XXVIII. Five women (4)
IV. Justine Vasseur
Edge of the Carnutes forest, surroundings of Orleans, France
I. June 28, 1931
It was already late in the evening. To the West, a violet-mauve palette shaded the sky's azure edges. In its center of the vault we could see stary fields. I waited with Nucia Contreras in a hedge's shadow, bordering a field of new wheat. The evening's beauty numbed my growing impatience. What the hell are they doing! Nucia had stretched out and hummed softly as she looked up at the sky. At the other end of the field, the forest's dark edge contoured the horizon with a dark and moving band.
"Where are they? Why are they taking so long?
- They are waiting for the night, answered the healer. "
She resumed humming. Nucia was one of the Nome's sunu and had been one of our best supporters during the strikes. She came from a southern Gitan family, one of those where the blood of ancient Egypt still flowed and who provided the Nome with his little magicians of the rank.
" What an idea ! All this to impress us.
- Some magic thrives better in the shadows.
- And that stupid Elementalist too, I kept grunting. How does he expect me to be his bodyguard if he disappears in the middle of enemy territory! "
I was working with Lupin now, in the combat magician's brigades. The first benefit was a much better salary. The second was that for once my job was a little more exciting than cleaning the land. In addition to specific police missions, I often had to accompany magicians of various functions in more risky missions, to defend them in case of mayhem. And talking with druids was of course a high-risk mission. Nucia and I found ourselves chaperoning Erwan le Bihan in his negotiations. And what beautiful chaperones we made! No sooner had he arrived than he left us to go negotiate with the warden.
"He knows how to talk to them. Three magicians showing up near the Carnutes' forest a week after the solstice could be taken as a provocation. " Nucia reminded me.
Alas. Everything is always provocation with these! It was good not to alienate the Celts. They had been there in Gaul for much longer than us. Unlike the Romans or Greeks, they had never really moved from their countryside, had remained attached to their land. In France, they were on their ancestral lands, and spat on the Fourteenth Nome's authority. And the slightest provocation can lead to war. The Nome's elders had told of the Religion's Wars' history, and I had long abandon all illusions about them.
The Celts, unlike our House of Life, centralized to the extreme, had a very peculiar functioning: they were divided into tribes, then united in vast confederations. There was one for Portugal, one for Spain. Ireland, the largest of them all, had a separate government, to which were attached the Druids of Boston and New York. Switzerland was another of their ancient strongholds. Wales, British Cornwall, and Scotland each had their small own governments and generally harassed the 9th Nome with their relentless raids. Italy had a few scattered bands.
In France, Armorican Brittany sheltered in Brocéliande a union of Gallo druids descendants of the Venetian people and insular Breton druids, 6th century immigrants, that fled the Saxons and the Picts in Great Brittain. In addition to the Bretons, our territory housed the great Carnutes confederation, to which were attached the small Narbonne and Aquitaine federations. Finally a last confederation was on the former Duchy of Flanders, bringing together the North of France and Belgium. All these centers interacted with each other, but we did not know if there was a precise hierarchy between them, which of Ireland, Gaul or England had the preeminence.
They were divided into Druids, Bards, and Vates, all priests of different gods. Divisions among women were less well known, there was a tendency to just call them "priestess". Le Bihan had explained all this to me. Some of his cousins were linked with them, and he spoke Breton and Gaelic so well that he had become our specialist on those matters. Today we were faced with a somewhat delicate problem. There had been some troubles in the Basque country towards the Cathar region, fights, monsters that had been long forgotten.A civilian Prefect had been assassinated, and one of our magicians was missing. Our Sem priest, (that was his official title) La Roque wanted to speak in private with the dean of the Carnutes' confederation. Le Bihan was playing matchmaker.
Erwan returned with a man that had a painted face. Why do they always put some flour their heads? It's the 20th century already! Nucia and I jumped up. My hand on the hilt of my khopesh, I eyed Erwan's calm face anxiously, but he nodded. Everything is fine.
