by Ralph Harvey
“And now,” Boudicca tore a portion from the groin and threw it away. “Thus shall Rome be emasculated.”
The reaction from the crowd increased as they enjoyed the entertainment, Boudicca commenced to break the legs and arms of the figurine, and then tore the body to pieces.
“So perish all Romans!” she ejaculated. As the pieces fell to the ground the village hens closed in clucking and fighting over the morsels, then coyly she turned, “Come Corrianus.”
Holding hands they walked to Boudicca’s hut. Corrianus smiled as he shut closed the wicker and leather door behind them. Once Inside the hut he gently stripped Boudicca, and then silently they started to make love.
As she lay in his arms Corrianus’ mind flicked back to the Druid’s oracle, and her destruction of the figurine, he looked down at her face, thoughtfully happy.
“You would not challenge the might of Rome would you Boudicca?” Corrianus queried suddenly.
Boudicca’s eyes opened momentarily, then she tightened her arms around him to display her love even further, thrusting her breasts upwards at him as she spoke.
“Do you take me for a fool dearest? For every Roman that fell, ten more would follow. The decadence has already set in their empire — time itself will destroy them from within. But enough of politics — make love to me again — and thrust even deeper lover.”
Expectantly she leaned back raising her hips in anticipation; Corrianus raised his body slowly moving forward as he did so. Then as he entered her again Boudicca gave a little yelp of joy.
Maeve and Sequenna’s Betrothal
In the village, the elders sat together within the round house. Corrianus and Boudicca were on a slightly raised dais, whilst to their immediate left and right the two horsemen seen riding into the village earlier were seated.
Some distance before them, clearly apprehensive were Maeve and Sequenna, the senior tribesmen standing at the back of the hut. The girls’ eyes continuously flicked to the brooding figure of Mordicas the Druid as they pondered inwardly as to why he too had been summoned.
As they waited in silence, Malda the old scribe came forward and struck three sharp blows on the floor with his staff, drawing the immediate attention of those assembled.
Boudicca sat before them, ever regal, then spoke directly to the two girls in front of her.
“Daughters of mine, the days of feuding are over. No more are we to see tribe warring against tribe. The old ways are to end.”
She gestured to the two tall and stalwart warriors seated to her left and right, “Gallius son of Caliages and Ashanda son of Conablius are here as emissaries of the Catuvellauni and Trinovantes nations.” She waited for the words to sink in then added gently, “They desire to be at peace with our people.”
The two girls lowered their heads meekly. Sequenna furtively mouthed to her sister in an aside, “Maeve, what has this to do with us? Our mother summons us here then announces it is a meeting for a peace treaty?”
Her sister reached out and squeezed her hand gently, “I have a thought sister, — and I like it not!”
As they spoke, Boudicca turned to Corrianus and gestured him to continue.
“Eternal warfare within this country has weakened our tribal structure over the years and thus it was we were conquered by the Romans.” He looked towards Boudicca. “We have talked both long and earnestly and ’tis clear that it is futile in such circumstances to fight each other.”
Boudicca rose to her feet and turned to the assembled tribesmen.
“We have all of us been guilty. We have snatched land and cattle for centuries, only to lose the following year what we had gained.” She dropped her hand and stared at the audience before her. “Now we all of us have lost everything to the Romans.”
The girls’ faces continued to show puzzlement, inwardly knowing what was to come. Their innermost fears were realised as Corrianus, playing the father figure, said,
“Hence this meeting with you Maeve and with you also Sequenna.”
The girls squeezed each other’s hands more strongly. Their movement was not unnoticed by Boudicca.
“Relax daughters, what I command is quite simple and you know that I will be obeyed.” Then with heavy emphasis she announced to all and sundry, “In accordance with tribal custom, it has been decided in counsel that the eldest son of the great chieftain Conablius of the Trinovantes and the eldest son of Caliages of the Catuvellauni will now become our blood brothers by union of marriage.”
Now the girls knew.
