Page 13 of Boudicca

Pride in my people carried me through the rest of that long night. The eve of May is usually filled with feasting and passion

and remembrance. Young women dress their hair with wreaths of ivy and flowers. It is a celebration of the fertility of the

growing season—a magickal night from which many handfasts and babies result.

I had always loved the lighting of the tribal bonfires that illuminated Tasceni in jewellike gold and orange so that it seemed

otherworldly. It was easy to imagine the spirits of our ancestors dancing among the flickering shadows as they rejoined their

living tribe for a night of revels.

Not this Beltane.

As I sat in the center of the raised queen’s table in my lodge and presided over our subdued feast, I felt the absence of

my husband and mother as a constant ache deep in my bones. To my right, in the place of honor, was Derwyn. To my left sat

Addedomaros, chief of Tribe Trinovantes. Stretched along the queen’s table were my lead warriors, as well as Addedomaros’s

shield, Mailcun, who I had long thought resembled a large brown bear.

As if my thoughts drew his gaze, Mailcun’s eyes met mine. I glimpsed a deep sadness there and remembered that he and Arianell had been friends. They had carried on a flirtation over the many years since my father’s death; he had often brought her gifts when our two tribes met, small animals carved from wood that made my mother smile. He dipped his head respectfully to me and returned to pushing the food around his plate. It was then that I noticed the little wooden owl he’d placed beside his goblet of untouched ale. The owl, like the white stag, was beloved of my mother’s goddess, Brigantia. The sight of that ungiven gift pulled me from my fog of grief so that my gaze traveled around my lodge and I saw my people through clearer eyes.

My daughters had retreated to bed. Briallen stood unmoving just outside their pelt door. Every table was filled, though at

each was at least one plate that had been piled high with choice cuts of meat sprinkled generously with salt and spice and

left untouched. Each Beltane, plates were offered to our ancestors while living Iceni feasted and drank, laughed and loved.

Tonight there was no laughter. The tribe’s voices were muffled, their eyes dull, their shoulders slumped.

I turned to Derwyn. “They mourn,” I said softly.

“You must help them.” His voice, like mine, was pitched not to carry.

I felt the weight of his words press down on me as my gaze swept across the lodge. “How can I? I mourn, too.”

“Queens do not have the luxury of mourning. If the Iceni fall into despair, your curse will not be fulfilled. Your tribe will

splinter and, like tinder, quickly burn out.”

My gaze snapped to his as my rage, which had cooled after the lighting of the pyre, sparked and took flame again. Under my

breath, I almost spit the words at the Druid. “I am not just a queen. I am a widow. I am an orphan. I am—”

Derwyn lifted his hand and touched the golden torque that encircled my neck. As his fingers met the twisted gold, heat spread

from it through my body, cutting off my words.

Slowly, distinctly, Derwyn said, “You are Victory, named by Andraste. That is, indeed, more than just a queen.”

Victory...

The goddess’s voice lifted from my veins and echoed through my marrow. You have a choice to make that will shape your future as well as your tribe’s.

I made my choice. I survived. I will not let it be all for naught.

“Mailcun, shield of the Trinovantes, I see you brought a gift for my mother.” I raised my voice, making sure that it carried

throughout the somber lodge.

Mailcun’s surprised gaze lifted to mine. “I did, Queen Boudicca.”

“Might I see it?” I held out my hand.

“Of course.” The old warrior handed the little owl to his chief, who passed it to me.

The lodge watched me study the figure, and as I did I heard my mother’s ancient servant’s voice so clearly that she could

have been standing behind me, as she had always stood close to Arianell. My lips lifted, and when I looked up and spoke I

knew my smile had reached my eyes. “You know what Dafina would say?” I didn’t wait for an answer but continued, doing my best

to mimic the old woman’s voice. “‘Could you not have made it bigger for my lady?’” I raised one brow and looked at Mailcun.

