Defy the Eagle (13 page)

"Do not apologize," Caddaric answered dryly. "Better a little blood than finding death at your hands. Get the dagger." He pressed his large hands over the rapidly staining bandage and managed a wan smile for Jilana when she returned with the red-hot dagger. "Draw the blade across both sides of the wound. This must be done quickly enough so that the flesh does not cling to the blade, but slowly enough to seal the veins. Once this is done, clean the wound, apply the Druid's balm, and then bandage the wound lightly but securely. Do you understand?"

Jilana nodded but weakly protested, "Should not the Druid or Heall do this? My hand could tremble... or my courage fail." \

A strange glow entered the depths of Caddaric's eyes. "I know you well, Jilana. Your courage will not fail."

With that simple vote of trust Caddaric removed the bandage and closed his eyes, effectively placing his life in Jilana's hands. She wavered briefly. 'Twould be a simple matter to kill the Briton now and then open her own veins before his comrades discovered her deed. Jilana stole a glance at his face and felt something unnamed stir within her. Disgusted at her weakness, telling herself that only a sound opponent was worthy of her vengeance, Jilana placed the blade against the Briton's flesh and followed his instructions with amazing surety.

The scent of scorched flesh filled the chamber and Jilana's stomach roiled. She looked up to find Caddaric staring at her. "'Tis done, Briton." Caddaric nodded, an odd pallor on his sun-bronzed ace. "Excellent. The gods chose you wisely, my witch."

While Jilana watched, an emptiness veiled the Briton's eyes and he slowly toppled forward. Like a massive oak being felled, Jilana thought irrelevantly. The dagger fell to the floor as Jilana caught the Briton in her arms. It took every bit of strength Jilana had to lower Caddaric gently onto the bed. She managed to swing his legs onto the bed as well, but he lay perilously near the edge and, despite her struggles, Jilana could not budge his greater weight. In the end, Jilana was forced to seek help from the nard Caddaric had placed outside the chamber door.

Somehow it came as no surprise to Jilana that Heall and the Druid had made their pallets outside Caddaric's chamber, nor that no other Iceni stood watch. The instant she opened the door Heall sprang to his feet while the Druid rose in a more leisurely manner.

"Caddaric has need of you," Jilana said before either man could speak. Turning, she led them into the chamber and gestured wordlessly toward the bed.

Clywd assessed the situation at a glance. With a nod to Heall, he grasped Caddaric's legs while Heall braced one knee against the bed and slipped his hands beneath Caddaric's arms. With an ease which made Jilana all too aware of her own physical weakness, the two men centered the unconscious warrior in Jilana's bed.

Caddaric moaned once when he was being moved and before she could stop herself Jilana cried out sharply, "Have a care with him!" Two astonished pairs of eyes fell upon Jilana and she reddened. She could think of no plausible explanation for her reaction, so Jilana stayed silent during Clywd's examination of Caddaric. When the Druid reached for the balm to apply to Caddaric's wound, however, Jilana stepped to the bed and extended her hand. "I will see to this."

Clywd's eyebrows shot up but he retired gracefully, watching with great interest as Jilana dressed the wound. "You have a gentle touch," he commented when Jilana was finished.

Jilana shrugged and pulled a blanket over "Caddaric. "I did but follow his orders—like any good slave." Bitterness colored her voice.

"Yet I think you would have helped Caddaric even had he not asked," Clywd said thoughtfully.

The Druid's words struck a chord of truth within Jilana and she grimaced. "As a slave I have no choice but to obey my master," Jilana maintained stubbornly. "Had the Briton not ordered me to help, I would have cheerfully watched him bleed to death."

A faint smile touched Clywd's lips. "Perhaps." He motioned to Heall, who was engaged in the pleasant task of studying Jilana. "Should Caddaric worsen, you must call us. We take our rest in the hall."

Jilana remained silent and unmoving until the men left and then she sighed heavily. Drained of all emotion save anger Jilana glared at the sleeping Briton, the source of all her turmoil. When he awoke Caddaric would doubtless believe as the Druid had—that she ministered to him because she bore him no ill will. Jilana's eyes narrowed and she drew a finger down the fresh gash which marred the Briton's left cheek. The need for revenge surfaced once again within Jilana and she plucked the now cold dagger from its place on the floor. She raised her arm, positioning the blade above the Briton's throat. How long she stood there Jilana did not know but some mysterious force stayed her blow and when, at last, her arm dropped back to her side, Jilana found her muscles weak and trembling from the force she had been exerting.

