The Forest House

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  "I know who he is." Lhiannon had received him once or twice, but Macellius was now retired. What, in the name of all the gods, could he want with her? The only way to find out was to ask. "Tell him to come in," she directed. She straightened her gown and after a moment's thought drew her veil down over her face.

  Presently Huw shouldered through the entrance with another man behind him. Gaius's father . . .the grandfather of her son . . .From behind the veil Eilan eyed him curiously. She had never seen him before, and yet she would have known him anywhere. Overlapping visions showed her the weathered features of the old man and the strong lines of nose and brow that had been repeated in his son, and were just beginning to emerge from the childish curves in the face of her own.

  Huw took up position beside the door and Macellius came to a halt before her. He drew himself up and bowed, and Eilan knew suddenly where Gaius had got his pride.

  "My lady." He used the Roman term, Domina, but his British was quite good otherwise. "It is very kind of you to receive me —"

  "Not at all," she replied. "What can I do for you?" She supposed it had to do with one of the approaching festivals as it had when he had waited upon Lhiannon.

  Macellius cleared his throat. "I understand that you have given sanctuary to the daughters of the Demetan Queen —"

  Suddenly Eilan was very glad that she had put on the veil. "If that were true," she said slowly, desperately wishing that Ardanos or Caillean, were here to help her, "why would it matter to you?"

  "If it were so," he echoed, "we would want to know why."

  The words of Cynric came into her mind. "Because it was told to me that they stood in need of it. Can you think of any better reason?"

  "I cannot," he answered her, "and yet their mother is a rebel who threatened to raise the whole West against Rome. But Rome has been merciful. Brigitta has been sent in protective custody to Londinium, and will not be harmed. Nor have we demanded death for her kin."

  The little ones will be glad to know their mother is safe, thought Eilan, remembering how unnaturally silent they had been. But why? Was it possible that Macellius desired peace between Rome and the Britons as much as she?

  "If this is true I am glad to hear it," she said, "but what do you want of me?"

  "I should think it would be obvious lady. These girls must not become a rallying point for some future uprising. Brigitta herself is not important, but in times of tension, any pretext will serve."

  She said, "I think you may rest easy on that point; if they were among the maidens of the Forest House no political use would be made of them."

  "Not even when they are grown?" he asked. "How do we know that they will not be given to men who will try to rule the Demetae by right of marriage to the Queen?"

  He was right to wonder she thought. It was exactly the sort of thing that Cynric would try. "How would you avoid it?"

  "The best way is to have them fostered in loyal Roman homes; and' when they are grown, find them good solid husbands with Roman sympathies."

  "And that is all that would happen to them in Roman hands?"

  "That is all," Macellius replied. "My lady, you cannot believe that we make war on babes and little children?"

  She was silent. That is exactly what I have been brought up to believe.

  "Is it your will that we shall always be paying for atrocities committed by others? On the sacred island, for instance?" said Macellius, as if he could hear what she was thinking.

  That is what Cynric believes, but the decision is mine. And it is I whom the Goddess must tell what to do. For a few moments longer Eilan was silent, seeking the inner stillness in which she could hear.

  "It is not," she said, "but I would lose the trust of my own people if I appeared too eager to believe you. I have heard Brigitta's daughters are both still too young for anyone to think of marriage. They have been through a great deal. Surely it would be more merciful to let them stay wherever they are a few months, or even a year, until the furor has died down. By then everyone will know how you have treated their mother. Passions will have cooled, and there will be less outcry if people learn they are in your hands."

  "And will they then be given to us?" Macellius said, frowning.

  "If all is as you say, I swear by the gods of my tribe that they will." Eilan set her hand upon the torque around her neck. "Prepare to receive them in your house in Deva at the Feast of the Maiden next year."

  His face lightened, and Eilan's breath caught as she saw on his lined face Gawen's flickering smile. If only she could tell him who she was, and show him his grandson, safe and strong!

  "I believe you," Macellius said. "I can only hope that the Legate will believe me"

  "Vernemeton is hostage for my honesty," she gestured around her. "If I betray it, we are within easy grasp of his hand."

  He said, "Lady, I would kiss yours; but your guard is eyeing me roost suspiciously."

  "You cannot do that," she said, "but I accept your good will, my lord."

  "And I yours," Macellius said, and bowed once more.

  When he had gone, Eilan sat for a time in silence, wondering if she had betrayed her people or saved them. Was it for this that the gods had worked to bring her here? Was it for this she had been born?

  Caillean returned from the Summer Country late the next day, looking tired, but elated. When the older woman had bathed, Eilan sent Senara to ask if she would take her evening meal by Eilan's fire.

  "How that child has grown!" Caillean commented as Senara went out to fetch the meal. "It seems just yesterday she came here, and now she is the same age as you were when I first met you, and almost as beautiful!"

