her.
Eboracus got to his feet. “Actually, because of my position I believe my arrangements are more advantageous for you than any your father might have seen fit to make.”
“Your Excellency?” Diana spoke through dry lips.
He smiled benevolently. “I have arranged a marriage for you, my dear.”
She felt as she had when she was nine and Verus had accidentally pushed her off the open edge of the hay loft in the biggest barn. She’d plummeted down, with a nauseating helplessness. It was the same as what she felt now, with no hay-softened landing at the bottom.
I should have anticipated this. Eboracus did not bother to deal with women. He dealt with men. Women he pushed hither and yon as it suited him, as he was pushing her about now. She recalled the lanky man with the short black beard who had looked at her disdainfully, out in the antechamber. Geta.
“To Geta?” Her voice emerged with an artificial calm.
“Why yes! How perceptive of you. Yes, Geta has agreed to the arrangement. He is an excellent match. A fine, strong man, well founded and with good prospects. He’s healthy, intelligent—”
“Does he have property?” Diana asked, noticing the single omission.
“Well, no, I don’t believe he does but his family connections stretch back for generations—”
Diana didn’t hear what else Eboracus had to say. She focused on what was not said. She knew the law as well as anyone. Marriage meant her husband would automatically own the villa and the entire estate. He would be totally free to deal with both the property and Diana in any way he saw fit.
A short while ago she had wished that she might trade places with the women in the forum. Now she had her wish.
“I don’t want it,” she said.
“I beg your pardon?”
She refocused on his shining dome and mean little eyes. “I said, I refuse. I will not marry this Geta.”
Eboracus spluttered. “My dear, I would not be so quick to turn down such a generous arrangement. The man is far more than one in your position could hope for.”
“Your Excellency, I know my position. I know it better than you do. I also know I can refuse an arrangement if it doesn’t suit me. This arrangement does not suit me.”
Eboracus reached behind him, feeling around for his cup of wine. He brought it to his lips and gulped noisily. He replaced the cup and spoke quietly, reasonably.
“Diana, you are a woman. A maiden. You are not fit to judge such things for yourself. In the absence of your father or an older brother, it behooves you to accept the council of a male authority. I stand here, sparing my time to explain this to you carefully when such personal consideration is not at all necessary. I have gone to much trouble on your behalf and you dare to throw my efforts back at me.”
His face was a mottled red and white. Diana felt her stomach clench again. “Your Excellency, I do not deny you have been more than generous in your thoughts and deeds but I cannot accept the arrangement. There are other far more suitable matches Geta can make in this city alone and they would be more pleasing to his eye, I’m sure. There is no need for him to be disappointed.”
“A match with you would meet needs of his that no other match would provide. If you do not agree, he will be extremely put out.”
Diana stood up. “Then he will have to be put out,” she responded as evenly as she could.
“You refuse?”
“Yes, Your Excellency, I refuse.” Diana began to move toward the door, wondering if Eboracus would prevent her in any way.
“Diana.”
She paused and looked over her shoulder.
“I will allow you to consider the matter properly for a day or two.”
“But—” she began, intended to repeat her refusal.
“No!” He held up his hand. “If you do not willingly
accept this arrangement, I will ensure that you are brought to the altar with Geta and bedded down before the full moon, even if I have to have you bound in chains. Do you understand me?”
Diana swallowed. “Yes.” She understood him far too well. She knew she would not be the first woman forcibly married under his countenance.
“You have two days in which to agree.”
Diana turned and hurried from the room, from the Basilica, from the city. She rushed toward the sanctuary of home that she had abandoned so freely this morning. She wished she had never left.
Chapter Fifteen
Alaric was waiting for her when she returned. His black outline loomed up in the gloaming, detaching itself from the greater bulk of the stable with silent swiftness. Diana’s horse reared in reaction and her heart lurched despite recognizing the shadow. She clung to the horse’s mane.
“Stars above!” Her voice was shaking just as she was. “What are you doing out here at this time of night?”
