Iceni

Chapter 5-3

‘Make way for your Queen!’ She called as she pushed, attracting Grania’s attention.

‘Mother mine, you’re back. Well met!’ Boudicca clasped Grania’s offered hand as she finally pulled herself up onto the bridge. The crowd had closed around her, leaving Lovernios to push his way more gradually through the throng of heaving bodies; Boudicca couldn’t afford to worry about him for the moment. The warrior whom Grania had been dealing with edged himself back amongst his comrades in the hope Grania would forget he’d failed the test but not yet paid the fine, and considered himself granted an informal reprieve in which to rapidly lose some weight.

Pulling Grania to her in an unusually flamboyant demonstration of affection, Boudicca took the opportunity of such close quarters to hiss: ‘Pick a woman. Any one will do. Quick. Test a woman.’

Grania pulled back and smiled a tense grin; she spoke through locked teeth. ‘Only the men have let themselves go slack. Only the men need punishing.’ Only Boudicca heard her. Only Grania saw the look her mother gave her.

Still smiling stiffly, Grania gestured to the corpulent woman with plaits to climb the bridge for testing. Boudicca nodded to her, still watching her daughter warily. The woman seemed oblivious to the undercurrents of tension between mother and daughter, Queen and subject. To whistles of appreciation she lifted her tunic to reveal magnificent breasts covered in looping tattoos and a plump stomach scarred with stretch marks from multiple pregnancies. She held herself tall, flexing muscles as her male counterparts had done, flaunting her physique and playing to the crowd. The woman was justifiably proud of her body, Boudicca could see she would make a formidable enemy once she loosened her long plaits and let her hair trail streaming behind her as she charged into the fray of battle. Many would fall in terror before her without so much as a blow.

But would she pass the belt test? Together, Boudicca and Grania measured her. The belt didn’t quite fit. Grania was just about to tighten it for a moment’s discomfort to let the woman pass so she could dismiss her into the crowd, when Boudicca stopped her by yelling, ‘You must have a well trained husband, Lady. One who doesn’t need to be kept in line. It seems we’ve let ourselves go a little, doesn’t it?’

The Lady blushed. Behind her in the crowd, a man, presumably her husband, suffered some taunting. Then the crowds erupted into laughter and the lady chortled, paid up her fine, replaced her tunic and returned to her man. He looked her up and down appraisingly and slapped her buttocks. Her husband’s comrades were also giving her lecherous looks. She reddened again, but with pride now, and returned their admiring gazes. Boudicca realised, with heightened insight, that the display had been perhaps one tiny part in a grander scheme to acquire an additional husband before long.

‘Now a man,’ hissed Boudicca. Grania pointed one out and he came up. ‘And another two women straight after.’

Grania glared at her mother, but did as she said. The testing continuing until the crowd had started to dwindle away and Lovernios could join them again.

‘What do you think you were doing?’ Grania was furious. ‘I was enjoying that.’

‘The question is, what do you think you were doing, daughter mine?’

‘I was measuring the men’s girth before they went into battle. They’re meant to keep themselves fit and firm, but they’ve let themselves go. How will they be able to protect their tribe when they’re so ineffectual?’

Boudicca paused. There was more at issue here than Grania’s need to debase men folk.

‘Firstly, daughter mine, you were doing very well. It was very entertaining to watch and the people enjoyed your show very much. The Goddess, I’m sure, is appreciative of all the tribute. However — and you will just have to take my word for this based on years more experience of rulership than you — it was only a matter of course before the womenfolk noticed they weren’t being chosen.’

Boudicca saw the look of disbelief on Grania’s face so she tried to explain in more detail: ‘This isn’t a normal bunch of people. This is a displaced horde of people who are quick to anger. Tempers are running high and the tribes gathered here are tense, like a hidden animal about to bolt. It would take very, very little for them to turn on you — many of them are not Iceni and have no reason to pay you homage — and from where I was watching I could see you were playing with fire. If they’d mobbed you, neither I nor any of the Druids would’ve been able to save you — they’d have been out of control, and so would our plans. We’re aware of that potential, and we’re keeping it in reserve for when we can release their fury against the Romani scum.’

‘And, daughter mine.’ Boudicca gentled her voice. ‘These aren’t the men you should be punishing. Save your anger for the Romani, find the ones who hurt you and vent your revenge on them. The horde will be glad of your fierce anger in the days to come, and believe me, soon you’ll have all the blood price you could ever dream of.’

Grania was starting to look convinced. Boudicca continued to talk. ‘It’s not the fault of the Iceni men that they didn’t come to your aid when you were hurt. They weren’t impassive because they were weak or lazy, but because they knew that if they saved their strength they could exact revenge. An Iceni death here, an Iceni death there, means little to the Romani and is as easy to acquire as a single swing of a sword, but together we’ll m******e them — togetherness is our strength. Don’t blame your kinsmen, we need them. Don’t alienate the womenfolk, we need them too, for they’re as noble in battle as any man.’

Then Grania turned to storm away as if in a sulk. Boudicca pulled her back and held her. ‘There’s no shame in what you did, Grania mine. No one knows except you and me and Lovernios here. To the people gathered here you’ve gone up in their respect and they’ll look upon you in battle now as a great leader. You should be proud; you created an afternoon’s diversion for a restless people which provided them with more of a group mind. It was good work. You’re truly a daughter of mine.

