Marcus is about to take a drink of water, his mouth dry from singing and laughter, and then entirely forgets to drink when Esca abruptly begins singing again, a lament this time. There is a roughness in his voice now that sends a shiver through Marcus.
Flame-bright queen of the Iceni Let your chariot not break Fire against the coming darkness Let the sun be with your spear
Sleep, daughter of the Iceni Cold the day Boudica fell Rest, flame-bright queen under the mound Cold in the cloak of your hair
They are silent for a long time when Esca finishes, Esca staring into the fire, Marcus staring at Esca. The song was beautiful and painful as a clean knife-cut, but the words—Marcus isn't sure whether to weep or rage, a cold stone settling into the pit of his stomach.
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Flame-bright queen of the Iceni
Let your chariot not break
Fire against the coming darkness
Let the sun be with your spear
Sleep, daughter of the Iceni
Cold the day Boudica fell
Rest, flame-bright queen under the mound
Cold in the cloak of your hair
They are silent for a long time when Esca finishes, Esca staring into the fire, Marcus staring at Esca. The song was beautiful and painful as a clean knife-cut, but the words—Marcus isn't sure whether to weep or rage, a cold stone settling into the pit of his stomach.