Sword of the Gladiatrix

by Faith L Justice

  “Andraste, sacred to my people, Mother of War and Death, give me strength.” She prayed, as she sharpened her blade. “May the Morrigan take the Romans and eat their balls.”

  Cinnia looked up as a carnyx sounded the assembly of the warriors. She put on her heavy leather belt, graced with the looted bronze buckle, over a short summer wool tunic. The sun climbed above the tree line, glaring down on the bustling people. Sweat dampened her tunic under her arms and breasts; trickled down her bare legs. She picked up her small round shield, sheathed her Roman gladius, and moved with the other women toward Boudica in her chariot.

  A vast sea of warriors watched the Iceni queen. There were men from many tribes, dressed in their looted armor, decorated with their sacred symbols. For every Roman soldier there were ten Britons. The crowd thrummed with a taut, nervous energy. Cinnia’s mouth dried and her muscles twitched in anticipation.

  Boudica stood in her chariot, sun glinting off her armor and red hair. She faced her army and shouted, “This is not the first time the Britons have followed a woman into battle! But I did not come to boast of ancestry, or to recover my kingdom or the plundered wealth of my people. I take the field, like the meanest among you, to assert the cause of liberty and to seek revenge!”

  A roar rolled across the mass, as Boudica’s words were sped on.

  “To the pride and arrogance of the Romans, nothing is sacred; all are subject to violation; the old endure the scourge and virgins are deflowered. But the vindictive gods are now at hand. A Roman legion dared to face us. They paid with their lives. Those who survived the carnage of that day think of nothing but how to save themselves by an ignominious flight.”

  The vision of frightened fleeing Romans elicited laughter and many rude gestures, as the Britons banged on their shields.

  Boudica pointed down the valley toward the distant Romans. “From the din of our preparation, the Romans even now shrink back with terror. What will be their case when the assault begins? Look round. View your numbers. Behold the proud display of warlike spirits. Consider the motives for which we draw the avenging sword. On this spot we must either conquer or die with glory. There is no alternative. Though a woman, my resolution is fixed. The men, if they please, may survive with infamy, and live in bondage.”

  Cinnia lifted her sword with the rest as they chanted, “Boudica! Boudica!”

  Her heart lifted. Resolve strengthened as her queen rode toward her female companions. Boudica pointed to the five oldest and most experienced women. “You with me. The rest will guard my daughters.”

  “No!” Cinnia joined in the chorus of dismay at being left behind.

  Boudica’s face softened. “You have been my most loyal warriors. I ask this of my best. If the gods are against us this day, take my daughters to safety. Two valleys to the north on the left rock face is the cave of a druid. You will know it by a black boulder with a flat top. Hide them there.”

  Cinnia looked up at her queen and recalled her dream of so many months ago: she guarded two wounded fawns from attacking wolves. Had the gods sent her a message of doom? She shook her head. That couldn’t be the import.

  Boudica saw the look on Cinnia’s face. “Do not fear, faithful ones. We will be victorious. I take a mother’s precautions.”

  Cinnia ducked her head so Boudica couldn’t see her tears.

  ***

  CINNIA SHADED HER EYES as sunlight glinted off the swords of the Romans, rank after rank of them. She stood atop a wagon, piled high with loot from the Roman cities they had destroyed. The baggage train formed a half moon across a ridge. Women, children, the wounded, and the old watched with eagerness as the huge mass of British warriors streamed down a narrow valley toward the waiting Romans.

  “There’s Mother!” Maeve pointed. A blue streamer sporting a white horse and a spoked wheel—sacred to the Iceni gods—floated from her charioteer’s spear, marking the queen’s chariot.

  “I see!” Cinnia’s heart lifted as Boudica led the chariot charge. The light wicker chariots pulled by short-legged ponies bounced over the rough ground, but not a driver or warrior fell. The chariot rush slowed and packed more tightly, as the valley narrowed. The women and old men of the baggage train shook their weapons, ready to join the battle if needed. A wild ululation seared Cinnia’s throat as she joined with the others urging the warriors on. The chariots were followed by a huge mass of screaming, fearsome warriors—most in mail and helmets with their long Celtic swords flashing in the sun. A few fought naked dedicating their lives to the warrior’s gods. The sounds of the carnyx wafted over the din of the men and women surging forward toward the ranked Romans.

