by Beth Webb
Owein put an arm around her. ‘I have heard of Aodh, he’s not to be trusted. ‘Now, you’ve had an awful shock, I will take you back. Bel’s chariot is high and Boudica will be wanting you to concoct another curse or something.’
‘First I must pray for the souls of these poor people,’ Tegen said. ‘Lend me your water bottle.’ She filled it from the spring, and trickled a few drops on the heads of each of the victims. ‘May the spirits of the west take you home, may you be reborn soon in a happier place,’ she whispered as she worked.
At last she followed Owein as he hauled himself up the hill and through the woods to where Heather was waiting. They made their way back to the camp in silence, but at last Owein asked, ‘You really didn’t know what was happening to those people, did you?’
‘Of course not!’ Tegen snapped.
‘Haven’t you seen what Boudica and her people are like?’
‘I have. I don’t like them.’
‘Then why do you work for them?’
Tegen shook her head. ‘The same as you, I suppose. I’m hoping to bring some sort of sanity into the madness.’ She paused then thinking of the clay figures she had made and smashed, she added, ‘As well as that, I’m very angry and I have made curses, terrible ones. Do you mind if I tell you … things?’
Owein reached down and took Tegen’s hand. As he rode and she walked, she poured out her heart about Mona and Tonn’s death, but she didn’t mention her baby. She wasn’t quite ready for that.
‘I wanted to go back to Ériu,’ she said at last, ‘But I have a destiny to fulfil, and unless I complete what I was born to do, I shall never find peace … So, I became Boudica’s battle druid.’
Owein nodded sadly. ‘I understand. We are all playing parts we would never have chosen for ourselves in this deadly game.’
Too soon, they realised they were close to Boudica’s sprawling camp. Owein dismounted and they sat by a steep sided rill and let Heather drink.
At last Owein said, ‘I understand why this revolt has happened. The people are angry: it isn’t just Boudica who’s been deprived of her kingdom, been publicly flogged and watched her girls raped by slaves. The injustices are endless and I want to fight to make things right, but not by slaughtering women and children. Do you know why she ordered the burning of Camulodunum?’
‘I agreed with that – it was to cleanse the Land,’ Tegen replied.
Owein laughed. ‘You are such an innocent Tegen! No, she was doing what she had learned from her Roman friends. If you want to destroy a place you make it uninhabitable. That breaks the people’s spirit. Winter is coming; the solstice is in half a moon. Then Samhain – then winter. You’ve seen how it works. This is not the season for campaigning: it is the time for destruction and making people lose heart. She’s forcing a Time of Stone onto Britain and Imbolg is a long way off.’
Tegen picked up a stick and threw it into the stream by their feet. She had thought a Time of Stone would be good – rest before rebirth. She hadn’t seen it from the other point of view. In her heart she could hear old Gronw ticking her off for not listening to the Goddess – but she’d tried that and the Lady hadn’t answered.
She longed for the luxury of time to feel the weave of magic in the air, to understand its patterns and to unpick any threads that were awry. But everything was unfolding too fast. Gronw would say there was always time to listen; she just had to make room for it. She buried her head in her hands and sighed.
Putting his arm around her, Owein said, ‘I pass equally well as a Roman and a British nobleman. Bring me into camp with you. With your magic and my Latin, we will work together to control Boudica’s madness and free Britain. Persuade her to let me mediate or at least spy. Daig and Addedomaros will vouch for me.’
Tegen shook her head. ‘It won’t work. Her spies will know about your Roman fiancée. She’ll have you killed.’
He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Tegen, the evil you were born to avert is here. How many people can you really trust? Vouch for me before the queen. Let me help.’
After a pause, she nodded. ‘I will. Now, if you have your Roman clothes with you, I’ll need to hide them with a glamour. If they are found, we’ll both be dead.’
A Second Druid
Tegen and Owein picked their way through the outer ring of carts and waggons, where warrior families were sorting through heaps of booty. Loud arguments were raging over clothes, pottery, jewellery, mirrors, and even Roman couches.
