Page 9 of Boudicca

Finally the creature halted. He lifted his muzzle, gesturing ahead of us, and I recognized something. Even in the mauve and violet light there was no doubt that we were standing before the ancient grandmother oak that grew just beyond Andraste’s altar and marked the edge of Tasceni.

The stag took a step back and, again, gestured with his muzzle.

Before I turned from my companion I reached out slowly, allowing him time to move away should he so desire. He held very still as I pressed my palm against his forehead and stroked him gently. His coat was soft as water and through my hand I could feel the power that radiated from him.

“Thank you. I do not fully know what is to come today, but if you could, please be close to my mother. She has faithfully served your goddess, Brigantia, her whole life.”

The stag lifted his muzzle and blew his warm breath gently against my cheek before whirling and, with his tail up, fleeing back into the Otherworld forest of Annwn.

I drew a deep, steadying breath before I stepped from Annwn to the mortal realm.

Tasceni was still fogbound, though the pastels of morning were beginning to filter down from above. I ran. As I did I marveled at how little time had passed since I’d left the village. It had seemed as if I’d spent the day in Annwn in the presence of the goddess, but in the mortal realm it was as if I’d just left the village and entered the forest, changed my mind, and returned.

I was glad of the fog. It hid my bloodless face and stricken, terrified expression.Faster! Move faster!I gulped air, felt as if my legs would fail, and wished for the mighty hart in whose presence I had the stamina of an immortal.

Finally! My lodge materialized through the fog and I stumbled to a halt. Bent at the waist, I pressed a hand to my side to stop the pain there as I panted and struggled to regain my breath.

“Herself?” Bryn’s deep voice called the question from the raised entrance to the royal lodge.

“Queen Boudicca!” Briallen leaped down the wooden stairs to me. “Are you injured?”

I shook my head and sucked in air. “No! I—I was in Annwn.” I spoke between gasps. “With Andraste.” Briallen paused at my pronouncement, clearly not sure what to do. I wiped my sleeve across my sweating face and straightened. “The goddess warns that the Romans—”

An ominous, metallic clanking cut off my words. Frowning and confused, I peered past the lodge in the direction of the sounds, which came from the narrow path that snaked from the boggy fens to the rear entrance to the village. The dirt road was mostly used by the tribe’s fishermen, and the echoing sound was so foreign, so out of place, that even the two faithful members of my guard were, at first, more curious than alarmed. Then shapes emerged from theshrouding fog; the foremost of them was on horseback. Behind him more men appeared. They marched in a neat two-column formation. Above them they carried a standard displaying an eagle made of gold. On its breast was carvedIX.

Briallen stepped in front of me as her brother took a defensive stance before the closed oak doors of the lodge.

“Ninth Legion! Halt!”

I recognized the man riding at the head of the soldiers as soon as he spoke. His nasal voice was unmistakable. I remembered all too well how Prasutagus and I had made fun of Nero’s tax collector, the diminutive procurator Catus Decianus. He had been a full head shorter than me and his arrogance had been fodder for our humor. He had represented the Roman emperor the day the chief of the Iceni mistakenly signed half of our tribe away to the Romans.

Decianus glanced at Briallen. “You there! Servant! Wake your chief! Tell him Rome is at his door.” As with most Roman officials who spent time with the tribes, he spoke our language, though his accent was heavy, turning the fluidity of our words cumbersome and stilted.

I lifted my chin, stepped around Briallen, and answered him in the Latin all born to the royal houses of the tribes had learned as more and more Romans infested our country. “I am Boudicca, wife to the Iceni chief, Prasutagus.”

The Roman looked down his straight nose at me. “You?” He barked a quick laugh and shrugged. “Each man has his own tastes, to be sure, but I shall never understand the desires of barbarians. No matter. Wake your husband. Rome has business with him.”

“Prasutagus has been dead three full cycles of the moon,” I said. “He cannot be waked.”

Decianus cocked his head as he studied me. One short, thick finger pointed at my delicate golden torque. “I remember when last I saw your husband he wore something much like that cuff about your neck. It has been explained to me that it is the symbolof rank by youBrittani.” He pronounced the word as if it tasted foul. “Perhaps you might explain why a woman would wear such a symbol.”

I straightened my spine so that I stood tall and proud as I met his gaze. “I wear the symbol of chief because my husband named me his heir. Our people supported his naming. The Druids consecrated my coronation. I am Boudicca, queen of the Iceni. This torque reflects my rank.”

Decianus said nothing for several long moments. When he finally spoke, his voice was scornful. “And I thought Paulinus jested when he told me Prasutagus had been replaced by a woman. I should have known better than to bet against that wily bastard. Now I owe him a purse full of golden denarii.” The tax collector’s gaze slowly traveled from my mud-splattered skirts up to my disheveled hair. Then he threw back his head and laughed so long and so heartily that several of the soldiers nearest laughed as well. When he was able to control his mirth, he continued. “Well then,QueenBoudicca. It is to you I shall speak.”

I maintained my calm and replied as if he had not just mocked and insulted me. “Very well. I require you remain here so that I might ready myself and my lodge for such an”—I paused, but not long enough for Decianus to take offense—“honor as your visit.”

“Of course. Of course. Take your time.We did come unannounced.The centuria and I shall await your pleasure,Your Majesty.” The tax collector chuckled.

With Briallen on my heels, I nodded briefly in acknowledgment of Decianus’s response before I swept past the Romans and hurried up the wide wooden stairway to the lodge. “A centuria,” I whispered urgently to Briallen. “How many is that?”

“No more than two hundred soldiers. No less than thirty,” Briallen said as she followed me inside. Her warrior brother remained firmly planted before the door.

“And how many of our warriors remained here instead of going to the spring games?”

“Countin’ my brother and me—mayhap two dozen. Likely less,” Briallen said.

My stomach heaved. We were defenseless. “Get our people out of here and into the forest. Now.”