Defy the Eagle (12 page)

Caddaric chuckled. "Mayhap you have not noticed that no hot air flows through the hypocaust. The fire has burned down, which is why the rooms are heated by braziers. Unless you can stoke and fire the furnace, Roman, I advise you to take advantage of my generous gift, no matter how crude it may seem."

"While you watch?" Jilana demanded incredulously. Mixed bathing was prohibited by Roman law but Jilana's consternation stemmed from another source. Stripped of clothing, her only weapon would be discovered and all would be lost.

"A fine display of maidenly virtue," Caddaric applauded in a less than admiring tone. "Unfortunately, your outraged sensibilities are of less concern to me than possibility of contagion from the dead. Disrobe, Roman, and rid yourself of the stench of death."

Jilana's eyes darted about the room, seeking a way to shield herself from Caddaric's avid gaze. At last, when her search yielded naught, Jilana asked in a quivering voice, "Will you at least turn your back?"

"And deny myself the only pleasure this day affords?" Caddaric laughed mirthlessly. "Nay, Roman, I think not. Imagine me to be your beloved Lucius if 'twill make the deed easier. You willingly shed your clothing for him, I have no doubt." Caddaric's voice hardened. "Do as I say or I shall strip you with my own hands." When Jilana's terrified eyes glanced toward the door he added, "A guard stands beyond the portal and the door to the gallery has been barred on the outside. Will you obey me, Roman, or must I make good my threat?"

Trapped, alone, Jilana decided upon the only course of action left to her. That she would most certainly die at the hands of the Iceni guard outside the door Jilana instantly accepted; but she would die happily, with the knowledge that her dagger lay buried in Caddaric's heart. Accordingly, Jilana presented her back to Caddaric and began to disrobe. The cloth fell from her shoulders, leaving her back exposed to Caddaric, and Jilana held an arm to her breast to keep the material from slipping further. Her free hand, hidden from the Briton's view, crept beneath the folds of the toga and closed around the dagger's hilt. The dagger slid easily from its sheath and Jilana silently called upon Mars to guide her aim.

"Cease your dallying, Roman," Caddaric called out imperiously. "You have been told—"

With a low cry Jilana allowed her clothing to fall to the floor and, turning, she flew across the chamber to deliver a mortal blow to her enemy. A look of disbelief crossed Caddaric's face when he found himself attacked by a naked madwoman armed only with a sacrificial dagger. Had it not been for the blood lust shining in Jilana's eyes, Caddaric would have laughed at her pitiful attempt at revenge. As it was, Jilana's arm arced downward With terrible surety and Caddaric effortlessly parried her blow by simply bringing his own arm up to meet hers.

The delicate bones of Jilana's wrist connected with Caddaric's well-muscled forearm with a loud crack, and Jilana gasped at the numbing pain which tore up her arm. Caddaric's free hand closed around her throbbing wrist and the next moment the hand which had thwarted her attempt on his life wrenched the dagger from her hand.

"You are mad," Caddaric growled. He tossed the dagger to the floor and released Jilana. He had not reckoned on the extent of Jilana's determination, however, and Caddaric grunted in pain as a dainty foot landed a telling blow against his right thigh. Snarling, Caddaric wrapped arm around Jilana's waist and easily hoisted her over | shoulder.

"Put me down!" Jilana shrieked. "You insolent barbarian—" Her words dissolved into a scream when the palm of Caddaric's hand smacked across her exposed posterior. Tears stung Jilana's eyes but before she could voice her outrage at this latest abuse, she was all but hurled led into the bathwater.

"Now you will bathe," Caddaric thundered, blue eyes dark with fury.

Anger and pain merged, turning Jilana into the madwoman Caddaric had already named her, and in that moment she knew only that she had to fight and go on fighting until Caddaric ultimately defeated her. Honor demanded no less. "I will not obey you," Jilana spat. Her hands had instinctively balled into fists and in a final, desperate show of rebellion she struck wildly at Caddaric. She saw nothing save Caddaric's mocking face, felt nothing save the wild, primitive need to hurt Caddaric in retribution for the destruction of her world. Her blow was ill-timed, for Caddaric had seen the gleam in her eyes and taken a step backward. Now he stared pitilessly down at her and laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. She had earned his wrath, this Jilana did not doubt, and even as she wondered what punishment would befall her, Caddaric's hand descended and she was pushed beneath the surface of the water.

