Diana by the Moon Read online

  Copyright © Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Smashwords Edition

  About Diana by the Moon

  He is Arthur’s man. His duty is his life. She fears and mistrusts him. The only way they will survive is to work together.

  Britain, 469 A.D.: Shortly after the Roman legions returned to Rome, leaving Britain open to Saxon attacks, Diana's abusive parents die during a Saxon raid on their villa farm, the same day her brother takes most of the male slaves and servants to join the rebel Celt, Arthur.

  Diana, who no longer trusts anyone, must find a way for the women in her household to survive after the enemy has stolen everything. They struggle to eke out a living from the meager provisions remaining.

  Alaric, proud Celtic warrior and trusted lieutenant to the upstart British leader, Arthur, has been sent by him to establish and maintain a line of signal beacons — one of which must be built on a strategic hill on Diana's property.

  His mission is critical to the security of Britain. Alaric must overcome his hatred of Romans if he is to fulfill Arthur’s ambitions in the north. He forces Diana to agree in return for the protection of Alaric and his men. Diana is pulled into a deadly political net, when Roman British enemies, including the Bishop of Eboracum, take exception to her new Celtic allies.

  A haunting tale of two lives touched by the coming of King Arthur, and two hearts and souls struggling to come together against odds as great as those against Britain itself. Only together will they survive, or else be sundered…forever.

  Diana by the Moon is part of the Jewels of Tomorrow series.

  Praise for Diana by the Moon

  Reviewer’s Top Pick, Romantic Times Magazine

  Night Owl Reviews Reviewers’ Top Pick

  This novel drew me in so completely, so thoroughly, time just simply faded. Diana by the Moon is a work of written art. Tracy Cooper-Posey has penned a beautiful story; of one woman’s courageous journey of self-discovery amidst turbulent times. Love Romance Passion

  The innate need to love and be loved, captures the reader’s attention and heart. Tracy Cooper-Posey is a superb story teller and creates realist scenes of life and the struggles of that age. Lifts up hope for humanity and shows a remarkable, giving love that fills the heart with happiness. GOOD READING! Long and Short Reviews

  A fast-paced emotional story that will warm your heart and fire your blood. Gripping characters and descriptive writing makes this a book that you will want to read all over again. This reviewer had trouble putting this book down and found myself with tears in my eyes. Fallen Angel Reviews

  A riveting, incredibly gripping and spell binding novel of suspense, drama and romance. The book is carefully researched and contains an amazing amount of detail to the time period. Diana by the Moon is one book this reviewer will never get rid of. Love Romances

  What makes this book a good read is that the author has breathed such life into her characters. What comes across most strongly is the internal beauty and integrity of the characters. As an historian, I can attest that the historical background and ongoing story is quite plausible and well-constructed. Sharpwriter.com

  It’s Alaric’s deep sense of honor and goodness that makes this sensitive tale so appealing. It’s a beautifully written novel with a distinctly different plot than most Arthurian books. I highly recommend Diana by the Moon. It’s well researched with two very strong and appealing lead characters. Romance Reviews Today

  Historical Note

  King Arthur is an enduring myth in modern literature but there is little historical evidence of a real Arthur. Hints exist of a shadowy warlord who held the Saxons at bay for a few years at the end of the Fifth Century.

  This was the Dark Ages, the period between the departure of the Roman legions from Britain and the conquering of the island by the Saxons. During that time the country was in chaos, bereft of leadership and organization. In the south-west, Celts were greater in number. In the north was the remnants of Roman colonization—Romano-British descendants of soldiers and settlers from Rome—centering on the old Roman military capital of Eboracum (modern day York).

  In this story those Romano-British people are called simply “Romans”. The story begins about five years before Arthur achieved his decisive victory against the Saxons, Mons Badonicus, or, the Battle of Mount Badon—a rare historical fact that has come down to us from those times.

  Geographical names

  Ancient—Modern

  Eboracum—Aberach, York

  Lindum—Lincoln

  Londinium—London

  Luguvallium—Carlisle

  Arbus—Aire

  Chapter One

  Britain, early winter, 469

  “No son of mine fights with that Celtic bastard who dares to call himself Pendragon!” her father roared.

  Diana hunched in her dark corner of the dining room, pulled her legs up on the divan and tucked her tunic hem beneath them. She made herself as unnoticeable as possible.

  Verus stood squarely in front of their father and shook his head. “You’re not listening to me!”

  Diana had heard this cry from her brother before but never had it been truer than now. Their father had taken one look at Verus’ square shield and long sword and his warrior’s clothing—utterly devoid of anything Roman—and Marcellus Aurelius had decided in that instant that Verus was wrong and this Arthur he spoke of so highly was a heathen upstart.

  Verus should save his breath. The argument would end as it always did—with her father refusing to listen and Verus stomping off to cool his temper at the spring, Diana took the opportunity to let her gaze feast on Verus before he stalked from the room. She wanted to confirm that he was really here, alive and—

  Oh! So different!

