Defy the Eagle (37 page)

Hadrian, his back braced against the tree, watched the behavior of the prisoners through narrow eyes. All were frightened, a few wept openly. With the removal of the bodies this morning, the once proud citizens of the capital had made themselves as comfortable as was possible on the hard ground and resigned themselves to their fate. As he had. A less than glorious end to his otherwise successful military career. Hadrian gave a short bark of laughter and winced at the pain that shot through his right side. He. rubbed the damaged portion of his chest, glanced idly around, and felt his mouth drop open in astonishment. Jilana was marching toward him as if her presence was the most natural thing in the world. Hadrian's eyes widened at the sight of the hideous brown garment she carried on her arm.

Jilana stopped beside Hadrian and smiled serenely. "Tis time to leave."

Hadrian gaped up at her. "You are mad." But he felt hope spring back to life.

"No doubt." Jilana reached down and helped Hadrian to his feet. "Put this on." She shook out the cloak, revealing the tunic she had stolen. "Not even this cloak will hide the blood on your tunic," she prodded when Hadrian hesitated.

With a nod, Hadrian struggled out of his own clothing and knew a moment of embarrassment when he stood unsteadily in front of Jilana clad only in his loincloth. She, however, seemed unconcerned with this lack of modesty, and merely stepped forward to help him into the fresh tunic. Once he was clothed, Jilana swept the cloak around his shoulders and tied it securely at the neck. Her medicine box still lay on the ground and Jilana took a moment to close it and swing the strap over her shoulder.

"Now we go." Jilana took Hadrian's arm and led him away from the prisoners. The other captives were so lost in their own misery that it seemed none of them noticed Hadrian's odd departure. Or if they did, they gave no sign.

"The guards are gone," Jilana observed in a smug tone.

"I know, I saw them leave," Hadrian replied dryly. They were away from the prisoners now and surrounded by the enemy. Hadrian's hand fell to his side, where his sword would have hung, and encountered air.

Jilana noticed the betraying movement. "There is no danger, Hadrian. The Iceni are too busy with their own plans to worry about a prisoner escaping." Her words did nothing to dispel his nervousness and Jilana squeezed his arm reassuringly. "There is no need to hurry. Just lean on me if you grow weak; 'tis not too far."

His body was weak, Hadrian discovered when they had covered only a short distance, and the jostling he received at the hands of the Iceni who were hurrying to Camulodunum caused pain to spear through his side. Against his instincts, Hadrian found himself leaning against Jilana's lesser strength. He paid little attention to his surroundings, needing all of his energy to concentrate on the increasingly complicated task of walking, until Jilana gently pulled on his arm and led him into a campsite. He recognized the style of the leather tent at once, and so hesitated to step inside when Jilana held the outer flap open for him. With the destruction that had transpired since the uprising, Hadrian wondered if the ghosts of the soldiers who had once inhabited this tent still dwelled within it.

"Hadrian, step inside," Jilana urged.

Overcoming his superstitions, Hadrian stepped forward and Jilana dropped the flap behind him.

Leading him to the pallet, Jilana said, "Wait here," and, after setting her medicine box beside a chest, left him alone.

He could hear the soft clink of her chains as Jilana moved about outside the tent and, as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Hadrian was able to discern the furnishings within. A large chest decorated with bold, Celtic patterns sat against one wall. The Iceni warrior's, Hadrian guessed. A small oil lamp, an earthenware pitcher and basin and the pallet, the latter neatly made and the former strictly aligned against the wall opposite the chest. Odd how the discipline of the legion spilled over into one's private habits, Hadrian mused. He lay down on the pallet and closed his eyes, surrendering to his wounds. He may have slept, but when Jilana entered the tent, his eyes flew open.

Jilana crossed the small area between the tent and the pallet and knelt beside Hadrian. "I have a horse saddled and ready, behind the tent, and food and water to last you a week. Will that be enough time for you to reach safety?"

Hadrian thought a moment, then nodded. "We will go south, to Londinium. The civilians need to be warned of the uprising." Belatedly, her words made themselves clear and he looked sharply at Jilana. "You are coming with me."

