Roma Mater

by Poul Anderson

  The square, massive visage hardened still further, the powerful body seemed to take stance as if readying for an enemy charge. Rougher than had been his wont, his answer rolled forth. ‘I have every right. I am the King of Ys. He Whose avatar I am is Belisama’s lover.’

  Dahilis stumbled forward to stand under the dais, confronting her Sisters. They could see how her breath laboured, almost how her heart galloped, beneath the child-bulged gown. She raised her palms. ‘Hear me,’ she beseeched. ‘I never intended – But ’tis my fault. Mine alone. When the m-message came to the palace … about poor Innilis – I was so shocked I blurted unthinkingly –’

  ‘And I sensed something more behind that, and thundered it out of her,’ Gratillonius said. ‘She strove to hold back, but she’d already let slip she must go hither at this time, about a matter more grave than the loss of an infant. I said I would come too, my legionaries at my back if need be, and have the truth. That –’ He faltered. For a moment he stood gnawing his lip, then whispered, ‘That broke her will.’

  ‘Nay, wait, wait,’ exclaimed Quinipilis. She rocked up to hug Dahilis to her ample bosom. ‘There, dear, there, ’twas indeed no sin of yours. You were helpless.’

  ‘She was sensible,’ declared Fennalis. ‘Better give the man his way, and a while to calm down, better that than an open breach, right in the sacred building.’

  ‘True,’ growled the centurion. ‘She has a wiser head on her, young though she be, than some I could name. Now can the lot of you sit down and we talk this over like reasoning beings?’

  ‘I fear ’tis too deep for reason,’ said Bodilis; but she took the lead in urging that they try. To Maldunilis she must utter a stiff ‘Be quiet or I’ll throw you out’ before that Queen controlled her dread of what these events might portend. The rest won sooner to a stoic peacefulness.

  ‘Well.’ Seeking to ease things a little, Gratillonius leaned on the long haft of the Hammer. ‘I hope you understand my wish is to do my duty as your King. But I have other duties too, as the prefect of Rome … and as a man. It grieves me to hear what Innilis has suffered. If I have not hastened to her bedside, ’tis because of this business. To be frank, I am yet unclear about it. I know only that she was supposed to spend the solstice day and night on Sena, but the task has fallen on Dahilis.’

  ‘I will fulfil it, oh, I will,’ Dahilis vowed.

  Gratillonius’s anger burst forth anew. ‘Alone, in your condition? Have you seen the sky? Foul weather’s on the way, if ever clouds gave signal. You could be trapped out yonder for days, no boat able to live through the waves and reefs. Madness!’

  It was as though fire flickered behind ice in the gaze of Forsquilis. ‘Nay, Roman,’ she said to the man with whom she had made love this past night. Intensity caused her to tremble. ‘’Tis the command of the Gods. To learn it I have guested the dead; to carry it out we have thirsted, fasted, and scourged; no more may we deny or defy it than you may spit on the sacrifice of your Mithras. Or less – for He would send you alone down to hell, whereas the wrath of our Gods would fall upon all Ys. It is required that a Sister take Vigil at this Midwinter while bearing within her a child. That was to have been Innilis. Now it must needs be Dahilis.’

  ‘You went behind my back.’ Gratillonius raised the Hammer. ‘Why, why, why?’

  ‘To expiate the sins against Them, among which yours, O King, wax rank,’ said Lanarvilis quietly, almost sorrowfully; and she explained.

  ‘But – but that is – See here!’ Gratillonius roared. ‘If I’ve erred, I’ll make whatever amends you want … if they be seemly … I will!’

  Silence answered, save that Forsquilis shook her head. Dahilis had gone dry-eyed. She sat straight, hands serene in her lap, resoluteness upon her.

  ‘Mithras will protect you! He is just, and He is above –’ Gratillonius stopped. He knew implacability when it stared at him.

  He had two dozen soldiers. Most ordinary Ysan men would recoil from assaulting him, he trusted; even some of the marines might hang back. In any event, given speed and determination, his company could fight its way clear and on to safety in Audiarna, bearing Dahilis along –

  No. He foresaw what that would do to her. And it would irretrievably wreck the still frail structure of defence he was building. His mission was to save Armorica for Rome, not tear it asunder.

  ‘Forgive me. I meant no insult to the God of Ys.’ A while he stood, head bowed, both hands on the butt of the Hammer to upbear his weight, which seemed to have grown boulder-huge. The Key dangled from his neck.

