Page 117 of Boudicca

I did smile. “Just before he died, he asked me if he’d won and I told him yes.”

“You would have won,” said Maldwyn.

“I know.” I stood and held out my hand to him. “Come.” I led Maldwyn to his caravan and the bed pallet there that was piled thick with pelts and blankets.

That night Maldwyn made love to me with a tenderness I shall never forget. I shall also never forget how he woke from a nightmare before dawn, weeping and whispering the stallion’s name. I held him until, utterly spent, he finally slept deeply and dreamlessly.

***

I thought the lighting of Addedomaros’s pyre would flood me with memories of saying goodbye to my mother, but it did not. Though both were tragic, the chief’s death was so different from what had happened in Tasceni that I had no difficulty keeping the two separate. The pyre was just large enough to hold the bodies of Addedomaros and his stallion and the rich offerings his tribe sent with him to Annwn.

Rhan led the funeral, embracing her role as high Druid. The pyre was small enough that Adminius had only to step to it and light it with a torch, instead of shooting a fiery arrow into it, but he was still so filled with grief and, I suspected, guilt that he almost dropped the torch. I was standing close by and quickly steadied him. As the pyre lit, Adminius wept so brokenly that I began wishing I hadn’t offered to host the funeral feast. I was relieved when he, his lead warriors, and his father’s guard entered my cave lodge clear-eyed, with Adminius seemingly in control of his emotions.

As my temporary lodge wasn’t nearly as spacious as the Iceni royal home at Tasceni, there were considerably fewer warriors in attendance than there would normally be at a funeral feast for a chief. I had made sure several fat Iceni boars and goats had been slaughtered and gifted to the Trinovantes camp. It was still snowing, but cook fires lit the valley like giant glowworms, and the cold breeze was scented with roasting meat.

As I had no table long enough to accommodate Adminius and his warriors as well as my people, I’d had Wulffaed position four tables in a large square. I sat in the middle of one table, with Cadoc on my left and Maldwyn and Abertha beside him. To my right Rhan took the position of honor that was rightfully hers as high Druid. Beside her sat Adara, our only other Druid, and then Briallen. The two other tables that made up the square were populated by Comux, Leofric, and their lead warriors.

Wulffaed and her daughters served us. The group was mostly silent, which was unusual for a funeral feast. Even after the lighting of thepyre that held my mother and so many of our elders, the feast had been punctuated by stories of those who had journeyed to Annwn and laughter mixed with tears.

I cleared my throat and stood with my cup of Wulffaed’s mulled mead in my hand. “Addedomaros often vexed me with his stubbornness and his belief that he was never wrong.” I grinned to take any bite from my words and was glad when Mailcun smiled and nodded. “But I will miss our verbal sparring. I will also miss his big, booming laugh, which reminded me of my father. I can easily imagine Addedomaros, as young as he was when I fostered in his household all those years ago, sitting beside his beloved wife at Epona’s table, drinking and making merry in Annwn this very night. To Addedomaros, who was well loved and will be well missed!” When I raised my mug, shouts of“Aye, to Addedomaros!”echoed from the cave’s walls.

As I sat, Mailcun stood. The shield looked pale. His eyes, usually clear and expressive, were red and weary, but his smile was genuine when he lifted his mug. “I do not know if everyone here has heard, but our chief’s last words were...” Mailcun met my gaze and lifted his brows.

“‘Did I win?’” I said.

Mailcun waited until the laughter had faded before he finished. “And Queen Boudicca told our chief that he had, indeed, won the contest, sending him to the arms of Epona joyous with victory. To Addedomaros, who truly believed he could never be bested in any kind of race that included Trinovantes horseflesh!” As he drank, the room exploded in ayes and fists pounding tables.

That lightened the mood—until Adminius stood. The young man looked terrible. His face had aged decades in one day. His skin was sallow and loose. His eyes were puffy. He was, of course, wearing his best finery, and his hair had been combed and carefully pulled back and braided, but somehow he still was bedraggled and small. Carefully, I kept my eyes from Adminius’s neck, which was bare of the torque that would have proclaimed him chief of Tribe Trinovantes.

Beside me I felt Rhan stiffen.

Adminius raised his mug to me. “First, I would like to thankQueen Boudicca for her hospitality. She has proven herself not just ally but friend.”

I bowed my head slightly in acknowledgment as the room echoed his toast and drank.

“Next, I want to make it official that I will not change the lead warrior choices my father made.” Adminius glanced at the men who sat on either side of him, nodding at each of them, though they made no response. Adminius, who seemed oblivious to their silence, continued. “Especially you, shield of the Trinovantes.” He nodded to Mailcun. “Your place should always be at the right hand of the chief, thus you will remain there when I wear the torque.” Adminius raised his mug again. “To my father, who was victorious in life as in death!”

There was a subdued response to Adminius’s toast, and Rhan released a long breath as her brother sat and then leaned close to me to whisper, “I’d hoped he would not force the issue tonight, but as he has, I must speak.”

A chill fingered down my spine as Rhan stood, and the room instantly went silent. I knew what was happening. I’d experienced it. Twice. Though the first time differed dramatically from the second. When Prasutagus died, Derwyn presented me with my queen’s torque during his funeral feast,afterPrasutagus’s shield and senior warriors had consulted with the high Druid and all had been in agreement that I was to lead the Iceni.

The second time had been unusual, but I had not initiated my naming as a wartime queen. The goddess Andraste had gifted me with Prasutagus’s torque. The wearing of a torque is always the decision of the tribe and the high Druid—or of the tribe’s patron goddess or god—and never of the prospective chief or queen. I knew why Rhan had stood and what she would say, though the knowing did not make it any easier.

“Adminius, son of Addedomaros, as high Druid it falls to me to tell you that your lead warriors and I have not yet decided who will wear the Trinovantes torque.”

Absolute silence followed her words. I felt Cadoc stir beside me to put his hand on the dagger he always wore sheathed around his waist.The chiefs of the Dobunni and Catuvellauni tensed, as did Mailcun and the other Trinovantes warriors.

My gaze went to Adminius as I, too, readied myself for one of the explosions of temper for which he was so well known.

“Of course! Of course, good sister.” Adminius’s smile appeared guileless. “Forgive me for speaking of such things too soon. You are correct. Tonight we remember my father. We can discuss the torque and who should wear it later. Wulffaed! I’d like more of your excellent mulled mead. Tonight, I drink not just for myself but for my father—and that is certainly a mighty task.”

Wulffaed hurried to fill his mug as the room released a collective sigh of relief. Losing a chief unexpectedly was difficult enough on a tribe, but to lose him and then have to deal with infighting over his torque would be doubly tragic.

The Dobunni chief stood next, telling a story about when he’d traded with Addedomaros for several unbroken yearlings, and now those yearlings had proven to be the swiftest, though most headstrong, horses in their herd—obviously reflecting the attributes of the Trinovantes chief.

Surreptitiously, I watched Adminius as the warriors drank more and more and told story after story about his father. He appeared to be increasingly drunk, slouching and slurring his words, buthe drank almost nothing. Oh, he seemed to be drinking, and Wulffaed refilled his mug often. Only I noticed that Adminius spilled more mead than he drank, and when he thought no one watched he would tip his mug, pouring it under the table.

I leaned close to Rhan and lowered my voice. “Your brother’s drunkenness is a ruse.”