Gallicenae (32 page)

Rufinus had regained balance. “The Queen is shrewd. I beg leave to say no more.”

Her gaze smoldered at him. “You may be required to. I think that from time to time you shall be recommending certain courses of action to Gratillonius, proposals that would not have occurred to him of their own accord.”

Forgetting her orders, he jumped to his feet. Pallor made the scar on his cheek stand lurid. “Nay!” he cried. “Grallon’s my lord!”

“Calm down,” she snapped. “Think you his wives would wish him steered toward harm? I’ve his best interests at heart. And yours, Rufinus.”

“Mine? My lady, I’ll take no bribe—forgive me—no recompense.”

Her smile was hard. “Not even silence?”

He stared. “What mean you?”

“Unwise you were, Rufinus, to take your pleasures freely in Ys.”

He stiffened his back. “Why should I not carouse?”

“Wine, song, shows, gambling, aye. But you’re never seen in Tomcat Alley, nor do you avail yourself of the girls so readily available in taverns near the waterfront. For that matter, given your status and, yea, your personal charm, I’m sure a number of elegant women would be glad of a little sport with you.”

His hands lifted as if to fend her off. “I’m not impotent—”

“I never believed that.”

“I’ve been with women—”

“Doubtless. After all, you came here intending to make yourself King.”

“If I choose now to be chaste—”

“Curse me if you must,” said Vindilis crisply, “but insult not my intelligence. I suspected early on what you are. The Nine have their means of finding things out when they care to. Shall I name the foreign sailors? Some you brought hither, the young and handsome. That was
most foolish. Tis sheer luck that your fellow tenants have not paid much heed… thus far. They soon will, unless you grow careful.”

The breath rasped in Rufinus’s throat. “What concern is this of theirs? Of yours?”

The sharp features softened, and the voice. “It should be none. In olden Greece, I’ve heard, ’twould not have been, nor for a long time in Rome itself But Ys is neither. Underneath all the sensuality, its heritage remains, of austere mariners from the South, ruthless charioteers from the East, and—who knows what of the Old Folk?” She laid a hand on his. “Would it were otherwise. But this must needs concern me, because the revelation would destroy your usefulness to the King. It would cast suspicions on him that would wound him in his soul and undermine him in his power. You’d not do that to Grallon, would you, Rufinus?”

He shuddered. Anguish answered: “O Gods, netherworld Gods, nay.”

“Then, first, be more discreet,” she said. “You can do as you like beyond our borders, though best would be if you use a false name. While in Ys, amuse yourself as you wish, save this.” Her tone thinned. “Engage whores, if your fingers will not suffice you.”

He reddened. “I can. I have. Tis only—I think my nature is, is because I was a boy when I joined the Bacaudae, who seldom see women, and—Nay, I pledge caution in Ys, for Grallon’s sake.”

Warmth responded: “Then I will accept your wine. Come, light wicks ere dusk overtakes us. Set forth food also, though I eat sparingly. Let us sit down and become acquainted. For I do not abhor you. I understand you better than you imagine.”

Heartened, he warned, “Gladly will I plan with you how we may both serve Grallon, my lady. But remember always, he is my lord, to whom my faith is plighted.”

“Whom you love,” she said softly.

Rufinus flinched. “He does not know.”

“Nor shall he ever,” Vindilis promised, “if you bear yourself toward me as I hope you will.”

5

The Queens were all kind to Dahut, in their different ways, but she came to like Tambilis best and looked forward to her turns at staying in the house of the youngest. This was in spite of the fact that Papa never came there, with his romps and stories and tuneless but bouncing songs, as he did to the other Mamas whenever he was able (though he never spent the night with Fennalis or Bodilis). Dahut tried to find out why that was, but couldn’t get any real answer from either one. They certainly smiled and spoke gently enough when they met.

No matter that eight years lay between their births, Tambilis and Dahut shared secrets, played little games together, went on trips, moaned about lessons, giggled at funny things. Tambilis had more learning, of course, which she could not readily explain to Dahut, only saying, “Wait till you get that far.” However, she knew there was something mysterious and special about Dahut, which could still less be put into words. “I’m not afraid of you,” she said. “You’re my own dear cousin.”

