He walks over to the fireplace, one of the men immediately standing to leave him a seat. He sits her on his knees and smiles at her.
“Your mother is a strong woman, the best fighter in the land. She knows what she’s about. You just sit with me and we’ll wait for the babe to be born.”
She nods and slides down to the floor, reaching out to one of the dogs lying nearby. It wags its tail at her and pads over to loll at its master’s feet.
Above her the king claps his hands. “Well, while my wife is busy at her work we should be at ours. What can I do for the Iceni today?”
The men laugh and begin chattering. Her father makes judgements; he orders one man to allow safe passage for another’s flock of sheep, he guarantees water rights to those who have always used a village well, he gives a purse of coins to a weeping widow and finds a place at court for her young son. All the business of the land continues even while the queen labours next door.
Belis sits, cuddling the long-suffering wolfhound, and listens to the king and queen at their work. Her father’s voice is steady, but she can see the knuckles whitening as he clenches his cup of mead. The small evidence of tension makes her happy even as it worries her.
There is a final screech from the birthing chamber and the entire hall falls silent for a beat. The king pauses in his dictation and Belis feels her heart stuttering in her chest. Then there is that most joyful of sounds, the cry of a newborn babe.
The king leaps to his feet and his warriors cheer, calling a toast to the queen and the child. A midwife, her apron covered in blood and filth hurries, into the room and bows to the gathered men.
“A second daughter, my lord,” she says. “Healthy and squalling. Your wife is in good humour though the labour was hard.”
Her father grins and fishes a gold coin from the pouch at his waist. Flicking it towards the midwife, he grabs his cup and raises it high.
“To my new daughter! Princess of the Iceni, and to her mother, Queen Boudica!”
The hurrahs drown out the crying of Belis’s new sister and for a moment she is afeared that she will be stepped on by the carousing men. Then her father snags her waist and lifts her back into the air, hurrying towards the next room.
Boudica sits in a carved wooden chair, a fur-trimmed robe wrapped over the thin linen birthing gown. Her hair is plastered to her head with sweat, but she looks triumphant and fiercely proud as she holds out the tiny bundle to her husband.
The king puts Belis down and accepts his newest child into his arms. Gurgling sounds come from the blankets and Belis cranes her neck to see. For a moment her father is completely lost, staring at the babe, and then he goes down on one knee and carefully tilts her so that Belis can meet her sister.
The baby is hilariously ugly, peony-pink and sticky with blood. Belis recoils a little but then her sister yawns and blinks open her tiny scrunched-up eyes. They are the same shape as hers, as her mother’s. The curl of hair on the head is a pale ginger and Belis reaches out a finger and carefully strokes the baby’s cheek.
Her father grins and pats her on the head with one hand before standing up and cradling the baby again.
“Another perfect babe, my love. Fine work.”
The queen laughs at him, “You have barely looked at her, Taggie, not counted her fingers nor toes.”
“How many toes does she need to be perfect? I am sure the gods have given her just as many as she requires and no more.”
Her mother laughs again and beckons Belis closer.
“Here, my firstborn, do you like the new playmate your father and I have made for you?”
Belis climbs onto her mother’s lap and snuggles into the reassuring scent of woodsmoke and sweat.
“I like her very much only she is too small to be much good at fighting yet.”
The king nods seriously and moves closer to them, bouncing the babe in his arms.
“That’s very true, Belis, and you must be gentle with her. You are her older sister and that is a sacred duty as well as an honour. Just as your mother and I will protect you, so you must protect her. That is the way of the family. And all of us will protect our people, for that is the way of the Iceni. We are the oak that stands tall and shelters them from the storms.”
Belis nods and her mother drops a kiss onto her forehead and rocks her back and forth.
Chapter 3
“Could you be more specific?” Belis asked. “More detailed than simply ‘west’?” How far west, a day’s walk? A month?”
“Over two hundred miles,” I said snippily. This mortal had no sense of occasion. “An evening stroll for me as I was. I don’t know how quick humans can move over long distances. How fast can you walk?”
“A few miles an hour,” Belis said, rubbing her chin, “but I can’t walk day and night. I can probably do fifteen or twenty miles before stopping for a rest.”
