Defy the Eagle (38 page)

"Where are you going?" Panic threaded Jilana's question.

Heall looked down at her and winked. "Trust me."

Heall left, and after several minutes of pondering, Jilana gave up trying to fathom the Celtic mind. Heall had asked for her trust, and Jilana realized she had no other choice. And, for some reason, she did not believe Heall would betray her activities to Caddaric. She watched the sky over the city, saw it darken with smoke. The Iceni were firing all of Camulodunum. Borne by the wind, the dark cloud expanded, moving until it blocked the sun and settled over the Iceni camp. There was a faint, acrid smell to the air now and Jilana sneezed several times. She thought of Camulodunum and Venta Icenorum, of all that had been lost, and wondered when Boadicea's thirst for vengeance would be quenched. There was no answer to that question, and Jilana turned her thoughts to Hadrian. Was he free, or had some curious Iceni ended his life? Jilana pushed that dark possibility aside. She needed to believe that Hadrian was away from Camulodunum, that he would make it to Londinium and there take ship to Rome; that at some point in the future he would be safely established in his country villa, breeding horses for the legion.

Jilana's eyelids dropped. The excitement of the day combined with the lack of sleep the night before took their toll. Too tired to retire to the tent, Jilana curled up on the grass and slept.

When Jilana woke, dusk had fallen and Caddaric had returned. He sat facing her, studying her face as she moved from sleep into wakefulness. There was a warmth behind her and Jilana sat up and looked over her shoulder. The campfire had been started and meat now roasted over the flames, its aroma mixing with the far more unpleasant smell of the burning capital.

"How long have you been sleeping?"

Because of her actions, the simple question took on all kinds of sinister implications. Jilana scrambled to her feet. The chain had twisted around one of her ankles and she bent to unwind it. When that was accomplished, she moved as quickly as she could out of Caddaric's reach. "I apologize for the fire," she burst out, wondering if he had checked the horses yet. "I know 'tis my responsibility, but I fell asleep and—"

'"Twas not a reprimand." Caddaric cut through her explanation. "I was merely curious." His face hardened as he watched Jilana put the fire between them.

"I shall remember the fire from now on," Jilana promised him. "And my other duties as well."

Gods, Caddaric swore. She truly believes I would beat her for falling asleep. He wanted to tell her that was not his intention, that he had tried, unsuccessfully, to find cheese or some other delicacy in the city today so that she would find the beef now roasting on the spit more appetizing. But after his treatment of Jilana this morning, she would not believe him. Instead he said, "There is bread in the wagon and an amphora of wine. Ready those while I see to the horses."

Jilana froze as Caddaric got to his feet and walked around the tent. After a moment she forced her legs to move and she went to the wagon. Her hands trembled as she located the bread and wine and moved it within easy reach. While she worked she strained to hear Caddaric. Any moment he would discover the missing horse and come tearing back to the camp. What would she say? Just the thought of Caddaric's rage caused Jilana to drop the wooden plates she had been lifting from the wagon. She thought of Hadrian, safe now if all had gone well, and tried to invent some lie that Caddaric would believe. She could plead ignorance, but since she had supposedly remained at the campsite all day, Jilana doubted Caddaric would believe that someone could have taken the horse without her hearing. And the saddle and bridle as well, Jilana thought with a flare of panic. She looked at the canvas-draped shapes near the rear of the wagon. The missing saddle seemed to Jilana to have left a glaring depression in the canvas. Caddaric had confiscated those from the imperial stable yesterday. He would surely notice those were missing. Would he believe that another Iceni would steal from him?

Jilana shook her head in answer to her silent question and began marshalling her defense, even though she doubted that Caddaric would hear her out. How could she make Caddaric understand the instinctive loyalty and responsibility she felt for Hadrian? If Ede had been in Hadrian's position, would not Caddaric have done all in his power to save her? Aye, he would have, and the knowledge stiffened Jilana's spine. What did she care whether Caddaric was angry, even furious? To him she was nothing more than a useful slave, a brood mare, a bed partner sent to him by his unfathomable gods! Nothing he could do or say could hurt her more than that. Jilana set the plates and cups on the narrow shelf that was nailed to the side of the wagon.

