Iceni

Chapter 10-1

Chapter 10

EostarGrania’s condition somewhat marred the Eostar rituals that Boudicca and Lovernios presided over. Even with the massive crowd watching her actions from the Temple precinct and those pushing from without for a better view, Boudicca found it difficult to concentrate.

The rite was a familiar one; she’d performed it every year for her Gerbfine, in the royal tribal territories of the Iceni. Those events had been more of a family occasion, attended just by the inhabitants of their enclosure who were almost all immediate kin. But this was far more formal; there were Druids in attendance and many, many thousands of people, all intent on her movements and words. And this year she enacted the ceremonies with Lovernios; last year it had been with a frail Prasutagus.

At first she’d thought she might be getting to be too old to stand as the embodiment of the Goddess in Her Spring Maiden aspect. Such doubts had been her reasoning behind inviting Maeve and Grania to attend with her. But her daughters were together for once and with some of the Sisters who had healing wisdom and knowledge of herbs. It seemed to Boudicca she’d tidied away the two of them, yet again, so they might not disrupt or disturb her things of higher importance, but she also knew she’d been grateful the two girls were eager to take solace in each other at last, and she knew it was guilt making her think such crippling thoughts.

In many ways, though, as the motions and litany came back to her, she was able to take comfort in the familiarity of the ritual and relax as the Goddess within took over much of the role of Priestess. She was content to let the Divine guide her through the rites and Blessings and absolve her of some of the sombre mood hanging over her. From the look in Lovernios’ eyes, she could tell the young God had been granted similar freedom with him. The crowd, too, might be oblivious to the transformation of their Priest and Priestess, but the sheer reverence of the huddled masses was testament to their experience of the sublime.

Boudicca held up the eggs she had Blessed. She’d asked the Druids to bring her a variety from every species of bird in Artio’s forests and the nests yielded an abundance of coloured and speckled fragility which sang of the summer to come. Her brief inspection showed a hedge-sparrow egg and three from a starling, but there were an abundance of blue-green magpie eggs. She could count seven merely from her cursory glance.

The crowd were waiting to be addressed now. She knew what she had to say, but not yet how she wanted to say it. In desperation, she gave her voice over to Andraste. For a long moment nothing happened, and then she felt the sudden surge as her torc shone and the Goddess came to the fore.

‘My loyal peoples, welcome to the equality of days! We are now between the start of spring and the beginning of summer. The seasons cannot be halted in their progress and summer will soon be upon us, for who can stop the yearly cycle from turning? Not I, no, for I am summer’s herald.

‘The winds rush and whip our clothing and the sun brings heat to shine upon our upturned faces. All around us new life buds and we cannot deny the calling beckoning us, too, to join its celebration. However, before the summer can be birthed, the old ways must disintegrate, for we still bear the vestiges of winter. Thus all the elements of life have been brought into new balance and you have felt the chaos in nature as the wildness courses even through your very beings. And so a new tide of life begins and the day length equals that of night. Nothing in nature is ever constant, the light is gaining and soon future days will exceed future nights.

‘As it was in the beginning, so it is now: out of this chaos, fresh ways arise. As it is in nature, so it is in you.

‘These eggs show the emergence of light from darkness, of life from non-life, of ideas from inner stillness. Laid in the secret season of early spring, they hatch in the new warmth. These eggs are you — you are these eggs. For it was your plans that were formed after Imbolc in the secret hearts of Artio’s forests, and now they have opened to reveal the first steps towards something we only dreamt about in the depths of winter.

‘Yes, my peoples, for it is just as if the Celtoi have emerged from their own personal winter of desolation, as well as the winter we know we are leaving behind in the material realm. Is winter not an apt description of the feeling of Romani oppression?

‘These eggs are fertility, rich with promise and the potential of life. Let us leave the winter behind, finally, along with what belongs to winter. This is the festival of new balance: as the sun gains strength, we must joyously accept the change and our rebirth in freedom!’

The crowd burst into tumultuous applause, deafening Boudicca with their cheers of wholehearted approval. She felt light-headed with the Goddess’ influence and uncertain of exactly what she’d said, only how it had been met with such obvious endorsement. She stepped towards Lovernios, hoping now to complete the ritual. But the Queen in her could not resist turning back for one last look at the people gathered before her. The loyalty she sensed flooding towards her was an emotion she would never want to forget.

They were waving their arms now and the noise was growing in volume. Louder and louder, their arms moving faster and faster. Boudicca felt herself falling and reached out to Lovernios for support. He caught her arm, lending her strength, and gently took the eggs from her and laid them at a safe distance. It wouldn’t do for her to fall and crack them. Still the arms waved, swaying back and forth, like ears of ripening corn. No, not like corn, just like ears, long grey ears, twitching and listening, then hurrying away to scamper west into the setting sun.

