Boudicca

Chapter XXXIX

The winter solstice came and went during a blinding snowstorm. Yule logs were decorated, added to hearthfires and watched

all that longest night of the year so that their flames did not extinguish until the sun was reborn at dawn. Addedomaros’s

death had left a pall over the army, though all were in agreement that Mailcun was an excellent choice as the new chief and

his banishment of Adminius was just. But before the accident the camp had felt lighter, joyful—and now the joy seemed to have

fled with the sun.

Imbolc approached, the beginning of lambing, which heralded lengthening days and the much anticipated spring thaw. But I worried

that my army had lost its heart, which held a special irony for me as that winter I found my heart.

I hadn’t been so content since I was a child in Isurium, running wild through the forests surrounding the royal home of Tribe

Brigantes, dearly loved by my mother and father.

My daughters thrived. When the weather allowed, Cadoc took them with him on quick hunting expeditions into the forest near

the valley. They always returned with cheeks pink with cold, smiles stretching their faces, and stories about how their wolves

had aided them in hunting whatever they’d tracked and killed. The girls and their wolves had grown tall and strong—and continued

to train with the warriors. I, too, trained almost daily. I loved the strength of my muscles and my speed and balance, and

my lead warriors continued to push the limits of my abilities so that I consistently got stronger and faster.

I enjoyed the weekly Arianell’s Day, bonding even more completely with the women of my tribe as we celebrated Andraste, our elders, and the power of our matriarchy. Wulffaed continued to make my cave lodge not just comfortable but cheerful—no matter the sobriety of the rest of the camp, my lodge was often filled with the sounds of happy women and healthy children.

And then there was the joy Rhan and Maldwyn brought me. Their love warmed that long, cold winter so much that as the days

slowly began to lengthen, I secretly wished for a late spring. The two of them contented me. I took both to my bed. Not both

at once—though I silently admitted to myself I would enjoy that. I did not broach the subject with either of my lovers. Not

because they were jealous or possessive. On the contrary, Rhan and Maldwyn honestly liked one another. The three of us spent

many late nights happily drinking fireside and telling stories. The full truth was that I did not want to do anything to threaten

the balance between us and our happiness.

That winter would have been perfect had the somber mood of the rest of the army been lifted. I worried about morale and wished

all of my people could know the contentment I had found.

It was a night just about a fortnight before Imbolc, when Cadoc joined Rhan, Maldwyn, and me under the guise of wanting to

taste Wulffaed’s new batch of mead, that the solution came to me.

Cadoc took a long drink from his mug, wiped his beard with the back of his hand, and grinned at Wulffaed. “Aye, well, you

have outdone yourself again, Mother of Twenty.”

Wulffaed huffed, though her eyes sparkled with pleasure. “You say that every time you drink my mead.”

“Because it is true!” bellowed the shield.

“Well, I’d better get you some bread and cheese to soak it up, as you’re drinking enough for several old shields,” groused

Wulffaed, though her smile softened her words.

As Wulffaed hurried off, Cadoc’s expression sobered. He cleared his throat, pulling my attention from the tunic I was embroidering

with deep-blue ravens. “Queen Boudicca, it might be a good idea to invite Mailcun and perhaps the other chiefs to your lodge

to share in some of these evenings with you.”

My brow furrowed. “But they break their fasts with me—with all of us, in addition to Abertha and Briallen—almost every morning.”

“Aye.” He nodded contemplatively. “But that is more of a formal thing. A holdover from our morning war councils. This”—he gestured around us at the snug, warm cave, the friendly hearthfire, and the comradery that made the evenings so enjoyable—“is much more than a war council. It is a tribe, a family.” He blew out a long breath. “It’s peaceful, and I do not think the other chiefs are enjoying such peace.”

I put down my embroidery. “I have felt the gloom in the rest of the camp.”

“Aye,” said Maldwyn. He sat across the fire from me on a large stump that had been carved into a wide-backed chair. He liked

to drape his fur cloak along the back of the chair so that he seemed to sink into its softness. “We’ve spoken of it, the queen,

Rhan, and I. It began with the death of Addedomaros.”

