Boudicca

Chapter XXXVII

I hadn’t realized how much time had passed while I helped Rhan, Wulffaed, and her skilled daughters prepare Addedomaros until

Cadoc and Mailcun joined us, proclaiming that the pyre had been built in the center of the field.

I nodded wearily. “Thank you, Cadoc and Mailcun. Has the stallion been added to the pyre?”

Cadoc’s nod was tight. “Yes. Maldwyn readied the stallion.”

Mailcun ran a hand through his graying hair. “Your horse master even painted Black’s coat with our tribal symbols and braided

his mane and tail.”

“That is as it should be. Black will join Addedomaros in Annwn.” It was then that I rolled my aching shoulders, glanced toward

the mouth of the cave, and realized it was fully dark. “I will have our fattest boar slaughtered and the choice cuts added

to the pyre, which we will light tomorrow at dusk.” I looked to the Trinovantes shield. With Adminius drugged into a deep

sleep, he was the ranking tribal member. “It would be my honor to host the feast after the lighting of the pyre, if that is

acceptable to you.”

“It is.” Mailcun nodded. “Addedomaros would appreciate the fact that his feast meal was prepared by his favorite cook, the

Mother of Twenty.”

Wulffaed’s face flushed with pleasure. “And a grand feast it will be,” she said.

“Wulffaed, if Queen Boudicca agrees, you and your daughters may go begin preparing for the feast,” said Rhan from her place

at the head of the chief’s body. “All that is left to do here is to paint my father’s body and braid his hair. I can tend

to that.”

“Yes, of course,” I said. “Wulffaed, you and your daughters may go, and thank you.”

As the women filed out, Mailcun cleared his throat. “Rhan, I would like to stay and aid in the last of the preparations for

my chief.” His gaze went to Addedomaros’s still body. “I have spent more years by his side than not. I will miss him greatly.”

“My father would approve,” Rhan said.

Mailcun breathed out a long sigh of relief and joined Rhan, helping her mix the wooden bowls of body paint.

“Queen Boudicca.” Cadoc spoke my name softly. I wiped the herbal oils from my hands and went to my shield. “It is Maldwyn.

I worry for him. Ending Black’s pain was difficult but the right thing to do.”

“Of course it was. Had Maldwyn not done it, the Trinovantes horse master would have. It was fortunate Maldwyn was there so

swiftly. His touch calmed Black and allowed the killing blow to be gentle,” I said.

Cadoc nodded. “I agree, but Maldwyn is young. Outside of battle injuries, this is the first healthy stallion he has had to

put down. He is not taking it well, my queen.”

“Thank you for telling me.” I touched my shield’s arm. “I will see to Maldwyn.”

Cadoc bowed to me before the icy darkness outside the cave swallowed him. As I turned to rejoin Rhan and Mailcun, my best

friend and lover was there beside me.

“Go to Maldwyn. You should be with him tonight. He needs you,” said Rhan.

“And you?” I asked.

“I will finish preparing my father and then sit vigil with his body. I do not feel his spirit strongly. It is as if he has

already begun his journey to Annwn, but I will be here to guide him if he loses his way.”

I lowered my voice for Rhan’s ears alone. “I do not wish to cause you any more pain today.”

She looked steadily at me. “You going to Maldwyn’s bed does not cause me pain. He is a good man and an honorable warrior. There is a vast kindness about him. And Maldwyn makes you happy. I wish for you to be happy. What we have together will not be diluted by your love for him.”

“No, it will not be.” I touched her cheek gently. “I am not sure I would be so generous if you were to choose another lover.”

“There is no other lover for me, nor will there ever be,” she said.

I pulled Rhan into my arms and held her close.

***

While I bathed, Wulffaed prepared a basket of food and winter beer, and as soon as I was dressed I hurried to Maldwyn’s caravan,

which butted up to the side of the mountain closest to our herd. I’d gone to his caravan before—I’d even spent the night in

his bed there and was used to the soothing sounds of the nearby horses and the usually raucous stable workers, who shared

a big central campfire with Maldwyn and liked to sing battle songs and drink well into the night.

Tonight the camp was subdued, most especially Tribe Trinovantes, the bulk of whom sheltered near the herds. The sleet had

changed to an unending blanket of falling white. The hood of my heavy, fur-lined cloak was pulled up over my head to shield

me from the weather. It and the snow also made it difficult to tell that I wasn’t just another warrior making her way to her

campfire on this somber night. I was glad for my temporary anonymity. Not because I had any desire to hide the fact that Maldwyn

and I were lovers—I’d never hidden that, nor would I. That night I was weighed down by sadness and I needed solitude to gather

my thoughts. Addedomaros and I hadn’t always been in agreement, but his death was a shock. I would miss the cantankerous old

chief.

