Celtic Maid (Roman Love ~ Pict Desire Series Book 2) (13 page)

Titus ground his teeth and remembered the words of Count Theodosius—burn her and make it an example to all who would challenge the might of Rome. This treaty, especially offered in exchange for a traitor, would not be supported by his superior officer, nor would it help Titus with his efforts to become the
Dux Britanniarum
. If granted the promotion, his vision for peace would manifest through good deeds. Soldiers would help the locals with harvests; and more roads built… “I am afraid matters have gone too far for that.”

A hint of disdain crossed her face but was gone before she spoke. “’Tis most unfortunate.” Valeria stood. She was hardly taller standing than she had been sitting. “I should like to see the prisoner before I take my leave.”

Titus saw no problem with a guarded visit to the gaol. He had pushed away his desire to visit Elspeth. If he was to be the one to pass sentence upon her, seeing her lovely face would only deepen the pain of losing her.

****

Elspeth looked up at the sound of footsteps descending the gaol stairs. She sprung to her feet when Queen Valeria rounded the corner escorted by Roman guards. “Your highness!”

The queen ran to her with outstretched arms. She grasped Elspeth’s hands through the bars.

Valeria motioned over her shoulder with her chin. Two guards stood at a respectable distance behind. “
Gàidhlig agaibh
,” she said in a low voice, warning Elspeth to speak in her native Celtic tongue. “We must appear sick with worry.”

Elspeth nodded. “’Tis a relief to see ye, m’lady.”

“I met with Titus to attempt to negotiate your release. Though the king did not approve, I felt it best to first try without a fight.”

Her stomach clenching at the mention of his name, Elspeth cast her gaze to the floor. “I’ll wager the centurion would not barter for me.”

“No, but I do believe I would have been able to wear him down had there been more time. You were right. He has a heart, unlike many Roman officers.”

“Oh, Queen Valeria, however am I to get out of this place? They aim to burn me.”

Valeria bent her head and pretended to cry. “We shall not allow that to happen. Be ready tonight. We cannot delay.”

Elspeth tried hard to swallow her excitement and played along with Valeria’s charade. She patted the queen’s shoulder. “There, there, my queen. ’Tis not as bad as ye might think, we’ll send the bastards to hell while we’re at it.”

Valeria let out a bemoaning wail. “Yes, but we shall try not to make too much of a disturbance. If we keep it quiet, fewer men will fall.”

Catching the eye of the legionary, Elspeth willed her own tears and managed to make her chin tremble. “I shall be ready. Please tell Greum to bring me a bow and a cache of arrows.”

Valeria hugged her through the bars. “Do not sleep, my dearest. You shall be free this night.”

Elspeth nodded, feigning an enormous sigh. “I look forward to spending me days serving ye in Gododdin, never to venture away from Pict lands again.”

Valeria stepped back and buried her face in her palms, her shoulders shaking. “I must away to inform the men of my meeting with Titus.”

Elspeth reached out her arm and caressed Valeria’s cheek as a tear streamed down her face. “Tell them I said to shoot their arrows straight and wield their swords with the might of Pict warriors.”

“They shall do no less, and I will see you across the wall.”

Elspeth continued to pretend to cry until the footsteps ascending the gaol steps faded into silence. Her heartbeat quickened within her chest. She sucked in a deep breath and shouted the Pict creed with all her might. “Honor. Loyalty. Duty. Freedom!”

Chapter Nine

Elspeth paced her cell, her nerves jumping while she listened for any sound of movement. The dungeon had grown dark except for the dim light radiating down the stairwell, but still, she couldn’t ease her disquiet. Had something gone wrong?

After endless ages of pacing, a grunt resounded from the stairwell. Elspeth stopped and stared, holding her breath to better hear. Footsteps clattered from the stairs. Her heart quickened and she dashed to the door of her cell and shook the bars. The light flickered brighter, and the footfalls grew louder. A figure appeared carrying a torch. Elspeth shaded her eyes with her hand and squinted through the light. “Greum?”

Waiving the torch in front of his face, her brother flashed his white teeth from under his Pictish helmet. “’Tis good to see ye, Sister.” He beckoned a man forward. “She’s at the back.”

Eyes adjusting to the light, Elspeth recognized Seumas’s weathered face as he raced toward her, jangling the keys. “We’ll have ye out of here right quick.”

She watched as his hand made quick work of unlocking her cell. “I was beginning to think ye may have been waylaid.”

