Page 25 of Boudicca

In the morning I walked through Tasceni again. The village was a beehive of activity. Caravans were being carefully packed.

Smoking meat had the cool air redolent with savory smells. The sound of blacksmith bellows and hammers echoed throughout the

camp and the surrounding forest. My daughters and their wolves walked beside me, greeting our tribesmen and -women with a

poise far beyond their years. We made our way through Tasceni to the stables and corrals, filled to overflowing with horses.

Maldwyn appeared to be everywhere at once—supervising the final touches on the last of the chariots to be completed, checking

the soundness of one pair after another of our horses, and being sure enough feed was packed into the cavalry caravans. When

he caught sight of the girls and me, he wiped his hands on his woad-blue tunic and hurried to us.

“My queen.” He bowed and smiled. “And queen’s daughters. I have something for the three of you.”

“Oooh!” Ceri clapped her hands. “More wolf pups?”

Maldwyn laughed. “No, I’m afraid two wolf pups is my limit.” Then he jogged to the nearby tack building and disappeared within.

When he reappeared he carried three bronze helmets. He handed me the largest of the three. It was much like the bronze helmet

I’d worn daily since spring, but this one had thick spikes of sorrel horsehair decorating the top of it, culminating in a

thick red horse tail that was almost as long as my own hair.

I touched the bristles appreciatively. “This is the same color as Tan’s mane and tail.”

“It should be. I cut and combed it from Tan. I thought you would like her close, even though Ennis and Finley will be pulling

your chariot into battle,” said Maldwyn.

I met his eyes. “I would, indeed.”

His cheeks flushed with pleasure and he turned to the girls, handing each of them a smaller version of my helmet, complete

with Tan’s magnificent red mane.

“It’s beautiful,” said Enfys. “Thank you, Maldwyn.”

“Yes.” Ceri put the helmet on her head and nodded, making it bob back and forth. “It’s so perfect!”

Enfys turned her somber gaze on me. “I hope this means you will allow us to join you in battle, Mama.”

“Yes, Mama. We have been practicing. We are ready,” added Ceri.

My stomach clenched so tightly that for a moment I couldn’t answer them.

Maldwyn smoothly covered my lack of words with a chuckle as he ruffled the closest wolf’s ears. “Oh, I am quite sure our queen

will want you beside her when she speaks to our army, but there isn’t room on our chariot for you during the battle.”

I cleared the fear from my throat and added, “Yes, of course you will be with me before the battle, and then the two of you

will be joined by Briallen, protecting my rear while we bring Andraste’s curse to Camulodunum.”

“We will be sure no one gets past us to you, Mama,” said Ceri.

Enfys’s gaze was older, wiser. “I would see the centuria destroyed.” Her voice was flat, emotionless, though her eyes blazed.

I nodded. “And you will.” Enfys held my gaze for several long breaths before she nodded and finally looked away.

“Mama, we need to show Briallen our new helmets,” said Ceri. “Enfys! Let’s go find her.” Ceri darted off with Mona trotting

at her side and Enfys and Sunne following closely.

I breathed out a long, shaky breath. “Thank you.”

Maldwyn nodded. “I was not surprised by their request. They are the daughters of Boudicca.”

“Well, I was surprised.” I wiped a hand across my face. “Just the thought of them going into battle fills me with fear.”

“Understandably, but I have watched them over the past six months. Enfys is a strong, tenacious swordswoman. Ceri is too young to be as strong, but she is fast and fearless. And their wolves never leave their sides. They would kill to protect those girls. They will be safe with Briallen behind the battle lines, and should an enemy break through, they will protect themselves.”

“My head knows that. My heart does not,” I said.

“Perhaps you should speak with Andraste about it,” said Maldwyn.

“Perhaps you are right.” I returned the gleaming bronze helmet to him, knowing that it would join the rest of my battle armor,

which I would change into just before I led the armies into Camulodunum. I started to turn away, my mind already in the forest

and partway to the shrine of my goddess, but paused. “Thank you for the helmets. I will wear mine with pride.”

“And I will proudly be beside you as we bring vengeance to the Romans.”

I didn’t take the most direct route to Andraste’s shrine. Instead I cut through the pasture area that adjoined the forest.

I walked among the horses, letting their presence soothe my nerves. Tan saw me and trotted to join me. I was glad I’d anticipated

seeing her and brought an apple with me. She munched it and then walked slowly by my side until I gave her a final caress,

and then I climbed over the fence and went into the forest.

This area would normally have been free of everyone except perhaps those Iceni foraging for mushrooms and herbs. Today it

was almost as busy as the village, with neat tents and caravans dotting the forest. I pulled the hood of my cloak up and lowered

my face, needing solitude to collect my thoughts before speaking to the goddess.

