Bendeigid rose and began nervously to wander about the room. He said, “Then I must entreat you to pray to the Goddess to avenge us. The spirits of the women of Mona still cry out for vengeance.”
She frowned. “Has Cynric sent you to say this to me?” She knew that Gaius had taken him prisoner, and saved his life and freedom by making him one of the hostages, but did not know what had happened to him after that.
“He was captured,” growled her father, “They were going to send him to Rome to amuse the Emperor, but he killed his guards and won free.”
“Where is he?” she asked in some alarm. If the Romans caught him now a quick death was the best fate he could expect from them.
“I do not know,” the Druid said evasively. “But there is a great anger growing in the North, my daughter. The Romans are pulling back. The Ravens were not all killed in that battle, and their wounds are healing. If the Goddess does not rouse the land against the Romans, be sure that Cynric will.”
“But I speak only to those who attend the festivals at the Hill of the Maidens,” Eilan said uncomfortably. “The Cornovii and Ordovices primarily, some Demetae and Silures, and a few of the wilder folk from the hills. What have we to do with Caledonia?”
“Can it be that you do not understand your influence?” He faced her directly. “The Romans have taken our lands and subverted our chieftains and forbidden most of our religious rites. The Oracle here at Vernemeton is one of the few things that remains to us, and if you do not think that the words of the Goddess are repeated from one end of Britannia to the other you are a fool!”
He does not know that Ardanos influences the Oracle, Eilan thought then, but he suspects it. While she pretended ignorance he could not openly ask her support for an insurrection. But eventually matters were going to come to a head.
“I have been very isolated . . .” she said softly. “But pilgrims do come to make their prayers at the sacred well. Let those who have news come to drink the waters on the new moon of each month, and if the veiled priestess who attends them talks of ravens, let them speak to her there.”
“Ah, Daughter ! I knew you would not betray your breeding!” he exclaimed, his gaze kindling. “I will tell Cynric —”
“Tell him I make no promises,” she interrupted, “but if you wish me to pray to the Goddess for Her help, I must know what to ask! I can give you no assurances how She will reply . . .”
With that, Bendeigid would have to be contented. Eilan sat for a long time in thought when he had gone. Clearly Cynric was doing his best to start a rebellion, and without her support, he would certainly fail.
But the Druid had apparently also realized that she was a grown woman now and would make her own decisions. It was almost worth all she had suffered to face him from such a position of power. But with that power came a responsibility she could not avoid, not when there might come a day when her father and foster brother faced the father of her son across a battlefield.
And if that happens, what will I do? Eilan closed her eyes in anguish. Dear Goddess, what will I do?
As Julia’s child grew they took to calling her “Cella”, for it seemed ridiculous to refer to something so tiny by such a long name. But Gaius waited in vain for the bond he had felt with little Gawen when first he saw him in Eilan’s arms. Was it then something that happened only between a man and his first-born son? Or was it because he did not have such a bond with the child’s mother?
At least Julia did not seem to find it odd that he would have little interest in a girl-child. And Cella was a placid baby who soon promised to be pretty, and was the delight of her grandfather’s heart. Julia spent much of her time with the infant, dressing her in beautifully embroidered clothes, which seemed to Gaius a waste of time, and by the time the girl was a year old, Julia was pregnant again. This time she was absolutely positive it would be the longed-for son. A soothsayer, consulted at Julia’s behest, promised that a son awaited birth but Gaius was not so certain.