To Love Again

hurried from the hall, her yellow skirts thrashing.

'I should have gone with Ceara and Maeve,' Cailin muttered. 'Then she would have been in the soup, and what would Berikos have thought of his beautiful young wife then, the ungrateful bitch! Well, I shall do it because Ceara would want me to, and she is good to me.'

Cailin hurried off to the cook house, which was located just behind the hall. There she instructed the servants in the preparation of a thick pottage with lentils and lamb, while upon the open spit a side of beef was to be slowly roasted. There would be cabbage, and turnip, and onions braised in the coals of the fire. Fresh loaves were baked that afternoon, which would be served with butter and cheese. Cailin polished a dozen apples to a bright shine and piled them artistically in a burnished brass bowl. Taking them into the hall to place them upon the high board she complimented the young slave girl who had just finished polishing the board with beeswax. The huge table was Ceara's pride and joy. She reveled in the fact that in other halls the high boards were worn and pockmarked by knives and goblets. In her hall, the high board glowed and shone like new.

The slave girl brought heavy brass candle holders. 'The mistress always uses these for important guests,' she told Cailin.

Cailin thanked her and set them on the table, taking the large fat candles from the serving wench and placing them carefully on the iron spikes that held them. She stood back and smiled to herself. The high board looked as if Ceara had set it herself. Berikos would have no cause for complaint.

It was then that Cailin realized that someone was staring at her. She turned and, looking down the hall, saw a great, tall man standing there. His look, even from a distance, was bold.

'Who is that?' she asked the slave.

'It is your grandfather's guest,' the girl whispered. 'The Saxon.'

Cailin turned and stepped down from the dais. She walked with measured steps toward the man. 'May I be of service to you, sir?' she asked politely, not even stopping to think he might not speak Latin.

'I would ask permission to sit by your fire, lady,' the answer came. 'The day is chill, and I have had a long journey.'

'Indeed, come by the fire,' Cailin replied. 'I will fetch you a goblet of wine, unless, of course, you would prefer ale.'

'Wine, thank you, lady. May I ask whom I have the honor of addressing? I would give no offense in this hall.'

'I am Cailin Drusus, a granddaughter of Berikos, the chieftain of the hill Dobunni. I apologize for your poor welcome, but the lady Ceara, who is mistress here, is away visiting her grandchildren before the winter snows come. We did not know you were expected, or she would have never gone. Has your horse been stabled properly, sir?' Cailin poured some wine into a silver goblet decorated with dark green agates, and handed it to the huge Saxon. She had never seen such a big man before. He was even larger than the Celtic men she knew. His garb was most colorful: red braccos cross-gartered in deep blue and gold, and a deep blue tunic from which his chest threatened to burst forth with every breath.

'Thank you, lady; my horse has been taken care of by your grandfather's servants.' He drained the goblet and handed it back to her with a dazzling smile. His teeth were large, white, and amazingly even.

'More?' she inquired politely. He had shoulder-length yellow hair. She had never seen hair naturally that color before.

'Nay, it is enough for now. I thank you.' Dazzling blue eyes, the blue of a summer's sky, looked into hers.

Cailin blushed. This man was having the oddest effect on her.

'My name is Wulf Ironfist,' he told her.

'It is a ferocious-sounding name, sir,' she answered.

He grinned boyishly. 'I gained it as a mere stripling because I could crack nuts with one blow of my fist,' he told her, chuckling. 'Later, however, my name took on a different meaning when I joined Caesar's legions in the Rhineland, where I was born.'

'That is why you speak our tongue!' Cailin burst out, and then she blushed again. 'I am too forward,' she said ruefully.

'Nay,' he said. 'You are blunt, honest. There is no crime in that, Cailin Drusus. I like it.'

Her cheeks warmed at the sound of her name on his lips, but her curiosity was greater than her shyness. 'How came you to Britain?' she asked.

'I was told there is opportunity in Britain. Land! There is little unclaimed land left in my homeland. I spent ten years with the legions, and now I would settle down to farm my own land and raise my children.'

'You are wed, then?'

'Nay. First the land, and then a wife, or two,' he told her in practical tones.

Cailin smiled shyly at Wulf Ironfist. She thought the Saxon quite the handsomest man she had ever seen. Then, remembering her duties, she said, 'You must excuse me, sir. With the lady Ceara gone, the kitchens are in my charge. My grandfather is very fussy about his meals, and he likes them piping hot. Stay by the fire and make yourself comfortable. I will send for Berikos to let him know that you have arrived.'

'My thanks for your kindness and hospitality, lady.'

Cailin hurried from the hall, and directed the first male servant she saw to go and fetch his master. Then she returned to the kitchens to oversee the final preparations for dinner, requesting that pitchers of wine, ale, and honeyed mead be made ready for the evening's meal. She tasted the pottage, and directed the cook to add a bit more garlic. The beef sizzled and spat over the fire. It smelled wonderful.

'I sent a man down to the stream to look in the fish trap, little mistress,' the cook told her. 'He found two fine fat perch. I've stuffed them with scallions and parsley, and baked them in the coals. Better to have too much than too little. I'm told the Saxon is a giant of a man, and he's had a long ride. He'll have a good appetite for his supper, I'm thinking.'

'Will there be enough, Orna?' Cailin fretted. 'Berikos will be angry if he thinks we've slighted his guest. I've never had to prepare for a person of importance before. I don't want to shame Ceara, or the Dobunni.'

'There, there, little mistress,' the ruddy-cheeked cook soothed the girl. 'You've done well. A nice thick pottage, beef, fish, vegetables, bread, cheese, and apples. 'Tis a very good meal.'

'Have we a ham?' Cailin wondered aloud, and when the plump Orna nodded vigorously, Cailin said, 'Then let us serve it as well, and boil up a dozen or more eggs. And pears! I'll put pears with the apples. Oh, please be sure there is plenty of bread, Orna.'

'I will see to it,' Orna said. 'Now go and put on your prettiest gown, little mistress. You are far more beautiful than the Catuvellauni woman. You must sit at the high board with your grandfather in the lady Ceara's place tonight. Hurry along now!'

Chapter 4

Cailin left the cook house and walked back to the hall. She hadn't thought about joining her grandfather and his guest. She had taken to eating in the cook house since Ceara and Maeve had left. Brigit would not like it at all if she showed up this evening, but then Brigit could go to Hades, Cailin decided. Orna was right. She must take Ceara's place. Cailin hurried to her sleeping space to change clothes. To her surprise, there was a small basin filled with warmed water awaiting her. She smiled. The servants were certainly united in their dislike of Brigit, and obviously determined that she should outshine Berikos's young wife.

Cailin drew off her tunic dress and set it aside. Opening her small chest, she drew out her best gown. It was a beautiful light wool garment that had been dyed with a mixture of woad and madder. The rich purple color was stunning. There were gold and silver threads embroidered at the simple round neckline and on the cuffs of the sleeves. Ceara had given it to her at Lugh, and Cailin had never worn it. She bathed carefully, using a small sliver of