Love's Blazing Ecstasy (13 page)

Valerian gazed about him at the rich greens and browns of the hillsides as they passed by. The gently
rolling hills were covered in golden grass and dotted with gnarled trees. It was a beautiful landscape that was a feast to the eyes. Too bad that instead of appreciating the beauty Severus was determined to put the land and its people to the torch.

Once they had reached the hill fort, Valerian walked around to stretch his legs. From the hill fort he co
uld see a great distance behind them, where they had been; and ahead of them where they had yet to go.

“I never envisioned so much carnage when I first became a soldier.  Did you, Valerian?” Burris asked, staring out at the countryside.

“No.  Like so many foolish boys I thought only of the glory and reward that was promised.”

“The past few days will forever be branded in my memories…” Burris whispered.

“For me, too.”  Valerian answered.  He would never forget that first Celtic battle, the furious rush of the horsemen, the grace of the horse-drawn chariots. No wonder Wynne had been such a fine rider—it was part of her heritage. The wheeled chariots of the Celts were manned by two warriors, one driving the horses and the other flinging javelins at the enemy. Then, when all the spears were gone, the javelin thrower leapt into the conflict on foot, while the charioteer turned the horses around. Their horses, too, were manned with two men, one to manage the horse, the other to fight.

We fight an entirely different mode of battle
, he thought. The front ranks of the Roman infantry walked on foot and hurled a volley of javelins at the foe, while archers and slingers attacked with arrows and stones. Then the cavalry charged on horseback with pikes and swords.

“Ah, Valerian,” a voice exclaimed. Severus stood behind him, gazing out at the land like a vulture. “We must eat and quench our thirst as quickly as possible. We have much to do this day.”

Much carnage to bring with us
, Valerian thought, but held his tongue. He wanted to end this killing and make peace with these peoples. “I think we should stay here the night,” he said instead. “This hill fort is strongly built.” The massive structure had squared ramparts facing front and back, with upright timbers, tied by cross-beams, and overlooked a precipice with a sheer stone wall.

“Stay?” Severus said scathingly. “No doubt this structure provided security against attack once. These heathens are skilled in their building, yet were we to face the Celts up here, we would be as ants fighting against a swarm of bees. This hill fort could be easily taken. No. No. We have to strike first.”

Valerian could see that it was senseless to argue. “Why can’t we try to make peace with these peoples?” he muttered beneath his breath.

Severus heard and squinted at him. “An interesting idea, peace. Peace indeed.” Putting on his helmet, he gestured to Valerian
and the others to follow him.

The sun was shining like a bright torch as the Romans left the fort. Near the end of the day they left the wide meadows and gently rolling hills behind. Now they had to wend their way slowly over steep rocky hills bordered by swiftly rushing streams.

Valerian looked behind him as they fought their way over the stones and rocks in their path. So intent was he on avoiding injury to Sloan that he did n
ot see the danger until he heard Burrus’s cry.

“The Celts!” he
shouted. “They are behind us!” Turning Valerian too saw the reflection of spears shining in the light.

“So much for your
peace
, my friend,” he heard Severus say sarcastically, then order, “Attack! We will show these heathen bastards the might of Rome!”

Across t
he rocky hillside the horses galloped, toward the oncoming throng of riders. The sound of the horses’ hooves echoed in Valerian’s ears, coming closer and closer. He was drenched in perspiration from the exertion of his ride, his heart beating like the wing of a trapped dove. Suddenly a piercing fire tore through his shoulder.

“No!” he cried out. Wynne’s face flashed before his eyes, giving him the strength to bear his pain. He couldn’t let death take him without seeing her again.  “I have to warn…..” Falling from his horse, he raised his sword to defend himself.

Chapter Seventeen

Valerian lost all track of time as he recovered from the shoulder wound he had suffered.  His memory was faulty and there were things that he seemed to be blocking from his mind.  He did, however, remember that Burrus had carried him off the battlefield and saved his life.  Wrapping
his cloak around his arm, Burrus had given him support as the two men had watched the blood and destruction before them. The senselessness of war had washed over them like a tide. All the death and destruction for what? The glory of a few men; an empire?

At first it had appeared that the Celtic tribes with their superior numbers and brilliant individual warriors would be victorious, but in the end
Roman strategy had won the day. For the Celts had nothing but their death-defying courage to put against the steady advance of the legions. It seemed only a matter of time before the Celtic way of life would fall apart against the might of Rome, and their culture cease to exist.

Valerian could hear the howl of a wolf nearby and squinted his eyes for any sign of the animal. It would be pleasant to have a warm wolf fur to bed down upon. He wondered if the Celts heard the cry of the wolf too in their camps. He supposed that they did.

