The rain ended and warm sunlight glistened on the soaked tents as the Giamonios camp came slowly back to life. Mothers emerged from their hide-and-cloth shelters to relight the dampened cooking fires, and children screamed with delight, hopping in and out of the puddles that had welled up in the pathways.

Aurelia parted the hide door of her family’s tent, sniffing the moist, earthy air. The sound of a cowbell drew closer from the far end of the path, and she grabbed for Lucius’s hand.

“Come, look! It’s an ox for the sacrifice!”

A huge white bull trudged up the muddy path at a dignified pace. Beautifully washed and curried, it sported a garland of flowers and grasses around its massive neck. Braided strings of wildflowers twined its long horns, and colorful ribbons were plaited into its silky tail. A knot of people followed the beast, among them the family that was sponsoring the sacrificial offering, singing a song inviting the people and the gods to join the party.

As the bull lumbered by the open flaps of the tent, Lucius was startled to see bold writing along the sides of the huge beast. The family offering the animal had written their name in large, oily, red ochre letters for all to see. Lucius wondered how many, other than perhaps the tribal leaders, would be able to read the advertisement.

Stepping into the strengthening sunlight, Lucius and Aurelia picked their way gingerly to avoid the worst of the mud and occasional animal droppings, and Lucius took in for the first time the breadth of humanity at the gathering. He was amazed by the wealth of colors the people wore—deep reds and blues, greens and yellows; a riot of color to the eyes of one used to the quiet whites and browns of the brothers’ robes. Men, women, and children sported wreaths of fresh greenery, ribbons, and flowers on their heads.

There was music everywhere, groups of musicians appeared quickly after the storm, clustered together in front of their tents to sing hymns to the sun or play lyres, cymbals, flutes, and drums. And there was dancing. Lines of dancers held hands and wended barefoot along the paths, urging festivalgoers to join them. To Lucius, it was all new and exciting; he had never dreamed so many people could be made so happy all at once.

Moving closer to the center of the teeming crowd, they approached a sacred precinct of sorts. Elders, priests, and priestesses had set up tables and altars under the trees, which were garlanded with ribbons and wind chimes in honor of the celebration. Some were casting lots with dice or sheep bones, offering to divine the future for a small price. Merchants displayed tiny oil lamps and beeswax candles for ritual use, and there were moon-shaped sacrificial cakes for sale, to offer to the ritual fires or to take home for luck. For those who could afford them, there were glass and silver cups, along with silver strainers and wine dippers with “To the god Faunus” inscribed on the side. Herbalists with their fresh-cut medicinal herbs and salves plied their wares, and incantores offered charms against fever as well as little goddess statues to promote fertility in women.

A group of male worshippers shouldered a statue of a goddess on a wooden pallet and paraded her around the central area, moving her in a wide circle for all to see. A line of priestesses followed the men, singing her praises. The wooden statue was lightly painted in gold leaf and festooned with fresh flowers. People reached out to touch her for luck or to offer a small blossom of their own in her honor. A large red cloth tent marked the exact center of the ritual precinct.

“What goes on in there?” Lucius asked, wide-eyed.

“It’s the shrine of the Goddess and the God of this festival. Shall we go in and pay homage?” Aurelia asked.

Lucius was suddenly afraid. All of his training since early childhood had told him to avoid the “Satanic revels” of the Pagani, and yet here he was, about to enter a red tent that was the very color of hell fire. His heart shrank in fear at the prospect of what he might find within. Would it cause him to lose his soul or be damned for all eternity? He froze, unable to will his limbs to move.

“What is the matter with you? You look like someone who has had a bad shock.”

“I … I need to know what is inside that tent before I set foot in there. I need to know what will happen to me.”

Aurelia sensed real terror in him. She was not surprised, knowing that he was a Cristaide from Inissi Leuca.

“I don’t know what your priests have told you about our beliefs, but no hurt will come to you from anyone at this festival or from those inside the tent. Among us, it is considered great good fortune to attend this gathering. Everyone is welcome here to receive the blessing of the gods. Inside the tent are the living representatives of the God and Goddess of this festival. I promise you, you will come to no harm!”

He did not want to look like a coward, especially in front of this girl. His feelings when he looked at her confused him. He rather liked the confusion. He offered up a silent prayer of protection to the archangel Michael:

Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio,
contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium …

Thus shielded, he found the courage to continue. “Well, I have come this far; I may as well see what’s in there,” he said.