When I reached Maldwyn’s caravan, he did not notice me. He was sitting alone on a log near the big community campfire, sheltered from the majority of the snow by animal hides stretched from one caravan to another. His head was bowed and he stared into the fire. He looked defeated and far older than he had that morning. I tossed back my hood and strode to him. He finally looked up. I saw the surprise in his eyes, which were red and swollen. When he started to stand I pressed his shoulder down and sat beside him instead, and began unwrapping food from my basket.

“Wulffaed packed this for us,” I said.

He cleared his throat and then said, “You have not eaten?”

“Not since this morning. I’ve been with Rhan preparing Addedomaros.”

Maldwyn grunted and nodded. We ate silently, staring into the fire and sitting so close together that our thighs touched.

I hadn’t realized how hungry I’d been until I’d taken the first bite, and Maldwyn must have felt the same, as we ate quickly

and ravenously. I pulled out the bladder filled with beer and we passed it back and forth. After we’d finished the food, I

felt better, more grounded, and continued to sip the beer when it was my turn.

“Cadoc tells me you made sure Black was properly prepared and part of the pyre,” I said. “I’m glad of it.”

“Killing that stallion was...” His voice faded as a shiver passed through his body.

“It was a great mercy,” I said. “You soothed Black and stopped him from panicking and causing himself more pain.”

Maldwyn looked at me then. His eyes were tortured. “That stallion made it through three major battles with little more than

scratches. He should have had years left, siring magnificent offspring and proudly carrying his chief.” His breath hitched

on a sob then, and he buried his face in his hands. “I-I don’t know why this has broken me. You and I have seen much worse

on the battlefield.”

“Maldwyn, you’re responding to the tragedy of it. The accident shouldn’t have happened at all. In battle we’re prepared to

die and to lose the warriors with us, which includes the warriors that carry us into the fight.” I slid my arm around his

broad shoulders and he leaned into me. “Today was supposed to have been a contest among friends. It should have ended in a

feast where one of us celebrated and the other three conceded defeat graciously, not in the loss of a great chief and his

most cherished stallion.” I held him tightly. “None of us was prepared for that.”

He nodded, sighed, and wiped his face. “How is Adminius?”

“Adara drugged him. He’s been asleep since we began preparing his father’s body.”

“And what of Rhan? He was her father, too,” said Maldwyn.

“She and Mailcun are still with Addedomaros. She will sit vigil with him tonight. I do not think she has had time to consider

the true impact of her loss yet.” I sighed. “That will come later, after the Trinovantes choose Adminius as their chief.”

“If they do,” said Maldwyn.

“What have you heard?”

“That Adminius is not respected by his tribe,” said Maldwyn.

I shook my head, not surprised by Maldwyn’s words. “A tribe will never choose a chief they do not respect.”

“I did not hear one Trinovantes warrior speak the words chief and Adminius together today.”

“Do they blame Adminius for his father’s death?” I asked.

“Yes and no. They acknowledge that it was an accident, but the whole army knows the accident only happened because Adminius’s

boasting goaded Addedomaros into the contest.” Maldwyn shook his head in disgust. “What a waste of life.”

I nodded. “We light the pyre tomorrow at dusk. I’m hosting the funeral feast.”

“That would make the old chief smile. He liked you,” said Maldwyn.

I sighed. “He often reminded me of my father. I will miss verbally jousting with him.”

Maldwyn almost smiled. “Is it true he thought he won the contest?”

I did smile. “Just before he died, he asked me if he’d won and I told him yes.”

“You would have won,” said Maldwyn.

“I know.” I stood and held out my hand to him. “Come.” I led Maldwyn to his caravan and the bed pallet there that was piled

thick with pelts and blankets.

That night Maldwyn made love to me with a tenderness I shall never forget. I shall also never forget how he woke from a nightmare

before dawn, weeping and whispering the stallion’s name. I held him until, utterly spent, he finally slept deeply and dreamlessly.

***

I thought the lighting of Addedomaros’s pyre would flood me with memories of saying goodbye to my mother, but it did not.

