Rage Against the Dying Light

by Jan Surasky

  As Boudicca peered through the open shutters, the sun sank slowly, making way for the light of the moon. As she watched, the noise of the crowd, shuffling slowly up the hillside, reached her ears.

  The sunset brought the return of Marcus Quintillius, tall upon his mount. He dismounted, turning toward the great hall, long strides carrying him toward it. As he entered, he motioned his men to take Boudicca out into the courtyard, now bright with the light of torches. They prodded her as she walked.

  The veterans took their place among the crowd, their gloved hands upon their swords. Marcus Quintillius raised his arm for silence, then spoke. "The Romans shall rule," he shouted, his voice carrying into the silence of the crisp night, the stars bright in a clear, dark sky.

  He stopped, turning his head toward Boudicca's guards. "Lash her to that tree," he ordered, pointing to the largest oak in the courtyard. As the guards obeyed, he continued. "We show you that your queen has no power. We, the Romans, now reign over the Iceni tribe."

  He stopped, then continued. "You must follow our demands. To build more temples for the worship of the divine Claudius, to turn more grain into bread for the Roman tables, to halt the minting of coins. The goods of the Continent are now forbidden to you."

  As he spoke, a guard appeared behind Boudicca, bearing the length of a very large whip. At Quintillius' signal, he raised the whip, his aim the back of the lashed Boudicca. As the long lash whipped against her back, her anger, suppressed during the reign of Prasutagus, rose within her. Visions of the Coritani woodlands where she, Caractacus and Venutius once ran free, the Iceni plains, where Alaina and Valeda took their jaunts, all passed about her.

  But, the sting of the lash brought reminders of earthly pain. Each strike brought tears of pain, and finally cries of agony. As it ended, Boudicca fell nearly lifeless against the tree.

  Marcus Quintillius cut her down himself, standing over her body, still upon the mist of the ground. "We Romans are victors," he shouted. "Now, go back to your homes. Toil for Claudius and the Roman empire."

  As he spoke, he climbed his mount, ready to lead the veterans back to Camulodunum. As the clatter of their horses' hooves became once again a distant din, Boudicca stirred.

  As she made her way down the palace hallways, frantic to find Alaina and Valeda, unmindful of her wounds as she went, Boudicca's countenance changed. Long an aid to Prasutagus' stance on Rome, to save the Iceni from battle, to preserve their wealth, she had secretly admired Caractacus' stand against the Roman army, the Silures' continued battle despite the confinement of their king to Rome.

  She thought of her duty to the Iceni, how she must rebuild the palace, how she must remind Claudius of the Roman-Iceni pact, with hopes that he would honor it. Dartius and Marius had remained behind to help with matters of state, Dartius' wife Marinna to scour the countryside for palace servants. She thought, also, of Astrinellia, soft and gentle, forced into a life of Roman slavery.

  As she reached the kitchen, past the ransacked larder, the remnants of its grain strewn about the hallway, she spied the full destruction the Romans had brought upon the Iceni royal family. Alaina and Valeda lay upon the clay of the floor, in pools of their own blood mixed with the semen of Roman soldiers, their tunics torn from their bodies, their feeble moans the only sign of life.

  She bent down to soothe them as best she could, stroking their tresses now matted with blood. As she knelt, she pondered the dawn through the broken shutters now breaking over the empty courtyard.

  Chapter Twenty

  Boudicca stood at the rear of a wicker wood chariot, her tresses wound up under a newly-forged bronze and iron helmet, studded with coral, silver and gold. Her bright green woolen mantle covered a simple earthen-hued tunic, a large, golden torque emblazoned with the Iceni crest about her neck. A bronze shield sculpted with the Iceni gods and the stags and the hares of the woodlands and a javelin lay beside her, a leather-sheathed dagger about her waist.

  Alaina and Valeda stood at the helm, driving the chariot bent for Camulodunum, pulled by two chestnut and ebony ponies bred for battle, their harnesses adorned with carefully crafted enameled bits edged with gold and silver, their manes with brightly hued plumes. The men of the Iceni tribe followed, those who had trained as warriors before Rome had invaded the Briton island, and those who had left their fields and their plows, their forges and kilns, to train as well.