"The Druids are still in a meeting. It's been dragging on for a few days.
- We can guarantee you shelter and safety for tonight, but this night only. Tomorrow morning, the high priest will receive you, announced the individual. "
His dark eyes shone under his white and gray mask. The forest around us rustled. I stamped uncomfortably. We were not at home, it was made clear to us. Erwan was smiling, obviously in a good mood. "Stupid Breton. I grumbled. Always restful, never anxious, unbearably calm.
"Arnulf is the keeper of the Carnutes, Erwan introduced. He will lead us to a clearing where we will spend the night.
"It's not good to stay at the edge, Arnulf added. Times are not sure.
- Are they ever? Nucia asked. "
Arnulf looked at her without worrying about hiding his animosity. He whispered something to himself, which I guessed was insulting to Gypsies and magicians in general. Nucia ignored him. The Celt added:
"Your colleague is expecting you there. Let's not delay.
- What colleague, I asked?
"First Nome," Erwan replied laconically. "
He added with a look of do not insist. I nodded. I was certainly not going to start chatting in front of this Arnulf. I followed suit and we reached the far edge of the woods.
"Couldn't we spend the night in Orleans instead?" I whispered to Erwan as I passed.
- I'm not the one who sets the conditions. To be allowed to enter the Carnutes forest, especially on the night of an assembly, is in itself a great honor. "
Arnulf stopped in front of the forest's edge and turned to us.
"Please hand over your weapons to me.
- Sorry ? I choked.
- Weapons are prohibited in the sacred wood of Sucellos. It is a place of peace. "
No way. Erwan sinlently implored me. I wanted to slap him.
"One minute please. "
I took him aside.
"No way we're leaving our weapons!"
"They are disarmed as well," Erwan assured me. "No Celt is allowed to bear arms in the Carnutes' forest. Generally, warriors can't go in there as well.
- But they can still use their magic.
- Not offensive magic. Please, Justine. I know Restugenos, he will never break the laws of his people. "
Defeated, I handed my khopesh and my revolver to the guard. He then asked for our amulets. Nucia glared at him, but took off the dozen necklaces that adorned her neck. Finally, he led us into the woods.
I felt naked without the familiar weight of my weapon on my hip. We walked for an hour through the thick forest, off the trails. The long black trees surrounded us. With the darkness, I stumbled incessantly over the roots and low branches. The forest around us whispered and stirred. An owl cry ripped through the night with its dismal warning. The crickets' noise was getting on my nerves. I brought up the rear. In front of me, Nucia moved gracefully, like a dancer, avoiding the branches' onslaught. I couldn't say the same. My arms were scratched by the twigs. My legs, bruised from the brambles, were bleeding.
We finally reached the clearing. In front of a fire bounded by a circle of round stones sat a man of medium height, with curly hair and round glasses. His coppery face glowed in the flames' red glow. I had never seen him before. I turned to thank Arnulf, but he had already melted away into the forest's shadows. Erwan and Nucia had joined the First Nome's envoy. I approached in my turn. The magician then removed his glasses which served as a concealment amulet and dark locks replaced the chestnut curls. I recognized him instantly.
"Hi silly!
- Michel! "
I first punched him in the ribs for scaring me, before giving him a kiss.
" It has been a long time…
- Years, he smiled. "
Michel had not returned to France since the time of the great strike. We had crossed paths in Cairo a few times though. Erwan had gone to see him in Sarajevo, but I had not had this opportunity. Nucia pulled me aside and kissed him on the cheek as well. They knew each other well. Erwan and Nucia were the only magicians he'd hang out with before the war, when he was still in training.
I had missed that idiot. I no longer had anyone fuck some shit up. And then, I was tired of yelling at Jeannot, Dupuy or Sylvestre.
"You could have told me he was coming! I reproached Bihan.
He shrugged his shoulders.
" You are hungry ? my old partner asked me.
- What are you doing ?
- Papillotes.
- Can you access to the Duat from here?
He showed me his bag.
