Rage Against the Dying Light

by Jan Surasky

  "Oh, Linnea," said Boudicca, as she laughed to share her friend's good fortune, "you shall have such a happy life. And," she added, "you must ask Sequanna's blessings of bounty upon it."

  As they spoke, minstrels gathered to pipe the tunes and crowds gathered to witness the maiden's dance. As Boudicca took her place in the circle about Sequanna's great likeness, she spotted Venutius in the gathering crowd, his gaze upon her. She returned his gaze as she lifted her foot to begin the steps of the maiden's dance.

  The strains of the minstrels' tunes rose above the murmur of the crowd as maidens, clad in the spectrum of hues, tossed the blossoms of spring, gathered about the Coritani countryside, its meadows, its woodlands, its riverbank, and its plains which stretched as far as its horizon, at the feet of the wooden idol, the scents of the blossoms mingling to rise into the crispness of the evening air. As the music stopped, the maidens moved as one to kneel at the feet of the likeness of the harvest goddess, pressing their offerings of the grain of the Coritani fields, baked into tiny cakes, about the idol's feet. As they knelt, Diviticus prayed from the hillside, to ask for bounty to rise once again from the fields of the Coritani, and to ask the blessings of heirs, a strength to the Coritani, and a legacy to the centuries of traditions of the Celts.

  As he finished, the maidens rose, clasping hands as they raised their arms to spread about the idol in a circle once again. Dropping hands, as the minstrels took up their pipes, they began their dance anew, relieved that their prayers had been offered so clearly into the night, with a step more lively and laughter all around. The crowd cheered, and the families of the dancers rushed forward, embracing the dancers as they went.

  Catrinellia was first to reach Boudicca. She embraced her daughter, standing back, her hands remaining still upon her shoulders. "Boudicca," she said, as she looked full upon her face, "you are now a Celtic maiden. We must work hard to make you worthy of that privilege." As she backed away, Votorix rushed forward, choking with emotion as he wrapped Boudicca in his embrace. "Boudicca," he said, slowly letting go his arms about her, "you have made me very proud. I wish always the blessings of the gods upon you."

  Mandorix came forward as well, offering an embrace and a request to once again rejoin the games. Catrinellia gave him her permission, as she and Votorix prepared to circulate once again among the crowd. Boudicca rushed over to Linnea, squeezing her hands within her own, their giggles rising above the nearby laughter. As Linnea rejoined the festivities, a gaggle of brothers and sisters hanging about her, Boudicca searched the crowd to spy Venutius. As she stood, she felt a hand upon her shoulder. She turned to look directly into Venutius' face.

  "Oh, Venutius," she said, as she threw her arms about him, "you have come as you have promised. We must take a walk to celebrate," she laughed, as she let go her embrace.

  They walked past the knots of celebrants as they strolled across the meadow. "You must tell me all the news of Caractacus and your journey on the mission of trade," said Boudicca, looking up at Venutius as they strolled through the tall grasses of the meadow, clumps of buttercups and bluebells risen with the spring rains among them.

  "Caractacus is longer in council and less upon the plains or at the woodland hunt," said Venutius, as he strolled slowly beside her. "Cunobelinus is tired, and wishes soon to pass on the mantle of chieftain. Caractacus studies carefully, for he fears Roman unrest upon the Continent, and he must learn as well the tactics to keep the strength of the Silures from the fierce tribes of the south which attack the gates and raid the fields."

  "Cunobelinus has assigned to me the order of the nobles' lands," said Venutius, as he continued to stroll beside her, "and, in respect for my father, whose ancestors, before the Roman conquest, were tribal chieftains, he has assigned to me to open further the routes of trade upon the Continent."

  "Caractacus is pleased with this assignment," he added, "as he has bade me to listen as I travel to talk of the Roman empire, to allow him warning to make alignments if Rome makes plans to sail in ships of conquest for our shores."

  Venutius finished his talk as they reached the edge of the sacred grove. "Oh, Venutius," said Boudicca, "we must walk through the grove to ask the blessings of Beltane from Sequanna along the sacred stream where she lies most pure."

  Venutius chuckled as he parted the brush for the pair to reach the open path. As they trod the path, Venutius reached for the limb of an ancient oak. "I shall carve you a likeness of Sequanna that you may fling upon the waters of the stream and secure her fullest blessings," he laughed, as he pulled from the sheaf about his waist a short hunting knife to part from the limb a hefty branch.