  The Trinobantes had joined them, bringing up the rear, their chief Ortevegas at their lead. It had been easy for Boudicca to persuade Ortevegas to combine their forces in an attack on Camulodunum. Conquered by the Romans, but long neglected by them, the Trinobantes longed for their freedom.

  Despite the healing of the welts upon her back raised by the Roman lash, Boudicca had trained for battle, enlisting the aid of the best Iceni warriors brought to the palace to live. Alaina and Valeda had regained their strength and most of their spirit, nursed tenderly by the Iceni women, though memories of violence and the loss of Astrinellia still touched them.

  The late autumn had brought a golden yellow to the chestnut and poplar trees, and except for a few corn daisies and hawkweed, the wild flowers had disappeared from the hills and plains they rode through. The fruit of the chestnut hung low and the red of the elm stood brilliant in the sun.

  Boudicca had planned the attack on Camulodunum along with Indomarius, the oldest of the Iceni warriors. Decorated with the scars of many battles, he sat in council with the Iceni queen, Ortevegas, and a group of warriors from the Iceni and Trinobantes tribes.

  The Iceni were easy for Boudicca to convince as well. Long loyal to the beloved Prasutagus, the diplomacy he practiced and the pact he had forged no longer honored by the Romans, outraged at the attack upon their queen and the royal household, they longed for the revenge of a Celtic warrior, no longer a Roman pawn.

  Indomarius had insisted upon a surprise attack, keeping the day a secret among the council, rallying the tribes on the very day of attack, a plan to enter the city on their mounts, leveling buildings as they went, then meet the enemy in battle upon the ground.

  As they rode, Indomarius pulled his mount alongside the chariot, matching his stallion's pace to the ponies'. "We near the city," he shouted to Boudicca. "The woodland and hills we now pass lie only paces from Camulodunum."

  "I shall alert Alaina and Valeda to add speed," she answered, "lest the Romans be alerted by our dust."

  Indomarius then turned to return to his place alongside Ortevegas. As he went, he shouted, "May the gods of the ancients and the gods of the Iceni battle be with you."

  Boudicca raised her arm in salute, then turned toward Alaina and Valeda. "We must drive the ponies faster," she shouted. "We are nearly upon Camulodunum."

  "We have arrived," shouted Alaina. "The city rises before us."

  At that, Boudicca gave the signal to charge, the large horde of warriors falling in behind the wicker wood chariot. The city lay before them, unprotected by guards or gate, stone ramparts or the wood of a stockade fence.

  They rode with a frenzy known only to the long repressed, hacking at buildings, taking a torch to those unyielding to the ax. Roman soldiers, caught in the sloth of their own gambling and ale, scattered everywhere, unarmed, seeking refuge in the great, stone temple built for the worship of Claudius, raised at the edge of the city. A statue of Victory, built upon a pedestal in the city square, fell forward, its shattered wings and outstretched arms victim of the rumble.

  The fires of Iceni and Trinobantes torches blazed behind them, the planks and rubble of wooden housing strewn about. As they rode, Boudicca gave the signal to ride toward the temple, calling Indomarius and Ortevegas to surround the great, stone structure, its columns supporting a massive, stone image of Claudius, its entrance guarded by two large stone lions.

  As the Iceni and Trinobantes assembled, greater in number than the residents of Camulodunum, Boudicca called to Alaina to pull the chariot alongside Indomarius. As the two tribes closed ranks, flank to flank, facing the temp
le, she spoke. "We have leveled every building," she said, facing the elder warrior, "save the temple. In their haste, the Romans have taken no food to stave their hunger within the walls which now hold them captive. We shall wait till hunger drives them forth upon this grassy plain."

  "We shall be able to withstand," he said. "Our saddle packs hold provisions, and we have gathered the great stores of meat and bread taken liberally from the Iceni and the Trinobantes to feed a Roman army that tills no field nor knows the art of the hunt."

  He paused, moving his weary frame about in the saddle. "In their haste," he said, "the Romans gathered their weapons and their armor. But, as they pour forth, they will not be able to assemble in advance as the Roman army is trained. They must enter battle as we do, warrior to warrior, sword to sword. We shall fight them on horseback and on this grassy plain, driving them to the river behind us."

