The Celtic Princess: The Awakening Of A Warrior

By Mônica de Castro and By the Spirit Leonel

In a time when there were no historical records, there lived a Celtic princess who dreamed of being a warrior to free her people from the yoke of the Romans.
She involved in intricate conspiracies, she was not shaken by the illusion of power, maintaining her will to fight for freedom and justice.
At the same time, she felt passion and desire arise, discovering that love knows no hostilities and unites enemies.
Accompanied by an African goddess -who in this story is called Oyá, name of the Yoruba tradition-, she followed the destiny that spirituality reserved for her, revealing that the borders between peoples are imaginary and incapable of destroying affinities and designs drawn for the upper plane.

• Language: English
• Publisher: World Spiritist Institute
• Release date: Jul 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215434451

Book preview

Preface

When this story unfolds, Oya was not an African deity in the first century B.C.. At that time, perhaps the gods did not even have names and were known only by their characteristics. However the sources of nature have always existed and certain aspects of community life gained relevance as man developed and began to live together in society.

Thus, in the absence of a known name, we named Oya as the goddess narrated in this story, just because it was necessary to give her a name. She is an African deity who retains her nature and characteristics even when the story moves to the following century to the region of Britannia which is occupied by the Romans.

Now, what Oya has to do with the Celtic princess, you have to read the book to find out...

Monica de Castro - author

Prologue

A cloud of thick, gray dust spread over the forest, as if the day had suddenly given up welcoming the sun and surrendered to the morning mist.The wind also became strange, turning in circles, it seemed as if it was running after its own shadow. The birds took off, frightened by an intruding presence that was quietly invading the vicinity, drawing closer and closer to the defenseless village.

Nnenia noticed the unusual movement and raised her hand that caress the crystal-clear waters of the river. The forest came alive when it was disturbed by the unknown, which was always a warning sign. From where she stood, she could not see the village, but she sensed an evil current creeping through the shadows.

Through the mist, she heard the screams. Amata stirred frantically, trapped between desperate arms that were looking for an escape route. Her ears picked up the commotion, her eyes saw the proximity of the evil and all her senses could sense the anguish of her people. Frozen by the surprise, Nnenia waited. She didn't know what was happening or what she should do. She felt fear. The only thing identifiable and real was fear.

Unexpectedly, people burst into the middle of the forest, running like crazy, many wounded, some carried, some pushing. Nnenia felt terror seize her body, making her hair stand on end and her blood run cold. A savage and brutal enemy had invaded the village, hurting the tribe with its sharp spears and war cries, capturing the women, killing the ancients, enslaving the children.

The warriors of her tribe were also hunters and, at that hour, they used to go out in search of the hunt, leaving the village in the care of the elders. From the unbridled rush, Nnenia realized that they had not yet returned, and those who remained must have been dead. The attack had come as a surprise, just when the village was most unprotected and could easily be conquered.

Stunned by the confusion, Nnenia remained static, watching the devastation of the only land she had ever known as home. Tall, strong men with fierce eyes appeared before her, stabbing victims at random, driven by the sheer pleasure of killing. Beside them, people were falling, dead or mortally wounded, hit without any chance to defend themselves.

he consciente returned immediately. Suddenly, Nnenia became aware of the danger, exposed on the riverbank, right in the eye of her attackers. Recovering from her fright, she left panic aside and ran into the jungle, seeking shelter in the bushes and trees. She managed to hide in the hollow of a trunk, covering the opening with branches and leaves. She remained there in silence, motionless, almost without breathing, waiting for the morning to go away, the afternoon to die down and night to come and dye the sky a dark blue, dotted with bright stars.

On the ground, darkness finally took over the forest, turning the jungle into a massive block of darkness. Nnenia pricked up her ears and sniffed the air, trying to identify the presence of an attacker. The jungle, however, lay still. The birds had returned and fallen asleep, the wind was tired of whirling and had turned into a breeze. No unfamiliar sounds, no different movements, no strange shadows. Calm had returned to the village and the surrounding area.

