Defy the Eagle (64 page)

Paulinus was choking on his anger now. "And you, mistress, are a traitor!"

Once, months ago, she would have quailed before such an accusation, but no more. She had lost everything in life dear to her; life itself no longer mattered. "Prove it," Jilana challenged.

Paulinus actually went white with rage. "You dare—"


"I dare a great deal, General," Jilana replied. "What is left that can be taken from me? What can you do to me that has not already been done, save take my life?" She took a deep, calming breath and checked the wildness singing in her blood. "Have I your permission to withdraw?"

"Not yet," Paulinus ground out. "I have questions to put to you regarding the rebels. Living with them as you have, you undoubtedly know where they will go into hiding. I am particularly interested in where Boadicea would have fled." He raised a compelling eyebrow at Jilana and waited.

"I cannot help you," Jilana replied steadily.

"Cannot, or will not?" Paulinus asked cuttingly.

The most powerful man in Britannia was now her enemy, Jilana realized. Not that his animosity mattered. Her family was dead, her husband was dead, and she did not particularly care what fate Paulinus had in store for her.

"Cannot," she said at last. "But even if I knew, General, I would not tell you."

The retort Paulinus was about to make was stopped by the appearance of his aide. "Your pardon, General," the young man said hastily, "but a messenger from Lindum has just arrived. I thought you would want to see him at once."

"I do." Paulinus rose and paced across the area separating him from Jilana. "Hold yourself in readiness, mistress. This is not yet ended."

Jilana bowed slightly in acknowledgment of the dismissal and turned on her heel. Just outside the tent, she collided with the dust-covered messenger. The man's hands gripped her upper arms to keep her from falling.

"Your pardon, Tribune," Jilana said, taking a hasty step backward to rid herself of the man's touch. "I—" The rest of her apology died in her throat when she met the shocked, dark eyes above her. She could feel the blood drain from her face, the abrupt, cold tingling in her hands and the weakness in her legs. The world spun madly on its axis and she collapsed at the feet of Lucius Quintus.

CHAPTER NINE

The Iceni rebellion was ended. In the space of four months, three major cities and countless villages had been razed. The island's population had been reduced by sixty thousand, both Roman and Briton. Albion fed upon the blood and bodies of its sons and daughters and upon the scarred earth, grass grew thick and lush over the burial mounds. At the last, the Queen of the Iceni had cheated Suetonius Paulinus of his revenge. Boadicea and her daughters, protected by the royal guard, had fled the final battleground before they could be captured. In a place safe from prying Roman eyes, the Queen had given her two children an easy death and then followed them to Annwn. Some said she fell upon her sword, in a manner befitting a warrior maid; others said poison had been her end. The royal guards had buried their bodies before fleeing north and try though he might, Paulinus could neither find the graves, nor induce any of the captured royal guards to betray the Queen's final resting place.

Autumn was late in coming to Britannia, as if granting a reprieve to the island's inhabitants. Even now, in early September, the days were pleasantly warm, although the evenings were chill. Inside the villa of Marcus Basilius, every room was ablaze with lamps, and the courtyard and garden, too, were well lit by torches. On the opposite side of the courtyard from the garden was a door to another path, but that was not lit, for it led to the slave quarters. The slave quarters themselves—a collection of huts—were hidden from view by a high wall. It was in the garden that Jilana Augusta Basilius sat now, watching the villa. The reason for her father's extravagance was that this night they- would entertain Governor-General Suetonius Paulinus, the man who had put down the Iceni rebellion.

Since his victory over Boadicea, Paulinus had been single-minded in his determination to see the native tribes brought to heel. His first act had been to burn Venta Icenorum to the ground and forbid any resettlement within a thirty-mile radius of the former capital. His second act had been to order every legionary who could be spared into the countryside to track down the survivors of the final battle. Paulinus was as merciless in his victory as Boadicea would have been in hers. Iceni rebels who survived being captured were either sold into slavery—with the money they brought going into the Imperial Treasury—or, if they were healthy specimens, turned over the the Imperial Navy, to spend the remainder of their lives as galley slaves. Lovers were torn apart, children forever separated from their parents, and still Paulinus' thirst for vengeance was not slaked. All Iceni land was confiscated and sold to those who could claim Roman citizenship. The Iceni horses that had been left behind were found and now wore the brand of the Roman cavalry. The governor-general planned to erase the Iceni from the collective memory of Britannia, and it seemed as if he would succeed.

