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 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.”