To Love Again (50 page)

“If Antonia told him of the land’s history, it was done deliberately and for a purpose,” Cailin interjected. “I wonder why she did it?”

They stayed the night in Eppilus’s village. When the morning came, they were surprised to find that at least a hundred young men, some of whom they recognized and others they did not, had arrived. Wulf appointed both Corio and Winefrith his seconds-in-command. Those who had already had training in martial skills began to train those young men who had not. Another group of twenty men rode with Wulf, Cailin, and Nellwyn back to their hall. They carried with them enough thatch for the roof, and began work almost immediately. Eppilus had sent a wagonload of provisions along. Cailin and Nellwyn cooked simple meals that satisfied the workers before they fell asleep each night upon the floor in the hall. When they were not engaged over the cookfires, Cailin and her servant swept the dirt and the debris from the hall, along with a young fox vixen who had decided to make her den there, and a number of field mice who had attracted
the fox in the first place. The furniture that was repairable was set aside.

Each morning the work began anew, until several days later the hall was reroofed. Winefrith arrived with Nuala and began to repair the furniture that had been smashed.

Cailin sat outside the hall on a bench with her cousin. “Your father likes your new husband, and he seems a fair man,” she remarked.

“He is not Bodvoc,” Nuala admitted, “but then there will never be another like Bodvoc. Winefrith loves me totally, and he is so good. If there is no longer excitement in my life, at least I am not unhappy, Cailin. Do you remember the old fortune-teller at the Beltane fair back long ago who said I would have two husbands and many children? Well, she was right. Bodvoc and I spawned two bairns before he died.” Her hand went protectively to her belly. “Winefrith and I married last December at the solstice. I am already well gone with our first child.”

“You are fortunate,” Cailin told her. “I do not know what happened to the child I bore Wulf before I was kidnapped into slavery. I do not even know if it was a son or a daughter.”

“You will have others,” Nuala said reassuringly.

“Not unless Wulf and I can find some privacy,” Cailin admitted with a wry smile. “Our reunion was so swift, and then we escaped Byzantium. We sailed for forty days upon a tiny trading vessel, with no possible opportunity to be alone. Then we traveled through Gaul with Nellwyn always by our side, and all those merchants with us. It has been the three of us on the road here in Britain until we reached home. We have been so busy repairing the damaged caused by that damned Ragnar … There is just no time for us, Nuala! I know that there will be, but when? As for the child lost to us, if it lives, we want it. It is our flesh, and has a heritage to be proud of that we would share.”

“I can understand exactly how you feel,” Nuala replied. “I love little Commius and Morna dearly. If they were stolen from me, I should want to get them back. I would not just let them go.”

“Who is that on the hillside?” Cailin suddenly asked her cousin.

Nuala looked hard, then said, “I do not know, but it could be one of Ragnar’s men. Yes, I think it may be, for he is turning away and riding off. We had best tell your husband.”

Wulf and the others were just refitting new oak doors to the hall when Cailin and Nuala told him of the horseman on the hillside.

“Since we have not yet had time to build the wall, it is good we can at least close off the hall,” Wulf said grimly. He turned to Winefrith. “What do you think? Will he come with a large armed party?”

“This man was probably out hunting and just rode past by chance,” Winefrith said. “There are enough of us here to make it a standoff for now, I think, my lord. I will warn the men to be on their guard until we see what is to happen. Nuala, go into the hall. I do not want you outside should there be any kind of attack.”

“He called you ‘my lord,’ ” Cailin said in a low tone to her husband after Nuala had obeyed her husband’s order.

“Several of the men are beginning to do so,” Wulf said. “It is only natural. I am their leader, lambkin. I intend to be overlord of these lands, and all the lands to the north and east encompassing the Dobunni territory that once was, if I can hold them. I have the right to do it. The first challenge I face is Ragnar Strongspear. He may have the territory to the south and west, if he chooses, but these lands are mine, and I will fight for them.”

“I will be by your side, my lord husband,” Cailin said quietly.

He put an arm about her shoulder. “We will survive this new age, lambkin, and we will leave a great holding for our sons and our daughters. We will not be moved from our lands again.”

“And we will make Antonia Porcius tell us what happened to our child. I did not deliver a son so large that I was torn apart. There is something I am striving to remember about those last moments, Wulf. I distinctly recall hearing the cry
of a healthy infant, but there is something more, if I could but remember it. I know our child is alive!”

“If he is, lambkin, we will find him,” Wulf said.

There appeared on the crest of the hill a party of some ten horsemen who began their descent. They were led by a large helmeted man who carried a long spear.

“I remain by your side,” Cailin said, forestalling her husband’s objection. “I run from no man, and especially not on our own lands.”

He said nothing, but he was proud to have her for a wife. She was a strong woman to have survived slavery, and if they could ever find a moment to be together again, they would make strong sons.

The horsemen rode relentlessly onward. Ragnar Strongspear observed the silent couple as he came. The man was a warrior, he was certain, no Saxon farmer to be easily frightened off. The woman was beautiful, but she was not a Saxon woman. A Briton most likely, and a proud wench to boot. She stood unafraid by her man’s side, an almost defiant stance to her body. It was a body, he thought, he could enjoy becoming familiar with, and from the look of her, she was a woman who had both met and enjoyed passion.

As the horsemen drew to a halt before Wulf and Cailin, their helmeted leader said in a deep, hard voice, “You are trespassing here.”

“Are you the savage who tried to burn my hall?” Wulf demanded coolly in reply. “If you are, then you owe me a forfeit, and I’ll have it now.”

It was hardly the answer Ragnar Strongspear was expecting. He glared at his antagonist and snarled fiercely,
“Who are you?”

“I am Wulf Ironfist, and this is my wife, Cailin Drusus. Who are you, and what do you do here on my lands?”

“I am Ragnar Strongspear, and these are
my
lands,” was the reply. “I hold them for one of my wives, Antonia Porcius.”

“These lands do not belong to Antonia Porcius,” Wulf answered, “and they never did, Ragnar Strongspear. You have been misled if she told you so. These lands are the hereditary
holdings of the Drusus Corinium family. My wife Cailin is the sole surviving member of that family. These are her lands. I hold them for her. We have been away in Byzantium, and I return to find my hall half destroyed, my belongings either stolen or ravaged, and my slaves disappeared. This is your doing, I assume, or am I mistaken?” Wulf finished, looking hard at the man.

“Do you expect me to just take your word for such a claim?” Ragnar Strongspear said angrily. “I am not a fool. Why should I believe you?”

“Does old Anthony Porcius still live?” Wulf asked.

“Aye, he has a place in my hall,” Ragnar Strongspear said.

“And are his wits still with him?”

“Aye, they are. Why do you ask, Wulf Ironfist?”

“Because he can attest to the truth of my words, Ragnar Strongspear. I will come with you now. You will see I speak the truth.”

“Very well, I am as eager as you to settle this matter,” was the surly reply.

Ragnar Strongspear took in all that had been done to restore the hall. He was impressed by what he saw. He knew in his heart that Wulf Ironfist had not invested his time and effort for naught. He did not appear to be the sort of man who took foolish chances, and the fact that he knew Anthony Porcius by name led Ragnar to believe the warrior spoke the truth. Why had Antonia lied to him?

Wulf and Cailin reappeared now on horseback, surrounded by a group of a dozen armed men. “You will not mind that we are escorted,” Wulf said with a straight face. “I cannot know what we may encounter.”

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
!”