‘The hare,’ she uttered, before Andraste descended upon her once more and she pulled herself out of Lovernios’ arms and stood to address the crowd.

‘The sacred hare is amongst you, amongst every one of you. Can you not feel it running with your heartbeat?’ There were so many hares, all bobbing away amongst the crowd. So many, it seemed there were no longer any people in the mass, just hares, all running away in a multitude of different directions, trailing blood as they ran. Boudicca felt sickened by the motion — she could no longer focus.

‘Whilst the hare runs separately within each and every one of you, so should you run as individuals. Sweep the land. There are enough of you to divide into small units and still be within calling distance of each other for aid. Destroy anything Romani you find. If they will not join with you, then they are against you and they should be killed. There is no opposition all around the remains of this Colonia, just small farmsteads and fortlets. Ruin them all, put them to the sword and the flame. There will not be much blood — the trail is watery here. Enjoy the sport.’

Then she watched as the hares coalesced into one massive hare with vicious claws and nasty yellow teeth. Then a river appeared and the tide rose and fell. When the ebb tide was at its lowest point, the hare drank from the river, and the blackened waters made it grow even more.

‘You have until the new moon to raze the lands in these environs of the glory which once was Camulodunum. The horde will host again outside Londinium and then destroy it. The new moon is for fresh beginnings; it is proper to attack the second Romani settlement then, it will mark the next stage of our rebellion.

‘Some of you will want to stay behind to ensure the total eradication of this Colonia. Then you will want to return to your homes and raise your families and crops. How easy it will be for you to slip away whilst the horde is temporarily disbanded. I say to you that the land is not yet ready for this! There will be plenty of summer left for farming, but first the entirety of Britannia must be cleansed of the Romani threat, else you will plough and be forever checking over your shoulder for the tramp tramp of Romani soldiers coming to take your land.

‘Those of you whose lands have been already freed of the Romani are not the only tribes to have answered my call. There are other Celtoi tribes here too. Without them we would never have come so far. But their lands are still not free. You owe those tribes loyalty! Every Celtoi here owes their neighbour and their neighbours’ neighbour loyalty for what you have done for one another. Such loyalty cannot be repaid until every Romani and every Romani supporter in Britannia is dead.

‘Do not return to your homes yet. We still have need of you, and if you would only be patient the Romani will provide you with loot and blood to your hearts’ content. There is more, believe me — much, much more — enough to sate even the greediest amongst you.

‘The wagons and camp followers will travel to Londinium at their own slower pace. They will follow the Romani road leading southwest and will engulf first the settlements at Canonium and then Caesaromagus. I estimate the former will be reached after two days’ journeying and the latter after five. However, it is unlikely we will be ready to leave Camulodunum for at least another three days.

‘Move with the wagons, scout out for Romani and then return, or come and go as you will. I ask you one thing, my peoples, and one thing only: meet us on the outskirts of Londinium on the night of the next new moon, bring with you tales of bloodshed and cruelty perpetrated by Celtoi warriors, and be ready to horde upon Londinium!’

Boudicca could not have imagined that the crowd was capable of raising a louder cheer than the previous one, but it did. Andraste, however, had not yet finished, and neither had the Eostar rites. The noise subsided once more. This was the part Boudicca had been dreading, the part she had been unsure about going through with. Now it seemed as if the decision was taken from her.

‘The God too is young, yea, and also ardent!’ Lovernios joined her, responding to her signal. They clasped hands and held them high above their heads, their hips so close as to rub together. Everyone will know the extent of our relationship now, thought Boudicca, there can be no more pretence. ‘It is He who breaks the chains of winter and Our union breathes life into new order.’

They clasped each other then, openly before all the crowds, signifying the s****l union of the Goddess and God. There was a brief lull and then the crowd shouted and cried and cheered louder and more enthusiastically than ever. Everywhere amongst the horde, lover grasped lover and wife grasped husband, everywhere the desire of the Goddess and her Consort was emulated.

Still disoriented from Andraste’s influence, Boudicca allowed herself to be led by Lovernios to the bower set up for the two of them. The Druids had strung sheets of rich Romani material over a lean-to structure of branches and poles, garlanding the whole with the earliest flowers, bluebells and trailing cascades of ivy. Sunlight streamed through the thin material, causing shadow-play to ripple around the interior. Delighted with the effect, Boudicca laughed, still saturated with Andraste who cooed and purred with pleasure at Lovernios’ touch. The finest Romani delicacies had been set aside for those who would act as incarnations of the deities for this ritual, and arranged with the best that Artio’s forest would yield of natural fare. They could want for nothing.

For a single, precious evening, Boudicca had been granted liberation from her cares and worries. Grania was fine and recuperating steadily; there was nothing, the Sisters had reassured her, she could do. The Romani were far away, too far away to affect her. And the people had seen the Goddess herself, whether they actually realised it or not, and were busy celebrating the Eostar rites with their own festivities.