Highland Raven

by Melanie Karsak

  As I sat looking at the woman standing across from me, I wondered about their words. Was this what Madelaine and my father had meant? Was this my call? This moment? Fear and excitement gripped my throat, strangling the words and questions that wanted to come out. I rose and took a step toward the creek, toward the stranger.

  The woman smiled, her lips pulling to one side in a bemused look, and turned from the creek. “See you soon, Little Raven,” she called as she made her way back into the woods, disappearing amongst the trees. I took a deep breath, and with weak knees, turned to make my way back to Madelaine.

  Chapter 2

  By the time I returned to the loch, the sun was high in the sky. I walked toward the trees where I had last seen my aunt, but I was distracted. My mind thundered over my encounter in the woods. Who was that woman? What did it mean that the Goddess had called? Busy with my own thoughts, I was surprised when I finally looked up and saw Madelaine lying naked under the trees with Tavis. I could hear their light moans as he moved over her.

  Startled and feeling a bit stupid, I sat down at the water’s edge away from them, hidden by the high cattails. I felt my cheeks redden, but my curiosity got the better of me. Peering through the leaves, I gazed toward the intermeshed figures of my aunt and her lover. Their hands roved in hungry caresses over one another’s bodies. My aunt was beautiful, her red hair lying like a pallet around her. I felt ashamed of my curiosity, but the thought of being with a man excited me. At the age of sixteen, I was still a virgin, but I could be called for a marriage contract at any time. I loved the idea of being in love. I wanted to be wanted. And I hoped I ended up with someone like Tavis. He was kind and funny, and his body was glorious. His muscular back and round ass glimmered in the sunlight, enhancing his every curve.

  Tavis kissed Madelaine passionately then lay his head on her chest. She stroked his golden hair, and I could just catch the murmur of their whispers on the wind. A moment later, Tavis rose carefully, tickled Madelaine’s chin, and ran naked to the loch. He disappeared under the water as my aunt began to redress. Eager to tell Madelaine what had happened, I rose and walked toward her. It occurred to me as I walked, however, that maybe Madelaine already knew. Maybe she’d planned it, or at least suspected, all along. I hid my eagerness in order to find out.

  She spotted me as I rounded the loch and smiled widely at me.

  Grinning, Tavis waved from the loch. I poured myself a glass of wine, sipping the red liquid as Madelaine and I watched Tavis swim toward the shore. He rose from the water and walked toward us, his naked body dripping wet. I looked at him without modesty. In the end, he blushed and began to redress.

  “So where did you go?” Madelaine asked.

  “Into the forest.”

  Madelaine nodded. “See anything interesting?”

  “Well, nothing as interesting as you did,” I said with a wink, making Madelaine giggle unapologetically. “But I did make this for you,” I said, handing her the flower wreath.

  “Thank you,” she said, putting the ring on her head.

  “Oh, yes, and I followed a raven into an old forest. A woman there told me that you are to bring me at the next full moon,” I added offhand.

  Madelaine’s cheerful gaze turned serious. She took my hand and looked at me closely. “Who said this to you?”

  “The huntress,” I replied, gazing into my aunt’s green eyes. To my surprise, they’d become watery.

  “The huntress,” my aunt repeated.

  I nodded. “I was near the stream by the tall oaks. A woman with long brown hair came to me there.”

  Madelaine nodded and smiled softly. “Her name is Uald.”

  “And I’m to go at the next full moon? Where?”

  “The Goddess calls,” Madelaine replied and pulled me into a deep hug, squeezing me tightly.

  * * *

  I rode ahead of Madelaine and Tavis on the way back to the castle. The full moon was only three eves away. I felt overwhelmed with questions. Where was it that I was supposed to go? For how long? And why had my father planned this fate for me?

  A mess of nerves, I asked to take my dinner in my room that evening; I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. Perching carefully on the windowsill, I looked out at the grounds around the castle. The landscape sparkled silver in the moonlight. The moon was a nearly-full silver orb. I snubbed out my candles, letting my chamber fill with silver light. The moonbeams made my pale flesh glow. It was late when Madelaine finally entered.

