by Jan Surasky
She found them watering the ponies at a stream near to the oak trees they had chosen to slumber beneath, the sheltering branches reminding Boudicca of the seasons she had spent with Diviticus learning her duty and the lore he had time to teach her. As she came upon them, Alaina called out. "Mama, look yonder," she laughed, as she pointed to a bullfrog croaking loudly and hopping from stone to stone. "The ponies shy away, wondering what he is about," she said. "When Nerthus was a young mount, he played for hours with the bullfrogs in the stream beneath the meadows, the sun warming our backs as he went."
Boudicca laughed, following the antics of the bullfrog, as the ponies whinnied and tried to nudge him, and he quickly hopped out of the reach of their muzzles.
"We can take a stroll," she said, as she joined them at the river's edge, "perhaps along the water, where we can pluck the fruit of the elderberry and the crab-apple overhanging its banks, or through the woodlands, where we can catch a glimpse of the hares skittering about beneath the toadstools, or gather some mushrooms to liven the game of our evening meal."
They tethered the ponies, strolling slowly along the river's edge, its waters winding toward the middle of a woodland, the rays of the afternoon sun warming them as they went.
"Mama," asked Alaina, "when must we go to battle again?"
"We will wait until Seutonius rides to meet us," said Boudicca. "Then, we will face the Roman army. It may be a fortnight till they reach us."
"Until then," she continued, "we must rest, to conserve our strength and gather more. We must catch fish and hunt for game to add to our stores which rapidly grow less. We have had no time to reap our crops or to plow our fields to sow new ones."
"Mama, will there be games this evening by torchlight?" asked Valeda, her steps slowing as her breaths became more measured.
"Yes," said Boudicca, "our warriors must keep up their skills. And, we must be there to encourage them, and to applaud their valor with the javelin and the sword."
As they strolled, Alaina thought of Galorin, of the Osismi tribe. He had showed his courage at Londinium. He was strong, and his light brown locks reminded her of a wheat field on a sunny afternoon, the stalks and beards caught frantically in the gusts of an afternoon breeze. She must try and stand next to him at the jousts, for perhaps he would favor her with a glance, or even a word.
As they strolled, chatting as only a mother and daughters can chat, the image of Galorin slowly eclipsed all of Alaina's youthful thoughts.
Chapter Twenty-Four
As the first rays of the sun beat down upon the branches of the trees in the Mandeussedum forest, where most of the Iceni and their allies were camped, Boudicca and Indomarius gathered together all the tribal chiefs. Boudicca, clad in her helmet, a tunic of many hues gathered together with a belt of golden squares, each depicting an animal of the woodland, a wide golden torque with the Iceni crest about her neck which caught the rays of the sun, a long sword by her side, rode in the rear of her wicker wood chariot, Alaina and Valeda at the helm. Indomarius rode on the back of a freshly groomed roan, the chiefs on mounts of their choice, all watered and fed, rested and groomed the night before.
Seutonius had chosen a site for battle not far from where they were camped, a huge plain surrounded by hills and ravines and backed by a very thick forest, entered only by a narrow path between the hills and ravines. The Celts, with rapidly swelling forces, were now ready to attack. Their women would travel with them, set off to the side in wagons drawn by oxen, to watch the victory.
Boudicca went about from chief to chief, standing tall in the back of her chariot, drawn by the now refreshed ponies, shouting encouragement as she went. "Our tribes number four times Seutonius' army," she said. "Thus far, neither age nor virginity has been safe from the lust of Roman power."
"But, the gods are on the side of a righteous vengeance," she continued. "A Roman legion has perished at Camulodunum. The rest are in hiding or planning to flee. The Romans will fear the noise of our charge, and will never recover from the blows of our attack." She paused, then added, "If you live, you will be taken as slaves. You must conquer, or die."
Then, she rode to the front, the tribes assembling behind her, each led by their chief. She stood, facing the multitude. "Mounted warriors must stay to the side, to allow our warriors on foot to crush the Roman foot soldiers, who we outnumber three to one. Now, we must ride." She gave the signal.
