Page 122 of Boudicca

“Then yes, I will join you,” I said.

***

The sun had just lifted above the snowy tree line when the solemn group of Trinovantes warriors approached the one entrance to our valley. Rhan and I, with my shield and lead warriors, had already arrived. We waited by the valley pass, which through a lot of daily work from all of the tribes had been kept clear enough of the seemingly never-ending snow that one horse could fit through it at a time. The only cleared path from our valley swept around the forest edge and then wound down to the peat bog, so that our supply of wood and peat would not be cut off. Past that, the world was a wall of white.

There was one horse in the Trinovantes procession. It was loaded with packs and was led by a stony-faced Miburga.

“I feel sorry for the horse,” muttered Cadoc. Maldwyn grunted in agreement.

Mailcun, whose new torque glittered around his thick neck in the weak morning light, walked between the horse and Adminius, followed by his Chief’s Guard. Adminius wore layers of woolen clothes and had a thick fur-lined cloak fastened tightly around his shoulders. The cut on his cheek blazed scarlet against the sallowness of his face. I’d expected him to beg, or at the very least argue angrily with Mailcun, but Adminius had set his jaw. His lips were pressed together and his eyes were bright with rage. As they approached, every member of Tribe Trinovantes turned his or her back to Adminius, silently showing that he was dead to them and they supported their new chief.

The group reached us and halted. Adminius mounted without help.

“Adminius, son of Addedomaros, you are hereby banished from Tribe Trinovantes. Should you be found in our lands, your life will be forfeit.” Mailcun’s deep voice rang with authority.

Adminius didn’t so much as look at him. He clucked to the horse, who sloughed through the snowy pass. We watched him follow the cleared path. I wondered what would happen to him and thought what a waste it was that his life should come to this. He had just reached the spot in the cleared path where it dipped down and out of sight when he pulled the horse to a halt and then reined it to face us. He glared back at us, meeting my gaze.

“You will be sorry!” Adminius shouted. He spat into the snow, whirled the horse around, and dug his heels into its flanks so that it galloped off.

“A petulant child to the end,” said Cadoc.

“Aye,” agreed Maldwyn.

My sword master shook her head as she turned away. “The winter will end him, and I say good riddance.”

Rhan said nothing. She stared out at the path long after her brother had disappeared from sight, her expression stony and dry-eyed.

Chapter XXXIX

The winter solstice came and went during a blinding snowstorm. Yule logs were decorated, added to hearthfires and watched all that longest night of the year so that their flames did not extinguish until the sun was reborn at dawn. Addedomaros’s death had left a pall over the army, though all were in agreement that Mailcun was an excellent choice as the new chief and his banishment of Adminius was just. But before the accident the camp had felt lighter, joyful—and now the joy seemed to have fled with the sun.

Imbolc approached, the beginning of lambing, which heralded lengthening days and the much anticipated spring thaw. But I worried that my army had lost its heart, which held a special irony for me as that winter I found my heart.

I hadn’t been so content since I was a child in Isurium, running wild through the forests surrounding the royal home of Tribe Brigantes, dearly loved by my mother and father.

My daughters thrived. When the weather allowed, Cadoc took them with him on quick hunting expeditions into the forest near the valley. They always returned with cheeks pink with cold, smiles stretching their faces, and stories about how their wolves had aided them in hunting whatever they’d tracked and killed. The girls and their wolves had grown tall and strong—and continued to train with the warriors. I, too, trained almost daily. I loved the strength of my muscles and my speed and balance, and my lead warriors continued to push the limits of my abilities so that I consistently got stronger and faster.

I enjoyed the weekly Arianell’s Day, bonding even more completely with the women of my tribe as we celebrated Andraste, our elders, and the power of our matriarchy. Wulffaed continued to make my cave lodge not just comfortable but cheerful—no matter thesobriety of the rest of the camp, my lodge was often filled with the sounds of happy women and healthy children.

And then there was the joy Rhan and Maldwyn brought me. Their love warmed that long, cold winter so much that as the days slowly began to lengthen, I secretly wished for a late spring. The two of them contented me. I took both to my bed. Not both at once—though I silently admitted to myself I would enjoy that. I did not broach the subject with either of my lovers. Not because they were jealous or possessive. On the contrary, Rhan and Maldwyn honestly liked one another. The three of us spent many late nights happily drinking fireside and telling stories. The full truth was that I did not want to do anything to threaten the balance between us and our happiness.

That winter would have been perfect had the somber mood of the rest of the army been lifted. I worried about morale and wished all of my people could know the contentment I had found.

It was a night just about a fortnight before Imbolc, when Cadoc joined Rhan, Maldwyn, and me under the guise of wanting to taste Wulffaed’s new batch of mead, that the solution came to me.

Cadoc took a long drink from his mug, wiped his beard with the back of his hand, and grinned at Wulffaed. “Aye, well, you have outdone yourself again, Mother of Twenty.”

Wulffaed huffed, though her eyes sparkled with pleasure. “You say that every time you drink my mead.”

“Because it is true!” bellowed the shield.

“Well, I’d better get you some bread and cheese to soak it up, as you’re drinking enough for several old shields,” groused Wulffaed, though her smile softened her words.

As Wulffaed hurried off, Cadoc’s expression sobered. He cleared his throat, pulling my attention from the tunic I was embroidering with deep-blue ravens. “Queen Boudicca, it might be a good idea to invite Mailcun and perhaps the other chiefs to your lodge to share in some of these evenings with you.”

My brow furrowed. “But they break their fasts with me—with all of us, in addition to Abertha and Briallen—almost every morning.”

“Aye.” He nodded contemplatively. “But that is more of a formalthing. A holdover from our morning war councils. This”—he gestured around us at the snug, warm cave, the friendly hearthfire, and the comradery that made the evenings so enjoyable—“is much more than a war council. It is a tribe, a family.” He blew out a long breath. “It’s peaceful, and I do not think the other chiefs are enjoying such peace.”