Bride poured ale for the men and laughed as they flirted teasingly with her.
“You lads would be surprised,” she told them. “I am, after all, named Bride. Why do you think they gave the name of the loveliest maidens to me? When I was their age,” she said, motioning to Gwendelofar and me, “you would have lined up to woo me.”
“I’ll still form a line!” Brant exclaimed.
“Can you even see your cock over that belly?” Bride asked, causing everyone to burst out laughing, Bergen spitting his ale out his nose.
The day wore on and by the time the second party of men arrived, everyone was quite drunk, myself included.
“One of the last bands of Druids,” Aridmis said when Epona went to greet them.
I raised an eyebrow at her. “One of?”
“There are more…small, secret groups. Their order is all but done, but when they can, they still guide kings…and queens,” she said, casting a glance at me.
I watched them dismount, my eyes resting on the youngest of them, a man maybe five years older than myself. He was tall, nicely built, and his brownish-red hair simmered in the light of the fire. Moments later I found myself on my feet, joining Epona to meet them. I felt almost like some force had snared me and pulled me—to him.
“Ah, Cerridwen, this is Balor. He is an Arch Druid,” Epona introduced. Balor was a thin, bald-headed man who wore long gray robes. His eyes matched their stormy color.
Balor looked closely at me. “My Lady,” he said with sincerity.
I understood then that he knew who I was, who I really was, but I knew my secret would be safe with such a man. I had never been in the presence of an Arch Druid before. The enormity of his title struck me deeply. “An honor,” I said.
Balor nodded kindly toward me.
“These are Balor’s students. Calean, I know,” Epona said, introducing me to a young man with long, straight black hair. She turned to the young, handsome druid. “And Lord Banquo, isn’t it?” Epona asked.
“I’ll leave the titles to my father. Here, I’m just a servant of the ancient ones,” Banquo said, motioning to the small tattoo of a stag’s head on his brow. Such designs were frowned upon by the priests of the White Christ, but the worshippers of the old ways would know the symbol. A man could only receive the mark of the stag after being initiated in the rites of Cernunnos, the Lord of the Forest. “Just Banquo, please,” he told Epona, but I couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were on me.
I smiled at him as I eyed him over. His muscular arms were tattooed with the swirling Pictish designs of animals, trees, leaves, and birds. Banquo’s skin was tanned from hours in the sun. His brown hair, touched lightly with red, curled softly around his face. He was the most handsome man I had even seen…save, perhaps, the black-haired man in my visions.
Banquo’s dark eyes met mine. He winked playfully at me.
I looked away, surprised to feel my cheeks redden.
“Cerridwen, perhaps Banquo would like some wine?” Epona suggested then left us, escorting Balor and Calean to the other side of the fire.
“Please,” I said to Banquo, motioning to a bench nearby. I turned, reached for the jug of wine, but felt Banquo’s hand on mine.
“Please, My Lady, allow me,” he said, taking the bottle from my hand. “I hope you take no offense, but my mother would never forgive me if I let a daughter of the goddess serve me.”
“Your mother is very wise,” I said with a nervous laugh. My hands shook. I felt like a fool.
“So…Cerridwen?” Banquo asked as he handed me the drink. “Named for the Welsh cauldron goddess?” I noticed then that he had stags’ heads tattooed on his hands as well, the antlers extended out onto his fingers. He must have participated in heavy earth magic to earn such marks.
“Cerridwen, yes, amongst other names,” I said with a sly grin. I realized my voice was slurring somewhat.
“Ah, yes, Cerridwen would be your goddess name. Now,” he said, leaning in toward me as he sipped his wine, “tell me why you look so familiar. Have we met before?”
I looked closely at him. His eyes were dark brown, the color of acorns in fall. He had a strong, square jaw and just the hint of a beard. He was so striking. I would remember such a fine man visiting Alister’s estate, but no man so lovely had ever graced those halls. And yet, I recognized him. The ale and the magic of Beltane had my mind lost in a haze. “No, we haven’t, but you look familiar to me too,” I told him. My stomach fluttered.
