the burden lay with me. At last, I made a decision which seemed to me to be its own form of reckoning, and its own form of triumph.
"No, I didn't come back," I said to Mael squarely. "I didn't want to be the God of the Grove. I cared nothing for the Faithful of the Forest. I made my choice to wander through time. I have no belief in your gods or your sacrifices. What did you expect of me?" "You took the magic of our god with you."
"I had no choice," I said. "If I had left the old burnt god without taking his magic, you would have destroyed me, and I didn't want to die. Why should I have died? Yes, I took the magic that he gave me and yes, I presided over your sacrifices and then I fled as anyone of my nature would do."
He looked at me for a long time, as if trying to decide whether or not I wanted to quarrel further.
"And what do I see now in you?" I demanded. "Haven't you fled your Faithful of the Forest? Why do I come upon you in Rome? " He waited a long moment.
"Our god," he said, "our old burnt god. He spoke of Egypt. He spoke of our bringing him one who could go down into Egypt. Did you go to Egypt? Did you seek there the Good Mother?"
I cloaked my mind as best I could. I made my face severe, and I tried to figure how much I should confess and why.
"Yes I went to Egypt," I said. "I went to find the cause of the fire that had burnt the gods all through the North lands."
"And what did you find?" he demanded.
I glanced from him to Avicus and I saw that he too waited upon my answer.
"I found nothing," I responded. "Nothing but burnt ones who pondered the same mystery. The old legend of the Good Mother. Nothing further. It is finished. There is no more to tell."
Did they believe me? I couldn't tell. Both seemed to harbor their own secrets, their own choices made long ago.
Avicus looked ever so slightly alarmed for his companion.
Mael looked up slowly and said with anger,
"Oh, that I had never laid eyes upon you. You wicked Roman, you rich Roman with all your splendor and fine words." He looked about the house, at its wall paintings, at its couches and tables, at the marble floors.
"Why do you say this?" I asked.
I tried not to despise him but to see him, and understand him, but my hatred was too great.
"When I took you prisoner," he said, "when I sought to teach you our poetry and our songs, do you remember how you tried to bribe me? You spoke of your beautiful villa on the Bay of Naples. You said that you would take me there if only I would help you escape. Do you remember these awful things?"
"Yes, I remember," I said coldly. "I was your prisoner! You had taken me deep into the forest against my will. What did you expect of me? And had you let me escape, I would have taken you to my house on the Bay of Naples. I would have paid my own ransom. My family would have paid it. Oh, it's too foolish to speak of these things."
I shook my head. I grew too agitated. My old loneliness beckoned to me. I wanted silence in these rooms again. What need had I of these two?
But the one called Avicus appealed to me silently with his expression.
And I wondered who he might be.
"Please, keep your temper," said Avicus. "I'm the cause of his suffering."
"No," said Mael quickly. Fie glanced at his companion. "That can't be."
"Oh, but it is," declared Avicus, "and always has been, ever since I have you the Dark Blood. Gain the strength either to remain with me or to leave me. Things cannot remain as they are."
He reached out and put his hand on his companion's arm. "You've found this strange being, Marius," he said, "and you've told Marius of the last years of your strong belief. You've relived that awful misery. But don't be so foolish as to hate him for what happened. He was right to seek his freedom. As for us, the old faith died. The
Terrible Fire destroyed it, and nothing more could be done." Mael looked as dejected as any creature I've ever seen. Meantime my heart was fast catching up with my