Octavia’s tears were churning up what little peace Alaric had achieved during the night, so he picked up his bags and pouches and carried them to where his horse stood, already harnessed and slung them over Raven’s back.
He glanced back to where Diana stood immobile on the verandah, holding Minna’s hand. She wore the long black cloak, for the morning was cold. Because he had been unable to let her go this morning, she’d had no chance to tie her hair up and it spilled unchecked over her back and shoulders.
This was the woman, neither Roman, nor Celt, that he had searched so hard to find again once he’d lost her in the forest. She had been there all the time, hidden away. He’d had to uncover her in slow layers. It had been a worthy quest.
Alaric recognized the mortal tinge to his thoughts and accepted it. He’d pledged his life to Arthur and in war, a lifetime could be very short.
Just not this time.
He wanted to be able to return, to wipe away the fear in Diana’s face…and maybe see it light up with happiness at his arrival.
He knew the price Diana had paid in giving him her word last night. She had gone against her own judgment and placed her future in the hands of someone she did not trust, for his sake. He hoped he would prove worthy of her extraordinary courage.
Rhys detached himself from Octavia and signaled to the troop. The men all walked to their horses and Alaric climbed onto his. He settled himself into position for the long ride ahead.
“No! S-s-sstay!” The voice was strange, odd.
Alaric looked up from his reins. The woman were murmuring, shocked.
“No!” Minna was tugging at Diana’s hand, wrenching at it, pulling away and shouting. Shouting real words.
Diana’s grip broke and Minna pelted across the earth to Alaric’s horse. With an astonishing agility she climbed up using his foot and the horse’s harness for leverage. She threw herself across him and clung to him, her arms around his waist. She was trembling. She spouted a flood of words, her face against him.
“No! Alaric stay! Stay…here…stay…no!” Her voice was cracked, her words hesitant and ill-formed but her grip around his waist was unmistakable.
Alaric put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Minna, I have to go now. You must let go.”
“No! Stay!” Her arms tightened.
Alaric gripped her frail arms and tried to remove them but her hold on him was ferocious and if he exerted his full strength he would hurt her.
“Minna, I have to leave now, but I promise you I will return. Minna?”
She pushed her hot face into his midriff, her arms tightening even more. She was panting and beneath the pants he could hear a low cry. He tried to lever her arms away from him again but the only effect was his fingers digging into her skin to the point of feeling every bone and tendon beneath. Hastily, he released her.
He felt sick with the weight of what he had to do and knew that he would not be able to do it alone. He looked to Diana for help.
She was still standing motionless on the very edge of the verandah and her face had drained of all color and life. Her eyes were enormous and childlike in their hint of bewildered hurt.
Alaric had to take several breaths before he could voice the words. “Diana, please…”
Moving stiffly, she stepped down to the ground and walked to Alaric’s side. She reached up high and gripped Minna’s wrist. “Minna, let go. Come with me. I will take care of you.”
“No!”
Alaric swallowed dryly. Reluctantly, he reached around for Minna’s other wrist and began to pull it away from him.
“Minna, please let go,” Diana continued. “Alaric and his men must fulfill their duty. We have to let them go now. Come with me, Minna.”
They had pried her forearms loose now and Alaric could feel Minna’s strength beginning to fade. Sensing her battle was doomed, she began to scream—a gut-wrenching, incoherent cry that plunged a knife into his heart.
Wordlessly, Alaric forced himself to continue levering her loose, while Diana worked on the other arm. Sosia stepped to Diana’s side and contained Minna’s kicking, struggling body, as they worked on the arms. Finally, Alaric was free and Sosia held Minna tightly against her, blanketing the child’s screams against her shoulder.
Octavia stood with her hand clamped over her mouth, a look of horror in her eyes. Alaric looked away, only to find his gaze upon Rhys and Griffin. Griffin sat clearing his throat continuously. Tears rolled frankly down the older man’s face, unchecked.
Diana spoke expressionlessly. “Sosia, could you please care for her? I will be there in a moment or two.” She looked up at Alaric, then.
There was nothing else for them to say. All had been said the previous night. What was left unsaid must remain so. “If there is the opportunity, I will send word when I can,” he said.
She nodded.
“Until winter…”
He saw her draw a deep breath. A sigh. “Until winter, then,” she whispered.
He turned the horse and walked it toward the gates. The other men followed his lead. But with every step, a weight was added to his soul. After a dozen steps, Alaric could withstand it no more. He halted the horse and looked back toward her. “Diana.”
She knew what he wanted. She ran to him. Alaric leaned down and pulled her up into his lap and held onto her tightly, feeling her tremble in his arms. He closed his eyes, trying to hold on to the feel of her, so that he would be able to take it with him and remember it.
He kissed her one last time and looked into her eyes. He wanted so badly to tell her of all that lay in his heart but remained silent. She did not deserve to be burdened with his feelings on top of all he was leaving her alone to cope with.
