Iceni

Chapter 4-1

Chapter 4

Waning MoonBoudicca took Lovernios to her bed that night. They left the forge fires and huddled close in mutual warmth upon a mattress of dried leaves which scrunched as they turned together. Then they slept, wrapped snug in each other’s cloaks.

The whole experience was very strange for her. She had started to wake early again and thus had a while to think it all through before Lovernios stirred. Certainly the Iceni, like the Celtoi as a whole, had a very relaxed attitude to s*x. No one would judge her or refer to the incident, there was no shame or obligation incurred, and there’d been many other similar muffled noises around the camp last night. She knew how relaxed and good she should feel, how perfectly free of recriminations, but still she couldn’t shake a feeling almost of guilt. That set her remembering what she’d heard of the Romani matrons whose bodies were assets like those of brood mares, to be kept chaste and precious, and she felt sick at the thought that such people could heap so many responsibilities onto such a natural act.

No, she couldn’t hide from the fact that this was her first coupling since her husband had died. She thought she was ready to resume that part of her life but it had moved her like she had secretly known it would, if only she’d been more honest with herself. Old vulnerabilities had been opened up, reminding her of the possibility of being cared for and the pain of losing that affection. This was why, until now, she had avoided such contact with the men she knew, guessing they wouldn’t be strong enough to hold her through the emotional tide which might erupt if she opened herself to their giving. The wounds were painful and this felt like someone was picking at the scabs.

Lovernios, though, held her constantly through the night, waking at her every movement, all concern at her well-being. She came to, finding strength in his arms which promised protection, and she relaxed into his warm and perfect body curled up around her. There was something about him drawing her to him, something alluring in his eyes which triggered memories of sadness, something impossible to resist. Something which suggested to her that he would be a worthy recipient of her love and that she would be a fool to reject his.

He was nuzzling her hair, rubbing the bristles of his trim beard against the back of her head, and stroking her body. She rolled over onto her back and kissed him, then they dressed quickly.

‘Shall we start putting your plans into action today?’ she asked.

‘They’re not my plans, madam. They were devised by the Druidic Council, and I hope you’ll come to see them as our plans.’ His eyes were all concern.

‘What do we do first?’ The intimacy of the night was over; she had to make that plain. If there were peoples other than the Iceni about to join them, then she couldn’t afford to be seen as a lovesick little girl.

Lovernios drew himself up to his full height. She liked the fact that he was taller than her, few men were. He was thinking. ‘Give out orders to intensify their training, they don’t have much longer to work off their fat and flab, we’ll have hosted by new moon. Then bring Addedomarus and come with me.’

Boudicca did as he suggested, leaving Grania in charge of the battle training and Sucellus hotting up supplies of weaponry. Then she woke Addedomarus and they followed Lovernios’ long strides, rustling through the forest floor. They walked until they could no longer hear the camp activities. There were very many peoples gathered now, and the raucous noises drowned out all other forest sounds until they’d travelled far enough for the trees to gradually muffle out the various calls, shouts and excited screams. Still they walked, and then the paths eased as if the Faery folk had been out sweeping their way clean with miniature brooms. Boudicca realised that Lovernios had been Finding, but he had done it so subtly that the changes which clarified their route had been almost imperceptible.

They were at the cave which Grania had stumbled into the night before. In the morning light, Boudicca could see how the tunnel had been formed by regularly placed sarsen stones fronting a low hillock. It would be just high enough inside for her to stand upright.

Lovernios was about to enter. ‘No!’ Boudicca warned. ‘It’s a bear’s cave.’

‘How do you know?’ he asked accusingly. ‘This is a holy place, how come you know anything about it?’ He stepped towards her.

‘Bears sleep in caves. This would be ideal. There’re droppings here too,’ she kicked a lump of black wood over, hoping he believed her and didn’t come over to check. ‘Don’t you know anything about staying alive in a forest?’

Lovernios hesitated. ‘I’ll do my Workings outside,’ he announced and beckoned them over to sit with him. Boudicca and Addedomarus joined him as deferentially as if they were his apprentices.

The Druid lit a fire, carefully choosing young green wood which would give off a heady smoke. He sprinkled some dried herbs on it to deepen the scent, arranging the fire so the skein of smoke drifted straight upwards without dispersing, trickling out of the makeshift hearth as if it were the long silky tail of a wildcat.

‘What are we waiting for?’ asked Addedomarus.

‘For the Druids to arrive,’ intoned Lovernios. ‘Then you’ll return with them to your people and then you’ll bring your whole tribe to us here. Some you’ll leave behind to ensure the Romani don’t realise something is afoot, but they’ll have important tasks to do and not long in which to do them.’

‘Well met, Brother Lovernios,’ came a greeting as a hooded figure stepped from behind an oak. ‘I was expecting your bidding.’

‘Well met, Usnach. Please be seated and wait with us.’ Usnach nodded to Boudicca and Addedomarus in greeting. He sat silently. Others joined them, making greeting as they stepped into the small clearing and sat around the fire. Most, but by no means all, were men, cloaked and hooded in black or white, of varying ages but all with the same gentle concern and wisdom showing in their eyes, the same tenderness Boudicca saw in Lovernios. Before long the new arrivals numbered enough to form a circle around the fire with but one gap. They were still silent.

