Her eyes widened at the thought that the Arch-Druid, of all people, might stand her friend. But her father was still talking.
“From the tone of the letter, my guess is that Macellius Severus likes it no better than I. Nothing could come of such a marriage but torn loyalties for you both. If Gaius is willing to forsake Rome for you, then I want him not among our kin. And if he cleaves to his own, then would you be outcast among our people, and I would not have that for you.”
Eilan did not look up. “For him I would bear it,” she said, her voice just audible.
“Yes, in your madness, I believe you would,” her father said harshly. “Youth is ever ready to defy the world. But our blood is not traitor blood, Eilan. For every moment you betrayed your kin with him, the ravens would peck at your heart in secret. His voice softened, “What is more, it is not you alone but all our kindred who would be forced to break one bond after another.
“Eilan, this you must understand; I bear no grudge against Gawen; he was a guest in my house, and it were to chop logic to say he lied to me when none had asked his true name. If grudge there might be, it would only be that he worked in secret to set you against your kin.”
Eilan’s words were all but inaudible. “He dealt honorably and uprightly with both me and you.”
“Have I questioned that?” responded Bendeigid. “But he who asks pledges himself to abide the answer. They asked me fairly and honorably for your hand; fairly and straightforwardly I answered. And there’s an end of it.”
She said in a strangled voice, “Another man less honorable might have so dealt with me that you would have been grateful to be rid of me.”
Black anger suffused her father’s face and for the first time in memory she feared him. He jerked her towards him, and struck her – though not hard – across the mouth.
“No more —” he said. “No more! Had I slapped you more often when you were a child, I should not now need to strike you for that shameless speech.”
Eilan sank down on the bench as he released her; ten days ago she would have wept if her father spoke so to her; now she felt that nothing would ever make her shed another tear.
He said emphatically, “You will marry no Roman while I am above ground; no, nor after it either if I have my way. And if you should tell me that things had so gone with you that you must marry this son of half-Roman traitors, or give me a bastard to call me grandsire, no man in all the length and breadth of Britain would blame me if I drowned you with my own hands. Spare me that blush of modesty, Daughter, you had none a moment ago!”
Eilan would have preferred to face her father on her feet, but her knees were trembling so that she could not rise. “Can you really think such shame of me?”
“It was not I who first named it,” her father retorted. Then his voice softened. “Child, child,” he admitted, “I spoke in anger. You are a good girl, and my true daughter, I ask your forgiveness. Now, enough of this kind of talk. You ride north tomorrow; your sister Mairi will have need of a kinswoman, for her child will be born soon, and at this season your mother cannot be spared. It seems all too likely now that her husband, Rhodri, was captured by Romans when he went off after the levies. So even if all had gone otherwise, this would be no season to be offering me a Roman son-in-law.”
Eilan nodded dumbly. Bendeigid put his arm around her, and said gently, “Wiser I am and older than you, Eilan. The young see for themselves alone. Do you think I have not seen you pining? I thought it was only that you missed Dieda, but my main anger at this half-Roman bastard is that he has given you such pain.”