Boudicca

Chapter XLI

Cartimandua left that morning. I’d told her it would take us five days to break camp and then another five days to march to

our preplanned rendezvous site. She would need all ten days to accomplish her part in luring the Romans into our trap. The

first five days passed in a busy blur, and then it hardly seemed real to be mounted on Tan and leading the army from the valley

that had sheltered us for months. I stopped at the tree line and reined Tan around, feeling oddly melancholy.

Rhan trotted her horse to me. Her smile was warm and knowing. “It saddens you?”

“It’s silly. Must be the babe.” I rested my hand over my stomach, which was just beginning to round with my growing child.

“It isn’t silly.” Rhan reached out and took my hand, squeezing before releasing it. “We have been safe here. It has been a

respite of peace in a time of war. I will miss it, too.”

I looked back through the narrow entrance to our valley and could just make out the four large carved idols that framed our

practice field.

“Maybe we should take them with us,” I said. “No one will know they’re here. No one will bring offerings to them and care

for them.”

“They belong here.” Rhan’s voice remained soft, but it was filled with the surety of a high Druid. “And the next people who

shelter in this valley will happily discover them, sacrifice to them, love and care for them—and so it will continue for generations.”

I wiped unexpected tears from my cheeks. “I like that.”

I gave the valley one last look and then with Rhan by my side galloped to my place at the head of our army.

The trip from the valley was drastically different from the trip to it, and not just because the weather was clear and beautiful with the earth awakening and bursting into bloom around us. When we’d entered the Eryri Mountains we’d longed for sanctuary and respite. After sheltering safely all winter we emerged revitalized and eager. We made no attempt to hide. Cartimandua’s plan required us to act boldly, as if we had no doubt that we could defeat the two legions remaining in Britain. Our arrogance was necessary for Rome to be lured into our trap.

Joyously we marched east from our valley, moving ever forward on a tide of will and spirit and hope. We crossed into the territory

of Tribe Cornovii as we headed to the Midlands and Watling Street, the long Roman road that bisected our country. Viroco,

the Cornovii chief, welcomed us with an elaborate feast as we camped on our second night near Viroconium, the tribe’s royal

city, located not far from Watling Street. From there we chose to stay off the Roman road and not chance an encounter with

a stray centuria, though we did travel parallel to it in the forest, working our way southeast to where the Romans believed

we could be trapped.

Each day, Rhan would break her fast with my lead warriors, the chiefs, and me—and then she would melt into the forest. Each

night she would return to our campfire, ravenous and smelling of rosemary and mint, pine and apple blossoms, grasses, decay,

and fertile earth—the scents of dreams and nightmares, Annwn and nwyfre.

After we’d feasted with the chief of Tribe Cornovii, Rhan lay beside me, stroking my hair. It was a night to ask quiet things

and receive whispered answers. Sleepily I asked, “Can you tell me what it is you do, where it is you go, when you’re gone

all day?”

Her hand stilled, but only for a moment. When Rhan answered, her voice was as soft as her caress. “I prepare.”

My eyes had been half-lidded and I’d been drowsy, but those two words had me coming fully awake. “You prepare for what?”

She sighed. “The future.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Worry serves no purpose. Your decision has been made. We head to battle the Roman legions. Doubt and worry are unproductive,”

said Rhan firmly.

I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “But do you prepare for victory or defeat?”

“Both and neither. I weave between Annwn and Arbred, calling on our ancestors and Andraste to guide us, remain close to us,

help us to strike true and to carry ourselves with honor—to make them proud.” She kissed me gently. “Andraste is near. So

is Brigantia. Just this afternoon I saw her white stag.”

“That seems like a good omen,” I said.

Rhan kissed me again, this time more insistent than gentle, and we spoke no more that night.

As we continued on our march, more tribesmen and -women joined us. Cornovii, Corieltauvi, Demetae, Silures, and even warriors

from as far north as Tribe Parisi added to our numbers, so that by day four Cadoc reported that as close as he could tell

we had more than two hundred fifty thousand warriors and family members—all willing to fight for Britain’s freedom.

My army vastly outnumbered the Roman legions. The Fourteenth and the Twentieth would each have about five to six thousand

men. Logically, what was left of the Ninth would join them, equaling another five thousand or so men. It seemed that we could

not lose, but I was restless. I did not like that Queen Cartimandua was the key to our plan. Often, I reminded myself that

at this moment Cartimandua and I wanted the same thing—the Romans driven from Britain. After the battle was won and the Romans

were gone, then Cartimandua would be an enemy to anyone who did not bow to her as queen of Britain. Until then it served her to fight beside

us.

