Page 32 of Boudicca

“We cannot winter at Thetford.” Cadoc shook his head emphatically. “Even if we could march this massive army to our winter

camp without the Roman legions ambushing us, Thetford is too well-known to Paulinus. They’ve left it alone until now because

Prasutagus always paid his taxes on time. Rome had no reason to go to the trouble of attacking our winter stronghold. They

do now. If we tried to winter there we would be inviting a siege or worse. Our supplies aren’t safe and must be moved.”

“I agree,” I said.

My war council had gathered once again in the scant shelter outside my tent. Wulffaed kept pouring steaming mulled mead to

keep us warm, but the snow had not stopped. It did not take an experienced warrior to understand that I had to make a decision

about where we would winter immediately or risk our massive army getting stranded. That would make us easy prey to the legions.

Andraste had made it clear that we were to burrow and not engage with the Romans at this time, so burrow we would—but where?

I was loath to split up our army, though I was afraid the only choice I had was to send our Trinovantes, Dobunni, and Catuvellauni

allies home to disperse and shelter in their own lands. Just thinking about trying to gather them again in the spring had

my head pounding with dread. In the spring it would be time to work and plant the fields. How many warriors would answer my

call then? Certainly not the number our army now held. I could not believe that was what Andraste would want.

Addedomaros ran a hand through his thick, graying hair. “But you overheard Paulinus saying that the legions were still recovering

from Ynys M?n. Perhaps we have time to march home, scatter, and ride out the winter in hiding as best we can.”

“No.” I knew there was a better solution. I just couldn’t quite grasp what it would be. “We will not divide our people just as we’ve begun to truly join together.”

Rhan cleared her throat and all gazes turned to her. “There is another answer.” Her eyes went to Comux. “What is your idea,

chief of the Dobunni?”

Comux stood and pulled his bright green cloak more closely around him. He bowed his head to Rhan. “The Iceni seer sees truthfully.

I do have an idea.”

“I will be glad to hear it,” I prodded, as I could see that the chief was reluctant to speak.

“I have not mentioned it because it is rather unusual,” he said.

“Our army is rather unusual,” I said.

He chuckled and nodded. “Queen Boudicca, are you aware that my wife’s sister is married to Caratacus, chief of Tribe Ordovices?”

Cadoc spoke up before I could. “Ah, yes. We know Caratacus. Several years ago he came to Tasceni to meet with Prasutagus.”

My shield met my gaze and continued. “Do you remember, my queen? It wasn’t long after Ceri’s birth.”

“I do indeed. Caratacus was born to the Catuvellauni, was he not?”

“He was.” Leofric, the old warrior who had become chief of a small group of Catuvellauni, spoke up. “He and his brother Togodumnus

disagreed about how to handle the Romans. Togodumnus saw it as a chance to gain riches and subdue the other tribes. Caratacus

wanted nothing to do with Rome.”

“Wise man,” muttered Addedomaros.

“Aye,” said Leofric. “Would that I had been so wise then and followed him. It took me much longer to understand the danger

of allying with Rome. When Caratacus left, nearly a third of the Catuvellauni agreed and followed him into the west.”

Comux nodded and continued the telling. “Caratacus and those loyal to him joined the Ordovices. He married Caraf, one of the

royal daughters of the Ordovices—my wife’s sister. Caratacus was chosen chief at the death of old Ougein.”

“And what has the Ordovices chief to do with your idea?” I asked.

“I believe Caratacus would allow the army to winter in the Eryri Mountains.”

“Ha!” Addedomaros scoffed. “That would put us only a few days south of Ynys M?n. Too near the legions that are still there.”

Comux just lifted a brow at the Trinovantes chief. “The southern mountains are far enough from the Druid isle to be hidden

from the legions, yet close enough that they would not think to look there.”

“Hmm.” Cadoc scratched his beard. “The legions would also not think to attempt a march through those mountains to search for

us.”

“Because the mountains will be covered by snow and impassable!” blurted Adminius.

“Which is why we must break camp and march immediately to the Eryri Mountains before the passes are closed.” I turned to Comux.

“ If there is a place within the mountains that can shelter us.”

“Yes, Queen Boudicca. There is a valley just within the southern boundary of the mountains. It holds a lake called Arglwyddes

y Llyn, which is surrounded by impassable peaks on all sides except one—and that one pass closes early every winter.”

“But is it large enough to hold the entire army? Think of the size of our combined herds,” said Maldwyn.

“It is. And the peaks that surround the valley catch the brunt of the snow and ice.”

“Do you think we could get our winter stores from Thetford there before the pass closes?” I asked Comux.

