Page 1 of Boudicca

For the rest of my life, when fog swirled in with the dawn, my stomach would tighten, and the small hairs on my forearms would

lift. I would remember that day and what came with the fog: the scent of fertile earth and baking bread and danger—a danger

so thick and cloying that my palm called my blade and my spirit cried out to my goddess for courage and strength and cunning.

Boudicca! Awake! Come to the forest!

I jolted from a deep sleep, sat up, and flung the pelt blanket from my body. With one hand I brushed back heavy hair from

my face, while the other searched the bed beside me.

My husband wasn’t there. Instead of warming my bed, Prasutagus, chief of the Iceni tribe, rested entombed in the Chief’s Barrow.

Do not be foolish , I told myself. Prasutagus has been dead for three full cycles of the moon. You are Queen Boudicca, and Iceni queens do not grasp at ghosts.

I shook myself, chasing away the last of the sleep from my mind, which sharpened instantly. From the first moment I drew conscious

breath that morning I had felt a sense of anticipation. I knew something beckoned. I’d dreamed of it—of the ominous thing—but when I woke, the dream had dissipated like morning dew. Is it the arrival of the Druids that calls me awake? Derwyn has not visited in months. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and tried to understand the compulsion that had awakened me.

On most mornings I would rise from my bed when the sun lifted above the verdant forest that surrounded my tribe’s sturdy huts, lodges, and animal pens. The many fields were lush with crops growing toward harvest. As queen, I had the luxury of waking slowly. My personal servant, Phaedra—who had been with me since that happy day fifteen years before when I married Prasutagus—would help me dress and plait my hair while she whispered the latest gossip.

Not that day.

That day the compulsion that woke me came with a premonition so urgent that it usurped the dawn and the lazy light it brought.

Phaedra, who had taken to sleeping on a thick pallet near the foot of my bed since my husband’s death, yawned and groggily

started to rise.

“Sleep, Phaedra.” I spoke softly, careful not to disturb my two young daughters, who slumbered behind the woven-bough walls

that separated their bedroom chamber and mine. “I do not need you this morning.” With a sigh my servant curled up on her side

again and was instantly asleep.

As the words escaped my mouth, I wondered at them. I could have used Phaedra’s help to tame the wildness of the copper mane

that fell past my waist—its unruliness was in constant contrast to my calm, well-organized demeanor.

But the need to go to the forest was too great for niceties like combing through my hair. I quickly plaited the thick length

into a single braid that hung to my waist and pulled on the simple brown overtunic I wore when my women and I hunted truffles

in the woods that surrounded Tasceni, Tribe Iceni’s largest settlement and home to their royal family. I shook out a moss-colored

cloak and fastened it around my shoulders, clasping it in place with my favorite brooch—a mighty boar whose silver tusks were

decorated with elaborate knot work. The only two outward signs that I was not just an ordinary Iceni tribeswoman were the

brooch and the delicate gold torque that encircled my neck like a cuff.

From an oak chest, I took a small dagger that fit perfectly into the leather sheath attached to my belt and the large leather

satchel I preferred for foraging, and added a water bladder to it before I hastily slung it over my shoulder. Then, on swift

but silent cat’s feet, I parted the heavy fur drape that served as the door to my opulent bedchamber and headed for the center

of the lodge and its ever-burning hearthfire, where I hoped to find some bread and cheese to take with me.

“I wondered if you would awaken with me.”

Arianell’s voice surprised me. I spun around to see my mother, sitting beside the central hearthfire of the roomy lodge as

she sipped her morning tea from a wooden mug. Behind her, perched on a small stool, her ancient servant, Dafina, slowly combed

through Arianell’s long silver hair.

“You startled me,” I said as I made my way to my mother. I bent and kissed her cheek affectionately. “Mother, why are you

awake so early?”

“A question I have been asking your mother since she woke me with a shrill scream some time ago.” Dafina’s voice cracked with

age, but her hands did not waver in their work and her vision was still as sharp as her mind—though the servant was older

than Arianell by at least a decade.

“And as I told Dafina, that interesting question must wait for my daughter to answer,” said Arianell.

Dafina made a show of looking behind me. “Phaedra is not fluttering about you like a busy little wren. Are you as somber as

this one today?” Dafina asked.

“Old woman, get our queen a mug of herbs to break her fast. I should question her, not you!” snapped Arianell.

I hid my smile. Dafina was more like a grandmother than a servant, and I had long enjoyed her prickly personality almost as

much as I appreciated the old woman’s expertise with braids and knot work.