Maeve in an undertone queried of her sister, “Know you what their sons look like Sequenna?”
Sequenna shook her head, “No, I do not.” She raised her eyes furtively at the two emissaries seated by her mother, then gave a little giggle, “But if it was the two riders that had come, I would not say no to them!”
The girl had been heard, but did not seem to displease Boudicca.
“The two riders you see before you,” she announced, “Gallius and Ashanda, are those self same sons and are here to seek your hands in marriage. Thus in the years to come, in your children’s veins, the blood of the Trinovante and the Catuvellauni shall flow, uniting us for all time.”
Her voice rose sharply causing the two girls to jump.
“Behold your husbands-to-be, for as I said, Gallius and Ashanda here are those self same sons who have come here for you.”
The girls’ eyes shot from one to the other of the two warriors before them, whilst Corrianus, clearly amused watched.
“It is Ashanda who is destined for you Maeve, and Gallius for you Sequenna. How do you like them?”
There was a moment’s silence. Sequenna then made the first move as she shyly got to her feet and approached Gallius. To the amusement of the onlookers, she suddenly adopted a show of bravado and then, with her arms akimbo, she slowly moved around him.
“So you are to be my bridegroom great warrior.”
She looked at him querulously, and with a note of aggression in her voice asked “Why do you seek my hand and not my sister’s?”
Gallius was undisturbed and responded immediately, “I first saw you in a skirmish with the Atrebates and ’twas I that said to my father at the time ‘Now there is a woman I would have as my own!’” He looked at her, “You are the daughter of a Queen, and we would sire strong sons together as our successors.”
As a ripple of laughter swept through the tribesmen, Maeve joined in the fun and imitated her sister. She too started to circumambulate Ashanda to the amusement of the onlookers and clearly to his discomfort.
As they watched, she suddenly tapped his chest and sensuously ran her fingers down his tanned arms, probing for his hidden strength as she felt his muscles.
“Hmmm,” she murmured aloud, then raising her voice announced, “nothing a little more exercise could not improve upon!” She turned to Boudicca. “Very well mother, I will have him — with training he will make a good husband!” She laughed and the audience howled with approval.
As Maeve threw her head back, Ashanda suddenly seized her by the waist and crushed her to him.
“On my wedding night I will show you my fortitude!” then added, “And thus tune my muscles in the process!”
Maeve struggled vainly to free herself, good humouredly slapping him in the process whilst the hut resounded with laughter. As he released her, Boudicca walked over towards them and laid her hands on her daughters as she cuddled them to herself.
“Then it shall be. Ashanda and Gallius, you can leave this day to send greetings to Conablius and Caliages, and tell them that I decree that on the second festival of Imbolc at the Feast of the Waxing Light, you shall marry and be of one, as our nations shall henceforth be! I have spoken!”
Wine was then produced and within minutes the goblets flowed. As the assembly echoed to the cacophony of chatter, the girls hugged the tribesmen as each man congratulated them while the women chided the husbands-to-be and welcomed them.
Only Mordicas the Druid remained
unmoved. Spurning the festivities, he slunk away to the dark recesses of the hut, then unobserved, made his exit. Muttering under his breath, he made his way out of the village, cursing continuously to himself as he walked.
“Such a union threatens all Druidism. How much will the great Queen listen to me now when she has the ear of the great chieftain Conablius of the Trinovantes and Caliages of the Catuvellauni? ’Tis an evil day for me and my people.”
He stopped at the edge of the village and looked back, his mouth contorted in hate and added, “And perhaps for Rome too.”
Mordicas and Suetonious
At the outskirts of the Roman headquarters two guards snapped to attention as they caught sight of the lone white figure approaching.
“No problem,” muttered one, “a Druid, they’re ’armless — looks like an old boy at that.”
His colleague turned, “Don’t be so bloody sure, some of the 20th clobbered that lot at Mona. Said you could cut them to pieces, and as long as they still had legs, they’d keep on coming at you.”
