Page 6 of Boudicca

The rage that roiled within me was second only to my need to get to my daughters. I tried to stand. My legs would not hold

me. “Enfys! Ceri! Girls!” I called, but the hut remained as silent as the rest of Tasceni. Fear began to replace my rage as

I crawled toward the little structure. My back was on fire. My mouth was so dry I couldn’t swallow, but I did not stop. I

did not think. I gripped the ground with my hands, digging my broken fingernails into the hard-packed dirt, and dragged myself

to the soundless hut.

When I reached it I only paused long enough to put my arms through the ragged sleeves of my tunic, which I rearranged so that

from the front, at least, my girls, should they be alive— Oh, Andraste, please let them be alive —would not easily realize the extent of my wounds. I gritted my teeth against the pain and drew several deep breaths. Using

the side of the hut, I pulled myself up so that I stood on unsteady legs. I drew another deep breath and then pushed open

the rickety door.

My children were naked. Curled together, they lay still and silent in each other’s arms. When my shadow darkened the doorway,

Enfys looked up. Her eyes, green as my own, were open and glassy with shock. Enfys’s scream echoed off the interwoven branches

that made up the curved walls of the hut. Ceri whimpered and held tighter to her sister, but she did not open her eyes.

“Enfys! Ceri! Oh, my little loves! It is me—your mama!” I staggered to my two girls and dropped to my knees beside them.

“Mama!” Enfys cried my name. “M-mama! Th-they hurt us! They h-hurt us over and over!” Through teeth that chattered, words

and sobs flowed from my eldest daughter, thick as the dark blood that coated her thighs.

“I know, sweet girl,” I said soothingly as I brushed back Enfys’s sweat-matted hair. “I am here now. All will be well.” I scooted closer so that I could stroke Ceri’s bruised cheek. “Little dove, can you open your eyes for Mama?”

Ceri only whimpered and trembled as if in the grip of a terrible fever.

I wanted to curl myself around them, hold them close, and will their pain away, and for a moment I was paralyzed with grief.

No! I do not have the luxury of grief. Not now. Not yet. They need me.

My gaze searched the hut until I found the wooden trough that captured rainwater. The water was kept fresh for Iceni warriors

after they practiced their skills. I made my body stand and staggered to the trough to lift the ladle. I drank quickly, greedily,

several ladles full and felt stronger and less dizzy. I filled the ladle yet again and returned to my girls. I helped Enfys

drink and then went back to the trough for another ladle full of water.

“Ceri, let me help you drink.”

The little girl whimpered again and did not open her eyes, but I was able to hold the ladle to her lips so that she choked

down some water.

“Mama, we tried to fight them. I promise we did!” Enfys cried softly as she spoke.

“Shh, shh, sweet girl. Of course you did. You were so brave. Both of you are so brave.”

“B-but we could not stop them!” Enfys said between sobs as soundless tears leaked from Ceri’s closed eyes and washed down

her cheeks.

Then I did put my arms around them. I held them close and stroked their damp hair gently. “Listen to me. Both of you did the

bravest, most courageous thing you could ever do—you survived .”

Another shadow fell across the doorway. Enfys shrieked again. I ignored the agony in my back, grabbed a wooden practice sword

from those piled in the hut, and whirled to face the intruder.

“Och, goddess! What have they done?”

I did not recognize Briallen until she spoke. The warrior’s face was purple and black. One eye was completely swollen shut and pink-tinged tears leaked down her dirty cheek. The woad-colored short tunic worn by all of the queen’s guard was tattered ribbons. Briallen’s blood had soaked what was left of it, changing the blue to the purple of her bruises. Like the two children, her legs were painted crimson down to her ankles.

“Girls, little loves, it is only Briallen!” I moved to help the warrior get water, but Enfys clutched my tunic and would not

loose me. “Drink.” I gestured at the trough. “Then sit here, beside me.”

Briallen took the ladle from me, went to the trough, and drank deeply. Then she returned to the three of us.

“Sit. Rest.”

Briallen shook her head and grimaced at the pain the motion caused. “My queen, we cannot rest here. We must get the girls

to the lodge so that their wounds and yours can be cleaned and packed.”

