Padrec stopped at the stockade entrance to study the ruddy-cheeked young soldier, knowing more of Ambrosius than he declared, a political necessity during his time with Germanus. The tribune was a Dobunni from Severn, close enough in blood and tribal ties to be, in time. a serious consideration for the throne and sword now held by Vortigern. For twenty years, since the withdrawal of the legions, the title of imperaior had been only as strong as the man who wore it, and none wore it that well. Vitaiinus would scheme and bargain, Ambrosius might-what? Bring back Rome or its likeness? Hard to read in the young face now, but the discipline was clearly there, and the ambition.

"A holy war? If it a holy war. Ambrosius. That word is not to be sutlied. The Corilani have a fierce spirit. God could use such passion."

Ambrosius grunted in disinterest. "Surety it's not among the Venicones.'

"Perhaps it is, but you'll have to buy it. Tribune. They love a bargain as my people do."

"Um. You're Brigante, aren't you?"

"No, I-" Padrec grinned at the slip. He gestured back toward the raths on the hill. "I meant my people."

"Ah, yes. Well." Ambrosius tactfully changed me sub- ject. "I hope Vaco will come to terms soon."

"Quite so. Vaco. Vaco . . ." Padrec ruminated, then cockea a brow at Ambrosius. "Named for his mother's tribe, 1 suppose- The Vacomagii- They're like the Irish; no man can be a chief among them if he has a single blemish on his body. As you can see, Vaco's woad covers a multi- tude of imperfections. I suspect his presence-his honor-is all the more tender for it.'

"Honor!" Ambrosius balked at the word. "How can the man be called honorable when he won't be definite about anything, yea or nay?"

195.

i

"But he is," Padrec contradicted lightly. "His honor is like our art, very intricate. Courtesy, hospitality, bargain- ing all intertwine. Inextricable. No doubt he finds you as much a coil. If you'll permit. Tribune? I should say a little less Roman get-on-with-il and a little more observance of his presence. The bargain must seem his shrewdness more than yours. You're on his hearth."

"You seem to have learned them well. Patricius."

"At considerable cost. They broke my legs and put me out on the hill."

Ambrosius was genuinely shocked. "By the Bull of Mithras! You could have died. And you came back here?"

"No. not died." The priest's direct gaze might have been unsettling but for its serenity. "God is not through with me."

"I wish I were through with Vaco," Ambrosius sighed plaintively. "Pict food is unspeakable."

"Ah-ha! That's the soft way of the court for you, boyo. Best food in the world up here. You should live more among shepherds. Nothing preserved, everything fresh."

"Hopefully," Ambrosius amended with a dying fall.

He stepped aside and allowed the priest to precede him into Vaco's longhouse and further digestive torment.

The feast was crowded and noisy, although the order of seating was carefully planned in concession to the dig- nity of all Vaco and his brothers sat at one end with their chief guests-Padrec, Doreiei, and her people, Ambrosius, and one of his aides. At the lower fire pit were placed the other Prydn gerns and the odd Romans of lower rank.

The chief wives oversaw the serving. Trying to be careful of courtesy, Ambrosius couldn't remember which wife be- longed to which husband.

"Actually they share them," Padrec volunteered.

"Um. Muzzy from a legal standpoint," Ambrosius al- lowed. "A father doesn't know what to leave to whom, does he?"

Padrec chuckled over his mutton. "Tribune, a Venicone always knows exactly what he's got and how much he wants to leave behind. If he can't take most of it with him to Tir-Nan-Og, he's not going."

196 "By the gods, Patricius," the Roman spluttered through his drink. "You're not. at all the uncomfortable little prig I'd heard of."

"You catch me in the middle of happiness; that does a lot for earnest men." Padrec nodded politely across the fire to Vaco lolling on his greasy cushions, and leaned to kiss Dorelei, who was squirming with the beginnings of discomfort next to him. "How is't, wife?"

"Oh, the wealth. Must always go outside."

The frequency of her need astonished Padrec, who knew as much of pregnancy as he did of building bridges.

"Again?"

"Soon."

"Thee looks out of temper."

She knuckled her eves against the smoke from the fire pit. "Vaco smells of pig and dirt, and the Romans of Roman." And Dorelei was tired of being courteous to Venicones better poisoned than smiled at, and Padrec's faith was sometimes as much a burden as the wealth in her body.

"The feast be nigh done. Will speak soon."

"Speed then, help me up. Will go now and miss nae word of thee."

Padrec drew her close, proud of the swelling that pressed between them, fiercely wanting it to be his. "Do love thee."

The pleasure washed over Dorelei's face; she needed that just then. "Will hurry then. Neniane, come with me."

When the women had cleared away the platters and replaced them with dishes of fruit and nuts, Padrec waited until Dorelei was comfortable, back and hips well cush- ioned and her feet tucked under Rofs hairy belly before rising to speak.

"Elder Vaco of the Camlann Venicones-a year ago at Lughnassadh. you doubted my words and sent me forth to try my faith against your reality. You have seen the strength of my God, and I have since heard the music of Mother and Lugh. I was a poor and discourteous guest then, knowing little of my host's honor. A year schooled, let me try again."

"His legs are strong as ever," Vaco's youngest brother observed in a malicious murmur. "The wolves let him be, 797.

and the damned Faerie made him one of them. A favorite of the gods he may not be, but neither an enemy."

"Perhaps. There is that about the gods that makes me wonder if they know what they're about," said the middle brother.

"Peace," Vaco moderated. "What can we do? Strong he is, but if he is still a fool, it wilt show." He raised his voice to the hall. "Silence! Peace and silence for the words of Padrec Raven."

"Venicones, I am Padrec Raven, second husband to Salmon gern. Romans, I greet you as Succatus Patricius of Ctannaventa- Gerns of Wolf, Marten, and Reindeer: my hands are to you in respect. Once before in this hall I spoke ot my God. Like Raven, 1 spoke with a harsh voice, and the Venicones, knowing true music, sent me away."

Mdlgon grunted. "Does say much in little."

Vaco called across the fire: "Padrec! Do you still think it better to sleep alone?"

"I still believe in one wife to one husband. For myself at least. I will not speak for other men. Let me tell instead not of laws or the things torbidden, but of the spirit behind the law. The believing, the faith as Prydn have come to know it. There is a tale that will be a lamp to it.

"Was in the first days, and certain of Hebrew fhain served a great king. Now, this king set a golden idol of God at his door to honor Him, and ruled that all must bow to it or die. But Daniel of the Hebrew knew his God would not be presumed in a statue and did not bow down."

They were listening now because he was not preach- ing at them but telling a story with a beginning, a prob- lem, and an end. He told of Daniel and how he was cast at night into a den of lions to try his faith against their reality, as Vaco tried his own. In the early morning, when the proud king hastened to the caged pit, Daniel stood unscathed among the gentled beasts. And the king knew the power of Daniel's God.

"So I come again among the Venicone. not to con- quer but to give, to scatter among you the wealth of God's Grace as Prydn have flung gold to your children."

Vaco ruminated, nibbling on an apple core. "There is wisdom in what you say. But the tale marks a plain truth with nothing of gods about it."