Page 28 of Boudicca

“I should have gotten here sooner,” Maldwyn said as he strode into the tent. He was dressed in clean clothes. His long moonlight

colored hair was still wet. There was a slash on his cheek that I hadn’t noticed before, and I wondered when he’d gotten it.

He stopped just a few feet from me and crouched down so that our gazes were level. “Shhh,” he spoke softly in the same tone

I’d often heard him use with a frightened horse. “I know. I know how it is after a battle, especially a first battle.”

I nodded and tried to stop my tears. I even wiped angrily at them with hands that trembled, but they kept coming. I was a

well of misery that could not run dry. “I-I cannot seem to s-stop shaking.”

“You will,” he said.

“D-do you ever s-stop seeing them when you close your eyes? Do you ever s-stop hearing them?” I blurted the questions as I

wrapped my arms around myself again.

“You will stop hearing and seeing them, but you will never forget them.” He stood. Moving slowly, he sat beside me on the

bed. “And we shouldn’t. Killing should never be easy.”

“I don’t want easy, just bearable.” I put my face in my hands. “How do I bear it? I killed so many of them. And ordered the

death of even more. Andraste would be ashamed to see me right now. This is not what her Victory should look like.”

“Oh, my queen, of course this is what victory looks like—human, compassionate, bittersweet. Andraste is a warrior goddess

and a mother. Think you that she doesn’t understand what it is to mourn the necessity of battle and death? Think you that

she does not weep with you?”

I dropped my hands from my face and fisted them in my night dress to keep them from trembling. I met Maldwyn’s gaze and saw that tears were falling silently down his cheeks. “You do understand.”

“I do. As do Cadoc and Abertha, Briallen, and every warrior who is not dead inside,” he said.

“I wonder if being dead inside is better.”

“No, my queen. It is not. The death of spirit births men like Decianus. The world does not need more spirit-dead people.”

His tears continued to fall as he spoke soothingly.

The cut on his cheek was weeping pink blood. I used the sleeve of my nightdress to blot it. “When did you get that?”

He smiled and then grunted as it pulled at the wound. “On the race from the city. I hardly noticed it.” He glanced at my bandaged

arm. “Are you well?”

“Physically, yes, though even all of the months of practice did not ready me for how my spear arm would feel tonight.” Stiffly,

I reached over to dip my fingers into the pot of salve on my bedside table and then began smoothing it onto his wound.

He sucked in a breath before relaxing under my touch as the salve began to numb the cut. “But all the months of practice made

you strong enough to be able to get through the battle, and you did. You were magnificent.”

I continued to tend to his wound and didn’t meet his gaze. “I do not feel magnificent. I feel like a killer.”

He caught my hand by the wrist and lowered it. The other cupped my chin and lifted my face so that I had to look into his

blue eyes. “You feel like a warrior who has just survived her first battle. You are not a killer.”

I turned my hand so that our palms pressed together. “Inside,” I whispered, “I am raging, shrieking in horror at what I’ve

done. There is so much darkness within me tonight that I do not think I’ll ever feel anything but death and this terrible

sadness.”

“Boudicca, let me help you find your way through the darkness,” he said. “Let me help you feel alive.”

I gazed into his eyes. I saw hunger there, and a fire ignited low in my belly as my body recognized that hunger and answered it in kind. I slid my arms up to rest on his strong shoulders and spoke one word: “Yes.”

Maldwyn’s lips met mine. There was no hesitation in him. He devoured me. I hadn’t been kissed like this, hadn’t felt the raw

and beautiful strength of a man’s body, in almost one year, and my passion blazed. I ignored the pain of my wound and the

weariness in my limbs and let desire consume me. Maldwyn pulled my nightdress over my head and pressed me back on the bed.

His lips were hot and insistent as they traveled from my neck to my breasts. I moaned and arched my back, welcoming the scratch

of his day-old beard and the sharp, sweet nips of his teeth.

I pulled at his shirt, and he lifted away from me long enough to wrench it and his leather breeches from his body, and then

his nakedness met mine and we blazed together. I’d forgotten the delight that could be found in a lover’s touch, and when

his fingers worked cleverly at my slick, hot core, I climaxed so fast that I shouted his name in surprise.

He smiled down at me, and then his smile shifted to a moan of pleasure and his eyes closed as I found the hard length of him

and stroked, slowly discovering the smooth feel of his taut skin, of his heat, of his desire.

