Iceni

Chapter 11-1

Chapter 11

Disseminating MoonBoudicca went to Grania at dawn. Her daughter was still weak from the loss of blood but had started to regain some of her usual colour. Maeve was with her, as silent and non-intrusive as ever, but nevertheless, just to see her two daughters together gladdened Boudicca’s heart.

‘How are you feeling, Grania mine?’ Boudicca asked, settling herself gently on the edge of the makeshift bed. She took Grania’s hand and rubbed it between her own, more for something to do than Grania’s need for warmth.

‘Much better now, mama.’

‘You missed the celebrations last night.’

Grania smiled secretly. ‘I know. I’m sorry, mama. Did everything go all right without me?’

‘Yes.’ Boudicca glanced at Maeve so she’d know she was included in the conversation too. ‘Everything went fine. Surely you heard the noise?’

Grania nodded. ‘I knew you wouldn’t need us, mama.’

‘I wish I’d shared your confidence! Now, what’ve the Healers said? How long before you can start to take Romani heads again?’

‘I’ll be up in a day or two.’

‘What did the Healers say?’

‘I said, I’ll be up in a day or two, mama.’

Boudicca didn’t push the point. ‘Just as long as you’re sure you’ll be all right. You’re likely to feel quite fragile after a miscarriage. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

Suddenly, Boudicca went quiet as if she was trying to stop herself or had been caught in shock. For a moment she seemed as if she were a vast distance away, then she collapsed with unbidden tears streaming down her face. Great racking sobs poured from her as if they would never end. ‘Oh, my little Grania, my little girl. How I wish you’d never had to live through the pain of this.’ Gingerly, Boudicca reached out to her daughter, groping for comfort, yet careful not to apply any pressure upon Grania’s sore body.

As they held each other, Grania too started to cry, a quiet sobbing to acknowledge the start of her own grief. Then Boudicca felt other arms around her and she twisted her neck to see that Maeve had also come over to offer her support. ‘We haven’t been together like this for quarters, my daughters. If only it could be in better circumstances.’

The three women clung together, alone, for a while. Boudicca couldn’t remember who withdrew first, only that none of them did until the first flood of their tears had dried. They sat, no longer embracing, but still close. Boudicca still sniffled.

‘I’m sorry, mama.’ Grania broke the silence. ‘I didn’t want you to know, didn’t want you to remember the babe you lost.’

Boudicca gave a brief snort of a laugh. ‘Was that when we three were last together?’

Grania nodded, so did Maeve. ‘You wouldn’t tell father. You didn’t want to worry him.’

‘He was too weak. I was scared the news might quicken his illness. He wanted a son so much.’ Boudicca sat shaking her head, fresh memories returning quickly, loosened by the previous night’s conversation. She was surprised at how much she had refused to acknowledge those particular memories; she’d even convinced herself she’d forgotten until this brought it all back. She mopped at her eyes. They were perpetually damp these days and were starting to puff painfully.

‘But you still needed someone to grieve with, remember? You chose us, when it should have been the father, your husband.’

‘Is that why you’re grieving with us now, Grania? Because the father of your child isn’t with you?’ Boudicca clamped her hands over her mouth. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. It wasn’t from the...?’

‘No, it wasn’t. I was already with child when the Romani came to our settlement. This child was nothing to do with them. The father was Rochad. He died without knowing.’

‘Why didn’t you tell him?’

Grania’s eyes narrowed to slits. Then she looked straight through Boudicca to stare at Maeve. Maeve was still impassive, ever serene. Grania dropped her malicious glare. ‘Because of Maeve,’ she admitted, then stilled Boudicca with a touch to her arm. ‘It’s all right, mama. We’ve sorted it through and come to an understanding.’

‘You’ve talked to her? Grania, did Maeve speak to you? Maeve, can you speak?’

Grania stilled her again. ‘Not in the way you’re thinking, mama. We’re twins, it’s a different form of communication.’

‘Have you always been able to do this?’

Grania nodded her head sullenly.

‘All the while? Even when Maeve was in abject shock and responding to nothing or no one?’

Another sullen nod.

‘Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you talk to her?’

‘Because I didn’t want to, mama, and I didn’t want you to make me do it!’ Grania snapped back. Boudicca recoiled from her daughter’s outburst, sitting back quickly to place some physical space between them.

‘Not even with all the help I needed? Could you not have overcome your feelings for me?’ Nothing. No response from either daughter. ‘What happened between you to separate you like this? Was it something I was supposed to notice, something I missed because I was too wrapped up in mourning for your father?’

‘I’ve told you, mama, we’ve come to an understanding between us.’

‘Oh no you don’t. This has gone too far. You’re not just any two girls, you know, you’re Iceni princesses. How can we keep the tribes united when two of the rebellion’s most prominent figures are divided? Out with it.’

Grania sulked, refusing to look at either Boudicca or Maeve.

‘Grania mine, I know your moods too well. You’re jealous!’ Grania inhaled sharply. ‘I knew it.’ Boudicca sat back triumphantly. ‘Come on. Tell me. Then we can have it all sorted out once and for all.’

‘There are still some things I need to check with your Lovernios first before I’ll go back to how it was.’

‘Grania.’ Boudicca used her no-nonsense tone. She felt her torc flare with energy. She willed it down again; she didn’t want to use Andraste’s power in this domestic situation, no matter how exasperated she might be feeling.

