"A proscribed man,” interrupted the Commander of the Legion, frowning. "He should not be here at all!”
"That makes no difference! Do you not understand that Rome is here to protect all the men of this country—our citizens and the natives as well,” Macellius insisted, still haunted by the memory of Ardanos’s grief. Over the years he had come to respect the old man, and he had never known the Arch-Druid to be other than perfectly collected before. "How can we persuade them to lay down their arms if we cannot then protect them? With two Legions we could conquer Hibernia—”
"You may well be right, but it will have to wait until Agricola is finished with the Novantae. It has always been that way—with each province we settle we must pacify a new frontier. In the days of the Governor Paulinus, the Druids of Mona were broken so that they could not set the West Country afire. Now it is the Caledonians who must be taught they cannot raid the Brigantae. I suppose that when the Empire stretches to Ultima Thule we will have a peaceful border, but I doubt it will happen before.
"In the meantime all we can do is to hurry the construction of the new coastal fortresses,” said the Legion’s commander cynically, "and ready a troop or two of cavalry to go out if they should be sighted again. Your son is out there now with some troops, isn’t he? Detail him to this duty when he reports in.” The Commander grunted. "The people of Britannia are ours to oppress, and no one else shall do it.”
But building fortresses and planning campaigns took time. Long before the log walls were finished or the grain that had survived the rains had been harvested, Bendeigid returned to escort his daughters to the Forest House. He brought gently paced mules for Mairi and the children to ride. Eilan rode with Mairi’s older child before her, warmly wrapped against the light rain. She was not used to riding and it took all her concentration to balance behind the excited child. The distance was not great, but the unaccustomed journey seemed long.
Darkness was just falling as they came within the palisaded walls. Within the compound were half a dozen large buildings; Caillean took Mairi and her children to a guest house, lifting the little boy down from his perch before Eilan, and pointed out a large building of stout timbers, thatched almost down to the ground.
"There is the House of Maidens,” she said. "The chief of the younger priestesses, Eilidh, has been told of your coming, and she will welcome you there. I will come later when I can; but first I must go and see if Lhiannon needs me.”
The new moon—the first of Mairi’s newborn’s life—rode low on the western horizon. As the serving woman led her into the building and across an inner enclosure, Eilan was surprised to find that already she missed her sister.
Then a gate opened and the woman led her into the inner court. Ahead of her was a long building something like her father’s feasting hall. As she passed through the door a sea of strange faces surrounded her. She looked around, feeling abandoned. The serving woman had left her alone at the door. The hall seemed very large and there was a faint scent of sweet herbs in the air. Then one of the priestesses came forward.
"I am Eilidh,” she said.
"Where is my kinswoman, Dieda?” asked Eilan nervously. "I had hoped to see her here—”
"Dieda attends on Lhiannon and is secluded with her in preparation for the rites of Lughnasad,” said the priestess. "She is your cousin? I would have thought you even more closely akin; even twins.
"Caillean has asked me to take you in charge, for now that she is back she will have to attend Lhiannon. You are almost as beautiful as she told me.”
Eilan colored shyly and lowered her eyes. The priestess was herself quite beautiful; fair-haired, with curly short hair that circled her face in the lamplight, like a delicate halo. She was dressed like the other junior priestesses, not in the dark robes they wore outside the walls but in a dress of undyed linen of an extremely old-fashioned cut, girdled with a woven belt of green.
"You must be half dead with fatigue,” Eilidh said kindly. "Come to the fire, child, and get warm.”
Eilan obeyed, feeling a little stunned by all the strange faces. She had not thought what might confront her here. Now she wondered what she would find, and whether she had made a decision she would regret all her life.
"Don’t be afraid of us,” said a grave voice behind her. The new speaker was tall and sturdy, with reddish hair.
"There aren’t half as many of us as there seem to be. You should have seen me when I first came here, staring about me and sobbing like a wild thing. My name is Miellyn. I have been here five or six years, and now I cannot imagine any other life. All my friends are here, and one day you will have friends here too. For all that we must seem so strange to you now.” She took Eilan’s cloak from her, and laid it aside.
