Boudicca, page 26
The army was completely silent as my curse echoed around us. A single raven croaked from above me. It circled us three times before it landed in the uppermost branches of the closest oak. The setting sun flashed behind it, and I knew it was time. I motioned to Briallen, who galloped to me, leading the spare horses.
“Kill them all, Mama,” said Enfys.
“Yes,” said Ceri. “All of them.”
I kissed each daughter before lifting them onto the backs of the waiting horses. Rhan mounted her horse, Briallen bowed her head to me, and then they were gone, riding fast for the rear of the army, where they would join the caravans that would retreat into the western forest and wait for the battle to end.
Cadoc’s driver maneuvered his chariot beside me. Abertha’s chariot moved up so that she was positioned on my other side. “Is it now, my queen?” Cadoc asked.
“It is,” I said.
Cadoc lifted the long bronze war carnyx to his lips. And from the snarling boar at its end came the sound that called the Iceni to war. It rang across the land to Camulodunum’s Balkerne Gate. Over and over Cadoc blew the horn in long, eerie notes as the horses pawed and stomped and snorted impatiently.
I stared at the city, waiting. And suddenly saw hundreds of burning arrows slash the sky above Camulodunum. They flew in a beautiful arch up and up, and then as one they dipped and sped down into the city.
“Again, Cadoc,” I said.
Cadoc blew the carnyx, holding the note long so that it echoed across the empty stretch of land between Camulodunum and us. Again the sky burned with Trinovantes arrows.
“Once more, Cadoc!”
The carnyx sounded and death rained from the evening sky.
I placed the sigil in the ties Maldwyn had fashioned for it at the front of the chariot, took up my first spear, raised my shield, looked over my shoulder, lifted my gaze—and waited until the sun finally kissed the trees, blinding anyone who would be looking west from the city.
“Now, Maldwyn!”
With a savage cry, he let loose Ennis and Finley. On one side of us Cadoc’s chariot surged forward—on the other Abertha’s team pounded the ground in time with us. Behind us the mass of Iceni chariots thundered, causing the world to vibrate with their might. My blood pulsed hot and fast. I was not afraid. I did not have time for fear. I opened my mouth and shrieked the Iceni war cry. All around me my warriors did the same. From north and south of the city I heard Trinovantes’ voices joining us with their battle cry.
We were at the four arched stone entryways so soon that it shocked me. I had half a breath to worry that the iron-barred gates would slam closed, but they did not, and as we charged into the city I caught a glimpse of my Queen’s Guard cutting down the last of the Roman lookouts.
And then the first Roman soldiers were upon us. As we had prepared for this day, Maldwyn, Cadoc, and Abertha had spoken to me often of what it was like to be in a battle. They described the tunnel-vision aspect of war. They talked of the confusion and the raw brutality that would seem endless, though it might only last moments. Most especially they drilled into me that I would not have time to think—that I must practice over and over and over so that my body would act when my mind was overwhelmed.
They had been right, but what they had not described to me was the unexpected intimacy of battle. As I took lives, it was as if I were alone with each man at the moment of his death. I saw his shock—his fear—his pain—his release.
I killed the first man almost immediately. A gray-bearded soldier rushed me from the side, surprisingly swift for his obvious age. Maldwyn saw him and swerved our chariot. My body moved automatically. I threw my spear and caught the soldier cleanly through his throat. It seemed to take a very long time for my spear to skewer him. Blood arched, shockingly bright red. His eyes fastened on me, wide with surprise as he took in my tunic, my hair, and the fact that a woman had just killed him. The light went out of his eyes as he fell and we thundered on.
Our chariots hurtled forward, reverberating deafeningly over the stone road as we raced toward the colonia and the heart of Roman Camulodunum. The city was already on fire and we had to dodge burning men and debris. We passed pockets of Trinovantes cavalry engaged with soldiers on our flanks, and as we reached the main barracks, red-cloaked warriors joined those in Iceni blue as they surrounded the surprised Romans, squeezing them into doomed circles that closed tighter and tighter.
