Boadicea's Legacy (28 page)

Had she ruined their union by not telling him about the babe, or was he shutting her out because he didn't know what to say?

He was guarded … it was his nature to protect his heart. She should be more so; her family teased that she would always have the spirit of a child. Two months ago she would have tried to trick Antonias from his bad temper with a tickle and a kiss
.

Now? She kept her hands and mouth to herself
.

Her mother rode to the right of her, as natural on a horse as if she'd been born on one. Pledged to Epona, mare goddess, Boadicea raised wild horses with a firm but loving hand. Just as she'd raised us, Ana thought with a hint of a smile
.

If she and Diyani were Iceni warrior princesses, then Boadicea was the tribal queen. She'd loved Prasutagas, despite his treaty with the Romans. He'd believed in the peace they'd claimed to bring, and yet within weeks of his death, the Romans had come—sent their blustering man of accounts to take Iceni land in the name of Claudius. And what was Claudius going to do with a horse farm?

What was her mother thinking, taking on the Roman army? Ana exhaled, caught between the people she loved most in the world
.

Maybe sacrificing a hare was a good idea
.

“Go forward,” Kailyn instructed, her voice excited. “Go to Colonia. What do you see?”

Ela struggled, trying to make room for Ana inside her mind. It seemed as if they were one, her thoughts and Ana's. Had it always been so?

“You are Ana.” Kailyn's voice reassured her, as if being a person over a thousand years old was natural. “Ana is you. ‘Tis why you get the dreams so strong. Go to Colonia, tell me what happens there.”

Ela felt her lids flutter and sank down again.

Months in the saddle. Her muscles are strong, and her baby will be born knowing how to ride like the wind. Ana gave her swollen belly a pat
.

Imagining Diyani's babe, born wielding a sword, made her giggle
.

“What can be amusing? We go to war on our own people.”

“Our own people? I am not Roman, Antonias.”

“You were born into a Roman society, and though Cornelius claims different, I heard your father say he was a Roman citizen. There was a mistake made, and we need to send a letter to Claudius—he will straighten the matter out without bloodshed.”

Ana broke into loud gales of harsh laughter. “It is far too
late for that. Blood has been shed in Britain's name, and the Romans are learning to fear the sound of our horses.”

“I'm Roman.”

Her body grew cold. “What will you do?”

“What can I do?” His voice was conflicted, and Ana tried to understand. She squirmed as a foot caught her beneath the rib cage
.

“Join them.” Her heart stopped beating, afraid that he would do it, that he would leave her and the baby. She winked. “You might die at the end of Mother's spear, but if you feel you must go …”

He pulled on her long hair. “This is no time for jokes, Ana. Come with me. I can save you, at least. I can get you to Londinium, and the garrison there. I will marry you and care for you—nobody will know what happened. Unless you want them to—but then—”

She reached over and clasped his arm. “Stop thinking like this. I'll not leave my family. Family, Antonias. You were an orphan when you came to us—the Romans you want to run to didn't want you, but my family did. We gave you value. I gave you my love. I hope that it is enough to earn your loyalty.”

Antonias stopped, dismounted, and pulled her from her horse, holding her as close as her burgeoning belly would allow. “I love you so much that I would protect you with my last breath. I will never leave you.” His mouth captured hers, and she eagerly kissed him with all the love she felt in return. “Not in this life or any other …”

Ana's skin prickled with premonition
.

“Wait until this eve, you two,” Diyani's belly made her shield poke out in front of her, but Boadicea wouldn't allow either of them to fight without them. “You'll be able to celebrate our victory as well as your love!” She shook her sword in the air and cantered forward. “We are almost there. Those fools had better be prepared to fight.”

Antonias clasped her tightly to him before kissing her one more time. “Until tonight.” They'd finally made love, erasing the horror of the rape and replacing it with something beautiful. This was war, and the harsh truth was that they could all die in the next moment. Why waste a chance at love?