"Nay, I shall not kill you yet," Jilana whispered to the slumbering warrior. Her eyes dark with hatred, Jilana carefully cleaned the wound on the Briton's cheek and then applied the Druid's balm. "When you are as you were the night my family was slain, then shall I have my revenge. I shall care for you most tenderly, Briton, have fear; but once you are well, not even the gods will protect you!" Jilana bent and touched her lips to the Briton's in a mocking kiss—a kiss that promised, not passion, but death. Straightening, Jilana laughed silently and then, so that the Briton would know there was no room in her heart for mercy, she drove the dagger into the headboard of the bed with all her might. Turning, Jilana and the discarded cloak and wrapped herself in it. Her rest this night was taken on the hard couch the room afforded but Jilana did not notice her discomfort. Exhaustion blessed the Roman woman with a dreamless sleep.

"Will she not do Caddaric harm?" Heall worried on the other side of the door. "Caddaric's weapons are at her disposal, as well as your pouch of medicines."

Clywd chuckled. "Have you not yet learned to trust me, old friend?"

"I trust you," Heall replied solemnly. '"Tis Caddaric and Jilana who arouse my concern."

Clywd reached out and grasped Heall's forearm.

"Better than anyone, you know how quickly hate fades in certain situations. No harm will befall either of them." He smiled reassuringly and quietly told Heall of Caddaric's vision and his own. "Already they are bound to one another, though both would deny this truth. Their destinies are joined—henceforth they rise or fall together. You will see."

****

Caddaric strode through the villa which was his temporary shelter, his face grim. Nearly a week had passed since the Iceni had risen in rebellion and, while Caddaric had chafed impatiently, the Queen and her generals had dispatched messengers to the other tribes with offers of an armed alliance against Rome. Caddaric's soldier's mind knew that delay, for any reason, increased the danger of failure. The Iceni had to march, and quickly, before any survivors of Venta Icenorum reached a Roman garrison and told of the uprising. The Iceni's only hope of victory lay in surprise and speed—they had to oust both Roman civilians and soldiers from their island before Rome brought the might of its military to bear on the rebels.

At last, Caddaric thought without satisfaction, the messengers had returned, but their news was less than heartening. Queen Boadicea and her people, for all practical purposes, stood alone against Rome. The lack of complete support from the other tribes disturbed Caddaric but he accepted it philosophically. 'Twas the hideous tale carried by the Ordovician messenger which stirred disbelief and hatred in Caddaric's heart and occupied his thoughts. The news had to be imparted to Clywd and Caddaric dreaded the telling. How could he tell his father of this latest atrocity? How could he explain" to a Druid that his mystic life's blood, his refuge, no more? Caddaric paused before his chamber, one large, brown hand resting upon the latch. The indistinct me of voices reached him through the wood panel and line of his jaw hardened as he visualized the scene thin. How could one slender girl—and an enemy at it!—beguile every male who so much as laid eyes on r? Heall and Clywd insisted upon treating Jilana as an mored guest, an act of insanity which scraped Caddaric's nerves raw. Jilana was, after all, a slave, not a royal personage from another tribe! At that moment the light laughter Caddaric knew to be Jilana's floated to his ears Caddaric's face darkened. By the gods! 'Twas time to put a stop to this unseemly behavior before Jilana bent Heall and Clywd to her will. His anger had nothing to do with the fact that Jilana did not gift him with so much as smile, let alone that musical laughter. Or so Caddaric told himself as he threw open the door.

The tentative smile on Jilana's face died when Caddaric burst into the chamber. Startled, Heall half-rose from his place beside Clywd on the couch—the same couch which served as Jilana's bed. Before the upward motion of his body had stopped, Heall's sword was out of scabbard, its gleaming length menacing the intruder, Jilana, seated on the floor between the two men so that she might face them both, caught her breath at the sight of Caddaric. Positioned as she was—her back to the door—Jilana had been forced to turn her head in order to who had entered. As always, Caddaric's sheer size amazed her and frightened her. Unwillingly Jilana remembered their first meeting. She had not been frightened then, at least not after he had spoken to her in a gentle voice so totally at odds with his size and rugged features. No. Caddaric had not been frightening then; he had been compellingly attractive. But he was no longer gentle, either in thought or in mien. For the briefest moment her wide, violet eyes met Caddaric's blue gaze before she slowly, circumspectly turned away. She had memories of the stable in which her family had been murdered as well and she must never forget that Caddaric had played a part in that act. Feeling particularly vulnerable with both Heall and Caddaric looming above her, Jilana remained motionless, afraid of drawing Caddaric's obvious wrath. Clywd, too, remained unmoving, watching the reactions to his son's entrance with wry amusement.

Heall's protectiveness served only to worsen Caddaric's mood. "Thus does an Iceni warrior pass his days," Caddaric sneered. "Pray do not let me disturb you."

Anger showed on Heall's face as he returned his sword to his belt. "You bade me guard Jilana—"

"Guard, aye; not entertain," Caddaric snapped irritably. "While you closet yourself with my slave, rust covers our battle-axes and Iceni youths busy themselves with the charms of women. 'Twill go badly for us when we meet the Roman legions if the only blood our young men have shed is that of virgins!"