  They trod the paths to reach the stream and dropped upon the grasses beside its waters. Venutius whittled slowly in the moonlight, the branch of the oak soon a likeness of the Beltane goddess. He stood, and lifted Boudicca to her feet as he handed her gently the likeness of Sequanna. As she flung the oaken likeness upon the waters, Venutius put his hands upon her shoulders to turn her toward him. "Boudicca," he said, as he looked down upon her, "I leave soon for the Continent. But, I shall send you word as I go."

  He bent down to kiss her upon her lips, the scent of the blossoms entwined in her tresses wafting about them. As he pulled back, he took her hands in his. "I shall return," he said, as he looked upon her face aglow in the moonlight, "and when I do, we will ride the plains and pick the blossoms along the banks of the Devon River and tread the woodland paths of the sacred grove as we always have."

  They walked back across the meadow, lost in small talk and in silence, the future crowding their thoughts. They reached the hillside as the Beltane announcements had just begun, births and justice meted out, new landowners, new marriage banns, and those who had gone through the rites of Beltane passage. As Diviticus was handing down these pronouncements, then Votorix took his place upon the hassock above the crowd, silencing it by his presence.

  "I would like to make an announcement," he said, as only the noise of crickets rose to fill the silence. He paused, then continued. "I have made a match for the Princess Boudicca. She will be joined with the King Prasutagus, chieftain of the mighty Iceni tribe. May the match be bountiful, and our two tribes prosper together."

  As he spoke, Boudicca and Venutius stood, silently clasping hands at the edge of the crowd.

  Chapter Six

  Servants scurried about the Iceni palace halls, tossing blossoms of violets, daisies, and larkspur, plucked from the carefully cultivated gardens of the palace atrium. The palace bakers turned out great loaves of bread, heavy with rye, and tiny, honeyed oat cakes. Grooms brushed ceremonial mounts in the palace stables, and fed them stores of special oats. And servants, drawn from everywhere, dug pits upon the hillside, to turn the great stores of game, brought down in the vast forests of Iceni lands, enough for a seven day feast, over an open fire.

  In the largest guest chamber of the Iceni palace, Boudicca peered into a looking glass a handmaiden held to inspect her costume for the gala ceremony that would unite her with Prasutagus and make her queen of the Iceni tribe. Handmaidens hovered about her, ready to attend to her every whim. Urns of the most delicate and pungent scents, pressed from the finest oils of the Continent, surrounded her. Bowls of petals dried from the violet, the hyacinth, and the hawthorn blossom lined the shelf above her.

  Throngs had gathered already along the meadow and upon the hillsides below the Iceni city, from the island's distant and neighboring tribes, from the Iceni cities, and from the Iceni countryside. Boudicca gazed into the looking glass, pinching her cheeks to bring them color, and smoothing the lines about her eyes and mouth. She must be radiant, for much was riding on this match.

  As she arranged the folds of her tunic, she thought of Venutius and Caractacus. In the five Beltanes which had passed since Votorix had announced her match upon the Coritani hillside, Caractacus had become king of the Silures in a ceremony which she had attended, and had soon made Cortitiana his queen. Venutius had opened trade routes which still thriv
ed upon the Continent, and had been called home to oversee the Silures lands. He had visited her often after the announcement of her match, but he had honored the promise of its troth, strolling about the meadows and the woodlands, chatting with Diviticus, and roaming the sacred grove.

  Her tunic hung about her, a finely woven linen spun from the flax of the Coritani fields, turned the purest white, the edges embroidered with bands of sacred white geese. She gathered the waist with a belt of golden squares, its buckle a likeness of the goddess Danu, a gift from Prasutagus, and fastened its shoulder with a silver fibula, its clasp imbedded with tiny chunks of amber. White leather sandals with long, soft ties were laced about her ankles. She added a golden armlet which twisted about her arm in a likeness of the goddess Magda, and a heavy golden torque, its clasp twin likenesses of the earth goddess Epona's horses. She added as well an anklet of fine, gold chain, a gift of childhood, and a coral ring, large and simply cut, from Prasutagus' dowry.

