Page 9 of Boudicca

At first the people returned slowly, trickling from the forest in a weak stream. They were the ones who had been too desperately

wounded to make their way to the safety of the barrows. Many of them collapsed as they reached the field—some from their injuries

and some from the despair of discovering their queen’s mother and so many of their elders dead. I supervised the arrangement

of pallets in the main room of the lodge. It was there that they were brought, tended, and comforted.

As night darkened the village, cook fires were lit as well as campfires all around the field. The stables were the only building

that had been burned to the ground. Its location was far enough away from the farmers’ huts that the fire had not spread to

Tasceni. The procurator’s haste to leave hadn’t allowed the Romans time to pillage the village properly, and the damage they’d

done was minor, though they had needlessly killed many of the pigs and several of the goats. The tribe’s herd of cattle had

been grazing in a forest meadow off the northern side of the village and had been left completely untouched. Soon the homey

scents of roasting pork and goat cut through the despair that hung heavy over Tasceni. And then from the forest spilled the

rest of the tribe. Some rode in the Druids’ wagon, but the majority of the Iceni, silent and somber, walked back to their

village.

The Druids had been hard at work building an enormous funeral pyre in the place of the wooden stake to which I had been bound

before I was whipped. They had quickly erected simple shelters with roofs of ferns and sides draped in strips of braided hemp

cloth. It was inside those shelters that they bathed and prepared the bodies for the pyre.

“Queen Boudicca!”

I turned at the sound of the familiar voice, and Phaedra rushed into my arms, weeping with relief.

“We were so afraid the Romans had killed you too!” Phaedra clung to me and sobbed.

“Andraste kept me safe. My mother died honorably protecting her granddaughters.” I held the girl at arm’s length. “Are you

wounded?”

Phaedra shook her head. “No, when you commanded I flee, I slipped out the back of the lodge and into the forest. The Romans

did not care about us. They did not seem to care about anything except you and the girls.” Phaedra pressed her hand to her

throat and gasped. “The girls! Are they—”

“Alive,” I interrupted. “Though they were brutalized by the Romans.”

“Oh, goddess!” Phaedra spat on the ground. “May their cocks shrivel and their balls turn black with rot.”

“I have much worse planned for them. But now my daughters need rest and stability. Find my other attendants and have them

go to the lodge. Enfys and Ceri sleep, but they will need tending, and it would best be done by familiar faces.”

“Of course.” Phaedra hugged me again and then bowed quickly before hurrying off.

I continued to move through the village, stopping at each hut to speak to my devastated people. Tasceni was awash with tears

and sorrow, but I made myself a bright brand of hope and strength and comfort to the Iceni. I missed my mother with every

step and in every moment. Arianell should have been there beside me, lending her healing arts and compassion to the tribe

she had loved so very much.

I will not weep for Arianell. Not until I am alone. My people need a queen, not a grieving daughter.

As the deep of night settled over the village, I made my way once again to the warriors’ practice grounds and the largest,

grandest of the preparation structures. The Druids had hung cloth dyed in Iceni blue to create walls. Sacred mistletoe was

draped along the roofline. The front of the structure was open and the fire that burned before it lent a somber golden light

within.

I hesitated outside the tent and could not force my feet forward. I could see that there was a body on a crude table in the center of the hut, and a dark silhouette worked over it. I knew it was foolish. My mother was dead. I had closed her clouding eyes. But it suddenly felt as if it would be too real, too permanent, if I entered the preparation chamber.

“Come in, Boudicca. You are welcome here.”

Rhan’s voice made me jump, but it also compelled me to enter the hut.

Arianell was covered almost to her shoulders with a piece of cloth much like the woad-colored strips that hung from the sides

of the structure. Her eyes were closed, and two smooth, round river stones had been placed over them. The killing stroke from

the Roman’s blade was covered by the shroud, and Mother appeared to be sleeping. Her long silver hair hung down over the edge

of the table. Rhan stood there, at her head. She was braiding Arianell’s hair into an elaborate crown.

Rhan’s sad smile did not reach her eyes. “After I finish with your mother’s hair I planned on painting her body, but as you

are here now it is appropriate that you do it.”

I ignored the horrible, empty feeling in my stomach. “I would like that. Very much.”

“The pot is there, by her feet.”

Wordlessly, I took the pot, noting that beside it was a fine painting brush made with clipped horsehair bristles, much like

the one I had used to decorate my own face. I dipped the brush in the pot of indigo dye made from simmering bilberries, black

beans, and purple cabbage, which had been cooled and thickened. It was the exact color of our woad-dyed clothes. Then I joined

Rhan at my mother’s head. Rhan paused in the braiding of Arianell’s hair to fold down the cloth, baring Arianell’s chest and

arms.

I hesitated. “I—I am not sure what to paint.”

“Think of what was dear to your mother. Brigantia will guide your hand.”

