As my sight adjusted I saw that it was only a saffron tunic to which the light had added a deeper gold, but the wreath that crowned Constantius was fashioned of the true metal, like that of an emperor. I realized that when I had last seen him, splashed with mud and worn out by our battle with the storm, Constantius had not been at his best either. Now, his skin glowed against the tunic, and his fair hair was as bright as the wreath of gold.
"He is Lugos come among us," breathed Heron.
"And Apollo," whispered Aelia.
"And Mithras of the Soldiers," added Wren.
He stood like the sun god in the midst of the Druid oaks. If I had not loved him already, in that moment I would have adored him, for the body of the man had become a clear vessel through which shone the light of the god within.
If I had watched for much longer, I think I might have passed into an ecstasy that precluded movement, but now the drumming was giving way to the music of bells and harpstrings. The maidens beside me assisted me to my feet as the screen of branches was lifted away. The noise of the crowd became a hush of awe, and there was only the music.
Constantius turned as we came forward, and his exalted expression focused suddenly, as if he could see past the veil to the woman, or the goddess within. Wren scattered flowers before me, Aelia and Heron walked to either side, and then they too fell back and I went on alone. Constantius and I faced one another, priest to priestess, across a little table that bore a loaf of bread, a dish of salt, and a cup and flagon filled with water from the sacred spring.
"My lord, the gifts of the earth I offer you. Eat, and be strengthened." I broke off a piece of bread, dipped it in the salt and offered it to him.
"You are the fertile earth. I accept your bounty," Constantius replied. He ate the piece of bread, tore off another and held it out to me. "And I shall spend my strength to care for the sacred soil."
When I had eaten, he picked up the flagon, poured some of the water into the cup and held it out to me. "I am poured out for you like water. Drink, and be renewed."
"You are the rain that falls from heaven. I receive your blessing." I sipped from the cup, then offered it back to him. "But all waters are at last reborn from the sea."
He took the cup from my hand and drank.
The drum began to beat once more. I took a step backwards, beckoning, and he followed me. The music moved faster, and I began to dance.
My feet no longer seemed to belong to me; my body had become an instrument to express the music as I bent and swayed in the sinuous spirals of the sacred dance. My garment, of a linen almost as fine as the veils that hid my face, clung and flared as I whirled. But always as I circled, Constantius was my centre, to whom I turned as a flower to the sun.
First he swayed, and then, as the music broke through the last of his Roman conditioning, he began to move, a stamping, vigorous kind of dance, as if he marched to music. Closer and closer we came, mirroring each other's movements, until he caught me in his arms. For a moment we stood breast to breast. I could feel his heart beating as if it were my own.
Then he lifted me, as easily as if I had weighed no more than Heron, and bore me away to the bower.
It was a round hut in the ancient fashion, made from branches loosely woven together. Flowers had been twined among them, and firelight gleamed through the gaps, dappling the rich cloth that covered the bed, and the walls, and our bodies, with golden light. Constantius set me on my feet again and we faced each other, silent, until the golden leaves of his wreath no longer quivered with the swiftness of his breathing.
"I am all that is, has been, and will be," I said softly, "and no man has ever lifted my veil. Make pure your heart, oh you who would look upon the Mystery."
"I have been purified according to the Law," he answered me. Then he added, "I have eaten from the drum; I have drunk from the cymbal. I have seen the light that shines in the darkness. I will lift your veil."
These words were not the ones the priests had taught him. Clearly, he was not only an initiate of the Soldiers' God, but of the Mother and the Daughter as they are known in the southern lands. He reached out, and with steady hands lifted the hawthron wreath from my brow, and then drew off my veil. For a moment he simply stared at my face. Then he knelt before me.
"It is you! Even in the storm I knew you. You are the Goddess indeed! Did you show yourself to me first in the guise of a hag to test me, and is this my reward?"
I swallowed, gazing down at his bent head, and then, bending, took off his golden crown and laid it beside my wreath of flowers.
"With this crown or without it, you are the God to me…" I managed to say. "It was I indeed, and even then, I loved you."
He looked up at me, his eyes still wide and unfocused, set his hands upon my hips and drew me forwards until his bent head rested at the joining of my thighs. I felt a sweet fire began to build between them, and suddenly, my knees would no longer bear me, and I slid down, down, between his hands until we knelt together, breast to breast and brow to brow.
Constantius gave a little sigh then, and his lips found mine. And as if that had completed a circuit of power, suddenly the fire was everywhere. I clutched at his shoulders, and his arms came tight around me, and together we fell to the bed that had been prepared for us.
Our clothing had been made so that at the removal of a few pins it would fall away, and soon there was no impediment between us. His body was hard with muscle, but his skin was smooth, sliding across mine, and his strong hands tender as he taught me ecstasies that had never been mentioned in my training. And then we came together. I set my arms about him as the power of the God came down, shaking him until he cried out in his extremity. And as he gave his soul into my keeping, the power of the Goddess bore my own away to meet him and there was only light.
When time had come back from eternity once more and we lay quiet, clasped in each other's arms, I realized that outside the hut, people were cheering. Constantius stilled, listening.
