“You have done what?” Brigit’s eyes widened with shock. This was not at all the way she planned it. She had intended only for the Saxon to roughly violate Cailin and break her spirit. She wanted the girl shamed, and hurt.
“Wulf asked me for Cailin’s hand,” Berikos repeated. “Her tainted blood does not bother him. My granddaughter has agreed.” He held up the coin, saying, “Wulf has given me this for the wench’s bride price. It is gold. Your father was content to accept a silver piece and a breeding pair of hunting dogs for you, Brigit.”
Brigit’s eyes glittered at the sight of the gold, and Wulf thought that Berikos would not have his granddaughter’s bride price for very long if Brigit had her way. The woman’s mouth was sullen, however, and she finally said, “Is there no food in this hall that we might break our fast? Cailin is derelict in her duties, or has her marriage gone to her head? A good wife should have the morning meal ready at a respectable hour. I hope Ceara returns soon.”
“Perhaps if you did not sleep half the morning away, Brigit,” Cailin said as she entered the hall, “you would find the meal ready. Berikos and my husband ate hours ago. If you go to the cook house, however, they may give you something if you tell them I said to do so.” She smiled brightly at the woman. “I must be about my duties. A runner arrived this morning from Carvilius’s hill fort. Ceara and Maeve are expected before sunset. We will eat as soon as they arrive. Do try to be on time, lady.” She turned to her grandfather. “Is the bargain made between my husband and you, Berikos?”
“It is,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching just slightly. The girl was tough, and refused to be beaten. He’d give her that. “Speak more gently to my lady wife in future, mongrel,” he warned her. “She is deserving of respect.”
“Only if she earns it, Berikos,” Cailin shot back, and turning on her heel, left them.
“There!” Berikos crowed. “You have seen the rough edge of her tongue now, Wulf Ironfist, but it is too late! She is your wife.”
“The barb was not directed at me, Berikos. I like a woman who speaks her mind. I will only beat her if she defies me,” he answered.
Ceara, Maeve, and Nuala arrived even as the mid-afternoon winter sunset was turning the sky glorious shades of red, orange, gold, and dark purple. One cold bright star hung over Berikos’s hill fort, as if guiding them to the warm safety within. Nuala was excited to be home, and hugged her cousin tightly while her elders removed the cloaks.
Before they might hear it elsewhere, Berikos told his two older wives of Cailin’s marriage. Both were clearly horrified, and equally furious at Brigit’s part in the matter.
“She did it to be cruel,” Maeve cried in a rare show of anger before her husband. “You were filled with wine and mead, I’ve not a doubt, and went along with the bitch’s mischief! Oh, shame, Berikos!”
“You do not have to accept him as a husband, my child,” Ceara said, her calm tones belying her outrage. “There is no shame among our peoples if a woman samples pleasure with several men. If she learns to give equal pleasure, it but enhances her reputation as a possible wife. You can withdraw your consent, Cailin, if you wish. Berikos can return the Saxon’s gold piece. It can be done honorably.”
“I do not wish to withdraw my consent, Ceara,” Cailin said calmly. “Wulf Ironfist is a good man. I am content to be his wife. There is no other to whom I am attracted. Have you not been nagging me about marrying, lady?” she teased.
“But when he has finished his work here,” Ceara wailed, “he will take you away to the Saxon shore, and we will never see you again!”
“Good riddance, I say!” Brigit sneered.
Ceara rounded on her. “Shut your mouth, bitch! I should have killed you when I first laid eyes upon you. You are nothing but trouble!” Then she turned on her husband. “I have honored you my entire life, Berikos,” she began. “I have defended your decisions even when I knew them to be wrong. I stood silently by when you disowned your only daughter, and never said a word in Kyna’s defense when I should have. I gritted my teeth when you would not allow us to share the joy of the births of Brenna’s grandchildren, and I stood by silently again when Brenna left us to be with Kyna and her family.
“You are a foolish old man, Berikos! You wish to restore the Dobunni to greatness. What greatness? We never had any greatness! We are a simple clan. If you try to drive the Britons from their lands, they will fight back to defend these lands they have farmed for the last few hundred years. You will not succeed in this mad scheme even if I cannot prevent you from pursuing it; but I will not let Brenna’s only surviving grandchild leave us! You will give this Saxon the lands you promised him, and they will remain here. Unless, of course,” she concluded, “you wish to spend your days alone without Maeve and me.”
Berikos was flabbergasted. In all the years they had been married, Ceara had never spoken so harshly to him, privately or in public. He had also never seen her so angry. “What do you mean without Maeve and you?” was all he could think of to say. He did not even rail at her for her overly frank speech.
“We will leave you, Berikos,” Ceara said grimly. “We will go to other villages and live with our sons. But you need not fear. I am certain Brigit will keep your house, and nurse you tenderly when you grow sickly, and see that your food is cooked to your liking. Does she even know how you like your meals prepared? Probably not, but I am sure that you will tell her.”
“There is no need for that,” Berikos grumbled nervously.
Ceara cocked a bushy eyebrow quizzically. “Indeed?” she said.
“We will make some accommodation, lady, I swear it,” Berikos promised the angry woman. “There is no need for rashness.”
“We will see, old man,” Ceara answered him in dark tones.
Cailin looked up at her husband, her eyes twinkling with their conspiracy. They had agreed within the cozy closeness of their bed space early that morning that no mention would be made of her lands until they were ready to make their move. They would not press Berikos to keep his bargain. When the time came, they would retake the property belonging to the Drusus Corinium family.
The word was passed among the Dobunni villages that any wishing to relearn the ancient arts of war were to come to Berikos’s village, where they would be housed, fed, and taught in exchange for their service. Several wooden barracks were built within the walls of the hill fort for the prospective warriors. One hundred fifty young men, ranging in age from thirteen to eighteen, came. Berikos was disappointed with the small number. He had honestly believed there would be more.
“What did you expect?” Ceara said to him. “There are only a thousand of us. Many of the young men are already married, and do not choose to leave their families. Why should they?”
“What of honor?” Berikos said, outraged by her words.
Maeve chuckled. “Honor has little hope of keeping a man warm on a cold winter’s night. And what woman wants to spend her winter alone, or with only her children, or great with child, and no man to comfort her?”
“This is what the Romans have done to us!” Berikos said grimly.
“The Romans did nothing to us we did not allow to be done,” Ceara told him matter-of-factly. “Besides, what sensible people do not prefer peace to war?”