“Hush — it is routine. You must answer in your own words.”
“Very well,” Eilan said. “I came here at my own wish.” This seemed very silly to her. She wondered if they had asked Dieda this, and what the other girl had answered.
“Do you promise that you will treat every woman in this dwelling as your sister, mother and daughter, as your own kin?”
“I will.” She now had no mother living, and if she took permanent vows, she would have no daughter either.
“Do you promise that you will obey every lawful command given you by an older priestess here, and that you will lie with no man —” Caillean stopped and made a face, amending, “Saving only that you may lie with the Summer King, if his choice should fall on you.”
Eilan smiled. “I will obey, and it is no hardship to promise to give myself to no man.” Since the one man I could have loved is forbidden to me.
Caillean nodded. “So be it,” she said. “In the name of the Goddess, who, though She has many names, is one, I accept you.”
She embraced Eilan, and, one by one, the other priestesses did the same. By the time they were done, Eilan found herself weeping, as if in some odd way she had regained the kindred she had lost.
The older priestess put Eilan’s cloak over her shoulders and led her through a thatched passageway to a roundhouse with about a dozen beds – not box beds such as she was accustomed to, but narrow cots – set round the wall. Some of them were already occupied. One or two girls sat up, blinking sleepily, as Caillean pulled back the curtain of the bed nearest the door, then lay back again.
“A place has been made for you here,” whispered Caillean. She put Eilan into a coarse white shift which seemed a little too big. “Someone will wake you for the sunrise services in the grove. Do not expect to see me – I will be attending upon Lhiannon in preparation for the ceremonies of the full moon. Here is the dress you are to wear tomorrow.” She took from a nearby chest a bundle of clothing.
Eilan got into the narrow bed and Caillean tucked her under the thick blanket. Then she bent down to embrace her, and Eilan sat up to hug her back.
“Whatever you may think, remember that you are welcome among us,” Caillean said. “Even to Dieda; she is very unhappy now, but a day will come when she is glad you are here too.”
She kissed Eilan on the forehead. “Tomorrow one of the girls will help you to dress in the robes of a priestess; most likely Eilidh. And for a day or two she will go everywhere with you and show you what to do.”
Eilan lay back. The sheets were rough against her skin, and smelled of scented herbs. She asked, wanting to prolong the moment, “What scent is that on the sheet?”
“Lavender; we lay it among our linens when we wash them.”
Eilan told herself not to be surprised. The priestesses were women, if not exactly like any others she had known; of course they took thought to the plucking of herbs and the washing of linens like anyone else. She too would learn all these things.
Caillean said quietly, “Sleep now, and don’t worry. It is well that you have come here. I think you have a very special destiny among us.”
Neither of them could have guessed how that prophecy was to be fulfilled.
Ten
Why do we keep secret from the common folk the names of those herbs that are most powerful for healing?” Old Lads, the most senior of their herbalists, turned to the girls who were sitting beneath the oak tree, holding a stalk of foxglove bells in her hand.
“So they will have to come to us and respect the priestesses?” asked one of the younger girls.
“Their respect must be earned, child,” Lads said sternly. “Unlearned they may be, but they are not stupid. The reason for secrecy lies deeper – that which is most powerful for good is also powerful for evil, handled wrongly. Foxglove can stimulate an ailing heart, but give too much and it will gallop like a frightened horse until it breaks down. For the healer, judgment is all.”