by P. C. Cast
Boudica spoke in a voice filled with the power of the righteousness of her cause. “It is not as a woman descended from noble ancestry that I come before you today, but simply as one of the Iceni. I am avenging lost freedom, my scourged body and the outraged chastity of my daughters. Roman lust has gone so far that not our very persons, nor even age or virginity are left unpolluted. But the goddess is on the side of righteous vengeance. A legion that dared to fight has perished. The rest are hiding themselves behind shields, or are thinking anxiously of flight. They will not sustain their courage against even the din and the shout of so many thousands, much less our charge and our blows.
“My people, if you weigh well the strength of the armies, and the causes of this war, you will see that in this battle we must conquer or die. I shall never let a foreigner bear rule over me or over my countrymen, never let slavery reign on this island. I will either live free or die free, but I will be free!”
The Celts answered their queen with such a passionate cry that it lifted the small hairs all over Alex’s body. She wanted to rush to the battlefield with Boudica and fight for freedom, too!
Then an ominous, rhythmic sound began at the opposite end of the valley where the rising sun was beginning to cast golden light on shields and helmets. Like a human battering ram, the legions moved forward together, shields locked, deadly spears held at the ready, as somewhere behind the front lines meticulously trained soldiers banged sword hilt on shield.
As if drawn by the hand of her goddess, Alex’s head turned and her eyes left the terrible phalanx of soldiers. On the edge of the rocky hill, behind and above the army, sat a tall man on a stallion black as pitch against the blushing dawn sky. He wore a crimson cape over his silver breastplate and was flanked by officers who held tall eagle standards with spread wings. As Alex stared at the man, a ray of sunlight touched the amulet he wore around his neck on a gold chain, and it sparkled as if winking at her.
“It’s Suetonius, and he’s wearing the amulet,” she told Caradoc, pointing across the field at the general. “How will we get to him?”
“It is better he is there than within the phalanx. We would never reach him otherwise. At least on the hill he is flanked only by a handful of soldiers.” Caradoc stared at Suetonius. “You said he is not human, not as we are?”
“He’s humanoid, but definitely not as we are.”
“And his race is determined to exterminate ours in the future?”
“Yes.”
“They must be arrogant creatures,” Caradoc said.
Alex snorted. “The woman who told me about them said that they believe the universe is theirs by right to rule. Every other race should be their slaves.”
“They sound like Romans.”
“They’re worse,” Alex said.
Caradoc narrowed his eyes. “Which tells me we can use his arrogance against him. Could I get close enough to taunt him, I promise you he would engage me, and that means I could draw him away from his officers.”
“I like your plan, especially as it’s the only one we have.” And especially as you won’t be the one drawing him away, she added silently.
She and Caradoc slipped into an opening in the front line of warriors and finally had a clear view of Boudica. “By the way,” Alex whispered to him, “the Roman Empire falls. They’re not even a superpower in my time.”
Caradoc’s smile was grim. “Though it’s far in the future, that pleases me to know.”
Then their attention was pulled back to Boudica as the Celts shouted again, and Alex watched as Mirain and Una rode through the parted ranks in their own chariot to join their mother. Both girls had on battle armor, and both were brandishing swords.
“No!” Alex cried. “Boudica is going to die today. Most of these people are going to die. The girls can’t ride into battle with her.” Alex grabbed Caradoc’s arm and started forward. This time there was no press of warriors to stop them, and they sprinted to the queen’s chariot. She was calling last-minute instructions to Aedan and the rest of her most trusted warriors.
“Boudica, I must speak with you,” Alex called.
“Aedan, ready the archers. Have the Trinobante charioteers follow the archers on my command. You and my personal guard will join them.” The queen leaped gracefully from her chariot and strode to Alex and Caradoc. “Has the goddess sent a message to me?” Boudica asked eagerly, so certain of her victory to come that she made Alex’s heart hurt.
