Page 123 of Boudicca

I put down my embroidery. “I have felt the gloom in the rest of the camp.”

“Aye,” said Maldwyn. He sat across the fire from me on a large stump that had been carved into a wide-backed chair. He liked to drape his fur cloak along the back of the chair so that he seemed to sink into its softness. “We’ve spoken of it, the queen, Rhan, and I. It began with the death of Addedomaros.”

Rhan was beside me. She preferred to sit on a thick woolen blanket, folded and placed on the floor so she could rest her back against the side of my chair. “Cadoc, has Tribe Trinovantes not accepted Mailcun as their chief?”

“Oh, they have. It is odd that there is such a sense of gloom over their camp as the inner workings of the tribe run so much more smoothly under Mailcun’s leadership,” said Cadoc.

“Much of that is because Adminius is no longer constantly causing problems with the other tribes,” said Maldwyn.

“Yes, and one would think that his absence alone would lighten the mood of the camp,” continued Cadoc, “but it has not. Instead the gloom seems to be deepening. Comux is restless and worried for his family, which does not help the morale of the Dobunni.”

“What of Leofric?” I asked.

Cadoc shrugged. “His tribe is rather isolated. Even though the Catuvellauni he leads rejected Rome, there are still too many in the other tribes who have lost friends and family to his brother for them to fully embrace Leofric and his people.”

“I have noted the same,” said Rhan. “It is as if the other tribes have lost their spirit.”

“That’s it!” I sat up straighter and smiled. “I know how to heal their spirits. Cadoc, I’m going to need four large logs—so big they can be carved into life-sized images. Can you get them for me?”

Cadoc lifted a shoulder. “It hasn’t snowed for several days. I should be able to go far enough into the forest to drag out some old logs.”

“How soon could you do that?” I asked.

“When do you need them?” the old shield countered.

I grinned at him. “Yesterday.”

“Aye, well, as you ask, so will I do, my queen.” He sounded long-suffering, but his smile was warm and generous.

***

It only took Cadoc two days to find and haul back to camp four large logs from the huge trees felled in the last ice storm. The evening he brought the last of them to camp, I had him set up the logs just outside my cave entrance. The next morning, when the chiefs and my lead warriors joined me to break their fast, I had Wulffaed hold serving the food until after I spoke.

“I ask that you join me outside before we eat,” I told the warriors, glad that the morning was sunny, though clouds threatened over the western mountains. Sending me curious glances, they followed me out of the entrance of the cave. “I have come to understand what it is that is missing in our camp this winter.”

Mailcun’s brows went up. Leofric’s gaze went from the logs to me, where it stayed as he watched me with open curiosity. Comux was, as had become usual for him, silent.

“As an Imbolc gift, I give each chief one of these logs, as well as talented artists from among the Iceni who will carve the logs into images of each tribe’s sacred goddess or god.” I motioned to Rhan, who joined me. “And then I will ask that each idol be blessed and each shrine dedicated to...”

Rhan continued, turning to Mailcun first. “Epona, horse goddess and patroness of Tribe Trinovantes.” Her gaze shifted to Comux. “Sulis, goddess of waters and patroness of Tribe Dobunni.” She looked from Comux to Leofric. “Brân, god and guardian of the land, patron of Tribe Catuvellauni.” Finally her eyes found me. “And Andraste, goddess of war and the patroness of Tribe Iceni.”

Silence greeted Rhan’s proclamation and my stomach began tosink—and then Mailcun stepped forward and stroked one of the wide old logs. “I can see the face of Epona within this wood.” When his gaze went to me, his eyes were bright. “Though I would like to carve our goddess’s image myself.”

I felt a huge rush of relief. I knew well that Mailcun was a gifted sculptor. He’d often carved little trinkets for my mother. I had hoped my gift would intrigue him.

Mailcun’s interest was like a dam break, and the other chiefs surged forward, studying the logs and making their choices.

“Queen Boudicca,” said Comux, “I choose this log and accept your gift gratefully, though I feel certain my Dobunni artists will insist that only they can bring alive the image of Sulis properly.”

“Of course, Chief Comux,” I said graciously.

Leofric cleared his throat. He stood beside the thickest of the logs. “And the Catuvellauni will gladly accept this log. I, too, would prefer one of my artists carve the image of our god.”

“That is understandable,” I agreed, careful not to smile victoriously.

That left the tallest log to be carved into Andraste’s image. I was glad of it. I was also glad of the lively conversation about the idols and where they should be placed that dominated our mornings for the next several days.

The atmosphere of the camp began to change as soon as the four artists, one from each tribe, began working the wood to expose the goddess or god within. Rhan had suggested that we place the logs equidistant around the practice field, so that our patron goddesses and god would watch over our warriors as they trained. I agreed and knew very soon that her idea had been brilliant. Crowds formed every day to observe as the idols took shape. It became a type of competition, but it had a much different feel than the one that had led to the death of one of our chiefs. This competition was permeated with a sense of wonder and magick as the goddesses and god began to emerge from the weathered wood.