Iceni

Chapter 10-3

‘As so often happens with survivors of trauma, his exploration of his feelings opened him up to new levels of awareness and the transformation of his psyche was soon noticed by his fellow Druids. Recognition of his Talents meant my father was recommended for Druidic duties at Vernemetum, and our young family was sent there. My earliest memories are of the great Shrines and Groves in the midlands of Britannia as my father travelled to each, officiating over rituals in every one.’

Lovernios shifted position and he changed his tone, interrupting his narrative with an explanation of the background to his story.

‘You may be unaware, madam, of the layout of holy places beyond the territorial lands of the Iceni. I know you’ve used the Druidic roads, from Insula Mona to the easternmost coast of Britannia, and that you would have taken shelter at various shrines along the routes as and when you needed rest, but such a path wouldn’t reveal the web of sacred sites stretching across Britannia. Insula Mona is a holy place, certainly, because of its strong links with the sacred isle, but it’s the midlands where Druidic power has always been concentrated, and Vernemetum is the most holy of all these places: a great sanctuary preserved only for the Druids, where the Goddess may be approached directly amongst Her oak trees and Her pools of forgetfulness. The boundaries between the layers of worlds are at their very thinnest here, which is why access is so restricted: anyone not sufficiently trained would become lost, perhaps being returned to this world only after many years have passed.’

‘No I didn’t know that, but I am slowly learning that I know less than I thought.’

‘Well, anyway, my father was assigned to Vernemetum and it was there that I grew up. Those were drowsy days when the gold trade was at its peak, flowing healthily through Britannia to the Continent, enriching all whose hands it passed through and providing ample sacrifice to the Goddess to even sate Her thirst for human life. Even the skill in fashioning beauteous things from the gold was transformed amongst our smiths and metalworkers into a religious act in itself.

‘Soon, too soon I remember, I was of an age to be fostered. Even amongst Druids a son may not come into his father’s presence from leaving babyhood until he’s passed puberty, so, like the sons of warriors, I was sent back to my mother’s kin. I remembered then my father’s weeping for my leaving being out of proportion to the tears of other fathers or those of the rest of my family. In hindsight, I can understand it was because I was the second son he was losing.’

‘And you still suspected nothing?’

‘No, nothing! Well, not until later. But I remember how my grandfather received me as if I represented the return of his daughter rather than just a part of her, treating me like a prince and training and protecting me as was due my status. I wanted for nothing. Those days were happy too, although I missed my beautiful mother and the tender songs she’d sing to me before I slept. But I was the son of two Gifted Druids and my own Talents soon became apparent, although I kept them to myself for a few years before I was old enough to realise they were Gifts for the benefit of more than just a naughty boy’s tricks.’

‘So, you’re more like my Grania than you would really care to admit?’

Lovernios laughed before continuing, ‘Two other things happened in that year, I recall. The first is related to the flowering of my Skills and concerns my stillborn brother. I’d always been aware of another presence — a male entity linked with me — although, of course, no one had ever mentioned I’d been one of twins. This must’ve been similar to the intuitive bonding you’ve seen between your own twin girls. When I played I’d invite this male entity to play too and would chatter to him in the same way other children might talk to an imaginary friend. He was a secret, though; I’d sensed strongly I was meant to tell no one about him.

‘My brother was good company for me in Insula Sacra for there were only a few others who shared my Talents and I was still in a strange land. Although my father was unreachable, I felt my mother with me too, but she was fainter. With the help of the tittle-tattle from some slaves about how I’d always been a robust child with a healthy appetite, so much so that twins were revealed as a singlet, I finally made my own deductions. My mother’s presence felt distant because she was physically distant. My brother’s presence didn’t have the same restrictions, because he was not physically manifest. That he was a presence like my mother’s, dissimilar only in s*x and strength, could mean only one thing: this presence was my brother who had died at birth, and he and I had been twins.’

‘How disturbing for you!’

‘Not really. You see, there came a point when my mother’s presence suddenly vanished and my brother’s became very much stronger. I learned then to subsume him within myself and to share my Being in much the same way as you do with the Goddess. It had always been natural to have him with me, a constant source of friendship and wisdom. As the years increased, I noticed the grace and truth in his presence, and I came to understand him as a Manifestation of the Divine: the Young God, Andraste’s consort. It’s only recently, with the gathering of the Druids for this rebellion, that I’ve finally been able to confirm my suspicions.’

‘But I still don’t understand why Cathbad, I mean your father, is now like he is.’

‘Well, the other thing to happen in the year I was sent to my grandfather was, I believe, connected with these things, especially since it preceded my experience of the Young God: it was the return of the Romani.’

