The Forest House (65 page)

Caillean blinked, for the man spoke the British tongue like a native. It was a measure of the degree to which Britain had become Roman that the native folk should regret the lack of an Emperor.

"I see they killed your bodyguard, lady," said the man driving the cart. "Did you have slaves to carry your litter? You don't any more - no doubt they've taken to their heels." He drew up in the road beside her and stopped, staring at the bodies of the Bacaudae. He looked at her again and made an ancient sign of reverence.

"My Lady — I see that the gods watch over you. We're bound the other way, but we'll take you to the next village, where you can get litter bearers and guards."

He helped her up into the cart and wrapped her in a dry blanket. Some of his men lifted the bodies of the young priests into the wagon. Caillean, huddled in her cloak and the farmer's rough blanket, reflected miserably that from now on she would be getting the best of whatever these folk could offer her, but no power on earth could bring her to the Forest House before Samaine.

Gaius was surprised to find the road south from Deva crowded with other travelers. It took him a moment to remember that they must be going down to the festival. But the glances he got as he rode by were not friendly, and after a time he felt it wiser to turn off the road and take a path through the hills so that he could come at the Forest House from the direction of Father Petros's hermitage.

A cold wind was rattling the bare branches like bones, though for the moment it had ceased to rain.

Samaine was the feast of the dead; the Romans considered it a day of ill omen. Well, he thought, it was certainly that for him. But he did not consider turning back. He had fallen into a fatalistic mood he remembered from his days with the Legions; the grim acceptance men find sometimes before battle, when survival is less important than honor. He was not sure he had any left, after the last few days, but he would redeem what he could, no matter what it cost.

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As he rode, the beauty in the autumn woods moved him despite, or perhaps because of his grim mood.

Gaius realized then that in the past year or so he had learned to love this land. Whoever triumphed in the current conflict, he would not go back to Rome.

Hard as he tried to fulfill Macellius's ambitions, he had never completely belonged in his father's world, yet he was far too Roman to feel anything but an impostor among the tribes. But the trees did not despise him as a barbarian or the stones hate him as a conqueror. In the peace of the forest, Gaius was at home.

He saw smoke rising from Father Petros's hut, and thought for a moment of going in. But the place made him remember Senara. Gaius did not think he could bear that memory, and he was certain he would not be able to keep his temper if the priest came out with any of his holy platitudes.

He supposed that his errant legionaries would be hiding somewhere until nightfall. He tethered his mount loosely enough so that it could pull free if he did not return soon and began to make his way carefully around the building, keeping to the woods that edged the cleared land.

Dusk was falling before he saw movement in the bushes ahead of him. Cautious as a cat, he moved forward. Two soldiers were crouched in the lee of some hazels. They had been dicing to pass the time, and now they were arguing about whether or not to light a fire.

"Flavius Macro!" Gaius snapped in his best tone of command. Automatically, the man came to attention, then looked wildly around him.

"Who is it —" the second soldier had his hand on his sword. Gaius trod loudly on a branch to warn him and moved into the last of the light.

"It's, why it's Gaius Macellius," said Macro. "Sir, what are you doing here?"

"I should think it is rather my place to ask that of you," said Gaius, releasing his breath. "They know in Deva that you are gone. What do you think will happen if they find out you came here?"

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The man's face turned gray-white. "You wouldn't tell them, would you, sir?"

Gaius pretended to hesitate long enough for the men to shudder, then shrugged. "Well, I'm not your officer. If you head back now you shouldn't get into too much trouble, not with all that's going on in the town."

"Sir, we can't do that," said the other man. "Longus is still in there."

Gaius felt his heart sink. "You can't help him by staying here," he said evenly. "Go on, that's an order. I'll do what I can for your friend."

His tension eased a little as he heard them crashing off through the trees, but even one legionary was too many if found where he had no business to be.

Moving as if he were leading a patrol back on the border, Gaius slipped across the open space to the wall. There should be a back gate somewhere - the wall was intended more as a symbol of separation than an actual defense. His hand touched the latch, and then he was easing into the open space where he had seen his son playing ball. Senara had chattered a great deal about her life here. The big building in front of him must be the House of Maidens. There was a dark patch behind the kitchen that looked like a good place to watch from. He crept towards it.

