For a moment they contemplated an almost unimaginable antiquity. Then a little breeze fluttered their skirts, and brought them back to the beauty of the green world around them.
"Is that feverfew or chervil?” Eilan pointed at a mass of low-growing bright green foliage with small jagged leaves.
"Chervil. See how tender the stems are? It has just sprung up here. Feverfew lives through the winter, and its stem is woody. But it is true, the leaves look much the same.”
"There is so much to remember!” Eilan exclaimed. "If our people did not always live here, how did we learn all this lore?”
"Men are by nature wanderers,” said Miellyn, "though you may not think it, rooted among us here. Every people has moved from somewhere, and had to learn the ways of the land from the people who were there before. The last of our own tribes came to this island only about a hundred years before the Romans, and from much the same part of the world.”
"You would think the Romans would know more about us, then, if we were neighbors,” said Eilan.
"They knew enough about our warriors to be afraid.” Miellyn grinned fiercely. "Maybe that is why they spread such scandals about us. Tell me, Eilan, have you ever seen any man burnt on our altars? Or any woman either?”
"No, nor anyone put to death except for criminals,” replied Eilan. "How can the Romans say such things about us?”
"Why should they not? They are ignorant men,” said Miellyn scornfully. "They set down all their knowledge on bits of leather or waxed wood or tablets of stone and think that is wisdom. What good does it do a piece of stone to have knowledge? Even I, a young priestess, know it is the understanding graven in the heart that makes men wise. Can you learn the ways of the herbs from a book? It is not enough even to be told. You must seek out the plants yourself, handle them, love them, watch them grow. Then you can use them for healing, for their spirits will speak to you.”
"Perhaps their women know more,” said Eilan. "For I have heard the Romans do not teach the craft of letters to all their womenfolk. I wonder what wisdom the mothers pass on to their daughters that the men do not know?”
Miellyn made a face. "Perhaps they are afraid that if women learned bookcraft too there would not be enough work for scribes and the letter writers of the marketplace.”
"Caillean said something like that, soon after I came here,” Eilan said and shivered, though the day was warm, remembering the cold winds during the scrying. "But I have not seen much of her since then. I wonder sometimes if I have angered her.”
"You must not pay too much attention to what Caillean says, or does not say,” Miellyn cautioned. "She has suffered a great deal, and she is…immoderate in her opinions sometimes. But it is true the Romans do not think much of what women can do.”
"Then they are foolish.”
"I know that. You know that,” Miellyn said. "But there are some Romans who do not yet know it. Let us hope that they learn it during our lifetime. Our own priests can be foolish too. Someone told me you wished to learn to play the harp. Have you heard Caillean play her lyre?”
Eilan shook her head. "Not often.” Suddenly she remembered the occasion where Caillean had taught her to handle fire, and shivered.
Miellyn said, "You really must not mind Caillean’s strange ways; she is very solitary. Sometimes for days she speaks to no one, except perhaps to Lhiannon. I know Caillean likes you; I have heard her say so.”
Eilan looked at her and then quickly away. It had certainly seemed so that night at Mairi’s, after Caillean had driven the raiders away. She realized now how unusual it had been for the older woman to reveal herself that way. Perhaps that was why she had avoided Eilan so much since then.
Miellyn had spotted a place where wild thyme grew beneath a tree and was using her little curved knife to cut the stems. The scent came sweet and sharp to Eilan’s nostrils as she bent to gather it.