28. Boudica in Dublin (5 pgs.) – Champions Renaissance

ACT I - CHAPTER 28

BOUDICA IN DUBLIN

Saturday May 12, 2018

Croke Park Stadium

Dublin Ireland

That weekend, Alexandre travelled with the France team to Dublin to prepare for the World Cup. It was a friendly match with Ireland, who had not qualified. As always, he wore Boris’s T-shirt under his team shirt. The gallery of the stadium was green, the same colour as the Irish team’s shirts. They had won the first half one to zero.

“Guys, we have to turn the game around! We have to score more and watch the counterattack! Dubois, find Alexandre in the middle! Abebe, watch Snowell’s entries!” the coach shouted in the locker room, while outside the crowd roared “Will Grigg’s on Fire,” a popular song in Ireland.

In the second half, Ireland scored again early. Alexandre’s team played defensively, but ten minutes before the end, a teammate scored with a header from a corner. They attacked hard in the last few minutes, trying to tie, but lost two to one. At the press conference, the coach said the team was improving and that the bad results were part of the process.

Back at the Walker Shell Hotel, in central Dublin, Alexandre met Victoria and Francisca at the bar. Outside, Irish fans were still singing. After a while, they decided to go to Temple Bar by taxi.

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“Oh, please, give me your autograph, Alexandre!” an Irish girl said. They took selfies with other fans. The crowd made it hard to leave the hotel and reach the taxi.

“Let’s go to Temple Bar,” Alexandre told the driver as they moved through the crowd.

When they arrived, he pulled up his hood and put on his sunglasses. Victoria and Francisca wore jeans and T-shirts.

The taxi driver had dropped them at The Pendragon’s bar.

Before entering, they saw a group of Irish fans still singing and drinking beer in green shirts.

“We’ve never been to Temple Bar,” Victoria told Alexandre.

“I love Irish music,” Francisca said.

“Me too. Two blocks away is The Merlin’s Bar. A great band is playing tonight. Let’s go there!” Alexandre said.

“Have you been here before?” Francisca asked with a mischievous smile.

“Yes, with Ronald, a couple of years ago. Vacation! A few weeks later I met Victoria.”

“Irish music makes me happy. I can’t sit still when I hear it,” Victoria said, looking at Francisca.

“Me neither. I love Dublin!” Francisca said. She thought of someone else, somewhere else. Maybe I can love you. Her fear of falling in love was starting to fade.

They ate sandwiches, listened to music, and drank beer. When the band changed, they didn’t like it and left to find another place. After visiting several bars, they entered The Merlin’s Bar. They loved the live music.

“This way,” a student waitress said when they entered. The place wasn’t full yet.

“The music’s great!” Alexandre said.

“You haven’t heard anything yet. Later, the best group in Ireland will play,” the waitress said.

“Lucky! Do you have a table near the stage?” Victoria asked.

“They’re reserved, but I think there’s one left,” she said, leading them to a small table a few meters from the stage.

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“It’s perfect! Bring us beer!” Alexandre said, and the waitress left with their order.

The band had two men and a woman. She played the violin. One man sang and played guitar; the other beat rhythm on a large box he sat on.

The place was full of Irish joy. They clapped with the rhythm. Alexandre looked at Victoria. She seemed a Viking in her land. He looked at Francisca, with her long curly red hair, reminding him of Boudica, the Celtic heroine whose name meant victory.

The pub walls were covered with posters. One told Boudica’s story. She had led the Celtic tribes against ancient Rome. Alexandre remembered Boris once saying that Franco Gambino descended from Roman politicians.

The poster showed Boudica as tall, fierce-eyed, red-haired, and noble, wearing a thick gold necklace, a Celtic sign of aristocracy.

When her husband, the king, died, Roman law denied her inheritance. Rome annexed her kingdom, seized her property, and enslaved her nobles. They whipped Boudica and raped her daughters, unleashing her fury. She united her neighbours and, inspired by Celts who had once defeated Julius Caesar, burned Londinium, later called London, and massacred its people.

Gaius Suetonius Paulinus, Rome’s governor in Britain, couldn’t defend Londinium because he was in Wales chasing the Druids, the Celts’ true power. Alexandre read this while watching Victoria and Francisca dance.

When Paulinus returned, both armies met at the Battle of Watling Street. Boudica’s forces, though five times larger, lacked discipline. The Celts brought children, women, and elders to battle.

The Roman army’s discipline and tactics crushed them. The British Celts were trapped between two steep hills. Forty thousand died, crushed or slain. The Romans spared no one, not even pregnant women. Boudica took poison to avoid capture; her daughters vanished forever.

The pub was now wild with dancing. Alexandre touched his pocket. Boris’s GPS and pencil were still there. He looked at Victoria and Francisca, sighed, and thought, I hope an Armageddon doesn’t happen in Russia.

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For Rome, men and women were not equals. For the Celts, they were. Francisca and Victoria carry Boudica’s story in their blood, he thought. The Irish music fuelled the fire in their veins and drew them close, to each other and to him. They looked, laughed, and danced.

“I think Alexandre deserves a gift,” Francisca whispered to Victoria with a mischievous smile.

“What gift?”

“I’ll tell you later. I just had an idea,” she said, glancing at an Irish woman walking by in jeans and red boots.

“What idea?” Victoria insisted.

“Red boots!” Francisca said.

“Red boots? What’s that?”

“No. Let me get the details, then I’ll tell you. I love you,” she said and kissed her cheek.

“I love you too, my protective goddess and friend,” Victoria said, kissing her back. They both kissed their diamond tetrahedrons. Alexandre saw them and raised an eyebrow. Once again, he felt elated and grateful to be alive.

Victoria noticed his gaze, tender and full of desire, like a man in love with his future wife. She was moved.

“I love you,” she said and kissed his mouth, keeping the rhythm with her legs. Some people were already dancing on the tables. Francisca joined them. Merlin’s Bar was a time bomb waiting to explode.

Alexandre felt that the two warrior women, like Boudica, shared the meaning of the tetrahedron: natural reality. Their glow made them even more beautiful.

Then the music stopped. The musicians left, and others came, the famous Irish band the waitress had mentioned. These? Alexandre thought, unimpressed. The new band had a pretty redhead on violin, a man on accordion, another on guitar, and a teenager on tambourine.

When they began, the bar erupted. The music was pure joy. People jumped and shouted. Alexandre and the women joined, clapping and spinning.

He danced between Victoria and Francisca. They hugged, let go, and hugged again. They linked arms and twirled like Irish dancers.

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As they danced, the ancestors in their blood celebrated Samhain, the Celtic New Year that Boudica once celebrated.

They danced all night. When the sun rose, they took a taxi back to the hotel. Alexandre thought, I still have work ahead for the next meeting.

When they got out, Francisca stayed inside.

“But how! Aren’t you coming?” Victoria asked.

“No. I must travel to London to meet my father. He texted while we were dancing. I’ve never seen him so worried. He wants to talk about something urgent.”

“Did something happen to him?”

“No. He said he’s fine but needs to see me now. I really enjoyed tonight. I’ll never forget it. I love you,” she said and went to the airport.

He and Victoria went up to their room.

“Why do I love that woman so much?” Victoria said.

“She’s adorable, right?” Alexandre said.

“Yes, she has both of us under her spell,” she said.

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