When Lucius had at last finished his tasks, both he and Aífe were declared full initiates of Innis nan Druidneach, and everyone was called to the Main House for a celebratory feast.

Dáiríne had outdone even herself, baking enormous deer-meat pies flavored with mushrooms, wild carrots, sea salt, and garlic. Beside the pies was a huge wooden salad bowl filled with watercress, dandelion leaves, and other edible shoots and flowers.

Báetán brought out his very best batch of mid, a frothy and not-too- sweet barrelful flavored with rowan berries.

Amalgáid settled himself on a stool before the blazing hearth with a harp in his lap and sang an ancient lay that summarized everything Aífe and Lucius had recently experienced:

I am a wave on the windy sea

Over land and sea I am the wind

I am the eagle on the cliff

I am the stone within the mountain

I am the salmon in the forest pool

I am the strength of the boar in rut

I am the tines of the mountain stag

I am the bravery of the wild bull

I am the flower in bloom

I am the seed within the flower

I am the grain that feeds the people.

I am a word of magic

I am the strength within the strong

I am the silence within the secret

I am the knowledge within the knower

I am the enchanted point of a battle spear

I am the radiant sun of light

I am the stars in the cauldron of sky

I am the ages of the moon.

My word brings the world into being

I grow the shady wood

I release the cleansing waterfall

I hold the pool of the lake

I raise the lofty green meadow

I am the well in the hill

That nourishes the people.

I am the people

I am the past

I am the future

I am the sacred land

I am the sea and the sky … 3

Aífe had heard the song at Druid gatherings in the past, but never had the words meant so much. Though she and Lucius were at last free to speak to one another, they found it hard to find words in such a public place. With a silent, beckoning glance, Aífe asked Lucius if he would like to go outside to the privacy of the night. They exited the roundhouse together, relieved to be away from the others. But when they were finally alone and far enough from the door that no one would hear their words, they suddenly had none.

Lucius paced a few steps away, turned, and opened his mouth to speak, but when he saw Aífe in the moonlight, his thoughts bunched in his throat. Aífe tried to use the calming technique of súil inmedónach but could gain no altitude of mind; nothing inside of her was still. Finally, Lucius motioned her to a stone wall, where they sat and pretended to listen to the crickets and the night animals rustling in the leaves.

“Are you happy here?” Lucius burst out in desperation.

“Oh, yes.” Aífe opened her hands for emphasis. “This place holds more than happiness for me.”

Lucius nodded agreement but said no more.

“And you?” Aífe blushed at her clumsiness.

Lucius searched for words so long, Aífe thought he would not answer. Just as the silence was impossible to bear, he said, “I have never been home before.”

Aífe turned fully toward him, her face turned up and questioning. It was not what she had expected him to say. Before she could ask or give answer, Lucius hurried on.

“I don’t know who I am, you see. I’m no one’s, and I belong nowhere. The odd thing is, I didn’t really know that until I came here and found that I belong to myself.”

It all came out in a tumble, and his breath came as if he had been running.

Aífe reached for his hand and took it in both of her own. “Now you belong everywhere,” she said.

He looked up and found her eyes waiting for him. “What did you find here in this place?”

Aífe’s smile came readily. “I found everything—everything I will ever need.”

“Yes, I feel that way too,” he said.

They sat in quiet now, a softly rocking balance moving between them. Slowly, Aífe moved one hand away and curled it through Lucius’s arm. She felt his warmth and his strength. “I have a family,” said Aífe. Her words came slowly. “But they are not the mother and father that bore me. The family I have is loving, kind, and open. They have made me forget that I was not originally from them. A child should know that they are wanted, that they bring a gift that no other can bring. I am sorry that you have been so alone.”

Lucius’s heart thudded in his chest and a single warm tear escaped his eye. He pulled his arm tight to his side to hold Aífe there more firmly. He knew she needed no answer. Instead, he stood, she beside him as they walked the pine-covered path under the trees. The movement brought him ease, and she too needed the steps beside him to express her feelings. She let her arm drop and found his hand. He brought hers up to his mouth and kissed it. She stopped and let him feel the tug on his arm. She was a step away from him. He turned, not knowing why she had stopped, saw her face framed in the night. Before he could form a thought, he scooped her to him and caught her mouth in a small, surprised “Oh!” And then they were together, he bending slightly over her, capturing her to his chest, his heart hammering full of unbelieving joy. Aífe reached to him, tangled her hands in his hair, and held to his love.

