Celtic Fire (33 page)

Eventually, Lucius lost count of the blows.

The wind died at midday, but it was near sunset before Rhiannon rode to Vindolanda.

She’d passed the long hours of the battle sequestered in Madog’s hut with Owein for her guard. He sat by the door, not meeting her gaze, his shoulders rigid and his hand on the hilt of Madog’s sword. He didn’t answer when she tried to speak to him. If the lad she’d raised lived within him, he was well hidden.

Madog had stayed in the stone circle to pray. Her last glimpse of Owein’s mentor showed the Druid standing between the smoldering fires, hands clasped about his staff, the skull of Lucius’s brother swaying in the dying light. The shredded whisper of Aulus’s soul called to her:
Tell him.
If only she had listened.

Edmyg came at midday. He stooped before the door, ignoring Owein, and barked an order at Rhiannon to rise. He’d brought Derwa, saddled and decked with flowers. He lifted her onto the pony’s back but didn’t relinquish the lead, even after he had swung onto his own mount. They set out on the trail, Owein following.

The walls of Vindolanda loomed high against a blazing sunset. The gates were flung wide, but the siege had not been bloodless. A pile of headless corpses lay outside the eastern gate. Their severed heads were mounted on spikes flanking the gates. Crows already picked at the eyes of one unfortunate man. Rhiannon’s stomach lurched when she recognized Vetus. She quickly scanned the others but found no sign of Lucius, nor of Marcus or Demetrius.

They traversed the main avenue past the charred ruin of the fort hospital. Apparently, fear of illness had caused the Celts to torch the building. Warriors, many staggering with drink, cheered Edmyg and Rhiannon’s progress and crowded behind as they passed. Edmyg steered Derwa into the gates of the fort headquarters and into the barren yard. Rhiannon felt Owein’s presence at her back, but it brought no comfort.

Men filled the space. Some had scaled the columns supporting the roof of the perimeter walkway to perch on the eaves. A lone form sat higher, near the peak of the roof.

The throng on the ground parted before them, opening a path to the center of the yard where a thick stake of newly cut wood had been sunk. A man hung bound at its base.

Lucius.

His head was bowed and his hands stretched overhead, tied with rough rope to an iron spike hammered into the wood. His legs were spread and tied at the ankles to shorter stakes set several paces to the fore. The position didn’t allow him to lie flat or to sit upright. He’d been beaten and stripped of all but his ragged tunic. Flies were already buzzing around the worst of his wounds. His chest heaved with the exertion of drawing air into his lungs.

He lived yet. But for how long? If Rhiannon could somehow contrive to free him, were his injuries too great to allow his escape?

Cormac and Brennus stood nearby, watching Rhiannon’s advance. Her gaze tangled briefly with the dwarf’s. He gave her a smug salute. His glance toward Lucius told her he’d noticed her horror before she’d carefully wiped it from her face.

Edmyg maneuvered their mounts to within a few paces of Lucius and addressed the crowd. “I give you Rhiannon, queen of the Brigantes!”

A cheer went up, but Rhiannon barely heard it. At the sound of her name, Lucius’s head had come up. He stared at her with shock, then hatred.

“You,” he croaked. “You are the barbarian queen of whom my brother wrote?” He began to laugh.

Edmyg dismounted and planted his boot in the prisoner’s side with a savage jab. Lucius’s mad cackle ended in a grunt.

“Nay—don’t hurt him further!” Rhiannon cried.

Cormac grinned. “We’ve barely scratched him, lass. The quartermaster sorely wanted to break his legs, but the dog will need his limbs whole to dance in Madog’s circle.”

Rhiannon spun on Owein. “Nay. Not that.”

“ ’Twill be done at dawn,” her brother replied. “I will wield the sword.”

Rhiannon swayed on Derwa’s back and would have fallen if Edmyg hadn’t caught her.

He lifted her from the pony and set her on her feet. “How pale ye are. Surely the Roman’s cock wasna so skillful that ye mourn its loss?”

Rhiannon pulled from his grasp. “Release him, Edmyg. His death will bring the wrath of Rome down on our heads.”

“I think not,
wife.”
His lips parted in a snarl. “Did spreading your legs for him give ye so much pleasure? Perhaps I should let ye keep him as a slave, as he kept ye. I would enjoy watching you suck the marrow from his bone, I am thinking.”

“Ye are a disgusting swine. Remember ye are naught but a sword in my service.”

Edmyg caught her chin in his hand. “Dinna speak to me like that again, woman. I am yer king.”

