Rage Against the Dying Light

by Jan Surasky

  Valeda, though similar in frame and features, was a contrast to her sister, in past sitting quietly in a corner musing upon a childhood toy, now moving quickly through the palace hallways as she learned her royal duties at the elbow of a patient Mandarus.

  Neither chatted now as they rode, their grief eclipsing their thoughts. As they neared a forest, the huge sycamores and hawthorns abloom with summer foliage, they spotted a clearing not far into the woodland. "A good place to take our noonday meal," said Alaina, as she spied an old oak to tie her roan, tethering Valeda's beside it. A stream ran nearby, letting their mounts drink from the cool waters.

  Valeda unpacked their meal, laying it upon a linen of many hues that Astrinellia had added to the saddle pack. The creamy goat cheese, the freshly baked bread, the honey gathered from the palace hives, were enhanced by a gentle, summer breeze. They left the linen only to drink the cool waters of the stream.

  "What will we do when Papa claims his place in the Other World?" asked Valeda.

  "Mama is queen. She will lead the Iceni tribe as Papa did before her," answered Alaina. "But," she added, "she will be too busy for our usual woodland jaunts. I heard Papa say the Romans increase their demands as they topple our island's tribes. Only the small tribes escape, like the Catuvellauni who gave haven to Venutius." She sighed, the memories of Venutius and his visits upon her.

  "We must help Mama," she continued, "and take more chores upon ourselves, for she will not ask us."

  Valeda was silent, as her duty lay before her. "Mandarus says he will find a match for us both," she said. She paused, then continued. "You are first, because you are older."

  Alaina giggled, the first hint of laughter upon her face since Prasutagus' illness. "I wonder who he will choose," she said, "for there is no one of noble birth within our city gates." She stopped, musing upon a nearby hawthorn, its leafy branches home to a woodland thrush's nest, an ebon butterfly, crossed with white and scarlet, flitting about it. "I wish it could be Valerin," she continued. "For though he is shy, and looks away when I fix my gaze upon him, he is strong, helping me to my saddle with the strength of seven warriors. But," she added, "he is only a stable groom."

  "Mama says Mandarus must choose from a tribe already aligned with the Roman state," said Valeda. "It is Papa's wish."

  "Well, it will be many Beltanes before the rites of joining," answered Alaina, her head cocked to catch the rays of the early afternoon sun peering through the densely foliaged woodland, her voice suddenly filled with the laughter she had known since birth. "I have many seasons to ride the Iceni plains," she continued. "To walk the palace halls, to listen to the handmaidens gossip, to visit the carefully swept huts of Iceni farmers when Mama will let me, to rock their babies and bring them treats of honey, to watch them milk their goats or plow, as Mama promised Linnea she would."

  As she spoke, she rose from the linen throw to follow the path that wound along the crooked stream. Valeda jumped up to follow. It was often in their afternoon jaunts they meandered about the woodlands, checking to spot the new fawns, the baby brown hares, and the baby thrush, all born in the spring. If they were lucky, and very quiet, they might see a wren or sparrow in awkward first flight.

  They walked along the woodland, eyeing the moon daisies, the pale purple geranium, and the purple and yellow vetch of the clearing beyond. As the sun began to set, they made their way back to their tethered mounts, gathered up their linen and the remains of their meal into their saddle pack, untethered their mounts, riding through the woodland paths and across the plains, the grasses now filled with the bluebells, poppies and foxgloves of summer, toward the city gates.

  When they arrived, hastening to Prasutagus' bedchamber, they took their place next to Astrinellia, her embroidery set aside, her hands clasping Prasutagus'. Boudicca, her tunic now creased from wear and carefully folded about her, dozing in the corner in a massive, oaken chair.

  The lifeless body of Prasutagus lay in state upon an iron cart emblazoned with an Iceni crest, drawn by horses all veterans of Celtic battle. His scarlet tunic, placed over a pair of indigo trousers, covered by a deerskin robe, bore the Iceni crest as well. A golden torque, crafted with the Iceni gods of battle lay about his neck. His helmet, iron with embedded gold and coral, a bronze eagle atop it, lay nearby. His sword, sheathed on a scabbard of bronze scrolled with silver and gold, lay nearby as well. His large, oval shield lay beside him.

