And well she might, thought Caillean wryly as she crossed the courtyard, pulling her shawl over her head to keep off the rain, since it was she who sent me away!
As always after an absence, Caillean was struck by Lhiannon’s fragility. She will not make old bones, she thought now, looking at her. There was no obvious sign of illness, only an increasing translucence, but an instinct honed by years as a priestess told her that the older woman was being consumed from within.
“Mother, I am here,” she said softly. “Were you wanting to see me?”
Lhiannon turned, and Caillean saw that her faded eyes were glistening with tears. “I have been waiting for you,” she said softly. “Will you forgive me for sending you away?”
Caillean shook her head, feeling her own throat tighten, and crossed the room swiftly to kneel beside the High Priestess’s chair.
“What is there to forgive?” she asked brokenly, laying her head on the older woman’s knees. She felt her own tears begin to fall as Lhiannon touched her hair. “I should never have become a priestess, such a trouble to you I have been!” Suddenly, by that tender touch on her brow, a barrier that had begun to crack when she poured out her heart to Eilan so long ago was swept away.
“I never could tell you,” she whispered, “at first I did not understand, and then I was ashamed. I am no pure maiden. In Eriu, before you found me, I was used by a man —” Her voice choked. There was a silence, and then the thin fingers began once more to stroke her hair.
“Ah, little one, is that what has troubled you? I thought there was something, but did not want to ask. You were not even a
woman yet when I took you from Eriu. How could you sin? It is only that we do not speak of such things, because there are those who would not understand. We must preserve appearances. That is why I punished you for helping Eilan. But listen, Caillean, my dear one – whatever befell you before you came here is of no importance, not to the Goddess, and certainly not to me, so long as while you dwell in Her House you serve Her faithfully and well!”
Still weeping, Caillean reached up to clasp the older woman’s arms. Despite occasional exasperation, she realized then that what she felt for Lhiannon was surely as deep as any love she might have had for a man, though it was different in kind. And she loved Eilan, whose sympathy had first enabled her to face these memories. But at least neither of these loves would ever conflict with her vows as priestess.
There had been moments, during the days of Caillean’s exile, when the raindrops that fell from the eaves of the Forest House had seemed to strike Eilan’s heart. Gaius was gone, and she would not see him again, that much had been made clear. It was a relief to have those thoughts interrupted when Caillean summoned her.
“You’re back!” she exclaimed as she pushed through the woolen hangings at the door of Caillean’s chamber. “No one told me! How long have you been here?”
“A day only,” said the priestess. “I was with Lhiannon.”
Eilan embraced her and stood back to look Caillean up and down. “It’s done you no harm, anyway.” She looked brown and healthy, and the little line that sometimes marred the blue crescent tattooed between her brows had smoothed away. “Have they quite forgiven you for my crime?”
Caillean smiled. “It is forgotten. And that, child, is why I sent for you. You have been here for three years now and done well in your studies. The time has come for you to decide if you wish to become truly one of us and take your vows.”
“Has it been so long?” It was hard to believe that Mairi’s daughter was already a thriving toddler three years old, and her older child nearly five. And yet at the same time it seemed to Eilan that she had always been here. Her old life was forgotten, and when she dreamed of Gaius it was always of his arms around her and his voice murmuring in her ear. She could not imagine living with him in the Roman world.