The Forest House (46 page)

“But not yet,” said Eilan decisively. “And I will not hold children responsible for their parents' crimes. Senara and Lia can tend them. If we give them new names and treat them like any other children they should be safe enough for a time. No one will think anything of it.” She smiled bitterly. “After all, I have a reputation for sheltering motherless children!”

“I suppose so,” said Ardanos dubiously. “But Cynric had better get well away. For where he is, I have noticed, trouble follows.” He glared at the young man, and Dieda went pale. “The Romans may not care about the girls, but they will certainly be looking for you!”

“If they try to interfere with me they may find more trouble than they bargained for,” Cynric said fiercely.

Eilan sighed, thinking that rather than a raven, he should have been called a stormy petrel. But she knew better than to argue with Cynric, or with Dieda. All she could do was to try and keep the peace a little longer. Sometimes it seemed as if the whole weight of Britain lay on her shoulders—and that all her kin were conspiring to keep it there.

Senara was summoned to take the children to their new quarters, and Eilan went on to her duties, leaving Dieda and Cynric to make their farewells. Later that afternoon, she heard weeping in the shed where they dried the herbs. It was Dieda.

The other woman started up, her eyes blazing, then seemed to deflate when she saw who it was. Although their relationship was no longer close, at least Dieda felt no need to dissemble. But Eilan knew better than to try to touch her or offer comfort.

“What is it?” she said.

Dieda scrubbed at her eyes with the corner of her veil, making them even redder. “He asked me to go with him—”

“And you refused.” Eilan kept her voice deliberately neutral.

“To live the life of an outlaw, always skulking in the forest, afraid of every sound, always wondering if tomorrow I would see him marched off in chains or slain by Roman swords? I could not do it, Eilan! Here at least I have my music, and work to do that I believe in. How could I go?”

“Did you tell him so?”

Dieda nodded. “He said that if I felt that way I could not truly love him; that I was betraying our cause…He said that he needed me…”

I'm sure he did, the idiot,
thought Eilan,
and never wondered whether she needs
him
at all!

“It is your fault!” Dieda exclaimed. “If it were not for you, I would have married him long ago. Then perhaps he would never have become an outlaw!”

With an effort, Eilan stopped herself from pointing out that Dieda had sworn the vows of a priestess of her own free will. Even when Eilan returned to the Forest House after Gawen's birth, she could have gone to Cynric instead of to Eriu. The poor girl did not want logic, she needed someone to blame.

“And now all I can think of is the way he looked at me! It may be months or even years before I know how he is, or what is happening to him! At least if I were with him I would know!” Dieda wailed.

“I don't suppose you care one way or another for my approval,” Eilan said softly. “Whatever you think of my choices, you know that I have learned to live with them. But I too have wept in the darkness, wondering whether I did the right thing. Dieda, you may never be sure—all you can do is the work that is given to you, and hope that the Goddess will explain the reason for it all some day.”

Dieda's face was turned away, but it seemed to Eilan that her sobs were diminishing.

“I will tell the maidens that you are ill and cannot take them tonight for the singing,” she went on. “No doubt they will be glad of a holiday.”

 

It seemed to Eilan that the problem of Brigitta's children had been solved, but only a few days later, just before the evening meal, her attendant told her that a Roman sought audience.

Gaius leapt to mind but a second thought told her he would never dare come here. “Find out his name and business,” she said evenly.

In a few moments the girl returned. “Lady, it is Macellius Severus who begs the favor of a word with you.” She added, “He used to be the Camp Prefect of Deva—”

“I know who he is.” Lhiannon had received him once or twice, but Macellius was now retired. What, in the name of all the gods, could he want with her? The only way to find out was to ask. “Tell him to come in,” she directed. She straightened her gown and after a moment's thought drew her veil down over her face.

Presently Huw shouldered through the entrance with another man behind him.
Gaius's father…the grandfather of her son
…From behind the veil Eilan eyed him curiously. She had never seen him before, and yet she would have known him anywhere. Overlapping visions showed her the weathered features of the old man and the strong lines of nose and brow that had been repeated in his son, and were just beginning to emerge from the childish curves in the face of her own.

Huw took up position beside the door and Macellius came to a halt before her. He drew himself up and bowed, and Eilan knew suddenly where Gaius had got his pride.

“My lady.” He used the Roman term,
Domina,
but his British was quite good otherwise. “It is very kind of you to receive me—”

“Not at all,” she replied. “What can I do for you?” She supposed it had to do with one of the approaching festivals as it had when he had waited upon Lhiannon.

Macellius cleared his throat. “I understand that you have given sanctuary to the daughters of the Demetan Queen—”

Suddenly Eilan was very glad that she had put on the veil. “If that were true,” she said slowly, desperately wishing that Ardanos or Caillean were here to help her, “why would it matter to you?”

“If it were so,” he echoed, “we would want to know why.”

The words of Cynric came into her mind. “Because it was told to me that they stood in need of it. Can you think of any better reason?”

“I cannot,” he answered her, “and yet their mother is a rebel who threatened to raise the whole West against Rome. But Rome has been merciful. Brigitta has been sent in protective custody to Londinium, and will not be harmed. Nor have we demanded death for her kin.”

The little ones will be glad to know their mother is safe,
thought Eilan, remembering how unnaturally silent they had been. But why? Was it possible that Macellius desired peace between Rome and the Britons as much as she?

