Taliesin was encouraged by this. “Tell us, good brother, how is it that the Savior knows his own?”
“Why, by our faith in him. And all who Believe proclaim his death and resurrection in baptism-the baptism of water with which our Lord himself was baptized by John. It is a simple rite, but most holy. In fact, I baptized King Avallach not long ago.”
“Can you do it for us too?” asked Taliesin, reaching for Charis’ hand.
“Certainly,” remarked Dafyd, his kindly face breaking into a grin. “Shall we do it now? There will be no better time.”
“I agree,” said Taliesin. “Let us do it now.”
“Collen,” Dafyd called to the shrine, “put down your tools and come with us! We are going down to the lake to make Christians of our friends here.”
So together the four of them walked down to the lake, the priests singing a Latin hymn, Taliesin and Charis behind them, silent, their steps resolute and slow. When they reached the lake, Dafyd strode into the water, stopping only when the water rose to his waist. He turned and spread his hands to them, mantle and robe swirling around him. “Come to me, friends; the Kingdom of God draws near.”
Charis and Taliesin stepped into the water and waded to where Dafyd stood, Collen singing all the while, his steady tenor resounding over the water. Dafyd placed them one on either side of him and turned them to face one another. “It is a beautiful thing for a human being to be born anew. I want you both to remember it always.”
With that he spread his hands and lifted his face and began to pray, saying, “Heavenly Father, we thank you for the gift of water, a sign of your cleansing and reviving us: we thank you that through the still, deep waters of death you brought your son and raised him to new life as King of Heaven. Bless this water and your servants who are washed and cleansed from all sin and made one with our Lord, both in his death and new life. Remember them, Heavenly Father, and give them peace and hope and life everlasting. Amen.”
Collen added his amen and Dafyd continued, “We who are born of earthly parents need to be bom again. For in the sacred texts the good news of Jesu tells us that unless a man has been born again, he cannot see the Kingdom of God. And so God, who is ever wise and faithful, gives us a way to be born again by water and his Spirit. This baptism enacts our second birth.”
Turning to Taliesin, he said, “Is it your wish to receive the sacrament of water?”
“It is,” answered Taliesin.
“Then kneel down, Taliesin,” said Dafyd. When the bard had knelt, he asked, “Do you Believe that Jesu is the Christ, the only begotten son of the Living God?”
“I do Believe it,” Taliesin replied.
“Do you repent of your sins?”
“I repent of my sins.”
“Do you renounce evil?”
“I do renounce evil.”
“Do you swear allegiance to Jesu as your Lord and King and vow to love him and follow him and serve him all the days of your life?”
“With all my heart I do swear it,” said Taliesin.
Dafyd bent to scoop water into his hands. “Then in the name of your new King, Jesu the Christ, friend and savior of men, and in the names of the True God and his Spirit, I do baptize you.” So saying, the priest raised his hands and poured water over Taliesin’s bowed head.
And then, placing one hand between Taliesin’s shoulder blades and the other on his head, he tilted Taliesin back into the water. “As Jesu died that men might live, so you die to your old life.” He held the bard under the water for a moment and then raised him up again with the words, “Awake, Tal-iesin ap Elphin! Arise to new life as a child of the One True God.”
Taliesin rose up from the water with a shout, his face shining, his body trembling and shaking water all around. “I am reborn!” he cried, pouncing on Dafyd and wrapping him in a great hug.
“Hold, Taliesin! Stay! I have been baptized already!” the priest sputtered. Collen launched into another hymn and sang with vigor.
Charis was baptized next and when he had finished, Dafyd raised his hands over them and prayed, “Almighty God, in your never-ending love you have called us to know you, led us to trust you, and bound your life to ours. Surround these, your children, with your love and protect them from evil, even as you receive them into your care, so that they may walk in the way of the Lord and grow in grace and faith. Amen.”
Turning first to Taliesin and then to Charis, he made a motion in the air, saying, “I sign you with the cross, the sign of the Christ. Do not be ashamed to confess your faith, my friends. Live in the light, and fight valiantly against sin and the Devil all the days of your lives.”
They waded back to shore and as Taliesin came up out of the water he turned to Charis. “We are reborn together,” he told her. “Now nothing can separate us.”
“It was not a marriage,” remarked a dripping Dafyd. “Ah, but I can perform that rite as well.”
“And you shall,” said Taliesin, “very soon.”
They strode from the lake and back to the shrine, where Collen gave them robes to wrap themselves in while they waited for the sun to dry their clothes. They ate smoked fish and brown bread beside the fire, and Taliesin told about King Avallach’s visit the night before and his gift of land.
“But what a great and generous gift,” remarked Dafyd when he heard. “I am pleased, for it means that you will stay close by.” He glanced at Charis, who had grown silent during their talk. “Is that not good news, Charis?” he asked her.
She stirred at the sound of her name and said, “What? Oh… Yes, it is good news.”
“And as soon as we have established our holding,” Taliesin continued, “Charis and I will be married.”
Dafyd nodded approvingly. “Such a handsome match!”
