Page 22 of Boudicca

“You know you cannot enter Camulodunum without being recognized by the Catuvellauni. They’ll immediately report you to the

Romans. At best they will be more vigilant in guarding the city. At worst Paulinus will send for the Ninth Legion to reinforce

the centuria stationed there, the centuria that attacked Tasceni.” I spoke quietly and firmly to Addedomaros. “You cannot

join me until we ride at the front of our combined armies and burn Camulodunum to the ground.”

I would always feel the affection of a foster daughter for the Trinovantes chief, but he did not rule in Tasceni and all I

owed him was the courtesy of hearing his words—not following them. He sat on my right, at the place of honor at the head table

within my lodge. To his right was his son, Adminius, and beside him was Mailcun, the faithful Trinovantes shield. The evening

meal had a feastlike quality as Tasceni celebrated the battle sign Andraste had given. I did not want that spoiled by Addedomaros’s

petulant insistence that he must join me to reconnoiter in Camulodunum.

“Queen Boudicca, if I may?” Rhan, who sat on my left with Cadoc, Abertha, and Maldwyn seated beside her, leaned close to me

and spoke so that her voice did not carry farther than our table.

“Of course, Rhan,” I said.

“I do not see why she should speak!” Adminius snapped. Several heads turned toward us at the sound of his sharp words. Rhan’s

brother had visited with his father only a few times during the past several months. I had not known him well when I fostered

in his home. He was two years younger and had not shown any interest in his sister or me, or really anything except himself.

I’d thought him petulant and selfish, when I thought of him at all.

“Rhan speaks because I have given her leave to speak and I am queen here, Adminius.” My voice was just as sharp, though considerably quieter than the Trinovantes chief’s son. “You would do well to remember that she is seer of the Iceni, conduit to Andraste, appointed by Derwyn himself.”

When Addedomaros looked as if he would protest, Mailcun spoke up. “My chief, it is proper that the seer speak.”

Addedomaros blew out a long breath as he ran a hand through his thick hair. He nodded, turning to his son. “Mailcun is wise,

as is the Iceni queen. Of course Rhan should speak.” He looked around me at Rhan. “Sometimes I forget that you are a gifted

seer and not simply my daughter.”

And if you or your son insults my seer again, you will be very sorry. The words were on my tongue, but I pressed my lips together and held them in. It would not serve me to threaten my only ally.

Instead I nodded for Rhan to continue.

Rhan leaned forward again so that she could keep her voice low. “The sign Andraste sent was clear. The hare circled Queen

Boudicca thrice before the wild hares joined it. The Iceni must make the first foray into Camulodunum alone, for the very

reason Boudicca gave—a reason I know the chief of the Trinovantes must agree with.”

Addedomaros nodded. “Yes, yes, yes. But to remain behind is difficult for this old warrior.”

“And yet you will remain behind,” said Rhan. “Because you are not just an old warrior. You are a wise old warrior.”

“Excellent point,” said Cadoc through a mouthful of wild boar pie. “Should you join us I doubt we would be allowed to leave

the city.”

“Agreed,” I said to stop the pointless discussion. “Cadoc, Maldwyn, and I leave for the city in the morning.”

“What of Abertha?” asked Cadoc. Abertha was seated beside him and looked up from her plate as she heard her name.

Instead of answering my shield, I stood and waited for the lodge to be silent. When all heads turned to me I said, “As Andraste commanded, I leave for Camulodunum tomorrow. The Iceni who have waited here will leave at dawn to recall all of our warriors to Tasceni. I take with me my shield and my horse master.” My gaze went to Abertha. “While I am gone, my spear master, Abertha, will oversee the last of the preparations for war.”

“As you ask, so will I do!” Abertha’s voice rang with pride and the warriors pounded their tables in support of the well-respected

warrior.

“I return in three days. Then, following the sign given by the goddess, we will wait five more and then ride to fulfill Andraste’s

curse. We will burn Camulodunum to the ground!”

The lodge erupted in cheers and war cries. I sat, and Wulffaed’s legion of daughters and granddaughters refilled tankards

of mead until they overflowed.

