Defy the Eagle (52 page)

Heall and Clywd exchanged smugly satisfied looks and Jilana ducked her head to hide her embarrassment. Beside her, Caddaric gave a noncommittal grunt and drank the rest of his wine. No doubt Ede had insisted upon marriage, Caddaric thought, although why Ewan seemed just as enthusiastic as his betrothed was puzzling. No man in possession of his senses would take on a wife now, in the middle of a war. He kept his thoughts to himself, however, and poured the last of the wine.

****

The next morning, Jilana awoke before Caddaric and she worked the soreness out of her muscles by adding wood to the fire and caring for the horses. She set the oatmeal porridge to cook over the fire and ventured back into their tent to wake Caddaric. Not an easy task, she decided as she bent over the pallet and shook him by the shoulder. The wine made Caddaric sleep like the dead and to add to her troubles, her hand kept slipping from his shoulder to the broad expanse of his chest. Not exactly slipping, Jilana admitted to herself. She liked the way the hair on his chest felt under her fingers and her hands ached to explore the soft hair and the hard flesh beneath it. Warmth suffused her body and Jilana pulled her hand away just as Caddaric's eyes slitted open.

"Morrow." Caddaric's voice was a hoarse croak and Jilana was unable to suppress a smile.

"Good morrow," Jilana replied, straightening. "The meal is nearly ready."

Caddaric groaned, sat up, and groaned again, both hands going to his head. "Are the others awake?" The words were muffled, since his hands covered his mouth.

"Not yet." The blanket had fallen to his waist and Jilana's eyes roamed avidly over the exposed flesh. "Shall I wake them?"

"Aye." Caddaric slowly got to his feet and the blanket dropped away.

He turned away from Jilana and she stared at the ridges which marred his back. "Caddaric," she breathed, "what happened to your back?"

Caddaric glanced over his shoulder at her, frowning because of the hammer behind his eyes. "My back?"

Instinctively, Jilana glided forward and touched the hard scars with her fingertips. The marks were old, but that did not lessen their impact upon her. 'Twas obvious that Caddaric had once been beaten, severely, and anger surged through Jilana. "Who did this to you?"

Caddaric moved away from her touch and drew on his tunic. "'Twas a long time ago, Jilana," he answered, as if that was the end of it.

"Who?"

Slowly, Caddaric pivoted so that he was facing Jilana. "When I first joined the legion, one of the decurioi was outraged that a Briton had been assigned to him as a replacement. When I did not follow one of his orders as quickly as he thought I should, he made an example of me."

Tears welled in Jilana's eyes at the thought of Caddaric being so mistreated, and she turned quickly away. "I will wake Heall and Clywd."

There was little conversation during the meal—the god Bacchus was having his revenge upon those who overindulged, and breaking the camp took more time than usual. Even gentle Clywd wore a pained expression and spoke more softly than was normal for him. Heall groaned whenever he moved too quickly, and as she loaded the wagon, Jilana could hear his low sounds of agony as he packed the second wagon. That day Jilana drove, and after a few minutes of swaying next to her in the seat, Caddaric mumbled something about checking their supplies and climbed back to the wagon bed. When she glanced over her shoulder later, Jilana found him asleep, with his head pillowed by the grain bags.

The next day, Caddaric took charge of the team. Jilana wanted to ask why he no longer rode with the vanguard, but she did not. She enjoyed riding next to him, even though they exchanged few words. And too, she was grateful for the free time, for she had offered to sew Ede's wedding gown when she saw the hopeless mess the warrior maid was making of it. Ede's talents, apparently, did not extend to sewing, although she had cut the material correctly. Thus, Jilana sewed on the gown while Caddaric drove the wagon.

"You need not labor so for Ede," Caddaric told Jilana the day of the wedding.

They were in the wagon and Jilana was finishing the hem of the gown. When that was done, she planned to add a design to the hem of the sleeves. Beneath her fingers, the bone needle flew through the material. She would have to hurry in order to embroider the sleeves by moonset. "I do not mind," Jilana protested, not looking up from her work. "Every woman should have a beautiful gown for her wedding."

Caddaric snorted. "Not so long ago, you and Ede could not bear the sight of one another."