Mumbling to herself, ancient Dafina put down the wide-toothed wooden comb and hobbled to the cauldron that simmered over the

hearthfire. As she ladled hot water into another wood mug, I could feel Arianell studying me. My mother’s gaze went to my

haphazard braid and she sucked her teeth contemplatively before saying, “My daughter, my queen, it is unlike you to appear

so disheveled, no matter the hour.” She gestured at the satchel slung over my back. “What is it you seek in the first light

of the day?”

Dafina handed me a mug that steamed with aromatic herbs. She bowed quickly before she returned to combing through Arianell’s

hair.

“Here, Boudicca.” Mother pointed to a comfortable woven rush chair much like her own. “Sit beside me. Let us talk.”

I blew across the tea before I sipped it but was too restless to sit. Instead I stood beside my mother and stared into the

hearthfire, though what I really wanted to do was to rush from the lodge out into the predawn forest.

“The Druids will be here tomorrow and I remember how much Derwyn enjoys the taste of truffles. I thought to forage for them.

It has been months since the leader of the Druids visited us and I want him to feel most welcome.”

Arianell nodded slowly. Unlike mine, my mother’s hair was always tamed—and even this early hour it flowed neatly down her

back as Dafina’s long strokes made it crackle and glisten in the wan firelight. “Truffles would please Derwyn, but the predawn

light makes digging for truffles”—she paused and smiled knowingly at me—“impossible.”

I blew out a long, frustrated breath. “I woke thinking of the forest and the imminent arrival of the Druids, which brought

to mind truffles. I decided I must go in search of them for him.”

“We have women aplenty who would be honored to forage for Derwyn,” croaked Dafina.

“Yes, I know, and yet I was compelled to go into the forest. Today. Now.”

Arianell’s expression shifted instantly. She lifted her hand and Dafina stopped combing her hair. My mother leaned forward,

staring through the predawn gloom of the lodge. “A compulsion to enter the forest awakened you?”

I recognized the sharpness in my mother’s voice and my stomach tightened. “It did. Actually, all I remember of my dream is

how it ended. That I was commanded to go into the forest.”

“Perhaps... perhaps...” The wan light of the hearthfire reflected in Arianell’s distinctive sky-colored eyes so that

they seemed bottomless, as if they contained secrets from many lifetimes. Holding my gaze, she raised her voice only a little.

“Dafina, bring me the hart pendant. The one with the emerald eye.”

The old servant stood stiffly and then disappeared behind the heavy pelt curtain that was the entrance to Arianell’s bedchamber. She returned in moments to give the piece of jewelry to her mistress.

“Come, bend down to me, daughter.”

I approached my mother, who lifted a delicate chain. From it dangled a hart that had been exquisitely crafted from silver

swirls and interlocking knots. The stag’s head was in profile, so only one eye showed—and that eye was a perfect shining emerald,

the exact color of my own eyes.

Arianell spoke formally. “I give this to you freely, my daughter, my queen, and my heart, to keep as your own, or to leave

as an offering in Annwn, the Otherworld.”

Wordless, I bowed my head. Mother slipped the silver chain on me so that it slid, cold and heavy, just beneath the torque

that was a symbol of my rank as queen of the Iceni. The beautiful hart fell between my breasts, where the single emerald played

with the firelight.

I touched it gently, reverently. “But Father gave it to you. I could not leave it as an offering.”

“Its worth is exactly why it makes the perfect offering. Though as I said, that is your choice to make, should you be fortunate

enough to step beyond the veil that parts the worlds.”

My fingers stroked the smooth pendant and I blew out a long breath. “I am not sure I want to visit Annwn. What if it’s like

the legends and I return to find the world has gone on without me and everyone beloved by me has left this life?”

Arianell’s smile turned into a savage baring of her white teeth. “The queen of the Iceni should not fear her destiny.”

Mother’s words sent a shiver down my spine as foreboding as real as the silver chain around my neck lifted the small, fair

hairs on my forearms. “I will always do my best to make my people proud.”

Arianell’s expression softened. “I know that as surely as Prasutagus did when he named you his heir. The Iceni and the Druids

knew that when they chose their queen three months ago. Though I do wish your father could have lived to see you wear the

torque of a queen.”

My fingers found the precious pendant again. “Mother, if you believe I should take an offering with me, let me choose something else—something valuable but not as precious as this.”

Arianell patted my hand. “There are other gifts your father gave me that I treasure more than that pendant. You, my dearest,

are the greatest of those gifts. He also gave us the gift of choosing your husband wisely. I freely admit I disagreed with

him at first. Prasutagus was a mighty chief, but he seemed far too old for you.”

I’d heard this tale many times and still it made me smile. “Because I was eighteen, and Prasutagus was already showing gray

in his beard.”

