Page 31 of Boudicca

We marched boldly along the Roman road that stretched wide and straight from Londinium to Verulamium. The day was cold and

the sky was low and gray, heavy with rain clouds that, with the frigid wind, I had no doubt could easily become ice or snow.

It was the eve of Samhain. In Tasceni we would have built large bonfires surrounding the village and feasted, setting extra

places at our tables for those who had crossed over into Annwn and would be hovering near as the veil between worlds thinned.

This Samhain, Roman farms and the Roman-occupied city would serve as our bonfires.

We approached the city as the afternoon sun settled into evening, though the slate sky hardly showed any change as day turned

toward night. Only very sparse woods surrounded Verulamium. The fertile land had been cultivated and farmland stretched to

the horizon. I nodded as we passed farms with roundhouses and shrines to Epona and Brigantia, Cernunnos, and Maponos. They

remained untouched and silent, while farms built of stone with courtyards dedicated to Minerva, Apollo, Claudius, and the

like were set aflame and looted. I glimpsed Adminius pulling a Roman from an outbuilding and shouting triumphantly as he ran

him through with a spear.

When we reached Verulamium there were soldiers spread out between the deep ditch and bank defense system and the city proper. Roman cavalry waited behind them with foot soldiers. In front of the ditch was an army of Britons. It shook me to see them. I counted the Dobunni green and Atrebates black and silver among the earthen cloaks of the Catuvellauni, and my stomach tightened. The words I’d hurled at Adminius came back to me as I stared at tribesmen and -women who were willing to take up arms against us as we fought to expel tyrants from our lands.

“Should I signal the archers to make ready?” asked Cadoc.

As always, my shield’s chariot was poised on one side of me, with Abertha’s on the other. Briallen and my guard formed a line

directly behind me. Next came the rest of our chariots, hundreds strong, and then our mighty cavalry. The Britons who stood

between the Romans and our army were many, but they were no match for the combined strength of Iceni and Trinovantes. I was

loath to give the command that would rain arrows down on them.

Addedomaros galloped up from his place at the head of the cavalry. Mailcun was with him. I assumed Adminius was still burning

and looting Roman farms and was glad of his absence.

“What is it we wait for?” asked the Trinovantes chief.

Before I could answer there was a stirring behind me and Rhan rushed up. “Queen Boudicca, do not fire on the Britons.” She

paused, panting as she caught her breath. “Andraste has sent sign. I was making my way to Wulffaed’s caravan to be with Enfys

and Ceri and I met Paice and her hounds.”

I nodded. Paice was well-known to me as Tasceni’s best hunter. Her pack of huge shaggy hounds was especially good at tracking

and cornering boar.

“As I approached, her two largest hounds, the big mated pair with coats black like the wings of a raven, stared at me. Then,

as I watched, they turned on Paice, growling and snapping.”

“Those hounds are devoted to Paice,” said Maldwyn. “They would never turn on her.”

“And yet I watched it happen. They drove her back and then turned their gazes to me again before they dropped their heads

and approached Paice, whining like puppies.”

“What does that mean?” Abertha asked.

“That they”—Rhan’s gesture took in the thick line of Britons facing us across the battlefield—“are not our enemies. They will

turn on the Romans, and Rome will be caught completely unaware.”

“Yet they’re armed and facing us with the Romans,” said Cadoc.

Do you not trust me, my Victory? I shivered at the power of Andraste’s words.

“Thank you, Rhan. You may go to my daughters now.” Rhan bowed her head in acknowledgment before she turned and disappeared

into the army behind us. “No archers,” I told the waiting warriors. “Start forward. Slowly.”

Addedomaros frowned. “We are not to charge? How will we break their line?”

“The line will break,” I said firmly. “I choose to trust Andraste. Forward. Slowly.”

“And I choose to trust you, Queen Boudicca, though if those warriors do attack us I will not be so trusting in the future,”

said Addedomaros.

I lifted my chin and repeated, “Forward at a walk.”

Cadoc let out a long breath but nodded. Slowly, we moved forward, and as we did the line of tribesmen and -women facing us

also moved. First they walked, but soon they broke into a jog.

“Hold steady,” I said when Cadoc shot me a worried look. I could see the old shield’s jaw clench and unclench, but he kept

moving stoically forward at a walk.

The line of warriors coming toward us began sprinting, running full speed and eating up the ground between us. I clutched

my spear and shield, my knuckles white.

I trust you, Andraste. I trust you, Andraste. I trust you, Andraste.

The tension around me was so thick that I could feel it, sticky and cloying. I wanted to shriek the Iceni war cry and shout

at Maldwyn to let Ennis and Finley loose, but I held strong. Andraste was asking me to take another leap.

