The Forest House (34 page)

But mostly his heart beat hard simply at the thought of seeing Eilan again, even at a distance; just to know that all was well with her.

Of course, there was still the problem of
how
he was going to get in to see her. At length he realized that he would have to trust to the gods to help him.

The Legate who commanded the Second Adiutrix Legion had retired the preceding winter and it was just at this moment that his replacement arrived Gaius knew that his father would have more than enough to do helping the new Commander settle in. When he announced he was going off for a few days' hunting, Macellius hardly had time to say farewell.

It was at the festival of the goddess the Britons called Brigantia that celebrated the end of the winter that Gaius rode once more past the Hill of the Maidens, just at that time when the young men dressed in costumes of straw and carried an image of the Lady from house to house to give Her blessing in exchange for cakes and ale. But here, he had heard, the priestess who was the Voice of the Goddess came out to proclaim the coming of spring to the people. In the wood outside the village Gaius changed into the British clothing he had brought along. Then he joined the others who were gathering to await the priestesses. From conversations overheard around him, he learned that this year the crowd was bigger than usual.

“The old Priestess died last autumn,” one of the women told him. “And they say that the new one is young, and very beautiful.”

“Who is she?” he asked, his heart beginning to beat heavily in his breast.

“The Arch-Druid's granddaughter, I am told, and some whisper there was more than chance in her choosing. But I say that the old blood is best for the old ways, and who should be better fitted for such a task than one whose fathers and mothers before her have served the gods?”

Eilan!
he thought. How could it be? Had she lost the child? If she was really High Priestess, how was he ever to see her again? He waited with ill-concealed impatience for nightfall, and grew silent with the others as they saw the procession of white-robed maidens emerge from the timber gate of the Forest House and come towards them down the avenue. At their head walked a slender woman with a scarlet cloak over her white gown. Beneath the thin veil he could see the glint of golden hair. She came crowned with light and attended by harpsong.
Eilan
…his heart cried.
Can you feel me near you, Eilan?

“Out of the winter's darkness I have come—” she said, and her voice was like music. Too much like music, thought Gaius; Eilan's voice had been sweet to him, but it had not this resonance. He pressed closer, trying to see. This woman's voice sounded as if she were a trained singer.

“Light-bearer am I, and bearer of blessings. Now comes the springtide; new leaves shall spring soon from the branches, and the rainbow flowers. May your beasts bear in abundance; good fortune to your plowing. Take now the light, my children, and with it my favor.”

The Priestess bent, and they lifted from her head the crown of candles. As they lowered it to the ground before her, Gaius saw her face for the first time in full light. It was the face he had dreamed of, and yet, even in a single moment of illumination, he knew it was not Eilan. He remembered, now, how beautifully Dieda had sung.

He pulled away, shaking. Had the woman got it wrong or was Eilan the victim of some dreadful deception?

“Hail to the Lady!” the people cried. “Hail to the Holy Bride!” Cheering, the young men touched their torches to the candle crown and began to form the procession that would carry the light to every hut and farm. It was certainly Dieda, and she must know where Eilan was. But he could not approach her now.

He turned away and recognized another face in the crowd. At this moment, danger meant nothing.

“Caillean,” he whispered harshly. “I must speak to you! In the name of mercy—where is Eilan?”

In the half-light he felt sharp eyes on him; he heard a voice speaking in a whisper, “What are you saying?” A hard grip closed on his hand. “Come away from this crowd; we cannot speak here.”

He went unresisting. It seemed to him that if death should descend on him, it would be no more than his due. But when they were beyond the crowd, he stopped in his tracks and turned to the priestess.

His voice was low and hoarse. “Mistress Caillean, I know how Eilan loved you. In the name of any god you cherish, tell me—where is she now?”

Caillean pointed to the dais where the white-veiled woman presided over the festivities.

“Cry out and betray me if you will, but do not lie to me.” Gaius stared into her eyes. “Though every man here should swear that is Eilan, I know better. Tell me if she is alive and well!”

Caillean stared back at him with widening eyes in which he read amazement, anger, and fear. Then she let out her breath in an explosive sigh and pulled him after her, further away from the circle of torchlight where Dieda was lifting her hands to bless the crowd. As he followed Caillean into the shadows, Gaius told himself that the catch in his throat was only from the smoke of the fires.

“I should tell them who you are and let them kill you,” she said finally. “But I, too, love Eilan, and she has had enough pain.”

“Is she alive?” Gaius's voice cracked.

“No thanks to you,” Caillean retorted. “Ardanos would have put her to death when he heard what you had done! But he was persuaded to spare her, and she told me everything. Why did you never come for her? Is it true that you have married someone else as we were told?”

“My father sent me away—”

“To Londinium,” she confirmed. “Then it was one of the Arch-Druids's lies that you had been married off to some Roman girl?”

“Not yet,” he said. “But I have been on service and was not free to come. If Eilan was not punished, why do I not see her here?”

Caillean looked at him with contempt; and Gaius felt it withering him. At last she said, “Would you expect her to be out here dancing when she has just given birth to your son?”

Gaius's breath caught. “Is she alive? Is the child?” It was dark here, away from the fires, but it seemed to him that Caillean's stern expression softened.

“She is alive, but weak, for the birth was hard; I have been very frightened for her. You do not seem to me worth dying for, but seeing you might be the medicine she needs. The gods know I am no judge. I care nothing what Ardanos might say. Come with me.”

Caillean was only a dark shadow in the night as she led him around the crowd and back along the road, away from the Forest House and the Hill of Maidens. When they could no longer see the light of the fires, Gaius asked, “Where are you taking me?”