  This was not the boy who had played with her, taught her to read and shared everything with her. This was a man who had seen things she had not. His strange clothes and weapons, even the way he spoke, hinted at exotic worlds and ways that made Diana feel left behind. She envied him his freedom. She would gladly pay the price he was paying to share it but that would never be.

  Verus shook his dark head and Diana watched, fascinated, as he visibly hauled in his anger. War had changed him and tempered his spirit. He wouldn’t have been able to do that last winter.

  “Father, if you could only speak to the man and learn of his plans for Britain—”

  “By what authority does he claim ascendancy over Rome?” her father roared back.

  “By the fact that the last legion left Britain over fifty years ago. Gods above—”

  The oath caused Diana’s mother, Ursula, who had remained at the dinner table, to gasp. Her kohl-lined eyes widened. Diana too, was startled. Had Verus turned away from Christianity, as well? Mother would forgive him of all but that sin.

  But Verus seemed unaware of his mother’s distress. His gaze remained upon his father. It was as if Verus were trying to persuade Marcellus with the power of his gaze. Verus spoke quietly but the intensity of his tone worked as effectively as a shout. “We are on our own here! They aren’t coming back. When will you accept that?”

  “Accept it?”

  Diana flinched back. Her father’s face was as red as turned leaves and two white lines ran from each corner of his mouth up past his nose. She could see a pulse beating at the corner of his throat, where the skin had begun to loosen and wrinkle.

  Possibly alerted by some small noise Diana made, her mother swiveled and reached across the corner of the table to pinch Diana’s arm. The little sting made Diana jump.

  “You! Go and get some wine! Make yourself useful at the very least, girl.”

  Diana stood quickly, straightening the folds of her tunic and sidled past Ursula. If she didn’t obey at once, a sl
ap would quickly follow the pinch.

  Out of range of her mother’s quick hands, Diana moved slowly toward the door, delaying her exit for as long as possible. She did not want to miss anything.

  Her father recovered from his indignation and drew in a long breath as she passed behind him. Diana tried to catch Verus’ eye. She wanted to give him an encouraging smile, but Verus was concentrating on her father.

  Disappointed, Diana slipped out of the room. Behind her, her father began, “You are saying I should accept that a man with questionable parentage knows more about ruling Britain than Rome, who has administered Britain for generations—”

  Diana regretfully shut the door, turning her father’s words to a muffled mumble behind the heavy oak. She wanted to hear more about Arthur but if she left the door open, the cold air wafting into the heated room would betray her eavesdropping. Her mother would not settle for a simple slap for such a transgression.

  Shivering, Diana hurried down the covered verandah past the open doorway of the kitchen to the larder next door. She glanced out beyond the row of elegant columns edging the colonnade and looked toward the gates of the villa. It had grown fully dark since the evening meal had begun. From the stillness of the villa, Diana guessed that after the household had escaped the dining room when her father had first lost his temper, they had prudently decided to retire for the night. It meant she would have to climb to the upper shelves to get the wine herself. It was a dangerous stretch for someone her short height.

  The larder, like the dining room and her parent’s bedchamber, had a proper door on it. She slid the copper bolt aside and slipped inside the room, then paused while her eyes became accustomed to the dark. Moving by feel alone, she stepped onto the bottom shelf, pulled herself up by gripping the third shelf and groped along the top until her fingers found a flask.

  Wary of the passing time, she hurried back to the dining room with the wine and pushed the door open just enough to step inside, holding her breath.

  Verus was gone and her father stood with one hand pressed against the wall, his head down and eyes closed. Her mother was sitting very still with her eyes on her husband. Wariness showed in her eyes and a tiredness that not even her finely applied kohl and ochre could hide. All her faded beauty had fled.

  Diana felt her heart pick up speed, feeding on the air in the room. She moved to the table, silent except for the whispering slide of her tunic hem across the mosaics and handed her mother the wine.

  “Pour it,” her mother commanded, barely moving her lips.

  Her heart sank a little. Her plan to escape from the room died. She fumbled at the wax around the stopper then paused to pull out her knife and cut it away. The uneven blade, worn into odd curves from too many sharpenings, slipped and cut her other hand. Diana muffled her cry of pain and bit down on the wound to stop it bleeding.

  “Heavenly Father…will you hurry?” her mother said in an undertone, shooting a fearful glance at Marcellus.

  Her mother’s whispered words stirred her father. Diana sensed him walk over to his couch and sit down heavily. He pushed his goblet toward her, the metal scraping impatiently on the stone table.

  Finally the wax fell from the stopper. Diana worked it out of the neck using her left hand for she did not dare let her blood spill on the table. The flask was heavy for one hand. As she poured, wine spilled over the rim of the goblet and spread across the table, jewel red in the light of the oil lamp. Her father leapt to his feet.

  “Idiot!” he roared. His arm swung.

  Diana threw herself back but was too late. Her father’s big hand caught the corner of her jaw and sent her sprawling across the mosaics, her hip and elbow taking the brunt of the impact.

  “If you were any less useless, girl, I would have sold you as a slave years ago. Get out of my sight!”

  Diana blinked her eyes, trying to clear her head, then rolled quickly onto her back before her stillness could be interpreted as disobedience.