  Cinnia could only imagine the terror of the Romans cowering behind their wall of shields as the frenzied Britons descended on them with swords flashing and the fury of the gods in their shouts. The earth shook under their feet. She wondered they did not break and run into the forest. The Romans couldn’t survive against such a large force, but her dream nagged her. Cinnia looked behind. One of the other guards had horses saddled, and a pack animal ready, in case of flight. She made the spiral sign to ward off evil. The roar of battle cries brought her attention back to the charge.

  When the chariots spilled out of the valley, the Romans sent a deadly wave of spears toward the Britons. Ponies screamed, chariots overturned, forcing the warriors to fight on foot. A second wave of spears rained down on the Britons. The deadly pila shattered the warriors’ shields or stuck in them, making them useless. The stream of warriors continued surging toward the waiting Romans.

  Brianna screamed, “Where’s Mother?”

  “There!” Cinnia pointed at the blue banner in a knot of warriors on foot.

  “Thank the gods.” Brianna sobbed. “Why didn’t she let me go with her?”

  Cinnia patted the younger girl on the back. “Look! Our people swarm the field.” She watched, exultant, as the never-ending stream of warriors descended toward the Roman soldiers, shouting their war cries.

  The Romans shifted their positions, forming into a blunt triangle, pointed toward their attackers. They started marching toward the Britons, pushing them back with their large red shields, stabbing them with their short swords, and stepping over the dead bodies to take on the next wave of warriors. The tenor of the battlefield noise changed. A note of frustration entered the cacophony, occasionally punctuated with fear—but not from the Romans—from her own people.

  The Romans pushed the Britons into the narrow valley where the following warriors piled up behind their fellows pressing them forward to their deaths. There was no room for the warriors to swing their long swords or throw their spears. When one rank of Romans wavered with fatigue, they stepped back, a fresh rank took their places, hacking and killing; their short swords gleamed with the blood of hundreds.

  Cinnia watched with growing shock as the mighty British force broke against the solid Roman army and came crashing back toward the baggage train. Caught between the encircling wagons and the onward press of the Romans, they threw down their weapons and ran. Once though the defile, the Roman infantry opened up to allow the cavalry through. They set upon the fleeing warriors, cutting them down by the hundreds.

  Cinnia grabbed the girls and pushed them off the back of the wagon. “We must leave. Now!”

  “But, Mother…” Maeve’s mouth hung open in a silent scream.

  “Has provided for your escape. Brianna, help your sister onto her horse.”

  They both boosted the girl into her saddle then Cinnia helped Brianna. Her own mount bucked and pulled at the reins in the chaos.

  One of the other guards grabbed Cinnia by the shoulder and screamed into her face, “Ride! We’ll cover your retreat.” She held the horse steady as Cinnia leapt into her saddle. “Go!” She turned back to fight the advance of Romans, giving Cinnia a few more precious seconds.

  Cinnia wheeled her horse around, grabbed the lead rope of the pack animal, and shouted. “Follow me!”

  She thundered down the opposite side of
the hill, followed by Brianna and Maeve. Cinnia looked left and right for flanking cavalry. She wasn’t a natural rider and crouched over the horse’s mane holding tight as it stretched its neck and ran flat out over the rough ground. Cinnia feared falling off more than confronting the Romans. The horse seemed to sense her uncertainty and slowed. The girls passed her, speeding for the forest. Her horse, not wanting to be left behind, sped up again.

  By the time they reached the forest, both the horse and Cinnia were blowing and lathered. She slowed to a trot and was nearly scraped off by the low-hinging bough of a fir tree. She came to a stop, trembling. She heard a noise ahead and unsheathed her sword.