She cannot turn back now. Even if I told her the army was doomed, Boudica couldn’t get the families out of the way in time to get free of the legions. And with a sudden, terrible intensity, Alex hated that she knew the future, and wished, no matter what might happen to her, that she could believe Boudica and her Celts would win.
“I do have a message from Andraste,” Alex said quickly, forcing herself to look the queen in the eye. She wasn’t lying—not really. Andraste couldn’t want the girls to die. “The goddess doesn’t want your daughters in the battle.” Alex glanced to where they stood in their chariot, slender, white-faced girls hardly more than children. “They have seen enough violence. Andraste asks…” Alex shook her head and corrected herself. “No, the goddess commands that Mirain and Una not witness any more fighting.”
Boudica studied Alex with her sharp green eyes. “Would it satisfy the goddess if I sent my daughters to join the rest of the families?”
“No,” Alex said firmly. “Mirain and Una need to be away from this valley.”
Alex saw it then, the flicker that went through the queen’s eyes. Boudica knew what Alex was telling her. At that moment she understood her people would, at the very least, not take the day against the Romans. Alex watched her process the knowledge and then make her decision.
“Caradoc, I ask your oath that you will take my daughters to safety, and I charge you with their care until I am reunited with them.”
Alex saw the emotions pass over Caradoc’s expressive face. She could see the regret that once again he would be leaving a battle to others to fight. She also saw grief as he gazed on his queen and cousin for what he was realizing would be the last time. And then she saw acceptance.
“You ask, my queen, and I give you my oath that I will protect your daughters until we meet again.”
Boudica squeezed his shoulder. “Thank you. By doing this you do me the greatest service of any of my men.” She stepped away from him and called, “Mirain! Una! Come to me!” The girls instantly jumped from the chariot and jogged to their mother. She put an arm around each one. “You are going to go with Caradoc and Blonwen. It is the goddess’s wish that you leave this valley and witness no more violence.”
“But Mother, I will fight! You promised that I—”
“Mirain!” Boudica cut off her oldest daughter’s tirade. “You will do as your queen commands so that you may one day be a wise ruler. And a wise ruler is one who doesn’t thirst for blood, but only raises a sword to protect herself and her people.”
“But that is what I am doing,” Mirain said through gritted teeth. “I am raising my sword to protect myself and my people.”
Boudica’s face softened. “I know, child. Today I will be your sword.” She touched Mirain’s face. “The battle will be easier for me if I know my world is safe, and the two of you are my world.” She turned to Una, who was crying silently. “Ah, little one, now is not the time to weep.”
“You’re sending us away because you’re going to die,” Una sobbed.
“She’s sending you away because Andraste spoke through me and commanded the two of you leave the battlefield,” Alex said.
“That’s a lie! There is no goddess, and if there is, Andraste doesn’t care about us!” Una retorted.
The air beside Una shimmered and Caradoc’s mother materialized. She smiled sadly at Una and told Alex, This child belongs to Andraste. Take her hand, Priestess, and show her that her goddess does, indeed, exist and care for her.
Following the ghost’s words and her own instinct, Al
ex stepped forward and grasped Una’s little hand in her own. The child jumped and cried out as heat flowed through Alex’s hand into hers. Then she pulled away, rubbing her palm against her tunic as if it still stung.
“Blonwen, what is this about?” Boudica asked.
“Show your mother your palm,” Alex told Una.
The child turned her hand over. Her eyes widened and she gasped as she saw the spiral circle that marked her as belonging to Andraste.
Boudica’s laughter was joyous. She lifted her youngest child off the ground in a crushing embrace. “You belong to the goddess, little one!”
Una was still crying, but when her mother finally released her she walked over to Alex and met her gaze. “The goddess has chosen me, even after what she allowed to happen?”
Alex squatted down so she could look at the child eye to eye. “The goddess didn’t allow anything except free will. We get to make our own choices, so bad people choose to do bad things. That also means you can choose not to let rape define you. Choose Andraste and life, Una.”
“I do.” Una smiled tremulously through her tears. “I choose Andraste.”