Plucking up courage, Nnenia pushed the branches aside and stuck her head out trying to see into the darkness. Nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be hanging around. Little by little, she ventured out, exposing one part of her body at a time. As nothing happened, she crawled outside, feeling suddenly nauseous. Carried by the breeze, the smell of blood was proof of death. She contained her nausea and got to her feet. Carefully, stepping as lightly as her feet could, she made her way towards the village. As she got closer, the sounds of the slaughter mingled with the strong smell of burning. Ahead of him, a wisp of smoke still drifted from the burning huts.

The village had been ransacked. There was no sign of life. Not a single living person was left, not even the invaders or their people, or so it seemed to her. Nnenia circled among the corpses, looking for survivors, at the same time feeling the hatred in her heart. She found none. The warriors and hunters had been wiped out, most likely ambushed on their way back from the hunt. Along with them, the elders and the weak had fallen. Women and children, certainly enslaved, must be long gone by now.

Scattered around the yard, fragments of sculptures announced the extinction of her people, their art, their customs. With tears in her eyes, Nnenia looked around, searching for something to ease her pain. Near a kiln, some pieces of terracotta had survived, half-buried in the soft earth. She bent down and picked up one of the statuettes, still intact, representing the goddess Oya, her protector. What would she be now?

Nnenia wiped her eyes and straightened her body, pressing the tiny piece against her chest. It was no use crying. She couldn't just give up on herself and abandon herself to death, together with those who had perished. It was sad, cruel, unfair, but it was reality. Her village had been destroyed, and life from then on would be a complete enigma. What she needed was to gather her strength and set out in search of a place where she could survive.

When she turned around, she stumbled, startled. Standing in front of her, a group of people were looking at her with fright. Nnenia thought of running away, fearing that the enemy warriors had returned. However, the people,did not move, but she heard her name being called as soon as she turned to run:

- Nnenia!

She recognized the voice instantly. It was her older brother, who was asleep at the time of the attack.

- Mazi!" she cried, running to him and throwing herself on his arms.

Oh, Mazi, it was horrible! They killed everyone...

- Not everyone. Some managed to run away and hide.

Mazi pointed to the small group that accompanied him, mostly women, old people, and children, plus a few adult men.

- And our parents? he shook his head, indicating that they had died, and our brothers?

- There is no one left in our family.

- What now, brother? What will become of us?

- We have to leave. We can no longer stay here, or we will become sitting ducks. If they discover there are any survivors left, the invaders will be back.

- You're right, Mazi. Let's get our things together- And turning to the others, he spoke in a loving but firm tone, Take what you can, but only what is necessary. We can't carry too much weight.

Mazi was surprised by the determination in Nnenia's voice, but said nothing. Her sister had found her courage and soon took the lead with him. The others followed confidently, glad to have someone to lead them. Nnenia gathered her few belongings in a bundle, where she placed the small image of the goddess Oya, the only remnant of the culture of her people.

Used to nomadic life, it was not difficult for Nnenia and her people to cross African territory in search of a place to settle. They faced many dangers, dodging ferocious animals and savage tribes, until they finally reached Cartage in North Africa and they were attracted by the city's reputation for maritime prosperity. There, Mazi found work at the port and built a small hut on the outskirts of town, where Nnenia grew vegetables that she sold at the market.

In the first years, they found peace. Life was hard, work was hard, but the sense of security and freedom they enjoyed rewarded their efforts and sacrifices. Everything was going well, until the attacks by Numidia, a neighboring kingdom of Cartage, began.

- I'm afraid, Mazi- Nnenia confessed to her brother.

We already know how the invasions end.

- Cartage is a big city, not like our village.

- But I don't see anyone fighting in his defense! Why, Mazi? Why don't the Carthaginians react to these attacks?

- I heard comments in the port. They say that Carthage is forbidden by Rome to get involved in armed conflicts.

- For what? - she was surprised.

- Something related to past wars, which Rome won and at the end of which it imposed a peace treaty forbidding the Carthaginians to take up arms.

