by A. M. Linden
Aleswina shook her head.
“I think it may have been your mother’s, and so you should keep it.”
Aleswina shook her head again.
“Well, you may want it later, so I’ll put it with the rest.”
Caelym, who’d been tuning his harp nearby, paused as Annwr listed off the gifts that she and the boys had given to Aleswina. He waited for her to mention his knife and when she didn’t, he guessed this was no mere oversight but a renewal of her past accusations that he was ungrateful for all the things Aleswina had done for him.
Not about to let this slight go unanswered, he reached for his shoulder bag, determined to find another gift—one that Annwr could not ignore.
Sitting with his legs crossed and his satchel on his lap, he took out and laid aside his healing kit, his maps, Aleswina’s parchment prayer sheet, Annwr’s sheaf of medicinal herbs, and a golden pendant that had been Feywn’s gift to him when she named him her consort.
Digging deeper, he found a reed flute. Did nuns play flutes? He thought not.
There was his embossed and only slightly dented box of flints and tinder—but of what use would that be to her, living indoors with others to cook her meals?
One of his protective amulets? For a moment he thought that was the answer, but he quickly realized a Druid talisman was no safe gift for anyone to carry into a Christian convent.
With almost the entire contents of his pack stacked on the ground beside him, there was nothing left except a coil of twine he’d forgotten he had.
Looking up, he saw Annwr starting to tighten the draw cords of Aleswina’s pouch of gifts, so he shifted onto one knee and strummed a chord on his harp.
“I, too, have a gift to give you.”
Both Annwr and Aleswina turned, looking startled—as if they’d forgotten he was there.
He struck a second chord.
“You know that Annwr has another daughter, one who is close to you in age.” Here Caelym smiled at the recollection of Aleswina lying on Annwr’s lap and pretending to be asleep. “Now I will tell you that when Cyri determined to be a physician as well as a midwife, it fell to me to teach her everything a physician must know—not just about healing and remedies but also understanding the living world of plants and of animals. I was then but nineteen years old, as you are now, and had only just become a physician myself, and I was afraid that I did not know enough to be teaching any other. So on the day that our lessons were to start, I took Cyri with me to a marshy spot near the edge of our sacred lake. I then took a piece of twine . . .”
Caelym set his harp aside and opened his hand to reveal the coil of twine, the way a magician might conjure a coin out of the air.
“Then I had her hold her arms straight out . . .”
With that, he took hold of Aleswina’s wrists and stretched her arms out straight.
“And I measured the twine so that it was the length between her farthest fingertips.”
Again, Caelym matched his actions to his words.
“Then, together, we cut small pegs from willow twigs. I used one to mark the center of what would soon be a circle. I tied the twine to that, then I stretched it out to its full length and at its far end I set in another peg. Doing this again and again, I made a ring of pegs—twice as wide across as Cyri’s arms could reach. Do you see in your mind what I am saying?”
Aleswina nodded.
“Excellent! Now you can image how this was not so big a space, so you will understand how confident Cyri was when I told her that for her first task she must count everything living within that circle, and she would not be finished until I could not show her even one more thing that she had not seen for herself. Even as she was nodding her head, I could see that she expected to be finished with this and off to some more interesting lesson by the end of the day. Now, I wonder whether you can guess how long actually it took her to complete this task?”
Aleswina shook her head.
“Then I will tell you that Cyri labored on through long days and weeks and months. Time and again she proclaimed she was done, only to have me prove her wrong by showing her one more thing that she had missed, until at last, she understood that there was no end to this task. However many things you think you know about the earth, there is always more to find out. That was the lesson that Cyri learned, and forever after she has looked at all the world as carefully as she did her small circle of earth, always discovering something new and wonderful.
Caelym looped the string back into a coil, put it into Aleswina’s hand, and folded her fingers around it.
