The Mindwalk Pavilion

20211104

A coronation is an occasion of pomp and ceremony, and serves to delineate the power and importance of the new monarch. Stiff formality governed every action of the event. Naturally every member of Council wore their finest clothing, and if their inclination turned that way, their outward trappings of wealth and position. Fine furs and ostentatious jewellery were much in evidence.

There were many others there besides of course, including representatives of all the major towns. Ambassadors from various of the courts of Europe naturally attended. Foremost of these was Giordano Palladio, who represented Pater Patrum Giovanni Archinto of Rome.

Pater Palladio had been trying to convert Queen Mary to Mithraism. Following her marriage to Fernando Lucius de Moncloa the Proconsul of Iberia who was himself a Pater or 'Father', it was assumed, at least by Fernando, that she should convert to acknowledge Mithras as God. Naturally being a woman she could have no part in celebrating the Mysteries.

Mary's untimely death following a still birth that had lasted many hours, had put an end to this notion with a finality that even the 'Father of Fathers', Pater Patrum Archinto could not argue with. Naturally those in Rome were extremely interested to know who had succeeded Mary, and Bridget had every confidence that Palladio would be sending letters informing them before the night had passed, if indeed at least some note were not already on its way.

Bridget herself of course held no status, and would not have been at the heart of things except for Boudica's absolute insistence. Bridget knew that her presence irritated certain people, it was obvious from how they looked at, or rather, looked down upon her. Of course technically everybody looked down on her, but for most that was simply a matter of being taller.

Largely Bridget was ignored by the Llewellyns, with Madoc Llewellyn as a notable exception. Madoc was physically a great bear of a man, and his passion was for hunting and farming. Because of this he seemed content to let Morwenna spend her energies on Council business whilst he was largely working his estates. He had some considerable skill in healing, though usually this was used on farm animals. As a consequence his manner was calm and gentle. He greeted Bridget very civilly.

The ceremony dragged on through the morning, which was bright and cold. Finally Boudica crowned. As was traditional, this was by the eldest member of Council, Edward Carrick. He declared her to be Queen of Greater and Lesser Albion, in effect of all the Celtic peoples. Every member of the Council then swore loyalty to their new Queen. Bridget was of the opinion that this was with varying degrees of hypocrisy on some parts.

There was a feast after the coronation. This was officially in the great hall of the castle, though the celebrations spilled out to the courtyards. Most took the opportunity to eat and drink heartily, the wintery chill putting an edge to their appetites. Boudica was attended by a steady stream of dignities who wished to make themselves known to her. Bridget hovered nearby, wishing that she could be of some help to her friend.

When Boudica caught her eye and waved her over, characteristically she was concerned that Bridget was alright. She pointed out a small group standing near one of the fires.

"See, there, Sir Francis Drake is with Mr. Peters and Dr Dee, why don't you go and join them?" The implication being that they would look after Bridget whilst Boudica couldn't. Bridget reached up, and Boudica hugged her tightly.

"I will see you later I promise."

Francis Drake bowed as Bridget approached. In his early forties, weathered, but still handsome, Drake was an occasional member of the new Queen's confidants, as his time ashore allowed. It was natural that he and Dee should get on, with both having a deep interest in map making. Drake supplied Dee with data for new maps, and Dee shared with Drake the maps and charts he accumulated during his travels across Europe. Dee also maintained a wide correspondence with other scholars, and sometimes provided Drake with very valuable intelligence.

"Bridget, always a pleasure to see you. Here come closer to the fire, its a chilly night." Drake then insisted on sending a servant to fetch her some food and further insisted that she had some mulled wine to warm her.

Unsurprisingly Dee and Peters were in high spirits. With Boudica as Queen some of their ideas might now reach fruition. Bridget listened as they discussed universal education and what should be taught to all children. Drake was listening politely more than he contributed, apprenticed at a young age to a neighbour who carried out a lively coastal trade, most of Drake's education had been of a practical sailing nature aboard a barque. When he politely reminded the others of this, it led to a tangential discussion about education of a technical nature, and how book learning should not be their only aim.

Bridget continued to watch Boudica, and it seemed that the steady stream of people wishing to converse with her was showing no sign of abatement. Looking about, Bridget saw that she was not the only one observing Boudica. Dafydd Morus was sitting at a table surrounded by others, yet taking no part in their conversations or occasional laughter. His attention was fixed as usual on Boudica, though Bridget noticed that he not infrequently summoned a servant to fetch more drink.


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Pawl Llewellyn was in conversation with his aunt. That is to say that he was listening whilst Morwenna was talking. Not that he found what she was saying at all disagreeable.

"You should be King Pawl, it is intolerable that yet another Tudor should now have the throne for another three years. You must prepare hard to challenge her. As soon as the period of grace is over you must be ready to challenge her, and to take the throne from her."

"Yes Aunt Morwenna."

"Unless of course..." Morwenna looked off into the middle distance.

"Unless she becomes incapable of ruling before the grace period has ended. I believe there is a precedent for an earlier challenge in such circumstances."

Pawl frowned a little,

"I don't see that being very likely, she young and strong, and is of sound mind and in good health." Privately Pawl not for the first time entertained some decidedly agreeable fantasies about putting Boudica's body to good use. He would show her her place, and make her pay for belittling him in front of everyone.

Morwenna leaned forwards and stroked his face tenderly.

"You are not listening Pawly."

Only his aunt now used the childish name of his infancy. Pawl hated it, but it was not possible even to express his dislike. Morwenna did not like to be contradicted, or corrected.

"Sorry Aunt Morwenna."

"Very well. As I was saying, perhaps you could find some means to disturb the balance of her mind."

Pawl sat up straight.