The Council of Suffetes met around the quarter days. Tambilis confessed to Dahut that she merely listened, sometimes interested, sometimes frightened, sometimes well-nigh falling asleep. On the days themselves, the meetings adjourned for various ceremonies. Tambilis looked on the vernal equinox that year as a liberation.

After services at the Temple of Belisama, she sought Dahut out from among the departing choir girls. She herself had been one of the high priestesses. “Would you like to come with me?” she asked, flushed and proud. “I have the Shrine of Ishtar this time. Tis just open two days a year, you know, at spring and autumn.”

Dahut joyously agreed and got permission. She had heard that Ishtar was an ancient name of the Goddess and that the Founders had built Her a house when Ys was a new Phoenician colony. Nowadays Her first, simple dwelling stood unused, except when the wheel of the year bore back remembrance.

Hand in hand, the two made their way through crowds that respectfully parted, down into Lowtown. The blue gown and high white headdress of Tambilis only made her look as young as Dahut, who wore a flowing dress of silk, gilt sandals, and above her unbound blond hair a garland of primroses. The day was mild and sunny. Birds winged around flashing towers.

The shrine was small, rammed earth and slate roof on a plot scarcely larger, which was marked off by four boundary stones. When Tambilis had unlocked the door, the interior proved equally plain, clay floor and rough altar block, though the Mirror was polished and the murals of Stars and Moon had lately been retouched.

After prayer, Tambilis seated herself on a bench together with Dahut and waited. In the hours that followed, a number of people came one by one or two by two through the open entrance. Mostly they were humble folk. Some simply wanted to make their devotions. Some approached the Queen and asked for blessing or help—a woman with child, a man who had lost his only son, a woman in search of her husband’s forgiveness for adultery, a man soon to sail forth to distant lands, a girl who was deformed and lonely, a boy with soaring dreams…. Tambilis could give the benison. Aid and counsel she was seldom prepared to render, but she knew where they might be found. In this wise Dahut saw what power was the Goddess’s.

At sunset, after a final orison, Tambilis closed the shrine. The weight of solemnity fell off her. “Now we are free,” she caroled. “Come, let’s
go to the Forum. They’ll be celebrating, you know, and the performers and musicians and, and everybody. There’ll be stalls with food and drink and sweetmeats and, oh, all sorts of fine things. Innilis said I can bring you home as late as we want.”

“Till dawn!” Dahut cried.

They danced off, Tambilis forgetting that in public a Queen should be stately.

Between the Roman-like buildings that surrounded the central plaza, a throng milled. Their feet hid the mosaics of dolphins and sea horses. Dusk had gone flickery-bright, for the Fire Fountain was playing, oil ablaze, pumped high to cascade in red, yellow, green, blue flames down its three basins. Voices surfed, laughter rang, melodies whistled, throbbed, twanged, drummed. Raiment made a rainbow, and few were the brows without a wreath.

Wandering about, little noticed in spite of Tambilis’s garb, the girl passed near what had been the Roman temple of Mars and was now the Christian church. Words slashed through the merriment: “O people of Ys, hear the warning. Terrible is your danger.”

Tambilis paid no heed, but Dahut stopped and stared. A tall, raw-boned man stood on the top step of the temple portico. His beard was black but grizzling, his hair abristle behind a shaven slice of scalp that went from ear to ear. His robe was of cloth cheap and rough. At his back, drably clad, clustered a few men and slightly more women. “Amen,” they chanted whenever he paused. His speech was quiet, but it carried.

“—yon cheerful ingle is in truth a will-o’-the-wisp leading you on to the burning that waits down in hell—”

The Ysans ignored him, talked, quaffed, japed, kissed.

“I beg you, listen. Ah, well do I understand, my plea tonight will win nobody over. But if you will hear it and think about it—”

Dahut’s face paled so that the restless colors took possession of it. “Come,” Tambilis said. “No matter that old moldy. Let’s go on.” Dahut seemed to hear only the preacher.

“I do not scoff at your faith. Your Gods have brought you to much that is wonderful. But Their time is past. Like those unfortunates whom senility has turned mad, They do naught but mislead; and the road They have you upon goes into the Abyss. I love you too much, God loves you too much, to wish that for you. Forswear those demons you call Gods. Christ waits and longs to save you.”

“Nay!” Dahut yelled. She broke from Tambilis’s clasp, dashed off and up the stairs.