Rhan was beside me. She preferred to sit on a thick woolen blanket, folded and placed on the floor so she could rest her back

against the side of my chair. “Cadoc, has Tribe Trinovantes not accepted Mailcun as their chief?”

“Oh, they have. It is odd that there is such a sense of gloom over their camp as the inner workings of the tribe run so much

more smoothly under Mailcun’s leadership,” said Cadoc.

“Much of that is because Adminius is no longer constantly causing problems with the other tribes,” said Maldwyn.

“Yes, and one would think that his absence alone would lighten the mood of the camp,” continued Cadoc, “but it has not. Instead

the gloom seems to be deepening. Comux is restless and worried for his family, which does not help the morale of the Dobunni.”

“What of Leofric?” I asked.

Cadoc shrugged. “His tribe is rather isolated. Even though the Catuvellauni he leads rejected Rome, there are still too many

in the other tribes who have lost friends and family to his brother for them to fully embrace Leofric and his people.”

“I have noted the same,” said Rhan. “It is as if the other tribes have lost their spirit.”

“That’s it!” I sat up straighter and smiled. “I know how to heal their spirits. Cadoc, I’m going to need four large logs—so

big they can be carved into life-sized images. Can you get them for me?”

Cadoc lifted a shoulder. “It hasn’t snowed for several days. I should be able to go far enough into the forest to drag out some old logs.”

“How soon could you do that?” I asked.

“When do you need them?” the old shield countered.

I grinned at him. “Yesterday.”

“Aye, well, as you ask, so will I do, my queen.” He sounded long-suffering, but his smile was warm and generous.

***

It only took Cadoc two days to find and haul back to camp four large logs from the huge trees felled in the last ice storm.

The evening he brought the last of them to camp, I had him set up the logs just outside my cave entrance. The next morning,

when the chiefs and my lead warriors joined me to break their fast, I had Wulffaed hold serving the food until after I spoke.

“I ask that you join me outside before we eat,” I told the warriors, glad that the morning was sunny, though clouds threatened

over the western mountains. Sending me curious glances, they followed me out of the entrance of the cave. “I have come to

understand what it is that is missing in our camp this winter.”

Mailcun’s brows went up. Leofric’s gaze went from the logs to me, where it stayed as he watched me with open curiosity. Comux

was, as had become usual for him, silent.

“As an Imbolc gift, I give each chief one of these logs, as well as talented artists from among the Iceni who will carve the

logs into images of each tribe’s sacred goddess or god.” I motioned to Rhan, who joined me. “And then I will ask that each

idol be blessed and each shrine dedicated to...”

Rhan continued, turning to Mailcun first. “Epona, horse goddess and patroness of Tribe Trinovantes.” Her gaze shifted to Comux.

“Sulis, goddess of waters and patroness of Tribe Dobunni.” She looked from Comux to Leofric. “Bran, god and guardian of the

land, patron of Tribe Catuvellauni.” Finally her eyes found me. “And Andraste, goddess of war and the patroness of Tribe Iceni.”

Silence greeted Rhan’s proclamation and my stomach began to sink—and then Mailcun stepped forward and stroked one of the wide old logs. “I can see the face of Epona within this wood.” When his gaze went to me, his eyes were bright. “Though I would like to carve our goddess’s image myself.”

I felt a huge rush of relief. I knew well that Mailcun was a gifted sculptor. He’d often carved little trinkets for my mother.

I had hoped my gift would intrigue him.

Mailcun’s interest was like a dam break, and the other chiefs surged forward, studying the logs and making their choices.

“Queen Boudicca,” said Comux, “I choose this log and accept your gift gratefully, though I feel certain my Dobunni artists

will insist that only they can bring alive the image of Sulis properly.”

“Of course, Chief Comux,” I said graciously.