***

We left Tasceni shortly after dawn. Rhan and my daughters saw us off. For a moment I struggled against an urge to have Rhan

join us, but I knew better. Rhan wasn’t a warrior and we might have to fight our way out of Camulodunum. It was wisest to

keep our group small and swift and ready to fight. Rhan would spend all the days leading up to the battle pouring libations

and leaving offerings for Andraste.

“Did you remember to bring an offering with you to leave at the Temple of Brigantia?” she asked as I mounted Tan.

“I did. I chose one of Arianell’s necklaces, the gold pendant stamped with Brigantia’s fire,” I assured her, patting the leather

satchel I’d slung from my shoulder—the same leather satchel that had once carried the torque Andraste had gifted me, which

now rested warm around my neck. “It is what Arianell would want.”

“All will be well.” Rhan spoke softly as she placed her palm briefly on my mare’s neck. Then louder, she said, “We will rejoice

at your return, Queen Boudicca.”

“Yes!” said Ceri as she bounced on her toes and waved.

“We will take care of Tasceni while you are gone, Mama,” said Enfys in a very grown-up voice.

I looked back at my daughters, the two faithful wolves at their sides, and nearby Briallen, who was never far from them. I did not doubt that they truly would take care of the village while I was away.

Camulodunum was a hard day’s ride south, and that was for rested riders on swift, strong horses. It would take our army two

days to reach the city. That worried me. The Romans would know we were coming. With the addition of Tribe Trinovantes our

numbers had grown to a little over one hundred thousand, and though we had not all gathered at once, it was likely our enemies

were at least somewhat aware that the tribes had been in constant movement since spring. Andraste was wise. We needed to know

the strength of the legionnaires in Camulodunum. Had they, too, been quietly amassing their forces?

Addedomaros had lived in Camulodunum when it had been the home of Trinovantes royalty. He had sketched maps of the dyke-and-ditch

system that had protected the city when he’d occupied it as well as the main gate, which he labeled Balkerne, through which

he recommended we enter—though even he admitted that his city hadn’t been well fortified. Had it been, it would not have fallen

to the Catuvellauni and their Roman allies. But in the decade since the Trinovantes had called it home, what defenses had

the Romans erected? I knew that Roman legions had been stationed there for many years and a large temple had been raised for

Claudius by the cult who worshipped the dead emperor they had proclaimed a god. Had a wall been erected? Had the dykes and

ditches been fortified with sharpened stakes to thwart a chariot attack? How well was the Balkerne Gate guarded? Soon we would

know.

The fall day was crisp and clear. There was a snap of coolness in the air that turned leaves to bright but fleeting yellow

and orange and scarlet, yet there was still enough warmth left in the weakening sun that the breeze did not chill us, only

kept our sweat cooling as we rode hard and fast into the south.

We had chosen to pose as traders and had left behind Iceni blue and covered our easily recognized sickled-moon symbols. We did not bring a cart, as that would hinder our ability to move swiftly and stealthily. Instead each of us led a pack-laden horse specially chosen for stamina and fleetness.

I rode Tan and led a gelding who was her younger brother. I’d missed the long rides I used to take on Tan before I’d begun

my daily chariot training. Even with the hard pace we set, I found myself relaxing and enjoying the freedom of horseback again.

Our pace shifted from canter to trot to walk and back to canter again, and as I settled into the travel routine, I found myself

studying Maldwyn, who rode beside me on Ennis, one of the big gray stallions he loved so dearly. Off horseback he was a pleasant-faced

man who smiled easily. His body was lean and lithe. We were of the same height—something I appreciated, especially when we

trained together. He didn’t talk a lot, but when he did speak, his observations were insightful as, unlike too many people,

his silence was a listening one.

Astride a horse, Maldwyn evolved from pleasant faced to beauty in motion. He moved seamlessly with his horse. He held his

reins slack; sometimes he dropped them completely so that they lay knotted on Ennis’s neck. Though he would say that he guided

the stallion with his legs and his balance, I had come to understand that it was much more than that. Maldwyn was one with

the horse. The trust that was between him and his mount was unspoken and unfathomable.

“What is it, my queen?” We’d slowed to walk the horses, making conversation easier.

“I was just envying your connection with Ennis,” I said. “If I dropped Tan’s reins she would probably weave and wander.”

“I think you would be surprised,” he said. “Try it. It will help you connect with your Tan in a new way.”

“Aren’t we riding too hard for that?” Cadoc asked, though with more curiosity than censure in his voice.

“No, it is a good time to practice. Tan will naturally continue with us and it will give Boudicca the opportunity to gain

confidence in her ability to guide the mare with her legs.”

Cadoc grunted gruff agreement. “Won’t try it myself,” he grumbled. “The only implement of war I desire to become one with

is my sword.”

“Horses are more than war implements.” Maldwyn and I spoke the words together and then laughed.

Cadoc nodded, making his beard bob up and down on his broad chest. “And that is why you will drive our queen’s chariot into war and not me.”

Maldwyn and I shared an amused look before I dropped Tan’s reins and spent the next several hours communicating with her through

my legs and how I adjusted my balance. I was surprised at her elegant response. I would have thought that she would pay more

attention to me with the reins in my hands than without, but I was wrong. Tan’s ears flitted back to catch every word I whispered

to her and soon she was responding to the shifts in my body as well as to the pressure of my legs against her.

At midday we reached Catuvellauni land and the Roman road, and halted near a stream to water the horses and feed them sweet

mash while we ate some of the hearty travel food Wulffaed had so carefully packed for us.

I had just washed my face in the cool stream when Cadoc approached with unusual hesitancy. I used my tunic to dry my face

while he shifted from one foot to the other.

“You should just say it,” I told him.

“Aye.” He nodded and cleared his throat. “My queen, you must remove your torque.”

My hand went automatically to touch the familiar weight of gold around my neck—the sign of my rank, my power. When I said

nothing, he continued, speaking quickly.

“We know the Romans who attacked Tasceni were from Camulodunum. We know they returned to the city and from there made forays

into Trinovantes land, taking captives and looting villages. Forgive me for saying this, but they would have boasted of what

they did to Tasceni, to your daughters, and most especially to you.” He paused as he shook his head and his mouth twisted

in disgust. “So if the soldiers see a tall, flame-haired barbarian woman wearing the torque that announces to all that she

is a queen, they will take notice .”

“Yes, Shield, I agree.” I took off the torque and returned it to the satchel it had rested in before. My neck felt strange without its weight and warmth, but I knew Cadoc was right. It was not wise to be recognized in Camulodunum.

“I told you she would be reasonable,” Maldwyn said as Cadoc and I returned to the rested horses.

“I am always reasonable,” I said as I put my foot in Maldwyn’s entwined hands so that he could boost me astride Tan.

Cadoc snorted and I smiled at him as I guided Tan back to the road.

“Well, almost always,” I said.

Behind me my shield chuckled and we urged our horses onto the road.

***

The sun traced its path down the sky and the thick forest began to be interspersed with farmland. We met many more travelers

as they headed to and from the city with their trade goods and tax payments. It was easy to tell which was which. The farmers

whose carts were filled with payment to the Romans were somber. They kept their eyes on the road and did not greet us. Traders

were gregarious. Some even offered us their wares, saying they would save us the trip to the city if we bought from them.

If they offered us pelts, we said that we traded for wool and hemp cloth and so on, pleasantly declining all offers and riding

on, though we always paused long enough to listen in as the little groups of travelers chatted together. Thus we began to

learn how the farmers and traders felt about their foreign governor.

“They chafe under Rome’s yoke of taxation. Farmers are being forced to give up food and goods their families need to survive

the winter, but they know if they don’t they will be met with the kind of violence our tribe has known,” said Cadoc darkly

after we’d passed a cart loaded with baskets of produce driven by a sour-faced man and his bitterly complaining wife.

“That is good for us,” I said.

“Aye,” agreed my shield.

As we got closer to Camulodunum, the farm huts changed from our wooden roundhouses to cold stone things built in squatty squares and topped by tiles.

“Have they all become Romans?” I asked Cadoc.

“No, my queen. These”—he gestured at the latest stone building we cantered past—“ are Romans. Soldiers who have behaved valiantly in battle or who have retired are often gifted farmland by the Roman governor.

I’ve heard the Trinovantes warriors speak of it often. It is how they were pushed off the land when the Catuvellauni allied

with Rome and defeated Addedomaros. Rome gifted the Catuvellauni traitors with land that Tribe Trinovantes had farmed for

generations.”

“That is the doing of the Roman governor, Gaius Suetonius Paulinus,” I said.

“Yes. He leads the legions here as well,” continued Cadoc.

“I am aware. I remember him from the signing of the treaty with Rome. We bring vengeance to Decianus for what he did to us,

but Paulinus is our ultimate enemy—he and the legions he leads.”

“Indeed,” agreed Cadoc.

“So the Roman governor gifts his men with lands belonging to Britons,” said Maldwyn. “First taking it away from the Trinovantes

and then taking it away from the Catuvellauni warriors, even after they fought beside Romans.”

“Yes,” said Cadoc.

“The Romans will take even from their allies. Were I Catuvellauni, that would make me very angry,” said Maldwyn.

“Perhaps all is not as neat and tidy in the city as the Romans would like us to believe,” I said.

“Perhaps not,” agreed Cadoc.

We slowed with the flow of horses and carts and people that crowded the road as the westernmost gates of the city came into

view before us, four rounded specks on the eastern horizon. I thought from this distance they looked like the backs of beetles

crouched on a hedgerow.

“The Balkerne Gate,” Cadoc said, keeping his voice low and guiding his horse closer to Tan. “It’s as Addedomaros described and as I remember from when I was here with Prasutagus well over a decade ago. Four arched entryways. Then this was the only gate wide enough for chariots to enter.”

“Guard towers on either side of the gates,” Maldwyn said. I rode between them so close that my legs often brushed theirs.

“Let us turn off before we reach the gates,” I said. “Even from here I can see that the dykes and ditches stretch around either

side of the city.”

“They should run the circumference of the city,” said Cadoc. “And meet with the two rivers on the east side.”

We kneed our horses onto a dirt path that fed into the Roman road before we reached the gates and were able to increase our

pace to a canter again, covering ground quickly as we traveled around the outside of the city.

The foolish Romans had built no wall to protect Camulodunum, nor had they staked the ditch-and-dyke system that served as

their only defense. It was true that the expansive V-shaped ditches were chariot deterrents, but several of the banks were

low enough that cavalry could ride over them. The only established lookouts were at the Balkerne Gate. Chariots would have

to enter through those main gates, but the rest of the army could easily rush the others as the cavalry hurtled over the ditches.

My shoulders loosened with relief and I almost laughed at the arrogance of Rome. That arrogance will be their downfall.

The setting sun reflected the saffron and orange of the changing leaves into the clouds over the western forests when we’d

finished scouting outside the city and trotted back toward the Balkerne Gate.

“Shall we enter? Find an inn and a warm meal for the night?” Maldwyn asked me.

“Let’s eat within the city, but the crawling feeling I have along my skin says we should camp outside in the woods,” I said.

Cadoc grunted agreement. “I have no desire to lie with traitors.”

Just before we entered through one of the four large stone arches that marked the Balkerne Gate, I turned to glance over my shoulder at the road and surrounding woodlands and farms behind us, and I had to blink spots from my eyes as the sun touched the tree line and roofs of the farmers’ houses. Still blinking my vision clear, I entered the city. The soldiers standing atop the square stone lookouts that butted against the arches gave us only a glance—we were just part of the long line of traders, weary after a day’s travel, glad to enter the city and dismount for the night.

I was surprised by the lax attitude of the Roman guards. Any soldier who looked sharply enough at the three of us would have

seen more than farmers or traders, but their gazes were not sharp. They were dismissive and restless, as if they had somewhere

else they’d rather be.

“I’d replace every one of them,” Cadoc grumbled low.

“Aye,” Maldwyn agreed.

I only whispered Thank you to Andraste. I saw the laziness of the guards and the city’s meager defenses as blessings showered on us by the goddess of

war.

Just inside the gates there were two large stone shrines. The one to my right was dedicated to the Roman goddess Venus, who

stood graceful and naked, one hand holding a robe that was obviously Roman and the other lifted to the crown of hair ringing

her head. Candles burned at her feet amidst coins left as offerings. Venus, why are you here? I thought. Do you not long for home?

I turned my attention to the second shrine and pulled Tan to an abrupt halt.

