After a moment Cynric continued, "That was when all the women of the Druids on this isle were brought here to the Forest House where they could be guarded.”
Gaius listened, wondering if the tale had been told him for a reason. But Cynric did not know he was Roman, and Gaius was very glad. At the moment he was not sure he wanted to be a Roman himself, although it had been the wellspring of his pride.
As dusk began to fall young men in white robes with golden torques about their necks began piling up two great heaps of wood in the open space before the barrow, making sure—as Cynric informed him in a whisper—that each included the wood of the nine sacred trees. Gaius had no idea what those were, but was afraid to admit it, so he simply nodded. Between them a plank of oak had been placed with a piece set upright like an axle. Nine Druids, old, imposing men in spotless white robes, took turns to spin the axle to the beat of a drum. As the sky darkened, people gathered around them, watching, and silence spread through the crowd.
And then, just as the sun slipped beyond the trees, Gaius glimpsed a spark of red. Others had seen it as well. A murmur rippled through the crowd, and in the same moment one of the Druids cast something powdery at the base of the axle and it seemed to explode into flame.
"The fires will burn till dawning, while folk dance around them,” said Cynric. "And some of the lads will keep watch over the Beltane tree.” He gestured towards a tall pole that stood at the other end of the hilltop. "The rest will be out until dawn with their sweethearts gathering greenery, or at least that is what they say”—he grinned suggestively—"and will bring it back in the morning to crown the pole and dance in the day.”
The need-fire had been carried to the woodpiles, which were now beginning to crackle merrily. It was growing dark; Gaius stepped back as the first blast of heat tingled on his skin.
A line of dancers formed and began to circle the bonfires. Someone set a wine flask to Gaius’s lips. Already the crowd was getting rowdier, dipping freely into the vats of ale and mead. He had seen rites like this before and knew what to expect. He noticed now that the smaller children had been taken away; the young priestesses in the blue robes and fillets and veils of the Forest House were no longer among the crowd.
Gaius and Cynric wandered together through the laughing throng until, near the fires, they encountered Eilan and Dieda.
"There you are!” exclaimed Cynric, hurrying forward. "Dieda, come dance with me.”
All the color left Dieda’s face and she held on to Eilan’s hand.
"You have not heard?” asked Eilan brightly.
"Heard what, Sister?” Cynric began to frown.
"She has been chosen for the Forest House—by Lhiannon herself, this very afternoon!”
Cynric reached out to Dieda, and then, slowly, let his hands fall. "The Goddess has spoken?”
"How can you accept this?” Dieda’s spirit seemed to come back to her. "You know I cannot marry you if I must take vows.”
"And you know what vows already bind me,” he said somberly. "I have been torn to pieces trying to decide. I love you but I cannot encumber myself with a wife and children for years, if ever. Perhaps the gods have chosen this way for us.”
He drew a shaken breath and this time when he reached out she came to him. Dieda was a tall girl, but she seemed fragile, encircled by his strong arms.
"Listen, beloved, there is still a way,” he said softly, taking her aside. "Three years you can give the Goddess—you need not pledge yourself lifelong. There is a battle college in the northern islands, and it is there that I am bound to go. But you are no battle-maiden; even if we were publicly pledged you could not come to me there. Perhaps it is as well you are to serve in the sanctuary for a time—you will be safer there. And if war should come…”
Dieda gave a little sob and buried her face against his shoulder. Gaius saw Cynric’s big hands close on her arms.