the cauldron. All he knew was that Boudica had enspelled me to betray my duty, and it was his duty to deliver me. I sent Mithras a quick prayer for Ebro. I didn't know which god to address for the women, as Andrasta seemed to have deserted them.
Brighid's cheeks were chalk-white. She was dead, I realized. Maeve cried. In her bloodstained hand Boudica held a vial made of finest Roman glass. She caught the irony in my glance and tried to smile. But her smile was only a feeble grimace.
Behind me someone moved. I spun around. It was Lovernios. "We are lost," he said.
"You can still rally your warriors," I told him.
"No. The queen's body is our own. If she isn't strong and sound, then neither are we."
I'd heard of such a superstition. Had Ebro? That was something I'd never know. I turned back to her.
"Do you hate me?" Boudica asked.
My tongue said, "No. You did your duty, as I did mine. A pity, that my ambition and your freedom couldn't be coiled into the same pattern."
"Duty makes as intricate a pattern as truth. Perhaps there's a greater truth, that in time will receive us both. I'll know, in just a few moments." With her teeth she pulled the stopper from the vial, spat it out, and drank.
I glanced up at Lovernios.
"Wolfsbane," he said. "Poison. You don't think she'd let herself be taken by your people, do you?"
Boudica offered the vial to Maeve. The child shook her head. "I don't want to know, not yet."
I realized by the strength of her voice that she hadn't been wounded. Ebro might not even have struck at her, but twice at Boudica. I leaped forward and pulled Maeve from the back of the chariot. She stiffened at my touch, but didn't fight me as I wrapped her and her stubborn spark of life in my tattered cloak.
Boudica choked, gasped, and died. Maeve's slender body shuddered with hers, and then was still. She turned to Lovernios. "Here is my first and only order as queen of the Iceni. Take them away, and sink them in some deep pool, so that they're lost forever to the sight of men."
"And you?" Lovernios asked. One tear fell from his eye and traced a path into his beard.
"I'll protect her," I said. And that was the first thing I'd said in days that was clean and fresh.
Maeve and I sat together beneath the tree as Lovernios led the chariot and the bodies of the two queens into the green and gold afternoon. Neither of us spoke. Boudica had made a magnificent gamble, worthy of a magnificent woman, and she had lost.
The legions marched over the demoralized Britons, until the bodies of men, women, children, animals lay sprawled as far as the eye could see. At last a centurion ran up the hillside, recognized my clothing and, despite the dark stubble on my face, my origins. He escorted us through the merciful shade of dusk to Agricola. Overwhelmed by detail as any commander would be after such a victory, he barely asked who I was, and paid no attention to Maeve.
I'd wondered many times that spring if I'd ever see Roma again. Returning was like waking from a dream. But it was no dream, for Maeve was with me, first as my ward, then as my wife. It was a year before she smiled again, but smile she did. As did I.
More than once over the years I've stood on the Gaulish shore and glimpsed the white cliffs of Dubris, but I've never again set foot on the island itself. In Maeve's eyes, though, I see every day the clear lapis skies of Britannia.
Ave atque vale .
The old man laid down his pen. His gut cramped and a cold sweat trickled down his face. The gods had waited long years before taking him as they had taken Boudica, with a bellyful of poison.
His family's delight at his return had become displeasure when he told them his ambition was burned to ashes. But his knowledge of Britannia and the trading of gold made him a successful merchant, so that he sacrificed to Mercury as often as to Mars and Mithras. For truth didn't run in straight lines, but made spirals, and braids, and intricate golden
Brighid's cheeks were chalk-white. She was dead, I realized. Maeve cried. In her bloodstained hand Boudica held a vial made of finest Roman glass. She caught the irony in my glance and tried to smile. But her smile was only a feeble grimace.
Behind me someone moved. I spun around. It was Lovernios. "We are lost," he said.
"You can still rally your warriors," I told him.
"No. The queen's body is our own. If she isn't strong and sound, then neither are we."
I'd heard of such a superstition. Had Ebro? That was something I'd never know. I turned back to her.
"Do you hate me?" Boudica asked.
My tongue said, "No. You did your duty, as I did mine. A pity, that my ambition and your freedom couldn't be coiled into the same pattern."
"Duty makes as intricate a pattern as truth. Perhaps there's a greater truth, that in time will receive us both. I'll know, in just a few moments." With her teeth she pulled the stopper from the vial, spat it out, and drank.
I glanced up at Lovernios.
"Wolfsbane," he said. "Poison. You don't think she'd let herself be taken by your people, do you?"
Boudica offered the vial to Maeve. The child shook her head. "I don't want to know, not yet."
I realized by the strength of her voice that she hadn't been wounded. Ebro might not even have struck at her, but twice at Boudica. I leaped forward and pulled Maeve from the back of the chariot. She stiffened at my touch, but didn't fight me as I wrapped her and her stubborn spark of life in my tattered cloak.
Boudica choked, gasped, and died. Maeve's slender body shuddered with hers, and then was still. She turned to Lovernios. "Here is my first and only order as queen of the Iceni. Take them away, and sink them in some deep pool, so that they're lost forever to the sight of men."
"And you?" Lovernios asked. One tear fell from his eye and traced a path into his beard.
"I'll protect her," I said. And that was the first thing I'd said in days that was clean and fresh.
Maeve and I sat together beneath the tree as Lovernios led the chariot and the bodies of the two queens into the green and gold afternoon. Neither of us spoke. Boudica had made a magnificent gamble, worthy of a magnificent woman, and she had lost.
The legions marched over the demoralized Britons, until the bodies of men, women, children, animals lay sprawled as far as the eye could see. At last a centurion ran up the hillside, recognized my clothing and, despite the dark stubble on my face, my origins. He escorted us through the merciful shade of dusk to Agricola. Overwhelmed by detail as any commander would be after such a victory, he barely asked who I was, and paid no attention to Maeve.
I'd wondered many times that spring if I'd ever see Roma again. Returning was like waking from a dream. But it was no dream, for Maeve was with me, first as my ward, then as my wife. It was a year before she smiled again, but smile she did. As did I.
More than once over the years I've stood on the Gaulish shore and glimpsed the white cliffs of Dubris, but I've never again set foot on the island itself. In Maeve's eyes, though, I see every day the clear lapis skies of Britannia.
Ave atque vale .
The old man laid down his pen. His gut cramped and a cold sweat trickled down his face. The gods had waited long years before taking him as they had taken Boudica, with a bellyful of poison.
His family's delight at his return had become displeasure when he told them his ambition was burned to ashes. But his knowledge of Britannia and the trading of gold made him a successful merchant, so that he sacrificed to Mercury as often as to Mars and Mithras. For truth didn't run in straight lines, but made spirals, and braids, and intricate golden
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