Page 23 of Boudicca

I closed my eyes and could hear the musical laughter of content, joy-filled women echo from my memory. For a moment it comforted me, but too soon grief spoke louder than the memory and I wondered if I would ever again feel the peace and comfort of simple rituals surrounded by happy, prosperous people.

“Time. Give yourself time, Queen Boudicca.” Adara seemed to read my mind. “You are stronger than you know, and soon you will prove that strength to everyone—including yourself.”

I studied Adara in the reflection of the mirror, noting her green robe, which showed that she was an ovate, a healer who was also often a seer.

“Did one of the gods give you a sign?” I asked.

Adara’s reflection smiled. “The gods speak to me through intuition, not signs.” The healer stepped back and her sharp gaze swept over me. “Your people will be comforted by their strong queen. Go to them and you will find they comfort you in return.”

I stood and slid the leather strap of the satchel that held my husband’s torque over my head and shoulder so that it rested securely against my right hip. “Thank you, Adara.”

The healer’s voice followed me from the lodge. “It is my great pleasure to serve the Iceni queen.”

Chapter IX

At first the people returned slowly, trickling from the forest in a weak stream. They were the ones who had been too desperately wounded to make their way to the safety of the barrows. Many of them collapsed as they reached the field—some from their injuries and some from the despair of discovering their queen’s mother and so many of their elders dead. I supervised the arrangement of pallets in the main room of the lodge. It was there that they were brought, tended, and comforted.

As night darkened the village, cook fires were lit as well as campfires all around the field. The stables were the only building that had been burned to the ground. Its location was far enough away from the farmers’ huts that the fire had not spread to Tasceni. The procurator’s haste to leave hadn’t allowed the Romans time to pillage the village properly, and the damage they’d done was minor, though they had needlessly killed many of the pigs and several of the goats. The tribe’s herd of cattle had been grazing in a forest meadow off the northern side of the village and had been left completely untouched. Soon the homey scents of roasting pork and goat cut through the despair that hung heavy over Tasceni. And then from the forest spilled the rest of the tribe. Some rode in the Druids’ wagon, but the majority of the Iceni, silent and somber, walked back to their village.

The Druids had been hard at work building an enormous funeral pyre in the place of the wooden stake to which I had been bound before I was whipped. They had quickly erected simple shelters with roofs of ferns and sides draped in strips of braided hemp cloth. It was inside those shelters that they bathed and prepared the bodies for the pyre.

“Queen Boudicca!”

I turned at the sound of the familiar voice, and Phaedra rushed into my arms, weeping with relief.

“We were so afraid the Romans had killed you too!” Phaedra clung to me and sobbed.

“Andraste kept me safe. My mother died honorably protecting her granddaughters.” I held the girl at arm’s length. “Are you wounded?”

Phaedra shook her head. “No, when you commanded I flee, I slipped out the back of the lodge and into the forest. The Romans did not care about us. They did not seem to care about anything except you and the girls.” Phaedra pressed her hand to her throat and gasped. “The girls! Are they—”

“Alive,” I interrupted. “Though they were brutalized by the Romans.”

“Oh, goddess!” Phaedra spat on the ground. “May their cocks shrivel and their balls turn black with rot.”

“I have much worse planned for them. But now my daughters need rest and stability. Find my other attendants and have them go to the lodge. Enfys and Ceri sleep, but they will need tending, and it would best be done by familiar faces.”

“Of course.” Phaedra hugged me again and then bowed quickly before hurrying off.

I continued to move through the village, stopping at each hut to speak to my devastated people. Tasceni was awash with tears and sorrow, but I made myself a bright brand of hope and strength and comfort to the Iceni. I missed my mother with every step and in every moment. Arianell should have been there beside me, lending her healing arts and compassion to the tribe she had loved so very much.

I will not weep for Arianell. Not until I am alone. My people need a queen, not a grieving daughter.

As the deep of night settled over the village, I made my way once again to the warriors’ practice grounds and the largest, grandest of the preparation structures. The Druids had hung cloth dyed in Iceni blue to create walls. Sacred mistletoe was draped along the roofline. The front of the structure was open and the fire that burned before it lent a somber golden light within.

I hesitated outside the tent and could not force my feet forward. I could see that there was a body on a crude table in the center of the hut, and a dark silhouette worked over it. I knew it was foolish. My mother was dead. I had closed her clouding eyes. But it suddenly felt as if it would be too real, too permanent, if I entered the preparation chamber.

“Come in, Boudicca. You are welcome here.”

Rhan’s voice made me jump, but it also compelled me to enter the hut.

Arianell was covered almost to her shoulders with a piece of cloth much like the woad-colored strips that hung from the sides of the structure. Her eyes were closed, and two smooth, round river stones had been placed over them. The killing stroke from the Roman’s blade was covered by the shroud, and Mother appeared to be sleeping. Her long silver hair hung down over the edge of the table. Rhan stood there, at her head. She was braiding Arianell’s hair into an elaborate crown.

Rhan’s sad smile did not reach her eyes. “After I finish with your mother’s hair I planned on painting her body, but as you are here now it is appropriate that you do it.”

I ignored the horrible, empty feeling in my stomach. “I would like that. Very much.”

“The pot is there, by her feet.”