been said.
“I can show you the Temples of Rome; I can show you the big palaces, the houses that make this villa appear quite humble indeed. I can show you how to play the shadows so that mortals never see you; how to climb walls swiftly and silently; how to walk the roofs at night all over the city, never touching the ground.”
Avicus was amazed. He looked to Mael.
Mael sat slumped, saying nothing.
Then he pulled himself up.
In a weak voice he continued his condemnation.
“I would have been stronger if you hadn’t told me all those marvelous things,” he said, “and now you ask if we want to enjoy the same pleasures, the pleasures of a Roman.”
“It’s what I have to offer,” I said. “Do what you wish.”
Mael shook his head. He began to speak again, for the benefit of whom I don’t know.
“When it was plain that you wouldn’t return,” he said, “they chose me. I was to become the god. But for this to happen we had to find a God of the Grove who had not been burnt to death by the Terrible Fire. After all, we had destroyed our own gentle god foolishly! A creature who had had the magic to make you.”
I gestured as if to say, It was indeed a shame.
“We sent word far and wide,” he said. “At last an answer came from Britain. A god survived there, a god who was most ancient and most strong.”
I looked to Avicus, but there was no change in his expression.
“However we were warned not to go to him. We were told that it was perhaps not something we should do. We were confused by these messages, and at last we set out for we felt that we must try.”
“And how did you feel,” I asked cruelly, “now that you had been chosen, and you knew that you would be shut up in the oak, never to see the sun again, and only to drink blood during the great feasts and during the full moon?”
He looked straight ahead as if he couldn’t give me a decent answer to this, and then he replied.
“You had corrupted me as I told you.”
“Ah,” I said, “so you were afraid. The Faithful of the Forest couldn’t comfort you. And I was to blame.”
“Not afraid,” he said furiously, clenching his teeth. “Corrupted as I said.” He flashed his small deep-set eyes on me. “Do you know what it means to believe absolutely nothing, to have no god, no truth!”
“Yes, of course I know,” I answered. “I believe nothing. I consider it wise. I believed nothing when I was mortal. I believe nothing now.”
I think I saw Avicus flinch.
I might have said more brutal things, but I saw that Mael meant to go on.
Staring forward in the same manner he told his tale:
“We made our journey,” he said. “We crossed the narrow sea to Britain and went North to a land of green woods and there we came upon a band of priests who sang our hymns and knew our poetry and our law. They were Druids as we were Druids, they were the Faithful of the Forest as were we. We fell into each other’s arms.”
Avicus was watching Mael keenly. My eyes were more patient and cold, I was sure. Nevertheless the simple narrative drew me, I have to confess.
“I went into the grove,” said Mael. “How huge the trees were. How ancient. Any one of them might have been the Great Tree. At last I was led to it. And I saw the door with its many iron locks. I knew the god was inside.”
Suddenly Mael glanced anxiously to Avicus, but Avicus gestured for him to go on.
“Tell Marius,” he said gently, “and in telling Marius, you tell me.”
It had such a soft sound to it, this utterance. I felt a shiver on the surface of my skin, my lonely and perfect skin.
“But these priests,” said Mael, “they warned me. “Mael, if there is any lie or imperfection in you, the god will know it. He will merely kill you and you will be a sacrifice and nothing more than that. Think deep because the god sees deep. The god is strong but the god would be feared rather than adored and takes his vengeance, when aroused, with great pleasure.’
“The
“I can show you the Temples of Rome; I can show you the big palaces, the houses that make this villa appear quite humble indeed. I can show you how to play the shadows so that mortals never see you; how to climb walls swiftly and silently; how to walk the roofs at night all over the city, never touching the ground.”
Avicus was amazed. He looked to Mael.
Mael sat slumped, saying nothing.
Then he pulled himself up.
In a weak voice he continued his condemnation.
“I would have been stronger if you hadn’t told me all those marvelous things,” he said, “and now you ask if we want to enjoy the same pleasures, the pleasures of a Roman.”
“It’s what I have to offer,” I said. “Do what you wish.”
Mael shook his head. He began to speak again, for the benefit of whom I don’t know.
“When it was plain that you wouldn’t return,” he said, “they chose me. I was to become the god. But for this to happen we had to find a God of the Grove who had not been burnt to death by the Terrible Fire. After all, we had destroyed our own gentle god foolishly! A creature who had had the magic to make you.”
I gestured as if to say, It was indeed a shame.
“We sent word far and wide,” he said. “At last an answer came from Britain. A god survived there, a god who was most ancient and most strong.”
I looked to Avicus, but there was no change in his expression.
“However we were warned not to go to him. We were told that it was perhaps not something we should do. We were confused by these messages, and at last we set out for we felt that we must try.”
“And how did you feel,” I asked cruelly, “now that you had been chosen, and you knew that you would be shut up in the oak, never to see the sun again, and only to drink blood during the great feasts and during the full moon?”
He looked straight ahead as if he couldn’t give me a decent answer to this, and then he replied.
“You had corrupted me as I told you.”
“Ah,” I said, “so you were afraid. The Faithful of the Forest couldn’t comfort you. And I was to blame.”
“Not afraid,” he said furiously, clenching his teeth. “Corrupted as I said.” He flashed his small deep-set eyes on me. “Do you know what it means to believe absolutely nothing, to have no god, no truth!”
“Yes, of course I know,” I answered. “I believe nothing. I consider it wise. I believed nothing when I was mortal. I believe nothing now.”
I think I saw Avicus flinch.
I might have said more brutal things, but I saw that Mael meant to go on.
Staring forward in the same manner he told his tale:
“We made our journey,” he said. “We crossed the narrow sea to Britain and went North to a land of green woods and there we came upon a band of priests who sang our hymns and knew our poetry and our law. They were Druids as we were Druids, they were the Faithful of the Forest as were we. We fell into each other’s arms.”
Avicus was watching Mael keenly. My eyes were more patient and cold, I was sure. Nevertheless the simple narrative drew me, I have to confess.
“I went into the grove,” said Mael. “How huge the trees were. How ancient. Any one of them might have been the Great Tree. At last I was led to it. And I saw the door with its many iron locks. I knew the god was inside.”
Suddenly Mael glanced anxiously to Avicus, but Avicus gestured for him to go on.
“Tell Marius,” he said gently, “and in telling Marius, you tell me.”
It had such a soft sound to it, this utterance. I felt a shiver on the surface of my skin, my lonely and perfect skin.
“But these priests,” said Mael, “they warned me. “Mael, if there is any lie or imperfection in you, the god will know it. He will merely kill you and you will be a sacrifice and nothing more than that. Think deep because the god sees deep. The god is strong but the god would be feared rather than adored and takes his vengeance, when aroused, with great pleasure.’
“The
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