Authors: Bertrice Small
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 than children. Children know no better. Men do, and yet they will have their way. When are we to expect this proposed
bridegroom?”
Kyna clapped a hand to her mouth. “I was so distressed by Gaius’s news that I forgot to ask him. It must be soon, or he wouldn’t have said anything. Cailin’s birthday is in a few weeks. Perhaps Quintus Drusus will arrive by then. I expect that Gaius has been dealing in this perfidy since last summer. He knows the young man’s name, and even his history.” Her blue eyes grew angry. “Indeed, I am beginning to suspect this plot was hatched some time ago!”
“We will have to tell Cailin,” Brenna said. “She should be aware of her father’s actions. I know Gaius will not force her to marry this Quintus if she does not like him. That is not his way, Kyna. He is a just man.”
“Aye, he is,” Kyna admitted. “He has agreed that if Cailin refuses his choice, he will find Quintus Drusus another wife, and give him some land. Still, I wonder, Mother, will these Roman relations be content if their son marries another girl when they have been promised our daughter? There are no young girls of our acquaintance whose families can equal or even come near Cailin’s dowry. Times are very hard, Mother. Only my husband’s prudence has allowed Cailin the advantages of an heiress’s wealth.”
Brenna took her daughter’s hand in hers and patted it comfortingly. “Let us not seek out difficulties, or see them where none yet exist,” she said wisely. “Perhaps this Quintus Drusus will be the perfect husband for Cailin.”
“Husband?
What is this talk of a husband, Grandmother?”
The two older women started guiltily and, swinging about, came face to face with the main object of their discussion, a tall, slender young girl with wide violet-colored eyes and an unruly mop of auburn curls.
“Mother? Grandmother?
Who is Quintus Drusus?”
Cailin demanded. “I want no husband chosen for me; nor am I yet even ready to wed.”
“Then you had best tell your father that, my daughter,” Kyna said bluntly. Although she had worried about broaching this problem with Cailin, it was not her way to beat about the bush. Plain speech was best, particularly in a difficult situation like this. “Your father has sent to his family in Rome for a prospective husband for you. He thinks it is time you were married. Quintus Drusus is the young man’s name, and he is, I surmise, expected at any minute.”
“I will certainly not marry this Quintus Drusus,” Cailin said, with stony finality in her tone. “How could Father do such a thing? Why should I be married off before Flavius and Titus, or has he sent to Rome for brides to wed my brothers too? If he has, he will find they are no more eager than I am!”
Brenna could not help but laugh. “There is far more Celt than Roman in you, my child,” she said, chuckling. “Do not worry about this Quintus Drusus. Your father has said if you do not like him, you do not have to have him; but perhaps he will turn out to be the man of your dreams, Cailin. It is possible.”
“I cannot imagine why Father thinks I need a husband,” Cailin grumbled. “It is too ridiculous to even contemplate. I would much rather stay at home with my family. If I marry, then I must take charge of a household and have babies. I am not ready for all of that. I have had little enough freedom to do anything I really find interesting, for I am deemed too young, but suddenly I am old enough to wed. How absurd! Poor Antonia Porcius was married two years ago when she was just fourteen. Now look at her! She has two babies. She has grown fat, and she always looks tired. Is that what Father thinks will make me happy? And as for Antonia’s husband,
well! I hear he has taken a very pretty Egyptian slave girl to his bed. That shall not happen to me, I assure you. When the time comes, I will choose my own husband, and he will never stray from my side,
or I will kill him!”
“Cailin!” Kyna reproved her. “Where did you ever hear such salacious gossip about Antonia Porcius? I am surprised at your repeating it.”
“Ohh, Mother, everyone knows. Antonia complains about her husband at every turn. She feels put upon, and she very well may be, though I think it her own fault. The last time I saw her at the Saturnalia, she was unable to stop talking about all her woes. She pinned me in a corner for close to an hour chattering.