  His passing had been a quiet one, a last gasp for breath during a fitful slumber. Now, his soul had slipped to the Other World.

  Crowds drawn from Iceni lands had gathered at the palace grounds to bury him, a king to whom allegiance had been easy. His courage in battle had never failed, his concern for the well-being of his tribe a constant, their prosperity evident in their dress, their mounts, their homes, the commerce of the tribe.

  Despite the restrictions of Rome, and the absence of Druids, Prasutagus was being given a Celtic funeral, a wish he had voiced before his death. Iceni tribesmen who remembered the funeral rites, aided by Mandarus who represented continued affairs of state, were there to perform them.

  Boudicca looked stately, drawn in an open carriage which followed Prasutagus' cart. Her tunic, the hue of the skies on a sunny day, was fastened with a golden brooch depicting two nightingales in song, her arms adorned with a pair of golden bracelets, her fingers bearing rings of Iceni crests. Her lightweight mantle, the hue of the pale primrose, was woven with golden threads. Her long red tresses, wound about her head, were dressed in the traditional Celtic manner.

  Her daughters stood beside her, a symbol of Iceni dynasty, their tears of grief now dried, their bearing a credit to regal dignity. Their long, blond tresses, no longer running free about their shoulders, thickened with lime and wound about their heads, had been dressed by Boudicca's own handmaidens, the long coils held by clasps of silver and gold. Iceni crests of golden thread edged the indigo of their tunics.

  Boudicca stood silent, a symbol of the continuity she hoped to achieve for Prasutagus' sake. Alaina and Valeda, quieted by the solemnity of the occasion, chatted softly, pointing out friends, children of nobles and artisans once called often to the palace for council, now less frequently since Rome had overrun their isle.

  Prasutagus was to be buried on palace grounds, a tradition of Iceni kings. A spot beneath a favorite chestnut tree had been chosen by Mandarus and his council, and Boudicca and Astrinellia had agreed.

  As they arrived, the grounds beneath the tree already prepared, they stepped down from the carriage, taking their place among Mandarus and his sages. Astrinellia arrived soon after. Olovicus, an elder tribesman, once a student of the Druids, began. "We are here to aid Prasutagus in a safe journey to the Other World. We bear gifts, so that he should not want, and we add to the joy of the Other World." He stopped, nodding to a young helper, a palace messenger chosen for the zeal he gave to his duties, and to represent Prasutagus' devotion to his tribe's affairs of state. The youth, not much older than Alaina, stepped forward, his deerskin tunic embroidered with the Iceni crest and arranged in a formal manner, a wooden cage bearing a pair of doves clasped tightly in his hands.

  Olovicus continued. "Let us add to the peace of the Other World," he said. As he spoke, the young messenger lifted the door of the cage, setting free the doves. The doves, fluttering slightly, then gaining their bearings, flew directly toward the sun.

  The sage spoke again. "Let us also add to the joy of song in the Other World," he said. At that, another palace youth, a minstrel-in-training, let loose a nightingale.

  He continued, waving his arms as he continued the ancient rite. "Now, we can add to its sustenance and beauty. Queen Boudicca, you may lay upon the earth your offerings."

  Boudicca stepped forward, her handmaidens laden with Prasutagus' favorite cheese, bits of honey, a freshly baked bread pulled earlier from the palace ovens, and garlands of rose petals. She reached over to lay the offerings upon the earth herself.

  Alaina and Valeda followe
d, placing upon Prasutagus' tomb the shiny stones they had gathered on their woodland jaunts, bowls of silver and gold, and pieces of coral they had smoothed to a fine finish themselves. Astrinellia added Prasutagus' favorite flagon, and a carving of Duana, a goddess of the hunt he had crafted for her as a child.

  Then, Olovicus continued. "We wish Prasutagus a safe journey, where he will dwell in peace, among trees with crystal leaves which shine forever in the never-ending sun, and forever hear the song of the birds." He lowered his arms, giving the sign which ended the rite.

