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It was all Maximus could do not to kiss the ground, when we unloaded in Tarraco’s busy seaport. The last few weeks had been hard on him, and he had lost much weight, but it would come back, and fast, once we were on the road to Emerita Augusta. The other men and the animals seemed happy to be on solid land, as well, but I wanted to sail forever. The sea sang to my blood a sweet melody of oneness, while we crossed the Mediterranean.It was late in the day, and though Maximus did not want to wait too long to get out of the city, he did agree to stay the night, and give everyone a chance to adjust to walking on a hard surface, again. I neglected to tell him, that he needed the time most. One of the men offered that perhaps we should all sleep in our saddles, since we would probably ache more from riding, than walking, for a couple of days. We found an inn that could house our party, with accommodations for the horses, and settled in.
Maximus ate as much as two men at the taverna, and I was glad. I dreaded the idea that in a few months, he would again have to make a short trip over water to Britannia, but I avoided mentioning it to him. I stopped him with a look, when he reached for a third helping, warning him that he would be sick, again. He touched no wine. If anyone else knew that he had been ill, they gave no sign. I suspected one or two of them had suffered a bit, as well, for Justinius had come for some of the ginger and honey, a few times.
I had not slept in Maximus’ bed since a week after the first time. I had my own room, next to his, in Tarraco. I turned to go, after I put away his figurines and candles, only to be called back. I stood before my master, where he perched in the window. There was no light other than that of the moon, but I could see him clearly. I stayed there, unsure what to do with myself. He regarded me for long minutes, then lamented, “I think I never thank you enough.”
“For what, Sir?” I whispered; my voice had fled me.
“For everything you do. For doing it well, and not complaining.”
“I have no reason,” I twisted the loose end of my braid, nervously.
He stayed my hand, while his gaze bore straight into my heart. I was a statue, under his scrutiny. “I’m never sorry I bought you. I will be, when you go. I just wanted you to know that.” That night, as I lay awake, it was very hard not to think of him. When had he become a man, rather than someone who owned me, or the enemy I served?
From Tarraco, we journeyed west over the hills and mountains toward Emerita. The sheer beauty of it all awed me, even though we were moving fast, and much of it rolled by quickly, during the ten-day ride to Emerita. All day we pushed our horses, and hard, putting as many as twenty leagues behind us, by the time the sun set. The men were relaxed and jocular, and while none wore armor, they were all armed well. I wore my dagger at my back in its hide sheath, but I would have been more comfortable with one to tuck in my boot, as well. I eyed the sword at Maximus’ waist, and the other from his saddle, enviously. There were twenty-three of us, all warriors, but Justinius told me the most trouble we would have, if at all, would probably come from bands of outlaws that roamed about the passes. As well guarded as the roads were, with army outposts strung along the way, it was rare that anything happened.
Nights were spent huddled around cook fires, the men gambling and talking of sweethearts and wives at home, whiling away the time, until their loved ones returned. There were only three that had no women, Justinius, Maximus, and another man that I assumed had none, because of his disposition. He was a surly sort, by the name of Picus. He was loyal to his general, though, so caused no stir among us. I jokingly asked Justinius if he was ever going to find a girl to settle down with. Maximus informed me that Justinius’ mother probably had one picked out and waiting.
The younger man snorted. “Well, Uncle, if she has one for me, then I think she needs to find one for you.”
“That’s what I fear most, in this life.”
“Maybe she should find a good man for our friend Boadicea, here, as well.” Both snickered, when I shot back that with my luck, it would be a Roman.
When games ceased to entertain enough, they started telling stories. Every battle got more inventive and larger, the more each man tried to one-up the other. It occurred to me, as I listened in amusement from my place at the fire that I shared with the Meridas men, that I was comfortable during that trip, and the distinctions between us fell away. I could easily imagine my men telling similar tales back home, as we lay in wait for a patrol to pass by, and ambush it.
I was a better hunter than most of them; I was quieter, and far more patient. Maximus would let me range ahead of the group, as I brought down the days’ feast. In retrospect, I suppose I could have run away at any time, because often, I would wander far away, while I searched for my victims. For some inexplicable reason, however, the thought of escape never crossed my mind. Looking back, it was just as well. I was in a land not mine, and alone, if I chose to get away. As far as these companions of mine went, they were no different from the men I had grown up with. As Maximus had predicted, I was proving my own merit, at least with the party that went with us to Hispania. I think they were all glad not to eat their own cooking; I was greeted with grateful smiles, as I passed out portions.
After a particularly engorging supper of stag, halfway to our destination, Maximus settled back with a loud belch. He motioned me with his chin, and requested the story he had asked for, in exchange for the gift knife on my belt.
“Tell me about Boudicca as a child.”
“I don’t know that about her,” I confessed, not really sure why he was curious about the queen. “She was the daughter of a king, and married another.”
Maximus was smirking. He had tricked me, by using the Celtic pronunciation of my name, and I had not caught it. The merriment in his eyes told me he thought I was far too serious. I knew I was crimson, my ears burned with my embarrassment, and I was glad that the light of the blaze hid it. All I wanted was to kick him.