Leofric cleared his throat. He stood beside the thickest of the logs. “And the Catuvellauni will gladly accept this log. I,

too, would prefer one of my artists carve the image of our god.”

“That is understandable,” I agreed, careful not to smile victoriously.

That left the tallest log to be carved into Andraste’s image. I was glad of it. I was also glad of the lively conversation

about the idols and where they should be placed that dominated our mornings for the next several days.

The atmosphere of the camp began to change as soon as the four artists, one from each tribe, began working the wood to expose

the goddess or god within. Rhan had suggested that we place the logs equidistant around the practice field, so that our patron

goddesses and god would watch over our warriors as they trained. I agreed and knew very soon that her idea had been brilliant.

Crowds formed every day to observe as the idols took shape. It became a type of competition, but it had a much different feel

than the one that had led to the death of one of our chiefs. This competition was permeated with a sense of wonder and magick

as the goddesses and god began to emerge from the weathered wood.

At Imbolc, a holy day on the wheel of the year when we celebrate new life and the reawakening of the earth after its long winter slumber, all four idols were completed enough that they were included in the festivities. Candles were lit around the base of each statue. Honey cakes and bowls of sheep and goat milk were left out as offerings, as well as crystals, beads, and feathers. Thereafter the sense of melancholy lifted, and as the army honored its gods, it once again found its spirit.

It was then that I noticed I was ill. The illness began as exhaustion and nausea. My daily training was a struggle. I said

nothing, but my lead warriors began watching me closely, which made me redouble my efforts to appear well.

I could not shake the lethargy that snuck upon me at unexpected times. One day I would get through training just fine, with

only the usual well-earned tiredness. The next day I would have to end early and retire to my bedchamber for the rest of the

day.

Food tasted odd. Sometimes I was ravenous and others I couldn’t bear anything except sipping a little bone broth. My body

ached and was overly sensitive.

I was irritable. I refused to speak of my illness to Rhan or Maldwyn, but as February came to a close, I was still not well.

I’d thought I’d mostly kept my infirmity secret, but when our healer Adara joined my lodge during the next Arianell’s Day

I knew I had not been as good at hiding my illness as I had hoped.

That day I was annoyed that I felt especially sick. Wulffaed had taken one look at my sallow face and begun boiling bones

for broth. I tried to laugh with the women but found I wasn’t able to do much more than sit still while Phaedra brushed and

braided my hair. As the women left my lodge, smiling and replete with mead and comradery, Adara remained behind with Rhan.

I took a deep breath and readied myself as the two women approached me together.

“Boudicca, I asked Adara to attend you today,” said Rhan almost shyly. “I have been worried. You have lost weight. You are

often exhausted. I—I am concerned you have a wasting sickness.”

Adara chuckled.

Rhan and I turned our twin frowns on her. “Is my illness amusing?” I snapped at the healer. I had felt increasingly unwell

as the day progressed and had little patience for foolishness.

“Of course not, my queen,” said Adara with a smile. “Tell me, when did you last have your moon days?”

Rhan gasped, and I suddenly felt numb—and foolish. I’d borne two children, and though it had been many years, I certainly

should have remembered what it had felt like to be with child. Hastily, I counted back. I’d not bled for well over one month.

I had to swallow several times before I could speak. “I’m with child.”

“Aye, that is my guess,” Adara said, nodding. “Though if you allow it I will examine you to be sure.”

Adara’s examination supported what I had already realized. When the Druid healer left and Rhan and I were alone, my lover

came to me and took me tenderly into her arms.

“A child. It is such a blessing,” Rhan said. Then she laughed. “I didn’t even consider it! I was worried you had a wasting

sickness.”

“Well, Ceri has known ten namedays. When Prasutagus and I conceived no more children, I believed I would not bear another

child.” I relaxed in her embrace and allowed myself to be filled with relief that I wasn’t deathly ill, as well as joy at

the knowledge of the new life within me. “Maldwyn will be pleased,” I said softly.