“But you’re wounded, too! You’re bleeding everywhere. You cannot—”

“I can because I must! We both will because we must.” Briallen cut off my words. She went to her knees beside me and beseeched, “Forgive me for speaking so to

you, my queen.” Then Briallen lowered her voice and added, “How badly wounded are you? I cannot tell through the blood that

covers your back.”

“I do not know.”

“Can you walk?”

I met my warrior’s gaze. “I can because I must.”

Briallen nodded quickly. “Aye, my queen.” Her one-eyed gaze flicked to the children. “I can carry Enfys if you can carry Ceri.”

I nodded. “It will be so.” Then I spoke softly as I gently pried my eldest daughter’s hands from my torn tunic. “Enfys, Briallen

is going to carry you and I shall carry Ceri. We must return to the lodge, where we can care for your wounds. Do you understand?”

Enfys’s eyes were glazed with shock, but she nodded and allowed the warrior to lift her. Then I turned to my youngest daughter,

little Ceri. The child was curled on her side, knees to her chest, eyes tightly closed as she shivered violently.

Rage roiled within me again and I used it to fuel the fire that kept me moving. I drew a deep breath and caressed Ceri’s sweaty hair. “Little dove, I am going to carry you home.” Eyes still tightly closed, Ceri said nothing but allowed me to lift her into my arms.

I stood still for a moment until the world stopped rolling and pitching around me while I cradled Ceri’s body against my chest,

as I had when she’d been a sweet infant—and was shocked by how light and boneless she felt.

Side by side, the only Iceni warrior left alive in Tasceni and I carried the girls to the lodge. The trek was like moving

through a waking nightmare. Bodies of men and women I had known for fifteen years littered the path. I paused at the first

of them and pressed Ceri’s face against my shoulder as I bent beside Heulyn, a mother of ten and grandmother of six, revered

as an expert baker. I touched her face gently to see if there was any sign of life in the old woman. Heulyn was gone.

Briallen turned away so that Enfys was shielded from seeing the elder’s body. “None will be alive. The brave old ones who

remained in the village to protect their queen and give the bairns and mothers time to flee into the forest were slaughtered—every

one of them—along with the few warriors who were not at the spring games.”

I met Briallen’s gaze. “I am sorry. Bryn was a fierce warrior.”

“He died protectin’ his queen.” Briallen’s voice broke. She paused, collected herself, and continued. “He will join your mother

in Annwn, as is right. Except for the four of us, ’tis a village of the dead.”

“It will live again. We will live again.”

I continued the trek to the lodge. As we approached the open wooden doors, the knowledge that my beloved mother was within—dead

and cold—had me staggering.

“Steady!” Briallen caught my elbow and lent me her strength. “We will because we must.”

I drew a deep breath, nodded, then spoke gently to my girls. “Enfys, Ceri, you must do something for me. You must close your

eyes and keep them closed until we are in my bedchamber.”

Ceri cried and pressed her face into my shoulder, soaking it with her sweat and tears, but Enfys turned her head so that she could meet my gaze. “Nain is in there with Dafina. I will look. I will remember.”

I thought my heart would break, though I was filled with pride at her fierceness. I badly wanted to command my daughter to

close her eyes—to remain a child—but what had happened to her, to us all, had changed everything. And I understood intimately

that in this new, terrible world of ours, anger fueled action. I met my oldest daughter’s gaze and saw the reflection of the

fury that boiled within me, that kept me on my feet, that would keep me moving forward from this day on. “Then look. Remember.

And know we will get vengeance.”

“Aye, bonny lamb. ’Tis as Herself says. We will get vengeance,” said Briallen.

“We will get vengeance,” echoed Enfys.

We entered the lodge. The scent of blood and loosed bowels permeated the air. There were only three bodies. Bryn’s body slumped

just inside the door with the long pilum spear still embedded in his chest. My eyes were drawn to the middle of the spacious

lodge, where my mother rested beside her beloved servant. In their final moments of life they had curled toward one another,

and the two old women’s hands were joined—holding as tightly in death as in life.