Someone else had thought so too. As he knelt, he touched bare skin. Someone yelped and there was a brief struggle before Gaius got the fellow pinned with a hand over his mouth.

"Longus?" he whispered. His captive nodded vigorously. "Your wager is off. Your companions have gone home, and if you know what's good for you you'll follow them." Longus sighed, then nodded again, and Gaius let him go. But as the man crossed the yard, a door opened and lamplight spilled across the ground. Longus froze like a trapped hare. "Run, you fool!" Gaius hissed from the shadows.

Longus scrambled over the gate, but suddenly the place was alive with men in white robes. Druid priests! thought Gaius. What were they doing here? His hiding place would be revealed in a moment, for they were bringing torches. He began to edge around the building. Somebody swore in British behind him and he whirled, instinctively drawing his sword.

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The man screamed as the blade went in and the others came pelting towards him. Gaius fought as well as he could, and he supposed he must have done some damage, from the brutality with which they clubbed and kicked him after superior numbers had finally brought him down.

"Well, Daughter, are you ready for the festival?" Bendeigid, arrayed in the ceremonial bull-hide cloak and the golden ornaments of the Arch-Druid over his white woolen gown, looked magnificent, but Eilan's heart sank as she returned his salutation.

"I am ready," she said quietly. The maidens had come as they did before every festival to prepare her.

For the last time,
her heart cried as they bathed her and set the sacred wreath of vervain on her brow.

At least she would go the Goddess cleansed and sanctified.

For a moment he leaned on his staff, looking at her. Then he gestured to the priests and her women to leave them.

"Listen, child, there is no longer any need to dissemble. They have told me how Ardanos used to come to you, and the tricks he used to bind your will. I am sorry I accused you of betraying us before."

Eilan kept her gaze lowered, afraid he would see the anger in her eyes. For thirteen years she had been High Priestess, mistress of the Forest House, the most respected woman in the land. Why was he talking as if she were still a child? But this was the loving father who had once said he would rather see her drowned than a Roman's bride. She could not afford to antagonize him; in the confusion, it had been afternoon before Senara and Lia had been able to leave the Forest House with Gawen. She had to buy time for them to get well away.

In the same neutral tone, she asked, "What do you want of me?"

"The Romans are tearing each other to pieces." He grinned wolfishly. "There will never be a better time for us to rise against them. This is the season of slaughter, when the doors open between the worlds. Let us call on Cathubodva, let us raise the spirits of our dead against them. Raise the tribes against Rome, Daughter, summon them to war!"

Eilan repressed a shiver. Much as she had resented Ardanos, her grandfather had been a subtle man, never so blinded by his own dreams that he could not be talked round if he saw something else that
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would serve. Her father was far more dangerous, because he would sacrifice all else to his inflexible ideals. Yet all she had to do to stay safe was to agree with him. Then she felt the familiar throbbing in her temple, and remembered that whatever she did would not be for long.

"Father," she began, "Ardanos interpreted my answers as it pleased him, and I suppose that you will do the same, but you do not understand about the sacred trance and how the Goddess comes."

She heard a tumult outside and realized that he was no longer listening. The door crashed open, and priests with tangled hair and blood on their robes pushed through the crowd, dragging something that had been a man.

"What is this?" Eilan put all the hauteur a dozen years had taught her into her tone and the babble stilled.

"An intruder, Lady," said one of the priests. "We found him outside the House of Maidens. There was another man, but he got away."

"He killed Dinan!"

"He must have been after one of the priestesses!"

"But which one?"

This time it was the Arch-Druid who brought silence by striking the floor with his staff. "Who are you, fellow, and what were you doing here?"

Eilan shut her eyes, hoping no one would notice that the man's ripped tunic was made from good Roman cloth. Even grimed with blood and dust she knew Gaius, but perhaps no one else would, if she made no sign.
Did he come here for Senara,
she wondered,
or for his son?