“Even though I was wounded by one of them, I can not feel hatred toward them,” he said to Burrus as they made ready to bed down for the night in the tent they shared together.  “We are the invaders. Trying to force our ways upon another culture as usual.”

“I respect them,” Burrus confided, tossing his helmet across the tent.  “Can you say that we would not react the same way if they had invaded our homeland?”

“No, I can’t say that, because you and I both know that we would be just as angry and ruthless.”

“Ruthless,” Burrus repeated.  “Surely that is a word that describes our beloved tribune.”

Valerian shuddered.  “Let us just say, I would not want to be his enemy.”

Burrus laughed.  “I do not think I would even want to be his friend.”

“I doubt that he has any,” Valerian said through clenched teeth.  For a long moment there was silence as both readied themselves for sleep, then Valerian said, “If I have not thanked you before for saving my life, I am doing so now.”

“Then this will be the tenth time.  But your gratitude is welcome.” Closing his eyes Burrus fell asleep quickly, his moans giving proof of his troubled slumber.

Valerian settled back upon his hard bed of earth, leaves, and his now blood-stained cloak and waited for the dawn, images of a lovely golden-haired woman haunting his dreams.

When the sun touched the earth with its first glow, the legion again mounted their horses. Valerian reined in his horse, his wound still hurting him. He looked out across the fields, gazing at the land that rolled before them, at the lush woodland with its greens and golds, birds, wild game. He daydreamed of what might have been. Now all too soon this land too would be reduced to ashes.

“Hail, centurion,” Valerian heard a voice say. When he saw that it was
Marcus, a friend of Burrus, he rode over to the young cavalryman.

“How goes it, Marcus?”

“Well. Severus is well pleased with our victory. No doubt there will be several Druids put to the sword.”

“No doubt.” Valerian answered sardonically.

Valerian knew that in order to appear justified in his actions, Severus had spread rumors concerning his enemies, trumping up falsehoods that the Druids committed human sacrifice, sending messages to Rome of the brutalities of the Celtic warriors, as if Rome herself did not commit atrocities.

“Tomorrow we march to the lands of the North, to the land held by the Parisi,” Marcus declared with a scowl.  Though his tone of voice sounded gruff, the young soldier’s eyes mirrored his disgust and disillusionment at what was going on.

“Tomorrow we march to the North?” Valerian asked, trying to maintain his composure before this young soldier. So he had run out of time. The day was approaching when Wynne and her people would be in danger. Damn Severus!

“
Yes.  North. To maim and to kill.”

“War should be between warriors,” Valerian exclaimed. 
Killing Druids is cowardice
, he thought but did not say.

“Sometimes I wish that I had never become a soldier,” the young Marcus confessed.

“I too feel that way. This campaign is not to my liking,” Valerian answered, trying to calm the younger man’s fears.

“At night I…I see the bodies. I dream about the horror of what is happening. Yet, we must be right in what we are doing. There has to be some reason for all of this death. If I thought it was all for nothing, I think I would go mad! But the tribune says that we are bringing unity and strength to the empire.” Marcus’ eyes looked haunted. Valerian did not have the heart to tell him about his own doubts.

“Yes, we are building an empire, though I wonder what the future will record of our deeds,” he said dryly.

Pulling away from the young soldier, Valerian led Sloan down the hill to search for Severus. The time had come to act upon those doubts. No longer could he march blindly to the tune of another’s ambition. Not when those ambitions might lead to the destruction of the woman he admired and respected.

“Severus must let me do as I ask,” he exclaimed, leading Sloan down the hillside. And if the tribune did not—what then?

Severus looked at the handsome centurion with annoyance. “You want to do what?” he asked.

“I would like your permission to take my soldiers on ahead of your legions,” Valerian blurted out. “Give me two days’ head start…” He could feel the cold eyes of the tribune studying him.

“And just what is your reason for this request, centurion?” he asked, in a tone which warned of danger. “Perhaps you would like all the glory for yourself.”

“No, it’s just that I have already visited that area and know it quite well.”

“And, as I recall you nearly got yourself killed, became separated from your century. Not a very impressive record, centurion!”

Valerian’s face flushed with anger. “I was following your orders, tribune.”

The silence between them was unnerving. Severus turned his back for a moment, then faced Valerian, looking him up and down as if trying to read his mind. Valerian’s heart sank. He had hoped to convince the tribune to let him go ahead of the other soldiers to warn Wynne and her people. Now he feared that Severus knew his intent.