"Are they cheering for us?"
"They have lit the bonfire atop the Tor," I said softly. "On this night, there is no separation between your world and Avalon. The priests will huddle in their cells for fear of the powers of darkness, but the fire that is lit here will be visible all over the Vale. On other hills, folk are waiting to see it. They will kindle their own fires then, and so, from hill to hill, the light will spread across Britannia."
"And what about this fire?" he touched me once more and I gasped as flame rippled upwards.
"Ah, my beloved, I think the fire we have kindled between us will light the whole world!"
* * *
CHAPTER SIX
« ^ »
AD 270
When I woke, the pale light of early morning was filtering through the leaves of the bower. The air was moist and cool on my bare skin. I burrowed back under the covers, and the man beside me grunted, turned, and flung out a possessive arm to draw me close against his side. For a moment I stiffened in confusion, then my awakening senses flooded me with memory. I turned, fitting myself more closely against him, astonished, despite the unaccustomed soreness in my body, by how right it felt to lie this way.
I could hear no human sounds, but the birds were singing a triumphant welcome to the new day. I raised myself on one elbow, gazing down at the sleeping face of my—lover? That seemed too light a word for our union, and yet what had passed between us had surely been more personal than the transcendent joining of priest and priestess as they manifest the power of the Divine into the world.
Though that, certainly, had been part of it. A reminiscent tremor of energy quivered in the area of my solar plexus as I remembered. When we came together, the awakening earth had been filled by the radiant power of the sun. If I extended my senses groundward I could feel the aftermath of that conjunction, like ripples spreading through the stillness of a pool.
And what else had the ritual accomplished? I focused on my own body, lips swollen with kissing, breasts awakened to an exqu
isite sensitivity, the muscles of my inner thighs sore with unaccustomed stretching, and the secret place between them beginning to throb once more as memory stimulated new desire. I forced awareness deeper, into the womb that had received Constantius's seed. Was I pregnant? Even my priestess-trained senses could not tell. I realized that I was smiling. If last night's love-making had not planted a child in my belly, we would have to try again…
Relaxed in sleep, Constantius had a serenity I would not have suspected. His body, where the sun did not touch it, was like ivory. I gazed upon his face with growing delight, memorizing the strong lines of cheek and jaw, the high-bridged nose, the noble sweep of his brow. In the pale light the brand of Mithras was barely visible to the eye, but to my inner senses it glowed, focusing the radiance of the soul within.
As if that awareness had been a physical touch, he began to waken, first with a sigh, and then with a flutter of the eyelids, and then the muscles of the face tightening into their accustomed lines as he opened his eyes. He was, it would seem, one of those fortunate people who pass in one instant from unconsciousness to full awareness. The grey eyes that gazed up at me were wide, not with sleep, but wonder.
"Sanctissima Dea …" he whispered.
I smiled and shook my head, unsure whether that had been a title or an exclamation. "Not now," I answered. "Morning has come, and I am only Helena."
"Yes—now," he corrected. "And when you came to me last night, and when you sat as a hag beside my fire, and when you summoned me to Avalon. The Greeks say that Anchises trembled in fear because he lay with a goddess all unknowing. But I knew—" He reached up, and very gently brushed the hanging lock of hair back from my brow. "And if the gods had blasted me for my presumption, I would have counted the price well paid."
The gods had not blasted us, though there had been moments when we might well have been overcome by ecstasy. It was Ganeda, I thought suddenly, who was going to blast me when she realized I had taken Aelia's place in the ritual.
"What is it?" he asked. "What is the matter?"
"Nothing—nothing you have done," I said quickly, and bent to kiss him. Clearly reverence did not unman him, for his response was instant. He pulled me down beside him, and in the flood of sensation as he made love to me all thought was for a time submerged.
When I became capable of coherent thought once more, the light that was filtering through the leaves of the bower was bright and golden, and I could hear the murmur of voices from outside.
"We should dress," I murmured against his cheek. "The priestesses will be coming soon."
His grip tightened suddenly. "Will I see you again?"
"I… do not know…" Yesterday, I had not really thought beyond the ritual. I had known I wanted Constantius, but I had not considered how difficult it would be, once I had lain with him, to let him go.
"Come with me—"
I shook my head, not in denial, but confusion. I believed that I had been justified in taking the place of the Beltane Bride because Constantius was the lover promised to me by my vision. But if that was so, then what of the images of foreign lands that I had seen? Much as I loved him, I did not want to leave Avalon.
"What does this mean to you?" Gently I brushed the sign of Mithras on his brow.
For a moment he looked taken aback. I waited as he struggled to frame an answer, understanding how deep was the inhibition against speaking of the Mysteries.
"It is a sign… of my devotion to the God of Light…" he said finally.
"As this sign signifies my own dedication to the Goddess—" I indicated the blue crescent between my own brows. "I am a priestess of Avalon, and bound by my vows."
"Was it only obedience to your vows that brought you to me last night?" he asked, frowning.
"Can you truly think that, after this morning?" I tried to smile.
"Helena—I beg of you, let there always be truth between us!" His face had gone grim.