As they rode through the meadows and plains of Mandeussedum, under a nearly cloudless sky, the clatter of horses' hooves echoed among the hillsides, the oak, the maple and the elm trees cleared of robins, the thrush and the sparrow, in flight from a noise that had sounded like strange thunder. The tiger lilies, the wild rose, the sunflowers crushed beneath them.
They rode as only the disenfranchised could ride, bent on recovering the freedom and lands that once were theirs. As they neared the battlefield, Boudicca signaled a halt, turning to face them as they pulled in their mounts to a stop.
"Seutonius has chosen an entry for us over a narrow path, below steep hills and above deep, rocky ravines," she shouted. "We must enter with no more than two or three at a time or we risk the loss of the footing of our mounts."
"Warriors on mounts go first, then warriors on foot, and last the women in our oxen-drawn wagons" she continued. "When we are assembled, facing Seutonius and his legions on the large plain of battle, the horn blowers will give the signal to charge."
At that, she signaled Alaina to begin entry onto the field of battle through the winding path. As they rode, stones and pebbles falling into the ravines below, she thought of how she must avenge the attack upon her daughters and herself, and how she must make it safe for Venutius to leave the harbor of the Catuvellauni.
As they entered the plain, they assembled to face a Roman army already in formation. Legions in a phalanx formation, arm to arm, more lightly armed and therefore more agile foot soldiers about them, and a densely arrayed cavalry on the sides. Seutonius rode up and down before them, confident in their military prowess, shouting encouragement as he went.
"The barbarians spew empty threats and bring their women with them," he said. "They are no match for a disciplined Roman army. It is a greater glory to be outnumbered and achieve a victory. Think only of destruction, not plunder, and victory, power and glory will be yours."
As he spoke, he rode in front of the foot soldiers. "Prepare to hurl the javelins," he said, "and finish the destruction with shield and with sword." Then, he gave the signal to begin.
At that, Boudicca signaled the horn blowers to sound the noise of battle, the din and the cacophony mixing with the shouts and the cries of attacking warriors. The Romans, mindful of their formation, closed ranks, the legion advancing as a wedge, throwing the hordes of Celts to the sides to be cut down by the more agile Roman swordsmen. The cavalry, evenly matched, traded blows sword to sword.
As they fought, muscles honed from seasons of riding the island's plains and tilling its fields nearly burst from the naked and nearly naked bodies of the Celtic warriors. But, panic ensued, the Romans held fast, and those who tried to flee to help their women were cut down or stopped by the wagons blocking the entry path.
Despite the panic, Linnea withdrew to the sidelines to keep her eye on Anthropus, his newly-learned skills put to the test with a number of agile Roman swordsmen. But, despite his courage, his throat was slit by a Roman on mount as he bent to help a warrior he had known since childhood.
Linnea flew to his side, but he had drawn his last gasp of air before she reached him. She rocked him as she held him, sobbing. As she knelt, the thrust of a Roman sword put an end to her own life as well. She fell, crushing the tall grasses beneath her, beside the Coritani farmer she had hoped she would be joined to since maidenhood.
Boudicca, drained by battle and the loss of thousands of warriors, retreated to the edge of the plain to survey the damage. As she fought off a number of approaching Roman soldiers, Alaina and Valeda guided the ponies to the rear of th
e battle field, the edge of a forest thickly treed with ancient oak and maples, elm and hawthorn.
She surveyed the plain, once filled with tall green grasses turned brown with the chill of autumn. Piles of bodies, warriors, women and oxen, lay intermingled, the scarlet of blood, much of it now dried and matted, some of it still gushing and oozing from lifeless bodies, now turning cold, had replaced the green of the plain.
Without her warriors, she would surely be taken captive. Paraded through the streets of Rome, a shackled trophy, a symbol of Roman valor and Celtic defeat. She shouted to Alaina and Valeda, "We must retreat to the woodland behind us. We must be quick, for we must use the cover of battle."
As she spoke, she jumped from the chariot, Alaina and Valeda behind her. As they made their way, the woods darkened, sunlight flickering through the heavily leafed branches, once the walkways of scampering squirrels and the perches of birds in flight. As they searched for a path, the patches of sky and sun grew fewer.