“You have made me very proud, my little one.” Boudica embraced both girls. “Both of you make me very proud.” She kissed her daughters and then, smiling, turned to Caradoc. “Lift Una to your shoulders and show the people that the goddess is with us!”
The druid did as his queen commanded, putting the child on his shoulders and carrying her to face the mass of Celts. Una raised her hand, palm out to her people, and when they saw the spiral circle, they began to chant, “Andraste! Andraste!”
Boudica moved closer to Alex as Mirain followed Una and Caradoc. She whispered quickly, “Is the war doomed, or is it just me who will not live out the day?”
Alex met the queen’s gaze again. She would not lie to her, but she had to leave her with some hope. “You will be with Andraste this time tomorrow,” she said. Then added, “I promise you the Celts will be a free people.”
Boudica drew a deep breath and then released it in a sigh. “That is all I have asked for, and now, with your warning, I know my daughters will survive me. Thank you, Blonwen, for coming to me and being the goddess’s voice. I shall see you again someday in brighter times, in the meadows of our goddess.” She clasped her forearm, while Alex fought back tears.
“It has been an honor to know you, my queen,” she said.
“I charge you to aid Caradoc in caring for my daughters,” Boudica declared. “Guide them to be true and strong. Teach them that we cannot allow our past mistakes to dictate our future.” The woman’s eyes were shadowed with regret. “It is a lesson I learned too late. Do not let it be so for my daughters.”
Before Alex could answer her, the queen whirled around and strode to Caradoc and the two girls, waving and smiling at her people as they continued to cheer.
Behind them, Alex could hear the Roman phalanx moving into position.
Chapter 26
T he battle began as Boudica ordered the archers to let loose a rain of arrows that darkened the morning sky. Alex and Caradoc were hurrying the two girls back to where the families had barricaded the entrance, and exit, to the valley.
“Don’t look. Just keep moving forward,” Caradoc said.
Alex didn’t know whether he was talking to her or to the girls, but she couldn’t reply. Her heart ached too much to speak. She had to leave Caradoc. Immediately. She couldn’t go with him to carry the girls to safety. She couldn’t take the chance that Suetonius would still be there when she managed to return to the valley. Carswell had told her that the knowledge of Boudica’s end was sketchy, but historians pretty much agreed she’d survived the battle, to poison herself afterward. What if history hadn’t been able to record exactly what happened to Boudica that day because the Centurian had found her body, taken her torque of rule and the other medallion piece, and no one left alive recognized the corpse was Boudica’s without her proof of leadership?
Alex had to lose Caradoc and the girls and make her way through the forest to Suetonius. She had to get that medallion piece.
And if she did manage to wrest it from Suetonius, what was she going to do about Boudica’s piece?
I’ll worry about that then. At least I have free access to the queen.
“Quickly, Blonwen.” Caradoc was helping the girls mount two of the four horses that had been hastily packed for them. “We need to go before…”
The druid had been speaking softly, for Alex’s hearing only, but he couldn’t complete the sentence: before it becomes obvious their mother and their people are going to be slaughtered.
Caradoc led the way. The two girls rode sturdy horses, with Alex bringing up the rear. They turned to the north, circling around the battlefield through the woods until they burst from the trees onto the Watling Road. There Caradoc pulled up and trotted back to Alex, calling to the girls to wait where they were.
“Do you have any idea where we are?” Alex asked him.
“Luckily, yes. We are in Dobunni land. My mother’s brother ruled the Dobunni when I was a boy. Before I left for Mona, I hunted these woods often. And traveled up and down the Watling Road to visit kinsmen.” Caradoc looked around, obviously getting his bearings. “Through there—” he pointed “—we will find an old shepherd’s hut as the land gets hillier. We can take the girls there, be sure they are safe, and then return here to find Suetonius and your medallion piece.”
“It’s a good plan, Caradoc,” she said. Alex wasn’t going to lie to him, and she didn’t. His idea was good—just not good enough.