  Boudicca climbed back into the carriage, along with Mandarus, who sought to give their tribesmen a visible sign of continuity. Alaina and Valeda rode along as well.

  Boudicca gave orders to the palace servants to set out the bread, the cheese and the honey they had prepared, and to begin turning the spits set earlier over the open pits and laden with the boar and game brought down by the palace huntsmen. As they rode toward the palace gates, Boudicca knew that what she had studied for, early as a child at Diviticus' knee, lay ahead.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It had been nearly a fortnight since Prasutagus had been laid beneath the chestnut tree. The crowds had dispersed, making their way back to their homes along the winding city streets or the fields of Iceni lands.

  The palace had returned to normal. Mandarus sat in the great hall, his council at table nearby. Boudicca remained at his side, helping to mediate disputes, checking with artisans on designing and minting coins, and placating tribesmen on taxes newly levied to support the Roman army.

  Astrinellia, still in mourning for the brother she adored, spent her days arranging flowers, embroidering pillow and footstool covers, and the edgings of special tunics for Alaina and Valeda. The two princesses, true to their word, gave support to Boudicca by paying attention to their studies of affairs of state, and by making certain she relaxed on walks along the carefully manicured paths of the palace gardens, spying the new phlox and daylilies of late summer, and listening to the minstrels, the shutters flung open to let in the summer breeze, by moonlight.

  As morn came with the rain upon the shutters of her bedchamber, Boudicca arose, bathing to chase away the scent of the murky fog drifting through the cracks of her bedchamber windows, and the dreariness of another rainy day. As her handmaidens added the lovely scent of lavender to the heated waters of her bath, she lavished in the aroma, leaning back, her head upon the edge of the iron tub, its feet the shape of an eagle's claw. Her handmaidens added soaps the scent of woodland flowers, shaped like the stags and hares of the forest.

  As she rubbed these upon her body, her arms still soft and tender, her hands roughened from years of reigning in her mounts along the hills and the plains of the Iceni, she thought of Caractacus, his detention in Rome, the nine years he had stood against the Romans, the rebellion of the Silures to defend their chieftain, and their defeat. She thought of Venutius, known to the Romans as fierce in battle, but without a tribe to lead, living alone among the Catuvellauni, a small tribe which because of its size had escaped the wrath of the Romans.

  Boudicca arose from the bath, rubbing her arms with the perfumed oils her handmaidens had made ready, and donning a proper tunic, a deep indigo linen edged only with golden Iceni crests. Her tresses she had dressed in the traditional Celtic manner.

  As she walked the halls of the palace, she thought of the tasks and decisions to be made. Rome pressed further with demands, increasing taxes and demanding more and more goods. The neighboring colony of Camulodunum, set up by the Romans to house their veterans of battle, increased demands as well, asking for tribesmen to attend to the great temple of Claudius, which the Iceni had built on request from Rome, to repair its many Roman columns, to keep it from the earthly elements which eroded its stately facade. With more veterans daily filling the city, all idle and often drunk with ale, the demands increased, the lawlessness as well.

  Boudicca entered the great hall and took her place beside Mandarus in a large, oaken chair elaborately carved with the larger animals of the hunt. "Who will come before us this morn," she asked, as she seated herself more securely in the chair.

  "First," he said, "we will hear from the artisans who will fashion our newest coin, its design dictated in part by Rome. One side must carry a raised image of the temple built to worship Claudius, the other a raised image of his head. Marius and Dartius, our most experienced artisans of coin, will appear before us, their etchings already complete upon the softest shale. We must approve the drawings, the head must be befitting an emperor of Rome, the temple must appear divine, so not to offend the Romans."

  "We must also," he said, "find a way to appease our farmers and our artisans. Rome demands more food and the urns, the ewers, the anklets and golden arm decorations set with our coral, more and more prized by Roman women."

  "In turn," he added, "we continue to mint coins and are allowed to buy goods from the Continent. But, our artisans are overworked and our farmers work harder with less food upon their own tables."

  As he spoke, a messenger arrived, sent by Venutius, his journey from the Catuvellauni lands evident by the dust still covering his mantle. "I bear a message for Queen Boudicca," he said, as he regained his breath and his composure. "It is from Prince Venutius."

