Chapter 20 #2
Cordelia did not know how to respond. When she had been growing up, she and her sisters had teased each other, but to make such comments about a parent felt strange in the extreme.
Yet even in the short space of time she had seen them together, Cordelia had seen the love, respect and affection flowing between mother and son.
‘Should we stand to greet her?’ asked Cordelia.
‘No, my love, I am their king and, as my wife, you are their queen, they will first pay us fealty,’ he said and she stared at him in surprise.
The huge wooden doors to the hall were thrown open and the sound of drumming increased, pipes played and bells jangled as Margan and Kerin processed the length of the large room, accompanied by the shouts and applause of the tribe.
They halted in front of Cordelia and Aganippus and Margan and Kerin both knelt before them.
‘We swear fealty to the King and Queen of Gallia,’ they declared in unison and, to Cordelia’s astonishment, the entire oppidum followed suit.
Aganippus raised his hand in acknowledgement. He stood, helping Cordelia to her feet.
‘Thank you, good people of the Belgae,’ he said. ‘My wife, Queen Cordelia Leardohtor, and I bid you our thanks and wish you fortune, good harvests and prosperity. We are your honoured guests and I give blessings of the god Belenus.’ He turned to Cordelia and whispered, ‘Bless them with a goddess.’
She knew Belenus was the god of healing.
Feeling the strength of his grip around her hand, his smile of encouragement, she allowed her shoulders to soften and let her shamanic power flow through her as she said, ‘I, Queen Cordelia Leardohtor, wife of King Aganippus Epitussunu, give blessings of the Triple Bee Maidens, Corycia, Kleodora and Melaina, the goddesses of healing.’
Aganippus smiled at her.
‘Rise, good people of the Belgae,’ he said.
A cheer rippled around the hall as the villagers stood. Margan and Kerin took their positions beside Cordelia and Aganippus. Kerin clapped his hands and large tables were set up down the centre of the hall, followed by platters of food and jugs of mead.
* * *
Several hours later, the food had been cleared and the tables removed. People were seated in groups either on cushions or on wooden stools. Margan had already explained that the bard, Spaden, preferred to dine alone.
‘He refuses to eat meat,’ she had explained, ‘and this can often draw comments. His wish is to eat alone and savour his meal uninterrupted.’
‘A wise man,’ Becuma had commented.
‘Indeed,’ Margan had responded. ‘A bard but also a mystic. He is the brother of the High Chief Druid, which is why we welcome him. We won’t tolerate the lower bards who spread mischief and falsehoods.’
‘My father would welcome all bards,’ said Cordelia. ‘Many were tolerable, a few inspirational, but there were those who took liberties and based tales on my sisters and me.’
‘I’ve heard this was the case,’ said Margan. ‘The beauty of the Leardohtors is legendary, yet the tales don’t do you justice.’
Before Cordelia could even begin to think of response, a hush rippled across the room and all three women turned to see the doors of the hall standing ajar. Spaden the Gaul waited, surrounded by the fire of the setting sun.
‘Good folk of the Belgae, please follow me, an auspicious sign has appeared in the sky,’ he said, his voice was soft but it carried to the far corners of the room. Without waiting to see whether people had heard or even heeded his request, he turned and disappeared from view.
‘Come,’ said Margan, rising as Kerin, Aganippus and Buel joined them.
Cordelia glanced at Aganippus, who looked concerned.
‘Is this how he begins?’ she asked.
‘No, I have never known him to request we follow him outside,’ replied Aganippus. ‘We shall soon understand, though. Do not fear, my love, you are well protected.’
‘I’m not afraid, my love,’ she replied truthfully and took his hand before he proffered it, causing him to send her a surprised but delighted grin.
They led the curious villagers out of the double doors and followed the path around the hall, where the height of the hill fort gave clear views over the fields and valleys below.
Spaden stood gazing at the sky, his arms outstretched as he looked upwards, and as the tribe saw the solar phenomenon, there was a collective gasp of awe.
‘The triple sun,’ announced Spaden, ‘a rare gift from the gods and goddesses. A sign of great change – whether for good or bad, only time will tell.’
Cordelia stared at the sun, hovering on the horizon, a fiery red ball of power, but on either side were two more suns, each angled away from the central orb, glowing with the same ethereal light.
The sky was striped with pink clouds and the horizon was deepening to an indigo that bordered on purple.
Then she felt it, the waves of a trance, and she was consumed with relief.
She reached out to take Becuma’s hand but it was Aganippus who responded, his arm around her waist.
‘Don’t move her,’ came Becuma’s voice. ‘Hold her steady.’
Cordelia stared at the triple sun, pulsing with energy and the heat of life, potency and power.
She allowed herself to relax into Aganippus’s strong grip.
Colours whirled around her, a rook cawed and then she saw her, the woman with her face, staring across the void.
Tears ran down the woman’s face, but as her vision cleared, she saw Cordelia.
She reached out to her and Cordelia responded, their hands joining across time.
‘Help me,’ the woman gasped.
Cordelia stared down at the woman’s hands and arms and saw silver lines on her skin, identical to the mysterious marks that had appeared on her own.
‘Yes,’ Cordelia whispered into the void. ‘We shall help each other.’
The woman smiled, then she vanished.