“Waiting for you.” His voice was a whiplash. “Get down off that horse.” She felt the horse’s nose dip as Alaric grasped the bridle.
“I need to stable him—”
“No, you need a lesson in commonsense, before you get yourself killed, or worse. Get down before I drag you down.” The tone of his voice said he was in the mood to do precisely that.
She slid to the ground and faced him, though she regretted the loss of stature the horse had lent her. “What is the matter?” she asked.
“You go off to Eboracum for an entire day, alone, without telling a soul and you would not question this?”
“I left a message for Sosia. I left instructions for those who needed them. There was something else I overlooked?”
“You overlooked my instructions that you not travel without escort these days!”
“Your instructions? Since when am I obliged to follow your instructions?”
“They were commonsense directions and they were for your benefit. You choose to ignore them at your peril. It speaks of recklessness on your part that is close to madness!”
His condemnation stung, for Diana knew he spoke truly. She had been reckless. She reacted now too, with little thought. “You have no power over me, warrior! You are not my master!”
“Better that I were! I’d put you over my knee for such flagrant disregard of good advice!”
Diana stared at his silhouette, all her anger draining with a suddenness that left her limp. “You too?” she asked tiredly. “Is it that all the world resents my place in it?”
“You make no sense, woman.”
“No, apparently not. Not to anyone.” Suddenly, she yearned for bed, a real bed, in which to lay her head and slide into a sleepy escape from the day.
During her return to the estate, as much as she had tried to turn away the thought, the possibility that Alaric would know how to deal with the Bishop’s demands gnawed at her. That hope was dashed now. He was more than willing to see her under the care of a man—any man, so long as he forced her to obey his “instructions”.
“Your concern is misplaced and unnecessary,” she told him. “As you can see, I have returned safely once more. Now if you will step out of my way, I want to stable the horse before he draws a chill.” She tried to inject some sting into her tone but she was too tired. Her words emerged, instead, disinterested and bland.
“What happened in Eboracum today?” His voice was devoid of anger.
“Nothing. You’re still in my way.”
He held the bridle out to her and stepped aside silently. Diana led the horse into the stable without looking back.
The next two days were filled with a peculiar heartache that Diana had never known before. There was no one else on the estate in whom she could confide so, contrarily, she now wished nothing more than the release such a confession would give her. Alaric’s little betrayal hurt all the more because of it.
She had thought that Alaric of all people would understand her dilemma, would support her wish to avoid marriage to the man called Geta but she could not tell him now. She would not tell him. He thought her a nuisance who would be better dealt with as if she were an awkward child or wayward wife.
It meant that his support of the place in life she had chosen for herself was nothing more than tolerance for an oddity that was necessary for him to achieve his own ends. Even their breakfast meetings had become strained, formal sessions swiftly dealt with and finished.
No, she would not find the surcease that she needed in Alaric.
On the third day after Diana’s journey to Eboracum, she arose feeling utterly drained of will. She had passed Eboracus’ deadline. Despite her bravado, she held a healthy respect for the Bishop’s sense of retribution. He would not let the matter lie fallow for long.
All day she crept about the estate, hovering close by the gates, or a view of the road to Eboracum. She jumped every time a figure was glimpsed at the gate. She was absent-minded enough that even Minna—who spent a great deal of time lost in her own world—found it necessary to tap Diana’s shoulder to restore her attention to the task at hand.
But Eboracus did not make his move that day. It was another three long days before something happened.
Diana was at work in the orchard, which was located behind the house and flanked on its other three sides by high walls. The trees in the small courtyard were sadly neglected, although they had dutifully borne fruit the previous summer. Diana was tending them, pruning them of dead wood before their spring growth emerged. It was work designed to distract her mind, just as all the work she had turned her hands to the last few days had been an attempt to distract herself.
