“I won’t be able to meet him tomorrow,” Betsy said, with a catch in her voice.
“Don’t tell me you’re chickening out, Betsy?”
“No, but Harry here won’t let me have the day off. He’s making it hard for me.”
“She has a job and that comes first,” Harry said. “She’s bloody lucky to find a job around here. Most young people have to move away, don’t they?”
The American woman touched Betsy’s arm and leaned close to her. “Look, Betsy. If this is going to be a problem, maybe I’ve got a way out. I happen to know that they’re hiring extra help at the Sacred Grove, ready for the summer season. If you like, I could speak to the owners about finding you a job there. Then you’d be on the spot so that we could do further testing and help you to bring out your hidden talents.”
Betsy’s eyes were shining. “Me, miss? You think they’d hire me down there?”
“Sure they would. The place is already booking solid for the summer and they need the same kind of staff as a five-star hotel. You’ve already worked in the hospitality industry so you’ve got a head start. Let me ask the owners in the morning and see what they say.”
“You hear that, Evan?” Betsy looked round at him. “Did you hear what Emmy was saying? She thinks she can get me a job at the place where they’re testing me. Imagine that—me among all the healers and priestesses and everything. You just watch how psychic I get when I’m surrounded by all those good vibrations.”
“You’re not seriously thinking of leaving Harry and going to work down there with foreigners, are you?” Evans-the-Meat had also overheard the conversation.
“Why shouldn’t I? Grumpy old man,” Betsy said. “Do you think I haven’t been dying to find something better than this? I’ve got dreams and ambitions, you know. If they’ll have me, I’ll be out of here in the morning and Harry can like it or lump it!”
Chapter 6
Excerpt from The Way of the Druid, by Rhiannon
The History of Druidism
The Druid religion extends back into the mists of time. It is not known whether the Celts brought Druidism with them when they migrated from their homeland around the Black Sea to populate and dominate much of Europe, or whether Druidism evolved only among the western Celts—those in Britain and northern France. It is in those areas that we have found the physical evidence of Druids—the carved statues of the gods, the stones with charms inscribed on them, the priestly torques, the ritual objects placed in wells and lakes.
It is in Wales and Ireland that we feel their presence most strongly.
In any case we know that Druidism was flourishing in the British Isles when the Roman armies invaded with Julius Caesar in 55 B.C.E.
It is also shortsighted to speak of Druidism as being a thing of the past, recently resurrected. In Ireland and Wales, among the true Celts, Druidism has never died out. It has been subdued, Christianized, but it still lurks at the base of every Celtic psyche.
Druidism has suffered from what today would be described as bad press. The only historical accounts of Druid worship still extant come from Roman sources. The conqueror justifying the act of conquest. Julius Caesar, Pliny the Younger, and other notable Romans describe the Druids as savage barbarians, prone to unspeakable sacrifices and torture of prisoners, holding mysterious and terrible ceremonies in oak groves. These same Romans failed to mention that captured Britons, many of them Druids, or ahherents of the Druid religion, were shipped off to Rome to provide spectacle in the arenas by fighting gladiators or lions.
Tacitus writes: “The graves devoted to Monas barbarous superstitions he demolished. For it was their religion to drench their altars in the blood of prisoners and to consult their gods by means of human entrails.”
What few facts we can glean from these Roman distortions tell us that the Druids were indeed formidable foes. When the Romans reached the Isle of Mon (which the English call Anglesey), they were confronted by a horde of blue-painted Celts, both men and women, brandishing weapons and howling so fiercely that the mighty Roman army was unnerved and the soldiers could not be persuaded to cross the strait to do battle. Eventually, when reinforcements arrived and the Celts were hopelessly outnumbered, the Romans advanced and there was a fierce battle before the Celtic army was wiped out.
Wales became a Roman province. Christianity arrived in the fourth century. Druidism was suppressed but never completely wiped out. The Christian missionaries cleverly incorporated the most important Druid feasts into the church year, so that the winter solstice, with its garlands of holly and ivy, its burning of a great log, and its feast to brighten the shortest day, has become Christmas.
Beltane, with its lighting of the new fire, its sprigs of flowers, and celebration of spring awakening, has been incorporated into Easter. And Samhuinn, that most mystical of days, on October 31st, when the door between this world and the otherworld is open so that spirits may pass freely between, has now become the children’s festival of Halloween.
Evan opened his eyes and blinked in a blinding white light. For a second or two his heart raced, and he sat up, wondering what was happening to him. Then he realized it was only the sun, streaming in through his as-yet-uncurtained bedroom window. It was the first sunny day since he had moved and he hadn’t realized that the window faced due east, allowing the morning sun to come streaming in. That strength of sunlight must also mean that it was quite late. He groped for his watch on the packing case that was presently standing in for a bedside table. Eight-fifteen. He rarely slept as late as that. Mrs. Williams had made sure that he never overslept and the tempting smell of bacon cooking had been enough to wake him. Then he remembered that it was Saturday. On weekends Mrs. Williams would serve him a full Welsh breakfast—bacon, sausage, fried bread—the works! Evan swung his feet onto the cold linoleum and sighed.
At least it was a sunny Saturday for a change. Maybe Bronwen would like to go for a hike, or they could drive down to the Llyn Peninsula and do some bird-watching. Spring was the best season for the seabirds. Then he remembered something else. This was his weekend to work. He took a lukewarm bath, not having learned yet how to coax the water heater into producing hot water for more than a couple of minutes, shaved, and made himself toast and tea. At least the stove had a grill element that worked. As he carried the toast through to the vinyl table, he heard a sound—the pop-popping noise of a revving motorbike. Evan jumped up and rushed outside. Surely he’d remembered to lock the lean-to where he was keeping the motorbike? And surely nobody could start it without the key? He imagined what D.C.I. Meredith would say if he had to call in and report the bike stolen after one day. He rushed outside in time to see a lanky figure wobbling down the hill on the bike, a large bag on his back. As Evan watched in horror, the bike picked up speed and the man gave a yell and jumped off, just before the bike ran into the gatepost of the Red Dragon and fell over, its engine still roaring.
Evan rushed to pick the man up. It was Evans-the-Post, his large mailbag still over his shoulder. “You blithering idiot!” Evan yelled. “What did you think you were doing?”
Evans-the-Post staggered to his feet and started brushing himself off. “Is the bike wrecked?” he asked. “I bloody well hope so.”
“You hope my bike is wrecked? Are you out of your mind, man?”
“I told them I wouldn’t be able to handle it, didn’t I?” Evans-the-Post went on, his large, mournful eyes staring at the prone motorbike. “I kept telling them. ‘I’m not good with mechanical things,’ I kept on saying, but they wouldn’t listen. ‘Directive from the postmaster general,’—that’s what they told me. ‘Rural postmen have to be motorized.’”