Lady of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley, Diana L. Paxson Page B

you are willing to hear.”
    Caillean smiled and took his outstretched hand in her own. It was so frail, the light seemed to shine through it. Eiluned and Riannon would be expecting her back to discuss the girls who were applying to join their community, but they could wait. There was always something to be learned when men spoke of how they came to the Light, and Father Joseph had very little time.
    “I was a merchant of Judea, from a town called Arimathea, in the eastern part of the Empire. My ships went everywhere, even to Dumnonia to trade for tin, and great wealth came to me.” His voice gathered strength as he went on. “In those days I never thought beyond the next day’s accounting, and if in my dreams I sometimes remembered the land that is now sunk beneath the waves and yearned for its wisdom, I forgot it with the dawn. I brought those who were notable in every craft to my table, and when the new teacher from Galilee whom men called Yeshua began to be widely talked of, I invited him as well.”
    “Did you know then that he was one of the Sons of Light?” asked Caillean. The gods were always speaking, in tree and hill and the silence of men’s hearts, but in each age, it was said, they sent an Enlightened One to speak in human words to the world. But in any age, as she had also heard, never more than a few could hear.
    Father Joseph shook his head. “I listened to the Master’s words, and found Him pleasant, but I did not know Him well. The old teachings were still hidden from me. But I saw that He brought hope to the people, and I gave money when His followers needed it, and allowed them to celebrate the Paschal feast in a house that I owned. I was away from Jerusalem when He was arrested. By the time I returned, He was already on the cross. I went out to the hill of execution, for I had heard that His mother was there and I wished to offer my assistance.”
    He stopped, remembering, and she saw his eyes grow luminous with tears. It was Gawen, sensing the weight of emotion without understanding it, who broke the silence.
    “What was she like-His mother?”
    Joseph focused on the boy. “She was like your goddess, when she weeps at harvest for the death of the god. She was young and old, fragile and enduring as stone. I saw her tears and I began to remember my dreams. And then I stood at the foot of the cross and looked up at her Son.
    “By then, His agony had burned most of the human guise away. The knowledge of His true nature came and went-at times He cried out in despair, and at others He would speak words of comfort to those who waited below. But when He looked at me, I was dazzled by His Light, and in that moment I remembered who I myself had been, in times past, and the oaths that I had sworn.” The old man took a deep breath. It was clear that he was tiring, but no one would have tried to stop him now.
    “They say the earth shook when He died. I do not know, for I had been shaken to my core. Afterward, when they speared Him to make sure He was dead, I caught some of His blood in a flask I had by me. And I used my influence with the Romans to get His body, and laid it in my own family tomb.”
    “But he didn’t stay there…” said Gawen. Caillean looked at him and remembered how long he had studied music with the Nazarenes. He must know their legends well.
    “ He was never there,” Father Joseph said with a little smile. “Only the flesh He had worn…The Master took it back again to show the power of the spirit to those who think that the life of the body is all there is, but I did not need to see Him. I knew .”
    “But why did you come here, to Britannia?” Gawen asked then.
    Joseph’s gaze grew sorrowful; he spoke more slowly now. “The followers the Master had left began to fight over who should lead, and who should interpret the meaning of His words. They would not listen to me, and I refused to be drawn into their quarrels… I remembered then this green land beyond the waves