Defy the Eagle (22 page)

The muscles in Lhwyd's jaw worked furiously. "It is not for you to decide, Caddaric. This is a matter for the goddess and she has decided—"

"Nothing," Caddaric interrupted rudely. "You have decided, Lhwyd; 'tis your interpretation of the omens which sways the people."

"But not you," Lhwyd replied, and this time his sweet voice was tainted with mockery and something else Jilana did not recognize. "Never you. You will go your own way regardless of who you shame."

Caddaric stiffened. "The shame is in your mind and your sister's. I never lied to Ede." He heard Jilana's sharp intake of breath and willed her to remain silent.

"You gave ,her hope where none existed," Lhwyd countered. "Some might say that is a lie." When Caddaric's hand fell to the place where his sword normally hung, Lhwyd smiled coldly. "Druids do not fight."

"Aye, they satisfy their thirst for blood with sacrifices," Caddaric taunted in return. "Leave the girl, Lhwyd; you want her not as a sacrifice to the Morrigan but to Ede's vanity." For Caddaric, that was the end of the matter. He wrapped a hand around Jilana's upper arm and pushed her gently in the direction of the house. ,

"You cannot do this," Lhwyd shrieked from behind them. Gone was his soothing tone; his voice now reflected the depth of his anger. "I am a Druid now, Caddaric; not the lad who worshiped you upon your return. My word is the law!"

Caddaric stopped and turned back to Lhwyd. "And my loyalty is to the Queen; you and yours are here on her sufferance. Shall we take the matter to Boadicea?" The phalanx of warriors looked from the Druid to Caddaric as he waited for Lhwyd's reply. When, after several long moments, the Druid turned his back on Caddaric and walked away, the contingent followed and Caddaric propelled Jilana up the steps.

When they entered the bedchamber, Jilana's strength finally abandoned her and she collapsed upon the couch. "Is is true," she asked when she was certain she could speak without a betraying tremor to her voice, "that man is going to sacrifice my people to his god?"

'"Tis true," Caddaric answered gruffly. He carefully folded away his used tunic and withdrew a pair of breeks and garters from his clothes chest. "But the Morrigan is a goddess, not a god. Our goddess of battle; the face of the Earth Mother in war."

Jilana looked away as he pulled on the breeks with their gathered ankles and secured them around his waist. She was no longer comfortable with the intimacy they had established in the bath. When she looked back, Caddaric had smoothed the tunic back down and was sitting on the - bed, cross-gartering the material to just above the knee. The horror of his answer formed a pool of despair within her. "He is Ede's brother?" Caddaric's reply was a curt nod. "Do you think Ede asked him to.. .kill me?" Silence greeted her question and Jilana's nerves finally shattered. "By the gods, Caddaric, answer me! Will this Lhwyd be satisfied with your ownership of me or will he come again?"

Caddaric said simply, "You are mine. I will protect you."

"How?" Jilana demanded. "Priests are powerful; even Caesar listens to them. How long do you think Boadicea will put your claim above one of a priest?"

Caddaric knotted the second garter and, at last, looked straight at Jilana. "I will protect you," he repeated solemnly. "Believe that."

Her heart believed his words and trusted him, but Jilana's mind knew the bleak truth of the matter. Lhwyd would eventually go to the Queen, complaining of Caddaric's stubbornness in the matter of his Roman slave, and she would be turned over to the white-robed Druid.

The despair on her face hurt Caddaric and he slowly crossed the room and gathered Jilana into his arms. With her head resting on his chest he murmured over and over, "I will protect you, little wicca; nothing will harm you."

Jilana burrowed into the warm haven of his embrace, wanting desperately to believe him but knowing that, eventually, not even Caddaric would be able to cheat Lhwyd of his prize. Caddaric stroked her hair with one hand and his lips pressed reassuring kisses against her temple, and for a few precious moments Jilana willed herself to ignore the idea crystallizing in her mind and pretend that they truly were two people who held each other in deep regard.

At last Caddaric pushed Jilana away and regarded her seriously. "Forget Lhwyd, little one. The Queen gave you to me and only she can take you away." He kissed her gently upon the lips. "And now, I think we must take care of your hair."