"I think Lhiannon wishes to speak with you before anything else,” said Eilidh, "so come with me.” So saying, she led Eilan across a blustery courtyard to a separate dwelling and rapped on the door. After a moment they heard footsteps and Caillean peered out.
"Eilan? Come in, child,” she said, gesturing to someone behind her. "Dieda, you see, I have brought Eilan to you at last.”
"So you have,” said Dieda, emerging from the shadows behind her. "My father, the Arch-Druid, is here too; and Bendeigid, so we shall be a regular family party, I suppose.” She laughed, and Eilan thought she had never heard so cynical a sound. "And if he has his way Cynric will be brought here as well. I have heard they want to use your Sight, Caillean.”
"Or yours, perhaps,” said Caillean, and Dieda laughed a little. Eilan sensed hostility between the two and wondered why.
"I think they know what I would say to that,” Dieda said. "If it is to seek out Cynric, yes; but to make an oracle for Lhiannon to deliver obediently as if she were no more than a puppet for the will of Rome—”
"In the name of the Goddess, any goddess, be silent, child,” Caillean ordered, listening to a gate slamming somewhere near by. "What is it? Who is here?”
"Only his holiness, my father,” Dieda muttered, "and the greatest priestess of all the Forest House, who will obediently deliver such oracles as he shall desire.”
"Be silent, you wretched creature,” hissed Caillean. "You well know that what you say is sacrilege.”
"Or perhaps there is a greater sacrilege here, in which I have no part,” Dieda replied. "Perhaps, with Sight, they want to make certain they send the Romans against the right party. If so, what will you do, Caillean?”
"I will do whatever Lhiannon commands,” said Caillean, her voice sharpening. "As we all do.”
Caillean was trying to speak reasonably to soften Dieda’s wrath; but the other girl seemed angrier than ever. Dieda had always been sharp-tongued, but Eilan had never heard her so bitter before.
"I know what you would have us think—” Dieda began, but Caillean’s face flushed with anger. Still she spoke calmly.
"You know perfectly well that it is not what you think, or what I think, that matters,” she began, "but what the High Priestess wills; and that is what I will do.”
"If it is her will,” Dieda answered more quietly, "but under present conditions, how can Lhiannon’s will be done—even if her will could somehow be determined or if she even has one any more.”
"Dieda, I have heard this all before,” Caillean said wearily. "But is it such an evil thing to summon our kinsman Cynric so that he may fittingly mourn his foster mother?”
"We could have done that weeks ago,” Dieda began.
"Perhaps, but that is all that you—or I—are being asked to do,” Caillean repeated. "Why have you set yourself so stubbornly against it now?”
"Because I know, if you do not,” Dieda said, "that this use of power is to trick Cynric into doing what his whole life has been spent in learning to oppose; what Bendeigid himself would rather die than do, and that is to clasp hands with Rome. Know you not that for his sake it was that Bendeigid allowed himself to be proscribed?”
"Oh, in the name of the Goddess, girl! I know something of Cynr
ic too, and of Bendeigid,” said Caillean crossly. "And, believe it or not, even something of the Romans; at least I have lived under their rule longer than you. And I say that there shall be no violence done to your precious ethical precepts, nor to Cynric’s. Do you think, perhaps, that you are the only person in all of Britannia who knows what Cynric wishes to do?”
"I know enough—” Dieda began, but Caillean said harshly, "Hush; they will hear us. And Eilan must be thoroughly confused by now—”
Dieda’s face softened. "I suppose so, and it is an ill welcome for her to hear us disputing so.” She came and embraced Eilan, who knew enough not to protest lest she start the argument again.
At this moment the inner door opened and Lhiannon stood before them.
"Children, are you quarreling?”
"Of course not, my mother,” said Caillean quickly. And after a moment Dieda added, "No, certainly not, Holy Mother; we were only welcoming the new novice.”