Boadicea raced her rust-colored stallion past them, practicing with her spear. Rust-colored as her horse, the spear was a talisman of victory. Rondel assured them it was blessed by Andraste, the Goddess of War, and whoever held the spear in battle would have victory for Britain
.

“Ayeayeayeaye!” Her mother's war cry curdled her blood. Brave, courageous, and a child of the wild Iceni tribe on the marshes, she and Eliade of the Cantuvuni took turns leading the tribes forward. By a toss of the dice, Colonia belonged to Eliade, so Boadicea stayed back at the rear of the battle formation
.

It was making her impatient
.

“Mother, you will have your turn to lead.” Ana shaded her eyes against the sun. “Has Uldred fixed the wheel on your chariot?”

“Aye, and found me five new arrowheads. He's managed quite well outside the farm, eh?”

Boadicea smiled, her face streaked with dirt and wrinkled with worry—but still beautiful enough to steal your breath. Ana
had never been so proud. She lifted her sword, and her mother leaned back, bringing her sword around with a loud clank
.

“Good fortune, Ana.”

“Good fortune, Mother.”

O
s heard voices and blearily scrubbed at his eyes. “The battle?” A feminine voice asked, as if urging answers.
From whom?

Os sat up, groggy and furious. Drugged. Hadn't Sir Percy warned of women's treachery? It was what he deserved for letting his guard down. He stood, shaking his body to get the blood flowing to all the parts that needed it. Like his throbbing head.

He made a warning growl at the back of his throat, but the Iceni seeress didn't hear him. Henry perked his ears and twitched his tail. The polecat's dark eyes seemed as ancient as history.

“I don't want to see the battle,” Ela said in a voice that was Ela's, but wasn't. It brought instant chills to his skin. “It was horrible. People died. Stuck in a church, they were burned, and we killed them. Romans and Britons alike. They had the chance to get away, but they didn't go—bloodlust.” Ela coughed, as if sick.

Os stepped forward, putting one hand on Kailyn's shoulder. “Move.”

Kailyn fell to her rear in obvious surprise. “Oh—Osbert, no! You can't wake her now—she's in a trance, and you can harm her forever if you don't let me—scoot over—are you made of solid muscle? Move—”

Os moved an inch, no more. He knelt as Kailyn was kneeling, by the edge of the chaise, and he took Ela's warm hands. “Bring her back.”

Kailyn sniffed. “I know what I'm doing, warrior. Has she seen this side of you? No wonder you still are searching for each other after all this time.”

“I don't know what you are talking about, and I don't want to. Bring her back. Safely.”

She dug an elbow into his ribs. “Ela. Hear me. Osbert is here, holding your hands. He is
Antonias.”

“Who is Antonias?” Filled with jealousy at the smile that wreathed Ela's face, Os repeated the question.

“You. You loved then.”

Me?
It felt … true. And if it were, then Ela's smile meant that she really cared for him. It would be something to sort through later, when he had more time to tear apart the riddle and find the facts.

I would be a fool to walk away
.

“But you do. Every time.” Kailyn tsked and placed her hands over Os's.

Had he said that aloud? Or did all Iceni witches read minds? He bit his tongue, vowing to keep quiet and listen
and hope for a clue as to what the hell was going on. Logic didn't seem to be the seeress's strong point, any more than it was Ela's.

Kailyn made a scoffing noise from the back of her throat. “This man is the one you love above all others?”

Os stilled as Ela replied. “He is honorable. ‘Tis a great deal of effort to get past it.”

He bit down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood as Kailyn laughed.

Then the seeress leaned in so that her mouth was close to Ela's ear. “I understand your pain, I feel it too. Would you be brave enough to visit the last battle?”

“Why do you need to know this?” Os rolled his shoulders to fight the tension, questioning his state of mind. A sane man wouldn't allow this farce to continue.

“I am trying to set Boadicea's spirit to rest, but I don't know what she wants. I was sent to find you and this one here. And the spear—I think Boadicea needs to know that the spear is safe.”

