Queen of Victory by Anthony Gordon

Author:Anthony, Gordon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-08-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter XXVII

Smoke drifted lazily into a cloudless summer sky. In places, the fires still burned as Londinium died a slow death. There was little wind, and the acrid smell of burning filled the air.

For miles along the northern bank of the broad Tamesis, the Iceni and their allies celebrated their victory, feasting on the stocks of food they had liberated from the vast warehouses. Yet there were so many of them that even the supplies intended to feed a province would not last long, and soon they would be compelled to move on or starve.

Some people still went hungry as the less scrupulous defied Bonduca's orders and held on to what they had taken. For men and women who had faced the threat of famine for months, this was too much, and several fights broke out. Two men were killed when they were discovered hoarding sacks of grain which the mob then squabbled over, resulting in more bloodshed.

Bonduca was furious, sending warriors to impose some sort of order, but the sheer size of the war host defeated her efforts to maintain control. The Iceni and the Trinovantes had come together as an army, but they were becoming a mob. Factions among the tribal leaders were echoed among the people, with arguments and fights breaking out everywhere.

“We must do something,” Bonduca complained to Cethinos.

The old druid was not interested. “The fighting will stop when they have Romans to kill,” he shrugged.

“What about food?” Bonduca challenged. “We have planted no crops this year. We will starve unless we find more supplies.”

Cethinos, though, did not concern himself with such things. As a druid, he only had to ask for food and it would be brought to him.

“The Gods will provide for us,” he assured the Queen. “We will take what we need when we seize Verulamium.”

“That will not see us through the coming winter,” Bonduca argued.

“The Catuvellauni have fields and crops,” Cethinos snapped, wishing to end the discussion. He had far more important things to occupy him than concerns over food. He had the Gods to consider.

“We will make a great sacrifice,” he announced. “The Gods will see what we have accomplished in their name, and they will aid us in this war. We cannot be defeated if the Gods are on our side.”

Abruptly, Cethinos turned his back on the Queen and returned to his task of supervising the construction of a huge image of a man, formed of intricately woven wickerwork, an effigy the likes of which had not been seen for more years than most people could remember. It was already the height of three men and would rise even higher, an immense framework that would tower over the people who would flock to see Cethinos’ greatest achievement.

The first captives were already being shoved into the wide legs and waist of the wicker statue, forced in at spearpoint while the men who were building the bizarre prison continued to weave the thick strands of hazel around them, steadily increasing the height of the wicker man.

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