Slowly, reluctantly, he lowered her to the ground. Their hands were the last to lose contact and for a moment Alaric did not know if he would be able to let go. Her touch seemed so very precious and he felt that if he could just hold on long enough, it would soothe the ache in his heart.
Diana lifted her free hand and gently unclasped his hand from hers. “Go,” she told him.
Alaric kicked the horse into a canter and rode away before his resolve was completely destroyed. He couldn’t help but look back, but when he turned to look over his shoulder she was gone. The mist had taken her.
He was alone.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Look, Minna! Figs. Fresh figs!” Diana sliced the fruit open with her knife and spread the succulent flesh for Minna to see.
Minna merely continued to sit and stare at her lap.
Diana cut a piece of the fruit and pushed it into Minna’s mouth. Minna began to chew but her gaze did not waver. Diana did not allow herself to feel any discouragement. Since Alaric had left, Minna had turned in on herself and was now as disconnected with life as she had been after the Saxon attack. But she had recovered enough from that to speak actual words and Diana clung to that knowledge for it gave her hope. What happened once might happen again, if she was patient enough.
Diana sat back and ate the rest of the fig herself and looked around the market stalls. It was a hot late spring day and the market was doing a thriving business. Diana had hoped that the life and bustle of the markets might act upon Minna but that hope had been in vain.
They had walked here in the predawn cool, for there were no horses to spare now that Alaric’s men had taken their war-mounts. Safety was paramount, so Diana pressed Sosia and her son, plus one or two other women, into traveling with them. It had been over a year at least since anyone but Diana dared venture to Eboracum and they were about the market now, enjoying themselves enormously despite all the grumbling Diana’s enforced march had generated.
Diana felt herself sigh again and grimaced. It was quiet moments like these when thoughts of Alaric surfaced and began to plague her. At home, with the estate to run and too many tasks to complete, she could banish the thoughts more easily. Besides, she worked even harder these days because her work would ultimately benefit Alaric.
She saw Octavia scurrying along among the crowd and waved. Octavia saw her and rushed over, her face one of pure terror.
“Heaven help us! Have you heard? The Saxons are coming!”
A cold hand gripped Diana’s heart. “Saxons? Here?”
Octavia nodded frantically. “They’re coming down the river! We must leave! Now!”
Diana grasped Octavia’s arm. “This is a walled city. We have a few minutes to compose ourselves at the very least. Tell me all. Where did you hear this? Did you see them yourself?”
Behind Octavia a cry went up. “Saxons! Saxons are coming!”
Minna whimpered, a small sound in the back of her throat, but remained still.
Diana stood, picked up Minna’s hand and thrust it into Octavia’s. “Find the others, gather them in the forum and wait for me there. I will find out more.”
She took off at a run, knowing that if Saxons truly were approaching the city, then time would be critical. She couldn’t afford to be trapped in the city when the siege gates were shut.
She needed to find someone with solid information or else she needed to find a high vantage point where she could look out over the walls and see for herself. Eboracus’ house was one of the highest in the city. It sat atop the hill, a grand place that had once belonged to an emperor’s nephew. Eboracus would know as soon as anyone what the truth was.
* * * * *
Breathless, Diana walked into the vestibule of Eboracus’ house to find the place in uproar. No one prevented her from entering or questioned who she was and she made her way to the main chamber without hindrance.
She needed to find a place with a view for it was plain that she would find no one here calm enough to speak to her. She headed for the inner courtyard. From the cavedium she could gain access to the roof, where she was sure a good view down the river would be possible.
She was not the first to think of the possibility, for she found a ladder propped against the roof. She climbed it and headed for the south-east corner of the house, crossing the fragile, rounded tiles carefully. Now was not the time to twist an ankle.
There were others already there. Among them were Eboracus and his little secretary. When they heard her noisy approach across the tiles they turned, startled and Eboracus’ eyes widened comically.
“You dare shadow my doorway!” he cried.
“Now is not the time for theater,” Diana snapped. “Is it true? Are there Saxons coming?”
Eboracus blinked and his jaw dropped open.
In the time since she had married Alaric, Eboracus had lost all his power over her. Now his time-wasting merely annoyed her. “Does anyone know the truth?” she demanded.
The little secretary cleared his throat. “We heard that there are over a hundred ships, traveling up the Ouse with the tide.”
“How did you hear that?” It was important to establish what was rumor and what was solid information. Who had taught her that? Alaric, she remembered. An army could confuse an enemy with rumor but must have facts to plan an effective campaign.
“A runner, a lad, was sent from a coastal farm at dawn when they were sighted on the Arbus.”
“You spoke to this lad?”
“I spoke to the guard who spoke to him. I believed him.” The secretary grimaced.
Diana turned to look down the river. There was no sign of sails. “If you believe him then why do you stand here, looking for sign? Why are you not making preparations?”
All the men there shuffled uneasily.
“You don’t believe him so completely, then.”
A tall man, stout and gray around the chin, cleared his throat. “If they’re sailing upriver with the tide, then we will see signs of them momentarily. The tide turns just after dawn at this time of year and the wind is against them.”