  At that, Indomarius took his leave, returning to help Ortevegas close ranks around the temple. Boudicca turned to Alaina and Valeda. "We must make camp along the river," she said, "so we will be at our full strength on the morrow when the sun rises in the morn. The Trinobantes will keep watch until evening and the Iceni when the moon shows in the sky."

  As Boudicca spoke, Alaina signaled the chariot's ponies, standing firm with their plumes of battle still mostly intact, pulling gently on their reins to head them toward the river which flowed along the hillside below the city of Camulodunum, now ashes and rubble, the only monument to the battle-weary Roman veterans it had housed.

  The ponies trotted the hillside, its grasses the brown of autumn, the river flowed gently beneath the pinks and violets of the sunset. As they reached the water, Boudicca pointed to a stand of beech trees, their golden-red leaves ideal for shelter beneath the darkening sky. Valeda pulled loose the heavy woolen blankets lashed to the chariot's sides, Alaina released the ponies, tying them to a tree towering over the river's edge, its roots wet with the waters of the evening tide, its trunk slightly bent from the force of the wind whipping it as a sapling. She patted them gently as they drank.

  As Valeda spread the blankets along the ground among the beech trees, Boudicca pulled from the chariot a pouch of salted meats, a pack of cheeses, some bread freshly baked with the ground wheat of the palace larder, and an empty flask which she filled with the cooled, evening waters of the river. As the three sat, Boudicca spoke. "We will drive the Romans from our shores," she said. "But, the cost may be great."

  She paused, looking toward the river. "The Silures fight on," she continued, "but without their king to lead them, they neither win nor lose. And, Venutius avoids the capture of the Brigantes in the shelter of the Catuvellauni, but he no longer lifts a sword in defense of a Celtic tribe."

  She turned her gaze back toward her daughters. "I am strong once again, Sequanna protects me, and the Iceni warriors are determined to repel the Roman army," she said. "But, should I be felled by a Roman sword, we must make plans. You both must flee to find safety with Venutius. He will make a plan for your future."

  She paused once again, lifting a piece of cheese from the nearby pouch. "You are princesses of a great Celtic tribe," she continued. "If you are taken captive, Rome will make an example of you, the symbol of subjugation upon our island."

  She lifted her cheese, adding to it the roasted meat of a salted game bird, and a slab of wheat bread freshly baked in the early hours of the morn. As she ate, she urged her daughters to share the hearty bounty, finishing it off under the orange and magenta of the setting sun. Then, she drank from the flask, the waters still cool under the darkening sky. She passed the flask to Alaina and Valeda.

  Mother and daughters sat in silence, watching the soft light of the new moon replace the brilliance of the sun as the stars began to fill the sky. Then, Boudicca spoke. "We must bed down for the night. Indomarius will send someone to rouse us before the dawn."

  They gathered the remains of the food into the traveling pack, returning it to the chariot and unlashing the heavy woolen blankets meant for slumber. As they went, Boudicca looked long at Alaina and Valeda, the bloom of their youth swiftly cut off by the assault of an advancing Roman army. Valeda still slender and pale, the slight reddish hue of Alaina's cheeks barely a hint of her formerly ruddy countenance.

  They rolled out the blankets upon the grasses, Boudicca covering them against the autumn chill. As they lay beneath the beech trees, listening to the rush of waters against the stony shore alongside them, they fell swiftly asleep.

  Boudicca awoke with a start, her shoulders shaken gently by an urgent young warrior, kneeling at her side. "You must wake quickly, my queen," he said, as he stood, stepping aside to give her room to rise. "The Romans rumble within the walls of the temple, and Indomarius gathers both tribes to again encircle them." He turned, heading toward the mass of gathering warriors. Boudicca rose, waking Alaina and Valeda, quickly rolling the blankets to lash them once again inside the wicker wood chariot. Alaina let loose the ponies, holding them gently, stroking their nuzzles, leading them toward the chariot to harness.

  Then, they drove toward the temple, the grasses still wet with dew, the first light of dawn breaking through the mist of the early morn. Indomarius had already led both tribes to circle the structure, tightly flanking it, and motioned her to bring the chariot alongside him, a symbol of tribal strength.

