Authors: Patricia Malone
“How long have you known about me?”
“Cara told me about you when I visited Dun Alyn five years ago.”
“Moren did not speak of you,” I say.
“No. I've spent little time on the main isle of Britain these past years. Those in the south have forgotten their priestesses; many even live without Druids. Some of those who learned the new faith from the Romans taught their descendants to hate us. It has been safer to stay in the western isles, where we have both our own monks and our old customs.”
I shake my head. I was brought up to believe in the new religion and to honor the old customs also; I don't understand why there is so much conflict.
When we reach the burned patches that held my childhood home, she looks over the devastation and then raises her eyes to the graves. The cairns that mark them are outlined against the evening sky.
“What brings you here at this time?” I ask.
She sighs. “Two reports. The first of a noble young woman driven from her rightful place by treachery and witchcraft.”
I'm silent for a moment, letting her words sink in. It's
hard to imagine that a high priestess would travel across the water and venture alone on dangerous trails because of my misfortune. At last I ask, “How did you find out?”
She smiles. “News travels fast. A bard who visited Dun Dreug just as they returned from the battle at the Ford of Dee carried the story to us within a few days. Soon after, Gillis's report of his decision about your fate came to the head Druid by messenger as is proper in such grave matters.”
I cannot meet her eyes. “I failed my people,” I say.
“Perhaps. Still, your decision to accept the judgment due a warrior speaks for your courage. If I had had even a hint of Andrina's plans, I would have been at your side at the Ford of Dee.”
“You believe that I saw Durant, then?”
She nods. “It is the kind of thing that Andrina would do. She is skilled with herbs and knows poisons that render a person senseless but still able to stand and walk.”
I shudder. “Have you had any word about him?”
“No. He must have been her captive that day, and if so”—she hesitates a moment before continuing—“it is unlikely that he is still alive.”
I force back a sob. “I've thought that, of course, but still I must try to find him or at least learn what has happened to him. I had hoped to travel to Dun Lachan when I left Dun Alyn, but I stopped here to leave my injured dog and found that the men of the vale had been kidnapped. I felt that I had to help my old friends.”
“I heard the story of the battle with invaders. How did the women and children in this vale learn to fight?” she asks.
“They worked hard.”
She laughs. “I think you must have worked also. Are you free to leave now?”
“Yes,” I say. “Yesterday when the raiders from Eriu came, I was up in the mountains at the east end of the valley, and Eogan was away hunting. The women and children did a fine job of defending the village.”
We stand, watching darkness creep down the mountain and fill the valley. When we turn at last to go back to the village, the path is barely visible beneath our feet. “You said two things brought you here,” I say. “What is the other?”
“Arthur has disappeared.”
“The Dragon Chief!” I stop on the trail and turn to her, but I cannot see her face in the darkness. The vale is quiet around us, with only the sounds of the gentle calls of birds settling into their roosts and the steady gurgle of the stream as it meanders through the village on its way to the meadow. “When?” I ask. “How? What will happen to the alliance?”
“Twelve days ago he was at his home fortress a day's journey from Uxelodunum. Many of his companions had gone to their own places for short visits before mustering for the battle that is to come. A traveler, a stranger to Arthur's hall, asked hospitality and, when pressed for news, told a story of a great boar in woods to the west. Arthur likes nothing
better than a good hunt and decided to ride out the next day in search of the animal.”
“Surely he took companions with him,” I say.
She sighs. “Two. Only two. No one knows what happened, but none of them returned. Arthur's horse, without saddle, harness, or weapons, came home in the evening. The next morning searchers found the bodies of his companions in the area that the traveler had described, but there was no sign of Arthur.”
“He should not have gone without a full war band.”
She takes my arm again, and the two of us continue down the path toward the village. “Of course not,” she says, “but he has hunted since he was a boy and thinks nothing of dashing out into the forest in search of a boar or stag. Arthur is young; he seems to have no fear and rarely considers his own safety.”
“And the traveler?” I ask.
“Vanished. He left Arthur's fortress early in the morning after he'd told his story, and no one has seen him since, though a search went out for him as well.”
“How did you receive the news?”