"Do as I order, lest I change my mind and drown you for the trouble you have caused," Caddaric said harshly when Jilana came up sputtering.

The madness had passed, and the bedchamber and its furnishings suddenly came back into focus. Jilana bit back a sharp retort and looked away from Caddaric to the where her dagger lay. She had failed. Failed! Her enemy still lived and she was now utterly defenseless—all was lost to this fearsome Iceni. Silently, hating the fact that she had no choice but to obey, Jilana scrubbed her flesh fiery red under Caddaric's watchful gaze. She stepped from the tub and faced the Briton defiantly, daring him to comment upon her nakedness.

Fully aware of what she expected, Caddaric merely offered Jilana a towel, and when she all but tore the cloth out of his hands he favored her with a taunting smile which belied his burning anger. "Mayhap I should cut out your tongue. You are quite bearable this way."

Something in his eyes sent a splinter of fear shivering up her spine and Jilana inadvertently retreated a step. She dropped her towel in the process, an action which seemed to amuse her captor.

Caddaric's amusement quickly vanished when the door opened and a group of six Romans, Artair at their head, entered the chamber. Artair's greedy stare rested solely upon Jilana and a mortified blush spread across her face. Ah, Juno, that these men should see her thus! Humiliated to the very depths of her soul, Jilana was surprised—and shamelessly grateful—when Caddaric snatched a palla from the floor and wrapped her trembling form within its folds.

Caddaric swung back to Artair and fixed him with a dangerous look. "What is the meaning of this, Artair?" Slowly, Artair dragged his gaze from Jilana to Caddaric. "I am offering you the service of my slaves—as a gesture of good will. They will remove the tub and see to any of your needs." He shoved the first man toward the improvised bath. "Do as I say." The man looked fearfully at Artair but made no move to obey, not even when v Artair prodded him with the point of his sword.

"He does not understand our tongue," Caddaric informed his fellow warrior. "I doubt any of them do. If you wish these men to be of service to you, Artair, either speak to them in their own language or teach them ours."

"By the gods, I will not," Artair sneered, a petulant look settling over his face. "I waste no time pampering slaves! If they cannot obey me they are useless and I will send them to join their countrymen."

As she realized what Artair meant, Jilana started forward with a low cry, only to be caught in one of Caddaric's arms. "You cannot let him do this thing," Jilana implored, her wide eyes searching the Briton's cold features. "Oh, please, you cannot!"

"The slaves are not mine. I have no part in their fate." Without so much as looking at her, Caddaric drew Jilana back to his side. "Artair! Since you plan to dispose of Romans, do so elsewhere. I wish my chamber as uncluttered as possible."

Jilana shivered at such callousness and felt herself gathered more securely against the Briton's chest. Nor was the movement lost on Artair. Smiling slightly, he pointed sword toward the Romans. "What say you to a trade, Caddaric? My six for your one. In this way we both have slaves who will obey us."

"Nay, Artair, but I will allow Jilana to act as interpreter if you desire." Caddaric's fingers tightened warningly on Jilana's shoulder through the folds of her cloak.

"Tell your people what is required of them, Roman." Jilana did so, in a trembling voice, and was vastly relieved when her countrymen obeyed without protest.

"You see, they are willing," Jilana ventured to the glowering Artair. "If you would but show them what you want allow me to teach them the Celtic tongue—" "Be silent," Artair shouted, his face reddening. "The time your wagging tongue insults me I will have your head on a pike!"

Jilana instinctively shrank against Caddaric, her only source of protection, and firmly clamped her lips together. If Artair claimed insult she would indeed be killed. Slaves had no rights—a bitter fact, but one Jilana knew she must accept if she wished to live and avenge herself and her family.

The male slaves were gone now and Caddaric allowed bis full anger to show. "You risk much with such a weak ploy, Artair, including your life. I will neither trade nor sell this woman—yet. The next time you wish to see me you will present yourself courteously, not in such a brazen manner. Now go." Artair was nearly out the door when Caddaric added, "And, Artair, do not threaten my slave again. I alone mete out her punishment."