Jilana sighed, touching the necklace at her throat. How strange that she should be living in such a grand place while her homeland was systematically impoverished. This villa was ten miles from Londinium and had been spared the worst of the sacking. The villa as well as the outlying buildings had remained intact; all that had been necessary was to furnish the rooms, which her mother had done, magnificently. There was even a complete bath, on a larger scale than the one they had had at Venta Icenorum. A high wall enclosed the building site, with gates opening to the south, east, north and west. For Jilana, brought to this place by Lucius, it was as if she had stepped backward in time. She had been stunned to learn her family was alive. Alive! And from Lucius' description of him, the man who had saved her family was Caddaric. The night of the rebellion, her family and Lucius had been overpowered and taken to the stable. There, Caddaric had given them horses and sent a man—Jilana deduced it was Heall, for Caddaric would have entrusted her family's welfare only to him—to guide them out of the town. The reason they were to be spared, they were told, was because of Jilana's aid to the Queen. In gratitude, Claudia had raked her dagger across Caddaric's cheek, leaving him with the scar Jilana remembered so well. Caddaric had clipped Claudia on the jaw, tossed her across her saddle and ordered them to flee while they still could. They had reached the safety of the fortress at Lindum a few days later, grateful to be alive, but left with the impression that Jilana had been killed.

Jilana had almost smiled when Lucius had related the story. How like Caddaric it sounded! By allowing her family to believe her dead, he had forestalled any search they, or Lucius, might have been tempted to make. They had grieved and then turned to each other, just as she had grieved when she believed her family dead, and then built a new life with Caddaric. Ever the strategist, my love, Jilana had thought. Tears had been shed at the reunion, but not by Jilana, though she was overjoyed to see her family alive. Her family treated her gently, assuring her that she would soon forget the nightmare of her past months, and tried to comfort her; Jilana had not been able to bring herself to tell them that their comfort was useless now that her love was dead. They would think her mad, and perhaps she was.

Time had yet to heal the wounds left by the rebellion, but the Empire was pouring material and people into the tiny island at an astonishing rate. Nero had ordered the legions reinforced, and with the promise of additional security, people were willing to leave their homes for this less civilized frontier. Her father's business was flourishing; the populace needed food and clothing and household furnishings, all of which the house of Basilius imported. Jilana knew how well her father was doing—at her request, she had been allowed to keep his books in order to alleviate the long, boring hours that stretched in front of her. He had added to his fleet of ships and purchased, or built, warehouses along Londinium's riverfront. The house of Basilius was now wealthy indeed.

Jilana sighed again and rose to walk the paths through the garden. From the kitchen came muted Celtic voices and the sound brought a stab of pain to her heart. At least she was able to help some of Caddaric's people, she thought, remembering that her first visit to the slave market had come about quite by accident. She had been on her way to her father's office in the city when she had seen a group of ragged Britons being led through the street. Their hands and feet were chained, and all wore iron collars through which ran a chain, connecting them one to the other. She could not drag her eyes away from the terrible sight, and when one of her attendants—all Romans traveled well-protected these days—asked if she wished to attend the slave auction she almost said nay, but then she met the eyes of one of the prisoners. Was it only her imagination, or was his face familiar? Jilana could not be sure, and that uncertainty compelled her to visit the. auction. Her litter, had joined the rest of the traffic and Jilana had closed its curtains until they reached the marketplace.

She loathed the place immediately; hated the auctioneer for treating human beings as if they were animals, hated her countrymen for their smug, self-satisfied comments when they viewed what was for sale and debated whether this one was better suited to the fields or the stable or if that one would serve better in the kitchen or the bedchamber. When the man who had caught her eye was pushed up the steps to the raised platform, Jilana was certain she had seen him. She did not remember his name, but she knew he was of Caddaric's village. She had motioned to her bodyguard and ordered him to bid on the man. When she returned to her father's villa six hours later, three slaves were carried in a wagon behind her. They had stayed for two weeks, recovering their health, and then Jilana had written out their papers of manumission, given them an additional set of clothing as well as a small purse, and offered them the choice of remaining as a servant or leaving. They had chosen to leave and were soon replaced by four others.

Jilana's face became well-known at the slave market and she was the object of a great deal of speculation, but she did not care. For the first time in a very long time she felt useful, needed. She kept none of the Britons as slaves; as soon as they were well enough to travel, they received their freedom. Some stayed a few days, others a few weeks; some Jilana knew from her time with Caddaric, others were strangers, all were in desperate need of assistance. They gave meaning to her life. To save the pathetic remnants of Caddaric's people, she ignored her father's words of caution and her betrothed's angry remonstrances. What was she thinking of? How could she free the same people who had held her a slave, whose marks she still bore upon her wrists and ankles, and who had undoubtedly abused her vilely? Jilana let the words pass; she did not discuss her time with the Iceni with anyone. Reluctantly, her father continued to supply her with funds, much to Claudia's loud objections. Her mother, Augusta, said nothing, only watched her daughter with sad eyes.