"Nay, I cannot." Jilana gave him a tremulous smile and lifted the hem of her skirt so that the chains were in plain sight. "I cannot ride in these, and even if I could, I would not."

"Why?" The single word was raw with anguish..

"If I escape, Caddaric will come after me," Jilana answered calmly, but her eyes darkened with a pain that Hadrian could not begin to comprehend. "'Twill take time for the Iceni to notice that you are gone, and once they discover your absence they will assume that you died."

"We did not escape unnoticed," Hadrian argued. "In time that priest will learn the truth and come for you. Jilana, you must come with me!"

Jilana concealed the fear which slithered up her spine at the thought of Lhwyd. "Caddaric will protect me," she assured Hadrian bitterly. "He has plans that not even Lhwyd can contest." Even as she spoke, Jilana knew that was not true. When Lhwyd discovered her role in Hadrian's escape—and he would find out, Jilana knew that with dreadful certainty—even if Caddaric were so inclined, he could offer no protection. But what was a moment under Lhwyd's ritual knife compared to the agony of lying in Caddaric's arms and knowing his desire was only for the child they would create. Jilana kept these dark thoughts to herself as she knelt and raised Hadrian's tunic so that she could check his bandage. "The bleeding has stopped," she informed him. "And the dressing should hold until you reach Londinium."

"Jilana—"

"One last item," Jilana interrupted. She insinuated a hand between the pallet and the ground, burrowing around until her hand closed around cold metal. With a triumphant smile, she extracted the weapon she had hidden and presented it to Hadrian. "Your dagger."

Hadrian shook his head in wonder as he accepted the dagger. "How did you manage this?" he asked as Jilana opened the chest and drew forth a wide belt.

"Caddaric did not think to search me." Jilana shrugged. "Come, 'tis time to leave." Jilana helped him rise, smoothed the tunic into place and waited impatiently while he buckled the belt and slid the dagger beneath it. "They have fired the temple roof."

She hurried him outside before Hadrian could protest further. When Hadrian saw the size of his mount, he groaned. "A smaller horse would be welcome," he commented weakly.

"Unfortunately, there is little to choose from," Jilana answered with a wry smile. "He will serve you well, I think, and he is not as fearsome as another I could have chosen." She brushed a kiss across Hadrian's cheek, then stepped back to hold the bridle. "Up."

Hadrian rested his arm against the saddle and stared down at her. "Jilana, you must come with me."

"There is no time to argue," Jilana snapped. "You know that I cannot, and you know the reasons. You must leave, Hadrian, or the chance will be lost. I have not gone to all this trouble only to have you caught now!"

His left leg had not completely healed. Stiff and painful, it bore his weight for only a moment when he made to swing into the saddle; then the knee buckled and Hadrian's right foot slammed back to the ground. Waves of agony ripped through his side and leg and Hadrian clung to the saddle for support.

"Try again."

Through the buzzing in his head, Hadrian barely made out Jilana's words. Automatically, he obeyed the tone of command. This time, just as his left leg was about to take his body's weight, Jilana's hands were around his knee, bracing it against the strain. He settled hard onto the saddle and took several deep breaths to counteract the swimming sensation in his head. At last he opened his eyes and looked down into Jilana's concerned face. "Come with me," he grated.

Jilana shook her head, unshed tears burning her eyes, turning them a brilliant violet as she handed the reins to Hadrian. "Cut directly through the camp and skirt the city until you reach the road. Cross it and take to the forest on the opposite side. 'Tis how I reached Camulodunum without being discovered." She took the bridle strap in her hand and guided the horse between the tent and dead fire. Releasing the bridle, she took a step backward. "The gods go with you, Hadrian, and grant you peace." Her voice cracked on the last words.

"Jilana, I beg you—"

"Go!" Jilana commanded in a desperate voice. She slapped the horse on the rump and it leaped forward. It took Hadrian a moment to gain control of the mount, and when he did he was too firmly enmeshed in the Iceni traffic to turn the steed around. He looked back once, but did not wave. Nor did Jilana. The risk was too great.