The first guard took the hint and placed his pila in the challenge position as the figure drew nearer.
“Won’t take no chances then.”
His companion copied him, placing his own pila at guard.
“One fuckin’ wrong move and the old bastard’s skewered. At Mona, they say the women were the worst — they used to drink honey and sour wine mixed with some poisonous fungi — makes ’em go mad and numb so that they can’t feel pain.”
The first Roman grinned.
“Better get some for the poor bleeding auxiliaries, they’re always the first in and last out.”
By now the Druid, breathless and panting, was before them.
“I am Mordicas of the Deva Druids, and seek immediate audience with your commander Suetonius,” he demanded.
“Do you then, old timer?” the guard responded, “Well what makes you so bleedin’ special eh? Wants to see Suetonius indeed do you — look if you’re after a handout you’re unlucky — shove off you bloody ’eathen before I sticks this up you.” He waved the pila at the old man menacingly.
Mordicas bristled, and defiantly held his ground.
“On your heads be it then, but believe me, Suetonius shall hear of this, I have my contacts, and I will report you.”
“Here, hold on,” the second man broke in, “no need to get arsy, we can’t make decisions here see, so I’ll tell the optio, who’ll tell the centurion, who’ll tell the tribune, who’ll tell the legate and if you’re bleeding lucky, he’ll tell Juventus, who’ll ask Suetonius. That’ll take a couple of hours — so why don’t you go over there an’ sit down where we can keep an eye on you until we hear from the top — okay?”
He grinned.
“Suetonius — you’ve got no chance mate, the next one above him is the God Jupiter himself.”
Mordicas turned angrily, “We shall see.” He looked his tormentor straight in the face. “I am hot and tired.”
“Well,” said the guard, “go and sit under that tree in the shade while you wait.”
“And thirsty too” the Druid reacted.
The first soldier glanced at his companion, who nodded affirmatively, “Give him a drink, no sense antagonising him, specially if he does get to see Suetonius — here.” He proffered a pitcher of water to the man.
“My name’s Castra, remember mate — it was me what give you the drink.” The old man took it and drunk heavily, and then hobbling away on his stave, he sat in the shade of the large oak the soldier had pointed to.
Later that day, Juventus approached Suetonius’ tent. Seeing him approach the guards acknowledged his rank with the traditional salute. Once outside he observed the normal courtesy of requesting admission.
“Inform your commander I am without, and that I Tribune Juventus seek immediate audience with him.”
A guard promptly saluted and entered.
“Juventus, your aide-de-camp, seeks audience sir.”
Suetonius looked up from the map he was studying.
“Admit him at once,” he commanded. “I always welcome Juventus.”
His ADC entered, and clasped Suetonius’ hand — wrist to wrist in the warrior way of the soldier.
“Hail Suetonius — how art you this day?”
Suetonius leaned back wearily, “As well as any man can be, Juventus, in this God forsaken country. Everything rots, the armour rusts and the leathers mildew, we have had drizzling rain for days on end, there never seems to be an end to it.” He paused. “For the life of me I cannot see why great Caesar ever wanted to colonise this accursed land. Sit down friend and tell me what you need.” He barked a command to the guard outside, “Bring some refreshment, and wine and fresh fruit.”
He turned to Juventus, “Thank goodness we import most of our own food and wine, the local bread I swear is half sand, their ale is as bitter as gall, and their meat I swear would be better suited to make leather with. How did I ever get this posting Juventus? I had hoped to command Greece or Crete, and have warmth and sunshine, and pretty girls around me; I swear I would rather lay with a she-bear than a Silurian girl. For I vow the girl is the hairier of the two.”
Juventus laughed. “You do not fool me Suetonius, we all know that you have a penchant for an Iceni girl — the one you keep that never criticises.”
Suetonius reacted humorously at the obvious inference to his deaf and dumb mistress.
“Of all the Celts, my most favourite are the Iceni, the Silures are as hairy as dogs, and smell like curs as well.”