Banquo smiled, his cheeks dimpling. “Perhaps…Inverness?”
I shook my head. “I’ve never been there.”
“Maybe we were friends in another life,” Banquo said and took my hands. “Let me see. Your callouses are new, your fingernails are unbroken, such lovely, soft, sweet hands. Are you from a royal house?”
“Aren’t you, Lord Banquo?” I smiled at him and squeezed his hands.
“I suppose I am,” he said with a laugh.
“Do you suppose that’s why Epona left us alone?” I said in a mock-suspicious whisper.
“Shall we talk affairs of state?” he asked with a sarcastic deepening of his voice. “Which successor do you favor, Lady? Duncan, Thorfinn, or Macbeth? Or do you promote Moray? Shall we plot the line of succession or shall we discuss the life in service of spirit? Which do you prefer?” He paused. His voice calmed. “Let’s start with how you find this life?”
His boldness surprised me. It caught me off guard to hear my cousins’ names bandied about so freely. Banquo didn’t know who I was, how important the next successor was to the course of my life. The thought that, in this place, it mattered so little, amused me. I chuckled. “Let the Wyrds sort out the kingdom. The castle was a prison. This life is far more preferable.”
Banquo lifted his cup. “I’ll drink to that,” he said, taking a swallow. He gazed into his cup. “The castle life…I agree, a prison…a brothel…or worse. My father liked his whores more than his children. The castle is no place for me either.”
“How terrible for you.”
“It’s worse for my mother,” he said with a frown. His soft features hardened a bit, and I saw the pain behind his eyes.
“I’m sorry…for you and your mother. In the very least, it is a blessing you have her,” I said, the sting of the poem of Emer and Cú Chulainn still fresh.
He smiled softly at me. “You lost your mother?”
“In childbed.”
“She must have been very beautiful, though. You are quite stunning. Are your eyes purple? I’ve never seen violet eyes before.”
“My looks come from my father. My mother was fair.”
“And your father, is he—”
“Dead as well.”
I realized then that Banquo was still holding my hands. He gently stoked my fingers, my knuckles. He looked deeply into my eyes. “You’re an orphan,” he said gently.
Surely, I was drunk. I fell silent and started to weep. Somehow, this man, this newcomer had brought up all my hurt and anger at the loss of my parents. Maybe it was the ballad of Emer and Cú Chulainn. Or maybe it was Beltane, or maybe the ale, or maybe it was just…him. My parents, their loss was a deep sorrow I rarely touched, and here it had been uprooted.
He wiped a tear off my cheek. “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I just opened my mouth and…the words just came tumbling out. I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s not you,” I whispered. “It’s the drink,” I said, trying to chuckle.
“Balor is like a father to me,” he said, his gaze going to Balor and Epona. Calean had moved off and was chatting with Druanne. Poor man. Balor and Epona were sitting very close to one another, talking in low tones. But Epona was smiling in a way I’d never seen her smile before. I realized then that she was flirting. I was surprised.
“He and Epona are…familiar,” I commented.
“By the end of the night, I’d wager they will be very familiar,” Banquo said with a grin.
I giggled, wiping the tears away
.
“How old is she, I wonder?” Banquo asked.
“Her face tells one tale, her hair another.”
“They say that those who have done grim magic sometimes loose the pigment in their hair, the magic draining them, but she seems very kind.”
I gazed at Epona, wondering what arts she might have worked that would have changed her so. “She is.”
“It’s good that you are with her.”
The tears welled again, but I fought them back. “Have you any siblings?” I asked.
“A sister who died during the harsh winter two years ago,” he said sadly. “And you?”
“Two half-brothers who did not outlive their cradles,” I said. My father had taken a second wife, but she had produced no surviving heirs, and like my mother, had died trying. It made me terribly sad to think of it. “Let’s talk of happier things. What does Balor teach you, if I may ask?”
“To read, write, heal, and…well…other things.”
“Other things…now, that’s the interesting part.”
Banquo smiled at me again, once more evoking his dimples.
