"I grieve because I cannot take that step yet, Nuala. I will remain alone on this side of the door while my family lives on the other side of that door. I miss my parents, and my brothers!"

There was simply nothing Nuala could say that would comfort Cailin, and so she remained silent. She had all her family yet about her. She could only barely imagine what it must be like to be without one's family, and that small imagining came close to making her weep. Attempting to change the subject, she suggested, "Let us go and watch the footraces. My brother Corio is very swift. All the young men from the other villages will unwisely try to beat him."

"And they will not?" Cailin asked with a small smile. Nuala's love for her brother bordered on worship.

"No one can beat Corio," Nuala insisted proudly.

"I can!" came a young voice, and the cousins turned to see a handsome young man with dark hair pulled back by a leather thong.

"Bodvoc the Boastful," Nuala mocked him. "You could not best my brother at Lugh last. Why would you think you can best him now?"


"Because I am faster this year than last," Bodvoc said, "and when I win the race, Nuala, you will reward me with a kiss."

"I most certainly will not!" Nuala said indignantly, blushing, but Cailin noticed her protest was not really as vigorous as she wanted it to seem.

Bodvoc grinned engagingly. "Yes, you will," he said, and then went off to join the other young men preparing to race.

"Who is he?" Cailin asked.

"Bodvoc. His father is Carvilius, headman of one of our grandfather's villages. Your mother was to have married Carvilius, but when she chose your father instead, he married a Catuvellauni woman. Bodvoc is the last of their children."

"Bodvoc likes you, Nuala," Cailin teased her younger cousin.

Nuala giggled. "Well," she allowed, "he is handsome."

"And has, I suspect," Cailin told her, "an unquenchable thirst for your flesh. Could it be he is the first of your husbands?"

"Ohh, don't tell anyone the Gypsy said I will have two husbands," Nuala begged Cailin. "No man will want to take a chance on me if he thinks by doing so it will shorten his life. Then I will die an old maid!"

"I won't tell," Cailin promised Nuala, "but let us go watch the race, and see if you will indeed owe Bodvoc a kiss."

No one believed that Corio could be beaten, but to everyone's surprise, Bodvoc finished a full length ahead of the champion this time. Dressed only in a pair of leather briefs, his muscular chest wet with his exertion, he strode over to a very surprised Nuala.

"You owe me a kiss, Nuala of the blue, blue eyes," he said softly. And a slow smile lit his handsome features.

"Why would I kiss a man who's bested my favorite brother?" she asked him a trifle breathlessly, feeling just a little bit weak in the region of her knees. He was so … so gorgeous!

Bodvoc did not argue with her. Instead he reached out, and pulling Nuala against his body, he bent to kiss her. Nuala sighed deeply and sagged against him for a long moment as her lips softened beneath his. She almost fell when he gently released her from his embrace and set her back. Her pale skin flushed a deeper hue as about her the racers, including her own brother, chuckled with amusement.

"Nuala?" Cailin spoke low.

The sound of her cousin's voice galvanized Nuala into action. Rearing back, she hit Bodvoc with all her might. "I did not say you might kiss me, you sweaty oaf!" she shouted, and ran from him, her dark hair flying.

"She loves me!" Bodvoc exulted, and turned to Corio. "Tell your father that I want Nuala for my wife," he said, then ran off after the fleeing girl.

The crowd was dispersing. Cailin looked at Corio. "Will she have him?"

"Nuala has liked Bodvoc for several years, and she's fourteen now. More than old enough to be a wife. It's a good match. He's eighteen, and strong. They'll make beautiful babies, Cailin. Now we must find a husband for you, too, cousin. I don't suppose you would consider me for a mate; would you?" For a small moment an almost hopeful look entered his eyes, and Cailin realized to her surprise that her cousin Corio harbored feelings for her that, if encouraged, could grow into love.

"Oh, Corio," she said, and touched his arm. "I love you, but my love is like that of a sister for a brother. I do not think it will ever be anything more." She hugged him. "I think at this time in my life I need a friend more than a husband. Be my friend."

"The most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and she wants to be my friend," said Corio mournfully. "I have surely displeased the gods that they would visit such a burden upon me."

"You are a rogue, dearest cousin," Cailin laughed, "and I do not feel one bit sorry for you. Your path is strewn with broken hearts."

That evening Cailin got a little more insight into her Dobunni heritage when her grandfather stood before a huge audience in his hall and recited the history of their Celtic tribe. Next to him a young harper stood playing, his music alternately sweet and wild, depending upon the portion of the tale being recited at the time. Ceara and Maeve bustled about the hall, seeing to the comfort of their guests; but at the high board, Berikos's youngest wife, Brigit, sat proudly on display.

In the three months she had lived among the Dobunni, Cailin had seen Brigit rarely, and she had never spoken with her. Brigit was beautiful, in a cold way, with her skin as flawless as marble, her icy silver eyes, her black, black hair. She held herself aloof, believing that her aged husband's protection was all she needed.

"And when he dies, does she wonder what will become of her?" Ceara demanded bitterly one day.

"She will find another foolish old man," Maeve said matter-of-factly. "No young man would have her, as she obviously lacks a heart. But an old man can be gulled into thinking he will be the envy of all for possessing a fair young wife."


***

In the days that followed the celebration of Lugh, the final harvest was completed. The apples and pears were gathered from the orchards. The fields were plowed once again, and the winter wheat planted. Cailin dug carrots, turnips, and onions for cold storage.

