Originally written for Crucible’s Commander, an event in Hellsgate in Ansteorra. This has since been published professionally. I would especially like to thank Master Alden, who helped me finesse this final version into existence. It would not be what it is without him.

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Boudica’s Resolve

By Hextilda Corbett, 2018

 

This ancient land we call our own

Breathe free Iceni, free from Rome.

My husband led — and legions fled

In fear from our Bretonic home

 

I then took up my horse’s reins

And raced across the fields and plains

Then called to arms, from glen and farms

For all to break the Roman chains.

 

Divine Andraste hailed through hare

Freed from my dress, it fled from there

‘Tis Victory we soon shall see

With blade in-hand and shoulders square.

 

One hundred thousand at my back

We raced along the Roman track

Through hill and dale, we told the tale

Prepared our swords for the attack

 

I marched them all to London-town

Torches ablaze, we burned it down

All buildings fell in flaming hell,

The embers glowed upon the ground.

 

‘Twas eighty thousand Romans dead.

As sun dawned bright, o’er rivers red

We headed west to gain some rest

Ere final clash we soon would dread.

 

“Though noble-born, I fight as Brit

With righteous vengeance, heaven’s writ,

My daughters’ light gives cause to fight

A woman’s will shall never quit

 

Upon this day we live or die

Beneath the open British sky

In flaxen fields we’ll never yield

As Britons we shall never fly.”

 

Suetonius at Watling Street

Held fast at last, would not be beat

Our numbers fought, but all for nought:

We Britons fell in sad defeat.

 

Though vanquished we could not foresee

It’s British we shall ever be

We’re briefly bowed, still fiercely proud

For in our hearts we’re truly free.

 

Fear not for me, I have a knife:

For women know the price of life.

Not for the grave, men live as slaves

At last I’m freed from Roman strife.