They moved together to join the long line of people snaking into the red tent. As they waited their turn, Aurelia noticed that others, especially the younger women, were staring appreciatively at Lucius. She felt proud that the tall blond stranger was at her side.

Lucius noticed that the worshippers bore gifts: a small coin, a pinch of incense for the altar, a recently purchased candle or oil lamp, fruits, bread, or flowers from the fields surrounding the encampment. He reached into his pocket and held out his coins.

“What is the appropriate offering?” he asked.

“The gods recognize good intentions. A small copper will be enough for both of us. Drop it into the little wooden box by the door when we go in, or you can hand it to the God himself when you greet him.”

“What do you mean? Will the God be there to meet us in person?” He felt a little like he was drowning and had to remember to take a breath.

“Of course he will. That’s the whole point! You’ll see.”

When their turn came to enter, it took a moment for Lucius’s eyes to adjust to the murky interior. Candles and oil lamps twinkled all around the perimeter of the huge tent and also on small tables and altars. The air was thick with incense; a woman clad in a very thin toga wafted smoke towards those who entered, using a white dove’s wing. Lucius startled and blinked, then turned deep red. He could see the woman’s breasts and private parts through the gauzy cloth, and he pried his eyes away with difficulty. He was foundering, lost in unfamiliar images and sensations and the involuntary reactions of his own body. An unexpected firmness blossomed between his legs, and he was suddenly very glad that his tunic stretched almost to his knees.

Two large wooden thrones stood back to back in the center of the tent. Aurelia clutched his hand tightly and pulled him forward to stand directly before one of them, upon which a long-haired woman sat in languid pose, clothed in green and red garments with a thick golden torc around her neck. She had a tall, loosely woven wicker cage filled with white doves to one side of her and an enormous wicker cage filled with ravens on the other. A beautifully woven rug and a wide, shallow, earthenware dish of water lay at her feet.

“What is your wish, my son?” she asked dreamily.

Lucius thought she had drunk too much vinum or maybe she was in some kind of trance. His mind went blank in panic, and Aurelia nudged his side sharply.

“Ask for a prophecy!” she hissed into his ear.

This was a terrible sin! The only prophecy allowed on Inissi Leuca was to open a Bible at random and interpret the passage upon which your finger happened to land. Before he could utter a sound, the woman on the throne turned her hooded eyes to him and began to speak in a strange, abstracted way.

“I see an island in the north and on it a great tree. You and the tree are one. You, like the tree, will provide food, shelter, and courage for the people.”

She closed her eyes. The short audience was over.

Aurelia pulled him to the opposite side, where a man was seated. He had thick, curly hair and wore a short sky blue tunic and intricately worked leather boots that rested on another beautiful carpet. In one hand, he held a large hammer, and in the other a golden dish. A very large, washed and manicured dog sat panting at his side.

“Put a coin in the dish!” Aurelia whispered.

Lucius added a coin to the others in the golden platter. But this time, the man spoke only to Aurelia:

“You will travel far … and be fortunate in love.” He closed his eyes.

A young man and woman stepped out of the shadows and guided Lucius and Aurelia to the flap that served as an exit, from which they were ushered out into the blinding sunlight of the late afternoon.

“What happens now?” Lucius asked.

He would not have been surprised if she had said they would fly or stand on their heads for a week.

“There is more to come, but do you remember what the Goddess said to you?”

“Goddess? You mean that woman who was seated on the large chair?”

“No, silly, that woman was the vessel. It was the blessed Nantosuelta who spoke through the woman, just as Sucellos spoke through the man.”

“Who are Nantosuelta and Sucellos?” Lucius asked.

“Nantosuelta is the raven goddess. Her other name is Winding River. She appears as a dove when she is in her mother form. At those times, she blesses your hearth and home. She appears as a raven when she is in her war goddess form. The water you saw at the foot of the throne is from a spring from which a great river is born near one of her temples. It symbolizes her ability to heal and to prophesy. She can see between the worlds.

“The God who spoke to me through the curly haired man is her consort. He is the sky god, Sucellos, who is also called the Good Striker because his voice can be heard in the thunder, and because he sends his lightning as a blessing to fertilize the Earth Mother. He too is a great healer and a prophet. He said I would be lucky in love!”

Aurelia smiled as she reached up to touch Lucius’s face. This time, he held her gaze, but his face went the color of a freshly cut fig.