But the world was already dimming around her; she was scarcely aware of falling backward into the seeress’s chair, or the jolting as they carried it to the top of the mound.
Caillean eyed the figure slumped in the high seat above her with more than usual concern. As always, the intensity of the chanting was pushing her towards trance as well. But there was a tension in the pulsing energies around her that she did not understand. She turned and saw Eilan’s father among the white-robed Druids in the circle. Ardanos had said nothing. Had he even known that Bendeigid was going to be there?
Eilan twitched in the high seat and Caillean reached for the back to steady it. It was forbidden to touch the High Priestess when she was entranced, but they must be prepared to catch her if she fell.
“Goddess!” she prayed, “take care of her — I do not care what happens to me!” It seemed to her then that Eilan stilled; from the corner of her eye she could see one white hand dangling over the edge of the chair, slender as a child’s. How could it wield such power?
“Lady of the Cauldron!” cried the people. “Silver Wheel! Great Queen! Come to us! Great Goddess, speak to us now!”
Caillean felt the wood of the chair quiver beneath her hand. Eilan’s fingers were curling, and to Caillean’s fascinated gaze the pale flesh seemed to glow. It is true, she thought then, the Goddess is here. Slowly, the figure in the high seat straightened, stretching as if to accommodate a mass greater than the slight figure of the woman sitting there. Caillean felt a little chill run down her spine.
“Behold, oh ye people, the Lady of Life has come. Let the Oracle speak! Let the Goddess declare forth the will of the Immortals!” Ardanos cried.
“Goddess! Deliver us from those who would enslave us!” came another voice. Bendeigid stepped forward. “Lead us to victory!”
They sounded like ravens, crying for blood and death. Eilan alone stood between the Forest House and a people shrieking for war. Did they even know what would happen to this country, between the Romans and their foreign auxiliaries, if it should come to open fighting? Despite her hatred for the Romans, Caillean wondered how any sane man or woman – or even a Goddess – could loose war on this countryside. Had Bendeigid so soon forgotten their home in flames, forgotten the deaths of his wife and little daughter?
Goddess, she thought, You have given the peace of this countryside into Eilan’s hands; let her do Your will even if it may seem it is the will of the Romans as well. . .
The figure in the chair quivered, and thrust the veil back suddenly, surveying the throng with a face as cold and dispassionate as one of the statues the Romans made.
“This is the shortest night,” she said softly, and the murmuring people stilled to hear. “But from this moment onward, the forces of light will be declining. Oh ye whose pride it is to learn all secrets of earth and heaven” — she indicated the circle of Druids with a disdainful hand – “can you not read the signs in the world around you? The tribes have seen their day and now grow ever weaker; thus it will be one day with the Empire of the Romans as well. All things reach their peak and thereafter must decline.”
“But is there no hope then?” asked Bendeigid. “In time, even the sun is reborn!”
“That is true,” said the still, calm voice from above him. “But not until the darkest day has passed. Put away your swords and hang up your shields, children of Don. Let the Roman eagles tear at each other while you till your fields, and be patient, for Time will surely avenge your wrongs! I have read in the mystic scrolls of the Heavens; and I tell you, the name of Rome is not written there.”
A sigh of mingled relief and disappointment swept through the crowd.
Ardanos and one of the other priests were whispering. Caillean realized this was the only chance she might have to do what Eilan had asked.