Page 21 of Boudicca

“I believe it is time.” I gazed up at Grandmother Oak. Her leaves were just beginning to turn yellow as the days became shorter

and the nights longer and cooler.

Beside me Rhan nodded. “I shall petition Andraste.” She didn’t need to ask me to explain what I meant. In the almost six months

since the Romans had attacked Tasceni and Rhan had become seer of the Iceni, she and I had grown even closer than we’d been

as children. “I assume you want the petition to be public.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “How soon can you be ready?”

“I am ready now.” Her grin flashed. “Last week when you commanded that the harvests begin, I prepared. I have been leaving

offerings to the goddess every day since then. It has been seven days. Andraste will give an answer should you ask today.”

“Reading my mind again?”

She laughed softly at our old joke. “It’s much simpler than that. You called for the harvest to begin, and then my father

followed your lead by commanding the Trinovantes to harvest as well. I expected him to come to Tasceni to announce his crops

had been safely stored just as the Iceni’s are now at the winter stronghold in the forest of Thetford. I knew you would want

my father present for Andraste’s response, so I prepared.”

“And this morning Addedomaros arrived. Your seer gifts are impressive,” I said as I pressed my hand to the skin of the oak’s

bark in greeting before Rhan and I continued walking.

Rhan snorted. “Foretelling my father’s visit has far more to do with the fact that he cannot seem to stay away from Tasceni

than any gift I’ve been given.”

I glanced at Rhan. Her face was shadowed and difficult for me to read. “Have you quarreled again with him?”

She sighed. “Not directly. But I believe it will always be awkward for him to be near me. He cannot seem to reconcile the

fact that I am more seer than daughter now.”

“Why can’t you be both?” I asked.

Rhan waited so long to answer that I was trying to think of another way I could frame the question when she finally said,

“Because my father is frightened of me.”

“You’ve not told me that before.”

She shrugged. “I’ve only come to realize it is true these past months, but I’ve suspected it since just before I left for

Ynys M?n those many years ago. Remember the look on Father’s face that day I had my first vision at the pool?”

“I remember the day, of course,” I said. “But all I recall about Addedomaros is the fear I saw in his eyes when I recounted

how you almost fell into...” My voice faded as I realized the truth. “The fear he showed wasn’t because you’d almost drowned.”

“No,” Rhan said softly.

“And that is why he sometimes speaks abruptly to you, or ignores you completely.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll talk with him about it,” I said.

“It won’t help,” Rhan said quickly. “It will only humiliate him.”

I was silent as we continued to walk toward Andraste’s shrine. We had taken to visiting the goddess together every day after

I trained with the warriors. Sometimes Rhan and I left the goddess offerings. Sometimes, like today, we brought beeswax to

rub into the wood of her statue to protect it against the rain so that Andraste would shine her welcome on all who passed

this way to enter Tasceni. As the large wooden statue came into view, I said, “Rhan, if Addedomaros is frightened of you,

then why does he keep returning to Tasceni? He could simply wait for me to send word when it is time to attack Camulodunum.”

“It is not to me he is returning,” she said.

Before I could ask Rhan what she meant, Enfys and Ceri ran up to us, both girls talking excitedly at once. They were followed closely by the two half-grown wolves who never let my daughters out of their sight.

“Mama! Mama! We did it. Sunne and Mona and Briallen helped, but we did it!” Ceri shouted.

As they reached us the scent of blood came with them, metallic and heavy. The girls’ tunics and faces were blood spattered.

Their braids were coming undone. Ceri’s sleeve was torn almost all the way off. From the wrists down, their hands were scarlet,

like they’d dipped them in a vat of blood. They carried bows slung across their backs, but their arrow quivers were empty.

My stomach went hot as my face went cold. I thought my knees would buckle and automatically reached for the short sword I

strapped around my waist every morning. “Where are you injured? What has happened? Where is Briallen?”

“Oh, Mama, we are fine,” Ceri said with the same innocently dismissive tone children always use with worried parents. “Briallen’s

back there with—”

“We killed a boar,” Enfys interrupted as she placed her bloody fists on her narrow hips and beamed with pride. She even smiled,

reminding me of the open, happy child she had been before the Roman attack.

Ceri frowned at her big sister. “I wanted to tell Mama!”

Enfys raised one brow. She looked and sounded so much like my mother that longing for Arianell speared through me. “It was

my arrow that brought him down,” she insisted. “Briallen even said so.”

“But my arrow was the first to strike him.” Ceri mimicked her sister’s stance, refusing to back down.

I felt dizzy with relief that my girls were safe and was grateful Rhan spoke so I could breathe deeply and attempt to quiet

my thundering heart.

