There's a slowly rising swell of discontent among the assembled Britons as the proclamation is translated and relayed by those members of the Iceni that understand latin. Boudicca herself looks grim and an angry flush rises to her cheeks.
"I'm afraid there has been some mistake Quintus." Boudicca protests. "The governor must have been ill advised. My husband Prasutagus indeed had issue and we can produce his will written in latin and attested to by a centurian that the Iceni lands pass to our daughters."
Quintus waved his hand feebly in front of him as though shooing a bothersome fly and gave a snort of derision at Boudicca's words.
"Your barbarian practice of tolerating the rule of women has no legal merit under Roman law." Quintus laughed. "This matter is not open for debate, Gaius Suetonius has made his decision and it is final. We will of course extend a period of transition whilst we ascertain which of your tribe merit Roman citizenship, however after this period all weapons of war and chariots held by non Roman citizens will be handed to Roman authorities on pain of death or enslavement."
"Snivelling Roman bastards." The girl next to you spits vehemently. "They shall never disarm and make slaves of our people."
Quintus trots forward on his horse and bending down hands the rolled up scroll to Boudicca. The Iceni queen evidently feels the same as the woman beside you. With slow deliberation Boudicca rips the scroll in half and flings it to the dirt. Quintus's face goes crimson at this act of defiance, wheeling his horse he retreats to his fellow officers.
"The Iceni are a free people." Boudicca shouts in Gael. "You think the offer of Roman citizenship could make me betray my people? We will not surrender one sword or the least of our kin to the Romans."
The legate's face is so red you half expect him to topple from his horse from apoplexy. For some moments his mouth opens and closes without a sound as he struggles to find the words to respond. When at last his speech returns he begins to rant in a screeching rage.
"You miserable Britunculi, we offer you civilisation and you think you can defy us?" He bellows. "Look at the shithole that you primitives call the Iceni capitol. Is this rancid collection of hovels the pinnacle of your culture."
Though most of the crowd cannot understand his words, his sneering tone is universal. Angry shouts come from the Britons and the mob begins to seethe. Boudicca looks around her in worry, she clearly understands that if a fight breaks out now the entire village will be massacred.
"Seize her." Quintus screams. "I'll show you shit rutting Iceni just what Rome thinks of your high and mighty queen."
Quintus gestures some of the legionaries forward. As they approach Boudicca her bodyguard steps forward drawing their long celtic swords. Despite being only a handful against a whole Roman century the determined expressions of the warriors show that they're fully prepared to die to defend their queen.
"No, stop!" Boudicca shouts to her bodyguard. "Lay down your weapons and do not allow these Romans to provoke you, I command it."
Reluctantly the warriors toss their swords to the ground and back away from the legionaires. The mob of Britons held back by the lines of Romans forces calm upon itself although the atmosphere could still be cut by a knife. As the legionaires seize hold of Boudicca your companion suddenly whips the ponies reins, jolting the chariot forward towards the centre of the village.
"We must protect our mother Aedhir." She cries desperately to you.
"Mother?" You wonder in shock. "But Boudicca only had two daughters which would make me...oh shit."
With one hand grasping the wicker side of the lurching chariot your other falls to the crotch of your plaid trousers. Your worst fears are confirmed when you find the familiar male package completely absent between your legs. The horrifying implications of your identity in this scenario temporarily make you rigid with fear. The light chariot surges forward scattering a few Roman legionaries in it's path and you stare helpless as the events seem to unfold in slow motion like a car crash you're powerless to avoid. |