“Boadicea? A thousand-year-dead queen who rebelled against Rome and lost?” He kept the sudden and unexpected swell of sadness at bay. He didn't understand where the feelings were coming from. He didn't like it, by all that was holy. He simply wanted Ela back in the present. With him. Where he could keep her safe.

Kailyn's eyes hardened. “You are stubborn.”

He frowned, sending her his best “be quiet” look.

“You don't scare me,” she said, turning her back to him
and speaking to Ela once more. “Do you see your mother—Boadicea—during the last battle?”

Ela's body jerked. “Nay, no, I don't want to—it hurts.”

Os leaned over Ela's legs and looked Kailyn in the eyes. “She said
no.”

Kailyn flinched but he wouldn't relent, so she shrugged. “Fine, you ask her then, for yourself—if she is willing to see what happened to her sister and her mother—and even
you.”

The desire to believe in miracles raged within him. He should give her the right to choose. Could she know how he died a thousand years ago? Would it, please God, have been with honor?

Kailyn whispered like a temptress into his ear. “She agreed to go into this trance. I never could do this without her cooperation. Let her travel to the last battle. Tell her to be brave.”

Ela was one of the bravest women he'd ever met. That would be easy enough to do. “She won't be harmed?”

“Only if we never put this to rest. She will always be under Boadicea's spell, and you know how much she resents that. She worries that she will pass this curse on to her children …”

Aye. He knew those things. He'd seen the pain etched on her face as she worried over her family.

Family. The wound was a spear to the soul. He released Kailyn from his gaze and bent over Ela's trembling form. “Be strong. You have friends at your side, and we will not let anyone harm you. Go to the last battle. Go to …” Where?

“‘Tis St. Albans now, it used to be called Verulamium.” Kailyn's dark eyes were feverish with intent.

Os felt his pulse pound as he wrapped his sore tongue around the familiar name. “Ela,” he felt a prod to his ribs.

“Ana.” Kailyn said with a serious expression.

“But her name isn't—”

“It was that, just as you were Antonias, and the battle is at Verulamium. Tell her.”

He bowed his head, knowing that he was stepping into a realm that had no known rules. Os hated being out of his element, but Ela, nay, Ana, was there—and he would save her no matter where she was.

Kailyn sighed with impatience.

“Ana. Go to Verulamium—tell us what you see as you prepare for battle.”

“Antonias—it is you? I never thought to feel you in the flesh again.”

His hands chilled with foreboding, and he almost pulled free.

“Nay,” Kailyn whispered harshly. “Don't sever the connection, lest you lose her forever.”

He tightened his grip. “It is I. I won't let you go.”

She smiled, her eyes closed, and then her mouth bracketed with deep lines of worry.

“Go into the dream with her, and no matter what you see or hear, stay with her in this plane—you are seeing something that has already passed, and you cannot change it. Do you understand, Sir Osbert?”

He felt a pull at his mind—but it wasn't just his head, it was who he was in spirit. “Aye. Witness, but don't react.”

Os felt Kailyn's approval, though she didn't say anything. In fact, he was
feeling
much more than normal, and it made his neck itch. The Iceni coin was a warm throb against his chest. The air was hot. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He heard the sounds of milling people—on horses, on foot. Aye, and on chariots.

“Go,” Kailyn ordered. “Ana is there with you.”

And so Osbert went, a participant in Ela's dream. When she spoke, he listened, and tried his best not to react. It was difficult when he saw her swollen belly, and he knew that the child she carried was not his—but one of the crime of rape, by one of his fellow Romans.

A bitter ache lodged in his chest as he watched the woman he loved more than life itself prepare for battle as a man would. But it was the way of the Iceni. She looked up and caught his eye, and in her dream she smiled at him with pure love. Dirt on her nose and chin didn't detract from her beauty, and her wild untamed spirit was undimmed despite the hardships of war.

She returned to the argument she was having with her mother. “You need rest. You have a wound in your thigh that will not heal, despite my magic. I've dosed you with herbs from the high priestess, but until you rest, you will not get better.”