"Dead. All of them. Come now, and help me. We are not safe here, Cailin. You must believe me, my precious one," Brenna said, sobbing.

"Why can't we wait for the slaves to return? We must inform the authorities," Cailin said desperately.

Brenna looked into her granddaughter's face. "I have no time to explain this to you now. You must trust me if you wish to live a long life. Come now, and help me. I am weak from loss of blood, and we have a ways to go before we are safe."

Cailin felt frightened. "Where are we going, Grandmother?"

"There is only one place we can go, my child. To the Dobunni. To your grandfather, Berikos. Only he can keep us safe from this evil." Grasping her granddaughter's arm, Brenna began to walk. " 'Tis but a few miles, although you did not know that, did you? Your whole life you have lived but a few miles from Berikos, and you did not know it." Then Brenna fell silent, realizing that she needed her strength if she was to get them to their destination alive. Berikos must know what had happened. Then, if the gods willed it, she would die. But Berikos must know.

"I do not know the way," Cailin whimpered. "Can you show me the way, Grandmother?"

The old woman nodded, but said nothing more.

They left the beaten path, and Brenna led her granddaughter up one hill and then down another. They made their way through a small, dense wood with only the light of the bright moon to show them the way. The night was silent, for the creatures belonging to it had long ceased their songs. Here and there a bird would trill nervously, certain that the bright white light signaled the dawn. Occasionally they would rest, but Brenna dared not stop for long. She did not fear pursuit, but rather she feared her own mortality. They crossed a large grassy meadow where deer were grazing in the early light, and then entered a second wood. Above them the sky was visibly lightening. They had been traveling for some time now, and Cailin had the feeling that they were moving up.

"How much farther is it, Grandmother?" Cailin asked after they had been walking for several hours, mostly uphill. She was weary from the unaccustomed exercise. She could only imagine how the older woman must feel. It had been a long time since Brenna had walked such a distance, and certainly never in such a precarious state of health.

"Not far, my child. Your grandfather's village is on the other side of this wood."

The forest began to thin out, and the sky was bright with color as they exited from the trees. Before them rose a small hill, and atop it was the Dobunni village. Suddenly a young man appeared before them. He had obviously been on watch, and was surprised to see someone out so early. Then his face lit with slow recognition.

"Brenna! Is it really you?"

"It is I," Corio," Brenna answered him, and her knees buckled beneath her.

"Help me, sir!" Cailin cried, attempting to keep her grandmother in an upright position, but it was futile.

Corio, after his initial amazement at seeing Brenna, jumped forward and caught the fainting woman up in his arms. "Follow me," he told Cailin, and without so much as a backward glance at her, he ran up the hill.

Cailin hurried behind him, her face creased with concern. Her curiosity was strong, however, and she noted that the hill was ringed with three stone walls. Behind the third wall, they entered into the village. Corio made directly for the largest house, and Cailin followed him through its entrance into a big hall. A woman, fully six feet tall and dressed in a deep blue tunic, came forward. She glanced briefly at Cailin, gave a start of recognition, then looked at the burden Corio carried.

"It is Brenna, Grandmother, and she is injured," Corio said.

"Put her there, boy, on the bench by the fire pit," the older woman commanded. "Then go and fetch my medicines." She looked at Cailin. "Are you squeamish, or can you help?"

"Tell me what you would have me do," Cailin answered.

"I am Ceara, Berikos's first wife," the tall woman said. "You are Kyna's daughter, are you not? You look like her, yet there is something a bit different about you."

"Yes, I am Kyna's daughter. My name is Cailin." The girl's eyes filled with tears. "Will Grandmother die?" she asked.

"I do not know yet," Ceara answered honestly. "What happened?"

Cailin shook her head. "I do not know. I came home from the Beltane festival. The house was ablaze, and Grandmother had collapsed outside. She says my family is dead, but I know nothing more. She was insistent we come here. She would not even allow me to inform the authorities, or wait for the slaves to return from their holiday."

"Berikos!" Brenna's voice rasped harshly. " I must speak with Berikos!" She struggled to rise from the bench where she lay.

