Part 7 (1/2)
Greet it on high and in your hearts, Return to life, cast off your fear!”
I opened my eyes. Four youths stood now in the corners of the hall, bearing torches. Someone had cast the first handful of herbs onto the brazier, and in their light the sweet smoke glowed as if it had ignited the air. Now I could see the images painted on the plaster of the walls-an island surrounding a harbour, great temples, a pyramidal mountain spouting flame, and other scenes from the fabled land that in one day of doom had sunk beneath the wave. Like this ritual, those tales belonged to a wisdom of which the Druids were only the inheritors.
With question and response, the ritual rolled onwards, defining the sacred moment when, Night and Day being equal, a doorway opened between Past and Future and one who was properly prepared and guided might see between the worlds.
The circle opened to reveal a veiled figure, half-supported by Wren and Aelia. Carefully they guided her to the three-legged stool, steadying her until she found her balance there.The sacred drink has taken her swiftly , I thought, watching.G.o.ddess grant it does not take her too far ...
In the old days, I knew, they had called on the G.o.ddess Herself to speak through the lips of Her priestess. Now, though the G.o.ds might come down sometimes to dance with us at their festivals, it was considered more useful for the Seeress to become open and empty of any personality, even her own, with no will save to describe the images she saw.
The High Priestess moved forwards to stand at her side. The little table with the silver bowl had already been set before her. Berries of mistletoe floated on the water along with other herbs. From where I stood I could see the glitter of torchlight on the dark water. I felt myself sway and blinked quickly to break the spell, then turned my gaze away, hoping no one had noticed my momentary disorientation. I was a trained priestess now, and should have had better control.
”Sink down, sink down... sink deeper and sink deep...'
Ganeda's voice was a murmur, leading the Seeress on her journey inwards, downwards, until the bowl of gleaming water became one with the sacred well beside the white cypress tree. Then she straightened and stepped away.
”What pa.s.ses now among the Romans? What is the Emperor Claudius doing now?” Arganax asked.
For a long moment there was silence.
”Tell us, Seeress, what you see?” Ganeda prompted her.
A shudder vibrated through the sheer folds of the veil. ”I see... cypresses against a sunset sky... no, it is firelight. They are burning bodies... one of the watchers staggers and falls...” Heron spoke softly, her voice calm as if she watched from some vantage point outside of the world. ”The scene changes... an old man lies in a rich room. His bed is hung with purple, but he is alone... he is dead... Would you know more?”
”Plague-” whispered someone. ”May the G.o.ds grant it does not come here...'
”Is the Roman power ended, then? Will they return to Britannia?” the Druid asked, and this time Heron's answer came without prompting.
”I see armies and s.h.i.+ps-Briton fighting Briton... blood, blood and fire-” she shook her head in confusion, as if the images were overwhelming her.
”Sink back down to that place where there is only the s.h.i.+ning water,” said Ganeda in a low voice. ”Tell me, who will come to our aid?”
Heron stiffened. ”The Sun! The sun blazes in splendour! It blinds my eyes!” For a moment she remained transfixed, then let out her breath in a long sigh. ”Ah-He comes... his armour is Roman, but his eyes are those of one who knows the Mysteries. There is a city... I think it is Londinium. In the streets people are cheering-”Redditor lucis... redditor!”
She stumbled on the unfamiliar Latin, but I could translate it:Restorer of the Light !
So could Arganax. He traded glances with Ganeda. ”If this man is an initiate, he could help us greatly,”
he said in a low voice. Then he bent forwards again.
”Who is he-no,where is he now?”
Once more Heron swayed above the scrying bowl. ”I see him... but he is younger. Hair like dandelion-” she added in response to further questions. ”He is riding a chestnut mule along a Roman road... but it is in Britannia... the road to the lead mines in the hills...”
”Here!” exclaimed Arganax. ”Surely the G.o.ds have destined that he shall come to us!”
The seeress was still mumbling to herself, but at the Druid's words she straightened, quivering like a drawn bow. ”Destiny!” she echoed, and then cried out suddenly in a great voice quite unlike her own.
”The son of the sun, greater than his father! A cross of light burns in the sky! All things changing! Fate hangs in the balance, the son will blaze across the world!” With a last ringing cry the Seeress threw out her arms, sending the scrying bowl spinning across the floor. I saw her begin to crumple, and Aelia and I were just in time to catch her as she fell.