- But that's absurd!

- It may be. They say that the Carthaginian senate sent several petitions to the Roman senate, asking for help, but they were all ignored.

- Why?

- Because despite the embargoes imposed by the Romans, the city prospered, and this bothered the senate.

- It's all very confusing, Mazi, I don't understand these things.

- It's politics, Nnenia, where everyone looks out for their own interests.

- What will we do? Are we going to remain inert, waiting for the worst to happen?

- I don't know.

- I will ask Oya to protect us.

- Yes, do that.

Despite Nnenia's prayers, the worst happened. After three years of Numidian attacks, faced with the silence of the Roman senate, the Carthaginians decided to strike back, which was considered a breach of the terms of the peace treaty. This was the pretext the Roman senate was waiting for to attack their rival and legions were sent for this purpose. Carthage was besieged, and another three years went by before the Roman troops managed to breach the walls and invade the city.

It was a fierce fight, for the heroic people of Carthage were not willing to give in and surrender their dominions easily.

However, little by little, the Romans infiltrated the city and took the houses, until they managed to overcome the last stronghold of resistance. Violent attacks were unleashed against the city, while the soldiers attacked mercilessly, killing men, women and children with the same savagery.

As was inevitable, at one point the Romans arrived in the vicinity of where Nnenia lived. Overcome with unrestrained fury, thirsting for violence and blood, the soldiers destroyed everything in their path. It was with this fury that they burst into their house, killing Mazi almost instantly, without giving him time even to realize the source of the attack.

The soldier who killed Mazi found Nnenia huddled in a corner, pointing a meat cleaver at him. The man watched her cautiously. He said a few words she didn't understand, pointing at the weapon in her hands. Carefully, he moved closer. He seemed to say something comforting, as if he was trying to reassure her that he would not harm her. She didn't trust him. She only had to look around to realize that his good intentions were false. For a second, however, Nnenia hesitated. She lowered the knife for an instant, just long enough for the experienced soldier to charge at her.

With great speed and skill, he disarmed her. The soldier threw the weapon away and punched her, which made her spin around and fall to the ground, her jaw dislocated by the violence of the impact. Unaware of the pain she was in, the man threw himself on top of her, ready to take her. He savagely stabbed her so hard that she couldn't even begin to react. The pain paralyzed her, sapping all her strength.

Impotent, she submitted to irascible lewdness, weakened by brute force.

With each movement of the soldier, his heart moved with him, pumping a hatred that seemed to boil, making his blood boil and numbing his senses. The pain he had felt before fused with all that fire, making it far more powerful than the muscles that dominated it. When the man was finished, he had under him the inert body of a woman whose ebony beauty had enchanted him. He almost took her in his arms, eager to kiss her. However, as he pulled her to him, Nnenia's eyes came to life and she shoved him even harder. Gathering her lost strength, without saying a word, she dug her nails into his face, regardless of her fate.

The soldier was upset. Driven by rage, he put his hands around Nnenia's neck and squeezed. She struggled, he squeezed harder. Her eyes, locked on his, seemed to plead not for mercy but for justice. Gradually her senses failed, until the blessed unconsciousness that preceded death came.

She was sure she was going to die when, suddenly, air gushed out through her lungs. She coughed several times and clutched her neck, which hurt terribly. She tried to swallow saliva, but nothing came through her throat, which was closed up by the inflammation caused by the soldier's hands. In her confusion, Nnenia heard words in that strange language of the Romans and even managed to raise her eyes, just in time to see the man who had attacked her being harshly reprimanded by another soldier, and she seemed to be the reason for the reprimand.

She deduced that the newcomer was a superior officer and was scolding the soldier for what he had done to her, although the soldier did not accept the scolding.

The discussion followed, the superior was really angry, threatening the other, who pointed at her and said something she didn't understand, but from which she could deduce disdain. Enraged, and perhaps to demonstrate that Nnenia was not worth the reprimand, the man shoved the other forcefully and started toward her, plunging the sword directly into her heart.

