AD 259
"Oh! I can see water gleaming in the sun! Is it the sea?" I dug my heels into the pony's round side to bring it alongside Corinthius's big horse. The beast broke into a rough trot and I clutched at its mane.
"Ah, Helena, your young eyes are better than mine," answered the old man who had been tutor to my half-brothers before being given the task of teaching the daughter Prince Coelius had inadvertently got upon a priestess of Avalon. "A blaze of light is all I can see. But I think that what lies before us must be the levels of the Summer Country, flooded by the spring rains."
I brushed back a wisp of hair and peered out at the landscape. The waters were broken up by hummocks of higher ground like islands and divided by winding rows of trees. Beyond them I could make out a line of hills where Corinthius said there were lead mines, ending in a bright haze that must be the estuary of the Sabrina.
"Then we are almost there?" The pony tossed its head as I squeezed its sides and then pulled back on the rein.
"We are if the rains have not washed out the causeway, and we can locate the village of the Lake folk that my master told me to find."
I looked up at him with swift pity, for he sounded very tired. I could see lines in the thin face beneath the broad straw hat, and he sat slumped in the saddle. My father should not have made the old man come all this way. But when the journey was over, Corinthius, a Greek who had sold himself into slavery as a youth in order to dower his sisters, would have his freedom. He had saved a nice little nest egg over the years, and meant to set up a school in Londinium.
"We will come to the Lake village in the afternoon," said the guide who had joined my escort in Lindinis.
"When we get there, we will rest," I said briskly.
"I thought you were eager to come to the Tor," Corinthius said kindly. Perhaps he would be sorry to lose me, I thought, smiling up at him. After my two brothers, who cared for nothing but hunting, he had said he enjoyed teaching someone who actually wanted to learn.
"I will have the rest of my life to enjoy Avalon," I answered him. "I can wait a day longer to arrive."
"And start your studies once more!" Corinthius laughed. "They say that the priestesses of Avalon have preserved the old Druid wisdom. It consoles me a little for losing you to know that you will not spend your life running some fat magistrate's household and bearing his children."
I smiled. My father's wife had tried to convince me that such a life was a woman's highest hope, but I had always known that sooner or later I would be going to Avalon. That it was sooner was due to the rebellion of a general called Postumus, whose war had cut Britannia off from the Empire. Unprotected, the south-eastern coasts were vulnerable to raiders, and Prince Coelius had thought it best to send his little daughter to the safety of Avalon while he and his sons prepared to defend Camulodunum.
For a moment then my smile faltered, for I had been the apple of my father's eye, and I hated the thought that he might be in danger. But I knew well enough that while he was away from home my life there would not have been a happy one. To the Romans I was my father's love-child, without maternal relatives, for it was forbidden to speak of Avalon. In truth it was Corinthius and old Huctia, who had been my nurse, who had been my family, and Huctia had died the winter before. It was time for me to return to my mother's world.
The road led downwards now, winding gently back and forth across the slope of the hill. As we emerged from the shelter of the trees, I shaded my eyes with my hand. Below, the waters lay upon the land like a sheet of gold.
"If you were a faerie horse," I murmured to my pony, "we could gallop along that shining path all the way to Avalon."
But the pony only shook its head and reached for a mouthful of grass, and we continued to clop down the road one step at a time until we came to the slippery logs of the causeway. Now I could see the grey stalks of last summer's grass waving in the water and beyond them the reedbeds that edged the permanent channels and pools. The deeper water was dark, charged with mystery. What spirits ruled these marshes, where the elements were so confused and mingled that one could not tell where earth ended and the water began? I shivered a little and turned my gaze to the bright day.
As the afternoon drew on towards evening, a mist began to rise from the water. We moved more slowly now, letting our mounts choose their own footing on the slippery logs. I had ridden horses since I could walk, but until now, each day's journey had been a short one, appropriate to the strength of a child. Today's ride, the last stage in our journey, had been longer. I could feel the dull ache in my legs and back and knew that I would be glad to get out of the saddle when the day was over.
We came out from beneath the trees and the guide reined in, pointing. Beyond the tangle of marsh and woodland rose a single pointed hill. I had been taken from this place when I was barely a year old, and yet, with a certainty beyond memory, I knew that I was looking at the holy Tor. Touched by the last of the sunlight, it seemed to glow from within.
"The Isle of Glass…" murmured Corinthius, eyes widening in appreciation.
But not Avalon … I thought, remembering the stories I had heard. The cluster of beehive huts at the foot of the Tor belonged to the little community of Christians who lived there. Avalon of the Druids lay in the mists between this world and Faerie.
"And there is the village of the Lake people—" said our guide, indicating the trails of smoke that rose beyond the willows. He slapped the reins against his pony's neck and all of the horses, sensing the end of their journey, moved forwards eagerly.
"We have barge, but crossing to Avalon needs priestess. She says if you are welcome. Is important to go now? You want that I call?" The headman's words were respectful, but in his posture there was little deference. For nearly three hundred years his people had been the gatekeepers for Avalon.
"Not tonight," answered Corinthius. "The maiden has endured a long journey. Let her have a good night's sleep before she must meet all those new people in her new home."
I squeezed his hand gratefully. I was eager to get to Avalon, but now that our journey was over, I was painfully aware that I would not see Corinthius again, and only now did I realize how fond of the old man I really was. I had wept when my nurse died, and I knew that I would weep to lose Corinthius as well.
The Lake people made us welcome in one of the round thatched houses set on poles above the marsh. A long, low boat was tied up beside it, and a creaking bridge connected it to the higher ground. The villagers were a small, lightly-built folk, with dark hair and eyes. At ten, I was already as tall as a grown woman among them, though I had the same dusky brown hair. I watched them curiously, for I had heard that my mother had been like them in feature, or perhaps she and they were both like the people of Faerie.
The villagers brought us thin ale and a stew of fish and millet flavoured with wild garlic, and flat oaten cakes baked on the stone hearth. When we had eaten this simple fare, we sat by the fire with bodies too tired to move and minds not yet ready for sleep, watching the flame fade into coals that shone like the vanished sun.
"Corinthius, when you have your school in Londinium, will you remember me?"
"How could I forget my little maiden, bright as one of Apollo's sunbeams, when I am striving to beat Latin hexameters into the thick skulls of a dozen boys?" His worn features creased into a smile.
"You must call the sun Belenos," said I, "in this northern land."
"It was Apollo of the Hyboreans that I meant, my child, but it is all the same—"
"Do you truly believe that?"
Corinthius lifted one eyebrow. "A single sun shines here and in the land where I was born, though we call it by different names. In the realm of Idea, the great principles behind the forms that we see are the same."
I frowned, trying to make sense of his words. He had attempted to explain the teachings of the philosopher Plato, but I found them hard to understand. Each place I came to had its own spirit, as distinct as human souls. This land they called the Summer Country, all hill and wood and hidden pools, seemed a world away from the broad flat fields and coppiced woodlands around Camulodunum. Avalon, if the tales I had heard of it were true, would be stranger still. How could their gods be the same?
"I think rather that it is you, little one, with all your life ahead of you, who will be forgetting me," the old man said then. "What is it, child?" he added, bending to lift the lock of hair that hid my eyes. "Are you afraid?"
"What—what if they don't like me?"
For a moment Corinthius stroked my hair, then he sat back with a sigh. "I ought to tell you that to the true philosopher, it should not matter, that the virtuous person needs no one's approval. But what comfort is that to a child? Nonetheless it is true. There will be some people who do not like you no matter what you do, and when that happens, you can only try to serve the Truth as you see it. And yet, if you have won my heart, then surely there will be others to love you as well. Look for those who need your love, and they will return the blessing."
His tone was bracing, and I swallowed and managed a smile. I was a princess, and one day would be a priestess as well. I must not let people see me cry.
There was a stirring at the door. The cowhide flap was pushed aside and I glimpsed a child holding a squirming puppy in his arms. The chieftain's wife saw him and said something reproving in the dialect of the Lake. I caught the word for hound and realized he was being told to take the dog away.
"Oh no—I like puppies!" I exclaimed. "Please let me see!"
The woman looked dubious, but Corinthius nodded, and the boy came up to me, grinning, and released the animal into my outstretched hands. As I clutched at the wriggling bundle of fur I began to smile as well. I could see already that this was not one of the graceful sight-hounds who used to lounge in noble dignity about my father's hall. The puppy was too tiny, its creamy fur too thick already, and its tail too curled. But the brown eyes were bright with interest, and the tongue that flicked out below the moist black button of a nose to lick my hand was pink and warm.
"There, there now, and aren't you a darling?" I gathered the little dog to my chest and laughed again as it tried to lick my face as well.
"A creature with neither breeding nor manners," said Corinthius, who was not fond of animals. "And likely carrying fleas—"
"No, lord," answered the boy, "is faerie dog."
Corinthius lifted an eloquent eyebrow, and the boy frowned.
"I speak true!" he exclaimed. "It happens before. Mama gets lost, two, three days. Has only one puppy, white like this. Faerie dog lives long, and if not killed, when old it disappears. Dog sees spirits, and knows way to Otherworld!"
Feeling the living warmth of the creature in my arms, I hid my face in the soft fur to hide my smile, for the rest of the Lake people were nodding solemnly and I did not wish to insult them.
"She is gift, will guard you—" the boy said then.
I suppressed a a spurt of laughter at the idea that this ball of fluff could protect anything, then straightened to smile at the boy.
"Does she have a name?"
The boy shrugged. "Faerie folk know. Maybe she tells you one day."
"I will call her Eldri, until they do, for she is as white and delicate as the flower of the elder tree." I considered her as I said this, then looked back up at the boy. "And you—do you have a name?"
A blush warmed his sallow skin. "Is 'Otter', in your tongue," he said as the others laughed.
A use-name, thought I. At his initiation he would receive another that would only be used within the tribe. And how should I answer him? In my father's world I had been Julia Helena, but that seemed irrelevant here.
"I thank you," I said then. "You may call me Eilan."