When they were only a few chariot lengths from us, their leader, a tall man with a shock of black hair who wore a wide golden torque around his neck and the bright green colors of Tribe Dobunni, slid to a halt. He lifted his spear and shouted an undulating war cry. As he did so he turned his back to us, and every warrior with him spun around to face the city and the soldiers who waited before it. The Britons raised their bows and let loose a flurry of arrows that fell on the shocked Romans.

The Dobunni chief whirled around so that he faced us again. He grinned triumphantly and yelled, “Victory!” Then his warriors re-formed their line so that they were standing in columns wide enough apart that our chariots and horses

could ride through without trampling them.

“Now, Maldwyn!” I shouted, and he let Ennis and Finley loose. All around me our chariots and cavalry responded, charging forward

through the parted warriors as Iceni, Trinovantes, Dobunni, and even Catuvellauni battle cries rang like a carnyx across the

field.

The Roman line broke as our chariots bore down on them. They’d expected the Britons to take the brunt of our attack and hadn’t

readied the stakes and long spears that might have deflected our charge. We smashed through them and into the city with the

screaming Catuvellauni and Dobunni foot soldiers following.

Except for the warriors who had turned on their Roman rulers, the tribes had almost completely deserted Verulamium. The city

was a mixture of roundhouses and terraced Roman buildings that appeared to be shop fronts and pubs. The chariots swung through

the wide city streets, empty except for pockets of Roman soldiers and a few civilians who scrambled to hide. We set it all

afire.

As Maldwyn and I led our chariots on a sweep that brought us back to the entrance of the city, the tribal foot soldiers, led

by the Dobunni chief, overwhelmed the Romans with the brutality and ferocity of their attack. The violence was raw. Killing

wasn’t enough for them—they obliterated the Romans. Entrails were spilled, limbs were severed, heads were hacked from bodies.

The women who had chosen to remain behind with the Romans were dragged from homes, their breasts sliced off and stuffed into

their mouths before they were eviscerated.

It was terrible—and I understood it. I saw a reflection of myself in the warriors as they glutted themselves on vengeance.

Were innocents slaughtered that day? Yes. I mourn them.

Freedom is costly.

***

As the day turned to night, the sky began to spit sleet. It did not douse the raging fire that was consuming Verulamium, but

it soaked our clothes and chilled us. We made camp west of the city. It was hardly a forest, but at least the stands of lime,

birch, and willow provided a little protection from the freezing rain. As at Camulodunum and Londinium, Rhan refused to leave

the city until the Roman shades had been guided to their underworld. I did not insult my seer by asking her to forsake her

duty to the dead because of the weather. Instead I commanded a tent be raised over her and a fire built to warm her so that

she didn’t become a shade herself. What she was doing was honorable, but it was nights like this when I wished my friend had

less honor.

All I wanted to do after the battle was to bathe and then lose myself in Maldwyn’s body. Instead my war council crowded around

the large fire Wulffaed had burning in the center of a circle she’d made of her caravans. A leather tarp had been stretched

above us in the boughs of the lime grove we’d camped in. It kept only some of the sleet from stinging us, but I was grateful

for it. My council had grown. Comux, the Dobunni chief who had led the combined Catuvellauni and Dobunni soldiers, joined

us with his shield, a young warrior named Seward. There was also a representative there from the Catuvellauni, a grizzled

old warrior who strode into our group proudly wearing the earthen-colored cloak of his tribe and a simple golden torque around

his neck. His body was heavily tattooed with the Catuvellauni symbols of barley sheaves with crescent moons and hidden faces

among intricate knot work. Ignoring the dark looks shot at him by Addedomaros and Adminius, he went directly to me and dropped

to one knee.

“Queen Boudicca, I am Leofric of the Catuvellauni. I pledge myself and the two hundred warriors with me to you. Togodumnus

is my fool of a cousin. He has whored himself to the Romans.” His eyes met mine. They were such a light blue they appeared

almost gray. He grinned. “As I am not a whore, I choose a different allegiance.”

“Stand, Leofric,” I said. “I gladly accept your allegiance.” I heard a snort and my gaze snapped to Adminius, who was sneering at the Catuvellauni warrior. “ Any Briton who wishes to join us against Rome is welcome in our army.” Addedomaros nodded once and then placed a heavy hand on

his son’s shoulder. Adminius wrenched away from him and stalked into the night.

“Queen Boudicca,” Comux said, moving into the space in front of me. I realized that I had met the Dobunni chief briefly several

Beltanes ago when he and a contingent from his tribe had come to Tasceni to breed their mares with our stallions. He took

a knee before me. “The Dobunni gladly pledge allegiance to the Iceni. I have come to understand that there is no freedom to

be had in a Roman Britain, only taxation and servitude. I’ve found that I do not make a good servant.”