Lovernios looked around at the faces gathered there. ‘Where’s Cathbad? Everyone I summoned is here except for him.’

‘He was delayed at Vernemetum after the Imbolc rituals. He was so concerned at the Romani threat to Insula Mona that he pleaded with everyone with any Gift to set Wards around every sacred site, in the hope the Romani will pass them by.’

A smile played upon Lovernios’ lips. ‘How very like him,’ he commented. ‘If only wars could be won without sacrifice. Never mind for now. You know why you’ve been summoned, you’ve all heard the Council’s decisions: we’re to Work to open the old routes into the forest. All routes are to drive straight to Sucellus’ forge. First, I want all Trinovantes to have access here, then open the forests to all tribes. Let it be known that the Celtoi are hosting to drive out the Romani; Camulodunum is to be our first target. Let any who would fight come to us with ease; connect the woods of Britannia so even the remotest tribe might Find us with speed. Let the trees read the hearts of individuals so any true Celtoi may Find their way to us.’

‘Not the Catuvellauni.’ Boudicca was shocked by Lovernios’ speech.

Lovernios was indignant at her interruption. He made it very clear in his terse response that she’d spoken out of turn.

‘Madam, every Celtoi who seeks to join us will have their heart read by the forest. That means any Catuvellauni or Romani, any sycophantic Regni even, will be doomed to wander for ever in this tangle of thorns. Artio will provide no water, no berries or roots, no comfort of any kind. They’ll be picked off one by one by Her sacred creatures, tormented by the sight of fruit hanging well out of reach and tortured by the trickling sound of sweet water that they can never find. Do you forget, madam, how Hidden we are, how our presence is assured here only so long as Artio and Her forest tolerate us, how we stay at Her whim? Her bountiful Gifts are easy to take for granted, but that is when they start to dwindle.’

Boudicca fumed at his words. She hung her head to contain her anger. She would talk to him in private. Yesterday, she thought, that would never have occurred to her. How quickly everything was changing.

Lovernios continued to address the Druids. ‘We also want to ensure the Romani get a sense of our Powers. Make them aware they’re not only dealing with mortal enemies but also that the entire land rises up to eject them from our shores. Ideally we want every Romani at Camulodunum to spend the last of his days looking over his shoulder, aware of a constant but unspecified threat.’

Lovernios gestured for Addedomarus to speak. ‘I can arrange for things of greatness to fall, our women can sing stories of destruction, our people can start to look confident and free again.’

‘That will supplement what we can do. Do the Romani have any monument which has especial meaning for them?’

‘There is a statue they call “Victory”’, Addedomarus confirmed, ‘It is of a woman. My Gerbfine paid for it.’

‘Good. It sounds particularly symbolic. Can you arrange for it to be toppled, say two nights from now?’ Lovernios chuckled. ‘Perhaps face down as if fleeing from the woods?’

Addedomarus nodded.

‘No.’ Boudicca interjected. ‘Isn’t there something else of equal significance?’ Even at the risk of incurring further wrath, Boudicca felt obliged to disagree. She continued rapidly before Lovernios could object. ‘Andraste is Victory, Victory is Andraste. Whether She is worshipped by Romani or Iceni, the two are the same, only the name changes. You’d be desecrating Her. There must be something else.’

‘Is there?’

‘No.’ Addedomarus shook his head vigorously. ‘Nothing of quite the same meaning for Romani. We Trinovantes never think of it as Andraste; we have no Victory Goddess, until now.’ He shrugged, holding his hands out as if he could do nothing for them.

‘We’ll make sure Andraste is appeased.’

‘Apologising before angering Her won’t right your wrong.’ Boudicca was aware she was being very protective of her Goddess. She felt extremely defensive, as if shielded an unborn child.

‘We have to, madam. Now,’ Lovernios addressed one of the other Druids. ‘I want the Faery invoked. Request that they shriek and wail by night for their lamented lands in the west. Let them do it in whatever place the Romani meet to govern.’

‘There is a place they call “senate-house”’, Addedomarus explained to the Druid.

‘Is there anywhere where sound will carry well? As it does in a cave?’

‘Yes, there is a great open theatre, with step after giant step of stone; each step is many, many seats. Our children often call to each other there and play with their voices.’

‘How would it sound if a wolf was in there, calling to the full moon? Might it sound as if a whole pack of ghouls and ghosts screamed for the entrapment of their spirits?’

‘It maybe make their blood cold.’

Lovernios turned to another Druid. ‘Ask Artio to tame us two wolves for a night of Her choosing. Let them be very vocal wolves!

‘These are all things which look like sabotage.’ He turned back to face the group as a whole. ‘We need something more, something which a superstitious mind will nurture and work at, incorporating all these little inconveniences. We need a Glamour which will appear as an unmistakable message of doom.’ Lovernios was thinking hard. ‘Madam, with your leave, Maeve could weave a river of blood and a vision of what will come to be.’

‘Would it harm her?’

‘No, it wouldn’t harm anyone. It would just look frightening. If she can conjure up those images we all saw of Camulodunum in the basin last night, then she can produce such images upon any water.’ Lovernios was thinking aloud, partly to himself. ‘If that water is still enough then the Scrying can be seen by any number of observers. The Colonia is built by an estuary; she should be able to Scry such images onto it when the waters are fairly still. Any ripples disrupting the images should only heighten the effect of tumbling, unstable buildings.’