Defy the Eagle (26 page)

"You do not understand." Jilana drew a deep breath before continuing. "I have seen the city's destruction, Centurion. In spite of your efforts, Boadicea will take the city."

"You have seen—" Hadrian frowned down at Jilana. "Are you saying you have had a vision?"

Disbelief was so clear in his voice that Jilana felt herself redden. "Aye, Centurion."

Relieved, Hadrian chuckled. "Mistress, since news of the uprising reached us, I have been besieged by citizens claiming to have had one vision or another."

"You do not believe me."

"I believe you have lived through a terrible experience," Hadrian replied gently, "and are justifiably frightened at the thought of undergoing such an ordeal again. I believe this fear is playing tricks on your mind."

Jilana swallowed her disappointment. She would never convince the centurion of the truth of her vision. "I thank you for the kindness you have shown me, Centurion, but I know what I know. If you will order my mare released from the stable, I will leave for Londinium immediately. And, if you could spare a man to accompany me..." Her voice trailed off as a grim expression settled across the .centurion's face, and an instant later his hand wrapped painfully around her arm.

"Even if I could spare a man—which I cannot—I would not allow you to undertake such a journey. With the Britons traveling to join Boadicea, I doubt even a full century can travel safely."

"You have no right to keep me here," Jilana argued heatedly. "I am not your prisoner."

"Tis my responsibility to keep you and the others safe," Hadrian growled, giving Jilana a shake. "And right now, Camulodunum is far safer than the countryside! I have sent messengers to Lindum and to the governor-general; with luck, reinforcements from the Ninth at Lindum will reach us before Boadicea does."

"Centurion—"

"I will hear no more of this. If necessary, mistress, I will place you under guard." Releasing her arm, Hadrian said in a softer tone, "I fear you must stay in my quarters until this is over; the inns are filled with refugees and citizens are wary of taking in strangers at this time." When Jilana nodded and would have walked away, he added, "I will keep you safe, lady; do not fear."

Jilana walked back into the city in a daze, resigned at last to whatever fate the gods had in store for her. For the last two weeks she had fought for her life and subdued the terror she felt only to have the centurion's misplaced sense of responsibility seal her fate. She could fight no longer.

Before Jilana was out of sight, Hadrian signaled his aide to join him. "Go to the stable; leave orders that Lady Jilana is not to be given her mount." The aide saluted and hurried off and Hadrian turned back to the preparations.

****

As was his nature, Caddaric awoke quickly at the moment of sunrise, alert to his surroundings although his eyes remained closed. An instant later he cursed his wakefulness, for a sensation akin to having a battle-axe buried in his forehead radiated pain throughout his body. The battle-axe was a perfect counterpoint to the tender lump at the back of his skull. He turned his head to the side and groaned softly at the resultant nausea. Warily, Caddaric forced his eyes to open into narrow slits and regarded the brown blur directly in his line of vision. Gradually the blur came into focus and he realized he was staring at a tree. With that realization came the knowledge that last night he had broken every one of his self-imposed rules and given vent to a fine display of Celtic temper.

It had been the sight of the leather tent in the cart that had ignited his anger and made him swing at Heall. The older man had had no way of knowing that the tent had been intended to allow Jilana and himself a measure of privacy, Caddaric reflected morosely, and Heall had been confused by his sudden attack. The tent, Heall had reminded him, had been confiscated from the small garrison supplies at Venta Icenorum by Caddaric himself. Heall had simply packed it in the cart with the rest of the provisions for the march. By the time Heall had finished his explanation, the older man's jaw-was bruised and Caddaric was flat on his back on the ground beneath the combined weight of four warriors, being warned by his chieftain that fighting was now punishable by banishment. Embarrassed, Caddaric had apologized, and Heall had accepted by producing a cask of wine from his portion of the booty. The successful completion of the first six days of the march was cause for celebration, Heall had reasoned, and Caddaric concurred. With their backs against the wheel, they had broken open the cask and begun the celebration.

The afternoon had darkened into evening and others had wandered over to join them. Someone lit a fire, another cask of wine appeared, and the evening meal had been a mixture of venison, cheese and wheat cakes. The wheat cakes, however, served as another reminder of Jilana and Caddaric had hurled his into the fire and turned his full attention to lowering the level, of wine in the cask. Events following the meal were rather vague. He remembered trading barbs and jests with the rest of the company, and joining in the ribald songs with unnatural exuberance which did nothing to lessen the hollow ache in his chest.

The gods curse his treacherous, red-haired witch, Caddaric thought now with a resurgence of impotent fury. She was responsible for the emptiness that gnawed at him by day and tortured him by night. She was fortunate that the march had prevented him from hunting her down and beating her senseless. His eyes burned and Caddaric squeezed them shut, denying the sadness that appeared in the wake of his rage. Why had she run? Had his promise of protection meant nothing? Surely she understood that he would never allow Lhwyd to lay so much as a finger upon her. Or, Caddaric winced, had it been not Lhwyd's touch but his own that had frightened her into that desperate escape? Caddaric knew he was not the most artful of lovers, but had he disgusted Jilana?