It was early afternoon on the fourth day when Maldwyn galloped to me with one of our Iceni scouts beside him. I was riding

at the head of the army between Cadoc and Rhan, and we halted immediately. The scout’s horse was dark with sweat, but the

warrior’s eyes were bright and his smile was eager.

“Queen Boudicca!” Still astride, the scout bowed to me. “Tribe Brigantes is in position. Queen Cartimandua’s shield reports

that the Fourteenth and Twentieth legions have taken the bait and are two days’ march from the Midlands valley.”

“Did you see Cartimandua’s army?” asked Cadoc.

“I did.” The scout nodded and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “They wait to the east of the valley and will be well within

sight of the legions when they arrive. When we reach the valley Deorwine said he will show us exactly where our warriors and

caravans should be positioned so that all will be ready for the trap.”

“You have done well,” I told the scout. “Care for your horse and yourself.”

“Thank you, my queen.”

“All seems to be going as Cartimandua planned,” said Maldwyn.

Cadoc snorted. “It would appear so.”

“You have doubts?” asked Rhan.

“Always,” Cadoc said. “It is uncomfortable to be bait.”

I smiled at the gruff old shield I’d come to care for deeply over the past year. “I would not worry overmuch, Iceni shield.

Our bait is stronger by thousands of warriors than the Romans. Two legions cannot overcome us.” Absently, I placed my hand over my

abdomen. “I believe the child I carry has made you worry more than Wulffaed.”

“Oh, aye,” said Cadoc. “The babe makes me worry.”

“The babe makes us all worry,” added Maldwyn.

I frowned at them. “I will not stay out of the battle.”

“We would not ask you to,” Cadoc said hastily.

“No, of course not,” said Maldwyn. His eyes had taken on the faraway look they got whenever we spoke of the child growing

within me.

“But babes cause worry—oftentimes needless worry,” said Rhan.

And then we all smiled as Enfys and Ceri galloped past us, their two grown wolves running at their horses’ sides.

“I’m going after those two,” said Cadoc. “We’re getting too close to the Romans for them to be dashing ahead of the army.”

I nodded, and Cadoc kicked his horse into a gallop, chasing after my daughters.

“I wonder how they escaped Briallen,” I said.

“I saw her not long ago.” Rhan jerked her chin back behind us and to the right. “By your leave I’ll go to her and let her know her charges are being corralled by Cadoc.”

I smiled. “You definitely have my leave.”

As Rhan galloped away, I could feel Maldwyn’s eyes on me. “I’ve been too busy with the scouts and the herd today and haven’t

seen you since this morning, my queen,” said Maldwyn as he kneed his horse around so that we rode so close together that our

legs almost touched. Some nights Rhan warmed my bed, others Maldwyn did—and some nights I did not care to share my bed at

all. There was no jealousy between Maldwyn and Rhan. A deep friendship had developed between the two of them that brought

peace and laughter as well as passion to my campfire. It was because of the two of them that I wasn’t simply content but was

truly happy. “You didn’t get sick this morning.” Maldwyn’s deep voice broke into my pleasant thoughts.

I smiled at him. “No, I didn’t. It was the same with Enfys and Ceri. As my stomach swelled I stopped being sick and was filled

with energy until very close to the end. It was only when I was heavy with child that I became awkward. I was grateful then

for the ease with which I carry my babes. I am doubly grateful for it now, though I cannot help but long for the comforts

of Tasceni.”

Maldwyn took my hand. “We will vanquish the Romans and be home long before harvest. You’ll give birth to our daughter in your

lodge surrounded by your women.”

Just the thought had my shoulders relaxing. “Home...” I sighed happily. “It will be a wondrous thing to return to Tasceni.”

“Indeed.” His smile was slow and intimate. “You look like yourself again.” His gaze slid down my body from my breasts to my

abdomen. “Well, except for some small changes.”

I laughed. “Which won’t remain small.”

“And you still believe she’ll be born near Samhain in the fall?”

Maldwyn had asked me versions of this question over and over, though I did not tire of answering. I enjoyed seeing the light

in his cornflower eyes as he spoke of the babe. “Yes, though I’m not as sure as you that the child is a girl.”

