Iceni

Chapter 10-4

Boudicca felt sickened by his story, reliving again what she had seen done to her own daughters.

‘But they hadn’t stopped my father’s mouth. Silently he spoke the Spell to release the barriers between worlds, so easy to do in such a place where the boundaries were already veil thin. He felt the shift in consciousness; the Romani did not.

‘When the Romani had finished and had straightened out their cloth skirts and smartened their armour, they turned and ran, like the cowards they were, into the trees. My mother lay breathing heavily, battered and confused, and wondering why her husband didn’t rush to comfort her, but my father delayed casting a Healing upon her. Listening first for his revenge, he heard the Romani charge into the Grove of oak trees, penetrating deeper into the layers of worlds between worlds until their footfalls and shouts faded to nothing. They were lost, he knew, for eternity, and no benign spirit would ever offer guidance to their wandering.’

Boudicca could not help but smile a little at the thought of such rapid and apt revenge, but then Lovernios reminded her of where his father had been less attentive.

‘My father should have cared to my mother first, but he delayed too long. Whilst he paused, savouring his triumph, she’d pulled herself up and instantly understood what had happened. She noticed my father, too absorbed in his own emotions to come to her, and my mother panicked then and dashed into the trees, too quick for my father to close the portals. She was gone, tearing through the trees, running blind through the forests.’

Boudicca was close to tears now with the sheer tragedy of what Lovernios’ poor mother had been through. She desperately wanted to hug and comfort Lovernios, but she held back, sensing that he still had more to tell.

‘Cathbad followed her for days — even whole turns of the moon — wandering aimlessly, looking for his lost wife. He continued to grieve, whilst he searched, for the death of his stillborn child; although one, me, still remained, separated from him only by distance. He had plenty of opportunities to think on his mistakes and to consider whether his wife’s sudden grief might not have panicked her into headlong flight had she been allowed to mourn her stillborn child. Or, indeed, had it been the half-forgotten memories of two babes birthed which had pushed her into madness? He formulated, too, his present Teachings on the Romani, apparently flitting at first from abject hatred to complete indifference. He concluded, as I’ve told you, that the Romani should not be fought, but pitied and brought to the fullest awareness of Celtoi spirituality as is possible only by sharing our holy places with them. Too many others had tried to defeat them with physical strength and most of them were dead, my father reasoned, whereas he had submitted to the Romani and was alive, having defeated them in his own way.’

Boudicca shook her head. ‘He’s wrong,’ she whispered. ‘He must be wrong. Did neither of you ever see Annis again, then?’

‘Yes, he saw her again; he still sees her in fact, once or twice a year, always fleetingly through the trees, sipping from a pool of water or scavenging for food. Raven and crow call always precede her appearance, and over the years he’s noticed she’s transformed into a savage hag with long nails and blue skin. He still returns, year after year, hoping the boundaries will be at their thinnest between our world and hers if he returns during the same season he lost her. He hopes he might transport her back to be his wife once more.’

‘Have you ever seen her? What about any one else?’

‘Oh, he’s certainly not the only one to have seen her. The local folk call her Black Annis. They blame her teeth and nails whenever one of their lambs goes missing and tell stories to frighten their children of her blood soaked cave lined with the skins of babes who stay out playing too late.’

‘But it’s not true, is it? Just stories to frighten little ones, surely.’

Lovernios shrugged. ‘That’s what they say.’

‘So your father has changed Druidic policy as a result of this, as a result of his ‘feelings’?’ Boudicca was incredulous.

Lovernios nodded in agreement. ‘It was my father who issued the guidance that Celtoi gold should not go to the Romani, though, seeking to preserve at least some of the Druidic power. When I came into my own Skills and realised I wanted to train to be a Druid, I began to feel most strongly that these Romani should be ejected from our lands, forcibly if necessary. The younger members of the community felt the same. It was a while before I came to understand that the same man who argued most forcibly against my ideas was also my father. I managed to unravel this story bit by bit to help me comprehend not just what he believes, but why.’

‘Which is?’

‘He believes the Goddess will prevail above all. I agree with him. She will, but in what form? Would their religion be identifiable as that of the Celtoi? I believe our worship should continue as it is, as it has been pleasing to the Divine for so many generations. Our ways are sacred, our places holy. We shouldn’t risk losing our accumulated wisdom of the ages, because it might never be regained. We can’t entrust our faith to the unfeeling and grasping Romani, not when its very essence is being eroded. The Romani have already destroyed the western and the eastern ends of the golden trade route. Without them the sacred web at the centre is like an amputated limb which will wither and die without a life force to pulse through it. We must fight.’

Lovernios sighed, pausing for breath after his outburst. ‘But although Cathbad advocates these things as if he were the most learned elder, I always have to remind myself that when he lost contact with my mother, he also lost contact with that part of himself which was Divine. The two Manifestations are inextricably entwined, so when he preaches, no matter how wise his words may sound, I have to ask whether they derive from him or from the One.’

Boudicca was lost in her thoughts for a moment while she assimilated this new information.

‘Boudicca, you’re so quiet, have I upset you?’

‘No, Lovernios mine. I’m just thinking on what you’ve just told me. I need to sleep now. Can we talk in the morning?’

Lovernios smiled gently and closed his eyes. Soon he was snoring gently; he must’ve been exhausted, thought Boudicca. Boudicca held him to her, shifting his weight a little so he was more comfortable against her. His words had awakened half-forgotten memories, and her conscious mind was working hard to grasp the tendrils of ideas and thoughts that his story had evoked. She let them drift away, giving in to the sleep which was insisting upon sweeping over her. She dreamed, strangely enough, of Maeve walking in a meadow full of flowers. When she looked down at Maeve’s feet she realised the flowers sprang from wherever Maeve stepped.