‘Wait just a few more days and I’ll lead you to all the blood you could ever want and more. You may drink it, bathe in it; I’ll give it all to you.’

Grania returned her mother’s embrace but still did not talk. Boudicca noticed that her daughter was biting her lip as if to hold back tears. Boudicca didn’t push her. Grania, she knew, would want to keep her pride. ‘Come, let’s go to Sucellus,’ Boudicca offered. ‘I’d like to see my other daughter too.’

‘I’ll continue with the shelter building. No mother mine.’ Grania pulled away from the hand that sought to hold her. ‘I already know the wondrous things Maeve’s been doing. There are more people every moment who need shelter for tonight. I’m of better use out in the woods, although we are near short of birch.’

‘It’s very much appreciated, just as long as you understand that. It’s work of at least equal importance to that which your sister does.’

Grania shrugged her shoulders. ‘I think it’s doing some good,’ she affirmed in a smaller voice, and turned and walked away without once looking back.

Maeve was by the forge fires, still watching Sucellus work miracles with metal. It was obvious from the dampness of her hair that she’d washed recently, but the heat from the forge was drying her quickly. More horses had been brought in, and sturdy goats and sheep wandered around the clearing bleating and nibbling hay. Battle chariots had been arranged around the forge and wagons were piled high with a few basic supplies.

‘Sucellus, you have been busy.’ Boudicca looked in awe at what he’d produced in her absence. Despite the thousands of Celtoi who had massed to her call, everyone who desired to fight would be armed with at least one weapon. A few were fine heirlooms, wrought with decoration, but the majority were purely utilitarian. Sucellus had produced bosses for the many shields he’d made too. Each finished shield would be long enough to cover virtually all of a warrior’s torso. He’d set the more artistic amongst the Iceni to painting the shields with bright designs and the rough oblongs were laid out in rows, drying in the thin spring sunlight.

Sucellus looked up from his work and smiled briefly to acknowledge her, but he didn’t stop what he was doing. ‘My apologies, madam, but we’ve just got this iron ore hot enough. Poor old Teirnon has spent most of the morning working away at those bellows — it’d be a waste to stop now and ruin all his hard effort.’ Then, with a glance at the somewhat surly Teirnon, ‘I don’t think he would be too appreciative, either.’

‘I didn’t realise this was what being a smith was all about,’ Teirnon muttered.

‘Then there’s the traditional laming,’ Sucellus gloated. ‘But if you keep that mood up, you might find that there’s nothing ceremonial about any limp you end up with!’

‘You’re the most dreadful tease, Sucellus, and quite a bully too. Teirnon, I can see you’re doing a wonderful job, you look quite exhausted. The Iceni appreciate your labour.’

The apprentice flushed. In his sulk he’d obviously forgotten his Queen was present but, like anyone used to motivating people, Boudicca had achieved the equivalent of three days’ holiday in her few words of praise. Sucellus winked at her. Boudicca knew he didn’t have the resources to let Teirnon pause, and the words wouldn’t have meant the same coming from him, but he’d relied upon Boudicca’s charity and given her the opening lines to provide the young man with renewed impetus.

Maeve seemed to have just woken and Boudicca’s heart sank at the sight of the dark circles under her eyes and her thin cheeks. ‘Have you been eating, daughter mine?’

‘It disturbs my concentration, mama.’

‘You must eat, Maeve. Lovernios, will you find some broth for my daughter, please? Someone should have a camp fire going and a bowl to spare.’

‘I was right, mama, you can barely see the trees. Look.’

Maeve pointed and Boudicca scanned the clearing herself. There were so many people now it was difficult to see the forest foliage between their bodies. They wouldn’t be able to stay here for much longer. Not only was the tension, the need to do something, anything, becoming quitetangible, but the woods would simply not be able to sustain them. They’d need to horde soon, even if only to raid.

Lovernios had returned with two bowls of broth. ‘Your daughter isn’t the only one who needs to eat, madam.’

Maeve picked at her soup, taking tiny sips even though the meal was barely warm, staring at her food more than eating it. The bowl was full of a thin stew, flavoured with early wild herbs, but most of the lumps of barley, parsnip and mutton had sunk to the bottom of the bowl. Suddenly, Maeve gave a little cry and demanded that Lovernios bring her a basin of clear water. As he did so, Boudicca noticed how the still surface of the watery broth had been just enough for Maeve to manifest images upon it. Poor child, she thought, what must her waking life be like now that every surface offered the potential for Scrying, bidden or not?

When the basin was set between them, Boudicca leaned forward as eagerly as her daughter, straining to see the images Maeve was bringing forth. The picture was faint and less distinct than before and, as she came to recognise the scenes, she realised why — the images came from far over the other side of Britannia, from her beloved fields of Insula Mona. Then they homed in on the shores of the island, at the very closest point of its connection with mainland Britannia. There, arranged along the shoreline, stood thousands of Celtoi warriors. Dotted amongst them were Druids, some recognisably familiar teachers from her college days, raising their arms to the sky, shouting prayers and curses, and Sisters dressed in their traditional black with dishevelled hair, running around brandishing torches and screaming and shouting at who or what strange threat?