“If this is true I am glad to hear it,” she said, “but what do you want of me?”

“I should think it would be obvious, lady. These girls must not become a rallying point for some future uprising. Brigitta herself is not important, but in times of tension, any pretext will serve.”

She said, “I think you may rest easy on that point; if they were among the maidens of the Forest House no political use would be made of them.”

“Not even when they are grown?” he asked. “How do we know that they will not be given to men who will try to rule the Demetae by right of marriage to the Queen?”

He was right to wonder she thought. It was exactly the sort of thing that Cynric would try. “How would you avoid it?”

“The best way is to have them fostered in loyal Roman homes; and when they are grown, find them good solid husbands with Roman sympathies.”

“And that is all that would happen to them in Roman hands?”

“That is all,” Macellius replied. “My lady, you cannot believe that we make war on babes and little children?”

She was silent.
That is exactly what I have been brought up to believe.

“Is it your will that we shall always be paying for atrocities committed by others? On the sacred island, for instance?” said Macellius, as if he could hear what she was thinking.

That is what Cynric believes, but the decision is mine. And it is I whom the Goddess must tell what to do.
For a few moments longer Eilan was silent, seeking the inner stillness in which she could hear.

“It is not,” she said, “but I would lose the trust of my own people if I appeared too eager to believe you. I have heard Brigitta's daughters are both still too young for anyone to think of marriage. They have been through a great deal. Surely it would be more merciful to let them stay wherever they are a few months, or even a year, until the furor has died down. By then everyone will know how you have treated their mother. Passions will have cooled, and there will be less outcry if people learn they are in your hands.”

“And will they then be given to us?” Macellius said, frowning.

“If all is as you say, I swear by the gods of my tribe that they will.” Eilan set her hand upon the torque around her neck. “Prepare to receive them in your house in Deva at the Feast of the Maiden next year.”

His face lightened, and Eilan's breath caught as she saw on his lined face Gawen's flickering smile. If only she could tell him who she was, and show him his grandson, safe and strong!

“I believe you,” Macellius said. “I can only hope that the Legate will believe
me.
”

“Vernemeton is hostage for my honesty.” She gestured around her. “If I betray it, we are within easy grasp of his hand.”

He said, “Lady, I would kiss yours; but your guard is eyeing me most suspiciously.”

“You cannot do that,” she said, “but I accept your good will, my lord.”

“And I yours,” Macellius said, and bowed once more.

When he had gone, Eilan sat for a time in silence, wondering if she had betrayed her people or saved them. Was it for this that the gods had worked to bring her here? Was it for this she had been born?

 

Caillean returned from the Summer Country late the next day, looking tired but elated. When the older woman had bathed, Eilan sent Senara to ask if she would take her evening meal by Eilan's fire.

“How that child has grown!” Caillean commented as Senara went out to fetch the meal. “It seems just yesterday she came here, and now she is the same age as you were when I first met you, and almost as beautiful!”

With some surprise Eilan realized that Senara was indeed a young woman, old enough for vows; one day soon she should be pledged as a priestess. There had been no word from the girl's Roman relatives for years, and she had no reason to think there would be any objection. But for this at least there was no hurry.

“And what have you been doing this bright sunny day, my dear child?” Caillean asked as Senara set the food down.

A strange look passed over the girl's face. “I walked by that little house in the forest. Did you know, a hermit has come to live there?”

“Indeed, we gave our permission. He is a strange old man from somewhere in the South. Christian, is he not?”

“He is,” Senara answered with that same strange look. “He has been kind to me.”

Caillean frowned. Eilan knew that she would say it was not suitable for a priestess of the Forest House to be alone with a man, no matter how staid or elderly. But after all, the girl was not sworn to them; besides, she had heard somewhere that Christian priests swore themselves to chastity. In any case, Eilan thought wryly, she herself was no one to question a young girl's modesty.

“My mother was a Christian,” Senara said. “May I have your permission to visit this priest and take him some food from our kitchen? I would like to learn more about what my mother believed.”

“I do not see why not,” Eilan answered. “That all the gods are one God is a part of our most ancient teachings. Go, and learn which face of Him the Christians see…”

They ate for a time in silence.

“Something has happened,” said Eilan finally, watching Caillean's face as she stared into the flames.

“Perhaps—” Caillean answered her. “But I am not entirely sure what it means. The Tor is very powerful, and the lake…” She shook her head. “I promise that when I understand what I felt there, you will know. In the meantime—” Her eyes lost their softness as she looked up at Eilan. “I am told that something has happened here as well. Dieda says you had a visitor.”

“Visitors, rather; but I assume you were speaking of Cynric.”

“I meant Macellius Severus,” Caillean said. “What did you think of him?”

Eilan thought,
I could have wished for him as my father-in-law.
But she could not, after all, say that to Caillean. She compromised by saying, “He seems both kindly and fatherly.”

“That is how the Romans take more and more of our world,” said Caillean. “I would rather they were all evil without compromise. When even
you
can think well of Macellius, who will rebel?”

“Why should we rebel against them? You speak like Cynric.”

“I could do worse,” said Caillean.

“I do not see how,” Eilan said resentfully. “Even if we must have a Roman peace, what is wrong with that? Peace is certainly better than war however it comes.”