“Was your home safe?” I asked in an attempt to turn his mind from thoughts of battle.
He blinked, and managed a smile. “Yes, it was—the Goths were after older and richer towns. It was one time when living on the frontier worked to our advantage. My people have been there since Trajan conquered the land.”
“My father’s family ruled the country north of the Tamesis even before the Romans came,” I observed a trifle smugly. The sun was breaking through the clouds, and I unhooked my broad hat from the saddle and put it on. “But my ancestor made alliance with the Divine Julius, and took his family name.”
“Ah—” answered Constantius, “my own ancestry is less illustrious. One of my ancestors was a client to Flavius Vespasianus, the great Emperor, hence the family name. But the first of my line to settle in Dacia was a centurion who married a local girl. But that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Some say that Vespasianus himself was descended from one of the founders of Rome, but I am told that the Emperor laughed at that idea, and admitted that his grandfather had been a ranker in the legions. It does not matter. We are all Romans now…’
“I suppose so,” I replied. “I know Coelius kept the Roman festivals. I remember going with him to the great temple of Claudius in Camulodunum to burn incense to the Emperor. In matters pertaining to government he was a Roman, but he kept to the old ways when it was a question of the health of the land. That is how I came to be conceived,” I added unwillingly. “In the year of the great floods he appealed to Avalon, and my mother, who was the High Priestess then, travelled to Camulodunum to perform the Great Rite with him.”
“So you are royal on both sides.” Constantius smiled at me, then grew thoughtful. “Did your father ever formally adopt you?”
I shook my head. “What need?” I said bitterly. “I was always intended for Avalon… Does it matter to you?” I added, seeing his frown.
“Not to me—” he said quickly. “It may have some legal implications… for our marriage.”
“You want to marry me?” In truth, I had not thought much about it, having grown to womanhood in Avalon, where the priestesses did not bind themselves to any man.
“Of course! Or at least,” he added, “make some legal arrangement that will protect you—was not that ceremony we performed at your festival a wedding?”
I stared at him. “It was the union of the earth and the sun, meant to bring life to the land—the god and the goddess were wedded, as was the case with my parents, not the priest and priestess who performed the rite.”
He reined in abruptly, blocking my pony, and faced me. A pair of warblers lifted from the hawthorn hedge, calling. “If you do not consider yourself my wife, why did you come with me?”
My eyes filled with tears. “Because I love you…”
“I am an initiate, but not an adept of the Mysteries,” Constantius said after a long moment had passed. “The only way I knew how to make those vows was as a man. And you were my lady—the first time I saw you I knew you were the woman whose soul was bound to my own.”
It occurred to me suddenly that Ganeda’s plan could never have worked even if I had not interfered. If Aelia had been the priestess, Constantius would have refused to go through with the ritual. He reached out and seized my hand.
“You are mine, Helena, and I will never abandon you. This I swear to you by Juno and all the gods. You will be my wife in fact, whether or not you bear the name. Do you understand?”
“Volo—” I am willing,” I whispered past the lump in my throat. At least I had had a vision. Only honour, and his noble heart, kept this man at my side.
I think it was at that moment, standing in the road somewhere in the middle of Britannia, that my marriage to Constantius truly began.
* * *