Iceni

Chapter 1-2

‘It’s going to take me longer than this brief walking distance home to tell you everything.’

Boudicca sighed. ‘I may regret asking, but try me.’

‘Well, they pushed over Deirdre’s cooking cauldron whilst they were returning an amphorae of wine “to its rightful owners”, and spilt the pottage. The slaves I set to clearing it up and giving it to the pigs discovered that one of the piglets was missing from the sty and replaced only by hobnail boot prints...’

‘Try me on the things of slightly more importance.’

‘When the gates were opened this morning there were another five refugees seeking asylum. They’re kinsfolk from the hamlet at Camboritum. Were from there anyway, and were also most put out at having to walk here. Their horses, livestock and people were taken and their crops trampled, so all that remains are the Lady, her two husbands and their children.’

‘The Romani’s “appropriation” is so close?’

‘Indeed, mother mine, the Romani here sneered when they saw them and jeered that it served them right for not paying their debts and taxes and that they’d make a good lesson for us. I’ve put the Lady and her children in the main hut where they await an audience with you. I’ve had to put her menfolk to work for they were fidgeting with agitation. The Romani have put the price of grain up twice since sun up and have searched the forge for weapons again.’

‘That’s the third occasion this quarter! When are they going to notice that forge never makes anything? A good lesson in not only using your eyes to see.’

Grania ignored her mother’s dig, ‘Well, while they’re busy hassling the smith, they’re not hassling elsewhere. Oh, and Naoise had his torc taken by a Romani who thought it would make a pretty bauble, so I’ve set Teirnon to make new torcs for him and the kinsfolk from Camboritum. And last, but who am I to say, least? Maeve had a dream last night that she had a hundred lovers, but Maeve being Maeve, didn’t delight in it and found it all rather disturbing. She wants to see you.’

Boudicca gave Grania another reddening look. ‘I’ll deal with the Lady from Camboritum first.’ The two women had already passed through the massive timber gates of the palisade and were now holding up their thick skirts and picking their way through the midden and mud paths running between the smaller dwelling huts.

Boudicca swept open the heavy cloth which served to keep out most of the draught and strode into the gloom of the huge main round hut. It took a while for her eyes to accustom themselves to the dark; she used the precious moments to hold herself regally, making her presence known. Shreds of grey light penetrated through the wattle and daub and through tiny bald patches in the thatch. The Lady had been provided with hay, furs and blankets and several small oil lamps which gave off a smoky faint light. Although her two toddlers rolled around in the hay with wooden swords, oblivious to Boudicca, the Lady had approached immediately and was kneeling with her palms upon Boudicca’s stomach and her head down.

‘Get up, Sister-mine,’ Boudicca gently ordered the Lady, then quickly asked, ‘Did you get the Goddess’ trade tokens out?’ The Lady nodded. ‘Good. Fetch them. We must be quick in hiding them.’

The Lady beckoned her over to a pile of rags and soiled cloths, bundled and tied to look like rapidly gathered possessions. She used the pin of her brooch to unpick the knots and pulled back the coverings to reveal a pile of dull gold bars which gleamed with ancient swirls and etchings.

‘You’ve done well,’ Boudicca approved, nodding to the Lady as she checked over what had been revealed.

‘The hardest part was carrying them so they appeared to be light, madam.’

‘Rub them with earth and help me insert them in the thatch. The Keeper will be here this evening to take them on.’ Boudicca groaned as she stood. The Lady steadied her; Boudicca smiled weakly and quickly started to secrete the muddied gold in the thatch. ‘It’s only my menses. The cramps will pass by the end of the day, it’s only just the dark of the moon and I wasn’t expecting them so soon. I wonder what has set them off this early? They’ve been a trouble all my life, I thought that would pass with the birth of my daughters but they’ve become even more of a burden since Prasutagus died and seem to be quite random. Do you have some moss with which I might gather the flow?’

Having climbed upon the sleeping platform, which ran around the inner circumference of the hut, to conceal the gold, Boudicca settled down upon the furs and gestured for the Lady to join her. A mewling toddler crept upon her lap and dangled over her knee. Boudicca stroked the child’s head.

‘I always regretted never having any more,’ Boudicca sighed. ‘I would’ve liked to have had at least one son to remind me of our love.’ The Lady nodded in quiet sympathy. Boudicca relaxed, trying to ease the Lady into informality where she could feel able to talk without first being spoken to. ‘So, tell me what happened.’

The Lady sat very still, then started rocking gently. ‘They came in the dead of night, with torches and swords and greed in their eyes. They read some document to us which they claimed had my father’s mark upon it, agreeing to a loan. But they spoke fast, in their legal Latin, and when we didn’t respond because we were half bleary with sleep, they started to destroy us. They had dogs and chains and they rounded up anyone who could still walk and set collars around their necks in long lines of servitude. They killed the old and the infirm and a babe at her mother’s breast. They defecated upon the Goddess’ shrine and urinated in Her well, trampled our corn, broke our pots, gorged themselves upon our food, stole our torcs. Then they claimed the land was theirs, the very earth, which I don’t understand.

