Iceni

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

Crescent MoonReality passed in and out of Boudicca’s swimming vision. Someone carried her to the main hut with a sturdy, secure touch. The same person laid her in a quiet place and covered her with blankets. Then she was left alone to rest and listen to the subdued, frightened whispers of those who had survived to gather together.

Everything hurt. Whoever had lain her down had placed her on her side so that the weals on her back had a chance to heal. She wanted to stretch, move, sit up, but her body objected so much that she stayed put and lay glaring at those who could move, like an angry child shut out from a feast. She desperately wanted news of her daughters. The forced patience and stillness provided a vacuum in which her imagination ran riot.

Eventually someone came to her; it was the man she had awakened to earlier. He carried a small pot of porridge and a spoon. She watched him approach, noticing his careful grace and slender, strong hands. The porridge pot, she decided, looked very snug in those hands.

‘Are you feeling a little better?’

She nodded. ‘A bit groggy. I’ll be fine in the morning.’

‘Something tells me you won’t be going off for one of your “forays” tomorrow, though,’ he teased.

‘How do you know about that?’

He gave her an ‘I know more than I’m letting on’ look and laughed. Then he held her by the shoulders, keeping her down quite firmly, before admitting: ‘Grania told me.’

Boudicca bolted upright. Restrained by his grip her body jolted only a fraction but the pain was enough to make her wince aloud.

‘I’ll answer all your questions and whilst I do so, I’ll feed you.’ Boudicca nodded in reluctant assent. ‘First question,’ he demanded.

‘My daughters?’

He spooned a tiny amount of porridge into her mouth. It was difficult and undignified to eat on your side. She chewed and swallowed awkwardly. He offered her more porridge. She accepted.

‘Grania is up and about and very full of self-righteous anger. She has used her energy to organise those who are left into what you see around you. Your people are fed and warm, some are being healed, the rest have done their own looting and brought anything of value or, more importantly, of use, here. Most are refusing to think beyond tonight. They will need you tomorrow; I hope you’ll be up to it.

‘But tonight they have Grania. She will do, for an emergency. She’s bossy enough to motivate your people out of despair but not diplomatic enough to avoid putting backs up given long enough. Apart from anything else, she glares at anything remotely male as if to blame us all for her violation.’

Boudicca pushed away the next spoonful to be offered. ‘Is she all right, though?’

‘Yes. Now eat whilst I talk. She doesn’t seem too upset for the moment, just angry. You should watch her over the next few days. When it all starts to register for her, she’ll need someone to hold her. That’s when her temper won’t be enough to pull her through.’

Boudicca pushed away the next offering of porridge too. ‘No need,’ he insisted, tapping her lips with the spoon. ‘Maeve is back. She was more of a worry — I found her amongst the dead.’ Boudicca stopped and glared at him. ‘Trust me, she’s all right. I sensed she was only Absent as I did a quick check of all the bodies. I brought her in, arranged for her to be washed, cleaned up and dressed in some fresh robes. It was better to do that whilst she was still in Haven, otherwise she might have struggled. Then I went to bring her back. Your daughter certainly has some Skill; it needs honing, but the rawness of power is remarkable. It took patience and cunning even for me to prise apart those barriers without being injured myself.

‘Now, compared to Grania, Maeve is different altogether. She’s become very reserved. She hasn’t said a word, just gazes at nothing as if she sees things in the insubstantial air and curls of smoke plumes. If necessary, I can arrange for her to be accepted by the Sisters — I know it’s a long way from her home, but it may be the only healing deep enough to reach her. Anyway, I’m talking about worse possible outcomes, which we’ll only need to consider if there is no change in, say, a turn of the moon.

‘Everyone is keeping their, somewhat discreet, distance from us partly because I instructed them to do so, and partly because they feel a great disappointment in not having protected their Queen from the assault which befell her. There is a weariness in the people here that has cut their spirits and blackened their hearts. Tomorrow you must encourage them to look you in the eye again; offering them forgiveness will relieve some of their guilt, even though the two of us know that it is not them who should be seeking forgiveness, but the Romani.’

Boudicca nodded as she thought his words over. ‘You must be the Keeper,’ she exclaimed.

He smiled a ‘wondered how long it would take you to deduce that’ smile. ‘Lovernios the Keeper, madam. I don’t want the gold yet, you can show me at very first light,’ he calmed her. ‘Yes, madam, I know you still have it, I can sense the layers of Wards placed around it as the hoard was added to over the last quarter: a most uneven emanation. Now, whilst you dream, think on what has passed today. Don’t tidy it away but seek to live through it and rediscover the fierce strength you’ll need. It’s not only your people who desire a Queen.’

Boudicca’s eyes had shut whilst she’d been listening to the rhythmic lilt of his voice. As her mind wandered in its pre-sleep meanderings, she realised he was right, it was tempting to push the more disturbing memories away to be dealt with in a later, safer place. Then she found that moving through the horrors, rather than around them, meant addressing their spectres in the mind’s equivalent of the brightness of day, giving her a semblance of control, rather than allowing them the power of night’s sneakiness.

