"Still, he saw the disintegration of the towns built by the Romans, and of the form of government that they left in place here. Vortigern, who calls himself King of the Britons, has never really consolidated the tribes. He is old now, and has no real power over the Dobunni, or any of the other Celts. To Berikos, your mother's marriage to your father was a great betrayal. He had planned to match her with a warrior named Carvilius. Our father hoped that Carvilius would help him regain all the Dobunni territory lost to the Romans over the years, but it was not to be. Kyna loved Gaius Drusus, and our father's dream was shattered."
"I know nothing at all about my mother's people. I will need to learn more if I am to understand," Cailin said slowly. "My grandmother says we cannot go back to my home. She says my cousin, Quintus Drusus, will kill me simply for my father's lands. I must become a Dobunni, Uncles. Is such a thing possible, I wonder?"
"You are Kyna's daughter," Eppilus answered her. "You are already a Dobunni."
I 1 1 I
Chapter 3
The village in which Cailin now found herself was the main village of the hill Dobunni Celts. It was a hill fort, typical of Celtic villages in Britain. There were fifteen houses within the walls, her grandfather's being the largest. All the dwellings but Berikos's were built of wood, with walls of mud and wattle, and had thatched roofs. The chieftain's house was stone with a thatched roof. There were ten other villages belonging to the hill Dobunni, but each had only eight houses apiece.
While the houses were comfortable, they were a far cry from the villa in which Cailin had been raised. The villa's floors had been made of marble or mosaic. The floor in her grandfather's hall was stone, while in the other Dobunni houses they were hard-packed dirt. The walls in the villa had been plaster, painted and decorated. Cailin had to admit to herself that the mud and wattle walls, while certainly not beautiful, kept out the rain and the cold. That was, after all, the true purpose of a wall. In her father's villa she had her own small bedchamber. In her grandfather's house she shared a comfortable sleeping space with Brenna. It was built into the wall and, Cailin thought, quite cozy.
"You are not at all spoilt," Ceara noted as Cailin shelled peas for her one afternoon. "I would have thought that being raised as you were, with slaves around you, you would know little and complain much."
"I was taught," Cailin told her, "that in the early days of Rome, women-even of the highest social order-were industrious and knowledgeable in the domestic arts. They personally oversaw their households. Although my father's family has lived in Britain for hundreds of years, those values were retained. My mother taught me how to cook, weave, and sew, among other things. I will be a good wife one day, Ceara."
Ceara smiled. "Yes, I think you will. But who will be your husband, Cailin Drusus? I am surprised you are not already married."
"There is no one who pleased me, Ceara," Cailin said. "My father tried once to match me, but I would not have it. I will choose my own husband when the right time comes. For now, I need to be free to nurse my grandmother and earn my keep. There is much I do not know."
Ceara was silent. At the Lugh festival, after the harvest had been brought in, there would be a great gathering of all the hill Dobunni. Perhaps there would be a young man there who would please Cailin. She was fifteen, close to being past marriageable age. Ceara, however, knew all the young men in the various villages. She could not think of one who might be right.
Cailin would need a husband before the year was out. Brenna would not live much longer than that. Although she had not seemed injured by the fire at the villa, her lungs had probably been seared by the heat and the smoke of the blaze. She had never regained her strength. The least effort was far too strenuous for her. She spent most of her time sitting or sleeping. Walking, even a short distance, taxed her, so that Corio would now carry Brenna from one place to another so she might remain a participant in their family life. If Cailin did not see her grandmother fading away, Ceara and Maeve did.
Daily life in Berikos's village revolved around cultivation of the fields and care of the livestock. The land belonged to the tribe in common, but ownership of stock separated the social classes. Berikos had a large herd of short-horned cattle that were used for milk, meat, and sometimes were sold. He owned sheep that grew wool of an excellent quality. Each man in his family had at least two horses, but Berikos had a herd. He possessed hens, geese, and ducks, and he kept pigs. Celtic salt pork was famed throughout the western world, and the Dobunni exported it on a regular basis. Berikos also raised hunting dogs of which he was inordinately proud.
Cailin learned to work in Ceara's vegetable garden. This was a type of labor her family had left to their slaves, but although she was distressed by the condition of her hands after several days' labor, Cailin learned from her cousin Nuala, Corio's little sister, that a cream of rendered sheep fat and Mary's gold would cure rough hands, or any part of her skin needing attention.
Nuala, who was almost fourteen, took Cailin with her when she watched over the sheep. Cailin enjoyed those hours out upon the green hillsides. Nuala told her all she needed to know about her Dobunni family, and Cailin in turn shared her life before her family's murders with Nuala. She was the first real friend Cailin had ever had. She was far kinder than the Romano-Briton girls Cailin had grown up with, and a great deal more fun-loving. Taller than Cailin, she had wonderful long dark hair, and bright blue eyes.
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.