Read my article on Boudicca in The Celtic Romance blog dated 10/18/2004
Here is a poem I quickly penned today, so it’s not one my best, but here goes.
White Queen
By Cornelia Amiri
Mother Queen of the Iceni tribe
We woad warriors of lime washed manes
Follow ye, our warrior queen
Creamy skin and hair of flame
Chariot swift and spear held high,
Boudicca avenge your daughter’s pain
Britannia’s bliss, Rome’s bane
Warrior queen we follow ye
With whetted swords
We loot and burn
Slay the roman scourge
Warrior queen we follow ye
Championed by the white goddess
Andante’s image adorns your hilt
Your white blade drinks Roman blood
The Celts are strong
The Gods are happy
The land rejoices in your victories
Hear the Carnyxs blow
Hear the drums beat
Up the slope ye leads us
Yet Roman treachery strikes fierce
Held in the beak of the eagle
We take death, like our queen
Robbing Rome of prisoners and slaves
We fall on the legion’s daggers
Black this day, the earth cries
For the eagle holds the land
But as dragons slay fowl
The day shall come
When Rome leaves these shores
And Celts forever stand.
DANGER IS SWEET by Cornelia Amiri
Genre: Celtic Romance
Blurb: From ancient druid lore, springs the tale of a mysterious, dark warrior, a fiery Pict Princess, and the shadowy secret standing between them.
Excerpt: Malcolm stared at the crashing white-capped waves of the sea, but the only image he saw was in his mind. An orange-red and sun-yellow crustacean whose smooth bottom was covered with a medicinal herb. An algae called Seafire. Warmth glowed inside his
chest and shined like a sunbeam straight to the bottom of the sea. The healing plant beckoned to him. Seafire brought him hope like a fire lit in a cold, dark beggar man's hut.
In his human form, he called out the selkie name for the herb, "Arrkeeee". Bethoc's cure.
It was hidden deep in the dark waters, yet he had to find it, he must. It was Bethoc's only chance. Malcolm ripped off his tunic, unbelted and climbed out of his braies. In that moment, he tossed aside the new religion for the old.
Malcolm lifted his arms above his head and called out to the God of the Sea, "Manannan Mac Lir, ageless prince of the Tuatha de Danann, I invoke your power." Malcolm's insides warmed and his flesh tingled from the magical energy in the air. "I, a shape shifter of the seal, call out to ye. God of the Waters and shape shifter of the heron, guide me. Watch over my path as I seek the magical Seafire to save the life of my mate, my love, my wife. Bethoc."
Malcolm pulled the thick gold band off his forearm and laid it on a large black rock. "Manannan Mac Lir, God of the Sea, hear me, as I make due sacrifice. Remember me as I remember you. Honor me as I honor you. Manannan Mac Lir, take possession of this offering."
Malcolm drew his sword, and held it with both hands clinging tightly to the hilt. He stretched out his arm, so the blade lay above the shimmering, white-foamed sea.
"Oh Shinning One, Manannan Mac Lir, grant me the sacred seafire, so it may bestow its healing power on Bethoc. Heal her, oh shining one. Great Manannan Mac Lir, grant me this boon."
Malcolm shut his eyes and in his mind he sought out and bore back the seafire. Upon bequesting the cure to Bethoc, she was healed. Hale and hardy once more.
Heat filled his body from inner core to outer flesh. His every muscle and every thought were focused on saving Bethoc.
"Oh Manannan Mac Lir, honor me as I honor ye. Bequeath to me as I bequeath to ye."
Malcolm stepped back and held his sword out, above the smooth, gold armband on the rough, black boulder. With one powerful strike, he severed the armband in two. Killing it, so nothing human would corrupt the gift he bestowed on the old god.
He took a deep breath and sheathed his sword. Then Malcolm picked up the two halves of the armband, one in each hand. With a flick of his wrists, he tossed them into the sea. The wave bore them to Manannan Mac Lir.
"God of the sea, I give thanks to ye for bestowing your favor and blessing upon me."
Having fulfilled the sacrifice to the old god, Malcolm picked up his selkie skin in both hands, and shook it out, so it unraveled to its full length. With his eyes shut, he mustered his strength as he slipped into his skin. Raw power coursed through him. In the tips of his toes and fingers the sensation of nettle pricks deepened until he could barely stand it. A mystifying tremor coursed through his body as his human form changed into a seal. A selkie.
Malcolm no longer stood with two feet on the ground. Now his belly rubbed against the wet sand. Sliding his front flippers first, then his stomach, and lastly his back flippers against the soft sand, Malcolm slunk over to the discarded clothing he just shed. With his teeth, he picked up his leather potion pouch. Using the webbed fingers of his front flippers, Malcolm pushed the strap over his head and slung the
pouch over his left side. He pointed his black snout into the air, flexed his flippers, and swam into the cold sea.
"Aark, Ark," Malcolm barked to the roaring waves. He slapped his back flippers and webbed feet hard against the water, causing a huge splash as he cut through the waves.
"Aark Ark." Malcolm spotted the dragonhead Viking boat, manned by the bloody youths who attacked the wagon: the men who hurt Bethoc. He kicked the water with his powerful rear flippers and shot through the white foam until he was under the long, wooden ship. With his full animal strength, he whacked his flippers against the bottom of the longboat again and again, pounding it until it capsized, tossing the
Vikings into the sea. Kicking and paddling with their hands, the Norsemen fought the ocean for their very lives, just as Bethoc fought for her's in a wagon on the way to Scone.
Malcolm lashed the water with a hard flick of his front flippers, releasing the torrent of anger, which burned through him.
Leaving the Vikings helpless to the mighty sea, Malcolm dove under. He cut through the water like an arrow flies through the air. His only thought was the spiked crustacean whose underbelly lay covered in Seafire. His only purpose was Bethoc.
Deeper and deeper, he descended into the blackness of the sea. Not only his body, but also his sprit plummeted as well. Malcolm felt like a boneless skeleton drifting downward into a bottomless sea. The water rushing through the dried, dull white bones of a hollow man, or seal. He knew not which, nor did it matter.
Was she gone? No not yet. The arrkeeee, the Seafire, would save her.
All was black and cold as ice in the deepest depths of the sea, where no human had ever gone. The shadows in the dark and the moving sea creatures played tricks on his mind.
He saw Bethoc before him and all around him. He had to touch her, had to kiss her. But Bethoc wasn't with him. He let out the high pitch wail that only selkies make. A sound even sadder than a human crying.
Then he recalled his quest. Seafire. In his head he could see one of the spiky crustaceans on the bottom of the sea floor. These creatures were small and round with toxic quills. They were rare and could only be found where it was icy cold and dark as midnight. Humans knew nothing of Seafire for they could not swim that deep without their lungs bursting.
The venomous spikes formed a shield for the crustacean, a natural defense to keep fish from devouring them. If a selkie or human came in contact with even one deadly spike the venom would cause certain death. A painful death. It was on the smooth bottom of these crustaceans the algae, Seafire, grew.
Orange-red and sun-yellow, it looked like fire. It emitted energy like a glowing, crackling blaze. An amber ball shimmered in the center, circled by a band of glistening sun-yellow streaks reaching out to the edges like a thousand rays of light. Malcolm had seen it only once in his life and he would never forget it. He must find it again. Bethoc's life depended on it.
As he descended deeper and deeper, a bad feeling haunted him. Danger. Then he heard a clicking noise. With a jerk of his head he scanned the dark waters. Killer Whales. A school of seven large black and white mammals headed for him.
