Celtic Fire(99)

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.”