Maldwyn deepened his voice and scratched his chin like an elder dispensing wisdom. “Fathers know such things.”

I laughed. “Well, Enfys and Ceri say daughters know such things, too, and they insist I carry their baby brother.”

“When they are disappointed by her birth, we shall simply have to try again for that brother for which they long.” He cleared his throat and added, “I do not

say it enough, but the thought of being a father fills me with joy.” Maldwyn’s face flushed, which reminded me of our early

days together.

I reached out and stroked his cheek. “You will be a wonderful father.”

His eyes trapped mine. “When you first loved me I did not think anything could make me happier, but now this.” Maldwyn paused

and his gaze flicked down to the little mound under my hand. He looked away then, blinking rapidly. “This babe has completed

my life.” Maldwyn met my eyes again. “You and she are my world.”

I pulled Tan up then, raising my arm and signaling for the army to halt. “Dreda!” I called to the tall Queen’s Guard member

who rode not far behind me at the head of my guard.

She clucked to her horse and joined us. “Yes, my queen?”

“We’ll take a short break here before marching to tonight’s campsite,” I said.

“As you ask, so will I do.”

As Dreda began calling down the wide, thick line of warriors to halt for a break, I raised a brow and grinned at Maldwyn.

“I need an escort, Horse Master.” I didn’t wait for his response but kicked Tan into a gallop and turned her toward a distant

cluster of willows.

I arrived at the trees ahead of Maldwyn—something that wouldn’t have happened had he been riding Ennis. As I expected, the

willows’ long, tight line framed the bank of a lazy little stream. When Maldwyn joined me I smiled at him. “Help me down?”

His eyes widened with happy surprise at my request. As a warrior queen I rarely asked for help dismounting, but my horse master was more than willing to assist me. I dropped from Tan’s back, allowing my body to slide intimately against his. When my feet touched ground I did not move away. Instead I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders and kissed him. My tongue teased his and Maldwyn responded enthusiastically, breaking our embrace only long enough to take off his travel cloak and lay it across the mossy ground under the willows. While he watched, I slowly, seductively took off my clothes. On his knees, he kissed the swell of my belly and whispered words of love to his child, and then those words were mine as I straddled him, bringing us to an intense climax so quickly that we collapsed together, sweaty, breathing hard, and laughing softly.

I was tucked against his shoulder and smiling happily when Maldwyn said, “What will you name her?”

I decided to indulge his insistence that the babe was a girl. “I shall call her Arianell.”

He propped himself up on his elbow so he could gaze down at me. “Yes. That is perfect.” His lips trailed down my neck and

over my breasts to my not-so-flat stomach. Maldwyn kissed the slight mound gently and whispered, “My Arianell, my beloved.”

The babe chose that moment to flutter a kick against her father’s cheek.

His eyes met mine. They were filled with wonder. “She heard me!”

“She’ll be as wise as my mother. She has to be. She already knows her father’s voice,” I said.

He rested his cheek on my belly again and whispered more endearments to our child as my fingers combed through his soft blond

hair.

It was self-indulgent that I commanded the army to wait while Maldwyn and I loved one another. I know that. But I will always remember and be grateful for that slight moment in time and how Maldwyn rested his cheek against my body, laughing whenever the babe kicked him. We talked of nothing and everything—of how life would be when we returned to Tasceni. How the royal lodge would, once again, be filled with the sounds of an infant—and how the Mother of Twenty would hover and cluck and take charge, as she had already announced that she would be remaining with her queen even after the Romans were only a bad memory. But mostly I will never forget how love and joy and hope filled Maldwyn’s blue eyes and how it seemed forever stretched before us, beckoning with the promise of new life and fulfilled dreams.

If only it had been in my power to make that moment last.

***

We reached the valley as the sun was high above us the next day. It was as Cartimandua had described. In this part of the

Midlands the land was fertile, and many fields were cleared and the dark, fecund earth was newly planted. But it was also

hilly, with creeks flowing from tree-covered slopes too steep and rocky to farm. The valley was situated green and lush between

craggy, densely forested hills. There was only one easy way into the valley. It was like a mouth that opened, beckoning with

the softness of the grassy stretch within. It was large—big enough to hold our warriors and the legions—and the hills that

framed three sides of it were steep. The chiefs and my lead warriors and I were at the entrance to the valley when Deorwine

joined us.

