Caillean, of course, was another matter; he could tell at once that the older woman would not have trusted him – or both of them – out of her sight, and for Eilan’s sake he was indignant. But he guessed that the priestess had been brought up on tales of Roman outrages. To the women of the Forest House the very fact that he was a Roman and a man was enough.
And the truth was that if Caillean had not been there, he might have kissed Eilan; she looked very enticing in the pale linen dress that set off the gold of her hair. He thought the garb must be some kind of standard dress among the priestesses, for Caillean was wearing the same kind of draperies, though hers were dark blue and unbecoming. Both had little curved daggers hanging from their girdles.
After a moment Eilan began to tell him about the girl in the house of the priestesses, not very coherently, but he knew at once that this must be the child of Valerius’s sister. “But this is amazing,” he exclaimed. “I think this must be the same girl I came here to speak about to you, the niece of my father’s secretary. How old is she?”
“The Goddess must be guiding us indeed,” said Eilan. “I do not think she has passed her tenth year.”
“Oh, well, she is not old enough to be marriageable,” he said, for Roman law did not permit the marriage of a girl under twelve. He added lightly, “That’s good; otherwise Valerius would probably feel in honor bound to make some arrangement. Now he’ll just have to marry someone else to have a home for her.”
“That is not necessary,” said Eilan. “The girl is well and happy where she is, and you may tell him so.”
Gaius frowned; he knew that for Valerius, who came of a good old family, it would not be considered suitable that a kinswoman should live away from the family’s protection. But Valerius had no other family to take care of the girl now, and perhaps Eilan’s insistence that she would personally watch over the child’s health and safety would be enough for him.
After all, in Rome, it was the greatest possible honor for a little girl to be taken into the temple of Vesta. For as long as she retained her ritual position she was treated like a queen, or an empress at least. Somehow he would make Valerius understand.
He realized that he was still making ineffectual remarks about the little girl, whom he had not even seen, when he saw Caillean glaring at him. They had already said everything they could legitimately say to one another, and were beginning to repeat themselves. It was time to say goodbye.
He paused, eyeing Eilan wistfully. He supposed he would never have another opportunity to speak with her in even this much privacy. He would have liked to bid her a proper goodbye, but he could certainly not do that under Caillean’s eyes. And he should probably not expose himself to that kind of temptation anyhow. But Eilan was still looking at him, a question in her eyes.
“Eilan —” he stammered, for Caillean was watching as well. “You know what I would say to you . . .” He held out his hand, not daring to touch her, and then, as Caillean coughed, turned it to a formal salute of farewell. But he read Eilan’s answer in her smile.
When he had withdrawn, Eilan ran to Caillean.
“So that is the Roman who has had you daydreaming to the point where you can hardly be trusted to stuff a mattress with bracken. I cannot understand it; he does not seem in any way special to me.”
“Well, I did not suppose that you would particularly like him,” Eilan protested, “but he is well favored, is he not?”
“I cannot see that he is any more so than any other Roman,” Caillean remarked. “Or for that matter any other man. To me your foster brother Cynric is much better looking. He has a gentler face and does not appear to think the world must revolve about his comings and goings.”