With Guillaume’s departure, Acelynn took their son on a journey to the north, leaving the inn in the hands of a trusted couple, who, like her, were descendants of the Ambiani. Their destination was a clearing in the forest that could only be discovered with a guide. Acelynn had relayed a message to meet the guide just outside of the village of Long, at the edge of the forest. The travel to Long was by a horse-drawn wagon.

“Guillaume,” Acelynn spoke as they neared the tiny village, “We will be staying the night with your uncle Raoul and aunt Brigitte. Tomorrow, we will go to another place with Uncle Raoul and another person. We are going to visit a place where my grandmother lived when she was your age. We have many family relations there. I want you to listen and learn from them.”

“That sounds like fun,” smiled Guillaume. “None of my friends ever get to go anywhere.”

“Ah, but this journey is to be our secret. You can tell your friends about visiting your cousins in Long, but not about any of the rest of our adventure. You’ll learn why that is when it is time. And yes, it will be fun,” Acelynn promised with a smile as she hugged her son who was already taller than she was.

Acelynn took young Guillaume to the headman’s house. Lugos du Long was already a grandfather. His eldest daughter had married a local Frank and they had a brood of several children already, none of whom he could or would name as his heir as they were all girls. Lugos’ youngest daughter had married a local Celt who had a thriving business in the village of Long, as a carpenter. They had recently become parents to a set of identical twins, girls. Lugos had hopes that perhaps their next child would be a boy who could then become his heir.

“Ah, Acelynn. It is good to see you again.” Turning to look at the boy standing by her side, Lugos smiled as he included Guillaume in his welcome.

“Good to see you again, cousin. I have paid our rents to your bailiff and hope that all is well with you.”

“Other than worries about who will inherit the role of headman, life is good. Did you hear about the twins? They look like their mother,” he said with a smile.

“I am making the journey to see our family in the forest. Do you have any words for me to deliver to the council?”

“I’ll have my bailiff prepare a package for the elders. As for a message, nothing at this time. Please reassure them that they are, and will remain, protected and honoured.”

Deep in the forest, a small group of Celts still followed the old ways and the old religion. Lugos had made the journey which this young son of Acelynn’s was now going to make, a journey of honouring one’s roots. Just the thought that he didn’t have a son nor a grandson to make that same journey of discovery, added a bit of sadness to his mood.

“He looks like his father,” sighed Lugos as he sat later to talk with Acelynn while Guillaume was entertained by a few other boys and girls who were pretending to be warriors. “If only I could claim him as my rightful heir, my worries about the future would be considerably eased.”

“It is too late to have him appear as your nephew by your half-brother, the Count of Normandy. You know that Lug. I was there when the council spoke about this following Guillaume’s birth. That future has yet to be told to us. Perhaps this trip will tell me more about Guillaume’s future.”

“Perhaps there will be another way to have him become my heir,” suggested Lugos.

Acelynn returned to her sister’s home at the edge of the village. The next morning, at first light, her brother-in-law, Raoul took Acelynn and Guillaume into the forest to a small natural pasture where a woman emerged from the trees. Young Guillaume was surprised to see the woman appear as if out of nowhere. She was taller than his mother, though she had the same dark hair. He was surprised mostly because the woman wore only a skirt and carried a long spear. Her face and arms were marked with tattoos that swirled. But it was her breasts that caught and held his attention.

“Anilid,” Raoul spoke as he clasped her upper arm in greeting, which she matched as she clasped his arm in return. “You remember Acelynn.”

Acelynn smiled at the warrior in front of her, a smile that was shared. “Anilid, this is my son, Guillaume. Will you take us to the circle, so he can meet his family and learn his fate?” Turning to look at Guillaume, she saw that he was still staring at Anilid’s breasts. She wasted little time in giving him a cuff on the side of his head.

“He looks like his father,” Anilid remarked with a hint of a smile that caught the edges of her eyes. “And it appears that isn’t the only thing he has inherited from his father,” she added with a laugh. “The elders are waiting. Let’s hasten to meet them.”

Two hours later, the four entered a small meadow surrounded by an extensive oak forest. At the northern edge of the meadow was an ancient oak tree that was many centuries old. In the centre of the meadow stood a ring of stones that appeared to be older than the majestic oak tree. Within the circle of stones which could be used as seats, stood an altar, not unlike that which could be found in any church with the exception that it was bare. Guillaume took all this in while he followed Raoul and Anilid.

Anilid stopped just outside of the circle and waited. Acelynn held her finger to her lips signalling Guillaume to remain silent. He could sense the presence of others, though he couldn’t see anyone, as he peered into the shadows of the oak forest. As if in response to his sensing, figures began to emerge from the shadows. One moment there were only shadows, and the next, the shadows had become humans. One couple, both showing signs of gray in their long hair, approached the group of four.

“Welcome home, Acelynn! It has been a long time,” greeted the old woman, the sister of Acelynn’s grandmother, Corentine.

“As I promised, I have brought you, my son. He is ready. His father has promised to have his son enter into the Frankish world of nobility. He is to be made a knight.”

The aged Corentine and her brother, Alan, studied the youth that Acelynn had brought to them. They saw the image of the youth’s father written in his facial features, except for his eyes. Guillaume had his mother’s eyes. Yet, they also saw something more beneath the surface. Though he appeared to be a Norseman, this youth’s inner spirit was Celtic, Ambiani.

Over the next three days, young Guillaume learned of his Celtic heritage and about his duty to that heritage. He also learned about his Pict cousins and of their bond as a single people. Nothing was said about his Danish heritage though young Guillaume was eager to learn more about his father and his father’s people.

“When the time comes, Guillaume, you will be called to return here to learn what you must do. It is then that you will learn who is to be your wife and how you will ensure the safety of our people who live here in among the great oaks,” Alan informed the youth.

Guillaume nodded his understanding. He had never expected to have a choice when it would come time to have a wife. That was always a decision made by one’s parents.

“You will never speak of our people’s existence to others, nor may you speak of what you have learned here. You are required to give a blood oath. Do you agree to making such an oath?”

Unknown to young Guillaume, his life would have been forfeited if he hadn’t willing made such an oath. He nodded his agreement.

“You must acknowledge your agreement in words,” smiled Alan.

“I agree to making such an oath,” spoke Guillaume, as he stood tall, with a determination to make his mother proud of him.

“So be it.”