I tore my gaze from the two women I had loved the longest in this lifetime and moved woodenly past them, pushed aside the

hide that was the door to my private chamber, and laid Ceri carefully on my wide bed. Briallen placed Enfys beside her sister.

The older child instantly took Ceri into her arms.

Enfys looked up at me through eyes a century older than thirteen namedays. “Go ahead, Mama. Do what you must. I will stay

with Ceri.”

The pride I felt for her took my breath. I touched her cheek. “See how brave you are. I have never been prouder to be your

mother than at this moment.” I pulled a blanket up over my beautiful, violated daughters. “We will not be long.”

I left my bedchamber with Briallen beside me and closed the pelt door. Then the warrior and I paused. Except for the three bodies, the lodge looked remarkably normal. The hearthfire was still burning, though the iron pot of water that had been boiling there was knocked over. It soaked the rushes along with the blood of Arianell and Dafina.

“We need to tend to our wounds, but first we must move them.” My hand shook as I wiped sweat from my face. My back had become

so tight that every movement was agony, but I’d felt no new warmth of blood and my dizziness had passed, so I ignored the

pain. My daughters must come first.

“Aye. We can take them outside and care for their bodies properly after we tend the living,” said Briallen.

We worked together silently. Bryn was the most difficult to move. In life, he’d been a massive but graceful man, like one

of Tribe Demetae’s oceangoing war vessels. Now, in death, he was battered and beached. It took both of us, a human tide pulling

and heaving, to remove him from the lodge.

I carried my mother myself. I cradled Arianell much like I’d so recently held my youngest daughter—tightly against my chest.

I breathed in the familiar scent of the rosemary that Mother had liked to rinse her hair with and fought back tears by embracing

rage instead.

The Romans will pay for this. I cursed them. Andraste heard. The goddess and I will make certain the curse comes true.

Gently, I placed my mother’s body on a pile of clean rushes just outside the great lodge. Briallen had already taken armfuls

of the rushes into the lodge to replace the blood-soaked ones. Lastly, Briallen placed Dafina beside her mistress, where she

had been for more years than I had lived.

Then we reentered the lodge. I could feel my strength waning. If I moved too quickly, my vision narrowed and spots of light

obscured my sight. I spoke hastily to Briallen, knowing that I must get the next part done quickly, before I could no longer

force my body to do anything. “I’ll draw and heat the water for the bath and add healing herbs. We need to get the girls warm,

bathe the remnants of those beasts off them, and then dress and pack their wounds. You need your wounds tended as well.”

Stiffly and carefully, I moved to right the cooking tripod over the fire and then hooked onto it the cauldron my servants used to heat bathwater. Behind elaborately embroidered tapestries that decorated the lodge’s curved walls were shadowy recesses that held pots, buckets, and dishware of all sizes. I grabbed two of the largest wooden pails and turned to shuffle to the rear door of the lodge, just outside of which was the deep, cold well my attendants used to draw water for their royal family—and almost ran into Briallen.

The warrior swayed precariously and looked as if she might fall over at any moment, but her voice was firm. “I’ll be takin’

one of those buckets. We can fill it faster if we work together. And you must be tended, too, my queen.”

I opened my mouth to tell Briallen not to be ridiculous—that she was barely standing—and then I saw the iron in the warrior’s

gaze and recognized the anger there that was almost as deep as was her need to do something, anything .

I nodded shortly. “Get clean linens from Mother’s sewing chest. There should be a covered wooden pot beside the baskets of

yarrow and goldenrod. We’ll need the herbs to add to the girls’ bathwater, and the salve in the pot is numbing and healing.”

Briallen nodded. “Aye. Arianell is a great healer.”

“She is. She was.” I corrected myself, blinking hard to keep the tears that welled from falling. “Get enough herbs to steep

in the cauldron, as well as in the bathwater. There is a pitcher of water and a basin on the table near my bed. Fill it with

the herbed water from the cauldron. You can clean the girls’ wounds with that while I draw from the well and fill the bath.”