  With some surprise Eilan realized that Senara was indeed a young woman, old enough for vows; one day soon she should be pledged as a priestess. There had been no word from the girl's Roman relatives for years, and she had no reason to think there would be any objection. But for this at least there was no hurry.

  "And what have you been doing this bright sunny day, my dear child?" Caillean asked as Senara set the food down.

  A strange look passed over the girl's face. "I walked by that little house in the forest. Did you know, a hermit has come to live there?"

  "Indeed, we gave our permission. He is a strange old man from somewhere in the South, Christian, is he not?"

  "He is," Senara answered with that same strange look. "He has been kind to me."

  Caillean frowned. Eilan knew that she would say it was not suitable for a priestess of the Forest House to be alone with a man, no matter how staid or elderly. But after all, the girl was not sworn to them; besides, she had heard somewhere that Christian priests swore themselves to chastity. In any case, Eilan thought wryly, she herself was no one to question a young girl's modesty.

  "My mother was a Christian," Senara said. "May I have your permission to visit this priest and take him some food from our kitchen? I would like to learn more about what my mother believed."

  "I do not see why not," Eilan answered. "That all the gods are one God is a part of our most ancient teachings. Go, and learn which face of Him the Christians see . . ."

  They ate for a time in silence.

  "Something has happened," said Eilan finally, watching Caillean's face as she stared into the flames.

  "Perhaps —" Caillean answered her. "But I am not entirely sure what it means. The Tor is very powerful, and the lake . . ." she shook her head. "I promise that when I understand what I felt there, you will know. In the meantime —" her eyes lost their softness as she looked up at Eilan. "I am told that something has happened here as well. Dieda says you had a visitor."

  "Visitors, rather; but I assume you were speaking of Cynric."

  "I meant Macellius Severus," Caillean said. "What did you think of him?"

  Eilan thought, I could have wished for him as my father-in-law. But she could not, after all, say that to Caillean. She compromised by saying, "He seems both kindly and fatherly."

  "That is how the Romans take mor
e and more of our world," said Caillean. "I would rather they were all evil without compromise. When even you can think well of Macellius, who will rebel?"

  "Why should we rebel against them? You speak like Cynric."

  "I could do worse," said Caillean.

  "I do not see how," Eilan said resentfully. "Even if we must have a Roman peace, what is wrong with that? Peace is certainly better than war however it comes."

  "Even a peace without honor? A peace in which everything that makes life worth living has been taken away?"

  "The Romans can be honorable —" Eilan began, but Caillean interrupted.

  "I would have thought you the last person to say so!" Her voice trailed off into an appalled silence, as if she had realized that whatever she said could only make it worse.

  But I do say so, thought Eilan, feeling her flush of shame die away. Gaius's mother married Macellius to bring peace, and I let Gains marry a Roman girl for the same reason. She wondered what sort of person his Roman wife was, and whether she had made him happy. Not all women sought peace, she knew, remembering Boudicca, who had started a rebellion, and Cartimandua, who betrayed Caractacus, and Brigitta, whose daughters she was sheltering, but she had made her decision, and she would stand by it.

  "Cynric is wrong," she said finally. "What makes life worth living is not the glory that warriors sing of, but tended cattle and tilled fields and happy children around the fire. I know that the Goddess can be as terrible as a sow-bear when her cubs are threatened, but I think She would rather see us building and growing than killing each other. Isn't that why we have tried to recover the ancient ways of healing here?"

  She looked up at last and met Caillean's dark eyes, and was startled to see that they held appeal.

  "I have told you the reasons I have to hate men and fear what they can do," the older priestess said softly. "It is very hard sometimes for me to believe in life; it would be so much easier to go down fighting. There are times when you make me ashamed. But when I looked into the Sacred Well, it seemed to me that it overflowed in a hundred little rivulets that sank into the ground and carried its healing power throughout the land. And then, for a little while, I did believe."

  "We must do something about that well," said Eilan softly, taking Caillean's hand and, like an echo, she seemed to hear the singing of the swans.

  The next time Gaius was in Deva he called upon his father. Over a cup of wine, the talk came round to Brigitta of the Demetae. "Did you ever find her daughters?" asked Gaius.

  "In a manner of speaking," his father replied. "I know where they are, and you will never guess where it is."

  "I thought you were going to find them Roman foster parents."

  "I will, when the time comes, but for now I think that the Priestess of the Oracles is the best guardian they could have." As Gaius gaped, his father went on. "She is a young woman, and I feared she would sympathize with young hot-heads like Cynric, whom, I tell you plainly, I would hang if we could lay hands on him, but she was surprisingly reasonable. As you might guess I have had an informant there for years, a servant of the priestesses, but this is the first time I have seen the Priestess myself."

  "What did she look like?" Gaius's voice cracked, but Macellius did not appear to notice.

