That night before the fire he spoke of it to Clotinus, who urged him to remain another day or two.
"There will be too many folk on the road till the festival,” Clotinus pointed out. "You should stay until that is past at least and then you can travel in comfort.”
"People won’t bother me, but perhaps I should not travel in full uniform,” said Gaius. "I will make better time and attract less attention if I wear the common dress of a Briton.”
"That’s true,” Clotinus grinned sourly. "You are, in a sense, one of us. I daresay I can come up with something that will serve.”
The next morning his steward produced clothing which fitted Gaius well enough: tan breeches and a tunic dyed green, in new cloth, clean and decent but not particularly luxurious, and with them a voluminous dark brown cloak of heavy wool. "The nights are still chilly, lad,” Clotinus said. "You will need this when darkness falls.”
When Gaius put it on his Roman identity seemed to fall away.
"You are no longer Gaius Macellius Severus in this garb.” The old man eyed him oddly. Gaius grinned. "As I think I told you, my mother called me Gawen while she lived; now I look nothing else and I should use only that name.”
Clotinus was quick to exclaim how well the clothing became him, yet somehow Gaius knew the man regretted the disappearance of his important-looking Roman guest.
"If I attend the festival, I will be just another Briton,” Gaius went on. "Maybe I should have you send a message to Macellius that I am traveling in disguise!” He suspected his father would not be pleased, and the excuse of gathering information might justify this escapade.
When Eilan woke on Beltane morning she had the oddest feeling that Gaius was somewhere near. Perhaps, she thought, he is thinking of me. It was Beltane, after all, and all their most significant meetings had been at that festival. It was natural, in any case, that her thoughts should turn to him on this day when, throughout the land, the hearts of men and maidens were turning to love.
Here in the chaste sanctuary of the House of Maidens she should not be thinking of such things, or if she did, she should view them with the detached benevolence of one who existed far beyond such fleshly cravings. During the winter that had been easy. It seemed to her that the passion with which the Druid of her vision had touched her had been refined to a radiance as pure as an altar flame, and her vows of chastity no great sacrifice.
But now, when the sap was rising in the trees and every bud was bursting into flower, she was beginning to wonder. When she thought about her vision, her body flamed, and at night she dreamed about lying with a lover who was sometimes the Druid and sometimes Gaius, and sometimes a stranger with the eyes of a king. My body is still untouched, she thought suddenly, but my spirit is virgin no longer. Goddess, how will I bear this sweet pain?
"Eilan, are you helping Lhiannon prepare for this evening’s ritual?” Miellyn’s voice brought her back to the world and she shook her head. "Then why not come out with the rest of us this morning and enjoy the festival? It will do you good to get some fresh air.”
"The rest of us” turned out to include Senara, who was entirely delighted to be out of doors. It was a crisp bright day, and in the hedges the hawthorn glowed as if the light of the sun had settled on the boughs. The people were jammed together in a way that made Eilan, used to the peace and quiet after her months of seclusion, tremble. How quickly she had grown accustomed to silence and peace, or perhaps her initiation had altered her. She had always been a little uncomfortable in crowds, but she felt now as if she were walking about without her skin.
But Senara was in high spirits as she walked between them. She was fascinated by everything: a stall of round cheeses; a table where a seller of glass bangles had spread his glittering wares; and everywhere, the flowers.
Eilan had not seen so many people since last Beltane when she had met Gaius again. It seemed to her that everyone in Britain or the islands must be here, jostling, laughing, eating, drinking; and every craft from the making of cakes to rope-dancing.