Charis said nothing, and after a time Collen came with their clothes slung over his arms. She left them to dress.
“She has been lonely,” the priest said. “She has lost much in her life and may be fearful of losing more. It is not easy to love what can be lost. Sometimes I think it is the most difficult thing in the world.” Dafyd paused and said, “You know, Hafgan came to me a few days ago.”
Taliesin’s brows raised in surprise. “Did he? He said nothing to me about it.”
“He wanted to hear about the Lord. ‘Tell me about this god,’ he said. ‘This Jesu, the one called Christ.’ We talked for several hours and he told me the most remarkable thing: he said that the sign of the Christ’s birth was noted in the sky, and that the druids of old knew that a king like no other on earth had been born. Think of it! They knew.”
“I have never heard that story, although I have heard another often enough-concerning a starfall many years ago.”
“He did not mention it.”
“Hafgan and many others saw it. He said that it too betokened a wondrous birth, a royal birth: the king that will lead us through the Dark Time.”
“The Dark Time? You mean the attack that drove your people south?”
“That is only the beginning, and not even that.” Taliesin grew very grave. “But it is coming… Darkness deep as dead night will descend over the Island of the Mighty.”
“This king-you say he has been born?” asked the priest.
Taliesin shook his head. “Perhaps… No one knows. But his coming cannot be far off, for the darkness grows more powerful with each passing day. He will have to come soon if there is to be anything left worth saving.”
“I Believe it is true,” put in Collen excitedly. He had been following this exchange as closely as he could. “Some herders passing by this morning said that raiders have been seen hereabouts-where no Irish have been seen for many years.”
“Charis came upon them yesterday in the valley. If I had not been there, she might have suffered the worse for it…” He paused, remembering the sight of her besting trained warriors. “Ah, but you should have seen her. Even now I am not so sure she needed my help at all.”
“I can well imagine,” mused Dafyd, st
roking his chin, “that she would be a most formidable opponent. There is a good deal of iron in that spine. I have often wondered where it comes from.”
“Will you be leaving soon?” asked Collen.
“Today,” said Taliesin. “I mean to visit here often though and invite you to do the same.”
“We will, we will,” promised Dafyd. “I have my new converts to look after. And more new converts to make. I think we will be seeing much of one another in time to come.”
Charis rejoined them, and she and Taliesin reluctantly took their leave. The priests waved them on their way and then went back to work on the shrine.
The two rode to the Tor and across the causeway, whereupon, reaching the winding pathway leading to the palace, Taliesin turned aside. Charis also pulled up, and they sat for a moment looking at one another. “You are leaving,” she said matter-of-factly.
“For a little while. But when I come back we will be together and will never be separated again.” He urged his mount closer a few steps and took her hand. “You will fill my thoughts every moment until I return.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently.
Charis stiffened, gripping the reins in her fist. “You say we are reborn,” she replied bitterly. “You say we will be married and that we will never be parted. You say you love me.”
“I do, Charis. With all that is in me, I do.”
“It is not enough!” she shouted, lashing the reins across her horse’s withers, kicking her heels into its flanks. “It is… not… enough…”
The gray bolted away up the winding path to the summit of the Tor.
Misery descended upon Charis’ heart with the cold, bleak, rain-filled days that settled over the land. She paced the corridors of the palace, fretful, anxious, hating herself for feeling the way she did, and then feeling worse for it.
Her torment had no center. Like a wind that assailed from all directions, it seemed to strike wherever she turned, at times unexpectedly. Why? she kept asking herself. Why? Why? Why?
Why does it have to be this way? Why does the thought of loving Taliesin fill me with such dread? Why am I so afraid?
She thought about Taliesin-but more as an abstract presence, a force to be faced, or an argument to be reconciled than as a flesh-and-bone human being who loved and desired her. He was a cipher that had no face, a symbol of something she could not reckon.
Why, she would ask herself, does the thought of him bring no happiness?
Time and again she asked the question, and time and again stumbled over the same awkward conclusion: “I do not love him.”
That must be it, she decided. As painful as it is, that must be the answer. I do not love him. Maybe I have never loved anyone…
No, I did; I loved my mother, she thought. But that was a long time ago and she has been dead many years. Perhaps when Briseis was killed all love inside me died too. Strange to just find out now. It has been so long since I have loved anyone or anything except myself-no, not even myself. What the High Queen told me that day long ago was true: I wished myself dead, which is why I danced the bulls.
Love…
Why should love be so important? Save for a few brief years as a child, I have lived my life without it. Why should this lack make any difference now? Why now?
And what had happened to that calm, agreeable feeling she had experienced only a few days ago-that sense of security and the rightness of things, the feeling of being part of a hidden plan meticulously working itself out… Where had that gone?
It was true, she reminded herself. Only a few days ago you were certain you were in love with Taliesin. Only a few days ago you felt as if life had recovered its purpose and meaning for you. Only a few days ago… And now?
Had things changed so much? Or had those feelings been but fleeting sensations, more dream than reality? There was certainly something very dreamlike about the last few days. It was as if she had slept and awakened from a pleasant dream to the soulless austerity of reality.