As Jilana sank back to the couch, Caddaric retrieved her comb from the top of his chest. Joining her on the couch, he turned Jilana so that her back was to him and slowly, patiently, began to work the multitude of snarls from her hair. Surprised at his actions, Jilana sat quietly beneath Caddaric's ministrations. Gradually she relaxed, finding the motion of the comb and his gentleness soothing. Behind her, Caddaric smiled, enjoying his work and

the effect it had upon her. And while he worked, while Jilana remained physically relaxed, her mind raced as she sought an avenue for escape.

CHAPTER FOUR

Escape. The knowledge of what must be done, once planted in her mind, had given Jilana no peace, and Caddaric's announcement that the war band would march tomorrow had nearly sent her into a state of panic. Escape. Walking beside Caddaric toward the plain which bordered the eastern edge of the oak grove where Boadicea's feast was to be held, Jilana fought against a rising tide of despair. How could she manage an escape in the few hours left to her? Caddaric, as a mark of his trust, had removed Heall as her watchdog upon their return from the bath and had left her alone while he went with a group of other men to help with the preparations for the feast, but neither man's absence had abetted her plan to escape. While they were gone, the Iceni had looted the villa—save for the bedchamber she and Caddaric shared—and vandalized what could not be carried off. Jilana had remained in her chamber during the looting, afraid to venture beyond its security after her encounter with Lhwyd. Then Caddaric had returned, and though his presence was a comfort it also dashed her half-formed plans of stealing a horse from the stable and getting away from Venta Icenorum.

Jilana sighed inwardly and wrapped the russet paenula more closely about her against the evening chill. It was dusk now, and the fires lit by the Iceni flickered a wan orange against the darkening sky and looming oaks. She had prayed silently to her gods, begging them to deliver her from Caddaric, and their answer was here, walking easily at her side with one arm around her waist. Perhaps the gods knew that she was torn, that part of her wanted to remain with Caddaric and explore the tender feelings he aroused while the other screamed that to do so would seal her fate. Or perhaps the gods could not give an answer until her own ambivalent feelings were resolved. Aye, that was it, Jilana told herself. She would have to harden her resolve against the inner man Caddaric had begun to reveal to her. What difference did it make that Caddaric had been gentle in taking her into womanhood, or that he had promised to protect her, or that he had worked so patiently over her snarled hair and enjoyed the task? Jilana blinked away the tears that formed when she remembered how he had worked the comb through her tangled curls, all the while admiring their color and texture. Nay, she would escape—had to escape! Her life was more important than the betrayed trust of this man! She must never forget that he was a warrior born and a soldier trained; if his Queen so ordered he would hand her over to that mad Druid, Lhwyd, without a second thought, no matter what his feelings might be. Jilana shivered at the thought and Caddaric's arm tightened immediately.

"Are you cold?" Caddaric looked down at Jilana and frowned when she did not lift her head to meet his gaze.

"Nay." Jilana kept her eyes fixed on the fires ahead. Isolated as she had been during the last few days, she had not realized how many Iceni had come to Venta Icenorum. At least a hundred fires dotted the landscape, which meant that the war band surely numbered in the thousands. Boadicea truly intended to have her war. "What is expected of me tonight?"

Her chill tone heightened the unease Caddaric had been experiencing since the encounter with Lhwyd and he drew Jilana to a halt. "You will sit beside me, share the fire and eat your fill. What else should you do?" Jilana continued to stare off into the distance and Caddaric impatiently turned her face to him. "Answer me, Jilana."

"Serve you and the others from your village. After all, tonight Roman slaves will be in short supply, at least for servants." Jilana held his gaze until anger blazed in the blue depths of his eyes and hardened the planes of his face; then her eyes slid away to focus on the center of Caddaric's chest.

"You blame me for Lhwyd's actions," Caddaric breathed, anger warring with a sense of loss. "'Twas not my doing, Jilana." Jilana shrugged indifferently and a sliver of fear embedded itself in the region of his heart. Eyes narrowed, Caddaric again used his free hand to force her to look at him. "What are you thinking?"

Jilana twisted out of his hold. "You may have my body, Caddaric, but my thoughts are my own. Did you think this afternoon would change that?" The breath hissed between his clenched teeth and Jilana resumed walking in the direction they had been headed. Fool! she chided herself. You should have remained soft and pliable; now you have reawakened his suspicions.