I woke from a dream of many waters, blinking in the morning light. I had been in a long flat boat that slid silently through swirling mists until they parted to reveal a fair green island. But then the scene had shifted, and I was on a galley approaching endless flat marshlands and a great river that split into myriad channels as it entered the sea. And yet again the vision had changed to a land of golden stone and sand washed by a brilliant blue sea. But the green island had been the fairest. A few times in my life I had dreamed things that came true. I wondered if this was one of them. But already the memory was slipping away. I sighed, pushed back the sleeping furs in which I had nested with Eldri curled against me and rubbed the grit from my eyes. Squatting beside the headman's fire and drinking tea from a cup of rough clay was someone I had not seen before. I noticed first the long brown braid and the blue cloak, and then, as she turned, the mark of a priestess tattooed between her brows. The blue crescent was still bright, and the smooth face that of a girl. She had not been initiated for long. Then, as if she had felt my gaze upon her, the priestess turned, and my eyes fell before that detached and ageless stare.
"Her name is Suona," said Corinthius, patting my shoulder. "She arrived just at dawn."
I wondered how the headman had called her. Did the faerie folk carry the message, or was there some secret spell?
"This is the maiden?" asked Suona.
"The daughter of Prince Coelius of Camulodunum," answered Corinthius. "But her mother was of Avalon."
"She seems old to begin her training here."
Corinthius shook his head. "She is well-grown for her age, but she has only ten winters. And Helena is not without education. She has been taught to use her mind as well as to do the work of a woman. She can read and write in Latin and knows a little Greek, and has learned her numbers as well."
Suona did not seem very impressed. I lifted my chin and met the dark gaze steadily. For a moment I felt an odd tickling sensation in my head, as if something had touched my mind. Then the priestess nodded a little, and it ceased. For the first time she spoke directly to me.
"Is it your wish, or that of your father, that you come to Avalon?"
I felt my heart thump, but I was relieved when my words came out steadily.
"I want to go to Avalon."
"Let the child break her fast, and then we will be ready," said Corinthius, but the priestess shook her head.
"Not you, only the maiden. It is forbidden for an outlander to look on Avalon except when the gods call."
For a moment the old man looked stricken, then he bowed his head.
"Corinthius!" I felt tears prick my own eyes.
"Never mind," he patted my arm. "To the philosopher, all affections are transitory. I must strive for more detachment, that is all."
"But won't you miss me?" I clung to his hand.
For a moment he sat with closed eyes. Then his breath came out in a long sigh.
"I will miss you, heart's daughter," he answered softly. "Even if it is against my philosophy. But you will find new friends and learn new things, never fear."
I felt Eldri stirring in my lap and the moment of anguish began to fade.
"I will not forget you—" I said stoutly, and was rewarded by his smile.
My fingers tightened on the rail as the boatmen shoved down with their poles and the barge slid away from the shore. Overnight, another mist had risen from the water, and the world beyond the village was more sensed than seen. Only once, when we crossed the Tamesis at Londinium, had I ever been on a boat before. I had felt nearly overwhelmed by the river's tremendous, driving purpose, driven close to tears when we reached the other shore because I had not been allowed to follow it down to the sea.
On the Lake, what I felt most strongly was depth, which seemed odd, since the bottom was still within reach of the boatmen's poles, and I could see the wavering lines of the reed-stems below the waterline.
But the evidence of my eyes seemed to me an illusion. I could feel waters that ran below the lake bottom, and realized that I had begun to sense them as soon as we started to cross the Levels, even when we were on what passed here for dry land. Here, there was little distinction between earth and water, as there was very little separation between the world of men and the Otherworld.
I gazed curiously at the woman who sat at the prow, cloaked and hooded in blue. To be a priestess was it necessary to become so detached from human feeling? Corinthius preached detachment as well, but I knew he had a heart beneath his philosopher's robes. When I become a priestess, I will not forget what love is! I promised myself then.
I wished very much that they had allowed my old tutor to come with me this last bit of the way. He was still waving to me from the shore, and though he had bade me farewell with the restraint of a true Stoic, it seemed to me that there was a brightness in his eyes that might be tears. I wiped my own eyes and waved back harder, and then, as the first veil of mist blew between us, settled back onto my bench.
At least I still had Eldri, tucked securely in the fold where my tunica bloused over my belt. I could feel the puppy's warmth against my chest and patted her reassuringly through the cloth. So far, the little dog had neither barked nor stirred, as if she understood the need to keep silence. So long as the puppy stayed hidden, no one could forbid me to take her to Avalon.
I pulled open the loose neck of my tunica and grinned at the two bright eyes that gleamed up at me, then draped my cloak loosely around me once more.
The mist was growing thicker, lying in dense skeins across the water as if not only earth but air were dissolving back into the primal watery womb. Of the Pythagorean elements of which Corinthius had told me, that left only fire. I took a deep breath, at once unsettled and oddly reassured, as if something within me recognized this protean admixture and welcomed it.
We were well out upon the Lake by now, and the boatmen were paddling. As the barge moved forwards the stilt village faded into the mist behind us. The Tor was disappearing too. For the first time I felt a quiver of fear.
But Eldri warmed my heart, and in the prow, the young priestess sat quietly, her face serene. Suona was a plain-looking girl, but for the first time, I understood what my nurse had meant when she told me to sit like a queen.
Though I saw no signal, abruptly the boatmen lifted their paddles and rested them on their laps. The barge floated quietly, the last ripples of its passage widening away to either side. I felt a pressure in my ears and shook my head to relieve it.
Then, at last, the priestess stirred, casting back her hood as she rose. Feet braced, she stood, seeming to grow taller as she lifted her arms in invocation. She drew in her breath, and her ordinary features grew radiant with beauty. The gods look like this … I thought as Suona gave voice to a string of musical syllables in a language I had never heard before.
Then that too was forgotten, for the mists began to move. The boatmen had covered their eyes, but I kept mine open, staring as the grey clouds began to sparkle with a rainbow of colour. The light spun sunwise around them, colours blending, wrenching reality out of Time. For an impossible eternity we hung between the worlds. Then, with a final burst of radiance, the mists became a haze of light.
The priestess sank back to her seat, perspiration beading her brow. The boatmen picked up their paddles and began to stroke forwards as if this had been no more than a pause to rest their arms. I let out a breath I had not known I was holding. They must be accustomed to this… phenomenon … I thought numbly, and then, How could anyone get used to this wonder!
For a few moments, though the paddles dipped, we did not seem to move. Then the bright mist suddenly wisped away, and the Tor was rushing towards us, and I clapped my hands, recognizing the fair green island.
But there was more to it than I had seen in my dream. I had half-expected to see the huddle of wooden huts I had glimpsed from the Lake people's village, but that was Inis Witrin, the isle of the monks. Where the huts had stood, on the other isle on Avalon there were edifices of stone. I had seen Roman buildings that were larger, but none that were at once so massive and so graceful, columned with smooth shafts of tapered stone. Blessed by the spring sunlight, they seemed to glow from within.
If I had been capable of speech, I would have begged the men to stop the boat, to tell me what each house was, now when I could comprehend their harmony. But the land was coming at us too swiftly. In another moment the bottom of the barge grated on sand and it slid up onto the shore.
For the first time, the young priestess smiled. She got to her feet and offered me her hand.
"Be welcome to Avalon."
"Look, it is Rian's daughter—" the whispers ran. I could hear them clearly as I came into the hall.
"It cannot be. She is too tall, and Rian died only ten years ago."
"She must take after her father's people—"
"That will not endear her to the Lady," came the reply, with a little laugh.
I swallowed. It was hard to pretend I did not hear, harder still to walk with the proud carriage of a daughter of a noble house as my nurse had taught me, when I wanted to gawk at the hall of the priestesses like a peasant passing for the first time beneath the great gate of Camulodunum.
I could not help gaining some impressions of my surroundings. The hall was circular, like the houses the British used to build before the Romans came, but this one was built of stone. The outer wall was only the height of a tall man, but a circle of stone pillars supported the sloping roof, carved with spirals and triple knots, chevrons and wound about with twisted bands of colour. The beams of the roof did not quite meet, and through the open circle in the centre came a flood of light.
The round gallery was in shadow, but the priestesses who stood there were radiant. When Suona piloted the barge through the mists, she had worn a tunic of deerskin. Here, I was surrounded by a sea of priestess-blue. Some of the women wore their hair braided down their back like Suona, but others had it pinned up or loose upon their shoulders. The sunlight glistened on their bare heads, fair and dark and silver and bronze.
They seemed to be of every age and all sizes, alike only in the blue crescent painted between their brows—that, and something indefinable in their eyes. Upon reflection, I decided it was serenity, and wished I had it, for my tummy was doing flip-flops with anxiety.
Ignore them, I told myself sternly. You will be living with these people for the rest of your life. You will look at this hall so many times you will no longer see it. There is no need to stare now, or to be afraid.
Especially now, my thought continued as the women before me moved aside and I saw the High Priestess awaiting me. But the uncertain feeling returned as I felt the faerie dog stir in the bosom of my gown. I knew now that I should have left the puppy in the House of Maidens, but Eldri had been asleep, and it had seemed to me then that if she woke in strange surroundings she might be frightened and run off. I had not thought about what might happen if the dog woke during my formal welcome to Avalon.
I crossed my arms, pressing the warm furry body against my chest in an attempt at reassurance. Eldri was a magic dog—perhaps she could hear my silent plea to be still.
The murmur of women's voices faded to silence as the High Priestess lifted her hand. The women were arranging themselves in a circle, with the senior priestesses closest to their Lady, and the maidens, stifling their giggles, at the end. I thought there were five of them, but dared not look at them long enough to be sure.
All eyes were upon me. I forced myself to continue moving forwards.
Now I could see the Lady clearly. Ganeda was at this time just past her middle years, her body thickened by childbearing. Her hair, which had once been red, was dusted with grey like a dying coal. I came to a halt before her, wondering what kind of bow would be appropriate for the Lady of Avalon. My nurse had taught me the proper obeisance for ranks all the way up to Empress, unlikely though it seemed that any Caesar would ever come so far as Britannia again.
"I cannot go wrong if I give her the salute due an Imperial lady, I thought then. For truly, she is Empress in her own sphere.