“This, then, is my gift to you who have given me so much. It is my dearest hope that when you are in your new Christian convent and again have a garden, you will take this string and make a circle of earth as Cyri did, and you too will take on the task of finding everything that lives there—all of the plants and all of the creatures, down to the smallest thing that moves. You must remember that when you are inside that circle, you are to watch and seek to understand what you see without judging or interfering. And when you are doing that, you will know that my spirit is with yours, and that I am seeing those wonders as well.”
Caelym got to his feet and held out his hand.
“And now, while Annwr stays here and watches over the boys, I will take you to your ancestral lodge to rejoin your loving servant, Millicent, who will guard you with her life until the nuns of Saint Agned, whose convent will be your sanctuary forever more, open their gates and welcome you in.”
“Not until I have all her things ready, and I’ve gone first to make sure that Millicent is there, and it is safe to leave her!” Annwr spoke so fiercely that Caelym drew his hand back and stepped away as she snapped, “And you will stay here and watch the boys!”
Caelym’s story about Cyri had touched Annwr deeply—as, no doubt, he’d intended it to—but she wasn’t about to let him be the one to make the final judgment over whether it was safe to leave Aleswina with Millicent.
Softening her tone, she went back to what she’d been saying before he interrupted.
“Now, Dear Heart, you’ll need to pick a Celtic name to give when you enter your new convent. What about ‘Brighid’? That’s a pretty name.”
Aleswina nodded.
Chapter 66
The King’s Lodge
Taking Annwr’s words as his dismissal, Caelym got up and began to stride restlessly, first up the trail to the top of the ridge and then down again.
As Annwr watched him pacing back and forth, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was in the throes of indecision—no longer so certain about leaving Aleswina behind. Having given up any expectation of divine intervention fifteen years before, Annwr didn’t call on the Goddess to make Caelym relent, but she hoped he would, and hoped so with a desperate urgency that came very close to supplication.
Caelym, however, was more certain than ever. If he’d had any doubts (which he never did), then those doubts would have ended when he’d lain awake the night before, pondering just how easy it had been to look at Aleswina with desire and passion—far easier than it ever should have been for the consort of their shrine’s chief priestess and goddess incarnate.
His rising tension was not indecision or regret . . . it was impatience to have it over and done with.
What must be done was like—here he sorted through a variety of metaphors before settling on lancing a festering boil. That was it exactly (even if he knew better than to compare Annwr’s beloved Saxon princess to a pustulant boil out loud), and there was just one way to lance a boil, and that was to do it swiftly and without wavering or hesitating—poking and prodding at it only increased the pain and delayed the healing.
He made one last lap to the top and turned back, determined to tell Annwr to stop her dithering.
The flickering hope Annwr had allowed herself died at the sight of Caelym’s set face.
She made a last effort to break through the wall of silence that had enveloped Aleswina since they’d looked down
over the edge of the ridge, pleading for her to say goodbye to the boys before they left, but Aleswina just picked up her pack and shook her head.
Walking behind Annwr along the sun-speckled path through the stands of trees, Aleswina made-believe that they were just going out to pick the early strawberries that were starting to ripen on either side of the trail until Annwr spoke, dispelling that fragile daydream.
“This is close enough. You wait out of sight while I find out whether it’s safe for you to stay here.”
After nudging Aleswina into the cover of the undergrowth, Annwr straightened her shoulders and walked on toward the manor without looking back. She kept a firm, steady pace, neither hurrying nor “dithering,” and only stopped to close the gate behind her.
She’d do as she said she’d do—find out whether Millicent was still here, and if she was ready to guard Aleswina with her life. But if it turned out that the woman was gone, or if there was any trace of doubt about her loyalty, then she’d just take Aleswina back with her and Caelym could argue until he turned blue in the face.
As she lifted her hand to knock on the weathered oak door, Annwr hesitated, just a moment, imagining Aleswina and Cyri sitting with their heads together, whispering and giggling like she and Feywn had done when they were young.
Her hand was still in the air when the door swung open and, without warning, Annwr was transported back to the moment when Millicent opened the gate to the palace nursery.
