Druids v1

By G.L. Vough

1st century Celtic-Britain.

The story of Celtic peoples' decades-long struggle against distant, mighty Rome, DRUIDS is the story of Queen Boadicea & her two unnamed daughters ... spanning a century.
She is Yhenna, the eldest daughter of Queen Boadicea... a gifted druid renowned throughout Britain. Her sister is Fallon, the youngest daughter of Queen Boadicea... a Celtic princess integral to the reunification of Celtic peoples, Gaels and Britons. The sisters' experiences are vastly different, yet each of their lives influence the story told within, spanning nearly a century from Rome's first incursion into Celtic-Britain to the building of Hadrian's Wall.

• Language: English
• Publisher: G.L. Vough
• Release date: Jun 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310138300

G.L. Vough

I am absolutely interested in conversing; this endeavor having been a project which has (every time) stressed my personal expectations... a lot.Friend me on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/geoffreylloyd.vough&/or email: [e-mail] or [e-mail] do so hope you've enjoyed what I've written! Thank You!-- G.L. Vough --

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Druids v1

G.L. Vough

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Copyright 2014© G.L. Vough

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Other titles by G.L. Vough

Druids v2

For Bryce

Bryce … you helped make this experience one I'll always cherish … memories I'll never forget, aplenty: graphics & design, how-to format & whatnot, printing & sewing/binding, covers … discussion. As you know.

As you also know, this is what?-- the fourth, maybe fifth incarnation of this story… each just a little different.

The only guess is, methinks, is each hopefully better.

Any road, Brother… Thank You, & I Love You!

To everyone else I hope, first & foremost, you enjoy the time you spend reading what I've written. Thank You!

Sincerely,

Geoffrey Lloyd Vough 2014

Table Of Contents

MAP & MAP-KEY

Preface

Introduction

Part One: The Book Of Mat'ha

Boadicea

Mat'ha

Freedom & Choice

Boadicea

Dover

Juba

Talona

The Tuatha dé Dannan

Murias & Finias

Yol

Samhain

Fergus

Yhenna

Yhenna & M'dhrau

Yhenna

Mat'ha

Éire

Bran

High Noon Before Midnight

Yhenna & M'dhrau

Mat'ha

Folkmoot

Qlantha

Mat'ha

'Blood For Blood'

Yhenna & M'dhrau

Part Two: The Book Of Dar'hlait

Brehon

Athléim

Sisters

Mynck

Firbolg

Caerdyf

Otherworld

Beltaine

Rhún

Eorcht

Boadicea

Murias

Finias

Yhenna & M'dhrau

Boadicea

Camulodunum

Venta Icenorium

Epona

Bhurg & Anghus

Yhenna & M'dhrau

Fallon

Dar'hlait

Sidhe

Bran

Dar'hlait

Come Yaesdrig The Serpent Of Éire

After Yaesdrig, Fergus

Bran

At Uilgrach, Dar'hlait & Yhenna

Samhain

Mona

Wyrdcraft

Lies & Deceit

Venta Icenorium

Yhenna & M'dhrau

MAP & MAP-KEY

Glossary

About The Author: G.L. Vough

MAP & MAP-KEY

Yyg, the A Venta Icenorium I Yaesdrig Q

Luguvalium B Londinium J Uilgrach R

Verterae C Camulodunum K Gorias S

Pons Aelii D Caerdyf M Éirean Channel, the T

Eboracum E Banghyyr M Yeerliik U

Lindum F Finias P Manx V

Isle of Man, the G Murias O Bierkhoff W

Preface

Why druids & Celts? Why 1st century Britain?

I have always had a fascination with stories, whether historical, fantastic, or realistic. I have no particular favorite as a reader, but as an author I certainly do. I always endeavor to incorporate all three since (for me) these aspects all serve to broaden for one the experience. Whilst I love fantasy, I think believable & realistic fiction-fantasy is far more compelling than 'Sword & Sorcery'.

Which is why I chose druids & Celts; 1st century Britain.

I think many have a notion of what a druid was, however I also believe there are just as many instances our notions of what, whowhy & where, nowadays, are either incomplete at best, or incorrect. This is not meant to come across as condescending, rather I simply mean to illustrate a common theme prevalent throughout our society nowadays… the notion we know all about something yet have never bothered to actually find out if we do. For instance, how many know druids were not technically priests or shamans?-- how many know druids had distinct vocations, each with its own specific role? How many know, too, it was primarily Rome responsible for nearly extinguishing Druidry & Celts? All valid questions the point of which could be phrased, or postulated, differently. There are many whom denounce the treatment & extermination of the native peoples throughout the Americas, yet how many realize such atrocities have happened many times across many centuries… in many different places, to many different peoples? The answer is some, just as some will know more about druids than others will.

Nevertheless, that should not preclude anyone from enjoying a story. The story is the point!

Druidry is a primary theme throughout what I have written, but it also is not the entire point of Druids, either. The time period (the mid & latter years of the 1st century AD/CE) is a fascinating one: Rome's empire is in its infancy really, changed from a Republic into an Principate less than a century earlier with the rise of Gaius Julius Caesar; Gaul as a free nation of Celtic peoples has been subjugated & enveloped within Rome's expanding empire; & Britain is firmly in Rome's sights. The two isles, Britain & Ireland, now the frontier of Rome's ever-expanding empire, as is Germania.

Is this interesting? The answer begs a question its own: are you interested in Britain &/or Rome, & are you interested in what really happened? If read, there comes another question: is the story interwoven enjoyable?

Only you, the reader, might can answer the latter question, & I'd be remiss to betray the story herein.

The other questions, however, are far easier to answer; even if you're not a history buff or Roman-enthusiast or Celtic-admirer. The setting is easily as broad and colorful in scope as any well-detailed fantasy setting could be… why?

Mysticism.

Regardless of your understanding of Druidry, one aspect is quite prevalent: that druids were some kind of sorcerer … which is actually what Rome considered druids to be. One of the reasons Druidry and its constituents were first alienated & marginalized (beginning with the subjugation & eventual conquest of Gaul, present-day France) & also the eventual persecution of Druidry anywhere & everywhere Rome controlled. The notion druids were wicked sorcerers is propaganda, yet there remains an element of mystery about Druidry and druids. These were not only priests/priestesses, diviners, healers or sacrificers; druids were also teachers, scientists, philosophers, & judges. Of course, not all druids practiced all aspects of Druidry because Druidry was above all else both an ecclesiastic & societal organization. Just as we, nowadays, have priests & ministers, judges, teachers & role models. Another theme which expands on mysticism & its connection to Druidry, Celts, Britain & Ireland, is the abundance of mythology & fairy tales. Or faerie-tales. I imagine most people, when they think of Celts or fairy tales, think of Ireland or Scotland, & I also imagine most would associate Irish & Scottish & Welsh myths & legends as Celtic.