Briallen nodded and began gathering the items. I did not think. I moved. I went to and from the well until the cauldron was

filled, and then repeated the filling as I poured the hot water into the huge copper tub Prasutagus had given me fifteen years

before as a betrothal gift. I stoked the fire and hung a fresh cauldron of water. Then I went to my mother’s medicinal chest

and carefully chose herbs that induced sleep, placed generous portions in two wooden mugs, and poured boiling water over the

mixture to steep for tea before I joined Briallen with my daughters.

Briallen had cleaned Enfys’s face and was carefully wiping the blood from the girl’s body. Ceri had curled into a tight fetal position with her back pressed against her sister.

“Ceri will not allow me to touch her,” Briallen said softly.

I nodded, wetted a strip of linen in the already pinkening water, and sat close to Ceri. “Little dove, will you let me clean

you?” The child whimpered and burrowed her face into the goose-down-filled mattress. I stroked her matted hair gently. “Ceri,

look at me.”

Ceri’s body trembled and her voice sounded even younger than her ten years. “If I open my eyes I will know it is not a dream.”

Her sister’s words made Enfys sob, and Briallen wiped away her tears, speaking softly to her, as if she were a wild hare that

had been wounded and needed to be soothed so that it would not attempt to run away and further injure itself.

I thought my heart would break but forced my voice to be steady.

“Yes, little dove, my little love, I know. I wish we were dreaming, but I will not lie to you as if you are still a baby.

You must be strong. We all must be—you, Enfys, and me. For Nain. For our people.”

Ceri’s eyes fluttered open. She whispered three words. “Nain is dead.”

It was not a question, but I answered. “She is. Death is the only thing that could keep her from our side right now.”

“She died because of me.” Tears leaked slowly down Ceri’s smooth cheeks.

“No, little dove. She did not. She died because Romans attacked us.”

“C-could you not have s-stopped them? You are a queen,” Ceri sobbed.

I felt my daughter’s words like a gut punch. “I tried, little dove. I—” My words broke off and I bit a bloody hole in my cheek

to keep from screaming or sobbing or both.

Briallen spoke solemnly into the silence. “Your mother our queen was brave and fierce. Her words saved us all.”

Ceri turned her head to stare at the warrior, but it was Enfys who asked, “Did Mama truly save us?”

“Aye, she did. She cursed the Romans. ’Twas the power of Herself’s curse that affrighted the soldiers so bad that they crawled off me. One of them had raised his spear to strike me with a killing blow at the moment our queen said, ‘Through my blood and with my goddess-blessed breath, I have cursed you unto death!’ It seemed to turn the soldier to stone. He stood there—spear raised—as if entranced and stared at Herself. While he and the

rest of the Romans gaped at the sight of our mighty queen, I fled so that I could live to serve her.” Briallen’s gaze met

mine. “Had she not cursed them, the Romans would have burned the village and made sure we burned with it.” Briallen bowed

her head deeply, respectfully.

I tried to speak, but my daughter was quicker.

Ceri sat, grimacing painfully. “Wash me now, Mama. I will be brave like you.”

Silently, the warrior and I wiped the blood and dirt and fluids from my children, and then we carried them to the steaming

tub. We added several more buckets from the well to make the water bearable before gently placing the girls within. Enfys

and Ceri were so small that they both fit in the tub together. The children gasped and cried out as their wounds met the water,

but they bore it like the daughters of a queen. As Briallen washed the girls, I gave each of them a mug of tea, adding dollops

of golden honey. My pride in them was so fierce it lifted my spirit.

“Drink, my little loves.”

The girls did as they were told. The tea and the warmth of the herbed water worked on them. Their eyes began to close and

their breathing deepened as they rested more comfortably in the tub.

While the girls soaked in the healing warmth, Briallen spoke softly but urgently. “The Romans set fire to the stables. I’ll

go see if any of the horses escaped. If so, I’ll catch one and ride for our warriors.”

Before I responded, I took a bucket already filled with the herb-steeped bathwater and got another fresh cloth from Mother’s

sewing chest. I gestured for Briallen to join me in Arianell’s bedchamber.

