The Forest House (64 page)

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Not that it mattered any more, he thought, feeling the cool fire of the wine going down. Senara didn't love him. Julia didn't love him. And Eilan — especially Eilan - didn't love him at all. He shuddered, remembering the face of the Fury once more when she had ordered him away.

The door to the taverna was flung open and another bunch of legionaries crashed in. The Commander must be wondering by now if he had miscalculated, thought Gaius sourly. The feast he had offered had done no more than weaken military discipline. If this had been Rome, the Emperor would have been emptying the treasury to give the men circuses, but a little bear-baiting was all this godforsaken province could provide. It wasn't nearly enough to distract them, and the soldiers seemed to be getting wilder with every day.

But nobody paid any attention to the lone man getting quietly drunk in the corner, and that was all that mattered to Gaius right now. He sighed, and reached for the flagon again.

A hand closed around his wrist. He looked up blearily, and blinked to see Valerius standing there. "By Mercury, man, you've led me a chase!" Valerius stood back to look at him and made a face. "Thank the gods your father can't see you now!"

"Does he know - ?" Gaius began.

"Are you crazy? I care about his feelings, even if you do not. One of the men told me he'd seen you.

What possessed you to get drunk now? Never mind that," he said as Gaius started to protest. "First, my lad, we've got to get you out of here!"

Gaius was still protesting when Valerius hauled him into the street and across the town to the bathhouse.

But it was not until he had been shoved into the cold pool that Gaius began to sober up enough to understand what was said to him.

"Tell me," Valerius said as he came up, sputtering, "is my niece Valeria still in the Forest House?"

Gaius nodded. "I went there, but she . . . changed her mind, wouldn't come with me." Events were coming back to him. He had given Valerius an expurgated version of the situation and gained his
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permission to marry Senara - that gave the man some rights - but why was he so upset about it now?

"Listen," said Valerius quickly. "You're not the only one who's been drinking. Last night I was with some of the legionaries attached to the Quaestor's office - their names don't matter - who were speculating about the priestesses at Vernemeton. And one of them said, "It's not as if the women there were anything like real Vestals; they're just barbarian women like any others." I protested, but it finally came to a wager that they could carry off one of the sacred virgins there, and it wouldn't be sacrilege."

Gaius picked up a towel and began to rub himself furiously, trying to understand.

"Come into the hot room," said Valerius, offering his arm. "You'll sweat the poisons out faster." When they were settled, gasping as the hot steam hit them, the secretary continued. "I thought it was the sort of silly bet that drunken men make - no more than words born of wine, and nothing to worry about - till this morning, when three of the men turned up missing at muster. One of my drinking companions of the night before told me that they had left Deva this morning to try and win the bet."

"The centurion . . ." Gaius's head was pounding, but he was becoming able to think once more.

". .. has more than enough on his hands without this, and so do the tribunes. Discipline has gone to hell since the assassination. You and your father know the British better than anyone. What do you think will happen if some of our men are discovered raping a native priestess? Boudicca's rebellion will be nothing to it, and we're in no condition to respond!"

"Yes . . . of course," said Gaius. "I will go. Do you know exactly when they left? Have you any idea which way they took?"

"None whatever, I'm sorry to say," Valerius replied. "I suppose I could ask around."

"No, there's not enough time. I'll have to go home for clothes." He rubbed his eyes.

"I have them," said Valerius. "I had an idea you might need a change."

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"My father was right," muttered Gaius, "you do think of everything."

He let the slaves dry and shave him, and forced himself to eat something. He had been a fool, he thought bitterly, trying to drown his sorrows in wine when the world was falling to pieces around him.

Somewhere during the process of returning to sanity he had realized that tomorrow must be Samaine.

Half the tribesmen in the West would be converging on Vernemeton for the festival. It didn't matter what Eilan and Senara thought of him. His blood ran cold at the thought of their danger if a war started there.