As I approached the area of the forest that held the shrine, I was surprised to hear a rhythmic rattle. The cool breeze brought

with it a pungent scent, ripe with decay, and I moved more quickly. Andraste’s shrine was close, and as I jogged down the

path that led to it I saw that someone had built a large cook fire before the altar. Held suspended over the blazing fire

by large rocks was an iron pot. Even from a distance I could see that the contents steamed and bubbled.

Rhan danced around the fire. She was a wild thing, spattered with blood, blond hair loose and tangled, eyes framed by black—the same black of the Ogham symbols tattooed and painted around her neck, down her arms, and across her shoulders. She shook a gourd rattle while she whirled and swayed and chanted around the fire. Every few steps she reached into a leather pouch tied to a mistletoe belt around her slim waist and brought out a handful of something that looked like ash, which she threw into the pot. I slowed to watch her, as always mesmerized by her grace and the tangible sense of magick and power that radiated from her. The browning grass under her bare feet was wet with the libations she had poured, and as I got closer I could smell the fetid scent of old blood and knew those libations had been more than ale and honey and goat’s milk.

There was a long, slotted wooden spoon resting against one of the rocks that ringed her fire. Rhan paused in her dance and

chant, put down the gourd rattle, and picked up the spoon. As she began stirring the bubbling concoction in the pot she said,

“May the joy of the day be with you, Boudicca.”

My answer was automatic. “And may the blessings of the earth be on you, Rhan.”

She glanced over her shoulder at me. “I am glad you are here.”

“Do I interrupt you?”

“Not at all. I have just finished my dance.” She motioned for me to join her at the cook fire.

I did and looked down into the gray bubbling mess she was stirring. The water smelled of old meat. The whiteness of bone could

be seen through the murk as she lifted the long spoon and nodded, speaking more to herself than to me. “Yes. Good. They can

come out now.” She began fishing bones out of the bubbling liquid and placing them on the hot rocks that ringed the fire.

“What is all of this?”

Rhan explained while she sifted through the liquid, pulling out more and more bones. Some of them were small, only the size of a child’s little finger, and some were considerably longer, but they all had an odd, delicate look. “This is Andraste’s latest gift. Ah, yes, this is done as well.” Rhan lifted the wooden spoon from the bubbly liquid, and within it was the skull of a large bird. The beak was long and wickedly hooked. She placed it carefully on a flat rock, where its empty eye sockets stared sightlessly at me. Rhan smoothed her hair back from her sweaty face. “It is a golden eagle.”

I blinked in surprise. “Truly?”

“Truly. I came upon it just there, beside Andraste’s shrine.” She jerked her chin at the wooden image of the goddess who watched

over us. “It was dead and ravens were picking at it. As I approached they flew away, leaving the remains.”

“That is an excellent omen,” I said.

“It is. I poured the last of its sluggish blood as an offering and fed the rest of its entrails to the watching ravens. I

burned the feathers and now I clean and dry the bones. I will use them to create our standard to carry into battle against

the Romans.” Rhan stared up at Andraste as she spoke.

I remembered the golden eagle sigil the centuria had brought into Tasceni that awful day. “You will use the bones of their

sacred bird to create it?”

She scoffed. “I will use the bones of their sacred bird to decorate it, and that sigil will be a beacon from our battlefield in Arbred to Annwn. Then the Romans will behold the wrath of our

vengeful goddesses as they follow that beacon and answer our call.”

“Andraste and Brigantia.”

“Yes.” She turned to me. “I will not return to the lodge until I have created this sigil.”

I nodded. “I understand. Will you be here?”

“I will.”

“May I have Wulffaed bring you food and drink?”

“Only drink. I must fast until this is finished.” She cocked her head and studied me. “What has happened?”

I blew out a long breath. “Nothing that should take you from this.”

“You take me away from nothing. I can easily speak with you while I pull the rest of the bones from the cauldron. What is

it, my friend?” Rhan went back to working the spoon through the boiling water to extract bone after bone.

“Enfys and Ceri want to go into battle with me.”

Rhan didn’t even glance up as she nodded. “I am not surprised.”

“Neither was Maldwyn. Apparently their mother is the only one surprised. Enfys said she would see the centuria destroyed.”

Rhan nodded. “And she should.”

“Enfys is a child who has no comprehension of what she’s asking. She will see men hacked in half, spitted by spears and arrows,

beheaded, disemboweled, and burned alive.” I closed my eyes for a moment and drew in a deep breath. “It will fill her nightmares.”

Rhan straightened so she could meet my gaze. “Enfys already has nightmares. Witnessing the defeat of the centuria will free

her from them.”

As Rhan turned back to her cauldron I considered her words. I knew my daughters had dreams that terrified them. I’d comforted

them often in the darkest part of the night. “I will not allow them to go into battle with me.”