Caddaric was talking to the horses in a gentle voice and Jilana wondered at that. Did he not notice the loss of his horse? Or perhaps he believed one of his friends had borrowed the animal. Ruthlessly, she killed such hopeful speculation. The truth would come out and she steeled herself for that eventuality. But, as she listened to the soothing drone of Caddaric's voice while she turned the meat, Jilana could not help the foolish wish that he would speak to her in that tone.

Caddaric returned to the campsite in a better mood. Not even his years in the legion had lessened his inbred love of horses. They were fascinating creatures, much like his little wicca in that respect. Unlike Jilana, however, horses were predictable in their temperaments and he found that comforting. A mean horse did not suddenly become gentle any more than a gentle horse would try to bite its rider out of sheer perversity. How simple his life would be if only Jilana were so predictable. And how angry Jilana would be if she knew that he thought of dealing with her in terms of dealing with a stubborn mount!

Jilana was lost in thought—the gods only knew what was running through her mind—and did not notice his return until Caddaric stepped up to the fire. Immediately a wary expression came into her eyes and Caddaric felt a portion of his new-found patience slip away. "I will show you how to make wheat cakes." His voice was brusque, not at all what he had intended, and neither were the words. Caddaric cursed silently as he gathered the necessary cooking utensils. If anything, Jilana now appeared more nervous. Seizing his patience in both hands, he set about teaching Jilana how to combine the ingredients— taken from Camulodunum, although he had enough sense to keep that knowledge to himself—and then nestle the pan into a section of the coals. Caddaric used the same tone of voice with Jilana that he used with a skittish mare, but to no avail. Her tension was a tangible thing which increased in direct proportion to his efforts to calm her. When he got to his feet Jilana started so violently that she nearly lost her balance, and Caddaric snapped, "By the gods, woman! What ails you?"

Jilana shook her head, unable to speak. What kind of game was Caddaric playing? Why did he not question her, accuse her of stealing the horse? Could he not sense that her nerves were fraying under his mocking tutelage? Wheat cakes! Her stomach was in such a state that she did not even care to think about eating, let along preparing wheat cakes.

Oh, he was a cruel, devious man, Jilana thought with sudden insight. Of course he knew she was nervous. 'Twas exactly his intent! No doubt he intended that she should collapse at his feet and confess her guilt, beg his forgiveness. The demon! Jilana raised her head and proudly faced those blazing, blue eyes. "Will you want me to prepare wheat cakes for every meal, lord?" She was surprised that her voice did not shake.

Caddaric's eyes narrowed. The seemingly innocent question was barbed, despite the deferential title Jilana had used. She made "lord" seem like a vile epithet. "I thought Roman women were trained in the art of running a kitchen," he shot back.

"So we are," Jilana answered in a voice so sweet that Caddaric felt his temper rise. "We Roman women may not wield swords, but we are more than competent with menus."

"But not with cooking." Caddaric could not resist issuing the blunt challenge.

Jilana knew the first stirring of anger. "You should have thought of that before claiming me as a slave, lord."

"Tis not your cooking skill that interests me." Caddaric's tone, and the slow, lingering inspection he gave her, brought a flush to her cheeks.

"I know well enough what interests you," Jilana spat, "and I find your rutting, barbarous ways repulsive."

Unseen and unheard by either of them, Heall and Artair had come into the camp in time to hear Jilana's last words. Heall suppressed a laugh while Artair whitened. When the younger man made to interrupt the two, Heall clamped a hand on his shoulder and kept Artair firmly by his side.

"Repulsive," Caddaric echoed in a mocking tone. "You did not find me repulsive that day in the bath."

"And what else could I do? Had I resisted, no doubt you would have resorted to rape!"

Caddaric's head snapped back as if he had been slapped. "There is no need to take by force that which is freely given," he said in a low growl which should have warned Jilana that she had gone too far.

But the excitement of battle was singing in Jilana's blood, deafening her to such subtleties. "What is a good slave for, save to satisfy her master's desires", Jilana asked cuttingly. "I am powerless before your might."

