Iceni

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

Last QuarterBoudicca snarled at him. She was livid. It was as if some wild beast had taken over. Lovernios stepped back, wary of her. Then, as she swept back her hair before recommencing her attack, Lovernios reached for her throat, touched her torc, nodded and mumbled: ‘So it is you. Be still, Andraste, we’re not ready for you yet.’

She shook her head as the tension lifted like mist. ‘Go back to practising,’ she snapped at the warriors around her. They dispersed and returned to throwing spears to each other, still keeping a watchful eye out for their Queen. ‘It’s warm at the forge and there’s food for tired travellers,’ she conceded. ‘I’ll listen. But I expect a comprehensive explanation,’ she indicated her throat. ‘Of everything.’ She held her arm out to Addedomarus; he grabbed it, gripping her roughly in nervous greeting.

Once at the forge, she ordered food to be served to Lovernios and Addedomarus. Addedomarus raised several suspicious glances from the Iceni people who deliberately kept away from him. Eventually one slave was kicked forward, volunteered into serving him. The slave slopped stew clumsily over Addedomarus who lifted his hand to strike the slave then stilled the blow, looking at the culprit as if in recognition. He looked questioningly at Boudicca.

‘The price paid for poaching waterfowl in Iceni marshland, Addedomarus. I daresay if I encroached upon your hospitality, I too would find familiar faces.’

Addedomarus was silent. Lovernios ate his stew unobtrusively, watching the two leaders spar with body-language. Grudgingly, Addedomarus picked up his bowl and ate his meal. He dribbled juices down his long moustaches and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He discarded his bowl and started to speak. Lovernios halted him. ‘Call your leaders, Boudicca. Call Sucellus and your daughters too. Addedomarus doesn’t need to repeat his story more than is necessary.’ Boudicca clapped a slave over and gave the instructions. It was almost dark; the forge fires were built up for warmth whilst the slave carried out Boudicca’s orders.

Soon they were joined by those Lovernios had requested. The Ladies, Chiefs and champions made their obeisances and sat at a discreet distance where they could still hear. Grania turned up, puffing and sweating, complaining at being pulled away from her work. She nodded curtly to Lovernios and sneered at Addedomarus; Boudicca noted how some of her daughter’s anger had subsided at last. Sucellus led Maeve; they bore a dish of clear water which they set before them. Boudicca hoped it wasn’t for Maeve to wash in, not now, but Lovernios seemed especially pleased at the sight of it.

Lovernios stilled them with a traditional Druid gesture. He started to speak with an even more refined and noble timbre than he used for everyday speech. He was Bard trained, Boudicca noticed, and she settled down to allow him to lull her with his mesmerising arguments. ‘The Romani,’ he started, ‘As we all know too well, are not grouped as tribes, like us Celtoi. Instead they are like one immense people, a conglomerate of states and nations who act, not as individuals, but as a whole. They treat us as one, they aim not to subjugate Iceni, but all Celtoi. They are a strange conquering type for whom it is not enough simply to raid and then allow the enemy to recover so that he survives to be raided again. And it is all of us who have lost to their hunger.

‘All Celtoi have suffered from the Romani, and it seems that we have done so forever. First, on the continent, your ancestors fled from them to settle here. Now that the Romani have traced their flight, you suffer in turn. The Druids too have suffered.’ He held his hand for silence. Night had dropped and the shelters had gradually filled, they were alert with Iceni ears which strained to hear Lovernios, and Iceni mouths which responded to his oratory with exclamations and gasps. It had been a long while since the Iceni had been entertained by a Bard. ‘Yes, even the Druids have felt the grip of the Romani and the Goddess has lost wealth. All things are of the Goddess and She permeates our life. What are we without Her?

‘Iceni wealth comes from the Goddess: you have good lands, rich soil, healthy livestock. You are the last link in the trade from Hibernicus too, and as such are due the largest proportion of Her trade of all the tribes on the route. This income is the envy of other tribes.’ At these words Iceni faces turned to Addedomarus in hatred and Lovernios rapidly spoke on, seeking to recapture their attention. ‘But it’s your position in Britannia which grants it to you, and it’s not open to others for the taking. Without this gold, without all the other links in the chain, you are nothing.’ Iceni faces turned back to Lovernios. ‘Just another agricultural settlement without luxury or comfort or the means to make gold sacrifice — indeed, without the gold you would be forced to return to blood sacrifice. But likewise, without you the Goddess’ trade would collapse.

‘The Romani want the Goddess’ gold. It was the legend of Britannia’s gold which lured them here in the days of your ancestors. It’s fabled how our earth runs rich with seams of precious metal. It does, but not as rich as the earth of Hibernicus from whence the gold comes. The Romani have long realised this, they’ve little imagination but great powers of logic and reason, and they are now seeking to destroy the Druids. Even while I talk they campaign in the mountains to the west, maiming and killing the Silures, Ordovices and Deceangli, working their way north to Insula Mona and our College there. There are no warriors on the island, only teachers, lawgivers, historians and poets. Most have already fled back to Hibernicus, there will be scant defence now that the mountain tribes-people only offer guerrilla resistance.’

