61 A.D.

16

Boudica watched her daughter approach-alone-and could not keep the angry growl from entering her voice. “Where is Lannosea?”

Heanua shook her head but did not back away. “She won’t be joining us.”

“What?” Boudica felt the anger rising in her face. “She is an Iceni Princess. She will join us or I will kill her myself. I should have known better than to send you to fetch her. I will go myself.” Boudica turned away and stormed down the makeshift path toward Lannosea’s tent.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to find Heanua holding her back. She jerked her shoulder, trying to free her arm. “What is it, Heanua? Do you think you can do a better job of running this war? You couldn’t even get your sister out of her tent.”

“Lannosea has taken ill,” Heanua said. “She can’t come with us today.”

Boudica stopped struggling. “Lannie is ill?”

Heanua nodded.

“How bad is it?”

“Very.” Heanua removed her hand from Boudica’s shoulder. “She can barely walk.”

“Why wasn’t I told of this?”

“Lannosea has not told anyone. I only found out because I witnessed her condition for myself.”

“I should go see her, as well,” Boudica started down the path again.

“No, mother,” Heanua stepped in front of her. “Lannosea is being well tended. It would not do the Iceni any good for you to get sick, as well.”

“Is her malady contagious?”

“We don’t know. But it’s possible. How would you look, mother, leading the army from your sick bed?”

Heanua was right. Boudica wanted to go see her daughter, but getting sick herself would only harm the campaign. It would have to wait until after the attack of Londinium. Once the city was destroyed, she would go see Lannosea and find out exactly what was going on. The girl had been acting strange lately, anyway.

“Very well,” she said. “You and I will lead the attack on Londinium. Lannie will rest. For now.”

Boudica turned back and walked to where her generals were gathered, no doubt going over a few last minute strategies. Cyric was there, as well, going on about the next city on their list. Always thinking ahead, that one. That’s why she liked him so much. That and the fact that he was obviously smitten with Lannosea.

She smiled. He would make a fine king someday.

Heanua watched her mother walk away, relieved for the time being that she wouldn’t have to come up with a bigger lie. What she’d told Boudica was partially true. Lannie was ill. Sort of. And she hadn’t told anyone. Of course, pregnancy wasn’t contagious, but she couldn’t think of another way to keep her mother from visiting the tent. At least she had bought a little time to think.

She climbed into her saddle and urged her mount forward under the guise of inspecting the troops. They didn’t require inspection, and indeed, many of them could scarcely be called soldiers. Her mother had assembled a vast horde of Iceni and Trinovante warriors, but compared to the disciplined ranks of the Romans, they were little more than a gathering of barbarians.

Heanua had seen the Roman Legion in action. Orderly rows and rank upon rank of organized men who knew their role and followed orders without question. It was a system that had seen Rome expand to the great empire it was today. Looking at her own people, she could only shake her head. Presently, two men fought over a wineskin even though they were to march in short order. A little farther on, a group of men snored loudly as their captain tried to wake them, the air around them smelled strongly of wine and mead. Not far away a man and woman lay naked on a mat of furs, their hands and mouths exploring each other’s bodies while a group of onlookers urged them on.

This was her army.

Heanua sighed. Her people were ragged and undisciplined, and the Romans were better armed and had the experience of generations of military learning. The Iceni had only one advantage, but it was a good one.

Strength of numbers.

Boudica had assembled a massive force of over a hundred thousand warriors, and more joined every day, attracted by the thought of plunder and conquest. The ground shook under her feet when her army marched, and the land behind them was bare and brown, the grass trampled dead by innumerable feet, hooves, and wagons. Among her people, it was the greatest such army ever gathered, and it would roll over Londinium like an ox over an anthill.

And Lannosea would not be part of it.

It felt strange to know she would ride into battle without her sister. Before the attack, Lannie had been a fierce warrior, besting women and men alike. But for the last five months she’d been timid and quiet, hardly daring to leave her tent. At least Heanua now understood why.

Pregnant. Those Roman legionaries had really done it for her sister. Her life was ruined, now. Cyric, who had doted on her ever since she was a child, would not want her once she birthed a Roman bastard, and she would lose the rulership of her people. That meant Heanua would be queen someday, a title she did not want. Let the Boudicas and Lannoseas of the world rule. Heanua had no head for it, and had never aspired to be queen. Heanua knew her sword and her mount. She relished the feel of the rippling muscles between her legs as her horse ran down an opponent, the scream as her sword cut into an enemy’s flesh, and the smells of blood and fire that accompanied battle.

That was Heranua’s world, not sitting in a cushioned chair issuing orders. But that would be her life unless she could think of a way to help Lannie. As she rode among the troops, she pondered her options. She thought of several plans, then discarded them immediately as unworkable or pointless. No matter what she might do, it didn’t change the fact that her sister was pregnant with the bastard child of a Roman legionary. By the time she reached the catapults, her face had grown flush with frustration.

She had to find a way to help Lannie. She had to.