“Indeed.” Arianell nodded. “But then I saw the way the Iceni chief looked at you—as if you held his world in your green eyes.

That warmed my heart, but when Prasutagus made it clear that he valued your mind and respected your opinions— that was when I knew you and he would be well matched.”

My stomach tightened again, this time in grief, and my voice was barely above a whisper. “He loved me and I him.”

Arianell nodded. “Prasutagus won my motherly love when he sent for me after your father was entombed.”

“He knew I would need you for the birth of our first child. I was so heavy with Enfys that I could not even travel to see

Father’s pyre lit.”

Arianell nodded. “Indeed, I traveled here for the birthing of my beloved first grandchild and never left.” My mother paused

and her expression darkened. “I still believe your father had a premonition about what would befall his beloved Brigantes.

That woman Cartimandua. That horrible woman who betrayed the tribe to ally with the Romans...” Her words faded and her

shoulders bowed with grief.

This time I patted my mother’s hand reassuringly. “Do not let your thoughts dwell on Cartimandua.”

“That bitch. May her teats dry and her womb fail,” Dafina muttered.

The ancient servant’s words caused Arianell to share a smile with me, and I hastily returned the conversation to our topic.

“Prasutagus cherished me from the moment we met. He saw how very much his wife needed you. That is why he made a place of

honor for you here.”

“Dearest, you were doing well without me.”

“Ha! You granddaughters would be lost without their precious Nain,” cackled Dafina.

“Hush, you! Our queen is an excellent mother!”

“Never said she wasn’t...,” Dafina mumbled as she continued brushing her mistress’s hair.

“My granddaughters are a great joy to me—as are the Iceni.” Arianell’s expression changed. She stared into the fire and spoke

slowly, as if weighing each word carefully. “I did not believe I would find such joy and purpose after your father’s death,

but I have had a second life here with the Iceni. I want you to know that, my daughter, my queen. I have been more than content

these many years.”

The hearthfire seemed to stop radiating heat, and I shivered. “You are the beloved matriarch of the Iceni. How many Iceni

babes have you helped to bring into the world?”

Still staring into the fire, Arianell said, “Many, with the aid of my patron goddess, Brigantia.”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “And with the goddess’s aid you will bring many more Iceni into the world.”

“Indeed,” Arianell said softly. “Should it be the goddess’s will.”

“Should it be the goddess’s will,” Dafina echoed eerily.

I shivered again. “Mother, you have not told me why you woke so early.”

“I was compelled awake by Brigantia. The goddess whispered that I must give counsel to Victory.”

The breath rushed from me in a gasp. Father had often told the story about how he had known the moment he’d looked into his

firstborn and only child’s eyes that he must name me after the ancient word buaidh , which meant “victory.” My voice broke as I asked, “A-and what counsel would you give me, Mother?”

“I have already given it you in the form of a precious offering, but in addition I simply remind you of something you already

know. Listen to the forest.”

“Yes, Mother. I will remember.”

Arianell’s smile lit the shadowy room as she turned her gaze from the fire to look fully at me. “You should be on your way. It is never wise to keep destiny waiting.” Arianell turned and spoke over her shoulder. “Dafina, make ready a measure of the bannock cake and some of that excellent cheese the queen likes so much.” Dafina quickly wrapped a generous portion of the still-warm wheat, barley, oat, and hazelnut cake, along with a hunk of goat cheese, in a skin and gave it to me with a fond smile and another bow.

Arianell stood. Though she was not as stiff and hobbling as her servant, I noted that Mother was slowing. She straightened

with a grimace and rubbed her left hip. Arianell was not petite, but I stood more than a head taller. The wise woman I loved

so well reached up and cupped my cheek gently with her hand.

“It has been difficult for you these months since Prasutagus’s death.”

“It was too sudden. Too soon.” My shoulders sagged with sadness. His last day rushed back to me as it had over and over. I

watched my virile husband, seemingly so strong—almost godlike in my eyes—stand abruptly from his place of honor at the Imbolc

feast just three months before. His ruddy face abruptly drained of color. He clutched his left arm, spoke my name, and, with

an expression of wide-eyed surprise, the chief of the Iceni fell and did not rise again.

Arianell patted my cheek gently. “Time eases grief. And, remember, none of us are ever truly gone. We are all connected, and

will be eternally.” She kissed me softly—first on my forehead, then each cheek, and finally my lips. “May the joy of the day

be with you, my precious daughter, my precious queen.”

My response was automatic. “And may the blessings of the earth be on you, beloved Mother.”

“Now go! You are like a colt who needs to run.”

With a sigh of relief I rushed from the lodge and stepped out into a world turned gray.