“Do those ‘other things’ include your tattoos?” I asked, reaching up to just barely stroke the tattoo on his forehead. When I did, I felt a sudden jolt. My whole body shook and for a brief moment, I was caught up in a vision. I saw and felt Banquo and me in bed together, naked, making love. In my vision, my long red hair fell in a wild tumble around me. Banquo’s hair was also red and was pulled back in a long braid that tickled my nipples as he thrust into me, his hot mouth on mine. But the eyes, his eyes were still the same chestnut color. I gasped.
Banquo quickly grabbed my hand and peered deeply at me. He’d gone pale.
“Did you…did you see?” I stammered.
Banquo nodded. “Heady magic,” he said, leaning in, away from the bards. “There are old places where the world is thin. Old places,” Banquo whispered, “where old souls remember. Balor says this coven is special, that it is a place of heavy magic. The forgotten world lives just beyond,” he said, motioning to the dark woods around us. “I made my voyage and came back full of old knowing. I feel that same energy here. Soul magic,” he whispered, looking down at my hand. He wore an odd expression on his face.
“I know the places you speak of,” I replied in a whisper. Truly, the barrow where Sid had taken me was a place of heavy magic. But I had journeyed there and elsewhere through the thin veil between the worlds to the Wyrd Sisters. And where, exactly, was it that I had found them? Where did they reside? I didn’t know. I wondered if Banquo had seen them as well. Would it be a betrayal to ask him? I wasn’t sure. I looked at Banquo. The symbols he wore were men’s magic, the craft of the horned god, not the Wyrd Sisters. But what of soul magic? It was often said that when two old souls who have lived many lives came together once again, they remembered each other. That was what Banquo meant. Our shared vision…it had been soul magic.
“Banquo…” I began but a movement caught my eye. Gwendelofar and Sigurd rose and went into the cabin we shared. The others noticed as well, but no one said a word, not even Brant. A moment later, Thora came padding out, looking as if she’d just been awoken from a nap. Confused, she paused and looked around at all the newcomers.
“Here,” I called. I gazed at Banquo but said nothing else.
Thora scampered happily toward me.
“This is Thora,” I said, scratching her head when she joined us.
She began attacking Banquo’s boot laces.
“Thora, eh?” He ruffled her ears. Thora cut the odd energy between us, the nervous familiarity. Soul magic.
Thora nipped playfully at him.
“Vicious little monster,” he said teasingly, “I bet she can track though, can’t you, you little wild thing?” he asked Thora, playing with her. Thora chewed on his shirt cuff and tried to nip hands. She was loving every minute of it.
“Is tracking difficult to train?” I asked.
Banquo shook his head. “Give her the scent of something then go hide it. She will learn to find it, won’t you? Little bad girl. Why did you name her Thora?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t. She told me her name.”
“How?”
“I think that goes into the ‘other things’ category.”
Banquo laughed then smiled at me. I stared into his soft brown eyes. My whole body felt alive, tingling. Something about this man sparked an inner fire in me. I felt light, giddy, near him. It was the first time I’d ever experienced such a feeling before.
Banquo was right about Epona and Balor. After the moon had risen to its zenith, they disappeared into the woods. Uald, who had been drinking great quantities of ale, passed out by the fire. Druanne and the Druid Calean were still deep in talk when Aridmis and Bride went to bed. I sighed, figuring Gwendelofar would not be out of the house again until morning. The bards had spread out their blankets and slept by the fire.
By the end of the night, if not before, I was drunk. The world around me blurred, and the passage of time slowed considerably.
“It seems you’ve lost your bed,” Banquo said.
I nodded.
“You can share my mat, if you will. No harm will come to you. The Mother knows, you are the loveliest creature to ever step foot on this green earth, but I swear to keep my hands to myself,” Banquo offered.
“Only if there is room for Thora,” I said with a grin, but my stomach was full of butterflies. Did I dare lie down with a handsome stranger? Was he really a stranger?
