Page 4 of Boudicca

“It does not worry me at all. How about you?” I said nonchalantly.

Briallen’s brother threw back his head and his laughter boomed across the quiet settlement, causing a chicken to squawk irritably. That made him slap his thick thigh and laugh again.

A smile spread across Briallen’s broad, intelligent face. She spoke slowly, careful not to move her throat. “No, my queen. It does not worry me overmuch.”

Not long after I married Prasutagus, Briallen and Bryn had come to Tasceni. They’d been barely older than me but had left their northern Caledonia tribe already well-respected warriors looking for adventure. They had been so skilled that they had quickly been absorbed into my personal guard, and they were fiercely loyal to me. I had always loved their guttural Northern accent, which got more pronounced when either was stressed. I sheathed Briallen’s dagger back in her waist scabbard and grinned at her.

“Well, may the joy of the day be with both of you. I must be off.”

“Did you change your mind and decide to join the warriors?” Briallen’s voice lifted with excitement. “If we ride hard we should catch them before they enter Trinovantes territory.”

“Aye! They left just before the fog began,” Bryn added, grinning in anticipation of being allowed to join the rest of the Iceni warriors at the annual spring games with their neighbors, Tribe Trinovantes. At the spring games they traded horses, sought and found mates, and competed in tests of strength.

“No, I just go to forage truffles for Derwyn. You must remain with your queen as I must be here to greet the leader of the Druids,” I said, then added, “I am sorry you two are missing out on the spring games, though.”

“It is an honor to do our duty.” Briallen bowed, the familiar tone she usually took with me shifting to one that was far more formal.

“We prefer to remain with our queen,” added her brother, his tone also turned formal. “The rest of the warriors will only be gone one night and back in time for Beltane. We choose Herself over revelry.” Bryn bowed with a flourish, which made me smile. I had been fond of these twins for many years. They had been the first of my personal guard to take a knee before me when I became queen.

“Your queen appreciates you.” My legs would not stay still any longer and I strode toward the forest.

When Briallen and Bryn moved to accompany me, the wordsstaying them came from deep within. “No. Remain here. Watch over my daughters and my mother.”

There was a slight pause, and then the response I expected came to me on the cool morning fog. “Aye, it shall be as you say, my queen,” Bryn said.

“And may the blessings of the earth be on you.” Briallen’s voice echoed eerily as the gray mist closed behind me.

My steps were sure as I moved through my village. Even though that morning it was like walking in a cloud, the fog did not slow my steps. I knew my home so well that I could have found my way through Tasceni blindfolded. The village was the heart of the Iceni tribe, usually home to up to four thousand souls, though that day we were considerably fewer with so many warriors absent. At Beltane, when they returned, the village numbers would swell to close to ten thousand as many Iceni made the trek to the home of their royal family to feast and celebrate the spring festival.

Tasceni was more than the heart of the Iceni. It was my home, my joy, my beloved domain. I knew and appreciated every part of it—from the grand lodge in which my daughters had been born, to the swine wallows and the herb gardens that were the pride of the Iceni cooks. It had been such since I’d first arrived, just turned eighteen and the new bride of their chief. I loved Tasceni as I had loved Prasutagus, at first sight, and the tribe had returned my affection in kind.

I paused and breathed deeply, tasting the air. As the sluggish breeze teased from the east, smelling of mud and fish, I oriented myself. The village was west of the mighty river Tas, just beyond the fen and spring floodplain—though this spring the season had been especially wet, which was the reason the redolent odor of fish and mud seemed so close.

Beyond the eastern bank of the Tas stretched fertile fields that were already green with thriving crops that carpeted the land all the way to the coast, which was a half day’s ride from the river. North of the fen and fields, near the joining of the river Tas and river Yare, was the Chief’s Barrow. On a clear day, if I climbed the tallest of the ancient oaks in the forest outside Tasceni I could see the large, rockyhillock, surrounded by half a dozen smaller barrows. Inside the Chief’s Barrow, my husband, his favorite stallion, and a generous offering of goods, weapons, and ornaments had been entombed on a rainy day three months ago. With him was his wide chief’s torque of braided gold, unique in how the jeweler had stamped it with charging boars and ended it with two circles of their golden tusks.

In the weeks since his death I had often wished I were still a girl so that I might climb an ancient oak and seek the comfort of the sight of the barrow. But I was not a girl. I was a queen who had left her tree climbing behind in Brigantes when she’d married Prasutagus.