Caddaric was drawn from his thoughts by a rustling at his side. Cautiously, he turned his head to the other side and opened his eyes. Ede lay beside him, her green eyes wide and watchful. Above the blanket which was thrown over both of them, her shoulders were bare and Caddaric realized belatedly that he was naked beneath the blanket. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with the amount of wine he had consumed, Caddaric watched as Ede pressed herself firmly against his side and began drawing idle patterns on his chest. She was as naked as he.

"How long have you been here?" Caddaric's voice grated like a rusted hinge.

Ede smiled and draped a leg across his thigh. "All night. Do you not remember?"

Caddaric dimly remembered staggering away from the campsite when his thoughts of Jilana had proved too distracting for the celebration. Had Ede followed? Aye, she had, Caddaric groaned inwardly, for now he remembered kissing her in the vain hope that she would drive the thoughts of his violet-eyed witch from his mind. Ah gods, what else had he done? Ede's leg moved in a blatant, erotic gesture and Caddaric caught at her hand when it started to disappear beneath the blanket. "Ede, nay."

Ede blinked in surprise. "But last night—"

"—was a mistake," Caddaric interrupted, aware of the flush staining his cheekbones. His physical response to Ede was growing more obvious by the moment and it shamed him. Damn, where was his tunic? "I am sorry."

"As well you should be." Ede snatched her hand away and pushed herself up on one arm to glare at him in mock outrage. "Tis not like you to drink so much that you fall asleep during a kiss." A lazy smile curled her lips and she slid provocatively upward against his body. "In truth, I did not mind; preparing you for bed was most enjoyable. And I recalled your morning appetite is not limited to food."

"Then last night we did not mate?" Caddaric asked bluntly, and unconsciously held his breath for her answer.

"Nay, but I forgive you," Ede teased, not the least embarrassed and oblivious to the look of relief that passed, across Caddaric's features. "I know you will make up for it now." Once again her hand drifted under the blanket.

Caddaric snared her hand and pushed her firmly away. "Nay, Ede. I thank you for caring for me last night but I will not repay you in this manner. Where is my tunic?"

Ede stared at him in disbelief which, as she realized that Caddaric had no intention of bedding her, turned to anger. With a low cry she kicked aside the blanket and rose to her knees. Her green eyes swept the length of him and settled upon his tumescent manhood. "Why do you deny that you want me?" she demanded, shifting her gaze to his face. "I have missed you in my bed, and 'tis obvious that you have missed me as well." When he shook his head, Ede taunted, "Your Roman did not know how to please you, did she? Did she faint at the sight of you, the Iceni barbarian? Did she threaten to kill herself if you but touched her?"

"Enough, Ede," Caddaric snarled. Despite his body's protests, he rolled awkwardly to his feet and located his clothing. "What passed between Jilana and me is none of your concern." With quick, efficient movements he wrapped the loincloth about his hips and shrugged into his tunic.

"When you hold me in your arms and call me by her name, it becomes my concern," Ede threw back at him. "That Roman bitch is the reason you will not bed me. I pray she is dead!" The cold look Caddaric gave her made Ede self-conscious and she drew the blanket around her, averting her eyes.

Caddaric looked away also, his eyes darkening as he studied the straggling stand of trees where they had spent the night, and considered her words. Ede was right. While his body might welcome the release to be found in any woman, his mind wanted only Jilana. What kind of a spell had his Roman witch woven that he could not forget her? "We should go back to the camp," he said at last.

"Go then," Ede spat at Caddaric's broad back, her tone not betraying the tears in her green eyes. "With your precious Jilana for company, you have no need of me. Go and pack that stupid tent you found for her, the one she will never see. Break your fast with Heall; you can both mourn her leaving and your aching heads and forget that she did not gently bid you farewell—she hated us so much that she broke a shovel over your thick head and

escaped!

Caddaric whirled without a word and strode back to the camp. Behind him, Ede buried her face in the blanket and gave way to her tears. When the tears were spent, she wrapped her warrior's pride about her like a shield. She wiped away the wetness on her cheeks, dressed and folded the blanket, then she followed Caddaric, her head held high. She would allow none to see how deeply her heart and pride had been hurt by Caddaric's rejection.

She found the camp preparing to march. Caddaric stood on one side of the cart he shared with Heall and Clywd, chewing a mouthful of grain. At her approach he washed the grain down with the water with which he had refilled his wineskin and straightened. "Ede. I—"

"You forgot the blanket," Ede interrupted. Avoiding his eyes she tossed the blanket into the cart and walked away, her spine stiff with pride.

