Boudicca, page 46
My cloak.
The red of my horsetail helmet.
The flash of light off Maldwyn’s chariot.
The chariot seemed to freeze in time as a spear sliced into the scene, the only thing moving with normal speed. It skewered Maldwyn through his neck, knocking him backward and out of the chariot.
Time sped up again. I saw Rhan reach for the reins and then she was swallowed by the chaos.
I opened my mouth to scream my grief, but no sound came from me.
Another color flashed across my gaze—another horsetail helmet, this one dyed woad blue. Abertha! I followed that proud slash of woad as she wove through the battlefield, throwing spear after spear, trying to reach the fighting into which Rhan’s chariot had disappeared. When the spears were gone, Abertha lifted her sword and sliced the enemy surrounding her.
The enemy that slowly, methodically closed the noose of soldiers around her.
The enemy that pulled her from the chariot, trampling the proud blue until it was no more.
I looked for Cadoc’s stag-horned helmet but did not see it. Was my shield already dead?
Pain tore my spirit, opening a crevice within me. Agony flowed with the blood of my people, soaking into this land I’d loved so well and fought so hard to keep free. It poured into me, flooding my body, attempting to fill the yawning crevice. It could not. My wound was too deep. No matter if I lived one day or many, I would carry the anguish of this battle, this loss, forever.
Tân turned one of the serpentine corners in the slender path, and the forest closed around me so that I could see no more of the death of my people.
“Mama!” Ceri’s voice carried back to me. “We found the stream!”
Chapter XLIV
My girls and Briallen had halted their horses by the stream. Their wolves had already waded through it and were sniffing the ground before the rowan arch. Where Rhan and I found the dead hare. Rhan . . .
“Is this the entrance, my queen?” asked Briallen.
I began to nod but froze as the clanking of armor, the crackling of brush, and the voices of Roman soldiers filled the forest around us. Ceri gasped but pressed her trembling hand over her mouth. Mona padded to her horse’s side, where she stood with her ears pricked, growling at the forest.
Quickly, I kneed Tân around the girls. I pressed my finger to my lips and then motioned for them to follow me. I waded through the stream and went to the archway. Peering through it, I saw movement in the underbrush all across the steep slope above us. Thick as lice, Roman soldiers canvassed the area, moving from the top of the hill down through the forest. A woman shrieked. Soldiers laughed and shouted. There were more screams that echoed through the forest around us, more sounds of death and brutality. They were moving ever closer to us. Desperately I urged Tân to the arched trees, looking for some evidence, any sign, that this truly was an entryway to Annwn, but I saw no opalescence of the sky, no welcoming mist, and did not hear the voice of my goddess.
The Romans would discover us.
I cupped my hands around my mouth and called, “Andraste! Help me! Help us!”
“This way! Someone called on one of their gods!” a Roman shouted.
I am here. Leap. I shall catch you. Andraste’s voice soothed my heated mind as I recalled the rest of what she had said to me the last time I’d entered Annwn and called upon her. It is not the last leap of faith you will make to save yourself—to save my victory. The next time I ask it of you, do not hesitate.
I turned to look at my girls. “Follow me into Annwn. We must—”
“Mama, look!” Ceri pointed.
My gaze returned to the archway. Through it stood the white stag watching us with wise green eyes.
“We follow the stag.” I amended what I had been going to say, hope fluttering weakly within my chest, as broken as my heart. “We go silently single file.”
I guided Tân through the archway. Instantly my vision changed. It seemed we’d entered a strange tunnel. I could still hear the soldiers as they combed the hill for my people. I could even see them, though indistinctly.
Soundlessly, we rode on, slipping from shadow to shadow. Like long, elegant fingers on a dark hand, they reached for us, closed around us, and hid us as we were passed on to the next reaching shadow. The stag’s white coat was dappled with the grasping darkness. The horses labored as we climbed the steep slope, ever upward, surrounded by death.
“Over here!” The Roman soldier sounded as if he was only feet away from us. The stag halted. I pulled Tân up and turned, pressing my finger to my lips again as I looked into the pale faces of my terrified daughters. “There’s something strange there. Do you see it? Something in the shadows.”