“Nay. I have renounced ye.”

The back of Edmyg’s hand struck Rhiannon’s face. Rhiannon cried out in shame and rage. How dare he strike her? To her surprise, Brennus was the first to leap to her aid, lunging at Edmyg with a fierce snarl. The two warriors fell in the dirt, grappling.

Lucius groaned. Rhiannon dropped to her knees and stretched out her hand, her fingers hovering over his bruised cheek. His eyes opened, took in the sight of her, and closed again.

“Whore,” he said.

Rhiannon had no answer. A fly landed on his sweat-soaked forehead. When she went to brush it away, a hand caught her wrist and hauled her to her feet.

She looked up into Owein’s hard eyes. “Dinna shame yerself by touching him,” he said.

“Ye don’t understand.”

“I understand well enough, sister. Dinna let the blood of Cartimandua show. Our people deserve better.” His gaze flicked past her shoulder and turned grim. “ ’Twould seem Edmyg’s conceit has flung him into a boiling cauldron.”

She turned. The scrapping warriors had gained their feet and were circling each other warily, swords drawn. Brennus, Rhiannon realized with a start, wielded a weapon with a hilt and crosspiece fashioned in the shape of a wolf’s head—Lucius’s own blade.

“The woman goes with me,” Brennus said.

“Nay. She is mine.”

Cormac sidled up to Rhiannon. “See what comes next.” His low voice barely contained his glee.

“I delivered the garrison,” Brennus said. “I was promised a throne in return.”

“I promised ye nothing,” Edmyg replied. “Ye’ll nay be taking Rhiannon save over my dead body.”

“So be it.” Brennus lunged and his sword clashed with Edmyg’s once, twice.

Cormac chortled. “The true battle begins. The Gaul will take it.”

“Edmyg is your brother,” Rhiannon said, aghast. Around her, wagers flew as the men, Brigantes and Gauls alike, moved back to make room for the dueling warriors.

“Aye, but my bet is on Brennus, his mail shirt, and his Roman sword. Edmyg has naught but pride. I’ve said oft enough ’twould be his downfall. I’m counting on it now.”

“ ’Twas you who promised Brennus the throne!”

“Aye, and the queen as well. ’Twas the bait the wolf couldna refuse. I am no fool, Rhiannon, and ’tis a wise man who seeks the sturdiest shelter in which to pass the storm.”

“A storm of your own making,” Rhiannon countered. “How could ye betray your own brother?”

“I was the elder brother. By rights, ye should have been mine first, along with the throne. And ye would have been if not for my stunted limbs.” He paused, watching as Edmyg parried an attack from Brennus. “ ’Tis a natural alliance between the Gauls and our people. We are one blood, and the Brigantes have fought alone for years with little to show for it. This fort is a boon without price and the garrison soldiers nearly double our strength. With their aid, we can hold our land.”

“A fool ye be if ye think that, Cormac. The Romans will never retreat. Ye’ll be fighting all your life.”

“I’ll gladly do that, lass, rather than bow to the likes of him.” He spat at Lucius.

Owein tugged at her arm. “Rhiannon, get back. I’ll nay have your blood spilled.” He urged her out of the path of the combatants. She let him pull her to safety, watching in horror as Edmyg and Brennus fought for the right to her body and through it the throne. The warriors circled the post where Lucius hung. Dear Briga! If a sword went astray, Lucius could do naught but watch it come.

Brennus attacked with a wide slice inward. Edmyg caught the blade with the edge of his sword and threw it over. The opponents clashed with violent fury, grunting curses, blades clanging. Brennus gave a thrust, missing Edmyg by a mere breath. Edmyg lost his balance and fell on Lucius’s outstretched leg. Rhiannon lurched forward, but Owein held her fast. Lucius’s face turned gray behind his bruises as his jaw clenched against a cry.

Edmyg scrambled to his feet, narrowly avoiding a killing blow. Brennus’s blade thudded into the earth near Lucius’s hip. Rhiannon slumped against Owein, shaken.

The deadly battle continued. Edmyg managed to nick the Gaul’s arm with a swipe that seemed more luck than skill. Brennus swore an oath and doubled his efforts, slashing with deadly urgency, forcing Edmyg back. When Edmyg lifted his arm to make his next thrust, his enemy’s blade plunged into his gut.

Rhiannon cried out. Edmyg looked down at the hilt protruding from his stomach with an expression of disbelief. Brennus twisted his sword once and withdrew. A shout rose from the crowd. Edmyg staggered and fell, his hands clutching the wound until his strength deserted him. A tremor shook his body and then he lay still, staring at the sky.

