Highland Raven (13 page)

I was not visited again by
the Wyrd Sisters all that summer, but I remembered my visits to them and began practicing their art. I sought visions in the flames or in the cauldron, looking for what I knew and what I didn’t. Mostly I sought Sid, when she was away from the coven, Madelaine, and Banquo. Once I found Madelaine at Malcolm’s court, the King looking at his half-sister with disinterest. Sid was harder to find. She always appeared like a shimmering silhouette surrounded by hues of green. There were people, glimmering people, near her, laughing, but I could never quite make anyone out. When I found Banquo, I could not see where he was, but around him I often saw darkness and fire. Sometimes I would catch glimpses of the black-haired man, usually at the side of his blond-haired warrior giant friend and at sea. Despite the Wyrd Sister’s words about him being my King, my curiosity had faded. I wanted Banquo, not a phantom.

Thora was growing into her fat little feet, and with the passage of time, she had grown several inches. As Banquo had mentioned, I began teaching her how to track. I started with little things, just hiding objects in my cabin and letting her find them. It wasn’t very long until she seemed expert at the task.

Thora and I were not the only ones growing, changing. It was harvest season. Just days before the autumnal equinox, I woke to find Gwendelofar crying. She was curled up on her bed.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Oh, Cerridwen,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wakes you.”

I slid out of my bed and on hers. I put my arm around her. “What’s happened? Should I get Epona?”

Gwendelofar shook her head.

“What is it, sister?”

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered. “I want the child, but I’ll have to leave, and I have nowhere to go.”

“The father? It’s…Sigurd?”

She nodded glumly. “Oh Cerridwen, think I loves him, but I don’t know where he is or if he loves me! My child is a Beltane babe!”

Gwendelofar was shaking. I took her hands. “Sigurd will be here for the harvest festival any day now. Talk to him. Tell him your feelings. Perhaps he feels the same. The child
is
merry-begot, which means it will be a special child. Perhaps Sigurd will want to raise the child with you.”

“I don’t know,” Gwendelofar said sadly.

On Beltane, any child conceived is a child of the Stag God, the Father God, the wild man of the forest, not the human father. The human father could not claim and had no right to a merry-begot babe. This also meant the father had no responsibility toward that child. It would solely be on choice, both Sigurd’s and Gwendelofar’s, if they should raise the child together.

“Well, soon you will learn. If not, you will raise the child yourself. Madelaine can find a place for you and your child in her household.”

“Really? You’re sure?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. Knowing Madelaine, I knew I didn’t even have to ask. And with Alister gone, it would be a safer place. Or at least I hoped.

“Fate gives me a mixed blessing,” she whispered, wiping away a tear.

“That’s something fate likes to do,” I answered. I thought of my own mixed blessings—how much I loved Madelaine, but how much I wished I could have been raised by my own parents. But then I remembered, when it had been put to the question, I had once chosen Madelaine over Boite.

That cold winter eve when I had found my father in the snow, we rode back to Alister’s castle, surprising an unsuspecting Madelaine. My father convinced Tavis and I not to announce his arrival. He wanted to surprise his sister.

“This way, father,” I told him, trying to hide the excitement in my voice as I led my father down the hallway to the small sitting room where Madelaine and the others sat sewing beside the fire.

I kept turning again and again to look at him. He was so enormous, like a giant bear in his furs. He smiled kindly at me. Every time I looked at him, I searched his face for myself. And every time, be it the shape of his nose, the line of his brow, or his eyes, I found traces of myself there. When I was with my father, it made me feel like I actually belonged somewhere, to someone. I loved Madelaine, but she was not truly my mother.

“Wait here,” I told my father as I pushed open the chamber door.

Madelaine looked up at me. “Corbie, I’ve been worried. Where did you fly off to, Little Raven?”

“I went to get a present for you.”

“For me?” She set down her sewing and looked at me. “What do you have today? Let me see!”

“It’s quite large,” I told her. “Close your eyes.”

The other ladies in the room suddenly became interested.

Madelaine giggled. “All right, my dear,” she said then closed her eyes.

I opened the door to let my father in. I put my finger to my lips, shushing the other women in the room who all gasped when I led Boite inside. I led him to stand in front of Madelaine.

“Ready?” I asked.

Madelaine wrinkled her nose. “I smell snow.”

“Open your eyes,” I told her.

When Madelaine opened her eyes, a shocked expression crossed her face. She dropped everything and jumped up, wrapping her arms around her brother’s neck. Boite had to hold her by the waist to keep her up.

“My brother!” she said excitedly. “My brother! Why have you come? Is anything the matter?”