  Brianna came into view with a sobbing Maeve. “Are you all right?” They seemed to sit their horses with a lot more confidence than Cinnia.

  She wiped the sweat from her brow, smudging her soot and woad. “I am now.” She looked around the forest; spotted a faint path. “Come. Your mother left instructions.”

  She led the girls down the valley beside a stream that cut through a meadow filled with summer flowers. Birdsong stilled as they approached, starting again as they passed. Everything seemed so serene and normal, that Cinnia wondered if she dreamed the horrors they left behind. She turned to see the forlorn huddled figures of the girls. A sob rose to her throat.

  What of Dumnor and Oriana? Melva and the baby? Did anyone survive?

  In the second valley to the north, Cinnia spied the black boulder up a ridge of loose rock. If there was a path, it was well hidden.

  “I think we should leave the horses here and go up on foot.”

  “Why?” Maeve cried.

  “Because I don’t think the horses could make it up that slope.”

  “I mean, why should we hide?” Maeve’s voice trembled. “Mother is dead. We have no home, no people. We should take our own lives before the Romans catch up with us.”

  Cinnia had no answer.

  Brianna moved her mount closer to her sister and pushed the hair from the younger girl’s face. “Because Mother wanted us to live.”

  “Like this?” Maeve gestured around her. “Hunted, alone?”

  “We’re not alone. Mother provided a guardian. Let us choose to live one more day. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring.”

  Maeve hung her head. “One more day.”

  They hobbled the horses in a small glade where they could graze, hid the saddles and tack under a stack of evergreen boughs, and shared out the supplies from the pack. Cinnia took the largest share; mostly food, but a couple of blankets and cook pots, as well. She discovered a heavy bag of coins in the middle of the pack and gave that to Brianna.

  The girls hiked up the ridge of loose rock, past the black boulder, around a bend. Under a twisted fir clinging to the side of the rock, Cinnia spied a narrow opening. She slipped off the pack so she could slide in sideways. The opening broadened into a smallish outer cave but the passage turned at the back. She spied light flicking on the other side of the turn. Cinnia approached, knife out, crouching. A quick look around the wall confirmed a small fire; the smoke drifting toward the back of the cave toward a crack to the surface. A dark figure sat by the fire, his back to Cinnia.

  “Come in.”

  Cinnia started. “How did you know?”

  “I may be old, but my nose works. I could smell the fear on you.”

  Cinnia sheathed her knife as her eyes adjusted. She recognized the ancient druid from Boudica’s court. “I have the queen’s daughters. The Romans…” Cinnia choked back a sob.

  “I know. I warned Boudica. My dreams were filled with crows and ill-omens. I told her to send the princesses here if there was need.” He looked past her shoulder. “Come in, my daughters.”

  Maeve and Brianna crept past Cinnia and sat at the old man’s feet. He laid his hands on their heads. “The triple goddesses have you under their protection. Tomorrow we will go north to the wild tribes where no Roman dares to go. They will honor Boudica’s children.”

  “What of Mother?” Tears glistened on Brianna’s cheek.

  The old man shook his head. “I foresee her death. She did not want to be captured by the Romans and dragged through their streets in chains. I gave her a potent draught. If needed, it will bring a quick death.” The girls sobbed, hugging each other. He looked at Cinnia. “And you, my child? Will you journey with us?”

  “Boudica left her daughters in my care. I’ll go where they go. No Roman followed that I know of. They were busy slaughtering those they could catch on foot. Distributing the loot from the baggage train will slow them down, but soon they will scour the land looking for the last of us.”

  The old man nodded. “You are all tired. You should sleep before we journey. I’ve laid protections on this cave. We are safe.”

  Cinnia doubted her gods’ ability to save them from the Romans. They had failed so far in spite of the bloody sacrifices made of captives from the towns they took. She shuddered away from the gruesome memories, but the druids had insisted. In war, the gods needed blood and better that be the blood of the enemy. She felt she should scout the area looking for survivors or Romans, but at the old man’s suggestion, exhaustion crept through her limbs. She barely dragged in her pack and unrolled a blanket, before falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  ***

  NEXT MORNING, Cinnia left their shelter to relieve herself and spotted a small Roman cavalry detail coming over the pass into the valley. She bolted back into the cave.