She would go to Lhwyd, Caddaric guessed with a sigh, or Artair. He scooped a handful of grain from the sack in the cart and chewed it thoughtfully. He had no desire to hurt Ede, but she continually brought the pain upon herself. If only the gods would see fit to send a man who would be strong enough to take her to wife, Caddaric thought, and then he brightened. Surely in Boadicea's war band there was one warrior who could catch Ede's eye.

After a last drink, Caddaric slung the wineskin over his shoulders and walked to where his horse was staked. The grain had settled his stomach, and as Caddaric saddled his mount he unwillingly remembered the forced marches in the legion, when they had moved for days with grain and water their only meals. That was exactly what Suetonius Paulinus would do once word of the rebellion reached him. The thought made him impatient with the lumbering pace of the war band. Their ranks swelled every day, and with the growing numbers came the impossibility of swift execution of any maneuvers. If Paulinus ever succeeded in trapping the column, which, Caddaric admitted, was not likely, the Iceni would be cut to pieces by the legion's rapid deployment. And if Paulinus brought not only his infantry, but an ala of cavalry as well, the Iceni would be cut to pieces. The presentiment of danger was so unexpected and so strong that Caddaric found his hands trembling as he tightened the girth on the horse.

"Ah, gods!"

The low, agonized rumble jarred Caddaric from his bleak thoughts and he looked over his shoulder to see Heall stumbling toward him. A faint smile touched Caddaric's mouth at the sight of Heall's red-rimmed eyes and pained expression. In the face of Heall's suffering, his own headache diminished. Leaning an arm against the saddle, he nodded sympathetically as Heall leaned against the horse's shoulder and closed his eyes. "Mayhap you should ride in the cart, my friend," Caddaric suggested.

"Nay," Heall croaked. "Clywd would only try to force one of his vile potions down my throat; 'tis the disadvantage of having a healer for a friend." He drew a shuddering breath and squinted up at Caddaric. "I must be getting old, lad; a night spent lifting a drinking cup should not leave me at Annwn's gate."

Caddaric chuckled, and was only faintly surprised when Clywd's soft laughter joined in. There were times when Caddaric wondered if his father could conjure himself wherever he wished. Turning, he watched Clywd glide forward with his usual easy grace. The cart horse, Caddaric noted, meekly followed his father without benefit of halter or harness.

"So, you both survived the night," Clywd commented, his blue eyes glinting. "Heall, my friend, your face is nearly the same color as your beard."

Caddaric gave a muffled laugh. Heall's face was, indeed, a dull gray which reflected the silver of his beard. Affronted, Heall drew himself shakily upright and went to tend his horse. Caddaric grasped the reins of his mount in one hand and walked beside his father to the cart. "How do you manage that?" he asked, indicating the trailing horse. "Magic?"

Clywd laughed softly and shrugged. "Beasts trust me. 'Tis a gift."

"Like the sight."

The impatient statement made Clywd sigh as he reached for the leather harness. How had he created a son who believed only in what he could touch or see? Jilana believed, Clywd thought with a sudden pang; he had seen it in her eyes, read the knowledge in her mind. She believed because she, too, had the gift of sight; but like a fledgling she feared stepping into the world beyond her nest.

"We will reach the city by nightfall," Caddaric offered by way of apology for his brusqueness. "I want to camp well back from the battlefield."

"Why?" Clywd asked. There was great competition for the limited space just behind the front lines; everyone knew the best observation sites were at the fringe of the battlefield, and the privilege of viewing the combat was hotly contested.

Caddaric adjusted the final buckle on the harness and rounded the horse to stand in front of his father. "There is always the possibility of defeat," he answered grimly.

"Should that happen, you must flee since you will not fight."

"You want me to desert you and Heall." Clywd frowned. "I am no coward, Caddaric."

"I did not name you such," Caddaric insisted. Tentatively, he placed a hand on his father's shoulder. This was the first time he had touched his father in several years and he was struck by Clywd's frailty. "Your brothers fought because it was allowed in defence of the sacred island, but your vows forbid you to enter into battle and take a life. If the Romans break through our lines, you, a Druid, will be a great prize. I do not want to chance you falling into their hands by reason of having no avenue of escape."

A smile lightened Clywd's face and he covered his son's hand with his own. "I will do as you wish, unless there are injured who need me. Then I cannot remain safely in the rear."

"Agreed." Caddaric squeezed the frail shoulder and then self-consciously withdrew his hand. Turning away, he untied his horse from the cart and swung into the saddle with easy grace. "If you like, Heall and I will ride back and take the midday meal with you."

Clywd nodded, a pleased expression on his face. Heall and Caddaric were in the Queen's vanguard, a position of pride, and Caddaric had taken his noon meals with the advance body. Until today. Throwing a jaunty salute, Caddaric wheeled his mount and trotted off.