  Finally he shook himself, squared his shoulders, and said, ‘Very well. So be it. But Dahilis shall take no needless risk.’

  ‘Do you doubt that the Goddess will look after her?’ Vindilis challenged. ‘Or if not, who shall fathom Her ways? That which has happened may indeed have been Her will making itself manifest.’

  ‘Then do you doubt its fulfilment, whatever we mortals may do?’ Gratillonius retorted. ‘I ask merely that one or two of you – or somebody – accompany Dahilis, and stand by against … troubles such as we have had already.’

  ‘None of us may,’ answered Quinipilis. ‘Gratillonius, my dear, you’re a kind man in your fashion, and I feel what wound is in you. But ’tis a condition of this sacrament, and we are bound to it by the Great Oath, that none among us may betread Sena tomorrow, other than the chosen high priestess and her unborn. And of course nobody else ever may.’

  Gratillonius pounced. ‘Ha! What of the workmen –men – who repaired the storm damage?’

  ‘That was a holy necessity,’ Lanarvilis replied. ‘First they underwent rites of purification and consecration. Afterwards the entire island was rededicated. Think not we can evade Belisama’s commandment by falsely praying over anybody at this late hour.’

  His response came as no surprise to himself. It had been rising like a sea tide. ‘I am sanctified,’ he said.

  Horror hissed around the room.

  ‘I am the King. I am Taranis on earth,’ he followed. ‘If the King’s presence on Sena is unheard of, why, likewise is a Midwinter Vigil.’

  ‘The King – in Ys – must preside over the festival,’ Fennalis protested.

  Gratillonius fleered. ‘Are they backwoodsmen here, to believe their celebrations rekindle the sun? Nay, those are but celebrations. I’ve asked about them. All I’m supposed to do is take part in a ceremony. Somebody else – a priest or Soren, my Speaker – he can do it as well. Has naught like this ever happened erenow in your history?’

  ‘There have been two or three times,’ Bodilis confessed. ‘A King was ill, or at the frontier when invasion threatened, or –’

  ‘You see?’ Gratillonius cried. He drew breath. ‘Fear not,’ he said in a level tone. ‘I’ve no wish to profane anything. I’ll keep away from the mysteries. But … come worst to worst, I am a good man of my hands, a farm boy who has helped birth many an animal, a soldier who knows how to treat many a hurt. The sailors who ferry you there set foot on the wharf, at least. Would you refuse your sacral King what you grant them?’ Most softly: ‘I am going. I have spoken.’

  Bodilis stirred, raised her hands, gazed beyond the walls as her mind felt its way forward. ‘Hold, wait,’ she said. ‘Sisters, a God does dwell in our King. Who can be certain that Belisama wants not him also? … I told you, Gratillonius, the matter is too deep for reason. Yet while sunlight never reaches the ocean depths, it illuminates the waves … Aye, listen. ’Tis true that outsiders may walk on the wharf. Indeed, the ground below high-water mark is allowable. That law is for the sake of mariners who may be driven on to a lee shore, but does not explicitly ban others.’ She met his glance. ‘Can we, together, find a compromise?’

  Hope blazed in him. ‘I think we can.’

  The face of Dahilis was like sunrise.

  XXV

  1

  The barge of state was impressive not in size, for its length was a bare sixty feet, but in appearance. The graceful hull was blue with silver trim. At the prow
lifted a carven swan’s head, at the stern a fishtail, both gilt. A deckhouse amidships, though wooden, was built and painted to resemble a Grecian temple in miniature. While the vessel was oar-driven, she bore a pole for the flying of a flag – heavy silk, gold-fringed, dolphin argent on azure, the annual gift of the Needleworkers’ Guild. The crew were navy men, periodically chosen by their captains as an honour.

  She departed Ys somewhat late on solstice morning because seas were running heavy, causing a chop in the very basin. When ebb had swung the doors safely wide, a trumpet sounded, men ashore cast off lines, the galley stood out. From quay, wall, towers, folk watched this unprecedented faring in awe.

  Beyond the shelter, the craft rocked, pitched, shuddered. Wind drove strong, hollowly hooting, thrumming the stays, making waves roar white-maned along until they burst in a crash and a fountaining on the rocks everywhere about. It harried a wrack low and wolf-grey out of murk rising ever higher in the west. Spindrift flung salt on to lips. Chill slashed.