As I straightened, I caught the old woman's eye, and it seemed to me that for a moment Ganeda's scowl was lightened by a gleam of amusement, but perhaps I had imagined it, for in the next moment the High Priestess stood stone-faced once more.
"So—" Ganeda spoke at last. "You have come to Avalon. Why?" The question was spat suddenly, like a spear in the dark.
I stared back at her, suddenly bereft of words.
"You have frightened the poor child," said one of the other priestesses, a motherly-looking woman with fair hair just beginning to fade to grey.
"It was a simple question, Cigfolla," said the High Priestess tartly, "that I am required to put to all who seek the sisterhood of Avalon."
"She means," said Cigfolla, "to ask if you have come here of your own will, and not by any man's coercion. Do you seek the training of a priestess, or only a time of teaching before you return to the world?" She smiled encouragingly.
I frowned, recognizing this as a legitimate question.
"It was by my father's will that I came here at this time, because of the Saxon raids," I said slowly, and saw something like satisfaction flicker in Ganeda's eyes. "But it has always been my destiny to return to Avalon," I continued.
If there had been any doubt, that journey through the mists would have dispelled it. This was the magic at the heart of things that I had always known must be there. At that moment, I had recognized my heritage.
"To walk the path of a priestess is my truest desire…"
Ganeda sighed. "Beware what you wish for, lest you find it has indeed come to pass… Still, you have said the words, and in the end it is the Goddess who will decide whether to accept you, not I. So I bid you welcome here."
There was a murmur of comment from the other priestesses at this grudging acceptance. I blinked back tears, understanding that my aunt did not want me here, and no doubt hoped that I would fail.
"But I will not faill I promised myself. I will study harder than any and become a great priestess—so famous they will remember my name for a thousand years!
Ganeda sighed. "Come."
With my heart thumping so hard I feared it would wake Eldri, I started towards her. Ganeda opened her arms. She is scarcely bigger than me! I thought in surprise as I moved into the older woman's reluctant embrace. The High Priestess had seemed so tall and stately before.
Then Ganeda gripped my shoulders and drew me hard against her breast. Eldri, crushed between us, woke with a sudden squirm and a yip of surprise. The priestess released me as if I had been a hot coal, and I felt the betraying colour flood into my face as the little dog poked her head up through the loose neck of my gown.
Someone stifled a giggle, but my own impulse to laugh died at Ganeda's frown.
"What is this? Do you think to mock us here?" There was an undertone in the voice of the priestess like distant thunder.
"She is a faerie dog!" I exclaimed, my eyes filling with tears. "The Lake people gave her to me!"
"A rare and wonderful creature," Cigfolla put in before Ganeda could speak again. "Such gifts are not bestowed lightly."
From the other priestesses came a murmur of agreement. For a moment longer that mental thunder echoed in the air, then, as it became clear that most of the priestesses were viewing me with sympathy, Ganeda clamped down on her anger and managed a tight smile.
"A fine gift indeed," she said thinly, "but the Hall of the Priestesses is not the place for her."
"I am sorry, my lady," I stammered, "I did not know where—"
"It makes no difference," Ganeda cut me off. "The community is waiting. Go, greet the rest of your sisters now."
With the puppy still peering out of my tunica, I went gratefully into Cigfolla's arms, breathing in the lavender that scented her gown. The woman who stood next to her had the look of a paler copy of Ganeda. In her arms she held a little daughter whose hair blazed like a fire.
"I have seen your face in vision, little one, and I am glad to make you welcome! I am your cousin Sian, and this is Dierna," she said softly. The little girl grinned toothily, as fair and fat a child as one might hope to find. Next to that flaming hair, her mother seemed even more pallid, as if she had given all her strength to her offspring. Or perhaps, I thought, it was growing up in the shadow of Ganeda that had sapped the strength from her.
"Hello, Dierna." I squeezed the plump hand.
"I'm two!" proclaimed the little girl.
"You certainly are!" I answered after a moment's confusion. Apparently that was the right answer, for Sian also smiled.
"You are very welcome to Avalon," she said then, bending to kiss me on the brow.
At least one member of my mother's family was glad to see me, I thought as I turned to the next woman in the line.
As I moved around the circle, some of the women had a pat for the puppy as well, and others a word of praise for my dead mother. The girls who were currently being trained on the holy isle received me with delighted awe, as if I had intended to play a trick on the High Priestess all along. Roud and Gwenna had the ruddy-fair colouring of the royal Celts, and Heron, the dark, narrow build of the people of the Lake. Aelia was almost as tall as I, though her hair was a lighter brown. Tuli, who surveyed them from the eminence of her approaching initiation, and her younger sister Wren, had fair hair, cut short like that of the others, and grey eyes. This was not the way that I had intended to impress them, but for good or ill, the little dog seemed to be a powerful talisman.
And then the formality of greeting was over, and the solemn row became a crowd of chattering women. But as the girls swept me away to the safety of the House of Maidens, I saw Ganeda watching me and realized that if my aunt had disliked me before, she would hate me now. I had grown up in a prince's court, and I knew that no ruler can afford to be mocked in her own hall.
AD 262-263
"But where do people go when they visit Faerie? Does the spirit journey only, as in a dream, or does the body really move between the worlds?"
I was lying on my belly with the sunlight soaking into my back, and Wren's words seemed indeed to come from another world. A part of my mind was aware that I lay on the earth of the holy isle with the other maidens, listening to Suona's teaching, but my essence was floating in some strange in-between state from which it would be very easy to travel entirely away.
"You are here, are you not?" asked Suona tartly.
"Not all here—" whispered Aelia, giggling. As usual, she had claimed a place next to me.
"You passed through the mists to come to this place, otherwise you would have ended on Inis Witrin," the priestess continued. "It is easier to journey in the spirit only, but indeed, the body may also be translated, by those who are trained in the ancient wisdom…"
I rolled over and sat up. It was an unusually warm day in the springtime, and Suona had brought her charges to sit in the apple orchard. Light fell in a shifting shimmer through the young leaves, dappling the undyed linen gowns of the girls with gold. Wren was thinking over the answer, head cocked to one side like the bird from whom she took her name.
She could always be depended on to state the obvious, and as the youngest of the girls being trained on Avalon, she came in for a good deal of teasing. I had seen how it was when a new member was introduced to a pack of hounds, and had expected that they would gang up on me.
But even though Ganeda showed me no favour, I was a relation of the Lady of Avalon. Or perhaps it was my size, for at thirteen, Aelia and I were as tall as many of the grown priestesses, or because Wren was such an easy target, but it was the younger girl who got picked on and I who did my best to protect her.
"The Christians have a tale of a prophet called Elijah who went up to heaven in a chariot of fire," I said brightly. As part of our education we had been taken to a service on the other isle. "Was he an adept as well?"
Suona looked a little sour, and the other girls laughed. They had become accustomed to thinking of the Christians of Inis Witrin as foolish, if generally kindly, old men who mumbled prayers and had forgotten the ancient wisdom. And yet, if what I had heard of the holy Joseph who was their founder was true, they also had known something of the Mysteries at one time.
"Perhaps—" Suona said unwillingly. "I suppose that the laws of the Spirit World are like the laws of the world of Nature, and do not operate much differently in other lands than they do here. But it is in Avalon that the old ways are practised and the truth remembered. To most men, this place is a dream and a rumour of magic. You are very fortunate to be dwelling here!"
The giggles subsided and the girls, recognizing that their teacher's patience was thinning, arranged their skirts decorously around them and sat up straight once more.
"I remember how it felt to go through the mists the first time," said I, "for I came here only three years ago. It was as if my mind was being turned inside out, and then the world changed."
Only three years—and yet now it was the world outside that seemed a dream. Even my grief for my father, who had been slain fighting the Saxon raiders, had eased. My hostile great-aunt was now my closest relation, but the other priestesses were kind to me, and among the maidens, Aelia was my fast friend.
Suona smiled a little. "I suppose that is as good a description as any. But that is not the only way to move from world to world. To travel from the life of the tribes to Londinium is to the spirit as great a journey, and some of those who make it fell ill and pine like trees transplanted to unfriendly soil because their minds cannot bear the change."
I nodded. I had been to Londinium several times during my childhood, and though Prince Julius Coelius might have been Roman in name and taught his children to speak Latin as well as their mother tongue, I could still remember the shock as we passed through the gate of the city and the noise of the capital rose around us, like jumping into the sea.
"But do our bodies go to Faerie?" said Wren, who could stick to a topic like a terrier when her interest was aroused.
Seeing Suona's frown, I stepped in once more. "We know that our solid bodies are sitting here in the orchard below the Tor, but except that the weather is sometimes a little different, Avalon is not so unlike the outside world."
"There are other differences," said the priestess, "which you will learn about when you are more advanced in your training. Certain kinds of magic work more easily here, because we are at a crossing of the lines of power, and because of the structure of the "For… But for the most part what you say is true."
"But Faerie is not the same," put in Tuli. "Time there runs slower, and its folk are magic."
"That is so, and yet even there, a mortal who is willing to pay the price may dwell."
"What is the price?" asked I.
"To lose the gradual sweet changes of the seasons, and all the gathered wisdom of mortality."
"Is that so bad a thing?" asked Roud, her red hair glinting as her braid swung forwards. "If you go when you are young?"
"Would you like to have stayed forever nine years old?" Suona asked.
"When I was nine, I was a baby!" Roud said from the eminence of her fourteen years.
"Each age has its own delights and contentments," the priestess went on, "that you will miss if you go where time has no meaning, beyond the circles of the world."
"Of course I want to grow up," muttered Roud. "But who would want to be old?"
Everyone, thought I, if Suona was to be believed. It was hard, though, to credit it, when young eyes could gaze through the trees to the dazzle of sun on water, and young ears listen to the song of the lark as she lifted skyward, and a young body twitched with impatience to run with Eldri through the long grass, to dance, to be free.
"And that is why, for the most part, we make our journeys in the spirit only," Suona added. "And at the moment, yours are bouncing about like lambs in a meadow. If you will be so kind as to focus your minds for a few moments, we have work to do."