Boudicca woke to the shouting of her name, her unconsciousness broken only by a determined shaking. She lay beneath an oak tree, the stark, white berries of the mistletoe entwining it lay about her, some still clutched in the tight grip of her hand, the sap of those she ingested still clinging to her lips, now tightly pursed. Through the haze, she recognized a long familiar face, kept from her for many seasons past, the long, dark locks around it now turning slightly grey, the mustache above the strong, trim lips still a vibrant ebon.
"Venutius," she said, her voice sounding like an echo to her ears, "am I in the Other World?"
"No," the form, still blurred to her gaze, answered. "We are in the Mandeussedum forest, and you have just been in battle with the Romans."
"Venutius," she said, her voice weakening with each breath as she spoke, "how did you get here?"
"I could no longer desert you, Boudicca," he answered. "The Catuvellauni have been good to me. They gave me safe haven, when other tribes feared the power and the wrath of Cartimandua. I helped them govern, to stand as best we could against the encroaching power of the Romans."
He paused, shifting slightly to cradle her head in his arms. Then, he continued. "When I heard you were to meet Seutonius, I knew I must fight alongside you. But, I could not send you word. The Romans blocked all entry to your camp."
"I reached you by night," he added, "traveling by way of the stars as Diviticus taught. As I neared your camp, I met with the rear of your warriors as you rode to meet Seutonius."
"Venutius," she said, as she waited for him to finish his tale, "Alaina and Valeda are with me."
"I have found them," he answered. "I keep them hidden in safety."
She gasped, as the poison of the mistletoe began to erode her body. "I shall soon be journeying to the Other World," she said, her voice growing weaker, the glimmer of sunlight above them fading as she spoke. "Where crystal trees will sparkle before our gaze, the scent of blossoms will fill the air, and love will flourish forever."
"I shall meet you there," he answered, as he struggled to keep her head from the moss of the forest's floor, her long, red tresses entangled about the strength of his arms. As he spoke, the haze grew thicker to her sight, her eyelids closed over the blue of her once vibrant eyes.
Venutius, whose voice she could no longer hear, bent down, kissing her eyelids, then softly, her lips. Then, he laid her gently upon the mossy earth.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Venutius sat on a simple, wooden bench in the meadow behind a small dwelling fashioned from the stone of a nearby riverbed and erected with the wet, rich clay of the soil around it. His locks, now mostly grey, fell well below his shoulders. His simple linen tunic and trousers kept him from the slight chill of the gentle, spring winds. A single tree grew in the meadow beyond him. Hills, lush with greenery almost sparkling in the sun, rose nearby. As he sat, he chiseled, his newly sharpened carving knife fashioning a warrior from the block of maple he held upon his knees.
Nearby, a child played, tossing his wooden ball among the daisies and the lavender of the meadow, rolling a hoop, fashioned from the very green branch of a newly risen sapling, about. Chasing the birds in flight, their beaks full of the straw that might line a nest or the worms and the insects they carried to feed their young. Or, when he tired of the chase, menacing the hares and the newly hatched peepers with the small, tin sword he got on Beltaine.
Though he had been born to Valeda, Venutius and Alaina had watched over him as well. His three years had brought him a sturdy frame, long red locks, and eyes the blue of the Devon River. He rose every morning before the sun to do his chores. Gathering the eggs from the henhouse, and holding the pail for Alaina while she milked the goat he had christened Dania.
Alaina was in the fields with her newly-joined husband Morgaan, the son of a local farmer whose ancestors had plowed the earth around the dwelling where he had reached manhood for centuries. Though Alaina had been somewhat of an outcast when she had reached the lands that Venutius had brought them to north of Briton and out of the reach of the Romans, Morgaan had been taken by her spitfire ways, her determination to help Venutius pull from the land, once barren and filled with stones and clods of unforgiving clay, the wheat that put the bread upon their table and the flax that as spun linen clothed them. Though quiet, but firm, he had convinced his parents, over the objections of the local farmers and most of his kinsmen, to accept her as his wife.