Taking their cue, the waiting women picked up their belongings and left.

“Here, come close to the fire,” she told him, pulling a chair near the hearth. She pushed him into the seat then began unlacing his boots. “You’re chilled to the bone. Warm your feet by the flames. Corbie, get your daddy a mulled wine,” she told me, sending me scrambling. “Is it Malcolm? Has he died? Alister? He was at court. Has anything happened to him? Is war coming?”

“Sister, sister,” Boite said with a laugh. “Peace, sister. I do come with family news, but the news is fair,” he said.

I poured a mulled wine from the copper decanter sitting by the fire and handed it to my father. He took the drink from me then kissed my hand.

I stood behind Madelaine and watched.

“I’ve a new wife,” he said then.

Madelaine stopped for a moment, her hands growing still. She didn’t look up.

Boite drank his wine. “Northern girl. A daughter of Moray. She’s quite young. I’ve got her at Malcolm’s court. I’ve come…I’ve come to see if Gruoch would like to join her stepmother.”

For a moment, Madelaine said nothing. “
If
she would like?”

I stared at both of them. What did he mean he had a new wife? Would he really take me to Malcolm’s court? Would I really join the royal household? Certainly, I deserved to be there as much as anyone. But how could I leave Madelaine?

“I’ve no wish to break the hearts of the two women I love most in this world. It is Gruoch’s choice. I would not abuse either of you by forcing my will on the matter.”

Boite looked from Madelaine to me. His eyes were soft. The awkwardness of the situation struck all of us. My father wanted me. I could live the life of a royal girl, be exposed to all the niceties of court rather than the debauchery of this castle. I could be near him. And in exchange, I would leave the woman who raised and loved me.

Madelaine turned at looked at me. “Don’t answer now. Think it over,” she said then looked back at her brother. “Tell us about your new wife,” she said then, pulling off Boite’s boots.

“Aedha. She’s a wee lass. Pleasant spirit, but not hardy stock. I had expected more from Moray. She is sweet and kind.”

Madelaine nodded. “Is she one of us?” she asked. One of us. Madelaine used the phrase from time to time. One of us, a follower of the old ways, those who carry on the belief in the ancient things.

Boite shook his head. “There are not so many of us left, dear sister.”

I stared at them. My father wanted me. He wanted me with him. My heart sung. But then I looked at Madelaine. I had grown up under her watchful eyes, felt her loving kisses. Madelaine had always put me first. How many times had she taken a blow from Alister then straightened her back and attended to my needs with no thought for herself. There was nothing worse I could have done to Madelaine than leave her.

“I’ll stay with Madelaine,” I blurted out, interrupting their conversation.

They both turned and looked at me.

“Are you certain?” Madelaine asked. “The court life would be a good life for you. You would be able to get to know everyone, grow up amongst the royal ladies, alongside your cousins.”

I shook my head. “I’ll stay here,” I told Madelaine whose eyes watered. I turned to my father. “If you’ll pardon me, father, I will stay with Madelaine.”

My father smiled at me. “Praise the gods you love each other so well. As you will, Little Raven. But should you ever wish to come, you are welcome.”

Fate. Fate had offered me my father. But my will had trumped all. I stayed with Madelaine until the Goddess called. And my father and his new bride…both were dead before I ever had the chance to make good on his invitation. If I had known that visit would be his last, I might have chosen a different fate.

Two days after I found Gwendelofar
in tears, the bards arrived to celebrate the autumnal equinox. It had been a magnificent growing season. We had a bounty of food. Every day leading up to the celebration, Druanne had us all harvesting herbs, gourds, grains, and all manner of foods. Uald brought home fish and wild game. All of our houses and the coven square were filled with flower cuttings. Gwendelofar worked with Druanne to extract plant and flower oils. She came home smelling like flowers.

I was in the square preparing a broth with Uald when the bards arrived. Epona came out to give greetings.

“My friends! Welcome back,” she called.

Uald, her hands sticky with fish guts, smiled in welcome.

I saw Sigurd scan the coven grove. Aridmis and Druanne were crossing the lawn to join us, but Gwendelofar was still inside our little cabin. She had been napping all morning. Something told me fate was going to need a little help. I set down the onion I’d been cutting, wiped my hands on the skirt of my once-lovely green gown, now worn to tatters, and went to Sigurd. I took the reins of his horse while he dismounted.

“Ah, sister Cerridwen. Pleasure to see you again! Where is Gwen?” he asked, and I saw a glimmer of worry cross his face. Was he worried she was gone? Maybe he did care for her after all.