"Ah, yes; I heard that Eilan was to come,” said Lhiannon, and turned her gaze on the young girl who stood quietly between them. Eilan felt her heart thump loudly as she looked at the woman she had last seen standing like a goddess beside the Beltane fire.
"So you are Eilan?” Lhiannon’s voice was sweet but a little thin, as if being the mouthpiece of the Goddess for so many years had worn its strength away. "It is true; you are very like Dieda; I suppose you are weary of being told that. But we must devise some way to tell you apart here at the shrine.” She smiled, and Eilan felt an odd surge of protectiveness.
Lhiannon reached out one hand to Eilan, who was still standing nervously by the door. "Come in, child. Your father and grandfather are here with us, you know.” Eilan wondered why she should be surprised, since her father had escorted her here. Was he then living among the priests?
Lhiannon took Eilan’s arm gently and drew the girl into the inner room, adding to the two older priestesses, in her sweet voice, "Come in too. Both of you will be needed here.”
The inner room seemed small, or perhaps it was only that too many people had crowded into it. Smoke curled thickly from herbs burning in a brazier in the center of the room; their smell made Eilan’s head swim. Between the smoke and the crowd, for a moment she found it hard to breathe.
After a moment her focus steadied and she saw her father, his face made gaunt by the past moon’s grief until he looked almost as old as Ardanos.
Her grandfather, who was adding something to the fire, looked up at the women and said, "So we are all here. And once again I am confused; which of you is which?”
Eilan stood silent, waiting for someone older to answer, but Dieda said boldly, "It is easy to tell, Father. Eilan has not yet been given the dress of a priestess.”
"So that is how you expect me to tell my daughter from my granddaughter! Well, perhaps it is only the smoke in here. But I still find them too much alike for my comfort,” said the older Druid briskly. "So, Eilan, you have arrived here at a sad time; we must summon Cynric to our Councils, and as he has been brought up with you as a foster brother your assistance will be helpful. Are you ready, Caillean?”
Caillean said quietly, "If Lhiannon wills it.”
"I do,” Lhiannon answered. "Whatever comes of this, Cynric must know of the death of his foster mother and of these new outrages. The Romans are not our only enemies—”
Dieda said quietly through her teeth, "How would you like to say that to Mairi at this moment, Father?”
"Peace, child,” Ardanos said. "Whatever you may think, Macellius Severus is a good man; he was as angry when I told him as if his own house had been burnt.”
"I doubt that,” Dieda murmured, but low enough so that only Caillean and Eilan could hear.
The old Druid frowned at her; then he said, "Caillean, my child—”
Caillean, with a glance at Lhiannon, went to a cupboard and took out a small silver bowl, simple but for an elaborate chasing of patterns on the outside. She filled it with water from a ewer and set it on the table. Ardanos pulled up a three-legged stool so that she could sit down before it, while Lhiannon took her place in a carved chair near by.
Ardanos waved Caillean aside. "Wait,” he said; "Dieda, it was you who were closest to him; it is you who must look into the water and summon him.”
Dieda flushed and for a moment Eilan wondered if she would refuse outright. Dieda had always had more courage than she—or had her grandfather mistaken them again? He was looking at her; then he turned aside and his eyes sought out Dieda. "You were pledged,” he said. "I ask it of you, child—” and his voice was more tender than Eilan had ever heard it. "For your sister’s sake I ask it; she was his foster mother before you were born.”
Eilan thought, He plays on us all as if we were his harps. But Dieda could not ignore the tenderness in his voice either. She murmured, "As you will, Father,” and took her place before the bowl.
Ardanos began, "So then, we are gathered here in this place that is already protected and purified to summon Cynric, the foster son of Bendeigid. All of you, who are of all the living the nearest he has to kindred, must hold his image in memory, and add the calling of your hearts to mine.” He struck the floor with his staff, and Eilan heard the sweet jangle of silver bells.
"Cynric, Cynric, now do we call you!” his strong, bard-trained voice rang out suddenly, and Eilan blinked, for suddenly the room seemed to have become darker, and Ardanos—his whole body, not just his white robes—seemed to glow. "Strong son, beloved boy, your kindred call you…Warrior, Raven-son, we summon you by the powers of earth and oak and fire!”
