Chapter 89: The Sorting

“We will leave nothing to be defiled by our enemies!” Ossiam broke off his emotionally charged outcry, collected himself, and finished, “We will burn what we can and cast the rest into the lake!”

The idea of destroying precious relics handed down to them through countless generations tore at Herrwn’s heart, and he was relieved when Rhonnon put up her hand.

“That will not be necessary. I have spoken with Feywn, and it has been decided that Lunedd and Aolfe will hide what we must leave behind, keeping that location secret from all but the innermost circle of our sisterhood.”

“I have spoken with Feywn, and it has been decided …” was the opening line to all the pronouncements Rhonnon made at that late-night council, held at the only table in their main hall that was not covered with goods being sorted for their departure.

Feywn, sitting across from Herrwn with Rhonnon on her left and Cyri on her right, was silent but composed—almost serene. The rest of the faces he could make out by the flickering light of a single candle were drawn and haggard, as no doubt was his own.

That they would be traveling in small groups and going in disguise was already known. Who was to be assigned to which group and how they would disguise themselves was what Herrwn had assumed they were gathered to discuss and determine.

He was disabused of that notion when Rhonnon said, “I have spoken with Feywn, and it has been decided that we will follow the advice Gofannon has given us.”

Gofannon? Herrwn was at a loss for words. Had Rhonnon actually conferred with one of the shrine’s guards rather than with himself or—

A glance at Ossiam’s livid countenance told Herrwn their chief oracle had not been consulted either.

Rhonnon cleared her throat and arched an eyebrow at him.

Feeling like a pupil brought back to task, Herrwn folded his hands on the table and nodded to assure her that she had his full attention.

“According to Gofannon, both Saxon and Celt Christians have lesser priestesses whom they called ‘nuns’ and lesser priests whom they call ‘monks,’ and it is a common practice for groups of these priests and priestesses to go on what they call ‘pilgrimages’ to perform rites for their minor deities, whom they call ‘saints.’”

“And what have these quaint practices to do with us?” While Ossiam was the most obviously restive, it was clear he spoke what others were wondering.

“Everything,” Rhonnon said in what was, even for her, a short and abrupt manner. “The garb they wear is not unlike our own ordinary robes and cloaks. They are mainly distinguished by”—for a moment Rhonnon seemed unsure of her next words, but she went on—“by wearing the emblem of their chief god, which Gofannon says need only be two crossed pieces of wood hung like a pendant, and these ‘monks’ carry wooden bowls for collecting tribute of food and coins from villagers along their way.”

“So?” Ossiam snapped.

“So I have spoken with Feywn, and it has been decided that we will go in disguise as—”

“As lesser Christian priests?” Ossiam interrupted, despite Herrwn’s nudging him in the ribs. “We will not venture into Christian abodes, nor will we go as beggars!”

“That is precisely what we will do!” Rhonnon snapped.

“But …” Herrwn interjected, shocked that neither Rhonnon nor Feywn had realized the obvious flaw in the plan. “We do not know the incantations of these Christian priests and priestesses—much less their rites and rituals—so surely this risks not only our discovery but our offending those deities, which we must assume to be no less prideful than our own!”

“We have thought of that. Gofannon, who was raised by converted parents and whose elder brother is one such ‘monk,’ stands ready to instruct us on just those incantations and rites. So if there are no other objections …” With a quelling look around her, Rhonnon said, “The next thing to discuss is the composition of our groups.”

Since her next words were “I have spoken with Feywn, and it has been decided,” Rhonnon’s use of the word “discuss” was simply a matter of courtesy.

Herrwn had thought about the matter at some length, and while it was now clear that his judgment was not to be called on, he felt quite certain he knew the gist of what she was about to say.

Each group had to include at least one priest and one priestess capable of restarting their ritual practices, so there could be no more than five groups—more likely four, since he anticipated that Feywn, Rhonnon, Aolfe, and Lunedd would each lead one.