  "Please tell me it at once,' she answered, leaning forward to better hear the messenger.

  "Prince Venutius says he would be with you now in your loss to aid you, but for the danger of leaving the safety of the Catuvellauni, whose loose alliance with Rome leaves them neither a city-state or a province of Rome. 'I know you will do a good job and honor the memory of Prasutagus. You are very fit to be Queen. I think often of you, of Alaina and Valeda, of our many woodland jaunts along the Iceni and Coritani lands. May Sequanna and all the Celtic gods be with you, and may you wear the mistletoe of worship in your thoughts'."

  As she mused upon the message, in her memory the first mistletoe Venutius as a youth had climbed an oak to fetch, she bade the messenger take palace hospitality. Then, Dartius and Marius took their place before her.

  Marius spoke. "We bring drawings of both Claudius and his temple. We also believe we may mint this coin larger than others before. A token of homage to both the emperor and his worship."

  Boudicca took the proposed drawings from Marius, thanking both artisans for their devoted efforts. As she studied them, a city gate guard burst forth into the great hall without announcement, his disheveled arrival a signal to halt proceedings. He hastened directly to Boudicca.

  "Queen Boudicca," he said, trying desperately to catch his breath, "the veterans of Camulodunum have broken through our city gates. With no ready defense, we are helpless. They have felled our guards. They ride directly for the palace."

  At that, the din of a noisy rabble reached the palace. In one sudden moment, without arms at the ready, Boudicca felt the doom of an entire tribe.

  The veterans of Camulodunum, drunk with power and ale, reached the palace gates quickly breaking through and quelling the little resistance the guards were able to muster. Breaking through the palace doors was easy, the heavy wood of the oaken doors and the bars which were quickly secured by the palace guard quickly falling to the enemy ax.

  The Romans swarmed through, routing out servants and royal family alike, in a frenzy to subjugate the city. Servants were chained together, Astrinellia and Mandarus with them. Boudicca was kept aside.

  Nowhere did Boudicca see Alaina or Valeda. Unable to catch a servant's eye, or speak directly to one, she was left without word of either of her daughters. The terror increased as well as the screams of routed servants, unable to hide behind the great oaken chests or iron tubs, behind a pile of skins, from the plunder of Roman soldiers.

  Boudicca stood alone in the great hall, surrounded by the group of veterans assigned to guard her. Her demands to know their intentions and to point out that Iceni lands were protected by Roman pact were met by the icy stares and menacing gestures of her captors.

  As she s
tood, she was forced to view the exodus of every palace servant, those who were new and those who had given years of loyal and devoted service to Prasutagus and his family. Astrinellia, her terror overtaking her normally delicate countenance, limped along, keeping up as best she could.

  The long line, palace servants now chained together with Astrinellia, Mandarus, and the palace council, were forced single file through the now open doorways, obviously bound for the galley of a Roman slave ship. Boudicca stilled as she saw the back of Astrinellia, shoved forward by a drunken Roman soldier.

  Uncertain of her own fate, Boudicca waited, silent, her captors occupied with thoughts of swelling the ranks of slaves and plunder. Her thoughts turned to Alaina and Valeda, her hopes that they were safely hidden.

  As she thought, Marcus Quintillius, now leader of the veterans, arrived, charging directly into the great hall, shouting orders as he went. "Check every Iceni household, lest it harbor weapons. Take, also, what we need to replenish our dwindling grain and our supplies. Order every Iceni tribesman housed near the palace to journey to palace grounds by sundown."

  At that, he turned toward Boudicca, sneering as he spoke. "You Celts think you can let a woman rule a kingdom. Your husband, because of the devotion of the Iceni tribe, was useful to Rome, bringing himself and the empire great wealth, forging the weapons of battle, sending warriors to aid the Roman cause."

  He continued. "But we, the veterans of long years of battle upon this island tire of Claudius' pacts. We demand the subjugation of this isle as we were promised."

  He turned, motioning the guards to surround her, blocking her escape and barring all news of Alaina and Valeda. "Hold her here until sundown," he ordered, making his way from the great hall.