"This is how it was in the most ancient time," said Pierrette. "The people called Gauls or Celts came out of the east riding war chariots, wearing arms made of iron, which was a new metal then, and was cheap, if one knew the secret of drawing it from red, yellow, and black rocks, which were everywhere. Because it was cheap, every man was well armed, and was a warrior, so Gaulish iron overwhelmed bronze, and took this land from the small, dark Ligures who had cherished it from the very beginning. That is why, to this very day, some old granny-women who dabble in herbs and potions will not touch cold iron.
"The Gauls' main gods were Taranis, who was the sky, Teutatis, father of the teuta, the tribe, who was a war god, black as iron, red as blood, and lastly Danu, the river. Danu was really goddess of another river, far away, but wherever Gauls conquered, they brought her, and gave every great river her name. That is why so many great streams bear it, as does this one: Rhodo-danu, the 'rosy river,' perhaps so called for the red salt pans that are her painted mouth.
"But the Gauls did not conquer the Ligures easily. The small folk resisted, and killed them when they ventured from the high ground and open-sky places, and the gods of the land fought them also. Ma, whose belly was the soil, whose bones were the rocks, whose breasts were springs and holy pools, whose veins were rivers and streams, did not accept the usurper-goddess Danu, and she kept many dark ones safe in her swamps and low places.
"The Gauls called upon Taranis, whose legs were snakes, and upon Danu, herself winding across the land like a serpent. Danu promised to mate with Taranis if he rid her of the flukes and worms—the humans—that infested her. So Taranis lay with her, and in time she gave birth to a beast with a serpent's body, but with legs to stride on land, with a great maw filled with teeth sharp as lightning bolts, and as bright. The beast's name was Taran-asco, which meant 'in Taranis' stead,' and it went where the Gauls feared to go, into the swamps and low places, where it lived upon the bodies of the small folk.
"Only iron could harm it, and the dark people had no iron, only bronze, and little of that. They had nowhere further to flee, so many of them died. When Taran-asco came upon a village, it consumed young and old, women and babes, and this was an abomination even to the Gauls, especially Teutatis, who was of honest blood that tasted of iron.
"Nor did Taran-asco limit his hunger to the little people. When he found Gauls on the river in wooden boats, he consumed them as well, and when women with bright gold hair came down to the river to wash clothing upon the stones, he ate them also, and no people were happy in the land.
"But one old woman of the original people remembered how Ma had ruled the land kindly, and had given freely of her flesh, her blood, and her milk, and that woman wondered what had happened to her. On a night with no moon, she sent her youngest daughter up the rocky riverbank near the present church, where there was a cave, and inside it a spring sacred to Ma. As she approached the cave, a Gaul woman, herself virginal, little more than a child, espied her, but gave no alarm. Instead, both girls descended together into the earth.
"What transpired there is not remembered, but that next morning the goddess Ma emerged from her cave, and went down to the river. She waded in until the waters swirled about her knees, and created a great disturbance. The monster Taran-asco came to see what food had come his way, and saw her there.
"What a great battle ensued! Oh, what splashing, what roiling of mud. Riverbank reeds soon festooned the highest trees, and river water fell like rain many miles away. Great willows were uprooted and flung aside. Taranis looked down, but saw nothing through all the water, mud, reeds, and trees. Teutatis also watched and wondered, but dared not come near. Danu screamed in agony as the battle rended her. She writhed in her bed of silt and rocks, and begged relief. Then Ma emerged from the water, clutching Taran-asco in her arms of stone and soil, and all the gods saw her.
" 'What shall I do with this beast that consumes yours and mine alike?' she asked them.
" 'Kill it!' pleaded Danu, 'for it has rended me.'
" 'Kill it!' demanded Teutatis, 'for it has eaten of my flesh.'
"Only Taranis did not speak, because it was his offspring, and had not harmed him, though it had created discord among his peers. So Ma knew she should not kill it.
" 'I will take it with me,' she said to Taranis. 'Once each year, send me one virgin of Gaulish blood and one of Ligure, and they will bring it forth for you.'
"To Teutatis, she said, 'My folk and yours lie beneath my mantle now, and in death are at peace with one another. Let it be so also in life.' Teutatis nodded, and it was so.
"To Danu, she said, 'You sleep in my bed, and it disturbs me not. Let it remain so.' Then she departed, and was seen no more above the earth and beneath the sky.
"She sent the two maidens forth, and in good time each gave birth to a child. The golden-haired Gaul's son was dark as a Ligure, but tall, and the Ligure girl's daughter was small and delicate, but golden and pale—and so it has been ever since, that the people of the land are one, dark and light, earth and sky, and it is no surprise when dark parents create a golden child, or yellow-haired people a dark one.
"For many generations thereafter, young women went beneath the earth and brought forth the beast Taran-asco for his father Taranis to see, and people remembered what had transpired, and gave every god its due."
Pierrette sighed, and then was silent, and so were the others. There was only the crackling of the fire, the lap of the waters, and the distant soughing of a breeze in the trees on the far shore.
Then Gregorius spoke. "That is a pagan tale, unfit for Christian ears." Several low voices murmured, though whether in agreement or protest was unclear, for even in Provence, long a Christian land, the old roots burrowed deep, and spread wide, and Pierrette had not been exactly truthful with the bishop, because much of what she had told him was her own fear of what was happening, and the final changes had not yet occurred.
The tale had taken time to tell, and though young Piers had promised them three stories, everyone knew the rest would have to wait, because they had heard the hoarseness in her voice. They could see that the fat moon was already high overhead, and was purest silver, and they knew that dawn would not come at a later hour just because they had not gotten a full measure of sleep.