Caught off guard, Mailcun barked a laugh, which he quickly stifled. I shook my head and spoke warmly to him. “No, do not silence

your laughter. Arianell loved the sound of it, and my mother most certainly would be teasing you along with her Dafina.” I

turned my gaze to my people, allowing it to linger here and there as one and then another and another met my eyes. “We cannot

be bowed by the deaths of our elders. That does not honor them.” I looked down my table to Cadoc. “Iceni shield, what would

your wise mother say of this somber feast?”

Cadoc had been slumped over his mostly uneaten plate. He straightened, and a hint of a smile played across his wide, expressive

mouth. “She would cuff the back of my head and remind me that Beltane is a night of joy and revels. She would say wasted happiness

is wasted life.” He nodded, and his thick silver beard bobbed up and down on his chest. “Aye, and were she here she would

be cackling happily with the queen mother about the diminutive size of Mailcun’s...” He paused, and his clear gaze went

to the Trinovantes shield, looking his bearlike body up and down, before he finished suggestively, “ Owl. ”

This time several people laughed, and I felt the grief in the lodge begin to ease. It did not release its hold on my people—that

would not happen so easily or quickly—but it was suddenly not so difficult to breathe.

I stood and raised my untouched mug of ale. “To Arianell!”

Mailcun raised his mug so quickly ale sloshed onto the table. Though his eyes were bright with unshed tears, his deep voice boomed. “To Arianell!”

The lodge joined him, raising their mugs and drinking deeply. When I sat, Cadoc stood. He bowed to me and then began recounting

a story of how early this spring his mother, who had been a surprisingly tiny woman, had discovered an eagle diving on her

beloved hens. The raptor’s wingspan had been wider than the old woman was tall, but she hadn’t hesitated. She’d grabbed a

broom and begun beating the huge creature until it squawked in fear and took to the sky, leaving her hens in peace ever after.

Laughter replaced silence. Servants refilled mugs and others stood to share stories of their loved ones. Soon the lodge echoed

with laughter and remembrance and life—and I felt just a little of the weight that had been pressing down on me lift.

“Well done, Queen Boudicca,” Derwyn said, bowing his head ever so slightly to me. “Well done.”

***

After the ale and tales of our lost loved ones began to flow, it was a simple thing for me to slip from my lodge. It was still

raining, though gently—more mist than drops. The fires that burned brightly throughout Tasceni created halos of light, within

which I was pleased to see couples dancing to the rhythmic music of drums and flutes and lyres. It was not, of course, as

exuberant and passionate as Beltanes past, but once the gloom had been lifted from my lodge, the rest of the village seemed

to breathe a long sigh of relief, as if they had been given permission to live again.

I skirted the edge of the many rings of light as I made my way through Tasceni, my feet carrying me toward the still-burning pyre. I was grateful that the damp breeze blew steadily across the fens inland, taking with it the smoke and stench from the pyre. I’m not sure what I meant to do. Perhaps see if my mother or her goddess would send me another sign. Or maybe I simply meant to be as near to her mortal remains as I could be until her ashes, and that of the other fallen Iceni, were gathered and taken to the Chief’s Barrow, where they would be entombed with Prasutagus. But as I drew close to the field that held the glowing pyre and the Druids who stood watch around it, my steps faltered, and the heaviness in my soul that had briefly lifted pressed upon me again.

I changed direction and made for what was left of our stables. They still smoldered, but our herd, strong and proud and so

recently returned from the spring games with the Trinovantes, were corralled a safe distance from the ruins. Three fires had

been lit in a triangle before the corral, and the leaping flames drew me as surely as the comforting scent of horseflesh.

Two young stable hands fed the flames. When they noticed me they immediately stood, bowed, and shuffled their feet nervously.

“Queen Boudicca!”

“Be at ease,” I said, smiling at the boys. “Have you feasted?”

“Not yet, my queen,” said the taller of the two. As he spoke I recognized him and the other boy as my horse master Maldwyn’s

younger brothers. “Maldwyn said we should tend the fires until he sent someone to take our place.”