“Messengers come and go between Uxelodunum and Gorre constantly; it is a day's journey by sea. Dubric left at once for Uxelodunum to direct Arthur's forces there, and I set sail a few days later to travel to Dun Dreug and thence to Cameliard. The Vale of Enfert is on the trail that I take from
the sea eastward, and I hoped to find you here. It seemed a likely place for you to have taken refuge.”
“I'm glad that you came when you did. Otherwise we would have missed each other,” I say. “I plan to leave for Dun Lachan in a day or two.”
We are near Delya's house now, and Vorgel speaks quietly. “You must do something else instead.”
“But …” I've waited too long already!
She whispers, but her words are clear and forceful. “Finding Arthur is our most important task.”
Delya approaches, and we fall silent.
“Your bed is ready, lady, and a basin of warm water.”
“Thank you,” Vorgel says. “That sounds wonderful.” She turns to me. “We will leave soon after sunup tomorrow. We can talk as we travel.”
I lie awake long after Aten, Fiona, and Kenna have fallen asleep, my mind churning with worry about Durant. I know it will be hard to tell Vorgel that I cannot carry out whatever task she has for me, but I must find the words. Durant is my betrothed; I have a duty to him. There are probably hundreds searching for Arthur; one more person cannot be important. I vow to be firm when I speak with her tomorrow.
When I awaken, I am distressed to find that it is well past sunup. Then I feel relief. Vorgel has gone. Perhaps she left in anger because I did not appear. But at least I have
been spared the struggle of refusing to do what the high priestess ordered.
I wander out into the bright morning and find Aten baking bannocks at the outside fire. “You slept soundly at last,” she says. “I told our visitor that you had a restless night.”
“I'm sorry that I missed her,” I say.
Aten stands to hand me a small hot loaf and then points up the path. Vorgel is near my old homeplace; she has one hand on her horse's withers, and she is pointing toward the south with the other one. Eogan is beside her, nodding as he listens.
Suddenly I lose my appetite. I hand the bread back to Aten and start up the path.
Machonna dashes past me and butts his head against Eogan's knee, demanding attention. Eogan scratches the hound's ears, but keeps his eyes on Vorgel.
“It is a good day to travel, Ilena,” she says as I approach.
“Yes,” I say. “I wish you Godspeed.”
Her eyes twinkle for a moment, but she speaks sternly. “Our paths run together for a half day's travel. I will leave you at the north-south trail.”
I struggle for words. “I…I must look for Durant. He is my betrothed, and I cannot leave him to whatever danger he's in.”
“Eogan will travel with you to the South,” she says.
I look at Eogan. He is trying to appear calm and unconcerned,
but excitement sparkles in his eyes. “Eogan is not free to travel anywhere,” I protest. “The village needs him; his mother will not want him to leave.”
“She told me to do as the lady commands,” he says. “She is preparing my pack and food for both of us; Fiona and Kenna are harnessing our horses.”
Anger overcomes me, and I turn to Vorgel. “You cannot—” Morning sun glints for a moment on the malachite necklace. No one, not even a chief, tells a high priestess what she may or may not do.
She waits calmly while I struggle. I think that I can even see sympathy in her eyes, but she does not speak.
Finally I say, “Tell me what we must do.”
“First we will hear Eogan's pledge to you,” she says. She turns to him. “Do you know the great oath?”
“The bards have talked of it,” he says. “I do not know the words.”
“Then repeat them after me,” she says. “Heaven is above me.”
Eogan's voice is clear and more grown-up than I've ever heard it. “Heaven is above me.”
“And the earth is beneath me.”
“And the earth is beneath me.”
I listen as she speaks each line and he repeats it after her. I remember standing with Durant last fall as we pledged our loyalty to Arthur. When Eogan speaks the last line, “I will
stand with Ilena,” I think of what my pledge to the Dragon Chief means.
Vorgel says, “Now be quick, both of you. I'll wait for you on the other side of the pass.”
Our good-byes are easier than I expected. I pull a handful of gold bangles from my pack and press them on Aten. “Take these into the nearby valleys to bargain for oxen and other livestock. Get more spearpoints, too, and a dirk for Calum.”