“It’s all her father’s fault, you know. He chose a husband for her. How smug she was at the time, too! She loved lording it over us other girls when we met at the festivals. Sextus Scipio was so handsome, she bragged. Handsomer than any husbands we’d ever get. Why, there wasn’t a man in all of Britain as handsome as he was. He was rich, too. Richer than any husbands we’d ever get. By the gods, how she carried on! She’s still carrying on, I fear, but now ’tis a different tune she sings. Well, that’s not for me! I will pick my own husband. He will be a man of character, and of honor.”
Brenna nodded. “Then you will choose wisely when the time comes, my child.”
“Like I chose,” Kyna said softly, and her companions smiled in their agreement.
When they came together that evening for their meal, Cailin teased her father. “I hear you have sent to Rome for a
very special
birthday gift for me, Father,” she said. Her large violet eyes twinkled with humor. She had had the afternoon to cool her temper. Now Cailin thought it very funny that her father believed her ready to marry. She had only begun her moon cycles a few months ago.
Gaius Drusus flushed nervously and eyed his daughter. “You are not angry?” Cailin had a fierce temper. Even he could be cowed by it. Her Celtic blood was far hotter than that of her twin brothers.
“I am not ready for marriage,” Cailin said, looking her father directly in the eye.
“Marriage? Cailin?”
Her brother Flavius hooted with laughter.
“The gods pity the poor fellow,” said his twin, Titus. “Who is this sacrificial offering on the altar of matrimony to be?”
“He comes from Rome,” Cailin told them. “One Quintus Drusus, by name. I believe he is escorting the maidens chosen to be your wives, dear brothers. Yes, I am certain he is. We’re to have a triple wedding. ‘Twill save our parents a fortune in these hard times. Now, what did Mother say the brides’ names were? Majesta and Octavia? No, I think it was Horatia and Lavinia.”
The two sixteen-year-olds paled, only realizing it was a jest when their entire family burst out laughing. Their relief was comical.
“You see, Father,” Cailin said. “The thought of anyone choosing their spouses is abhorrent to my brothers. It is even more abhorrent to me. Is there no way you can stop this Quintus Drusus from coming? His trip will be a wasted one. I will not marry him.”
“Quintus Drusus will be here in two days’ time,” Gaius said, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
“Two days!”
Kyna glared at her husband, outraged. “You
did not tell me until this man was but two days from our villa?
Ohh, Gaius! This is really too intolerable of you! Every servant is needed in the fields for the spring planting. I have no time to prepare for an unexpected guest from Rome.” She glowered fiercely at him.
“He is family,” Gaius replied weakly. “Besides, our home is always pristine, Kyna. You well know it.”
“The guest chamber must be cleaned and aired. It hasn’t been used in months. The mice always take up residence there when it is shut up. The bed needs a new mattress. The old one is filled with lumps. Do you know how long it takes to make a new mattress, Gaius? No, of course you do not!”
“Let him have the old mattress, Mother,” Cailin said. “He will leave all the quicker if he is uncomfortable.”
“He will not leave,” Gaius Drusus said, recovering his equilibrium, and his dignity as head of this household. “I have promised his father that Quintus will have a future in Britain. There is nothing for him in Rome. My cousin, Manius, begged me to find a place for the boy. I have given my word, Kyna.”
“You did not approach him first with this silly scheme to marry Cailin off?” she demanded. She was beginning to see the issue in a different light now.
“No. Manius Drusus wrote to me two years ago,” said Gaius. “Quintus is the youngest of his children. If he had been a girl it would have been easier, for they could have married off a girl with a modest dowry; but he is not a girl. There is simply no place for Quintus in Rome. The sons of Manius’s first marriage are all grown with children of their own. Manius parceled off his lands to them as each married. His daughters were well dowered, and wed as well.
