When she finally laid herself down to sleep, after an evening spent grouping the women together for their first lesson in memorizing the unwritten lore of the Goddess, she could hear the sweet sound of chanting coming once more from the distant church. It was to the renewed chant of “Kyrie eleison” that she fell into sleep, more content with the spot to which the Goddess had led her than she had ever imagined she could be. That night she dreamed of a shrine served by maidens, of courts and halls upon the holy Tor, which might one day rise here. It might not be in her own lifetime; but it would come.
TWENTY-EIGHT
The days waxed longer after Beltane; the cattle were driven to the hill pastures, and in the fields men tended the grain. Midsummer came, and for the first time Ardanos did not try to instruct Eilan before the ritual regarding the Oracle. When she saw him at the ritual, he seemed very frail. They told her afterward that the Goddess had foretold a time of disasters and changes, but promised peace to follow. Indeed, the whole land was full of rumors, but no one could say from what direction the danger might come.
Eilan had meant to visit the Arch-Druid after recovering from her own part in the ritual, but at this time of year there was much to do in the Forest House. The days went by and still she did not find the time. In high summer, even the maidens of the Forest House went into the fields of Vernemeton to help with the haying. Eilan supervised those who wove linen for the priests, and worked over the dye pots, preparing fabric for new robes, but it was Caillean who was missed most sorely, for she had always been the most skillful of the women at dyeing cloth. No law required Eilan to take her turn at this menial work but it seemed to her that as long as she had a responsibility for their little community, it was up to her to participate in it.
She was in the dye sheds, her sleeves rolled above the elbow and her forearms splattered with blue dye when a shadow fell across the doorway. A ripple of scandalized excitement ran through the women as they realized it was one of the young Druids, flushed and perspiring in his white robe. For though the shed was not within the sacred precinct inside the walls, where only the highest of the priests might enter, they were not used to seeing men.
“The High Priestess,” he gasped. “Is the Lady Eilan here?” All the women turned to look at Eilan, and as the boy’s flush deepened she realized that he had never seen her without her veil. He swallowed. “Please, Lady—the Arch-Druid has been taken ill. You must come!”
Eilan stopped in the doorway of Ardanos’s chamber, shocked in spite of having been warned. She heard a little gasp from Miellyn, who was attending her, and motioned her to stand with Huw at the door. Then she sat down beside the bed of the dying man. And indeed there could be no doubt that he was dying. At each breath air rattled and sucked in Ardanos’s chest, and she could see the skull beneath the sallow skin. With a pang she remembered how he had sat with Lhiannon during her illness. Even though at times she had hated him, she hoped that his passage would be an easy one.
“He collapsed at dinner and lay unconscious until a little while ago,” said Garic, one of the older priests. “We have sent for Bendeigid.”
She put back her veil and reached out to take his hand. “Ardanos,” she said softly. “Ardanos, can you hear me?”
The papery eyelids fluttered and after a moment of confusion, he focused on her face. “Dieda,” he whispered.
“Grandfather, do you not know me even now? Dieda is in the South, testing maidens who wish to join us as priestesses. I am Eilan.” She was bitterly amused that he should still be confusing them after all these years.
His gaze focused on the ornaments she had taken the time to put on and he sighed. “You were the right one…after all.”
“Ardanos,” she said firmly, “as High Priestess it is my duty to tell you that you are dying. You must not depart without naming your successor. Tell us, Arch-Druid, who shall bear the golden sickle when you are gone?”
His eyes fixed on her face. “Goddess, I did the best…I could,” he whispered. “The Merlin knows…”