The Forest House

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  It would be rather a relief, he thought, even if he must travel to the wilds of Caledonia, to get back to the regular army again.

  Seventeen

  As the summer ripened towards Lughnasad it did not seem to Eilan that Lhiannon grew any better. Sometimes the old woman's heart pained her, and always she was tired. Ardanos came daily, and at first he and the High Priestess would talk, but as the days passed, and her attention drew increasingly inward, he simply sat by her bedside in silence, and when he spoke it was with Caillean, or to himself. After these sessions, Caillean would be silent and pensive, but she had always been one for keeping her own counsel.

  Eilan found it strange that as her own body was becoming a vessel of life, Lhiannon should be undergoing a parallel transformation, preparing to release her spirit - but in what world she would be reborn no one could say. Joy at the new life within her muted Eilan's own sorrow. But in those days the Forest House grew very silent, and all the women went about their tasks with mingled excitement and dread. For no one had yet dared to ask who Lhiannon's successor was to be.

  It was fortunate that everyone was too distracted by Lhiannon's illness to take much notice of anyone else, but what would Eilan do when her belly could no longer be concealed by her loose robes?

  Not for a moment was Eilan allowed to forget that as far as Ardanos was concerned she was under sentence of death; she

  fancied that even Dieda regarded her with barely concealed contempt.

  Miellyn was still mourning the loss of her own child and could offer no comfort. Only Caillean never changed toward her - but then Caillean had always been a law unto herself; the one thing that sustained Eilan when she grew most afraid was her awareness of the older woman's love.

  She did not know when, if ever, she would see Gaius again; but remembering the kingly spirit she had glimpsed when they lay together, she felt certain they would meet again. She did not want to believe - as the Arch-Druid said - that he had hastily been married off to someone else. Even among the Romans the solemnizing of a marriage must demand more formality and time than that.

  A month passed, and Caillean presided over the full moon rituals. Now it was obvious, nurse and care for her as they might, that Lhiannon was dying. Her feet swelled so that she could no longer even stagger to the privy. Caillean nursed her tenderly; no mother ever had a more devoted daughter. But still the fluid filled her body.

  Caillean fed her herb brews and spoke of dropsy, and once they went far afield to find the purple flowers of the foxglove, which Caillean said were sovereign for an ailing heart. Eilan cautiously tasted the brew Caillean made of them, and found it bitter as sorrow.

  But in spite of all their care, day by day Lhiannon grew weaker and more swollen and pale.

  "Caillean—"

  For a moment she doubted she had heard it; the call was like a breath drawn by the wind. Then the bed creaked. Wearily, Caillean turned. Lhiannon's eyes were open. Caillean rubbed the sleep from her own and made herself smile. Illness had consumed the flesh from the older woman's face so that the good bones showed with a terrible clarity. It is almost over. The unwelcome knowledge came to her. Soon, only the essentials will remain.

  "Are you thirsty? Here's cool water, or I can stir up the fire and give you some tea . . ."

  "Something hot . . .would ease me . . ." Lhiannon drew breath. "You are too good to me, Caillean."

  Caillean shook her head. When she was ten years old and halfway to death with the fever, Lhiannon had nursed her back again, more than her mother or father would have done. Her feelings for the older woman went beyond love or hatred. How could you put that into words? If Lhiannon could not sense them in the taste of an infusion or the touch of a cool cloth on her brow, she would never know.

  "I suppose there are those who think you are doing this so that I will make you my heir . . .Women cooped up together can be very petty, and it is true, you are a greater priestess than all of them put together . . .but you know better, do you not?"

  "I know." Caillean managed a smile. "I am destined to live for ever in the shadows, but I will support whoever rules. Please the Goddess, it will not be for yet a while."

  And who knows how long I will live after you? she thought then. Her strange bleeding had ceased at last, but fatigue dragged at her limbs as if they had been cast of lead from the Mendip mines.

  "Perhaps . . .Do not be so sure you know everything, my child. Despite what people think, my Sight comes not always at the Druids' bidding. And I have seen you with the ornaments of a High Priestess and a mist that is not of this world blowing around you. A life path may have strange twists and turnings, and we do not always end up where we intend to go . . ."

  Boiling water hissed in the little cauldron, and Caillean spooned • in the mixture of yarrow and chamomile and white willow, and set it to steep beside the flame.

  "Goddess knows I have not done so!" Lhiannon burst out suddenly. "We had such dreams when we were young, Ardanos and I - but he grew greedy for power . . .and I had none!"

  You could have stood against him, thought Caillean. You were the Voice of the Goddess, and for twenty years the people have lived by your words. And you don't even know what you have been saying! If you had ever allowed yourself to know, you would have had to act, for then it would have been real. . .

  But she bit back the words, for Lhiannon had given more hope to the people unknowing than Caillean with all her conscious wisdom, and that outweighed all her failings, whatever cynics like Dieda might say.

  With a little honey to take away the bitterness, the tea was ready. Caillean slid her arm around Lhiannon's fragile shoulders and held the spoon to her lips. The sick woman's head turned fretfully, and her cheeks glistened with tears. "I am tired, Caillean . . ." she whispered, "so very tired, and afraid . . ."