I smiled. “Stand, Chief Comux. I am pleased that we are allies and not enemies today.”

“It was a near thing, though, man,” grumbled Cadoc. “Could you not have given us some warning?”

Comux lifted one shoulder. “We couldn’t take the chance the Romans would get word that we would turn on them. I chose to believe

the rumors I’d heard of the Iceni queen—that she wishes to join all of our tribes against the usurpers.”

“Andraste made sure your gamble was successful,” I said.

“True, but it takes wisdom to trust a goddess,” said Addedomaros.

I bowed my head slightly to the Trinovantes chief, glad that he seemed to be standing firmly with me, even if that meant he

was at odds with his son.

“Now what, Queen Boudicca?” Comux asked. “Do we go after the Fourteenth and Twentieth?”

“The legions led by Paulinus are my next target. When they are defeated, all that will be left on our lands are pockets of

Romans that can easily be exterminated,” I said.

“Then let us go after them!” Leofric said, lifting his fist into the air to punctuate his words.

The group looked to me. I took my time answering. “My intention was to march to meet the legions on the Watling road as they return from slaughtering our Druids on Ynys M?n, but last night Andraste led me to discover that those legions have not yet left the isle. Yes, we could march to the isle and attack them.” I turned to Cadoc and asked a question to which I already knew the answer, but every warrior in my council knew the shield had something that I did not—decades of battle experience. “How long would it take to march our army to Ynys M?n?”

Cadoc scratched his silvered beard. “Eight full days of hard marching. More if this weather continues or gets worse.” He gestured

at the sleet raining from the sky. “And at the end of that march our army would be spent, while Paulinus’s legions would be

freshly rested and restored.”

All eyes turned from Cadoc to me. “I have not ruled out the march or the battle. Like each of you, I would have the Romans

defeated and forced from our lands now. But it is not my will that had led us thus far and given us three resounding victories

over the Romans. At dawn I will petition Andraste to show us what she wishes our next move to be.” I met the gaze of each of my council members. “I will abide by whatever sign the goddess gives.”

“Aye,” they murmured before leaving my campfire and heading to their own, eager to get out of the cold wet.

As Maldwyn passed me, I reached out and stroked the side of his arm. The horse master met my gaze. “Stay?” I framed it as

a question, not willing to command his affection.

His smile lit his cornflower eyes. “Gladly.”

***

At dawn I rode Tan to the field outside Verulamium where I’d reluctantly left Rhan. Maldwyn was with me, leading a spare horse

for our seer. The morning was bitterly cold. Sometime in the night, while I had been warmed and satiated by Maldwyn’s passion,

the sleet had changed to snow. The city looked surreal burning against a backdrop of grays and whites. The snow was a hindrance,

but at least it covered the bodies strewn in front of the city.

As we rode up, Rhan stood stiffly. She’d been sitting just inside the small tent and was wrapped in a pelt, though her nose was pink with cold. Dark circles framed her eyes, making them look twice their size. She seemed fragile and fae-like, and for a moment I did not know her—and then she smiled up at me and became my Rhan again.

“The shades have gone. Verulamium will forever be free of them,” she said.

“And how are you?” I asked as Maldwyn dismounted and led the spare horse to her.

“If you mean am I well enough to petition Andraste for your next move—I assure you, Queen Boudicca, that I am very well.”

“Reading my mind again?”

Her musical laughter was a relief to hear. “You know I cannot.” Maldwyn boosted her onto the horse.

I raised a brow at my old friend and teased, “I know you say you cannot.”

“And I shall continue to say so because it is the truth.” She grinned. “Have the Dobunni and Catuvellauni joined us?”

“The Dobunni, yes,” I said.

“Two hundred of the Catuvellauni have joined us. Those led by Chief Leofric,” added Maldwyn. “Out of thousands still loyal

to Togodumnus.”

“But it is a start,” I said.

“Aye, it is that,” agreed Maldwyn.

“More will join us,” said Rhan.

I turned so that I could meet her gaze. “Have you seen that?”

“It is something I have known since the day you placed the torque of Prasutagus around your neck,” she said.

My body jolted with surprise. “And you said nothing to me about that until now?”

“You did not ask until now.”

Maldwyn tried unsuccessfully to cover his laughter with a cough.

***

Once again my war council gathered outside my tent under the meager tarp that attempted to keep the mixed sleet and snow from

us. The camp was awake, waiting restlessly for the outcome of our petition to Andraste. I felt a great sense of anticipation

that turned to trepidation as Rhan rushed to me. I expected her to be carrying one of the sacred white hares, but her arms

were empty and her eyes unreadable.

“Queen Boudicca, I would ask that you and your council follow me. Andraste has given sign,” she said.

