The Forest House (40 page)

His footsteps rang on the stone pavement of the praetorium as he strode towards his father's office.

Valerius looked up as he entered, frowning for a moment until Gaius began to strip off his wrappings.

Then he grinned. But it was when Macellius emerged from the inner office that Gaius realized he was not the only one to have grown older.

"Well, my boy! Is it you indeed? We had begun to fear that the Governor would take you back to Rome with him. He wrote very favorably about your work up there, lad, very favorably indeed." Macellius held out his arms, and clasped Gaius in a hearty embrace, cut short, as if the older man were afraid to betray himself if he held on to his son for too long.

But Gaius had felt how his father's fingers gripped him, as if he needed to reassure himself that his boy
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was there in the flesh, alive. He had no need to ask if Macellius had been worried; he did not think that settling the petty squabbles of men in winter quarters and tallying up stores had put the new gray in the Camp Prefect's hair.

"So how long are we to have the pleasure of your company before they need you back in Londinium?"

"I have a few weeks of leave, sir." Gaius forced a smile. "I thought it was time I came home for a while."

With a pang he realized that Macellius had not said a word about his wedding.
The old man must
realize that I have grown up at last!

But Macellius no longer needed to ask about it. Since the battle of Mons Graupius Gaius had somehow begun to take his marriage to Julia for granted. But now that the familiar hills of Deva were bringing back old memories he wondered. Could he really go through with it, and if he did not, what would he do?

But Gaius had found out one thing about himself in these last months: he was ambitious after all. Agricola was a great man, and he had been an excellent Governor, but who could say whom Domitian would send after him? And there were things about this land that even Agricola could never understand. The old Britannia of the tribes was dead. Its people would have to change and become Romans, but how could some Gaul or Spaniard understand them? To make this country the gem of the Empire could require the leadership of someone both British and Roman. Someone like himself, if he made the right moves now.

". . .invite a few of the senior officers to join us for dinner," his father was saying. "If you're not too tired?"

"I'm fine," Gaius smiled. "After the roads in Caledonia, it was a pleasure to ride here."

Macellius nodded, and Gaius could see the pride radiating off of him like heat from a fire. He swallowed, suddenly realizing that Macellius had never before given him such unqualified approval — and how much he needed to see that glow in his father's eyes.

It was usual for the High Priestess to spend some time in seclusion after the great festivals, recovering from the ritual. The women of the Forest House had become accustomed to this when Lhiannon ruled them, and no one thought it odd that after Eilan's first appearance as High Priestess her recovery should be protracted.

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And once she was up and about again, they might have been disappointed that she did not participate much in the life of their community, and so often went heavily veiled, but they were not surprised.

Lhiannon was the only High Priestess that most of them had ever known, and during her last years she had kept mostly to her rooms, served by Caillean, or by her chosen attendants. In any case a period of retreat was required so that the new Oracle could commune with the gods.

And the reclusiveness of their new High Priestess was less intriguing a topic of gossip than the disappearance of Dieda. Some were sure that she had gone voluntarily, angry because she had not been chosen High Priestess. Others suggested that she had run away to join Cynric, whom several had seen when he visited the Forest House in the company of Bendeigid.

But when someone heard from a woodcutter that a pregnant woman was living in the hut in the forest, the solution to the mystery became appallingly obvious. Dieda must be with child; she had been sent to live in the isolation of the forest until she should be delivered of her shame.

The truth, of course, was so impossible that no one guessed it. In the event, Dieda's part in the deception was not even very taxing, for after the battle of Mons Graupius the Governor had forbidden all public assemblies lest they spark unrest. This far south they had heard only rumors of the destruction; for most folk, getting in food for the winter was a more pressing concern. At the feast of Samaine folk had to make do with the little divinations of apples and nuts and the hearthfire, for there was no fair or festival, and no Oracle.

As for Eilan, she spent the winter snug in the round hut in the forest, visited from time to time by Caillean, and attended by an old woman who did not know her name. She made a little altar to the Goddess as Mother by the fireside, and as she watched her belly ripen, she wavered between joy in the new life that was growing within her and anguish because she did not know if she would ever see her child's father again.

But it was the natural course of things that even the longest winter should one day give way to spring.

Though there were times when Eilan had felt that she would be pregnant for ever, the feast of Brigantia was approaching, when her child should be born. A few days before the festival Caillean appeared in the doorway, and though these days she came easily to tears or laughter, Eilan felt so glad to see her that she thought she would weep.