“Take that ruined tunic off and sit so that I can see to your wounds.”

“I should clean your back first, my queen,” said Briallen.

“My bleeding has stopped. Yours has not. Sit,” I commanded.

Briallen sighed but shrugged out of her tattered tunic. “It shall be as you command, but I cannot sit.” She turned so that

I could see the bloody sword slashes that covered her buttocks.

Kneeling beside the warrior, I began to clean her wounds. “They aren’t men. They aren’t animals. Those who did this to you—to

me—to my daughters—are monsters.”

Briallen’s voice sounded ancient and incredibly tired. “They aren’t monsters. They’re just men from a people who do not value

women. It could happen to any men, even our own.”

“Do you excuse them?”

Briallen snorted. “Och, no. I only explain. The Romans are rabid animals and should be culled from our land.”

I stood and gently, carefully, cleaned the lacerations that covered Briallen’s breasts and ribs. And as I tended the warrior,

it was like a dam loosened within me. Words flowed, horrible and thick, almost drowning me.

“They came from the fen, but I don’t understand how. How could they have made their way through the fen in the fog? Why didn’t

the sucking mud swallow them?”

Briallen moved her shoulders. “I do not know. But had they come by the main road we would have heard them and not been taken

by surprise.”

“Heard them, yes. But still not been able to defend ourselves with almost all of our warriors at the spring games.” My rage—which

was now always there, just waiting to boil over again—felt good. It warmed me. It burned away grief and pain and fear. “They

knew the warriors would be gone. They had to have known.”

“How? Tribe Trinovantes are our allies and not in league with Rome.”

“I do not know, but I will find out.” I spread healing salve over Briallen’s wounds. “Some of these need to be sewn.”

“We don’t have time for such things, my queen. Wrap the wounds tightly. They will heal.”

“They will scar terribly,” I said.

Briallen’s feral smile showed missing teeth from where the last Roman had struck her with the hilt of his pugio. “Aye, that

they will. It will be my honor to wear them.”

I nodded and wrapped the worst of her wounds tightly before taking a plain tunic from Arianell’s clothing chest and carefully

helping the warrior into it.

“Now you, my queen.”

Gratefully, I slid the filthy, torn clothes from my body and kicked them into a pile with the warrior’s bloody rags. Then

I stood still, breathing in small, shallow gasps as Briallen cleaned the long lacerations the whip had carved into the soft

flesh of my back, and then sighed in relief as she smeared salve into them. Moving quietly and carefully, I went to my chamber

and dressed in a soft linen tunic as Briallen added hot water to the girls’ bath and took the empty mugs from them.

When I rejoined Briallen, I checked on my daughters, who were drowsy and pink faced from the steamy bath. While I was dressing,

the warrior had brewed us herbal tea, rich with honey, which we drank quickly. It gave me the strength to go to where I’d

hidden the satchel just before the Romans had attacked. I breathed a sigh of relief when I lifted it and felt the reassuring

outline of my husband’s heavy torque. I grimaced as I slid the satchel over my shoulder and its leather strap pressed against

my wounded back, but I needed to keep the goddess’s gift close.

Briallen went to me and bowed stiffly. “My queen, allow me to ride to our warriors. If I leave now our warriors may catch

Decianus before the river reaches the sea. We will cut him down like the rabid dog he is and send him to be judged in their

Underworld.”

I spoke firmly to my warrior. “Brave Briallen, I want vengeance, too, but our people will begin returning, and some of them

will be wounded. Today we need healers more than soldiers. The Druids must be within a day’s ride; they always travel with

healers. My injuries are not as grave as yours. You remain here and see to my daughters. I shall go meet the Druids and ask

that they send a rider south to fetch our warriors.”

Briallen began to protest, but my hand on her arm stopped her words. “You cannot help my daughters if you die on the road to the Trinovantes. I must think of our people. What is best for all of us at this moment is not to ride after a mere centuria and a tax collector who are already dead .”

Briallen nodded. “Aye, your curse.”

“Andraste heard me. I know it as sure as I know my own name. We will kill every one of them. First we heal. Then we will have

our vengeance.”