With a quick shift of my balance, I rolled him onto his back, and then I smiled down at him as I understood a new use for the close combat skills he and my other lead warriors had drilled into me. I pressed the length of my body against his, reveling in my strength. I wanted to taste him and hear him shout my name in ecstasy. I took his hardness in my mouth and licked and teased until he cried out and pulled me up to him. He tried to press me back into the bed, but I am a queen and choose to follow my own desire. I straddled him and guided his hands to the curves of my waist. We found our rhythm, and I reached another climax easily. Only then did I roll again, pulling him on top of me. His weight was delicious. As he slid in and out of me, my hands explored his arms, his chest, his shoulders. Our mouths met again and I lost myself in his heat and taste—and then I lifted my legs, urging him on harder, faster. He raised himself so he could look into my eyes and drove into me.

My body responded, coming fully alive as Maldwyn’s passion chased the darkness from my spirit and tethered me to the land

of the living.

He did shout my name—many times—that night.

When we were spent, Maldwyn wrapped his arms around me and covered us with one of the pelts we’d kicked from the bed. I nestled

against him, warm and sated, as he whispered to me.

“Know that you will never be dead inside. You are mighty and fierce, kind and compassionate. You spirit is too strong to fade,

to falter, to fail. You are Victory. You will always be Victory.”

When I closed my eyes I saw no dying faces. I heard no last screams. Still, I did not think I would find sleep, but it came

for me gently and took me as easily into its dreamless embrace as had my lover.

***

I woke and reached for Maldwyn and opened my eyes when I did not find him beside me. I sat and saw him lacing up his pants.

He smiled at me—that shy smile that made his cheeks flush. “Good morning, my queen.”

“Good morning, my lover,” I said.

His smile widened and lost its shyness, though his cheeks remained flushed. He strode to the bed, bent, and kissed me. “I

go to check Ennis and Finley and the rest of our herd.” He cupped my cheek with his palm. “Are you well?”

“Very well.” I glanced around the tent, not surprised to see that we were alone. “Would you tell Phaedra she can attend me?”

“Of course.”

“Send word to Cadoc that I will break my fast, take my daughters to see the dead centuria, and then I will call a war council

here,” I said. “Have Cadoc send for Addedomaros as well.”

“As you ask, so will I do.” He bowed and then hesitated, cleared his throat, and spoke quickly. “Boudicca, I am glad I came to you last night. I am glad I could help lift some of the burden from you that comes from taking lives, but you should know I expect nothing from you.”

I sat up straighter. My hair was a riot, falling over my shoulders and covering my nakedness. I studied him silently. Queens

and chiefs often took lovers, whether they were married or not. Prasutagus and I had chosen not to, but that had been our

preference. I knew many chiefs, like Addedomaros, who had multiple lovers. Queen Cartimandua openly took men and women to

her bed, often at the same time. The tribes did not hide from their passions—we embraced them, acknowledged them, explored

them without shame or censure. What I saw in Maldwyn’s gaze was not fear of discovery as my lover but respect, concern, and

the understanding that I would lead us forward in this new aspect of our relationship, but only if I so chose.

And I realized I did choose Maldwyn. I had no desire to marry again, but my bed had too long been a place devoid of passion.

“You led me from a great darkness last night. For that I will always be grateful. You gave me great pleasure and helped me

to feel alive again. I look forward to the next night that I welcome you to my bed.”

Pleasure flashed through his eyes and the tension in his shoulders eased. “As will I.” He bent and kissed me again. This time

it was filled with a promise of more to come, and I met his promise with one of my own.

He was smiling this time when he bowed to me and finally turned to the tent flap, which opened just before he touched it,

revealing Briallen silhouetted by the early morning light. Her gaze went from Maldwyn to me and I watched her lips twitch

and then lift in a knowing smile.

“May the joy of the day be with you,” Briallen told my lover.

“Aye, it already has,” he said, and disappeared into the morning.

“’Tis good to embrace life after a night of so much death,” said Briallen.

“I agree.”

“Your bairns are breaking their fast. They and your guard are ready to view the centuria when you are, my queen.”

I heard stirring outside my tent, saw the flickering outline of a newly stoked fire, and heard the murmur of women’s voices.

“I’ll eat quickly and then be ready to ride. Have Tan brought to me and be sure my guard is mounted. I mean to make this fast,

Briallen. The girls may need to see the dead centuria, but they should not spend overmuch time there.”

“Aye, my queen,” she said.

Phaedra pushed through the tent flap as Briallen exited. She carried a tray with fresh bread, cheese, and meat and a pitcher

of mead. I ate quickly as she changed the bandage on my wound and helped me to dress in one of the sets of leather pants and

tunic Wulffaed had dyed and decorated for me. She braided my hair loosely again. My muscles were sore. My back felt stiff

and my arm ached, but I welcomed the sensations of my body. It was better than being dead inside.