Alas, thought I, it was nothing so exciting as a journey to Faerie. The folk of Avalon, both priestesses and priests, did not spend all their time in ritual. Wool and flax must be spun, the gardens tended, buildings repaired. But at least some of the work involved the heart as well as the hands. Now, when the fruit was setting, was the time for working with the spirits of the trees.
"Sit still, then, and rest upon the earth—" As the priestess spoke, the girls settled obediently into the position for meditation, legs crossed like the Horned One when he blesses the animals.
I closed my eyes, my breathing slipping automatically into the slow, regular, rhythm of trance.
"See with your mind this orchard—the rough and smooth of the bark on the apple trees, the glitter of leaves as the wind moves them. And now, begin to see with other senses. Reach out and touch the spirit of the tree before you. Sense power radiating around it in a golden glow."
As the gentle voice continued, I found myself shifting into that passive state in which images formed almost as soon as I heard the words. Whether I was feeling or imagining I could not tell, but I knew I was touching the spirit of the tree.
"Let your own power flow outwards—thank the tree for the fruit it has given, and offer some of your energy to help it make more…'
I let out my breath with a sigh, feeling myself sinking deeper and deeper, even as the tree became a brighter glow. And soon I realized that what I was seeing was not a bright tree-shape, but the shining form of a woman, who held out her arms and smiled. For a moment I seemed to see another country beyond me, shimmering with a beauty beyond even that of Avalon. A responding joy pulsed through me in a wave that carried all awareness away.
When I came to myself, I was lying on my back in the grass. Suona was bending over me. Beyond the priestess I could see Aelia, watching with a pale face and worried eyes.
"You were to use some of your energy—" said Suona tartly, straightening. Beads of perspiration glistened on her brow, and I wondered just how hard it had been to bring my spirit back again. "A priestess must learn not only to give, but to control, her power!"
"I am sorry," I whispered. I felt not so much weak as transparent, or perhaps it was the substance of the world that had grown thinner, for I could still see a glow through the trunk of the apple tree.
Spring turned to summer, but Sian, the Lady's daughter, continued to ail. Often, during those long days, the care of her two daughters fell to me. I had become quite a story-teller in my quest to amuse them. Sometimes, one of the boys the Druids were training, like little Haggaia, would join us.
"In the old and olden days, before the Romans came, there was a king in the westlands whose people complained because his queen had given him no son," said I.
"Did she have a daughter?" asked Dierna, her bright head flaming in the afternoon light that slanted through the trees around the holy well. It was cool here at the end of summer, listening to the endless sweet song of the cold waters that welled from the sacred spring.
Her little sister Becca was asleep on a pile of blankets nearby with Eldri curled up beside her. The little dog had grown too big for me to carry in the front of my gown, but she was still no larger than a cat. Except for her black nose, she looked like a bundle of white fleece, sleeping there. Haggaia lay on his belly, half-supported on his elbows, his brown hair glinting in the sun.
"Not that I ever heard," I replied.
"That is why they complained, then," said Dierna decidedly. "It would have been all right if she had had a girl."
This afternoon, Sian was resting. She had never really recovered her strength after Becca's birth last winter, and none of Cigfolla's herbal remedies seemed to help her. I knew that the elder priestesses were worried, though they did not speak of it, from the gratitude with which they accepted my offers to take care of the two girls. But in truth I did not mind, for Becca was as bright and bouncy as a puppy, and Dierna like the little sister that I had always longed for.
"Do you want to hear what happened or not?" I asked her, amused in spite of myself.
Haggaia pulled a face, but it was no wonder that Dierna thought a daughter more important, living on the holy isle where the Druids were subject to the will of the Lady of Avalon. If there had been a Merlin, the authority might have divided more evenly, but the last had died shortly after I was born, and no one had inherited his powers.
"So what happened?" demanded the boy.
"The king loved his lady, and he told his counsellors to give them another year to have a child. And sure enough, before the year was over they had a little daughter—"
This was not the way the singer in my father's hall had told the story, but he was no Druid to memorize the old lore exactly, and had often said that a bard must adapt his material to the taste of his audience. Encouraged by Dierna's grin, I forged ahead.
"The queen had women to watch by her, but they fell asleep, and while they were all sleeping, the little princess disappeared! When the women woke up, they were terrified that the king would be angry. Now that same night the queen's hound-bitch had given birth to puppies, so the women took two of the puppies and killed them and smeared blood on the queen's mouth and set the bones beside her, and when the king came, they swore that the lady had eaten her own child!"
Now, not only were the children frowning, but Eldri had roused from her sleep and was staring at me with reproachful brown eyes, as if she understood every word.
"Do I have to please you, too?" I muttered, trying to think how I could save the story. "Don't cry, Dierna—it will come out all right, I promise you!"
"Did the queen die?" whispered Haggaia.
"Indeed she did not, for the king loved her and did not believe the accusations, though he could not prove them wrong. But they did punish her."
"They would have known the bones belonged to puppies, if she had been on Avalon," Dierna declared. "But I am sorry for the mother dog who lost her children," she added in apology to Eldri.
"She was not the only one!" said I, forging ahead quickly without worrying about the traditional form of the tale. "In the same country there was a farmer whose hound-bitch gave birth to one puppy every year that disappeared, just like the queen's child. So the farmer stayed up one night to see what was happening—" I paused dramatically.
"Was there a monster?" asked Dierna, her eyes round.
"There was indeed, and the farmer swung his axe and cut off the claw with which it had the puppy clutched tight, and then he started to chase the beast he could hear rushing away. He could not catch it, but when he came back to the barn what do you suppose he found?"
"The rest of the puppies?" Haggaia exclaimed.
Eldri yipped approval, and I made yet another change to the story. "Not only were the puppies there, but beside them was a lovely little girl wrapped in an embroidered cloth, and she looked just like the queen!"
"And they took her back to her mother then, didn't they, and they were all happy—" Dierna was bouncing with pleasure as she provided her own ending to the tale. "And the puppies too, and they all grew up together, just like you and Eldri!"
I nodded, laughing, as the little dog bounded to Dierna and leapt up against her, licking her face enthusiastically. The little girl fell backwards and child and dog rolled over and over across the grass. At the noise, Becca began to stir, and I went to pick her up.
"Is this how you fulfil your trust?"
I looked up in alarm, blinking at the dark shape that stood between me and the sun. I scrambled to my feet, holding the baby tightly, and realized it was Ganeda, her worn features set in a frown. But that was nothing new. The High Priestess usually frowned when she looked at her sister's child.
"Look at them—it is disgraceful! Dierna! Let go of that dirty beast now!"
I blinked at that, for Blossom's curly coat shone like washed fleece in the sun. The dog stopped first, and then the little girl, the laughter fading from her face as she looked up at her grandmother.
"Get up! You are the heir of Avalon! And you, boy—go back to the Men's Side. You have no business here!"
I lifted one eyebrow. Dierna came of the priestly line, to be sure, but so did I. And high priestesses, like Roman emperors, were chosen by their followers on the basis of merit, not bloodlines. She wants to rule Avalon even after she herself passes on, I thought then, and if her daughter dies she will lay the burden on this child…
"Yes, grandmama," said Dierna, getting to her feet and brushing the leaves from her gown. Haggaia was already edging away, hoping to make his escape before worse befell.
For a moment Eldri glared at the High Priestess, then she trotted across the grass and very deliberately urinated below a tree. I bit my lip to keep from laughing as Ganeda turned back to her.
"It is time for Sian to nurse the baby. I will take the children now."
With difficulty, I detached Becca's tiny fingers from the neck of my gown and handed her to the old woman. Ganeda strode up the hill, and Dierna, after casting one regretful look over her shoulder, followed her. As I watched them go, a cold nose poked my leg. I picked up the little dog and cuddled her.
"I am sorry you lost your playmate," I said softly, but in truth, it was Dierna that I pitied most, and for the child there was nothing that I could do.
From time to time some pilgrim to Avalon would bring news of the world beyond the mists. The imperium Galliarum established by Postumus in the year I had come to Avalon now included Hispania as well as Gallia and Britannia, and there did not seem to be much that the Emperor Gallienus, plagued by a series of pretenders in the other sectors of his empire, could do to reassert his authority. It was Postumus, not Rome, who had appointed Octavius Sabinus to govern Lower Britannia. Rumour had it that he was rebuilding some of the fortresses that had fallen into disarray when the troops that manned them had been sent to bolster waning Roman strength on the continent, but there was not much urgency in the matter, for the North had been quiet for some while.
Indeed, though each year it seemed that Gallia suffered the incursion of some new breed of barbarian, Britannia lay lapped in a charmed peace, as if the mists had rolled outwards to separate it from the world. The harvests were good, and the northern tribes remained peacefully on their own side of the Wall. If the western regions of the Roman Empire were to be forever sundered from the remainder, in Britannia, at least, no one seemed disposed to mourn.
Of these events, only rumours came to Avalon. Here, the passing of time was marked by the great festivals that honoured the turning of the seasons, celebrated year after year in an eternal and unvarying symmetry. But each winter Ganeda seemed to grow more grey and bent, and the girls who slept in the House of Maidens blossomed more brightly with the approach of womanhood every spring.
One morning just after the equinox, I was awakened by a dull ache in my belly. When I got up and pulled off my sleeping robe, I discovered the bright stain of my first moonblood on the skirt of the nightgown.
My first response was a great relief and satisfaction, for Heron and Roud had already made their passage, though they were even younger than I. But they were small and sleek and rounded, while my growth had all gone into my long limbs. Cigfolla had told me not to fret, that the plump girls always matured first, and put on even more flesh in their middle years.
"When you pass thirty and still have a waistline you will be grateful for your lean build," the older woman had told me. "You will see."
But I was now the tallest girl in the House of Maidens, and if my breasts had not begun to grow, I would have wondered if I ought to have been living with the boys the Druids were training on the other side of the hill instead of with the priestesses. Even Aelia, who was very like me in build, had begun her courses a year ago.
I understood what must be done—Heron and the others had been only too eager to explain. I knew that I was blushing, but I managed to keep my voice matter-of-fact when I went to ask old Ciela for the absorbent moss and the lengths of linen that had been washed to downy softness that I would need to wrap it in.
