The Forest House

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  Twenty-Five

  Gaius woke in the early morning. Today, whatever else happened, he must do something about finding his son. Ardanos must know how to contact his granddaughter. He was not anxious to talk to the old man, whom he suspected of being as much a fanatic in his own way as Father Petros, but he could see no alternative. The only problem that remained was how to find Ardanos, who no longer lived near Deva.

  But while he lay contemplating the problem, he heard a peremptory knock on the front gate, and his steward complaining as he went to answer it. Gaius threw on a robe and slid out of bed, carefully, so as not to wake Julia. A legionary was waiting in the front courtyard with a request from Macellius for a visit. Gaius raised one eyebrow. Officially, his father was retired, but he was aware that the old man had made himself a trusted adviser to the Twentieth Legion's young Commander.

  If he were gone when Julia discovered the death of her monkey, he would not have to face her tears. Gaius rode through the town and directly to the gates of the fortress, exchanging salutes with the guard on duty, who knew him well from his stint as Procurator.

  "Your father said you would probably arrive before noon," said the soldier. "You'll find him with the Legate in the Praetorium."

  On the bench outside the Commander's office he saw a weary-looking woman. She was a Briton of the dark-haired, pale-skinned type like his mother's people; somewhere between thirty and thirty-five, he guessed, dressed in a gown of saffron wool rather lavishly embroidered with gold. Gaius wondered what she had done, and when the legionary on duty ushered him into the presence of the Commander and his father, he put the question.

  "Her name is Brigitta," his father answered with distaste. "She calls herself Queen of the Demetae. When her husband died, he left his fortune in equal shares to her and to the Emperor, and she seems to feel this gives her the right to rule his kingdom. Sound familiar?"

  Gaius licked dry lips. It was common practice for a rich man to split his estate between his own family and the Emperor in hopes that the Imperial co-heir would make sure the other heirs got their share. Agricola had done the same thing.

  The Legate looked from Gaius to his father. Clearly it did not sound familiar to him.

  "Boudicca." Gaius said succinctly. "Her husband tried the same thing, but the Iceni had debts to some fairly prominent senators. When he died, they moved in, and she tried to resist. She and her daughters were rather . . .badly treated and she raised the tribe in a rebellion that nearly swept us out of this land!" That was the specter that Macellius was seeing when he looked at the unhappy woman sitting outside, especially since the Demetae were one of the tribes that counted descent through the mother's line.

  "Oh, that Boudicca," said the Legate. He was called Lucius Domitius Brutus, and he seemed to Gaius rather young for such a major posting, but he was reputed to be a good friend of the Emperor.

  "That Boudicca," Macellius echoed disgustedly. "So you see, sir, why the tribune over at Moridunum scooped her up as soon as the will was read, and why we cannot simply carry out the terms of the will as they stand, no matter how much they benefit the Emperor."

  "On the other hand," said Gaius, "it should also be clear that this woman must be handled like blown glass. I assure you that every native in this country will be waiting to see what we do." A thought occurred to him. "I don't suppose she has children?"

  "A couple of daughters somewhere, I've heard," said Macellius wearily, "but I don't know what has become of them; they are only about three or four, worse luck, or I'd have them properly married off to a citizen. I have no particular stomach for this business of war against women and children; but if women will mingle in politics, what can we do? Rumor has it that she - or those who would like to use her — have sent messages seeking alliance with the Hibernians."

  Gaius shuddered, remembering the raid on Eilan's home. "Take her to Londinium," he suggested. "If she's sent to Rome her people will think she's a prisoner, but if she's set up in a fine house in the city they may think she's betrayed them. Tell her that unless she lives in Londinium she won't see a sestercius of her husband's gold."

  "It might work," Macellius said, considering. He turned to the Legate. "I agree with my son's suggestion. You've already got a detachment ready to strengthen the garrison at Moridunum; they can carry the news."

  "She'll be a hostage then," Domitius Brutus said. This he could understand.

  As he left the office, it occurred to Gaius that the daughters, however young, could still be a danger. The woman stirred a faint pity; she looked so forlorn.

  "Where are your little girls?" he asked in the British tongue.

  "Where you will never find them, Roman, and I thank the gods," she said. "Don't you think I know how your legionaries treat young girls?"

  "Not little children!" Gaius exclaimed. "Come now; I am a father myself with three little daughters about the age of yours. At most we would find them suitable guardians."

  "I will spare you that trouble." she said fiercely, "They are well taken care of!"

  A legionary came up and touched her on the arm. When she flinched, he ordered, "Do come along quietly, lady. We don't wish to bind you."

  She looked wildly around her, and her gaze settled on Gaius. "Where are you taking me?"

  "Only to Londinium," he said soothingly. He saw her face crumple, with relief or disappointment he did not know, but she went quietly enough.

  The legionary on guard watched her go and said to Gaius, "You'd never think she would associate with known agitators, not to look at her now; but when we picked her up, it was reported she'd been seen about with a notorious rebel: Conmor, Cynric, or some such name as that. He's said to be still in the area."