No breeze reached the courtyard and the day was cloudless, so the sun was warm. Beyond the treetops, the side of the beacon hill soared up above the walls. It was not a view that Diana was used to seeing, as the villa was sited to face south and took in the wide vista that spread from the foot of the hill.
She worked in solitude, for Sosia was making bread and Minna always stayed by Sosia’s side for bread-making, endlessly fascinated by the process.
Muted sounds of industry filtered through the house to the orchard, reassuring Diana that the household was operating as it should.
Until she heard the first scream.
The sound froze her to the small ladder she was using. She stayed motionless, waiting to hear another sound that would either confirm trouble was on the rise or that she had misheard and imagined the blood-chilling cry.
Another scream. Diana recognized the inarticulate voice. It was Minna.
Galvanized, Diana jumped to the ground and raced around the house wall to the postern door that would give her access to the house and the courtyard beyond, for Minna’s screams were coming from there. As Diana hurried, she heard more screams and cries which sounded like protests. But no words were clear. There were clearly others there, though.
Diana burst through to the verandah, her heart pounding and skidded to a halt on the tiles, her arm clutching one of the columns.
The scene seared itself into her mind.
A dozen men, all armed, all wearing the Bishop of Eboracum’s colors. Sosia and other women, held back at knife point. In the middle of the courtyard, two of the men were dragging Minna toward an enclosed litter, while Minna bucked against their grip, screaming her wordless terror.
Her hands were tied.
Astride a huge warhorse sat Geta, watching the scene with a slightly bored, impatient expression. As Diana watched, he used the nail of his smallest finger to pick between his teeth.
“No!” The cry was out of her mouth before Diana was aware she was going to act. She felt herself propelled forward into the courtyard proper, heading directly for Minna. “Leave her alone!”
The two men dragging Minna toward the litter took no notice of Diana’s protest but Geta sat up straighter. His bored expression disappeared.
Diana raced to Minna and tried to pry the men’s fingers from Minna’s arms but utterly fail
ed. She hammered on their arms with her fists and was rewarded by one of them planting his hand squarely on her chest and shoving her backward. The force lifted her off her feet and she sprawled on the dry dirt. The skin of her hands shredded with a sharp sting.
“It would pay you not to interfere,” Geta spoke.
“You have no right—”
“I act on behalf of His Excellency, the Bishop of Eboracum. It is his task to ensure the welfare of his congregation. I have every right.” Geta smiled a smile that seemed predatory.
“Where are you taking her?”
“The child is simple-minded. She will be taken to a sanctuary where she will be cared for properly, among Christian souls.”
“No!” Diana scrambled to her feet and raced for Minna again. The men had her to the litter by now and were trying to pick her up and insert her through the small latched door that stood open and waiting. But Minna was struggling, kicking and screaming. Their task was not simple.
Diana launched herself at the men, slamming into them and had the satisfaction of feeling them stagger under her impact. Minna wriggled and managed to get her feet back to the ground. She was almost free. A little more effort and Minna might manage to escape altogether.
Diana drew out her knife, the bronze jeweled knife that Verus had once assured her could reach any vital organ. She had no idea where to aim the thing, or what to do with it, so she simply stepped up to the closest man and with a fast, powerful underarm sweep, buried the knife in his side.
With an agonized cry, the man let go of Minna and grasped at his side. Diana wrenched the knife back out before he could grasp it, or her.
Geta cursed and gave a crisp order.
Minna was on her feet now and held only by one arm. The second man snarled at Diana and swung his fist at her but she merely stepped back out of the way. Her mind was racing. How to free Minna? She was so close…
Abruptly, hands grasped her arms and Diana was lifted off her feet. The other soldiers. She had forgotten them. A fist hit her temple and she fell to the ground, momentarily blinded by pain. Sparks flittered in front of her eyes and through her mind. She lost her grip on her knife and heard it fall to one side. Silently, she stayed on all fours, hanging her head, waiting for the pain to subside and her sight to recover. She grew aware that she was panting.
Diana by the Moon Page 18