Caddaric followed Jilana, wrapping his fingers around her arm to steer her toward his fire. Jilana was wrong, though she could not know it. He was wary of her strange mood, but not suspicious. Caddaric believed she was afraid, and in her fear lashed out at him. As the days passed she would come to understand that he would, indeed, protect her and then she would open herself to him once again. As they walked, he silently cursed Lhwyd for having resurrected the wall between himself and Jilana.

Several people were gathered around the fire to which Caddaric guided Jilana. Meat was being turned on spits above the fires, including this one, and standing this close the smell of the roasting meat made Jilana slightly nauseous. Heall and Clywd smiled their welcome, a gesture Jilana could not find it in herself to return. Artair and Ede were present as well and Jilana was silently grateful when Ede sidled up to Caddaric and engaged him in some meaningless conversation. Unfortunately Ede's shift of

attention also freed Artair, and he lost no time in imposing himself between Heall and Jilana.

Artair made a show of inspecting her, his brown eyes sweeping from head to toe and then intently examining her face. Annoyed, Jilana snapped, "What are you looking at?"

"You." Artair smiled a thoroughly engaging smile that Jilana was certain had melted many an Iceni maid's heart, but his eyes remained hard. "I see no bruises."

"Did you expect to?" Jilana inquired acidly.

Artair shrugged. "Caddaric is without equal as a warrior, but I wonder if his prowess on the battlefield is not a disadvantage in his dealings with women."

Jilana wanted to hit him. Instead she looked deliberately at Caddaric and Ede and then back to Artair. "He does not seem at a disadvantage." Gods! Did everyone know what had transpired in the bath?

Artair's eyebrows raised at her self-possessed tone. "I suppose Caddaric does hold a certain fascination for some women. I would not have thought you were one of them."

"As Ede is?" Jilana asked with mock sympathy. "Poor Artair. Have you nothing you can call your own?" She did not wonder at her own daring. Let Artair do his worst; if he killed her for her uncivil tongue it was likely to be a far swifter death than Lhwyd had planned. Artair stiffened beneath the verbal blow and suddenly Jilana knew the reason behind his interest in both Ede and herself. The breath she had inadvertently held sighed out of Jilana. "You are jealous of him."

A grin split Artair's face, but when he spoke his voice was strained. "Jealous of Caddaric? You have taken leave of your senses."

Wise enough not to press too hard, Jilana murmured, "As you wish," and moved away to sit on the grass just outside the circle of firelight. Looking around, Jilana watched the Iceni gathering around the fires. Embraces were exchanged, as well as some friendly insults which were quickly forgotten as the Iceni refilled their skins from the plentiful vats of mead and the more rare kegs of Roman wine which dotted the spaces between the fires. The last remnants of the sun were gone now and the moon and stars began to appear in the night sky. Around her Jilana was aware of the women unwrapping the rest of the feast as they gossiped about everyday subjects: their husbands, their children, the birth of a baby, their homes. And when they spoke of the future their remarks were prefaced by, "When we return from battle." Celtic voices swirled around Jilana; from the distance a bard sang the glories of bygone days and suddenly Jilana realized why the sound of the Iceni tongue, familiar from childhood, was now oddly changed to her ears. For the first time in her life, the Iceni were free, truly free in spite of the battles yet to come, and that freedom resounded in their voices and actions. Were these the sounds from Caddaric's youth? Jilana wondered, forgetting that she was hardening her heart against him. Was the loss of what she was witnessing what had driven him all these years?

Jilana pulled away from her thoughts long enough to acknowledge Heall when he left the fire and joined her. He appraised her much as Artair had, but his eyes were compassionate. Jilana felt a blush rise in her cheeks and was grateful for the darkness. Caddaric's friends apparently had no doubt as to what had transpired between the two of them.

Heall looked up at the heavens. "A pleasant evening." From the corner of his eye he caught the motion of Jilana's head as she nodded agreement. "There is a chill to the air, though. Each year I am more eager for Beltane."

"This year the celebration will be even more special, will it not, Heall? The Beltane fire will be kindled by a Druid," Jilana observed quietly.

"Aye." Heall's voice held an unmistakable note of reverence. "Too many years have passed since our priests have been present."