“What would you like to know?” He was not going to get the better of me, again. At least, not like he just had.
“Tell me about your home, your parents. How you learned Greek. Anything you want to share.” There were things I had no desire to reveal to him, but I had no wish to lie, either. For a few minutes, while the flames danced, and tiny sparks floated up and out to join their ancestors the stars, I thought. Maximus and Justinius were silent with anticipation, while I decided how best to describe my life, and not share secrets that I wanted to remain buried in the tomb of my memory. Justinius was spellbound, while I talked. Maximus was quizzical, when I claimed the Carvetii as my tribe.
“Just below the Wall, Uncle,” Justinius explained. Maximus nodded. “Brigantes?” He was correct. Romans would not understand that while Cartimandua had effectively reincorporated the Carvetii into the Brigante confederation of tribes, after her defeat of Venutius, all the tribes considered themselves separate, and different. I acknowledged that, then went on.
I told about learning my skills as a warrior from my mother, but her other talents, I left out of the picture. They chuckled about the game of Queen Boudicca and Suetonius Paulinus, and the soldiers’ ‘slavery’ to the winners. I was impressed with their agreement that it had been a good thing, the easiness between the people and the army. I continued to lose myself in the past, however. Maximus watched me with half-closed eyes, all the while.
Despite the wall that separated us from our neighbors, we still felt their influence, as we lived our lives under the loose watch of the legions. Seasons were celebrated in the old way. We planted our crops, and hunted. After Calpernius Agricola’s unsuccessful campaign at the Wall of Antonine, we were largely left alone, until the winter of my twelfth year.
Then Ulpius Marcellus came, and changed my life forever. (Here, Maximus uttered a curse, and Justinius rolled his eyes. It was obvious neither thought much of him.) The soldiers that had been living among us were sent away, to other commanders, and new troops took their place. These lived in barracks some distance from the village, at Luguvallium, and did not mingle with our people, at least, not openly, and not by invitation. I suspect that there were illicit romances and rapes that took place, despite the contingent of women slaves that were present to care for the soldiers’ needs. The amount of pennyroyal the healers gathered and prescribed to our women, either to keep them from getting pregnant, or to abort unwanted conception, told me that.
By and large, though, we stayed as far away from them as we could. My uncle and other men took their families under cover of darkness, with little of their possessions, and made their way north to the Caledonii, to live in freedom. My father encouraged my sister and me to go, but even as young as we were, we understood that our place was with him, and with our people. My intentions were to survive to adulthood, avenge my mother’s death, and take care of my clan. Such are the ideals of children.
It was a burden on a child to do the mundane things required to keep a household running, and continue my training in secret, but I knew it was beneficial for me. Privately, I built on what skills I had already. My teachers were the midwives and healers, and those that continued to remind us to celebrate the bounty the gods provided, whether we did it covertly, or openly. The education in war my mother had begun was supplemented by my own practice while doing everyday chores, such as chopping wood. Every tree, every log I severed with an ax to keep our hearth fires burning was an enemy that had to be disposed of. Every stag or rabbit I felled with a spear or trapped, was a learning experience in capturing or slaying an opponent. When I beat blankets and mats in the morning, I did so with a wooden stick almost as long as I was, practicing my skill with a sword. Because I was a girl, the soldiers paid little attention to what I was actually about. As long as I stayed out of their way, they ignored me. Under their very noses, I was becoming a warrior. In addition to practice, I was blessed with strength, determination, and common sense.
At twelve, while tall, I was thin and boyish in my features and body. But as I reached my sixteenth winter, I stopped growing upward, and began to show the fact that I was becoming a woman. I had to start hiding it, as my education was a year from completion. At that time, I could be accepted as a warrior. One year seems like a hundred, when trying to avoid the eyes of men. I learned to intimidate them with a single look, as though I would rip them apart with my bare hands, if they dared touch me. It was very effective, and few crossed me. Those that tried were given a harsh lesson in just how tough I was. It is unfortunate that physical means rather than simple words must show some to leave a girl alone. I never killed any of those men, but I left them reminders in various forms that I was not interested in their advances. That I would have to marry, probably sooner than later, I was aware of.
At that part, Justinius whooped in laughter and pretended to cover his privates. Maximus was a stone, no hint of humor present anywhere, on his visage. I giggled with his nephew. Justinius asked if soldiers had ever approached me, and I shook my head, no.
During the year I waited for my seventeenth birthday, I sat and heard the older men and women of our village, thinking on their words, while I decided how best to look after those in my care. My father required it most. His fine auburn locks were graying, and he was very thin. I knew he was ill, the healer that saw him regularly informed me that he was dying of heartbreak. Often, I wonder if he lived only to see his daughters grow to womanhood. I never forgot the day, when I reached it.
His hand on my shoulder warmed me, as we stood in the twilight, a bit away from the village. He sighed, and told me that he wished he had been a stronger man, and begged me not to make the same mistakes he had.
