The woman shook her head, but kept staring as if she could not quite believe her eyes. Then she abruptly turned her attention back to her child. “Oh, my sweet, reckless Fiara! You must be more careful, daughter. If you were to reveal too much to the wrong person—”
“I was careful, maman. I always am. Lady Celine is unhappy, and she wants very badly to go home ... and I know so well how she feels. I had to help her.”
Celine smiled at Fiara, touched by the depth of empathy in such a young child. “And I am very grateful, Fiara, that you brought me here to speak to your mother.”
“Aye, come, we must speak.” The woman cast a sudden, nervous look around the clearing. “But inside.”
The inside of the hut looked much like the outside, clean but threadbare. It was a single room without windows. A firepit provided warmth and illuminated the sparse furnishings: a small, hand-hewn table, two chairs, a pallet bed and pillow in one corner, and a shelf with a few wooden bowls and iron cooking implements.
There was little food to be seen, nothing but two sacks of grain, though a large, ornate chest stood in one corner, bound with iron fashioned into elaborate, finely wrought Celtic motifs.
The woman took a basket from a hook on the wall and handed it to her daughter, looked at her in silence for a long moment, then handed her a coin from a pouch at her waist.
The little girl’s eyes shone with excitement. She hugged her mother, then ran to Celine and hugged her, too. “Oh, Lady Celine, maman is not angry. She is going to make a fine meal, to celebrate my return, but first she wants to speak with you. I am going to the village to see Madame Nadette and buy some mutton.” She held up the coin with a proud smile. “Maman says I may even visit a while with Madame and help with her herbals.”
With that, Fiara hurried off on her task. Her mother followed her to the door, smiling sadly as she watched her go before turning to Celine. “I have not told you my name, have I? I am sorry. I have lived so long alone with my daughter that I forget, sometimes, the usual way of speaking. I am Brynna.” She motioned Celine to a chair and took the other one herself, still looking a bit nervous. “For my daughter’s sake, I beg you, whatever you learn here this day you must keep secret. Please—”
“I’ll be grateful for whatever help you can give me,” Celine assured her. “And I promise I won’t tell a soul. But why are you so afraid? What is this power that you and your daughter have?”
“Power,” Brynna whispered, lowering her gaze to her patched skirt. “Aye, I suppose some would think of it that way. Though it is not, in truth.” She glanced up, studying Celine for a moment. “Long ago ... centuries ago,” she began slowly, “was a time of Ancient Wisdom, a time when mankind understood all—the languages of the earth and its creatures, the ways of the sea, the paths of the stars—”
“Astronomy,” Celine whispered, her heart starting to beat harder.
Brynna nodded. “And more, much more. But then came a time of darkness, and the Ancient Wisdom was lost. It survived only among a few, men who were held in high esteem, sought as healers, as wise judges in disputes, as advisors to kings. They came to be known as Druids.”
“Druids?” Celine thought of tall men in dark cloaks, Stonehenge, King Arthur’s Merlin. “So that’s what you and Fiara are?”
“Two of the very last. You see, long ago, some who did not possess the Ancient Wisdom began to fear those who did. They hunted them down, drove them from their lands, killed them. Only a handful survived. My father was a Druid of great knowledge, but he taught me to keep my ... powers secret, for fear of those who do not understand. Those who would call us witches and evil. People who might harm us.”
She paused, her hands twisting in the folds of her skirt. “I did as he bade, and married an important man in the town where we livid, a silversmith. My husband ... he forced me to leave when he learned the truth of what I am, what our daughter is. Fiara”—Brynna glanced up with a smile, her expression bittersweet—“is my greatest joy, but she is not cautious. I have tried to warn her, but at her age, she finds amusement in her powers. And her gifts are very strong. I must rely on my father’s writings to assist me, but Fiara’s abilities seem to flow naturally. It makes me fear for her. I thought if she could lead a more normal life, among normal children ...”
Her voice trailed off, but her eyes said it all: she wanted her child to have a better, happier, safer life than she had had herself. Brynna’s loneliness, and the sacrifice she was willing to make to save her daughter from her own fate, made Celine’s heart ache. She leaned across the table to squeeze the other woman’s hand. “If there is anything I can do. Any way I can help—”