“Yes he will,” Rhan said. “As will all of the Iceni. This is wonderful news, proving the Iceni are fertile and strong and

well blessed by Andraste.”

“Well, if this pregnancy is anything like my other two, I will only feel ill for just a couple more full cycles of the moon,

and then I will be filled with energy until just before I give birth. That should give us time to defeat the Romans before

we celebrate a new member of the royal Iceni family.”

“Yes,” Rhan said softly. “Yes.”

***

I sent word to Cadoc that I wished to entertain the chiefs for dinner that evening, and that I would also like Abertha and

Briallen to join us. As Wulffaed prepared a special meal of fat chickens glazed with honey and precious baked apples, I went

to our herd, where I knew I would find Maldwyn.

“My queen!” He grinned when he saw me feeding one of the apples Wulffaed hoarded to Tan. “Does the Mother of Twenty know that you have absconded with that? I tried to sneak one for Ennis not long ago and she rapped my knuckles with a stick!”

I laughed. “Oh, she knows. And as I’m celebrating, she didn’t seem to mind overly much.”

He joined me at Tan’s side and stroked her neck. “Celebrating? Has there been news?”

“Yes.” I kissed Tan’s soft muzzle and then hooked my arm through his. “Walk with me to the pass. I’d like to watch the sunset.”

“As you ask, so will I do.”

We didn’t speak as we made our way through the camp to the opening to our valley. Dinner was quickly approaching, and the

scent of roasting meat that wafted with the breeze had my stomach roiling. I hoped I would be able to eat the honeyed chicken,

which was usually one of my favorite dishes. Maldwyn shot me a surprised look when I led him through the pass, which was becoming

increasingly muddy as the days lengthened and warmed. We followed the cleared path to where it dipped down, and I stopped.

The sun was just dropping beneath the western forest, setting the sky ablaze before it slept beneath the horizon. Its reddish-orange

color reminded me of the wildflowers that blanketed Tasceni in the spring, and I felt a sudden deep yearning for home.

Maldwyn placed his hand over mine where it rested on his arm. “Boudicca, what is it?”

I looked at him, surprised to realize my eyes had filled with tears. “I am with child.”

His body went very still. He blinked several times and his gaze slid from my eyes down to my stomach.

“You can’t tell yet,” I said with a breathless laugh.

His gaze shot back to mine. “That’s why you’ve been ill!”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“A child?” He spoke the words as he would a prayer. “Truly?”

“Truly,” I said.

Laughing joyously, he pulled me into his arms, lifted me, and spun me around. “A child!”

I was laughing, too, but when he put me down I staggered a little and almost vomited.

“Oh! Oh, no! Forgive me! I—I didn’t mean to—”

I pressed a finger to his lips. “I am well but should probably not be spun around.”

“Yes, of course! Yes.” Hesitantly, he placed his big hand on my stomach. When he looked up at me again, tears tracked down

his cheeks. “I have never known such joy. She will be the finest equestrian in our tribe.”

“She?” I asked with a smile.

“Oh, aye. She ,” he said firmly, and I saw no need to argue with him.

***

The reaction to the news of my pregnancy ignited the army, chasing away any leftover melancholy lingering after the death

of Addedomaros. Unlike Romans, who consider women property to subjugate and control, our people cared for the sacredness of

a new life and not whether it was conceived in a marriage or in the freedom of a lover’s bed. As would any Iceni woman, I

continued with my daily routine. The only difference was that I now understood my temporary weariness, and when it came over

me I listened to my body and rested.

My daughters were perhaps the only Iceni happier than Maldwyn about the child, though they told me they would prefer a baby

brother to a sister. Wulffaed immediately began working special reams of cloth for the infant. I received gifts from all of

the tribes within camp—mostly choice cuts of meat and precious fruits and vegetables they had hoarded throughout the winter.

A sennight after my announcement, it began to rain, and for the first time since we entered our valley it did not change to

sleet or snow, but instead finally heralded the end of our long winter isolation and the beginning of spring—and the freedom

we would claim as our own.