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    The Celtic Queen: A Novella of Cartimandua: Celtic Queens Collection
    The Celtic Queen: A Novella of Cartimandua: Celtic Queens Collection
    The Celtic Queen: A Novella of Cartimandua: Celtic Queens Collection
    Ebook72 pages58 minutes

    The Celtic Queen: A Novella of Cartimandua: Celtic Queens Collection

    By Lauren Goffigan

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    About this ebook

    The true story of a Celtic Queen during the time of the Romans... 

    Cartimandua, the daughter of a tribal chief, is determined to continue the peace her father has created in the wake of the Roman invasion.

    But when a native chieftain defies the Romans, Cartimandua must make a choice between continued peace and Rome--or the defiance of her people.

    As tensions rise within her tribe, will Cartimandua choose loyalty or the wrath of the powerful Roman Empire?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLauren Goffigan
    Release dateJan 26, 2019
    ISBN9781540165626
    The Celtic Queen: A Novella of Cartimandua: Celtic Queens Collection

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      Book preview

      The Celtic Queen - Lauren Goffigan

      The Celtic Queen

      The Celtic Queen

      A Novella of Cartimandua

      Lauren Goffigan

      Contents

      Also by Lauren Goffigan

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Epilogue

      Historical Note

      I. Sneak Peek of The Iron Queen

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      About the Author

      Also by Lauren Goffigan

      Greek Goddesses Collection

      The Goddess

      Medusa

      Celtic Queens Collection

      The Celtic Queen

      The Iron Queen

      As L.D. Goffigan

      The Mina Murray Series

      The Beast of London

      Fortress of Blood

      Realm of Night

      Mina Murray Series Bundle: Books 1-3

      Copyright © 2019 by Lauren Goffigan

      All rights reserved.

      This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

      This is a work of historical fiction. Apart from the well-known actual people, events, and locales that figure in the narrative, all incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to current events or locales, or to living persons, is entirely coincidental.

      1

      Iwas destined to become queen.

      This I have always believed, despite my unremarkable birth, and my status as the lone daughter of my father's least favorite wife.

      Two of my brothers died before I was born, and the last one died in a skirmish with a rival tribe. Even so, my father, the great chieftain and king, Myghalas, later told me that had they survived, he would have still chosen me, his most beloved of all his children, to take his place as chieftain and ruler of our tribe.

      My mother was the third of his three wives. My memories of her are faint now, but I remember her trying to win his favor by dressing herself in the finest silk tunics, scenting her skin with lavender or rosewater, and placing golden combs throughout her long braided hair. But my father paid little attention to her—to any of his wives. He only married to ensure that he had children to succeed him, to continue his rule over the tribe long after his death.

      My mother was always sad because of his neglect, though she was a beauty with waist-length dark hair, as black as a raven's wings, and eyes the color of chestnuts, longing for a man who would never love her. I did not look like her, I had the look of my father; his blond hair and eyes the color of a gray summer’s storm.

      She would often stand at the doorway of the home we shared, staring with great longing at my father whenever he returned triumphant from battles or when he moved throughout the village to reign over ritual festivals. I would stand at her side, so small I barely reached her waist, standing on tiptoe to glimpse my father as he moved through the crowds of adoring villagers, never sparing a glance our way.

      My mother died when I was still a girl, only in my eighth summer, the cause a brief illness which had her coughing all throughout the night. I sat at her side, frightened and trying to clutch her hand while a druid healer pressed a jug of water to her lips and a wet cloth to her forehead. I gazed into her distant eyes, hoping to see a love that she had never shown me in life to come through in the moments before her death. Instead, she looked right through me, and with her last breaths she urged me to go fetch my father.

      I want to see him once more before I join the gods, she rasped.

      When I ran from our home to his grand one, the largest in the village, his first wife shooed me away and told me he was on a hunt, not to return until nightfall. By the time I returned, my eyes stinging with tears, my mother was gone, her eyes wide open and unseeing, yet still filled with that eternal sadness.

      My father's attendants moved me into a large roundhouse with a noble woman who would foster me along with several other noble girls; we would all live with her until we were to wed. But the woman was as cold and haughty as my mother had been distant and sad, the other girls cruel and unfriendly, jeering at me for being the daughter of my father’s least favorite wife, the wife everyone in the tribe knew he didn’t care for.

      After the first night there I ran away to return to my old home, still empty before another family moved in, and curled up to sleep before the empty hearth, shivering as cold night air wafted in through the small circular opening in the thatched roof.

      I awoke to find my father standing above me. I scrambled to my feet, my head bowed low in apology and deference, tears stinging

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