“Cadoc! To Brigantia!” I shouted.
The old warrior, whose chariot was always beside mine, nodded and barked a command. A row of chariots broke off to follow us south to the Gosbecks District. As we’d planned, Abertha took command of the rest of the chariots and continued into the heart of the burning colonia.
We raced through the Gosbecks. Here the flames licked high into the darkening sky as there were more of our wooden roundhouses and less Roman stone. The heat pressed against my skin and I was glad for our speed. The district appeared deserted. We pounded up the slight hill to Brigantia’s desecrated shrine, our horses’ hooves tearing great hunks of turf and dirt, which lifted behind us. Though the buildings around the hill were aflame, the shrine was untouched. The only fire on the hill was the one dedicated to Brigantia. Maldwyn pulled Ennis and Finley to a halt and I leaped from the chariot with a coiled rope in my hands. I ran to the statue and wrapped the noose of the rope around the goddess’s neck, where it rested beside my mother’s pendant. As I looked into the goddess’s face I noted that no one had washed the rust of my blood from her cheeks.
“Blessed Brigantia, now you will be free.” I touched her face gently before I stepped back.
Cadoc joined me, looping another rope around the goddess’s neck. “Your desecration is over, mighty Brigantia,” he said.
The dozen chariots that had followed us also cast their ropes around the goddess’s neck, until her face was covered. My eyes were drawn to my mother’s pendant. The ever-burning fire before the shrine caught it, lighting the flames stamped in gold so that they appeared to truly burn.
We returned to our chariots and secured the ropes. I raised my hand high. “Minerva!” I lifted my voice above the sounds of battle and the roar of devouring flames. “Return to Rome. You are not wanted here.” I dropped my hand. “Now!”
As one, our chariots surged from the shrine, pulling the statue of the goddess so that she fell forward with an enormous crash directly onto Brigantia’s flame. There was a great whoosh as the iron receptacle that held the well of oil was pierced. We threw our ropes free and galloped down the hill as the shrine exploded in orange and gold flame.
Cadoc pulled up beside us as we paused to watch it burn. I wiped sweat and blood and grime from my forehead and met the warrior’s gaze. “And now we do the same to the Temple of Claudius.”
He bared his teeth. “Aye, my queen!”
We raced back through the burning Gosbecks and into the colonia, where the fire was spreading, but less quickly. The wide stone streets were filled with Iceni and Trinovantes cutting down pockets of Romans as the battle moved closer and closer to the huge temple that proclaimed their dead emperor a god.
Later my warriors reported how the people who had chosen to side with Rome and remain in the city had fled to Claudius’s temple, but then, in the heart of the battle, I knew only what was before me. Maldwyn and I cut down soldier after soldier. I threw my spears again and again. We were a magnet for the Romans, who were drawn to us by our sigil and by the sight of me, a tall barbarian woman whose flame-colored hair lifted in the heat of the burning city and whose spear arm threw true. My arm did not weaken. My voice, which shrieked the Iceni war cry, did not falter.
When a pilum sliced across the outside of my bicep, I did not feel pain, only rage. I snarled at the Roman as Maldwyn wheeled our chariot around. The soldier tried to crouch behind his shield but I knocked it away with the blunt end of my spear. As we thundered past I pivoted, twirled the spear in an arc, and thrust it down between his neck and his shoulder. Blood gushed from his mouth, and his eyes widened at me before they rolled to show white and he fell forward onto his face.
And then we were at the temple. Roman soldiers attempted to set up a defensive line around the front of the huge building. They locked shields and were able to hold their line as people flooded into the temple behind them. As Maldwyn and I got closer, I saw Decianus. He was just ahead of a group of Iceni foot soldiers, fleeing toward the line of Roman shields with a group of women. Even from a distance I could see the terror on the procurator’s face. It appeared as if he were melting. Sweat poured down his wobbling cheeks and darkened his soiled white toga.
“Catus Decianus!” I roared the name.
The procurator’s head whipped around as he looked over his shoulder. His small eyes went glassy with shock as he caught sight of me. Maldwyn moved us closer.
