We must show strength by believing in ourselves and standing by our convictions, Beth had told Claudia down in the cavern.
Whatever the cost?
How well she remembered the lead in her heart as she finally gave her reply. Yes, she had said. Whatever the cost.
And now she understood that, whether written or spoken, words don't freeze and die. They burn in the memory for eternity, and let the Druids keep up their symbols of notches on wood. The keys of wisdom, as they were called. The sun was setting on the day of the Druids, and whether the Hundred-Handed would survive for another three centuries or just another three years, so long as people continued to flock to them for spiritual guidance, that guidance would continue to be in line with nature.
And thus change.
'Step forward, Mavor,' she called aloud.
Two initiates would take the vacant places at the table tomorrow, but right now, this was business that could not wait. The door to the Voting Hall opened with a slight creak, and candlelight bounced off her wild auburn curls.
'There are those among us who are pushing for marriage among our order,' Beth said. 'But I cannot allow this in our College.'
'Hear, hear,' Dora boomed.
'However.' Beth took care to look only at Mavor. 'We know you have been meeting Gabali, when you are well aware that he was forbidden from entering our sacred grounds. We know that he asked you to hide the rope that would help the victim escape from the Pit of Reflection, even though you were not happy to do so. We know, moreover, that he asked you to hide it in Swarbric's hut, where you and he have been conducting your illegal assignations. And-'
She glanced at the space where Fearn should have been sitting. Love, she thought sadly. Love had so much to answer for…
'- and we know that you are pregnant.'
Mavor went white. 'How?'
'My dear, we have all had children,' Dora said gently. 'The signs are as plain as the clouds in the sky.'
'You do understand that Gabali must leave and that if he sets foot on this land again, he will be thrown into the Pit?'
'Which this time will be guarded,' Luisa added.
'However,' Beth said, before Mavor could speak, 'the Hundred-Handed have decided' — her smile was thin — 'if any of our order is not happy and wishes to leave, she is free to do so.'
Left unchecked, change could gallop out of control. Her job was to hold the reins and see that it advanced one pace at a time.
'These are the rules laid down by the pentagram: that any among us, priestess or initiate, may leave on condition she swears an oath never to speak of this College again, and on the strict understanding that she can never come back.'
For a beat of three only emotion pulsed between them, then Beth cleared her throat.
'Do you stay or do you go?'
Tears flowed down Mavor's cheeks and her shoulders heaved. 'Beth, I love this place with all my heart, you know that, and I love the work that I do, but it is not enough.'
'With Gabali do you think it will be enough?'
'I don't know, but I'm willing to try, and perhaps with a child
…' Her words trailed off. 'Thank you, thank you all so very much — oh, but what about Swarbric? Please don't punish him for my sins, I beg you.'
'We will not,' Dora said crisply. 'We have graver issues to discuss with that young man. Kindly send him in as you leave.'
Still handsome, still confident, despite the mop of sodden grey hair and dripping pantaloons, Swarbric swaggered into the hall, his thumb hooked in his belt adjacent to the empty scabbard where his dagger should have been. Disarmed, but never disarming, Beth thought.
'Ladies.'
He bowed low.
Beth wasted no time.
'Swarbric, forgetting for a moment your complicity in an affair between a priestess and a male who was forbidden to set foot on our sacred ground again, you forsook your trust as Guardian of the Sacred Gate.'
She paused, but he made no attempt to apologize or explain.
'And even though it was to save two foolish lovers who didn't need saving and that, having found the fishing boat tied up next to a hut in which Pod was recovering from a fever, you returned to your post of your own free will, the pentagram is still of the opinion that we should strip you of your special privileges. How do you answer?'
There was a twinkle in his eye as he flashed his famous disarming grin.
'Ladies,' he breathed, advancing towards the table, 'I think you should just strip me and see what happens next.'
Despite themselves, the pentagram burst out laughing.
'You are incorrigible, Swarbric,' Dora spluttered.
'Which of course is why we all love you,' Luisa chuckled.
It was left to Beth — naturally — to pass sentence on the deserter. Outside, thunder rolled and rain drummed on the heavy thatched roof. The storm which had been building all day was spilling its anger on Gaul. Her sigh came from the heart.
'Oh, for pity's sake, Swarbric. Get back to your post, before I find myself promoting you.'
Thirty-One
Claudia stood on the footbridge while the fury of tempest whipped up the stream, swirled the treetops around and sent branches crashing down to the earth. Down the valley, the wind howled like a mother bereaved. Like a wild beast tormented by pain. Rocks tumbled down the arrowhead like pebbles.
She thought of the men and women who'd taken shelter in the caves, making their home in the cavern and leaving their art and their handprints for posterity. She saw them snug under the skins of the bears that they worshipped, a fire keeping them warm through the cold winter nights, water keeping them clean. A safe place. A holy place. A place where the spirits of the living were locked for eternity, but not in the form of souls or ghosts. It was their energy that remained trapped in the cave, as their dynamism and drive lingered on through millennia… And now she had tainted their memory with blood.
Not Ptian's.
If Beth's dragon existed, he was welcome to the feast. Claudia was thinking of Manion. Of the fiery young man who'd spoken up against Rome and was shunned by his tribe for stirring up trouble. In his fervour to rid his country of the oppressors, he'd seen revolt as the only solution, and when revolution needs funding and crime pays handsome dividends, he'd seen a way to liberate Gaul. Gathering together hundreds of equally disenchanted outcasts, he formed a militia and armed it with the proceeds of crime. And in doing so, realized he'd created a monster.
These things Gabali told her as they made their way back from the Pit.
That it was this revelation that made Manion study his enemy, Rome, and see that a small bunch of warriors, no matter how zealous, could not hope to take on the might of the Empire and win. It would only end in bloodshed and heartache, with villages razed in retribution, whole tribes taken as prisoners of war, women sold into slavery, men put down the mines, any surviving militia executed for sport. Ptian had refused to listen. He decried Manion's arguments as cowardice and capitulation, citing this erosion of passion as yet another reason to rid Aquitania of its oppressors. At which point, Manion realized that here was a young buck looking to oust the herd's leader. From now on he'd need to watch his back.
But Ptian had learned well from the master. The phoenix proved as slippery as the scorpion when it came to being pinned down.
But using Gabali's acquaintance with the College, Manion exploited Ptian's misogyny by contriving for him a job in the very heart of the society he hated. He'd weighed the risks carefully, Gabali explained, knowing that Ptian's obsession might well explode in bloodshed. But it was the only way Manion could set a trap on his own terms, using himself as the bait, and he'd attached himself to Orbilio as the first step to rehabilitation. Gabali was a link to them both.