Love's Blazing Ecstasy (11 page)

Looking
at him, Severus gestured for him to move closer, as if to tell him something for his ears alone. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I have the answer to Rome’s success with these heathens here in Britain. It is all so simple, really. Now that you have seen with your own eyes the Celts in the North, perhaps you will understand. They are not at all like our docile tribesmen in the South, who mimic our ways.”

“Perhaps they can learn from us,” Valerian said.

Severus shook his head from side to side. “No, no, no! We have given them every inducement to become Roman. They are too savage. Even our fine friends in the South are not truly bent to our yoke yet. Oh, yes, they mimic our dress, language, gods. Even let us set up Celtic chiefs over them, yet for all of their temples to Roman gods, they still cherish the Celtic deities and feasts.”

“There is no crime in that,” Valerian said, wondering what Severus was getting at. “The empire has never put shackles on philosophic thought, nor on religion. We have embraced with open arms all local gods and nature spirits. Why, look at how the Celtic tribes are beginning to identify some of their own deities with those of
Rome.”

Severus angrily pounded the arm of his couch with frustration. “You don’t understand! It’s not the common people we have to fear. It is the Druids. They challenge the very authority of the government. They influence their people not to accept
Roman laws and Roman peace. If we can rid ourselves of them, this constant warfare will be over and you and I can return to the warm climate of Rome. Much richer and more powerful!”

Valerian felt cold chills running up and down his back as he realized just what Severus was telling him. “But the Druids are not warriors, they are priests. They are religious men. We can’t wage war on them!”

Severus turned with a sly smile. “Oh, can’t we?” His smile was malevolent. “I intend to wage a ruthless campaign against these bloodthirsty savages. We’ll cut and burn down their sacred groves and then see how  powerful their magic is.”

Remembering that Wynne’s father was a Druid, Valerian clenched his teeth and grew tense in every muscle. Although he had nearly lost his life to a sacrificial cult, he knew that this was an outlawed sect and that the Celtic peoples were peace-loving. After
having met Wynne, he had a new respect for her people.

“We set out tomorrow for the northern lands, where they refuse to listen to our words or lay aside their native habits and warlike ways.” His voice hushed to a whisper. “Valerian, my boy, I intend to reward you highly with lands and wealth beyond your wildest dreams. You will be my right-hand man.” With this Severus slumped in his chair and was
out cold, the wine finally having its way.

Valerian had a sinking feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. They were heading in the direction from which he had just returned. Severus planned his warfare not far from where Wynne and her people lived.

Wynne, if only I could warn you, let you know what is going to happen, prepare you for the danger. But he knew that he could not do so without danger to his own life, for the punishments were severe for those who rebelled against their generals or tribunes. Cowards were flogged to death; generals were empowered to behead any soldier or officer for any deviation from orders, no matter what the outcome. And Severus had clearly taken on a role as general.

I am helpless
, Valerian thought in frustration. Still, what value would his life hold if he went against his conscience and stained his hands with so much blood? And how would he feel if anything happened to Wynne? She had given him his life even at the risk of her own. Even if he hadn’t cared about her as much as he did he owed her his protection and was obligated to the safety of her people.

I will march with Severus,
Valerian thought, until I find a way to thwart him. He put his head in his hands. “Wynne, Wynne!” he whispered. “I wanted to see you again, but not like this. Not like this!” He knew in his heart that all the light had gone out of his world.  His hope for the future had been extinguished the moment Severus had opened his mouth to verbalize his vile plans.

Chapter Four
teen

The wind blew fiercely through the trees surrounding the lodge where Wynne lay tossing and turning, unable to sleep. It was as if a voice called out to her from far away, warning her, crying out to her.  Her father had often told her that she seemed to have a touch of the ‘sight’, and since that time she had foreseen the danger Valerian had been in from the dark cult, she wondered if it was true. Sitting up in bed she attuned her senses, hoping the voice would call out to her again, but it was only the wind and her imagination playing tricks on her—nothing more.

Putting her hands to her ears, she tried to block out the sound of the blustery weather, chastising herself silently for her foul mood and lack of optimism. Somehow she seemed to have lost faith in the spirits’ plans for her future. She had been so certain that she was going to bear Valerian’s child that she had spent time weaving a small blanket, but her monthly time had come and shattered all her dreams. 

The force of the wind rocked the small dwelling in which she was confined, but Wynne was not afraid, desp
ite being all alone. The god of the wind would not harm her—but as to humans, she was not so sure. Certainly her own people had disappointed her. Turning over on her back, she lay quiet for a long time, feeling as if all the life had drained out of her. How many days had she spent here? Twenty? Twenty-five? She had ceased to keep track. One day was much the same as another here in this small round cell-like structure. She felt caged and longed for her freedom.

Wynne sat up at the sudden sound of broken wood. Her instincts warned her that she was no longer alone but she didn’t listen
. “I’m hearing things,” she intoned.  “Perhaps I’m going mad!” Isolation could do that to a person, she thought, trying to relax.  Closing her eyes she willed herself to go to sleep but it was no use.

Slipping off her bedshelf, she made her way slowly to the doorway of the small dwelling. It was a strange night;
the wind had quieted and in its place there was a mist—a fog—surrounding the village, hiding the stars and moon from sight and making it impossible to see more than an arm’s length away. Even so, she knew every inch of the village with its pits, granaries, and working areas, and the palisade with its fence of stakes that guarded it.  For just a moment she was tempted to leave the stifling place of her confinement, but she knew she could not. Although there was no one here to guard her, to keep her from going through the door, it was a matter of honor. She had given her word and she would not break it, no matter how much she wanted to leave.

