Alternate Generals Read Free Page A

accounting. But my duty was to make an honest count . . . Wondering if yet again I was somehow playing the fool, I gathered up my supplies and set about my business.

    The next five days passed from sunlight to soft rain to night and back again. It seemed as though I'd never before noticed the burgeoning of spring, the waxing of the moon, the intricate patterns of wind, water, and wood.

    My men went hunting with Boudica's warriors and acquitted themselves honorably, even as Ebro muttered about undisciplined Iceni hooligans. He drilled my small command every afternoon, to the amusement of Maeve and the younger children. But drill can be learned, while courage cannot; with proper training, I noted, the Iceni would make fine auxiliaries, serving the eagles as well as Ebro and his kind.

    One afternoon wagons rolled up the ramp to the gate, bearing treasure from the northwest. Suetonius was campaigning in the northwest, I remembered, and made a note in my margins.

    Lovernios worked with me, translating records cut on strips of wood. I had to trust he was giving me a fair accounting, but I didn't catch him out once. They used writing only for the tallying of goods and stock, I learned. When it came to the epics of beasts, gods, and heroes, Lovernios and the bard could recite for hours without faltering.

    I finished my task. The night before I left, Boudica took me back to the sylvan temple below the embankment. This was the first time we'd been alone together since I'd waked in her bed. I was both relieved and disappointed to see no fire and no cauldron beside the stream, only a charred circle in the grass. The golden sickle was gone.

    But still the branches of the great tree creaked, and water droplets danced above the mossy rocks. Boudica removed a gold torc from her throat and fitted it around mine. "You like gold, don't you? Then try this for size."

    The torc was heavy, pulling my collarbones down, elongating my neck. All this time I'd seen her and the warriors wearing such ornaments, and I'd never realized just how uncomfortable they were.

    She grasped the knobs at the ends of the coil and pressed them together, choking me. "Gold belongs to the gods. It devotes us to the gods. They can take us at any time. The braided strands are the rope around the throat and the tree limb above. They're the sword which separates head from body. Death takes only a moment, but the next life goes on forever. Do you love me?"

    Startled, I opened my mouth to utter some flattery, but my lips and tongue said, "No."

    Laughing, she released the torc and teased my short, dark hair. "Good. I wouldn't want you to think our hour together was—personal. I only wanted to taste exotic meat. As you did."

    Fair enough, I thought, and was surprised at myself for thinking it. "And this— geas ?"

    "You will know the truth and you will speak it. Whether that will be a blessing or a curse remains to be seen."

    I didn't follow her meaning. I twisted the torc from my neck and held it out to her.

    "No," she said. "Keep it. As a gift from Andrasta."

    Still puzzled, I looked one last time around the dell, and, concealing the torc in my cloak, returned to my tablets and my pens.

    The next morning I took my leave of Boudica, Brighid, and Maeve. And of Lovernios, even as I wondered what Suetonius would think of my courtesy. At the eaves of the forest I looked back at Venta Icenorum, at the dark soil of the fields awaiting the plow and the blue arch of sky. So our ancestors must have lived, wild and free, before submitting to the rule of law. . . . I remembered the skulls decorating the gate, and chilled, rode away.

    When I made my report to Catus Decianus I thought briefly of minimizing not only the wealth of the Iceni, but their position at the knot of the golden thread of trade. My tongue, however, couldn't shade the truth, let alone utter a lie. I found myself telling him even of Boudica herself, of her strength and beauty and determination to