Read Online Defy the Eagle by Lynn Bartlett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lynn Bartlett
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to deal with this woman." .
"You risk much," Clywd warned. "With this one deed you may lose your destiny and earn the Queen's wrath."
"Enough! I will do what I think best." Blue eyes blazing, Caddaric stood his ground until Clywd retreated into the villa. While it pained him to have disobeyed the Queen's command regarding this Roman family, Caddaric did not regret what had transpired here tonight. Jilana would bear the yoke of slavery well enough, but to see her family also enslaved would have been intolerable. A determined set to his jaw, Caddaric turned and entered the stable where Heall and two other warriors waited for him. This business must be swiftly accomplished so that he could find Catus Decianus and win Jilana for himself.
****
Not until morning did Jilana recover from her faint, and when she opened her eyes to gaze about the room, she believed that she had been the victim of a nightmare. In the iron brazier in the center of her bedchamber a fire had been lit and Jilana stretched languorously, secure in the knowledge that she was warm and in her own bed. Surely no Iceni would have taken such pains to ensure her comfort! In a few minutes her maid would enter the bedchamber to dress her hair and help her into a fresh toga, and then Jilana would break her fast with her parents, Claudia, and, possibly, Lucius. From the lower floor came the sound of laughter and movement and Jilana smiled. All was well—the Iceni rebellion existed solely in her mind.
Tossing aside the bedcovers, Jilana sat up, swung her feet to the floor—and froze at the sight of the bloodstained hem of her toga. Scenes of the night past tumbled through her mind and as Jilana unwillingly touched the ruins of her once-elegant hairstyle a feeling of utter desolation ravaged her heart.
"Drink this, child."
A drinking cup was held in front of her and Jilana recoiled with a gasp, then forced herself to look at the man who had spoken. He was tall, spare, with light blue eyes that viewed her—not unkindly—from an ageless face.
"Drink," Clywd said again, understanding her fear. 'Tis only a draught which will give you strength."
Jilana violently shook her head and scrambled to the tar side of the bed. There she knelt, the bedcovers clutched protectively to her breast, and eyed the man fearfully. She remembered him now—this man was a Druid, a priest of the Britons. Druids offered human sacrifices to their gods and Jilana trembled inwardly. She would accept naught from this man!
When his prisoner did not move, Clywd sighed and retreated to a chair at the side of the bed. Once seated, he set the drinking cup aside and smiled gently. "I will not harm you, child. You have been spared for a reason and I neither question nor defy the gods' wishes. Do you understand?" Jilana gave no indication that she either heard or understood his words so Clywd repeated what he had said, this time in the Roman tongue.
Jilana did not believe a single word the Druid had spoken. She was a prisoner, with no hope of escape, and she knew well enough a prisoner's fate. She would be killed, or passed from man to man until her body and soul were so ravaged that some man would finally kill her because she displeased him. Better death than to be so ill-used, Jilana thought wildly. She must either find a way to force this priest into killing her now or discover a means of opening her veins if she was left alone for a time.
To that end, Jilana rose and stared haughtily at Clywd. In a clear, challenging voice she said in the Briton's language, "I spit on your gods, priest! Only weak-minded fools serve them and only faint-hearted cowards follow those fools."
Clywd stiffened angrily and then, unexpectedly, gave a short burst of laughter. "You must share your opinions with Caddaric upon his return. In truth, child, you hold much in common."
"Caddaric?" In spite of herself, Jilana's curiosity was pricked. "Is this Caddaric the one who masquerades as a centurion?" Clywd nodded and
"You risk much," Clywd warned. "With this one deed you may lose your destiny and earn the Queen's wrath."
"Enough! I will do what I think best." Blue eyes blazing, Caddaric stood his ground until Clywd retreated into the villa. While it pained him to have disobeyed the Queen's command regarding this Roman family, Caddaric did not regret what had transpired here tonight. Jilana would bear the yoke of slavery well enough, but to see her family also enslaved would have been intolerable. A determined set to his jaw, Caddaric turned and entered the stable where Heall and two other warriors waited for him. This business must be swiftly accomplished so that he could find Catus Decianus and win Jilana for himself.
****
Not until morning did Jilana recover from her faint, and when she opened her eyes to gaze about the room, she believed that she had been the victim of a nightmare. In the iron brazier in the center of her bedchamber a fire had been lit and Jilana stretched languorously, secure in the knowledge that she was warm and in her own bed. Surely no Iceni would have taken such pains to ensure her comfort! In a few minutes her maid would enter the bedchamber to dress her hair and help her into a fresh toga, and then Jilana would break her fast with her parents, Claudia, and, possibly, Lucius. From the lower floor came the sound of laughter and movement and Jilana smiled. All was well—the Iceni rebellion existed solely in her mind.
Tossing aside the bedcovers, Jilana sat up, swung her feet to the floor—and froze at the sight of the bloodstained hem of her toga. Scenes of the night past tumbled through her mind and as Jilana unwillingly touched the ruins of her once-elegant hairstyle a feeling of utter desolation ravaged her heart.
"Drink this, child."
A drinking cup was held in front of her and Jilana recoiled with a gasp, then forced herself to look at the man who had spoken. He was tall, spare, with light blue eyes that viewed her—not unkindly—from an ageless face.
"Drink," Clywd said again, understanding her fear. 'Tis only a draught which will give you strength."
Jilana violently shook her head and scrambled to the tar side of the bed. There she knelt, the bedcovers clutched protectively to her breast, and eyed the man fearfully. She remembered him now—this man was a Druid, a priest of the Britons. Druids offered human sacrifices to their gods and Jilana trembled inwardly. She would accept naught from this man!
When his prisoner did not move, Clywd sighed and retreated to a chair at the side of the bed. Once seated, he set the drinking cup aside and smiled gently. "I will not harm you, child. You have been spared for a reason and I neither question nor defy the gods' wishes. Do you understand?" Jilana gave no indication that she either heard or understood his words so Clywd repeated what he had said, this time in the Roman tongue.
Jilana did not believe a single word the Druid had spoken. She was a prisoner, with no hope of escape, and she knew well enough a prisoner's fate. She would be killed, or passed from man to man until her body and soul were so ravaged that some man would finally kill her because she displeased him. Better death than to be so ill-used, Jilana thought wildly. She must either find a way to force this priest into killing her now or discover a means of opening her veins if she was left alone for a time.
To that end, Jilana rose and stared haughtily at Clywd. In a clear, challenging voice she said in the Briton's language, "I spit on your gods, priest! Only weak-minded fools serve them and only faint-hearted cowards follow those fools."
Clywd stiffened angrily and then, unexpectedly, gave a short burst of laughter. "You must share your opinions with Caddaric upon his return. In truth, child, you hold much in common."
"Caddaric?" In spite of herself, Jilana's curiosity was pricked. "Is this Caddaric the one who masquerades as a centurion?" Clywd nodded and
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