"I'll get your niece to safety," he told Valerius as he prepared to ride out of Deva.
And Eilan, and the
boy . . .and if they still hate me they can tell me about it on the way home.
He folded back his cloak to free his arms, and patted the last thing he had borrowed from Valerius — a sword.

Not all the years since the coming of the Romans - not all the years since the building of the great Temple of the Sun on the plain, could have been longer to Eilan than the next two days. The night before the Samaine festival seemed to last a thousand years. She had sent Senara away hours ago. As the lights burned down, it seemed to her that the growing shadows were engulfing her own spirit as well.

This must have been what was meant when the warning had come to her; death had waited within her heart and spirit like a

seed; it seemed now to expand through her body like an unfolding flower. Her heart pounded as if it would break through walls of bone. Even when her child was born she had felt no such pain. But whether the pain was of the body or of the mind and spirit she could not tell.

When she dozed, her dreams were chaotic; she saw Caillean surrounded by evil men. Then the priestess raised her arms to heaven, lightning flared, and when Eilan could see again, her attackers were stretched lifeless on the ground. But Caillean was lying still as well, and Eilan could not tell if she lived.

She came to herself, shaking, her cheeks wet with tears. Had that been a true seeing? Caillean ought to be safe on the holy Tor with her priestesses. But if she was not, then what hope was there in the world?

Toward morning, Eilan crept into the room where Lia had put Gawen to bed. Huw, barefoot, padded softly at her heels. For almost the first time since she had taken up her duties as High Priestess, she found herself resenting the big man, as if Huw was taking up air which she needed for her own breath.

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She remembered a horror story she had heard in the House of Maidens; how a Priestess of the past had been attacked by her own guard, and given him over to the priests to be put to death. For the first time, she could understand how that woman, desperate for a little human warmth, could have reached out to the only thing human within her reach, and how her appeal might have been misunderstood. Shuddering, she turned to Huw and told him to wait at the door.

Ah, gods,she thought,
if only Caillean were here - or Lhiannon - or even my mother - or anyone so
that I were not so desperately alone.
But there was no one. In her mind even Senara, for all her weeping and denial, was a foe. And her father? He was the greatest of her enemies.

She looked long on Gawen's sleeping face. It seemed impossible that the pounding of her heart should not be loud enough to awaken him. Had this big boy actually been so small that he could lie in his father's two hands? He had grown from something smaller than the seed of a flower, engendered in that moment in the forest when her last defenses had gone down before Gaius's need. And yet at the time she had been triumphant, certain that this was a sacred thing.

And Gawen was beautiful. How, out of such sorrow could such beauty be born? She scanned again the childish features, and the long body with hands and feet just a bit too big, discerning within them the promise of the man he could become. She could not see that he resembled Gaius all that much. Once, that had disappointed her, but at least now she would not have to suppress a flicker of hatred whenever she glimpsed his father in his eyes.

But he was Gaius's son; and because of him, she had been willing to let Gaius marry the daughter of a Roman official. Only now, it seemed, he was going to divorce Julia and renounce all his promises for the sake of Senara, who might as well have been her own little sister. Senara, who was younger, and apparently to Gaius, more beautiful.

At Eilan's waist hung the curved dagger she had been given when she became a priestess. She fingered it for a moment. So often, at the rites, she had used it to draw the ritual drop of blood for the cauldron of prophecy. There, at the wrist where she could see the pounding of the blood, one stroke, hard and deep, would end all her troubles, at least for this lifetime. Why should she wait for the fate that the Goddess had promised her? But if she took her life, what would become of Gawen?

Deliberately Eilan took the sickle and returned it to the small sheath at her waist. In the faltering light of the lamp her face must have shown something she had not intended, for Huw rushed forward.

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"Lady?"

"We will go back to my rooms now, and then you must bring Senara to me."