"No, but I planned it. "
I watched him turn over pieces of clay in the embers, joking with Erwan. Nucia sniffed the air, appreciative, admiring his clay papillotes.
"What kind of meat did you use ?
- Just chicken.
- Are these your inbred hens? Nucia asked.
- What?
- The chickens from my aunt's house, he explained. It's already the tenth generation of endogamous reproduction.
- Every time I find you, you have a new fad!
- It's not a fad, I eat them, that's all.
- Did you put basil? asked Erwan.
- And pepper, thyme, cilantro, he nodded.
"What's good about chicken is simmering it with a little chili and cloves," Nucia mused.
- You can also roast it in a thin slice of Bayonne ham, added our Breton.
- That's how you prepare ortolans, isn't it?
- You have to add stuffed truffles and anchovy coulis," Michel clarified. "But you have to marinate them in cognac, it takes a long time. "
Nucia, Erwan and Michel began to list the best dishes and wines they had tasted in their life. Sounds very cliché, I know, but it's the truth. We spent half of our mission time cooking, the other half talking about cooking. The only other Nomes who did the same were those of Rome and Athens.
"You never change, I laughed. Always eating.
- Are you seriously going to complain.
- We are in the middle of a hostile forest, on a dangerous mission, we have not seen each other for three years, and you are exchanging recipes! "
Nucia smirked and laughed:
"Anyway, in the North, you know nothing about good food ...
- Oh, hey, you don't get to talk shit about my home like that.
- Serious, apart from potatoes and fish, you don't have much, supported my ex partner."
Erwan faked indignation. I looked at the two Southerners, Nucia and Michel, laughing. Something in the way he spoke made me wince.
"Wait, there's something that has changed about you.
- No, not possible.
- Yes, the accent. You lost the Paris accent.
- Bullshit !
- It's right, I swear to you, Erwan added. You got your southern accent back. It's sharp as a knife.
- Come on, let it be! He protested.
Hearing his "come on" we burst in laughter.
"So many years spent deluding yourself, I wiped away a tear.
- Leave my accent alone. "
I started to howl with laughter when I heard his nasal vowel. I finally asked him:
"What are you doing here anyway? You are not part of the first Nome!
- I am mandated, not affiliated, corrected Michel.
- Don't start bullshiting me with the administration slang! You know what I mean !
- Arsene changed our mission, explained Erwan. We will have to support Michel, he is pursuing an enemy of the Per Ankh in French territory.
- I lost his track, confessed Michel. But I am counting on the high priest to provide us with an essential clue.
- Who are we looking for? I asked.
"D'Aubigné" he said, but very gently, with a strange glint in his eyes. He then raised his head and met my gaze:
"We have to finish the work we both started. "
D'Aubigné… It was a long time ago…
Well before the strikes, Michel and I had led a mission with Arsène Lupin and had discovered that an army was bringing together men from all pantheons. We were, however, very quickly referred to demining the territory (not the most exciting part of my life, I assure you). Something happened then, and Michel went missing for a few weeks. He then took part in the long, unsuccessful hunt for Jean D'Aubigné. Still alive then. For a demigod, he's a tough guy!
" Here ! "
Nucia interrupted my thoughts and held me a metal bowl full of herb chicken. I thanked her and ate heartedly. Michel cooked very well.
I watched them laugh by the fireside, with a certain pang in my heart. Despite our friendship, I had never had the same familiarity with him as Erwan did. He was a head shorter than him, but Michel was tall.
"We will not all be admitted in the presence of the high priest.
"Let's go separate ways," Nucia offered. "With Erwan, we will watch over these people. Michel can go to parley with them, and Justine will be his bodyguard.
- No way, nope ! Erwan declared.
- Hey, I know how to behave! protested Michel.
- You, perhaps, but you two, together, no!
- I'm technically your supervisor," Desjardins reminded him.
- Really ? I'm not leaving you alone with the great druid of the Carnutes. Justine will watch our backs.
- Hey, I told them, if I have understood correctly, Egyptian magic is not compatible with Celtic magic. So you will need a combat magician.