Tegen winced as she passed a row of war chariots sporting severed heads impaled on spears. Late flies swarmed on the blackened stumps and crawled over dully-staring eyes.
In a clear space, children were kicking a skull around while parents watched, drinking and boasting about their part in the battle.
At last, Tegen led Owein to her tent, a fine ridgepole structure with sides and ends. Behind it, Epona chewed contentedly at a heap of hay. They tied Heather next to her and dragged Owein’s panniers inside. He sat on one, while Tegen knelt on her bed of furs.
‘It’s quite a change from some of the places we camped!’ Owein said with admiration.
‘Being Boudica’s battle druid has its advantages.’ She smiled as she passed him bread, fruit and water. ‘We’ll have to think up a reason for you to be here otherwise you’ll have to sleep where you can with the hangers-on. With your bad leg, no one’ll mistake you for a new recruit and a wounded warrior is worse than useless here.’
‘Tell the truth: I’m an old friend who’s offering his services as a druid,’ Owein suggested. ‘And if any spies have been watching me they’ll know I was captured at the sacking of Sinodun and forced into a Roman marriage because I’m a minor nobleman. Addedomaros will vouch for my usefulness.’
Tegen nodded as she ate. ‘Good. Sabrina is here as well, so with three leading chieftains on your side, you might even get Boudica to listen to your ideas. We’ll go and see her when we’ve eaten. How shall I introduce you to Boudica? Shall you be Caractacus’s son?’
Owein’s face broadened into a wide grin. ‘Sabrina? How wonderful, I can’t wait to speak with her. But just introduce me as Owein, of the Catuvellauni. I’ll wear a plain cloak. I’d rather be incognito until I have my bearings in this game.’
They found the queen seated outside her tent, receiving tributes of gold, silver and spices from the chieftains. A small man at her side was making a tally with a knife on a strip of wood. When Boudica saw Tegen approaching, she jumped to her feet. ‘My battle druid!’ she laughed, slapping her on the back. ‘Who’s this? Have you found yourself a new man?’
Tegen smiled. ‘No, this is Owein, an old friend and a druid-ovate of the Catuvellauni. He begs leave to join us, my lady.’
Boudica clapped her hands. ‘Bring wine and meat. This is excellent news. I love magic. The more workers of wonders I have on my side, the better!’
‘I specialise in law and poetry, madam.’ Owein smiled as he accepted a cup of wine. ‘And should it be any use, I also have a smattering of Latin,’ he lowered his voice, ‘I had an uncle who taught me. He said it might be useful one day.’ He spat and made the sign against the evil eye.
Just then, Sabrina came running, her dark curls flying. ‘Tegen!’ she yelled, ‘I thought it was you! Splendid curses over the last few days! Will …’
She stopped as she saw Owein, her breath caught in her throat.
Boudica saw the stunned look that passed between the two and gripped her dagger hilt.
But Sabrina flung herself at Owein and hugged him. ‘You’re alive!’ she squealed.
He hugged her back. ‘We must talk,’ he whispered.
Sabrina kissed him on the cheek and then gave him a playful slap. ‘That’s for making me worry about you.’
Boudica leaned back in her chair and watched in amazement. ‘So,’ she began, ‘how do you two know each other?’
‘This is my foster-brother, Owein, he’s …’ Owein shook his head at her, so she added, ‘by the gods, man, you’re almo
st as bald as a Roman, what happened to your gorgeous hair?’
Owein smiled. ‘It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later.’
Just then a servant joined them. ‘Lady,’ he said, ‘a chieftain from the Cornovii has arrived with a war band wishing to join the rebellion.’
‘Bring him here and feed his warriors.’ Boudica waved her hand at Sabrina and Owein. ‘You three obviously have much to catch up on, you are excused.’
‘Come to my tent and drink wine,’ Sabrina said, catching hold of Owein’s hand and tugging him playfully.
He pulled her towards him and hugged her waist. ‘No,’ he murmured in her ear, ‘tents make voices louder. I have secrets to tell, let’s go for a walk. Tegen, you must come too.’
