Ravens of Avalon
thirty youngsters pursued the ball with knees, elbows, and three-foot ash staves, the game could be almost as dangerous as a battlefield. It was only a matter of time before someone was taken out of play.
    “Oh, very well.” Coventa sat down on the grass. “You always do what you want anyway.”
    A shout from Ardanos had separated the combatants, who regrouped into their teams, facing their own goals across the center line. The young priest threw the ball into the air and dashed backward as the two sides closed once more.
    Beyond the strait, the great humped shapes of the mountains stood like a wall upon the horizon. Were they a protective barrier or a prison wall? To be given to a husband would be to go from one captivity to another. But did Boudica want to stay here as a teacher or go to some chieftain’s clanhold or perhaps to the marshes of the Summer Country to serve the Goddess upon the Isle of Avalon? How could she decide?
    She flinched as the ball spun toward them from the center of the heaving mass of boys and sticks. Ardanos’s student, Bendeigid, smacked the ball toward a dark-haired Trinovante boy called Rianor, who pelted after it, stick whirling as he leaped forward. The first swing missed, but the second sent the ball hurtling toward the two holly trees that flanked the goal.
    It is a good thing the ball doesn’t fight back, thought Boudica. If that was an enemy with a sword, he would be dead before he could strike a second blow.
    She tried to discern the pattern of the play, but if either team had a plan it was not apparent. In that, also, it was like the way her people made war. The game grew more and more desperate. She heard someone scream and Ardanos calling a halt. Panting, the players surrounded the writhing figure on the ground.
    The player struggled to sit, face white beneath his freckles, supporting his leg with his hands. His name was Beli, and he had been on Ri-anor’s team.
    “Take him to the healers,” said Ardanos with a sigh. “And unless you have reinforcements hidden somewhere, this will end the game.”
    There was a babble of protest from the boys and a groan of disappointment from the crowd. Games usually ran until one team had scored ten goals or the sun went down. Nine colored scarves fluttered from the other team’s goal tree and nine from Rianor’s. Boudica stood up, heart pounding in her breast.
    “I’ll take his place,” she said in a clear voice. She kilted up her skirts and strode onto the field. Silence fell. Now everyone was staring at her.
    “But you’re a girl,” Rianor said at last.
    Someone giggled and was hushed. Boudica shrugged. “I’m bigger than most of your boys. Of course if you want to play it safe, you can blame your loss on the accident. But if you have the courage, try me!” She held his dark gaze with her own, and saw the battle-light suddenly kindle in his eyes.
    “Why not?” He grinned with a lift of the hand as if he were throwing dice.
    Ardanos looked at Cloto, a sturdy lad who was the leader of the opposing team.
    “Fine with me,” he sneered. “Now I know we’ll win!”
    “That’s settled, then,” said Ardanos, frowning down Rianor’s hot reply. With a last glare for Cloto, the boy shut his mouth and handed the cumman stick to Ardanos, who offered it to Boudica. “Do you swear that you bring no charm or device of magic to this field, and will play honestly and truly, with no aid but your own body’s power?”
    It was a necessary question in a school where some of the students could make the ball move by will alone, thought Boudica as she gripped the stick and swore the oath.
    “Beli’s position was there—” Rianor pointed to a spot halfway down one side of the field.
    She took her place, noting the locations of the other players. It had been a long time since she had played, but she remembered the few guidelines that passed for rules. She saw Ardanos approach the middle with the ball and hefted her stick. It had never
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