- Unarmed warrior," he contested.
- That suits you, eh? It was you who insisted that I be disarmed!
- You know perfectly well why I asked you." He replied, with his usual calm, as if he didn't care. Turning to Nucia he added: "You stay on guard, but I am not leaving Desjardins and Vasseur alone with an authority."
- And why not ? protested Michel.
- Because you're going to get angry and yell at him.
- Fuck it ! He groaned, you're such a bore !
- See ?
"What a dad!" Nucia moaned. "Stop treating them like babies. Anyway, I am not staying behind with a lot of Celts around. Otherwise, I'm the one who's going to get nuts and start insulting them. You've seen how they are treating me!
- Thank you Nucia, said Desjardins with a smile, I knew I could count on you.
- You're welcome, half-gadje!
- Don't call me a Gypsy! he immediately protested .
- I thought you liked technicalities? Well, technically you're a half-Gypsy.
- Three eighths, to be precise .
- If you want to play this game, four eighth Manouche, so half-Manouche, plus probably a sixteenth of Gypsy blood.
- Shut up ! I am not a bohemian.
- Gypsies rape their wives and steal chickens, thank you very much, I added. "
Michel nodded enthusiastically. Erwan looked at us, great despair in his eyes. Nucia rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"You two are in denial. You Justine, you're half Gypsy. From my clan. "
Michel and I exchanged a look, half amused, half angry.
" It's bullshit. I don't even speak your language.
"We've been arguing over this for almost twenty years, it's incredible that you haven't had enough already" Michel supported me.
- It's been twenty years that I put up with your insults to our common people said Nucia. It would come from anyone else, he would have already taken a blow in the face!
- Pfff, he rolled his eyes.
- Same for you, she added, turning to me. "
You shouldn't mess with this girl. Healer, maybe, but that didn't stop her from being violent when she wanted to. I decided to change the subject.
Truth be told, I hated that part of my ancestry. I was for the class struggle and everything, but that didn't mean I was proud of where I was from. My grandmother had a child with a gadje, as they said, a non-gypsy, out of wedlock: my father. He had grown up alone and poor, had died at the mine when I was only eight years old. Fortunately, the Per Ankh had been there. I remembered him, his big blue eyes, and his face continually black with soot. He had always loved me, watched my homework even when he was exhausted.
I didn't really like literature, more non-fiction books. But there was only one novel that was close to my heart. Germinal. I saw the red and black flags on the facade of the Nome again. We have to go so much further. I heard the distant voices of Nucia and Michel who had changed the subject. Erwan was daydreaming in his corner, as usual.
"Hey, do you remember the evening in Puteaux, when we came back from Cairo?" Nucia asked Desjardins.
The two had taken their Per Ankh exam together, then partied together for several weeks. It was the spring of 1914, the last spring before the great war. Erwan sighed deeply:
"Another evening at Duchamp's, you mean?
- You don't carry him in your heart, Nucia smiled.
- You weren't the one who had to pay the deposits every time he spent the night at the station, he said, pointing to Michel.
- Oh, come on ! I paid you back.
- That's not the problem.
- Duchamp, isn't he the urinator guy? I intervened.
- Yes.
- Modern art is really shit! Nucia lamented.
- In fact, he just got drunk with Francis Picabia when they were in New York and afterwards, they decided to make fun of the Yankees, explained my former partner to me. When they saw that it was working well they did it again.
- No !
- Hey, I swear! "
I didn't know if he was kidding or if it was true. yet, after all, he knew Picabia well. I met him while wiping his vomit, he often told me. The joys of the night world. Always better than the mine I guess.
I chased those thoughts away. We finished eating and established an order for the night watch, then I chose a corner of the clearing to get some sleep. Nucia was dozing by my side. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that Michel and Erwan were conversing, out of earshot, looking restless and feverish.