That it was Millicent, Annwr had no doubt. Just like before, the woman (who’d looked ancient to her then but now seemed not so much older than she was herself) reached out, grabbed Annwr by the sleeve, and pulled her inside. Only this time the room she dragged her into was a large, bright kitchen, not a dark, shuttered child’s bedroom, and, now that she was fluent in English, Annwr could understand what Millicent was saying.
Nor was there any question about Millicent recognizing Annwr.
Although she wasn’t one to babble—or throw her arms around a relative stranger that she hadn’t seen for fifteen years—Annwr could easily put herself in Millicent’s place if their roles were reversed, and she’d been the one to long for Aleswina all that time.
Still, she answered the older woman’s flood of questions—Is the darling princess with you? Is she well? Does she have enough clothes?—cautiously. She was also careful to make sure Millicent understood what she was agreeing to, as well as the risk she was taking on. But Millicent was unshakable; she nodded as she repeated back each provision, and she swore to care for Aleswina as she would her own daughter.
So it was settled. Leaving Millicent waiting in the doorway, Annwr went back up the path, managing to keep a steady pace all the way to where Aleswina waited huddled in the bushes.
Caelym watched Annwr come out of the lodge, climb the trail, and enter the thicket. Both women emerged a moment later—Aleswina walking downhill, back to her own people, and Annwr hurrying uphill, without a backward glance.
That was the best way, he would have told her, only she didn’t stop or look at him as she rushed past, her cloak flapping behind her like the wings of a bat.
Translations of Latin Text
CHAPTER 13:
Domine, libera nos a malo
O Lord, deliver us from evil
CHAPTER 20:
Dominus regit me; et nihil mihi deerit; in loco pascuae ibi me conlocavit. Super aquam refectionis educavit me, animam meam convertit. Deduxit me super semitam iustitiae propter nomen suum.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Psalm 22:1-3 (Vulgate Bible)
in perpetuum
Forever
CHAPTER 61:
Quid gloriaris in malitia qui potens es in iniquitate? Tota die iniustitiam cogitavit lingua tua sicut novacula acuta fecisti dolum. Dilexisti malitiam super benignitatem; iniquitatem magis quam loqui aequitatem. Dilexisti omnia verba praecipitationis in lingua dolosa. Propterea destruet te Deus in finem, evellet te et emigravit te de tabernaculo et radicem tuam de terra viventium
Why dost thou glory in malice, thou that art mighty in iniquity? All the day long thy tongue hath devised injustice: as a sharp razor, thou hast wrought deceit. Thou hast loved malice more than goodness: and iniquity rather than to speak righteousness. Thou hast loved all the words of ruin, O deceitful tongue. Therefore will God destroy thee forever: he will pluck thee out, and remove thee from thy dwelling place: and thy root out of the land of the living. Psalm 51:3-7 (Vulgate Bible)
Ne proicias me a facie tua et spiritum sanctum tuum ne auferas a me ne proicias me a facie tua et spiritum sanctum tuum ne auferas a me. Redde mihi laetitiam Iesu tui et spiritu potenti confirma me redde mihi laetitiam salutaris tui et spiritu principali confirma me. Cast me not away from thy face; and take not thy holy spirit from me. Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation and strengthen me with a perfect spirit. Psalm 50: 13-14 (Vulgate Bible)
Pronunciation of Celtic Names
Author’s Note: Pronunciation of Celtic names and vocabulary in this series is based loosely on the contemporary Welsh:
VOWELS:
a is always a short A, as in can, ham, or man, never long, as in may. The Welsh words am and ac are pronounced as they would be in English.
e by itself is always as in get, pet, and let. However, the letter E has a different sound in the three diphthongs.
i has the I sound, as in bin or pin, or a long E sound, as in seen or queen.
o has the O sound, as in hot, or the long sound, as in toe.
u has the sound of long EE, as in see.
w has the sound of OO, as in boot and shoot, or of U, as in pull.
