Marion Zimmer Bradley
The
Forest House
For my mother, Evelyn Conklin Zimmer, who
has borne with my working on the book for
most of my adult life
To Diana Paxson, my sister and friend, who anchored
this book firmly in time and space and added Tacitus
to the cast of characters
Author's Note
Those who are familiar with Bellini's opera Norma will recognize the origins of this story. In homage to Bellini, the hymns in Chapters Five and Twenty-two are adapted from the libretto of Act I Scene i, and those in Chapter Thirty from Act II Scene ii. The hymns to the moon in Chapters Seventeen and Twenty-four are taken from the Carmina Gadelica, a collection of traditional Highland prayers collected in the late nineteenth century by the Reverend Alexander Carmichael.
PEOPLE IN THE STORY.
* = historical figure
() = dead before story begins
ROMANS
Gaius Macellius Severus Siluricus (called Gaius, native name, Gawen), a young officer, born of a British mother
Gaius Macellius Severus, senior (called Macellius), father of Gaius,
Prefectus Castrorum of the II Adiutrix Legion at Deva, Equestrian rank
(Moruadh, Royal Woman of the Silures, mother of Gaius)
Manlius, physician at Deva
Capellus, Macellius's orderly
Philo, Gaius's Greek slave
Valerius, secretary to Macellius
Valeria (later called Senara), half-Briton niece of Valerius
Martius Julius Licinius, Procurator (financial officer) of Britannia
Julia Licinia, his daughter
Charis, her Greek maid
Lydia, nurse to her children
Licinius Corax, the Procurator's cousin in Rome
Marcellus Clodius Malleus, senator, Gaius's patron
Lucius Domitius Brutus, Commander of the XX Valeria Victrix Legion
after its move to Deva
Father Petros, a Christian hermit
Flavius Macro & Longus } two legionaries who try to raid the Forest House
* (Gaius Julius Caesar, "the deified Julius", who began the conquest of Britannia)
*(Suetonius Paulinus, Governor of Britain during Boudicca's rebellion)
* (Vespasian, Emperor AD 69-79)
* (Quintus Petilius Cerealis, Governor of Britain AD 71-4)
* (Sextus Julius Frontinus, Governor of Britain AD 74-7)
* Gnaeus Julius Agricola, Governor of Britain AD 78-84
* Gaius Cornelius Tacitus, his son-in-law and aide, a historian
* Sallustius Lucullus, Governor of Britain after Agricola
* Titus Flavius Vespasianus, Emperor Titus AD 79-81
* Titus Flavius Domitianus, Emperor Domitian AD 81-96
* Herennius Senecio, a senator
* Flavius Clemens, a cousin of Domitian
BRITONS
Bendeigid, a Druid living near Vernemeton
Rheis, daughter of Ardanos and wife of Bendeigid
Mairi, their eldest daughter, wife of Rhodri
Vran, her young son
Eilan, their middle daughter
Senara, their youngest daughter
Gawen, Eilan's son by Gaius
Cynric, foster son of Bendeigid
Ardanos, Arch-Druid of Britannia
Dieda, his younger daughter
Clotinus Albus (Caradac), a Romanized Briton
Gwenna, his daughter
Red Rian, an Irish raider
Hadron, one of the Ravens, father of Valeria (later called Senara)
* (Boudicca, "The Killer Queen", queen of the Iceni, leader of the revolt in AD6i)
* (Caractacus, a leader of the rebellion)
* (Cartimandua, queen of the Brigantes who betrayed Caractacus to Rome)
* Calgacus, Caledonian chieftain who led the tribes at Mons Graupius
PEOPLE OF THE FOREST HOUSE
Lhiannon, Priestess of the Oracle, High Priestess of Vernemeton (the
Forest House)
Huw, her bodyguard
(Helve, High Priestess before Lhiannon)
Caillean, a senior priestess assisting Lhiannon
Latis, the herb mistress
Celimon, instructor in ritual
Eilidh & Miellyn} Eilan's friends
Tanais & Rhian } entered Vernemeton after Eilan became High Priestess
Annis, an old deaf woman who serves Eilan during her pregnancy
Lia, nurse to Eilan's son Gawen
DEITIES
Tanarus, British thunder god, equated with Jupiter
The Horned (or Antlered) One, archetypal god of beasts and woodlands
with many local variations
Don, mythic mother of the gods, and by extension, the British people
Cathubodva, Lady of Ravens, a war goddess similar to the Morrigan
Arianhrod, Lady of the Silver Wheel, maiden goddess associated with
magic, the sea, and the moon
Ceres, Roman goddess of grain, agriculture
Venus, Roman goddess of love
Mars, Roman war god
Bona Dea, the Good Goddess
Vesta, goddess of the sacred hearthfire of Rome, served by virgins
Mithras, a Persian hero-god worshipped by soldiers
Jupiter, king of the gods
Juno, queen of the gods, his wife, patroness of marriage
Isis, an Egyptian goddess worshipped in Rome as protectress of commerce on the sea
PLACES
Britannia Superior - southern England
Mona - the island of Anglesey
Segontium - a fort near Caernarvon
Vernemeton (most holy grove) - the Forest House
Hill of the Maidens - Maiden Castle, Bickerton
Deva - Chester
Glevum - Gloucester
Viroconium Cornoviiarum — Wroxeter
Venta Silurum - Caerwent
Isca Silurum - Caerleon
Aquae Sulis - Bath
The Tor - Glastonbury
The Summer Country - Somerset
Isca Dumnoniorum - Exeter
Lindum - Lincoln
Londinium - London
Britannia Inferior - northern England
Eburacum - York
Luguvalium -Carlisle
Caledonia - Scotland
Bodotria estuary - Firth of Forth
Firth of the Tava - River Tay
Sabrina Firth - Solway
Trimontium - Newstead
Pinnata Castra - Inchtuthil
Mons Graupius - location uncertain, perhaps near Inverness
Hibernia - Ireland
Temair - Tara
Druim Cliadh - Kildare
Germania Inferior - upper western Germany
Colonia Agrippensis - Cologne
The Rhenus - the Rhine
Prologue
A cold wind was whipping the torches into fiery tails. Angry light glittered on the dark waters of the strait and the shields of the legionaries waiting on the other side. The priestess coughed at the reek of smoke and sea fog and listened to the clangor of camp Latin echoing across the waters as the Roman commander harangued his men. The Druids sang out in answer, calling down the wrath of the skies, and thunder shook the air.