My stomach tightened. It was a large stone statue of Epona astride a horse with an arched neck. As with many of the shrines

dedicated to our goddess of the horse, Epona was bare breasted, her hair cascading down her back and shoulders. But unlike

any rendering of her I had ever seen, a bronze crown of laurel circled her head, and a Roman tunic had been draped around her

stone body and fastened at her shoulder by a golden brooch in the shape of the Roman eagle. Horrified, I could not look away,

could not move at all.

Then Maldwyn was there with Ennis, who gently crowded Tan to turn us from the desecrated shrine so that we were, once again, part of the ebb and flow of the busy gate.

“They’ve tried to make her Roman!” I whispered fiercely to Maldwyn, who remained so close to Tan that Ennis’s shoulder kept

nudging us forward.

“Aye, but to stop their desecration we have to survive,” said Maldwyn softly. “So we must keep moving.”

In front of us Cadoc kept glancing over his shoulder, sending worried looks my way, until I finally shook off my disgust and

moved Tan forward myself.

As Addedomaros had explained, Camulodunum had been built on a grid, with the wide main stone streets running east-west and

the smaller, hard-packed dirt streets north-south. The outer ring of the city was an awkward mixture of Britain and Rome.

I found the rectangular stone buildings the Romans preferred to be cold and unattractive—soulless. Interspersed between those

stone structures were our wooden roundhouses. I hated how shabby they looked.

The city was crowded with Roman soldiers. Torches were lit on the outsides of the taverns and inns that lined the main streets.

Periodically large metal braziers provided light and warmth along the streets. Those braziers seemed to be meeting places

for the soldiers clustered around them, throwing strange shadows as they drank and laughed and gamed.

The city was divided into three major sections. The Sheepen District was in the northeast, and it held the main Roman barracks, a theater, a basilica, and the trading center. The Gosbecks was an older section in the southeast of the city where, situated on a gentle rise in the land, a temple dedicated to Brigantia had stood for generations. We would scout both sections tomorrow, but that night we followed the main road that fed directly into the third section, the Roman colonia, which sat in the center and held the monstrosity the Romans had built to their dead emperor Claudius. The temple filled a city block. Stone arches gleamed in torchlight revealing an immaculate courtyard that held an enormous central building high up on a podium-like base. White stone stairs stretched up to tall columns. As we passed slowly by the temple, I peered within. Multiple braziers, too many to count quickly, threw licking shadows over a bronze statue of Claudius, making it appear as if his empty eyes came alive, only to die again in darkness.

There were none of our roundhouses in the colonia and it seemed uncomfortably as if we had been transplanted to the heart

of Rome. The temple was surrounded on three sides by barracks. Soldiers walked about the courtyard, calling to one another

and raising mugs of wine. These were older men than the Romans who filled the city streets and pubs. They were gray haired,

scarred, and grizzled. They paid little attention to travelers but laughed and joked easily with one another.

“These barracks are for retired soldiers,” Cadoc said quietly. “I’ve heard reports that Paulinus had them built for his legionnaires,

the ones not gifted land and farms. After pillaging the countryside for him, they’re meant to live out the rest of their lives

in luxury here, cared for by Britons who have been made slaves in their own country.”

“Oh, they will live out their lives here,” I said. “But their end will come much sooner than they imagine.”

We kneed our horses around and returned to the outer part of the city, though I still felt as if I had crossed into a different

world.

It was ironic that we finally chose to stop at an inn that blazed a brightly painted wooden image of Epona over its door and

called itself the White Horse Inn. We dismounted and Maldwyn led all six horses to the rear of the building, where he would

pay the stables to feed and care for them. I knew we would not see the horse master again until he had wiped each horse down

and made sure they were properly watered and fed.

Cadoc and I entered the busy inn. The main room was large but had a low ceiling and a smoking fire that stung my eyes. We

chose a narrow table in a corner facing the door and ordered a pitcher of beer and roasted chicken, which we paid for with

Catuvellauni silver we’d brought from the Iceni treasury. While we waited for Maldwyn to join us, the shield and I sipped

our beer and listened.