“You should not. They are not old enough. Yet. But when the battle is over and the centuria dead— then your daughters should join you.”

I turned her words over in my mind and felt the weighty truth of them. “That is what I shall do.”

“Good. Speak to Andraste about your fears. She will help you conquer them. The goddess knows your strength, your heart, your

worth. She did not name you her Victory lightly,” said Rhan.

I went to Andraste, stared up into her fierce, loving face, and did as my seer advised.

***

The morning of the fifth day dawned bright and cold and clear. Maldwyn brought Tan, her slick red coat painted boldly in Iceni blue symbols, to the lodge. He held a tall black gelding for himself, painted with symbols in white framed perfectly by his tar-colored coat. Ennis and Finley would pull no chariot nor be ridden until we entered Camulodunum. One of the many stable hands had brought two matched white mares, long legged and fleet, for my daughters. They, too, had been painted in blue with Ogham and crescent moons. Beside him Cadoc and Abertha were mounted, holding their painted, prancing horses in place as I stepped out of the wide double doors of the lodge. Enfys and Ceri were beside me. Their wolves’ eyes were luminous in the morning light. My daughters would ride at the front of the army with me until we descended on the city, when Briallen would guard them in the caravan with Wulffaed and her daughters and granddaughters. Rhan stood only a step behind me, looking lean from her days of fasting at Andraste’s shrine. A bay gelding, covered in white Ogham that matched the symbols tattooed on Rhan’s body, waited for her.

As I appeared, Briallen called my guard to attention and they struck their shields with their spears as they faced front,

a line of blue-clad warriors eager to play their part in destiny. All around me there were the flashes of weapons catching

the morning sun as my people lifted their spears and swords and bows and a great cry of victory echoed through Tasceni.

I stepped into Maldwyn’s linked hands and he boosted me onto Tan, who tossed her head and snorted. I motioned for Enfys and

Ceri to flank me. My lead warriors came next, followed by Rhan and my guard. We moved down the main road of Tasceni as the

people cheered. At the stables the Tasceni cavalry spread out in waves of equine power. Each rider wore a bronze helmet decorated

with horsehair dyed as white as their hair. My chin lifted with pride at their wild beauty. As one they saluted me and shouted

“ Victory .” Then they, too, fell into step.

Next came our foot soldiers, row after row of them, deep as the sea. Behind the mass of soldiers our chariots followed, and

then came our caravans filled with weapons and supplies, healers and elders. Like our other villages, Tasceni would be deserted.

Our harvests and livestock were either already at our winter stronghold, deep in the wild Thetford forest, or being driven

there now. No Iceni would remain behind to be brutalized or captured by marauding Roman soldiers.

Because the Romans underestimated us, we had been given half a year to prepare. We had trained and sacrificed and planned. No matter the outcome of the three battles, I knew one truth—Rome would never again underestimate us.

It was a wondrous thing to lead the army. I could feel the determination of my people and their single-minded intent to finally

do something . To move against Rome. To refuse their subjugation and the erasure of our way of life. To fight for our freedom.

We retraced the southern route I’d so recently taken with Cadoc and Maldwyn, moving through the familiar forest with surprising

ease and swiftness for such a large group. We pushed hard so that we could stop to camp well before sunset. Our warriors would

not go into battle exhausted.

That night the camp was subdued. As I made my way from fire to fire, speaking with the warriors and their families, it felt

as if the Iceni were being blanketed by Andraste’s cloak—kept calm and warm and safe by our goddess so that we would be ready

for what tomorrow would bring.

When I finally returned to my tent, Enfys and Ceri were soundly asleep, nestled between their wolves like they were pups.

Rhan and I sat near the fire and I peered into the basket beside her. I instantly recognized the implements within. “Who are

you going to tattoo?”

“You, my queen, if you allow it.” Rhan spoke formally and I felt the weight of the importance of her words. “Last night I

dreamed that within a great Samhain bonfire the flames formed a mighty oak, a holy holly, and then a magickal yew before the

trees shifted into a blazing raven that soared from the fire into the sky. You are that raven, Boudicca. I believe Brigantia

and Andraste sent me the dream, commanding me to mark you with Ogham symbols of protection so that you may soar through battle.”

A sizzle of magick bloomed across my skin, lifting the tiny hairs on the back of my neck. I hadn’t been tattooed before. The

permanent marking of skin was something sacred. Something that should only be done solemnly, inspired by the gods. I saw that

divine inspiration reflected in the seer’s dark eyes.

“Yes. Mark me, Rhan.”