“Yes! Probably women trying to hide from us,” said a second soldier.
“Come on out, little chick, chick, chicks,” clucked a third soldier, his voice even closer.
I could see them now. Six legionnaires, heavily armed, approaching us. With a whisper of metal, Briallen drew her sword. I reached behind me to where my own blade rested strapped to my back, but before I could draw it Sunne and Mona pushed their heads through the dark barrier within which we traveled. Side by side they faced the Romans. Their ears were flat against their heads, and pointed teeth bared, they growled deeply and threateningly.
The Romans stopped as if they’d walked into a wall.
“Romulus and Remus.” One soldier spoke the names as if they were a prayer, bowing low as he backed away.
Together Sunne and Mona advanced a step.
One soldier held up both hands, palms out. He spoke softly to the wolves. “Brothers, we see you and we leave you to sacrifice whomever you’ve marked as yours.” Each soldier continued bowing low as they backed away from the wolves and disappeared into the underbrush.
Sunne and Mona padded to us, tongues lolling.
“Good girl, Mona,” Ceri whispered to her wolf.
“Well done, Sunne, my boy,” Enfys said softly.
The stag started forward again. Silent once more, we followed. As we climbed the slope, we passed within a hand’s length of many legionnaires. None of them so much as glanced our way. Bodies were crumpled mounds among the dense underbrush and thickets of brambles. I looked to see if any of them moved.
They did not.
I looked to see if I recognized any of them.
My spirit shuddered. Wulffaed was there, in the center of a circle made of the bodies of her daughters and Phaedra. They were dead. They were all dead.
Time lost meaning. It seemed the climb would never end. Tân’s coat was dark with sweat. There was no sky or sun visible above us. All I could truly see was the stag before me, my daughters and their wolves, Briallen behind them, and the shadows cloaking us.
I’d begun to believe we might wander this slope of death eternally when Tân surged up and then over the lip of the hill. I pulled her to a halt, trying to see through the reaching shadows. The stag was still there—still ahead of me—but now he was picking his way down the slope, haunches almost touching the ground because of the steepness of the decline. The voices of soldiers had faded. There were no more screams. No more shouts. I turned and whispered to Enfys, “We made it up the hill. Keep going, but slowly. Watch the stag. Tell Ceri.”
Enfys nodded and turned to whisper to her sister. I waited until the stag paused and looked back at me before I urged Tân forward. Thank you, Rhan, for bringing Tân to me. Most horses would balk or refuse what I’ve asked of her today, but she is ever trustworthy, and because of that the other three horses follow her without fear.
My thighs ached and Tân was breathing hard when the ground finally leveled under us. The stag broke into a trot, and our horses valiantly kept pace behind him. We trotted on and on. The stag led us through several streams, halting only long enough for our horses to drink, and then he would start forward at a trot again. Wearily, we followed until we came to a stream that was wider than the others before it. All along the bank were sacred white willows moving in a breeze that did not touch us. The stag waded through the stream and then turned and watched as we did the same. This time instead of trotting on, the mighty creature dipped his heavily antlered head, and then as he lifted it his body rippled, elongated, and blazed with light.
When I’d blinked my vision clear, in the stag’s place stood a tall woman who wore a scarlet gown stitched with a silver stag across the bodice and a cloak of white deer hide over her shoulders. She tossed back her long, flame-colored hair. Antlers grew from her head. She looked steadily at me with eyes the color of emeralds.
I slid from Tân’s back and went to my knees before her. Behind me I heard my daughters and Briallen dismount. Then they were beside me, also on their knees. Even the two wolves went to their bellies.
With my head bowed I said, “Blessed Brigantia, I greet you and thank you for guiding us through Annwn.”
“You may rise, children,” said the goddess. Her voice was the forest—rustling leaves and birdsong.
We stood and stared at the goddess. She was magnificent and wild—a blazing brand, a proud stag, a musical stream cascading to a waterfall crescendo.