"Lady Jilana?"

At the hesitant summons, Jilana drew herself away from her musings and looked over her shoulder at the young woman who stood some distance away.

"The governor-general is here, lady."

"Thank you." Jilana turned and walked back to the villa. At the door, she paused to make certain her toga was properly draped and touched a hand to her hair. She had allowed Claudia's slave to dress her hair for tonight, and now the red-gold mass was pulled sternly back from her face and secured with combs. The length of it had been oiled and tortured into tight curls in what Claudia said was the height of fashion. Jilana badly wanted nothing more than to wash the oil and perfume from the tresses, but tonight she had to look her best and so she took a deep breath and walked into the house.

Marcus had just finished introducing Paulinus to his family when Jilana entered the triclinium. The banquet hall was three steps lower than the rest of the first floor and Jilana took the tiled steps gracefully, halting directly in front of Paulinus. The general wore his dress uniform and the sight of it repulsed Jilana.

"You know my daughter, of course," Marcus said, a trifle nervously.

"Aye." Paulinus' eyes did a thorough inspection of Jilana as she curtsied before him. "You look much different than you did at our last meeting, Lady Jilana. More....civilized."

Jilana bared her teeth in a brief smile. "But then, General, I had no slaves to dance attendance upon me." How she hated this man who so relentlessly pursued the defeated rebels. Paulinus was set upon, and would settle for no less than, the complete destruction of the Iceni and those who had been foolish enough to ally with them.

Paulinus' eyes narrowed dangerously. "From what has been related to me, that is not the case now."

Jilana arched an eyebrow at the bite in his words. "You above all, General, should know how difficult it is to find good slaves among the native population. They are so.. .intractable."

"Jilana," Lucius broke in with a warning look. "I am sure the general does not care to discuss the slave situation with you."

"I am sure he wishes to discuss nothing else," Jilana countered blandly. Reluctantly, she let the subject drop. This night, of all nights, she could not risk baiting Paulinus. Her situation was precarious enough. "Was your journey a pleasant one, General?"

Paulinus eyed her suspiciously, but followed her lead. "Pleasant enough, thank you, lady. Oh, I had almost forgotten. Your friend Tarpeius is in Londinium." He offered Jilana his arm and led her to one of the couches ranged in a circle in the center of the room.

Marcus and Augusta exchanged a relieved look and followed the general, leaving Lucius to escort Claudia.

"Hadrian," Jilana inquired as she settled herself into a half-reclining position upon the pillows. Paulinus took one of the couches next to hers while Lucius took the other. Claudia took the couch on the other side of Lucius. Slaves hurriedly pushed low tables in front of the couches as soon as they had been seated.

"He has retired from the legion," Paulinus replied. "He is staying in the city, awaiting passage on a ship bound for Rome."

"We cannot allow that," Augusta put in from the couch she shared with Marcus. "We owe him Jilana's life, not once, but twice. Where is he staying, General? I will send a servant to fetch him at once."

Paulinus coughed discreetly. "I think, mistress, 'twould be best if you sent a message to him tomorrow. This is his first night of freedom, if you will, and I doubt he will return to his inn until morning."

Augusta colored attractively. "Of course, General. As you say."

"General," Claudia joined in. "I understand the Emperor has ordered more men to Britannia in order to finish the rebels. Is this true?"

"Aye, it is." Paulinus looked up at Claudia and smiled warmly. How his host and hostess had managed to produce two such different daughters was beyond him. "Two thousand legionaries, a thousand cavalry, and eight cohorts of auxiliaries have recently arrived from Germania. With them, I will see to it that the Iceni never raise so much as a finger against Rome again."

Jilana's appetite fled, and she pushed listlessly at the poached fish on her plate.

"I have also heard that Poenius Postumus committed suicide when he learned of your victory over the Iceni rabble." Claudia leaned forward eagerly. "Is that true?"

All of the warmth left Paulinus' face. "Aye, and 'tis fortunate for him that he fell on his sword before I could reach him. At least he spared his family the dishonor of a court-martial and summary execution." That he had been denied his vengeance sat like a stone in the general's soul, and he forced himself to smile again. "But surely a beautiful creature such as yourself can have no interest in military matters."

Claudia beamed and the conversation wandered onto safer topics. Course after course was served and disposed of and Jilana watched her tongue and behaved as correctly as she possibly could. The rich food, however, upset her stomach, and at last she simply waved away the servants when they brought the trays to her table and sipped at a goblet of wine. Musicians played from behind a curtain and Jilana paid more attention to the music than she did to the conversation until, having partaken of the confectionary and fruit served as dessert, Paulinus apologized for the lateness of the hour and rose.