Rhan spoke with such certainty that my hesitation evaporated, and I began painting symbols of the Iceni on Arianell’s forehead, like those on my own, which had brought my tribe comfort as I greeted their sad homecoming that night.

From her forehead I moved to Arianell’s chest, where I painted Brigantia’s symbol, the head of a stag, in the center between

her breasts, with massive antlers that covered each of her shoulders, the tips of which would decorate her pale neck.

As I painted the elaborate image, a great sense of peace came over me. Anointing my mother’s body was an intimate thing, a

beautiful thing—a thing that I did with love and care and the bittersweet understanding that this was the last time I was

going to touch her, care for her, be a daughter to her. I worked slowly, patiently. I was not the artist my mother had been,

but I did have some skill in creating the symbols that were such an important part of our lives, and as they took form I felt

as if Arianell was close by, watching with approval.

“She is, you know.” Rhan had returned to braiding my mother’s hair.

“Can you hear everyone’s thoughts now, or still just mine?”

“I remember telling you many times that I could not truly hear your thoughts; I could only guess them as I studied your face.

But, yes, my skill has improved over the past years.”

“She is really here?” I asked the question with a voice that was soft with seeking.

“Your mother is close. I can feel her presence. As we get nearer to Beltane the veil between the Otherworld, Annwn, and our

world, Arbred, becomes thinner and thinner—and Arianell is of the newly dead. She will remain close until her pyre is lit,

and perhaps even after, be it the will of her goddess.”

“I want to make her proud.”

“If you do what is best for your people, you will make her proud.”

“But how do I know what is best for us? My husband thought he knew, and he gave us away to the Romans. He was older, wiser,

and had led us for decades—yet still he chose poorly.”

“Prasutagus did not heed the signs sent to him by Andraste.”

I looked up from my work to see Derwyn standing just inside the open front of the preparation room. I met his gray gaze and spoke the truth.

“The hare was the first omen. Its death was meant to show Prasutagus what would happen if he made Rome co-regent with me.”

“Indeed.” Derwyn nodded slightly. “You see the proof of that before you.”

I turned my gaze back to the symbols I was drawing on my dead mother’s body but continued to speak to the high Druid.

“Andraste sent Prasutagus another sign. Just before he made the treaty with Rome, an eagle slew a raven and dropped it at

his feet in this very field, almost exactly where the procurator tied me to the post and flogged me. Mere paces from where

our girls were brutalized.”

“Prasutagus did not tell me of this second sign, but I observed the first one.”

“I remember. I was there that day. Could you not have warned him?”

“I interpreted the omen accurately!” The Druid’s voice filled the hut, raising the hairs on my forearms with its power. “It

was Prasutagus who would not listen, who refused to see and only believed a truth he had already chosen!”

I lifted my head and met the Druid’s gaze again. It took all of my will not to flinch and allow my eyes to dart away. I am queen of the mighty Iceni, consecrated by the Druids, chosen by my people, blessed by our goddess. I will not be cowed by any mortal man. But Derwyn was not a normal mortal, and it was all I could do to meet his gaze. I could not form the words to defend a husband

who had been so purposefully blind, no matter how much I had loved him.

The Druid sighed and the small structure returned to normal. Derwyn was, once again, familiar and kind. “You forget yourself

in your grief or you would know that I have always spoken truth to the chiefs and queens of the great tribes.”

“Andraste showed it to me. My husband ignored the goddess’s signs.”

“So you did visit Annwn today,” Rhan said.

I glanced up at her. “I did. I was compelled there by Andraste and led by Brigantia’s stag.”

“The queen of the Iceni was named Victory by the goddess of war at her birth.” Derwyn nodded slowly. “I have known you were

to be queen since that day. And now I know that you will also lead us against the Romans.”

“I will right the wrong my husband did,” I said.

“The goddess will send sign to show the people you are her choice to lead them into battle,” said Derwyn.

Silently, I returned to painting my mother’s body, but the weight of my husband’s torque hidden in the bag that rested against

my hip reminded me that Andraste already had sent sign.

“It is late. The village has settled for the night,” Derwyn said. “The Druids and I will keep watch over the dead and finish

the preparation of the pyre. Rest tonight, Boudicca. Tomorrow the warriors will arrive.”

I almost said that I wasn’t sure I could ever sleep again, but Rhan’s question interrupted my thoughts.

“Derwyn, has Gar returned from the fen yet?”

“I do not believe so,” Derwyn said. He cocked his head and studied Rhan. “What have you seen?”

“It is more a feeling than a vision, but he will return with news that could change everything.”

“What do you mean could change everything?” I asked my friend.

Rhan moved her shoulders restlessly. “That is all the goddess has allowed me—and the knowledge that the rest will be up to

you.”

And suddenly I felt unimaginably weary, so much so that my hand trembled as I painted the last line on my mother.