  Her mother was finishing the pouring but she looked up to sharply motion her head toward the door. Go! it meant. Diana climbed to her feet and hurried from the room, careful not to let the door slam.

  * * * * *

  Minna was sitting up waiting for her. Diana saw the pale disc of her little sister’s face hovering above the high bed in the far corner of the room. From the closer bed came quiet steady breathing. Her younger brothers, Marcus and Titus, were asleep. They were too young to let the tensions of the night disturb them. Diana envied them that.

  “I had to put them to bed,” Minna whispered. There was little kindness in her tone for this was one of Diana’s tasks.

  “Thank you,” Diana murmured. When she spoke her jaw ached but her hip and right arm were throbbing sharply, blanketing the ache. She could feel a minor stinging on the palms of her hands too. She must have scraped them when she fell.

  Her acknowledgment had disconcerted Minna, for she was silent.

  Diana crossed the room to her chest, opened it and fingered the few garments in there.

  “Is Father letting Verus return to that army?” Minna’s voice was a little louder.

  “I don’t know.” Diana felt warm thick wool, grasped the fabric and pulled out her cloak.

  “I wager he doesn’t. Did you see how angry he was?” Minna’s voice rose with her excitement.

  Diana’s hip protested hotly as she twisted to grasp the other side of her cloak and draw it around her. “I noticed.”

  “You’re going out again?” Minna bounced up.

  “Yes.” Diana tried to think of something to ease the abruptness of her reply but couldn’t. She needed to talk to Verus and that was all her tired mind could concentrate on.

  “Where? Can I come too?”

  “No, I’m going to find Verus.”

  “He’ll be at the spring as always. Let me come! Please? I want to find out what Father was shouting at him.”

  “It’s dark out. Time for young ladies to be in bed.”

  “I’m ten years old! I’m not afraid of the dark!”

  “Well you should be.”

  “It’s winter. Saxons can’t cross the sea in winter, they get seasick. Everyone knows that.” Minna was derisive. “Please let me come with you.”

  “God above, no! It’s not just Saxons.” She didn’t explain her sharpness but her mind skipped ahead. On Michaelmas, two months ago, a woman from a neighboring estate had set out for Eboracum in the morning. Her body had been found five days later in the Arbus. Although no one would tell Diana the full story, she suspected from the way women shook their heads and crossed themselves that the murdered woman had been interfered with, in the way men took women.

  Diana had only to imagine Minna being caught by some desperate outlaw, his hands pawing her body while terror shadowed her perfectly formed face, to know that she could not risk Minna being outside the walls of the villa at night.

  “I’m sorry,” Diana said, softening her tone. Her eyes were adjusted to the dark now. The full moon blazing through the uncovered doorway revealed the disappointment on Minna’s angelic face. The bow of her mouth dropped down and her enormous eyes seemed on the verge of tears. Even her skin had lost its glow. It was this sorrowful expression of hers that made Diana feel like the most hateful person on earth. Used in counterpoint to a rapturous smile made a person’s breath catch, Minna could generally change the mind of the most determined adult, including their father.

  Remembering this, Diana tightened her resolve. “It’s too dangerous.” She kissed Minna’s forehead. “I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, including what father told Verus.”

  “If it’s so dangerous why are you going?”

  “Verus needs me.” Diana tucked Minna back under the blanket and patted her cheek, marveling as always at the softness of the skin. “Good night.”

  “Good night.” Minna’s eyes were already closing.

  When she left, Diana pulled the curtain over the doorway to keep in the warmth.

  * *
* * *

  Verus was so still that even in the moonlight he was just a dark stone monolith hunched next to the spring. Diana felt a tinge of relief when she spotted him, for it was indeed chancy to be outside protective walls at night.

  She climbed the slope with the hem of her tunic over one arm, for the grass was dew-soaked. When she reached the spring Verus relaxed. Above the trickle of water falling over the flat rock she heard his sword slide back into its scabbard.

  “You shouldn’t be out here.” He was gruff.

  “Neither should you.” She sat next to him and hugged him. Her arm didn’t quite reach around his shoulders.

  The silence was comfortable. From the trees that started farther down the hill an owl hooted.

  Verus sighed deeply. “I’m going back, Diana.”

  “No! You can’t!” The protest was out before she could censor it. She straightened and turned to look at him. “I can’t believe Father gave his blessing!”

  “He didn’t.”

  “And you’re going anyway?”

  He hung his head.

  “But what about us? Your family?”

  “Diana—”

  “Who is this man, Arthur, who can command greater loyalty than your own family?”

  “It’s not like that—”

  “He’s a Celt, a bastard, a pagan who…who—”

  “He’s a great man, Diana. His plans for Britain—”

  “He’s an upstart!”

  “You’re not listening to me!” Verus cried.

  Diana’s protests scattered. He was right. “All I know is that he’s taking you away from me.”

  “Don’t say that! I can stand Mother’s tears and Father’s censure. I can withstand everyone’s disapproval but yours.”

  Diana couldn’t speak around the constriction in her throat—it was too painful to even swallow. Her vision blurred as tears formed and she let them fall.