  “Romans! Not more than an hour away. We must move.” She started to pack their small store of provisions.

  “We can’t go.” Brianna hunched over her sister. “Maeve has a fever.”

  Cinnia looked at the druid.

  “I have medicines, but she can’t be moved.”

  The girl groaned and cried out.

  “Hush, sister.” Brianna wet a strip of cloth from the water bag and washed the younger girl’s face. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

  “They don’t know we’re here.” The ancient druid put a hand on Cinnia’s shoulder. “They will not see us.”

  “These Romans have the look of hunters. A traitorous Briton rides with them.”

  The old man tugged at his beard. “If they know what they are looking for, they might see.”

  “They will find the horses and come looking for us. If they have a scout trained in woodcraft they will find us. There is a path.” She tuned to Brianna. “Douse the fire. The smoke will give us away. Stay with the druid. I’ll take the horses, lead the Romans away from the cave, and double back when I’m sure they’ve given up the chase.”

  Brianna’s lips trembled. “Come back to us, please?”

  She touched the younger girl on the shoulder. “I’ll try. Your mother charged me with your lives.” Cinnia looked at the druid. “Can you get them to the north if I don’t come back?”

  His eyes crinkled with concern. “I’ve lived in these woods all my life. I know the secret ways and can keep them safe.”

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can, but don’t wait for me. When Maeve can travel, go.” Cinnia hugged Brianna and knelt for the druid’s blessing.

  “May the sky gods protect you and keep you safe, my daughter.”

  Cinnia grabbed a blanket, but left the food and water. She wouldn’t need it.

  ***

  CINNIA STIFLED A GROAN as she slid off the horse at the stream. Not used to riding, her back ached after hours in the saddle. Her inner thighs felt raw. She eyed the stream, wondering if she had time to sit in the cool rushing water for relief. She decided against it. The stream was exposed in a broad meadow, which had been grazed by sheep or cattle the year before. She needed to move on before someone spied her from the woods edging the meadow, but she couldn’t resist an extra moment out of the cursed saddle.

  Did I miss anything? Cinnia mentally sorted through her actions, looking for mistakes, thinking ahead. She had obscured the path to the cave and rode the horses through soft ground leaving a clear trail. After a
couple of hours, she sent two of the horses down a side path, hoping to split the Roman forces following her. The third horse went lame shortly after, leaving her one mount. How long would they bother to follow her? Were they looking for Boudica’s daughters or mopping up escaped Iceni? She lowered herself to drink beside her horse, who noisily snuffled the water, before seeking a few blades of grass.

  Then it raised its head in alarm, looking toward the woods.

  Wolves? Cinnia saw the glint of sun on helmets. Yes, the Roman kind.

  She pulled herself into the saddle. A Roman road lay on the other side of the hill. If she made it there, her pursuers would have to divide again to follow. She would send the horse in one direction and disappear into the woods on foot. If the Romans caught up with her, she had her sword and knife.

  ***

  AS THE SHADOWS DEEPENED under the trees, Cinnia limped south beside the Roman road, hoping never to have to ride a horse again. The hour before, she had hid in a thicket, while a small squad of five Roman cavalry passed her. For the first time that day, she felt confident that her ruses worked. She took the time to harvest a few handfuls of late berries to satisfy her complaining stomach. When the last light leached from the forest, she fell into an exhausted sleep, covered by last year’s leaves.

  She woke with a spear at her throat.

  “Found him!” A grinning soldier shouted in Roman.

  Cinnia heard bodies crashing through the woods and Roman curses as brambles scratched at exposed legs and arms.

  “Thought you’d be clever, eh? Sending the horses off?” The soldier spoke in a heavily accented dialect. “Horses are herd animals. They don’t go far without a man riding them or a wolf chasing them. When we find the horses, we know to go opposite.”