As the echoes of his calling faded, Dieda’s breathing, growing harsher as she drew in great lungfuls of scented smoke, was the only sound in the room. Eilan stifled a cough. Even the small amount of the smoke she had breathed in had made her dizzy; she could imagine what it was doing to Dieda, who gazed into the water unmoving.
Only now did Eilan notice Dieda’s long hair hanging loosely to either side so that it framed the bowl. They had all moved into a loose circle. From where she stood Eilan could see the surface of the water. Her skin prickled a little as Dieda swayed, or was it she herself? Perhaps it was the world that was moving; she blinked as the shapes around her dimmed and flowed until the only thing on which she could focus was the surface of the bowl.
As she stared, it slowly clouded over, and after a moment there was a gray swirling that first darkened, then cleared. Eilan gasped; a face, a well-known face—that face of her foster brother Cynric—peered from the water.
Dieda stifled a cry, then said quietly but clearly, as if she spoke to someone a long way off, "Cynric, you must come. This time it is not a Roman outrage but the people of the North who have burned your house and have killed your mother and sister. Return to the Ordovici lands. Your foster father is alive and has need of you.”
After a time the face disappeared, the water swirled darkly in the bowl, and Dieda stood up, clutching a little dizzily at the edge of the table. "He will come,” she said. "The keeper of the college of priestesses there will give him supplies. With good roads and good weather he should be here in a few days.”
Bendeigid said, "But what of the barbarians who burnt our house? If you are not too wearied, child, we must see them and know whence we go to punish them—”
"I will not,” said Dieda. Her hair was still hanging about her face. "Always you can bend me to your will, but let Caillean do this; it is her will that we work with the Romans in this, not mine. I will find it hard to forgive you.”
"My child—”
"Oh, I well know the necessity; but to use me to draw Cynric here, how could you?”
Caillean took the bowl and flung the water out through the door, letting in a welcome blast of fresh air. Yet in spite of the warmth of the summer night after a few moments Eilan began to feel cold. Caillean refilled the bowl and bent over it, motionless.
This time it seemed that the picture took longer to form, and the swirling clouds in the water lasted longer. C
aillean’s intent face grew paler, pale as death; then she spoke, softly still, and with a deathly weariness in her voice. "Behold, if you will.”
Eilan never knew what the others saw, but as the surface of the water cleared, before her eyes a small picture formed: the raiders as they had been when they burst into Mairi’s house, arrested, frozen on the doorstep; men clad in multicolored and ragged fabric. Some bore swords, which she had not seen at the time, and some bore spears. The picture was so clear that she could see the raindrops glittering on their ragged blond or reddish beards and long streaming hair. The men crowded around the bowl, blocking the image that Eilan saw still in memory and knew she would be able to call up at will until the day she died.
In her memory she saw Caillean rush forward, scooping up handfuls of live coals and scattering them towards the strange men. She supposed that her father and grandfather must have seen something like this, for her father’s face was clenched and drawn tight. "Red Rian,” he said between his teeth. "A curse on his sword and his shadow! And they are on the seashore still—”
"So be it, and I add my curse to yours for what that is worth,” Lhiannon said, stirring in her chair. "I declare to you that your people and the Romans together shall work to punish them.”
Bendeigid began to speak but Lhiannon silenced him with a gesture. "Enough; I have said it. Now go; let it be as Caillean has seen and I have declared. You can take Red Rian on the seashore.”
"Lady, how know you this?”
"Have you forgotten that I and mine can rule the winds when we choose?” Lhiannon said. "He will not find a breeze to bear him hence till you have caught up with him. Will all this content you?”
"For the sake of vengeance against those devils—if it must be so,” Bendeigid declared. "But I swore to ally even with Romans if they would help me to vengeance, though it goes against the grain—and we will need their help to drive these raiders and murderers forever from our shores!”
Dieda drew a long breath. "Will you await the coming of Cynric?”