When Eilan woke on Beltane morning she had the oddest feeling that Gaius was somewhere near. Perhaps, she thought, he is thinking of me. It was Beltane, after all, and all their most significant meetings had been at that festival. It was natural, in any case, that her thoughts should turn to him on this day when, throughout the land, the hearts of men and maidens were turning to love.
Here in the chaste sanctuary of the House of Maidens she should not be thinking of such things, or if she did, she should view them with the detached benevolence of one who existed far beyond such fleshly cravings. During the winter that had been easy. It seemed to her that the passion with which the Druid of her vision had touched her had been refined to a radiance as pure as an altar flame, and her vows of chastity no great sacrifice.
But now, when the sap was rising in the trees and every bud was bursting into flower, she was beginning to wonder. When she thought about her vision, her body flamed, and at night she dreamed about lying with a lover who was sometimes the Druid and sometimes Gaius, and sometimes a stranger with the eyes of a king. My body is still untouched, she thought suddenly, but my spirit is virgin no longer. Goddess, how will I bear this sweet pain?
“Eilan, are you helping Lhiannon prepare for this evening’s ritual?” Miellyn’s voice brought her back to the world and she shook her head. “Then why not come out with the rest of us this morning and enjoy the festival? It will do you good to get some fresh air.”
“The rest of us” turned out to include Senara, who was entirely delighted to be out of doors. It was a crisp bright day, and in the hedges the hawthorn glowed as if the light of the sun had settled on the boughs. The people were jammed together in a way that made Eilan, used to the peace and quiet after her months of seclusion, tremble. How quickly she had grown accustomed to silence and peace, or perhaps her initiation had altered her. She had always been a little uncomfortable in crowds, but she felt now as if she were walking about without her skin.
But Senara was in high spirits as she walked between them. She was fascinated by everything: a stall of round cheeses; a table where a seller of glass bangles had spread his glittering wares; and everywhere, the flowers.
Eilan had not seen so many people since last Beltane when she had met Gaius again. It seemed to her that everyone in Britain or the islands must be here, jostling, laughing, eating, drinking; and every craft from the making of cakes to rope-dancing.
“Will Lhiannon be here during the day?” Senara asked.
Miellyn nodded. “Ardanos will escort her. It is a part of her duty to show herself to the crowds at festivals.” Miellyn paused, and added “And not the happier part. Between ourselves, I think she is very tired. Every year now, I wonder if it will be her last festival.”
Seeing Eilan’s face grow pale, she added, “Does it frighten you? Death is as much a part of life as birth; as a priestess you should know that.”
But the crowds were so thick she could hardly hear what Miellyn was saying. A group of people were watching a man with a dancing bear; Senara cried out that she wanted to see, and they pressed forward for a better view. As people glimpsed the blue linen dresses of priestesses from the Forest House they parted before them till they stood at the ringside, watching the animal dance – or, at least, lumber heavily in a circle on its hind legs, which she supposed was as near as such a beast could come to dancing. The bear’s muzzle was tightly wrapped with rope; she thought it looked miserable.
“Poor thing,” she said, and Miellyn sighed.
“Sometimes it comes to me that Lhiannon is like that bear,” the other priestess replied. “Always on display, never speaking her own words.” Eilan gasped at the thought of comparing the High Priestess to a trained animal.