II. 29 juin 1931
Arnulf picked us up the next day at dawn and we resumed our walk in the woods. The morning light passed through a light haze, drawing ghostly outlines to the Carnutes' forest. A deer fled at our approach. I couldn't shake the unpleasant feeling that we were going circles. Neither Michel nor Erwan looked worried. My former partner even seemed delighted to be there. Trees, he loves trees, this moron! As for Nucia, she refrained from picking the mushrooms and berries she admired with appreciative air. As usual, I felt out of place. Why none of my missions ever takes place in cool places? A beach or a desert? Why do I always have to trudge through forests, tunnels, muddy swamps? I considered for a moment expatriating myself in French Algeria.
The woods became more and more dense and more and more agitated. After a while I noticed that they were literally sliding all around us. They are moving, I realized. The twigs and brambles disappeared, the branches ceased to scratch my limbs, but the trees sprang up around us, opening a wide path whose green roof was like the angular vault of a Gothic cathedral. The morning mist filled with a crystalline glow. I then saw the Celts. They moved between the trees, grimmed, dressed in old-fashioned dresses, staying away from the path and staring at us with their owl-eyes.
Ancient lands, I understood. It's a bit like our Hall of Ages. The faces around me were smooth, painted, enigmatic. They glided like ageless ghosts on the woods' mossy floor. I stiffened. We were so far from the edge of the woods that it was impossible for me to find my way back.
We arrived at the center of the forest in a vast open space. The clearing was almost empty, contrary to my expectations, I saw no dolmen, no line of standing stones, just the remains of a large fire, and dry grass lying down. A few figures were hanging out at the other end of the meadow. Following Arnulf we walked along sideways, avoiding the ashes. Finally, he stopped in front of three massive elms. A young woman, dressed in a simple brown dress came to meet us from the forest and exchanged a few words with our guide in an unknown language.
"The high priest is going to speak with you, Arnulf said. You first, he said, turning to Michel. Alone, he added. "
Michel exchanged a look with Erwan before following the young woman. Erwan looked at me in turn. I immediately followed suit. Arnulf smirked in anger, but I ignored him. We followed the young woman to the center of the elm grove. There was an opening : a large crack inside the trunk. We went inside.
After a few steps of a steep staircase, we came into a long room with a wooded vault. These are roots I realized. They ran above and around us, even under our feet, isolating us in a large wooden vessel, forming a complex maze that mingled amber shades in a large vegetal composition. The elms' red sap had dripped, sketching something akin to bloody wounds, as if we were walking inside a gut made of bruised flesh. The room was empty. We crossed it at a rapid pace then took a gallery, still made out of roots, then a huge vaulted cave. Far below us flowed an underground river. Our guide was leading us deeper into the earth's bowels.
The following rooms were plunged into darkness. We then followed a stone gallery. Fluorescent mushrooms lit up the sloping ground. After a while, we started to climb back up. Our guide finally led us to a spiral staircase made up of a new root maze, which rose towards a vertiginous height. Gritting my teeth, I began his ascent following Michel. We were now inside the roots. The young woman happily climbed the natural steps. My partner brushed past the wooden walls surrounding us, looking absolutely fascinated.
The light suddenly hurt my eyes as we came out onto a wooden platform. It took me a while after our underground wanderings before I got used to the daylight again. I then discovered the room in which we had found ourselves.
We were inside a large hollowed out oak tree. The greenish daylight streamed through its foliage. The bark walls darted out to meet him, engraved with a multitude of signs in an unknown writing. The room was almost empty, except for a large black iron cauldron. Opposite the place, branches had sprouted, forming a gnarled armchair, covered with precious furs. On him, lit by the emerald glow dripping along the walls, the high priest stared at us, smiling.
I had expected him to be an old grandfather with a white beard, much like the cliché of the druid in my elementary school history books. Instead a tattooed colossus faced us. He was dressed in the old-fashioned way in a midnight blue tunic, like Merlin. His forearms and his hands were tattooed with intricate intertwining, a golden torque gleamed at his stroke. He was a very handsome man, ageless, whose soft curls mingled with the bark. His weathered face was quite attractive, except for his gaze. He had wolf eyes, this Celt, shining and pitiless, under his attentive face's affable mask.