My brow furrowed. “Follow you? I don’t understand.”

“You will, my queen. If you follow me,” she insisted.

I nodded. “Lead on, Iceni seer.”

We followed Rhan out into the wet, walking in a line after her, drawing the curious gazes of the Iceni as we wove through

the caravans to the area of the camp that held the animal pens. It was then that I first noticed the new deference the people

showed Rhan. Word of the slaughter at Ynys M?n had spread among the army. The Druids were our king and queen makers. They

settled tribal grievances. They were our most talented healers, storytellers, and artists. But beyond all of that, our Druids

were our link to Annwn. As Rhan walked through the camp, warriors and the families that filled the caravans left the warmth

of their tents and wagons and campfires to bow to Rhan. They watched her with an intensity I understood. Without our Druids,

who would translate the signs sent to us by our gods? Who would look into the future and advise us? Who would give voice to

the spirits of our ancestors? Within the scope of just a few days, Rhan’s already considerable power had multiplied. I did

not want to believe that she and Adara were the last two Druids alive in Britain, but whether they were or not, our people

would cherish them beyond gold.

I was glad of it. I was also aware that I could benefit from the veneration with which the people regarded Rhan, my dearest

friend and seer of the Iceni.

The hares of Andraste had an entire wagon to themselves. Their hutches were lovingly filled with fresh bedding daily. They ate only the sweetest grasses and ripest vegetables. The women who cared for the hares loved them as they did their children.

As we came to the wagon, the caretakers of the hares clustered outside, visibly upset. My stomach tightened. If the sacred

hares were dead I did not know what I would do. How would Rhan interpret a sign so terrible? I was consumed by dread that

I could not allow my people to see.

Rhan halted just outside the draped end of the wagon. It was closed to keep the hares within warm. She turned to face us.

“I came here as soon as Queen Boudicca asked that I petition Andraste for our next move. I meant to select a hare and bring

it to our queen so that she might speak her question for the goddess, as I have often done. But as I drew aside the curtains

of their wagon it seemed the hares answered the question before the queen could ask it.” Rhan looked at me. “Queen Boudicca,

I am going to draw aside the curtain and enter the wagon. When I do I ask that you speak your question to Andraste, loudly,

so that your people will never wonder what their queen truly asked the goddess. Then I will go to the hutches to release a

hare so that we may all see the sign the goddess gives. Will you do that?”

“I will.”

Rhan nodded to me, and then, with a flourish, she threw open the curtain and climbed nimbly into the wagon. She turned and

faced me, folded her hands together, and waited.

The warm, familiar scent of rabbit and alfalfa drifted from within. We could see the neat hutches. They were spacious and

stacked atop one another three high, strapped to the sides of the wagon so that they would not tumble over as we traveled.

The hares were clearly visible. Their white coats and pink eyes were like torches in the grayness. They turned their heads

and ears to the opening, curious and utterly unafraid of humans.

I gazed at them and spoke clearly, projecting my voice so that not just my council heard the petition I posed to Andraste, but many of the warriors surrounding us as well. “Mighty Andraste, I am your Boudicca—named by you, chosen by you. I ask for your guidance. Shall I march your army to meet the Romans now? What say you, goddess of the Iceni, goddess of vengeance, goddess of war?”

Rhan moved to the closest hutch, and as she opened the door to it, the hares within became hysterical. They scurried away

from the little door to cower in a group in the rear of the hutch, shivering and screaming with high, thin voices that sent

shivers down my spine.

But Rhan did not stop there. She approached every hutch and opened each one—and every sacred hare behaved the same way. As

soon as Rhan opened their hutch, they panicked and raced to huddle together, trembling and screaming.

Only after Rhan closed the door to the last hutch and left the wagon did the hares calm. Within moments they returned to nibbling

on their food, yawning and acting as if nothing unusual had happened. It was extraordinary.

“That is exactly how the hares reacted when I tried to choose one to hear our queen’s petition and our goddess’s answer,”

said Rhan.

My warriors were speechless. They stared at the hares. Every Iceni that surrounded me knew that this behavior was unprecedented.

Andraste’s hares did not fear us. They had no reason to. They were pampered and adored for their entire lives. Upon death

they were mourned and often burned on a sacred pyre or buried within the Chief’s Barrow. They were never harmed or misused

or frightened.

I was shaken, though glad that my voice remained steady. “Iceni seer, how do you interpret Andraste’s sign?”

“The goddess’s will is clear. We are to find a place to winter the army. And it will be a long, harsh winter. We are not to

march against Rome until Andraste has given sign that it is safe.”

“So the goddess has spoken, so will I do,” I said solemnly. Though how I was going to safely winter over one hundred thousand

people with two legions hunting us, I did not know.