An uneven sigh went over the revelry and damped it down. Many recognized the slim form with the beautiful face that ran to stand before Corentinus. They breathed her name to the rest. Eyes and eyes and eyes turned thither.

“Child,” called the chorepiscopus shakenly, “beloved Princess Dahut, do
you
see the truth?”

She stamped her foot, clenched her fists, and shouted up his height: “You lie, old man, you’re a liar! The Goddess is good, the Gods’re strong!”

“Oh, poor darling,” Corentinus said.

“You’re horrible!” she screamed. Turning to the Forum, she raised her arms. The light from the Fountain picked out her bright garment and hair, while casting Corentinus into murk. “Don’t you listen to him! The Goddess is good, the Gods’re strong!”

“Child,” Corentinus groaned, “you have but seven years in this world. How can you know?”

“I do know!” she flung at him. “The sea tells me, the seal comes to me, an’, an’ today—everywhere—” Again she faced the people. “Listen to me. We
belong
to the Gods. If we forsake Them, They will forsake us, and Ys will die. Please be true to the Gods!”

Weeping, she stumbled back down the stairs. Tambilis hurried to embrace her. The crowd swarmed around them. It roared. Corentinus and his Christians stood alone beneath the pagan frieze on their church.

1

At Lúgnassat, King Niall must by law preside over the great fair at Tallten, its rites and sacrifices as well as its games and worldly dealings. His older sons had fallen into the way of representing him at such other gatherings of the kind as were important. They would be unwise to break that practice, when no warfare had call upon them this year. Besides keeping the glory of their house in view, it gave them a chance to gather news and strike useful bargains. With their north-faring dreams, the lords of Mide wanted no enemies at their backs. About the hostility of the Lagini they could do little; however it seemed that Niall’s punitive expedition, and the wealth he took back with him, had sapped the eastern Fifth for a while.

Yet he was now master of Mag Slecht, where stood Cromb Cróche, Who had power over earth and blood. If he wanted the help, the goodwill, of that God, he for his part must not fail to pay honor and make offering. Having given the matter thought, he sent his son Domnuald on his behalf, with a goodly train of warriors and servants, a druid for counsel and magic, a poet for solemnity and power, several
bards for entertainment when the company had made camp at eventide. Though still rather young, Domnuald had proven himself in battle against the Lagini and afterward the Ulati. Among his own folk, his cheerfulness and common sense boded well for the future.

As he approached his destination, he departed form the main road and travelled about, collecting the tribute and rents due his father. These he took in the form of kine. To landowners in whose houses he overnighted when that was convenient, he explained his intention of giving the animals, in a huge slaughter, to the Bent One of the Mound. Thus should there come no evil creatures upon Niall or the sons of Niall.

Certain men cast dark looks. After their guest was gone, they rode off with word. Having become a cattle drive, Domnuald’s progress grew slow. Nevertheless he ended his journey ahead of time.

The past few days had been hot. Air stewed in the nostrils, clothes clung to skin, breath was heavy and sleep unrestful. Clouds brooded enormous, blue-black, with mutterings in their depths and sometimes a wan flicker of lightning; but the blessed rain did not fall and did not fall. The herd became skittish, hard to control. Men’s patience wore thin, until tempers often flared into quarrels.

Mag Slecht was a plain out of which rose small hills. Here the menhirs, dolmens, and cromlechs were many. Such folk as lived thereabouts tended the cult sites and, in return, shared in the sacrificial feasts that outsiders held. Otherwise poor and lowly, they were still regarded as having something eldritch about them.

Domnuald went by their homes without stopping, more hasty than haughty, until his band spied the halidom of Cromb Cróche from afar. Then he galloped his horse ahead of everybody else, up the track through the woods that decked the hillsides, reached the clearing, and reined in.

Awe smote him. He saw a huge circle of grass surrounded by forest. In this windlessness, leaves were utterly silent, as if cut out of green stone, and shadows made caves beneath the boughs. At the center blazed brightness almost too fierce to look at. It was the gold and silver that sheathed a giant standing stone which had somewhat the look of a hunchbacked man. Not much smaller were the menhirs that formed a ring around it, twelve altogether, themselves covered with brass kept bright by the rubbing of worshipful hands.