“Lhiannon, may the Goddess rest her, chose an uncommonly awkward season for her dying,” Ardanos said sharply. “For we must have a priestess of the Oracle at the rites at Lughnasad, and obviously we cannot use Eilan!” He surveyed the two women before him grimly.
The three days of ritual mourning were past, and Lhiannon laid in her grave; Ardanos was surprised at how much it still hurt when he looked around this chamber where he had always met with her and remembered she was gone. He supposed he would continue to miss her for a long time, but he could not afford to show his grief now. Caillean sat frowning, but Eilan stared at him with wide, unreadable eyes. He glared back at her.
“You know as well as I do that it is superstition to believe that only a virgin can serve the shrine, but for Eilan to bear the power of the Goddess right now would be dangerous both for her and her child,” agreed Caillean.
Sexual abstinence was necessary during performance of the great magics—a magic such as the complete surrender of body and spirit necessary for the Goddess to speak through a mortal.
For the power to flow freely, the spirit must be detached from the senses. Thus it was forbidden to do those things that would increase their attraction and clog the pathways, such as eating the flesh of some animals, drinking mead or other liquors, or lying with a man.
“Lhiannon should have thought of that when she chose her,” the Arch-Druid replied. “It will not do, you know. It’s bad enough that she is still here. But a pregnant High Priestess? Impossible!”
“I could take her place in the ritual—” Caillean began.
“And how would we explain that to the people? We could have justified a temporary substitution on the grounds that Lhiannon was ill, but they know that she is dead. Transitions are always delicate. People are wondering if the new High Priestess will survive her ordeal, whether the Goddess will still come to them now that Lhiannon is gone.”
He rubbed his forehead. None of them had had enough sleep for far too long. Caillean’s eyes looked dark and haunted, and despite the bloom of pregnancy, Eilan seemed anxious and strained. And well she might be, it occurred to him then. Lhiannon had put them all in a quandary when she chose the girl.
“I tell you this—whatever madness came on Lhiannon at her ending, I will not allow it to destroy all that we have labored so hard to build!” He sighed. “There is no help for it. We shall have to choose again. There is a precedent; old Helve tried to pass her power to—what was her name?—that poor mad girl who died. And then the Council chose Lhiannon.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you!” Caillean began, but Eilan, who had been silent for so long the Arch-Druid had almost forgotten she was there, got to her feet suddenly.
“Not until after the ordeal!” she said loudly. Spots of color flamed in her cheeks as the other two stared at her. “They named a new High Priestess after the chosen one failed to carry the power of the Goddess in the ritual, didn’t they? What kind of talk do you think there will be if I do not even attempt it? Everyone in Vernemeton knows that Lhiannon chose me.”
“But the danger!” exclaimed Caillean.
“Do you think the Goddess will strike me dead? If what I did was such a sin, then She is welcome to do so!” Eilan exclaimed. “But if I survive, you will know that She has chosen me indeed!”
“And what do you propose that we should do with you if you live?” he said acidly. “Your condition will be showing soon, and the Romans will have a good laugh when they see our High Priestess wallowing around with a belly like a pregnant cow!”
“Lhiannon thought of a way,” said Eilan. “It was the last thing she said to me. Once the ritual is over, Dieda must take my place and you must pretend that it is she who had to be sent away. You yourself cannot tell us apart, Grandfather, and you have known us both since we were babies!”
Ardanos eyed her narrowly, calculation spinning in his brain. The wretched child might indeed have solved their problem. If the ritual killed her, as was most likely, they would have every right to choose her successor, and if Eilan died in childbirth, Dieda would already be in place, ready to take over with no one the wiser. They would do well enough, he told himself, with either girl, for neither would ever think herself quite secure in her office. If the High Priestess needed the support of the priesthood, she would do what she was told.