Gently, Rhan took the brush from me. “I will finish the queen’s preparation. As Derwyn said, you must rest.”

“Rhan, there was a servant whose body lay beside Mother’s when you found her. I would ask that she be anointed by you as well.”

I wiped a shaky hand across my brow.

“Ancient Dafina? I remember her well. She was ever at your mother’s side,” said Rhan.

I nodded. “She died at her side.”

“Then she shall be anointed as I would another queen mother, and she will be close beside Arianell on the pyre. Now, my friend,

go. Rest. You must ready yourself for tomorrow,” insisted Rhan.

“But you need a dress for Mother and...” My mind was a muddle and my words faded.

Derwyn’s voice took up the thread of my weary thoughts. “I shall walk with you to the lodge. You may give me your mother’s

robes. I will return them here.”

“Yes. Thank you.” I turned to Rhan. “She looks beautiful. Your preparation of my mother has been perfect.”

“ Our preparation,” Rhan said, and bowed her head to me respectfully as Derwyn escorted me from the silent tent.

***

“How many are dead?” I asked the Druid as we walked through the quiet village.

“Seventy elders, three children, one mother, and twenty-five warriors in their prime. The healers say that three more mothers

are likely to enter Annwn before dawn.”

“They will be good company for my mother and the others.” I tried to sound strong and sure, but my voice shook with grief

and exhaustion. So many daughters and sons had been made motherless today.

“They will, indeed. There will be feasting and merriment in the Otherworld tomorrow.” Derwyn rested his hand lightly on my

shoulder as we walked. “Do not despair, Queen Boudicca. They fought well and died protecting their queen and their people.

Their welcome to Annwn is assured and eventually they will be reborn new again, with the pain of their violent departure from

this lifetime left behind.”

“I know all of that. It is just so much loss... so soon after...” My words faltered and then trailed away as grief usurped

my voice.

“Focus on the living. You have much left to do.” Derwyn stopped, and his pressure on my shoulder halted me as well. “I found this not far from the stake in the practice field. I thought that you should have it as I believe you will make good use of it.”

From inside his white robes Derwyn brought forth the procurator’s pugio. The blade gleamed in the dim light. I stared at it

and for a moment was unable to move. And then I took it from the Druid and gripped it with enough strength to whiten my knuckles.

“I believe I will, too.” I opened the flap of my leather satchel and slid it within, where it rested next to the heavy golden

torque.

Silently we continued our trek through the village. Soon we’d come to the doors of the lodge, which had been closed against

the night. I was surprised to see Briallen, dressed in a fresh Queen’s Guard tunic, holding a spear and shield and standing

at her post beside the doors.

“Briallen! You should be resting with the girls.”

“The bairns sleep. Adara said they will not stir until after dawn. I will stand here until the rest of your guard relieves

me.”

I opened my mouth to protest, and then thought better of it and replied like a queen worthy of such loyalty. “I will sleep

well knowing that you watch over us.”

Briallen’s one good eye shimmered with tears, but they did not fall. The warrior only bowed stiffly and then returned to her

watchful stance.

“I’ll have my servant, Phaedra, bring Mother’s robes to you. Thank you—for all of this,” I said to Derwyn.

Derwyn inclined his head but said nothing. My body felt leaden and I had to move slowly through the lodge so as not to stumble.

The main room was littered with pallets that held the most gravely wounded. I stopped and spoke to each person who was conscious,

and touched the foreheads of those who were slipping toward Annwn. The Druids in their forest-colored cloaks were night birds,

flitting silently from person to person.

In my bedchamber, Phaedra rose from her pallet instantly, rushing to me. “It is so late! I was afraid you would never rest.

Let me undress you and comb out your hair. I brought cheese and bread and smoked meat for you. Have you eaten at all?”

“Go to Mother’s room—quietly, so that the girls do not wake. Gather the green plaid dress woven with the blue that matched her eyes and also the cloak of green with the stag stitched in gold on it. Do you remember?”

“I do.”

“Take her favorite cuffs, the ones decorated with Brigantia’s flames, and the necklace with the largest emeralds set in gold.

Give them to the lead Druid, who waits outside the lodge.”

“I will do as you command. Then I will return to help you.”

“Thank you, Phaedra.” On impulse, I hugged the girl who had served me for more than a decade, and Phaedra clung to me as she

sobbed quietly. “Go now.” I gently unwrapped myself from the young woman’s embrace and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Arianell

is waiting to be dressed.”

“Yes, my queen.” Phaedra bowed deeply to me before she hurried from the queen’s chamber.

Adara’s salve still numbed my back enough that I was able to unlace the dress without help and slip on a soft tunic to sleep

in. I meant to eat and to wait for Phaedra to return to brush out my hair but instead sank onto my bed. Unable to keep my

eyes open a moment longer, I finally was able to allow sleep to take me away.