Diana by the Moon

by Cooper-Posey, Tracy

  At the river, Diana shucked off her immodest covering, peeling it away in the places where it had become glued to her skin. She stepped into the river, then sank down beneath the fast-flowing water. The water chilled her immediately, robbing her of breath but she stayed submerged as long as she could. The water around her, lit by the dawn sky, turned a cloudy red as the blood washed away.

  Diana let her head emerge enough to take another breath, then sank back down into the cloudy red water, a process she repeated again and again and again…

  “We went back a day later and found the Saxons had gone. Once they found their leader dead, I think they lost their courage. They weren’t soldiers. They took what they could carry and retreated. We let the other women out, took stock of our situation and began the work of gathering more food. There were the bodies of the menfolk to deal with, too.”

  “And the leader?”

  Diana licked her lips. Her throat was dry from talking. “We burned him, Minna and I. The others never knew.”

  Alaric sat silently for a long moment. “Bedivere did not return?” he said at last.

  “Verus? No.” Diana saw a shadow cross Alaric’s face. “You still believe he deserted your army?”

  “No.”

  “Then you think he is dead, don’t you?”

  Again, Alaric paused for a long moment before answering. He seemed to be studying her, measuring her courage perhaps. Then he said, “I think he is either dead, or enslaved. If there were Saxons abroad that night, he may have encountered them. He was the only seasoned soldier in the group which left the villa. They would have stood no chance at all against armed and desperate men.”

  It was the voicing of fears Diana had long held but never spoken aloud. While she kept her suspicions to herself, she thought perhaps there was a chance she could be wrong. But Alaric’s words only confirmed them. Diana felt her eyes sting with tears. “I hope he is dead,” she whispered.

  “No man deserves slavery.” Alaric’s voice was harsh.

  Two hot tears slipped down her face and Diana wiped them away quickly.

  Alaric sat back on his temporary bench and looked toward Minna and the hand that grasped Diana’s even in sleep. “Now I understand,” he said. Diana thought he was talking more to himself.

  “Does knowing this tell you how to deal with the Bishop?”

  His gaze swung back to her face. “Yes,” he said shortly. An expression crossed his eyes too quickly for Diana to study. She was left with an impression of fury. Hatred. Passion. Even though it was not directed at her, she shivered with a latent fear. Is that what soldiers who faced Alaric on the battlefield saw?

  “Yes, I shall deal with him,” Alaric added. He stood up quickly and looked down at her. “Look for me come sunset. I will be gone ’til then.”

  And then he was gone and the breeze of his departure fluttered the aging flame of the lamp. The room grew colder and larger.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When he reached the gates of the villa Alaric was surprised to find he had time in hand. The ride from Eboracum had seemed longer, for his thoughts had been far from easy.

  He hammered on the gates with the hilt of his knife to gain the attention of the nominal guard and demanded entry. The guard unbarred the gates and Alaric rode through.

  Diana emerged from the library, alerted by his knocking.

  Alaric dismounted, tied the horse to the mounting post, and strode to her. “My lady, I will speak with you in the library.” He continued straight on toward the library door. Inside, he stripped off his cloak. Underneath, he wore a royal purple toga, a pristine white tunic and all the trappings and jewelry of a rich city Roman. With his dark hair, Alaric knew he was easily mistaken for a Roman, for he had been successfully posing as one all day.

  Diana paused with her hand on the door latch, staring at him, startled. Alaric knew it was the toga that surprised her. Only Romans of royal birth were supposed to wear the purple.

  He removed the toga with grimace. “Romans will only talk freely to fellow Romans. It is an old wisdom I learned from Merlin, to blend in with my surroundings when I don’t wish to be noticed.”

  “You didn’t want to be noticed today?” she asked.

  “I had much to learn.”

  “You were successful in your quest?”

  Alaric sat on the stool. “Oh, yes,” he said with heartfelt emphasis.

  Diana walked to her own customary seat and perched on it.

  “How is Minna?” he asked.

  “She is well. She rose this morning the same as every other morning. She seems none the worse for her ordeal.”

  Alaric was pleased. That was one small victory at least.

  Diana laced her fingers together in her lap. “And your day?”

  “I wanted to find out why Eboracus was using his nephew—” Alaric began.

  “His nephew?”

  “Geta referred to Eboracus as his uncle.”

  “I did not notice the reference.”

  “It was only once and I think it was a mistake on Geta’s behalf,” Alaric replied. “I went into Eboracum and wandered the markets. I asked a lot of questions and I learned much.”

  Diana did not prompt him this time. Instead she sat still, waiting for him to continue.

  Alaric took a deep breath. “I have talked to lawyers, matrons, land owners, rich city businessmen, traders…” It was going to be harder than he had thought it might be. He quickly reviewed the careful chain of reasoning and facts he had assembled on the journey back to the estate, reconfirming his final decision yet again before continuing. “Geta is in all likelihood Eboracus’ son, not his nephew.”

  Diana blinked but that was all the surprise she showed. “As a powerful church leader, I can understand why Eboracus would want that to remain a secret. But it does not explain why he is so keen to have me marry the man.”