  "She was veiled," he said. "But between us we worked it out that she'll keep the girls until tensions have eased, and then turn them over to us to be fostered in Roman homes, and contracted to Roman husbands; I think even Brigitta will be inclined to agree to this, if it is put to her. And I mean to put it to her. I feared that some of the agitators around her would make the girls the cause of another holy war, which, I need hardly tell you, would go hard with us, after Domitian's losses on the frontier."

  He paused, and looked hard at his son. "I wonder sometimes if I made the right choices for you, lad. I thought Vespasian would live longer; he was a good Emperor, and would have seen to your career. After all our planning, you are living on your lands like a British chieftain after all. Even your marriage to Julia —" he broke off. "Can you forgive me?"

  Gaius stared at him. "I did not know there was anything to forgive. I have made a life for myself here, and this is my home. Regarding my career, well, there is plenty of time."

  No Emperor lives for ever, he thought, remembering what Malleus had said in his last letter, but even to his father he would not say that aloud. When he thought of Rome he remembered crowds and filth and the detested toga. He might have liked a little more sun here in Britain; but he felt little desire for southern climes.

  And as for his lack of a male heir, he wondered if this was the time to tell Macellius about Eilan's son. Was it really she whom his father had seen? It was a great relief to know that she could be so moderate. Even if he could not see her; he knew that she was safe and well. It was not that he did not love his daughters, and Gaius knew that Licinius loved all the children. But Roman law counted only male children. It might not be fair, for in effect he would be disenfranchising little Cella, but the law was the law, like it or not.

  In the end it seemed safer to say nothing. What remained unspoken — and he had found this out the hard way - he need never regret.

  Twenty-Six

  Caillean woke, shaking, to the gray light of early dawn. It was only a dream. But the images were still vivid, more real, even now, than the curtains of her bed and the breathing of the other women near by. She sat up and stuck her feet into slippers, and then, shivering, took her shawl down from its hook and wrapped it around her.

  But the warm wool did not comfort her. When she closed her eyes she could still see the expanse of silver water where white mists wreathed and swirled. Eilan stood on the other side, but with each moment the waters grew wider, as if a strong current were carrying her away. It was the emotion that went with the images that terrified her, the overwhelming surge of anguish and loss.

  It is only my own fears speaking, she told herself, a dream that will disappear with the dawn. Not all dreams were prescient. She got up and drank some water from the flask.

  In the end, a grey veil of cloud had swirled between her and Eilan, cutting her off from the world. Death is like that . . .The thought would not go away. The ordinary fantasies of sleep dissipated like the mist of morning when one awakened. A great dream — a dream of power - became ever more distinct as one puzzled over it. It could not be ignored.

  As the other women began to stir, Caillean realized she could not stay here to face their curious eyes. Perhaps in the garden she could find the serenity she needed to deal with this. But one thing was clear, she must tell Eilan.

  That year the Beltane celebrations had ushered in a bounteous summer, and the woods around the Forest House were vivid with flowers. Eilan had allowed herself to be persuaded to go out to gather herbs with Miellyn, and Lia and the children had come along. Beneath the trees the creamy primroses and bluebells still flourished, but golden buttercups were already beginning to star the meadows, and white hawthorn hung heavy on the bough.

  Gawen gleefully showed off his knowledge of the forest to Brigitta's two girls, who hung on every word, wide-eyed and admiring. Eilan smiled, remembering how she and Dieda had followed Cynric about when they were small. Listening to their laughter, she realized how much Gawen had missed having other children to play with, and knew that it was not only the girls who would soon be leaving her. Gawen would have to be fostered out soon.

  It was noon before they returned, flushed and chattering and crowned with flowers. "Caillean is waiting for you in the garden," said Eilidh as Eilan came in. "She has been sitting there all morning. She would not even come in to eat breakfast, but she assures us that nothing is wrong."

  Frowning, Eilan passed on into the garden without removing her wide-brimmed straw hat, for the day was warm. Caillean was sitting on a bench by the rosemary bed, motionless as if she were meditating, but at Eilan's step she opened her eyes.

  "Caillean, what is it?"

  The other woman looked up, and Eilan fli
nched at the utter calm in those dark eyes. "How many years now have we known one another?" Caillean asked.

  Eilan tried to reckon it up in memory; they had met when Mairi's younger child was born. But in truth it seemed longer, and there were times when she remembered those odd glimpses of knowledge that had come to her and thought that they had been sisters in more lives than one.

  "Sixteen years, I think," she said at last, doubtfully. It had been near to winter then; but no, it could not be, for the wild Hibernians were raiding, and it was certain they would not sail if they were afraid of being caught by winter storms. It had not been snow, but rain, she remembered. That had been a bad spring. And she had come to the Forest House as a novice priestess the summer that followed.

  'Has it been so long? You are right. Mairi's child is nearly old enough to be wed, and Gawen is eleven winters old."