“Through my blood and with my goddess-blessed breath, I have cursed you unto death!” I hurled the final words of my curse at him, and his florid face went the color of old milk just as his group reached the line of Roman soldiers. They did not part quickly enough. Decianus grabbed the voluptuous woman dressed in a sheer toga who was in front of him and threw her at the soldiers. She hit the shield wall and fell, her head cracking on the stone pavement. She was the woman I’d spoken to when we’d scouted Camulodunum—the one who had chosen to live, and die, like a Roman. I stared at her as Decianus stepped on her stomach and raced through the hastily parted shields.
“My queen!” Cadoc’s voice pulled my attention from the temple as Decianus ran, stumbling and falling, up the stairs and finally reached the wide doors and disappeared inside. “The city burns. We must signal to leave or risk getting trapped in the flames.”
“First push anything that will burn against the temple and into this line of Romans. Have the archers shoot arrows dipped in pitch into the debris and the roof of the temple. Then sound the carnyx.”
“We should leave, my queen,” said Maldwyn.
“In a moment. I want to see it burn first.”
Wooden tables from the nearby market were dragged to the temple. Our warriors used them as huge shields to press the line of Romans back and back and back until they were at the steps of the temple.
“Cadoc!” He turned to look at me and I pointed to the bronze head of Claudius that had rolled down the temple steps. “Take that vile thing. Drown it as a gift to Andraste.”
“Aye!”
The old soldier shouted an order at one of the charioteers, who raced in, looped a rope around Claudius’s head, and then dragged it away. Then Cadoc called another command and arrows sizzled through the air, bringing more flame and heat, and with the sound of a great exhalation the debris heaped against the temple caught fire. The Romans who had been holding the line in front of the temple were forced all the way to the wide doors, which they opened and rushed inside.
“Push the debris to the door. No one escapes. No one,” I said.
Cadoc directed the foot soldiers. Using tall, curved shields taken from the bodies of fallen Romans, they ran at the burning piles of tables and furniture, bushes and wine barrels, knocking the flaming mess up the stairs and into the entryway of the temple, clogging it with death. When the screaming began within, I turned away.
“Sound the carnyx!” I called.
Cadoc lifted the great horn and blew three times, short and swift, paused, and then blew three times again. With the other chariots, Maldwyn turned our team and we raced through the burning city, followed by the cavalry and foot soldiers. It was an inferno. I smelled my singed hair. My skin was so hot that later I found blisters on my arms. But at that moment I felt nothing except savage joy. Catus Decianus was dead.
We burst through the Balkerne gates and kept racing away from the city. The heat grew so intense that our own people would be immolated if they did not keep moving. Finally, we met the line of caravans that remained to rearm us and treat the most severely wounded. Only then did Maldwyn turn the team so that we could look back at Camulodunum. He wrapped the reins around their hook and leaped from the chariot, going to Ennis and Finley and running his hands down their legs and over their bodies, checking for wounds.
I meant to join him, but I could not look away from the blazing amber jewel the city had become. To me it seemed very little time had passed between entering the gates and leaving them, but the sky was the black of deep night. I did not see stars sprinkled above. Instead there were flames and sparks and smoke the color of the gray mist called the breath of the dragon.
The army was forming up around me, stretching in its vast numbers southwest, toward the cool forests and the caravans that waited there to welcome us. Cadoc and Abertha halted on either side of me. And then Addedomaros, his son, Adminius, and his shield, Mailcun, were with us as well.
“It is a decisive victory. The city is no more!” Addedomaros wiped gore from his face and grinned. “Let us join the caravans so that we may feast and rejoice.”
“The curse is not fulfilled,” I said.
“What?” Adminius blurted. “The city has been destroyed. Many Romans are dead.”
“The centuria that attacked Tasceni was not in Camulodunum. The curse is not fulfilled,” I repeated.
“But surely—” Addedomaros began to protest, but a scout galloped up on a horse frothing with sweat, cutting off his words.
“Queen Boudicca! The Ninth comes!” He spoke quickly as he gasped for breath. “On the Roman road north of the city.”