I do not think it would be unfair to say faerie-tales is what most think-of.

Another fascinating aspect of Druidry is the lack of written records; a reason why we are left nowadays with so little real information & are left to decipher myth & legend & history written by peoples other than Celts… leaving we to try to decode the reality.

The truth, in other words.

I didn't write this story for the time period, nor did I envision at the earliest stages of idea, outline & plot-design & whatnot, druids & Celts in Britain & Ireland the setting. I wanted an exotic setting, but I did not want to write only fantasy. I first researched Native American culture & history as I tried to decide when & where to bring my plot to life &, truly, there are more than a few great instances in Native American history which could have worked well. Nevertheless, I quickly found I did not know enough of crucial tidbits (such as names & culture, language) to adequately portray a living, breathing setting which would do the plot I had in mind justice. I shelved the Native American setting & research & took a break for a long while… almost three years to be exact, before returning to the one event I'd researched over the course of many years which always did work for my plot.

1st century Celtic-Roman Britain. Boadicea.

Something of a cultural icon in the U.K., the story of Boadicea is riveting: how one queen nearly succeeded in driving from Britain what was at the time the world's most potent military force. Her story is dynamic & engaging, & history tells us just enough there was left ample room for embellishing her story… which is where the story you're about to read comes in… the decades leading up to Boadicea (& following) just as crucial to the historical outcome as Boadicea's dramatic (albeit ultimately, ill-fated) uprising. The purpose of the story told herein is also two-fold: firstly, I hope the story told in & around Boadicea is your primary enjoyment as a reader; & secondly my hope is the setting & historical events paint for you, as a reader, a vibrant & engaging world very different from what might be assumed. For instance, it is a common misconception Rome brought civilization to Britain, building cities & roads amongst savages to bring civilization, arts & culture & law, to barbarian savages.

Not true.

Many of the roads in Britain were not built by Rome, the same for many of Britain's cities. Celtic culture in Britain was centuries old by the time Rome arrived & contrary to popular misconception, Celts were not indigenous to either island. Britain or Ireland. Or Gaul, for that matter. Scholars now understand Celts were an Indo-European people whom originated in Greece, Turkey, &/or the Caucasus Mountains (possibly descended from Troy!) & they migrated in waves centuries earlier north & west into Gaul, Germania, & the isles across from Europe's mainland, bringing with them philosophy & law, architecture, mathematics & science, & of course, religion. All these aspects of Druidry, the heart of Celtic people's knowledge & beliefs.

Additionally, some scholars now believe Celts might actually be descended from Phoenicians, another ancient people whom predated not only Rome, but also Greece. More, some scholars postulate Phoenicia as old (or maybe even older) than Egypt.

All told, I think the setting is a nigh perfect collage of civilizations & peoples who clash.

Druids is historical fiction, my favorite genre as a reader… & a so very challenging genre for an author. There is so much relevant information that needs to be understood & explained & portrayed rightly it almost seems to make the show, don't tell rule so vital to quality fiction a more challenging endeavor than usual. How does one establish in the reader's mind the specifics & nuances of a generation of people so very different from ourselves without telling why, howwhen, wherewhom. A difficult proposition. Of course, to engage any reader, show, don't tell is vitally important since it brings the reader into the story. The dynamic helps one to identify with characters or circumstances, but it can become quickly problematic when dealing with subject matter readers may not be familiar with. The biggest gripe I've discovered however (& suffered myself, as a reader) is the overwhelming amount of names, peoples & places, so very relevant. This is a difficult line to try to walk as an author because there is a certain understanding you need portray (historical) alongside a believable & engaging plot (fiction) & additionally, you must interweave the two seamlessly.

Challenging, to say the least!

The purpose of explaining how I personally feel about these challenges & distinctions is not to make excuses, nor is the purpose to prematurely explain (or defend) the story I have written. Rather, the purpose is to reassure. There are a lot of names, peoples & places (things) which need be explained (& also understood) in the context of accurately portraying what is considered real history alongside is a story… a plot with characters.

Which IS the purpose. A story. I humbly ask… Trust the story to reveal.

As Druids is historical fiction (could actually be called historic-fantasy) the next few pages are simply meant to help better introduce some of the centric themes of the story you are about to read. My hope is these notes & tidbits enhance for anyone the story itself… so one does not feel stifled or get too hung-up on the plethora of details & descriptions… names, peoples & places.

Because, isn't that really the point in reading fiction, a story?-- enjoying a story?

I love realism within fiction, believable realism which takes a real setting & incorporates within such a framework a story. Fiction, maybe… yet who is to say it is not possible such a story could have/might have happened?!

That is the allure, for me, of historical fiction/historic-fantasy.

As Druids is first & foremost fiction interwoven within a historical sequence of events, it isn't so important to be able to judge which parts are fiction vs. history, since enjoying the read is what ultimately matters. Insofar as the history, the only question is: how much do you want to learn?-- or how much do you already know? The level of certain detail could be too little for some, too much for others, which is where the purpose of these introductory pages comes in… intended to soften the shock of learning as one reads; meant to outline & introduce some of the historical & also mythological sources which figure prominently throughout Druids.

So, returning to the opening questions: Why druids & Celts? Why 1st century Britain?

Truth is, any time period could likely have worked given enough research, but finding one specific instance in history that matched what I had in mind made the decision for me. The story, the plot & all its beginning, middle, & end, existed before I found Boadicea; but when I found Boadicea & delved into researching Celts & druids so prominent to her story, it all simply clicked. I even found the story evolve more naturally as I interwove it with the history of Boadicea's short-lived, dramatic revolt.

Which was fun, as well as challenging!

Boadicea's story (for instance) always had a beginning & an end, yet there is also a figurative end to Celtic-Britain's resistance & it ended long after Boadicea with Rome's construction of Hadrian's Wall (& the later Antonine Wall); Rome by that time essentially conceding the northernmost regions of Britain (modern day Scotland, mostly) because of a people history & the archaeological record have named 'Picts'. Those two aspects provided the framework for the story: Picts because I wanted to show (maybe) whom were these peoples; & Boadicea because history records she had two young daughters… & no historian ever names them. Greek & Latin historians for the period abound, & many histories are recorded… but nowhere these girls' names.

