"Thank you, Captain," she said. "We have had a cask taken to your men. I made it myself, three years ago. My name is Boadicea."
"Boadicea?" said the captain in astonishment.
"No, no, Captain!" the headman said hurriedly. "She's joking—her name is Flavia; the other is the name she takes for herself. I apologize for her."
"It is not a joke," she said. "Boadicea is my heroine and I have taken her name. I don't like the name Flavia—it's Roman. Do I look like a Roman to you, Captain?"
"You look very beautiful," the captain said, laughing, "and there is no need for apology. I admire Boadicea myself; she very nearly drove Caesar's men into the sea. It was a long time ago." He drained his wine cup. "A long, long time ago."
"But we have not forgotten her, Captain," the girl said, filling his cup again.
"You insult our honored guest, girl!" her grandfather said. "Go to bed!"
"No, I beg you—please don't send her to bed," said the captain. "I'm not in the least insulted. After all, it's ancient history now. I don't think people think of us as conquerors any more. We are protectors. While we are here, the Picts stay where they belong, and the Scots, too."
"The Picts say they used to live hereabouts," said the girl.
"The Picts say, the Picts say! What do you know of what they say?" asked her grandfather.