  The galley toiled onwards, picking a way through the safe lanes. Lookouts strained their vision overside, the steersman and his standby poised taut, rowers changed frequently so as to keep at peak strength. Slowly the shining spires of Ys sank away aft, until flying brume swallowed sight first of them and then of the mainland. No birds were aloft except a cormorant that followed afar, a hovering and soaring blackness. As the barge approached Sena, a score or more of seals appeared and accompanied it.

  The interior of the deckhouse was a cabin, snug and well-appointed, dim today when windows perforce were shuttered. Gratillonius and Dahilis shared a seat. Most of the time she leaned close and he had an arm about her, bracing her as the vessel rolled and plunged. Whoosh and boom of waves, creak and groan of timbers, occasional shouts of the men filled the room. Yet they could talk. They needed to, for yesterday he had spent the evening on his preparations, whereupon she passed the night at the temple, in purification as well as sleep.

  ‘How much may you tell me of what you shall be doing?’ he asked.

  ‘’Tis to be a Vigil like any other – in form, at least,’ she replied. Earnestly: ‘You do understand what that means, do you not? On behalf of Ys, communion with the Goddess, prayers for the people; and, yea, devotion to Lir, since ’tis Taranis Who is with Her everywhere else. At the House of the Goddess I drink Her wine and eat Her bread; more than that I must not say. I then walk to the two Stones that the Old Folk raised near the middle of the island, and perform certain rites. Thence I go to the far western end and give Lir His honours. After that I return to the House for orisons, meditation, another sacred meal, and rest until sunrise. After dawnsong I am free, and soon the barge comes to bring my Sister and take me home.’ She squeezed his hand. To you. This time, with you.’

  ‘Hm!’ He scowled. ‘I mistrust the weather.’

  ‘Oh, but we’re not supposed to endanger ourselves. We do whatever looks safe, and are excused from the rest. The House is stoutly built. Its tower is for refuge when a storm dashes the waters clear across land. I am sure, though, I’m sure the Gods want a full sacrament at this of all Vigils. They will provide.’

  Her faith tugged at his heart. He almost wished he could share it. But in the Gods of Ys was too much of the ancient darkness from which They had risen. ‘When can I see you?’

  She turned her countenance up towards his to give him the gift of her smile, which she thought of as a present to herself. ‘Well, the door of the House is in view from the wharf. You’ll have sight of me as I go in and out, and I of you. I don’t think Belisama will mind if we wave at each other.’

  How dear she was. Hair tumbled in a golden cataract past features whose fine bones might be of the Suffetes but whose flared and tip-tilted nose, wide and soft mouth just parted over flawless teeth, fair skin and underlying liveliness were belike from her father Hoel. The great dark-blue eyes she shared with Bodilis; the light that danced within them was her own. Her voice was likewise low: not husky, however; its music, again, uniquely hers. Never before had he known a woman could be so merry and still so loving. He leaned down towards her. The sweetness of tresses and flesh dizzied him.

  She blocked his lips with gentle fingers. ‘Nay, darling, we mustn’t, not till we’re back home.’ Laughter purred. ‘But I don’t think She will blame me, either, for looking forward.’

  He sighed. ‘Suppose we’re weatherbound.’

  ‘Then the priestess must carry on the round of services as best she can until she is relieved. I mustn’t come to you. We’ll make up for that after our girl is born.’

  ‘But what if that happens meanwhile?’ he fretted. ‘That’s why I’m here, you know. Unless worse befall. I will not stand idly by if you need help, Dahilis. I will not. Afterwards let the Gods fight it out with me.’

  ‘Hush!’ she said, scandalized. ‘You … you shouldn’t be … hostile like that, darling. The Mother loves us. I know She does. And I am not due quite yet. Oh, aye, if bad trouble strikes, of course I may seek your tent. My Sisters and I talked this out last night. This Vigil is not for, for punishment. ’Tis to set things aright, that the Gods may again be free to bestow blessings on Ys.’

  He cleared his throat. ‘Umf, I meant no offence. Certainly not … but the House will be better shelter for us.’