I left the tent and stood close to the cook fire, enjoying the warmth. The day was young and clear. There was little breeze,

for which I was glad. Camulodunum would burn for days, and I had not looked forward to smelling it for the time we would be

here.

“Mama, we’re ready.” Enfys joined me by the fire. Sunne was beside her with Ceri and her Mona. Behind them Briallen held three

horses. My guard was with her, all mounted.

“Mama, may we go now?” Ceri asked.

“Yes, as soon as Tan is here.” I wondered what I should say to prepare them, but as I studied my daughters, I understood that

they had been preparing for this moment since I declared war on the Romans. They’d seen death the day we were attacked. They’d

seen death last night. They were as prepared as they could be.

Tan arrived shortly, led by a stable hand, and we mounted. Though we moved at a quick trot, it took longer than I expected to reach the tree line where the caravans had been the night before. All but one of the large covered carts and a modest tent had retreated into the forest with the rest of the army. I motioned for our group to halt and hurried inside the tent. There were many fewer pallets in this tent than in the larger one I’d entered last night, but it was obvious that the warriors in the pallets had all been mortally wounded. Several women silently tended them. They looked up at my entry and bowed. I found Adara sitting beside one of the pallets holding a dying man’s hand. I was silent as the soldier rattled his last breath and she closed his eyes and covered his face with his blood-soaked cloak. Adara sighed deeply before standing to face me.

“You look much better this morning, Queen Boudicca,” she said.

“You look exhausted,” I said.

She nodded. “Such are the ways of war for a healer.”

“You have my gratitude. How may I aid you?”

Adara looked around the tent and then motioned for me to follow her outside. She drew a deep breath of the morning air and

rolled her shoulders before answering me. “Those inside the tent will die today. Then I can join the rest of the camp. I will

need the tent taken down and packed. Rhan is supervising the funeral pyre.” She jerked her chin out toward the cleared area

beyond the tree line. I could just see the smoke that hovered above Camulodunum. Between the distant city and the tree line

a pyre was being built. Beside it was an open-sided tent. I didn’t need to see within it. I knew that it was where Rhan was

overseeing the preparation of the dead. “She and I will light the fire and speak the prayers for the dead.”

“I’ll send help for you and libations to add to the pyre,” I said.

“Mama,” Enfys said, moving her horse closer. “When we return Ceri and I will gather the libations and bring them to the pyre.”

“Then that is how it shall be,” I said. My girls continued to fill me with pride, not just as their mother, but as their queen.

“Adara, can the rest of the wounded be moved?”

“Do you want the truth or what a warrior queen would like to hear?” Adara’s words would have been disrespectful had her gaze

not been so steady, so filled with grief and weariness.

“I will always want the truth,” I said.

“Four days’ rest and most will be able to be moved. Those who are the most badly wounded either will die before then or will be strong enough to survive if they ride in our caravans,” she said.

“Then we rest four more days.” I hoped I wasn’t making the mistake of remaining in the forest too long before marching on

Londinium. I believed we had time. My last report of Paulinus and his legions placed them closing on Ynys M?n. It was possible

that a swift rider with fresh mounts could reach the isle from Camulodunum in five days. To march two legions the return trip

would take at least twice the time, and we needed that time. We were counting on that time, as I would not desert our wounded.

“Excuse me, my queen,” a woman called from the entrance of the tent. “Adara, a warrior calls for you.”

“Go with my gratitude,” I told the old healer.

She nodded and disappeared inside the death tent. I remounted and we picked up the pace, cantering quickly past the burning

city, which glowed orange even in daylight.

While it had taken longer to get from our camp to the tree line than I’d remembered, it was a much shorter distance to the

site of the centuria’s end.

No one had tended to the Roman dead. I realized that was one reason why Rhan had needed to guide their shades to their eternal

rest, but I couldn’t bring myself to order that their bodies be gathered and burned. Not after what they had done to my mother,

my daughters, and our elders. They deserved to rot. As we approached I saw that they wouldn’t be allowed to rot. The road

was crowded with huge moving shapes. We neared and the shapes took form as feasting vultures. The birds were bold. They barely

moved when we halted before the stream of death. The scent was almost as terrible as the sight of the Romans. Clotted blood

and entrails darkened the stones. The carrion birds had added to the damage, starting with guts and eyes and open wounds.

I swallowed my gorge and turned my gaze to my daughters. I saw them share a look. Enfys nodded and together they coaxed their

reluctant mounts to the very edge of the massacre. Their wolves slunk with them, growling low in their throats. Briallen followed

as my guard spread out around us.

