Druids by Morgan Llywelyn Read Free Book Online

you used to like me?”
    I had forgotten how exasperating Crom could be. “I still like you!” I snapped.
    “No you don’t.” He thrust out his underlip sulkily.
    ‘ ‘Have it your own way, then. But you don’t know everything.”
    “Neither do you. Nor your precious druids!” he retorted.
    In a bad humor I returned to the lodge in time to meet Vercingetorix coming out of it. As wary as two hounds meeting in a narrow doorway, bristling and sniffing the air, we circled each other. Then he went his way and I went mine.
    That night in my bed I thought about Crom Daral. With the self-centered callousness of children, I had been unaware of the depth of his hurt at my perceived defection. But he obviously was hurt, and I knew him well enough to know he would nurse his grievance interminably.
    I had lost a friend.
    Too late, I realized I had lost more than I could spare. Rosmerta’s death had already robbed me of the cushion of love that had supported me through my childhood. I had not appreciated it until it was gone. Menua saw that’I had what I needed, but he was no substitute for a grandmother.
    Or a friend.
    I lay curled into a tight knot in the darkness and fought the fangs of self-pity.
    For three days, Crom, Vercingetorix, and I met daily with various members of the Order of the Wise, as did the other candidates for manmaking. The omens were read, our teeth and bodies examined for weakness, our minds tested with riddles.
    On the evening of the third day, Grannus told us to prepare ourselves for purification.
    The candidates for this particular manmaking came from the fort and the region surrounding it for one day’s walk. More distant youths would attend rituals held by their local druids. We comprised a large crowd, and members of the Order took turns supervising as we were bathed, purged, bathed again, given spring
    water to drink, made to sweat in the sweat lodge, then rubbed with oil of anise and crushed bay leaves and switched with willow twigs.
    32 Morgan Llywelyn
    Throughout the day Vercingetorix was in a high good humor. Us ignored Crom Daral’s dour silence and treated my cousin as if the two were good friends. He was equally amiable toward me, and I discovered that when he chose, the Arvemian could exert an overwhelming charm. But when I burst into laughter at one of his jokes, I saw a look of hurt and anger on Crom Daral’s face. I clapped my hand over my mouth, then thought better of it and went on laughing.
    I was beginning to resent Crom Daral.
    When we were clean inside and out, we were ordered to stand a night’s vigil, naked, under the stars.
    We took up positions around the wall. Each of us was determined to stand heroically, wide awake and impervious to the lingering chill in the night air. I was stationed between Crom and Vercingetorix. The latter endured, with little footshifting from sunset to sunrise. Whenever I looked in his direction, he flashed a grin at me, his teeth gleaming white in the gloom.
    Crom, however, had difficulties. He shivered uncontrollably. He sneezed, he yawned. Once or twice he swayed and I feared he would fall, but he managed to jerk himself awake at the last moment. The rising sun found him red-eyed and miserable.
    Vercingetorix, however, contrived to look as fresh as if he had spent the night in a bed, though I noticed that even he had goose-flesh. * ‘Today is our day,” he said cheerfully.’ ‘We become men.” He narrowed his eyes. ‘ ‘Amvar, did you ever wonder what wom-anmaking is like?”
    I shrugged, pretending I was not interested in such things. “Different, that’s all I know. Each girl’s ritua! happens individually, when she has her first bleeding.”
    Someday I will know all about it, I promised myself silendy. Druids know.
    The druids circled the fort to collect us. We were still naked;
    chilled, yawning youths trying to look manly. In the cold, Vercingetorix’s shriveled genitals were no larger than mine. In spite of, or perhaps to