By the time Caillean had made sure that all the young women were safely bestowed in the hastily vacated dormitory which had housed the youngest novices, and was able to seek her own bed at last, she was ready to drop from fatigue. Though the bed and the place were strange to her, to her surprise she slept through the night peacefully and woke while dawn was still reddening the sky. She dressed herself without waking her women, and went out alone into the early morning. Streaks of rosy light were just beginning to flush the sky. The path before her led up the hill.
As the light grew, Caillean studied her surroundings carefully. To what, in this remote country, had her destiny led her?
As the sun rose, she could see that the Tor looked out over a vast expanse of wild country entirely surrounded by heavy mists that drifted from the great sheet of water; they had arrived so late the night before, that she hardly noticed, in her fatigue and exhaustion, that the final stage of the journey had been made by barge. The wooded slopes of other islands poked their blackish-green and forested summits through the mist. It was very silent, but as the sun rose and Caillean studied this strange country, she heard the faint murmur of chanting, from somewhere not very far away.
She turned; the sound came from a small structure at the very top of the hill. She moved higher to hear it more clearly. The music was soft and slow, the deep resonance of men’s voices strange to her ears after so many years among women. After a time she made out words in the flow of sound; it seemed to her that they were singing in Greek.
Kyrie eleison, Criste eleison. She had heard that this was how the Christians addressed their lord; this must be the community of refugees the Arch-Druid had given leave to settle here. These days all sorts of strange religions were breaking out all over the Empire.
Presently the sound faded, and she saw a little old man, stooped as if with great old age, regarding her. She blinked, for she had not seen him approach, and that was unusual for a priestess of her training. As she looked at him, he dropped his eyes. He must be one of the Christian priests indeed; she had heard that many of their priests would not look upon a strange woman.
But apparently he was allowed to talk to her. He said, in the market-Latin that served as a dialect all over the Empire, “A good day to you, my sister. May I ask your name? I know that you surely are not one of our catechumens, for we have not for many years had any women among us except the venerable ladies who came with us long ago, and you are young.”
Caillean smiled a little at the thought that anyone could consider her young, but the priest was white-haired and frail as a fallen leaf. At least in years, he might have been her grandsire.
“I am not,” she said. “I am one of those who worship the forest god. I am called Caillean.”
“Is it so?” he asked her politely. “I know something of the brothers among the Druids, and I knew not they had women among them.”
“Those who dwell here have not,” she replied, “or at least not until now. I was sent here from the Forest House in the North, to establish a House of Maidens. I came up the hill to see to what place the gods had led me.”
“You speak as one who holds some acquaintance with the truth, my sister. Surely then you know that all the gods are one God…” He paused, and Caillean completed, “…And all the goddesses one Goddess.”
His ancient face was altogether kindly. “It is so. Those to whom our Lord came as God’s Divine Son would not see the Godhead in anything female, so to them we speak not of the Goddess, but of Sophia, the Holy Wisdom. But we understand that the Truth is One. So, my sister, to me it seems very fitting that you should establish here, a shrine to the Holy Wisdom after the manner of your people.”
Caillean bowed. His face was very deeply wrinkled, but it no longer seemed ugly, for it positively glowed with benevolence.
“What a splendid work to which to devote the remainder of this incarnation, my sister.” He smiled, then his gaze went inward. “It feels right for you to be here, for it seems to me that we have served at the same altars before…”