A wild gleam entered Caddaric's eyes and he seized Jilana. "You sharp tongued she-wolf! You found as much pleasure as I, and you know it!"

"Nay, I did not," Jilana argued, struggling to be free of Caddaric's hands and the iron grip they had on her arms. "'Tis not the lot of slaves to enjoy pleasure, so do not lie to yourself! I will not willingly share your bed again! How does that suit your deluded vision of my bearing your child! The gods' will indeed!"

Caddaric crushed Jilana's words and lips beneath his ravaging mouth. As an impulsive tactic, the kiss worked extremely well, Caddaric thought vaguely. Jilana struggled, and he countered by hauling her hard against his chest. The contact knocked the breath out of her lungs and her lips parted instinctively. Caddaric used the unexpected reaction to his advantage. His tongue surged into her mouth, destroying any resistance in its path. Jilana fought against the embrace until she realized that beating her fists against Caddaric's shoulders had no effect upon his assault. She forced herself to stand unmoving in his arms while his mouth plundered hers. There was a faint, traitorous stirring within her body, a result of the lessening aggression in Caddaric's kiss. With a sense of desperation, Jilana turned her mind away from what was happening and concentrated on the wounds Caddaric had inflicted upon her soul. Knowing Caddaric's plans as she did, to respond would bring a shame beyond bearing.

The change in Jilana was subtle but unmistakable. Caddaric felt the mental barrier she was erecting as surely as if it were a stone wall. Slowly he released her, engulfed by shame, and stared into the shadowed, violet eyes. 'Twas not his way, to force a woman. So why did this particular woman challenge and taunt and defy him until reason was gone and his only thought was to subdue her?

Heall noisily cleared his throat and stepped into the camp. "Before you two start again, I would like to rescue the meat from the spit." He gestured to the fire, where their meal was beginning to char.

Caddaric returned to the world with a start. He heard once again the noise of the camp and wondered how far his voice, and Jilana's, had carried. Heall was studying him with something akin to amusement, while Artair's expression was coldly disapproving. Caddaric puzzled over that, but fleetingly, for Artair had a saddle swung over one shoulder and was walking toward the wagon.

"What is that for?" Caddaric asked when Artair set his burden into the wagon bed.

"'Tis yours," Artair replied. He flipped the canvas over the saddle and returned to the fire. "I borrowed it this afternoon. Did Jilana not tell you?"

"Nay." Caddaric pinned Jilana with a hard look.

Bewildered, Jilana looked from Caddaric to Artair and back again. Had Artair taken one of Caddaric's saddles? Behind Caddaric, Heall frowned at her and nodded impatiently and suddenly Jilana understood. "I, ah, forgot

to tell you," she murmured inanely. The overwhelming sense of relief she felt made it difficult to speak.

"I do not care for it," Artair said easily. "Our lighter saddles are far superior." He took the dagger from his belt and poked at the roasting meat, dismissing the topic. "'Tis dead. Can we eat now, or is it your intent to burn the rest of it?"

A dull flush worked its way across Caddaric's cheekbones. He bent to the task of removing the beef from the fire and slicing it onto the plates Jilana had provided. "I would deem it a courtesy if you would ask before making free with my possessions," Caddaric chided.

Artair shrugged. "As you wish." He took the plate Jilana handed him and winked at her.

"You told Artair," Jilana accused Heall in a low voice when she took his plate to him.

Heall nodded and glanced to where the two younger men sat by the fire. "I had to; 'tis his saddle."

Jilana swallowed. "The horse?"

"Replaced with one of mine." Heall popped a chunk of meat into his mouth and spoke around it. "A mare, unfortunately, but her coloring is right. By the time Caddaric notices the switch, he will not connect it with your missing legionary."

Pray to the gods Heall is right, Jilana thought. She took her own plate and moved away from the fire to eat. Clywd arrived later, waving her away when Jilana made to serve him. The beef was strong to Jilana's palate, but she forced herself to eat half of the portion Caddaric had given her and then erased the taste with a wheat cake covered in honey. It was as she was filling the drinking cups that Jilana noticed Ede was missing. A curious absence, but one for which she was grateful. The sight of Ede eyeing Caddaric so brazenly was distressing.