Rhan motioned for me to move even closer to the fire. I sat on the ground beside her and watched as she took from her basket a smooth whittled piece of wood, about the length of my forearm. The end of it had been carved to look like a miniature hoe, like something one of the tiny fae folk would use to tend a garden. The blade edge of the hoe had been worked thin and razor sharp. From the basket Rhan brought out clean cloths and began steeping antiseptic herbs in hot water poured from the cauldron that was always bubbling over the fire. Rhan had a pot of thick yellow salve that she placed on the ground behind me, next to the mug of steeping herbs.

Lastly, she took out a small stone mallet and then uncovered a wooden bowl filled with the blue dye for which the Iceni were

so well-known. It wasn’t the same woad dye we used on our clothes—that was too harsh to be carved into our skin—but the tattoo

dye had been carefully crafted to perfectly match the color of woad.

I watched Rhan prepare with excited curiosity. I had, of course, seen tribesmen and -women tattooed and I found myself eager

for it.

Rhan began by using the steeped herbal mixture to cleanse my chin, cheeks, and neck. Then she disappeared into the tent and

returned with a rolled blanket from my bed pallet and put it behind me so that I could lean back comfortably.

“Ready?” she asked.

I nodded, feeling just a flutter of nerves.

“First, I mark you with the symbol of our mighty oak. May it give you strength in battle.”

She began by dipping the blade of the small wooden tool in the dye. She placed the sharp edge under my bottom lip. Using the

stone mallet, she began tapping firmly on the whittled wood at the place on the tool where the slender shaft met the hoelike

blade. It was uncomfortable but far from unbearable. As Rhan continued to dip the blade into the dye and tap a solid dark

blue line horizontally under my lip from one side of my mouth to the other, she sang softly, wordlessly. The power in her

song skittered across my skin as she marked me, wiped away the blood that dripped from the wound, and then continued tattooing

me.

I stared into the fire as Rhan finished the thick, solid line, and then from the center of it she tattooed two more lines, parallel to one another, down my chin. When she finished she applied the yellow salve.

Next she moved to my cheekbones, beginning with the one under my right eye.

“I mark you with the sign for the magickal holly trees. May it grant you courage in battle.” Again, Rhan started with a solid

blue line that stretched from the top of my cheekbone to my jawline. From the center of that completed line she tapped out

three parallel lines moving inward, toward my nose and mouth. When she had completed the marks on both cheeks and rubbed soothing

salve into them, she asked me to stretch back my neck.

“With the sacred yew I mark you thrice. May it protect you eternally.”

Rhan tapped a line twice as thick as the other two from the top of my throat to my collarbones, ending just above where my

torque nestled. Then, slashing horizontally through that line, she created five more bold blue lines, like spears without

tips. Gently she spread salve into my final tattoo. The new marks felt hot on my skin. I was glad of their heat. It reminded

me of the power imbued in the three trees and their symbols—now within me.

After Rhan finished we shared a cup of mead. We didn’t speak but sat staring into the fire, not needing to fill the night

with words. When my eyelids went heavy, Rhan and I went into the tent. She lay beside me on my pallet.

“May I plait your hair tomorrow?” Rhan’s voice startled me awake.

I rubbed my eyes and yawned. “I’m going to wear my hair loose tomorrow.”

“Yes, I agree, but I have bespelled some things and Andraste has sent me items. I would leave your hair free but use slim

braids to knot these things of power into your hair. Would you agree to that?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yes. And I would ask that tomorrow you go with Enfys, Ceri, and Briallen to the rear caravans when the time comes,” I said softly.

“I will do so after I invoke the blessing of Andraste and Brigantia.”

“Thank you.” I took her hand. “I almost cannot believe that this time tomorrow Camulodunum will burn. It seems one of the

ancient stories Arianell used to tell me at bedtime when I was even younger than Ceri.”

“Your mother is proud of you,” said Rhan.

Surprise jolted through me. “You have spoken with her?”

“She did not speak to me, but she appeared in my dreams each of the nights I fasted and worked on the sigil. Arianell looked

young and beautiful. She watched you from a distance and she blazed with pride so fierce it was clear Brigantia stood with

her.” Rhan squeezed my hand. “Your mother knows you will avenge her.”

“Lately I have missed her so much,” I admitted.

“It is because she has been close. You feel her presence.”

“Do you think she’ll stay close after Camulodunum?” I asked.

Rhan moved her shoulders. “I think she will always come when you have need of her, but the peace Arianell will feel after

you destroy her enemies will allow her to rest easily in Annwn. And remember, one day you will see her again and feast with

her at the goddess’s table.”

I gave a little snort. “I look forward to that day, though I hope it will not come too soon.”

Instead of answering, Rhan caressed my hair. Combing her fingers through my long fire-colored strands, she hummed a Trinovantes

lullaby that I remembered hearing the women of her tribe sing, causing sleep to pull me into its waiting arms.