  She shook her head violently. ‘Nay! A man would desecrate it. ’Twould have to be purified and consecrated anew, as ’twas after the carpenters and masons had finished. Meanwhile the poor dead had to wait in the Twilight.’ Dahilis drew a sharp breath. ‘The workers were there by divine consent. If you broke in unasked – Nay, I dare not think what vengeance the Gods might take on you. On you. Please, beloved, nay, promise me you’ll not!’

  ‘Ah, well, we speak of what we trust is unlikely,’ he evaded. In haste to change the subject: ‘But what’s this about the dead? I remember the funeral barge went out more than once while the repair work was going on.’

  He could barely hear her whisper through the din: ‘That was only their bodies. Later the Ferriers bring their souls to Sena for judgement. On such a night the Queen in the House must stay wakeful till morning to pray for them.’

  ‘Have you?’ Instantly he regretted his heedlessness.

  She nodded. He couldn’t tell whether she had gone pale, but her eyes were more big than ever, staring straight forward. ‘Surely. At sundown I have suddenly known there would be the landing, and the whisper of the names, and – and been glad to have light around me after I lit lamps on the altar – This is a mystery.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘I’d not cause you distress for the world and Heaven.’

  She embraced him, carefully chaste but altogether forgiving. Her spirits soon lifted afresh. His did too, somewhat.

  2

  The barge came in with difficulty through the wild water. Watching on deck, Gratillonius admired the skill of captain and crew. Rowers strained: the master gauged wind and waves, gave hand signals; a stentor bellowed the orders. They caught a billow and rode it. As it crested, the steersman put his helm hard over; larboard oars snapped up out of harm’s way while starboard oars brought the hull about; the steersman’s partner disengaged the left rudder oar and hauled it free; strokes boomed against rope bumpers suspended from bollards. Immediately sailors leapt off on to the wharf, lines in hand, and made fast. Two aboard ran out a gangplank which their fellows ashore secured.

  The captain gave Dahilis the salute of deference. ‘Thanks be to Lir that He brought us here in safety, and to Belisama that She gave us you, O Queen, to convey hither,’ he said formally. The wind tattered his words.

  She inclined her head to him. ‘And I thank you on behalf of the Gallicenae and Ys,’ she replied likewise, then could not resist laughing: ‘’Twas a pretty show!’

  Gravity returned: ‘The hour is late, on this shortest day of the year. I must commence at once. Farewell.’

  Gratillonius escorted her to the wharf. Small and alone she looked against the grey-green tumult that battered the
island, the dreariness of rock, scrub, and sere grass beyond. Sacral gown and headdress were woollen for winter, as was the cloak she hugged to her, but cold sought inwards. A moment her gaze dwelt on him. Fare you well,’ she said, ‘for ever well.’

  Turning, she walked off, over the planks and along a short path to the House of the Goddess. From her left hand dangled a bedroll, from her right a bag of other necessities. Despite the burden and even through the garments, he was aware of how dancingly she moved. Her unborn had never dragged her down much. She had often, delightedly, said what a quick and easy delivery should be hers, and what a fine, healthy babe –’Come, Gratillonius, put your hand here, feel her kick, already she wants out. Oh, she’ll make the world remember her!’ And only a few days ago, Dahilis had felt the lightening.

  She glanced back and waved, as she had promised, before she disappeared in the sombre bulk of the House. Rushing rags of cloud brushed past its towertop. The western half of heaven had become a cavern.

  Someone diffidently touched Gratillonius’s arm. ‘Your pardon, my lord.’ The King glanced around and recognized a young man named Herun. ‘We have to set up your camp without delay.’

  ‘Oh … oh, indeed,’ said Gratillonius. ‘So you can start back. Trying that after dark would be deadly in this weather, I’m sure.’

  ‘In truth, lord. As ’tis, likeliest the gate will be shut, or too narrowly open to attempt. But given such a tide, we can make Ghost Quay if we’ve light to see by. It happens often enough.’

  Gratillonius must oversee the work and take a hand of his own, as newly invented as it was. None less than Bomatin Kusuri, Mariner Councillor, had helped him devise his shelter yesterday, and got craftsmen to prepare what extra parts were required. In effect, a Roman army tent went up on the wharf, tethered to bollards and piles. Meant for eight men, it would be less warm for one, though roomier. However, its leather would fend off any blast that did not tear everything loose; a rug would lie beneath; he was well clad, in fisherman’s tunic, trousers, boots, with jacket and gloves and ample changes in reserve; he had candles, lantern, oil, tinder, punkwood, flint, steel.