“Never.” Greum yanked the cell door open and pulled her into his embrace. “Are ye all right, lass?”

Elspeth had never been so relieved to be surrounded by her brother’s arms. “Aside from wanting to murder a century of Romans, I’m a bit hungry, but I’ll live.”

He released her and held out a bow and a quiver of arrows. “Now don’t get overly spirited with this. Only kill the Romans who get in yer way.”

She snatched the bow and slung it over one shoulder and the quiver across the other. “Valeria told me ye wanted to keep it quiet.”

“Aye,” Seamus said. “No use stirring up a hornet’s nest.”

They crept up the stairs, and Elspeth nearly stumbled over a soldier slumped across the path.

“I slit their throats, lest they sound the alarm,” Greum whispered. Elspeth shot him a questioning glance, and he shrugged with a twisted grin. “What? I kept it quiet. How easily ye forget—I do not like Romans any better than ye.”

Dark clouds hung low in the sky and blocked the moon. Elspeth could scarcely see, so she focused on the sounds around her. A strong wind hummed a steady growl. A flag snapped in rhythm. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Greum grasped her shoulder and shoved a rope into her hands. “Climb. We’ll follow.”

She craned her neck. “Scale the battlement wall?”

“Ye got a better idea?”

Greum had a knack for challenging her with only a few words. Testing the rope for soundness, she pulled herself up, walking her feet up the wall. Hand-over-hand, Elspeth continued up the vertical incline, her arms burning with the effort, weakened by her recent diet of bread and water.

Her arms all but gave out by the time she reached the top. Swinging her leg over the ledge, she crouched against the battlements and kept her head from being seen above them. Greum followed and pointed to the rope across the wall-walk.

Elspeth nodded and skittered over the side. Nearly halfway down, she could see the ground.

“Who goes there?” a guard hollered.

Greum poked his head out above her. “Jump!” he growled in a loud whisper.

Elspeth needed no coaxing. She sprung from the wall and released the rope, landing hard. Her legs buckled and she rolled to the side. She ignored the screaming pain in her knees. Greum and Seumas bounded down on either side of her, landing with gut wrenching grunts.

Greum grabbed her hand. “Run!”

Together they dashed toward the shelter of the forest, fifty paces away.

“Stop, you heathens!” A voice roared from above.

Elspeth didn’t look back. Greum pulled her into a thicket. “Mount yer horse. The gate is open at Houseteads, but our man will close it when the alarm is raised. Make haste!”

Elspeth scarcely made out Tessie’s profile two feet ahead. She raced up to her faithful mare and grabbed the reins. “Och, ’tis good to see ye, girl.” In one swift motion, Elspeth launched herself on Tessie’s back, and slammed her heels into the mare’s ribs. “Get up!”

Together they thundered into the open lea. When they neared Fort Houseteads, several soldiers moved hastily along the wall-walk, their shadows flickering in the glow of fire. In no way would those gates close before she passed through. Determined, Elspeth whipped her reins against Tessie’s croup.

At a gallop, they raced toward Houseteads, illuminated by a growing fire with flames leaping across the wooden rafters within the walls, while a fight atop battlements raged. Flames licked the wooden gates, burning timbers crashed within.

“I thought ye wanted to keep it quiet?” Elspeth yelled above the destruction.

“’Tis not us—but we cannot ride into that.” Pulling up his mount, Greum circled his hand over his head. “To the forest!”

Close behind her brother arrows hissed through the air. A sharp sting on her shoulder made Elspeth slip sideways in the saddle. Searing pain blurred her vision. She swiped her hand over her shoulder—hot blood oozed through her fingers. Blocking the burn from her mind, she pushed Tessie harder as they barreled through the wood. Elspeth had no idea where they were headed. Terrified that another arrow would follow the first, she didn’t look back. Blindly, she followed Greum, slapping Tessie’s hindquarters with her reins while keeping her head low to avoid the branches above.

The clouds opened with a clack of thunder, followed by pelting hail. Elspeth squinted her eyes against the sting, but still the icy pellets stung her face. Tessie’s hooves pounded the ground beneath. Raw fear propelled the beast forward at a frenzied gait.

With Greum in the lead, Elspeth stole a glance behind. No soldiers followed, at least none she could see. But they had to keep up the pace. The Romans would come. They’d chase her until the Picts could cross the wall, of that she had no doubt.