He moved his shoulders. “It would be close, though if they got near enough we could transport the supplies on litters pulled

by horses should the wagons not make it through the pass.”

“But the army will be seen,” said Addedomaros. “We could split up the supply wagons and have them travel by different routes

so they do not draw attention, but an army of over one hundred thousand will draw attention.”

My gaze went to Rhan. “Leave that to me.” I stood. “We march to the Eryri Mountains for the winter. Cadoc, send our swiftest riders to Thetford and have them move our winter stores to meet us there immediately.”

“As you ask, so will I do,” said my shield.

“Queen Boudicca, with your leave I will send my shield to Caratacus to alert him of our approach,” said Comux.

“You have it,” I said. “We break camp now. It will be a difficult march. We must move from dawn until dark each day. This

weather will chill our bones, but I agree with Comux. Tucked into the valley, we will winter safely.”

“If our supplies arrive in time,” added Addedomaros.

“That is why we are sending our swiftest riders,” I said. “Do you not have stores at your winter stronghold, Trinovantes chief?”

Addedomaros cleared his throat. “Aye, we do.”

“And they are closer than Thetford, correct?” I asked.

“Aye.”

I smiled. “Then it is a good thing the Trinovantes are known to have the swiftest horses of all the tribes.” As the members

of the war council left and camp began to break, I called, “Rhan, Maldwyn, stay for a moment.” I motioned for them to join

me near the fire. “I know how we can move this army to the mountains without the tribes talking of it to the Romans.” The

Iceni seer and horse master turned curious gazes on me but remained silent. I drew a deep breath. I believed my thinking was

sound, but when dealing with magick and the gods, one could never be sure. I locked my gaze with my dearest friend’s. “Rhan,

they will be silent for you.”

Her brows lifted and I saw confusion in her dark eyes as she squinted at me, trying to figure out what I meant. Then she blinked

several times and nodded slowly. “I understand, but it is not for me that they will be silent. They will be showing their

love and respect for my people, who are no more.”

“Druids?” Maldwyn asked.

“Yes,” Rhan said, still not looking away from my gaze. “Adara and I could very well be the last of the Druids.”

I took her shoulders in my hands. “I do not believe you are the last. There must be more Druids scattered among the tribes. After we force the Romans from our lands, we will find them, gather them, and rebuild Ynys M?n. We will replant the sacred oaks and a new generation of Druids will thrive there.”

“It is a lovely dream,” Rhan said softly.

“It is a dream that can be made real,” I said. “Will you do it, Rhan? Will you lead us to the mountains and use your powers

to keep us secret and safe?”

“I will.”

“Harness Ennis and Finley,” I told Maldwyn. “They will lead the army with Rhan riding beside me in the chariot.”

“As you ask, so will I do.”

When he left to prepare the chariot, I ordered one of Wulffaed’s daughters to call for Briallen, who came quickly as she’d

been close by at my daughters’ tent.

“Briallen, gather my guard. Have them dress in their best and be mounted. They will lead the army with me.”

“Yes, my queen!”

While the camp broke around us, Rhan and I went into my tent to prepare. We didn’t speak but took our time painting our faces

and dressing our hair. I did not wear my battle uniform. Instead I chose the Beltane dress that had been my mother’s last

gift to me and a thick fur cloak that had been dyed Iceni blue.

Rhan painted her face as I’d seen Derwyn do before major rituals in bold strips of white and black. As I watched her ready

herself, I realized that she was now the senior-ranking Druid alive. Adara was older but gifted in healing more than in the

Sight. Rhan was the new high Druid. The thought humbled me.

Rhan outlined the Ogham symbols tattooed on her face and neck in white so that their black lines seemed to glow, inky and powerful. She wore her ovate colors of greens and browns woven together. Around her slim waist she wrapped a rope of sacred mistletoe. She placed a wide necklace of bones and feathers, beads and shells, around her neck. It clacked and clanked whenever she moved. Lastly, from its place outside my tent, Rhan lifted the sigil that I’d taken into all three battles and carried it with us as my queen’s guard escorted us to the waiting chariots.

I drove Ennis and Finley to the head of our army. Maldwyn rode on one side of me. Cadoc and Abertha were in their familiar

positions on my other side, only this time I was the only one of us driving a chariot. Behind us my guard stretched across

the road, looking fierce. And after them came my people in what seemed an unending sea of tribal colors.

As we started forward, the sleet shifted to snow. Large flakes caught on our clothes as they fell lazily from a sky so low

and gray it seemed if I stretched my arms up high enough I could touch it.

We passed the first farm that had not been burned to the ground, and I saw a group of people peering at us from behind a hedgerow.

