“I could never think that.” I crouched down so that our faces were level. “Belis, whatever you have to say, whatever you’ve done, trust that I have seen worse. Trust that I cannot be shocked, that I will not forsake you.”
“I’m afraid,” Belis said, her voice so low I had to strain to hear. “I am afraid that we will succeed. If we should bring Cati back I’ll have to face her as I tell her what I did to her. Afraid that she will never forgive me. Isn’t that terrible? A part of mewould rather my sister died than that I should have to face the consequences of trying to kill her.”
I was silent for a moment, trying to find words of comfort. I wanted to help her see what I saw, but the emotions were thick and heavy in my throat and I struggled to frame them.
“I can’t pretend I understand,” I said, slowly, “and that is certainly a cowardly thought. But, Belis, you are not beholden to it. You are afraid to fight but you go into battle anyway, girding yourself with love and duty to your sister. You gave your blood to the thorns; you walked through the maze. You do not let your fears guide you any more. You’re braver today than you were yesterday. Tomorrow you’ll be braver still.”
Belis was still, then she nodded. She stood, straightening to her full height. I placed a hand on the cauldron and the iron burned beneath my fingers.
Belis Before
5
She is twenty years old and her world has gone mad. She lies on the flagstones of the courtyard at Icenorum and feels the blood seeping from between her legs, from the cuts and bruises on her face and arms. She knows it must hurt but she cannot feel anything; she is carved from stone, like the marble statues of the emperors she has seen in Londinium.
Belis tried her best to stay silent, to go somewhere else and pretend it wasn’t happening. Using the strength she saved by not resisting, she is able to roll over, struggling up to her hands and knees. Her mother stands at the hitching post, her hands tied above her head, her dress pulled down to her waist. Her back is more blood than not; the lashing whip has all but scourged the skin from her bones.
The courtyard is empty of any other living souls but Iceni corpses are scattered across the floor. Belis sees old warriors who drank with her father, her childhood nursemaid. Any who tried to interfere with the disgrace of the House of Prasutagus were cut down. Inside the hall she can hear the carousing and pillaging of her home and she knows she and her mother will not be the only ones outraged tonight.
But now it is growing dark and she thinks she has enough left in her to get away while the Romans have moved on. She crawls to her feet, leaning over with her hands on her knees andbreathing heavily. She goes first to her mother, who is half conscious, sagging against the post. The sweat and blood and strain has tightened the ropes around the queen’s wrists and Belis cannot get them undone. She swears under her breath then fetches the kitchen knife that a ten-year-old squire had been clutching in his hand when he came out to defend his queen. She devotes half a second to closing his eyes then returns to her mother.
It takes longer than she expects to saw through the ropes but at last her mother is free. She winds her arm around her shoulders and half carries her towards Cati. She leans her against an overturned barrel then kneels down beside it. Inside her little sister is curled up, hands still clapped over her mouth to stop the screams. Belis finds a smile. Her sister at least is safe. Belis threw a punch at the first of the soldiers; it made her own treatment even more savage but it gave Cati time to hide and that’s the most important thing.
Cati slides out of the barrel and stares at their mother, then at her. Belis shakes her shoulders, gently at first, then harder.
“We have to go, Cati, we cannot stay here,” she whispers, terrified that her voice will draw their attackers back. She looks around desperately for a cart, for a horse.
Boudica struggles back upright.
“We need to move. Cati, grab some supplies. I can’t walk on my own yet. Can I lean on you, Belis?” she asks. Her voice is hoarse from screaming but it is strong still and Belis gladly gives up control of the situation.
“I think so.” She loops her mother’s arm around her shoulders, glad that they are the same height. Boudica sucks in a breath of pain but Belis doesn’t have time to be gentle. At last she is positioned and Belis takes a tentative step forward.
Cati picks up a cloak from one of the dead warriors, a sword from another, a waterskin from a third. Then she nods to Belis and the three of them walk out through the gate, into the dark night.
Above them the sky is clouded, covering the stars and the sliver of the moon that should be lighting their way. The newRoman road finishes a few hundred yards from the town and Belis feels the stone turn to cold mud beneath her feet. She can hear the hooting of owls, frogs calling in the marshlands to the east. It is a chill spring night, the trees still too young in the year to have budded leaves. They wave skeletal arms in the easterly wind as the Iceni women pass.
When the lights from their home are lost in the darkness Belis wonders if they will stop. Her numbness is fading and she is starting to grasp the enormity of the pain dwelling within her, in her body and in her head. She wants to put her mother down and crawl into a hole and let the foxes take her. Ahead her sister paces endlessly. Belis is jealous of the strength she still has, the absence of pain.
Her mother’s wounds have stopped bleeding and her back is one great slab of raw flesh. Belis can’t imagine how she remains upright and walking but as long as the queen leads Belis will follow.
It is midnight by the time they stop, when Cati sits down on the road, refusing to go on. They have walked only three miles, each step slow and painful. Her mother turns towards her and indicates she should let her down. Grateful for the rest, Belis unlaces her arm and stretches out.
“Get up,” her mother says. “We cannot stop ’til dawn.”
Her sister groans but Boudica drags her back to her feet. Cati moves to slump back down but the queen slaps her hard across the face.
“We do not give up. We do not lie down and wait for the end. I am a queen, and you will be, too. You will stand and you will walk until I say stop.”
Cati opens her mouth to complain and her mother slaps her again. The crack of the impact echoes against the clouds. She nods meekly, her eyes clearing a little.
“Good.” Her mother wraps the cloak around Cati’s shoulders and gives them both a sip of water.
“Now go. There is much to do.”
Belis looks at the only two people left in her world.
“What is there to do, Mother?” she asks, feeling like a child again.