After the n.o.ble stonework of Avalon, the round daub-and-wattle huts of the monks on Inis Witrin seemed clumsy and mean. I drew down my veil to hide the crescent on my brow as we climbed the slope, and Con, the young Druid who had been a.s.signed to escort me, moved forwards to take my arm.
Nearly six weeks had pa.s.sed since the Oracle rite, and Beltane was hard upon us. After the usual debate regarding the meaning of the oracle's p.r.o.nouncements, Arganax had sent out some of his young men to the Mendip Hills to see if any Roman fitting Heron's description could be found, and we had had to wait for their reply.
”You will have to let me talk to them. These holy men are forbidden to speak with a female,” he said softly. The monks allowed us to keep the few horses belonging to Avalon in their pasture, in exchange for herbs and medicines. I wondered where they thought we came from.
”What, do they think I will tempt them to impurity?” I snorted derisively. ”I will need to put on the guise of an ugly old woman when we meet the Roman. I might as well begin practising now.” My father had made sure his children learned good Latin-it was one of the reasons I had been chosen for the task of bringing the Roman to Avalon.
As the path curved around, I could see the round church, the lower ambulatory supporting a central tower, whose thatch shone golden in the sun. Con showed me a bench near the sanctuary where I could wait while he went off to see about the horses. It was a surprisingly peaceful place in which to sit, listening to the soft drone of chanting that came from within as I watched the meandering progress of a b.u.t.terfly above the gra.s.s.
The singing in the church soared suddenly and I turned to listen. When I looked back, the b.u.t.terfly had alighted on the outstretched hand of an old man. I blinked, wondering how he had come there without my seeing him, for the area all around the church was clear. The other brothers I had seen wore rough tunics woven from the undyed fleece, but the old man's garment shone snowy white and the beard that covered his chest was as white as the wool.
”The blessing of the Most High be upon you, my sister,” he said softly. ”And my thanks to Him for allowing me to speak with you once more.”
”What do you mean?” I stammered. ”I have never seen you before!”
”Ah-” he sighed. ”You do not remember...”
”Remember what?” Defiantly, I pushed back my veil. ”You are a follower of the Christos, and I am a priestess of Avalon!”
He nodded. That is true-today. But in ages past we were both of the same order, in the land that now is sunk beneath the waves. Lives and lands pa.s.s away, but the Light of the Spirit s.h.i.+nes still.”
My lips parted in shock. How could this monk know about the Mysteries? ”What-” I stammered, struggling for focus. ”Who are you?”
”My name in this place is Joseph. But it is not my name you should be asking, but your own.”
”I am called Eilan,” I answered swiftly, ”and Helena...'
”Or Tiriki...” he answered, and I blinked, finding a strange familiarity in that name. ”If you do not know who you are, how can you find your way?”
”I know where I am going-” With an effort I stopped myself from blurting out my mission, but it struck me that the old man already knew.
He shook his head and sighed. ”Your spirit knows, but I fear that the flesh you wear now must walk a weary way before you understand. Remember: the symbol is nothing. It is the reality behind all symbols that is all.”
I was still no closer to comprehending who or what this old man might be, but I had training enough to know that what he said was true.
”Good father, what must I do?”
”Seek ever for the Light...” he answered, and with his words, the sunlight on his white robe grew blinding.
I blinked, and when I looked up, Con was standing before me, saying something about the horses, and the old man was gone.
”The horses are waiting down by the gate,” the young Druid repeated, ”and the day is wearing on.”
Still wondering, I allowed him to help me to my feet. I knew better than to speak of what I had seen, but I knew that I would be thinking about it for a long time to come.
Dusk was drawing its cloak across the Vale of Avalon, covering marsh and meadow alike with the same dim purple-grey. From my post by the Mendip road I could see from the higher ground in the east almost all the way to the Sabrina estuary, where the sun was setting into the sea. Now all but the Tor lay in shadow, with a gleam of water below. For ten years I had said farewell to the sun from within that scene; it was fascinating to observe it from outside. Indeed, it was in all ways strange and fearful and oddly exciting to be back in the world of humankind, even if only for a little while.
Con touched my elbow. ”It is almost dark. The Roman should be coming soon.”
”Thank you,” I nodded, glancing up at the clouds that loomed to the north. Even the folk of Avalon could not call rain from an empty sky, and we had had to wait for a weather pattern that would serve my purpose. I had held the clouds at bay throughout the afternoon. Now I released some of the energies that bound them, and felt on my cheek the chill damp breath of the storm.