I had not visited the barrow since the day they’d walled his body within the tomb. Others, including my mother, went often, leaving offerings tucked into the rocks and crags of the large hillock. But not me. I could not.

I was surprised that my feet immediately led me to the west, away from the scents of mud and fish. A sow, one of the many pigs that wandered the village like ill-tempered dogs, snorted unenthusiastically at me. I smiled as she gave me a view of her fat rear end and a small, curled tail wagging before she disappeared back into the gray.

Within just a few strides, the delicious aromas of bread and the fish stew the tribe baked in rounded stone bowls swirled to me with the mist. I knew to turn right and then left again, winding my way through the kitchens and the clay pits that cooked much of the tribe’s food. I heard the musical sound of women’s voices and caught glimpses of fires, like flickering specters in the mist, as the cooks were already hard at work preparing for tomorrow’s Beltane feast and today’s soon-to-be-waking tribe.

The scent of goat overpowered the baking, and I slowed to pick my way around pens filled with sleepy animals. Gossiping chickens added their music to the occasional lazy bleat as I moved quietly past them.

In the distance the low of a cow sounded eerily from the mist. The cattle were kept north of the tribe, at the edge of the forest. Again, I used sound to alter my course.

Familiar smells of sweet mash and warm flesh told me I nearedthe group of sturdy log buildings where I’d spent countless days—the tribe’s elaborate stables, which were currently more than half empty. A favorite aspect of the brief spring games with Tribe Trinovantes was the trading and breeding of horses. I felt a pang of regret that I wouldn’t be there with them, but the regret passed quickly. The Druids were deeply woven into the lives of the Iceni and all of the Briton tribes, and it was a special honor to host the high Druid, Derwyn. It would insult him if Iceni’s queen was not here to greet him, especially as this was the first time he had visited Tasceni since the entombing of Prasutagus. Regret gone, I breathed deeply the homey scent of horses. In my mind’s eye I could clearly see the lovingly carved doorposts dedicated to Epona that stood guardian before the stables. Automatically, I whispered a brief prayer to the horse goddess to keep the herd safe while it traveled with the warriors.

I shifted to a jog. The well-worn path that led from the stables and into the beginnings of the forest was immaculately tended and free of rocks and ruts. My nose wrinkled when the pungent odor of horse piss seemed to drip out of the mist, marking the area of the road that split, with one fork turning toward the grounds where the warriors held daily practice and drills. The woad fields and dyeing stations used urine collected in huge wooden steeping vats to extract the blue pigment the tribe used to dye their clothing.

Then the earth beneath my leather-clad feet became hard packed and the spring scent of growing wheat told me that I was crossing the warriors’ practice grounds. I jogged through the familiar area until, abruptly, the earthy scent of the fields was supplanted by the sweetness of the tall, budding lime trees that were harbingers of the oak forest just beyond.

The first of the ancient trees came into view as dawn finally split the fog, turning the day from gray to pale mauve and violet. I paused for just a moment in front of the massive tree and placed my palm against the rough bark. “Good morning, Grandmother Oak.” Looking up at the ancient tree, I greeted the familiar sentinel. She was fully in bloom, so that the yellowish flowers that dangled from her new growth made the tree appear as if she wore a maid’s Beltane headdress.

“May the blessed sun shine upon you and warm you, old friend, and may the rain nurture you,” I whispered to the tree and as always, I was rewarded with the sense of feeling the ancient one inhale and exhale beneath my hand. I stroked the tree in parting, as if it were my favorite mare.

In the oak grove not far from the grandmother tree was an altar dedicated to Andraste, patron goddess of the Iceni. I went to the carved wooden image that rested atop a circular slab of sandstone held waist-high off the ground by miniature columns. The image of the goddess had softened with weather and the touch of adoring hands, but the strength in her face was clearly visible. The goddess’s features were powerful—she was strong jawed and broad shouldered. On one shoulder sat a somber-eyed raven. Andraste held a spear in one hand and a shield in the other. Around her feet shells and beads, wooden bowls filled with honey and goat’s milk, and a collection of other offerings filled the top of the flat stone. I bowed my head, kissed my fingers, and then touched her feet, which were wet with morning mist. “May the joy of the day be with you, mighty goddess,” I murmured before I bowed again and jogged away, heading deeper into the forest.