Fhain nodded thoughtfully. Padrec spoke of strong magic, and any such discussion was a serious thing. For a virgin to carry the child-wealth of Lugh or any god by whatever name was magic of the most potent sort.

"Now, when her time was nigh come to bear the child, a speaking went out from the king of the Roman-men.

that each man go to the village of his birth to be taxed. So Joseph look Mary on a mule-see, Bredei? Did tell thee were mules-and went toward his village. They slopped at a place called Bethlehem at a large rath where there were so many others traveling alike that there was no room for Joseph and Mary, so they byred in the crannog with the sheep and cattle. Cold winter it was, atwixt Samhain and Brigid-feast."

"Crannog be best," Cru mumbled, picking at a rib bone. "Warmer."

"Always," Malgon agreed- in his view Joseph was a shrewd and fortunate traveler.

"Now, there were shepherds like fhain watching over their flocks in the night."

As a shepherd, Padrec loved the Gospel of Luke.

Sometimes, when he shivered on an Irish hill, he thought of those herders on that night of nights and knew exactly what they felt. He spoke of these things to fhain now, and 69.

they recognized them. He'd been whereof he spoke and knew the common things familiar to them. The dry, un- salted barley bread dipped in herb tea and munched un- der the whisper of night wind; the muffled bleating of a sheep here and there, the chill beauty of night and stars;

the sense of being alone and naked to Lugh peering through the bright-lit holes in the sky that looked close enough to reach and touch. And one light, Padrec told (hem. brighter than all the others on this blessed night.

"When the Angel of God appeared to them and said, *Do thee go to this crannog at Bethlehem where a virgin has borne the Son of God.' So a did follow the light to the place where a found Him in the cradle much like Neniane's.

Even the animals knelt in worship, and there were three high gerns from far fhains come with gifts for the holy baim.'

Cru cocked his head to one side. "What did look like?

Raven-spirit?"

"Did look a child. The Man-Son of God."

"But if a child," Doretei asked, "then what did look tike? Tallfolk? Red hair like thee?"

What indeed? Padrec was already learning to sketch his pictures to the frame of their imagination. If he waxed canonical in describing Christ or gave the formalized an- swers, they would have no meaning here. To fhain the halo would only look as ifJesu's head were glued to a flat dish. They needed a picture they knew.

Drust: of ail the fhain men the youngest and most sensitive. When his intensity relaxed, when Guentoie had favored him with love, there was a fresh-washed radiance and innocence to his expression. Padrec tapped his ; shoulder.

"Did look like Drust."

"Who be most fair among men." Guenloie stroked his thigh in approval of her second husband.

Fhain sat rapt as Padrec recounted the wonders of dial holy night. How the angel-ravens sang on high; how no dark spirit had any dominion on that night ever after.

Fhain hung on every word. His first sermon was a thump- ing success, although perhaps not as he intended it- He was still outside their hearts and minds and could not know the things that drew them. Signs, miracles, magic.

70.

That a virgin should give birth astounded them. They identified with Joseph and Mary because traveling was pan of their lives. And anyone knew a warm under- ground crannog was the only place for winter children to be born and that it was natural for animals to be present.

Their obeisance to the magic baby seemed a lovely filigree to the tale. As for the angels, in fhain imagination they were literally standing on nothing in the sky, singing their hearts out with great wings arustle under the wondrous music. Truly, Padrec spoke well of magic. He gave them new colors to adorn their world. In their generous way they must reward him.

Of course, fhain generosity might be taken for as- sault. When Padrec went outside to relieve himself, the men followed and pounced on him from all sides, pinning him to the ground.

"What is this? Let me up."

"Must thank thee, Padrec."

"Wait! Stop-"

"Must give thee gifts."

"Let me up, you Tittle-what are you doing?"

"Do bring thee gifts. Will go as one of us."

Gentle but determined, they wrestled his robe over his head, leaving Padrec in his breechclout, thin linen shin, and the remains of his dignity.

"Come in the ralh. Have gifts for thee."

They left him there and returned to the rath, bearing away his priest's robe. Embarrassed and furious, Padrec finally steeled himself to go in before the women; after all, they went as shamelessly bare.

"Give me my clothes, Cruaddan."

"Cannot, Padrec."

His robe was no more. Neniane and Guenloie had already divided the worn homespun between them.

"Damn you, 1 am a priest!"

"Do nae shout, Padrec," Dorelei cautioned in an un- ruffled tone that meant every word. "Be in my rath. Take

thy gifts."

"So white," Guenloie appreciated him openly. "Padrec

be beautiful."

He was miserable. "Woman, be kind. Do not look

upon my shame."

71.

"Thy Briton-clothes be ragged," Dorelei judged. "Not strong enough for rath or riding."

"But you don't understand," Padrec sputtered. "A priest must look a priest. You took my Chi-Rho the first day."

"Was of Blackbar."

"And now you take my robes. They are not just clothes, as I am not just a man."

Cru felt at Padrec's genitals in corroboration. "Be man."

"Stop that! I am a priest of God. I can't go as other men. Can't you understand that?"