Page 39 of Boudicca

I forced myself to draw one breath, another, and then my mind overcame my body’s fear. There was no clanking of Roman armor—no rhythmic stomping of marching feet. My vision cleared in time to see three wooden carts filled with women entering Tasceni.

Rhan dropped my arm immediately, though she remained close beside me. I fisted my hands and pressed them against my tunic, so that no one would see that they trembled, and strode forward to meet the carts. As I got closer to our visitors, I saw that they were wearing Iceni blue. Each woman’s face was painted the same blue with our tribal symbols as well as the bold war strokes Iceni men and women wore into battle. They looked so fierce that it took a moment for me to realize that most of them were matrons—mothers and grandmothers whose wild white hair hung as loose as mine.

From the first cart a woman climbed to the ground with a nimbleness that belied her age-lined body. She approached me and bowed low.

“Queen Boudicca, I greet you and wish you the joy of the day.” Her voice was strong and her eyes were sharp with intelligence.

It was her voice I recognized before I saw through the battle paint that decorated her face, shoulders, and bare, sinewy arms. “And may the blessings of the earth be on you, Wulffaed,” I answered.

Her face split into a smile. “I am honored you remember me, my queen.”

I dipped my head slightly. “I cannot easily forget the most renowned weaver of the Iceni and the Mother of Twenty.” Wulffaed was the matriarch of an Iceni farming village half a day’s ride northwest of the Chief’s Barrow. Her wisdom and weaving ability were almost as legendary as the fact that she had given birth to twenty daughters—and each had survived childhood and become as fertile and as gifted a weaver as her mother. She had been a favorite of Arianell, who often traded with her for the finely dyed and woven fabrics Wulffaed created. I suspected the fabric of the dress I wore that day had come from her.

The old woman put her hands on her hips and cackled a laugh. “Our goddess has, indeed, greatly blessed me. It is Andraste who brings me here.” Wulffaed met my gaze, and the lines that crossed her brow deepened with sorrow. “Our queen mother is dead.”

“She is,” I said.

Wulffaed sighed as her gaze left mine and searched the faces of the villagers who surrounded us. “And I see many elders have joined her in Annwn.”

“They have.”

Wulffaed met my gaze again and nodded. “Last night Andraste came to me in a dream. She said you have need of me and mine. I cannot replace the queen mother, but my daughters and granddaughters and I can be sure your lodge is in order, your bread is baked, and your clothes are woven so that you, my queen, may focus on readying us for war.”

I blinked in surprise, knowing that my riders could not have reached her settlement with the news calling the Iceni to arms yet. Andraste had, indeed, sent this matron to me. I stepped forward and took her gnarled hands within mine.

“Thank you,” I said simply. “You are most welcome, Wulffaed, Mother of Twenty.”

Wulffaed squeezed my hands. “As the goddess asks, so will I do.”

The Mother of Twenty was right. I hadn’t realized how muchit had weighed on me that my lodge was in disorder. Arianell and Dafina had long directed the tedious details of the daily running of the lodge, which served as the heart of the Iceni, leaving me the freedom to rule beside my husband, who had from the beginning of our marriage valued my judgment.

After Prasutagus’s death three moons before, it had fallen to me as Iceni queen to keep the administration of the Iceni running smooth. With my lodge in order, I was able to decide disputes, answer requests for aid or sanctuary, and direct the planting of crops, breeding of livestock, and trading with neighboring tribes. Things I’d had time to do because my mother directed the daily running of my lodge. With Arianell gone and Phaedra overwhelmed, I’d only just begun to understand the chaos that awaited me.

But by the evening meal, Wulffaed and her troop of daughters and granddaughters had filled my lodge with the sounds of contented, busy tribeswomen and set out trays of sizzling meat, onions and potatoes drenched in fat, and sweet, seedy cakes. But what I appreciated most was seeing my daughters sitting around the central hearthfire of the lodge with Wulffaed, who had them combing through flax threads to make them ready for the loom. The girls did not eat outside at the long tables with the majority of the tribe, but they also did not hide in their bedchamber. I took it as a small victory.

After the evening meal I asked Rhan to walk with me to the warriors’ practice grounds, where Derwyn was overseeing the collection of the bones and other remains of our dead that would be interred in the Chief’s Barrow so that in death, as in life, the Iceni followed their chiefs and queens.

The day had been warm, but as the sun sank closer to the western horizon, the breeze from the river Tas cooled, softening the night. The enticing, homey scents of baking bread and smoking meat wafted with the breeze, but Tasceni didn’t feel sleepy, as it used to most evenings. Tasceni felt energized and poised for a future that held change.

“Can you feel it?” I asked Rhan softly. “It is almost as if my people hold their breath as they wait to see if the warriors will come to my call.”

Rhan looked up at me and gave a little snort so reminiscent of how she’d responded as a girl when I made outlandish predictions about our futures that I laughed. “What? You do not think they wait?”

“Oh, they wait, but not to see if the warriors will come. Theyknowthey will come. The waiting you feel is their impatient need for vengeance. Now that you have declared war on Rome, they are like horses, champing at the bit with their need to bolt into battle.”

As I thought about Rhan’s words, I looked at my people. Each Iceni I passed paused to bow to me, which was new. Neither Prasutagus nor I required our proud people to bow or cower before us. We did not hold ourselves aloof or apart, as did some chiefs and queens of Britain’s tribes. We held our people’s respect and maintained our right to rule through our actions, our honor, and the unyielding truth that the Iceni royal family always put the tribe first. So the obeisance they showed to me was a reflection of not just their faith in me but their agreement with the path I’d set them upon.

“Let me be worthy of them,” I murmured.

“You are.” Rhan spoke without looking at me.

Her words warmed me immeasurably. “I’m so glad you are here and that you will stay with me.”

“I will remain with you as long as you have need of me,” said Rhan.

There was a strange tone to her voice and I looked sharply at her, but we’d come to the edge of the practice field and Derwyn approached, pulling my attention from Rhan.

Behind him, Druids in forest-colored tunics used long, hooked tools to poke the ash and remove bones and other fragments from the remnants of the pyre.