To Love Again by Bertrice Small Page A

with his lust for you that he sees nothing except a pair of full breasts and firm buttocks.”
    “Are you going to let her speak to me that way, Berikos?” Brigit demanded, her cheeks red with her outrage.
    “She is right, Brigit. You are disrespectful of the dead, and I am overcome with my lust for you,” Berikos replied with some humor.
    “She should be beaten!” Brigit insisted.
    “Are you brave enough to try, Catuvellauni woman?” Cailin retorted. “No, you are not! You hide behind my grandfather’s authority, and snivel at him when you do not get your own way. We all know you for what you are—the plaything of a foolish old man whose lust has made him a laughingstock. What will you do when Berikos walks through the door himself, Brigit of the Catuvellauni? Will you seek out another old man to entice with your youth and your pretty face? You will not be young forever!”
    Berikos’s face now darkened with anger.
“Be silent, Cailin!”
he ordered her. “I thought that we had come to bury Brenna this day, but I hear her voice coming from your mouth, excoriating me as she was ever wont to do. You speak of respect, but where is your respect for Brenna that you would disrupt her burial in such a manner? Now, be quiet, girl! I do not want to hear another word from your mouth this day.”
    Cailin glared at him defiantly, but she said nothing more. Brigit, however, burst into tears and ran from them, her two serving women chasing in her wake.
    Berikos groaned. “The gods only know what
that
will cost me,” he grumbled to Ceara and Maeve. “Perhaps I should beat the girl.”
    “Cailin’s anger is but a reflection of her pain, Berikos,” Ceara said wisely. “Remember that only six moon spans ago her entire family was cruelly wiped out by treachery. Only Brenna survived, and Cailin lived for Brenna. She has nursed her devotedly.”
    “My sister was all Cailin believed she had left,” Maeve chimed in. “Now Brenna is gone, too. Cailin is overwhelmed with her loneliness. Kyna was a good wife and mother. Her family was a close one.”
    “Aye,” Ceara said. “Think, Berikos. How would you feel if everyone you loved and held dear was no longer here, and you were the only one left? Cailin will never be able to replace those she has lost, but we must help her to make peace with herself and begin a new life.”
    “The girl has to learn to hold her tongue,” Berikos replied, his ego still stinging at his granddaughter’s harsh words. “You had best teach her some Dobunni manners. The next time I will beat her,” he threatened. He looked over to where the grieving girl now stood, some distance from them, by Brenna’s grave. Then Berikos walked away from his two wives, heading to his hall, where the Samain feasting would soon start.
    Ceara shook her head in despair. “They are so alike,” she said. “Cailin may be outspoken like Brenna, but she is every bit as stubborn as Berikos. They will clash again you may be certain.”
    “And Brigit will be seeking some sort of revenge,” Maeve fretted. “She is not used to being insulted in public, nor is she used to having Berikos not come to her defense at the merest slight.”
    That evening, Ceara kept Cailin busy helping with the Samain feast. Brigit, in the place of honor by her husband’sside, had dressed herself with special care. Her scarlet tunic dress was embroidered with gold at the neck and sleeves. About her slender neck was a delicate gold torque, filigreed and inlaid with red enamel. Pearls hung from her ears, and she wore her long black hair unbound, held only with a gold-and-pearl band about her high forehead.
    She watched her enemy and contemplated her vengeance. Nothing she had thought of so far was quite right. The time was obviously not right now, but when it came, she would certainly know it. In the meantime she would bind Berikos even closer to her so he would acquiesce to whatever she desired when the moment for her revenge was at