Ravens of Avalon (30 page)

After a few moments, he began to walk again. “I think that if I had been there,” he said in a low voice, “I might have helped them to win the battle, but we would still have lost the war. Caratac was right—the time for the tribes to unite was four years ago, before the Roman eagles had sunk their talons into this land. All we can do now is to make the best accomodation we can.”

Now he stopped and faced her, a silhouette against the fading sky. “My lady, do you agree with me?”

Boudica looked at him in confusion. Why did it matter what
she
thought about anything? No doubt Lhiannon would say they should keep fighting, but she still remembered the agony in the face of that poor boy as he died. Wasn’t peace, even with attendant inconveniences, better than that waste of men?

“Yes, my lord, I do.”

“I must go down to Dun Garo,” he said soberly. “Your father was Antedios’s tanist, but he is old. Of the royal kindred I am next in blood, and I think they will try to make me king of the united tribe. The Romans will allow it only if they trust my commitment to them. I don’t want this, but it may be the only way to keep what independence we have.”

Isolated on the farm, until the order to disarm, Boudica had been able to pretend that it was possible to live without being troubled by Rome. But Prasutagos had not had that luxury.

“When I leave, will you come with me, Boudica?”

She could not see his eyes. She reached out to reassure herself that the words came not from a shadow but from a living man, and felt the hard muscle of his forearm quiver beneath her hand.

“I will, my husband. I promise you.”

hiannon untied the roll of bedding and laid it out next to Boudi-ca’s. The roundhouse assigned to the queen and her women was barely large enough for them all, and none too clean, but she and Temella had managed to make it habitable. Whoever became High King, they would have to stay at least until Beltane was past.

She looked up as a shadow fell across the open doorway.

“It
is
you!” said a voice she ought to know. “Someone said you had been seen—I can hardly believe it’s true!”

As Lhiannon got to her feet she recognized Belina, with the same comfortable figure, though there were new strands of gray in her hair.

“We’ve counted you lost these three years after Rianor reported that you had disappeared from Avalon,” said the priestess. “We set a place for you at Samhain, child. We thought you dead, or gone into Faerie— don’t look so surprised—you’re not the first to have met the queen of that land.”

“I’ve been serving the queen of this one.” Lhiannon found her voice at last.

Belina laughed. “Come out of those shadows and let me see you, darling! Still thin as a wraith—don’t they feed you in those fens? But you look healthy, Goddess bless.”

Lhiannon blinked as she emerged into the light. Dun Garo buzzed like a hive as the clans continued to come in. Men were dragging in logs to build the great Beltane fire in the meadow. Tents had sprouted in colorful disarray all over the farther pastures. On the other side of the river a palisade enclosed the neat rows of leather tents that housed the Roman governor and his men, a mute but eloquent reminder that although the clan fathers might elect their new High King, they had better not acclaim anyone not approved by Rome.

“But you don’t need to wear that band across your brow.” Belina plucked at the scarf Lhiannon had tied to cover the crescent of Avalon. “Even if they knew what it means, the Roman pigs don’t care what women do. And so far, no one has tried to enforce the ban on the Druid Order here.”

Lhiannon wondered if Belina had always chattered so, or did she need the words to cover her emotion at this unexpected reunion?

“We should have expected that you would go to Boudica,” the other woman went on. “She was always your pet when she was at the school.”

“What are you doing here?” Lhiannon got a word in at last. “Who else has come? Is Helve—”

“Oh no! Surely you don’t think our beloved High Priestess would risk herself among the enemy, though she is willing enough to send the rest of us out to foment rebellion here—the other senior priestesses, that is.”

Lhiannon laughed. It sounded as if little had changed. “Is that what you are here for? You’ll have no luck among the Iceni—their teeth are well and truly drawn, and Prasutagos is not a man to risk what he still has,” she added bitterly. The king had not listened when her arguments might still have done some good. Now they did not speak at all.

“Does he cling so to power?” asked Belina.

“Not to power,” Lhiannon answered honestly. “To peace. Boudica would make a better war leader than he would, had she been a man.”

Belina nodded. “But will she make a queen? There is more to conferring kingship than an election. The transfer of sovereignty is women’s business. It is best if the queen can do the rite, but we did not know if Boudica would be able. How much does she remember of what she was taught at the school?”

Lhiannon lowered her eyes. “We have not discussed it.”

Of late, Boudica and Prasutagos had seemed easier in one another’s company, but she still did not sleep with him, even though the child was weaned. If Boudica did not share his power, could Prasutagos truly reign? Did that matter, now that the true power lay with Rome? And what was left here for Lhiannon, if Boudica did take her place at her husband’s side?

“What other commands have you brought from Lys Deru?” she asked.

Belina shrugged. “From Helve, you mean. Lugovalos is failing, and she gives the orders now. I was told to raise what support I might for Caratac. The governor is sending his legions too close to the north and west for comfort.”

“Do they threaten Mona?” Lhiannon asked in alarm.

“He knows it is the Druid stronghold,” answered Belina. “He knows that Mona has some of the richest land in Britannia, and that with grain or with magic we will support anyone who is willing to fight. He would have to be stupid not to know that while we stand, his hold on Britannia will never be secure.”

“The Romans are not stupid,” Lhiannon said slowly. “But this is a big island. If we keep worrying at them, they may decide it would be foolish to keep on wasting resources and men …”

“You’ve lost none of your wits.” Belina gave her an approving hug. “Whether it is I or Boudica who does the honors, you should leave with me when the inauguration is done.” Both women looked up as a sudden commotion rose from the direction of the council fire before the High King’s hall.

“After the king-making …” Lhiannon said slowly, “I will give you my answer then.”