‘How?’ Boudicca was extremely puzzled by how these things could be related.

Lovernios explained. ‘Although I was safe in Hibernicus, still we heard of the things being done by the Romani. We heard of their gifts and their money and their luxuries. Wondrous travellers’ tales filtered through of beautiful goods to trade and warm rooms to sit in, of food and plenty and games — we heard it all. We also knew it wouldn’t take the Romani long to covet the Druid gold, and perhaps then for them to come for it even into the depths of the sacred isle itself.’

Boudicca nodded in agreement; the Romani hadn’t been able to resist the lure of the Celtoi gold for long.

‘They were all friendly and open-armed at first, of course. But we knew about such things — how they would try to lull those they wished to conquer. And we knew, too, of their use of Celtoi sacred sites for their own worship. They took Druid trade routes — paths we’ve always walked along where our feet have worn away the grass — and covered them with brick and sand to make their hardened roads and stop the earth from breathing. They carved their straight roads through our sacred land, scoring the earth and cutting Britannia’s flesh.’

Boudicca winced as she too remembered the changes the Romani had made when they came and how she had felt their infrastructure pierce the earth itself.

‘They’d heard of our gold by then, and had been told Vernemetum was the holiest place in the land. So they went there and my father granted them audience. They sat amongst the oak trees and their words were chorused by birdsong. The Romani numbered only a centurion and a few soldiers, and my father brought only my mother to sit with him. Everything was informal, everything polite, there were no threats, everything quite amicable. But no, my father told them, the gold was sacred; it was not for trade, nor for purchase. The Romani couldn’t have the gold. Neither would he tell them where it came from nor where it went. Such information, he told the centurion, was the Goddess’ own secret. Of course, he offered, if they would only stay a while and listen, the Goddess might Bless them with Her own wisdom and then they would understand for themselves.’

Boudicca could feel tears come to her eyes. The story Lovernios was telling her was so very tragic: she knew how the Romani were going to respond before he told her; she had already seen enough of their nature to know that they would not even try to comprehend such an alien concept.

Lovernios continued, his voice catching as he too, sought to control his emotion. ‘My father could tell that the Goddess’ presence, emanating from Her most sacred place, was starting to pervade even into the dense armour of these Romani. Certainly the soldiers had shuffled nervously and kept glancing around at every raven call, but gradually they’d calmed. My mother, too, had made them welcome, serving them with fresh water and fruits and nuts from the forests. She was a Celtoi princess first, remember, before ever she’d become Druid, and she knew the hospitality due from one royal family to another. She’d also missed the attention from the brave warriors and champions of her father’s court in her younger days. She saw in these Romani, perhaps, an opportunity to relive some of the attention she’d received before she went to live amongst the Druids. So she prepared for the meeting by unbinding her black hair and bedecking her pale skin with the finest gold. She was still rightly proud of a beauty which had refused to fade despite a difficult labour and the years that had passed since.’

Boudicca closed her eyes. She was willing Lovernios to stop, afraid of how his story was unfolding, aware of the fear that was reawakening in herself.

Lovernios spoke more slowly now; it was getting difficult for him to recount his story. ‘Like any Celtoi woman she held herself with pride, using her bearing to display her looks. My father, proud to have her as his wife, encouraged this boasting, pointing out to the Romani how soft her features were, how shiny her hair, how white her teeth. The same had been done by countless Celtoi couples before, had it not? Wasn’t it natural to boast of the things of which one was proud?’

Boudicca nodded. Yes, in Celtoi society this was acceptable behaviour. In Celtoi society only.

‘My father had misjudged the Romani in several ways. They’re not open to the sense of the Divine, as we are. The Goddess was all around them, a powerful feminine force, but all the Romani knew about it was their own arousal. Here before them was a man seemingly teasing them by thrusting his woman before them. Didn’t he know that Romani soldiers were not allowed to marry?

‘All thought of gold seemed to vanish then as the centurion himself was overcome by his desire. Romani men, as you know, madam — and it is for this part of the tale that I’ve prevented myself from ever mentioning my background before — Romani men don’t have the same control over their urges as Celtoi do. We’re not starved of physical love because there’s no shame in any part of it. For the Romani there is. They did the unthinkable, perpetrated the unspeakable crime upon my mother.’

Boudicca clenched his hand tightly as he confirmed in words what his manner had already betrayed.

‘My father was too shocked to respond, not appreciating what was going on and then unable to move because he was pinned to the ground. They all took their turn with Annis — the centurion made sure of it, not wanting, I presume, to be the only one to be tainted with such a crime.’