To Love Again - Bertrice Small [23]
“Put her there, boy, on the bench by the fire pit,” the older woman commanded. “Then go and fetch my medicines.” She looked at Cailin. “Are you squeamish, or can you help?”
“Tell me what you would have me do,” Cailin answered.
“I am Ceara, Berikos’s first wife,” the tall woman said. “You are Kyna’s daughter, are you not? You look like her, yet there is something a bit different about you.”
“Yes, I am Kyna’s daughter. My name is Cailin.” The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “Will Grandmother die?” she asked.
“I do not know yet,” Ceara answered honestly. “What happened?”
Cailin shook her head. “I do not know. I came home from the Beltane festival. The house was ablaze, and Grandmother had collapsed outside. She says my family is dead, but I know nothing more. She was insistent we come here. She would not even allow me to inform the authorities, or wait for the slaves to return from their holiday.”
“Berikos! Brenna’s voice rasped harshly. “I must speak with Berikos!” She struggled to rise from the bench where she lay.
“You must lie quietly, Brenna,” Ceara told her. “I will send for Berikos, but if you persist in this behavior, you will not live to tell him whatever it is you must tell him. Rest now.”
“Ceara! What is this I hear? Brenna has returned?” Another woman, not quite as tall as Ceara, but taller than Cailin, joined them. She had the prettiest, sweetest face that Cailin could ever remember having seen. There was something familiar about it, and yet Cailin could not place it. That face was now puckered with distress as she bent over the half-conscious woman. Her blue eyes filled with tears. “Brenna! It really is you! Ohh, I never thought to see you again!”
“Maeve,” Brenna said softly, but Cailin heard the affection in her grandmother’s tone. “You are still a fool, I see.”
Maeve bent down and kissed the injured woman’s brow. “And you are still stubborn and filled with pride, my sister.”
“Sister?” Cailin looked at Ceara.
“Maeve is your grandmother’s younger sister. Did you not know that, child? No, I see you did not.”
“Why does Grandmother call her a fool?” Cailin wondered, realizing that Maeve’s familiar face was a slightly younger version of Brenna’s.
“Your grandmother and Berikos were not a good match,” Ceara said honestly. “They married in haste born of their overwhelming lust for each other. By the time they realized it, your grandmother was with child. Several years later your grandfather found himself truly in love with Maeve, and she with him. Brenna was appalled. She feared history would repeat itself, and she adored her sister, who is five years younger. She pleaded with Maeve not to wed Berikos, but Maeve refused to listen. Brenna called her a fool, and has referred to her as such ever since, despite the fact the marriage between Maeve and Berikos was a successful one.” Ceara turned to the other woman. “Go and fetch Berikos, Maeve. He is at her house.”
Corio returned with his grandmother’s medicine basket, and Ceara began the task of examining Brenna’s wound. She cut away some of Brenna’s thick white hair, shaking her head at the size of the wound. This was far more serious than anything she had ever seen. Brenna’s hair was severely matted with all the blood she had lost. The skull bone itself was open and had a large chip missing from it. Ceara wasn’t even certain she could close the wound. Nature would have to do the job. As gently as she could, she cleaned the wound with wine, wincing when Brenna groaned. She sprinkled one of her healing powders generously over it, and then bandaged it with clean, dried moss. She had never felt so helpless in her entire life.
The girl had stood by her side, handing her what she needed, and never flinching once. Her presence seemed to soothe Brenna. Frankly, Ceara thought that only rest, time, and the will of the gods could make a difference now.
Corio had gone from the hall for a time and now returned, a small bowl in his hand. He gave it to his grandmother. “I thought that perhaps you would want this for Brenna,” he said.
She smiled up at him approvingly.