“A boar? That is quite the accomplishment.” Rhan reached down and ruffled Sunne’s ears as the big male wolf’s tongue lolled.

I fixed a smile on my face. “Where is this boar?”

Enfys pointed behind them into the forest. “Back there, but not very far. We gutted it, but it’s so heavy that Briallen sent us to get help to drag it back to Tasceni.”

“Oh, Mama!” Ceri bounced up and down on her tiptoes. “I cannot wait for Wulffaed to make us her wild boar pie.”

“It is delicious, little dove,” I said. “Hurry now, though. You don’t want to leave Briallen alone in the forest defending

your prize.”

“Bears have begun gorging for the winter, and it would be a bad omen should brave Briallen be forced to kill one as it prepares

for its slumber,” Rhan added.

“Why would that be a bad omen?” Enfys asked, the somberness that had usurped her previously gregarious nature settling back

around her like a cloak. “Bear pelts are very warm to sleep on.”

“Because if it is a female bear there is a good chance she will be pregnant,” explained Rhan.

“Oh, I understand,” said Enfys thoughtfully. “That would offend the goddesses.”

“It would,” agreed Rhan. “Best do as the queen says and hurry. Cadoc is still on the training field. He will help you.”

Ceri turned to Enfys. “Cadoc is big enough to carry the boar himself!” And the girls were off, running past us with their

wolves keeping pace beside them.

I staggered the rest of the way to Andraste’s shrine and leaned against it. Grasping her feet with hands that trembled, I

bowed my head and whispered a prayer of gratitude that it had been boar blood and not human blood spattered on my daughters.

“More deep breaths,” Rhan said from beside me as she gently rubbed my back. “Your girls are safe.”

Breathing shakily, I lifted my head. “After they were attacked I often wondered if they would ever recover.”

“I know.” Rhan’s hand rested on my shoulder.

“They did recover. They’ve even grown strong and confident again.”

“But the blood took you back to that day,” Rhan finished when I could not.

“Yes.” I whispered the word. “I cannot let them see it, but yes. I don’t think time will ever fix that. I don’t think I’ll ever not see their bloody, violated bodies in my nightmares.”

Rhan’s pressure on my shoulder forced me to face her. “This is your sign.”

“My sign?”

Rhan nodded. “Andraste will give you a more public sign. She will show the Iceni when it is time to take their vengeance to

the Romans at Camulodunum, but what just happened was your goddess speaking to you privately, reminding you, rekindling within

you the anger that has waned these past six months.”

I shook my head as I felt that anger stir. “I haven’t forgotten that we were attacked.”

“No, of course not.” Rhan paused, and when she continued her voice was gentle with understanding. “But you have found happiness

again, and happiness cools anger and stagnates vengeance.”

I looked up at the face of the goddess—serene yet fierce, strong yet motherly—and I knew deep within me Rhan spoke the truth.

“So Andraste reminded me of my duty.”

“No! You have not forgotten your duty. The Iceni and Trinovantes know that. But what just took your breath, tightened your

stomach, and drained the blood from your face is something you must remember and carry into battle with you,” said Rhan. “You

seek vengeance. Not just for your daughters’ violation, but for the violation of all Britons.”

I nodded. “I will not forget again.”

“Oh, you might,” said my friend. “And if you do, the goddess will remind you.”

I said nothing as Rhan’s words shivered through my body.

We were polishing Andraste’s idol when Cadoc and Maldwyn galloped past us with Ceri and Enfys riding double with them, holding on tightly to the warriors. The young wolves ran beside the horses as the girls whooped the Iceni war cry and Cadoc and Maldwyn waved at us and grinned. I was fiercely proud of my girls. Once they’d started training with Cadoc and Briallen, their confidence had begun to return. As their bodies strengthened and their skills improved, my girls had been reborn. They’d shed childhood like a stifling chrysalis they’d been forced to battle their way through. Today they were strong and sure of themselves, but they could have easily never recovered. They could have closed down, refused to fight to heal, and rejected a future where the possibility of more brutality waited just around the next bend in the forest, unseen but lurking.

Andraste was right. It was time to bring vengeance to the Romans.

“I will tell Cadoc to gather our people at the field before we go in for the evening meal,” I said.

“I will be there—as will the goddess.”

My gaze went to Rhan. She and I had climbed up on the flat stone slab on which the statue of Andraste rested. We’d brought

clean hemp clothes with which to rub the wax into the statue, but our hands were slippery and Rhan had a smear of wax on her

cheek. She looked up at me from the goddess’s shoulder.

“What? There is nothing to be nervous about. Andraste has been waiting for this day—as have the Iceni,” she said.