"Things change," Jilana said philosophically. She glanced at Caddaric from the corner of her eyes. "Maybe you are jealous of Ewan."

Caddaric laughed shortly. "I have been too long among foreigners; I prefer my women more biddable than Ede."

Jilana knotted the thread and bit it off. From the notions Ede had given her, she took a twist of green thread and measured a length of it for the sleeves. "Lucius, too, liked biddable women. I hope you have better luck than he."

Caddaric considered that for a moment and then asked carefully, "Meaning you were not biddable?"

"I fear not." Intent upon her sewing, Jilana failed to notice the odd note in Caddaric's voice. "I was forever angering him with my actions." She sighed and shook her head. "Poor Lucius. He could never understand why I preferred riding my horse through the forest to riding in a litter to the market."

"But you would have married him?"

"Oh, yes," Jilana said dryly. "'Twas a good match; my father was well-pleased with it."

Caddaric shook his head in disbelief. "Did it never occur to you to challenge your father's dictates?"

Jilana stared at him. "To what end? I had not the freedom of your Iceni women, Caddaric. I could either remain in my father's house or marry, at his discretion. 'Tis the way of things."

"Did Lucius meet with your approval?"

"Aye." Jilana gave him a slight smile. "He was young, sound of body and mind, and not unpleasant to look upon. We would have had a satisfactory marriage."

"You make it sound like a dose of one of Clywd's medicines," Caddaric commented acidly. "Had you no thoughts of your own?"

"Of course I did," Jilana bristled. "I agreed to Lucius as my husband. 'Twas far better than journeying to Rome and allowing my father's father to choose a husband for me! I thought that Lucius—oh, what does it matter? You cannot possibly understand!" She bent back over her sewing, glaring at the material.

Caddaric watched her for a moment. "You are right-Lucius would not have found you biddable." He turned to the road, a hint of a smile softening his lips.

That afternoon, when the camp had been set up, Jilana gathered all her courage and told Caddaric he would have to stay with Heall and Clywd until the ceremony.

"Why?" Caddaric growled, rising from the fire he had just started.

"Because we need the tent, and the privacy."

"We?"

"Ede, Guendolen, three other village women and myself," Jilana replied, eyeing his fierce expression.

"Jilana, I am weary," Caddaric began to explain with what he thought was admirable patience. "I had hoped to wash and rest before the evening meal."

"You can do that in Heall's camp," Jilana pointed out.

"I planned to rest on my pallet," Caddaric clarified. "Not the ground or the wagon bed."

"Caddaric, have you no heart?" Jilana pleaded. "Ede and Ewan have already lost so much because of the war, they should have this one night, at least."

Caddaric eyed her suspiciously. "Have you given them our tent for their wedding night?"

"Of course not," Jilana exclaimed. "But I promised Ede a warm bath and the privacy in which to dress."

"You promised? Without asking me?"

It was like a slap in the face. Caddaric was reminding her that she was only a slave, without any authority of her own. Jilana swallowed back the hurt and studied the toes of her shoes. Caddaric had bartered a portion of their cured meat for a pair of leather slippers for her the day after Beltane. They were more comfortable than her sandals and would wear better. She had been touched by his thoughtfulness, but he had curtly brushed aside her thanks. Had he not said he would take care of her?

"I am sorry, Caddaric," Jilana whispered, "I had-no right-"

"Jilana," Caddaric interrupted roughly, "I was teasing." Jilana's head snapped up and she stared into his brilliant blue eyes. "You can give them the damned tent if you wish; I do not care. Just remember that it would mean sharing a pallet made beneath the sky."

He brushed the knuckles of one hand over her cheek and, with an exaggerated sigh, went into the tent to gather a change of clothes. When he emerged, Jilana still stood where he had left her. Grumbling under his breath, Caddaric walked the few feet that separated their camp from Heall's, tossed his clothes into the wagon and then joined the two older men at their fire. When he was settled with a cup of mead, Caddaric looked up and winked at her.