  She sighed heavily and sat down on the side of my bed. “I will tell Alister you are being sent to a convent until a suitable marriage match is made for you, that you will learn the ways of the White Christ and to read and write Latin. I will tell him that this was your father’s wish.” She paused then, looking off into the distance. “The convent…well, it is a lie he will believe.” She turned to me. “My Little Corbie, your father wanted this for you. It has all been arranged for a long time. You will go to learn the ways of our family. It was your father’s true wish. Boite would not have his daughter turn to the White Christ, to deny the old gods. You must learn the ancient arts. Old magic flows through the beating heart of this realm. It is your duty to know these ancient truths. It is part of who we are.”

  Neither Madelaine nor I ever partook in the ways of the White Christ. As a lord should, Alister kept priests in the castle, in particular, the annoying Father Edwin who always dogged his shadow. I avoided him at all costs. He was a vile man. On more than one occasion, Father Edwin had tried to correct my pagan ways.

  Two years before, on a lonely winter’s night, a bard had sung the legend of Tristan and Isolde after dinner. In the ballad, the young lovers were torn apart by a marriage contract which ordered Isolde to marry Tristan’s uncle Mark. The miserable Isolde, married off to Mark of Cornwall, had tried to catch a glimpse of her lover by scrying in the flames. Through the eyes of the fire, the fair Isolde saw that Tristan had married another. It nearly broke the poor maiden’s heart.

  I became enamored with the idea of seeing images in the fire. That night, after everyone had gone to bed, I’d tried to catch a glimpse of my father through the feasting hall fire. I was staring into the fire, trying to work magic like I’d heard in the story, when I’d felt someone come up behind me.

  “What are you doing?” a voice asked.

  I had been sitting there a long time. Maybe I’d been staring too closely into the flames: I felt dizzy. The heat of the fire had made me sweat. I never saw my father in the flames, but I’d seen what looked like a snowy white field dotted with ravens.

  “I’m looking for my father,” I replied weakly.

  A moment later, I felt the sharp sting of someone’s hand on my cheek. I looked up to find Father Edwin standing over me.

  “Devilry,” he swore, his whole body shaking. “You are conjuring the devil in your uncle’s very hall! Would you bring Satan into this place?” His thin body leaned threateningly over me. He shouted with such venom that his spit splashed on my cheek. Shocked, I shuddered as I stared at the priest’s pock-marked face.

  When I didn’t answer him, he lifted his hand as if he would hit me once more.

  “Enough,” a voice called from the doorway. I turned to find Alister standing there. His long brown hair hung in a greasy tumble. His stomach had grown so large over the course of the winter that the bottom of his bloated belly peaked out from under his tunic. He was lighting a pipe, the red of the flame making a collage of shadows and red hues across his face. “Enough, Edwin. I’ll school her,” Alister told the priest as he crossed the hall. He staggered as he walked.

  “Yes, My Lord,” the priest said, glaring at me once more, and then smiling before he left me and my uncle alone.

  “Little Raven. Come,” Alister called. He dragged a chair before the fire, the legs screeching across the stone floor. He set the pipe down and beckoned for me to sit on his lap. He reeked of ale and the heavy scent of angelica root smoke from the pipe.

  Still feeling d
izzy from looking into the flames, and my cheek smarting with pain, I did as I was told. But my instincts were on alarm. I knew well that Alister was not to be trusted.

  “Does it hurt?” Alister asked, touching my cheek lightly.

  The stink of body odor emanated from him. His hair held the light scent of ox fat. Alister stroked my cheek with his sweaty hand then rubbed his fingers up and down the length of my neck.

  “Yes,” I replied quietly, forcing my stomach not to revolt. My intuition told me to run away.

  “Poor thing. I won’t let him touch you ever again. Don’t worry. But tell me, did you see anything in the flames?” Alister asked as his hand softly caressed my shoulder.

  I shook my head.

  “Come now, Little Corbie, I know your blood is full of the old magic. Tell your foster father what you saw.”

  His hand rubbed my arm, his thumb pressing against my breast over and over again.

