Page 21 of Boudicca

“Derwyn means to ready yourself to face your people. The mothers and young ones will return soon, and they will need you to look and act like a queen.”

I glanced down at my simple tunic. It was not the right time to wear my husband’s torque, but the Druids were correct. Discovering that their elders had been killed and their royal family attacked would be devastating. My people would need comfort, and I must give them that.

I lifted my chin. “I will wash and change my clothes.”

“I will help see to the dead,” said the high Druid.

“Derwyn, I would ask a favor.” As I spoke, the words lifted through my veins and pounded through my heart. “Let us not wait the traditional three days before lighting the funeral pyre. Let us light the pyre tomorrow on Beltane.”

Derwyn nodded in approval. “On Beltane the veil between Arbred and Annwn will be thin.”

“The Iceni dead can join Andraste in Annwn for the Beltane feast. It will be joyous for them,” said Rhan.

“My mother’s patron goddess is fiery Brigantia. We must build a pyre so great that Brigantia herself will see it in the Otherworld,” I added.

“The Druids will make it so,” said Derwyn.

“I, too, will leave you to prepare for your people.” Rhan turned to Derwyn. “Do I have your permission to anoint Arianell’s body?”

Derwyn paused, and I knew why. The consecration of the body of the mother of a queen would normally be left to the senior-most Druid—Derwyn himself.

Derwyn’s gaze shifted to me. “I leave that decision to the queen.”

Instead of answering Derwyn, I spoke directly to Rhan. “When I returned to the Iceni after the five years I fostered with your family, Mother often said how grateful she was that I had found a sister with the Trinovantes. I believe she would also be grateful that you were the one preparing her for the pyre.”

“As you ask, so will she do,” said Derwyn.

Rhan wiped away a tear, and then she followed the tall, white-robed man from the lodge and into the encroaching dusk.

Chapter VIII

Feeling centuries older than my thirty-three years, I returned to the well to draw fresh water. As I carried the bucket to my bedchamber, Adara emerged from my mother’s room.

“How are they?” I asked the healer.

Before answering, Adara said, “Please show me where I can find a pot in which I can brew tea. I gave the girls the juice of the poppy and they are sleeping soundly. The warrior refused it, so I would prepare her a strengthening tea instead.”

I showed the healer to the hidden alcove that held the cooking pots, cauldrons, and buckets, and the wooden cabinet that stored dishware, then the healer began brewing a fragrant pot of tea.

“Your daughters are gravely wounded,” Adara said as she stared into the warming pot, adding sprinkles of herbs she drew from the basket she’d carried into the lodge. “What those men did to them—” She shook her head in disgust. “Enfys’s injuries are the worst. She may never bear children. But it is Ceri’s mind for which I am most worried.”

Adara’s words sickened me and I struggled to speak through the mixture of guilt, grief, and rage they invoked. “How can I help them?”

“They need rest and they must feel safe. I will continue to give them sleeping potions over the next day, but they will eventually have to rejoin the world. Your presence will help, as will Briallen’s. Give them time and encouragement. Surround them with the women of the tribe. Petition Andraste to grant them courage. Be patient with them.”

It was so new, this world where my daughters were no longer laughing, playful children. A wave of loss washed through me. Too overwhelmed to speak, I could only nod.

“Might I brew some tea for you as well?”

I cleared my throat and forced myself to speak, to think, to continue. “Yes, thank you, Adara. Though nothing that will make me sleep.”

“You will share Briallen’s strengthening brew—as you also share her fierceness of spirit, Queen Boudicca.”

I sighed and whispered, “I do not feel very fierce right now.”

The Druid’s gaze was gentle with compassion. “The warrior rests within you. She will awaken when she is needed. Do not doubt her. Your mother never did.”

Surprise warmed my face. “Truly? Mother never spoke to me of fierceness. When I was granted the torque three months ago, she only talked of being compassionate and just.”