Even in the misty rain and flickering light of the bonfires, I could see that both boys’ faces were grim and tearstained.

From the list within my mind of those elders lost, I found the name Gwladus, Maldwyn’s gregarious and ancient grandmother.

“You are relieved,” I said. “Go to my lodge, where you will find your brother, with whom you may feast and share stories of

your beloved grandmother.”

“Thank you, my queen,” the boys said together as they bowed again, and then disappeared into the gloom.

I breathed out a long sigh and made my way the short distance to the corral. As I came to the wooden fence, my favorite mare,

Tan, named for her fiery red coat, greeted me with a low nicker. I stroked her sleek neck and whispered a prayer of thanks

to Epona that she had been safely with the warriors in the Trinovantes camp instead of Tasceni. Tan lipped my cheek, which

made me smile.

“I knew I would find you here.”

I did not turn, though my smile remained. “Mind reading again?”

Rhan moved into the space beside me. “More remembrance than mind reading. Horses have comforted you since you were a girl,

and I knew you would need comfort tonight.”

I felt a little jolt of surprise as a long-buried memory surfaced. It had been the first night of my fostering with Tribe

Trinovantes. At just twelve years old, I had used up all of my bravery as I watched my father and mother ride away with the

rest of my escort, leaving me with strangers. Five years had seemed a lifetime, and by dark I was homesick and unable to hide

my tears, so I escaped to the stables and found solace sobbing in the warm neck of a friendly mare.

Rhan had found me there. She’d brought a mug of beer, which we’d shared, and hadn’t mentioned my tears but instead had talked

of her excitement at having me as a sister and of the adventures she’d planned for us. Our friendship had begun that night.

“I remember,” I said, still stroking Tan’s neck. “You were very kind to me that night.”

“You would have done the same for me had I fostered with your family.” She moved up beside me and smoothed Tan’s mane.

Tan blew against my cheek and then went back to drowsing. I turned to face my childhood friend and leaned against the fence.

The firelight touched Rhan’s large, dark eyes, making them look like deep pools with a depth of secrets just below their surface.

“It was a wise thing you did back there in the lodge,” she said. “It loosened grief’s chokehold on your people.”

“I am not as good at lightening a mood as Arianell. Had my mother been here tonight, beside me where she belongs, even after

our losses, this Beltane would be less somber, less heartbreaking.”

Rhan cocked her head in that particular way she used to when we were girls and she had something important to say. “As you

are now a queen and not simply my foster sister, I probably should not say this, but you are wrong.”

I snorted. “I will always be your friend and I value your truth telling. Speak as freely as you did when we were girls.”

“Well then, the truth is, had Arianell witnessed what the Romans did, she would have fallen into a despair so dark she would have never truly recovered.” When I was unable to speak, she continued. “Boudicca, did you not know that you were your mother’s strength?”

“I—no. She always seemed so wise. So steadfast.”

Rhan nodded. “Yes, because she had you and the Iceni from which to draw strength. Oh, I do not mean to disparage Arianell.

Indeed, she was wise and loving, but you were the fire that warmed her, the victory she followed after she lost your father

and her tribe. Does it help to know that she would not have wanted to survive today?”

I felt the truth of her words settle within me and I had a sudden flash of the day my mother had come to Tasceni after the

death of my father. She had looked frail and old and defeated, but I had put that out of my mind because her vitality returned

as she cared for me and her first granddaughter, born shortly after her arrival.

“Yes, it does help.” As I spoke I felt the shackles of grief loosen. “I hope Mother is not despairing now. I hope being in

the presence of Brigantia has filled her with joy instead.”

“It is Beltane. Look, Queen Boudicca.” Rhan made a sweeping gesture with the blade of her hand. It parted the mist so that

as I peered past the triple fires at Tasceni, I clearly saw that the figures illuminated by the other Beltane blazes had multiplied.

