To Love Again (17 page)

“Get a good night’s rest, then, my lads,” the Saxon told them. “We leave in the morning.” Then he dismissed them, but Corio touched his arm, obviously wishing to speak further with him as the others hurried off in all different directions. “What is it, Corio?”

“I must tell you something, Wulf,” the younger man said. “It’s about my grandfather, but you must keep what I reveal secret for now.”

“I agree,” Wulf said.

Corio did not dissemble, but came right to the point. “The men have had a clandestine meeting. As you know, Berikos lives in the past—a past he was not even a part of, which
makes it even odder. As he grows older, this determination of his to drive all the
Romans
from Britain grows and eats at him. Brigit encourages him in it. We have no wish to join him in his folly, but while he is our chief we must give him obedience. However, we have the option of replacing him with another. My father, Eppilus, has been chosen to lead the hill Dobunni. Berikos can retire with honor and spend his days amusing himself in whatever manner he chooses.”

“When will this happen?” Wulf Ironfist asked.

“Just before Beltane,” Corio answered him. “We will retake Cailin’s lands, and then we will return to help the others depose my grandfather.”

“I think it a wise decision that has been made,” Wulf said. “Some men in power grow old, and their wisdom but increases along with their age. Their judgment remains sound, and good. Others, however, lose their sense of proportion with the passing years. Berikos is one of these, I fear. Your people will never truly have peace as long as he is your ruler. I understand your desire for peace. I have seen enough war to last me a lifetime. I will not fight again except in defense of my lands and my family. There is no other reason for it.”

“I have lived my entire life here among these hills,” Corio replied. “The farthest I have ever been away is to the town of Corinium. It is a wondrous place, with its paved streets, its shops and pottery works, the theaters and the arena. Still, I could not have lived there, Wulf. It is too noisy, too busy, too dirty; and there are, I am told, places even larger than Corinium, here in this land. They say there is a huge town in the southeast called Londinium. Two roads from Corinium lead to it if one rides far enough, but I never have had the desire to follow either of those roads.

“I have heard your stories of the battles you fought in Gaul and in the Rhineland. They did not fill me with excitement like they did some of the lads. They frightened me, and Celts are not supposed to fear anything. Like you, I can see no reason for fighting except to keep one’s lands and one’s family from harm. The majority of us feel this way, and so Berikos
must go. He will not be happy, but he will have no choice but to accept the will of the Dobunni.”

“Brigit certainly will not be happy,” Wulf noted. “You had best beware her. She is a wicked woman, and will not hesitate to do a bad turn to those she thinks have betrayed her, or Berikos.”

“You do not have to tell me about Brigit,” Corio said quietly. “When she first came to our hill fort as my grandfather’s bride, she tried to seduce me. She has never forgiven me for repulsing her. I am not the only man she has approached, either. It would be one thing if Berikos offered her, but he has not. He is very proud of her, and jealous of any man who looks her way. You are right when you say she will not be happy. To be a chieftain’s wife gives her a certain rank, but to be simply the wife of an old man does not.” Corio smiled. “I think I shall enjoy her discomfort, and I shall not be the only person who revels in her downfall. Few like her.”

“She thought to do Cailin a bad turn when she encouraged Berikos to put her in my bed the night I first came here,” Wulf said. “She knew that the Dobunni ways were not Cailin’s customs, and hoped to shame and degrade her by using me as her weapon.”

“I know,” Corio said softly. “Had it not turned out as it did, I would have strangled Brigit with my own two hands.”

Wulf Ironfist looked intently at the younger man. For a brief moment he saw something in Corio’s face that he had never seen there, but it was quickly gone. “You care for Cailin,” he said.

“I offered to make her my wife shortly after she came here, but she did not love me, at least as a man. She said she felt for me as she had her brothers.” He grinned wryly. “Now what man in love with a girl wants to hear that he reminds her of her kin? You do not remind her of her brothers, I will wager. Do you love her? I know you are good to her, but one day that will not be enough for Cailin. She is more Celt than Roman. She needs to be loved, not simply made love to.”