Women's voices rose in a shrill ululation that sent a chill through her body, or perhaps it was fear. She swayed with the other priestesses, arms raised in imprecation; their dark cloaks flaring out like raven wings.
But the Romans were howling too, and now the first rank surged into the water. The Druid war harp throbbed with a dreadful music, and her throat was scraped raw wit
h shrieking, but still the enemy came on.
The first red-cloaked soldier set foot on the shore of the Holy Isle and the gods did not strike him. Now the singing faltered. A priest pushed the priestess behind him as Roman steel caught the torchlight; the sword fell and blood sprayed across her dark robe.
The rhythm of the chant was lost. Now there was only screaming and she ran for the trees. Behind her the Romans were scything the Druids down like grain. Too quickly, they finished, and the red tide swept inland.
The priestess stumbled through the trees, seeking the sacred circles. An orange glow filled the sky above the House of Women. The stones loomed up ahead, but from behind her came shouting. She turned at bay, clinging to the central altar stone. Now, surely, they would kill her . .. She called out to the Goddess and straightened, waiting for the blow.
But it was not weapons of steel they meant to use against her. She struggled as hard hands grabbed at her body, tearing off her robes. They forced her down upon the stone, and then the first man battered against her. There was no escape; she could only use the sacred disciplines to withdraw her mind from this body until they were done. But as awareness winged away, she cried out: "Lady of Ravens, avenge me! Avenge!"
"Avenge . . ." My own shout woke me, and I sat up, staring. As always, it took a few moments for me to realize that it was only a dream, and not even my own, for I was still a child in the year when the Legions murdered the priests and raped the women of the Holy Isle; an unwanted girl-child called Caillean, safe in Hibernia across the sea. But since first I heard the story, soon after the Priestess of the Oracle brought me to this land, the spirits of those women have haunted me.
The curtain at my door fluttered and one of the maidens who served me looked in. "My Lady, are you well? May I help you to robe? It is almost time to greet the dawn."
I nodded, feeling the cold sweat dry on my brow, and allowed her to help me into a clean gown and arrange the ornaments of a High Priestess on my breast and brow. Then I followed her out on to the summit of another isle, a green Tor that rose from the mingling of marsh and meadow that men call the Summer Sea. From below came the singing of the maidens who watch over the sacred well, and from the vale beyond it the bell that calls the hermits to prayer in the little beehive church beside the white thorn tree.
They were not the first folk to seek sanctuary on this island at the end of the world beyond the narrow seas, nor do I suppose they will be the last. So many years have passed since the death of the Holy Isle, and though in my dreams ancient voices still cry out for revenge, a hard-won wisdom tells me that the mixing of blood strengthens a breed, so long as the ancient knowledge is not lost.
But to this day I have never found any good in the Romans or their ways. This is why even for Eilan, who was dearer than a daughter to me, I could never trust in any Roman, not even Gaius, whom she loved.
But no tramping of iron-shod legionary sandals on stone-paved roads disturbs us here, for I have cast a veil of mist and mystery to keep out the straight-edged Roman world.
Today, perhaps, I will tell the maidens the story of how we came here, for between the destruction of the House of Women on the Isle of Mona and the return of the priestesses to the Isle of Apples, the women of the Druids dwelt at Vernemeton, the Forest House, and that story must not be forgotten.
It was there that I learned the Mysteries of the Goddess and taught them in turn to Eilan daughter of Rheis, who became the greatest High Priestess and, some would say, the greatest traitor to her people of all. But through Eilan the blood of the Dragon and the Eagle have mingled with the blood of the Wise, and in the hour of greatest need that line will always come to Britain's aid.