In their glow were many, many more Iceni, jubilant as they twirled and laughed, danced, and loved.

Two of the dancers, a tall flame-haired man and a slender young woman who moved with the grace of youth, turned their faces

to me. My breath caught. I knew them from my youth. I knew their smiles and the love that radiated from them to me, and to

each other, as they danced their way around the fire.

“Rhan! Do you see them?” My voice shook with excitement but was hushed lest I break the spell she’d cast and the veil to Annwn

close.

“I see them,” Rhan said, linking her arm through mine. “I see their happiness and their love. Remember, Boudicca, love is

as eternal as are we.”

“I’ll remember...” I stared through the unveiled mist at my ethereal loved ones, who reveled, young and strong again, until the gauzy curtain between worlds was drawn once again.

“Do not mourn for them,” Rhan said softly. “Your grief does not honor them. They want you to think of them with happiness.”

“Thank you. I shall remember.” Then I wiped the tears from my cheeks, turned to meet her gaze, and spoke formally. “Seer,

that day at the pool when you had your first vision, the torque you saw me wearing wasn’t a queen’s but this one, wasn’t it?”

My fingers touched the thickness of twisted gold around my neck.

Rhan’s gaze dropped from my eyes to the torque before they lifted to look into mine again. “Yes.”

“Why did you not tell me?”

“You were not ready to hear that truth,” said Rhan.

“And since then? You did not think I was ready to hear the truth that would be my future during those long years?” I hadn’t

realized that I was angry at Rhan until that moment.

“Do I answer the queen or my friend?”

I blew out a long breath. “I am queen and friend.”

“Are you?” Rhan paused and shook her head briefly. “No matter, Queen Boudicca and friend, I will answer you honestly. You

were not ready to hear the truth until Andraste spoke it to you yesterday. You were not ready to believe your beloved husband’s

arrogance would be the impetus that caused the Romans to target you and Tasceni.”

My face flushed with anger and shame. Anger at Prasutagus and shame that she was right. I hadn’t wanted to believe Andraste.

I would not have believed Rhan.

Rhan reached out hesitantly with the hand that had so recently parted the curtain between Arbred and Annwn. She grasped my wrist and heat shot through me as our shared girlhood returned to me in a rush—a carefree time when we raced, hand in hand, through the forests of Tribe Trinovantes weaving stories of what our lives would be. At her touch, the anger and shame drained from me. Her soft words held the echo of those days, as well as the wisdom of the seer she had become. “It would not have changed anything had you known. Prasutagus was set on his course. The fact that I saw you wearing his torque would not have swayed him. It would only have brought conflict and worry to your life, which was full and happy.”

I sighed and nodded before she loosed my wrist. My skin felt cold after the warmth of her touch. “Can you give me your oath

that you will keep no future visions from me?”

Rhan’s gaze snapped to mine. I tried to read the depths there, but all I saw was her sharp intelligence. Something else flickered

within her eyes, but it faded quickly.

“I can give you my oath that I will share all future visions with you, Queen Boudicca,” said Rhan formally.

As she spoke, a wave of relief crested over me, but before I could acknowledge her newly given oath, movement on the ground

caught my attention. Silently, Rhan and I watched as a wild hare hopped from the center of the pyramid of fires before us.

The little creature came to Rhan and circled her three times before it fearlessly curled between her leather-clad feet.

My gaze rose to meet Rhan’s. “Stay with me. Be the seer of the Iceni, blessed by Andraste, as well as my advisor. Derwyn will

return to Ynys M?n when the pyre is cold and the ashes have been entombed, but I have need of your Sight and your wisdom for

what is to come. I give you an oath of my own. I will always be ready to hear the truth you speak.”

The three fires suddenly crackled as one, sending sparks into the misty night sky. Like fireflies, they reflected in Rhan’s

eyes as she said, “As you ask, so will I do.”

When we looked back down at her feet, the little hare had disappeared.