baggage wagons before. The Romans, but not us. But we had not fought this kind of war before; and now we should need them.
Through all the lands of the Horse People, it seemed to me, was a quivering in the air, a low muttering in theground itself, a menacing hum like the distant voice of swarming bees. But the Red Crests, strutting to and fro in the daylight, did not hear what sounded in the dark beneath their feet. Even the cornland lying brown and fallow, that should have been green with springing barley told them nothing, for they thought their harrying had made us overpass this year’s seed time. No more.
And I, I made a new wolfskin sheath for my sword, and when that was done, I mended my harp and restrung it, and made for it a fresh bag of well-cured mare’s skin. And there were evenings when the day’s spear practice was over, when Nessan would leave her sister to polishing and repolishing her blade, and come to be with me, as I coaxed the wracked frame back into shape, and twisted the horsehair for new strings. But she never sang any more, and when the mending was done, and I would have had her to pluck the strings (there is no other, even her mother, who I would have let to touch them) she shook her head. ‘There is no music in me, any more. I lost it along with the rest. I could never be a Queen’s Harper now.’
And my heart wept blood for her, and I would have given my own gift of song to have my hands round the throat of the man who had driven hers away. And I snapped the twisted horsehair under my fingers, cutting my hand so that the red sprang out in a thin line.
That was within a moon of midsummer, when the nights grow short, and after sunset the light lingers in the north like the echo of the sea in a shell, until it turns toward sunrise again. And before midsummer, two things came to pass at the same time. The watchers in the west sent word that Suetonius Paulinus had had his victory against Mon and was already making to leave his war-camp beyond the mountains and march hislegions back to the great base fortress they call Glevum. That was the one thing; and for the other: the Red Crests who came each year about that time for their muster of young men for the auxiliaries, came again, just as though it were last year or any year before that, but demanding a greater number because we were part of the Province, and no longer a free state.
But we had other need of our young braves. And the grass was tall enough for grazing horses. So then we knew that the time was come to be sending out the Cran-Tara.
The hazel tree was felled; and rods cut from it, as many as were needed. And while one end of each rod was charred in the fire, the black goat was brought for slaying, to the threshold of the Hall, where the Queen stood waiting with a long knife in her hand, that caught and mingled the red of the fire and the white of the young moon on its blade. Two men dragged it forward by the horns, bleating wildly, for it smelled its own death. But when it was close before her, Boudicca bent forward and set her empty hand on its forehead between the horns, and spoke softly, looking into its eyes; and the bleating stopped. Then she cut its throat. Blood spurted out over her hand. She looked at her hand and smiled; the first time that I had seen her smile in many moons; and drew her hand across her forehead, leaving a great dark smear behind, and touched her cheeks and even her lips with her fingers. Then while the goat still lay twitching, she took the hazel rods and dipped the uncharred end of each into the hole in its throat, and gave each to the man waiting for it.
So the Cran-Tara went out; the summons that speaks of death by fire and sword.
And that night, every Roman in Icenian territory died. That would give us silence for a few days. And before the Romans beyond our borders began to wonder, and think of sending to ask questions, we should have no more need of silence.
Before dawn, the first and nearest of
Through all the lands of the Horse People, it seemed to me, was a quivering in the air, a low muttering in theground itself, a menacing hum like the distant voice of swarming bees. But the Red Crests, strutting to and fro in the daylight, did not hear what sounded in the dark beneath their feet. Even the cornland lying brown and fallow, that should have been green with springing barley told them nothing, for they thought their harrying had made us overpass this year’s seed time. No more.
And I, I made a new wolfskin sheath for my sword, and when that was done, I mended my harp and restrung it, and made for it a fresh bag of well-cured mare’s skin. And there were evenings when the day’s spear practice was over, when Nessan would leave her sister to polishing and repolishing her blade, and come to be with me, as I coaxed the wracked frame back into shape, and twisted the horsehair for new strings. But she never sang any more, and when the mending was done, and I would have had her to pluck the strings (there is no other, even her mother, who I would have let to touch them) she shook her head. ‘There is no music in me, any more. I lost it along with the rest. I could never be a Queen’s Harper now.’
And my heart wept blood for her, and I would have given my own gift of song to have my hands round the throat of the man who had driven hers away. And I snapped the twisted horsehair under my fingers, cutting my hand so that the red sprang out in a thin line.
That was within a moon of midsummer, when the nights grow short, and after sunset the light lingers in the north like the echo of the sea in a shell, until it turns toward sunrise again. And before midsummer, two things came to pass at the same time. The watchers in the west sent word that Suetonius Paulinus had had his victory against Mon and was already making to leave his war-camp beyond the mountains and march hislegions back to the great base fortress they call Glevum. That was the one thing; and for the other: the Red Crests who came each year about that time for their muster of young men for the auxiliaries, came again, just as though it were last year or any year before that, but demanding a greater number because we were part of the Province, and no longer a free state.
But we had other need of our young braves. And the grass was tall enough for grazing horses. So then we knew that the time was come to be sending out the Cran-Tara.
The hazel tree was felled; and rods cut from it, as many as were needed. And while one end of each rod was charred in the fire, the black goat was brought for slaying, to the threshold of the Hall, where the Queen stood waiting with a long knife in her hand, that caught and mingled the red of the fire and the white of the young moon on its blade. Two men dragged it forward by the horns, bleating wildly, for it smelled its own death. But when it was close before her, Boudicca bent forward and set her empty hand on its forehead between the horns, and spoke softly, looking into its eyes; and the bleating stopped. Then she cut its throat. Blood spurted out over her hand. She looked at her hand and smiled; the first time that I had seen her smile in many moons; and drew her hand across her forehead, leaving a great dark smear behind, and touched her cheeks and even her lips with her fingers. Then while the goat still lay twitching, she took the hazel rods and dipped the uncharred end of each into the hole in its throat, and gave each to the man waiting for it.
So the Cran-Tara went out; the summons that speaks of death by fire and sword.
And that night, every Roman in Icenian territory died. That would give us silence for a few days. And before the Romans beyond our borders began to wonder, and think of sending to ask questions, we should have no more need of silence.
Before dawn, the first and nearest of
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