An explosion of tender warmth burst within Jilana's breast and she turned away so that Caddaric could not see the expression on her face. How could he be so cold and remote one moment, and so kind the next? He was a puzzle that fascinated her and Jilana had to constantly remind herself that she was only his slave, no matter how considerately he treated her. She had only to look at the fading scars on her wrists and ankles to remember how quickly he could turn on her. But when the women arrived and they began preparing Ede for her marriage, Jilana still had not succeeded in quashing the pang that stabbed her heart when she thought of Caddaric sitting only a few feet away.

Laughing, the women bathed Ede and dressed her in the gown that Jilana had finished only minutes earlier, and then brushed her hair until it dried and fell down her back like a shining waterfall. One of the women brought a vial of jealously hoarded perfume and it was generously applied to the bride. Ede's marching sandals were exchanged for a delicate pair with low heels and then the cosmetics were brought forward. Ede's cheeks were rouged, her eyelashes and brows darkened, and kohl generously applied to her eyelids. When they were finished, Jilana nearly gasped aloud. Although the cosmetics were more heavily applied than was fashionable for a Roman woman, there was no doubt in Jilana's mind that Ede was the most strikingly beautiful woman she had ever seen and for a moment Jilana was secretly relieved that Ede had chosen another. She could never compete against Ede for Caddaric's affection. As soon as she had the thought, Jilana chastised herself for being so foolish, but the feeling remained just the same. The women ate a light meal—to which they had all contributed—and then retired to their own camps to prepare for the ceremony. Ede and Jilana were left alone.

"The gown is beautiful," Ede murmured, running her fingers over the embroidery on the sleeves.

Jilana smiled. "So are you." She sighed and opened her kist. "And now, I must change and rebraid my hair."

Ede left the pallet, where she had been sitting so carefully in order to remain unmussed, and peered over Jilana's shoulder as she pulled out her other white stola. "Why do you not wear these tunics?" Ede inquired.

Jilana shrugged. "I am uncomfortable in them."

"Are they too small?"

Jilana shook her head and a faint blush rose in her cheeks. "I used to wear them at home when I rode, but here.. .they expose most of my legs," she finished lamely.

Ede rolled her eyes. "Jilana, most of the women wear short tunics."

"I know, but..." Jilana raised her hands in a self-conscious gesture. She was not about to tell Ede that she had put a tunic on one morning and Caddaric had done nothing but stare at her while she did her chores. Before the tent had been struck, Jilana had ducked back inside and changed into her stola. She had never forgotten the feeling of his eyes lingering upon her. Jilana turned her back on Ede and stripped off her stola in order to wash.

"What is this?'' Ede exclaimed.

Jilana turned and saw the length of saffron in Ede's hands. "My wedding veil," she replied shakily. She presented her back to Ede and washed quickly in the cool water.

"Tis very pretty." Ede shook out the gauzy material and held it up in front of her eyes. "It gives everything a golden appearance."

Jilana shrugged into her gown. "You may have it if you wish." She knew of the Celtic love of color, and Ede was obviously fascinated with the garment. "I have no use for it."

"Oh, do you mean it?" But Ede was already drawing the veil over her head. It provided a vivid contrast to the white gown with its green decoration.

"Of course." Jilana smiled at the rapt expression on Ede's face. The child-like enthusiasm—common among Ede's people—was endearing. "I will certainly have no need of it."

At moonset they emerged from the tent and both women stopped dead at the sight awaiting them. A wicker chariot stood in the camp, and it was drawn by a team of snow-white horses.

"Oh!" Ede made a sound that to Jilana sounded suspiciously like a sob, and walked slowly forward. Caddaric stood at the horses' heads, holding the bridles while Heall stood in the chariot. "Where did you—" Ede's voice broke as she reached out to stroke a white neck.

"They are from the Queen, so that you might be properly taken to your wedding," Caddaric explained gently, although he was frowning. "The Queen said—and my father agreed—that the gods would not be offended by the substitution of horses for oxen."

"They could not be offended by such beauty," Jilana agreed. She followed Ede and placed a hand upon one of the velvet-soft noses. The horse accepted her immediately, butting its nose against her shoulder when she tried to show the same attention to its teammate.

"Heall will drive you," Caddaric told Ede, although his eyes were fixed upon Jilana.