It was not long before he returned with the girl in tow. Senara's dress was wrinkled; her eyes were hot and her cheeks smeared as if she had been crying. She saw Eilan and cried out, "Lady, forgive me; not for the world —"

"Be quiet," Eilan said. "I haven't the strength for any more of this. I have had a warning of death; it is a gift of the Goddess that the High Priestess shall know her time." She drew breath, and Senara, seeing the little dagger loose in its sheath at her waist, went white beneath her tears.

"That cannot be true," she said desperately. "It is written in the holy books that no man knows what a day may bring forth —"

"Silence," Eilan said tiredly. "There is something very important that I must say to you. If I am wrong, it will not matter whether you believe me, but if I am right, there is something I must ask."

"Of me? Anything," Senara said submissively.

Eilan drew a long breath. "You heard me say that Gaius and I had a son. Gawen is that child. I want you to marry Gaius and take his son away with you. Promise me" - her voice, which had been perfectly steady when she spoke of her own death, broke - "promise me only that you will be good to him."

"Oh no," Senara cried out. "I would not now marry Gaius Severus if he were the only man on the face of the earth."

"You promised to do as I asked," Eilan said quietly. "Is this how you keep your word?"

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Senara looked up, and again her eyes spilled over. She said, "I want only to do what is right. If you think

-" She stopped, breathing hard. "If God has chosen to take you, I suppose it is His business, but you must not lay hands on your own life, Eilan!"

Eilan drew all her dignity about her like a cloak as she said, "It does not really matter to me whether you believe it or not. But if you will not help me, Senara, then you may go."

Senara trembled. "I will not leave you alone in this state."

"Then for Gaius's sake, take care of his boy."

"It is for the boy's sake I tell you that you must live," Senara entreated. "You have a child, however that came about, and your life is not your own. Gawen is a beautiful boy. You must live to see him grown.

And Gaius —"

"Ah, don't speak of him, I beg you —"

"My Lady," said Senara, shaking, "I tell you, Gaius still cares for you and for his son."

"He has forgotten me."

"I am sure he has not," Senara insisted. "Let me remind him of what is due to the mother of his son. Let me speak to him of his duty as a father, and as a Roman. I am sure that would reach his better nature even if nothing else could do so."

Was it possible? Could Senara actually do that? And would she?

"I believe the warning that the Goddess sent me," she said finally, "but if I live through Samaine, you may try. But before you do so, you must get Gawen to safety. I am afraid of what may happen at the festival.

Tomorrow - no, tonight," she corrected herself, for it was nearly dawn, "leave the Forest House. Take Gawen to your Father Petros in the forest. No one will think to look for you there!"

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Thirty

When Caillean recovered her senses, she knew that she must have been unconscious for some time, for her gown was soaked through. What had wakened her was the sound of a farm cart jolting over the ruts and pits of the road. In the cart were four or five men well armed with cudgels, and a couple of hefty guards walked a few paces ahead with torches. Had they frightened her attackers away? Something must have, for she had not been violated after her assailant struck her down.

Caillean managed to pull herself upright, though the effort made her feel as if the top of her head would fall off. Sprawled around her she could see bodies, and a stink of burnt flesh reached her even through the rain.

One of the men with the torches saw her and quavered, "Be you a ghost, lady? Don't hurt us . . ."

"I give you my word I am no ghost," Caillean said as steadily as she could, "but a priestess from the temple in the Summer Country, left here after an attack by bandits."

Now she could see her litter, turned on its side, the two young priests lying beside it, their throats cut, their golden torques plundered, staring up emptily at the sky. Caillean regarded them with dismay.

And then she looked at the blackened corpses around her and realized that where she had been powerless the gods at least had not. She would rather have saved the young men, but at least they had been avenged.

"Where were you a-going, lady?" asked the farmer from his perch in the driver's seat of the cart.

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She controlled her voice with an effort, turning away from the dead men. "To the Forest House near Deva."

"Ah, that explains it then; I understand there's still one of the Legions left there, and the roads are patrolled. These days, no one puts his nose outside his own door around here without a couple of bodyguards. It will be a good thing when we have a new Emperor, and can get some protection again."