Assuming that to be the case, it would follow that each of the latter three would take along her designated priestess-in-training, meaning Cyri would go with Rhonnon, Gwenydd with Aolfe, and the twins with Lunedd. Gwenydd’s children would certainly be included in her group. And Belodden? In Feywn’s group.

With Caelym leaving on his separate mission to get Benyon and the boys, that left Herrwn and Ossiam, along with the ordinary priests, Moelwyn, Iddwran, and Ogdwen.

At least two of the ordinary priests would be doubled up, presumably Iddwran and Ogdwen. Darbin and his sister and Madheran and his guards would be spread among the groupings in some way to compose a numerically auspicious balance.

So really, the only uncertainty in Herrwn’s mind was whether he or Ossiam would be in Feywn’s group. As chief priest, it was certainly the proper place for him, but given Feywn’s preference for consulting with Ossiam, as well as the underlying tension between their chief midwife and oracle, he was prepared to graciously accept a place in Rhonnon’s group for the sake of avoiding dissension.

Having this sorted out, Herrwn allowed his attention to wander momentarily. Glancing to his right, he saw that Caelym wasn’t looking at Rhonnon but at Feywn, no doubt committing her every skin pore and eyelash to memory. On his right, he sensed Ossiam stiffening and returned his full attention to Rhonnon’s pronouncement.

“As each of the four groups must have a guard, we began there,” she was saying.

That was a different starting point than Herrwn had ever considered, and he guessed that Ossiam was not just surprised but offended. The oracle restrained himself, however, remaining stonily silent as Rhonnon went on, “Madheran will be in Feywn’s group, Gofannon in mine, Barddwel in Lunedd’s, and Darbin in Gwenydd’s.”

Surprised that Gwenydd rather than Aolfe was to lead a group, Herrwn started working out the reasoning for it in the back of his mind while staying attentive to the rest of the sorting. Other than the assignment of Belodden, the indomitable guardian of the women’s quarters, to Feywn’s group, it was not at all what he’d expected.

Usually meticulously organized, Rhonnon seemed to be assigning them their places randomly and with no method that Herrwn could follow. The groups were numerically unbalanced, for one thing—and they were not composed in anything like the way he’d expected. Gwenydd’s group was simply her family—her children, Darbin, and Darbin’s sister. Lunedd’s had two priests—Moelwyn and Ossiam’s assistant, Ogdwen—while Aolfe was in Rhonnon’s, giving that group two priestesses. The twins were separated, the older going with Feywn and the younger with Rhonnon.

That left himself, Ossiam, Ossiam’s other assistant, Iddwran, and Cyri yet to be assigned.

Iddwran would no doubt go to Gwenydd’s … but no … Iddwran went to Feywn’s as well. Did they mean to leave Gwenydd without a priest? Before Herrwn’s mind could fully form that question, Rhonnon was saying, “I have spoken with Feywn, and it has been decided that, as our chief priestess’s closest female kin and her heir, Cyri will go in her group.”

Looking down the table to acknowledge the significance of this pronouncement, Herrwn caught Cyri’s eye, only to see her drop her gaze as if she’d been shamed instead of honored. Meanwhile, Rhonnon was saying, “Ossiam”—Herrwn felt Ossiam’s tension, his every muscle as taut as a bow string pulled back to the breaking point, perceptively sag when she finished—“will join my group.”

So then he was to take his place at Feywn’s side after all.

“And Herrwn will join Gwenydd’s group which, following Gofannon’s advice, will be disguised as a metalsmith traveling with his family, with Gwenydd as Darbin’s ‘wife’ and Herrwn as her father and the grandfather to their children.”

While he was nodding to Rhonnon’s concluding announcement that Gofannon would now come in and teach them the rites and incantations they must know to pass as Christians, Herrwn could almost hear Olyrrwd grumbling, “Oh drat, Ossie got the higher place after all.”