So, Boadicea's daughters; & the people history knows as Picts, are centric to this story.

Trying to outline & portray the events of several decades presents another set of hurdles however; yet another challenging prospect. The bulk of this story really does center around Boadicea's short-lived revolt, & as well does it Rome's influence & invasion before, during, & after… not to mention the real-life persons who preceded Boadicea & followed-- her revolt more popular than others because it was so dramatic. Yet, as history (& indeed real-life) so oft illustrate, the dramatic events are surrounded by equally influential events (& persons/peoples, & places) which also shaped history.

In the context of Druids, Celtic-Britain's struggles in the 1st century against Rome.

In example, two Celts (Caratacus & Venutius) both waged longer & also far more successful revolts against mighty Rome, each leading sustained & relatively successful campaigns rather than revolts or uprisings. More, each of their exploits bookended Boadicea's far more famed, Caratacus before, Venutius both before & after. Additionally, before these Celts in Britain, Rome had already faced another Celt whose resistance to Roman invasion & occupation was longer & arguably, too, more successful than any Celt's in Britain… Vercingetorix's in Gaul, almost a century before.

The events & happenings in the world at that time are fascinating!

Druids is not just the story of Boadicea & her desperate, dramatic uprising, nor Venutius' far more successful defense of Britain. It is the story of Celtic-Britain surviving Rome & what is left after. Picts ... Celts & Firbolg; druids & shamans & entities, are all prominent within & throughout Druids. I have taken great liberties in portraying Firbolg differently than history, a people as prominent as Celts throughout the histories of both isles. Britain & Ireland (Éire). My intention was to set-up, so to speak, the people who became known as Picts who did eventually stop Rome's expansion in Britain &, according to some scholars, Ireland (Éire). The origin &/or meaning of the name, Firbolg, is contested in different scholarly circles as to whether it means: men of the god/dess 'Bolg' ... or men of bags or ... of the bog ...". In any event, my Firbolg are probably best understood as a sort-of 'Neanderthals' / 'Neandertals' but that does not do any justice at all insofar as to how I envision them. Like I did with Boadicea's daughters, I admittedly took liberties in fashioning the story of those peoples discounted from history but prominent in myth & legend. Firbolg. Celtic culture & history (& also Norse histories & culture, enmeshed & interwoven into my concept of Britain's/Alban's Firbolg) are both colorful & deep ... & by no means have I recreated perfectly. I have tried instead to illustrate culture(s) in a realistic, believable fashion; one which also incorporates threads of fantasy & theory. From the decades of conflict & internal strife amongst Celts, Firbolg, & Romans, come the descendants of Celts & Firbolg -- Picts ... the culture & people coming from the intermixing of Britons, Gaels, & the peoples who settled Britain & Ireland in the first place well before Celts. Firbolg.

There are innumerable gray areas & also conflicting opinions & theories. Some historians & scholars disagree, & much is bandied about, considering, but nevertheless the amount of detail one can find doing their own research is not just extensive & complex, it is also intriguing.

Ask yourself: how much do I presume & how much do I know?...

The spine of the story told in Druids is events leading to & following the historical account of Boadicea, a Queen of the Iceni who led a dramatic, ultimately ill-fated rebellion against Roman occupation in the mid-1st century AD/CE.

Told to a youth decades later; narrative from the perspective of one who lived & was a prominent figure throughout before & after (one of Boadicea's daughters left unnamed by history; a daughter I named Yhenna) the before & after is told the youth firsthand.

The true story of Celtic-Britain's resistance.

Historical accounts tell us Boadicea was the wife of Prasutagus, an Iceni-King who ruled a populous tribe in what is now present day Norwich. When Prasutagus died, he left his estate (for lack of a better term in regards to that time period) to both the Roman Emperor, Nero, & his two daughters by Boadicea. In short, Nero said no way, & the Iceni were annexed and absorbed as if they had been already conquered despite his relationship with Rome as a client-king (a vassal). Boadicea was flogged & scourged; she & Prasutagus' daughters allegedly raped; & Rome's Empire tightened their figurative noose about Celtic-Britain's metaphorical throat. In response, Boadicea led the Iceni (& several other tribes) in open revolt. At the head of an allegedly huge host of disaffected Celts Boadicea first razed Camulodunum to the ground, in the process routing the IX Hispana; a Roman legion sent to relieve that city. Poems record she riding in her war-chariot at the head of her host (reputedly with her young daughters alongside her) & Boadicea turned her sights next on Londinium, razing that city also before she did another Romanized city in her path. Verulamium.

It is estimated more than 70,000 were killed in those three cities.

Then, after those victories, it all ended for Boadicea (as it had other Celtic &/or Germanic rulers faced with the overwhelming might & reach of Rome) at the 'Battle of Watling Street' in the West Midlands where the Roman general-governor Gaius Suetonius Paullinus routed Boadicea's host. It is surmised (speculated, though never officially confirmed) Boadicea died thereabouts or shortly thereafter. Some accounts report she killed herself so as to not be captured & degraded (as many/most such dissidents were) the subject of the Roman penchant for humiliating & torturing their enemies via the pomp & ritual of a Triumph. The very end & injustice done Vercingetorix a century or so earlier. The Gauls were cousins of Britain & Ireland's Celts, & it was known what had happened to not just their cousins across the sea when Rome came, but also what happened to any of their leaders whom dared oppose her. Rome.

Other accounts (none vetted) report she fell ill & perished naturally.

Regardless of the truth, how she died, the story of Boadicea profoundly illustrates not just the might & influence of Rome as it transformed from a Republic into a Principate (empire) but also the cruelty & mercilessness of such a transition … from its rulers, down to its general populace. Are those same citizens as guilty as their leaders?-- as their manipulators? Some would argue yes, others no.

Regardless of which, as is so, so common throughout history, those same citizens turned a blind-eye when Rome's 'Serpents' coiled & strangled Gaul before a century later doing the same to another sovereign people. In Britain.

What of Éire (Ireland) then? ... there is little of note regarding Rome.

Boadicea is remembered because of the drama of her actions leaving other more successful Celts less remembered. Another weird discrepancy history oft poses we nowadays. In any event, as to why, Boadicea has become a cultural symbol in the U.K (there is a statue of her in London, the township named Londinium in her days… one she razed) but the absence of written records from the period (per Druidry) leave us an incomplete account of the 'how, when, where, & why' -- leaving us with only the recounts provided by Roman historians of the period. As it would be, too, the two most prominent sources (Tacitus & Cassius Dio) markedly differ.

