March, 2014. As women’s history month commenced and I famously queried those around me, asking them to name 10 women from history – which they failed to do, I responded to my anger and frustration by writing. The book: Boudicca: Britain’s Queen of the Iceni. Little did I guess that month that I was creating a new career for myself as a biographical historian. Ten years after initial publication, Boudicca remains a reader favorite and my most popular title in digital, paperback, and audio formats. Translated into many languages, you can listen to it in English, French, Spanish, and German.
The following scene is the famous “this is not over” scene from chapter four and the one featured in the audio excerpt on Audible.
Half an hour later, the red blood of the defeated defenders mingled with the blue war paint on their bodies. Among the wounded survivors was Prasutagus’ younger sister, Princess Maëlle. Too hurt to keep fighting, a centurion bound her and dragged her. Boudicca looked into the centurion’s lustful eyes, his intent to make her a slave of his bed chamber obvious to her after her own enslavement. This was a fate far worse than death, Boudicca knew, yet also a traditional fate the Romans gave to nobles from conquered tribes.
Certain of their victory and with no further challenges from the people, the Roman soldiers went into each home, taking everything they could of value to them, seizing anyone still alive among Iceni nobility, and smashing much of what they could not or did not wish to take. Lighting torches, they threw fire onto the thatched roofs, sending half of the village into flame.
Finally, they turned their attention to Boudicca and her daughters, still bound and gagged and under Marcus’ control, though all three struggled to free themselves. Marcus sneered at Boudicca, “Our governor tells me you were once a slave amongst the Aedui – is it true?”
“I am queen of the Iceni, the chosen vessel of Cathubodva,” proclaimed the queen.
“Such fire and hatred,” noticed Marcus. “Only a slave feels such hatred.”
“Or a woman,” countered Boudicca.
“Slave, woman, barbarian – what is the difference? You, Boudicca, are all three!”
“There is a saying among my people, Centurion. Be careful of the warrior whose cause is just – but be terrified of the woman scorned and battle ready. For her strength is greatest of all!”
“Really?” laughed Marcus, signaling at two soldiers. Dragging out Alys and Morgan to where all could see, the Romans beat them to the ground, bruising and bloodying them before ravishing them and destroying their virtue.
Marcus laughed as he observed Boudicca’s anger, “Jealous, slave?”
“You invite the wrath of all our goddesses and gods. Barbarians you call us? There is no word for the violence and brutality you’ve done to them!”
“Done? I’ve just begun. Perhaps I should make you my personal slave for my bed chamber, eh?” considered Marcus cruelly. “No … I think not. A proper slave knows her place. I have a better idea!” With a flick of his wrist, he motioned for Boudicca to be tied to a charred post to what was once Boudicca’s beautiful and luxurious home. Forcing both Alys and Morgan to watch, he personally flogged the queen with thirty lashes of his whip, expecting her to scream with pain.
Proudly, Boudicca refused to scream. Looking at his victim and now certain she too was now beaten into submission, Marcus picked up Alys and Morgan and took them along with the other captives and plunder, leaving Boudicca alone with the remains of her kingdom.
As soon as the Romans were out of sight and hearing range, a little girl came up to Boudicca with a knife which she used to cut her queen’s bonds, “Your highness, what shall we do?”
“First, we must bind up our wounds. Get whoever is left and strong enough to search the village for clean linen or wool we can use to help the injured. See if the Romans left us with honey and with any ground oats which we can use on the wounds. Once we stop the bleeding and stabilize the hurt we must check our food supplies and ensure everyone eats today – especially the injured. We are only as strong as our weakest person. Now is the time we must all come together,” commanded Boudicca.
“But what about the Romans? We cannot let them get away with our people like that?”
“If we can free them, we will – but not today. We do not have the strength. We must heal, recover our strength. Then, once we are ready, I swear we will fight back. Let the ravens of Cathubodva come now to us, let her power fill us! We are not defeated. This is not over!”
Laurel A. Rockefeller 