Page 17 of Boudicca

A keening lifted from the practice field and drifted to the lodge like smoke from a hearthfire. Ceri’s scream pierced the peace of the lodge.

“The Romans return!” Enfys cried.

The water from the tub sloshed over the sides as the girls tried to scramble from its depths.

“No!” I spoke sharply. My tone caused the girls to stop flailing in the water and stare at me with wide, panicked eyes. “Think! Romans would not keen over our dead.”

“’Tis too soon for the tribe to have returned. They should still be in hiding at the barrows.”

I nodded. Like Briallen, I knew where we would find the Iceni who had managed to escape into the woods. As soon as an Iceni child could walk and talk, he or she was taught the way to the Chief’s Barrow and memorized which of the hillocks that surround it were burial mounds and which were hollowed sanctuaries that waited to succor the tribe in a time of need.

I met Briallen’s gaze. “I will whistle if they are friends. If I do not, get the girls out the back door and into the forest. I will meet you at the barrow. Guard them.”

“With my life,” said my warrior.

As quietly as possible, I moved through my ravaged village toward the practice grounds and the keening of the many voices that lifted and fell from there. As I passed a goatherd’s hut that still smoldered,I got my first glimpse of the grounds. My breath whooshed from me in a wave of release as I whistled the distinctive song of the whippoorwill, signaling to Briallen that the visitors were friends. From the lodge came the answering birdcall. Satisfied that the girls knew they were safe, I hurried through the village.

The practice field was filled with people moving from one fallen Iceni elder to another. The people swayed side to side as they keened in grief. They were cloaked in the blue, green, and brown colors of the three Druid orders.

Dizzy with relief, I staggered the rest of the way to the practice grounds. As the Druids caught sight of me, the keening silenced and the cluster of people shifted. From the center of the group a tall man strode toward me, dressed in the white robes that marked him as the revered high Druid. His voluminous garb was decorated with deep blue painted knots that appeared to shift and change shape as he drew closer. His long, thick hair was as white as his robes. His face was clean-shaven, as was the Druids’ custom, and tattooed with Ogham letters. I had known him my entire life, and though he had to be older than Prasutagus at his death, his face was almost unlined. His familiar eyes were the gray of a stormy sea and ineffably sad as he strode to me.

I bowed my head respectfully as he grasped my hands in greeting. “Queen Boudicca! Blessed Andraste has kept you safe! Do your royal daughters live?”

“They do, though they have been gravely injured.” I lifted my head and spoke in a clear, strong voice that carried to each of the raptly listening Druids. “They were violated by Roman soldiers while Catus Decianus did this to me.” I turned and shrugged out of the linen tunic so that it fell down around my waist, exposing my ravaged back to the Druids. I heard their gasps of shock as I stood still and proud, allowing each of them to stare at my wounds.

“But you did not leave the procurator unharmed.” A woman’s voice came from somewhere behind me. I did not need to see her to know who spoke, and the wave of gladness that came with that recognition felt foreign in my grief-numbed body.

Gingerly I put my arms back through the tunic and turned. “No, I did not.”

She stepped out from the group of ovates, who wore robes of green. I had not seen her for sixteen years, but her hair was still as pale as a full moon, which was startling because her eyes were dark as a fecund field. Her features had not seemed to age and were as delicate as I remembered—though even as a child, Rhan, daughter of Addedomaros, chief of Tribe Trinovantes, had commanded a strength that went far beyond the physical, just as her ability to see went far beyond the boundaries of this world.

As Rhan approached me, I said, “I cursed Decianus and the monsters the Romans call soldiers with the vengeance of Andraste and Brigantia.”

“And you, Boudicca, will fulfill that vengeance.”

“Yes, Rhan. I shall.”

Rhan’s expression softened with a hint of the impish smile I remembered so well. “It is good to see you again, though I wish it was under different circumstances.”

“So do I, old friend. So do I.”

Rhan opened her arms and we embraced. For just a moment I allowed myself to take comfort from my childhood friend.

Chapter VII

“The gods were good for guiding you here early,” I said to Derwyn.

“The goddess Andraste spoke through Rhan. Her compulsion to arrive early was so great she would not let us rest.”

Compulsion...The resonance of the word reverberated through my mind as I watched the Druids of the highest rank begin to gently tend to the bodies of the Iceni. They wore plaited mistletoe belts and robes of all three colors, blue, green, and brown, woven together in a muted plaid.

Derwyn followed my gaze. His deep voice was thick with sadness. “I fear you have many bodies that will need preparation for the pyre.”

I nodded. “The elders tried to protect me and hold off the Romans so the young mothers and children could escape. There are bodies throughout the village.”

Derwyn’s eyes caught my gaze. “Where are your warriors?”

“They are at the spring games. There they sport and trade with the Trinovantes. There were only a little over a score of warriors remaining in Tasceni. All of them except one member of my guard perished.”