"You must lie quietly, Brenna," Ceara told her. "I will send for Berikos, but if you persist in this behavior, you will not live to tell him whatever it is you must tell him. Rest now."

"Ceara! What is this I hear? Brenna has returned?" Another woman, not quite as tall as Ceara, but taller than Cailin, joined them. She had the prettiest, sweetest face that Cailin could ever remember having seen. There was something familiar about it, and yet Cailin could not place it. That face was now puckered with distress as she bent over the half-conscious woman. Her blue eyes filled with tears. "Brenna! It really is you! Ohh, I never thought to see you again!"

"Maeve," Brenna said softly, but Cailin heard the affection in her grandmother's tone. "You are still a fool, I see."

Maeve bent down and kissed the injured woman's brow. "And you are still stubborn and filled with pride, my sister."

"Sister?" Cailin looked at Ceara.

"Maeve is your grandmother's younger sister. Did you not know that, child? No, I see you did not."

"Why does Grandmother call her a fool?" Cailin wondered, realizing that Maeve's familiar face was a slightly younger version of Brenna's.

"Your grandmother and Berikos were not a good match," Ceara said honestly. "They married in haste born of their overwhelming lust for each other. By the time they realized it, your grandmother was with child. Several years later your grandfather found himself truly in love with Maeve, and she with him. Brenna was appalled. She feared history would repeat itself, and she adored her sister, who is five years younger. She pleaded with Maeve not to wed Berikos, but Maeve refused to listen. Brenna called her a fool, and has referred to her as such ever since, despite the fact the marriage between Maeve and Berikos was a successful one." Ceara turned to the other woman. "Go and fetch Berikos, Maeve. He is at her house."

Corio returned with his grandmother's medicine basket, and Ceara began the task of examining Brenna's wound. She cut away some of Brenna's thick white hair, shaking her head at the size of the wound. This was far more serious than anything she had ever seen. Brenna's hair was severely matted with all the blood she had lost. The skull bone itself was open and had a large chip missing from it. Ceara wasn't even certain she could close the wound. Nature would have to do the job. As gently as she could, she cleaned the wound with wine, wincing when Brenna groaned. She sprinkled one of her healing powders generously over it, and then bandaged it with clean, dried moss. She had never felt so helpless in her entire life.

The girl had stood by her side, handing her what she needed, and never flinching once. Her presence seemed to soothe Brenna. Frankly, Ceara thought that only rest, time, and the will of the gods could make a difference now.

Corio had gone from the hall for a time and now returned, a small bowl in his hand. He gave it to his grandmother. "I thought that perhaps you would want this for Brenna," he said.

She smiled up at him approvingly. "Aye, 'tis just the thing. Here, Brenna, drink this. It will give you strength. Help her to sit up a bit, Cailin," Ceara ordered.

Cailin sat on the bench behind her grandmother and gently propped the older woman up. "What is she drinking?" she asked, noting that Brenna sipped the reddish liquid almost eagerly. "It is cattle's blood," Ceara answered. "It is nourishing, and will help Brenna to rebuild her own blood." Ceara held back a smile at Cailin's look of distaste. At least the girl hadn't fainted.

"Ceara!" A deep voice thundered. "What is going on? Is what Maeve tells me true?"

Cailin looked up. A tall man with snow-white hair and matching twin mustaches had entered the hall. He was garbed in a dark green wool tunic embroidered with gold threads at the neck and sleeves. Around his neck was the most magnificent gold torque, worked with green enamel, that Cailin had ever seen. He strode directly up to the bench where Brenna lay and looked down.

"Hail, Berikos," Brenna said mockingly.

"So, you are back," Berikos said grimly. "To what do we owe this honor, Brenna? I thought never to see you again."

"Nor I you. You have grown old, Berikos," Brenna said. "I should not be here at all were it not for Cailin. I would have died in the forest safe in Nodens' care rather than come to you, were it not for our grandchild. I am here for her, Berikos, not for myself."

"We have no grandchild in common," he answered.

"Berikos!" Ceara's voice was sharp. "Do not persist in your stubborn folly over this matter. Kyna is dead."

A sharp look of sorrow swept over the old man's face and then was gone. "How?" he demanded, his voice impersonal, the pain forced back to where none could see it.