I bore the congratulations of the other women as well as I could, wondering all the while how long Ganeda would make me wait for my ritual. The body's maturing was only an outwards marker. The inner transformation from child to maiden would be confirmed by my rite of passage.
They came for me at the still hour just past midnight, when only those who kept vigil for the Goddess should have been waking. I had been dreaming of running water. As the hood came down over my head it became a nightmare of drowning. For a few panicked moments I struggled against the hand that had clamped over my mouth, then returning awareness identified the scent of the lavender that the priestesses stored with their robes, and I understood what was happening.
Last year, it had been Aelia who had been missing from her bed when the horn call awakened us to salute the rising sun, and then, Heron. They had been returned, pale with fatigue and smug with secrets, for the celebration that evening, and neither by threats nor by urging could they be compelled to tell the uninitiated girls what had occurred.
But beyond reinforcing a sense of superiority that had seemed to me to be excessive already, whatever had happened to them seemed to have done them no harm. I forced my limbs to relax. I sensed the beginning of a growl from Eldri, who always slept in the curve of my arm, and pressed the little dog back into the bedclothes, stroking the silky fur until the tension left her small frame.
I wish you could go with me too, I thought, but I must do this alone… Then I sat up and allowed my invisible abductors to help me out of the bed, wrap a warm cloak around me, and lead me away.
Gravel crunched beneath my feet, and I knew they were taking the path beside the Lake. I smelled the dank scent of marsh and heard the wind whisper in the reedbeds, and wondered, for a moment, whether they meant to take me across the water to one of the other isles.
Several times my escort reversed direction, spinning me about until my head whirled and only a firm grip on my elbow kept me from falling. Instinctively I lifted a hand to the hood, and someone else prevented me from lifting it.
"Do not attempt to see," came a harsh whisper in my ear. "You have set your feet upon the path to a future you cannot know. You must walk this way without looking back to your childhood, trusting the wisdom of those who have gone before to show you the way. Do you understand?"
I nodded, accepting the ritual necessity, but I had always had an excellent sense of direction, and as my dizziness passed I could feel the power of the Tor to my right, like a pillar of fire.
Then we were climbing, and my skin pebbled as it was touched by chill, moist air. I heard the musical gurgling of water, and the little procession came to a halt as someone opened a gate. I was hearing the stream that overflowed from the Blood Spring at the foot of the Tor, I thought then. To know where I was made me feel a little less vulnerable. I tried to convince myself that I was trembling because of the cold.
Suddenly, through the coarse weave of the hood I glimpsed the red gleam of torches. The hood was plucked off, and I realized that I had been right, for we were standing before the gate to the enclosure around the well. But everything looked strange. Veiled women surrounded me, anonymous in the flickering light. The smallest of them held my arm. They took my cloak then, and the thin sleeping robe, leaving me naked before them, shivering in the chill air.
"Naked you came into the world," said the same harsh voice that had spoken before. "Naked you must make your passage into your new life."
The one who held me pulled me back. I guessed it was Heron, from her size. It must be the responsibility of the most recent initiate to guide the next one. The other women were forming into a line between me and the gate, legs spread wide.
"Through this passage you came into the world. Pass through the birthing tunnel and be reborn—"
"You must crawl between their legs to the gate," hissed Heron, pushing me down.
"Through this tunnel you are born into the circle of women. Through this passage you will enter a new world."
Biting my lip as the gravel dug into my kneecaps, I crawled forward. I felt the rough weave of woollen cloaks and the softness of linen gowns brush my back. As I passed between the priestesses' thighs, smooth skin slid past my own and I smelled the musk of their womanhood, dizzying as incense. It was a shock to emerge from the warmth of that tunnel of flesh into the cool air of the garden beyond.
The gate was open. My guide led me through it and the other women followed, spreading out to either side. The last one to enter closed the gate behind me. Torchlight glittered red on the still waters of the pool.
A tall form stepped forward, blocking my view of the others. The shape was that of Cigfolla, but she seemed taller, and her voice had the unearthly resonance of ritual.
"You have come into the temple of the Great Goddess. Know that She wears as many forms as womankind, and yet She is singular and supreme. She is eternal and unchanging, and yet she shows Herself to us in a different guise with each season. She is Maiden, forever untouched and pure. She is Mother, the Source of All. And She is ancient Wisdom that endures beyond the grave. Eilan, daughter of Rian, are you willing to accept Her in all Her guises?"
I licked lips that were suddenly dry, but I was pleased to hear my answer coming steadily and clear.
"I am…"
The priestess raised her arms in invocation.
"Lady, we come here to welcome Eilan daughter of Rian into our circle, and to instruct her in the mysteries of womanhood. Holy One, hear us now! May our words express Thy will as our bodies show the form of Thy divinity, for we eat and drink and breathe and love in Thee…'
"Be it so—" came a murmur of assent from around the circle, and I felt myself begin to relax.
Heron draped the cloak around my shoulders again and pushed me forwards. Three chairs had been set on the other side of the well. The other priestesses had unveiled, but the three who were enthroned were still swathed in folds of gossamer linen, white, and black, and in the middle, red. Aelia was sitting across the circle; as she caught my eye she smiled.
"Daughter of the Goddess, you have left childhood behind," said Heron, with the careful intonation of one repeating newly-learned lines. "Learn now what the seasons of your life shall be."
I knelt before the priestess who wore the white veil. For a moment there was silence. Then the sheer fabric trembled as its wearer laughed. The sound came sweet and silvery as a trill of bells, and I shivered, understanding that something more than a human priestess was here.
"I am the flower that blooms on the bough," said the Maiden.
The voice was light, sweet with promise, as familiar to me as my own, even though I was certain I had never heard it before. To hear it was like listening to the song of my soul, and I knew that this was the Goddess indeed.
"I am the crescent that crowns the sky
I am the sunlight that glitters on the wave
and the breeze that bends the new grass.
No man has ever possessed Me,
and yet I am the end of all desire.
Huntress and Holy Wisdom am I,
Spirit of Inspiration, and Lady of Flowers.
Look into the water and you will see
My face mirrored there, for you belong to Me …"
I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the image of the Lake, half-veiled by a silver mist of rain. Then the clouds parted. Standing on the shore was a young man whose hair shone like the beams of the sun, and nearby, I saw myself, my hair grown long, so I knew that this was some years in the future. I was moving towards him, but as I reached out to touch his hand the scene changed. Now I was seeing the light of a bonfire upon a Beltane tree crowned with flowers. Men and maidens danced wildly around it, and among them I saw the same young man, his eyes alight with exaltation as a veiled figure I knew to be myself was led forwards by priestesses crowned with flowers. Then he was sweeping me into his arms.
Now we were within the sacred bower. He pulled off the maiden's veil and I saw my own face, alight with joy. I glimpsed the crescent moon through the new leaves, and then the scene dissolved in a shower of stars, and I was myself again, looking up at the Mystery hidden by the white veil.
"I hear you," I whispered in a shaking voice. "I will serve you."
"Will you swear now to give up your maidenhead only to the man whom I shall choose for you, in the holy rites of Avalon?"
I stared, wondering if this was a test, for surely the Lady had just shown me the man I was destined to love. But the voice had lost that unearthly sweetness, and I thought that perhaps the Goddess had departed again. Still, I had known that this oath was required of all who served as priestesses on Avalon.
"I swear," I said gladly, for even in that glimpse of vision my soul had begun to yearn for the young man I had seen.
"It is well," said the Maiden, "but there is yet Another whom you must hear—" I sat back, turning a little towards the second figure, whose crimson veil glowed with the torches' fire.
"I am the fruit that swells on the branches. I am the full moon that rules the sky…" This voice was all golden, powerful as the purr of some great cat, honey-sweet, and comforting as newly-baked bread.
"I am the sun in her splendour
and the warm wind that ripens the grain.
I give myself in my own times and seasons,
and bring forth abundance.
I am Mistress and Mother, I give birth and I devour.
I am the lover and the beloved,
and you will one day belong to Me…"
As I listened to this voice, I understood that this too was the Goddess, and bowed my head respectfully. And in that gesture of acceptance, vision came once more upon me.
I was on a Roman trading boat, wallowing along under full sail. Behind me lay the silver glitter of the sea, but the boat was moving into the mouth of a mighty river that had carved many branching channels through a flat coastal plain. Beside me stood the man who had courted me, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The scene changed: I was heavy with child, and then I was holding the babe at my breast, a large and healthy boy with a shock of fair hair. The shock of sensation as the infant bit down on my nipple sent me back into my body again.
"I hear you," I whispered, "and when my season comes, I will serve you."
"You will indeed," the Lady replied, "but there is yet Another whom you must hear—"
I shivered as the dark draperies that swathed the third figure stirred.
"I am the nut that clings to the leafless bough," came a whisper like the rubbing of bare branches in the winter wind.
"I am the waning moon whose sickle harvests the stars
I am the setting sun
and the cool wind that heralds the darkness.
I am ripe with years and with wisdom;
I see all the secrets beyond the Veil.
I am Hag and Harvest Queen, Witch and Wisewoman,
and you will one day belong to Me…"
That whisper was a wind that whirled my awareness outwards once more. I saw myself older, my garments rent and my cheeks wet with tears, watching a funeral fire. For a moment the flames parted and I glimpsed the fair-haired man. At the pain of that recognition, the scene changed to a hall faced with marble and gold in which I stood, wearing a diadem and a purple robe.
But before I could wonder what I was doing there, it shifted once more, and I saw myself draped in black, walking the sandy shore beside the sea. I turned from the merciless glitter of sun on water to a landscape of bare rock with the severe, stripped beauty of a skull. It filled me with fear, and yet I knew it was there that I must go.
And at that, a longing awakened within me for the cool mists and green hills of my own country, and I came to myself once more, sitting upon the grass beside the sacred well.
"You are the Goddess—" I breathed, "and I will serve You. Only let me end my life here, in Avalon…"
"Do you ask for compassion?" asked the black-veiled figure. "I have none—only necessity. You cannot escape me, for I am your destiny."
