Song for a Dark Queen Read Online Free
Author: Rosemary Sutcliff
folded close against the winter storms, andwhen the souls of the dead also come homing to their own firesides.
Then, as always when a great marriage feast is in the wind, there began to be a constant coming and going of merchants and swordsmiths and workers in precious stones. For the King must give fine new weapons to the man who wed his daughter; and Prasutagus must choose out three bride gifts for his wedding night, according to the custom. There was much whispering among the women as to what those would be; for Prasutagus’s father was among the richest of the chiefs of the Parisi, and his gifts would be worth the having.
But less than half a moon before the appointed day, word came of a raiding party of the Catuvellauni laying waste our borders to the south-west. It was word that came often enough, but this was a greater war-band than the usual run of such things, and pressing far in along the High Chalk that makes a ridgeway linking us to the outside world. Always the traders have come and gone along that way, and our horses have followed it to the markets of the south and west; always it has been our place of greatest danger from attack, and we have kept the turf walls up and the guard bands alert, so that few raiders came that way. But this was no cattle raid half in sport. This was a strong war-company, leaving a trail of burned-out steadings behind them, and driving off all living things that came their way.
And again, the war-horns sounded to call in the fighting men, and the chariots were harnessed, and the King with his household warriors, Prasutagus among them, drove out to clear the borders, under a raiding moon.
They were gone seven days, and returned at the twixt-light hour when the first owls are crying and theflare of torches has begun to bite. There was a first thin crackling of ice in the chariot ruts, and the breath of the horses smoked in the air as they came up between the tall gate-stones of the Weapon Court. And there were captured horses among them, and the heads of slain raiders swinging by their long hair knotted to the chariot rails. But there were gaps in our own ranks, too, and they came without shouting or triumph. And Prasutagus drove the King’s chariot; and on the chariot floor, bound down that it might not jolt out, lay the body of the King, under his shield.
In the gathering throng, the women had begun to keen: and men came running with torches, as he was lifted out and laid on the cold ground before the threshold. And then the crowd parted, and the Princess Boudicca came through. She stood long and long, looking down at her father’s body; and once she swayed a little, like a lone cornstalk in a breath of wind, then steadied herself. ‘Bring him into his Hall,’ she said in a small level voice. And then she looked up and met Prasutagus’s gaze; and she cried out on him, sudden and wailing, ‘Why must it be him instead of you?’
And Prasutagus looked back at her, with a great smear of dried blood across his cheek, and said, ‘Because the mark was on his forehead, not on mine.’
And they bore the King into his Hall.
So the death-fires burned for the old King; and when they were cold, his ashes were laid away in the Royal House of Sleep, with his finest spear and his great bronze-faced shield and his sword with the goldwork on the hilt, that he might be armed as befits a High Chieftain for his journey beyond the sunset. And when all was over, and the proper sacrifices made, the OakPriests led Boudicca up to the crest of the long grave mound, where our Queens have been made since first we were a People, and showed her to the assembled chieftains on the north and the south and the east and the west; crying out to each quarter, ‘People of the Horse, here is your Queen to you. Do you accept her?’
And from each quarter the chieftains gave her the royal salute, their spears crashing on their shields. ‘We accept her, we accept her, we accept her.’
And in the sight of
Then, as always when a great marriage feast is in the wind, there began to be a constant coming and going of merchants and swordsmiths and workers in precious stones. For the King must give fine new weapons to the man who wed his daughter; and Prasutagus must choose out three bride gifts for his wedding night, according to the custom. There was much whispering among the women as to what those would be; for Prasutagus’s father was among the richest of the chiefs of the Parisi, and his gifts would be worth the having.
But less than half a moon before the appointed day, word came of a raiding party of the Catuvellauni laying waste our borders to the south-west. It was word that came often enough, but this was a greater war-band than the usual run of such things, and pressing far in along the High Chalk that makes a ridgeway linking us to the outside world. Always the traders have come and gone along that way, and our horses have followed it to the markets of the south and west; always it has been our place of greatest danger from attack, and we have kept the turf walls up and the guard bands alert, so that few raiders came that way. But this was no cattle raid half in sport. This was a strong war-company, leaving a trail of burned-out steadings behind them, and driving off all living things that came their way.
And again, the war-horns sounded to call in the fighting men, and the chariots were harnessed, and the King with his household warriors, Prasutagus among them, drove out to clear the borders, under a raiding moon.
They were gone seven days, and returned at the twixt-light hour when the first owls are crying and theflare of torches has begun to bite. There was a first thin crackling of ice in the chariot ruts, and the breath of the horses smoked in the air as they came up between the tall gate-stones of the Weapon Court. And there were captured horses among them, and the heads of slain raiders swinging by their long hair knotted to the chariot rails. But there were gaps in our own ranks, too, and they came without shouting or triumph. And Prasutagus drove the King’s chariot; and on the chariot floor, bound down that it might not jolt out, lay the body of the King, under his shield.
In the gathering throng, the women had begun to keen: and men came running with torches, as he was lifted out and laid on the cold ground before the threshold. And then the crowd parted, and the Princess Boudicca came through. She stood long and long, looking down at her father’s body; and once she swayed a little, like a lone cornstalk in a breath of wind, then steadied herself. ‘Bring him into his Hall,’ she said in a small level voice. And then she looked up and met Prasutagus’s gaze; and she cried out on him, sudden and wailing, ‘Why must it be him instead of you?’
And Prasutagus looked back at her, with a great smear of dried blood across his cheek, and said, ‘Because the mark was on his forehead, not on mine.’
And they bore the King into his Hall.
So the death-fires burned for the old King; and when they were cold, his ashes were laid away in the Royal House of Sleep, with his finest spear and his great bronze-faced shield and his sword with the goldwork on the hilt, that he might be armed as befits a High Chieftain for his journey beyond the sunset. And when all was over, and the proper sacrifices made, the OakPriests led Boudicca up to the crest of the long grave mound, where our Queens have been made since first we were a People, and showed her to the assembled chieftains on the north and the south and the east and the west; crying out to each quarter, ‘People of the Horse, here is your Queen to you. Do you accept her?’
And from each quarter the chieftains gave her the royal salute, their spears crashing on their shields. ‘We accept her, we accept her, we accept her.’
And in the sight of
Readers choose
Kat Martin
Clive Cussler, Paul Kemprecos
Renee Patrick
Arno Le Roux
Bianca Sommerland
Brenda Novak
Megan Nugen Isbell
Linda Alvarez
Michelle Shine
Eileen Richards