Song for a Dark Queen Read Online Free Page A

them all, Merddyn the Chief of the Oak Priests set on her head the tall silver headdress of the moon. And so she became our Queen, Goddess-on-Earth to us; the Life of the Tribe in her keeping. And all the while her face was like a painted mask in the torchlight that sprang towards her up the grave mound; and her eyes in it only dark holes with the night sky showing through. And I thought, ‘She is too young – too young – too young. . . .’
    Late, late that night, Boudicca went to the great weapon kist in the Royal Chamber, and brought out the plain long sword with the hilt of age-darkened nawhal ivory that had been her father’s when he was young, before ever he came to be King. And she took it beside her into the broad rug-piled bedplace where she had never slept before.
    The nine days of mourning were accomplished, and the fires that had been quenched on the hearths were kindled again. And then it was the appointed time for the Bride Feast and the making of the new King. And before the assembled chiefs and great ones of the tribe, Boudicca and Prasutagus stood together on the threshold of the Hall – all thresholds are sacred places, the royal threshold above all others – she in her mantle of curd-white mare’s skin, the silver plates of the moonheaddress that hung down against her cheeks catching and losing the wintry light; he in the King’s great cloak of red stallion’s hide. They spoke the words that Merddyn demanded of them, and held out their hands while he made the marriage cut first on her wrist and then on his, and bound them lightly together with a rawhide thong. They stood so joined while a few bright drops of mingled blood spattered down upon the threshold. Then Merddyn loosed off the binding, and another priest brought forward one of the old King’s spears and touched Prasutagus with it, first on the forehead, then on the breast, then gave it into his hand. That is all the kingmaking ceremony there is, among the Horse People. Marriage to the Royal Woman, that is the real kingmaking ceremony. And so when they turned and went back together into the Hall, he was the King.
    Then the cooking-pits were opened, and the feasting began. And midway through the feasting, Prasutagus brought from the breast of his tunic a necklace of amber and red cornelian and curiously twisted gold wires, shining like the sun, and put it round Boudicca’s neck. And that was the first of his Bride Gifts to her. And later, his charioteer brought into the Hall a young riding mare, mealy of mane and tail, and dark golden as heather honey, so light in her moving that her hooves seemed scarcely to touch the fern-strewn floor. And that was the second of his Bride Gifts.
    And all the while, I watched Boudicca; on the threshold, at the feasting, when Prasutagus hung the fiery jewels round her neck, when she reached out to touch the mare’s forehead in token of acceptance. I watched her when I woke my harp and sang her the marriage song that I had made for her; – much thoughtand much love and much walking in the apple garth, that song had cost me – and when she stepped out with him on to the paved dancing-floor, she with a long trail of ivy in her hand, he with a barbed and whippy branch of holly, to lead the Man-and-Woman dancing. And all the while, I thought, ‘She is too young! Grief upon me! She is too young. They should have given her more time.’
    And yet I knew that with the old King dead, there was no more time to give.
    Far on into the night Boudicca and her Marriage Lord went together to the Royal Chamber. I mind he held out his hand to her. But she walked beside him not touching it. In the doorway the women threw corn over their heads to bring them many children; a golden shower in the light of the spitting pine-knot torches. And there was laughing and jostling, and as many as the chamber would hold thrust in after them while the rest hung about the doorway.
    In the heart of the chamber, the bedplace was piled