With one swift and accurate blow, the soldier struck Nnenia, who fell to the ground like a feather. Her eyes searched the body of her brother, who lay inert, drowning in his own blood. Further away, the statue of the goddess Oya lay still, broken, all spattered with Mazi's blood. It was the last thing Nneia saw. As her sight blurred, fixed on her saver, she caught the distinct and increasingly distant sounds of the city. Shifting masculine voices, screams, crackling flames, rumbles ... the sound of destruction. In a short time, life drained from his body, along with the city that, from that day on, would cease to exist.

CHAPTER 1

As Alana climbed the mountain, she thought about what she would say or do when she met Marlon. She had long dreamed of him, of his clear and sweet blue eyes, of his soft and yet sure voice. Marlon used to whisper beautiful things in her ear, words of love that he intertwined with his revolutionary ideas about struggle and freedom.

Alana understood well the meaning of the rebellion, although her mother tried to misinterpret its purpose. She told her that it was a divergent conception, result of people dissatisfied with established power and who wanted to change the ancient traditions, in order to feed their own ego through war and domination imposed by envy and greed. However, she did not believe a word of it. She could see the huge difference between her and the people who lived oppressed, enslaved, watching their harvests dry up to pay the high tributes to Rome. None of this was right.

With the conquest of the Romans also came what they called progress. Mother said that, if it wasn't for them, people would still be living in huts. Only most of the villagers still lived in huts, bigger or smaller, according to the wealth of those who owned them.

The palace in which they lived was not exactly like the Roman buildings, but stood out among the simple, one-room houses of the village. Alana now lived in a large two-story building, made of stone and wood, with several rooms, permeated with windows and doors. Compared to the rest of the buildings in the village, it was really something grand, which stood out and highlighted the inequality between the people.

Finally, she arrived at her destination. There was Marlon, sitting on a rock, staring at the horizon with his usual lost gaze. She saw him from the side and was sure that he had also noticed her presence. She tried to approach him slowly but he leaped and grabbed her, and falling with it on the soft grass..

- I got you," he said, laughing, at the same time trying to kiss her.

- You cheated, she complained, looking annoyed, you saw when I approached and pretended not to see.

- Actually, it was you who cheated. I'm sure you knew I saw you, but you approached anyway, perhaps in the hope that I would do exactly what I did.

- What if that was all? - she replied, in a defiant tone. Can't I wish I was under your body?

He didn't answer. He stared passionately into her face and kissed her ardently. She responded without reluctance, giving herself completely to him. In the heat of desire, he began to caress her body, encouraged by the tacit assent of her moans and writhing body.

- I love you so much, Alana!

I wish we could get married.

The suggestion of marriage brought Alana back to reality.

Gently she pushed Marlon aside, smoothing the ends of her dress to cover her legs.

- You know we can't... - She was going to add for the time being, but he didn't give her the chance.

- Only because your mother doesn't want us to. And why do you have to obey everything she says?

- If I really obeyed, I'd marry some Roman.

- And that's what she wants, isn't it? To marry her daughter to someone important

important person in Rome to assure her the reign of Brigancia. And you will submit to this?

- Didn't you hear what I said? I won't marry anyone, but I can't forget that my mother and the queen...

- A queen who betrayed her own people, he cut in, his voice shaking with anger, sold herself to the Romans, handed over my uncle to be judged and condemned by the enemy.

- My mother had to or else the Roman army would have slaughtered us.

- That's what she says, isn't it?

- Your uncle Caracatus was not executed, she objected, feeling a twinge of irritation, I heard that he put so much pressure on the Roman senators that he was pardoned and now lives very well in Rome. Come to think of it, isn't that also a form of betrayal?

- You are not being fair. My uncle was prevented from returning to Britannia and had to use his intelligence not to be executed.

. He did what he had to do to survive.

- Just like my mother.

- That's no excuse, he replied coldly, Your mother leads a life of luxury and in return condemned her people to slavery. Even your father turned against her.

- My father simply abandoned us.