"You have repeatedly drilled our warriors and warrior maids," Clywd interposed smoothly, aware of the blush which stained Jilana's cheeks at Caddaric's words. "Naught is amiss."

Caddaric swallowed a harsh retort. The news he was about to impart would cause misery enough this day. "You are right. Druid." With a final glare directed at the top of Jilana's head, he turned to Heall. Caddaric's expression became less harsh at the look of injured dignity upon the older man's face. "That we are chained to this place is no fault of yours. My words were hasty and unjust. Forgive me, old friend."

Jilana's eyes widened. This was the first time she had heard her Iceni captor apologize or admit he was wrong. Usually he stormed about the villa with a black look upon his face, finding fault with any of his people who were unfortunate enough to attract his attention. Jilana nervously toyed with the long braid of red-gold hair which draped across her shoulder to coil in her lap. Never had she encountered a man as harsh and ill-tempered as Caddaric.

"Jilana, I thirst. Bring me wine."

The command brought Jilana's head up with a snap and she stared rebelliously at Caddaric. He had taken the one chair now left in the chamber, and as she watched he stretched his long, heavily muscled legs out in front of him and raised a questioning eyebrow at her. How dare he look so completely at ease, Jilana thought furiously. It crossed her mind to defy Caddaric's order but she quickly discarded the idea. She had no wish to bear the brunt of his mockery when others were present. Grudgingly Jilana rose, poured a cup of wine and offered it to Caddaric.

Caddaric sipped the wine gratefully, then set it aside and allowed his gaze to sweep Clywd and Heall. "Messengers arrived at the palace this morn." The atmosphere in the room altered so swiftly that Caddaric felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end. "We now have allies."

Relief washed over Heall's face. "At last! Who are they, Caddaric? The Silures? Ordovices? Brigantes?" Heall rapidly listed the tribes to whom their Queen had appealed.

"The Ordovices." Caddaric chose his words with great care. "Not the entire nation, Heall, but a few of the villages."

Some of the fire went out of Heall's eyes. "A few," he repeated, confused. "How many have joined us, Caddaric?"

"A thousand, perhaps a handful more." Heall's disappointment was as keen as his own; both men had harbored hopes for an alliance among the tribes.

' 'Traitors!'' Heall cried bitterly.

"Nay, Heall, they are not. The western tribes have been nipping at the legions for years: they strike, then retreat to the safety of the mountains as Caratacus taught them. At present their chiefs see no reason to do battle on unfamiliar terrain, particularly since Rome has never fully conquered their territory." Caddaric shrugged philosophically and reached for his wine cup. "Do you not remember Claudius' invasion? We Iceni did not rise as one and join the Catuvellauni to repulse the Roman attack— now we are being repaid in the same coin."

"Aye," Heall agreed, one hand scrubbing wearily at his craggy face. "Have any other tribes answered the Queen's summons, Caddaric?"

"The Trinovantes are with us." When his announcement was greeted less than enthusiastically, Caddaric reminded Heall, "Between our two tribes and the Ordovices we will number forty thousand, nearly equal to Suetonius' four legions. And, mayhap, we will gain more warriors when news of our victories spreads." Pure loathing curled his lips into a sneer. "And we will have to guard our backs. That Brigantian whore, Cartimandua, will betray us to Rome as she did Caratacus, if she learns of our plans."

Jilana, pale and shaken by the magnitude of the discussion, could nonetheless not resist asking. "Who is this Caratacus? You speak as if he is a god."

"I did not realize you were so ignorant," Caddaric mocked.

"I am not ignorant," Jilana flared back, a rush of color staining her cheeks when Caddaric snorted in disbelief. "I wish only to understand this revolt which has destroyed my life."

Caddaric stared at Jilana, his gaze resting insolently upon the curve of her breasts. Heat seared through his veins, threatening the rigid control Caddaric had imposed upon himself during the past few days. His eyes skimmed upward, pausing briefly on the pulse point in Jilana's slender throat before coming to rest upon the soft fullness of her lips. The warm invitation of her mouth brought a ragged edge to his breathing and when Jilana—unnerved by Caddaric's silence and the forbidding set of his jaw—moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, Caddaric wrenched his thoughts back to Jilana's question.