“Oh, Valerian…..” she murmured, wondering where he was right now. Had he found his soldiers? Was he alive and safe? Would he come back to her as he had promised?

Taking a step outside, she let the cool, moist air  brush against her face, and felt refreshed. It was cool for a summer tonight. A chill ran up her back, and she wondered if it were from the cold or from the strange feeling of doom which had come over her.

“I am being foolish,” she scolded herself. “All will be well.” Being all by herself with no one to talk to was getting to her, that was all.

Turning around she looked inside the lodge, remembering the now familiar poles and support beams with their carved figures
.  The next thing you know I will be imagining that they have come alive
, she thought.
I have already come close to talking to them
….. Once again her ears perceived a sound and she stiffened, standing as still as those carved figures adorning the posts.

Something brushed her outstretched hand causing her to cry out.  Before she could make another sound, a huge hand was clamped over her mouth, muffling her scream. Although Wynne fought desperately to free herself, her arms were pinioned behind her back by a hand as strong as iron.

“So, at last I have you at my mercy without the threat of watching eyes.  The fog is a fine ally,” hissed a voice in her ear. “Without your sword or that black stallion of yours, you will not be so fierce an opponent this time, eh?”

She did not have to see her enemy’s face to know who held her so tightly. It was the same man she had fought in the forest and had seen at the festival of Lugh. In anger she bit the hand covering her mouth, then pulled her head away.

“The gods will strike you down for your violation in coming here!” she exclaimed.

“Your gods are not my gods!” he answered, yanking at her hair to still her squirming.

“I am thankful for that!” she spat at him. “My gods do not demand the blood or burned flesh of men to appease their appetite. They are kind, not cruel. They are bountiful and do not ravage all that they touch.”

He grunted in response, not bothering to reply to her words. Wynne felt a wooden cup being touched to her lips, and screamed, remembering the potion which had been given to Valerian. Her screams startled her adversary and she was able to break free, spilling the liquid to the ground as she did so. Taking a deep breath, she thanked the gods that it was dark, for the darkness would be her friend—she knew the inside of the lodge by memory while her opponent would be stumbling around.

Escape. She needed to get away. Anxiously she looked toward the door, but her way was blocked by the huge man’s hulking figure. In desperation she sought shelter beneath a small wooden table across the room, her eyes staring at the man as he made his way in her direction. Only the embers of the banked fire shed any glow. She prayed that it would not aid him in finding her. Holding her breath, she awaited her fate.

“Wynne…!” she heard a male voice call from a short distance away.  No sound had ever pleased her more.  “Wynne….” It was a familiar voice.

“Edan!” she called. A loud scuffling sound alerted her to the whereabouts of her adversary, then she heard the sound of footsteps and the crash of wood as he made his escape.  “No..” She didn’t want him to get away. Bounding to her feet, she followed in frantic pursuit, but it was of no use. The hideous man had burst through the door, vanishing into the mists.

“Are you all right, Wynne?” Edan asked, stepping forward out of the fog. She ran to him, seeking the comfort of his familiar arms. “I heard you scream.”

Breathlessly she told him about her encounter with the man she called ‘the giant’, about having fought with him to save Valerian from being sacrificed and seeing him again at the ceremony of the summer solstice. “We have to stop them!” she cried, pouring out the fears she had that somehow the darkness cult might cause harm to their people.

“I will speak with your father and the others.  They will know what must be done,” Edan replied, squeezing her trembling hands in an effort to calm her.

Awareness of Edan’s disobedience to the law in coming to the lodge suddenly dawned on her. “You should not be here. If it were known that you had defied the law, you too would be punished,” she chided him.

Gripping her shoulders with his large strong hands he was  rebellious.  “I don’t care. I had to see you. I came here tonight to tell you that the council of Druids have given permission for our marriage. You have already been here five days short of the cycle of the full moon. Upon the day that you are again made ready to join the tribe, we will be bound together as man and wife!”

Wynne pulled violently away from him. “No!” The word tore from her throat, resonating in the silence of the room.

“No?” He couldn’t have  looked more confused had she spoken in Latin. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t marry you.”

“Can’t……”
  Gone now was the adoration from Edan’s eyes, and in its place was anger. He was a man of importance in the tribe, and although he had vowed to be patient, to try to understand Wynne’s feelings, he could not be made to look like a fool in front of the tribe. Women were esteemed and allowed many freedoms in the clan, but disobedience could not be tolerated.  If Wynne found him lacking once they were married, then by tribal custom she would be free to take a lover, but not until she had given him a son.

“Edan…” Somehow she had to make him understand.

“You cannot undo what has been done,” he said firmly.

The room was silent except for the sound of their breathing. Edan fought with his emotions, his jealousy. Wynne was his; he would not give her up to a stranger.
 

“It
must
be undone,” Wynne finally whispered. “I love another.”

“That…that
Roman
.” He spit the word as an insult. To Edan, too, the Romans were a hated race.

“Yes,” she answered. Her eyes met his and did not falter. It took him by surprise to have her look at him so boldly, as if they were looking at each other man to man without even a trace of the deference women usually exhibited.

“I love my people, my father, my home, my life, and I care deeply for you…but my heart has already been pledged elsewhere. I have made a vow to another, to wait for him, and I will not break it. As you must honor the words you have spoken, so must I.”

He laughed contemptuously. “I suppose you believe that this
Roman will return for you. Oh, yes, it is whispered that he left you to face your shame alone.” She started to answer but he put his fingers to her lips to silence her. “These great pagans from the South think of us as heathens. You will never be allowed to marry a man from the southland, nor is he likely to be willing to suffer the scorn of his people for you.”