Severus smiled broadly, baring his protruding front teeth, which always reminded Valerian of a squirrel.

“Of course, now I know why you make this request.” He began to laugh, a laugh which chilled Valerian to the bone. “You seek retribution for your near-death. You want to be the one to spill the blood of those heathens who thought to give you to their gods.”

Valerian was aghast to think Severus could think such a thing of him. But no matter what Severus thought, if he were allowed to do as he wished, then all would be well in the end.

Severus pounded him on the back. “I knew you were a man after my own heart. You understand the importance of making examples of these heathens.” His voice lowered. “Perhaps crucifying them would be the best lesson!” He picked up his cup of wine and drained it. For the moment his interest in Valerian waned as one of the slave girls
, those called camp followers, entered the tent. He cupped one of her breasts in his hand and planted a slobbery kiss on her lips.

“Tonight in my tent,” he whispered as she scurried away. Again he turned to Valerian.
“Let me  think about your request.” Again he smiled. “Oh, and if you do go, Valerian, save at least a few of those savages for us to slaughter, eh?”

You murdering swine,
Valerian thought.
You call them savage, yet you are not worth a hair on Wynne’s head
. “I do not believe them to be savages,” he said, as he gained control of his emotions. “Fighting is the heart’s blood of the Celts, to be sure. Yet with all their savagery as warriors, they are an honorable people imbued with grace and honesty. I have seen this with my own eyes.”

Severus eyed Valerian warily, wondering just why the centurion was speaking so adamantly about a people who were not his own, but he held his tongue and merely listened.

“They value their freedom. Can we fault them for that? Should we spill their blood just because they refuse to surrender to the Roman eagle and to lay aside their native habits to become our pawns? I think not. We may be able to enslave others, but I feel that we will never subdue our Celtic foes,” Valerian continued. If Severus now sought to punish him for his words, so be it.

Severus studied Valerian, trying to understand just what had come about to so inflame the man. He did not believe that it was really peace that the centurion sought. No, there had to be something else afoot. Valerian waited, thinking that he had gone too far, but the tribune merely smiled again.

“Perhaps if we do as we have done in Londinium, where the Celts are not slaves, but tribal chieftains, vassals of Rome….” He mused.

“Yes, those tribes have accepted our ways!” Valerian exclaimed, hoping against hope that he could make Severus see reason.

The tribune laughed. “I doubt not that when our backs are turned, they revert to their old gods and customs,” he chided, shattering Valerian’s hopes. “Leave me. I musts think on this.” Curtly he dismissed the centurion.

I will not let that bloody murderer kill Wynne and her people. I won’t!
Valerian thought.
If I have to steal away without the permission of Severus, I will
.

Valerian was not unaware of the danger to himself. He could be sentenced to death for any deviation from orders, but it was worth the chance. He would act now and worry about the consequences later. After all, his father was a powerful senator. Perhaps he could call on him to recall Severus. If it were known what the tribune was doing to further his own power….  He made up his mind to send a letter to
Rome right away. Severus had taken upon himself the role of a general. Surely the emperor himself would censor this power-hungry swine.

Wynne had saved his life and shown him kindness.  She had even given him Sloan. Now it was his turn to keep her from harm. 
“Wynne…” His heart quickened at the thought of seeing her again. For the first time since the campaign against the Celtic people began, he smiled as he saw her face in his mind’s eye. Suddenly he felt that all would be well. Surely her gods and his gods would be with him.

Several days later Valerian was summoned to stand before Sevrus. It was a somber tribune who greeted him.

“Tell me, centurion,” he said, “do you still envision peace in these lands?”

“I do,” Valerian answered. “I believe that there could be peace between our peoples, that there need be no more bloodshed.” He wondered just why he felt like a mongoose before a cobra.

Severus raised his eyebrows. “I see.” He thought for a moment. “And just how would you go about bringing this peace of yours to this country, besides killing every Celt in the land?” he asked with a sadistic laugh.

Valerian’s nerves were on edge wondering what the tribune was up to. “By talking with them, proving our good faith. This revolt of the Iceni and our brutal punishment of them has done us no good.” He did not add that Severus’ brutal warfare had alienated the Celtic peoples.

“And this…this…scouting party you wanted to take with you. Was the purpose then to try to bring peace?” Severus rubbed his chin with his bony fingers.

“I would like to try to make peace between our two peoples, tribune,” Valerian answered.

Once again Severus seemed to be deep in thought, pacing back and forth in the small tent. Finally he grinned. “If you can bring peace to the land and enable us to return to
Rome, then more power to you, my boy. You have no idea how sick I am of this country and this constant killing.”