A clue, perhaps, this: ......history is written by the victors......

There is something which proves there is something more to this story; how two historian's accounts could so differ considering each is supposedly writing history?! What really happened ... as opposed to fiction!? Or are they writing his-story?

Isn't that interesting, especially when we consider ......history is written by the victors...…

I've included a Map & Map-Key preceding a Glossary. Druids is rife with terms, names & words both real & imaginary, though I have endeavored to keep the fictional at a minimum in regards to names & events so there is almost always historical basis for what I've taken the liberty of creating.

I want this to be as realistic & fantastic as possible.

I'll leave off here… let the story of history & speculation following tell the rest!

Geoffrey Lloyd Vough 2014

Introduction

Druids is the story of Celtic-Roman Britain, fiction interwoven with the 1st century history of Britain & Ireland. Like the rest of the themes prevalent throughout Druids, these following snippets are a pittance of the detail one can discover for oneself.

But these tidbit(s) & snippets can at the least provide a foundation.

Many scholars now agree Celts are believed to have migrated to Britain & Ireland (Éire or Érin) from Greece & Turkey; several different migrations dividing Celts into a few specific breeds, Gauls (whom settled present-day France & some regions of Germania & Hispania); Gaels (whom settled in Britain & Ireland); & Britons (whom settled the majority of Britain, pushing the earlier Gaels mostly north & west, into present-day Scotland & Wales). The primary differences between these designations of Celtic peoples largely due to linguistic differences at the time.

Druidry, however, all breeds of Celts shared.

More a philosophy, a way of understanding life & the workings of physicality, as well as law, Druidry was also a religion. There are scholarly circles connecting Druidry to Phoenicia, ancient Egypt, & ancient Hebrews. Regardless of where came Druidry, or from whom, what is not in dispute is the unimaginable complexity of knowledge the heart of Druidry. Additionally, Druidry did not write its lore or its secrets, meaning its various vocations needed to memorize unimaginably complex & lengthy mantras, stories & songs, legends & myths; not to mention law, philosophy, & science. As well as copious amounts of other knowledge, not to mention maybe, too, anything magical. Considering the complexity & depth of Druidry & its lore the typical tutelage for most any vocation was a minimum of five years up to perhaps as much as much as twelve years, depending on vocation. The highest ranked druids could spend as much as thirty years learning all they needed to know.

Druidry is a centric theme throughout Druids, obviously, & by no means do I believe I have recreated Druidry perfectly. I do feel I've captured the raw, primal allure of such a comprehensive doctrine, however.

Considering the lack of written evidence left us, there are many theories & ideas!

Another central, important theme throughout Druids is the relationship between physicality & spirituality; also a core theme of Druidry. Firstly (from a multitude of historical/mythological sources, cultures & beliefs) is a concept very centric to Druids -- that of a triple-deity also known by a plethora of related names: threefold, triplicatetripartite, triune &/or triadic, &/or also trinity -- that last one probably most recognizable because in Christianity (for instance) the concept of the 'Father, Son, & Holy Ghost' IS a triad. A triple-deity. I've endeavored throughout to show Celtic religion not so different from a host of other cultures & peoples (especially considering Celtic roots -- the mid, near East) & if one were to research ancient cultures, religion(s) & mysticism, this is a prevalent concept. More to the context of the story Druids tells, a significant part of these specific myths & stories center around a power known in ancient Britain & Ireland as the Mórrigan whom figures throughout Druids in different names & connotations. A very centric aspect in the conclusion, the Mórrigan can best be envisioned as equivalent of the 'Maiden, Mother, & Crone' -- another triple-deity (or the same).

Lastly comes another important theme, & another mystic one. From a multitude of historical/mythological sources is a theme that defines & describes duality/polarity quite specifically – the 'Seelie' & 'Unseelie' 'Courts ' … & a part of these specific myths & stories are the fabled Tuatha dé Dannan -- whom figure largely within Druids. The Tuatha dé Dannan (or Sidhe – pronounced sh-ee) can best be thought of as elves perhaps, but not 'Santa Claus-type' elves; more akin to Tolkien's Eldar.

Druids explores the notion humanity is possibly being manipulated by beings such as these, external, extra-dimensional intelligences; Druids 'Serpents' linked to the Tuatha dé Dannan, or Sidhe.

The word(s) Seelie & Unseelie (along with other forms, such as seely, seily, & sealy, & likewise unseely, unseily, & unsealy) are Middle-English & Scottish terms which mean happy & lucky &/or blessed or alternately unhappy & misfortunate &/or unholy. Each derived from the Old-English form sœl & gesœlig. In faerie-tales (or fairy tales; I think each connotation means more than implied); & myth, the 'Seelie Court' is reputed to seek out humans for a variety of reasons (for aid/to help; to warn &/or counsel those who had offended them; to return kindnesses with favor(s), etc…). Many instances in myths & tales illustrate, however, that even these good faeries are prone to vengeance over perceived slights & these were also supposedly (definitely) predisposed to mischief. The 'Unseelie Court' (by comparison) could be considered bad since no insult/slight, gossip or else, was necessary for these malicious faeries to infringe &/or assault Man at will. The plethora of tales of faeries accounting for cruelty, injury & the like, probably best ascribed to these Unseelie-aligned faeries. Like Man, however, 'Seelie' doesn't equate to benevolent; nor 'Unseelie', malevolent. Additionally, division into duality (&/or polarity) is illustrated most particularly in Norse mythology via the division of Elves into 'light' & 'dark' distinctions (similar to the Irish/Welsh/Scottish Seelie & Unseelie). Additionally, in Welsh fairy tales (or faerie-tales); & also Irish-- wherein figure Sidhe) neither caste is classified as wholly good, nor wholly evil. Druid's 'Serpents' could be / are these very same things.

In conclusion, finishing the decades' long story of Celtic-Britain's struggle to remain sovereign -- from Rome, & the extra-dimensional powers & influences I have incorporated (why historic-fantasy best describes Druids) was complex. Is complex. Mine hope is that these real-World snippets & tidbit(s) included can & do aid one to enjoy the story.

Any road, Thank You!

Geoffrey Lloyd Vough 2014

Druids v1 -- The Book Of Mat'ha

PRONUNCIATION NOTE(S):

h is not pronounced; silent

ch is pronounced as 'ck', i.e. Scottish 'loch'

Boadicea

And?...