“I’m not nervous. I trust her. I trust you. I was just thinking how grateful I am that you are here with me,” I said.

Her dark eyes lit with pleasure and she flashed me the impish grin that hadn’t changed since our childhood. “I am happy to

serve the Iceni queen.”

“No.” I spoke softly and her hands stilled as she listened. I hadn’t meant to say these things to her. I’d only recently come

to understand the truth I was putting into words, but as I continued to speak I felt the rightness of sharing them with Rhan.

“This isn’t the queen of the Iceni being grateful for her seer, though she is. Rhan, before you came to Tasceni I didn’t often

think of friendship, if at all. I’ve realized that is because before his death Prasutagus had been my friend, and his presence

in my life was so large, so overshadowing, that he eclipsed everyone else.

“When he died I gravitated to my mother. Arianell’s dedication to my daughters, my people, and me was enough that I did not understand that except for her I had no true friends.” Rhan tried to speak but I raised my hand. “I need to say this. Arianell filled the space left by Prasutagus’s absence. She was more than mother. She was friend and confidant. I had my daughters, of course, and my people looked to me for guidance and stability. But except for Arianell, I had no one.

“The day Mother was killed, it seemed something within me died with her—something that had been wounded with the death of

Prasutagus.” I reached across the statue of Andraste to take Rhan’s hand. It was smooth and slick with wax but warm and familiar,

and she wove her fingers with mine. “Having you here healed that which I thought had died within me. You are more than friend.

You forged a path that led me to open myself to others. Today I can say that Cadoc, Abertha, Maldwyn, Wulffaed, and Briallen

are truly my friends. Because of you I am rich with those who return not just my trust but my friendship , and that is a gift few chiefs or queens can boast of.” I bowed to her. “Thank you.”

When I raised my head, Rhan’s eyes were bright with tears that tracked down her flushed cheeks. “I did not know until I arrived

in Tasceni how very much I had missed you. Boudicca, I will be content if I can spend my life at your side.” Then she squeezed

my hand before she let it loose to wipe at her cheeks.

Then I asked a question that had been niggling at my mind for the past several months. Rhan was beautiful and wise and, of

course, a respected seer. During the past many months of daily training, the warriors had become so accustomed to my presence

that they spoke freely around me, and I’d overheard several of them, men and women, comment on Rhan’s beauty and exceptional

grace. Though my friend was kind to all of the Iceni, she didn’t appear to favor one over others, and my curiosity had finally

become unbearable. “Will you not choose a mate? Will you not marry?”

Her gaze avoided mine as she returned to rubbing wax into the goddess’s shoulder. “I will not marry.”

“Marriage wouldn’t change your standing,” I said. “Even Derwyn married.” The high Druid’s wife had died in childbirth many years ago. I had not known her, but Arianell had told me that he had been devoted to her.

“Yes, I know.”

Then another thought came to me and I added hastily, “I’ve seen one of Wulffaed’s daughters watching you. What’s her name...”

I hesitated, thinking.

“Lianne,” Rhan said, still without looking at me.

“Yes, that’s it. Lianne with the honey-colored hair. She’s lovely and clearly she’s interested in—”

“Boudicca, forgive me, but I do not want to talk about it.”

“There is nothing to forgive. We won’t speak of it until you’re ready. If you are ever ready,” I added hastily before I returned

to polishing the statue. Rhan spoke with such finality that any further questions on the subject died in my throat.

***

The shadows of the watching trees were lengthening into dusk when I strode onto the training field. I’d grown to love the

feel of its hard-packed soil under my feet as much as I loved the changes daily training had forged in my body. After six

months, my strength and balance complemented my height and speed. The curves of my body were no longer soft, but instead long,

lean, flexible muscle. My spear arm threw true. There were no chariot teams who could best Maldwyn and me on the field. After

the rainy day when I’d fallen from the cart, Abertha had drilled me over and over with a short sword until even Maldwyn, who

was the most overprotective of my lead warriors, agreed that he was no longer fearful that I couldn’t protect myself on foot

in the middle of a battle.

Just days before, I’d overheard Cadoc bragging that the queen of the Iceni moved with such graceful strength that even he envied me. I let the words of the mighty shield propel me forward to the middle of the crowded training field. The tribe packed the area. They parted eagerly, murmuring fond greetings as I passed. I’d become more than their queen or figurehead. I’d become one of them, and my pride in that would stay with me until breath no longer filled my body.

In the center of the field was a large circle that was clear of the press of people. I stopped there, gazing around at the

warriors who were so familiar and so dear to me. Addedomaros and the Trinovantes shield, Mailcun, stood across from me beside

Cadoc, Abertha, and Maldwyn. I noted several scarlet cloaks scattered among the woad blue of the Iceni. That pleased me.