“Within,” I said, motioning back to my house. “Let’s go surprise her,” I said with a smile.

I handed Sigurd’s horse’s reins to Brant. “Lady Cerridwen,” he greeted with a smile.

“Welcome back,” I said nicely then led Sigurd across the lawn to the little home I shared with Gwendelofar. I could feel the eyes of my sisters, who now all knew Gwendelofar’s condition, on us. I felt a bit bad for Sigurd. I knew Gwendelofar would find a happy life for her and her child with or without him, but I could feel the hopes of the women around me…and Druanne’s judgment.

I opened the door to my house. Gwendelofar was sleeping. The sunlight was just shining through the window and cast a scattering of light on her golden hair. Her cheeks were rosy. She wore a pale pink gown, a simple thing that she had embroidered around the neckline with small blue flowers.

I heard Sigurd gasp at the sight of her. Her belly had just begun to show.

“I’ll go,” I whispered. “You wake her.”

“Are you certain?” he said nervously then looked at me. He was such a hulking figure. His muscular and tattooed arms peeking out from under his tunic, his wild hair woven into braids, and he had grown a beard since we’d last seen him, as most men did as winter approached. He was the very picture of a warrior. But his voice trembled. I realized then that no matter what, the Goddess wields her own power. Love, beauty, sex, these powers belong to the Goddess in us all. Lying there the picture of beautiful, blossoming in motherhood, Gwendelofar’s power emanated from her even as she slept. Sigurd and Gwendelofar were a great match.

I took his hand. “I am. It will please her so. May the Gods bless you both,” I said. Then grabbing a bag filled with my clothing that I had packed in anticipation of his arrival, I quietly left.

I would stay at Sid’s house, I’d decided. I took my pack and crossed the lawn. Quietly and carefully entering Sid’s home, hoping to find no brownies within, I went inside. I was surprised to find Sid lying on her bed.

She was a sorry sight. She was extremely dirty. Her feet were bloodied. Her hair was all tangles. He dress was torn. I had not seen her in several weeks. I dropped my pack and went to her. I lifted her wrist to feel for her heartbeat. It was faint.

“Sid?” I whispered.

She did not stir.

I shook her shoulder. “Sid?”

She groaned a little.

“Sidhe, wake,” I whispered, kneeling down by her bed.

She opened her eyes a little. “Cerridwen?”

“What happened?”

“I haven’t eaten,” she whispered.

I rose and poured her a glass of water. Pulling her up in bed, I helped her drink. After she’d drunk the full glass, I went outside and retrieved a bowl of broth. Lifting spoonful after spoonful, I fed her.

“It’s so hard to remember the passage of time,” she whispered.

“Why are your feet in such a state?” I asked.

“I got lost,” she answered quietly.

“Lost?”

“I traveled far. I wasn’t certain where I was.”

“How long have you been back?” I asked.

“A couple of days.”

“A couple of days!”

“I couldn’t…” she said and then paused. “I couldn’t rise.”

I went to her small fireplace and stoked a fire. I set a small pot of water to warm beside it. Once it was heated, I wet a rag and began washing Sid’s cut and bruised feet. She cringed but let me clean them. When I was finished, I went to Epona’s house and retrieved salve and clean bandages. Sid had fallen asleep sitting up. I applied the salve, the sharp scent of the herbs making my nose tingle, and then wrapped her feet. She never woke.

A few minutes later, Druanne rapped lightly on the door. “I thought I saw you come in here with bandages,” she said as she slowly opened the door. I watched her eyes quickly assess the situation. “Damn her. She is never careful enough.”

“I’ve bandaged her feet, gotten some food into her, and her heart has quickened.”

In a huff, Druanne turned around. “I’ll be right back,” she said, slamming the door behind her.

Sid slept on.

Druanne returned with a flask. “It’s a sweet mixture which will quicken her blood and wake her.” She moved to rouse Sid.

“She has food in her belly. Let her sleep a bit longer,” I said.

Druanne frowned at me.

“I’ll wake her in a while.”

“You should have let me know. I am your elder. I am trained in the healing arts. I know better than you what to do,” Druanne said then shook Sid’s shoulder, waking her.

“Don’t underestimate me. Epona has taught me as well.”

“Willful girl, your power is reckless.”

“What do you know of my power?” I glared at her.

Sid woke somewhat. Druanne held her jaw, a bit too roughly for my liking, and poured the liquid down her throat. Sid sputtered a little.

Druanne patted her back, helping the liquid clear, then lay her back down. “I know your power is more harmful than good, that’s what I know.”

