Scorpion Rising

Three

In the centre of the world between earth, sky and sea, at the point where the realms of the universe meet, the whisperings slowly came together. Swirling jointly in excitement and confusion, they jumbled through the halls of falsehood, rumbled down the trail of dreams, until finally they tumbled through the gates of confidence as truth.

Unlike Rumour, Truth carried conviction.

Carried on the soft warm wings of night, she soared over bright, shiny basilicas and painted stone tribunals without stopping, for there was no one to listen to her there. On and on she flew, past fountains, statues, bathhouses and barracks, watching broad metalled roads below give way to narrow rutted tracks as six-storey tenements fragmented into single-storey thatch. With every rolling hill and wooded river valley that she passed, Rome became more and more distant. For though the conquerors pulled on the oars of administration and finance, it was the Druids that steered the spiritual tiller.

And so it was here, to the lands under the Druids' dominion, where human sacrifice placated the black gods of vengeance and the powers of darkness were summoned and harnessed, that Truth swooped and imparted her wisdom.

'Nonsense!' Dora slammed the table with her fist. 'In all my sixty summers, I've never heard such rubbish!'

'We don't even allow men in the compound,' Fearn protested. 'How on earth are we supposed to suck their minds clean while they sleep?'

Beth ran her hand over the table shaped in the form of a pentagram around which the five women sat and studied the reflection of her silver robe in the shine. 'It's human nature to fear what we don't understand.'

'But witches!' It was a wonder the thatch stayed on the roof when Dora's fist crashed down a second time. 'Never in our history have we laid a single claim to sorcery or magic!'

'Fabrication walks hand in hand with fear,' Luisa pointed out.

'But who started this wicked fiction?' That's what Fearn wanted to know.

Beth pushed her chestnut hair back from her face and gazed around the half-timbered hall, whose rafters of ash were interwoven with hazel and whose basket-weave walls were hung with dried flowers and carved, painted plaques.

'The issue is not how the rumours started, it's how we scotch them,' she said.

Without windows, the only light came from the scores of candles dotted round the hall, and the only sounds that intruded were the soft coo of a pigeon on the roof and the occasional bubble of the scented infusion in the brazier.

'By ignoring them,' Dora retorted. 'Slurs are no different from hearth fires, Beth. They fizzle out soon enough for lack of attention.'

'That only holds true up to a point,' she replied. 'For personal insults, I agree. Ignore it. But, Dora, this accusation has the backing of the Druids.'

'Whose power is waning,' Luisa said.

'And for which they only have themselves to blame,' Fearn added, rubbing the arm of her wickerwork chair. 'They live apart from society-'

'So do we,' Beth pointed out.

'Indeed we do, my dear, but the Hundred-Handed don't believe themselves superior to their fellow Gauls.'

'It's why we don't embroil ourselves in local politics,' Dora said. 'Who are we to pass judgement on others?'

'An attitude which seems to be working against us right now.'

'Why?' Dora spread her large hands. 'If setting themselves apart makes the Druids more mystical, rather than less, why shouldn't the same apply to us? Let our very remoteness work in our favour, that's what I say.'

'I agree,' Fearn said, nodding. 'By ignoring these preposterous allegations, the communities that rely on the forest will come to realize that in an impermanent world, nature is constant, while the gods of the Druids are bloodthirsty, capricious and vengeful.'

'Our healing springs will also speak for us,' Luisa added confidently. 'People will soon see that the Hundred-Handed reflect the steadfastness of nature.'

'Will they.' Beth sighed. 'Rome has opened minds as well as trade routes,' she said. 'People no longer accept authority without question.'

'Which is exactly why the Druids' influence is on the slide,' Luisa said. 'The Aquitani have stopped running to them for guidance on every petty issue, and people have grown stronger in character because of it. That can only be a good thing.'

'Unless we are proved to be witches,' Beth said. 'The disbanding of this College will undermine the concept of independent thinking more effectively than any Roman law once the Druids show the Aquitani that, left to their own devices, they put their faith in monsters.'

Dora snorted. 'Are we really saying we're so damned powerful that we can bring down the Druids?'

'Or be responsible for building them up to the force they once were?' Fearn asked.

Beth watched a spider climb up the wall, reach a plaque and fall back down. She waited until it began to climb again.

'We've heard Growth's views.' She patted the arm sitting beside her, draped in linen dyed the colour of gorse. 'Fearn here believes that the goodness of nature will prevail over whatever malevolent gods are thrown in our path.' She turned to Dora. 'Maturity — and I think we can all agree on this — is firmly of the opinion that in ignoring the rumour, the fire will go out, while Decline,' she smiled at Luisa, utterly resplendent in red, 'puts her trust in the powers of healing.'