Jilana watched until Hadrian was swallowed up by the trees and the jubilant Iceni. Now she could only pray that his disguise held and, if it did, that he had the strength to make it to Londinium. She turned back to the camp, prayers to Jupiter, Mithras, Mars and any other god who might offer Hadrian protection hovering on her lips. And came face to face with Heall.

Her mouth formed Heall's name, but no sound emerged. She felt the blood drain from her face, and her heart began a slow, thrumming rhythm that echoed in her head. Heall stood as unmoving as a statue, his right hand resting on his sword. His brown eyes were bright, boring into her with a fierce intensity. How much had he seen? Jilana wondered frantically. Could she bluff her way through this, pretend that it was Caddaric who had just ridden off? Heall's words killed that hope.

"You are a foolish, foolish child."

Jilana stayed on her feet, but just barely. "What will you do?" Amazingly, her voice was calm, if breathless.

Heall sighed and his body seemed to relax. "What I should have done was stop you while I had the chance. But I did not." He shook his shaggy head. "A girl in chains and a badly wounded prisoner. Who would believe it?" Both eyebrows rose questioningly at Jilana. "How do you plan to explain the loss of the horse to Caddaric?"

"I—I have no idea," Jilana murmured, afraid of the light in Heall's eyes.

"And the clothes he wore, those were Caddaric's as well?" At Jilana's nod, Heall chuckled reluctantly. "You do not lack for courage, child, only intelligence."

The insult caused Jilana to briefly forget her fear and she bristled. "Will he be stopped, do you think?"

Heall considered that a moment before shaking his head. "Nay, not today. You timed it well."

"Except for you," Jilana pointed out. What was Heall thinking?

"Aye, except for me," Heall agreed. His expression gave nothing away.

"Are you going to tell Caddaric?"

Heall laughed shortly. "There will be no need. The missing horse and clothing will speak for themselves. He is not a stupid man, Jilana."

"I know that well enough." Jilana sank to the ground and idly smoothed her stained skirt over her manacled ankles. Her hands, she noted dispassionately, were trembling. The motion drew a frown from Heall. "I will tell him that I thought to escape and the horse bolted. He will believe that." She gave Heall a wary look. "Unless you tell him the truth."

"And the clothing," Heall asked, avoiding her unspoken question.

Jilana shrugged with a carelessness she was far from feeling. In truth, with each passing minute her nerves were stretched closer to the breaking point. "I will plead ignorance and throw myself on his mercy. Mayhap Caddaric can be convinced that he failed to pack those two items."

Heall considered this, one hand stroking his silver beard. "There was some confusion when he left Venta Icenorum," he mused. "Aye, Caddaric could easily be convinced that he left the cloak and tunic behind. So," Heall drew the word out thoughtfully, "we are left with the problem of the gelding." Jilana caught her breath as Heall's meaning became clear, and his beard twitched as he smiled. "Did you think I meant to leave you to your own devices?"

There was a hint of mischief in his voice and Jilana exhaled shakily. "You are Caddaric's friend and I have just—" She paused, searching for the right word.

"Betrayed him," Heall offered.

Jilana swallowed and nodded. "Betrayed him, and Boadicea... and Lhwyd. Why would you help me?"

Heall sat beside her on the ground. "Tell me about this man. What is he to you?" The query was so gentle that Jilana found herself telling Heall the entire story of her relationship with Hadrian. "Friendship is a rare gift," he said when she fell silent. "That is all this Hadrian is to you, a friend?"

Jilana inclined her head. "Only a friend, Heall, not a—" she blushed "—a lover." Something like relief seemed to pass over Heall's face, but Jilana did not see it.

"Why did you not go with him?"

"Because Caddaric would have followed us, and then Hadrian would have been lost." Jilana glanced down at the links of chain which had escaped the folds of her skirt. "And because 1 could not ride in these."

The truth, Heall thought, but not the whole truth. Or perhaps I choose to deceive myself with Clywd's visions. Awkwardly, he patted Jilana's hand and rose.