To Love Again

'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?'

'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.'