The spider fell back onto the floor. This time it did not attempt another ascent, but scuttled under the table. Beth crushed it under her foot.

'As the Birth point on the pentagram and Head of this Order, you know my view. I believe closing our eyes to the accusation of witchcraft is dangerous in the extreme, because, as someone far cleverer than me once said, for evil to triumph, it only needs for good men to do nothing. However.'

She swivelled in her chair to face the woman sitting on her right, whose robe was black as night.

'The one opinion we haven't heard today is Ailm's.'

The narrow, watchful eyes of the Death Priestess tapered to mere slits and through the coo-coo-coo of the pigeon on the thatch, the fragrant contents of the brazier bubbled gently.

'If Rumour whispers into credulous ears,' she said eventually, 'credulous minds are bound to put their trust in her wisdom.'

'Is that it?' Dora turned her head away in disgust. 'Is that the extent of your input? Trotting out some trite old saw that might sound deeply intellectual to those who know no better, but is meaningless in its actual content?'

'You asked,' Ailm said.

I didn't,' Dora corrected, with a glare at Beth.

'Ailm.' Beth refused to meet her friend's eye. 'Ailm, this is serious. As Head of the Order, I have three votes. Right now, the pentagram is deadlocked.'

'Then instate a fairer ballot.' The Death Priestess stood up and swept towards the door, her skirts billowing like the wings of a bat in her wake.

'Ailm!' Beth brought her palms down on the five-pointed table with the full weight of her position. The boom stopped the priestess in her tracks. 'The voting system is part of our heritage. It underlines the College hierarchy and reinforces the Head of the Order's authority. Remember, only the five pentagram priestesses are entitled to vote. Our decision affects the whole of the College.'

'There's nothing in the rules that prevents us from canvassing the opinion of the rest of the Hundred-Handed, though.'

'Apart from time,' Luisa said. 'If we opened a debate to the remaining forty-five, we'd be opening a floodgate of hot air and the whole point of the pentagram is that we, as the governing committee, act swiftly.'

'And…' Dora sniffed. 'Decisively.'

'Not only that,' Fearn said, 'even if we mooted every issue under discussion before the rest of the Hundred-Handed, why stop there? If it's democracy you're pushing for, Ailm, you'd have to include the Initiates of Light, whose very training is to prepare them to step in once the next priestess dies.'

'How could you possibly then exclude those women who didn't qualify for Initiatehood,' Luisa asked, 'but who oversee the nursery, the cooking, the cleansing of holy spaces and such like?'

'Indeed,' Dora said. 'That only adds another couple of hundred, and why not poll the novices while you're about it? Or aren't children entitled to a say in their own future under your precious voting system?'

'Ailm.' Beth pulled the meeting back on track. 'Ailm, the College stands accused of witchery and you know the Druids' attitude to that.'

'The Druids have no power over us,' Ailm retorted, 'and anyway, we're under Rome's protection now. Let them put their money where their mouth is.'

'Rome!' Dora pushed her chair back from the table. 'How can they possibly protect us out here? Ailm, you're a fool. A selfish, narrow-minded, short-sighted fool-'

'How dare you, you who-'

'Enough.' Beth stood up. 'Ailm, I'm sorry but Dora's right. Rome would willingly send its legions to our aid, but for how long? They can't stand around these woods for ever, and the Druids are like cats outside a mouse hole. They'll wait weeks, months, years if necessary, but far more likely they'll pounce before the Governor has even had time to read our petition.'

'The first Rome would see of our plight would be the smoke from the razing of the College,' Fearn added bitterly.

'We'd be dead within the week,' Luisa said.

'Only the lucky ones,' said Dora.

'And since you protect the Death point on the pentagram,' Beth said, 'you must see why your vote is crucial on this issue.'

'Once again.' A hard light glinted in Ailm's eye. 'You are not pinning the future of this Order on me.'

As she marched through the door to leave it swinging on its hinges, the others shielded their eyes from the sudden rush of sunlight. Disorientated, perhaps, by the scents from the infusion, a butterfly flew into the hall, the undersides of its wings reflecting metallic in the flickering candlelight. Had the butterfly been Rumour, and had it flown in at the start of the meeting, it would still have been unable to carry off a tale. It would still have been no wiser about what had taken place between the Hundred-Handed.

Because from start to finish, the entire exchange had been conducted in silence.

Not one spoken word had passed between the priestesses.