- And you never asked yourself why?

- My mother says he cowered before the Romans.

He chose to flee rather than surrender, fearing reprisals.

- Your father became a great leader of the resistance against the Romans.

- Why did he flee then? Wouldn't it be better to stay and fight?

- Your mother betrayed you and married Velocatus.

- My mother did what she did, so that Brigancia would not be destroyed. She had no choice.

- Is that what you believe?

Do you really think Cartimandua delivered Brigancia to Rome to protect us?

- I believe she did what she thought was right, which doesn't mean I agree with her.

- Right, he repeated with contempt, how can you think it's right to enslave people?

- I said she thinks it's right, not me. Just like

like you, I hate the Romans, but I can't escape the fact that the queen is my mother!

-that makes you a princess, and as a princess, you would want to be by her side.

- I don't understand why sometimes you are so sarcastic and blame me for

being who I am. I want our people to be free and I want to marry you, but I can't pretend that I am not the queen's daughter.

- Do you really want to marry me?" he replied, softening his tone.

-You know you do.

- But how? You said yourself that it is impossible.

- I didn't say it's impossible, I said we can't. And if you hadn't interrupted me so hastily, I would have said for the time being.

- For the time being... until when would that be for the time being?

- Tomorrow, we have an important banquet at home, and my mother wants me to be there.

- To get her a Roman husband.

- Exactly. I'll go to that dinner and show her that no Roman interests me. Then I'll tell her about us and tell her that I'm going to marry you, whether she wants me to or not.

- And do you think she will calmly allow her precious daughter to marry King Caracatus' nephew?

- I'm not going to ask her permission; I'm just going to tell her my decision. Either she accepts or she loses her daughter. I'll gather my things and leave the palace.

- I don't believe it! Are you serious?

- More serious than ever.

- To marry me, she nodded, Cartimandua will never allow you to exchange the palace for a revolutionary's shack.

- If she does not accept, we will run away.

- Run away? To where? What about our fight?

- I'd like to look for my father first, but I have no idea where he is.

- After he attacked Brigancia and was defeated by the Romans, after my uncle was arrested, he was never seen again. There are rumors that he sought refuge among the trinovantes, but maybe that's just a rumor, I don't know. In any case, we will never get there.

- He might be with the Yemenis. My father and King Prasutagus used to be friends.

- That was before Prasutagus sold out to the Romans.

Make no mistake, my dear, we have nowhere to go.

- Then we shall flee to the north, where the Romans could not invade.

- You don't understand, Alana. I can't run away.

I have a duty to the outlaws.

- It won't be forever. Just long enough for my mother to calm down and leaves us alone. Who knows, maybe she realizes we are right and allies herself with us?

- Now you are being naive. That will never happen.

- If it doesn't, I will return to your side as a warrior, to take back Brigancia and give it back to our people.

- You are a princess, Alana, not a warrior. You don't even know how to take up weapons.

- You can teach me.

He looked at her admiringly and replied, still resistant:

- It won't be easy.

- I'm not saying it will be easy, but it won't be impossible. I really want to learn how to use a sword and spear, so I can fight at your side.

- Are you sure?

- Absolutely.. I may be a princess but I feel I was born to fight. What I want most is to learn and you can teach me.

He kissed her passionately, knowing that she would become an excellent warrior. Excited at the prospect of teaching her everything he knew about fighting and war, he pulled her to himself and laid her down on the soft grass. Alana kissed back, accepted his caresses and soon they were in love. Marlon loved her; however, he had an aggressive way of showing how he felt, and from time to time he hurt her unintentionally. It was strange and sometimes he even frightened her, with his insane looks and unrestrained anger. At the same time that he loved her, he seemed to take pleasure in hurting her.

- It’s late, I have to go, she announced, getting up quickly, "wait for Shayla with news of me.

