61 A.D.

12

Boudica watched the sun break over the Eastern horizon. Dawn. Time to march.

Behind her, the army of Iceni and Trinovante prepared for their journey. Her advance scouts had reported killing over a dozen Roman legionaries in the outlying fields. Some of them had been caught spying, while others were simply passing through but could not be allowed to continue after seeing the army camped so close to Londinium. Additionaly, dozens of civilians who’d been spotted in the area had been captured, interrogated, and put to the sword. Boudica was taking no chances.

Even with all their precautions, she knew her troops could not catch every single person who’d caught sight of her army. It mattered little enough, however. The prize was the city, and she meant to have it. The soldiers who remained in Londinium would not be able to withstand her onslaught, and the Roman insult would be avenged this very night. She turned to regard her troops. Cyric stood at the head of the army, calling orders to his officers, who in turn shouted orders to their men. Soon they would be ready to move. The journey would take the entire day, but that suited her just fine. Her intent was to attack at night when the city’s defenses would be at their lowest.

“It will be a long day,” her daughter said. Boudica turned to regard Heanua, uncertain of her meaning.

“Have you lost your will for this?” she asked. “Like Lannosea?”

Heanua’s eyes snapped left, and she stared hard into Boudica’s face. “Hardly. I wish we were there now. I can’t wait to gut the people of Londinium.”

The queen smiled. She should have known better. “Don’t worry. We’ll be there tonight.”

“It isn’t soon enough,” Heanua replied, and turned her face West, toward their objective. “Even if we arrive in five minutes, it will not be soon enough.”

Boudica noted that her daughter’s knuckles had gone white on the pommel of her sword, and nodded her approval. Heanua wanted this even more than she did. She supposed that made sense. Her indignities had not broken her spirit like they had Lannosea’s. Instead they had molded her into a fiery, merciless warrior.

Thinking about Lannosea reminded her that she had neither seen nor heard from her younger daughter all morning. The girl should be here with me right now, she thought, anxious to avenge herself on some Roman scum.

“Have you seen your sister?”

Heanua shook her head. “Not this morning. She is probably still asleep.”

“It’s almost time to move,” the gravel in her own voice surprised her. She hadn’t thought she could be so angry. “Why is she not standing here with us?”

Heanua shook her head again. “I don’t know.”

“Find her,” Boudica snapped. “If she sleeps, wake her. If not, drag her to my tent. I want to see her within the hour.”

“I am not your personal messenger, mother,” Heanua said. “Send someone else to collect Lannie.”

Boudica rounded on her eldest daughter, her face flushed and warm. “You will do as I say, child!” she spat. “Or you will watch the conquest of Londinium from one of the cages!”

The cages were just that; mobile cells the Trinovante had brought with them to house prisoners. Each one was six feet by six feet, with stout wooden floors and iron bars set wide enough apart to allow for throwing rotten fruit and buckets of excrement. The Trinovante liked to humiliate their prisoners prior to killing them. Boudica had no intention of taking prisoners, but the Trinovante leaders wanted the cages brought along anyway, and she needed their help. They rolled along on wooden wheels behind the bulk of the army, pulled by oxen.

“Mother, you can’t-” Heanua began.

Boudica cut her off. “I can and will. I will have one of the cages brought to the front lines just for you, so you can view the taking of the city from behind its iron bars.”

A dark look flashed across Heanua’s pale features, but Boudica held her ground, daring her to disobey. For a moment, she seemed like she might argue further, but then her daughter pulled her hand from her sword and swept into a curt bow. “Yes, my Queen,” she said, and turned back to the encampment.

I’ll have to watch that one, Boudica thought. Heanua was not next in line for the throne of the Iceni, but she was not far behind. If anything happened to Boudica, Heanua would assume the leadership of her people. While Heanua would no doubt make a fine, strong Queen, Boudica wasn’t ready to give up her rule just yet.

She turned and headed back for her own tent, which would be disassembled within an hour. Along the way, she pondered the strangeness of having one daughter with no ambition at all, and another who would probably try to kill her in the coming days.

It is a strange world in which I live. Strange or not, Heanua would never have considered disobeying her queen before the Roman attack. Those bastards had not only taken her husband’s kingdom from her, they had taken her daughters, as well.

But she would have the final word. Nero would beg her to take her kingdom back by the time she finished with his army.