  "I know him," Gaius said. The legionary stared, "You, sir?"

  Gaius nodded, recalling the high-hearted boy who had pulled him out of the boar pit. Was Cynric still in contact with Eilan? If they caught him, Gaius could ask how he could arrange a private meeting.

  "Gods," said Macellius, closing the door of the Legate's office behind him and following Gaius down the corridor, "all this makes me feel old!"

  "Don't be ridiculous," Gaius answered him.

  "The Legate wants me to do something to calm things down among the people. Use my old contacts, he says."

  Perhaps Brutus was not as stupid as he looked, Gaius thought. Macellius's ability to get cooperation from the tribes had been legendary in his day.

  "But I'm tired of picking other people's chestnuts out of the fire. Maybe I'll move to Rome. It's been a long time since I've seen the city. Maybe I should go to Egypt where I would be warm for once."

  "Don't be foolish," Gaius chided. "What would my little girls do without their grandsire?"

  "Oh, come, they hardly know I'm alive," said Macellius. But he seemed pleased. "Of course if you had a son it would be different."

  "I - well, I may have a son one of these days," Gaius broke out in a sweat. Macellius himself had told Gaius about Eilan's pregnancy, but when he had seen her and the baby in the hut in the forest, it was clear that the birth had been kept secret. If Macellius did not know that Eilan had borne him a son, Gaius did not think he should tell his father now.

  Eilan dreamed that she walked beside a lake in a half-light that could have been either dusk or dawn. A light mist hung above the waters, obscuring the further shore; the mists were silver, and a silver sheen was on the waters; wavelets lapped softly against the shore. It seemed that across the water drifted singing, and out of the mists came swimming nine white swans, as fair as the maidens of the Forest House when they saluted the moon.

  Eilan had never heard anything so beautiful. She moved down to the edge of the lake, stretching out her hands, and the swans circled slowly.

  "Let me come to you, let me swim with you!" she cried, but from the swans came the answer, "You cannot come with us; your robes and ornaments weigh you down . . ." They began to swim away, and Eilan's heart was torn with loss.

  Eilan stripped off
her heavy gown, her veils and mantle, and cast the golden torque and armlets of the High Priestess aside. As her shadow glimmered in the water, it was the shape of a swan. She cast herself into the lake . . .

  As the silver waters closed over her head she woke to the familiar timbers of the Forest House in the dim light of dawn. For a few moments Eilan sat still, rubbing her eyes. This was not the first time she had dreamed of the lake and the swans. Each time, it seemed harder to return. She had told no one of her trouble. She was High Priestess of Vernemeton, not some silly girl to be frightened by an odd dream. But each time it happened the dream was more vivid, and the role she played while waking more and more unreal.

  Someone was pounding on a door. Oddly, it was the gateway to her garden. Faintly she could hear the voice of the young priestess who guarded it raised in protest.

  "Who the mischief do you think you are? You cannot simply walk in from nowhere and ask to see the High Priestess, certainly not at this hour."

  "Forgive me," answered a deep voice. "I think of her still as my foster sister, not the High Priestess. Ask her, please, if she will speak to me!"

  Eilan threw on a shawl and hurried out on to the porch. "Cynric!" she exclaimed. "I thought you in the North somewhere!" She stopped short. Clinging around his neck was a small, dark-haired child of two or three; another girl, perhaps five years old, hid behind his cloak. "Are they yours?"

  He shook his head. "They belong to an unfortunate woman, and I have come to beg you to give them shelter in the name of the Goddess."

  "To give them shelter?" Eilan repeated stupidly. "But why?"

  "Because they stand in need of it," Cynric returned, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  "What I meant was, why here? Have they no kindred to care for them? If they are not yours, why have they become your responsibility?"

  "Their mother is Brigitta, Queen of the Demetae," said Cynric uneasily. "She tried to claim the kingdom when her husband died and is now a prisoner of Rome. We feared her daughters would be held as hostages, or worse, if they fell into Roman hands."

  Eilan looked at the children and thought of her own son. She pitied their mother with all her heart, but what would Ardanos say? This was one of those times when she could have used Caillean's counsel, but the older woman had gone down to the Summer Country to visit the Sacred Well.

  "You know they are too young to claim for the Goddess."

  "All I am asking is that you keep them safe and secure!" Cynric began, but before he could say anything else there was more noise outside.

  "My lady, you cannot see the Priestess now; she is with a guest."

  "All the more reason I should be with her," a voice said, and Dieda came into the garden. At the sight of Cynric she cried out, and he turned hastily to see her. She had been told about his activities when she returned from Eriu, but this was the first time she had seen him.

  "The children are not mine!" he exclaimed as the color left her face and then flamed back again. "Queen Brigitta sent them here for sanctuary."

  "They should be taken to the House of Maidens, then," said Dieda, mastering herself, and held out her hand. But her eyes were still on Cynric.