  "There, there, my dear; you are surrounded by those who love you," she whispered. "Drink this now, it will give you ease." Lhiannon swallowed a little of the bittersweet brew, and sighed.

  "I promised Ardanos I would choose my successor . . . to serve his plan. He is waiting . . ." She grimaced. "Like a crow watching a sick ewe. It was to be Eilan, but she . . .must be sent away soon. Now he says I must choose Dieda, but I will not, and she would not, unless the Goddess —" a fit of coughing took her and Caillean hastily set the tea down, holding Lhiannon upright and patting her back until she was still.

  "Until the Goddess shows you Her will," Caillean finished for her, and the High Priestess of Vernemeton smiled.

  Lhiannon was dying. It was obvious to everyone - everyone except perhaps Caillean, who nursed her so devotedly and with a despairing tenderness, night and day, seldom stepping beyond the room where the sick woman lay. Even those of the priestesses who had always been suspicious of Caillean as an outlander had to admire her dedication now. Both Dieda and Eilan guessed what was coming — but it would have taken a braver woman than either one of them to name it to Caillean.

  "But she is so skilled in healing," Dieda said as they carried Lhiannon's soiled bedding down to the river. "She must know."

  "I suppose she does," said Eilan, "but admitting it would make it real." She looked at her kinswoman curiously. Apart from commenting sarcastically that the dirty laundry of a High Priestess smelled no different from anyone else's, and she could not see why a sworn priestess was required to wash it, Dieda had done her share of the work uncomplainingly.

  It seemed odd that they should have become such strangers now, when they were sister priestesses. Working with Dieda these past weeks, when Caillean's attention was fixed on Lhiannon, reminded Eilan how close they had been as girls. Distracted by her thoughts, she tripped on a tree root.

  Dieda put out a hand to steady her.

  "Thank you," Eilan said in surprise. The other woman glared at her.

  "Why are you staring?" said Dieda. "I don't hate you."

  Eilan felt the hot color flare in her cheeks, then fade. "You know then," she whispered.

  "You are the foo
l, not I," came the answer. "Cooped up with you and Caillean all this time I could hardly help overhearing something. But for the sake of our family's honor I have kept silent. If any of the other women know your secret, they did not learn it from me. At least pregnancy seems to agree with you. Are you feeling well?"

  It was a relief to Eilan to speak of something other than Lhiannon's illness, and it seemed to her that Dieda felt that way as well. By the time they returned to the Forest House, they were more in harmony than they had been in years.

  But a day came when even Caillean could not deny it any longer. Ardanos said that the priestesses must be summoned for the deathwatch. He looked grieved and gray, and Eilan remembered that her kinswoman had once said there was love between them. She thought it must have been a long time ago, or a very strange kind of love.

  Certainly it was not at all what she would call love, thought Eilan, and surely she was an expert. But Ardanos sat close to the unconscious woman and held her hand; the priestesses slipped in and out to keep watch by twos and threes, and Caillean fidgeted lest they disturb Lhiannon.

  "Why does she trouble herself? I do not think anything will disturb the High Priestess any more," Eilan whispered to Dieda, and the other girl nodded, but without words.

  It was near sunset, and Ardanos had stepped into the air for a few breaths. Like all sickrooms, this one was hot and close, and Eilan could not blame him for a moment for wishing to escape it. Though it was nearly Lughnasad the light still lingered late. Sunset made a glare in the room, but the angle of the sinking sun told Eilan it would soon be gone. She had crossed the room to light the lamp when she became aware that Lhiannon was awake and looking at her with recognition for the first time in many days.

  "Where is Caillean?" she whispered.

  "She has gone to make you more tea, Mother," Eilan replied, "Will you have me call her?"

  "No time," the High Priestess coughed. "Come here - is it Dieda?"

  "I'm Eilan, but Dieda is in the garden; do you want me to call her?"

  There was a strange, raspy, rustling sound, and Eilan realized the sick woman was trying to laugh.

  "Even now I cannot tell one from the other," Lhiannon whispered. "Do you not see the hand of the gods in this?"

  Eilan wondered if Lhiannon had sunk into the delirium she had been warned might come before the end. The High Priestess said harshly, "Call Dieda; my time is short. I do not rave; I know very well what I am doing and I must finish before I die."

  Eilan hurried to the door to summon Dieda. When they returned, the dying woman smiled as they stood side by side.

  "It is true what they say," she whispered. "The dying see clearly.

  Dieda, now you must bear witness. Eilan, daughter of Rheis, take the torque that lies beside me - take it!" she gasped for breath, and with trembling hands Eilan picked up the ring of twisted gold that lay on the pillow. "And the arm rings . . .Now put them on . . ."

  "But only the High Priestess - Eilan began, but the old woman's eyes held hers with such terrible fixity that she found herself twisting the necklace to open it, and sliding it on. For a moment it seemed cold, then it settled about her own slim throat, warming as if grateful to be close to human flesh once more.

