Free The Hallowed Isle Book Four by Diana L. Paxson Page A

path that leads up to the circle of stones.”
    â€œI stopped there on my way,” said Artor, remembering the ring of stones. Some had fallen, and the tallest were no more than breast high, as if the earth were slowly reclaiming a broken crown. “How many are there? I counted three times and the answer was never the same.”
    â€œAh, that secret belongs to our Mysteries—”
    Artor shook his head, laughing. “Is that why those stones are so— alive ? Most of the circles I have seen are somnolent as an old dog in the sun. But the ones on the hill hummed with energy.”
    â€œAnd how would you know that?” Igierne turned to look up at him.
    Artor kept his gaze on the hills. “Because I have met the folk who built them. Or their spirits. I wish I had thought to ask them why !”
    â€œTell me—” Igierne’s voice changed, and Artor knew that she was speaking as Lady of the Lake. Easing down beside her, he began to describe the night he had spent beneath the ancient stones.
    â€œAnd now,” he ended, “it is as if I were growing new senses. I can tell, before I even touch it, if a stone has weathered naturally or was shaped by the Old Ones of this land. Who was the Lady I saw, and what did her question mean?”
    â€œI would guess . . . she was a great queen of the elder days, so bound to the land that after her death she would not pass onward to the Blessed Isles, but became one with the spirits of the earth. To some . . .” she spoke ever more slowly, “that choice is given. They become part of the Otherworld that lieslike a veil above our own. In some places the fabric is folded, and there, the two worlds touch.”
    â€œThat grave was one of them . . .” he said slowly. “As are all the places where the old ones worked the stones. . . .”
    â€œIn their proper times and seasons, it is so.”
    Artor realized that he was gripping the rock on which he sat. Beneath his palm its chill surface was warming; he felt a vibration as if some great beast purred beneath his hand, and let go quickly.
    â€œWhat is the price? And where is the Stone? The Votadini king stone belongs to that land and that people only. Where is the Stone that will hail me as king and emperor?”
    Igierne shook her head. “That is your mystery.” She looked at him again. “Why do you want to be emperor? Is it the old dream of glory that draws you—the need to avenge Maximian?”
    â€œPerhaps it was . . . at first,” he replied. “I admit that Riothamus’ offer was flattering. But I have been thinking about it as I travelled around this land. The Lady commanded me to defend all the races who dwell in Britannia, from the earth-folk to the Saxons. At its best, the justice of Rome did that, but the Pax Romana has failed.”
    â€œWill you impose a Pax Britannica upon the world?”
    â€œPerhaps, to keep this Island safe, that is what I will have to do. . . .”
    Igierne sighed. “You have seen the tumbled stones of the second wall that the Romans built to defend the first one that Hadrianus made. Each conquest only gave them a new land that had to be protected. But in the end they could not hold all they had taken. To be accepted by all of Britannia is more than any other prince of our people has achieved—do you truly believe that you can be a king for Gallia as well?”
    â€œMother, I do not know. But to bring peace to the world and justice to its peoples, we need a dream. I think I have to try. . . .”
    Morgause was in the weaving shed, supervising the younger priestesses as they checked the bags of raw fleece, when she realized that someone was standing in the doorway.She looked up, eyes narrowed against the glare. For a moment he was only a shape outlined in light; then she recognized the broad shoulders and height of the king. Slowly she straightened. For