  “Once I found that out, the rest became easier to piece together,” Alaric told her. “I learned that Eboracus has no family estate.”

  Diana’s mind was quick. Alaric could see her putting the facts together as he spoke. “He wants my estate for himself?” she asked.

  “It’s very likely.”

  “But why this one? There are others, better found, more productive…”

  “But none that offer the unique opportunities yours does,” Alaric explained. “I am afraid it is my fault the Bishop’s attention turned to your villa. He saw a chance to be rid of me and to gain himself a family home, all in one stroke. There are no male members of age in the family left to claim ownership of the estate and the female who controls it is an unmarried woman. To Eboracus, you must have appeared a peach ripe for plucking.”

  Diana winced.

  “By having Geta marry you and thereby gain control of the estate, he has the legal means of throwing me and my men off the estate and effectively out of the county.” Alaric spread his hands. “He would have won. He would have fulfilled his promise to me.”

  “Why does he wish you gone?”

  “I am Arthur’s man and do not acknowledge Roman authority, so Eboracus cannot control me. He has lived in a position of power and privilege all his life and I represent a threat to that power.”

  “If Arthur is successful in driving the Saxons from Britain,” Diana said, “then he will become the authority here. Not Rome.”

  “You understand.”

  She nodded. “But what can we do to stop Eboracus from carrying out his plan?”

  “Is that what you want, Diana? To thwart the Bishop? You were about to agree to the bargain, yesterday.”

  “Only to save Minna.” She shivered. “You know my feelings on this. I have chosen my place here. If I can in any way preserve it…”

  “Eboracus won’t stop until he sees you wed. I also heard stories today of other strategically advantageous marriages that he has arranged. I don’t believe those brides were any more willing than you.”

  “I’m quite sure they were not,” Diana said, and
shivered. “But what to do? He has the higher ground right now. Legally, I cannot hold my claim to this place. If I somehow manage to avoid marriage to Geta, Eboracus is quite within his rights to have me cloistered within one of his tightly controlled nunneries. Unlike you, Eboracus will not content himself with mere threat.”

  It was Alaric’s turn to wince. The reminder of that cruel bluff was uncomfortable. But there had been a few short moments when he had meant it. Quickly, he laid out the next stage of his reasoning, moving on.

  “Eboracus will want to ensure his claim to this place is irrevocably legal, so he is limited to those two means of taking the estate from you. Diana, neither of those methods would work if you were already married.” He paused to watch her reaction, to judge how she might respond to the final step in his plan.

  She sat as still as stone, her eyes distant. Even her flesh took on the cold chiseled whiteness of alabaster. For a long moment she sat that way, then through lips that barely seemed to move, she said softly. “You are not speaking of marriage to Geta.”

  “No.”

  A small breath escaped her, whistling through her lips. “Then you are speaking of marriage to yourself.”

  He should have known she would leap ahead of him. “Yes,” he admitted quietly.

  She turned her head a fraction to look at him and her eyes were a deep, deep blue—endless blue, like the late evening sky. He could read nothing of her thoughts there. “Marriage is marriage. I would still lose legal control.”

  “Celtic laws are different. It is acceptable for a woman to own property.”

  “You would not find that…demeaning to your manhood?”

  Alaric shook his head. “Why would I? I have no need of a Roman estate.”

  “Or the authority it conveys?”

  “You forget. My priorities lie with Arthur. Nothing else is of any importance to me.”

  “If that is true, then why do you propose marriage? It does not benefit you.”

  “On the contrary, it is the only way I will be able to keep my men here and the beacon operational.”

  She blinked. “You rate your duty to Arthur so highly that you would marry a Roman to see that duty done?”

  There was no way to soften the truth and anything less than the truth would be a disservice to her. “Yes, I rate my duty that highly.” He spoke without undue emphasis.

  Her stillness remained. Alaric knew her mind would be racing but the rigidness of her posture was deceptive. She was letting none of her feelings show.

  “It is a fair bargain,” she said, her voice remote.

  “It is a solution to both our problems.”

  Again, the perfect stillness. Finally, she sighed, stirred and looked at him. Her skin was still white but her eyes had lost their distance and were alight with an intensity Alaric could not name. He thought perhaps it might be a reflection of her will.

  “Once again you have provided me with a solution where none seemed possible. I thank you for that.”

  “Then you accept?”

  “Yes, I accept.”

  Alaric was surprised at the sudden deep relief that circled through him. It was the same powerful rush of joy that he felt whenever a battle drew to a close and victory was achieved. He was almost dizzy with it.

  He stood abruptly. “Supper is close. I must talk to Rhys and Griffin and ensure the day went smoothly.”

  Diana reached out a hand to signal he should wait. “Under the circumstances, I doubt that there is a priest in the county who would defy the Bishop by marrying us.”

  Alaric took a deep breath. “There are no Celtic rites available to us, either. Not here.”

  Diana frowned.

  “Leave it to me,” Alaric told her, a germ of an idea occurring to him.

  Her frown smoothed away. “I will.”