“The entire legion?” I asked.
He shook his head and sweat rained from his long hair. “No. Only a centuria from the Ninth.”
It was as if my body changed then, shifting from flesh to armor, turning bronze and unfeeling except to know itself a weapon.
“Gather the chariots and the cavalry. We will destroy the centuria,” I said. “Send our infantry to the caravans. We will join them afterward.”
“But we should—” Addedomaros began, and my words sliced through his.
“Not you. This is Iceni business. You, your son, and your warriors may go to the caravans. Feed and rest your men. Tend to your wounded. We leave tomorrow for Londinium.”
Addedomaros seemed as if he would say more but finally nodded and turned his horse, calling to the Trinovantes to follow him. Eagerly, Adminius galloped with his father from the field. I felt eyes on me and my gaze caught Mailcun’s. The Trinovantes shield bowed to me and pressed his fist over his heart before he followed his chief.
Chapter XXVII
The burning city lit the night as we raced north. Once again I was framed between Cadoc and Abertha as our chariots sped forward. We were covered in sweat and soot, blood and dirt. Our horses were the things of nightmares, gore-spattered and singed but eager for more. We pounded up the Romans’ road. I had time to think how ironic it was that their carefully paved stones were aiding us to bring death to them much quicker than if we’d had to traverse a dirt path at night.
Our chariots roared like wild beasts as we bore down on the two hundred Romans. When we reached them they had already formed their phalanx—a rectangle of soldiers, shoulder to shoulder, interlocking their long, curved shields. They were like a turtle, tucking up its head and legs. But, like a turtle, all one had to do to defeat it was to expose its underbelly and drive a spear between shell and flesh.
Except for their officer, the centuria were on foot, and as we encircled them I saw how unprepared they were. They had no long spears to hold steady within their turtle shell while they pierced the flesh of our brave horses. They stood their ground with only shorter pilums and swords.
Cadoc ordered the archers to fire, which they did, round after round. The phalanx became smaller, tighter, after each volley of arrows.
“Set them aflame,” I told Cadoc.
He called a second command and fire was added to the deadly arrow tips, and the phalanx finally broke. I shouted the undulating Iceni war cry. Ennis and Finley galloped into the confusing mass of shields and men and fire.
I pointed at the officer, still astride his horse, fighting in the middle of the dying Romans. I recognized him as one of the men who had jeered at Briallen and dragged her away. “Take me to him.”
“Aye!” Maldwyn said through gritted teeth.
Our chariot plowed through them, its spiked wheels slicing men’s legs while our battle-trained horses used their teeth and the terrible force of their bodies to clear our path.
I knew the moment the officer recognized me. His expression went slack with shock and then he turned his horse and spurred it through his soldiers as he attempted to flee.
Beside me Maldwyn’s laughter was dark with savage joy as we gave chase. The officer reined his horse off the road, hurtling into the darkness of the surrounding land. Maldwyn followed, and I thought for a moment we would lose him as he wove through the trees at a run, but just as he was pulling away from us, his horse went down with a terrible shriek, its leg snapped by a hole made by a hare.
I smiled, knowing Andraste’s hand was in this.
The Roman leaped free of the struggling horse, drew his sword, and faced us. I hurled my spear, driving it deeply into his gut. The officer was lifted off his feet and thrown back by the force of the blow, landing with my spear pinning him to the ground.
“Care for the horse,” I told Maldwyn. “While I put an end to him.”
Maldwyn pulled Ennis and Finley up beside the broken animal. I jumped out of the chariot and strode to the officer. He was holding the end of the spear that protruded from his belly with both hands. Blood soaked the mossy ground around him, darkening it to black. His face was white, though scarlet rivulets dripped from his mouth to stain his cheeks and neck.
I stood over him and felt nothing but satisfaction.
“What are you? A demon?” He coughed blood and gagged before he continued. “A dark goddess?”
“Neither. You may call me Victory.” I sliced through his neck with my sword, wiped my blade on the moss not tainted by his blood, and turned my back on him.