“ ’Tis done, then.” Cormac sounded suddenly weary. Brennus thrust his bloody sword into its sheath. When his head rose, his gaze fixed on Rhiannon.

“Nay,” she whispered.

“Who will challenge my right to be called king?” Brennus shouted.

Bryan stepped forward from a knot of Edmyg’s best warriors and for one wild moment, Rhiannon thought her cousin would challenge Brennus. Her hope was dashed when the warrior placed his fist over his heart.

“I promise you my allegiance, king.”

One by one the other clan chieftains came forward and pledged their fealty. Rhiannon gripped Owein’s arm. “I canna go with him.”

“Ye must. The hand of Kernunnos directed this contest. Refuse the god’s will, and we will all fall.” He gave a grim smile. “The Gaul canna be worse than Edmyg.”

“I would rather die than bed him.”

Owein opened his mouth to answer, then fell silent upon Brennus’s approach.

The Gaul dropped on one knee before Rhiannon. “My queen. I offer you the protection of my body and my sword.” He bowed his head, but the steely glint in his eye told Rhiannon his words were spoken solely to appease her kinsmen.

She looked away. It was a mistake, for she found Lucius’s dark eyes upon her, filled with loathing. She held his gaze until tears blurred his image.

Brennus rose and caught her upper arm. “Come.” He guided her toward the portal leading to the street. His grip was like iron, but even if she could wrench out of his grasp, where would she run? Her kinsmen had accepted this man as their king. Her only hope to avoid her fate was to contrive Lucius’s escape and flee south with him.

She bit back a hysterical laugh. Even if she somehow managed to free Lucius, she could hardly expect he would risk his life to save hers. Not after she’d kept the truth of his brother’s fate from him. Most likely he would tie her to a tree and leave her for the carrion eaters.

Brennus propelled her through the door of the fort commander’s residence and into a small room off the foyer. How could she delay his advances? When the door thudded shut, she stiffened her spine and summoned her most regal tone.

“Unhand me.”

To her surprise, Brennus complied.

“I’m in sore need of rest,” she said, picking her words carefully. “You may leave me.”

Brennus’s mouth curved. “I’ve no complaint if ye take to your bed. But if ye think to delay my presence there, you’re wasting precious time. I’m most eager to be wiping the memory of Aquila’s cock from your body.”

“Did … did he hurt you?”

The painful throb in Owein’s head quickened as he waited for Rhiannon’s reply. He’d gained entrance to the chamber scant moments after Brennus’s departure by threatening the Gaulish guard with a Druid curse. The man had not been able to unbolt the door fast enough.

“Nay,” Rhiannon said at last. “He was called away as soon as he brought me here.” She paced the room. It was crowded with dark shadows, the only illumination a shaft of dim light from the single high window. “When he returns, I’ll tell him the moon flux is upon me.”

“That lie willna work for long.”

“I know it, brother.”

He took a step toward her, then halted. “Can ye not at least give Brennus a chance? The clans need his men.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “I’m ever the whore chasing power. Truly, Owein, I grow weary of it.”

He went to her then, and put his arms around her. “Ye are no whore. Ye are a treasure beyond price. A queen.”

“A queen, locked away? I would sooner be a hag, and free of this place.”

“Our people need ye.”

She threw off his embrace. “Need me? For what? The men follow their war leaders. Madog prays only to Kernunnos—he’s forsaken Briga. Without the goddess to balance the god, our people will stumble and fall.” She turned to him with pleading eyes. “Ye must not kill him, Owein.”

Pain pounded his temple. “The Roman.” The word left a foul taste in his mouth, as if he’d chewed on dung.

“Ye’ve taken the fort. Let him go.”

“How can ye plead for your defiler, Rhiannon?”

“Lucius is no defiler.”

“I saw ye crying after he took ye.”

“ ’Twas not joining with Lucius that made me cry. I went to his bed willingly. I love him.”

His gut heaved. “I canna believe that! He took ye captive. He used ye.”

“He treated me like a queen. I know ye dinna understand. How can ye when I canna understand it myself?” Her voice broke. “I canna bear Lucius’s death, Owein. Free him for my sake. Let him go south to his own people. The clan has no need of his life. Not truly.”

Owein gritted his teeth. “ ’Tis not possible.”

“That is a lie.”

A spike of agony pierced his skull and the vision burst on him, so vivid he could have reached out and touched it. The ancient stones. Blood. His hand on the Druid sword.