I’m sure he did, the idiot, thought Eilan, and never wondered whether she needs him at all!
“It is your fault!” Dieda exclaimed. “If it were not for you, I would have married him long ago. Then perhaps he would never have become an outlaw!”
With an effort, Eilan stopped herself from pointing out that Dieda had sworn the vows of a priestess of her own free will. Even when Eilan returned to the Forest House after Gawen’s birth, she could have gone to Cynric instead of to Eriu. The poor girl did not want logic, she needed someone to blame.
“And now all I can think of is the way he looked at me! It may be months or even years before I know how he is, or what is happening to him! At least if I were with him I would know!” Dieda wailed.
“I don’t suppose you care one way or another for my approval,” Eilan said softly. “Whatever you think of my choices, you know that I have learned to live with them. But I too have wept in the darkness, wondering whether I did the right thing. Dieda, you may never be sure—all you can do is the work that is given to you, and hope that the Goddess will explain the reason for it all some day.”
Dieda’s face was turned away, but it seemed to Eilan that her sobs were diminishing.
“I will tell the maidens that you are ill and cannot take them tonight for the singing,” she went on. “No doubt they will be glad of a holiday.”
It seemed to Eilan that the problem of Brigitta’s children had been solved, but only a few days later, just before the evening meal, her attendant told her that a Roman sought audience.
Gaius leapt to mind but a second thought told her he would never dare come here. “Find out his name and business,” she said evenly.
In a few moments the girl returned. “Lady, it is Macellius Severus who begs the favor of a word with you.” She added, “He used to be the Camp Prefect of Deva—”
“I know who he is.” Lhiannon had received him once or twice, but Macellius was now retired. What, in the name of all the gods, could he want with her? The only way to find out was to ask. “Tell him to come in,” she directed. She straightened her gown and after a moment’s thought drew her veil down over her face.
Presently Huw shouldered through the entrance with another man behind him. Gaius’s father…the grandfather of her son…From behind the veil Eilan eyed him curiously. She had never seen him before, and yet she would have known him anywhere. Overlapping visions showed her the weathered features of the old man and the strong lines of nose and brow that had been repeated in his son, and were just beginning to emerge from the childish curves in the face of her own.
Huw took up position beside the door and Macellius came to a halt before her. He drew himself up and bowed, and Eilan knew suddenly where Gaius had got his pride.
“My lady.” He used the Roman term, Domina, but his British was quite good otherwise. “It is very kind of you to receive me—”
“Not at all,” she replied. “What can I do for you?” She supposed it had to do with one of the approaching festivals as it had when he had waited upon Lhiannon.
Macellius cleared his throat. “I understand that you have given sanctuary to the daughters of the Demetan Queen—”
Suddenly Eilan was very glad that she had put on the veil. “If that were true,” she said slowly, desperately wishing that Ardanos or Caillean were here to help her, “why would it matter to you?”
“If it were so,” he echoed, “we would want to know why.”
The words of Cynric came into her mind. “Because it was told to me that they stood in need of it. Can you think of any better reason?”
“I cannot,” he answered her, “and yet their mother is a rebel who threatened to raise the whole West against Rome. But Rome has been merciful. Brigitta has been sent in protective custody to Londinium, and will not be harmed. Nor have we demanded death for her kin.”