deep sound of a conch rose in the air. The queen and her daughters
at once moved forward, followed by the four female chiefs, behind
whom came the rest in a body. Issuing from the forest they advanced
to the sacred oak and stood in an attitude of deep respect, while
the chief Druid announced the decision of the gods.

"The gods have spoken," he said. "Too long have the Iceni stood
aloof from their countrymen, therefore have the gods withdrawn
their faces from them; therefore has punishment and woe fallen upon
them. Prasutagus is dead; his queen and his daughters have suffered
the direst indignities; a Roman has seized the wealth heaped up
by inglorious cowardice. But the moment has come; the gods have
suffered their own altars to be desecrated in order that over the
whole length and breadth of the land the cry for vengeance shall
arise simultaneously. The cup is full; vengeance is at hand upon
the oppressors and tyrants, the land reeks with British blood. Not
content with grasping our possessions, our lives and the honour
of our women are held as nought by them, our altars are cold, our
priests slaughtered. The hour of vengeance is at hand. I see the
smoke of burning cities ascending in the air. I hear the groans of
countless victims to British vengeance. I see broken legions and
flying men.

"To arms! the gods have spoken. Strike for vengeance. Strike for
the gods. Strike for your country and outraged queen. Chiefs of
the Iceni, to arms! May the curse of the gods fall upon an enemy
who draws back in the day of battle! May the gods give strength to
your arms and render you invincible in battle! The gods have spoken."

A mighty shout was raised by his hearers; swords were brandished,