Though both were tragic, the chief’s death was so different from what had happened in Tasceni that I had no difficulty keeping

the two separate. The pyre was just large enough to hold the bodies of Addedomaros and his stallion and the rich offerings

his tribe sent with him to Annwn.

Rhan led the funeral, embracing her role as high Druid. The pyre was small enough that Adminius had only to step to it and

light it with a torch, instead of shooting a fiery arrow into it, but he was still so filled with grief and, I suspected,

guilt that he almost dropped the torch. I was standing close by and quickly steadied him. As the pyre lit, Adminius wept so

brokenly that I began wishing I hadn’t offered to host the funeral feast. I was relieved when he, his lead warriors, and his

father’s guard entered my cave lodge clear-eyed, with Adminius seemingly in control of his emotions.

As my temporary lodge wasn’t nearly as spacious as the Iceni royal home at Tasceni, there were considerably fewer warriors

in attendance than there would normally be at a funeral feast for a chief. I had made sure several fat Iceni boars and goats

had been slaughtered and gifted to the Trinovantes camp. It was still snowing, but cook fires lit the valley like giant glowworms,

and the cold breeze was scented with roasting meat.

As I had no table long enough to accommodate Adminius and his warriors as well as my people, I’d had Wulffaed position four

tables in a large square. I sat in the middle of one table, with Cadoc on my left and Maldwyn and Abertha beside him. To my

right Rhan took the position of honor that was rightfully hers as high Druid. Beside her sat Adara, our only other Druid,

and then Briallen. The two other tables that made up the square were populated by Comux, Leofric, and their lead warriors.

Wulffaed and her daughters served us. The group was mostly silent, which was unusual for a funeral feast. Even after the lighting of the pyre that held my mother and so many of our elders, the feast had been punctuated by stories of those who had journeyed to Annwn and laughter mixed with tears.

I cleared my throat and stood with my cup of Wulffaed’s mulled mead in my hand. “Addedomaros often vexed me with his stubbornness

and his belief that he was never wrong.” I grinned to take any bite from my words and was glad when Mailcun smiled and nodded.

“But I will miss our verbal sparring. I will also miss his big, booming laugh, which reminded me of my father. I can easily

imagine Addedomaros, as young as he was when I fostered in his household all those years ago, sitting beside his beloved wife

at Epona’s table, drinking and making merry in Annwn this very night. To Addedomaros, who was well loved and will be well

missed!” When I raised my mug, shouts of “Aye, to Addedomaros!” echoed from the cave’s walls.

As I sat, Mailcun stood. The shield looked pale. His eyes, usually clear and expressive, were red and weary, but his smile

was genuine when he lifted his mug. “I do not know if everyone here has heard, but our chief’s last words were...” Mailcun

met my gaze and lifted his brows.

“‘Did I win?’” I said.

Mailcun waited until the laughter had faded before he finished. “And Queen Boudicca told our chief that he had, indeed, won

the contest, sending him to the arms of Epona joyous with victory. To Addedomaros, who truly believed he could never be bested

in any kind of race that included Trinovantes horseflesh!” As he drank, the room exploded in ayes and fists pounding tables.

That lightened the mood—until Adminius stood. The young man looked terrible. His face had aged decades in one day. His skin

was sallow and loose. His eyes were puffy. He was, of course, wearing his best finery, and his hair had been combed and carefully

pulled back and braided, but somehow he still was bedraggled and small. Carefully, I kept my eyes from Adminius’s neck, which

was bare of the torque that would have proclaimed him chief of Tribe Trinovantes.

Beside me I felt Rhan stiffen.

Adminius raised his mug to me. “First, I would like to thank Queen Boudicca for her hospitality. She has proven herself not just ally but friend.”

I bowed my head slightly in acknowledgment as the room echoed his toast and drank.

“Next, I want to make it official that I will not change the lead warrior choices my father made.” Adminius glanced at the

men who sat on either side of him, nodding at each of them, though they made no response. Adminius, who seemed oblivious to

their silence, continued. “Especially you, shield of the Trinovantes.” He nodded to Mailcun. “Your place should always be

at the right hand of the chief, thus you will remain there when I wear the torque.” Adminius raised his mug again. “To my

father, who was victorious in life as in death!”

There was a subdued response to Adminius’s toast, and Rhan released a long breath as her brother sat and then leaned close

to me to whisper, “I’d hoped he would not force the issue tonight, but as he has, I must speak.”

