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Authors: Lynn Bartlett
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Venta Icenorum will belong solely to my people."
"Revolt!" Jilana's voice was a horrified whisper. The Romans feared rebellion and slave uprisings above all else, especially in far-flung provinces like Britannia where the full might of the Empire's military could not immediately be brought to bear. Roman civilians bore the brunt of such insurrections and Jilana remembered with sickening clarity the tales of rape and atrocities which occasionally took place at isolated villa. But not here. Surely not here!
Caddaric knew the tales as well, and he understood the fear which drained the strength from Jilana's limbs, but he was not prepared for her next words.
"Then kill me now, I beg of you," Jilana said weakly. "If there is any mercy in your heart, you will draw your dagger and put a swift end to my life. You shame me by allowing me to live when all I love is dead."
In that instant Caddaric forgot that her parents and sister had existed—he saw only Jilana as she had looked her betrothed's embrace while he stood watching from the shadows. Her struggle to escape him, her subsequent request to be allowed to go free, these had not been unexpected; but her plea to follow her betrothed to the grave drove Caddaric mad with some unnamed emotion. Unable to bear the sight and touch of her any longer, Caddaric thrust Jilana away with such force that she fell to the ground.
Too shaken by the night's events to rise, Jilana stared him. "What will you do with me now?" She asked the question not out of fear of death, but out of fear of the known.
"I will not kill you," Caddaric said tersely. "Much as would like to slit that lovely neck of yours, I shall obey the Queen's command." He turned toward the stable.
"Clywd! Come out here, Druid, I have need of you."
Jilana's heart skipped a beat when the stable door opened and a man came forth. Hoping against hope that her father or Lucius had overcome the Iceni and disguised himself in the flowing black robe, Jilana could not help the small cry of disappointment that burst from lips when the Druid reached them. The man was unknown to her and Jilana felt the last of her hope crumble.
"Take her to the villa," Caddaric ordered harshly. 'Keep her there until I come for her."
Clywd nodded. "The work is nearly finished in the stable."
Caddaric stiffened, aware of Jilana's sudden interest in their conversation. "Take her—I will complete the task."
The Briton stalked toward the stable and Jilana scrambled to her feet and ran after him. "What task? What lies the stable?" Ignored, Jilana grabbed the Briton's arm and pulled at it until he was forced to stop and look at her. 'The gods curse you, Briton, answer me!"
"I go to finish what my men started," Caddaric replied, a muscle working in his cheek.
"That tells me naught," Jilana cried.
"You may accompany me," Caddaric offered. Then, with utmost cruelty he added, "This night we found many Romans cowering in their stables. They ran like sheep, leaving their servants to defend their homes, and we treated them as such. Do you wish to see the fate your family met?"
Jilana blanched, understanding quite well what the Briton was saying. Her family and Lucius were dead, victims of the Iceni revolt. Neighbors, friends, they too were dead, or would be when the warriors found them. Her world was gone, shattered by the Procurator's greed and Boadicea's revenge. An ever-growing weakness stole through Jilana and as she crumpled to the ground, the last thing she saw was the Briton's mocking face.
Caddaric sprang forward, catching Jilana as she fell. With unexpected tenderness he lifted the Roman woman in his arms and carried her to Clywd. "Hers is the corner bedchamber—keep her there until I return."
"Was it necessary to be so cruel with her," Clywd asked as he took the slight burden in his own arms. "You could have spared her much grief, my son."
Caddaric's lips thinned angrily. "I do not tell you how to speak with the gods, old one. Do not tell me how
"Revolt!" Jilana's voice was a horrified whisper. The Romans feared rebellion and slave uprisings above all else, especially in far-flung provinces like Britannia where the full might of the Empire's military could not immediately be brought to bear. Roman civilians bore the brunt of such insurrections and Jilana remembered with sickening clarity the tales of rape and atrocities which occasionally took place at isolated villa. But not here. Surely not here!
Caddaric knew the tales as well, and he understood the fear which drained the strength from Jilana's limbs, but he was not prepared for her next words.
"Then kill me now, I beg of you," Jilana said weakly. "If there is any mercy in your heart, you will draw your dagger and put a swift end to my life. You shame me by allowing me to live when all I love is dead."
In that instant Caddaric forgot that her parents and sister had existed—he saw only Jilana as she had looked her betrothed's embrace while he stood watching from the shadows. Her struggle to escape him, her subsequent request to be allowed to go free, these had not been unexpected; but her plea to follow her betrothed to the grave drove Caddaric mad with some unnamed emotion. Unable to bear the sight and touch of her any longer, Caddaric thrust Jilana away with such force that she fell to the ground.
Too shaken by the night's events to rise, Jilana stared him. "What will you do with me now?" She asked the question not out of fear of death, but out of fear of the known.
"I will not kill you," Caddaric said tersely. "Much as would like to slit that lovely neck of yours, I shall obey the Queen's command." He turned toward the stable.
"Clywd! Come out here, Druid, I have need of you."
Jilana's heart skipped a beat when the stable door opened and a man came forth. Hoping against hope that her father or Lucius had overcome the Iceni and disguised himself in the flowing black robe, Jilana could not help the small cry of disappointment that burst from lips when the Druid reached them. The man was unknown to her and Jilana felt the last of her hope crumble.
"Take her to the villa," Caddaric ordered harshly. 'Keep her there until I come for her."
Clywd nodded. "The work is nearly finished in the stable."
Caddaric stiffened, aware of Jilana's sudden interest in their conversation. "Take her—I will complete the task."
The Briton stalked toward the stable and Jilana scrambled to her feet and ran after him. "What task? What lies the stable?" Ignored, Jilana grabbed the Briton's arm and pulled at it until he was forced to stop and look at her. 'The gods curse you, Briton, answer me!"
"I go to finish what my men started," Caddaric replied, a muscle working in his cheek.
"That tells me naught," Jilana cried.
"You may accompany me," Caddaric offered. Then, with utmost cruelty he added, "This night we found many Romans cowering in their stables. They ran like sheep, leaving their servants to defend their homes, and we treated them as such. Do you wish to see the fate your family met?"
Jilana blanched, understanding quite well what the Briton was saying. Her family and Lucius were dead, victims of the Iceni revolt. Neighbors, friends, they too were dead, or would be when the warriors found them. Her world was gone, shattered by the Procurator's greed and Boadicea's revenge. An ever-growing weakness stole through Jilana and as she crumpled to the ground, the last thing she saw was the Briton's mocking face.
Caddaric sprang forward, catching Jilana as she fell. With unexpected tenderness he lifted the Roman woman in his arms and carried her to Clywd. "Hers is the corner bedchamber—keep her there until I return."
"Was it necessary to be so cruel with her," Clywd asked as he took the slight burden in his own arms. "You could have spared her much grief, my son."
Caddaric's lips thinned angrily. "I do not tell you how to speak with the gods, old one. Do not tell me how
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