“Andraste’s Boudicca, daughter of my beloved Arianell, you did me a kindness in Camulodunum. For that I thank you.”
“I was glad to end Rome’s desecration of your shrine,” I said.
She nodded, her massive antlers casting pointed shadows around her like dark blades. “Yes, would that all of my children were as faithful. Cartimandua, queen of my Brigantes, will pay for today’s betrayal.”
I had no words and could only bow my head.
“Now you must leave the protection of Annwn. Go north to Caledonia. There you will be out of reach of your enemies.”
Shock jolted through me. Caledonia? The Highlands were days, weeks, away, and the route passed through almost a dozen different tribal territories. A wave of nausea washed over me and I staggered.
The goddess’s strong hand caught my elbow, steadying me. “Your Queen’s Guard knows the way to the realm of Beira, winter queen and mother of gods. Mighty Beira will succor you. You can do this, Andraste’s Victory. And you will not be unprotected along the way. Seek the sign of the stag. There you will be safe. Seek the sign of Andraste’s raven or hare. There you will be safe.”
“But what of Andraste?” I blurted, feeling the absence of my goddess deep in my spirit. “Is she not here? Will she not speak to me?” Or is she too disappointed in me to show herself?
Brigantia touched my cheek gently. Her smile was so like my mother’s that it made my breath catch. “I am here in Andraste’s stead. She is with the Iceni in that valley of death, embracing each of her children as their spirit leaves their body. She is their comfort and their guide. They will feast with her this very night.”
A ragged breath escaped me and I had to clench my hands into fists, digging my fingernails into my palms, to keep from keening my despair.
“Boudicca.” The goddess took my face between her hands. “Know that you are being watched, and that goddesses never forget those they have chosen as their own.” Brigantia kissed my forehead.
There was another blaze of light and the goddess was replaced by the white stag. He met my gaze, dipped his velvet muzzle, and then raced away. The air around us rippled, and with the sound of a sigh Annwn closed the veil between worlds, leaving us to peer around in confusion. It was late in the evening and I had no idea where we were, but as I studied the empty countryside I knew we were nowhere near the valley of death.
“We have to keep moving,” I told my exhausted daughters.
Ceri nodded and patted her wolf’s head. “To Caledonia, like the goddess said.”
“Yes, little dove. North to Caledonia.” I met Briallen’s gaze. “We’ll ride until there is no more light.”
Briallen nodded. “We will because we must.” My Queen’s Guard met my gaze as she eerily echoed the words we’d spoken to each other that terrible day in Tasceni when our world had forever changed.
“Yes,” I whispered brokenly. “We will because we must.”
“Do not worry. As the goddess said, I know the way, my queen,” added Briallen.
My hands shook as I pulled the torque from my neck. “Don’t call me that. It isn’t safe. When the Romans don’t find my body they will come looking. And I am queen no more as my people are no more.”
Ceri’s hand slipped into mine. “You are my queen, Mama.”
Enfys nodded. “And mine.”
Briallen said, “As long as I breathe you will be my queen.” She bowed low to me. “But to keep us safe I’ll be calling you Herself.”
Again, I had no words. I could only nod as I went to the full saddlebags Rhan had packed and strapped on Tân, opened a bulging bag, and slipped the torque within before closing it securely. We remounted. My last warrior took the lead and turned us north, urging our weary horses into a ground-eating trot as my daughters and I followed.
Chapter XLV
Just before twilight we approached a wide, murky river and I knew where we were. I’d crossed the river Mersey during my wedding procession from Isurium to Tasceni and easily recognized the river as the boundary between the Cornovii and Brigantes tribes. This time my crossing was so different from the first that it didn’t feel real. In truth, since we had left the valley behind nothing felt real. We did not ferry the wide river. We avoided all settlements, and as the sun sank toward the horizon to our left, we held tightly to our horses and swam the river, grateful that the bank was neither steep nor so muddy that our horses were bogged down.
Shivering, we continued northward. Briallen and I were searching for a spot to camp—somewhere within a sheltering grove where we could huddle for warmth, as lighting a fire in the territory of the queen who had betrayed us would not be wise—when Ceri called to me.