When they finally parted, they stood staring at each other as if this were the moment they had always expected and as if nothing could have stunned them more. Lucius hesitated, bent, and placed a warm, firm kiss on her lips, pulled back a fraction, and whispered, “I am home.”

In silence, they sank to the forest floor and explored every known and unknown hollow and ridge of their excitement, their wonder, their bodies, their love. An urgent need drove them. Without thinking, Lucius lifted up Aífe’s robe, and she returned the gesture, tearing his clothes off in a moment. He held the softness of her breasts and found the heat of her sex, bringing himself to her. She met him in his passion, caressing the muscles of his back, holding the excitement of his loins until they shuddered, cried out, and moaned together into the deep night. When Lucius raised himself to look at Aífe, she laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Everything! I didn’t know I could hold so much happiness!” She half rose, kissed his neck, rose more, and bit him slightly on the lip. He could not resist and let himself be drowned again.

They lay flat on their backs and stared up at the stars. Neither spoke. Then Lucius said, “The moon has traveled far on our little walk.”

Aífe giggled. “Is that your way of telling me we have gone too far?”

Lucius laughed. “No, but I suppose it is my way of saying maybe we should go back. The others may be worried.”

When they re-entered the Main House with rumpled tunics, hand in hand, it was perfectly clear to the Druid why the gods had led them there together. Bébinn brought them mid and a loaf of honey bread to share, saying with a smile, “The night air makes one hungry.” Talk and song swirled around them, and Aífe and Lucius were allowed their privacy.

The next day, Aífe woke early. As she sat up, she hugged her happiness to herself, and a shiver ran through her body. She thought of Lucius, how he belonged in her heart, how he was like the elemental land, sea, and sky that kept her alive. And then she thought of Ethne and Ruadh. They believed in her and needed her. She was not alone on this quest.

She walked to the Main House and found Lucius in conversation with the others.

“Amalgáid, when and how does one leave this place?” Lucius asked. “The season of winter is approaching, and we must make the crossing before the storms set in.”

“You are free to leave whenever you like. We will arrange a passage for you when the next boat arrives, bringing our winter supplies. The winds have already shifted, and the balmy southern breezes no longer caress the shore. Often now the winds are bitter cold, more and more frequently blowing in from the snow-lands in the north. If you are to go, it must be soon.”

Lucius gave Aífe a questioning glance and beckoned her to follow him outdoors. They retraced their steps down the forest path where their love had been sealed and discussed the future, two heads bent together as one under the arching pines. They had many options before them: to stay on the island and join the community separately or together, or to return to Gallia or to Ériu, each alone or as a pair.

The packet ship arrived the very next day from the mainland, bringing mail, skeins of wool, and a few sacks of wheat. The community offered mid and honey in exchange for these necessities, and the captain of the boat was invited to stay the night.

That evening at supper, Amalgáid proposed a toast: “To our most unusual students—in this tumultuous time, it has been our distinct honor to serve you both.”

Everyone raised their cups, and Aífe spoke. “Ethne, Ruadh, and Gaine sent me here not for myself but for all the Forest Druid. This is not my quest alone; it belongs to them too. They have risked everything over and over to keep the old ways safe. Now it is my turn to take up the task. Lucius and I have been through all the tests and initiations. We may yet grow to be great fili like you, Bébinn, Amalgáid, Dáiríne, and Báetán. But we are meant to do it in the world together, as a pair, Lucius and I.”

Lucius added, “I was raised to be a Cristaide priest, and most of them are celibate. But I have learned that the single life is not for me; I want a woman in my life. We have the right, the free will to make our own decisions—the lessons of this island have taught us that much, and we have decided to go out into the world hand in hand.”

Aífe thought of her days on the rock and of the new strength inside her, the freedom and power to make her own way. She gripped Lucius’s hand tightly. “I have never been in love before.”

Lucius pulled her to him. “We are for each other, Aífe, the gods have willed it so. Why else would they have sent us here together?” he kissed her lightly on the cheek.

“We welcome your decision; it comes as no surprise,” said Bébinn, laughing.

Lucius and Aífe looked around the room at the smiling, loving faces.

“You knew?” Aífe asked.

“We did!” Amalgáid exclaimed. “We have simply been waiting for you to make your choice.”

“Let’s pour out some more of this excellent mid, shall we?” said Báetán, dancing around the pair, waving cups in one hand and offering a brimming pitcher full from the other. And they sang and danced into the night, as at a marriage feast.