The big Saxon thought carefully. He had not considered
loving Cailin. The kind of love that Corio was speaking of was a luxury between men and women. A man sought a wife who would be a good breeder, a good helper, and perhaps if he were fortunate, a good friend.
Love
. He turned the word over in his brain as if he could examine it. Did he love her? He knew he wanted to be with her whenever he was not about his duties. Not just to make love to her, but to be with her; to see her smile aimed in his direction; to smell her fresh fragrance; to talk with and nestle with her on a chilly night. He thought of the mixed feelings he had had of late when other men looked admiringly at his pregnant wife. He was proud, yet he was a little jealous, too. He considered what life would be without her, and found he could not even imagine such a thing now. The realization stunned him, and he heard himself say to Corio, “Yes, I do love her,” and the mad thing was that as the words rang in the springtime air, he knew in his deepest heart of hearts that it was true!

“Good,” Corio said with a smile. “I am glad you love her, because Cailin loves you.”

Corio’s declaration surprised Wulf Ironfist. “She does?” he said. “She has never told me so, even in the heat of passion. How is it you know she loves me? Has she said it to you?”

He shook his head. “No, Wulf, but I see it in her face each time you pass by; in her eyes as they follow you about the hall; in the way she smiles so proudly when you are praised in her presence. These are all signs of her feelings for you, but because she was so sheltered by her family, she is not aware yet of what these feelings within her mean. She will be one day, but in the meantime you must not hide your feelings from her.”

“I told her I would not take another woman, even when she and I could not love for the sake of the coming child. It seemed to please her very much,” Wulf Ironfist told Corio.

Corio laughed. “You see!” he said triumphantly. “She is jealous, and that, my friend, is the sure sign of a woman in love.”

The two men walked, still conversing, into the hall. Cailin
was seated by her loom weaving cloth. She looked up, and a welcoming smile turned her mouth up prettily. “Wulf! Corio.” She arose. “Are you hungry, or thirsty? May I get you something?”

“We leave tomorrow for your villa,” Wulf began.

“I am coming with you,” Cailin said.

“You cannot,” he told her. “This is man’s work.”

“Neither my father’s lands nor my cousin’s are defended. There was never any need for that kind of defense. You will meet with no resistance, I promise you. Quintus Drusus will protest, but even his father-in-law, the chief magistrate of Corinium, will not deny me what is rightfully mine.”

“You will not be safe,” Wulf Ironfist said, “unless I kill this Quintus Drusus. Remember, he had no mercy upon your family.”

“I will never forget his treachery as long as I live,” Cailin replied. “Of course you must kill him, but not in such a way that the magistrate can charge you with his murder. My son must have his father.”

“And my son’s mother must remain here where she will be safe,” Wulf countered with what he thought was sound logic.

“If I do not go with you, then how will they know I am alive? I want Quintus to see me, and know that I have come not just to reclaim what is rightfully mine, but to expose his wickedness to the world.”

“You cannot ride a horse, Cailin,” Corio said.

“There is little to riding pillion behind my husband,” Cailin replied. “My belly is not that big yet. The child is not due until after the harvest. I must be there. It is my right to see justice served!”

“Very well,” her husband answered, “but we leave before dawn, Cailin. If we meet with any resistance, you must get down and hide. Will you promise me that, lambkin?”

“Yes,” she said, and then she smiled almost cruelly. “It will be very frightening to see a large party of armed warriors coming from the forest and across the fields. It has been over a hundred years since such a thing has occurred, and certainly not in the memory of anyone living hereabouts now.
You will strike terror into all who see you.” She looked at the two men. “Does Berikos know of your plans?”

They shook their heads.

“We will only tell him we are taking the men on a practice march,” Wulf said. “He doesn’t have to know any more than that.”

“No,” Cailin agreed. “He does not. He grows stranger as each day passes, and spends all his time with Brigit. We only see him for meals in the early morning and at night. Frankly, I prefer it.”

Her two companions said nothing. Berikos’s overthrow was not Cailin’s business. It would happen soon enough.

It was dank and chilly as they arose in the dark of the night to dress for their departure. Wulf handed his wife a pair of braccos.

“Corio gave them to me to give you,” he said. “They are lined in rabbit fur, and big enough for your belly.”