“Your mother would be proud of you, as I am,” he had whispered, before he shuffled off to his bed, his shoulders slumped, looking very much older than he actually was. How I had longed to watch him take control, and champion in battle against our enemies. I think now, that he just stopped caring. My poor father, who was always a man of peaceful mind, was only half a human, after my stronger mother was gone.
Marcellus was quite displeased at the rebellion we were beginning to display as a tribe. The Carvetii as a whole were a possession of Rome, and by the gods, we were going to accept it, if he had to whip us into the ground, and make us bend knee to Roman statute. For most of the previous five years, he had been content with the notion that he kept the chieftains in his grip, as he worked to secure the surrender of the Celts beyond Hadrian’s Wall. On many occasions he had marched through our lands, ensuring the soldiers were in control of everything, and collecting taxes from us, often more than we could actually afford, for which we were punished with harder work to repay. Then he would be gone again, to fight with our neighbors.
In the time we resisted the legions, I found time to marry. I chose as my mate the nephew of a chieftain. It was, to say the least, an unhappy union. He shared my bed only long enough to help me make a daughter, then found more receptive and meek bodies to spend his nights with. He was a bully, and while I spent a great deal of time in council with the other warriors and working the farm, he was often with his retinue of fawning vultures, making life difficult for everyone. We should have been united in a common goal, if not by our hearts, but what I tried to build, he pulled down, just as fast. I suppose I should have just killed him. He was of no use to me.
My sister in time became the target of my husband’s fancy. She was extremely pretty, and favored by many. She resembled my mother, with her pale blonde hair, and delicate features. She was the kind of girl- gentle, quiet and intelligent- that attracted the attention of kings. She ignored the advances, and often kept close by me, helping me with my daughter, and our home.
The birth of my child was fast and easy. I welcomed my daughter into the world with great joy and anticipation of what she might become. Unfortunately, it would not be a warrior, or much more than perhaps an understanding man’s wife- she was born crippled. The midwives and healers advised me to end her life before it could begin, but I sent them away in a tearful rage. My husband refused to acknowledge her, and I should have divorced him then. Celt laws state that the father of a child is responsible for its care, regardless of whether the parents stay together, or not. But I wanted him nowhere near her, while I raised her. I never regretted my decision to keep her, and give her a fighting chance at life, for she proved to be incredibly clever, and could talk by a winter’s age. My favorite teacher, an old woman who lived deep in the forests by herself, offered to take her from me, when old enough to be weaned, and raise her as a Druid. I agreed, and a bargain between us was struck. But as the gods saw fit to test what I could endure, it was never to come about. Soon after my little girl came into the world, my father’s will to live gave out, and we buried him with a small ceremony. My sister and I grieved for many days, then got back to the business of keeping strong.
It had been, and continued to be, an exhaustive battle with the army. Neither side would give, and both lost men in blood and great pain. For two years, we fought them. In retrospect, it was a losing one for us, but our victories were hardly in that we won wars, but that we defended our beliefs and our dignity as Celts. Not only did we hold the army south of the wall; the Caledonii pinioned them from the north. A cousin of mine came to live among us and offered his assistance as war leader, as he had spent time in the Roman infantry in Gaul, and had studied them at length. It was inspiring to watch him use some of their tactics against them, and I looked up to him.
Then my life changed, forever. I can still hear my daughter’s scream of terror, and my sister’s warning cry, as men came in the middle of the night, to take us. It took three of them to hold and chain me, and only because I had no weapon in hand. I had no time to grab for the small dagger I kept under my pillow. I was blindfolded, before I could see what was happening to my family members; I only knew we were captured by soldiers, I could hear their whispered discussion, as they secured us. My baby continued to cry, then her voice was cut off by a dull thud, and silence followed. My muffled bellow of rage and helplessness fell on deaf ears, as my captors dragged me away. I knew not what happened to my sister. I assumed she was made a slave, as well. The hood that was placed over my head remained there, throughout the trip to Londinium, where I was loaded onto a boat, and sent far away from my mountains and forests, to a life of captivity, and hate. It stayed on me, as I was sailed with others who would share my fate to Zucchabar Province.
It was quiet, when I finished. I trembled uncontrollably, and not from the cold. Justinius shook his head sadly, not looking at me. Maximus stared into the fire, then announced that it was close to midnight, and we had a way to go, the next day. Justinius expressed sorrow for my daughter then joined his already sleeping friends.
Maximus and I readied our beds, and his voice carried across the fire on the chilled night air. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. I really don’t want to talk about it, again. It hurts. You knew about me, anyway, from Gracchus. Why did I need to retell it?”
“Because I wanted to hear it from you.”
“And so? What do you think?”
“I think you are strong, and brave, and have had it hard. I also think the gods love you, even when it seems they don’t.” His symapthetic smile belied to me that he was still mulling over how he truly felt about it. I did not press him, only curled up in my warm furs. Later, I would learn that my life could have been Maximus’.
