Page 131 of Boudicca

Joyously we marched east from our valley, moving ever forward on a tide of will and spirit and hope. We crossed into the territory of Tribe Cornovii as we headed to the Midlands and Watling Street, the long Roman road that bisected our country. Viroco, the Cornovii chief, welcomed us with an elaborate feast as we camped on our second night near Viroconium, the tribe’s royal city, located not far from Watling Street. From there we chose to stay off the Roman road and not chance an encounter with a stray centuria, though we did travel parallel to it in the forest, working our way southeast to where the Romans believed we could be trapped.

Each day, Rhan would break her fast with my lead warriors, the chiefs, and me—and then she would melt into the forest. Each night she would return to our campfire, ravenous and smelling of rosemary and mint, pine and apple blossoms, grasses, decay, and fertile earth—the scents of dreams and nightmares, Annwn and nwyfre.

After we’d feasted with the chief of Tribe Cornovii, Rhan lay beside me, stroking my hair. It was a night to ask quiet things and receive whispered answers. Sleepily I asked, “Can you tell me what it is you do, where it is you go, when you’re gone all day?”

Her hand stilled, but only for a moment. When Rhan answered, her voice was as soft as her caress. “I prepare.”

My eyes had been half-lidded and I’d been drowsy, but those two words had me coming fully awake. “You prepare for what?”

She sighed. “The future.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Worry serves no purpose. Your decision has been made. We head to battle the Roman legions. Doubt and worry are unproductive,” said Rhan firmly.

I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “But do you prepare for victory or defeat?”

“Both and neither. I weave between Annwn and Arbred, calling on our ancestors and Andraste to guide us, remain close to us, help us to strike true and to carry ourselves with honor—to make them proud.” She kissed me gently. “Andraste is near. So is Brigantia. Just this afternoon I saw her white stag.”

“That seems like a good omen,” I said.

Rhan kissed me again, this time more insistent than gentle, and we spoke no more that night.

As we continued on our march, more tribesmen and -women joined us. Cornovii, Corieltauvi, Demetae, Silures, and even warriors from as far north as Tribe Parisi added to our numbers, so that by day four Cadoc reported that as close as he could tell we had more than two hundred fifty thousand warriors and family members—all willing to fight for Britain’s freedom.

My army vastly outnumbered the Roman legions. The Fourteenth and the Twentieth would each have about five to six thousand men. Logically, what was left of the Ninth would join them, equaling another five thousand or so men. It seemed that we could not lose, but I was restless. I did not like that Queen Cartimandua was the key to our plan. Often, I reminded myself that at this moment Cartimandua and I wanted the same thing—the Romans driven from Britain. After the battle was won and the Romans were gone,thenCartimandua would be an enemy to anyone who did not bow to her as queen of Britain. Until then it served her to fight beside us.

It was early afternoon on the fourth day when Maldwyn galloped to me with one of our Iceni scouts beside him. I was riding at the head of the army between Cadoc and Rhan, and we halted immediately. The scout’s horse was dark with sweat, but the warrior’s eyes were bright and his smile was eager.

“Queen Boudicca!” Still astride, the scout bowed to me. “Tribe Brigantes is in position. Queen Cartimandua’s shield reports that the Fourteenth and Twentieth legions have taken the bait and are two days’ march from the Midlands valley.”

“Did you see Cartimandua’s army?” asked Cadoc.

“I did.” The scout nodded and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “They wait to the east of the valley and will be well within sight of the legions when they arrive. When we reach the valley Deorwine said he will show us exactly where our warriors and caravans should be positioned so that all will be ready for the trap.”

“You have done well,” I told the scout. “Care for your horse and yourself.”

“Thank you, my queen.”

“All seems to be going as Cartimandua planned,” said Maldwyn.

Cadoc snorted. “It wouldappearso.”

“You have doubts?” asked Rhan.

“Always,” Cadoc said. “It is uncomfortable to be bait.”

I smiled at the gruff old shield I’d come to care for deeply over the past year. “I would not worry overmuch, Iceni shield. Ourbaitis stronger by thousands of warriors than the Romans. Two legions cannot overcome us.” Absently, I placed my hand over my abdomen. “I believe the child I carry has made you worry more than Wulffaed.”

“Oh, aye,” said Cadoc. “The babe makes me worry.”

“The babe makes us all worry,” added Maldwyn.

I frowned at them. “I will not stay out of the battle.”

“We would not ask you to,” Cadoc said hastily.

“No, of course not,” said Maldwyn. His eyes had taken on the faraway look they got whenever we spoke of the child growing within me.