  Alaric picked up his cloak and toga, spun on his heel and walked out onto the verandah. He breathed in the cold air, enjoying it. He was tempted to pause at one of the columns and lean against it, to give himself time to sort out all that had happened to him in the library just then but there were too many people wandering about the courtyard. He was forced to move on, toward his quarters.

  He’d thought his reasons for suggesting the marriage were grounded in commonsense and reason. Now he was not so sure. True, he had lusted for Diana and wanted her in his bed, but that was crude appetite and easily diverted. Wasn’t it?

  It had to be, he decided. For the possibility that he had latched onto the first solution that had occurred to him and discarded all others because this answer also happened to give him exactly what he yearned for…that was…well, it was foolish. Marry a woman simply to get her into his bed?

  He couldn’t be so addled.

  * * * * *

  Diana remained sitting long after Alaric had left.

  Marriage. To Alaric. A Celt and Arthur’s man.

  I want this.

  It was a sensible solution, especially as—

  He will be my husband.

  —Alaric would allow her to retain control of the estate. Nothing would change—

  I will share his bed.

  —for even now, Alaric had the power to take the estate from her but didn’t. She would be safe from Eboracus’ greed.

  Diana knew she had not agreed to marry him because of the inherent practical reasons. Her heart had leapt high as soon as she had sensed where Alaric was leading the conversation. It had begun to pound with hope, excitement, even joy.

  Marry Alaric? Once she had been assured control of the estate would remain with her, the idea had taken her breath away. Never had she thought that out of such a terrible dilemma would come such a solution.

  Unbidden, she saw again in her mind the two people entwined together in the hay. By now their faces had blurred in her memory and she was left with the impression of pure sensuousness.

  Her breathing ceased and her body began to tingle in a way she had learned to associate with those moments when Alaric was nearby. She reached for her wine goblet at the top of the desk and found her hand was shaking. She drained the cup.

  It was nearly time for supper. Would Alaric be there?

  She brushed back strands of hair that lay on her heated brow and paused. Her hair! She could not attend supper dressed like a sheep herd or goose girl!

  Galvanized, Diana leapt from her stool.

  “Sosia!”

  * * * * *

  At supper Alaric sat in his usual place on the next table from Diana’s. Diana was late, her couch empty and the food stood cooling on the tables. Her arrival sent a murmur around the room.

  Griffin’s elbow push into his ribs and he turned to follow the collective gaze of the room. Diana was settling onto her couch.

  Alaric stared at her, stunned. He barely recognized her. Her hair was finely braided, twisted and piled upon her head in intricate swirls. Her usual short tunic and trews were gone. In their place she wore a white full-length pleated tunic. Delicate sandals peeped out from beneath the hem. Over the top, draped over one shoulder, was a dark blue mantle secured by a belt at the waist. The belt was not her usual doubled and tucked workman’s monstrosity. The whole ensemble was finished by a subtle emphasis of her lips. Red ochre, Alaric concluded.

  She looked regal. She looked Roman to her fingertips.

  She is Roman.

  Around Alaric, the occupants of his table hurried to serve themselves of the cooling food while Alaric watched Diana reach languidly for a dried apple. An unpalatable truth circled his mind. He had agreed to marriage with this…creature.

  Diana did not once look his way. Shyness?

  Disdain, an inner voice whispered.

  “Alaric.”

  Alaric turned his attention back to his own table and to Griffin.

  “You’d best claim your share, sir,” Griffin said. “Or ’twill be gone.”

  Alaric pointed to one of a few ewers standing on the table. “Is that watered wine?”

  Griffin reached for it. “Y
es.”

  “Which one holds undiluted wine?”

  Griffin’s hand dropped. “The pitcher by your left elbow,” he said.

  Alaric grasped the tall flask and poured himself a full cup of the jewel red liquid.

  It was a good time to get drunk.

  Chapter Seventeen

  There was no official announcement of their coming marriage.

  Diana confessed to Sosia the morning after her agreement, knowing she would need the older woman’s wisdom, but that was the only person she told. Alaric’s omission of a formal declaration made her reluctant to speak of it to anyone else. It seemed he wished to keep the entire affair as contained as possible.

  Alaric did not appear in the library that morning, or the next, leaving Diana alone with her thoughts and a trepidation that grew in leaps and bounds as word of her wedding passed among the members of the household. Each of them took time to speak to her about her future with Alaric, wishing her good fortune with faces that held a hint of concern.

  Florentina alone was outspoken.

  “He’s a Celt, child! Have you remembered that? Or have you been dazzled by his charming looks?”

  “There are good reasons for this marriage, Florentina,” Diana said as calmly as she could.

  Florentina sniffed. “Well as maybe,” she said, her voice full of doom. “But your mother will be turning in her grave. Marrying a Celt is one thing but marrying outside the church?”

  “My mother would understand why I do this.”

  “Would she?”

  Doubt made Diana’s tone sharper than she intended. “I’ll thank you to remember who it is that provides the food you eat and the bed you sleep on!”

  With an injured air, Florentina picked up her skirt and swept out of the room.