  "Wait," said Eilan. "I must think. The Forest House cannot afford to entangle itself in anything political."

  "Without the consent of the Romans?" Cynric said scornfully.

  "It is easy for you to jeer," Eilan began, "but you must remember that we exist by sufferance of those Romans you are so ready to dismiss. We should at least consult with the Arch-Druid before we commit ourselves to something that might look like support for a rebellion."

  "With Ardanos?" Cynric spat. "Why not with the Legate in Deva himself? Maybe we should go to the Governor of Britain and ask his leave."

  "Cynric, I have risked a great deal for you and your cause," Eilan reminded him soberly. "But I cannot risk the Forest House by taking in political fugitives without Ardanos's leave." A quick word sent her attendant running down the path towards the nearby house that had been built for the Arch-Druid.

  Cynric said, "Eilan, do you know the fate to which you will be abandoning these girls?"

  "Do you?" she snapped. "Why are you so sure Ardanos will refuse?"

  "Regarding what?" said a new voice, and they all turned, Eilan frowning, Cynric flushed with anger, and Dieda pale with some emotion Eilan could not name. "Your woman encountered me just outside," Ardanos explained.

  Eilan pointed to the children.

  "There is nothing I can do for Brigitta," Ardanos said when she was done. "She was warned about what would happen if she claimed the right to rule. But she will not be harshly treated; even the Romans would not make that mistake twice in one century. As for the girls, I do not know. They could be trouble, later on."

  "But not yet," said Eilan decisively. "And I will not hold children responsible for their parents' crimes. Senara and Lia can tend them. If we give them new names and treat them like any other children they should be safe enough for a time. No one will think anything of it." She smiled bitterly. "After all, I have a reputation for sheltering motherless children!"

  "I suppose so," said Ardanos dubiously. "But Cynric had better get well away. For where he is, I have noticed, trouble follows." He glared at the young man, and Dieda went pale. "The Romans may not care about the girls, but they will certainly be looking for you!"

  "If they try to interfere with me they may find more trouble than they bargained for." Cynric said fiercely.

  Eilan sighed, thinking that rather than a raven, he should have been called a stormy petrel. But she knew better than to argue with Cynric, or with Dieda. All she could do was to try and keep the peace a little longer. Sometimes it seemed as if the whole weight of Britain lay on her shoulders - and that all her kin were conspiring to keep it there.

  Senara was summoned to take the children to their new quarters, and Eilan went on to her duties, leaving Dieda and Cynric to make their farewells. Later that afternoon, she heard weeping in the shed where they dried the herbs. It was Dieda.

  The other woman started up, her eyes blazing, then seemed to deflate when she saw who it was. Although their relationship was no longer close, at least Dieda felt no need to dissemble. But Eilan knew better than to try to touch her or offer comfort.

  "What is it?" she said.

  Dieda scrubbed at her eyes with the corner of her veil, making them even redder. "He asked me to go with him —"

  "And you refused." Eilan kept her voice deliberately neutral.

  "To live the life of an outlaw, always skulking in the forest, afraid of every sound, always wondering if tomorrow I would see him marched off in chains or slain by Roman swords? I could not do it, Eilan! Here at least I have my music, and work to do that I believe in. How could I go?"

  "Did you tell him so?"

  Dieda nodded. "He said that if I felt that way I could not truly love him; that I was betraying our cause. . .He said that he needed me . . ."

  I'm sure he did, the idiot, thought Eilan, and never wondered whether she needs him at all!

  "It is your fault!" Dieda exclaimed. "If it were not for you, I would have married him long ago. Then perhaps he would never have become an outlaw!"

  With an effort, Eilan stopped herself from pointing out that Dieda had sworn the vows of a priestess of her own free will. Even when Eilan returned to the Forest House after Gawen's birth, she could have gone to Cynric instead of to Eriu. The poor girl did not want logic, she needed someone to blame.

  "And now all I can think of is the way he looked at me! It may be months or even years before I know how he is, or what is happening to him! At least if I were with him I would know!" Dieda wailed.

  "I don't suppose you care one way or another for my approval," Eilan said softly. "Whatever you think of my choices, you know that I have learned to live with them. But I too have wept in the darkness, wondering whether I did the right thing. Dieda, you may never be sure - all you can do is the work that is given to yo
u, and hope that the Goddess will explain the reason for it all some day."

  Dieda's face was turned away, but it seemed to Eilan that her sobs were diminishing.

  "I will tell the maidens that you are ill and cannot take them tonight for the singing," she went on. "No doubt they will be glad of a holiday."

  It seemed to Eilan that the problem of Brigitta's children had been solved, but only a few days later, just before the evening meal, her attendant told her that a Roman sought audience.

  Gaius leapt to mind but a second thought told her he would never dare come here. "Find out his name and business," she said evenly.

  In a few moments the girl returned. "Lady, it is Macellius Severus who begs the favor of a word with you." She added, "He used to be the Camp Prefect of Deva —"