Cailin was delighted to have the garment. She made a belt from a length of ribbon to hold up the braccos, and then slipped her camisa and tunic dress on over them. Her boots were fur-lined as well, and absorbed the chill from her feet even as she slid into them. She ran the pearwood comb through her hair and, taking up her cloak, silently followed her husband outside, where Corio and the others were already waiting upon their own animals.

Wulf Ironfist mounted his horse, then reached down and pulled Cailin up behind him. She put her arms about his waist, and they were off. There was a waning moon that gave them scant light, and the forest was particularly dark, but with each foot forward that they traveled, the sky above them faded from pitch-black to gray-black, and finally to an overcast gray as they crossed the great meadow Cailin remembered from her journey to the Dobunni hill fort almost a year ago. Birds chirped cheerily as they passed through the second wood and then over the hills that led to the home Cailin had once known.

On the crest of the final hill they stopped, and looking down Cailin could see the ruins of her family’s home. They
looked undisturbed, the rubble uncleared, although the surrounding fields were plowed and the trees in the orchards appeared to be well-pruned. “Take me to the villa,” she said softly. “It is early yet, and there is no one about to give the alarm.”

Wulf Ironfist led his warriors down the hill. They stopped before the ruined building, and Cailin clambered down from the horse’s back. For a long moment she stood just staring, and then she entered. Carefully she picked her way through the atrium, stepping over the fallen timbers that lay strewn across what had once been a magnificent stone floor inlaid with mosaic designs. Wulf, Corio, and several of the other men followed her.

Reaching her parents’ bedchamber, Cailin moved into the space. Nothing was recognizable—nothing except the bleached bones, and the four skulls that lay at various angles upon the floor. “It is my family,” Cailin said, tears springing to her eyes. “He did not even have the decency to bury them with honor.” As the tears slipped down her face, she continued, “See, there. That is my mother, Kyna, upon the bed, all burnt but for a few large bones, and her skull which lies in what was once a place of loving refuge for her. And there, in a row, lie my father and brothers. My father’s skull would be the largest, I imagine.” She knelt and touched one of the smaller skulls. “This is Titus. I can tell, for one of his front teeth is chipped. I hit him with a ball when I was little, and did the damage. I did not mean to, but after that I could always tell my brothers apart. And this is Flavius. They were so handsome and so full of life the last time I saw them.”

She suddenly felt very old, but nonetheless pulled herself to her feet. “Let us go now. When we have secured my lands, we will return to bury my family with the dignity that they deserve.” She turned and walked back through the ruins, out into the morning.

Corio shook his head. “She is Celt,” he said admiringly.

“You breed strong women,” Wulf Ironfist replied. The men rejoined Cailin. “Where does Quintus Drusus have his lair?” the Saxon asked his wife.

“I will lead you,” Cailin answered him in a strong, cold voice.

The slaves in the fields belonging to Quintus Drusus saw the armed and mounted party of Dobunni coming. They quailed at the terrible sight and froze where they stood. The Dobunni paid them no heed. There was, Wulf assured them, no true sport in killing unarmed slaves. When they reached the magnificent, spacious villa belonging to Cailin’s cousin, they brought their horses to a stop. The slaves raking the gravel driveway had melted away before them. As prearranged, fifty of the men remained mounted before the villa’s entrance. Cailin, Wulf, Corio, and the hundred other men entered the house unannounced.

“Wh-Wh-What is this? You cannot enter here!” the majordomo cried, running forward as if he might stop them.

“We have already entered,” Wulf Ironfist said in a severe voice. “Fetch your master immediately, or would you prefer to be skewered upon my sword, you fat insect?”

“This is the house of the magistrate’s daughter,” the majordomo squeaked, desperately striving to do his duty.

“If the magistrate is in residence, then fetch him also,” Wulf ordered the man, and he prodded his plump midsection with the tip of his sword. “I am growing impatient,” he growled.

Giving a small cry of horror as the sword point cut through the fabric of his tunic, the majordomo turned and fled, the laughter of the Dobunni causing his ears to redden as he went.

“From Antioch to Britain they are all alike, these upper servants,” Wulf noted. “Pompous, and filled with their own importance.”