Still incredulous that what had happened had happened, she slept with the ravages of the day as her uncomfortable bed partner and the memories of the screams of her daughters tormenting her rest. When the dreams came they stirred from a deep well of a place. She felt arms rise from within to soothe and ease her people, to gather the homeless and the cold to her and hold them to the shelter of her breast. Then, as she held them in the strength of her arms, she felt her heart smoulder, kindling a giant rage which demanded justice. Then the rage caught alight, bursting into quick flames, until her whole body flared as if it were made of a massive wicker frame, burning herself and all those who had reached for her.

She awoke later than usual, lost to the lure of this most vivid dream, with no desire to disappear by herself. Today’s desire was for constant company as if she feared to be alone. Lovernios was with her as she woke. He brought more porridge and helped her stiff, sore body to sit whilst she ate.

‘As soon as you’re ready, I’ll gather the gold.’

Boudicca nodded between gulps of porridge. She took several quick swallows and then stood up, gasping as she did so. Together they moved to the very back of the hut. There they climbed a rickety ladder and, lit only by the dim light of a clay lamp, they started to pull out the twists of muddied gold bars, spun so thinly as to be mistakable for thatch. Lovernios packed them away into a sack, which he tied and hid away in the folds of his black robes. ‘Did you know this was the only hut not to be looted or set to the torch? You set powerful Wards, madam, which distracted the Romani from our real treasure. Well done. You’ve taken your proportion of the Goddess’ trade?’ Boudicca nodded. ‘Good. The Iceni have really earned it on this occasion; your people deserve this wealth. Now, we must talk.’

They moved away, gathered up a couple of blankets each and went outside to the brisk air. In the clear truthfulness of daylight, Boudicca couldn’t avoid the destruction surrounding her. Still she said nothing, not knowing where to begin.

‘What are you going to do?’ Lovernios whispered the question.

‘I’m going to devour them.’ Boudicca raised her head to meet his eyes quite calmly and regally. The merciless vengeance in her reply shocked her. She almost felt shame at the quite unbidden idea, but once expressed she realised how much it was meant and how proper it felt.

‘I can help you to do that.’

‘I know. Do so.’ It was a stated request. No pleading. Boudicca made it plain she would exact her price with or without his help but that any advice and influence he offered would be appreciated.

‘Fine. Gather everyone you can find and meet me at your forge in the forest. I’ll be there within a turn of the moon, after I have deposited the Goddess’ trade with the Boatman on the coast. Welcome anyone: those who can walk, those who can’t. Bring horses, livestock, weaponry, armour, stores, all you can carry. Send out for those who live elsewhere in other hamlets in the furthest reaches of Iceni land. Gather them all to you.’ Boudicca whitened in remembrance of her dream. ‘Keep their anger and their memories alive, encourage their hatred of the Romani like a spark which you coax into flame.’

Lovernios led her gently by the arm back towards the doorway of the main hut. He nudged her forward, pushing her in front of himself. ‘They need a Queen,’ he whispered. ‘Address them, arouse and agitate them!’

Boudicca took a very deep breath. She waited for a little silence to fall, then she filled the void. ‘We move out,’ her voice rang out, clear as a rainbow’s promise. ‘We take everything and we go by nightfall. I need runners to send for all Iceni kin beyond the forests. Who will go? It’s vital that you’re gifted in Finding if you offer.’ She counted out the volunteers. ‘Meet us at the great forge in the forest, no more than a lunar cycle hence. We move with the stealth of deer; let no Romani discover our refuge. There in the womb of the woods we will plan our devouring and imagine the sweetness of their blood!’

From the dimness of the hut rose a ragged cheer which increased in volume as her words were absorbed. ‘You’re providing them with the decisive action which offers hope, madam,’ Lovernios was whispering again. ‘I did doubt whether you were up to it, which way your grief would push you.’ Then he danced away from her swinging punch. ‘Prove me completely wrong, madam — bring me so many Iceni that we can’t all meet at the forge!’

Boudicca glared at his retreating figure as he hopped and skipped away from her. He was goading her, she knew, with laughter. He ran east, into the sun — she had to shield her eyes to watch him leave. There, with a nimbus of light around him and his naughty laugh, she could almost mistake him for the Trickster himself.

She let him go and turned back to address her people. She clapped sharply to draw their attention. ‘I suggest we pack immediately. Take only that which you can carry. Remember, there are many things you’ll be able to reclaim from the Romani very soon.’ She knelt and started to gather some newly milled flour, discarding the quern stones as too heavy, after all she expected precious little chance for milling in the coming days. All around her others started to make decisions about what could be taken and what would be left and what was the best way to pack. The children, the old and the sick, were organised into the few places available in wagons. There were no chariot places available without horses to pull them. The wagons and chariots alike would have to have human teams.

She looked around for her daughters. Grania had thrown herself into the packing, snatching sacks off men folk and shoving them out of the way. Most people gave her the wide berth she was so obviously claiming as her most pressing need. There was only one place where there was no motion: by the fire where Maeve sat as vacantly as the simple-minded. Boudicca worried for her. Was there no way of reaching her? She thought of the healing the Sisters in Hibernicus would offer and, as abruptly, pushed the thought out of her mind as unacceptable. Maeve needed her kin, her home, her mother. Boudicca desperately prayed for enough inner strength to be capable of providing what her daughter would require.