take a few days of our time,” he told them. “We will right a wrong, and Cailin can go home again to raise her children, to give honor to her dead family, to live in peace as we would live.” He looked to his companions, and when each head among them nodded in assent, he turned back to Wulf Ironfist, saying, “We’ll do it!”
“Get a good night’s rest, then, my lads,” the Saxon told them. “We leave in the morning.” Then he dismissed them, but Corio touched his arm, obviously wishing to speak further with him as the others hurried off in all different directions. “What is it, Corio?”
“I must tell you something, Wulf,” the younger man said. “It’s about my grandfather, but you must keep what I reveal secret for now.”
“I agree,” Wulf said.
Corio did not dissemble, but came right to the point. “The men have had a clandestine meeting. As you know, Berikos lives in the past—a past he was not even a part of, which makes it even odder. As he grows older, this determination of his to drive all the Romans from Britain grows and eats at him. Brigit encourages him in it. We have no wish to join him in his folly, but while he is our chief we must give him obedience. However, we have the option of replacing him with another. My father, Eppilus, has been chosen to lead the hill Dobunni. Berikos can retire with honor and spend his days amusing himself in whatever manner he chooses.”
“When will this happen?” Wulf Ironfist asked.
“Just before Beltane,” Corio answered him. “We will retake Cailin’s lands, and then we will return to help the others depose my grandfather.”
“I think it a wise decision that has been made,” Wulf said. “Some men in power grow old, and their wisdom but increases along with their age. Their judgment remains sound, and good. Others, however, lose their sense of proportion with the passing years. Berikos is one of these, I fear. Your people will never truly have peace as long as he is your ruler. I understand your desire for peace. I have seen enough war to last me a lifetime. I will not fight again except in defense of my lands and my family. There is no other reason for it.”
“I have lived my entire life here among these hills,” Corio replied. “The farthest I have ever been away is to the town of Corinium. It is a wondrous place, with its paved streets, its shops and pottery works, the theaters and the arena. Still, I could not have lived there, Wulf. It is too noisy, too busy, too dirty; and there are, I am told, places even larger than Corinium, here in this land. They say there is a huge town in the southeast called Londinium. Two roads from Corinium lead to it if one rides far enough, but I never have had the desire to follow either of those roads.
“I have heard your stories of the battles you fought in Gaul and in the Rhineland. They did not fill me with excitement like they did some of the lads. They frightened me, and Celts are not supposed to fear anything. Like you, I can see no reason for fighting except to keep one’s lands and one’s family from harm. The majority of us feel this way, and so Berikos must go. He will not be happy, but he will have no choice but to accept the will of the Dobunni.”
“Brigit certainly will not be happy,” Wulf noted. “You had best beware her. She is a wicked woman, and will not hesitate to do a bad turn to those she thinks have betrayed her, or Berikos.”
“You do not have to tell me about Brigit,” Corio said quietly. “When she first came to our hill fort as my grandfather’s bride, she tried to seduce me. She has never forgiven me for repulsing her. I am not the only man she has approached, either. It would be one thing if Berikos offered her, but he has not. He is very proud of her, and jealous of any man who looks her way. You are right when you say she will not be happy. To be a chieftain’s wife gives her a certain rank, but to be simply the wife of an old man does not.” Corio smiled. “I think I shall enjoy her discomfort, and I shall not be the only person who revels in her downfall. Few