To Love Again

Ragnar Strongspear nodded. 'You do not offend me, but you have my word, Wulf Ironfist, that no harm will come to you from me or from mine this day. I am an honorable man. Let us go.' He turned his horse and moved off with his small party of retainers in his wake. As they rode, Ragnar wondered what else Antonia had told him that wasn't true. He had stormed across her lands well over a year ago. Finding her unprotected, he had claimed both the woman and her property for his own. He had two other wives, Harimann and Perahta, Saxons both. They were devoted to him, and hardworking. Each had given him two children, a son and a daughter apiece. Antonia had two children as well, a boy and a girl. She hadn't wanted to become his wife, but he had raped her before her father and servants in the atrium of her villa, making her further refusal impossible.

She was an odd woman, given to airs, and other than her lands, she had no value he could see, but for one thing: He had never in his life had such an avaricious, hot bedmate. Whereas Harimann and Perahta were complaisant, Antonia was eager, and had the instincts of a skilled whore. He tolerated her for that alone. Now, however, he was beginning to wonder if he had not made a bad bargain of it after all. Were her abilities in their bed worth the trouble she was obviously about to cause him?

Where Antonia's villa had once stood in its pristine glory, there were now ruins. Nearby, a new hall had been raised. About it was a wall of stone. They entered through a pair of open gates, the doors of which had been fashioned from the old bronze doors of the villa.

'Your men are welcome in my hall,' Ragnar Strongspear said.

'You have given me your pledge for our safety,' Wulf replied. 'I will leave them outside but for two to show my good faith. Corio, and Winefrith, you will come with us.'

'Yes, my lord!' the two men chorused almost as one, and Ragnar Strongspear was further impressed. Wulf's men were all obviously quite loyal, and not only were there Saxons among them, but Celts as well.

They entered a large aisled hall. There were several fire pits, but the ventilation was poor and it was slightly smoky. Two large, handsome women with long blond braids, little children about their feet, sat weaving and talking together.

'Antonia! Come to me at once!' Ragnar Strongspear called loudly.

'I am here, my lord,' came the reply, and she glided forward, a false smile of welcome upon her face. She hated him and everything he stood for.

'Do you know these people, Antonia?' he demanded of her.

Antonia's eyes swung first to Cailin and then to Wulf. Her hand flew to her breast and she paled. Her heart began to increase in its tempo until she thought it would fly from her chest. She couldn't seem to breathe, and she gaped like a fish out of water. She had never in her life been so filled with fear, for before her was her greatest nightmare come to life. How had they survived? But it did not matter. They had survived her revenge, and had now obviously returned to take theirs. She stepped back with a shriek.

'Ohh, villainess!' Cailin cried, surprising the men as she leapt forward at Antonia. 'You never thought to see me again in this life, did you? But here I am, Antonia Porcius, alive, and strong! Now, where is my child? I want my child; I know you have my baby!'

'I do not know what you are talking about,' Antonia quavered.

'You are lying, Antonia,' Wulf said, and his blue eyes were bright with his anger. 'Lying as you lied to me when you told me that Cailin was dead in childbirth of a difficult birth, of a son who tore her apart and then died, too. You lied when you told me you cremated their remains. I found my wife in Byzantium by merest chance, preparing to wed another man, damn you! Do you know how very much I want to kill you right now? Do you know all the misery you have caused us? And once again you have tried to steal our lands, Antonia Porcius. You will not succeed now, just as you did not succeed before!'

'Did I hurt you, Wulf?' Antonia suddenly flared. 'Did the knowledge that Cailin was dead cause you unbearable pain? I am glad if it did. I am glad! Now you know the pain you caused me when you killed my beloved Quintus! I wanted you to suffer! And I wanted Cailin to suffer as well. If she had not returned from her grave that first time, you would not have killed my husband, and I should not have lost my second son! All my misery is due to the two of you, and now here you are again to cause me heartache. A pox upon you! I hate you both!”

'Give me my child, you bitch!' Cailin cried out angrily.

'What child?' Antonia said with false sweetness. 'You had no child, Cailin Drusus. The child died at birth.'

'I do not believe you,' Cailin replied. 'I heard my child cry strongly before your herbs rendered me unconscious. Give me my child!”

'Give her the child, Antonia.' Anthony Porcius came forward. He had aged greatly in the last few years. His step was slow and his hair was snow-white, but it was his sad eyes that touched Cailin. Reaching out, he took her hand in his. 'She told me that you had died, and that Wulf would not take the child,' he said. 'She claimed to be raising her out of the goodness of her heart, but there is, I now see, no goodness in my daughter's heart. It is black with bitterness and hatred. The child has your husband's coloring, but in features she is your image. Each day she grows more so, and of late Antonia has begun to hate her for it.'

'Her?' Cailin whispered softly, and then suddenly she cried out to her husband, 'That is what she said, Wulf! I remember it now. The last thing I heard before I fell unconscious on that day our child was born was Antonia's voice saying, 'I always wanted a daughter.' We have a daughter. Give her to me, you viper. Give me my daughter!'

Ragnar Strongspear's first wife, Harimann, came forward leading a small girl by the hand. 'This is your daughter, lady. She is called Aurora. She is a good child, though the lady Antonia beats her.'

Cailin knelt and took the little girl into her arms. She was several months from her third birthday, but she was a tall child. Her tunic dress was ragged, and her blond hair lank. There was a frightened look in her eyes, and upon her cheek was a purple bruise. Cailin looked up at Antonia and said quietly, 'You will pay dearly for that, lady.' Then she hugged the trembling child, setting her back down finally so they might look at one another. 'I am your mother, Aurora. I have come to take you away from the lady Antonia, who stole you from me. Do not be afraid.'

The child said nothing. She just stared at Cailin with large eyes.

'Why does she not speak?' Cailin demanded.

'She does sometimes,' Harimann said, 'but she is always afraid, poor child. We tried to soften the lady Antonia's unreasonable anger toward Aurora, but it only made it worse. She is half starved, though we had sought to feed her when the lady Antonia was not about. Antonia's son, however, follows his mother's direction, and would tell on us. Then Aurora would be beaten. Finally she would take no food from us for fear of being punished. The boy is abusive to her as well.'

'Quintus, the younger, is as much of a toad as his father, I see,' Cailin said scornfully. 'You have reason to be proud, Antonia.' She turned to the elderly Anthony Porcius. 'Could you do nothing, sir?'

'I tried,' he said, 'but I am an old man, Cailin Drusus, and my place in this hall depends upon my daughter's goodwill.'

'Tell Ragnar Strongspear the land is mine,' she said to him.

'I can do that, Cailin Drusus,' he replied, and then he turned to his Saxon son-in-law. 'The lands she claims are her family's lands and belong to her. Antonia had no right to them at all. She claimed to me that she was holding them for Aurora, but I know that is not true.'

Ragnar Strongspear nodded. 'Then it is settled,' he said.

'It is settled,' Wulf Ironfist answered him. Reaching down, he lifted the little girl into his arms. 'I am your father, Aurora,' he told the child. 'Can you say 'Father' to me, little one?'

She nodded, her eyes huge and blue.

He grinned. 'I would hear it then, my daughter.' He cocked his head to one side, as if listening hard.

'Father,' the little girl whispered shyly.