Page 146 of Boudicca

The people of Tribe Caereni were strong and honest. Like Briallen and Bryn, they laughed easily and often. Famous for their fishing skills and the intricate knot work created by their artists, the tribe was well respected and prosperous. The women of the tribe welcomed me warmly. They even adopted the tradition of Arianell’s Day. I would never be Caereni, but I could easily appreciate their tribal pride. It made me miss Tasceni deeply.

Ulapul was framed by rolling mountains, beautiful and craggy, covered with heather. I liked to explore them, finding some peace as I walked ancient sheep paths. It was on a ridge overlooking the village that I found a large rock shaped like a raven. As the babe grew and the days became shorter and colder, I took to daily walking thepath to what I thought of as Andraste’s rock. I would leave offerings there to my goddess—brightly colored shells, feathers, bowls of milk and honey, choice pieces of succulent fried fish. I spoke to Andraste there, telling her the things I could not say to anyone else. How much I missed my life, my people, my home, my loves. How unmoored I continued to be. And how very much I wanted to know that she forgave me.

Andraste did not answer. She gave no sign. It was as if I’d never been her Victory.

I understood. Truly I did. I’d lost. The Romans had defeated me, and through me all of Britain. Only Caledonia was out of their grasp, but every tribesman and -woman in the Highlands prepared. Rome would come. They always did. Perhaps Caledonia would fall, too. I’d opened the door to their invasion when I’d failed Andraste. I could easily imagine the goddess’s disappointment in me. It could not have been greater than the disappointment I felt in myself.

Samhain neared. Harvest was complete. Snow was in the air and whitening the mountains. I awakened early from a dream I could not remember, but from which I woke speaking Andraste’s name. By now the babe was so large I could not get comfortable. Restlessly I paced the roundhouse I shared with my daughters and Briallen. Then, not wanting to awaken them, I draped a heavy fur-lined cloak around me, poured mead in a wooden bowl, and went out into a world turned gray. Fog had wafted in from the port, thick and blanketing. I was glad I’d walked the path to Andraste’s rock so many times that I did not worry about finding my way, even in the breath of the dragon.

The breath of the dragon...

I wished for my sword as a chill fingered down my spine and pain tightened my belly. I grimaced and rubbed where the babe kicked against my rib.They’re just practice contractions, preparing me for the birth, and the fog is just fog—not the breath of a dragon, not sent by Andraste—and there are no Romans hiding within it.

I took several long breaths and kept walking. It felt good to move, though I had to pause often as my stomach tightened. By the time I reached Andraste’s rock I could not deny that the pains were wellbeyond practice. The babe was coming. I didn’t fear the birth. Enfys and Ceri had been born with no problems. There was no reason for me to worry that this babe would not be the same.

Another wave of pain gripped me. I leaned against Andraste’s rock and forced myself to breathe deeply, steadily.

My mother isn’t here. She will not be here to comfort me during the birth. She will not be here to greet her newest grandchild. This birth will not be the same as my other two.

Still I did not start back for the village. I leaned against Andraste’s rock, yearning for my mother and wishing for my goddess. As the sun lifted over the horizon it burned off the fog and I was mesmerized by the colors that painted the sky. It was as if I’d never seen such vibrant pinks and blues, yellows and oranges.

Then with a jolt I realized that Ihadseen those colors before—the last time I’d seen the breath of the dragon—in Annwn. My heartbeat thundered in my ears and my hand found the part of the boulder that formed the raven’s beak. I caressed it as if it were alive.Had I been compelled here today?

Between contractions, I poured the bowl of mead around the boulder and then leaned against it again as another wave of pain crested and broke over me. I wiped the damp hair from my face. Over the past several months it had grown, and now the ends dusted my shoulders. I shook it back, wishing I’d thought to tie it up before I’d left. No matter. I should return and have Briallen go for the healer.

I pushed off the rock, took a step, and liquid gushed from between my legs, followed by pain that clawed at me and took me to my knees. Panting, I rode the wave and then tried to struggle to my feet, slipped in the bloody wetness that soaked the ground beneath me, and fell hard on my knees, gasping at the jolt.

Another contraction threatened to drown me in pain, and my body bowed as I struggled to breathe. When it released me I was too weak to stand. All I could do was shiver and pant with my face pressed against the wet ground.

A sob escaped my throat. And then another. And another. Before the next contraction pulled me under, I cried a single, beseeching word:“Andraste!”

Pain tunneled my vision. I made a guttural sound, more animal than human, as the contraction tore through my body.

I have to move. I have to get back to the village.

I tried to stand again and made it to my feet in time to hear wings flutter behind me. I turned to see a raven had perched on Andraste’s rock. If I dared I could reach out and stroke its ebony beak as I had the rock moments before. Another contraction engulfed me, and the strength in my legs dissolved. I fell to my knees again. Staring up at the raven, I panted through the pain. When it released me I sobbed my agony to the creature.

“Tell Andraste I’m sorry! I ask that she forgive me. I know I failed her. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” My tears mixed with snot and sweat. I rested my forehead against the rock, glad of its coolness.

“There is nothing to forgive, my Victory.”

With a gasp I looked up. Standing on the rock was the goddess. She wore a woad-blue dress embroidered with silver knots that interlinked to form ravens. Her cloak was made of black feathers that glistened in the rising sun.

“Andraste!” I sobbed. “I’m so sorry. They’re dead. The Iceni. Our people. Because of me. They’re dead.”

“No, child. They are not dead because of you. They are dead because of betrayal and the greed of Rome. Neither was caused by you, my Victory.”

“How can you call me that? I failed you. I wasn’t victorious. I lost. We lost. Britain is ruled by Rome.”

Andraste bent and brushed my sweat-soaked hair back from my face. “Oh, my darling, my Victory, you have not failed me. You planted a seed that will root and grow until it becomes mightier than the tallest sacred oak and spreads farther than even the grasses surrounding our Tasceni. And when finally that seed is harvested, it will sustain a nation, our nation. Britain will throw off the yoke ofRome and become mighty.”The goddess spread wide her arms so that the raven-wing cloak became a veil.“Behold!”

Through Andraste’s cloak, I saw the future. I witnessed how my country, my people, changed but survived and thrived. Generation after generation stretched out before me, so different, and yet their spirit remained—strong and free.

When the vision faded I looked through tears up at Andraste. “But they will have forgotten you.”

The goddess smiled. “No. Every time they stand together, they remember me and embody you, my beloved Victory.” The goddess bent and took my face between her hands. She kissed me as she had on that first day, like a mother, on my forehead, on each cheek, and finally on my lips. Then she said, “To show my love for you, I shall gift you with the same—love.” Then the goddess straightened, raised her arms to the sky, and with a wild cry became a raven that circled me three times before disappearing into the eastern horizon.

I squinted as she seemed to fly into the rising sun, and then my eyes closed as I was engulfed in another tide of pain. When it finally released me, I was dazed. Andraste had left me here, alone, to birth my child. I drew several long breaths, in and out, trying to calm the panic that clawed at me along with the pain I knew would come again and again and again.