  "The Romans stir inside the temple walls," he said. "But, they show no sign of coming forth to face the swords of our warriors."

  "We shall wait," said Boudicca. "Our saddlebags hold the game of Iceni lands, and the waters of the river will quench our thirst." The sun rose in the sky, a bright, red ball, warming the backs of the warriors, and the long, shaggy manes of their mounts.

  For two days, the Romans stood firm inside the walls, the Celts tightly about the temple. On the third day, with a downpour darkening the skies, and thunder drowning out the sounds of battle, the Romans poured forth, their swords raised, their helmets and breastplates intact.

  But, with their training far behind them, and weak with hunger, the Celts cut them swiftly down, a waiting warrior attacking almost as instantly as they emerged. Those who refused to fight fled on foot to the nearby woods.

  Slain Romans lay everywhere about the grassy plain, once the site of Claudian worship, the heavy rains of the downpour washing them clean. Cries of victory arose from the clusters of exhausted warriors. Boudicca rode about in her wicker wood chariot, praising their valor as she went.

  "We have silenced the Roman enemy in Camulodunum," she shouted. "We shall take back our freedom to till our lands, reaping the bounty only for our own tables. To ride the plains and lift our swords only in our own defense."

  "Now, we must get some rest," she added. "We leave for Londinium by sunrise."

  As Boudicca bedded down for the night with Alaina and Valeda, the heavy downpour making the river rise, she thought of Venutius, safely harbored among the Cautevelanni, Caractacus, an exile in Rome, and Diviticus, so far away on the Isle of Mona. As her eyes closed in slumber, she prayed to Sequanna, and to Dagda and Morrigan, the Celtic gods of war, to protect the Iceni and Trinobantes warriors, and to bring them the victory they sought.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Boudicca stood at the top of a hill, her hand above her brow, shading her eyes to view the valley below. Her warriors had sacked and plundered a number of smaller tribes with allegiance to the Romans, and had gathered a larger number who were bent on fighting for their freedom, swelling the numbers of Celtic warriors which now numbered in the thousands.

  With victory behind them, and Seutonius and the Roman army headed for Mona to rid the island of the Druids, they had decided to attack Londinium, the largest city of the province, and a stronghold for Roman trade. Though densely populated, its occupants were unarmed, the hub of their activity centered on trade ships and merchants.

  As Boudicca stood, she knew the valley below lay very near the thriving city built along the sea. A port to carry Celtic goods to Rome, crafted at
the expense of the needs upon the island. Beautifully woven fabrics, jewelry made from the coral beneath the sea, urns of molded clay, goblets of gold and silver, tables and chairs chiseled from the oaks and maples of the Britons' woodlands. And, the swords and breastplates to protect an army of their oppressors.

  She must meet with the chieftains of every tribe that joined them, and with her own council of Indomarius and her seasoned warriors. She must bring unity to tribes who once knew only independence, and with them lay out a plan of attack that would level Londinium and render it useless as a port along the Roman trade route.

  As she walked the grasses of the hillside, lush with the brilliant gold of the autumn gorse and the pale lavender of the heather, she thought of Alaina and Valeda. She prayed to Sequanna to return to them the peace and the freedom of their childhood.

  Then, she headed for the valley below, where the Celts had camped for three days to recover their strength and check their stores of food, flush with victory and anxious to push on to reclaim what was once a thriving Celtic stronghold. She found Indomarius monitoring the games of the young warriors who, with flagons of ale washing down the dried game and cheese, might easily have taken their valor to the death.

  "We must call a meeting of council," she said. "We must take advantage of the distance of the Roman army and the distractions of the gladiator games and laden tables of Rome for Claudius and the Roman senate."

  "I will round up our warriors and send our young Marinius here who tires of these games to call the chieftains to council," he answered, rising from the squatting position he had taken to better oversee the actions of the youths.

  As Marinius left with instructions and a designated meeting place in a glade at the edge of a nearby forest, Indomarius and Boudicca strolled the plain, the scent of the newly budding primroses and violets filling the air as they walked.

  Indomarius talked of his wife Delphia and his two daughters left behind. His two sons, both warriors, fighting by his side on a field of battle new to them, brought pride to his voice as he spoke.