‘Don’t you two want to be alone?’ she hesitated, thinking that fur might fly when Sabrina discovered he was betrothed to someone else.
‘No!’ Owein said firmly. ‘We must work together. There must be no secrets between us.’
They chose a track that lead up onto the heath and walked slowly enough for Owein to keep up on his crutch.
Sabrina spoke first, telling Owein of her capture after Admidios’s trap, her life as a gladiatorix and how she’d met Tegen and Tonn after the slaughter of the druids on Mona. ‘So when I heard of the rebellion, well … ’ She slapped her sword, ‘It was obvious I had to stand with my sister-queen!’
When Sabrina finished, Owein described his capture after Sinodun’s destruction. ‘I realised that with Admidios dead, I was in a good position to work with the Romans to ensure some sort of justice for the British.’ He shrugged. ‘It was collaborate or die, really. I chose to try and do some good.’ Then he turned to Sabrina, and with an apologetic look he added, ‘I had no idea you were still alive. I have promised to marry a Roman girl, the daughter of an important man. She was his only child and I was to become an administrator – a quaestor. I don’t care for titles or money, as you know, but it was a good opportunity to fight for justice – and for spying. Over the summer I have been helping the Trinovantes as much as I can. I believe I’ve saved some lives.’
Tegen held her breath and waited for Sabrina to explode. Her father, King Eiser of the Dobunni had betrothed her to Owein, hoping an alliance between his daughter and the only surviving son of the great Caractacus, would bring a lasting peace between the tribes.
But Sabrina laughed and punched his shoulder. ‘That’s why I could never marry you! Our ways are too different. You marry your Roman girl if you think it helps and I’ll die fighting. You’ll always be my favourite brother!’ Then she hesitated. ‘To be honest, I’m worried about what’ll happen when we rid our land of these bastards. I can’t see Boudica being strong enough to keep peace between the tribes. We’ll need to unite properly to defend ourselves in the future. When that happens, then us kings and queens will count for nothing. There’s bound to be Romans left behind with nowhere to go. Britain will have become home to them, they’ll think they have a divine right to rule. You understand both sides, Owein; we’ll need you to make sense of the mess we’re left with.’
Tegen hung back, only half listening to the conversation.
‘Hey!’ Sabrina called out, ‘Don’t worry Tegen, we’ll always need good druids – whatever happens, you’ll have a place in my hall.’
‘But I may not be here …’
Owein swung around. ‘What do you mean? Have you seen your death?’
‘No … It’s just that, well, I’m pregnant. When this is over, I want to go back to Ériu with my child and raise him or her amongst Tonn’s people. I felt I could belong there. I was almost happy – for a while.’
‘You’re pregnant!’ Sabrina gasped. ‘I don’t know much about babies and things, but shouldn’t you be resting?’
Owein eyed Tegen with concern. ‘I thought you didn’t seem quite yourself. Sabrina’s right, you shouldn’t be here.’
Tegen shook her head. ‘After Tonn’s death, the druids tried to make me take herbs to kill my baby, but I refused. It has its own destiny in Ériu. But if I don’t fight here, then Rome might cast its shadow there as well. I can’t deny I’m the Star Dancer, I have to avert evil – but the spirits have seen fit to give me a child … So, I fight on.’
‘I’ll tell Boudica, she’ll send for someone else,’ Sabrina began, but Tegen rounded on her.
‘You’ll do no such thing. I have new magic that’ll work. At last I’m doing what I was born to do, and I will finish it.’
She paused and looked back towards Camulodunum. The red and grey smoke billowed in the afternoon sun. ‘I won’t be free until the rebellion is over. As soon as the fires cool, I must go back to the town. I have some spells that I want to make sure of. But for now, I’m going back to my tent.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Owein offered.
‘No,’ Tegen replied. ‘I need to rest and think. You two will fuss like old women. I’m sure you’ve both got plenty to talk about.’
With that, she strode away downhill.