People were beginning to hurry past as the noise grew louder.

“Prasutagos son of the hazel, Prasutagos son of the sun, Prasutagos son of the plow, Prasutagos Ricon, Iceni king!” came the cry.

SIXTEEN

urn, my lady, and lift your arm—”

Boudica complied, controlling a twitch at the feather-touch of the brush with which the old woman was painting a series of spirals along her side. Her breathing was slow and steady. Her pulse throbbed to the vibration beneath her feet, the heartbeat of the Beltane drums.

Rays of setting sun filtered through the roughly woven curtains with which they had walled and roofed the women’s enclosure, scattering flickers of ruddy light across the grass. The mask of the White Mare hung from the center post, waiting to play its role in her transformation. Through the cloth walls the noise of the festival came oddly muted, as if this space were separated from the world.

As I am from my former self…
she thought slowly.
Waiting to learn what I will be …
To endure the tedium of the body painting she had drawn on the disciplines she had learned at Mona; she sat as motionless as the image into which the painting was transforming her. Her naked back and belly already bore the running figures of the Hare and the Boar, the Wolf and the Eagle, Ram and Bull and Bear, with a wealth of horses twining among them, totems that the incoming Celts had inherited from the peoples whom they had conquered.

In the Earth-ring, Prasutagos would be receiving the blessings of the Druids who had witnessed the oaths of the chieftains. When Romans were present the priests went disguised. As long as they did not bring themselves to the attention of the conquerors, the current policy seemed to be to ignore them.

But the Horse Queen who blessed the Beltane rites was the priestess of an older magic. The Druids consecrated the king to the tribe. The Goddess linked him to the land on which they lived. Boudica did not yet know if she
could
submit to so overwhelming an energy. Belina was prepared to step in, but if Boudica failed she suspected it would mean the end of her marriage.

A part of her mind lay immobilized within her body, its panicked yammerings suppressed by the same discipline that held her limbs. This time, she thought, she could not r ide the red mare to freedom. This time, the White Mare would be riding
her.

“All done,” said the old woman. Slowly she lowered her arm.

“Come back, my darling.” Lhiannon’s face appeared before her. “You can rule your limbs now. Breathe in and out and in and out again. That is right—you are here with me and soon the ritual will begin. Return!”

Boudica blinked as sensation rippled through her, aware of the stiff paint on her skin, the women’s chatter suddenly loud in her ears. The sun had set; she was surrounded by shadows. She shivered. The king’s procession would be coming soon.

“No!” Nessa was saying to someone at the entrance. “You may not see her. This space is forbidden to men, especially you! Go away before I call the warriors to throw you in the midden—for that they will need no swords!”

“Who is it?” Boudica called.

“No one you need to care about,” muttered the old woman, sighing as she met Boudica’s glare. “It’s that Pollio … he says he must speak with you.”

Her first annoyance gave way to alarm. “I’ll talk to him,” she said in a low voice. “Lhiannon, keep these others out of earshot until I am done.” She stepped to the curtain.

“What is it? You must speak quickly,” she murmured through the cloth.

“Let me see your face, Boudica,” came the familiar Atrebate accent.

“Goddess, no!” She flushed with sudden awareness of her naked body. “In the old days they would have staked you out for the wolves for coming even this close to the women’s sanctuary.”

“You don’t have to do this!” Pollio’s words came in a rush. “It’s known that you refuse your husband your bed—you don’t have to let him lie with you now. It will make no difference. Prasutagos is king because Rome supports him, not because of some barbarous ritual.”

“What are you talking about?” Since that day in the snow when he had tried to kiss her she had scarcely seen the man, and never alone. Had he been building up some fantasy in which she loved him all this time?

“Leave your husband! Come away with me!” he hissed. “You are a princess of the royal house—I could make you a ruling queen like Cartimandua!”

“You are mad!” she said with conviction. “And this is sacrilege!”

“I love you, Boudica! I know that you are not indifferent to me!”

“Indeed not,” she answered with leashed fury. “A man who would tempt the wife of an ally to betray her marriage can only be despised! Is this the honor they teach in Rome?”

No matter that she had been tempted to flee herself—she would never have gone with this pig of a Roman! And in that moment Boudica realized that her ambivalence had disappeared.

“But my lady—” His words were cut off as the golden blare of the carynx horn reverberated through the evening air.

“They are coming! They will kill you if they find you here. Be gone and be damned to you, Roman! This warning is the last word you will have from me!”

She heard a rustle of retreating footsteps as the horns called again and stepped back, breathing quickly.

“What did he want?” asked Lhiannon.

“Nothing that matters,” Boudica muttered, glad that the dim light hid the blush that was warming her cheeks. Lhiannon was the last person to whom she wanted to reveal the shameful proposition the Roman had made.

Outside, drums boomed, commanding attention. The deep voices of the Druids rose and fell, closer and closer, then passing as the king was escorted to his place of honor near the fire. There was more at stake here than a ceremony. If Belina acted as priestess tonight, she would be linked to the king only while the Goddess was present. But for Boudica to take that role would admit Prasutagos as well as Epona into her heart. Boudica felt an anticipatory shiver pebble her skin. Lhiannon brought a white cloak and draped it over her shoulders against the cooling air. The door curtain moved and she saw her mother there.

“Oh my daughter, you are so beautiful—even more than on your wedding day,” Anaveistl said with a tremulous smile. “I just wanted to see you, and now I will be getting back to the house and our darling little girl—”

Boudica patted the older woman’s hand. Upon meeting her granddaughter, Anaveistl had become instantly besotted. Rigana could ask for no more devoted guardian.

“What is happening now?” she asked as her mother departed.