“We’ll ride hard, and return here before midday.”
She nodded. He trotted over to the girls and explained they were going to be traveling hard and fast through the woods, and to stay close.
“And don’t look back,” Alex added. “I’ll be right behind you. You girls just concentrate on following Caradoc and not letting a branch knock you off your horse.”
“Blonwen, am I truly a priestess of Andraste?” Una asked, her face still marked by her recent tears.
Alex smiled at her. “You are, sweetheart. And someday soon I hope I’m able to be your guide to the Otherworld so that you can pledge yourself officially to the goddess.”
“May I go, too? Even though Andraste didn’t choose me?” Mirain asked shyly.
Alex didn’t hesitate. She knew deep in her soul she was speaking her goddess’s will. “Yes, you can, Mirain. Pledge yourself to the goddess, and she will accept you, as she did your sister.”
“We must ride now,” Caradoc said, not unkindly.
Alex met his eyes. “Okay, let’s go. And don’t you worry about looking back, either. I’ll be here, but my heart will be with you.”
Una giggled and Mirain watched with open curiosity as Caradoc kneed his horse over to Alex, leaned and kissed her. Then, without another word, he turned his horse off the road, leading them, one after another, away from the echoing cries the breeze carried from the battlefield.
Alex followed for only a few minutes. The forest was incredibly dense and Caradoc was moving swiftly. She hadn’t needed to tell the girls not to look back for her. Everyone, including Caradoc himself, had enough to do just keeping pace and avoiding being knocked out of the saddle by branches and brush.
She reined her horse up beside a huge oak. Keeping a tight hold on the mare, which was sidestepping and trying to follow the others, Alex pressed her right hand, the one bearing Andraste’s mark, against the oak.
“I need you. I am…” Alex paused, and decided to use the name that she was becoming more and more comfortable with. “I am Blonwen, Priestess of Andraste, and I need your help.” As she had before, Alex reached out with that illusive sixth sense she’d had since she was a child, and was rewarded with a surge of power and her palm tingling with warmth. She drew a deep breath, and asked for something she would have considered impossible just days before. “Close the space behind Caradoc and the daughters of Boudica. Make the woods appear
thicker there than in front. Don’t let them realize I’m not with them.”
Almost at once Alex felt the energy that had been building under her palm zap out into the forest behind her lover and the queen’s daughters, as if the tree had been struck by lightning. She bowed her head and pressed it against the rough old oak. “Thank you.”
Not allowing herself time to grieve, she jerked the mare around and urged her back the way they’d just come.
The final battle between the Celts and the Romans made the aftermath of the carnage at Londinium look like a mean kid’s game. Alex wove her horse through the dense forest, circling around the Celts and heading for the hilly ridge where she’d glimpsed Suetonius. She didn’t have any idea how she’d find him. She couldn’t afford to get too close to the battle to check out if he was still standing on the ridge; she might actually get pulled into the fight. So she moved blindly through the forest, trusting her sense of direction and following her ears.
The sounds of battle filled the air. She could hardly see any of the fighting, just a glimmer of sun glinting off armor, but she heard far too much. The war cries of the Celts were terrifying. She understood then why history described Celts in battle as demons possessed. The bold woad patterns, their wild hair and tall, half-naked bodies were frightening enough. Add their unearthly shrieks and they truly did seem like demonic creatures. But in the midst of the war cries, Alex heard, more and more, the screams and terror-filled cries of warriors being killed.
As if thinking of death had conjured it, the air on the battle side of the forest rippled, and a ghost stepped into Alex’s view. She blinked in surprise and felt her stomach knot. The dead warrior was Aedan, one of Boudica’s inner group.
“Priestess?” he said, looking confused and disorientated.
“Yes, Aedan, it’s me, Blonwen. You don’t have anything to fear,” she said.
Instantly, he seemed less agitated. “I am dead.”
It wasn’t a question, but Alex nodded. “Yes. Were you with Boudica when you were killed?”