“Gaius!” she exclaimed, and at once burst into tears. She saw him redden, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, unable to meet her eyes.
“I was sent to Londinium; I had no choice,” he said. “I wanted to come to you.”
“I’m sorry—” she said, though she was not really sure why she was apologizing, “I seem to weep very easily these days.”
His gaze flicked swiftly to her, and then to the bundle.
“Is this my son?”
“No other,” she said, “or do you really think perhaps that because”—suddenly she was crying so hard she could hardly speak—“that because I gave myself to you, I would lie down for any other man who came along?”
“Eilan!” From his face, she could see that the thought had never occurred to him, and did not know whether to be flattered or indignant. His hands clenched and unclenched. “Please! Let me hold my son.”
Eilan felt her tears ceasing as abruptly as they had come. She looked up at Gaius, for the first time really seeing him as he knelt beside her, and lifted the baby into his arms. He looked older and grimmer, fine drawn by hardship and with a shadow in his eyes as if he too had known pain; on his cheek was a new scar. But as he held the child she saw his face begin to change.
“My son—” he whispered, gazing at the crumpled features, “my first-born son…” Even if he went through with his marriage to the Roman girl, thought Eilan, this moment was hers.
As the baby’s pale blue, wandering eyes met those of his father and seemed to fix on him, Gaius’s arms tightened protectively around him. All the hardness had gone from his features now; his focus was entirely on the baby, as if he would do anything to safeguard this child who lay so trusting and helpless in his arms. It came to Eilan that even when Gaius had been making love to her she had never seen him look so radiant. She recognized the Father-face of the God.
“What sort of world will this be for you, little one?” Gaius whispered, his voice cracking. “How can I protect you, give you a home that will be secure?” For a long moment he and the child seemed lost in mutual contemplation; then the baby burped suddenly and began to chew on his thumb.
Gaius’s gaze returned to Eilan, and as he set the child once more within the curve of her arm she realized that, wan and exhausted though she might be, to him she was the Goddess as well.
“So, how do you like him, my dear?” she said gently. “I have called him Gawen, the name that your mother gave you.”
“I think he is beautiful, Eilan.” His voice was shaking. “How can I ever thank you for this great gift?”
Run away with me! her heart cried. Carry us both away to some land where we can all live together and be free! But the lamplight glinted balefully on the signet ring he wore, and she knew that there was no such country, beyond the reach of Rome.
“Make a world that will be safe for him.” She echoed his own words. She remembered her vision; in this child the blood of the Dragon and the Eagle had mingled with the old line of the Wise; the saviors of Britannia would come from his line. But for that to happen he must live to be a man.
“Sometimes I wonder if that is possible.” His gaze went inward, and she saw the grim shadow once more in his eyes.
“You have been in battle since I saw you,” she said gently. “You did not get that scar in Londinium…Tell me.”
“Have you heard about the battle of Mons Graupius?” Gaius’s voice grew harsher. “Well, I was there.” As the story poured out of him in a succession of images, she flinched, feeling the horror, and the pity, and the fear.
“I knew that something had happened,” she said in a low voice when he was done. “There was a night, a moon after Lughnasad, when I felt that you were in great danger. I spent the following day in terror, but the feeling passed off after nightfall. I thought then that perhaps you had been fighting, but though I could sense nothing more I was certain that you had survived! You are part of me, my beloved. Surely if you had died, I would know!”