Free Ravens of Avalon by Diana L. Paxson, Marion Zimmer Bradley Page A

suddenly. He had shot up during the past months, and his chin bore a trace of dark beard. It was just that compared to warriors such as those who had visited them last summer he still seemed a child.
    “Move over, maidens,” he grinned. “Or did you eat so much there’s no room on the bench? It’s not fair that you should block all the heat of that fire.”
    “Are you saying I’ve grown fat?” protested Boudica, but she was already sliding over so that Rianor could squeeze in. She flushed a little as he put his arm around her shoulders. His friend Albi tried to do the same and missed, landing in the straw at their feet, where he was joined by the other boys, playfully cuffing each other as her father’s hunting dogs used to scuffle before they stretched out before the fire.
    In the pack there was an order—in the boy pack, too. Rianor was a leader. So was Cloto, but since the visit of the kings many of his former followers were avoiding him.
    “What did you think of our new bard?” Rianor asked.
    “He has such sad eyes,” observed Coventa with a sigh.
    “Well, his song was sad enough,” Albi agreed.
    “Then we should learn from it,” Cloto said harshly. “You can’t fight Rome. Vercingetorix tried, and died, and all those proud kings who came here will die, too.”
    “Caesar conquered Vercingetorix and Caesar is dead,” objected Rianor. “This emperor they have now is not a warrior.”
    “He does not have to be,” Cloto said grimly. “He has generals who will do the work for him.”
    “And so you think we should just lie down and let them?” exclaimed Albi. As they grew louder, others began to turn. Boudica made a hushing motion and for a moment everyone was still. When Cloto spoke again his voice was intense, but low.
    “We should welcome them, make treaties. They will have to treat us fairly if we are protected by their law.”
    “Like Veric,” said Boudica. Cloto shrugged. Everyone knew he was a cousin of the Atrebate king. Of course he would agree with him.
    “And when we are all as tame as the tribes of Gallia, what then?” whispered Rianor. “Our children will grow up speaking Latin and forget our gods.”
    “I don’t think that is quite fair,” Albi said slowly. “I’ve heard that all the peoples of the Empire are free to worship their own gods so long as they also honor the gods of Rome.”
    “All except the Druids …” Coventa said suddenly. Her eyes had gone unfocused and she was trembling. “The Druids of Gallia who did not flee were killed.”
    Boudica gripped her arms and gave her a little shake, willing her to focus on the here and now. If she went into one of her fits they would have the priests down on them for sure. For a moment the younger girl sat rigid beneath her hands, then she relaxed with a sigh.
    “It’s true,” Rianor said then. “We Druids don’t have a choice. If the Romans rule Britannia, the people may survive, but they will no longer be Atrebates or Brigantes or Regni.” His voice rose. “By the gods, we of the tribes love our freedom so much we will not even join together as Britons beneath one king! How can you think it would be better to be swallowed up by Rome?” He glared at Cloto and the other boy leaped to his feet, fists balled and ready.
    As Rianor surged upright to face him Ardanos appeared suddenly behind them, gripping each boy’s shoulder in a strong hand.
    “What are you thinking?” he hissed, his ginger hair appearing to stand on end. “Your quarrel profanes the festival! Thank the Goddess, the High Priestess and the Arch-Druid have departed already.”
    They gaped at him. How much had Ardanos overheard? Boudica knew that the Druids were having the same arguments as the young people they trained. But not, she had to admit, in front of the whole community at a festival.
    Ardanos let the boys go. “If you can fight, you can work! The feast is over. Get busy cleaning up the hall.”
    re the gods many, or are there only two, or