“You fear it because it showed me your true nature. You have no reason to be afraid of me. I wouldn’t strike at you unless you gave me a reason.”

“Fear you? I hardly fear you. You simply don’t belong here,” Druanne said, and in a huff, she rose and left, slamming the door behind her once again.

“Try not to peck her eyes out, Raven Beak,” Sid said in a whisper.

“I’m doing my best,” I assured her, glaring at the door.

Sid laughed softly.

“You smell horrible. Let me get this dirty thing off you,” I told Sid.

She nodded, and with my help, she sat up. I pulled her old gown, a tattered black cotton dress, off her. It smelled so bad and was in such a shamble that I set it aside to be burnt. I went back to the fire, warmed some wash water, then grabbed the sweet smelling lemon balm soap Sid had sitting on her bureau.

Sid lay naked in her bed. She was drowsy, her eyes opening and closing softly. I covered her body and washed the grime from her legs. She was a thin woman, but her legs were muscular. I washed her arms. They were a mess of scratches and grime.

“Where did you get all this fine furniture, anyway?” I asked her as I cleaned her up.

“A gift…from the Seelie King when our son was born,” Sid whispered absently.

“Your son, is he—”

“Eochaid.”

“Eochaid?”

“My son,” Sid said quietly. “His name is Eochaid. He’s so beautiful.”

“Like his mother,” I said as I gently washed the dirt smudges from her face.

Sid smiled. Her eyes closed.

I gently pulled the cover away and washed her soft, white stomach. My eyes were drawn again and again to her small, pert breasts with their soft pink nipples. My mind went back to the day at the spring with Banquo.

Sid rolled over and looked at me. She took the rag from my hands and pulled me onto the bed beside her. Despite her exhaustion, she leaned forward to press her mouth against mine. I could taste the potion Druanne had given her, the sweet taste of honey, marigold, chamomile, and other herbs lingering in her mouth. I kissed her gently, again and again, tasting her. My hands shaking, I gently touched her breasts, my fingers grazing those small, sweet nipples which hardened to my touch. It was not the power of Beltane guiding me. It was something different, an old longing. I wanted to feel her body close to mine, but I knew she was weak. I removed my clothes pulled her against me, enveloping her in my embrace. It felt so good to feel our skin touching. Sid kissed my neck and gently stroked my body. Her touch felt wonderful, so sweet, so familiar. Sighing deeply, she laid her head on my chest and entwined her fingers around mine.

“Now we just need Banquo,” she whispered, and moments later, she fell asleep.

* * *

A couple of days later, we all reveled in the celebration of two things: the harvest and the handfasting of Gwendelofar and Sigurd. Sid was still not well enough to join us. Most of the time she slept. I stayed by her side as much as I could, but joined the others for the wedding celebration.

Gwendelofar was dressed splendidly. Aridmis had surprised us all a day earlier when she emerged from her house with a wedding gown to give to Gwendelofar.

“I was my mother’s,” she’d told us. “I will never have the chance to wear it. My life is here. Wear it in good health,” she told Gwendelofar.

“Oh, no! I cannot. One day maybe you—”

Aridmis shook her head. “No, I will not. My life is here,” Aridmis repeated again with finality. From her words, we all understood that Aridmis knew her fate and was resigned to it.

“Thank you,” Gwendelofar said, tears welling in her eyes.

I stood with the others at the center of the coven, the fire burning brightly. We said our prayers and listened attentively while Epona performed the marriage rite. Near the end of the ceremony, Epona pulled out the same comb and mirror she had shown me, handing the comb to Gwendelofar and the mirror to Sigurd.

“By the Lord and the Lady, exchange these tokens of marriage and become…not two in one union…but three. The earth is fertile,” Epona said.

Sigurd handed the mirror to Gwendelofar.

“And the seed is sewn,” Epona added.

Gwendelofar handed the comb to Sigurd.

Epona then pulled out a long cord of red ribbon. The couple held the marriage talismans as Epona wove the ribbon around their hands, beginning the wrap on Gwendelofar’s arm, circling until the ribbon was tightly wound on Sigurd’s arm.

“I unite you. God and Goddess. Husband and Wife. Mother and Father,” Epona said, touching Gwendelofar’s stomach gently. “You are now one. In life and in spirit. May the great ones bless you.”

“So mote it be!” we all called happily.

“So mote it be,” Gwendelofar and Sigurd answered in unison, and then they kissed, sealing their wedlock.

By the next morning, Gwendelofar and her husband had gone. Sigurd would take his wife and unborn child north to his small farm. In my heart, I wished her well. Fate, in the end, had been kind.