Rhan and I wore our hair long and unbound. The winter wind lifted it so that my thick, flame-colored mane tangled with Rhan’s

smooth moonlight mass—fire and ice.

With graceful hands and rounded arms, Rhan traced patterns in the air before her, and as her dark gaze slid to look at the

curious faces of the farmers, she pressed a finger against her lips and said one word that the wind picked up and carried

around us.

“Silence!”

All that day I drove the chariot and watched my friend weave symbols of power in the air around us and invoke the protection

of the gods. Every farm we passed, every small settlement, every merchant we overtook who had fled from Verulamium or Londinium,

stopped and stared at Rhan, entranced by the Druid. Britons began coming out to watch us pass. I heard their whispers. “She is the last of the Druids... Blessed by the gods... High Druid... seer of the Iceni...” On and on we marched, surrounded by the magick Rhan wove, ancient and powerful. It and the respect of our people held us in

a web of safety.

As the days passed and the army trudged through snow and ice, people were drawn to us. We entered Dobunni territory. I was not surprised when more warriors from Comux’s tribe joined us, but what did surprise me was when Cadoc began announcing daily that other tribes had found us. The Atrebates sent several hundred foot soldiers. The Silures joined us with a thousand cavalry and caravans filled with their families and winter stores to sustain them. More Catuvellauni followed Leofric, pledging loyalty to him and allegiance to me.

By the time we crossed into the territory of Tribe Ordovices, our army had swelled to almost two hundred thousand. We were

cold and tired, but morale was high. Drummers had taken to beating out the rhythm of Rhan’s hand movements, and the Iceni

seer often added her voice to the invocation, playing with the rhythmic drumbeats. My guard sang with her, mimicking her sounds

and swaying in time to the sacred dance.

The power of Rhan’s magick was awe inspiring. Though we were cold and wet and weary, we moved with the gods. Ravens flew over

us. Stags often crossed our path. Boars grunted and snorted and followed us. And there were hares everywhere! Though we had

to wade through snow and ice, the horses did not tire—the wagons did not become mired. Each night we camped, gathering around

bonfires sharing drink and food and song. The hearts of the people were so warm and strong that the cold did not bite. Many

times during those five long days and nights, I felt as if we were not traveling through the mortal world of Arbred but had

instead crossed into Annwn. Nwyfre, the life force that fills us all, flowed freely from Rhan, seer of the Iceni and high

Druid. It washed over our people, binding us together as we moved with one sacred purpose. We would winter safely. We would

survive. And in the spring we would be reborn with the land and force the Romans forever from Britain.

***

“There.” Comux pointed at a narrow pass where two jagged, rocky mountains almost met. It was just before dusk and we’d spent the entire day on a muddy path too rough to be called a proper road. We’d halted after it seemed to run into the mountains before us. As I followed Comux’s finger and peered through the pass, I could just glimpse the wan winter daylight reflecting off a lake that appeared as gray as the sky above us. “That is the pass, and within is Arglwyddes y Llyn and our sanctuary for the winter.”

“Looks very narrow,” said Cadoc.

“That is one of its charms.” Comux grinned. “It is only just wide enough to allow one wagon at a time to enter and will close

with snow and ice soon.” He shrugged. “Though even if the pass remains open for weeks, it is easily defended.”

“It is perfect,” I said. “Let’s get inside and begin setting up corrals for the horses and sectioning off areas for shelters.”

“Queen Boudicca, I do believe that the mountain there, near the far end of the lake”—Comux directed my gaze—“has cavelike

openings around the base of much of it. They should be able to be made into shelters.”

“A real shelter would be a braw thing to have this winter,” said Briallen from her lead position in front of my guard.

“It does sound lovely,” I said a little wistfully. Yes, morale was excellent. Yes, the nights had been filled with comradeship

and the days had been productive. The army had surpassed even Cadoc’s estimates of how quickly so many people and horses and

caravans could be moved north. Still, I longed for shelter and the warmth and safety it brought.

“Well then, let us enter this valley and create a winter sanctuary for our queen!” said Maldwyn as everyone within hearing

cheered.

***

The days that followed were satisfying. Though the size of our army was intimidating, especially to me, as I was the person ultimately responsible for feeding, housing, and caring for them all winter, I soon saw the benefits in having two hundred thousand Britons under my charge. My people were canny and talented. Even before our seemingly endless stream of wagons rumbled slowly one by one through the pass, builders came forward. They discussed the best ways to create winter-worthy shelters. I put the capable shields Cadoc and Mailcun in charge of supervising the cutting down of trees and the building of shelters.

