his heart that a guy who could not even make a decent spice rack would never get a job in a bank, a garage, or factory. He was right. It took the whole bureaucracy of the armed service to look after a schmuck like Billy. When they finally discharged him, he ran like a scared rat to a small apartment in Bohunkville and ate himself to death, listening to “Brennan on the Moor” over and over again to inspire himself.
You couldn’t identify with that, could you Cailte? Or could you? How effectual were you in battle? What sense of purpose did you have? What drives you now? A generation of Celts, Cailte’s generation, had grown up under Roman domination in Britannia. It was time for another rebellion. The Celts were always ready for one more.
“ Under Budheachas.” Cailte said.
“ Under Budheachas.” Taliesin echoed.
Budheachas was the Celtic word for victory. It was also the name of the Queen of the Iceni tribe. She has been called Boudicca by the Roman historian Cornelius Tacitus, a student of Cicero, in his manuscript on the rebellion, and called Boadicea by later English romantic poets, but her Celtic name meant victory. In a sense, she was the Britons’ first Queen Victoria. I knew at last that I had made it to Britannia, in the year 60.
Not bad, Eleanor. Not bad. You Third millennium pagan priestess of incomprehensible magic. You prophet of entropy and heat death.
Cailte stretched out on the ground and yawned, and closed his eyes. His dissertation was over, as was the one going on in my head. Taliesin leaned back on his elbows, but still he regarded me with suspicion and would not trust himself to sleep.
I lay down on the ground before the fire, and stretched, and cracked my toe knuckles as was my custom before sleep. I glanced at Taliesin a moment, met his dark eyes, and could not resist the temptation to smile like a choirboy. Go to sleep, you Druid. You have the dagger, not me.
CHAPTER 5
Dr. L’Esperance searched Eleanor’s eyes, with an intense expression of sadness and regret, but Eleanor chose to see resentment and bitterness in her features as well because those were reactions to which she was accustomed, and even comfortable with, because she understood them. However, Dr. L’Esperance did not fly into a huff, nor retreat with icy vengeance. She rose from her stool, unfolding her tall, trim body, and pointedly left her portable panel for Eleanor to peruse should she have a change of heart, and walked quietly to the door.
“ I will leave you now. I will return later,” she said, “at a better moment.” Eleanor detected gentle reproach in her soft, low voice.
“ I hope we may talk better then, Dr. Roberts. I hope I may convince you.”
Eleanor awaited her exit and the comforting sound of the door clicking shut before she blew an exhaustive string of obscenities to the tiled ceiling. She refrained from throwing Dr. L’Esperance’s panel across the room, but lost no time in tucking it into a drawer where she would not have to look at it, nor have it as a reminder that she had just come frighteningly close to losing her authority in this department to a very weird opportunist. She did not discount that Dr. L’Esperance’s weirdness was part of an act, and even preferred to think that because it was logical and less intimidating that the thought that she might actually be that bizarre. There were enough anomalies in the lab without that.
Eleanor would have continued her timed monitoring of Colonel Moore’s vital signs, but had just enough ire left in her to procrastinate like a willful child and instead do something else. She reviewed the minutes of the budget meeting from last month.
She heard the click of the door handle, and her stomach tightened. Fortunately, it was Dr. Ford, who closed the door behind him like a man sneaking, and leaned back against it with a deep sigh.
“ She’s a case, isn’t she?” He smiled unnecessarily.
“ You know, Cassius, there can be times
You couldn’t identify with that, could you Cailte? Or could you? How effectual were you in battle? What sense of purpose did you have? What drives you now? A generation of Celts, Cailte’s generation, had grown up under Roman domination in Britannia. It was time for another rebellion. The Celts were always ready for one more.
“ Under Budheachas.” Cailte said.
“ Under Budheachas.” Taliesin echoed.
Budheachas was the Celtic word for victory. It was also the name of the Queen of the Iceni tribe. She has been called Boudicca by the Roman historian Cornelius Tacitus, a student of Cicero, in his manuscript on the rebellion, and called Boadicea by later English romantic poets, but her Celtic name meant victory. In a sense, she was the Britons’ first Queen Victoria. I knew at last that I had made it to Britannia, in the year 60.
Not bad, Eleanor. Not bad. You Third millennium pagan priestess of incomprehensible magic. You prophet of entropy and heat death.
Cailte stretched out on the ground and yawned, and closed his eyes. His dissertation was over, as was the one going on in my head. Taliesin leaned back on his elbows, but still he regarded me with suspicion and would not trust himself to sleep.
I lay down on the ground before the fire, and stretched, and cracked my toe knuckles as was my custom before sleep. I glanced at Taliesin a moment, met his dark eyes, and could not resist the temptation to smile like a choirboy. Go to sleep, you Druid. You have the dagger, not me.
CHAPTER 5
Dr. L’Esperance searched Eleanor’s eyes, with an intense expression of sadness and regret, but Eleanor chose to see resentment and bitterness in her features as well because those were reactions to which she was accustomed, and even comfortable with, because she understood them. However, Dr. L’Esperance did not fly into a huff, nor retreat with icy vengeance. She rose from her stool, unfolding her tall, trim body, and pointedly left her portable panel for Eleanor to peruse should she have a change of heart, and walked quietly to the door.
“ I will leave you now. I will return later,” she said, “at a better moment.” Eleanor detected gentle reproach in her soft, low voice.
“ I hope we may talk better then, Dr. Roberts. I hope I may convince you.”
Eleanor awaited her exit and the comforting sound of the door clicking shut before she blew an exhaustive string of obscenities to the tiled ceiling. She refrained from throwing Dr. L’Esperance’s panel across the room, but lost no time in tucking it into a drawer where she would not have to look at it, nor have it as a reminder that she had just come frighteningly close to losing her authority in this department to a very weird opportunist. She did not discount that Dr. L’Esperance’s weirdness was part of an act, and even preferred to think that because it was logical and less intimidating that the thought that she might actually be that bizarre. There were enough anomalies in the lab without that.
Eleanor would have continued her timed monitoring of Colonel Moore’s vital signs, but had just enough ire left in her to procrastinate like a willful child and instead do something else. She reviewed the minutes of the budget meeting from last month.
She heard the click of the door handle, and her stomach tightened. Fortunately, it was Dr. Ford, who closed the door behind him like a man sneaking, and leaned back against it with a deep sigh.
“ She’s a case, isn’t she?” He smiled unnecessarily.
“ You know, Cassius, there can be times
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