"Judicaël Restugenos. Michel greeted him, bowing his head.
His courtesy surprised me, but he had obviously decided to keep it down. The priest's gray eyes stared at me. I stirred nervously and bowed my head as well. Our guide left the room. Restugenos made no remark about my presence.
"What brings you here? We are far from the Balkans and their troubles… " He asked in a half-whisper.
His voice had a deep tone, a little hoarse, that gave me goosebumps
"We are hunting down an outlaw Greek hero. We will have to cross your lands in this hunt. I was hoping to get a pass from you.
- Strange, it has been a long time since you others bother with this kind of formalities!
- I'm not the Fourteenth Nome.
- Well, we certainly do appreciate the old manners and yesteryear's courtesy. "
Judicael looked satisfied.
"Let's be frank then. Who is this lovely young lady? Is she coming to beg for a right of passage as well? "
Come on, let's adopt a paternalistic tone! Michel looked pissed off as well.
"I am the Fourteenth Nome's envoy. Our Sem priest, Ferdinand La Roque is asking for an interview with you, in order to discuss the serious disturbances that have arisen in the south of the country this month.
- Not so fast. Since when is La Roque interested in our analyzes ? You have arrogated to yourselves the right of surveillance over this territory, so take your responsibilities !
- You misunderstood me. This interview request is a grace, an opportunity to explain yourself.
"We don't explain, we don't justif" Judicael whispered, his eyes cold and evil.
I had undoubtedly took it a little further than I wanted.
"What to do with Druid Leno? Desjardins then intervened. You went with an agent from our House to arrest him last month. But you failed. We have every reason to believe that the latter is still in contact with the half-blood we are looking for, Jean D'Aubigné. "
Judicael relaxed a little, then answered, resuming his honeyed affable tone:
"The man you are referring to is indeed a very capable and brilliant individual. You shouldn't underestimate him, nor his partner, this famous son of Zeus.
- Why the hell didn't you stop him from the start? You travelled with him !
- An obvious question indeed. So obvious that no one asked me. I hoped to reason with him first. "
It seemed to me that there was something else there, but Michel didn't insist. Instead he asked:
"I have every reason to believe that both of them are using Celtic magic to blur their tracks, a magic that is impenetrable to us. Only you can lift the enchantment.
- All the reasons? Or one man's testimony?
- It is true that Johann Orsini set off some warning bells.
- A credible man, indeed.
- You armed him. Why ? Are you trying to instrumentalized the Greek's internal wars? Or did you want him to watch over Leno? "
Michel must have been close to the truth, because Judicaël counterattacked:
"You should give me explanations. The crime scenes in the Basque Country bore traces of Egyptian magic, red magic! "
A chaos magician?
"We don't have any chaos magicians in the Fourteenth Nome," Michel said calmly.
- Nor suffered any intrusions, I added.
"Wrong, replied Judicael. You have some, who are no longer in active service, but who I have known well. Let's talk a bit about Saint Barthélémy!
- No need to give us a history lesson on the Religion Wars! I protested. If a magician has used forbidden magic, he will answer for it!
- Really ? And will your priest Sem also deign to keep us informed? You are spilling blood on our ancestral lands and yet, still have the presumption to hold us to account? "
To Michel's defense, he tried to calm things down.
"Bad blood has flowed between us, but no one is trying to lecture anyone. We are two separate organizations, the interests of which coincide instantly. Let's finish the work started in Sicily, stop our two brigands and it will always be time to explain ourselves later, which monster destroyed what exactly, who lent magic to whom. "
Judicael gazed at him with interest for a moment, and, a half-smile on his lips, swished:
"You are very civil, Champollion, but much too curious, you remind me of another. "
He got up and took a few steps around him:
"Red magic matters. Can you smell the scent of chaos? It spreads over these lands, I have never known it so subtle. It will not act directly, it settles down, it will stay here for a while, maybe ten years, maybe twenty. "
He stopped his stroll and with the back of his hand brushed Michel's shoulder.