‘The strangest thing is, I still don’t know why. My father accepted the ‘Grantus’ their Claudius-god made and we invested it back in the land as they instructed us. That was way back, before I became a woman, this sum is much greater and we’d never borrow. That’s the only link, but how can there be a connection?’ She spoke in rote as if she was talking about something that had happened a long while ago to someone else. Then she was quiet, still rocking.

Boudicca reached out a gentle hand to her. ‘I can only promise you sanctuary here, not safety. You know that, don’t you? We’re experiencing almost as much extortion ourselves; I’ve even started to wonder if we weren’t better off when we warred with the Catuvellauni deep south of the forest. At least we understood the rules of combat then. I’m sorry to be so pessimistic. You may stay here as long as you like, as long as you are able. Set your husbands to building you a hut, be welcome back to your family no matter how distant your blood tie and...’

‘Mother?’ A gush of wind set the lamps wavering and a shaft of light transfixed them. ‘Come now, very quickly, please.’

Boudicca knew that tone. She patted the Lady reassuringly and followed her daughter. Grania pointed out of the enclosure, past the stockades and pens, across the fields. There in the dim morning light she could just make out a mass of movement, many people, with here and there the glint of armour and the faint trill of war trumpets.

‘Romani. A war host approaches. What of the Romani camped here?’

‘They’ve tidied themselves up and armoured themselves. Equipment has been washed and polished. Swords and daggers sharpened. The white robed ones have been writing feverously. Are they the same Romani, then?’

‘They’re always the same Romani. Despite their different skins, their different names and tongues. That’s why they fight us. It’s unhealthy for a tribe to be so big, they have to travel a long way to find someone to raid.’

As Boudicca watched, the regular tramp of marching men increased. ‘They come for their inheritance. I readied it several turns of the moon ago and left it in the temple.’

Boudicca turned and strode away purposefully, Grania jogging to keep up. They approached the only rectangular building in the enclosure. At the door stood a willowy young woman dressed in blue, with a woad moon painted over her face. She wore a wistful expression and an unfocused stare in the vague direction of the approaching army. A young warrior stood by her offering a string of beads with a puppy’s adoration. She was ignoring him, but not spitefully.

‘Hag Herself! The moon struck and the love struck.’ Grania spat and stomped off round the corner where she could see the enclosure gates without having to watch those at the temple door.

Boudicca registered her daughter’s wrath. Jealousy? Grania was old enough to choose whom to couple with and mature enough not to need to tie a man to her. Boudicca suspected, with a mother’s insight, that despite Grania’s bravado, there had not been that many couplings. She often forgot how young and inexperienced her two daughters really were. It didn’t matter. Right now she needed both of them, so she set about getting rid of what she perceived to be the cause of the trouble as painlessly as she could.

She recognised the young man as Rochad, a warrior noble in foster to their house. He should be used to giving orders, or should at least be learning to do so, so she directed him to join the other warriors. ‘Tell them not to arm themselves. Lime your hair and paint your bodies by all means — look as ferocious as possible. We don’t know what the Romani’s intentions are yet and I want to keep some things secret for now. We may be able to pay them off, that’s what I intend and there’s no need for them to threaten a client kingdom that has so far brought them little trouble in proportion to its wealth. Just stand together and look strong and confident. Gather in everyone from the fields and be vigilant. Remember you’re Iceni; you’ve reason to be proud and brave.’

‘Maeve,’ she turned to her silent daughter. ‘I need the things I set aside from your father now.’ Maeve nodded and pulled her gently into the temple and over to an oak chest. ‘We need to take it to the gates. I will need your help.’

Maeve nodded but did not move to lift the chest. ‘I have dreams, mother-mine, where unspoken things entwine and strangle my secretest places. I still work at their meanings. I still struggle to read these alien minds which have so little emotion.’

Boudicca suspected that Maeve’s powers had heightened suddenly at the onset of puberty, as hers once had. She remembered how frightening the increased awareness and visitations had been and chided herself for not being there for her daughter. She really had been too wrapped up in her own black despair for too long. ‘Don’t force it,’ she advised gently. ‘Their reason stirs too few feelings to make a Scryable imprint. You’d exhaust yourself in trying. Now, Maeve, I really must have this chest moved to the gates.’

Together they hauled it outside the temple, then Grania took over from Maeve. The two stockier women lifted it easily to the gates of the palisade. Maeve brought furs and arranged them for the three of them to sit and await the Romani. Boudicca opened the chest and brought forth her husband’s personal belongings. They were all here.

Between the two of them, Boudicca and Prasutagus had devised a Will which left half of his personal possessions to the Romani. She could remember their counsel together and the plan he had wheezed out with the intention of bribing the god the Romani called ‘Emperor’, so their kingdom might be left in peace. Peace was costly now, there were so many taxes and tributes which cancelled out the benefits of having leisure to sow and reap and breed. They had both felt certain this gesture would be interpreted as a generous gift from a people who could no longer really afford to make it, both of them being acutely aware of how much the legendary Iceni wealth had dwindled in the two generations since the Romani came. Certainly the Romani scribes had smiled encouragingly and rubbed their hands together when Prasutagus had finally set his mark to the document they had drawn up.