Note, however, that W can also be used as a consonant with the English W sound.
y has two different sounds. In one-syllable words (llyn), and in the last syllable of polysyllabic words (estyn), it is a shortened EE sound, as at the end of happy.
DIPHTHONGS:
Ae, Ai and Au are all pronounced as English eye.
Aw has the sound of ow as in how and now.
Eu and Ei are pronounced as long A, or the ay sound in say.
Ew is difficult for English speakers because there is no direct equivalent. It is approximately eh-oo or ow-oo, but the correct sound is between those examples.
Iw or I’w is ee-you with the ee sound very short. It is similar to the English yew.
Oe has the sound of oi or oy.
Ow is pronounced the same as in the English row, tow, or throw.
Wy has the sound of oo-ee or a short Wi sound, as in win.
Yw or Y’w is the same as Iw above.
Ywy (considered a diphthong, even though it has three letters) has the sound of ow-ee, as in the name Howie.
CONSONANTS:
B is the same as the English B, as in beer.
C is the Welsh K. It is always hard, as in can or cane, never soft, as in once.
Ch is a glottal Kh sound, as in the Scottish loch.
D is the same as the English D, as in dog.
Dd has the sound of voiced TH, as in this or there.
F always has the sound of V, as in have or very.
Ff is the same as the English F, as in first.
G is always hard, as in go or good, never soft, as in manage.
Ng has the English NG sound, as in singer, though in some words it has the NG+G sound of finger.
H is the same as the English H, but it is always pronounced, never silent.
L is the same as the English L, as in long.
Ll is a sound with no English equivalent. It is a voiceless alveolar lateral fricative formed by pronouncing L while allowing air to escape around the tongue; the English thl of athlete (or slat, pronounced with a lisp) is vaguely similar.
M is the same as the English M, as in many.
N is the same as the English N, as in no or never.
P is the same
as the English P, as in poor or party.
Ph is the same as ff.
R is the same as the English R, as in right, but rolled.
Rh is pronounced as HR; that is, a slight H sound comes before the R sound.
S is the same as the English S, as in say.
Si is the same as the English Sh, as in show.
T is the same as the English T, as in turn.
Th is the English voiceless TH, as in think or three. Note difference from the voiced Dd.
W, when used as a consonant, has the English W sound, as in work.
Source: https://en.wiktionary.org
Acknowledgments
My heartfelt thanks . . .
To my writing partner, Linda, without whom Caelym, Annwr, and Aleswina would still be languishing in word-processing purgatory.
To my husband, Mark, for his unstinting support and his invaluable advice.
To my sister, Carol, for believing in this book before I did.
To my incredibly kind readers, Anne, Carrie, Connie, David, Jack, Jim, and both Joans for their insights and encouragement.
To Mirko Donninelli, scholar of classical languages and ancient history, for his generous help with Latin translations.
To my editor, Krissa Lagos, my publicist, Caitlin Hamilton Summie, and to the SheWritesPress team, with special thanks to Julie Metz for a cover that captured the essence of Caelym’s journey, Shannon Green for managing to make this all come together, and Brooke Warner for taking on the quest to give women a voice.
About the Author
Ann Margaret Linden was born in Seattle, Washington, but grew up on the East Coast before returning to the Pacific Northwest as a young adult. She has undergraduate degrees in anthropology and in nursing and a master’s degree as a nurse practitioner. After working in a variety of acute care and community health settings, she took a position in a program for children with special health care needs where her responsibilities included writing clinical reports, parent educational materials, provider newsletters, grant submissions, and other program related materials. The Oath is the first installment of The Druid Chronicles, a five-volume series that began as a somewhat whimsical decision to write something for fun and ended up becoming a lengthy journey that involved Linden taking adult education creative writing courses, researching early British history, and traveling to England, Scotland, and Wales. Retired from nursing, she lives with her husband, dogs, and cat.