Golem
Three days later, the shattered pavements of Camulodunum were almost too hot to walk on. Here and there, fires still burned. Charcoaled posts and pillars pointed skywards like fingers accusing the gods. Collapsed buildings clawed at the sky.
Tegen crouched on the scorched turf inside the ruined palisade and cried for the people and the homes that had once been there, for the murdered victims in the grove, and for herself and her baby who’d be born into a world of war.
Her tears weren’t the heart-rending grief and fury she’d wept for Tonn – tears that gouged water from earth and sky.
This time she felt only compassion.
She imagined Camulodunum’s heat cooling as springs and wells ran again and grass and weeds sprouted from cracks and corners. As she worked, clouds gathered in the evening sky, and rain fell like divine tears, turning smoke to steam, washing black cinders between red shards of tile and plaster.
Picking her way along the roads, Tegen reached the temple’s scorched marble pillars. They stood like giant bones scoured of their flesh. As she crossed the square, shattered roof tiles cracked under her feet. She stared around in horrified awe. The silence was terrifying, broken only by an occasional groan or crash as the town fell apart.
The rain was flecked with ash, filling the air with smoky haze. In every shadow, dark spirits hovered, ones that should have been banished in her sacred spiral.
Why are they still here? Tegen wondered.
She stood amongst the debris and closed her eyes, trying to understand. Owein had been right: the burning had done nothing to cleanse. It had only broken the hearts of those who had once lived here. That’s why the spirits had remained. Vengeance had invited them back.
Had that been Boudica’s doing or her own? She couldn’t remember. The burning had seemed the right thing to do – like the Samhain and Beltane fires.
Did good intentions justify the action?
Did Boudica’s vindictiveness turn good to evil?
Or was all of this the result of her curses on the mud soldiers? Everything she’d imagined had indeed come true, like the prisoners in the grove, but at what cost?
Could she really control the chaos as she’d been promised? Her flesh began to creep as she asked herself who – or what – had made that promise?
Tegen rubbed her aching head as she made her way back to the temple square. There she commanded fire to re-ignite the ashes. A spiral path of flames without heat gleamed instantly. Fighting despair and weariness, she danced deosil around the pattern. She closed the gateway to Tir na nÓg that she had left open for spirits to retreat.
Maybe that had been the mistake?
Round and round she reversed her steps, but this time her movements were fluid and healing. She leapt through the final circle of fire, and in the centre she knelt on the shattered wing of Victory. There she stared into the curtain of flames.
For the first time since Tonn’s death, she found she was really praying. ‘Lady
Goddess, give me wisdom and inspiration. Show me the weave of the magic that is hanging in the air in this place. Show me what I am fighting and what I must do.’
A chilly, rain-laden wind tossed the flames wildly. She was not alone. In the heart of the magic a shape shifted and shimmered. For a moment it was her old enemy Derowen, then it became Gorgans, then Admidios.
The flames danced. Now Tegen saw Enid as she was on Cadair Idris, then Boudica. The wind blew, and there was the form of Suetonius – or was it a huge bear?
The crackling fire laughed.
‘How did you get here?’ Tegen demanded. ‘I made a mark to prevent you …’
You set me free, the voice whispered. Anyway, I am not subject to such minor magics. I can be wherever and whatever you want me to be, I will become whatever you imagine. I am your loyal servant, the voice mocked. I can show you how much more you can become …
Rooted to the spot, Tegen was both horrified and fascinated. ‘No,’ she answered quietly. ‘Go away, I’m not interested.’
But you summoned me, the voice persisted.
‘I wanted to know what you are. Now you must go.’ She waved her hand. The flames died, but the presence did not.
But I am your own imagination. If I go, so will your powers.
Tegen lifted her chin. ‘So be it. For then you will be destroyed. This awful war will be over and my land will find peace. That is all I want.’
The demon sniggered as it shifted through a thousand eerie colours and shapes. You will never destroy me because there is nothing to destroy. I am pure spirit! I will pursue you through life and death until you serve me! The voice changed to wheedling: Let there be peace between us and I shall reward you with riches and unimaginable power.
‘I don’t like imagining.’ Tegen retorted.