A chill fingered down my spine as Rhan stood, and the room instantly went silent. I knew what was happening. I’d experienced

it. Twice. Though the first time differed dramatically from the second. When Prasutagus died, Derwyn presented me with my

queen’s torque during his funeral feast, after Prasutagus’s shield and senior warriors had consulted with the high Druid and all had been in agreement that I was to lead

the Iceni.

The second time had been unusual, but I had not initiated my naming as a wartime queen. The goddess Andraste had gifted me

with Prasutagus’s torque. The wearing of a torque is always the decision of the tribe and the high Druid—or of the tribe’s

patron goddess or god—and never of the prospective chief or queen. I knew why Rhan had stood and what she would say, though

the knowing did not make it any easier.

“Adminius, son of Addedomaros, as high Druid it falls to me to tell you that your lead warriors and I have not yet decided

who will wear the Trinovantes torque.”

Absolute silence followed her words. I felt Cadoc stir beside me to put his hand on the dagger he always wore sheathed around his waist. The chiefs of the Dobunni and Catuvellauni tensed, as did Mailcun and the other Trinovantes warriors.

My gaze went to Adminius as I, too, readied myself for one of the explosions of temper for which he was so well known.

“Of course! Of course, good sister.” Adminius’s smile appeared guileless. “Forgive me for speaking of such things too soon.

You are correct. Tonight we remember my father. We can discuss the torque and who should wear it later. Wulffaed! I’d like

more of your excellent mulled mead. Tonight, I drink not just for myself but for my father—and that is certainly a mighty

task.”

Wulffaed hurried to fill his mug as the room released a collective sigh of relief. Losing a chief unexpectedly was difficult

enough on a tribe, but to lose him and then have to deal with infighting over his torque would be doubly tragic.

The Dobunni chief stood next, telling a story about when he’d traded with Addedomaros for several unbroken yearlings, and

now those yearlings had proven to be the swiftest, though most headstrong, horses in their herd—obviously reflecting the attributes

of the Trinovantes chief.

Surreptitiously, I watched Adminius as the warriors drank more and more and told story after story about his father. He appeared

to be increasingly drunk, slouching and slurring his words, but he drank almost nothing . Oh, he seemed to be drinking, and Wulffaed refilled his mug often. Only I noticed that Adminius spilled more mead than he

drank, and when he thought no one watched he would tip his mug, pouring it under the table.

I leaned close to Rhan and lowered my voice. “Your brother’s drunkenness is a ruse.”

Rhan said nothing, but she, too, snuck glances at her brother until she whispered to me, “Beware and be ready.”

I nodded, and next time the warriors all laughed at a story Mailcun had told about his chief, I bumped Cadoc’s thick leg,

drawing the old shield’s attention. “Adminius is pretending to be drunk.”

Cadoc narrowed his eyes, watching Adminius, before he whispered to me, “Aye, he’s up to something.”

But nothing happened. The warriors continued to tell stories. Adminius laughed with them, sloshing mead from his mug and pretending to drink.

As the night grew old, the Trinovantes warriors were slurring their words. Some were even snoring with their heads on the

tables. I began to relax. They would all leave soon. It could be that Adminius was so grief-stricken that he had no stomach

for drink that night and the only ruse he’d planned was to pretend otherwise so that he didn’t appear weak to his warriors.

So when Adminius stood for a second time that night, I smiled at him, expecting that he would thank me again and then call

the feast to a close.

“Queen Boudicca, again I thank you for the generosity you have shown me,” said Adminius.

“Tribe Trinovantes is the Iceni’s closest ally. It has been my honor to host the funeral feast of their chief,” I said.

“In return I would gift you—gift us all—with something.”

I began to assure Adminius no gift was necessary, but he spoke over me.

“Join with me as more than allies. Marry me, Queen Boudicca, and unite Tribe Trinovantes and Tribe Iceni forever.”

Again, his words brought stunned silence to the lodge. I felt the shock in the pit of my stomach—along with anger. This was

why Adminius needed to appear drunk but actually be clear minded.

I met his gaze and spoke slowly and distinctly. “Adminius, son of Addedomaros, I will never marry again.” I stood. “And now

I will wish you and your good warriors a peaceful night.”

Adminius chuckled and slurred his words. “Of course! Of course! Prasutagus was quite a man—quite a chief. And you are quite

a queen. Good night, all!” Adminius staggered and almost fell. Mailcun caught his arm and steadied him, leading him from my

lodge. The rest of the Trinovantes warriors bowed respectfully to me as they silently departed, followed by the Dobunni and

Catuvellauni.