Cadoc had opened his mouth to speak to me when I made an abrupt motion to silence him, then cut my eyes to the table to our right, where several farmers were deep in conversation, gesturing so wildly with their mugs that beer sloshed around them.

“Say it again. I haven’t heard a word about it,” said one red-nosed man whose beard was moist with drink and grease.

“And I tell you that you haven’t heard a word of it because they don’t want you to know, but it fell!” answered a farmer whose hair was braided into a single blond length that stretched down

his back. “I saw it with my own eyes. Straightaway off the top of that damned arch. No wind. No storm. Just the goddess Victory

breaking off to fall and shatter on their stone road as if she were made of the same glass as their wine goblets.”

“Which road?” asked another man who wore a cloak of Catuvellauni brown and moss green.

“The one that leads from here to Londinium,” said the man with the braid.

The first man clucked his tongue. “’Tis a bad omen. A bad omen.”

“Aye. It’s as if Victory meant to escape what is to come.” The bearded man wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “I hear

the Iceni and Trinovantes have harvested early.”

The other two men nodded and shared pointed looks.

The bearded man continued. “Mayhap that’s where the Fourteenth and Twentieth legions are headed. Out to put the boot to the

two tribes as they collect the harvest tax.”

I felt a chill of fear as I listened intently.

The Catuvellauni shrugged. “Why take the legions to do that? It only took a centuria to attack Tasceni, and they returned

from that missing only a handful of Romans—or so they bragged. No, Paulinus is up to something else.”

“Mark my words,” said the man with the braid. “Victory falling was a warning to us. I’m taking my family and heading to the

inland forest. Won’t return until snow bites the air, if then.”

The Catuvellauni nodded slowly. “I’m going inland too, well away from any Roman road or city. I have no love for Iceni or Trinovantes, but less for Rome.” He leaned forward and hatred deepened his voice. “I fought with them against Addedomaros and they still took my farm and divided it between three Romans.” He spit on the floor. “I’ll never raise my sword to aid them again.”

The other two men grunted and nodded before they refilled their mugs.

Maldwyn joined us as the serving woman placed three platters filled with succulent baked chicken and beets, red as blood,

swimming in onions, before us. We didn’t speak while we ate. We continued to listen as the conversations around us all held

a similar theme—Tribe Catuvellauni strained under the yoke of their Roman overlords.

It was fully dark with only a fat yellow crescent moon to light the night after we retraced our way to the almost deserted

Balkerne Gate and trotted west. We found a deer path that led away from the stone road into the forest and a grove of silver

birches that clustered around a narrow stream. The ground under the trees was thick with moss. Cadoc and Maldwyn raised a

crude shelter while I built a fire, and then we spread out our bedrolls and shared a bladder of Wulffaed’s honey mead.

“I want to warn them,” I said. “I wish I could tell every Briton to leave Camulodunum.”

Cadoc raised a thick silver-gray brow at me. “Have a care, Boudicca. We are vulnerable here. If we draw too much attention

to ourselves we could be discovered and killed. Then we will be of no help to anyone.”

“I will not give us away, but I would not have our countrymen within those walls when we bring our vengeance to the Romans.”

Maldwyn nodded. “My queen, I believe Andraste has heard you. She will find a way to warn the people who will listen. Have

faith.”

I met his steady gaze. “I do.”

Cadoc blew out a long breath. “We could spread the story of Victory falling from the arch. Call it the warning it is. Encourage

those who might be considering leaving the city to do so immediately.”

“Yes,” I said. “Tomorrow as we move through the city blocks among those who come to trade with the Romans, that is what we

must do. It is the right thing to do.”

“Remember that the Catuvellauni are not our friends,” grumbled Cadoc. “Do not trust them.”

“They are not friends, but they did not attack Tasceni. They did not kill our elders, rape my daughters, or flay the flesh

from my back, and they cannot force us to pay taxes to them. The Catuvellauni are a familiar enemy, one that can be dealt

with swiftly once the Romans are not infesting our land. We will kill them if they stand with Rome. If they do not...”

I shrugged.

“As you ask, so will I do,” Cadoc said, though with obvious reluctance.

Maldwyn’s smile flashed white in the firelight. “Andraste will find a way, my queen. I am sure of it.”

I do so hope you are right , I thought as I stared into the fire.