"For three years other vows will bind us,” he whispered, "but tonight is ours. Eilan, stay here with Gawen,” he added, his voice muffled by Dieda’s hair.
Eilan hesitated. "Mother said that Dieda and I were to stay together—it is Beltane—”
Dieda lifted her head, and her eyes were wild. "Have some pity! Rheis dares not cross your father—and my father—” She swallowed. "If they knew, they would not let us have even this little time!”
Her eyes wide and grave, Eilan nodded.
"Was I wrong to leave Eilan alone with the stranger?” Dieda whispered as Cynric led her away. "After all, he has lived among the Romans and may have their ways with women.”
"He is a guest in our house; even if he were the son of the Procurator himself…”
"He can’t be,” Dieda giggled suddenly. "My father says that the Procurator has only a single daughter.”
"—if he were, surely, he would respect the daughter of his host. And Eilan is only a child,” Cynric replied.
"She and I were born in the same year,” Dieda said. "You think her a child because she is your sister.”
"What were you expecting?” Cynric asked irritably. "That I should tell you how much I love you before them both?”
"What is there left to say? Certainly not enough—” And she stopped, for his arms were around her, and he stooped to cut off her words with a kiss.
She clung to him for a moment, then broke uneasily away. "That doesn’t help,” she said. "And if we should be seen…”
He laughed mirthlessly. "They haven’t put you under vows yet, have they? And I could always say it was Eilan I kissed.” He put his hands under her elbows, lifting her on tiptoe, and bent to kiss her once more. After a moment all her resistance melted, and she let him mold her against him, kissing her again and again. When he broke away, his voice cracked, "How sane I sounded, a few moments ago! But I was wrong. I can’t let you do this thing!”
"What do you mean?”
"I can’t let you be walled up with all those women.”
"What else can I do?” Now she had to be the sensible one. "Cynric, you’re Druid-bred, you know the laws as well as I. Lhiannon has chosen. Where the hand of the Goddess has fallen…”
"You are right, I know it, but still…” He pulled her to him roughly, but his voice was very gentle as he said, "It’s Beltane. Lie with me tonight, and your family will be glad enough to let us marry.”
Her mouth was too young to be so bitter. "Perhaps you would like to explain nicely to my father how it happened? Or to yours.”
He said, "Bendeigid is not my father.”
"Yes, I know,” she said. "Not that it makes any difference. But whether he is your father or not, Ardanos is mine, and he would strangle me and take a bullwhip to you. It is done, whether I like it or not. I am now a pledged virgin of the Sacred Grove and you are a Druid’s son—well, at least you have been raised as one—and you are the son of a priestess in any case,” she added quickly. "Cynric, you said it yourself. I can ask to be released at the end of three years. And then—”
"And then,” he promised, "I will take you away to the other end of the earth if that is what I have to do.”
"But you said you ought not to encumber yourself with wife or children,” she protested, for the sake of hearing him say, "I don’t care what I said; I want you.”
Then he added, "Sit here beside me, then; let us watch the fires. It may be for the last time. Or for three years, which,” he added despondently, "is almost the same thing.”