“Huw – why did you do it? Why?”
“Lady . . . he hit you!”
Eilan bowed her head. Even if the offender had been Ardanos himself Huw would have struck him. He had been taught that the Priestess was inviolable. But Cynric’s death would have to be concealed. His followers were not many, but they were desperate. If they decide to avenge him, the precarious unity she had built among her people would be shattered. Cynric dead might be more dangerous than he had ever been alive.
Dieda turned away, weeping. Eilan felt that she herself was beyond tears. “Go away, Huw,” she said tiredly. “Go tell Miellyn what has happened and ask her to send a message to the new Arch-Druid.” My father . . .she thought numbly, but she had no time now to consider the implications. “Speak to no others,” she instructed, “and when you have carried this message, forget what has happened here today.”
She got to her feet, feeling suddenly a hundred years old. “Dieda, come to the garden. There is nothing you can do for him now.” She went to comfort the weeping woman, but Dieda jerked away.
“Is it so you reward faithfulness to our people? Then have your tame bear kill me too.”
Eilan winced. “I tried to save him. I would have willingly given my own life —”
“Oh indeed, that’s easy enough to say —” Dieda turned on her. “But you take lives, not give them. You fed on Caillean’s wisdom, and sent her into exile when you had drained her dry. You stole my reputation, and walked away with your honor as bright as a newborn babe’s. And now you have taken the life of the only man I ever loved! Your Roman was lucky to be rid of you! Eilan the inviolate! Lady High and Mighty! If only they knew!”
Eilan said wearily, “None of us held a sword to your throat to bid you take vows here, Dieda. When it was clear they had chosen me, you could have been released, and when you went to Eriu, no force was used to bid you return. I have said this before, but I suppose you could not hear.” She tried to speak calmly, but the other woman’s words struck harder than Cynric’s blow.
“I told you once to beware if ever you betrayed our people. Was Cynric right, Eilan? Have you been working for Rome all along?”
Eilan lifted her head and, trembling, stared into that other face, so like her own. “I swear . . .that I have served the Goddess as well as I could,” she said hoarsely, “and may the sky fall and cover me, the earth rise up to swallow me, if I lie.” She took a deep breath. “I am still High Priestess of Vernemeton. But you may go to Caillean, or wherever else you will, if you feel that you can no longer serve the Goddess in my company!”
Slowly Dieda began to shake her head, a sly expression that Eilan liked even less than her rage creeping into her eyes.
“I won’t leave you,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t leave now for the world. I want to be here when the Goddess strikes you down!”
Senara was already waiting outside the hut in the forest when Gaius arrived, her bright hair like a flame against the dark trees. “I see you have come,” he said softly.
Senara turned and, although she had expected him, gave a small startled cry. “Is it you?”
“No other,” he said, almost gaily, “in spite of the evil weather. I dare say we shall have rain, and that speedily.” He looked at the sky. “What, think you, would Father Petros say to lending the shelter of his roof to a couple of wayfarers?”
“For converts I think he would be delighted. I do not think he would do so to pagans,” she said reprovingly.
They moved inside together. The hermit’s furnishings consisted of some dilapidated benches and, against the wall, a clumsy box bed. But where, this evening, was Father Petros? Outside the storm broke with a rattle of wind and a slam of rain. Gaius winced, listening to the thunder.