  “I saw ravens…ravens in the snow.”

  “Ravens in the snow?” he asked, his hand now rubbing my leg. “Poor girl. How frightening. Here,” he said, pulling me against him. This time, he moved my bottom over his pelvis, and I felt his hard cock pressing into me. His hands caught the hem of my dress, his sticky fingers sliding up the insides of my bare legs, my thighs. I gasped. I’d seen Alister use the same move more than a dozen times on the serving girls. I knew what came next. I just couldn’t believe he’d try it on me.

  I tried to pull away, but he grabbed me roughly, squeezing my inner thighs, forcing my legs open. He tore my undergarments aside; I felt the fabric rip as I struggled to be free. But he was stronger than me. Forcing my legs open, he jabbed his fingers inside me.

  “Don’t move, Little Raven,” he whispered in my ear. I struggled, feeling sick as his fingers jabbed into me. “You’ll like fucking as much as your sweet auntie does. We can keep each other warm all winter.”

  The door to the feasting hall opened.

  “Corbie?” Madelaine called. I saw the look on her face as she took in the scene. Her pretty features contorted into a weird grimace.

  Alister let me go.

  Gagging, I fell to the floor.

  Madelaine rushed across the room, bending to pick me up. Tears were already rushing down my cheeks. My stomach tossed.

  “Go upstairs,” Madelaine whispered to me, but I was frozen in place, staring, horrified, at Alister.

  “Christ, Madelaine, you’re such a nuisance. Barren cunt. What good are you, anyway?” Alister asked sarcastically as he rose. Stepping toward us, he punched Madelaine in the gut.

  Gasping, Madelaine fell to her knees.

  “Whore. You’re nothing but a whore,” he said. Grabbing Madelaine by the hair, he lifted her to her feet and slammed her against the wall. I heard her moan when she hit the hard stones. He was advancing on her again when I noticed that a carving knife lying forgotten on the table. Jumping to my feet, I grabbed the knife and put myself between Alister and Madelaine.

  “Don’t touch her,” I said, lifting the knife menacingly.

  “Well now, what do we have here?” Alister asked with a laugh, but he didn’t come closer.

  “Keep your filthy hands off both of us, or next time I’ll chop your fingers off,” I spat. I hoped Alister wouldn’t notice my hands trembling. I clutched the knife handle so hard my hand hurt.

  “Well, there it is…now that is the blood of a true MacAlpin, not some half-blooded bitch from Strathclyde like you,” Alister said to Madelaine then turned to me. “You’ve got your daddy’s blood, girl,” Alister said laughing. He picked up his pipe and lit it, the heavy smoke twisting upward and turned and left the room, banging the wooden door shut behind him.

  I dropped the knife. It hit the stone floor with a clatter. I turned to my Madelaine. “Are you all right?”

  She collapsed into my arms. “I’m so sorry,” she heaved, grabbing me tightly. Her whole body was shaking. “Did he…did he ruin you?”

  I shook my head.

  “May the Great Mother watch over us both. He’s drunk tonight. He’s lost even to his worst self. He knows better. King Malcolm would execute him. I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  My stomach rolled. I could still feel the sharp prick of his fingers in me, crooked, sharp and vile. I felt sick and angry. I felt polluted. And even as bad as it was for me, my heart ached for Madelaine. I knew that what I saw was just a hint of what happened between them behind closed doors. Madelaine had faced far worse, worse than she would ever name. Her body, all the bruises, told the tales she never spoke. In Alister’s house, no one was safe.

  I squeezed my eyes tight, forcing the memory of that night away, and tried to focus on Madelaine who was still speaking of what it meant that the Goddess had called: “You will go amongst our wise women,” Madelaine was saying. “They are women of the old ways. They will teach you our faith, the ways of our people. You have no need to fear,” Madelaine explained.

  “I’m not afraid,” I whispered. At least, I was not afraid of them.

  Dark clouds rolled over the moon. Everything grew black. Madelaine fell silent and did not speak again until moonlight lit the room once more. “Your soul is very old,” she whispered. “Even as a babe, you were always…different. You belonged to the otherworld. I will miss you,” she added and rose, leaving me to my solitude.