Boadicea looked up to her father from the map spread before them on an otherwise empty wooden table. A cozy hearth stuffed with thick logs warmed the lodge, one cracking then as a snapping whistle momentarily startled each of them.

When his little daughter did not answer his prompting, Far'ik offered a hint. Which tribe is our people's best friends… sometimes not our friends?

Her little finger pointed as she answered excitedly, Brigantes!

Far'ik smiled, nodding as he did. His only daughter (his only child; his wife having passed bringing Boadicea into the world) always listened intently whenever he taught her of their lineage or geography. One day she would be a priestess, or maybe a queen, and soon druids would come to begin her formal education. Despite her age, his little daughter's memory amazed him with what she retained, it quite a rare he would need to teach her something more than a few times. He taught her first about their people (the Carvetii; theirs arguably the largest of any in the region Celts called Alban) but she and he spent as much time (if not more) discussing the Brigantes, the second most populous Gaelic tribe in Alban. More often their people's rivals than not but also the Carvetii's best allies when it came to protecting Alban. The northernmost region of Celtic-Britain.

Her cherub-like cheeks adorable, Boadicea looked from the map to her father with the innocent, wide-eyed allure only children can conjure. Smiling herself. She very much enjoyed the private time she could spend with her father, and she liked how he made learning fun. She especially liked learning about people and geography. Though young, Boadicea understood her rank necessitated she be educated in matters of people foremost (clans and tribes) as well as territories, hunting grounds, and of course tribelands. Mostly the quizzes he popped on her had to do with geography, names and titles relevant throughout Alban or neighboring Gwynedd; what Celts named the region of westernmost Britain south and west of Alban. Directly south from Alban was the third of Celtic-Britain's regions, Brython. Alban and Gwynedd were overwhelmingly populated with Gaelic tribes, but Brython wasn't. There the clans and tribes were almost wholly Brythonic. Though she had heard the name before, he had not taught her as of yet anything about their cousins (the Britons in Brython) but he had recently introduced her to a new place and people. The isle west from Britain across the sea called Éire.

When the Order sends you proper teachers, you'll learn our bards name these two isles of ours as ladies. A flowery description, neh… as should be for any bard. Any road, these two isles ours are like sisters, really. Our home, here, and he pointed to Britain as he finished, Bards name Lady Britain… an' her sister isle... here, Lady Éire, as he pointed next to the isle west of Britain.

Why is it some say Éirinn an' not Éire? asked Boadicea.

Far'ik sniffed, smiling before he answered, Éirinn is what foreigners come Britain name the isle. Romans, mostly.

Her father reached to ruffle her hair, a twinkle in his eye dancing joyously.

Why do I need teachers?

Far'ik chuckled. The Order knows far more than I, Boadicea. There are as many differences among us Celts as there are similarities... an' another fact you'll learn as you grow is there are even more differences between we of these isles and others from elsewhere in the world. The Order's vates will begin your education soon enough, an' you will learn far more than I can teach. You will learn of the stars and weather, trees and plants and herbs. You will learn medicine, an' our laws. Brehon Law..

Father, she began, scrunching up her little nose as she finished, I do not want to be a druid, or a bard.

Far'ik smiled even wider than he had been at that. Our fate is not always ours alone to decide, Boadicea.

When he said nothing more Boadicea, with the impertinence typical of a child, asked, If it is mine fate, why not?

Joyous within at her inquisitiveness, Far'ik turned serious. Wanting her to understand.

Our fate is ours to live, yet not always ours to choose. There are many people you will meet in your life... an' much you will inevitably experience. Perhaps childbirth, perhaps love an' marriage… friendship… death, of those you love an' also others around you... an' also will you face your own. Many, many years from now. All these things will shape your life, Boadicea... your fate, or as our bards sometimes call it the skein of your life. Yourself a thread in the greater skein which is all life.

What does inevitably mean?-- an' what is a skein? she asked.

Inevitably means with certainty. Skein means pattern, her father explained.

Since her third year she had impressed with how ably she retained facts, her keen mind and unique perspective (despite her tender years) almost daily surprising him. And pleasing him.

Boadicea would never need be reminded what either word meant.

Hopping down from a stool onto all fours then, splaying herself on hands and knees in the swept dirt floor about their hearth, Boadicea quickly snatched a stick and scrawled a makeshift map in the dirt, hers a child's recreation but an accurate one nonetheless of the same spread on the tabletop. It showed the coastline close to where they were, as well as the two main rivers which dissected Alban, a border which defined their tribe's lands from the Brigantes' tribelands further east. Where those two rivers came together (near the center) lie the outskirts of their people's territories spreading from there west. The east of Alban nigh all the territories and tribelands of the Brigantes.

Very good, Far'ik said, leaning down to indicate the land between their peoples as he asked, Do we share these hunting grounds?

Boadicea did not look up, shaking her head as she answered, "No. Our hunters an' theirs fight, niu?

Yes, they do. It is also common enough for hunters to simply avoid others.

Are we really the first tribe of Alban?

Far'ik sighed as he answered, Some say yes, others no. The Order doesn't say, an' neither does it really matter, Boadicea. What is certainly true is our two tribes are the biggest in all of Alban. Unlike Gwynedd... which has many tribes.

The Carvetii believed theirs the largest and most populous tribe in not just Alban but the whole of Celtic-Britain, the Brigantes the next. The two easily interchangeable. Indeed, the Brigantes believed much the same save the inverse. Some druids counted the Brigantes ahead of the Carvetii in tribal holdings and numbers, if not also influence throughout Alban. Others druids, the opposite.

There was a shuffle at the door then as several men came into their lodge without being invited, a common enough occurrence; Far'ik an influential chieftain. One of the Carvetii's most respected of many clan-chieftains.

Tribes a composite of clans, akin to large families.

You've always learned quickly, an' rarely forget, her father said.

Taking that as her cue to go, especially since she always were excused whenever men (warriors or other clan-chieftains, or druids) came to call on her father, Boadicea leapt up. She ducked away without saying anything more. Her father oft had visitors, and those often spoke of little interesting-- mostly of the south, far from their Alban, and of some other place or thing called Rome. Understanding little of either, the south of Celtic-Britain (Brython and its Britons) or whatever (and wherever) was this 'Rome', she had no reason to stay.

* * * * *

Midsummer four years later, Boadicea was now nine years, nearing ten.

Why is it you teach me more of Éire than Brython?

