Cailin rarely saw her grandfather, and counted it a blessing. He spent his nights with his young wife Brigit, in her house. Brigit, however, did not cook to suit the old man, so he took his meals in his own hall. Cailin avoided Berikos for Brenna's sake, but he had not forgotten her.

"Is she useless as all Roman women?" he asked Ceara one day.

"Kyna taught her to cook, weave, and sew," Ceara answered him. "She does them well. That joint you are gnawing on with such satisfaction was cooked by Cailin."

"Hmmmmm," the old man replied.

"And she tends my vegetable garden for me, Berikos. My bones are almost as old as yours are. I do not like getting up and down, weeding, hoeing, transplanting. Cailin does it all for me now. She learns quickly. Nuala has been taking her out to help tend the sheep. Cailin nurses Brenna, too. Kyna raised her well. She is a good girl, but we must find a husband for her. Brenna will not live much longer, and after her death, Cailin will feel that she has no one."

"She has us," Berikos said harshly.

"It will not be enough," Ceara told him.

"Well," the Dobunni chieftain said, "at least she is earning her keep, if you are to be believed, Ceara."

"I am not the wife who is prone to lying to you, Berikos," Ceara said sharply. "You must look to your Catuvellauni for lies."

"Why can you not get on with Brigit?" he grumbled at her.

"Because she has no respect for me, or for Maeve. She takes advantage of you, Berikos, and you let her. She calls to your dark side, and encourages it so that you do things you would have never done before you married her. She is wicked, and far too ambitious for a hill Dobunni chieftain's wife. But why do I waste words on you? You do not want to hear them. I have never lied to you, Berikos. Cailin is a good girl," Ceara finished quietly.

In mid-June the spelt, a species of early wheat, was harvested. In late July the einkorn, a single-grained variety of wheat, was harvested along with barley, rye, and millet. The grain to be kept for seed or barter was put in stone subterranean silos, closed with clay seals. The grain for everyday use was stored in the barns. The hay was cut and set out to dry upon wooden racks.

Nuala and Cailin collected leaves of woad, carefully filling their rush baskets with the greenery; when processed, it made a marvelous blue dye for which the Celts were famous. They also dug madder root, which yielded an excellent red dye. When the two were mixed together, a royal-purple resulted, which was very much in demand. The colors would eventually be used on garments made from the flax and hemp that were also being harvested.

August first was the feast of the great Celtic sun god Lugh. It was marked all over Britain by a general military truce between the tribes. The main harvest done, there would be a great gathering of all the hill Dobunni, with games, races, music, and poetry recitals. Cailin was familiar with the festival. In Corinium there had been a fair at Lugh's feast.

She wondered if she would ever see the town again. Shortly after her family's deaths, her uncles Eppilus and Lugotorax had made a trip to Corinium to learn what was being said about the deaths of Gaius Drusus and his family. Stopping at the main tavern, they mentioned to the tavern keeper the burned-out villa they had seen some miles from town.

"It appears to have been a recent fire," Eppilus said casually.

"Was anyone hurt?" Lugotorax asked.

The tavern keeper, a gossipy soul with little business this sunny day, took a deep breath and replied, " 'Twas a great tragedy. The villa belonged to Gaius Drusus Corinium. It had been in his family since the time of the Emperor Claudius, hundreds of years ago. Nice people. A very respectable family indeed. There were three children, I'm told. Two boys and a girl. And the wife's mother, too. All dead now. The villa caught fire Beltane last, and the whole family perished."

"Is the land for sale, then?" Eppilus inquired politely.

"No," said the tavern keeper. "What was bad luck for Gaius Drusus Corinium was good luck for his cousin, Quintus Drusus. That young man came from Rome just a couple of years ago. Married the daughter of the chief magistrate here in Corinium, a rich woman in her own right. Now he's inherited the lands belonging to Gaius Drusus Corinium. Well, you know what they say, my friends. The rich get richer, eh?"

As they journeyed back to their village, Eppilus said, "I'd like to lie in wait one dark night for this Quintus Drusus, and slit his greedy throat for him. Murdering the family was bad enough, but you know what Brenna told us they did to our sister Kyna before she died."

"Killing Quintus Drusus won't bring our sister and her family back among the living," Lugotorax answered his brother. "We have to think of Cailin now. Ceara says Brenna will not live much longer. We must find a good husband for our niece."