Horror and shock registered around Lovernios’ listeners now. The Druidic College at Insula Mona was so famous as to be almost legendary. Several Iceni mothers currently had offspring studying there, their children specially picked for showing intuitive promise. Boudicca herself had passed a few years of her youth in the harmony of its learned repose. She could recall the winds breezing in from the endless seas and the acres of crops rippling in noon heat, as effortlessly as if she had only just returned. The idea of the Romani trampling the holy island to dust, disturbing the lazy scent of honeysuckle and the lessons sang over and over in rote, seemed a desecration as great as the crime perpetrated against her daughters.

‘It’ll be a sacrifice worth making, if the Iceni do as I say.’ Boudicca took especial notice of what Lovernios was saying now. That the Iceni could be connected in any way with the potential loss of Insula Mona, shone a fresh light upon the importance with which Lovernios, and the Druidic Council, perceived the plight of the Iceni. She started to realise the possibility of viewing her situation with a broader perspective, one which would also offer some justification for the presence of Addedomarus.

‘The mountain tribes’ harassment and the imminent destruction of Insula Mona has led the bulk of the Romani military force away from your lands. If we act soon, you could enact your revenge with relatively little resistance. There’ll still be war, but the Romani have left themselves weak and undefended. You have your best chance of victory now.

‘To do this, you must think like the Romani think — not as Iceni, but as Celtoi as a whole. It’s not enough to be rid of them from Iceni territory, we need to be rid of them from the whole of Britannia. You need to join and communicate with other tribes. You need to learn as much as you can about the Romani deployment of legions, where their weaknesses are, what they fear. To do this you need the help of a tribe who have lived alongside the Romani — the Trinovantes are one such tribe,’ Lovernios gestured towards Addedomarus. ‘To communicate and plan, to translate amongst tribes, and most importantly to bind the tribes, you need the Druids. We are the only universal symbol that every Celtoi tribe recognises.

‘Great Queen, the Iceni are the most feared warriors of Britannia, but you can’t do this alone. Even Cuchulainn himself would find it difficult to defeat a legion if he did not have his trusted champions with him. United, however, is a different matter — united, Cuchulainn could crush a century or two as he rolled over in his sleep.’ Lovernios raised a laugh from those who knew the story of the Hound of Culann. ‘You may lose some pride in having to share the victory, but at least this way there’ll be a victory to share. It’s the Iceni who will lead this rebellion, it’s the name of the Iceni that will be sung for generations to come and be remembered with every mention of the word ‘freedom’.

‘I have the authority of most of the Druidic Council and their full support in this suggestion. The Goddess’ Blessing has been sought and granted. The Trinovantes have been near to revolt for years, their tempers are like a cauldron which has been allowed to simmer for too long. I invite Addedomarus to speak next.’ Lovernios gestured for quiet while he explained. ‘When he tells you the injustices his tribe have suffered at the hands of the Romani, you’ll realise that being conquered is very different from being a client kingdom. He’ll also tell you the Romani’s weaknesses. He has watched them for a long while — watching is all he and his tribe have been able to do.’

Lovernios gestured to Addedomarus. As Bard he had the right to decide in which order the speakers would make their address. Boudicca didn’t mind waiting; there was a lot of information to take in. Although her fury hadn’t abated at the outrages perpetrated upon her daughters, herself and her people, nevertheless she was starting to feel she had been at least slightly cocooned from the realities of life under the Romani. Especially, she reflected, during the last winter when she had refused to deal with much else except her grief at the death of her husband. She was beginning to realise how selfish she had been, how self-absorbed and short-sighted.

‘I am Addedomarus.’ Their guest cleared his throat. He was not a natural leader, Boudicca could see that. He was too nervous, although he concealed it well with a show of bravado. ‘Some of my words are not your words, but I hope we can manage without a translator. I, my people, the Trinovantes, offer ourselves to the Iceni in fighting the Romani. We would be rid of them from the shores of Britannia forever.

‘They set up their Colonia at Camulodunum. Their ‘best’ city. They choose Trinovantes’ land because it is good land, because their fighting men like Trinovantes’ land. It is good route to their king emperor Nero far across the seas. We live alongside old soldiers. They pensioned off, but still act like soldiers, with swagger, with women. They are given land instead of a payment when they retire, and their fellows, who still serve as soldiers, help them in this. They know it is what they will get for their pension too. But they cross at not having money, so they take that off Trinovantes. They take more land, and our gold and then us. They make us slaves and force us to work. My people live in bad places, like small huts for dogs, chained together where the sunlight will not go.

‘Then those of royal kin, with gold, we pay for new temple. Temple to their other king god Claudius who brought elephants when I was child. This not like Trinovantes’ temple, full of peace in woods and green places. This temple vast. Big enough for several hundred people to live in at once, and room for horses too. Made of stone, with steps so it will not flood in rain, and very high so you have to lean right back to be able to see the roof. There are pictures all around it which do not wash off when they get wet. Not needed for a temple to be that big. Cost too much. Also we are made to be priests and pay for the festivals they say we must perform.