When the girls halted their horses, they were standing among the first of the bodies. They took their time, studying the rotting flesh that had been men.

Then Enfys spoke, and her young voice was strong and steady and it caused the vultures to squawk and flap their black wings

restlessly.

“You did not break us!” Enfys shouted.

Ceri added, “You could not break us! And now you are dead!”

“And we are not!” Enfys finished. Then she spat down into the bodies. Ceri did the same.

I was surprised to see Briallen spit, too. My daughters turned their horses and trotted to me.

“They are dead. Now we know it,” said Enfys.

“We won’t have any more nightmares,” said Ceri.

As one, we cantered away, leaving the dead as a feast for the birds that rid our lands of rot.

When we neared where the pyre was being built, I commanded my guard to assist the warriors in preparation. Briallen returned

to our forest camp with the girls, where she would help them load the libations for the burning. I broke from the group and

went in search of Rhan. It wasn’t difficult to find her. She was with our dead.

The open-sided tent was filled with bodies. They spread out around the tent as well, all covered with shrouds made from cloaks.

She saw me as I dismounted, wiped her hands on a cloth, and came to me.

I expected Rhan to look like Adara, weary and worn, but she almost glowed. Her skin was so pale I could see the delicate blue

of the veins in her neck and chest. Her dark eyes were huge against the white of her face. Her hair was a wild mass of moonlight

caught in a thick braid that went down her back and was decorated with beads and bells, so that she made music when she moved.

We said nothing. I opened my arms and Rhan stepped into my embrace. We clung to each other. She smelled of oils perfumed with

rosemary and lavender, though they didn’t quite hide the putrid scent of death. When we finally parted I asked, “How are you?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead her gaze went distant as she looked past me to the burning city. When she finally spoke, her voice was rough, as if she hadn’t used it in a very long time.

“I am becoming intimate with death.”

Her words sent chills along my skin. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“It is neither. It is a useful thing for a people at war,” she said. “The girls witnessed the dead centuria?”

“They did. They are so brave.”

Rhan nodded. “How could they not be? Their mother is Queen Boudicca.” Her sharp gaze studied me. “Your spirit is better today.”

“It is.”

“Maldwyn helped with that?” she asked, though I saw in her eyes that she already knew the answer.

“He did,” I said.

“I am glad.”

“I saw Andraste last night after the battle. As I returned to camp she rode with me for a little way. Rhan, I think she was

beside me during the fighting,” I said.

“I have no doubt of it. And she will be with you in the next battle and the next—one right after another.”

My heartbeat thudded in my chest. “The goddess sent you sign?”

“She did. At dawn, when I finally turned from the Roman shades as I was making my way across the field to the healer’s tents,

I passed this place.” She gestured to the growing pyre not far from us. “Three hares leaped from the grasses before me. They

ran there.” Rhan pointed into the southwest. “In a line—one following the other.”

“Camulodunum, Londinium, and Verulamium.” I repeated the names of the three Roman cities I intended to destroy.

“Exactly. Andraste’s sign says she will be with you.”

I let out a long, relieved breath. I’d believed I was doing the goddess’s will, but her sign meant that I could do more than

believe; I could know . And I would be certain my war council knew as well.

“There is something else,” Rhan said.

There was a strange shift to her voice. It hitched over the words and softened. “What has happened?”

“Ynys M?n is no more.”

A wave of shock and grief crested over me, and I staggered. Rhan grasped my elbow, holding me steady. “No more? How can that

be? How could our gods allow it?”

Rhan shook her head slowly. “I do not understand it either. Even Andraste has remained silent. Boudicca, the sacred oaks are

dead—burned and dead. It was as Derwyn said. Last night as I kept vigil with the shades, I heard the oaks keening.” Rhan shivered.

“It was the most terrible sound I have ever heard.”

“Derwyn! Do you know if he is alive?”

Rhan’s hand shook as she smoothed back her sweaty hair. “Derwyn has crossed over to Annwn. Boudicca, every Druid who was on

the isle is dead.”

My lips felt numb and I had to force words past them. “But what do we do now?”

“We survive. We continue. We honor our goddesses and gods as always and trust that they, too, will not die.”

Fear speared me, making me lightheaded. “Can they die?”

Her gaze went distant again as she stared past me to the city. “When they are no longer cherished, no longer worshipped, when

their names are no longer spoken and libations are no longer poured and sacrifices no longer made, any god can die.”

I drew a deep breath. “Then Andraste will live forever as the Iceni will never forget her.”

Rhan’s gaze snapped back to mine and her voice sharpened. “Then you must survive to be certain of that.”

“I intend on it.” My words were confident, though my spirit quaked.