"Perhaps at Lugh," Eppilus replied thoughtfully, "when all the hill Dobunni are gathered. Are there any among our brothers' sons whom you think would suit the girl? Whoever he is, he must be a man of property. Whatever Father may feel, Cailin is our blood."

A troupe of strange, dark people in colorful garb, traveling in three closed wagons, arrived at Berikos's village the evening before Lugh. Because of the season, they were warmly welcomed and invited to remain for the festivities.

"Gypsies," Nuala said wisely. "They are very good with horses, and some even have a gift for prophecy, 'tis said."

Indeed, the next morning as the celebrations began, one wrinkled old woman among the Gypsies set herself up beneath a striped awning and offered to tell fortunes for barter.

"Ohh!" Nuala said excitedly, "let us have our fortunes told, Cailin! I want to know if I shall have a handsome young husband with an unquenchable thirst for my flesh." At Cailin's shocked look, Nuala giggled mischievously. "Celts speak frankly," she told her cousin.

"I have nothing to offer the old woman," Cailin said. "If it were not for your grandmother, I should have nothing but the tunic I came in when I arrived here. Why, the only jewelry I possess are the garnets in my ears and the gold and enamel brooch I was wearing on Beltane. You go, Nuala, and get your fortune told. I will listen."

"Give her a pot of that salve I taught you to make," Nuala said. "It will be more than enough, I promise. We'll go in together, but I'll go first, and give her this bronze and enamel pin. It's really generous, but I don't like it any longer."

The two cousins approached the awning. The old woman beneath it was certainly an ancient-looking creature. Her black eyes surveyed them as they came. She resembled a turtle sunning itself upon a rock in the early spring, Cailin thought.

"Come! Come, my pretties," she greeted them, cackling. "Do you want old Granny to tell you the future?" She smiled a toothless grin at them.

Nuala held out the pin, and the old woman took it, looking it over carefully, nodding with pleasure.


"No one does finer enamel work than you Celts," she said admiringly. "Give me your hand, girl. I will see what life has in store for you, eh?" Chortling, she took Nuala's hand and looked deeply into the palm. "Ahhhh!" she said, and then she looked again. "Yes! Yes!"

"What is it?" Nuala cried. "What do you see, old woman?"

"A strong, handsome man, my girl, and not just one. You will be wife to two men. You will have many children, and grandchildren. Aye! You will live a long life, my girl. It will not always be an easy life, but you will not be unhappy." The Gypsy dropped Nuala's hand.

"Two husbands?" Nuala looked nonplussed, and then she giggled. "Well, if one is not enough, I shall be happy to have another. And many children, you say? You are certain?"

The old woman nodded vigorously.

"Well," Nuala said, "it's a good fate, and I will be happy with it. What better for a girl than marriage and children?" She pulled Cailin forward. "Now, tell my cousin her future! It must be at least as good as mine is. Give her the salve, Cailin!" Nuala finished impatiently.

Cailin handed the small stone pot of salve to the Gypsy, who took the girl's palm and peered into it.

"You have but recently cheated death," the fortune-teller said. "You will cheat it more than once, girl, before your time here is done." She looked into Cailin's face, and Cailin shivered. The Gypsy looked down into her hand again. "I see a man; no, more than one." She shook her head. "Golden towers. Aiiii, there is too much confusion here! I cannot see what I need to see." She loosed Cailin's hand. "I cannot divine further for you, my child. I am sorry. Take back your salve."

"No," Cailin replied. "Keep it if you can but tell me one thing, old woman. Will I lose a loved one to death soon?"

The Gypsy took Cailin's hand again and said, "You have lost several loved ones recently, my child, and yes, the last tie binding you to your old life will soon be severed by death. I am sorry for you."

"Do not be," Cailin told her. "You have but confirmed what my own voice within tells me. May your gods protect you." She turned away, Nuala in her wake.

The younger girl's face was worried. "It is Brenna, isn't it?" Nuala asked.

Cailin nodded. "I try to put a good face on it for her sake," she said. "Everyone pretends in my presence that they do not notice, but we all know, even Grandmother. She has been with me my entire life. She saved me from death and brought me to safety. I want so much for her to grow well and live many more years, but she will not, Nuala. She is dying a little bit each day, and for all my love, there is nothing I can do to help her."

Nuala put a comforting arm about her cousin's shoulder and squeezed her. "Death is but the doorway between this life and the next, Cailin. You know that, so why do you already grieve before Brenna has even taken the first step through that doorway?"