“Greetings, Queen Boudicca!” He bowed his head first to me. “Chiefs and warriors.” Deorwine greeted each of them, and I thought

that Cartimandua had made an excellent choice in her horse master. He was intelligent and articulate. It was obvious the chiefs

liked him considerably more than his queen—not that I blamed them.

“Will Queen Cartimandua join us today?” I asked.

“My queen wishes she could, but she and her guard have traveled down Watling Street to meet Paulinus and assure him you have,

indeed, been lured into his trap,” said Deorwine with a grin. “But it is my honor to show you the details. Come, let me begin

by guiding you to where your caravans should make camp during the battle.”

I nodded, and as a group we followed Deorwine. I was not bothered that Cartimandua wasn’t there. Her greeting us had never

been part of our plan, and I did like hearing she was continuing to follow the plot we had created in a different valley just

ten days before, though at that moment it seemed as if I’d left the Eryri Mountains behind so much longer ago.

I was surprised to see that the back side of the hills that framed the valley dropped steeply down and then joined rows of hillocks crisscrossed with streams. Trees, rocks, and dense brambly underbrush ruled their slopes, and as we surveyed the area my stomach tightened. It was, indeed, a trap. Any army that was caught within the valley would not be able to easily escape—the forest was too tightly packed with ancient trees and underbrush to allow chariots to pass, even if they could traverse the steep rear slopes. A cavalry wouldn’t fare much better. A few horses could pick their way through the forest, but an entire army? Absolutely not. Foot soldiers could scramble to flee, but if well-trained bowmen stood their ground and sent arrows into the woods, most of those slow-moving soldiers would be cut down.

Yes, it was a perfect place for a trap.

“And here is where your caravans will be safe to camp.” Deorwine gestured to the slope of the western hill framing the valley.

“They can hug the side of the hill here. The legion will come from Watling Street in the southeast. If the caravans are tucked

into this part of the slope, the hill and valley will be between them and the Romans, and the Romans will be focused on the

valley where you will wait within.” His smile was open and warm. “Some of your people might want to climb the hill so they

can look down and watch the destruction of the last Romans in Britain.”

“The last Romans in Britain!” Mailcun shouted. “Those words fall on my ears like rain after drought.”

“Aye!” the chiefs agreed.

“And where is your army?” I asked Deorwine.

“Ah, well, if you climb the eastern hill and look out to the southeast, you will see Watling Street. The warriors of Tribe

Brigantes are camped under cover of the forest there.” Deorwine gestured as he spoke. “There we await Queen Cartimandua’s

signal.”

“She still plans to ride to the valley with the Romans?” I asked.

“Yes, of course. She and her guard. Paulinus believes he knows our queen well, so when she says she prefers to watch the battle from the northern hill, he will not be surprised. Cartimandua has convinced Paulinus that she does not wish to dirty her hands in battle.” Deorwine scoffed. “He believes her because Roman women are so weak. My queen has told him that from there”—the Brigantes horse master pointed up to the northern hill—“she will signal her warriors to close the trap on you, when in truth that signal will be the end of the legions.”

“When will the Romans arrive?” asked Leofric.

“As the mouth of the valley points to the east, Paulinus will march his legions into it tomorrow as the sun rises at his back,”

said Deorwine.

Cadoc grunted. “As would I. We will hear the mighty sound of legions approaching but be unable to see all of them. It is a

sound tactic.”

“As is our trap, once sprung,” Deorwine said, grinning. “Queen Cartimandua has told the Romans that you are so arrogant and

sure of their defeat that you will camp within the valley.”

I nodded. “Some of the caravans will have to enter the valley so it appears as if we are actually camping there.”

“Yes,” said Deorwine.

“Not many of them, though,” said Comux. The Dobunni chief was always quick to consider the families following our army. I

understood. His family was still under Rome’s thumb, waiting for this battle to be won so he could free them.

“I agree,” I said. “We need only move a few wagons into the rear of the valley, where they’ll be glimpsed by the Romans. By

the time the legions are within the valley and realize the caravan has been staged, it will be too late.”

“Exactly!” said Deorwine. “And now I must return to my queen. May the gods be with you tomorrow.”

“May they be with us all, and may Britain be forever free,” I said.

“Aye!” the chiefs shouted.