Rain replaced the hail, and in four paces, Elspeth was soaked.

Once they settled to a steady canter, her arm stiffened. Every movement stung. She glanced at the outside of her shoulder. Blood shimmered against her dark sleeve. She gritted her teeth.
’Tis only a graze
. Elspeth steeled her mind against the pain.

They rode until daylight. Greum led them into an abandoned stable that sat rotting in a paddock overgrown with briars. When Elspeth dismounted, Greum bounded up and grabbed her arm. “Ye’re bleeding like a stuck pig.” He shoved up her sleeve.

A jagged gash oozed blood. “An arrow sliced through. I think the bleeding’s mostly stopped.”

He tore a piece of linen from the hem of his shirt and tied it firmly around her arm. “Ye’ll be right as soon as we can get ye to Pia.”

She rubbed the ache away. “Aye. ’Tis only a scratch.”

Greum gave her a crooked smile. “That’s my sis—tough as nails, ye are.”

Seumas pulled his waterskin from across his shoulder. “It will be difficult to cross the border.” He took a swig. “Do ye ken who was causing the skirmish at Houseteads?”

Elspeth shook her head.

“’Twas mighty unfortunate the bastards had to pick last night to make their raid. The Romans will be blaming us,” Greum said.

Seumas handed the waterskin to Elspeth. “That makes our getaway all the more difficult.”

Greum nodded. “I reckon they’re not far behind us. I say we water the horses and be on our way.”

Elspeth guzzled the sweet water and wiped her chin with the back of her good sleeve. “How will we cross the wall without being noticed?”

Greum scratched his chin. “I figure we’ve got three choices. Bribe a guard and ride through, climb or find a boat and sail north.”

Seumas combed his hands through his wavy grey hair. “Bribing a guard could lead us straight into another trap.”

Elspeth reached for her mare’s reins. “I don’t want to leave Tessie behind.”

Greum frowned. “Ye may have to.”

“Climbing is the best plan.” Seumas glanced between them. “One thing is for certain—the longer we stay south of the wall, the more likely we’ll meet our end.”

Elspeth glanced at a beam of light shining through the doorway. “Whatever we decide, we’ll have to wait until dark.”

****

Before daylight, Titus had been roused by Bacchus, and as the sun rose, he found himself inspecting the site of a skirmish at Houseteads, discipline stick in hand. “What happened?”

A legionary with bags under his eyes looked up with pleading eyes. “I was making my rounds and some piss-swilling blighter jumped me. There were half a dozen or more. They set fire to the new roof on the barracks and disappeared to the west—stole nothing.”

Titus kicked a smoldering piece of roof timber. “How many of them did you kill?”

“None, sir.”

“I want to speak to the prisoners.”

“Er—none of them either, sir.”

He crashed his stick against a charred stone wall. “You mean to tell me a mob of disheveled ruffians attacked the fort, and you, a trained soldier of Rome, could not take a single prisoner?”

The legionary hung his head. “No, sir.”

Bacchus stepped forward. “How were they dressed?”

“They wore skins.”

Titus fists flew to his hips. “Skins? What local tribe wears skins?”

Bacchus shrugged.

Titus’s blood boiled. “Find out, soldier. What are you waiting for?”

Bacchus bowed. “Yes, sir.” He started away as a sentry rushed into the fort.

“Centurion, the prisoner has escaped!”

Titus inhaled and looked skyward. Light raindrops clouded his vision. The sun had not yet risen, and already a fort had been raided and he’d lost Elspeth? Theodosius would crush his ballocks in a vise. This would not bode well for him, but a flicker at the back of his mind eased his conscious. Elspeth might live. “Is it possible these two incidents are related?”

Bacchus stepped back. “I cannot see how they wouldn’t be related, sir. They caused a diversion at Houseteads to spirit her away.”

He tapped his bat against his palm. “Do Picts wear skins?”

“My understanding is Picts wear pleated tunics and linen shirts. Their men tattoo their faces with blue woad.” Bacchus looked at the soldier. “Were these men painted?”

“Ah.” The soldier scratched his head. “I saw no Celtic marks on their skin, but it was dark.”

Titus folded his arms. “We cannot rule out that these men were Picts. I want them found. Today.”

“And what of the woman?”

His gut twisted and he tightened his fist on the discipline stick. “If she is riding with raiders, your task will be easily done, else you’ll have two bands of outlaws to track.”