"You have an evil eye on you. Someone has launched a demon after you. "
I felt my partner stiffen.
"After all, it's not really the first time. For you too, Picardy remains a cursed land, isn't it? "
This made me wince. I remembered how he had disappeared during the mine clearance mission. I never got the end of the story.
" What does he want to say ? "
Anger shone in Desjardins' dark eyes.
"But it's true that it's none of my business after all ...
- And what about you then? What kind of game are you playing ? You are fueling a civil war abroad! You claim to be tracking a felon in Italian territory, yet, somehow, you let him escape right in the middle of Sicily. This is betrayal, or worse, incompetence! "
I did not understand a word of what he had just said. What I had understood, however, was that he had given up on any semblance of diplomacy. Michel, you can't just yell at people like that. Of course, I was in quite a bad position to lecture him.
Judicael stood up to his full height, and he was very tall.
"I do not know if it is madness or just stupidity to dare to go down here and to utter such words to their master!
- For madness, I do not know, he replied, but perhaps you should stop taking people for complete idiots! "
The priest's eyes blazed. I realized that the situation was starting to escalate. I once again cursed my missing khopesh. If only I could find a way to access my hiding place in the Duat, I could remove a sword ...
"He scored a point. Your relationship with the traitor Leno Cervos is suspicious to say the least, and your blatant ineffectiveness has lasted too long. Proclamed a voice.
I jumped. From the back of the room, a figure stepped forward. I hadn't seen it coming. A red-haired young woman, dressed in black, raven's feathers in her hair, stepped out of the shadows. It was the kind of outfit that would have made an statement at a carnival ball, but which in this fantastic atmosphere made her look imposing.
"Morrigan, the priest fumed. What does this mean?
- I bring you the greeting of Tara's assembly. Ireland and the Americas have their eyes on you, yet you seem to be buying time? To do what ? And now, would you like to attack our hosts, right in the middle of this forest sacred for gods and men? Have you lost all common sense?
- Let's not forget the rest, I added.
- It is neither the time nor the hour," protested Judicael, her eyes fixed on the newcomer. "Return to Lug's Meadow. We will agree on a meeting point another time. "
I opened my mouth to protest, but Michel dragged me along: there was nothing to add. We returned to the clearing where Nucia and Erwan were waiting for us. The latter hid his face in his hands when Michel told him the details of the interview.
"At least he seems willing to meet La Roque now.
- That's what you think… muttered Le Bihan. "
He was right of course, we had done a bit what we liked, but we weren't helped either. We stayed to sleep in the large clearing. I took the first shift. As the moon began to rise I saw the red-haired lady come out of the elm grove. She waved to me.
"What's your name priestess?" I asked her.
"Morgana, Morgana du Faouët.
- Is that your last name?
- No, that's where I'm from.
- Like the brigand Marion? "
Erwan had told me her story by the fireside, one evening. Marion du Faouët nd her gang had roamed the southern Finistere in the middle of the 18th century. She ended up hanged in Quimper.
"She was my ancestor. I chose this name to honor her.
- You're not Irish…
- No. I am from the circle of Broceliande. Nantosuelte was the Gallic name of my goddess. Queen of fire and hearth, of crops and of the earth, bearer of war. But the Romans arrived, and drove out our druids. Across the Channel she found a much more terrible name.
- The Morrigan, I remembered. But are you ... Are you called by the name of the goddess you serve? Is it always like that?
- Just for the high priests.
- And Judicael, isn't he...
- Judicaël is a druid, he serves Sucellos, or the Daghda. For him it's different. "
Erwan had given me a rundown, but I was having trouble keeping everything in mind. The Morrigan smiled at me. How can you understand ? You cast out your gods. You forced them into exile and into silence. Now, your dead wander kingdomless, and the world only partially responds to the power of your words. I jumped. Morrigan winked at me.
"Keep an eye out for these, your home will need all of its strength to survive for years to come. "