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A week after I met Gracchus, Galen took my crutches away from me. He was very unhappy with me, the day I went for my walk, because I had overworked my muscles, but he understood my need to be mobile. Maximus wanted me able enough to not only walk but ride as well, I learned from Galen. This indicated to me that I was going to be leaving, and it hurt me. I felt safe here, if of no apparent use. I knew the physician liked me, we spent much time discussing various ways of curing and healing; I learned that he had observed Druids and their medicine, as well as the Greek doctors. He was pleased with my knowledge of plants, and though the Romans gave them different names, I found that many I knew of grew in abundance here, as well as more potent ones that I was unaware of, that he told me he would show me. I was most happy when he promised to take me on some of his calls to female patients. He mentioned that one or two were due to give birth, and would probably feel comfortable with a skilled midwife present.Gracchus came frequently to visit me, often accompanying young Lucius. He said little; most times content to just watch the two of us interact, and looked on approvingly. The times he would come alone, he would bring me a lime from the orchard, as a symbol of his goodwill. He continued to ply me for information regarding my life in Britannia. I could not understand why it was so important to him. Would he use it against my people at home? Word came every day, in the whispers between servants that there was still trouble in Britannia. A new governor had gone there, to suppress the mutiny of the legions that were tired of fighting and the conditions in which they did. Was this why Gracchus wished to know so much about me? To find out what I knew, that could be of use? I could not imagine any other reason for his queries. Simple curiosity seemed too easy a solution.
The more he pressed, the more memory returned to haunt me, against my will. For the last seven years, I strove to forget my former life, and empty myself of all but hate and strength. I no longer knew hope that I would one day be free, or that I would ever see the wild woods of home again. I let no emotion overtake me; no one could penetrate the wall of my silence, if I chose not to speak. I accepted each change in ownership of me, and did what I was told, hiding my thoughts behind a face I kept carefully blank. Only survival mattered to me, though for what reason, I cannot explain, other than my gods told me I must, and they would keep me safe. The only beings I trusted were those spiritual ones.
I shut out of my mind my life before I was sold in the slave market in Zucchabar. Other than snatches of my childhood, I refused to think on it. However, Gracchus was persistent, and my resistance broke down, gradually. The effort to keep it to and away from myself was causing me to sleep again, and this caused great consternation with Galen, fascinating him at the same time. It angered me, and my control began to slip. The day I snapped at Lucius, for nothing at all, and sent him away crying, I knew I needed to face it. I limped out to the gardens, to find Gracchus.
It was his ritual in the afternoons to feed his beloved geese, so I sat on a stone bench nearby, collecting my thoughts. A thought occurred to me, while I perched there, that perhaps he wanted to know about me, to help matters in Britannia, for my people. So unsettling was the idea, I almost got up to leave, and hide again in my room to mull it over, but instead I stayed, and waited. Finally, Gracchus finished with his birds, and took a seat beside me. He was dressed in a warm tunic made of raw fiber cloth, rather than his fine senatorial robes. Winter was coming upon us, and the breeze was cooler.
“You look like a woman with much on her mind. Lucius tells me you were quite unhappy today.” He said it gently, not accusatorily.
“Not with him, my lord. Myself.” I gazed out to the pond, then back down at my feet.
“Ah. Good, he will be glad to hear that. He is beside himself, not knowing what he did to anger you. He thinks quite highly of you.” His eyes twinkled merrily, and I made a point to myself to be sure and apologize to Lucius that very night. We were silent for a few more minutes, as I chose a good way to begin my story to him.
“You want to know about me. Why?”
“Boadicea, how long have you been questioning the motives of every single Roman that addresses you?” He reprimanded me softly, like my mother would have done, years before.
“For fourteen winters. Since I was twelve.”
“That is a long time. Have you been a slave, since then?”
“No. It was some years after that. How much do you know about what happens in Britannia?” I decided to press him for information, too.
He shook his head. “Very little, I'm afraid. We send governors to keep the peace there. But it is difficult to control the army. From what I hear, they are not very successful in keeping rebellion at bay there, either from the Celts, or our own men.”
“No, they are not.” If he looked surprised, or showed any emotion at all, I did not notice, for I was already far away, in time and place, where there was no new master, no Rome, save the army that came to make life hard for the Carvetii, the tribe I belonged to.
For several hundred years, relations between Romans and Celts had been strained, at best. It is difficult to explain where the hostility between the two began. It was long before Julius Caesar set foot on the shores of Cantium, and even before Rome was no longer the capitol of Etruria, but the heart of an empire. Whatever the cause, war was waged for centuries between the nations, and had finally reached the shores of Britannia, some ninety years after Caesar’s first expedition to the island nation.
Despite the efforts of men such as Venutius of the Carvetii, and Cunobelinus of the south, to keep their Celts separate from Rome, the Empire still came and plundered our people and land. Claudius defeated the army of Caratacus, son of Cunobelinus, and marched triumphant into Camulodunum, holding treaty talks for sixteen days with leaders representing all the tribes of Britannia. Only two of them, Cartimandua of the Brigantes, wife of Venutius, and Prasutagus of the Iceni, husband of Boudicca, accepted client-rule under the Empire.
It was Cartimandua’s decision to tie herself to Rome that caused Venutius to divorce and declare war on her. When he attained the upper hand in battle, Cartimandua called up her Roman allies to help her. Venutius was captured, and beheaded for his adherence to freedom. Cartimandua years before had captured Caratacus, who along with his family, was sent to Rome, in chains, to plead his case before Claudius. So impressed was the Emperor with Caratacus’ eloquence and courage, that he granted him clemency, but without returning him home. Cartimandua paid a price for her alliance, however. The Roman armies came among her Brigantes, and took control of them. Cartimandua remained queen in name only.
Prasutagus, on the other hand, while paying his tribute to his Roman friends, kept a tight rule on his Iceni. That this was because he was a man, is a matter of some conjecture. Whatever the reason, Rome bothered him very little, and while the Roman way of life was introduced to his court and education in Roman law and language extended to his nobles, he was a Celt in spirit. Before his death of illness, he stipulated in his will that his kingdom be divided, and ceded half to Nero and the Empire, the other to his daughters, with his wife to be placed as regent above the Iceni, until the girls were old enough to come into their inheritance.
The will displeased certain Romans, as it was looked at as slighting the Emperor, and made provision for women, who could not inherit land, under Roman law. Seeing the situation as an opportunity to gain favor with Nero, who cared nothing for what was happening in Britannia, Procurator Decianus Catus marched on the Iceni with his legions, seizing property, valuables, and stripping nobles of their ancestral positions. When Boudicca protested, reminding Decianus of the agreement her husband had made with Rome, she was taxed heavily, and since she could not pay, was beaten, and her daughters raped, thus rendering her and her husband without a legal heir to their throne.
Unlike Cartimandua, Boudicca did not simply sit back and accept Roman rule. Calling for the assistance of other tribes, she waged a bloody, brutal war, and before she was defeated, destroyed the cities of Camulodunum, Verulamium, and Londinium, all inhabited by Romans or supporters of Rome. Thus she sent her message that the British Celts at least would not go quietly into slavery. It is said she sacrificed her victims to the goddess Andraste, the one who protected me. Rather than be captured and paraded by Suetonius Paulinus as spoils of war in front of Nero, she and her daughters took poison, and died. While hers was the last revolt of its kind in our country, it was hardly the last time we would resist the yoke of our oppressors. With the southern tribes under control, the legions and their commanders could turn their attention again to the north. This they did, and for a hundred years or more, conflict with the Caledonii, Pictii, and other tribes continued.