"I could?" he asked

"You know her well. You know her weaknesses."

"I could kill that bloody dwarf of hers."

Morwenna's gaze swept around the hall till she espied Bridget, tucked in close to Francis Drake.

"Yes." she drawled thoughtfully, as she considered the idea.

"But unless it was clearly an accident I suspect Boudica would not rest till she found who had killed her, and you know there are those who can talk with the shades of the dead. There would be dire consequences I feel."

She paused, her eyes still roaming the hall.

"No, I don't think that would be advisable. Perhaps after Boudica has been rendered harmless you can indulge yourself."

Then she looked directly at Pawl once more.

"In these matters, it is advisable to act through others, on whom any blame will then fall should things become unpleasant."

She pointed a finger, and Pawl looked across to where Dafydd Morus slumped over a table.

"Poor Dafydd." she whispered, "Now Boudica is Queen, and he will never be her King will he?"

Pawl gave his aunt a thin smile.

"Why Aunt Morwenna, I do believe you are right. Perhaps I should console him."

"Yes Pawly, I think that you should."


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Pushing his way through the milling revellers, Pawl made his way to where Dafydd sat. He pulled the young man next to Dafydd to his feet, smiled at his and said,

"Excuse me, I want to talk to my friend, do be a good fellow and find somewhere else to sit." Though his words were politeness itself, they were delivered in a tone so menacing that the youth blanched, and recognising who was addressing him, mumbled a platitude and left quickly.

"Dafydd." Pawl threw one arm across Dafydd's shoulders, beckoning a servant with the other to pour more beer into his companion's cup.

Dafydd regarded Pawl suspiciously through bloodshot eyes, his face was flushed and he was clearly maudlin drunk. Despite this he was wary of Pawl being friendly, it usually meant he was planning something unpleasant. Dafydd had suffered several memorable beatings as a result of Pawl making some friendly suggestion.

"What do you want?" Drink lent him an inadvisable bravado.

"Nothing, nothing, why should I want anything?" Pawl said soothingly. "Come on, lets toast our new Queen."

Pawl raised his mug and intoned "Queen Boudica, long may she reign."

As this sort of thing had already been done a multitude of times during the evening, Pawl's toast was echoed by several around him, and Dafydd joined in, adding a loud "Long live the Queen" that was taken up by many, including Pawl.

"Yah! Long live the Queen." Pawl repeated conspiratorially, pulling Dafydd's head close to his and ignoring his stinking breath.

"You know, I bet it won't be long before we have another feast."

"Huh? What do you mean?" Dafydd slurred.

"Bound to be isn't there, to celebrate her marriage."

Dafydd's face clouded.

"She ain't going to marry anyone. Who's she going to marry?" His voice rose a little and Pawl's voice was honeyed as he replied.

"It stands to reason, now she's Queen, there'll be lots of suitors for her. Being Queen, and a very comely one at that. Going to be lots of suitors."

Dafydd considered this as he took another large swallow of beer. Pawl silently signalled for the man's mug to be refilled.

"Some of them might be Kings or Princes." Pawl continued, "Mary married that Proconsul. 'S not a King, but pretty bloody close, he rules all of Iberia he does." Deliberately Pawl used his words and tone to sound equally inebriated, presenting himself as a fellow drinker discussing the world about them.

Dafydd scowled.

"Fucking kings. She. She deserves better than them."

"Course she does, course she does." Pawl nudged Dafydd along. "Needs one of us for a start. You know, one of her own kind, not some bloody foreigner." He found that he was enjoying his role greatly.

"Yah!" Dafydd was in complete agreement with this sentiment.

"Course, they'd have to move quickly, before the bloody foreigners get in. Bet they'll be lining up to get in and marry her tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Pretty bloody quickly I'll wager, come round sniffing looking to marry her and fuck her silly." Pawl's comment was very calculated, and he could see it hit home.

"On account of wanting an heir, always after having an heir them foreign kings."

Dafydd swore and stared over at Boudica, who was at that moment receiving the attention of Pater Giordano Palladio once more. Dafydd wasn't close enough to see how tired she looked.

"See what I mean, that that ambassador that is, bet he's lining her up for a baby making machine for one of them foreign kings right now."

Dafydd made to stand and Pawl quickly hauled him back into his seat.

"Don't make a scene Dafydd, that won't do no good. It'll upset her and everyone that will."

Dafydd struggled in Pawl's grasp momentarily, then slumped.

"What you want to do is. Whatcha want to do is to see her on her own, after all this circus is finished." Pawl's arm waved to indicate the circus included everyone else there but them.

"Go talk to her, make her see she needs one of us, not some bloody foreign king. tell her. Tell her not to make the same mistake Mary made. Make her see some bloody sense, learn her to marry one of us."

Dafydd listened carefully, reddened eyes fixed on Pawl's mouth. Pawl hoped that Dafydd was not too drunk. His efforts would be wasted if the man just fell asleep. Best to get him some air Pawl thought.

"Come on." Pulling Dafydd up from his seat, "I need a piss, lets find a wall outside."


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The evening seemed interminable, and the sky was a pre-dawn grey when Boudica was finally able to extract herself from the well wishers and supplicants. Finding Bridget half asleep next to a snoring Drake, she shook her gently and the two women made their way to Boudica's private chambers.

Pawl had been watching Boudica closely, now he roused Dafydd, who he'd been with some difficulty maintaining at a suitable simmering anger all night.

"She's going to her chambers Dafydd, now's the time to go tell her, learn her that you don't want her marrying no foreign king."

Dafydd blinked furiously, as he struggled to comprehend, then he nodded briefly and staggered off. Pawl watched him go, then left to make some arrangements.

Word count: 2,258