I sat back, shivering, but mercifully, the Wisewoman did not speak again.
I had not been aware of the passage of time, but overhead the sky was growing pale, and I could feel in the air the moist chill that heralds the dawn.
"You have faced the Goddess," said Cigfolla, "and She has accepted your vows. Purified, you shall sit your vigil, and when the day is done, return to the community to be honoured in a celebration. Your new life begins with the rising of the sun."
Heron helped me to get up, and all the women moved towards the pool below the sacred spring. As the sky lightened, they surrounded it in a protective circle. Heron pulled off my cloak, and as I stood shivering, began to pull off her own robe as well. The other maidens and the younger priestesses were doing the same, and I felt a moment's satisfaction to see that I was not the only one whose skin was pebbling in bumps like a plucked fowl.
I realized that for some time now birds had been singing, their triumphant chorus calling up the sun from the apple trees. Mist still lay along the ground and hung in the branches, but overhead it was thinning, and the failing torches burned pale in the brightening air. Moment by moment the world was becoming more visible, as if it were only now coming into manifestation. Slowly, the smooth slope of the Tor emerged from mists suffused with rosy light.
It grew brighter. Heron took my arm and drew me down into the pool. The other young women followed, sea-shells in their hands. I gasped as the cold water touched my skin, and again as the fiery orb of the sun lifted suddenly above the horizon, refracting from each drop of mist and every ripple in the water in a blaze of rosy light. I lifted my arms in adoration, and saw my own pale flesh grow radiant.
Heron dipped up water and poured it over me, but the fire within me welcomed its icy flame.
"By the water that is the Lady's blood may you be cleansed," came the murmur of voices as the other maidens did the same. "Now let the water bear away all soil and stains. Let all that hid your true self be dissolved away. Be still, and let the water caress your body, as from the water that is the Womb of the Goddess you are reborn."
I sank down into the water, and the locks of my unbound hair floated upon the surface, shining like the rays of the sun. A part of my mind knew that the water was cold, but my entire body was tingling as if I bathed in light; I could feel each particle of my flesh being transformed.
For a timeless moment I floated in the water. Then soft hands were drawing me upwards, and I emerged into the full light of day.
"Now arise, Eilan, clean and shining, revealed in all your beauty. Arise and take your place among us, Maiden of Avalon!"
AD 265
It was the end of summer and I was trimming the hazel hedge when something stung my calf. I jumped and turned, striking out instinctively with the branch I had just cut.
"Ah ha!" Dierna danced backwards, waving the twigs she had snatched from the pile on the path. "Got you!"
At eight, Dierna's red head blazed like a torch. Two-year-old Becca toddled behind her. I reached out to steady the little one as Dierna dashed away once more, then ran after her, swishing my own branch menacingly, though I suppose I rather spoiled the effect by laughing.
"Are you watching Becca today?" I asked when all three of us had collapsed, breathless, on the grass.
"I suppose so," answered the little girl. "She follows me everywhere—"
I nodded. I had heard the older priestesses talking, and knew that Sian still tired easily. It was inevitable that Dierna should end up with much of the responsibility for her little sister.
Sian did not seem to be in pain, but her strength waned with each month, and even when the moon grew full once more, it did not return. Ganeda said nothing, but there were new lines in her face. I found myself pitying the older woman, but I knew I was the last person from whom my aunt would accept sympathy.
Long before I felt ready to get up again, Dierna was bouncing to her feet to run after Becca, whose sturdy legs were already carrying her down the path.
"There are ducklings in the reed-beds!" exclaimed Dierna. "Come with us and see!"
"I wish I could," I told her, "but I have promised to finish this hedge before dinner."
"You have to work all the time!" complained Dierna. She turned, saw Becca disappearing around a corner, and dashed after her.
For a moment I stood watching as the red head caught up with the brown and the two continued down the path towards the Lake, sparkling in the afternoon sun. Then I sighed and turned back to my work once more.
When I was a little child, I had envied my older half-brothers their training as warriors. In those days, to whack away with a broken branch at some laughing guardsman had been my favourite game. They had told me tales of Boudicca, whose armies once made the Romans fear, and called me their warrior princess. But my brothers had smiled with male superiority and assured me that the disciplines they were undergoing were far too difficult for a mere girl.
Sometimes, when I remembered those days, I would wonder whether my brothers could have endured the education I was receiving now. In the three years since the ceremony that welcomed me to womanhood the training of a priestess had ruled my days. True, I still shared some work and classes with the younger girls and the maidens who had been sent to Avalon to learn something of the old ways before going home to be married. But now I also had other training, and additional duties.
The girls who were meant to be priestesses sat with the youths being trained by the Druids to memorize endless lists of names and master the elaborate symbols and correspondences by which meaning could be enriched, or disguised. We ran races around the holy isle, for it was held that a vigorous body was necessary to support a strong mind. We were trained in correct use of the voice, and practised as a choir for the ceremonies. And with the initiated priestesses, we maidens took our turns to tend the flame on the altar that was the hearth of Avalon.
To keep watch in the temple and feed the little fire was not physically demanding. But although meditation was encouraged during the vigil, sleep was forbidden. I loved to sit alone in the round thatched hut on the Maidens' Isle, watching the leaping flame, but now, in the lazy warmth of afternoon, my need for sleep was beginning to catch up with me. I found myself swaying, and stared stupidly at the hazel twig in my hand.
Better stop before I cut off one of my fingers! I thought, blinking, and bent to set the pruning knife on the ground. The hedge was an old one, and before me, twisted branches formed a natural backrest. It felt natural to curl into it, and in another moment my eyes had closed.
My lips moved soundlessly. Shelter me for a little while, hazel sister, and I will finish trimming your hair…
I never knew whether it was some sound from below or a whisper from the hazel hedge itself that woke me. For a moment, still dazed with sleep, I could not think why my heart was thudding with alarm.
The shadows had lengthened just a little, and the afternoon was warm and still. I glimpsed Dierna's red head near the reedbeds farther along the shore—the girls must be watching the ducklings. Then a closer movement caught my eye. Becca was crawling along the trunk of the old oak tree that had fallen half into the water during the last storm.
I leapt to my feet. "Becca! Stop!"
For a moment I thought the little girl had heard me, but Becca's pause was only to grab at something in the Lake. Then she was on her way again.
"Becca, stop! Hold on!" I cried as I galloped down the hill. Dierna was standing up now, but the shoreline curved inward here and she was too far away. I saved the rest of my breath for running as I saw the toddler stand up, reach towards the water with a glad cry, and fall in.
I felt a flicker of wonder that time, which a few moments before had seemed to drag so endlessly, should now be passing in such a swift whirl. Becca had disappeared beneath the surface. Grass and shrubs flashed past, and then I was thrashing through the shallows, reaching out as the little girl came up, flailing, and snatching her into my arms.
Becca gave one hiccup, coughed up water, and then began to scream.
In moments, it seemed, we were surrounded by priestesses. I relinquished the child to the little dark Lake-woman who had been brought to Avalon to be her nurse and sighed with relief as the sound of Becca's cries faded away. But in the next moment I realized that someone was still yelling.
Dierna was crouched on the ground, whimpering as Ganeda berated her with a violence all the more shocking because her body was as rigid as stone. Only her hair, escaping from its coiled braids, jerked and trembled. I stared, half-expecting it to burst into flame.
"Do you understand me? Your sister could have drowned! And with your poor mother lying ill—do you want to kill her too, by destroying her child?"
She is worried about Sian, I told myself, but even the other priestesses looked shocked at the venom in Ganeda's tone.
Dierna shook her head, grinding her cheek into the earth in an agony of negation. Beneath the freckles her face was as white as bone.
Just as fear had moved me to save Becca, compassion compelled me into action now. A swift step brought me to Dierna's side. I bent, cradling the girl in my arms as if the assault from which I strove to protect her was physical.
"She meant no harm! She was playing—it was too much responsibility for so young a child!" I looked up at the High Priestess, beginning to tremble myself as that furious gaze fixed on me instead. I used to wonder if my dead mother had resembled her sister—I hoped that Rian had never looked the way Ganeda did now.
"She must learn discipline! She is of the sacred line of Avalon!" Ganeda exclaimed.
So am I, Aunt—so am I! I thought, but my own mouth was going dry with fear. Once I hoped that you would love me, but I don't think you even know how!
"Get away from her, before I forget to be grateful to you for saving the little one. You cannot stand between Dierna and her punishment!"
Dierna gasped and clutched at my waist. I tightened my own grip, staring up at the older woman defiantly.
"She is only eight years old! If you frighten her to death how can she understand?"
"And you are sixteen!" hissed Ganeda. "Do you think that gives you the wisdom of the Lady of Avalon? You should have stayed with your father in the Roman lands!"
I shook my head. I belonged here! But Ganeda chose to take it as submission.
"Gwenlis, take the child away!"
One of the younger priestesses stepped forwards, eyeing the High Priestess uncertainly. For a moment I resisted, then it occurred to me that the sooner Dierna was out of earshot of her grandmother's wrath, the better it would be. I gave the girl a quick hug, and thrust her into Gwenlis's arms.
"And lock her into the storage shed!" Ganeda went on.
"No!" I exclaimed, getting to my feet again. "She will be afraid!"
"It is you who should be afraid! Do not flout my will lest I lock you up as well!"
I smiled, for I had already been through more taxing ordeals in my training.
Ganeda took a furious step towards me. "Don't think I haven't noticed how you have been spoiling the child, interfering with my discipline, plotting to steal her affection away from me!"
"I hardly need to do that! You will earn her hatred yourself if you treat her this way!"
"You will have nothing to do with Dierna in the future, do you understand me? Or with Becca either!" Ganeda's anger had turned suddenly cold, and for the first time I felt fear. "Hear me all of you, and bear witness—" the High Priestess turned to fix the others with that icy gaze. "This is the will of the Lady of Avalon!"
Even before Ganeda finished speaking, I had decided to defy her. But a stern order sent me back up the hill to finish trimming the hedge, and it was not until the still hour just after dusk had fallen, when the folk of Avalon gathered for their evening meal, that I was able to open the door to the storage shed unobserved.