After they kissed, Alana returned, stepping on the glowing grass, glistening in the light of the setting sun.. Marlon went down the other side, in order to avoid being seen together. In Alana's heart, a whirlwind of doubt was racing through her, confusing her thoughts and clouding her judgment. She needed to talk to her mother as soon as possible. She knew she would react with irritation, demanding obedience and behavior appropriate for a princess, which meant marrying a Roman without question.

Alana breathed in the pure mountain air, absorbing the strength of the sun. It would take a lot of energy and courage to fight her mother, but she was willing to do it. For Marlon and for his people, she had to fight.

With her thoughts on Marlon, she absorbed the wind that circulated among the trees. Slowly, the shadows of the night lengthened over the mountain, covering the darkness and transforming the surrounding into indistinct and formless specters. No figures to be seen, nothing to shake the stillness of the place. At least, not that she was aware of.

CHAPTER 2

Upon entering the palace, Alana almost bumped into her maid, Shayla, who was hurrying down the stairs. She shook her head abruptly, as if Alana was a cause for surprise and astonishment.

- What happened, Shayla? - asked Alana, surprised at the lividity on the other's face. - Are you feeling ill?

- No, princess," she replied, eyes downcast, escaping Alana's scrutiny.

- Then what is it? You're acting strange.

Shayla didn't have time to answer, to her luck, Cartimandua appeared at the top of the stairs, her voice resounding throughout the residence.

- Alana! Come here at once!

Forgetting the servant, Alana jumped down the steps in twos, quickly arriving where her mother was.

Cartimandua stared at her, but the reason for her fury was not understood.

Alana did not understand the reason for her fury.

- Is there something you want, Mother?" she asked, trying to sound softer than she really was.

- Where have you been? - was the direct and immediate question.

- I had you searched the entire city, but no one found you. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to walk around alone?

- Why? Aren't the Romans our allies? They certainly wouldn't hurt me.

- Maybe not, if they knew you were my daughter. Otherwise, they might get the idea of having fun with you. But it's not the Romans I'm talking about. - Cartimandua gave her a hard look, and Alana, although she returned his gaze, remained silent. - There are rebels out there who would give anything to get their hands on a prey like you.

- You're exaggerating. Our people are obedient and loyal to you.

- There are rebels among them. People whose loyalty belongs to Caracatus.

As she pronounced the name of Marlon's uncle, Cartimandua shoved Alana, who held her mother's gaze without flinching, until she lowered her eyes and returned firmly

- I don't know who you're talking about.

- I want to warn you about one thing, Alana, she growled in a threatening tone, let this be the last time you meet with Caracatus' nephew. Otherwise...

- What will you have? she challenged, not waiting for her mother to finish her sentence, Are you going to hand me over to the Romans too?

- Insolent! she roared, hitting her daughter in the face, Don't tease me, Alana. You don't know what I'm capable of.

- I know very well what you're capable of," Alana replied, looking at her mother defiantly, as if she hadn't just been slapped in the face.

- I swear I'll finish him off," Cartimandua threatened, her gaze injected with fury.

- Marlon and I are just friends," she lied, now fearing for his life.

- This is not a friendship that interests me.

- In fact, my friendships should only interest me.

- Don't be stupid! That boy is no good for you.

- And Velocatus? - he returned, defiantly. - Is he by any chance good enough for you?

- How dare you? - she raged, threatening to slap Alana again across the face. On the contrary, she stared at her mother so coldly that she stepped back and added, still angry:

- I don't give you the right to question my decisions.

- I'm not a child anymore, mother. You don't have the right to run my life either.

- That's where you're wrong. Not only you’re a child, you also are foolish and inexperienced. And Marlon...

- Considering that you want me to marry someone important, then, if that were the case, Marlon should deserve your approval," interrupted Alana, cheekily. - He has noble blood, unlike Velocatus, a simple squire of my father, who you elevated to king.

- Enough! - roared Cartimandua, now unable to stop another slap in the face of her daughter. - We’re not going to judge Velocatus. He is a man of valor, brave and very loyal to me. Marlon, on the other hand, is just a disgusted rebel, who will never forgive me for delivering his traitorous uncle to the Romans!

If