As he spoke, he saw her begin to sway, and knew that his words were reaching that deep place beyond conscious memory through which the words of the Oracle came. Despite what Caillean might believe, Ardanos had never doubted that something spoke through the High Priestess when she was thus tranced. But the Druids knew well that the ability of a spirit to speak through a human oracle was directly related to the content and sophistication of the mind that was its vehicle. An ignorant girl, no matter how sensitive, could only speak in simple, homely, terms. It was one reason why the Druid priestesses were so carefully selected and trained.
Some might have accused him of manipulation, but to the Arch-Druid it seemed that he was only adding his own particular knowledge of the country’s needs to the resources at the Oracle’s command. Though he did his best to impress certain information on the Oracle’s memory, the Goddess, if it were truly She who was speaking, was surely at liberty to decide what to say.
“Peace and patience . . .” he repeated slowly. “Rome will fall when the gods will it, but not by our hands . . .”
Five
Gaius watched Dieda and Cynric disappear into the crowd, fighting a desire to call them back again. Eilan, grown suddenly shy, was staring at her feet. He wondered what he could say to her. Hearing the story of the priestesses of Mona had left him feeling oddly diffident, not at all the lord of the world, as a Roman ought to be. Thank the gods Cynric did not suspect his real identity. He had the uneasy feeling that old Ardanos had guessed, but if so, the Druid had kept his secret, which in its way was even more disturbing.
He cast about for some harmless topic of conversation, and said at last, “Tell me more about how your tribe keeps this festival. The Silure customs are somewhat different, and I do not wish to offend against your ways.” A safe way, he thought, of covering the fact that he had only been to one native Beltane celebration, when he was six years old.
She colored. “Are they?” Now she was genuinely embarrassed. “It is a very ancient festival. Perhaps once all the tribes kept it the same way. Ardanos says our people brought it with them when they came to these islands. And he should know.”
“Yes indeed,” Gaius said. “He is so old – your grandfather – do you suppose he came over with those first ships from Gaul?” She giggled, and Gaius sighed with relief, feeling the tension between them ease.
“You have seen how they made the sacred flame,” she said then. “Tonight when the Priestess comes out to bless the fires we will hail her as the Goddess. I do not know how it is with the southern tribes, but in the North, in the olden times, women were more free than now. Before the Romans came, the Queen sometimes ruled the tribe in her own right. Now it is the Priestess and the Druids. That is why Cartimandua could command the Brigantes, and the Iceni followed Boudicca.”
Gaius stiffened. Among the Romans, Boudicca, the Killer Queen, was still a name to frighten children. In Londinium you could see the marks where the basilica had burned, and workmen digging foundations as the city grew sometimes found the bones of those who had tried to flee the bloodlust of the Iceni hordes. Eilan, oblivious, was still talking.
“Only in wartime did she appoint a duke of war to lead the armies; sometimes he was her brother, and sometimes her consort, but whatever he was, it gave him small power in the tribe. The Queen ruled of her own right, and whatever you may say, women know more of ruling, because each woman runs her own household. Isn’t she better qualified to rule over a tribe than a man who can only do what his war chief says?”
“Over a tribe, perhaps,” said Gaius. “Absurd it would be indeed, for a woman to command a Legion – or to rule a great empire like that of the Caesars.”