At that moment the orderly entered and set down a dish of sweetmeats and wine plus a pannier of fruit. Suetonius pushed the wooden platter forwards towards his colleague.
“Eat friend,” he gestured. The two men ate and drank while Juventus spoke of his mission.
“I did not come to ask favour, Suetonius, but to tell you there is a Druid by the name of Mordicas at the perimeter, apparently he has been there all morning, demanding to see you.”
“His purpose?” Suetonius enquired.
“He refuses to say,” responded Juventus, “I have sent a man to question him, but he says it is a matter of grave importance, and will speak only to you, all we know is he appears to be someone of importance and that he is a Deva.”
“Have you told him that I never speak alone with those I know not?”
Juventus smiled.
“I think not commander, this one is old and feeble.”
“Well have him sent for, I would be foolish to ignore him, the Deva Druids are far from here — so obviously he has made a long journey to see me, he must deem it of great importance.” he looked at Juventus, then slowly and deliberately placed his gladius on the table. “But have him searched — especially for poisons. I will not have him slipping something into my drink; that is the trouble with this country, even a Druid could be an assassin.”
A runner left for the main gate and bade the guards admit him. As the old man shuffled in the two sentries watched him go.
“Must be bleeding important — when the old one gets to see the chief himself — shows you can’t be too careful.”
Castra stood, watching the old man hobbling off into the distance, accompanied by two guards.
“Easier to make a friend than an enemy, and we have need of them in this accursed country — besides,” he added, “those Druids ’ave got a lot of clout, they ’ave — and bear no love for the she-bitch of the Iceni.”
Minutes later, Mordicas was ushered before the two men, Suetonius looked up sternly.
“Greetings Mordicas — but what is so important that my trusted colleague cannot hear?”
Mordicas looked first from Suetonius then to Juventus.
“My words are for your ears only commander.”
“Juventus is my ears and eyes, all my commands are carried through him. So speak freely Druid, for he will know of your mission within minutes of your leaving anyway.” Mordicas hesitated, leaning heavily on his stick.
&nb
sp; “Be seated old one,” Suetonius bade him.
As he spoke, Juventus gave him his arm to sit the patriarch down, then hesitatingly he went into a preamble.
“I come to give you warning Suetonius, that Boudicca, the scheming Queen of the Iceni plots against you and Caesar.”
Suetonius interrupted him sharply,
“How know you this?”
Mordicas did not bat an eyelid, “The other tribes fear such a war and talk much, we Druids hear all.” He paused for maximum effect. “I myself have heard it from Boudicca’s own lips,” he licked his own lips, and continued, “outwardly she lives at peace while planning a war against Rome. She has conquered all the tribes around her and now they live under her heel — she seeks to rule all Britannia.”
Suetonius was clearly unbelieving,
“Then why is it that my own spies do not report this, nor hear of it, I see no movement of the tribes indicating it, no weapons being made or chariots being built. Indeed no preparations for war.”
Mordicas leaned forward, “No Suetonius, for your spies are not Druids. It is necessary for many to consult us holy men on certain issues.”
“Like what?” Suetonius snapped.
“Like marriage” Mordicas responded artfully, “the signs must be read and a propitious date set for the marriage of a royal princess, or —, he hesitated slyly, “Royal princesses in this instant.”
Suetonius was now interested, he leaned forward confidentially,
“Princesses indeed? Tell me more priest.” Juventus poured a placatory measure of wine and offered it to Mordicas, then gestured to him to partake of the sweetmeats arranged on the table. Clearly, the atmosphere was now mellowing. The two Romans watched awhile as the holy man drank, then he continued.
“Boudicca plans to marry her eldest daughter, Maeve to Ashanda, chief of the Trinovantes, and Sequenna, her youngest, to Gallius of the Catuvellauni, thus placing the two greatest tribes alongside the Iceni at the very gates of Londinium.”
Suetonius frowned, clearly perturbed.
