The Forest House Read Online Free PDF Page A

were well made; the copper basin she carried was beautifully worked—no doubt it had come from one of the southern markets.
    Rushlights of reed dipped in tallow burned in hanging bowls; the couch where he lay was covered with linen, the straw mattress smelled of sweet herbs. It was heavenly warm after the chill of the pit. Then the old man who had directed his rescue came and sat down beside him, and for the first time Gaius got a good look at his rescuer.
    He was a big and powerful man, with shoulders strong enough to throw down a bull. His face was rough-cast on his skull, as if carelessly chiseled out of stone, and his eyes were light grey and cold. His hair was liberally sprinkled with grey; Gaius thought he was around the age of his own father, about fifty.
    "You had a remarkably narrow escape, young man,” the Druid said. Gaius had the impression that lecturing came very naturally to him. "Next time keep your eyes open. I’ll have a look at that shoulder in a minute. Eilan—” He beckoned to the girl and gave her instructions in a low voice.
    She went away and Gaius asked, "To whom do I owe my life, Honored One?” He had never thought to show respect to a Druid. Gaius, like everyone else, had been brought up on Caesar’s old horror stories of human sacrifice, and tales of the wars which had been fought to subdue the Druidic cult in Britain and in Gaul. Nowadays those who remained were pretty well controlled by Roman edicts, but they could be as much trouble as the Christians. The difference was that while the Christians spread dissension in the cities and refused to worship the Emperor, the Druids could incite even conquered peoples to bloody war.
    Still, there was something about this man that commanded respect.
    "My name is Bendeigid,” the Druid said, but he did not question Gaius, and the young Roman remembered hearing his mother’s people say that among the Celts a guest was still sacred, at least outside Roman lands. A man’s worst enemy might claim food and shelter and depart unquestioned if he chose. Gaius breathed a little freer at the reprieve; this was one place it might be safer—and wiser—to claim hospitality as a guest than to exact it as the right of a conqueror.
    The girl Eilan came into the alcove again, carrying a small chest of oakwood bound with iron, and a drinking horn. She said timidly, "I hope this is the right one.”
    Her father nodded to her brusquely, took the chest, and gestured to her to give the horn to Gaius. He reached for it and found to his surprise that his fingers had not the strength to close.
    The Druid said, "Drink that,” with the unmistakable manner of a man who is accustomed to giving orders and to having them obeyed. He added after a minute, "You’ll need it by the time we get through with you.” He sounded pleasant enough; but Gaius had begun to be frightened.
    Bendeigid gestured to the girl and she came back to Gaius’s bedside.
    She smiled, tasted a few drops in the traditional gesture of hospitality, then held the horn to his lips. Gaius tried to raise himself a little but his muscles would not obey him. With a compassionate cry, Eilan lifted his head in the curve of her arm so that he could drink.
    The young Roman sipped at the cup; it was strong mead, to which some bitter, obviously medicinal spice had been added.
    "You had almost won through to the Land of Youth, stranger, but you will not die,” she murmured. "I saw you in a dream, but you were older—and with a little boy by your side.”
    He looked up at her, already too deliciously drowsy to find that disturbing. Young as she was, lying against her breast was like being back in his mother’s arms. Now, when he was in pain, he could almost remember her, and his eyes stung with tears. He was vaguely aware when the old Druid cut away his tunic and the old Druid and the young man Cynric washed his wounds with something that stung—but