In the marketplace men say that Eilan was the Romans' victim, but I know better. In its time the Forest House preserved the Mysteries, and the gods do not require that we all be conquerors, or even that we all be wise, but only that we serve the truth that we are given until we can pass it on.
My priestesses are gathering around me, singing. I lift my hands, and as the sun strikes through the mists I bless the land.
One
Shafts of golden light shone through the trees as the setting sun dropped below the clouds, outlining each new-washed leaf in gold. The hair of the two girls who were making their way along the forest path glowed with the same pale fire. Earlier in the day there had been rain. The thick, uncleared forest that still covered much of the south of Britain lay damp and quiet, and a few low boughs still shook scattered drops like a blessing across the path.
Eilan breathed deeply of the moist air, heavy with all the living scents of the woods and sweet as incense after the smoky atmosphere of her father's hall. In the Forest House, she had been told, they used sacred herbs to purify the air. Instinctively she straightened, trying to walk like one of the priestesses who dwelt there, lifting the basket of offerings in her best imitation of their balanced grace. For a moment, then, her body moved with a rhythm both unfamiliar and completely natural, as if she had been trained to do this in some ancient past.
Only since her moonblood began had she been allowed to bring the offerings to the spring. As her monthly cycle made her a woman, said her mother, so the waters of the sacred spring were the fertility of the land. But the rituals of the Forest House served its spirit, bringing down the Goddess herself at the full of the moon. The moon had been full the night before and before her mother called her in, Eilan had stood for a long time staring up at it, filled with an expectancy she could not define.
Perhaps the Priestess of the Oracle will claim me for the Goddess at the Beltane festival. Closing her eyes, Eilan tried to imagine the blue robes of a priestess trailing behind her, and the veil shadowing her features with mystery.
"Eilan, what are you doing?" Dieda's voice startled her back to awareness, she stumbled over a tree root and nearly dropped the basket. "You are lagging like a lame cow! It will be dark before we get back to the hall if we do not finish soon."
Recovering, Eilan hurried after the other girl, blushing furiously. But already she could hear the gentle murmur of the spring. In another moment the path dropped downward, and she followed Dieda to the cleft where the waters trickled out from between two rocks and fell into the pool. In some time long past men had set stones around it; over the years the water had worn their spiraled carvings smooth. But the hazel to whose branches folk tied their wishing ribbons was young, the descendant of many trees that had grown there.
They settled themselves beside the pool and spread a cloth for the offerings, exquisitely prepared cakes, a flask of mead, and some silver coins. It was only a small pool, after all, where the minor goddess of this forest had her dwelling, not one of the holy lakes where whole armies sacrificed the treasures they had won, but for many years the women of her line had brought her their offerings every month after their moon-times, that their link to the Goddess might be renewed.
Shivering a little in the cool air, they pulled off their gowns and bent over the pool.
"Sacred spring, you are the womb of the Goddess. As your waters cradle all life, may I bear new life into the world . . ." Eilan scooped up water and let it trickle over her belly and between her thighs.
"Sacred spring, your waters are the milk of the Goddess. As you feed the world, let me nourish those I love . . ." Her nipples tingled as the cool water touched them.
"Sacred spring, you are the spirit of the Goddess. As your waters well for ever from the depths, give me the power to renew the world . .." She trembled as the water bathed her brow.
Eilan stared into the shadowed surface, seeing the pale glimmer of her reflection take shape as the waters stilled once more. But as she stared into the water, the face that stared back at her changed. She saw an older woman with even paler skin, and dusky curls in which red highlights glinted like sparks of flame, though the eyes were the same.
"Eilan!"
As Dieda spoke, Eilan blinked, and the face looking back at her from the water was her own once more. He
r kinswoman was
shivering, and suddenly Eilan felt cold as well. Hastily, they pulled on their clothes. Then Dieda reached for the basket of cakes, and her voice soared, rich and true, in the song.
"Lady of the sacred spring,
To thee these offerings I bring;
For life and luck and love I pray,
Goddess, accept these gifts today."
In the Forest House, thought Eilan, there would be a chorus &f priestesses to sing the song. Her own voice, thin and a little wavering, blended with Dieda's in an oddly pleasing harmony.
"Bless now the forest and the field,
That they their bounty to us yield;
May kin and kine be hale and whole,
Safeguard the body and the soul!"
Eilan poured mead from the flask into the water while Dieda crumbled the cakes and cast them into the pool. The current swirled them away, and for a moment it seemed to Eilan that its sound had grown louder. The two girls leaned over the water, letting drop the coins they had brought.
As the ripples stilled, Eilan saw their two faces, so alike, mirrored together. She stiffened, fearing to see the stranger there once more, but as her sight darkened, this time there was only one face, with eyes that shone in the water like stars in the dark sea of heaven.
"Lady, are you the spirit of the pool? What do you want from me?" her heart asked. And it seemed to her that words came in reply: