"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!"