The procession was well underway before Aífe realized that Lucius was missing. She searched the line of mourners from beginning to end but still could not see him. She was concerned but felt sure she would finally find him when they camped for the night. Someone probably needed his help near the end of the procession, she reasoned. She pushed fear out of her mind by focusing on the needs of those around her.

At dusk, as the travelers stopped to rest and cook lavish meals for the mourners and local villagers, she paced the campfires, seeking Lucius. Surely he would have caught up to her by now. She went from group to group asking, describing him and explaining who he was. No one had seen him. Aífe returned to her own fire and sat poking the embers, trying to answer her questions with logic. Sleep she could not find.

The next day was no different. Lucius did not come, and now Aífe was beside herself. She reached into her crane bag and pulled out the dark blue lapis. “I must remember that the whole universe is around me. There are stars above me and stars below and a great star at the center of the earth. My personal problems are very small … no more than dust. I must calm my fears and keep my perspective …”

When the procession reached the border of Torcrad, Rochad, the old Ard-Ri, joined the procession with his formal retinue of twelve mounted warriors and added his own lavish hospitality to the tents, multiplying the wheaten bread, fion, and cauldrons of stew and roasted meats that Cadla had already provided. The funeral turned into a spectacle such as had not been seen in a generation or more.

Still Aífe searched.

It took three days to reach the ancient burial grounds of Gaine’s kin, a place hallowed by long use, next to the main road where a thick wood of oak surrounded a cleared grassy area, filled with its ancient mounds. In the center was a rectangular tomb of stone that had held the bones of Gaine’s ancestors since time began.

The keening grew louder as the tomb came in sight, for the time of final farewells was approaching. Harp players, drummers, singers, and carnyx players gave vent to their grief, sending music soaring to drive out harmful spirits and to honor the deceased. Last offerings were made: sprays of the sacred Golden Bough imported from Letha, haunches of meat, vats of curmi and fion, and burning braziers of artemisia were placed on the cart that held Gaine’s body.

The entire cart was wheeled into the stone enclosure, and, as a final gesture, the horse that had pulled it was sacrificed and laid to rest inside to provide a companion and helper for Gaine in her next life.

When everyone had made their tributes, Cadla strode forward, making sure he was the center of attention by swirling his long purple cape and flashing his silver mail in the sunlight. He wanted to make the most of this very public moment and use his devotion to the old Ard-Ban-Drui to full advantage with the crowd.

He stepped to the entrance of the tomb bearing an expensive length of purple cloth as his personal grave offering. And then he noticed Aífe’s blond curls.

He nearly faltered as his attention caught and wandered, his breath stuck in his throat. Aífe, the woman who had scorned him and his offer of queenship, stood there brazenly in the sun. A flame shot up from his thighs to his chest, a fire mixed of rage and lust. His thoughts came fast and tangled. How dare she stand there in the light of day and show herself before me again, and how much more beautiful than before. I will have her!

Aífe’s attention was distracted. She mourned Gaine’s death, and Lucius’s disappearance made her turn constantly to scan the crowd. Her back was to the bier.

Cadla reached the funeral cart, hardly knowing what he was about. He dropped the cloth at the foot of the bier, turned, and walked up to Aífe, gripping her arm tightly before she had time to see who had come up beside her.

“You fled once,” he hissed into her ear. “You have no protection now.” He gritted his teeth and squeezed her arm until she winced, then propelled her towards the bier to bow with him in a final show of respect to Gaine. Aífe did not cry out but composed her face into a mask of calm. Her mind and heart were seething.

Lucius will find me soon, she thought, willing panic away. This man is a slave to his base emotions. I do not need to play into his drama. All I need to do is keep my dignity and wait. Surely the gods must have a plan.

She was as good as handfasted to Lucius, and she knew that even a king dare not force her to break such a vow, and she had already faced the test of the terror of the open seas. As long as Lucius was alive, somewhere, she had everything she wanted. She would wait out this unpleasantness. She would endure.

But from then on, Aífe was watched, followed everywhere by guards, and forced to sit at Cadla’s feet in the royal tent as he dined with Rochad and members of the flaith, all the way back to In Medon.

“What a charming … consort you have,” said the male flaith enviously, not knowing her proper title. The women saw only that she was beautiful and sad.

“She is my concubine,” Cadla would answer, loud enough for everyone to hear.

He left bruises on the backs of her arms if she uttered a sound. In former days, she could have sought protection from the Druid, but due to the influence of the Cristaidi they had recently been debased to mere magicians in the laws and now had no more status than free farmers. They could no longer exert their influence with the nobles, unless the nobles had a mind to listen.

Aífe’s thoughts circled around her situation. I can’t turn to the Cristaidi priests of the new religion since I have no relationship with them, and in any case the Cristaidi do not seem to care much for the dignity of women. They expect a woman to obey a man, no matter the cost, and are even demanding that women be forbidden from carrying weapons, leaving women vulnerable and defenseless.

I knew that returning to everyday life on the island was going to be a shock and a challenge after my one precious summer on Innis nan Druidneach, but I had not thought it would be this difficult, and so quickly. If I can just stay calm until we get back to In Medon, I will get a message to Ruadh somehow. He will call up the fiana if necessary to save me from this mess.

She was even beginning to wonder if Cadla had deliberately done something to keep Lucius away.

Cadla gathered up costly items of clothing from the noblewomen in the entourage and demanded that Aífe shed her simple green woolen robes and instead wear costly imported silks. The golden jewels he bestowed on her burned her skin like fire. She fought like a ban-sídaige at night when he pulled her to him, grinding his pelvis and lips hard against her tender places, pinning down her arms as she lay on the bed.

“Scream this time and you are dead,” he said, throwing her to the ground inside their tent, aware that no one could see. But he did not force her, knowing that a rape charge would carry disgrace and loss of face—that much of the old tribal law still dwelled in his conscience.