Comux’s young shield, Seward, returned with the blessing of Caratacus and several packhorses loaded down with cakes and mounds

of exquisite furs the chief sent as gifts to me. The shield also reported that the Roman legions had broken camp several days

before he’d arrived and that they had last been seen heading southeast, out of Ordovices territory.

As winter drew closer and closer, we waited for the Iceni and Trinovantes supply wagons while we foraged outside the sparse

valley and cut trees for shelters. Our farmers took wagons and scouted peat bogs, harvesting the precious fuel daily.

The valley was large, easily big enough for a city, which was good because our numbers could have filled Londinium twice over.

Comux had been right. The mountain that backed the far side of the lake was riddled with indentations in its rocky face. Abertha

quickly dubbed it Graybeard as its peaks were always covered with mist that clung to it, looking much like an old man’s beard.

It was in the largest of the cavelike indentations that my winter lodge was built. The opening and single chamber within were

easily roomy enough to hold council meetings, and that was where Wulffaed and her daughters worked their magick. I hadn’t

realized that they’d rolled up the tapestries from the royal lodge at Tasceni and packed them into their group of wagons,

and I’m glad I hadn’t known as I would have told them to leave such things behind. A warrior queen doesn’t need luxuries.

I’d have been wrong. Once the tapestries were hung over the rock walls and my bedchamber was sectioned off by more tapestries and thick blankets, they built a large fire pit cunningly placed beneath several honeycomb-like openings in the rocky roof. The openings provided enough of an escape for the smoke that a fire could blaze constant and hot without choking us with smoke. The builders created crude trestle tables made of wooden logs topped by sheets of the unusual crimson and violet slate that proliferated in the valley. I was as pleased as I was surprised by the level of comfort the cave afforded me—and I was grateful for the luxury of beauty and warmth within it.

Flanking the central cavelike opening were several smaller indentations that also reminded me of honeycombs, though they were

much more sizable than the pocked holes over the fire pit. My girls snuggled into one of them and Rhan chose a cave beside

them. On the other side of my shelter, Wulffaed commandeered a nearby opening, in front of which the caravans filled with

her daughters and granddaughters circled, creating a warm, homey area that was always alive with the sounds of women’s laughter

and scents of baking bread.

Addedomaros, his son, and his household servants claimed the largest of the other spaces. Comux and his shield took another.

And Leofric claimed another as his own. I offered the remaining caves to my lead warriors. Cadoc accepted, grumbling about

his old bones needing thick walls to keep out the winter, but Abertha and Maldwyn declined. Abertha chose to lodge with her

longtime lover, Dreda, in the sprawling shelter my Queen’s Guard erected. I wondered if Maldwyn would choose one of the caves

so he could be near me, but his sense of duty to our herd had him sheltering in the circle of caravans that carried the tack

and feed. Instead of feeling slighted, I was glad of his dedication to our horses. Briallen chose one of the little caves

as her own. I’d expected her to lodge with the rest of my guard, but she’d become accustomed to being close to the girls and

to me, and I was glad to have her near.

The caravans were prepared for a long winter. They were covered wagons, but the tent tarps that enclosed them would not be

warm enough for the hard freezes that were to come, so the tribesmen and -women worked diligently on cutting and slicing logs

into flat boards that were attached to the wagons and then adding mud daub to form walls where only tarp had been. The caravans

were positioned around large fire pits, where they butted up to one another so that they looked like oddly skinny roundhouses

that were open in the center. Tents blossomed against the wagons, using their wooden backs and the blankets and tapestries

they’d plundered from Londinium and Verulamium to provide warmth and shelter.

Lean-tos were erected along the base of the mountains, under which scores of fire pits blossomed with light and warmth. Large holding pens were built around the lean-tos so that our precious horses were protected from the worst of the cold.

We’d traveled with sizable herds of goats and cattle, as well as a drove of fat Iceni pigs. Their pens were adjacent to the

horses, also tucked against the broad mountainsides—and chickens were everywhere, which made egg gathering a daily exercise

in foraging.

Arglwyddes y Llyn proved to be a marvel. Filled with carp and brown trout, the lake was too deep to freeze. From the fireside

in my cave lodge, I could gaze across the lake, watching the hovering mist move lazily and our fishers casting nets and setting

lines. The water was clear and cold and often so still that it seemed the reflection of the surrounding mountains had actually

taken shape within its surface and was another realm.

The weather provided a reprieve shortly after we arrived, and for five straight days there was no more snow. Sunlight filled

the valley, deceptively making the days appear warm, but its distant light was too wan to take the bite from the air. We were

all very aware that when it began snowing again it would not end until spring, and lookouts anxiously kept watch for our supply

wagons.