“Then, after having been widowed for several years, he suddenly fell in love. His new wife, Livia, bore him first a daughter, and Manius was rich enough that there was enough for her dowry. Then Livia bore Manius a son. My cousin determined that the boy would inherit their house in Rome. His wife agreed that there must be no more children, but …”
Kyna laughed. “Cousin Manius dipped his wick one final time, and Quintus was born of their indiscretion,” she finished for her husband.
He nodded. “Aye. My cousin hoped to make another small fortune for this last child, but you know, Kyna, how bad Rome’s economy has been over these past years. The government is constantly spending more than it has to spend. The legions must be paid. Taxes have risen threefold. The coinage is so debased now as to be worth nothing. My cousin could but support his family. There was nothing to give young Quintus. So, Manius Drusus appealed to me to help him. He offered Quintus as a husband for our daughter. It seemed to me a good idea at the time.”
“It was not,” his wife said dryly, “and you really should have discussed it with me first.”
“I will not marry this Quintus Drusus,” Cailin said again.
“You have already told us that several times, my daughter,” Kyna said soothingly. “I am certain that your father accepts your decision in this matter, even as I do. The problem remains, however, of what we must do. Quintus Drusus has traveled hundreds of leagues from Rome to come to a new and better life. We cannot send him back to his old one. Your father’s honor—indeed, the honor of the whole family—is involved.” She furrowed her brow for a moment, and then she brightened. “Gaius, I believe I may have the answer. How old is Quintus Drusus?”
“Twenty-one,” he told her.
“We will tell him that we have decided Cailin is too young to marry at this time,” Kyna said. “We will imply his father misunderstood you. That all you offered was to give Quintus a start in Britain. If Cailin eventually fell in love with him, then a marriage could certainly take place. You did not actually make a marriage contract with Manius Drusus, Gaius, did you?” She looked anxiously at her husband.
“Nay, I did not.”
“Then we will have no problems,” Kyna said, relieved. “We will give young Quintus that little villa with its lands by the river, the one you purchased several years ago from the estate of Septimus Agricola. It’s fertile and has a fine apple orchard. We’ll supply him with slaves, and with hard work he can make it quite prosperous.”
Gaius Drusus smiled for the first time that day. “It is the perfect solution,” he agreed with her. “I could not manage without you, my dear, I fear.”
“Indeed, Gaius, I am most certainly of the same opinion,” Kyna replied.
The rest of the family laughed.
When they had recovered from their mirth, Cailin said, “But do not make a new mattress, Mother. We want Quintus Drusus gone from this house as quickly as possible, remember.”
There was more laughter. This time Gaius Drusus joined in, relieved that a potentially difficult situation had been resolved
by his beautiful, clever wife. He had not made a mistake all those years ago when he had married Kyna, the daughter of Berikos.
Two days later, exactly as predicted, Quintus Drusus arrived at the villa of his cousin. He came astride a fine redbrown stallion that his father had gifted him with when he departed Rome. Quintus Drusus’s sharp black eyes took in the rich, newly turned soil of his cousin’s farmland; the well-pruned trees in the orchards; the fine repair of the buildings; the good health of the slaves who were working outdoors in the spring sunlight. He was well-pleased by what he saw, for he had not been overly happy with the plans his father had made for him.
“You have no choice but to go to Britain,” his father had told him angrily when he had protested the decision. His mother, Livia, was weeping softly. “There is
nothing
for you here in Rome, Quintus. Everything I have is distributed among your siblings. You know this is to be true. It is unfortunate that you are my youngest child, and I can offer you neither land nor monies.
“Gaius Drusus Corinium is a very wealthy man with much land in Britain. Though he has two sons, he will dower his only daughter very well. She will have lands, a villa, gold! It can all be yours, my son, but you must pay the price for it, and the price is that you exile yourself from Rome. You must remain in Britain, work those lands you receive. If you do, you will be happy and comfortable all your days. Britain is most fertile, I have been told. It will be a good life, I promise you, Quintus,” his father had finished.