Page 63 of Boudicca

Maldwyn waited with our horses outside the clearing, but Cadoc joined me as I walked between the standing stones, finding comfort in the flame and its warmth. My attention was on the ever-burning fire, so I did not raise my gaze to the stone statue of the goddess until I was very close to her. I’d dipped my hand into the satchel slung across my body and felt around the torque that rested there to find the pendant I’d brought as an offering. As I lifted it out of the satchel, my eyes rose to the goddess and the breath left my body. Beside me I heard Cadoc curse.

Brigantia was no more. The huge slab of upright stone from which the goddess had been carved generations before had been permanently marred. No longer was she my mother’s goddess, keeper of the flame of Tribe Brigantes, patroness of stags, our bright shining forest goddess. Where once her head had been haloed with rays of light, as if she stood untouched but surrounded by flames, she now wore a Roman helmet. In one hand was a long Roman pilum. In the other she cradled the head of Medusa against her breasts. Roman lettering was carved into the base of the statue.

I turned my face away and didn’t realize I wept until the tears dropped from my cheeks to my tunic.

“Makes ya ill, doesn’t it?”

I looked back at the statue to see an old woman with a mane of wild silver hair dressed in the deep-blue robes of a bardic Druid. She was covered with tattooed Ogham and wore a belt of mistletoe.

She nodded as if I’d spoken. “Aye, makes me ill as well, though I still tend the goddess’s flame. She’s in there, Brigantia, waiting... watching.”

“They’ve ruined her.” My voice was rough, as if I’d been screaming.

“No. They’ve tried to remake her in the image of their goddess Minerva, but our Brigantia, like this land and its people, is not so easily overcome.” She tilted her head and studied me. “You are she.”

“We should go.” Cadoc pushed forward so that he stood between the Druid and me.

“Aye, go, but you will return,” said the Druid. “First, did you bring something for the goddess?”

“Yes, but I brought the gift for Brigantia, not Roman Minerva.” The name felt sour in my mouth.

“Brigantia knows when offerings are left for her. She knows we see her beneath what they did to her.” The old woman’s sharp blue-gray gaze swept around the clearing and the other women who were leaving libations of beer and offerings of cakes at the shrine. “What brings you to Brigantia?”

I lifted the chain that held the fiery symbol of my mother’s goddess. “I brought my mother’s pendant. She belonged to Brigantia and is now with the goddess in Annwn.”

The Druid nodded and gestured at the defiled statue. “Place it there, around her neck. Whisper your prayer. Brigantia will hear. Brigantia will answer.”

I met the old woman’s gaze. “Do you think Minerva also listens?”

“Perhaps. Not many Romans come here, though I have sometimes felt the presence of the foreign goddess.” Her gaze narrowed. “Do you have a petition to bring to Minerva?”

“Perhaps,” I said, echoing the Druid.

At my side Cadoc moved restlessly. I could feel his tension, but I also felt something else—something radiating from the statue. I felt anger. Moving purposefully, I walked around the flame. The heat of it brushed my skin as I unhooked the necklace, placed it around the goddess’s neck, and then refastened it. The chain glinted and the sunlight reflected off the flame-stamped gold. I touched the goddess’s cheek. “I ask nothing of you, beloved Brigantia. Instead I give you my oath that I will return and I will free you.” Then I dropped my hand and took a step closer to the defiled statue. I lowered my voice so thatit would not carry to any of the other supplicants or the watching Druid. “Minerva, it is to you I speak now. You do not belong here.” I flung out my arm toward the colonia in the city center and the temple of Claudius. “Send sign to your people. Tell them to leave this land and take you home to Rome where you belong.Whereall of you belong.

“If you stay here, Andraste and Brigantia will rain arrows of fire down upon you and yours until nothing but ash and bone remain. On that you have the oath of Boudicca, queen of the Iceni.” As I spoke I took out the short sword I wore in the sheath strapped around my waist and made a shallow cut on the pad under my thumb. I reached out and wiped my blood across the cheeks of the statue. “So I have spoken, so shall it be,” I whispered ferociously.

When I stepped back, the old woman was watching me closely.

“I will not see you again, Victory. I leave this place in six days and will be sure all who know Brigantia and will listen to my words leave with me,” said the old Druid.

“You know me?”

“I do not, but Brigantia does, and I know her. You are Andraste’s daughter, are you not?”

“We should—” Cadoc began again, and moved to take my elbow.

I shook my head and his hand dropped to his side, though he glared at the old woman and his troubled gaze kept searching the clearing as if he expected soldiers to leap out and attack us at any moment.

I knew they would not. I could feel a rightness to the Druid and understood that Brigantia had placed her here, at this moment. And for that I was so very grateful.

“Yes,” I answered her. “I belong to Andraste and the Iceni.”

The Druid’s wide smile showed several missing teeth. “I knew you would come when the statue fell from the arch. May Andraste and Brigantia bless you richly.” She nodded to me before she turned to the statue, raised her hands, and began reciting prayers of thanksgiving.

“Now we go,” I said to Cadoc. Without another look at the sullied goddess, I strode away from the shrine.

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