‘Rochad lost interest in me because of her,’ Grania mumbled. ‘That is why we’ve been like this. But she’s just told me she wasn’t interested in him because she hasn’t even started her menses yet.’

Boudicca thought for a moment. She was obviously only going to get one side of this story and that was going to be blatantly biased. She had to be careful how she was going to interpret the things she was about to learn.

‘So why should this affect your love for each other?’

‘Don’t you see? If it weren’t for the Romani, she’d still be maiden. Rochad never loved her, not in the same way he loved me.’

‘I see.’ If only all human love was so simplistic, thought Boudicca. Grania had so much to learn. Such revelations reminded Boudicca how very young the twins really were. ‘And what do you need to check with Lovernios?’

‘She said,’ Grania gestured at Maeve in her accusation, ‘that Rochad didn’t want to be a warrior but had chosen to train as a Druid. He came to her out of interest, not out of passion. The Keeper, who arrived the night of Rochad’s death, was apparently coming not only to take the gold but also to interview Rochad and accept him for training if he was suitable.’

‘Isn’t it enough just to accept your sister’s word she didn’t encourage your lover, that she only responded to his spiritual interest? Surely he wasn’t worth this carving up of affection between yourself and your own twin?’

Grania fidgeted nervously. ‘I was desperate, mama. I thought I was losing him.’

‘Occasionally, if you love someone, you have to let them go.’

‘Just like you did when you miscarried? Or when father died?’

Grania’s words stung. Somehow Boudicca ignored the rebuke and let the words wash over her. She swallowed, shocked at how much Grania had hurt her, and how much she’d obviously hurt Grania in the past for her daughter to lash out so vehemently now. ‘I’ll go and get Lovernios,’ she whispered, and hurried to fetch him.

Lovernios was not far away; gathered with the Healers just outside the temporary shelter, discussing Grania’s condition. He looked pale and sombre, as if he’d been deeply affected by the miscarriage. Boudicca too, felt shaky. She thought they must look a fine pair together, wobbly on their feet and with faces as white as spring clouds.

As she approached, he withdrew from the huddle of fellow Druids and joined her. ‘Madam, you look like I feel.’

‘That bad?’ They smiled lover’s smiles, not quite able to muster laughter. ‘I need you to talk to Grania. She needs some confirmation concerning your first visit to our royal enclosure.’

‘What about it, madam?’

‘No, I can’t tell you. She needs to hear it straight from you, without any hint I may have primed you with the right answers. If she isn’t striving to listen even now as we talk, she’ll definitely ask me whether I told you what to say when she’s finished interrogating you. She’s remarkably defensive at the moment; I’ll have to be able to answer her with an honest face.’

They clasped hands for companionship and Lovernios pulled Boudicca to him for a quick kiss. ‘I have some more information for you, madam. I don’t think it’s urgent yet, but you do need to know.’

‘And I have some for you, too. Let it all wait then,’ and they ducked under the loosely strung awning. Their eyesight adjusted to the gloom fast enough for them to catch Grania shifting back to a sitting position, having been straining to the sound of their voices. Her eyes darted to both their faces, trying to discern whether they’d been talking about her.

Lovernios stood before the bed in the customary servant-pose used by Druids to convey their presence was at the Chief’s pleasure. The unexpected courtesy was not lost on Grania who visibly relaxed, although not enough to gesture to Lovernios to do the same. It was obvious to Boudicca that Grania did not have enough confidence in this situation to share her power.

‘What do you require of me, madam?’

Grania smiled like a contented cat at the use of the formal title, carefully choosing how long she’d take to answer Lovernios. After all, the Druid was there purely at her bidding. Boudicca wondered whether Grania realised how privileged she was. She tried to hide her escaping smile, doubting whether Grania would be able to keep up this patronising pretence so well, especially if she was made aware of just how much rank and influence Lovernios carried. She admired both of them intensely then: Lovernios for his tact in dealing with this temperamental young woman, and Grania for the status she continuously strove for and often got.

Eventually Grania deigned to speak. ‘Tell me why you originally came to our royal settlement,’ she demanded, as imperiously as she could manage.

‘Madam, I came mainly as the appointed Keeper to collect the gold sent by Druidic trade to the Iceni, where it is stored at the royal enclosure. Your mother hid it, by means of a secret Glamour, in the main hut and I duly took it from there onto the coast, where it was passed to the Ferryman for custody.

‘Madam, forgive me if I try to teach you what you already know, but your settlement has been a station on the gold’s trade route for many generations. Your tribe receives a generous commission for its part in this trade, enabling your peoples to make gold sacrifice rather than blood sacrifice. The visit of a Keeper on each of the four quarter-feasts should be familiar, although it was only my first visit to your settlement myself. It was actually my first assignment as Keeper, entrusted to me as I was in your area. I trust my appointment was not displeasing.’

‘You said ‘mainly’. Why else did you come?’

‘The Druidic Council at Vernemetum had received a message from a young Iceni noble in fosterage to your Gerbfine, requesting training as a Druid. The mere fact that such a plea had been received by us, by our own methods of communication, suggested the young man in question had considerable Talents. We were led to understand he’d been receiving some rudimentary training to hone his Skills whilst under the guise of learning warfare and the way of the warrior.