“Then you mean to kill him secretly?”
“Not secretly.” Bendeigid’s gaze burned like a flame. “Do not you understand? For such a man as this to deliver himself into our hands is a sign from the gods. Let his death at least serve some purpose. We will never find a more noble offering!”
He turned to Garic. “Go tell the men who are guarding the prisoner to dress him in the finest robe you can find.”
Eilan felt a chill lift the hair on her arms. An image of the Year-King walking through the Beltane fair came to her, garlanded and clad in an embroidered tunic.
“And if the Romans learn of it?” asked Vedras.
“It is true, their wrath will be terrible,” said the Arch-Druid triumphantly. “So terrible that even those who call for peace now will have no choice but to follow us to war!”
For a long moment the other Druid looked at him. Then he nodded, and followed Garic out the door.
“Did Gaius come with your knowledge, Eilan?” Bendeigid asked when they were alone. “Have you been seeing this monster all along?”
“I have not,” she whispered, “by the Goddess I swear it!”
“I suppose it does not matter whether I believe you,” the Arch-Druid muttered. “All truth will be tested at the Samaine fire.”
“Behold, the holy priestess comes, the sacred herbs are in her crown” the priests were singing, but tonight there were more verses to their hymn, with different words.
“War! War! Let British woods A warrior bear for every tree;
As ravening wolves attack the sheep So shall we make the Romans flee!”
Gaius groaned, but the prick of a spear kept him moving. If only that bitch Dieda had not identified him! Macellius would grieve when he heard of the death of his son; but he would be shamed when the manner of it was known. How could he have blundered so badly, provoking the very incident he had hoped to prevent? He had not even succeeded in saving those he loved. The only ray of hope in all this was that he had not seen Senara anywhere, or the boy.
The road up the Hill of the Maidens had never seemed so steep before. He much preferred the last time he had come up here, he thought grimly, with a weapon in his hand and a detachment of cavalry behind him! The embroidered robe rasped his abrasions, and the sacred garland pricked his brow. They had cleaned him up and given him a drink that cleared his head, but Gaius had no illusions about what was in store for him.
From the top of the hill he could see the glow of a great bonfire. Memories of a time before he had entered his father’s world were returning with frightening clarity. The Silures had sacrificed one of their own princes in those last days before the Romans crushed them utterly. The man had been one of his uncles, with the royal dragons tattooed on his arms. Gaius’s mother had tried to hide her half-Roman child, but he had seen them take the Year-King away. He had been smiling, believing his death would help his people.
And what is it, he wondered then, that I will be dying for?
Then they were on the hilltop. A ring of priests surrounded them; beyond, Gaius saw a sea of faces, grim or gleeful as they listened to the Druids’ song. Was Eilan glad or sorry to see him here? He wished he could see her face behind the veil.
Eilan stood beside her father with Dieda and two other priestesses behind her. For the first time he wondered if she also was a prisoner. She had rejected him. It seemed to him that he should be glad of her downfall, but even his own danger had not filled him with such fear as the thought of hers.
“Destroy them all! Avenge our shame! Now let the slaughter be begun! In ranks the Roman troops shall fall As by the scythe the corn is mown!”
The singing ended and the drums grew silent, but a murmur swept through the people and Gaius knew this was only a pause in the storm.