The words came hard, but when they were alone Jilana forced herself to say them. "Thank you, lord."

"Thanks from the same slave who tried to bury a dagger in my heart only a few minutes ago? Clywd's gods have performed a miracle!" Jilana's indignation at his mocking must have shown because Caddaric laughed and tilted her face to his. "If you are truly thankful there is a way you can show your gratitude. A way which Artair so rudely interrupted."

The Briton's words were soft, almost gentle, but they struck fear in Jilana's heart. So the time had come, she thought dazedly as she gave in to the pressure of the Iceni's arm and accompanied him to the bed. Just as her family and freedom had been taken from her, her virginity would now be the latest victim of the Iceni rebellion.

"Tis not such a hard task I set before you," Caddaric explained as he seated himself on the bed and handed Jilana his dagger. "But it must be done quickly, cleanly. Put my dagger to heat upon the coals and we shall begin."

Jilana paled, her violet eyes staring into the Briton's calm blue ones. Great Juno, help me, she prayed desperately. The barbarian is mad! He means more harm than I thought. Simple ravishment was one thing, but to be left disfigured, physically scarred Jilana swallowed convulsively. Mayhap if she convinced the Briton that she would offer no resistance he would forego whatever cruelty he had planned. A maiden still, Jilana had only a vague idea of what transpired between a man and woman, but she was certain that heated daggers had no part of the


normal act.

Caddaric frowned at her resistance. "Come, Jilana, it must be done. 'Twill be a relief to us both to have it finished."

"B-but, Lord," Jilana stammered. "Surely there is another way?"

"Aye, but it is longer and more painful for me." Caddaric lifted a questioning eyebrow. "Do you wish for me to suffer unnecessarily?" Pure terror seized Jilana and it was all she could do to shake her head. "Good. Now set dagger to heat and—" he surveyed the clothing on the bed, picked up a stola and draped it over Jilana's arm "--put this on. The cloak will only encumber your actions. Impatiently, Caddaric closed Jilana's fingers ind the dagger hilt and gave her a push toward the brazier. "Bring Clywd's pouch back with you."

A nightmare, Jilana thought as she obeyed the Briton's instructions. Trembling from head to toe, Jilana went to the bed and found Caddaric had stripped off his tunic while her back had been turned. Clad only in a brief loincloth Caddaric watched her approach, his face surprisingly grim for one who had been so anxious to begin this entire business.

"I hope you are stronger than you look," Caddaric muttered as he took the pouch and sorted through the contents. "'Twill do me no good if you faint at the sight blood."

Such deliberate baiting stiffened Jilana's spine. "Were I to swoon, Briton, I would have done so at the gravesite. Why you wish to torture me in such a manner I do not know, but I will die before I faint at your hands."

"At my hands?" Caddaric shook his head. "You speak in riddles. Here is the balm you will need." He set the clay aside and pulled an unwilling Jilana between his thighs. "First the bandage, so that I may see what damage you have done." Speech deserted Jilana; she simply stared as Caddaric unwound the cloth which covered his right thigh. He is wounded, Jilana thought, and needs my help. That she had misinterpreted his aim made Jilana giddy with relief. Concern over the loss of her innocence fled when the last the bandage fell away to reveal an ugly gash that ran from the middle of Caddaric's thigh upward to the lower edge of his loincloth. Blood spilled from the wound to form a puddle on the floor and Jilana gasped aloud.

Seemingly indifferent to the injury Caddaric ordered, "Bring one of those buckets of clean water."

Jilana obeyed without hesitation. For the moment the Briton ceased to be her hated enemy. He was simply a human being, hurt, bleeding, and in great danger of dying if something was not done. Jilana tore several pieces of cloth from one of the gowns at her feet and knelt in front of Caddaric. "Let me." Brushing aside his hands Jilana pressed all but one of the cloths against the wound while her free hand wetted the remaining material and wiped the dried blood from his leg.

"Tis not infected," Caddaric stated, and Jilana thought she heard him sigh in relief.

"I did this," Jilana asked weakly, assaulted by guilt. Undoubtedly in her desperate struggle, the kick she had managed to land against his leg had opened his wound.