turned off on a barely discernible tract. It was raining when they made camp that night. They huddled within the cart, listening to the rain on its canvas roof, the small space nicely warmed, as it had all winter long, by the little brazier Cailin had insisted upon. They had seen virtually no one since leaving Corinium, but Wulf insisted on their keeping watch nonetheless.
“We can’t afford to lose everything now,” he said. “We’ll move out before dawn. With any luck, we should reach our hall by mid-afternoon.”
It rained again the next day, and huddled upon the bench in the cart, driving the black mare, Cailin realized she had forgotten how damp and chilly an English spring could be. She almost missed the constantly sunny days she had enjoyed in Byzantium, but still she was content to be home, she decided, shivering. Around her the land was familiar once again. Suddenly they topped a hillock and, stopping, Cailin looked down upon her family’s lands for the first time in almost three years.
Wulf swore volubly. “The hall is burned!” he said. “Damn Antonia for an interfering bitch! She’ll pay for it, I vow!”
“Why did Bodvoc not stop her, I wonder?” Cailin asked.
“I do not know, but I will soon find out. We will have to begin from the beginning once more, lambkin. I am sorry.”
“It is not your fault, Wulf,” Cailin soothed him. “We will survive this as we have survived all the rest of our dark destiny.”
As they made their way down the hillside, Cailin noticed that the fields lay fallow and the orchards were not pruned. What had happened here? She brought her cart to a halt before what had been their little hall. The damage, to her great relief, did not look as bad now that they could see it close up, as it had appeared from the hillside. Their thatched roof had indeed been burned, but as they walked about, Cailin and Wulf could see the heavy beams of the roof were just scorched. The fire pits were intact, and some of their furnishings, battered but repairable, were still there. Much was gone, however, including the heavy oaken doors of the hall. Still, with a new roof they could salvage it.
“We’ll have to thatch the roof first,” he said.
“We cannot do it ourselves,” Cailin answered him. “Where are our slaves and farm workers?” She sighed. “You know the answer to that as well as I do. We will have to go to her and retake our property. Then, too, there is the matter of our child. Antonia is the only one who has the answer to that puzzle, and I will pry it out of her.”
“Let us go to the Dobunni first,” Wulf suggested. “They will know what has happened. I think we are wiser learning that before we beard Antonia Porcius over these matters. She has obviously driven Bodvoc and Nuala off, or they would have protected our holding.”
“Let us bring the cart into the hall,” Cailin said. “Then we can take the horses to my grandfather’s village. Should anyone pass by, it will seem as if nothing is different here as long as the cart is hidden.”
“Do not leave me here alone,” Nellwyn begged them. “I am afraid.”
“You and I will ride the mare together,” Cailin reassured her servant. “The hall is uninhabitable, but soon we will repair it.”
They led the black mare into the hall, unhitched her from the cart and pushed the vehicle into a dark corner, where it was obscured from view even to someone entering the half ruin. Then the two women mounted the beast. Cailin rode in front, holding the reins, and Nellwyn behind her, clutching her mistress about her slender waist. Wulf led the mare from the building, and mounting his own animal, they headed off up the hills, across the meadows, and through the woods, to Berikos’s Dobunni village.
They knew immediately as they approached the hill fort that something was very wrong. There were no guards posted, and they were able to enter the village unimpeded. The place was deserted, and upon closer inspection, they could see it had been so for some time.
“What has happened?” Cailin said, not just a little afraid.
Wulf shook his head. “There were other villages, I know. Can you tell me where they were located, lambkin? The Dobunni cannot have simply disappeared from the face of the earth in the two and a half years that we were gone from Britain. They must