The dwelling that stood behind Venutius' bench was ample, a room which had held a simple bed for Alaina and Valeda, and a smaller one for the child who was called Galyth. A great room, where Venutius slept, with a large, open fireplace that gave them warmth against the fairly mild winters, and an open pit, with a spit, to roast the fish and small game they supplemented their diet of milk and cheese, eggs and freshly baked bread with.
A small room had been added as a sleeping room for Alaina and Morgaan, built mostly by Morgaan, who had helped his father and his kinsmen add rooms and patch the thatched roofs that kept them from the many rains that fell upon the area. A small kitchen and pantry finished off the great room at the far end where Valeda prepared most of their daily meals.
Valeda was now nineteen, slender in build, with the palest of long, blond tresses and eyes as blue as a cloudless sky on a still, sunny day. She was known as a very young widow by the locals, the farmers and their wives, and the few traders who inhabited what might have passed for a village a few days travel away. Venutius did little to dispel this notion as he made his occasional neighborly rounds or traveled to barter for supplies. The truth of Galyth's birth was known only to Venutius and the two princesses.
As Venutius chiseled, Galyth dropped his play to run toward him, putting his chin on Venutius' knee. "Venutius," he asked, "when will my warrior be ready?"
Venutius chuckled. "As soon as we wrest his arms and legs from this block of wood," he answered, taking time to ruffle the boy's fiery locks, warmed from the morning's sun.
"What will he be called?" asked Galyth, pulling away to seat himself alongside the legs of the bench.
"Whatever you call him," answered Venutius, "for he will be yours to christen."
"Then, I will call him Venutius," he said, his face brightening with a certainty only a three-year-old could possess.
As they spoke, the door of the dwelling behind them was flung open. Valeda, clad in a pale, lilac tunic, the hue for which she plucked the hyacinths herself, walked toward them. Her tresses were pulled back by a single strand of linen. About her neck hung a small grey-black facsimile of a pony, held by a length of leather, carved from the shard of a very soft stone, uncovered by Venutius' plow the year of their very first harvest.
"Galyth," she called, laughing to see the boy jump up, "it is time for our noonday meal. You must run and get Alaina and Morgaan."
As he ran off, his form disappearing in the grasses before them, hoping to beg a ride atop Morgaan's shoulders on the journey back, Valeda turned to Venutius. "Alaina seems so happy now that she is joi
ned with Morgaan," she said. "Will I ever be joined?"
Venutius put down his carving knife, returning her gaze, her eyes filled with a sparkle that seemed to reflect the noonday sun. "I'm sure that when the time is right," he answered, "the young lads about will be vying to make you their wife." He paused, searching the horizon, hearing the sounds of voices and laughter, mixed with the song of the birds nesting in the tree. "They return," he said, as he rose. "I will help you set out the noonday meal."
Alaina and Morgaan sat on three-legged stools on one side of the long, pine table set in front of the open hearth, Venutius and Galyth on the other, as Valeda brought cheese, bread and milk to set before them. Alaina spoke. "Venutius," she said, as she looked at her plate to fill it with a slab of the creamy goat cheese and a generous portion of the wheat bread she tore from the freshly baked loaf, "you must come to the fields to see how Morgaan and I have made ready the fields to sow the wheat. If Sequanna favors us this harvest, we shall have much to store against the winter when the goose and the partridge are scarce. Perhaps even enough to barter for a newborn hog."
Venutius smiled. "That will cost us much in stores of wheat," he said, as he too filled his plate with a hearty slab of cheese. "But, I will join you and walk behind the plow when you are ready to sow the first seeds of wheat and flax."
Then, Morgaan spoke. "Valeda," he said, as he looked at her helping Galyth to cut a slab of cheese, "when the wheat stands tall bending gently in the breeze my kinfolk will travel to thank the gods and attend the feast of Lhughasa. We would like you to go as well."
The invitation brought a flush to Valeda's otherwise pale countenance and an excitement she hadn't known since they had settled into the solitude of the land. But, duty and responsibility began to cloud her thoughts.