For a long moment I met his gaze, wondering how much I dared say. But surely he was going to hear about it as soon as I emerged from the bower and they saw it was not Aelia.
"I took the place of the priestess they meant for your bride. I have the Sight, and it showed me your face long ago. And then I was sent to bring you here, and… I began to love you…"
"You disobeyed?" In his face anxiety warred with satisfaction. "Will they punish you?"
"Even the Lady of Avalon cannot change what has happened between us," I managed a smile. But we both knew that I had not really answered him.
There was a sound outside and I stiffened. Someone was knocking softly against the upright of the door.
"Eilan, can you hear me? Is the Roman asleep?"
It was Aelia's voice, and I remembered suddenly that she had been told that after she lay with him she must make sure Constantius drank the contents of the silver flask in the corner so that he would sleep while she slipped away.
"Eilan, come quickly, and no one will—" She broke off with a gasp. I heard the sound of several people approaching, and the pit of my stomach went suddenly cold. With a leaden certainty I knew it would be Ganeda even before I heard the next words.
"Is she still sleeping? It would seem she did not fear a man's touch so greatly after all. You will have to go in and wake her…" The laughter stilled. "Aelia!"
There was a short, charged, silence. As I started to drape the coverlet around me Constantius gripped my arm.
"You shall not face them alone—"
After a moment I nodded, and waited while he twisted my veil about his loins, reminding me of the statues I had seen in Londinium. One arm went protectively around me. With the other, he pushed aside the woven curtain that covered the doorway, and together we emerged into the uncompromising illumination of the new day.
It was worse than I had expected. Not only Ganeda and the priestesses, but Arganax and his Druids, were standing there. Aelia still crouched by the doorway, weeping silently. I reached down to touch her shoulder and she clung to me.
"I… see…" said the High Priestess in a voice like grating stones. She looked around her at the dancing floor, and I saw that the people who had dropped down to sleep there, in couples or alone, were beginning to awaken and cast curious glances at the scene by the bower. With an obvious effort she controlled the words that trembled on her lips.
"Aelia… and Eilan—" she ground out the names, "—will come with me." Her gaze turned to Constantius. "My lord, the Druids wait to attend you."
His grip on me tightened. "You will not harm her!"
Ganeda's face darkened further as she realized just how much I must have told him.
"Do you think we are barbarians?" she snapped, and he responded to the note of command and let me go, though in truth that was no answer at all.
"It will be all right," I said in a low voice, though my gut was still knotting in apprehension.
"I will not lose you!" Constantius replied, and it occurred to me that not only had I not anticipated how this night would bind me to him, I had not even imagined how it might affect his feelings for me.
I helped Aelia to rise, and putting my arm around her, started towards my reckoning.
"Why does it matter?" I exclaimed. "Both of your purposes have been accomplished. You wanted a man of destiny for the Great Rite, and you wanted to win his friendship for Avalon."
The sun was nearing noon, and we were still arguing. By now, my belly was cramping not from fear but from hunger.
"You forget the third reason, and that was the most important of all," Ganeda said grimly. "Constantius was to engender the Child of Prophecy!"
"And so he shall, with me! In my womanhood vision I saw myself with his child!"
"But not the child of the Great Rite—" the High Priestess said grimly. "Why do you think Aelia was intended as his consort in the ritual?"
"Because you could bend her to your will!"
"You little fool—she was chosen, indeed, but not for that reason. In your arrogance you thought you k
new better than the Council of Avalon, but you were an untried maiden, ignorant of the Mother's Mysteries. Last night Aelia was at the height of her fertile time. If the Roman had lain with her she would have come away pregnant, and the child would have been born here in Avalon."
"How do you know I am not?"
"Your moontime is barely three days past," she answered me, "and I have examined you. There is no spark of new life in your womb."
"There will be. Destiny cannot be denied—" I answered, but the first breath of doubt stole the force from my words. "Constantius has pledged his faith to me—a priestess will bear his son!"
"But when? Even now do you not understand? A child begotten last night would have preserved the Mysteries for a thousand years. Even if your fantasies were true, what stars will rule the fate of the babe you finally bear?"
"He will be my son," I muttered. "I will raise him to serve the gods."
Ganeda shook her head in disgust. "I should have sent you back to your father long since. You have been a trouble-maker since the first day you arrived!"
"You missed your chance!" I hissed, touching the crescent on my brow. "He is dead, and I am a priestess now."
"And, I am the Lady of Avalon!" she snapped in return, "and your life is in my hand!"
"All your anger, Ganeda, cannot change what has been done," I said wearily. "At least I have won Constantius's friendship for Avalon."
"And what about that which was undone? Do you think the man will come back every Beltane like a stallion to stud until he gets you with child?"
Some tension eased within me. I had feared she would forbid me ever to see him again. Surely he would come back, I told myself, and somehow I would endure until that day.
"So, what is my punishment?"
"Punishment?" There was venom in her smile. "Did I not promise the Roman I would do you no harm? You have chosen your own condemnation, Helena. When Constantius leaves, you shall go with him…'
"Leave… Avalon?" I whispered.
"That is what he is demanding—be grateful you are not being turned out like a beggar to wander the world!"
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