Then the moment would pass, and she would be darting away, Leviyah panting at her heels, to hang over the rail and watch the green waters rush by, and I would be abandoned, though not alone.
In Ganuenta I had hoped to visit Nehalennia’s shrine, but they said that a flood some years back had damaged it, and the ground was unsafe now that the river’s course had changed. My first thought was to endow a new temple. After contributing to so many Christian churches, surely that was the least I could do for the goddess who had guided me for so long. But such an act might have aroused unwelcome questions, and the funds that remained to me were needed to support the two women whom I now spoke of as my daughters, and the child.
If Nehalennia was being forgotten, I alone could not restore her worship. I reminded myself that the Goddess is ever constant and ever changing. When in the slow cycle of years men realized their need for her once more, surely Nehalennia would return. But that night I wept in the darkness, grieving for something lovely and precious that had gone out of the world.
We came to Britannia in the season of harvest, when the air was scented with curing hay and the songs of the reapers rang across the fields of nodding grain. The crossing had been a rough one, and even I found the jolting of a carriage a relief after being tossed about for three days at sea.
“Britannia seems small,” said Cunoarda, looking out at the gentle alternations of wood and field beyond the rounded shoulders of the downs.
“I suppose it is, considering how far we have come. No doubt Londinium will seem little, compared to Rome. But I know the scent of that hay, and the way the power flows through the land.”
“This is still a very different country from my home,” she said with a sigh. “I was taken in a raid by a rival clan when I was not much older than little Crispa. I have memories of slopes purple with heather, and the baaing of the sheep as they came down from the hills. But I cannot see my mother’s face. I think perhaps she died when I was small.”
“Then I shall be your mother, Cunoarda—”
“Oh, but that was only a part of our disguise, while we are on the road—” She flushed to the roots of her hair. “You are—”
I laid a finger to her lips. “I am only Eilan, now, and I have reason to know that the children of one’s body are not always the children of one’s heart.” Gazing at that familiar strong-boned face, I was amazed that through all those years when I had thought myself destitute of love, I had not noticed the treasure that lay beneath my hand.
“I never imagined… I never dared…” She shook her head, sniffing and wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “Oh my lady—my mother! You gave me my freedom, but I was still empty. Now you have given me a soul!”
I opened my arms then and held her until her sobs had ceased.
In my will, I had bequeathed the house in Londinium to Cunoarda, and she had written from Treveri to tell the tenant she was coming there to live. When we arrived, the place was empty—indeed, it was practically without furnishings, and Cunoarda and Lena spent a busy day in the market-place purchasing bedding and kitchen gear.
I had looked forwards to seeing what more than twenty years had done to the city, but that morning I was having trouble with my breathing, and I thought it best to stay indoors with Crispa to bear me company.
“Avia, who are the pretty ladies?” Crispa pointed at the relief of the four matronae which I had commissioned so long ago. It was one of the few decorations that had survived my absence, perhaps because it was bolted to the wall.
I took a careful breath, then turned. “They are the Mothers.”
“Look! One of them has a dog!”
Leviyah stood up, tail wagging, at the word.