The most populous of Britain's three regions, Brython dominated nigh the whole of the south and much of the east of Celtic-Britain. Though Alban was bigger, only about half of Alban were the tribelands or holdings of either the Carvetii or Brigantes. The reclusive Firbolg held the rest, the expansive north.

And like Britons, she'd learned next to nothing of those peoples.

Far'ik, riding just ahead of her, turned to regard his daughter. Because we Carvetii are Gaels... meaning our forefathers an' mothers all came here, to Britain, from Éire.

Turning back ahead, looking away from her riding behind, he then asked, Tell me why you as oft as not name it Éirinn as you does Éire?

Boadicea shrugged. Is that not what the invaders in the south, Romans, name it?

His gaze ahead, she did not see him smile broadly. She did see his shoulders shake slightly as he chuckled though.

He had only a few times talked with her of Rome or Romans, yet she remembered clearly the pittance. Which did not surprise him whatsoever.

Sometimes, ja, he answered, adding, Rome also names our sister isle Hibernia… has I taught you before that?

Far'ik had not, he not surprised when she said nothing.

Father and daughter then fell silent, each enjoying the summer day as they rode further into the hills surrounding their home. The sun high made the day bright, the air heavy with humidity and pollen. Boadicea listened to the songs of singing birds serenading them as they rode, the natural songs accompanied with the buzzing of insects and highlighted by the fuzzy glow unique to summer's sunlight.

Coupled with the heady air, an intriguing combination.

The girl imagined fuzzy legs not unlike harp strings rubbing together and (like a harp) bugs could produce an astonishing array of sounds. In her mind's eye she could see legions of tiny bodies with transparent wings, her imagination colored with wings and miniature legs like the strings of a harp dancing in her mind's eye. All those so miniature they could hide all about.

Boadicea loved music, adoring above all else the sound of harps and strings.

Thorn!

She looked up and ahead to her father where, on his forearm (wrapped with tough rawhide) perched his favorite falcon: Thorn. The raptor's breast plumage an alluring bluish couched within black and luscious browns.

Go... Far'ik cooed next, removing the falcon's hood.

The majestic raptor squawked once as it leapt away, speeding from them quick into the unseen winds above and apart.

Father, Boadicea began, pulling her mount close beside him. Why is our ard coming for I this winter? Isn't ten-years when the Order first comes?

Ten, yes, he answered, watching Thorn soar above. After a few moments, he finished, For you it must be different. It is not mine to question our ard.

Boadicea watched the falcon also, thinking more than watching as she wondered: why not?-- why cannot a chieftain question a druid?

Is it because of Mother? she asked.

Far'ik did not look at her. Perhaps. Your mother, Iridis, was a vatis before she handfasted me… a priestess more than twenty turns before she became mine wife.

Twenty turns, Boadicea thought-- counting quick the difference in her head. A full ten turns more than she was old.

A turn approximately one year (the thirteen moons comprising the Celtic year) named a 'Turn of the Wheel of the Seasons' by bards everywhere.

She was only twenty when I was born then? Boadicea asked. Misunderstanding.

Far'ik shook his head as Thorn landed on his rawhide-clad forearm. From a pouch he took a chunk of raw meat, rewarding the falcon before allowing it to soar off again.

No. Your mother was thirty-four years when she passed bringing delivering you to I an' we as a people. When she were eleven years the Order chose her… as most are if chosen by the Order. The tutelage is three years, so by fourteen one chosen is named a vatis.

He grinned as he then added, So, even if you be chosen, Boadicea, we gots a few more years left we, you an' me, before then.

She smiled herself in response to his words and grin, seeing her father turn to watch Thorn again as the raptor circled high above.

I hope I am not chosen I do not want to be a priestess.

Fresh in her mind the hours she was forced to spend daily since Beltaine that same year with druids, be they vatis (virgin-priestesses wholly dedicated to the Order of the Wise) or ban'drui (female druids); or bards or druids.

The ranks and titles all confusing.

More than the hierarchical mess she did not yet at all understand, however, one thing she did understand was her feelings about the rigid customs and traditions expected of women druids. Especially vatis. Why was celibacy only a requisite for women?-- and why could only women be vatis? Whom were healers. There was no rule requiring male druids remain celibate, nor any rule which prevented them from siring offspring. Though druids of both sexes rarely married, it was only males whom could sire children without some few eyebrows lifted. Ban'drui could also have children, depending, but it was not common.

With vatis however, no. Because virginity was a requisite.

Though young (her tenth Name Day not until the early weeks of summer almost a year away) Boadicea knew of the intimacies adults shared with their bodies. How children came to be; all Celtic youth were. There was nothing shameful about one's body, all Celts taught this by example and patience. Living in such close proximity with others some of the reason, as well as their heritage. Customs and traditions. And yet, despite the open-mindedness of their culture, there was this weird anomaly: that priestesses needed remain 'pure'. It was absurd.

More, she already knew she wanted none of it. Boadicea was fiery and idealistic, and even at her tender age, she knew she wanted children. Specifically, she wanted sons.

Sighing aloud, Boadicea thought of the dreary years ahead of her. Only since Beltaine that same year had she been required to study daily with druids of any ilk; and there were years and years of the same left ahead of her.

What is it mine daughter wants to be?

Riding easily aside him, Boadicea glanced. A queen. I want to protect our people.

Reins loose in his hand, Far'ik's mount plodded easily along as he glanced himself up. To where Thorn soared overhead.

Your fate will show the choice... like your mother's did her. The Order may not choose you, or maybe it will be you will be chosen an' will choose yourself otherwise. Your mother did stay twenty turns, an' who can know why it was she chose else. You will always have a choice, Boadicea, so keep your mind open.

Her father looked now back to her. Do not close off any parts of you or you dishonor the skein of your life. He slowed his mount purposefully then as he finished, As to why your mother chose different, I know not. She never told me an' I never asked. Count myself one happy she did though, he said. Winking at her.

* * * * *

Boadicea came from outside; her eyesight needing a few moments to re-orient from the bright of midday behind. The interior was cool, only weakly dying coals in the hearth and whatever pitiful sunlight the lodge's one small window allowed illuminating the interior. The brazier in the corner unlit. As her skewed eyesight acclimated, Boadicea thought it odd, too, how the discrepancy matched how she felt this time, each day.

Chosen by the Order of the Wise, Boadicea was now a priestess-elect. The duties of any vatis were broad and, truly, much of what the vocation practiced she admired.

Chastity however, was not.