Swiftly I slipped inside and took the shivering child in my arms.
"Eilan?" The little girl clutched at me, sniffling. "It's cold here, and dark, and I think there are rats…"
"Well, then, you must talk to the Rat Spirit and ask her to keep them away," I said bracingly.
Dierna shuddered and shook her head.
"Don't you know how? We will do it together, then, and promise her some food for her clan—"
"Nobody has brought me any food," whispered the girl. "I'm hungry."
I was glad that the darkness hid my frown. "Are you? Well, perhaps I can bring you some of my dinner, and an offering for the Rat Spirit too. We will put it outside, and ask her to take her people out there…"
With a sigh of relief I felt the child begin to relax in my arms, and started the familiar litany of counted breathing and relaxation that would put us in touch with the Otherworld.
I had forgotten that after dinner came the story-telling. The bread and cheese made an awkward lump in the corner of my shawl, but even when I went out to the privies there had been too many people around for me to get away. Certainly I would be missed if I tried to leave now, and my absence would attract just the sort of notice I wished to avoid.
The long hall was lit by torches, and a fire blazed on the hearth, for even in early autumn the nights were chill. But I could not help imagining how Dierna must be feeling, all alone in the cold dark.
On the first day of the week the stories told in the hall of Avalon were about the gods. By now, I had heard most of them, but as I forced my attention back to the Druid who was speaking, I realized that I had not encountered this one before.
"Our most ancient wisdom teaches that 'All the gods are one God, and all the goddesses one Goddess, and there is one Initiator.' But what does that mean? The Romans say that all the gods are the same, and it is only that different peoples call them by different names. Thus they say that Cocidius and Belatucadros are the same as their Mars, and call Brigantia and Sulis by the name of their goddess Minerva.
"It is true that these deities care for many of the same things. But we teach that they are like pieces of Roman glass set one behind the other. In that place where all gods are One, all colours are contained in the pure light of heaven. But when that white light passes through one piece of glass it shows one colour, and a second where it strikes another, and only where the glass overlaps do we see a third tone that partakes of both of them.
"It is the same in this world, where the gods show a multitude of faces to humankind. To the untutored eye those colours may all seem much the same, but vision is often a matter of what one has learned how to see…"
I blinked, wondering what else might be explained by this philosophy. I had had to learn how to recognize the aura that surrounded each living thing, and to read the signs of coming weather in the clouds. I was not as good yet at reading faces, although my aunt's scowl needed little interpretation. Surreptitiously I made sure the food in my shawl had not slipped out, wishing I could teach Dierna how to see through the darkness. Still, tonight the moon was almost full, and the woven wicker walls of the storeshed should let in some light.
"And there are some gods for whom the Romans have no analogue at all. They say that it is Mercurius of the crossroads who guides the traveller. But we have a goddess who watches over the roads of the world, and it is our belief that she was here even before the Britons came into this land. We call her Elen of the Ways."
I sat up, for that was very close to the name they called me here—Eilan…
"In body, she is tall and strong," the bard-priest continued, "and it is said that she loves good hounds, and the elder tree. All roads that men travel are under her protection, both the paths that cross the land and the ways of the sea. Traders pray to her for protection, and where she passes the crops grow tall.
"Perhaps it was she who first showed our ancestors the way across the sea to this island, and certainly she is the one who teaches us how to safely cross the marshes that surround Avalon, for above all she loves those places where the waters mingle with the land. We call upon her as well when we seek to go between the worlds, for she is also Mistress of the Hidden Ways…"
I remembered how reality had shifted around me when we passed through the mists to Avalon. Surely that was one of the roads that Elen ruled. Dizzied by memory, I could almost understand how it had been done. Then the moment passed, and I realized that the Druid had finished tuning his little lap harp and was about to sing.
"Oh Lady of the moonpath bright,
and sea-lanes laid by sun's fair rays,
the dragon-paths from height to height,
and all the holy hidden ways,
Oh Lady Elen of the Ways…"
I blinked as the flame of the torch before me separated suddenly and rayed out in spokes of light. For a moment I was simultaneously aware of their infinite potentiality and the eternal balance of their radiant centre, and understood that there was a place where all the roads were One. But the bard was still singing—
"From heath and hill to marsh and fen
Thy dogs shall guide us all our days;
Through crooked paths laid down by men
Sweet Lady show us all the ways,
Oh Lady Elen of the Ways…"
I thought of Eldri, and smiled at the image of the fluffy white dog trying to tug some poor confused soul up a mountain. But I knew how many times the little dog's unquestioning devotion had steadied me when Lady Ganeda swore I would never be worthy of becoming a priestess of Avalon. Could this new goddess show me the way to my destiny?
"When vision fades and courage fails
May thy light lead us from the maze;
When neither strength nor sense avails,
Let thy love teach the heart new ways,
Oh Lady Elen of the Ways…"
The harp-notes died away in a sweet ripple of sound. People began to stir from the trance into which the music, or the good dinner, had sent them. Now, in the confusion as the group broke up to prepare for bed, was the time to take Dierna her food.
Carefully I circled around behind the privies, pulling the other end of my shawl up to hide my pale face from the moonlight. The moon was not yet high, and the storage shed stood in shadow. I let the shawl drop with a sigh of relief, but as I touched the door my belly tensed once more, for it swung freely beneath my hand.
Surely, I thought desperately, I had secured the latch when I crept away before! I slipped inside, calling softly, but beyond a faint scratching from behind the baskets of nuts, there was no sound, and no sign of Dierna apart from my sash. Dierna was right, one part of my mind informed me. There are rats in here…
The other part was speculating frantically. Perhaps Ganeda had taken pity on the child and released her, or one of the other priestesses might have stepped in. But I knew that the High Priestess never modified her judgments, and none of the others had the courage to gainsay her. When I am grown, I thought grimly, "I will…
This time I took care to latch the door behind me. Then, forcing myself not to run, I sought the snug little house where the smaller children slept, asking, as an excuse, whether they were playing with Eldri there. But neither the dog nor Dierna were to be seen, and the children were unusually quiet, as if the thought of her punishment oppressed them all.
I bade them a hasty good night and returned to the House of Maidens. I should give the alarm now, but I trembled at the thought of the beating Dierna would receive for running away. Eldri jumped up, whining, as she sensed my anxiety, and I hushed her. Then I stilled. Eldri was no scent-hound, but she had proven her intelligence. Perhaps there was another way.
To wait, while the other girls put on their nightrobes and brushed out their hair, made a final visit to the privies and blew out the lamps and turned and coughed until sleep took them, was an agony. But after an eternity had passed, all was still. And still I waited, until I felt my own eyelids growing heavy. Then I slid out of bed, and hiding my shoes beneath my shawl, tip-toed towards the door.
"What is it?"
I stifled a gasp at Aelia's sleepy question.
"Eldri has to go out again," I whispered, pointing to the little dog, who unless told to stay put, was always half a step behind me. "Go back to sleep."
But instead, Aelia sat up, rubbing her eyes and staring. "Why are you carrying your shoes?" she whispered. "And your heavy shawl? Are you doing something that will get you into trouble?"
For a moment I could say nothing. Then it came to me that perhaps I had better let someone know where I had gone, and I could trust Aelia not to betray me.
"It's Dierna who's in trouble—" Swiftly I gave her a whispered account of what had occurred. "I think Eldri can find her," I finished. "At least I have to try!"
"Oh Eilan, be careful!" Aelia breathed when I had finished. "I will worry every moment until you return!" She reached out to me and I bent to give her a quick hug. Then she sighed and subsided back into her pillow, and with my heart thumping so hard I thought it should wake them all, I let myself out of the door.
By now the moon was fully risen, limning the hall and outbuildings in harsh black and white. I would have to be swift, for there was little cover. I darted from shadow to shadow, Eldri trotting behind me, until I reached the storeshed once more.
Breathing hard, I took up the sash and held it under Eldri's nose.
"This is Dierna's—Dierna—you know her! Find Dierna, Eldri, find her now!"
For a moment the dog sniffed at the cloth. Then she whined and turned towards the door. I held it open, then slipped out myself, easing it shut behind me as Eldri began to move purposefully across the yard.
The dog's certainty lifted my spirits. As we passed the last of the buildings, I let out a breath I had not known I was holding, and as I breathed in again, felt a hint of the same tingling tickle across my skin that I had noticed sometimes when the priestesses were working with power. I hesitated, peering around me. It was not yet time for the full-moon ritual, nor was it one of the great festivals. Perhaps the Druids were engaged in some working; I did not know their ceremonies. But surely something was going on, for the night was full of magic. With luck, no one would have time to realize I had gone.
Nose to the ground, Eldri moved around the base of the Tor. Dierna must be heading towards the higher ground to the east—at this season it was dry enough to cross into the pasturelands beyond. But though the sky above the Tor was clear, beyond it mist lay heavy on land and water alike, so that Avalon seemed to rise from a sea of cloud.
In a ground-fog it was easy to lose one's bearings, and even if Dierna avoided the Lake, there were bogs and hollows aplenty that could be more treacherous still. Had I not had the dog to guide me, I would never have dared this path in darkness, and even so, I watched my footing, for the dog could dance easily over ground that beneath my weight would give way.
Now the first wisps of mist were curling across the path. Was it even possible to pass beyond them, I wondered, without the spell? And if I did so, would I find myself forever banished to the outside world?
"Elen of the Ways," I whispered, "show me my path!" I took another step and a shift in the wind brought the mist billowing around me, catching the light so that I was surrounded by moonglow.
I called to the dog, for I could see nothing but nebulous light, and waited, shivering, until Eldri's pale shape appeared as if it had precipitated from the mist. I tied one end of Dierna's sash to the dog's collar, but in this strange state, in which air and water, light and dark were intermingled, as the druids said all elements had been joined at the beginning of the world, there was no sense of progress. There was only the tingling touch of power, that grew stronger as we went on.
The mist continued to brighten, and then suddenly thinned. I stopped short, staring. Ahead, a pale light that came neither from sun nor moon showed me trees whose leaves were edged with brightness, and meadows starred with flowers. Just where I stood the path branched into three. The left-hand path curved around and disappeared back into the darkness. The narrow path on the right twisted its way over a small hill, and it seemed to me that when I turned my head in that direction, I could hear the sweet ringing of a bell.
