lunes, 6 de abril de 2015


(Traduction by Cristina Figueras)
(Illustration by Fran Galán)
(Sculpture by Pedro Fernández Ramos)

Her rebellious red-haired hair was undulating flogged by the wind, which was crossing the dantesque scarlet bath into which there was turning that scene of bloody battle. The air was smelling to death, the blood was splashing her face marked by that blue of Celtic war, which she and her people used to carry for the battle. Paintings that her thousands of warriors reminded the suffering they had to fight for. Allies come from different tribes of Britannia, encouraged before the call to the elevation by the freedom and identified with the personal drama of Boudica itself. At that specific moment it was not important at all the fear or the reprisals of those who they had snatched everything. Her oppressed people, the murdered Druids, the devastated lands, her removed goods, her daughters outraged honor, and the marked dishonor she carried over her shoulders, over her flagellated back.
Too much pain branded for life in her hearts. But nevermore …
The history would be a witness to the major revolt perpetrated against the yoke of Nerón's empire. 

Now, after liberating from the Roman occupation to the former trinovante capital Camulodunum, from devastating the one that was constituting the commercial Roman engine in Britannia, Londinium, and of massacring Verulamium, mangling for the way to any detachment or Roman legion that faced them ,they reached their turning point, that was fighting against the last oppressive bastion, the General Suetonio. 

Entrusted Andraste, the goddess of the victory, she was remaining impassive to her injured arm while she was grasping the lance. In the noise of the contend ,her main desire was thinking of winning, thinking in the fact of expelling the invader from her land, the invader who was enslaving her days, she thought of punishing those who had ruined her life after the death of her husband, Prasutagus. 

Boudica breathed depth swelling her chest with the hatred of revenge allowing the rage should overwhelm her eyes, before detaching her rude sword from her belt and holding it up. Iceni’s queen uttered a last and heart-breaking war cry that Watling Street startled, freezing the blood of the Roman legionaries and pushing to a big wave of enraged britons that were looking in a desperate attempt for their only desire, their freedom.

Pepe Gallego

Licencia Creative Commons
"Boudica" por Pepe Gallego se distribuye bajo una Licencia Creative Commons Atribución-NoComercial-SinDerivar 4.0 Internacional.

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