But apparently he was allowed to talk to her. He said, in the market-Latin that served as a dialect all over the Empire, “A good day to you, my sister. May I ask your name? I know that you surely are not one of our catechumens, for we have not for many years had any women among us except the venerable ladies who came with us long ago, and you are young.”
Caillean smiled a little at the thought that anyone could consider her young, but the priest was white-haired and frail as a fallen leaf. At least in years, he might have been her grandsire.
“I am not,” she said. “I am one of those who worship the forest god. I am called Caillean.”
“Is it so?” he asked her politely. “I know something of the brothers among the Druids, and I knew not they had women among them.”
“Those who dwell here have not,” she replied, “or at least not until now. I was sent here from the Forest House in the North, to establish a House of Maidens. I came up the hill to see to what place the gods had led me.”
“You speak as one who holds some acquaintance with the truth, my sister. Surely then you know that all the gods are one God . . .” He paused, and Caillean completed, “. . .and all the goddesses one Goddess.”
His ancient face was altogether kindly. “It is so. Those to whom our Lord came as God’s Divine Son would not see the Godhead in anything female, so to them we speak not of the Goddess, but of Sophia, the Holy Wisdom. But we understand that the Truth is One. So, my sister, to me it seems very fitting that you should establish here, a shrine to the Holy Wisdom after the manner of your people.”
Caillean bowed. His face was very deeply wrinkled, but it no longer seemed ugly, for it positively glowed with benevolence.
“What a splendid work to which to devote the remainder of this incarnation, my sister.” He smiled, then his gaze went inward. “It feels right for you to be here, for it seems to me that we have served at the same altars before . . .”
Not for the first time in this strange encounter, Caillean was amazed. “I had heard that the brothers of your faith denied the truth of incarnations,” she volunteered. But what he had said was true. She did recognize him, with the kind of certainty she had felt when she met Eilan.
“It is written that the Master himself believed,” said the ancient priest, “for He said of the Way-shower, whom men called Jochanan, that he was Elijah reborn. It is written as well that he said there was milk for babes and meat for strong men. Many of the babes among us, new in faith, are given such food as is right for spiritual infants, lest they neglect to amend their lives, in the belief that indeed the Earth shall abide for ever. Yet the Master said that this generation shall not pass away before the Son of Man cometh; therefore am I here, that even the folk at the end of the world shall hear and know the Truth.”
Caillean said quietly, “May the truth prevail.”
“Success to your mission, sister,” the old man replied. “There are many here who would welcome a pious sisterhood.” He turned as if to go.
“Is it permitted to ask your name, my brother?”
“I am called Joseph, and I was a merchant of Arimathea. There are holy ladies still living among us who looked upon the Master’s face in life. They will welcome the company of enlightened women among us.”
Caillean bowed once more. She found it a strange but good omen that she should find among these Christians who did not readily embrace women, a better welcome than her Druid brethren had offered. Servant of the Light. . .The title rang in her awareness from some place before memory. As the ancient priest moved down the hill, her hands moved in a gesture of reverence more ancient even than the Druids. If such a soul could ally himself to the Christians, there must be some hope for them after all.