“Why should they not? They are ignorant men,” said Miellyn scornfully. “They set down all their knowledge on bits of leather or waxed wood or tablets of stone and think that is wisdom. What good does it do a piece of stone to have knowledge? Even I, a young priestess, know it is the understanding graven in the heart that makes men wise. Can you learn the ways of the herbs from a book? It is not enough even to be told. You must seek out the plants yourself, handle them, love them, watch them grow. Then you can use them for healing, for their spirits will speak to you.”
“Perhaps their women know more,” said Eilan. “For I have heard the Romans do not teach the craft of letters to all their womenfolk. I wonder what wisdom the mothers pass on to their daughters that the men do not know?”
Miellyn made a face. “Perhaps they are afraid that if women learned bookcraft too there would not be enough work for scribes and the letter writers of the marketplace.”
“Caillean said something like that, soon after I came here,” Eilan said and shivered, though the day was warm, remembering the cold winds during the scrying. “But I have not seen much of her since then. I wonder sometimes if I have angered her.”
“You must not pay too much attention to what Caillean says, or does not say.” Miellyn cautioned. “She has suffered a great deal, and she is . . . immoderate in her opinions sometimes. But it is true the Romans do not think much of what women can do.”
“Then they are foolish.”
“I know that. You know that,” Miellyn said. “But there are some Romans who do not yet know it. Let us hope that they learn it during our lifetime. Our own priests can be foolish too. Someone told me you wished to learn to play the harp. Have you heard Caillean play her lyre?”
Eilan shook her head. “Not often.” Suddenly she remembered the occasion where Caillean had taught her to handle fire, and shivered.
Miellyn said, “You really must not mind Caillean’s strange ways; she is very solitary. Sometimes for days she speaks to no one, except perhaps to Lhiannon. I know Caillean likes you; I have heard her say so.”
Eilan looked at her and then quickly away. It had certainly seemed so that night at Mairi’s, after Caillean had driven the raiders away. She realized now how unusual it had been for the older woman to reveal herself that way. Perhaps that was why she had avoided Eilan so much since then.
Miellyn had spotted a place where wild thyme grew beneath a tree and was using her little curved knife to cut the stems. The scent came sweet and sharp to Eilan’s nostrils as she bent to gather it.
“Speak to her of her harp,” Miellyn added then.
“I thought you said it was not a harp -”
“Indeed, Caillean went to considerable trouble to explain the difference —” Miellyn grinned. “The strings go into a box at the base instead of the side, but the sound is much the same. She knows many songs of Eriu. They are very strange indeed; somehow they all sound like the sea. She knows all of the old songs too, though because of our training we all remember more than most people. If they had been willing to train women as bards before so many of the priests had been killed, perhaps she would have been one.” Irresistibly, Miellyn began to giggle. “Or she might have been the High Druid – if it is not blasphemy to say so – after your father.”
“Ardanos is my mother’s father, not mine. Dieda is his daughter,” Eilan told her, gathering up the last of the thyme.
“And your foster brother is one of the Sacred Band?” Miellyn asked. “Truly you come from a priestly family. They will probably try to make you a priestess of the Oracle one day.”
“No one has said anything about it to me,” Eilan answered her.
“Would you dislike it?” Miellyn laughed at her. “The rest of us have our duties, and I, for one, am happy with my herbs. But the seeresses are the ones the people worship. Would you not like to be the voice of the Goddess?”