She starts to protest, but I cut her off with a hug. “It will make my leaving easier if I know that you have some resources to help you until the men are safely home.”
She smiles and returns my embrace. “Go with your God, Ilena. And come back to us when you can.”
Emer has tears in her eyes, but she beams with pride in her son's new role as my companion and protector. “Godspeed to you both, and, Eogan, be strong in your duty to Ilena and to the lady Vorgel. Your father will be honored when he hears of your position.”
Eogan nods solemnly and says, “Greet my father for me when you see him.” He embraces Emer and takes Legg's rein from Kenna.
Fiona clasps my hand tightly for a moment, then steps back and hands me Rol's rein.
I thought at first to leave Machonna behind; he is happy here, and Aten loves him. But I know that he would follow us as soon as he was free to roam, and to be truthful, I enjoy
his company. My life has had too many losses lately. I put his collar and leash on top of Rol's pack and let the hound run beside us as we lead the horses up the pass.
We stop near the top and turn to look down on the village. Everyone is still standing beside the path, where they gathered to wish us well. Eogan and I wave and watch for a moment, then trudge on, with Legg and Rol following and Machonna leading the way.
Calum is on watch with his mother; both come down from their rocky hideaway to speak with us. “The lady met someone. He was waiting just on the other side of the pass, but we didn't even know he was near,” Calum says.
“Aye. A proper old hermit, he looked,” his mother adds.
And a proper old hermit he does appear when we see him near the bottom of the incline. His clothing is a tattered cloak over a skin garment; his feet are bare, and his long, graying hair falls from a Druid tonsure that exposes his forehead and a clean-shaven patch of scalp across the front of his head. He wears a short sword and carries a hunting bow. A quiver of arrows is slung on his back and more are bundled onto a pack on his donkey. The animal looks much like his master, shaggy and well past the prime of his life.
“Arno,” Vorgel says, and makes no further explanation for him.
He nods and moves ahead of us, tugging his donkey along by a thin frayed rope.
Vorgel leads her horse too, and she and I walk together.
Eogan falls into place behind us, and Machonna bounds beside him, stopping often to sniff at promising spots along the path, then racing to catch up. Arno swings his head from side to side, surveying the trail ahead and the forest on either side as efficiently as any scout I've watched. When I look back at Eogan, I note that he has taken his cue from the hermit and guards us from the rear.
My companion does not start a conversation, so I too remain silent.
At a little past noon Arno stops us at a clearing; it is a place with a spring and rock outcroppings where Moren and I often rested on our hunting trips. Vorgel goes at once to a ledge near the spring and sits down with her back against the rock face. Eogan and I water the horses and the donkey at the small stream that flows from the spring, while Arno and Machonna disappear into the woods around us. They return as I am dipping fresh water for Vorgel.
She takes a long drink before she speaks. “Is anyone around?”
“No one that I can spot,” Arno answers. “And the dog didn't sense anything.”
“Good. We'll rest and talk for a time. Bring us meat and bread from my pack, Ilena. You and Eogan must save your provisions for your journey. Arno and I will be at Dun Dreug late tonight.”
I obey, carrying dried meat strips and a barley loaf to her. Arno takes a barley loaf and heads across the clearing to a
fallen tree trunk; Eogan scoops up a loaf and several strips of meat, then joins him. Machonna gulps down a meat strip, then drops to the ground at my feet and is soon asleep.
When Vorgel and I have finished our food, she says, “I wish that I could keep you with me, but we must separate for a few days. The task that I have for you should not be dangerous if you are careful.”
Eogan has stretched out on the tree trunk and seems to be asleep; Arno has disappeared into the forest again. Vorgel stands and paces back and forth for a few steps, then sits back down. “We know that Saxons and those who support them plan to attack Cameliard.”
My lessons with Moren were clear about Cameliard. It is situated above the river Forth, and the fortress controls the eastern approaches to North Britain just as Alcluith controls River Clota with its sea access from the west.
She continues. “The battle challenge that Faolan issued to Dun Alyn was part of a plan to defeat the four northern fortresses that are loyal to Arthur—Dun Alyn, Dun Dreug, Dun Selig, and Glein.