  She called for Mattilia to dress her tresses as she sat upon the bench of the large, oaken dressing table of the chamber, its legs each turned with pairs of tiny songbirds. Although clusters of Iceni handmaidens stood about, it was Mattilia, her locks now slightly grayed but her gait still sprightly, who knew how to coax the long, thick locks to bend to brush and comb. Mattilia made her way through the knots of handmaidens to the dressing table, lifting from the shelf above it the brush with the stiffest of boar's bristles and the thickest of amber handles. She brushed Boudicca's tresses atop her head, fastening some with tiny combs of gold, catching others with the blossoms of the Iceni palace gardens, and winding some about in tiny braids fastened with beads of coral. The rest she left to hang about in tiny wisps and curls.

  Boudicca rose, splashing scents from the tiny urns upon her bare arms, mingling the spicier scents of the Far East with the sweeter scents of the Continent. Then, she walked through the doorway of the chamber and down the Iceni palace hallways, sculpted battle scenes, woodland hunts, and festival rites lining their walls. Handmaidens followed, strewing rose petals all about her. She walked through the great, double oak doors of the palace, and through the heavy, timber gates which led to the Iceni city, and down the grasses of the hillside, shorn low for the ceremony, to the meadow below.

  Her mount waited at the foot of the hillside, a large, white stallion, a gift of Votorix to fill the loss of Tricerbantes' passing. She had named him Palingetorix, a name she had given to a riverbank tortoise she once had kept as a pet. Carefully groomed and saddled, he pawed the ground, waiting for a touch of the reins to guide him. With the aid of the head stable servant, she climbed upon the mount, nudging him slowly forward. Handmaidens clustered about her, arranging the folds of her tunic.

  As her mount moved forward, she searched the crowd for Venutius. He had promised to be with her on this day, sending word by messenger, and assuring her of his presence with every visit. She knew Caractacus would not be at his side. He had sent word of raiders upon the Silures fields, keeping him busy upon the field of battle, and Cortitiana was soon to bear a royal heir. As she searched the throngs, many already heady with flasks of wine and ale, she spied Venutius standing along her path, clad in the sturdy leather trousers of the hide of the woodland stag, a tunic of crimson hue edged in gold, the Silures emblem upon it, and a ceremonial bronze sword about his waist, its scabbard hilt a likeness of Sylvanius, god of the hunt. Their gazes met as she passed.

  Tribal chieftains lined the meadow, vying with nobles and merchants, artisans and farmers for a glimpse of the royal rites. As she moved along, Boudicca spied Cartimandua, now queen of the great Brigantes tribe, her black locks piled elaborately atop her head, her tunic woven from threads of gold, the heavy torque about her neck a likeness of the goddess of battle, Andrasta. Handmaidens hovered about her. As Boudicca passed, though Cartimandua kept her eyes upon the procession and the features of her carefully composed face unmoved, their gazes did not meet.

  Farther along, Boudicca spied Linnea, clad in a coarse, linen tunic, its hue the blended greens of the Coritani countryside. Her tinkling laughter rose above the crowd. Spared from the labor of the fields and duties of the family, she was here to honor a pact they had made long ago as giggling youth running about the banks of the Devon River, to share their fortunes.

  Ahead at the edge of the meadow, Prasutagus waited astride a great roan mount, decked out with a saddle cloth of the brightest hues and a ceremonial bridle bit of bronze. His tunic was the deepest blue of the woad plant, its edges embroidered in gold, the Iceni crest upon it. A thick, gold, twisted torque hung about his neck and a large, bronze, ceremonial sword about his waist. His pale, blue eyes were steady, and his long, blond locks and beard, carefully trimmed for the ceremony, though he was nearly twenty years her senior, remarkably free of grey.

  Votorix stood nearby, flanked by Catrinellia and Mandorix upon the grasses of the meadow, pride upon his face. Not far stood Astrinellia, the only sister of Prasutagus, a slight limp the result of a childhood illness, clad in a simple, linen tunic of violet hue. Boudicca guided her mount alongside Prasutagus and signaled him to stop. A host of Iceni Druids stood upon the hillside, Diviticus among them, with all manner of symbols of the gala rite.

  The chief Druid signaled to begin, and the crowd hushed, straining to hear the chanting of the rites. The Druids, clad in their finest ceremonial robes, shouted pleas to every Celtic god and showered offerings upon them. The Iceni gods, held special to the tribe, were revered with special offerings.

