To Love Again - Bertrice Small [41]
He shook his head, and murmured low to her, “But what sport can the little mongrel bitch give him, Brigit? She is an untutored virgin.”
“All the better reason to give her to the Saxon. First-night rights are considered a special privilege among all tribes. You honor the Saxon by giving him those rights with one he will consider to be of your own blood.”
Berikos looked craftily at the young girl next to him. She certainly was beautiful, he thought grudgingly. Her coloring was unique and had a certain provocativeness to it. It was past time she lost her virginity. They would have to find her a husband soon, and she would need to know how to please a man. No man wanted a bride who was frightened, or clumsy in bed. He turned back to Wulf Ironfist. “We have spoken enough on this matter tonight, my young friend. I do not know if I agree with you, but you have given me pause for thought. I am not so old that I cannot change if I must. Let us speak on this again on the morrow. It is our custom to honor a guest by giving him one of our women to warm his bed. I will give you my granddaughter, Cailin. She will share her sleeping space with you this night, will you not, girl?”
If he had struck her, Cailin could not have been more surprised. Then she saw Brigit smiling broadly at her, and Cailin knew instantly who had put the old man up to this mischief. Her instinct was to refuse and flee the hall. What Berikos was asking of her was unthinkable. But then as reason quickly overcame her overwrought emotions, Cailin realized that to refuse would not only enrage Berikos, but embarrass him, and the Dobunni as well. She had never felt more alone in her entire life. The smirking Brigit had certainly enacted a fine revenge. She knew that the Romano-Britons kept their daughters virgins until marriage, unlike the Celts. Yet whatever husband they found for her would be a Celt. He would not consider her lost virginity a deficit. She had no other choice.
“Well, girl?” the old man snarled threateningly.
“As you will, Berikos,” she answered him, looking directly into the old man’s eyes until he turned away. She had never been more frightened in all her life, but she would not give Brigit the satisfaction of knowing it.
“Good, good,” he muttered, then turned to his wife. “It is time for us to retire, Brigit. Bid our guest good night. I will join you shortly at your house.”
Brigit arose from the table all smiles. “Good night, Wulf Ironfist. May your pleasures be great, and many,” she tittered. “I will await your coming with eagerness, my lord,” she told Berikos, and then with another bright smile, Brigit hurried from the hall.
“Go to your bed space now, Cailin,” her grandfather ordered her. “Wulf Ironfist and I will have a final cup of mead together while you await his coming.”
Cailin stood up and moved slowly from the high board. She said no word of farewell to Berikos, and certainly none was necessary for the handsome Saxon who sat with him. Berikos would surely direct the young man to her sleeping space when the time came. She frankly wasn’t certain what kind of protocol was involved in such an arrangement. It was better she remain silent.
Reaching her sleeping space, Cailin opened her little storage chest, removed her gown, and stored it neatly away with her little jeweled fillet. Should she remove her camisa? She honestly did not know. She had never in her whole life seen her parents abed together. She knew absolutely nothing of what would transpire between herself and Wulf Ironfist. No mother in her culture would discuss such serious matters with her daughter until she was ready to marry. As Cailin had never settled upon a husband, there had been no talk about the intimacies shared by a man and a woman. Her twin brothers had been as protective of her as were