“Mama, is that a stag?”
My youngest daughter pointed to a modest roundhouse situated in the middle of a cleared area we’d been skirting. There was just enough light left to illuminate a tall standing stone before the home, on which was carved the head of a proud stag.
“It is,” I said as Briallen and I exchanged a glance.
“Brigantia told us to look for signs. The goddess would not misspeak,” said Briallen.
“Agreed.” I turned to the girls. “We will be safe here for the night. Come, girls. Keep Sunne and Mona close. All is well.” If I spoke the words perhaps I would believe them, though the weight of the sword strapped to my back reassured me as we headed to the roundhouse.
As we reached the standing stone, a middle-aged man and woman emerged. I lifted my hands, palms out, showing that I held no violent intent. “I see blessed Brigantia is the patron goddess of your home,” I said.
“She is, indeed,” said the man. He was tall and round with a sunlight-colored beard that was so long it rested on his barrel chest. “As she is the goddess of Tribe Brigantes.”
I attempted a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “Then in the goddess’s name I ask succor for my daughters, our companion, and me for the night.” I paused, and then, hoping I was correct in believing that the saddlebags Rhan had packed contained coin, added, “We can pay for a meal and a pallet. Have you a barn? That will do nicely.”
The woman moved from the man’s side. Staring up at me, she approached, stopping only when she reached Tân’s head. Her eyes widened. “I know you,” she whispered. Abruptly, she turned to her husband. “Ecgbert, be a love and scatter fresh bedding in the barn. I will feed them while their clothes dry by our hearthfire.” Her husband muttered but headed toward the rear of their modest settlement. “Stay outside, mind!” she shouted after him. “Until I tell you they’re dried and dressed.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do out here in the dark?” Ecgbert grumbled.
“Build a fire outside the barn and it won’t be dark.” She sighed and added, “Get the last of the spring beer from the stream. That’ll keep you happy while I tend to these poor travelers.”
“Oh, aye.” Ecgbert’s voice lifted with his quickened steps, and with much greater enthusiasm he hurried away.
“Come, come. You are welcome in my home.” The wife smiled up at me. “I’m Romilly.” As we slid stiffly from our horses, she bowed. “And you are Queen Boudicca.”
My gaze snapped to hers, but before I could speak she added, “My husband is Parisi. He will not recognize you. But I am Brigantes and would know the Iceni queen born in our royal city anywhere. You led an army against Rome, and that is all I know except that you are safe here. On that you have my oath in the name of the goddess Brigantia.”
“May the goddess bless you for your kindness,” I said.
“I’ll tend to the horses and then join you,” said Briallen.
The girls and I followed Romilly into her roundhouse where she cared for us, helping us out of our soaked clothes, wrapping us in blankets, and sitting us before the hearthfire as she heated slabs of pork and sliced fresh bread and cheese for us. She even fed Sunne and Mona. Briallen joined us, carrying the heavy saddlebags, within which rested a purse of coins. And then, while we ate, Romilly talked. She told us it was safest to stay west, as close to the coast as possible, while we slipped through my old tribe’s territory. She spoke of the stories being told about me. How I’d united thousands of Britons against the scourge of Rome. How I’d brought hope even to tribes allied with Rome, like the Brigantes. Enfys and Ceri listened with sparkling eyes as Romilly spoke of my greatness.
I said nothing.
As the girls dressed in their warm, dry clothes, their eyelids went heavy. Briallen took Romilly to the side. I heard some of their whispered conversation—enough to know my warrior told of our defeat through treachery. When Romilly turned to me, tears streaked her cheeks.
Romilly led us to their barn, calling to her husband that he could return to the roundhouse. He staggered past us, too far into his cups to truly see us. The barn was small and tidy. Two plow horses shared one large stall. Our four horses shared the other two. Goats made nests in the straw and bleated softly as we entered but then settled quickly. Ecgbert had scattered fresh straw for us in the only section of the barn not inhabited by goats or chickens.