Was it a dream? Had she, out of loneliness and melancholy, imagined it?
Taliesin was real enough. Charis could still hear her name on his lips, could feel his touch on her skin, the warmth of his arms around her. That was real, but was it love?
If it was, it was not enough.
Her words at their parting came back to her, stinging her with their hopelessness. It was not enough! Not enough! Love had never been enough. It had not kept her mother from dying; it had not prevented the hideous war that had taken Eoinn and Guistan; it had not saved Atlantis from destruction. So far as she knew, love had never saved anyone from the agony of life, even for an instant.
And now here was the Christian priest Dafyd insisting that the ruling power of the world-indeed, of all worlds past, present, and yet to come-was love. This same feeble, inconstant emotion. Impotent and by its very nature vulnerable. More a thing to be despised than exalted, more to be pitied than embraced.
Who was this god that demanded love of his servants, called himself love, and insisted that he be worshiped in love? This god who made love the highest expression of his power and insisted that he alone stood above all other gods, that he alone had created the heavens and earth, that he alone was worthy of honor, reverence, and glory?
A strange and perverse god, this god of love, thought Charis. Not at all like any of the other gods I have known. So unlike Bel, whose dual aspects of constancy and change demanded nothing but simple reverence and ritual-and not even that if one was not inclined. If he did not greatly heed or help his people, at least he made no pretense of caring for them either. He ignored all men equally, Mage and beggar alike.
But this Most High God insisted that he cared for his followers and asked-no, demanded-that men acknowledge him as sole supreme guardian, authority, and judge over all. Yet, he could be as silent and cold and distant and fickle as Cybel ever was.
Even so, Charis had promised to follow him, had been baptized into the Christian faith. Why?
Was it because she was restless, and tired of her restlessness, tired of searching, tired of the lonely, empty feeling that there was no longer any significance to her life? Was that it?
Like a bird trapped in a cow byre, throwing herself against dumb, unfeeling walls, Charis struggled to understand the unhappy welter of her thoughts and emotions, only to be met time and again with silence and indifference. Her questions went unanswered.
Very well, she had been attracted to this new god through his son, Jesu, who had lived as a man among men, teaching the ways of love, and pointing the way to a kingdom of peace and joy without end. That, at least, was worth Believing. But to what end?
Bel offered nothing so impossible, made no barren promises. Life and death were all the same to him. But not to this Jesu. If Charis understood Dafyd right, Jesu, who was himself truly God, sacrificed himself so that all might be reborn to live in his kingdom-a kingdom as remote and insubstantial as the love he promised to share with those who Believed and followed him.
“Only Believe,” Dafyd had told her. “He does not ask us to understand him, only to Believe in him. As it is written: ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever Believes in him will never die, but will have everlasting life.’ “
Only Believe! Only raise Atlantis from the depths-that would be easier, thought Charis in despair. How can I Believe in a god who has no image, yet claims all of creation for his province; who demands total and unstinging devotion, yet will not speak; who calls himself Father, yet refused to spare his only true Son.
Better to Believe in Bel or Lieu or Oester or the Mother Goddess or any of the multitude of gods and goddesses that men have worshiped through the ages. Better to Believe in nothing and no one at all… That conclusion had all the comfort of the tomb.
“God!” she cried in despair, her voice lost in the wind and rain that beat down upon the Tor. “God!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The cold rain squalls of the last days passed in the night
and spring returned. Charis lay some moments in her bed, feeling light in body and spirit, and remembered that she had not eaten a bite the day before, nor the day before that. She was hungry but also felt unburdened, as if the weight of misery had dissolved in the night and melted away like the storm clouds. Although nothing had changed at all.
She was still unsure of her love for Taliesin, still unsure of her Belief in the new god, still very much alone, and still very restless. Her first thought was to rise, saddle her horse at once, and ride out into the hills-to ride and never stop riding, to lose herself in the brooding glory of green earth and deep sky.
Pausing for bread and cheese and a mouthful of wine on her way to the stables, she hurried through the courtyard and met Morgian, sulky and bristling with inarticulate menace. “I have no quarrel with you, Morgian,” Charis told her. “But let us have an understanding.”
“An understanding? How so, sister?” she asked slyly.
“About Taliesin. He has declared his love for me, and it is his wish that we should be married. Now I tell you in all honesty, I do not know if I love hire or not. I do not think that I do. Very likely we will never be married”
Morgian’s smile had much in it of the cat whose claws have just closed around the mouse. “So, you adm-”
“But,” Charis cut her off, “whether we are married or not I forbid you to interfere in our affairs.”
“If you do not love him, why do you care?” inquired Morgian.
The question went by Charis at the time. But later, as she let her gray horse have its head to plod along the brome-edged hilltrack, she found herself pondering the same question: Why do I care?
She turned the question over in her mind, listening to the slow clop-clop of the horse’s hooves on the damp dirt. Is not love born of caring? In truth, are they not one and the same thing?
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