I watched as Banquo spread out his blankets by the fire. He lay down then held out his hand to me. Nervously, I lay down beside him. He gently curled his arms around me. How loving it felt. He smelled of musk and mint. It was a sweet, manly smell. And it smelled so familiar. His body was warm, the blankets soft. I could feel the curves of his muscular arms. I looked up at the stars overhead and exhaled deeply while Thora made a bed at our feet. For a moment, I felt something I’d never felt for a man before. It felt a little like love.
Chapter 12
The revelry of Beltane eve would continue on to further revelry on Beltane day. I woke, however, with my head pounding, a sour taste in my mouth, and my head lying on Banquo’s chest. It was early morning still; the sun had barely risen. I closed my eyes and soaked up his warmth. I surprised myself. It felt so good to be close to him.
I opened my eyes again to see Epona, Druanne, and Aridmis setting food out on the breakfast table. The sweet scent of fresh baked bread filled the air. Bride was sitting by the fire turning sweet cakes over on the cooking stone. She winked at me. My cheeks reddened. It wasn’t like that. Nearby, Uald snored loudly. Untangling myself carefully from Banquo, I rose quietly. He stirred but slept on. I covered him then headed to my house.
I entered quietly. I hoped Sigurd and Gwendelofar would still be asleep. I didn’t want to interrupt their intimate time. My wish was granted. They were both sleeping. I moved silently so not to wake them. Gwendelofar was covered by her soft coverlet, but Sigurd lay uncovered and stretched out on the bed beside her. He was a hulking figure and naked as a babe. I saw he had tattoos all across his chest and down his waist, the tattoos stopping just above his sleeping cock nestled on a bed of straw-colored hair. I paused, feeling my heart beat harder. For a moment I imagined what it would be like to bed him, to feel him inside me, but his image got tangled up in my imagination with Banquo. Gwendelofar stirred and turned, uncovering her breasts. Her small pink nipples were erect in the morning air. She looked so beautiful. I wondered for a moment what it would be like to join them in that bed, to feel both of their naked skin against mine: his cock and her soft, sweet breasts. My cheeks reddened. I turned away from them, knowing the energy of Beltane was getting the better of me. I grabbed a clean dress from my trunk and headed back outside.
Beside the fire, Banquo still slept. Thora had taken my spot on the mat beside him, no doubt soaking up the last of my warmth. I followed the small trail behind the coven to the deep pool at the spring.
I removed all my garments and jumped into the water. It was far colder than I expected, but the nipping chill felt wonderful. I was dipping my hair into the water when a huge wave splashed my face. The massive spray came as someone jumped into the spring. Surprised, I wiped the water from my eyes and looked around to find Sid grinning at me.
I laughed and splashed her. “Back again! And just in time. I didn’t think we’d see you so soon.”
“And now you’ve seen me right down to My Lady,” she said with a naughty laugh. She bounced around in the water, washing the dirt from her face.
“Where were you?”
“It’s Beltane for the Fair Ones too,” Sid said with a wink but then frowned. “I need to be clean. Hush,” she called to the invisible apparition above her. “Do they call you Cerridwen now?”
“Yes, and Ludmilla has become Gwendelofar.”
Sid grinned wildly and dove under water. Jerking on my legs, she pulled me under. Laughing and spitting out water, I clambered back upward.
“I am glad you’re back,” I said, “I think.”
She laughed. “Are the men here?”
I nodded. “Epona and the others are preparing breakfast for them now.”
“Ah, Epona the pleaser. Do you know she is over eighty years old?”
“She cannot be.”
“Glamour,” Sid said simply and scrubbed her dirty arms.
Just then, Thora appeared at the side of the creek. She barked a little bark and looked behind her.
“I told you she could track,” I heard Banquo call as he neared the side of the stream. Seeing both me and Sid naked, he then exclaimed. “Oh! I’m sorry, ladies.” He turned his back.
“Don’t be sorry. Strip and come in. The water is warm,” Sid told him.
Grinning, I pinched her under the water.
“Cerridwen?” he queried, looking over his shoulder.
Sid brought out the wicked in me. “Yes, come join us, Banquo,” I said. “Meet my sister, Sid.”
He laughed nervously. “Are you sure?”
Laughing, I splashed him. He chuckled then began to undress.
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