I squeezed his hand gratefully. I was eager to get to Avalon, but now that our journey was over, I was painfully aware that I would not see Corinthius again, and only now did I realize how fond of the old man I really was. I had wept when my nurse died, and I knew that I would weep to lose Corinthius as well.
The Lake people made us welcome in one of the round thatched houses set on poles above the marsh. A long, low boat was tied up beside it, and a creaking bridge connected it to the higher ground. The villagers were a small, lightly-built folk, with dark hair and eyes. At ten, I was already as tall as a grown woman among them, though I had the same dusky brown hair. I watched them curiously, for I had heard that my mother had been like them in feature, or perhaps she and they were both like the people of Faerie.
The villagers brought us thin ale and a stew of fish and millet flavoured with wild garlic, and flat oaten cakes baked on the stone hearth. When we had eaten this simple fare, we sat by the fire with bodies too tired to move and minds not yet ready for sleep, watching the flame fade into coals that shone like the vanished sun.
“Corinthius, when you have your school in Londinium, will you remember me?”
“How could I forget my little maiden, bright as one of Apollo’s sunbeams, when I am striving to beat Latin hexameters into the thick skulls of a dozen boys?” His worn features creased into a smile.
“You must call the sun Belenos,” said I, “in this northern land.”
“It was Apollo of the Hyboreans that I meant, my child, but it is all the same—”
“Do you truly believe that?”
Corinthius lifted one eyebrow. “A single sun shines here and in the land where I was born, though we call it by different names. In the realm of Idea, the great principles behind the forms that we see are the same.”
I frowned, trying to make sense of his words. He had attempted to explain the teachings of the philosopher Plato, but I found them hard to understand. Each place I came to had its own spirit, as distinct as human souls. This land they called the Summer Country, all hill and wood and hidden pools, seemed a world away from the broad flat fields and coppiced woodlands around Camulodunum. Avalon, if the tales I had heard of it were true, would be stranger still. How could their gods be the same?
“I think rather that it is you, little one, with all your life ahead of you, who will be forgetting me,” the old man said then. “What is it, child?” he added, bending to lift the lock of hair that hid my eyes. “Are you afraid?”
“What—what if they don’t like me?”
For a moment Corinthius stroked my hair, then he sat back with a sigh. “I ought to tell you that to the true philosopher, it should not matter, that the virtuous person needs no one’s approval. But what comfort is that to a child? Nonetheless it is true. There will be some people who do not like you no matter what you do, and when that happens, you can only try to serve the Truth as you see it. And yet, if you have won my heart, then surely there will be others to love you as well. Look for those who need your love, and they will return the blessing.”
His tone was bracing, and I swallowed and managed a smile. I was a princess, and one day would be a priestess as well. I must not let people see me cry.
There was a stirring at the door. The cowhide flap was pushed aside and I glimpsed a child holding a squirming puppy in his arms. The chieftain’s wife saw him and said something reproving in the dialect of the Lake. I caught the word for hound and realized he was being told to take the dog away.
“Oh no—I like puppies!” I exclaimed. “Please let me see!”