"Leave the cabbage," Ceara said, "until there is danger of a hard frost. It's better in the garden. But pick all the lentils that are left, child. I want to dry them out and store them myself."

"Look after Cailin when I am gone," Brenna said to Ceara one afternoon. "Everything she has ever known is gone from her. She is brave, but I have heard her weeping at night in our sleeping space when she thinks I am asleep and cannot hear. Her pain is very great."

"Why not Maeve?" Ceara asked. "She is your sister."

"Maeve is ever a fool over Berikos," Brenna said, "and besides, Cailin has taken to you, Ceara. She will give Maeve honor, but it is you she trusts and is learning to love. Promise me you will look after her, dear old friend. My time is growing shorter with every passing hour, but I cannot go easily unless I know Cailin has a friend and a protector in you."

"When you have passed through the door," Ceara promised her, "I will watch over Cailin as I would one of my own granddaughters. I swear by Lugh, Danu, and Macha. You may rest easy in my word."

"I know I can," Brenna said, her relief obvious.

Brenna died on the eve of Samain, six months after incurring her injuries. She went quickly to sleep, but did not awaken the following morning. Cailin, in the company of Ceara and Maeve, washed the body and dressed it for burial. As refugees, Cailin and her grandmother had possessed little, but decorated pots, bronze vessels for food and drink, small bits of jewelry, furs, cloth, and other things considered necessary to a woman began to appear by the body in order that she be buried properly, as befitted a Dobunni chieftain's wife.

Brenna was interred several hours before sunset, when the Samain feasting would begin. The harper played a liltingly sad tune as the mourners followed the body. Berikos accompanied his estranged wife to her final resting place along with the rest of the family. Even Brigit was among the official mourners. As always, she sought to divert the focus of Berikos's attention to herself.

"Could she not have waited until the new year was begun before dying?" she whined at her husband.

"It seems appropriate to me that Brenna chose this last day of the year to end her existence here and walk through the door," Berikos answered his wife sharply.

"There will be a pall over the feasting tonight," Brigit said.

Ceara saw it coming, but she was powerless to stop it.

Cailin turned and placed herself directly in front of Brigit, making it impossible for her to move forward. "How dare you speak with such disrespect at my grandmother's funeral?" she demanded. "Is this how the Catuvellauni raise their daughters to behave? My grandmother was a woman of virtue and kindness. She was held in esteem by all who knew her. All you care about is yourself and your selfish needs!"

"Who is this… this girl?" Brigit said angrily to her husband.

"My granddaughter, Cailin," he said. "Brenna's grandchild."

"Ohh, the mongrel bitch," Brigit sneered, and there were gasps.

"I am no mongrel," Cailin said proudly. "I am a Briton. Do not think your blood so pure, Brigit of the Catuvellauni. The legions, I am told, plowed many a furrow amongst the women of your tribe. Your Roman nose gives you away. I am surprised my grandfather did not notice it, but he is so overcome with his lust for you that he sees nothing except a pair of full breasts and firm buttocks."

"Are you going to let her speak to me that way, Berikos?" Brigit demanded, her cheeks red with her outrage.

"She is right, Brigit. You are disrespectful of the dead, and I am overcome with my lust for you," Berikos replied with some humor.

"She should be beaten!" Brigit insisted.

"Are you brave enough to try, Catuvellauni woman?" Cailin retorted. "No, you are not! You hide behind my grandfather's authority, and snivel at him when you do not get your own way. We all know you for what you are-the plaything of a foolish old man whose lust has made him a laughingstock. What will you do when Berikos walks through the door himself, Brigit of the Catuvellauni? Will you seek out another old man to entice with your youth and your pretty face? You will not be young forever!"

Berikos's face now darkened with anger. "Be silent, Cailin!" he ordered her. "I thought that we had come to bury Brenna this day, but I hear her voice coming from your mouth, excoriating me as she was ever wont to do. You speak of respect, but where is your respect for Brenna that you would disrupt her burial in such a manner? Now, be quiet, girl! I do not want to hear another word from your mouth this day."

Cailin glared at him defiantly, but she said nothing more. Brigit, however, burst into tears and ran from them, her two serving women chasing in her wake.

Berikos groaned. "The gods only know what that will cost me," he grumbled to Ceara and Maeve. "Perhaps I should beat the girl."

"Cailin's anger is but a reflection of her pain, Berikos," Ceara said wisely. "Remember that only six moon spans ago her entire family was cruelly wiped out by treachery. Only Brenna survived, and Cailin lived for Brenna. She has nursed her devotedly."

"My sister was all Cailin believed she had left," Maeve chimed in. "Now Brenna is gone, too. Cailin is overwhelmed with her loneliness. Kyna was a good wife and mother. Her family was a close one."

"Aye," Ceara said. "Think, Berikos. How would you feel if everyone you loved and held dear was no longer here, and you were the only one left? Cailin will never be able to replace those she has lost, but we must help her to make peace with herself and begin a new life."

"The girl has to learn to hold her tongue," Berikos replied, his ego still stinging at his granddaughter's harsh words. "You had best teach her some Dobunni manners. The next time I will beat her," he threatened. He looked over to where the grieving girl now stood, some distance from them, by Brenna's grave. Then Berikos walked away from his two wives, heading to his hall, where the Samain feasting would soon start.

Ceara shook her head in despair. "They are so alike," she said. "Cailin may be outspoken like Brenna, but she is every bit as stubborn as Berikos. They will clash again you may be certain."