  Diviticus chanted a prayer for a long and happy union filled with the greatest bounty. He raised his hands as he spoke. "May the queen of the Iceni prosper, and may this union bring strength and great bounty to our tribes."

  The Iceni Druids chanted again in unison, lifting the symbols of the rite as they spoke. The wheat of the Iceni fields, the doves of harmony and peace, the blossoms of the Iceni woodlands and of its gardens, and a boar's foot, symbol of the bounty of the hunt.

  Then, they came down from the hillside, forming a circle about the royal couple, bidding them to join hands as symbol of the union. Boudicca and Prasutagus reached across the tall grasses of the meadow to clasp hands. The Druids intoned one last prayer, an ending to the rite.

  The crowd cheered, tossing blossoms of meadow daisies, bluebells and larkspur they had plucked, or passing round the skins of wine and ale. Boudicca and Prasutagus rode off to the edge of the great woodland which ran beside the meadow, a signal for the festivities to begin. As they dismounted their horses, well-wishers surrounded them. Nobles to curry favor with the new political alignment, the curious, merchants and farmers alike, from the reaches of the Iceni borders, and guests from the tribes of the island.

  Boudicca stood in front of a great oak tree as Votorix came toward her, taking great strides across the meadow. Catrinellia and Mandorix followed. Votorix wrapped his great arms around her. "I know you will carry well the mantle that has been thrust upon you, Boudicca," he said, as he loosened his embrace to look upon her. "I know you will bring the joys of the Coritani and perform well the duties you have studied faithfully for so long. May peace be with you always, my daughter."

  Catrinellia approached Boudicca, silent as she embraced her. She stood back as she spoke. "I will pray for you, Boudicca," she said, her long, red tunic flowing about her. "May you perform well your duties."

  Mandorix then stepped forward, uncertain to embrace her, his frame newly grown tall and gangling, his once blond locks nearly white grown darker and longer about his shoulders. "I shall visit you often," he said, as his arms hung about his sides. "I shall still come for stories of Sandheim."

  Boudicca laughed, as she stepped forward to embrace him. "I shall think up new stories as I ride the woodland paths and stroll about the meadows. And, you must bring Ambiatrix with you," she added. "I would so like him to see the great Iceni playing fields and strike a ball upon them."

  Mandorix turned to follow Votorix and Catrinellia to join the festivities, al
ready beginning across the meadow's grasses. As he went, Cartimandua replaced him to stand before her, followed by an entourage of servants. She stared directly into Boudicca's eyes, her eyes unmoving as she spoke. "Prasutagus has long ruled wisely the Iceni tribe," she said, pausing after she spoke. She continued. "I hope you will be an asset to him." At that, she turned abruptly, to return to the festivities, followed again by the host of servants.

  As she stood, Boudicca spied Linnea hanging about the edge of the crowd, awaiting a turn to greet her. Linnea came forward, throwing her arms about her. "Oh, Boudicca," she said, as she stood back to admire Boudicca's costume. "You look so grand," she said. "I shall hardly know how to describe your tunic to Anthropus," she added. She took a deep breath to slow the words which had come tumbling so rapidly out. "I must remember your costume, the ceremony, and the celebration. Mama made me promise. And," she added, stopping again to take a breath, "I must remember for the little ones."

  Boudicca smiled. "I shall give you a memento of the ceremony," she said, as she reached for the saddlebag upon her mount. She pulled from it a small, coral ring, part of her ceremonial offering to the gods, and pressed it into Linnea's palm.

  "Oh, Boudicca," she said, wordless as her hands closed about it, "I shall treasure it always." She paused. "It will help me to remember," she added, "as I plow the fields or gather the little ones in from the countryside as the sun sets upon the meadows the seasons we spent along the banks of the Devon."

  "You must visit when you can," said Boudicca. "We shall find a stream or woodland path to walk along. I must hear of Anthropus, and how plentiful are the fish and the frogs of the Devon River."

  "Anthropus has promised," answered Linnea. "He has promised to spare me in the season after we reap the harvest of our fields." She paused. "I must go now," she said, as she stood back. "Papa will miss my mount upon the fields." They embraced once again, and Linnea turned to stride across the meadow to the small grove of newly flowered hawthorn trees where her mount was safely lashed.