“It didn’t occur to you to send a more reliable scout downriver to check?”
Again, the uneasy scuffle of feet. One of the men sent Diana a look filled with resentment.
“How can you decide what to do if you do not know what is happening?” Diana asked them.
“Heaven help us. Sails!” Eboracus groaned.
Diana spun toward the river, as did all the others. Where the river curved out of sight around a small hill, sails were appearing. Diana began to count the big square sails. A dozen, eighteen, twenty…
“There are not a hundred ships!” the secretary sneered.
“Thirty-five of them,” Graybeard intoned. “Each will be brimming with armed men.”
“A war host,” Diana whispered. Arthur was expecting them to land on the Saxon Shore, much farther south. “How long will it take them to reach the city?”
“They’ll be here by sunset.”
She turned to Eboracus. “What will you do?”
“Why, prepare for siege, of course.”
Diana shook her head. “Siege is not the answer. You need an army!”
“We cannot fight them. We have no standing army since the legions returned to Rome.”
“Then light a beacon! There is at least one army you can call on. Arthur is in Lindum—they can be here in a day.”
Eboracus spluttered. “Arthur? You’re addled, woman. Call on Arthur? Why?”
“Because it seems to me that you face a choice of death, or joining forces with Arthur. I have heard news of these Saxons. They are prepared for total war. They will spare no one.”
“This city has withstood generations of pagan attack and it will withstand one more.”
“This city,” Diana raged back at him, “drew its strength from the legions and they are here no longer and they will never come back to Britain. Rome has deserted us, Eboracus. When are you going to admit that? There is no more Roman empire. Not here. Even the tallest walls can be scaled if there is no opposition to the climb. You’ll lose your city and you will only have your pride to blame, for there is a man and an army out there who will fight for you if you only have the courage to ask.”
“What army is this that you speak of?” one of the others asked.
“Arthur,” murmured another. “The Celt who has been skirmishing with the Saxons these last years.”
“I heard he came from up this way. Count Ector had the rearing of him—”
“Shut up!” Eboracus shouted. They fell into a confused silence. He looked at Diana and his expression was one of distaste. “I will not consider it.”
“But Eboracus, if he has an army to hand…”
“No! I will not be beholden to a Celtic bastard who threatens Rome itself with his propaganda!”
Diana nodded. “Then I will leave you to fend for yourself, Eboracus, for you are a fool.” She nodded to the others and scrambled back over the roof again to the ladder. She had to get back home.
* * * * *
Octavia had gathered the others just as Diana had requested and they stood huddled in one corner of the forum, looking frightened. Even Sosia’s face sagged with relief when she saw Diana and she held out her hand. “They are coming?”
Diana nodded. “Yes. They come. Many of them and we have until sunset to get as far away from the city as we can. Sosia, you must get them home. Can you do that?”
“Yes. And you?”
“I must get home faster than we can all travel in a group. I must light the beacon.”
Sosia looked thoughtful. “Eboracus would not?”
“No.”
“Light Arthur’s beacon?” Octavia asked, horrified.
Diana ignored her. “Sosia, if they spread out into the countryside, they will come to the estate. They won’t bypass us this time. With the crops and the rebuilt barns, they will not let such an opportunity go by.”
“I will make preparations.”
“By the time you are home, I should be back, too.”
“How do you plan to go ahead?” Sosia asked.
“I have no choice. I must run.” Diana turned to go.
“Diana?” Sosia called.
She looked back.
�
��Steal a horse.”
* * * * *
Diana would have stolen a horse if she had found one unattended but it seemed the entire city was locking itself up tight. The people had scattered, even the market stalls had disappeared.
She slipped out through the gates unnoticed, crossed the bridge already jogging and began the long run home. She used short cuts and crossed through belts of forest that barred her direct route and wherever possible kept herself to a steady loping run.
For the last stage she used the roman road, Ermine Street, as a guide, running on the soft grass that bordered the old bricks. She continued running past the villa itself and began the climb to the top of the beacon hill, her speed slowing to a slow trot, then to a tired walk.
At the top of the tor, she found the young soldier who Alaric had left behind to keep vigil at the beacon. The boy came out of the small shelter at her approach.
“Hurry! We must light the beacon!”
“Light the beacon?”
“There are Saxons, many of them and they will be at Eboracum by now!” She looked at the last reddish light in the sky. “Nightfall. They will have made landing. Where is the flint?”
“No need!” the boy cried, running back toward the shelter. “I have a fire going already.” He pulled from the fire a large log, already well alight at one end and gave it to Diana. Then he ran for the beacon and began untying and dragging down the coverings.
Diana followed. When the covers had all been removed, she thrust the burning log into the piled timbers. There was plenty of kindling and straw at the bottom and it caught quickly and blazed up in flames that began to climb toward the top. Diana moved around the base and thrust the log into the pile again and again.
By the time she met up with the boy, the fire was so intense they both had to step well back from the flames. The boy turned to the south and stared into the gathering night. “There!” he cried.
Diana by the Moon Page 27