To Love Again - Bertrice Small [5]
Berikos, however, had never forgiven Kyna for her marriage. She sent him word of the birth of her sons, and another message when Cailin had been born, but true to his word, the Dobunni chieftain behaved as if she did not exist. Kyna’s mother, however, came from their village after Cailin’s birth. She immediately announced that she would remain with her daughter and son-in-law. Her name was Brenna, and she was Berikos’s third wife. Kyna was her only child.
“He does not need me. He has the others,” was all Brenna would say by way of explanation. So she had stayed, appreciating perhaps even more than her daughter the civilized ways of the Romanized Britons.
The villa in which Brenna now lived with her daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren was small but comfortable. Its porticoed entrance with four white marble pillars was impressive in direct contrast to the informal, charming atrium it led to. The atrium was planted with Damascus roses, which had a longer blooming season than most, due mainly to their sheltered location. In the atrium’s center was a little square pool in which water lilies grew in season and small colored fishes lived year-round. The villa contained five bedchambers, a library for Gaius Drusus, a kitchen, and a round dining room with beautiful plaster walls decorated with paintings of the gods’ adventures among the mortals. The two best features of the house, as far as Brenna was concerned, were the tiled baths and the hypocaust system that heated the villa in the damp, chilly weather. Beyond the entrance there was nothing grand about the house, which was constructed mostly of wood with a red tile roof, but it was a warm and cozy dwelling, and its residents were happy.
They had been a close family, and if Kyna had one regret, it was that her in-laws insisted upon remaining in Corinium. They liked the town with all its bustle, and Titus had his place on the council. For them life at the villa was dull. As the years passed, and the roads became more dangerous to travel, their visits grew less frequent.
Although neither Kyna nor her husband remembered the days when the legions had overflowed their homeland, keeping Britain’s four provinces and their roads inviolate, their elders did. Julia bemoaned the legions’ loss, for without them civil authority outside the towns was hard to maintain. A plea to Rome several years after the withdrawal of the armies had been answered curtly by the emperor. The Britons would have to fend for themselves. Rome had troubles of its own.
Then suddenly, three years ago, Gaius and Kyna had been sent word that Julia was ill. Gaius had taken a party of armed men and hurried to Corinium. His mother had died the day after his arrival. To his surprise and even deeper sorrow, his father, unable to cope with the loss of the wife who had been with him for most of his adult life, pined away, dying less than a week later. Gaius had seen to their burial. Then he had returned home, and the remaining family had drawn in even closer.
Now, Kyna Benigna left her husband to his accounts and hurried off to find her mother. Brenna was in the herb garden transplanting young plants into the warm spring soil.
“Gaius has sent to his family in Rome for a husband for Cailin,” Kyna said without any preamble.
Brenna climbed slowly to her feet, brushing the dirt from her blue tunic as she did so. She was an older version of her daughter, but her braids were prematurely snow-white, providing a startling contrast to her bright blue eyes. “What in the name of all the gods possessed him to do a silly thing like that?” she said. “Cailin will certainly accept no husband unless she herself does the choosing. I am surprised that Gaius could be so foolish. Did he not consult with you beforehand, Kyna?”
Kyna laughed ruefully. “Gaius rarely consults with me when he plans to do something he knows I will disapprove of, Mother.”
Brenna shook her head. “Aye,” she answered. “It is the way of men. Then we women are left to repair the damage done, and to clean up the mess. Men, I fear, are worse