“Eilan is not in the Forest House now; she has dwelt in a little house in the deepest part of the woods since the child began to show.” After a moment Caillean added hesitantly, “I have been very troubled for her. Women are sometimes very sorrowful after they have had a child, and the gods know that Eilan has enough reason to be unhappy; perhaps when she sees that you have not abandoned her, she will recover more quickly.”

“They told me that if I did not attempt to see her, she would not be mistreated—” he protested.

Caillean laughed, a brief bitter sound. “Ardanos was furious, of course, the wretched old tyrant. He is convinced that only if you Romans think of our priestesses as Vestals will you protect them. But the choice of the Goddess had fallen on Eilan, and he could not deny it, when Lhiannon with almost her dying breath had proposed this deception.”

Caillean did not speak again. After a time Gaius saw through the trees a small glimmer of light against a greater darkness.

“There is the house.”

Caillean's voice came soft in his ear. “Wait in the shadows while I get rid of the old woman.” She opened the door.

“The blessing of the Lady to you, Eilan; I've come to keep you company. Annis, I'll care for her now. Why don't you go out and enjoy the festival?”

Presently he saw the old woman emerging, well-swaddled in shawls, and as she passed down the pathway he drew back beneath the trees. Caillean stood in the open doorway behind her, framed by the light. She gestured, and as he came forward, heart thumping like a charge of cavalry, said quietly into the golden glow behind her, “I have brought you a visitor, Eilan.” He heard her going out to keep watch behind him.

For a moment Gaius's eyes were dazzled by the light. When he could focus again, he saw Eilan lying on a narrow bed, at her side the bundle that he knew must be the child.

Eilan forced her eyes to open. She supposed it was kind of Caillean to come to her, but why should she bring a visitor? She did not want to see anyone except Caillean, but she had been sure the older priestess would be busy with the festival. A dull curiosity stirring within her, she opened her eyes.

A man's shape was standing between her and the light. Her grip on the child tightened in instinctive alarm and the baby made a little squeaking sound of protest. At that, the man took a quick step forward, and as the light fell full upon his face, she knew him at last.

“Gaius!” she exclaimed, and at once burst into tears. She saw him redden, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, unable to meet her eyes.

“I was sent to Londinium; I had no choice,” he said. “I wanted to come to you.”

“I'm sorry—” she said, though she was not really sure why she was apologizing, “I seem to weep very easily these days.”

His gaze flicked swiftly to her, and then to the bundle.

“Is this my son?”

“No other,” she said, “or do you really think perhaps that because”—suddenly she was crying so hard she could hardly speak—“that because I gave myself to you, I would lie down for any other man who came along?”

“Eilan!” From his face, she could see that the thought had never occurred to him, and did not know whether to be flattered or indignant. His hands clenched and unclenched. “Please! Let me hold my son.”

Eilan felt her tears ceasing as abruptly as they had come. She looked up at Gaius, for the first time really seeing him as he knelt beside her, and lifted the baby into his arms. He looked older and grimmer, fine drawn by hardship and with a shadow in his eyes as if he too had known pain; on his cheek was a new scar. But as he held the child she saw his face begin to change.

“My son—” he whispered, gazing at the crumpled features, “my first-born son…” Even if he went through with his marriage to the Roman girl, thought Eilan, this moment was hers.

As the baby's pale blue, wandering eyes met those of his father and seemed to fix on him, Gaius's arms tightened protectively around him. All the hardness had gone from his features now; his focus was entirely on the baby, as if he would do anything to safeguard this child who lay so trusting and helpless in his arms. It came to Eilan that even when Gaius had been making love to her she had never seen him look so radiant. She recognized the Father-face of the God.

“What sort of world will this be for you, little one?” Gaius whispered, his voice cracking. “How can I protect you, give you a home that will be secure?” For a long moment he and the child seemed lost in mutual contemplation; then the baby burped suddenly and began to chew on his thumb.

Gaius's gaze returned to Eilan, and as he set the child once more within the curve of her arm she realized that, wan and exhausted though she might be, to him she was the Goddess as well.

“So, how do you like him, my dear?” she said gently. “I have called him Gawen, the name that your mother gave you.”

“I think he is beautiful, Eilan.” His voice was shaking. “How can I ever thank you for this great gift?”

Run away with me!
her heart cried.
Carry us both away to some land where we can all live together and be free!
But the lamplight glinted balefully on the signet ring he wore, and she knew that there was no such country, beyond the reach of Rome.

“Make a world that will be safe for him.” She echoed his own words. She remembered her vision; in this child the blood of the Dragon and the Eagle had mingled with the old line of the Wise; the saviors of Britannia would come from his line. But for that to happen he must live to be a man.

“Sometimes I wonder if that is possible.” His gaze went inward, and she saw the grim shadow once more in his eyes.

“You have been in battle since I saw you,” she said gently. “You did not get that scar in Londinium…Tell me.”

“Have you heard about the battle of Mons Graupius?” Gaius's voice grew harsher. “Well, I was there.” As the story poured out of him in a succession of images, she flinched, feeling the horror, and the pity, and the fear.

“I knew that something had happened,” she said in a low voice when he was done. “There was a night, a moon after Lughnasad, when I felt that you were in great danger. I spent the following day in terror, but the feeling passed off after nightfall. I thought then that perhaps you had been fighting, but though I could sense nothing more I was certain that you had survived! You are part of me, my beloved. Surely if you had died, I would know!”