"Don't you recognize him, Lord Druid?" Dieda pushed her way forward. Eilan winced at the edge in her laughter. "Well, perhaps he is not so handsome now. Your men have netted a fine pig for our feasting. If
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you look, you will see the scar of the boar pit on his shoulder there."

Bendeigid should have been your father,thought Eilan hysterically,
and Ardanos mine!
They pulled the prisoner's head up and for a moment he met her appalled gaze, then the sense left his eyes once more.

"You!" Bendeigid's voice held mingled astonishment and fury. "Have you not done enough damage to me and mine that you should trouble us now?" Suddenly his expression changed. "Well, you shall do so no longer. Dieda, show my men where they can bathe him and tend his wounds, but by no means unbind him. Garic and Vedras" - he pointed to the two most senior Druids — "we must talk. The rest of you, leave us alone!"

The priests dragged Gaius away and the room emptied. Eilan sat back in her chair, wondering whether the pain in her belly was an echo of the throbbing in her head, or fear.

"I see that you know the man," said Vedras, the elder of the two Druids who had remained, "Who is he?"

"His name is Gaius Macellius Severus the younger," snarled Bendeigid.

"The Prefect's son!" exclaimed Garic. "Do you think he came for one of the priestesses as they say?"

"It does not matter why he came," said Vedras. "We must get him out of here. The Red-cloaks would deny our right to punish

even an ordinary legionary. The gods alone know what they will do to us for laying hands on a chieftain's son!"

"Indeed," Bendeigid smiled craftily. "But I do not believe his own people know where he has gone. And no one here knows his name or even that he is a Roman but Dieda and ourselves."

"Then you mean to kill him secretly?"

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"Not secretly." Bendeigid's gaze burned like a flame. "Do not you understand? For such a man as this to deliver himself into our hands is a sign from the gods. Let his death at least serve some purpose. We will never find a more noble offering!"

He turned to Garic. "Go tell the men who are guarding the prisoner to dress him in the finest robe you can find."

Eilan felt a chill lift the hair on her arms. An image of the Year-King walking through the Beltane fair came to her, garlanded and clad in an embroidered tunic.

"And if the Romans learn of it?" asked Vedras.

"It is true, their wrath will be terrible," said the Arch-Druid triumphantly. "So terrible that even those who call for peace now will have no choice but to follow us to war!"

For a long moment the other Druid looked at him. Then he nodded, and followed Garic out the door.

"Did Gaius come with your knowledge, Eilan?" Bendeigid asked when they were alone. "Have you been seeing this monster all along?"

"I have not," she whispered, "by the Goddess I swear it!"

"I suppose it does not matter whether I believe you," the Arch-Druid muttered. "All truth will be tested at the Samaine fire."

"Behold, the holy priestess comes, the sacred herbs are in her crown"the priests were singing, but tonight there were more verses to their hymn, with different words.

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"War! War! Let British woods A warrior bear for every tree;

As
ravening wolves attack the sheep So shall we make the Romans flee!"

Gaius groaned, but the prick of a spear kept him moving. If only that bitch Dieda had not identified him!

Macellius would grieve when he heard of the death of his son; but he would be shamed when the manner of it was known. How could he have blundered so badly, provoking the very incident he had hoped to prevent? He had not even succeeded in saving those he loved. The only ray of hope in all this was that he had not seen Senara anywhere, or the boy.

The road up the Hill of the Maidens had never seemed so steep before. He much preferred the last time he had come up here, he thought grimly, with a weapon in his hand and a detachment of cavalry behind him! The embroidered robe rasped his abrasions, and the sacred garland pricked his brow. They had cleaned him up and given him a drink that cleared his head, but Gaius had no illusions about what was in store for him.

From the top of the hill he could see the glow of a great bonfire. Memories of a time before he had entered his father's world were returning with frightening clarity. The Silures had sacrificed one of their own princes in those last days before the Romans crushed them utterly. The man had been one of his uncles, with the royal dragons tattooed on his arms. Gaius's mother had tried to hide her half-Roman child, but he had seen them take the Year-King away. He had been smiling, believing his death would help his people.