Almost eleven now, she had already bled as the more vulgar called it. Bards sweetly called it 'flowering', a connotation she much preferred though truly 'bled' was a far more appropriate description.

Shaking away her thoughts as if those were nuisance, Boadicea took a steadying breath and stepped further into the room where was a shrine of-sorts once her mother's; who had been a vatis. A lodge set apart from the one she and her father shared. It was only a bit of politics that had seen her mother dance the fires of Beltaine with her father, Boadicea reasoned-- considering all she'd gleaned over the years. From the lips of those that had known her mother best, too, Boadicea now understood Iridis had never really changed following handfasting Far'ik.

And Boadicea had reasoned out why. Athléim. Many druids talked of it, a divisive issue She an initiate now herself, she understood better the quaint custom. The Order of the Wise had long ago shied from Athléim because it promoted politically motivated marriages, yet it was an ancient custom Celts had brought with them centuries before. Though she had not had the chance to know her mother, Boadicea knew much about her; from her father's memories, and the memories of her clanfolk who did know her. As well as druids who likely knew her better than any. Therefore, though she herself did not know Iridis, Boadicea felt nonetheless certain Iridis had chosen to honor Athléim when she handfasted Far'ik. That her mother had never chosen to leave the Order of the Wise.

Imagining one of the robed vates waiting for her therein as her mother might have looked, seeing next each in plain robes with a torc about their slender necks, Boadicea sighed inaudibly. But she did exasperatingly within. Today would not be a typical day.

Whenever her teachers wore their torcs meant important ceremony.

Dragging her feet, Boadicea shuffled forward a few steps then ceremonially knelt before a flat altar. As taught, Boadicea lowered her chin reverently and closed her eyes. Burning incense tickling at her nostrils.

* * * * *

Two months after her Name Day in the early weeks of summer, the day heady and so typical of late summer preceding autumn, Boadicea rode alongside her father. Freed that late summer day from the tedium of druids.

She was twelve-years now, and by this time next summer she would know if she were chosen or not. Her testing would come in the late spring of the coming year, and she knew she would pass easily.

If she submitted. Therefore, she wasn't free.

One more year until I can choose to quit, niu?

Ahead of her, Far'ik lightly stroked Thorn's plumage with a finger, the falcon seeming aloof to his touch.

Choose to quit, eh?

Boadicea grinned. Oh yes. I tolded you always true! I want sons, Father… an' to be a queen. Not no druid. I'm not mine mother.

Thorn shot from her father's arm like an arrow, fast. Far'ik watched the falcon soar a moment, looking overhead after his prized falcon and not behind at his prized daughter.

Is it then you would choose Athléim, Boadicea?

She shrugged only. When she did not answer, he glanced to her. Stopping his mount, Far'ik pressed, Boadicea?

I wish not that trap, either, she calmly answered. Confidently.

Suddenly, Thorn shrieked. The falcon's call a warning-- a purposeful, staggered progression of shrieks, first one long then one sharp followed by a drawn out third.

There!

Boadicea looked to where her father pointed. Atop a hill far ahead were dots she figured to be horses with riders. Almost a league away it was hard to tell, but Thorn could see perfectly of course. The warning fresh in their ears.

Get back an' warn the others. Rouse Mil and the rest. Go now!

Boadicea looked to her father, her brow furrowed. She did not want to leave him alone. Those were Brigantes.

Father!... she began.

Far'ik cut her off with a hiss, Go now!

Boadicea turned her mount hard and did as he bade her. She dug her heels in her mare's sides and pressed her, intent on racing back to their village to rouse Mil and the rest of their warriors.

Thorn shrieked, Boadicea looked-- the raptor like an arrow in full-wing. Leading her back. Boadicea wondered at that: why Thorn led her back and not Far'ik ahead.

* * * * *

A breathing, writhing curtain entranced her. Living reds and breathing oranges and yellows snaked subtly amidst sneaky blues escorting purple.

Boadicea stared into the mystique of a fire.

There came to her commotion at the door, someone coming within. Child?...

Boadicea cringed at the word, more at what it meant. How it lingered.

Yes? she answered without looking. Continuing to stare at deep within the hearth.

The pause next all the confirmation Boadicea needed. She looked anyway. In the lodge's doorway were not rough warriors come for her father, nor bards or messengers or runners, as usual.

The tone and voice having already given a hint of what to expect.

Two were there at the doorway, both her teachers; vates with the hoods of their robes up overhead. That they were hooded a clue, but more a clue how one had addressed her tenderly, calling her 'child'-- which meant they knew not else how to say what it was they had come to say.

Boadicea stood, purposefully keeping her stare empty. Ahead and blank.

Show I, she said, stepping to the pair at the door.

Moving surely but also languid; like one already dead inside might, Boadicea went. The girl not, however, dead inside. The corner of her eye twitched almost imperceptibly as her lips tightened in accord to how she felt. Wroth she, and terrified, too.

Her father was dead, she knew; lying outside where she would soon see him. Lifeless. Killed by Brigantes, alone, because he'd made her flee.

Mat'ha

Boadicea finished playing, setting her harp down gently aside. Her tribe's ard'drui there with her.

An ard'drui the chief druid of a tribe.

Lifting her gaze from the slender instrument, candlelight from beyond momentarily caught her gaze-- her eyes flashing like gleaming emeralds for none to see. The two of them alone.

Are you disappointed? Qlantha asked.

Boadicea expected his question, beforehand reasoning how to answer. But no, she wasn't disappointed. She would of course not say so, however.

I will be thirteen soon, she began, An' if by Lughnasadh this year I am not selected, I will not be.

An outcome you desire?

Boadicea glared, but not at him. She stared hard and long ahead, content with glaring at the altar there precious to the Order of the Wise.

An apt thing to glare at. A fleeting and insignificant notion momentarily pleasing her.

There is time yet, niu?... an' if the Order wishes me, I will answer when the time is.

Her answer noncommittal, but also expected.

If not this next time, you fourteen next Lughnasadh, Qlantha said, finishing, Would be too late. Then you will be in entirely different circumstance.

Boadicea only nodded, because what he said was true. Imbolc had only just passed, and in a few months she would be thirteen years and the next testing could not happen before the following year's late summer fire-festival, Lughnasadh. When she would be fourteen. In anyone's living memory the Order had never chosen any after their thirteenth year, but there was no rule. Nevertheless, unless she would unbelievably become the first, she would be left alone.

Which would only make her a choice candidate for Athléim, possibly promised to Venutius. Scion of the Brigantes.

