“We must not tarry here,” Agatha said, “the danger from the Druids would be as great as the danger from the Romans. We must push on westward, and I believe there is a deep forest where we can easily hide. Amphibalus mentioned it as a secure resting-place for a few days, and we are sure to meet him before the day is spent.”
“It is so pleasant here,” Anna said; “let us at any rate take some food, and perform our morning worship.”
But Agatha said they must move on, as it was dangerous to tarry near what was evidently a resort of the Druids. She had scarcely done speaking, when some tall figures were seen approaching: an old man, with a white beard and still whiter robe, and most venerable aspect, and a few young men and boys.
There was nothing alarming in their appearance, and Agatha, rising, made a deep reverence. The old man bore in his hand a golden crescent-shaped knife, and he wore on his white robe a heavy chain of rudely-moulded emblems.
“Art thou come to worship, my daughter?” said the old priest. “The sun has risen, and the hour is at hand.”
“Nay,” said Agatha boldly, “I am a fugitive from the Roman city of Verulam, and only crave permission to pass onwards, with my companions.”
The young men now drew nearer, and scanned the little party with curious, eager eyes.
“The Romans are our masters and tyrants; no marvel you would escape them.” Then, turning to Anna, “You, poor child, look pale and wan, and you, old man, aweary. If it be possible for you, I bid you halt awhile, while I proceed with our short worship; afterwards we will share a repast with you.”
But Agatha shook her head. “You are very gracious, my lord, but we are anxious to get on our way;” and she added, “We are Christians, and worship only the true God.”
There was a murmur amongst the young men, and Anna trembled. She knew full well that human sacrifices were a part of her old religion, for the Briton’s religion was then chiefly represented by the Druidical faith.