Fight on

So that is it. The battle is won and the good triumph. And so let it stay. I will be glad, glad indeed, to see an end of this merciless slaying. I am glad. I will have my husband home again, by my side, and may he never draw his sword again.1

But alas, I am sure that it will not be so. Soon there will be murmurs that sweep through the land, as before. Soon my man will be strapping on his armour with the rest of them. I detest this.2

If only I could ride out with him... I would be overjoyed even to die, if it is at his side. I could wield a sword! I can swim, ride, cook. I should be invaluable to an army. It has been done before - think on Boudicca, in times past. Did they tell her she was immoral, think you? No! She was their very life and soul. 3

No! I am a woman, and it is 'immoral' for a woman to fight. I do not have opinions, feelings. We are a prize, a pretty thing to lighten the household. We will stay at home and provide heirs, and sew, and walk in our fairy flower gardens, and sing, dance, laugh. And I must do just that. 4

And already I carry a child. So I vow this: Whether my babe be a boy or girl I will teach it to fight, aye, and to win. My line will learn. We will have a new freedom!5