But the middle way was broad and bright and fair, and it was towards that path that Eldri was pulling me.
Fear was replaced by a great wonder. Before me rose a venerable oak tree. Gazing up at its mighty branches, I knew that I had passed beyond the borders of Avalon, or any land inhabited by men, for surely the Druids would have made an enclosure around such a tree as this and hung offerings upon its branches. I touched the trunk, so wide that three people together would scarcely be able to embrace it, and felt a thrumming in the wood, as if the life of the tree pulsed beneath my hand.
"My greetings to you, Father Oak. Will you extend your protection to me while I walk in this realm?" I whispered, bowing, and shivered as the leaves whispered in answer.
I took a careful breath, focusing my senses as I had been trained to do. In my first days on Avalon everything had seemed much more alive than it did in the outside world. Now that sense was intensified a hundredfold, and I understood that as the moon was to the sun, so was the magic of Avalon to this realm which was its source and its original.
The sash had come loose from Eldri's collar, but it no longer mattered. The little dog was a glimmering shape that danced ahead of me, and white flowerets starred the track where she had passed. Did I see the dog this way because we were in Faerie, I wondered, or was it only in Faerie that her true nature was revealed?
The path led to a copse of hazel, like those that I had been trimming—only this morning—when Becca almost drowned. With a pang I realized that I had nearly forgotten why I had come here. Time ran differently in Faerie, I had heard, and it was easy to lose one's memory as well as one's way.
But these hazels had never known the touch of iron. And yet, though untrimmed they might be, surely some mind had guided their luxuriance into this interlace of supple branches in which there was only one opening, through which Eldri had disappeared. For a moment I hesitated, but if I could not find Dierna, I might just as well lose myself in Faerie, for I would surely never dare to return to Avalon. Only the thought of Aelia, anxiously waiting, kept me going forwards.
As I passed through the opening, there came a sudden singing, as if the branches hid a chorus of birds, and yet I knew, and I had been trained to notice such things, that these were no birds I had ever heard on Avalon. I looked up in delight, hoping to see the secret singers. When I lowered my gaze, a strange woman was standing there.
I blinked, finding it curiously hard to focus, for in the lady's mantle were all the shifting pale golds of the leaves of the willow when autumn comes. Red berries were strung like a diadem upon, her dark hair and across her brow.
She looks like Heron, I thought in wonder, or like one of the little dark folk of the Lake village! But no woman of the Lake people had ever stood as if her surroundings had only been created to be her setting, stately as a priestess, noble as a queen. Eldri had run to her, and was leaping up against her skirts as she did to me when I had been away.
Stifling a pang of jealousy, for Eldri had never shown such affection to anyone else before, I sank down in the obeisance due to an empress.
"You bow to me, and that is well, but others will bow to you one day."
"When I become High Priestess?"
"When you fulfil your destiny," came the answer. The Lady's voice held the sweetness of bee-song on a summer's day, but I remembered how swiftly that music could turn to fury if one threatened the hive, and I did not know what might anger this queen.
"What is my destiny?" heart pounding, at last I dared to ask.
"That will depend on what you choose…"
"What do you mean?"
"You saw three roads when you came here, did you not?"
The Lady's voice remained sweet and low, but there was a compulsion in it that turned my memory to the scene, and at once it was before me—the path that led back through the mists, the rocky road, but the middle way was broad and fair, bordered with pale lilies.
"The choice that you must make lies in the future—to seek the world of the Romans, or the Hidden Country, or Avalon," the Faerie Queen continued as if I had answered her.
"But I have already chosen," I answered in surprise. "I will be a priestess of Avalon."
"So says your head, but what does your heart say?" the Lady laughed softly, and I felt a prickle of heat flush my skin.
"I suppose that when I am old enough to think about such things I will know," I said defiantly. "But I am sworn to give myself to no man save as the Goddess wills, and I will not break my vow!"
"Ah, daughter—" the Lady laughed once more, "be not so certain that you understand what your vows mean, and where they will lead you! This much I will tell you: only when you understand who you truly are will you know your way—"
From somewhere, words came to me. "Eilan I am, and Elen shall guide me…"
The Faerie Queen looked at me and suddenly, unexpectedly, smiled.
"Just so. And if you know that much, then you have set your feet already upon the path. But enough of such serious matters—for now, you are here, and that is a thing not given to many mortals. Come, my little one, and feast with us in my hall!" Gazing at me with a sweetness that touched the heart like pain, she held out her hand.
"If I go with you… will I be able to return to Avalon?" I asked hesitantly.
"If you wish it," came the reply.
"And will I find Dierna?"
"Is that what you truly wish?" the Lady asked.
"With all my heart!" I exclaimed.
The Faerie Queen sighed. "The heart, again! I tell you now that if you find her, you will lose her, but I suppose you cannot understand. Come and be happy for a little while, if that is the only gift that you will accept from me…"
Then the Lady took me by the hand, and led me by ways winding and unknown, and we came presently to a hall all built from wood, not cut and pegged, as I had seen in the lands of men, but woven and grown all together, so that the beams were of living wood, roofed with branch and leaf of living green. Jutting branches held torches along the walls, their pale flickering light dancing in the bright eyes of the folk who sat at the high table there.
They gave me a sweet, yeasty drink in a cup that was neither silver nor gold, and as I drank, I found my weariness dissolving away. There were baskets of strange fruits, and pies with roots and mushrooms in a rich sauce, and bread with honey.
The food refreshed my body, although, as I remembered tales I had heard about the Faerie country, I wondered if it were illusion. But the harping fed something in my spirit that I did not even know had been hungering. A young man with merry eyes and a wreath of golden wheat upon his dark curls took my hand and swept me into the dance. At first I stumbled, for this was nothing like the stately measures that were thought suitable for the maidens being trained on Avalon. The rhythm was like the drumbeat that came from the Tor when the initiated priestesses danced with the Druids at the Beltane fires and the girls in the House of Maidens lay in the darkness listening, their blood pulsing to a beat they did not yet understand.
I laughed and let the music lift me, but when my partner would have drawn me away from the dancing into a leafy bower, I knew it for another temptation and slipped from his embrace and back to the feasting table once more.
"Was not the young man to your liking?" asked the queen.
"I liked him well enough," said I, and felt my cheeks grow hot with a betraying flush, for though his beauty struck no answering chord in my heart, his touch had stirred my senses in a way I did not entirely understand. "But I have stayed here too long. I hold you to your promise, Lady, to lead me to Dierna and thence back to my home."
"There is time and enough for that. Wait just a little: the greatest of our bards is about to sing…"
But I shook my head. "I must go. I will go—Eldri! Eldri, come to me!" I looked around in sudden terror lest the little dog, who had after all brought me to this place, should have abandoned me. But in the next moment I felt the drag on my skirts as the dog pawed at them. I bent to scoop her into my arms and hugged her fiercely.
"Yes… your will is very strong," said the Lady thoughtfully. "What if I were to tell you that by returning to Avalon you will take the first steps on the path that leads away from it, and in doing so, you will set events in motion that will end by forever separating it from the world of men?"
"I will never do so!" I cried angrily.
"The wind that is stirred by a butterfly's wing may cause a tempest half the world away… in the Hidden Country we do not think on the passing of time, and so for us it runs slowly, or not at all. But when I look into the world of men, I can observe the results of actions that you swift-living mortals will never see. Learn from my wisdom, daughter, and stay!"
I shook my head. "I belong to Avalon!"
"Be it so," the Faerie Queen said then. "This much comfort I will grant you: that however far you may wander, so long as you have your hounds you will find your way home… Go then, with the blessing of the Elder Folk, and perhaps, from time to time, you will remember me—"
"I will remember you…" said I, tears pricking my eyes. I set Eldri on the ground once more, and the dog, after looking back to make sure that I was following, trotted towards the door.
We passed into the leaf-filtered light of the faerie wood, and then, between one step and another, into a darkness in which the glimmering white shape of the dog ahead of me was the only thing I could see. And then I felt the cold touch of mist upon my skin and slowed, shivering, testing each step before I trusted my weight to it to be sure of keeping to the path.
I could not be certain how long I continued in this way, but gradually I became aware that the mist was brightening, and then it thinned, and I passed through the last of it and onto the grass of the Tor. The moon still rode high—as high, nearly, as it had been when I set forth. I stared at it in amazement, for surely in Faerie the feasting, and the dancing had gone on for hours. But here I was back again, and it was the same time of night as when I had gone. But was it the same night, I wondered in sudden fear? Or the same month, or year? Did Aelia wait for me still?
I started forwards, looking anxiously about me to see if anything had changed, and sighed in relief to see before me the hazel hedge, still half-pruned as I had left it. Something pale stirred in its shadow—Eldri, sitting beside a curled heap of clothing that on closer inspection proved to be the sleeping child.
I fell to my knees beside her, heart pounding in my breast. "Blessed Goddess!" I breathed, "never again will I doubt you!" And then, when my pulse had slowed nearly to its customary beat, I gathered the child into my arms.
"Dierna, wake up, little one! You are such a great girl now, I cannot carry you!"
The child stirred, burrowing sleepily against rny breast. "I can't go back there—I'm afraid…"
"I will stay with you," said I, "and so will Eldri."
"But she's so little," Dierna giggled, reaching out to ruffle the dog's curly hair.
"Do not underestimate her. She is a magic dog," I answered her. In the shadow, it seemed to me that a little of the glamour of Faerie clung to that pale fur still. "Come now—" I got to my feet, and after a moment's hesitation, Dierna followed me.
I told myself that I could sneak back to the House of Maidens before I was missed in the morning, but even if Ganeda learned how I had disobeyed, I found it hard to care. There was enough straw in the shed to make a bed, and when I had persuaded Dierna to lie down, I told the child tales of my adventures in Faerie until she slept once more.
And at that, the fatigue of my own night's adventuring came fully upon me, and so it was that that when Suona came to release the child in the dawning, she found us curled up together, with Eldri beside us guarding the door.