That (to her) as unimaginable as the Order's priesthood.

So, Boadicea had already decided she would do only what was normal for anyone free. She would choose neither because she wanted neither.

The young woman stared ahead, said, Athléim is not for me either, Seneschai.

His chiefest title said by a clansman made the druid cringe. A little. Qlantha one of the three highest ranked druids of the Order of the Wise, a seneschai.

As well as their tribe's ard'drui.

Is there a choice? he asked, adding, Boadicea, it is one, or the...

She cut him off, Or some other. I tire of this.

That unfortunately matters little, Qlantha replied. Your testing will decide, in any event… an' soon. It is possible, as well, the Brigantes might come to look on you before then. Remember that. Athléim is embraced it seems.

It is vile, she spat, finishing, And you wisest won't name it so!

Qlantha then (for the first time since he'd come within to sit) looked at her. Stern. Athléim is reinstated, and you are alone. Understand?

He rose to go, his white robes a flashing swirl she caught from the corner of her eye only because she hadn't looked once at him. He did not go, however; as his abrupt suggested. Boadicea feeling him lingering there behind her.

I will be leaving for Mona soon.

Without looking back to him, Boadicea nodded only. Said nothing.

Qlantha added, You will ready for Lughnasadh here? Yes?

A late-summer fire-festival, she would test at Lughnasadh. She would be thirteen years then, having studied and learned since she were eleven; actually since she nine, so early had the Order come to prepare her.

Boadicea curtly nodded, perturbed by the manner with which the druid dragged out his question. As if he really did assume she would not be. Yet, Qlantha was her people's ard'drui-- their chief druid. His wisdom far-sighted.

She knew it likely Qlantha suspected much.

I will prepare for my testing at Lughnasadh, Boadicea said, keeping her tone and manner as even and steady as she could.

She had no intention of passing, and if it meant lying, she just might. Nor did she have any intention of handfasting then marrying Venutius.

Good, the druid replied. His response soft, nonchalant even. All he said.

A few moments later, Qlantha spun about after bowing his head once to the altar before drawing his hood overhead.

Boadicea stayed kneeling for some time, praying, but mostly thinking, then she left after a time. She walked through the village, passing an assortment of different lodges and huts, some mud and thatch, others sturdier-- wood and stone. Others were tent-like, wood and hides, and still others were almost entirely of wood fashioned into planks joined with dried river-clay caulking accompanying round logs. The ground was hard from footsteps and carts, so packed there was not any dust though people scurried about. Everywhere. Women worked at looms in the sun; children ran, playing; and others came to and fro and about. Pursuing whatever tasks it was that were theirs that day.

Searching for Mat'ha as she went, Boadicea's gaze scanned the crowds. There were farmers and hunters, tanners and artisans. Wives with babies and children. Then ahead, with a seeming horde of knee-high children nibbling at him, her gaze found her best friend. Mat'ha.

Her only friend; and the only one left in the world she loved.

Children nipped at his heels, nibbling at him as a wave did the shore; howling at him to chase them-- to play with them-- to which the young man smiled and howled himself back. A trio of puppies then yelped playfully, running after a few who ran away.

You will make a fine father, Boadicea said, greeting him with the remark.

Struggling to free himself, grinning, Mat'ha answered her. I likes it. I've always liked children... an' ever did I want siblings.

Boadicea knew him well, knew he wanted siblings and adored children. They greeting each other so (in public) a careful facade the two played together.

Just then a foul odor came, borne by a breeze from a nearby tanner's work. It bit at their noses, the pungent smell of urine making Boadicea's eyes teary.

Come, let's go from here, she said.

Grinning as he disengaged from a few clinging onto him, Mat'ha nodded.

He gestured wide and stepped away with her, the pair walking through the village. As they left the gate behind, to the curious look of only one of the lazy guards on duty, Boadicea waited until a small rise and descent obstructed view of them before slipping her hand and arm in his.

She whispered, Take me away. Anywhere.

Outside the walls a vast stretch of grassland laced with streams and lush meadows awaited them, and there amongst were many secret places she and he both knew from growing up together. Exploring their clan's holdings together.

* * * * *

Thorn circled above, shrieking some. Always close, it seemed as if the falcon kept on her a watchful eye.

Boadicea skipped through knee-high grass after Mat'ha, her doeskin skirt licking at her calves. She taller than him despite he a few years older than she.

He taunted her, over his shoulder, You will not catch me!

Mat'ha leapt away from her, easily leaping next a small, rocky stream like a gouge in the land hidden by the seemingly endless meadow. It come at them like a surprise. Without breaking stride (like he) Boadicea also easily leapt across. After him.

Today I will!

Despite her resolve, it was not to be. An exposed root, deformed because it only ever sought sunlight denied it, tripping her mere paces after she nimbly landed.

Just a step or two behind him!

Her momentum dooming her, Boadicea lost her balance, crashing in a heap of flailing limbs. Crushing the tall grass beneath her. Mat'ha was there quickly, crossing his arms and laughing when he saw she was unhurt.

Boadicea flung herself at him, trying to bring him down. Though he was quick (the fastest of their village) her unexpected lunge caught him. Knocking him to the ground. The two rolled and tussled, each seeking advantage.

Striking him two then three good times in the ribs, Boadicea grinned.

Get off! Mat'ha growled.

Using strength to extricate himself from her, he scrambled to his feet. Nimbly sidestepping her next attempt to tackle him.

Seeing her hands clench into fists, Mat'ha laughed aloud. The sound of it (at first) curdling her blood.

Really?... he taunted, then he laughed again. Mirthful, his blue eyes twinkled.

Are you laughing at me? she hissed back.

But what came from her was a huff.

Mat'ha nodded he was, his eyes sparkling and innocent. Ja, an' you would laugh too, he quipped back at her.

She growled, We'll see who's laughing when I bloody you!

Oh stop! Mat'ha quipped again, easily sidestepping her next charge. He added, I can't help but laugh... you look...

A grunt interrupted him as her shoulder stole his breath, Boadicea leaping anew and spearing him. Bringing him to the ground with her.

She struck him hard in the ribs again.

Mat'ha let her mostly pin him, but he caught at her fist with his hand and held her tightly. She struggled against him another few seconds, then relented. As her tense body slackened, she against his warm skin, she suddenly felt tingly.

Ever do you give me trouble, an' ever do I like it, he whispered in her hair.

She felt him tense, her single-minded competitiveness at once subsiding as her own feelings subdued her.

He was older than she, but neither were children