Jilana looked to where Clywd stood, the fire casting leaping patterns upon his black robe. He was as tall as his son, but not nearly as muscular, and their temperaments were so different that Jilana often had difficulty believing they were father and son. And yet in one way they were similar: both held themselves apart, as though an invisible wall separated them from the rest of their countrymen. Caddaric's aloofness Jilana understood, it was the way of a man who made a living through waging war, but she found Clywd's remoteness confusing when he so obviously cared for his people. Curious, she asked, "Where has Clywd been since Caddaric freed him?"

Heall left his contemplation of the heavens and looked at Jilana. "On Mona."

A chill ran down Jilana's spine and before she could stop it, a tear spilled from her eye.

Heall nodded sympathetically and wiped the dampness from her cheek with a finger. "He left barely a month ago. I woke up one morning—the day before Boadicea was flogged—and he was sitting at my hearth, staring into the ashes. When I asked why he had left Mona, Clywd replied that he was needed here."

"And you believed him?"

Heall chuckled softly. "I have known Clywd for all of my fifty years. The first I knew of his gift was the day thirty years ago." His voice grew soft as he traveled back to the days of his youth, and in spite of her own predicament, Jilana listened eagerly. "Caddaric had just been born, and in celebration Clywd and I formed a hunting party. My sister's husband was one of those who joined us and I shall never forget the look on Clywd's face when he saw Gawen. He knew, you see, that Gawen would not return from the hunt, but he hoped that his vision was wrong." Heall's voice trailed off and he had to clear his throat before continuing. "Gawen died, torn apart by the wild boar we were tracking. Clywd killed the boar using only his knife." Heall shook his head. "He was a madman, leaping from his horse and charging the animal before we could stop him. He should have been killed—no one takes on a boar with only a knife—but he emerged without a scratch, the only blood that of the boar. Clywd picked Gawen up, carried him home and then disappeared into the forest for a week. I was frantic, searching for him throughout the daylight hours, but his wife, Caddaric's mother, told me to leave him be, that Clywd would return. And he did.

"Clywd came to me and told me what had happened. This was not the first time the sight had come to him; he had been living with it since boyhood but had rejected it. He wanted to be ordinary, to live a simple life; Gawen's death had showed him that he could deny his power no longer. His wife understood, perhaps better than I, the pain he had been living with in attempting to deny the sight. Clywd left for Mona that same day and was gone for five years. When he returned he was changed but still my soul's friend. There was a sadness in him that permeated the delight he found in his wife and children. I do not know if he saw their fate, if he knew that he would have them for only a few more years, but I think he did. But for those few years they were happy; Clywd had learned the art of healing on Mona and he gave up farming and raising horses and cattle. Raiding was commonplace then, and on more than one occasion our village was glad of his art." Heall saw the tears brimming in Jilana's eyes and reached over to pat her hand. "I am sorry; I did not mean to make you sad."'

Jilana shook her head. "I am glad you told me, Heall. It helps me understand why Caddaric turns so often against his father."

"Caddaric was without a father for the first five years of his life and when Clywd returned it was another year before his youngest son truly accepted him. And then Claudius invaded and Clywd and the other two boys were taken and Caddaric was left to me. Life has soured that young man, I am afraid."

"But not you," Jilana commented wryly and had the satisfaction of seeing Heall grin his agreement.

"Nay, not me," Heall laughed. "As long as there is mead to drink and women to love, life is never bitter.''

Jilana's soft laughter joined his. "And why have you never married?" she asked when their laughter faded to smiles. "Surely one of those women you loved felt slighted when the warrior Heall did not take her to wife?"

Heall's smile disappeared with alarming suddenness, and Jilana hastily apologized. "Forgive me, Heall, I did not mean to pry."

Heall remained silent for a long time, watching the festivities around them, and when he spoke his voice was laced with pain. "Our ways are different than yours, Jilana. A woman may accept or reject a suitor as she pleases, according to her wishes rather than her family's. And she may share a man's bed freely without benefit of marriage; there is no shame in that." He hesitated for so long that Jilana thought he was finished, but then Heall cleared his throat once more and continued. "I gave my heart to a woman once, many years ago. I wanted, more than anything, to take her to wife but there were entanglements, complications I could not overcome. To ask another to be my wife would have been unfair."