  Chapter 3

  With the blare of a trumpet, a courier arrived the next morning with news that Alister and his men would be home by evening. The house was set aflutter. The beds were filled with fresh straw, the stairs were scrubbed, the cattle slaughtered, and wine casks were brought up from the cellars. Madelaine, paler than the moon, moved through the house dispatching orders. Alister had been away for a month. The cooks and grooms had vacationed from their hard work. The serving girls had enjoyed empty beds.

  That night, the light from Alister’s men’s torches glared through the dark, heralding his arrival. I watched from my window as he arrived at the castle gate and was met by Tavis whose formal position in the castle was sentinel and chief guard. Their exchange was brief and stiff.

  The smell of roasting meats and wood smoke soon wafted upstairs from the feasting hall. I could hear the call for ale reverberating off the timbers and stones. Lord Alister wanted ale, not wine. I feared for anyone who happened to get in his way, myself included. After the incident in the feasting hall, Alister’s eyes never left me. He was a snake lying in wait.

  I watched the activity in the yard. Some of my uncle’s men rode back into the night to their awaiting families. Others pitched tents around the castle. The smell of campfire smoked filled the valley. The sweet sounds of harps and bagpipes rose up from the hall alongside rowdy cheers.

  A short while later, Madelaine rapped on my door and entered. “Will you come down?” she asked, closing the door behind her as she headed to my trunk full of dresses. We both knew it was not really a question. Neither of use wanted to go to the hall, and neither of us had a choice. It was our duty to attend. Ladies of our station were expected to make an appearance. Anything less could be taken as a slight to the noble lords in attendance. And Madelaine, most of all, had to play the dutiful wife, lest she earn Alister’s swift and brutal retribution. The cheerful glow on my aunt’s face was gone, and her green eyes looked haunted with the look of smothered terror.

  Madelaine pulled a fur-trimmed black velvet dress from my trunk. I frowned but said nothing. It would gain me nothing to complain and would only make Madelaine feel worse than she already felt.

  Once I changed, we headed back to the feasting hall. Loud voices, the stench of ale, and rude talk wafted from the room. Therein, drunken revelry abounded. The room was so brightly lit that it made me squint. Madelaine squeezed my hand, but I could feel her fingers had grown cold. I hated Alister. I hated his men. I hated their ale hall. I hated the discord it brought: vomiting drunks, groping hands, and my aunt’s sorrow.

  “Ah, my niece,” Alister called.

  The men whistled and ban
ged their ale horns against the wooden table.

  Madelaine led me to the head of the table. The room was so full of smoke that it burned my eyes. I noticed that Father Edwin had returned as well. He sat near my uncle at the head of the table. He’d grown a scraggly beard while he was gone; it barely hid his pock-marked face. I shuddered.

  “Corbie! Come,” Alister called with a laugh. His eyes, already tinged ale-red, tried to focus on me. The smell of hops and body odor reeked from him. He’d grown fatter in the month away, his belly looking rounder than ever. And he had not changed from his mud-splatted riding clothes. I felt a lump rise into my throat. How abhorred it was to be near him. I couldn’t stand the sight of him. “How is my niece?” he asked, motioning for me to sit beside him. Father Edwin looked away from me.

  “Well, Uncle,” I replied politely.

  Madelaine turned to leave but Alister grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly back. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “My Lord’s kitchens need attention,” she answered.

  He let her go. “Then be away with you,” he said, slapping her on the ass as she turned to leave. He laughed loudly as Madelaine hurried off and turned his attention to me. “Well, Little Corbie, what did you do while I was away?”

  “Women’s things, my uncle.”

  “Women’s things,” he repeated then laughed. “And what are women’s things?”

  “Sewing, gossiping, and talking about babies, of course,” I replied flatly, looking forward. Alister had no imagination beyond the obvious expectations.

  My uncle laughed out loud. “Indeed, women’s things.” He set his hand on the back of my head and stroked my hair, his hand moving down the length of my hair to the small of my back.