Page 137 of Boudicca

“Bou-dic-ca! Bou-dic-ca! Bou-dic-ca!”

Their belief in me made me stand tall. Whatever was to come, I would face it with my people. I drove through my army, buoyed by their cheers, until I was in front of them on the flat valley that opened to the death marching toward us. I turned my back to the approaching Romans and faced my people.

Cadoc was there, waiting in his chariot, looking like a wrathful god of war in his stag-horn helmet. His smile was a baring of teeth. His driver held the Iceni carnyx at the ready. Abertha had moved from her mount to another chariot. I knew she and Cadoc would frame me during the battle. It comforted me.

Stretching out along the first row of warriors were the other three chiefs and their shields. Comux, Leofric, and Mailcun bowed to me and then took up the cheer with the rest of the army.

“Bou-dic-ca! Bou-dic-ca! Bou-dic-ca!”

I drove Ennis and Finley back and forth along the front line of the army as my girls raised their fists and shouted with the warriors before I chose a spot in the center of the valley and halted my team. I caught sight of Maldwyn. He was standing beside Rhan. They’d dismounted and I could see that their heads were tilted together.

“Mama.” Ceri tugged on my cape so that I glanced down at her. She did not sound frightened. All she said was, “Behind us I can see the sun shining on the Romans’ shields.”

“Don’t look at them, little dove. They are nothing.” I bent and kissed her and Enfys. Then I straightened and raised my hand. The army went silent. Above me a dozen ravens swooped low, gliding over my chariot and over the army to take up perches in the trees surrounding the valley. My people cheered. I raised my hand again and they went silent. I drew a deep breath and pitched my voice so it would carry.

“Britons, though we are of different tribes, we are one people, fighting for one reason, with a combined spirit the Romans have never understood, nor will ever understand! They are a people drivenby an insatiable need for more, more, more! They do not come to this valley to fight for their freedom or to save their homeland or even to protect their daughters.” I spread my arms to encircle Enfys and Ceri. “Romans prefer to rape daughters, slaughter elders, and enslave warriors.

“We know better! We are here for one reason—to reclaim our freedom! Rome has given us no choice in this war. If we do not fight they will erase us, obliterate our customs, thieve our gods, and subjugate us, making us slaves in our own lands.

“I will not be enslaved! I will not be erased! Will you?”

“NO!”the army roared.

Rhan stepped out from the front line. She held a long spear and danced toward my chariot, whirling and spinning, stomping and leaping, as she twirled the spear. Her white-blond hair lifted around her with her high Druid robes. When she reached my chariot, she faced the army and began pounding the spear rhythmically against the ground. The army echoed her with their own spears until the whole valley shook with the heartbeat of our people.

“Today we fight!”I spoke in time with the heartbeat.“Today we shall be free—either in death or in victory!”

As the army chanted my name, I bent to my daughters. “Go with Briallen now. Be brave. Do as she says. I love you.” I kissed both girls.

Briallen raced up on a horse, leading two more, but before Enfys followed Ceri from the chariot, she looked up at me with eyes far older than her years and said, “Mama, you won’t let anything happen to the babe, will you?”

Her words almost broke me. “You need not worry about the babe or me, my darling. All will be well.”

Enfys nodded somberly before she jumped from the chariot to scramble aboard her mount. My gaze followed my girls until they were lost in the crowd.

Then Rhan said, “Remember. I have prepared.” She mounted Tân, whom Maldwyn had led to us, and galloped out of sight.

Maldwyn jumped nimbly into the cart beside me. Cadoc and Abertha took their places on either side of us. Finally, we turnedthe chariots to face the mouth of the valley. The Roman legions were there. The rising sun glistened off their golden sigils and shields and armor. They seemed to stretch on endlessly, a dangerous tide of crimson and gold and bronze. I let my gaze scan the steep slopes of the hills that trapped us. Above us, exactly where Deorwine had said she would be, was Cartimandua. She was caught in a ray of sunlight that illuminated her so well that I could see the lift of her strong jaw and the steel in her eyes as she stared out at the Romans. She sat on a huge black horse and held the familiar sigil of Tribe Brigantes, a black banner with Brigantia’s flame emblazoned in gold across it. The butt of the pole that held it rested against her thigh, waiting to be raised. Her words echoed from my memory.I will allow the Romans to enter the valley. They will believe it is your arrogance that has trapped you. I will raise and wave the Brigantes sigil, which will signal my army to attack. Then it will be the Romans whose arrogance has trapped them.

The Romans called out a command, pulling my attention from the Brigantes queen. I expected the legions to march forward, shields locked, but instead they remained outside the valley, waiting and watching.

“What are they doing?” Cadoc asked. “Shall we take them by the hand and lead them into battle?”

I had no answer except for the terrible chill crawling along my spine and up my neck, causing my skin to prickle. Suddenly panicked shouts and screams came to us before we heard the pounding of hooves and the distinctive creaking of wagons. And then our family-filled caravans, which had been hidden, tucked along the far slope of the hills, where they should have been safe, poured into our valley—driven by Roman legions.

“Oh, goddess!” Maldwyn choked the words out.

My stomach tightened with rage and dread as our terrified families joined us in our trap.

“Sound the carnyx!” I told Cadoc. Screaming the Iceni war cry, we thundered forward.

Chapter XLIII

All was chaos. The entrance to the valley was wide and flat, which made it easy to see Roman legionnaires overrunning every caravan except for the few that had already made it to us and slipped behind our chariots and cavalry to head for the rear of the valley. The Romans cut down our wagons like wheat before a scythe. We heard the screams of our families even above the thunder of our chariots and the clash of swords and shields.

We tried to reach them, tried to slip around or push beyond our caravans and put ourselves between them and the Romans, but there were too many of us—an explosion of people. The wagons clogged the mouth of the valley. The Romans waded through them, slaughtering elders and children, farmers and weavers, shepherds and cooks.

And then the Roman soldiers pushed wagons and bodies aside just enough for them to march into the valley in formation, shields locked, weapons ready. But they did not remain in strict, immutable formation. The legions had learned and adapted. Their locked-shield phalanx broke into smaller, movable sections. Like deadly serpents, they undulated across the valley, bringing death with every strike as they encircled pockets of wagons and groups of our warriors—closing on them, absorbing them, obliterating them. Their long spears kept our chariots from breaking through their lines. Their shields kept our arrows from reaching them.