Briallen’s shoulders slumped. “I will do as you command, my queen.”

A keening lifted from the practice field and drifted to the lodge like smoke from a hearthfire. Ceri’s scream pierced the

peace of the lodge.

“The Romans return!” Enfys cried.

The water from the tub sloshed over the sides as the girls tried to scramble from its depths.

“No!” I spoke sharply. My tone caused the girls to stop flailing in the water and stare at me with wide, panicked eyes. “Think!

Romans would not keen over our dead.”

“’Tis too soon for the tribe to have returned. They should still be in hiding at the barrows.”

I nodded. Like Briallen, I knew where we would find the Iceni who had managed to escape into the woods. As soon as an Iceni

child could walk and talk, he or she was taught the way to the Chief’s Barrow and memorized which of the hillocks that surround

it were burial mounds and which were hollowed sanctuaries that waited to succor the tribe in a time of need.

I met Briallen’s gaze. “I will whistle if they are friends. If I do not, get the girls out the back door and into the forest.

I will meet you at the barrow. Guard them.”

“With my life,” said my warrior.

As quietly as possible, I moved through my ravaged village toward the practice grounds and the keening of the many voices that lifted and fell from there. As I passed a goatherd’s hut that still smoldered, I got my first glimpse of the grounds. My breath whooshed from me in a wave of release as I whistled the distinctive song of the whippoorwill, signaling to Briallen that the visitors were friends. From the lodge came the answering birdcall. Satisfied that the girls knew they were safe, I hurried through the village.

The practice field was filled with people moving from one fallen Iceni elder to another. The people swayed side to side as

they keened in grief. They were cloaked in the blue, green, and brown colors of the three Druid orders.

Dizzy with relief, I staggered the rest of the way to the practice grounds. As the Druids caught sight of me, the keening

silenced and the cluster of people shifted. From the center of the group a tall man strode toward me, dressed in the white

robes that marked him as the revered high Druid. His voluminous garb was decorated with deep blue painted knots that appeared

to shift and change shape as he drew closer. His long, thick hair was as white as his robes. His face was clean-shaven, as

was the Druids’ custom, and tattooed with Ogham letters. I had known him my entire life, and though he had to be older than

Prasutagus at his death, his face was almost unlined. His familiar eyes were the gray of a stormy sea and ineffably sad as

he strode to me.

I bowed my head respectfully as he grasped my hands in greeting. “Queen Boudicca! Blessed Andraste has kept you safe! Do your

royal daughters live?”

“They do, though they have been gravely injured.” I lifted my head and spoke in a clear, strong voice that carried to each

of the raptly listening Druids. “They were violated by Roman soldiers while Catus Decianus did this to me.” I turned and shrugged

out of the linen tunic so that it fell down around my waist, exposing my ravaged back to the Druids. I heard their gasps of

shock as I stood still and proud, allowing each of them to stare at my wounds.

“But you did not leave the procurator unharmed.” A woman’s voice came from somewhere behind me. I did not need to see her

to know who spoke, and the wave of gladness that came with that recognition felt foreign in my grief-numbed body.

Gingerly I put my arms back through the tunic and turned. “No, I did not.”

She stepped out from the group of ovates, who wore robes of green. I had not seen her for sixteen years, but her hair was

still as pale as a full moon, which was startling because her eyes were dark as a fecund field. Her features had not seemed

to age and were as delicate as I remembered—though even as a child, Rhan, daughter of Addedomaros, chief of Tribe Trinovantes,

had commanded a strength that went far beyond the physical, just as her ability to see went far beyond the boundaries of this

world.

As Rhan approached me, I said, “I cursed Decianus and the monsters the Romans call soldiers with the vengeance of Andraste

and Brigantia.”

“And you, Boudicca, will fulfill that vengeance.”

“Yes, Rhan. I shall.”

Rhan’s expression softened with a hint of the impish smile I remembered so well. “It is good to see you again, though I wish

it was under different circumstances.”

“So do I, old friend. So do I.”

Rhan opened her arms and we embraced. For just a moment I allowed myself to take comfort from my childhood friend.