Briallen stood between my girls, their half-grown wolves at their sides. Though the Iceni pressed around them, Enfys and Ceri

appeared as calm as their pups.

I did not see Rhan but knew she had to be close.

“Iceni seer, come forth!” I shouted.

To my right the warriors rippled and parted enough to allow Rhan through. She carried an elaborately stamped bronze pitcher

and a woven reed cage that held one of the sacred hares that were raised in a hut behind my lodge, bred for their color, size,

and temperament. This creature was large—much bigger than a wild hare. Except for the woad-colored crescent painted on the

creature’s chest, its coat was white and gleamed with health.

Rhan’s entrance was dramatic. She hummed a hauntingly melodic song as she circled me thrice before she stopped in front of

me, put the cage at my feet, and, still holding the bronze pitcher, turned to face the raptly watching crowd.

The change that possessed Rhan when she performed the rites and rituals of a seer always amazed me. It was as if she shed

mortal trappings and took up the mantle of the gods. Her blond hair washed down her slim back, and her eyes, always expressive,

gleamed like deep water.

Rhan raised the pitcher so that her forest-colored robe fell back, exposing the tattooed Ogham symbols that circled her slender

biceps. Her bare feet began to stomp rhythmically, da-da, da-da, da-da , a strong, steady heartbeat. She gestured, and the Iceni joined her until the field was one beating heart.

Then, in time with the tempo the tribe kept, Rhan began to dance a circle around the caged hare and me. As she did so she

poured a libation from the pitcher. The sweet, familiar scent of strong honey mead laced with lavender perfumed the air while

Rhan invoked Andraste.

“Wind, whisper Queen Boudicca’s petition to the goddess of the Iceni, blessed Andraste. Fire, blaze Queen Boudicca’s petition

to the goddess of war, our Andraste. Water, wash Queen Boudicca’s petition to Andraste, goddess of wealth and plenty. And,

earth, let even the rocks sing Queen Boudicca’s petition to the goddess of the harvest.”

Rhan ended the invocation in front of me. She placed the empty pitcher on the ground, opened the cage, and lifted the hare

so that I could whisper my petition to it, and through the little creature to Andraste. All around us my people continued

to stomp a heartbeat that filled the field.

But I had decided to change tradition. I raised my hand and the people stilled. Rhan’s gaze met mine. She did not look at

all surprised; instead she dipped her head in agreement.

“Iceni and Trinovantes, I will not whisper my petition to Andraste. Instead, I would shout it so that all may witness my question as well as the goddess’s answer. I refuse to repeat mistakes made before me.” I would not list the

faults of Prasutagus that had led us here. Everyone present knew them. But I also would not pretend as if he had been infallible.

The longer I ruled alone, the more I understood what had driven my husband to ignore the signs sent from Andraste—something

he could not have done had the Iceni witnessing those signs heard his whispered petition. So I did not whisper to the hare.

I shouted and was glad that the creature had been bred for a calm temperament, because instead of startling and struggling

to get away from me, its brown eyes watched me calmly, as if it listened closely to every word. “Andraste! Your Victory seeks

sign! Is it time to serve our vengeance to the Romans? I beseech you, mighty Andraste, show me your will!”

When I’d finished speaking, the hare began to struggle against Rhan’s hold. The Iceni seer placed the creature at my feet and it sprinted, circling me thrice, before it dashed south—in the direction of Camulodunum. As it darted into the watching crowd, people parted, but not just for the white hare. There were several shouts, and then a wide area was suddenly clear and five hares raced after the goddess’s messenger. They were wild hares, smaller and brownish gray. Single-minded, the creatures ignored everyone except the sacred hare as they all ran southward and directly toward a large cook fire that marked the beginning of the corrals. For a moment it seemed all six hares would hurl themselves into the fire, but at the last moment they darted around it and disappeared into the south.

I looked to Rhan. “Seer of the Iceni, what say you of this sign from Andraste?”

Rhan spoke, projecting her voice throughout the field. The power of her words shivered across my skin. “Andraste’s hare circled

Queen Boudicca three times before racing to the south and being joined by five wild hares. The goddess’s sign is clear. The

queen must travel to Camulodunum and back in three days. Five days after that, the Iceni, joined by Tribe Trinovantes, will

burn the city to the ground.”

I blazed with Rhan’s words, lifted one fist to the sky, and shrieked the Iceni war cry. The tribe took up my cry and it mixed

with the whooping of the Trinovantes so that as the sun retreated into the horizon it seemed to do so in response to our voices.