"There is fresh oat bread that I baked this morning," she said. "Sit here and join me in my noon meal —"

She hesitated. "— unless you feel that I contaminate you by my forsworn presence?"

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Caillean laughed, "Never," she replied. "If it had not been for the snows, I would have come before."

"And how are things in the Forest House?" Eilan asked. "How does Dieda in my place? Tell me everything; I am very dull here; growing like a vegetable!"

"Surely not." Caillean smiled. "Perhaps a fruit tree come to harvest not in autumn but spring. As for Vernemeton, Dieda performs your duties faithfully, though perhaps not as well as you would do. I promise you I will come when your child is born. Send me word by the old woman when the time comes."

"How will I know?"

Caillean laughed, not unkindly. "You were present when your sister's second child was born. How much do you remember?"

"What I remember of that time is the raiders, and how you carried fire," Eilan said meekly.

Caillean smiled. "Well, I think it will not be long now. Perhaps you will deliver on the Feast of the Maiden — your hands were busy this morning, and such restlessness is often seen when a child stirs in readiness to be born. And I have brought you a gift, a garland of white birch twigs, sacred to the Mother.

See - I will hang it above your bed that it may bring you good fortune at Her hands." She rose and drew the wreath from her bag.

"The gods men follow may seem to shun you, but the Goddess cares for all Her daughters who stand where you stand now. After the festival I will come again, though it will be no pleasure seeing Dieda in your place there."

"How delighted I am to hear your opinion," someone said from the doorway, the sweetness of her voice intensifying the sting of her words. "But if you do not like me in the role of High Priestess, surely it is a little late to be saying so!"

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A figure heavily veiled in dark blue was standing there. Eilan's eyes widened and Caillean flushed angrily.

"Why have you come here?"

"Why not?" Dieda asked. "Do you not think it gracious of the High Priestess to visit her fallen kinswoman? All of our dear sisters are aware that someone is living here, you know, and have concluded it is me. I will not have a shred of reputation left when I eventually 'return'."

Eilan's voice shook. "Did you come only to gloat over my shame, Dieda?"

"Strangely enough, I did not," Dieda put back her veil. "Eilan, in spite of all that has been between us, I wish you well. You are not the only one who is alone. I have had no word of Cynric since he went north, and he has sent no word to me. He cares for nothing but the fate of the Ravens. Perhaps when this deception is over I should go north instead of to Eriu and become one of the warrior women who serve the goddess of battles."

"Nonsense," said Caillean tartly. "You would make a very poor warrior, but you are a gifted bard."

Dieda shrugged helplessly. "Perhaps, but I must find some way to atone for serving Ardanos's treachery."

"Do you truly call it so?" asked Eilan; "I do not. I have had time to think, living here, and it seems to me that the Lady has allowed this to happen to Her priestess so that I may understand the need to protect all the children of this land. It is peace, not war, that I will work for when I return."

Dieda looked down at Eilan. She said slowly, "I never had any wish for a child by Cynric or any other man. And yet I think that if I were bearing a child to Cynric, I might feel as you do." Her eyes were glistening with tears and she dashed them angrily away. "I must return before busy tongues have time to spin too many tales. I came only to wish you good fortune; but it seems that even here, Caillean has forestalled me."

She turned, pulling her veil over her face once more, and before either of them could find words to reply, was gone.

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Every day, it seemed, the light lasted a little longer. The branches blushed with returning sap and the swans began courting in the marshes. Though winter storms might still come to lash the land, there was a sense that spring was coming. The men who worked the land took down their plowshares from the rafters, and the fishermen began to caulk their vessels, and the shepherds stayed out all night on the cold hillsides with the lambing ewes.

Gaius rode out, listening to the sounds of new life all around him, and counted the days. It had been Beltane when he and Eilan lay together, and since then nine moons had passed. She would be giving birth soon now. Women died in childbirth sometimes. He watched returning waterfowl unraveling across the sky and knew that whether he married Julia or not, he had to see Eilan once more.

The higher he rose among the Romans, the more he could do for Eilan and their child. If it were a son, perhaps Eilan would let him raise him. She certainly could not keep him in the Forest House. It did not seem so unlikely; his mother's people had been willing enough to give him up completely into his father's hands.

As he rode back to the fortress his thoughts went round and round. It would be hard to tell her that they could not be married, at least not yet. If Julia did not give him a son, well, he sometimes thought divorced couples were more common than married ones in the Roman world. When his position was assured perhaps they could marry; at least he could give his child a good start in the world. Would she believe that? Would she forgive him? He bit his lip, wondering what he would say to her.

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
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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.