"Caratacus could have been the savior of Britannia," Caddaric began in a clipped voice. "His people, the Catuvellauni, led the resistance against the Roman general Aulus Plautus when he invaded Britannia seventeen years ago. When, in the end, the Catuvellauni were defeated and Caratacus' brother slain in battle, Caratacus gathered his family and fled into the west." Caddaric's eyes darkened as he recalled the epic tales which had reached every corner of the island. "There he welded the Ordovices, Silures and Deceangli into an army which threatened the legions' control not only in the west but throughout the ire island. For years Caratacus and his followers harassed the legions, nearly driving them out of the western territories. Then—although the gods alone know why— Caratacus changed his tactics and decided to fight a pitched battle." Caddaric's mouth twisted. "He was defeated, his forces scattered. His wife and children were captured by the Romans but Caratacus escaped into Brigantia."

"But the Brigantian queen is loyal to Rome," Jilana interrupted. "She is our staunchest ally."

"Even so." Caddaric's voice was flat, yet laced with contempt. "Rome's legions have long stabilized her throne, kept her secure from her people and the husband who knows she is unfit to rule. So, out of gratitude to Rome, Cartimandua betrayed Caratacus to the governor-general."

Jilana swallowed, unable to look away from Caddaric's hard eyes. "What... happened then?"

"Caratacus and his family were sent to Rome, where they were pardoned by the Emperor Claudius. A wise man, Claudius," said Caddaric wryly. "Why elevate an enemy to the status of martyr by killing him when, by allowing him to live, he becomes little more than an object of pity? Of course, Claudius' pardon came with the provision that Caratacus and his family remain in Rome as exiles." Caddaric lifted the cup to his lips and drained the wine. "Such is Roman mercy—what is life worth when one must live and die in a foreign land?" He shook himself mentally and thrust the cup at Jilana. "More wine."

Heall had been pacing the room during Caddaric's recitation but now he halted beside the young man and allowed his eyes to light adoringly upon Jilana's delicate form. "She is not responsible for Caratacus' fate. Do not berate her so, Caddaric."

"I did but answer the Roman's question," Caddaric growled. "Should I have been less than truthful?"

"She is but a child, Caddaric, alone and confused," Heall replied. "Should she be punished for events which were not her doing?"

"She is a Roman, Should I thank her for what has befallen this island?" Caddaric countered with a snarl. Ji-lana returned, offering the wine cup with hands that trembled ever so slightly, and Caddaric accepted it wordlessly. The barbed words of Heall's reprimand gnawed at his conscience, for Caddaric knew they were justified.

"And now, Caddaric, tell us the rest." Clywd's soft voice broke the silence of the bedchamber and three startled pairs of eyes flew to the Druid.

Caddaric inhaled sharply, feeling a part of his soul wither beneath the Druid's piercing blue eyes. Any reprieve, no matter how slight, would be welcome and to that purpose Caddaric raised the cup to his lips and emptied it.

When Caddaric did not answer immediately a cold dread enveloped Jilana. Juno, nay, Jilana prayed silently as she walked, unseeing, to the open gallery doors. Visions of the recurrent nightmare flooded Jilana's brain, rendering her immobile, and she knew with despairing certainty what Caddaric would say.

"Druid," Caddaric began and found he could go no further. He set the wine cup aside and clasped his hands tightly together, wondering how best to impart his news. At last, when the silence threatened to become deafening, Caddaric forced the words from his throat. "Suetonius Paulinus has overrun Mona. The priesthood is dead; the families who sought refuge there slain. The legions have desecrated the altars and are felling the sacred oak groves." Caddaric hesitated. "Shall I describe the Roman attack?"

"Nay." Clywd's eyes lifted from Caddaric to fall upon Jilana's rigid body. "You can tell me naught that I do not already know."

"Aah, I see." Caddaric's tone dissolved into mocking brutality. "I had forgotten your gift of sight. How kind of the gods to allow you to witness the decimation of your low priests!"

A spasm of pain contorted Clywd's face. "'Twas not kindness but rather torture. Being a Druid makes me no less a man, Caddaric! I see, I feel, with the same intensity you. Do you think I enjoyed Mona's destruction? Do you think I laughed as I watched Roman swords render the Druids and innocent families into little more than bloody flesh?" He rose and in two swift steps stood over Caddaric, his thin frame trembling with indignation. You were twelve when I was taken and sold into slavery, you bought my freedom when you were twenty-two. Know you what I did every day of those ten years? I used the gift you hold in such contempt to discover the fate of my family, and I gave thanks to the gods that they allowed one of my children to live. I saw you grow into manhood under Heall's care and I wept because I was not there. I saw you and your brothers taken by the legions; I saw their deaths and watched when you turned your face and heart from our gods. And I died a little with every passing day because I could not give you succor. Yet still I gave thanks that you were whole of mind and body. The gift of sight is not often kind, but for ten years it was my only comfort. On the day you bought my freedom I wept with gladness that my son, cold and grim though he was, had been returned to me by the gods." Clywd paused to draw a ragged breath. "Though I am allowed to see the future, Caddaric, I cannot alter what will be. That knowledge is my own private torment."