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 his 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."

As they stood in silence waiting, the Dobunni snuck looks about the atrium, for most of them had never been in so fine a house. Then suddenly Quintus Drusus entered the room. From her place behind her husband Cailin peeked at her cousin. He had put on weight since she had last seen him, and was almost fat. He was still handsome, however, but his eyes were now openly hard, and his mouth a trifle sullen.

"How dare you enter my home unannounced and uninvited, you savages," he blustered at them, but Quintus Drusus knew as he spoke the words he could not have stopped these men. "What do you want? State your business with me, if indeed you have any business with me, and then get out!"

Wulf Ironfist took the measure of the man before him and could see that he was soft. This was no warrior; just a carrion creature who allowed others to do the killing for him, and then moved in to take the largest portion of the spoils. The Saxon moved just slightly to one side, allowing Cailin to step forward.

"Hail, Quintus Drusus," she said, enjoying immensely his look of amazement which was quickly followed by one of fury.

"You are dead," he said.

"Nay, I am very much alive, cousin. I have returned to claim what is rightfully mine, and to see that justice is done," she told him. "I will show you no more mercy than you showed my family!"

"What is this? What is this?" Anthony Porcius entered the atrium, followed by his daughter.

It was Antonia who saw Cailin first, and she gasped with surprise. "Cailin Drusus! How can this be? You surely died in that tragic fire almost a year ago! But I can see you did not. Where have you been? And why are you wearing those dreadful clothes?"

Cailin nodded to Antonia, but her words were for Anthony Porcius. "Chief magistrate of Corinium, I claim justice from you."

"You will have it, Cailin Drusus," the magistrate answered solemnly, "but tell me, child, how is it you survived that terrible fire, and why is it you have not revealed yourself until now?"

"For reasons I will never understand," Cailin told him, "the gods spared me death in the conflagration that destroyed my home. I had stayed late at the Beltane celebrations. When I arrived back at the villa, it was in flames, and my grandmother Brenna was collapsed outside. She insisted we flee, saying the danger to our lives was great. We walked the rest of the night, until at dawn we reached the hill fort of my grandfather, Berikos, chieftain of the hill Dobunni. It was there that she told us what had happened."

"What had happened?" Quintus Drusus demanded edgily.

"You piece of Roman filth!" Cailin cried angrily. "You are an embarrassment to the name of Drusus. You murdered my family, and you dare to play the innocent? I pray the gods strike you down before me, Quintus Drusus!"

Cailin looked again to the magistrate. "My cousin arranged for two Gauls he owned to gain their freedom by doing his heinous bidding. They gained entry to the villa, killed my parents and my brothers, and felled Brenna with a single blow. Unbeknownst to them, it did not kill her. She lay waiting until she could make her escape. She overheard these Gauls bragging about how well they had carried out their master's bidding-first by murdering his two little stepsons and making it appear as if the nursemaids had been negligent. The murder of my family was to complete their service to Quintus Drusus. They even knew where my father kept his gold, and they looted it before fleeing.

"I, too, was to be killed, but it grew late. The Gauls feared exposure and execution if they did not soon flee, so they fired my home and departed. My grandmother escaped, crawling through the flames and smoke. We fled to my grandfather, fearing that if my cousin learned of our survival, he would seek to finish the task he had started. Brenna never recovered; she died at Samain. Now I have returned, Anthony Porcius. I claim what is rightfully mine as the sole surviving member of the Drusus Corinium family. I am a married woman now, and my child will be born after the harvest. I want my lands back. I want this murderer punished," Cailin concluded.

It was a great deal to absorb. Anthony Porcius had never liked Quintus Drusus, but he had swallowed his own feelings for he had not liked Sextus Scipio, either. He had assumed that as a doting father it was his nature to dislike Antonia's husbands. He realized now that perhaps he had been right all along, and his daughter was incapable of choosing a good man. Now Cailin was accusing her cousin of not only the murder of her family, but of his two little grandsons as well. It was horrifying, but in his heart of hearts he believed it to be true. Quintus was a cold, hard man. Still, Anthony Porcius was a chief magistrate. Everything he did must be done exactly according to the letter of the law.

He drew a deep breath. "I can, of course, return the land to you, Cailin Drusus. It is indeed yours by right of inheritance, and you have a husband to work and protect it. As for your accusations against Quintus Drusus, what proof can you give me other than this story your grandmother told?"

Cailin looked bleakly at him and said, "Once my mother told me that before she married my father, while she was living with my grandparents in Corinium, you fell in love with her. She, however, loved my father, but when she turned you away, it was with gentleness, for she respected you. If there is any pity in your heart, Anthony Porcius, help me avenge her death. Do you know what my cousin's Gauls did to her? They raped and beat her until they killed her. My grandmother said her last glimpse of her daughter was her bloodied and battered face and body. She was once a very beautiful woman. This murderer that your daughter has wed has not even had the kindness to bury her bones or those of the rest of my family. They lie where they were killed, while Quintus Drusus tills our fields with our slaves. Is this the Roman justice of our ancestors?"

The magistrate looked as if he would cry. She was telling the truth; in his very heart and soul the part of him that was Celtic knew it; but he could not help her. "The law, Cailin Drusus, requires proof. You have no proof but the words of a dying old woman. It is not enough. I would help you if I could, but I cannot. There is no proof."

Cailin burst into tears. "Have I survived everything, and come to you for justice, only to be denied? Must I live the rest of my days knowing that Quintus Drusus continues on in comfort when my family is dead and gone?" She wiped her tears away with the heel of her palm, and then her moment of weakness passed. She looked at her cousin. "You know what you did, Quintus Drusus. Do not rest easy feeling that you have escaped punishment. If you are wise, you will never close your eyes in sleep again. I will see you punished if it is the last thing I ever do, you murderer!"

"You have gone mad, or else your natural grief has addled your wits, Cailin, my dear," Quintus said in a bored and superior tone. He hated losing his cousin's lands after all his hard work, but he would correct that. He just needed time, and since his father-in-law maintained that a lack of hard evidence made it impossible to prosecute him, he would have that time.