  From Dieda came a small, strangled sound, but the rattle in Lhiannon's throat was louder.

  Then the High Priestess rasped, "Be it so. Maiden and Mother, I see the Goddess in you now . . .Tell Caillean —" She was silent a moment as if struggling for breath, and Eilan wondered if the old woman was delirious, or if it were she. She reached up once more to touch the heavy gold.

  "Caillean is yonder, Mother; shall I summon her?" Dieda asked.

  "Go," whispered Lhiannon with more strength than she had before. "Tell her I love her . . ."

  As Dieda hurried out, the gaze of the dying woman fixed on Eilan.

  "I know now what Ardanos wanted when he bade me choose you, child, and instead the gods brought Dieda into my hand. He was wrong about you, and yet he did the Lady's will all the same!" Her lips twisted with what Eilan realized was laughter. "Remember — it is important! Perhaps even the Goddess Herself could not tell you two one from the other. Nor the Romans — I see now —" and she was silent again. Eilan looked down at her, unable to move.

  She was silent so long that Caillean, returning, asked, "Does she sleep? If she can sleep, then perhaps she may live another moon —" and then, tiptoeing to Lhiannon's side, caught her breath on a gasp and whispered, "Ah, she will never sleep more -"

  Caillean knelt beside the bed and kissed Lhiannon on the brow, and then, very tenderly, closed her eyes. With every moment that passed more expression was fading from the dead woman's face, so that she no longer looked asleep; she did not even look like Lhiannon any more. Eilan hugged her arms, and winced as she felt the hard metal of the arm-ring. She felt dizzy, and cold.

  Then Caillean stood, and as her gaze focused on the ornaments Eilan was wearing her eyes widened. Then she smiled.

  "Lady of Vernemeton, I salute you in the name of the Mother of all!"

  Ardanos, coming into the room behind Dieda, bent over the dead

  and then stood back again. "She is gone," he said in a strange, flat,

  voice. He turned, and something flickered in his eyes as he, too,

  saw the golden ornaments that Eilan wore.

  The other priestesses were crowding around them, but it was old Lads the herb mistress who pushed forward and bowed, saying with a strange deference that terrified her, "I pray you, Voice of the Goddess, tell us everything the Holy Lady said with her last breath to you."

  "Lhiannon, may the Goddess rest her, chose an uncommonly awkward season for her dying," Ardanos said sharply. "For we must have a priestess of the Oracle at the rites at Lughnasad, and obviously we cannot use Eilan!" He surveyed the two women before him grimly.

  The three days of ritual mourning were past, and Lhiannon laid in her grave; Ardanos was surprised at how much it still hurt when he looked around this chamber where he had always met with her and remembered she was gone. He supposed he would continue to miss her for a long time, but he could not afford to show his grief now. Caillean sat frowning, but Eilan stared at him with wide, unreadable eyes. He glared back at her.

  "You know as well as I do that it is superstition to believe that only a virgin can serve the shrine, but for Eilan to bear the power of the Goddess right now would be dangerous both for her and her child," agreed Caillean.

  Sexual abstinence was necessary during performance of the great magics - a magic such as the complete surrender of body and spirit necessary for the Goddess to speak through a mortal.

  For the power to flow freely, the spirit must be detached from the senses. Thus it was forbidden to do those things that would increase their attraction and clog the pathways, such as eating the flesh of some animals, drinking mead or other liquors, or lying with a man.

  "Lhiannon should have thought of that when she chose her," the Arch-Druid replied. "It will not do, you know. It's bad enough that she is still here. But a pregnant High Priestess? Impossible!"

  "I could take her place in the ritual —" Caillean began.

  "And how would we explain that to the people? We could have justified a temporary substitution on the grounds that Lhiannon

  was ill, but they know that she is dead. Transitions are always delicate. People are wondering if the new High Priestess will survive her ordeal, whether the Goddess will still come to them now that Lhiannon is gone."

  He rubbed his forehead. None of them had had enough sleep for far too long. Caillean's eyes looked dark and haunted, and despite the bloom of pregnancy, Eilan seemed anxious and strained. And well she might be, it occurred to him then. Lhiannon had put them all in a quandary when she chose the girl.

  "I tell you this - whatever madness came on Lhiannon at her ending, I will not allow it to destroy all that we have labored so hard to build!" He sighed. "There is no help for it. We shall have to choose again. There is a precedent; old
Helve tried to pass her power to — what was her name? — that poor mad girl who died. And then the council chose Lhiannon."

  "You would like that, wouldn't you!" Caillean began, but Eilan, who had been silent for so long the Arch-Druid had almost forgotten she was there, got to her feet suddenly.

  "Not until after the ordeal!" she said loudly. Spots of color flamed in her cheeks as the other two stared at her. "They named a new High Priestess after the chosen one failed to carry the power of the Goddess in the ritual, didn't they? What kind of talk do you think there will be if I do not even attempt it? Everyone in Vernemeton knows that Lhiannon chose me."

  "But the danger!" exclaimed Caillean.