Defy the Eagle Read Online Free PDF

pounding, Jilana forced her eyes away from the splintered palace door and gazed at the sky. She would not watch this spectacle—not even if Nero himself so ordered!
    "Jilana? Jilana?" Claudia's high voice forced Jilana to survey the crowd and she discovered her sister some distance to her right. Smiling proudly, Claudia pointed to the wood-framed palace and screamed, "'Tis Lucius! He has the honor of dragging the harlot forth."
    Pale, Jilana turned violet eyes to the door and beheld the sight of her betrothed escorting a tall, red-haired woman from the building. Once he reached out and placed a hand on her upper arm, but she shook him off with haughty disdain. Boadicea! Looking every inch a queen, Boadicea walked past the assemblage to the place where Catus stood and stared at him coldly. 'Twas obvious Boadicea had no intention of humbling herself before the Roman Procurator, and a hush descended as the people strained to hear what was said.
    "You have come early, Roman," Boadicea stated in a rich, clear voice. She tossed her head, sending the long, red hair flying like a defiant pennant, and glanced at the silent crowd. "Are your lives so empty that you take pleasure in seeing a defenseless woman beaten?"
    "Silence," Catus roared. "You are here to be punished, woman, not to mock these loyal Romans."
    Boadicea's hands clenched into fists, her only outward show of emotion. "You have slain my guards and battered your way into my palace. What has happened to my people outside these walls I can only guess. I am powerless to resist what you have planned for me, but I will not hold my tongue because you so order, maggot. No Roman commands me!"
    An angry hiss went up from the crowd and Catus stiffened. "You would have done better to beg mercy, harlot."
    "Mercy? From you?" Boadicea threw back her head and laughed.
    Enraged, Catus turned to Lucius. "Bind her, Tribune. Take her to the scourging post." The post in the courtyard was actually the weapon-stone, a tall column of sharpening stone. Its presence was traditional in every Celtic chief's forecourt: anyone wanting to sharpen a weapon was free to use the weapon-stone. For Boadicea, being bound to the stone must have been doubly painful, for the Iceni had long ago surrendered most of their weapons to the Romans. And, unknown to the conquerors, what few arms the Iceni had retained were buried in the earth, of no use to their Queen.
    Lucius saluted and obeyed, no flicker of emotion touching his face as he and his men marched the bound Iceni Queen to the scourging post. Nor did he glance at Jilana, though he passed directly in front of her.
    Try as she might, Jilana found she could not obey her father's instructions to neither see nor feel. When Boadicea's dress gave way beneath a soldier's rough hands so that her back might be bared for the whip, Jilana barely suppressed a dismayed gasp; and when the whip sang through the air to crack sickeningly against the Queen's bare skin Jilana sank her nails into the palms of her hands. Boadicea bore the scourging silently, her head cradled against the cushion formed by her upraised arms. From the sound of the first lash until the whip at last fell silent, Jilana did not look away from the tall, proud woman.
    "Cut her down," Catus ordered finally. When the command was mercilessly carried out, a cry escaped Boadicea's lips as she sank to the ground and the Procurator smiled. Ignoring the fallen woman, he commanded, "Tribune, take your men into the palace and remove from it any object of value."
    The soldiers departed, as did some of the citizens, but the majority of the Romans hurried forward to laugh and jeer at Boadicea as she struggled to her feet. Jilana was buffeted from one side to the other by her impatient countrymen but she felt it not. Glancing toward the palace, Jilana saw a dozen weeping women being held against the palace wall by the drawn swords of a squad of legionaries. They had to be Boadicea's ladies in waiting, Jilana realized,