Cynric threw back his head with a great bass roar of laughter, taken up by all the others. Even the quiet Rheis smiled a little, but quickly sobered, as if she knew something Mairi did not. For a moment it seemed as if she were forcing herself to congeniality. She turned to Ardanos.
“Father, shall we have some music?”
Ardanos picked up the harp and looked sharply at Gaius. The younger man had a sudden conviction that the old Druid knew perfectly well what – and perhaps who – he was. But how could he? Gaius was dark-haired like his father, but the Silures, like some of the other races of the West and South, were also known for their dark and curly hair. He was almost sure he had never set eyes on the old man before. He told himself he was imagining things -probably that stare of supposed recognition had been only shortsightedness.
The old Druid picked up the harp, struck a chord or two, then put it aside. “I’m in no mood for singing,” he said, looking at one of the fair-haired girls. “Dieda, my child, will you sing for us?”
Eilan dimpled and said, “I am always at your service, Grandfather, but you don’t really want to hear me sing, do you?”
Ardanos laughed in chagrin. “Ah, I’ve done it again, Eilan, it is you? I swear you and Dieda always try to confuse me. As if anyone could tell you apart until you open your mouths!”
Rheis said gently, “I cannot see they are as much alike as that, Father. Of course, one is my sister and one my daughter, but to me they seem hardly alike at all. Are you sure it is not the failing of your eyesight?”
“No, I always confuse them until one of them begins to sing,” protested the Druid. “No one could mistake one for the other then.”
Eilan said, “You need not make a face like a sour crab apple, Grandfather, I have not been apprenticed as a bard!” Then they fell silent as, unaccompanied, Dieda began to sing:
“A bird in the air told a riddle to me;
A fish is a bird that swims in the sea,
A bird is a fish that swims in the air.”
Under cover of the song, Rheis beckoned Mairi to her, and said, “Have the Romans taken anyone but the byre-woman’s man?”
“Not that I know of, Mother, but Rhodri went off after them before I could ask.” Mairi said, shaking her head. “He said that most of the other levies were made to the north.”
“That fat hog Caradac! Or I should say Clotinus, as the Romans call him!” Cynric burst out. “If Old Bedbugs would stand with us the Romans would never dare send their Legions into this part of the country – but as long as everyone goes either over to the Romans or to the Caledonians —”
“Be still!” Dieda said sharply, breaking off her song. “You’ll wind up having to go north yourself—”
Rheis said gently, “Hush, children, these family matters will not interest our guest.” But Gaius could tell that what she meant was, “It isn’t safe to talk like this with a stranger in the house.”
Ardanos said calmly, “This part of the country is quieter than it has been for years. The Romans think us tamed, fit only to be milked for taxes. But the best of their troops are off trying to conquer the Novantae – and as a result there is less order here.”
“Such order as that we could well spare,” Cynric said sharply, but Ardanos glared at him and he subsided.
Gaius leaned a little forward into the firelight. He suspected that he would almost certainly do better to remain silent, but he was curious.
“I was in Deva lately,” he said slowly. “There was talk there that the Emperor may call Agricola back from Alba despite his victories. They say there is no profit in spending men and supplies to hold such a barren land.”
“We could hardly be so lucky,” Dieda said, and laughed in contempt. “The Romans may indeed vomit up what they have eaten to make room in their bellies for more; but no Roman ever ceded an inch of conquered land!”