I peered around me, trying to make out the people nearby. I saw their woad-painted faces and primal clothes. Their hair was braided in a strange fashion, and they beat on shields made of leather. They carried copper swords, and the bards amongst them played flutes made of bone. They were the Picts, the ancient blood of Alba. We had traveled back, or perhaps we had been conjured back, in time.
I stared at Banquo and then I knew the truth. Banquo had led me to one of the thin places. We had not traveled back in time: we had simply found a place where all times exist. He had taken me between the worlds, to a place stuck in the very middle.
Banquo reached toward me and pulled off my mask. Tentatively, I too reached up and removed his. With the masks off, Bride’s spells were undone. Some of the dizziness passed. Druanne’s potion, however, still had my mind reeling. Regardless, we were, once more, Cerridwen and Banquo. And in that moment, all of the chaos and noise and fire and people simply faded. The ancestors departed. The forest became still and quiet. There was no one and nothing but us and the moon. We stood alone under a tall oak tree in the forest in the dark of night.
“Marry me, my love. Here, in this old, sacred place, before the Gods and our ancestors, marry me,” Banquo said then.
I stared at him.
“Maybe our families will deny us in the end, so marry me here, as my priestess and I am your druid. Marry me here as Cerridwen. And as Cerridwen, you are my wife, my bride. Before your ancestors and mine, marry me. Before the old gods, please, Cerridwen.”
“Yes.” I knelt down on the mossy ground at the foot of the oak tree. Taking Banquo’s hand, I pulled him down to join me. My druid then pulled out his ceremonial, silver-hilted knife. I wasn’t surprise to see it was capped with a stag’s head.
“By the Father God,” he said, “Stag Lord Cernunnos of the Forest…”
“And by the Great Mother, as Maiden, Mother, and Crone…”
“I pledge my soul, my heart, and my blood to you,” Banquo said.
With a quick move, Banquo ran his hand along the top of the blade. Sharp crimson erupted from his flesh, blood pooling in his hand.
“And I pledge my soul, my heart, and my blood to you,” I told him. I took his knife and sliced my hand the same way Banquo had done. The metal bit sharply. The pain seared my palm, shooting pain all the way to my shoulder. I shuddered but accepted it. The sacrifice of blood would bind us, no matter what fate threw in our way. I was pledging myself to him, to my druid, with my blood and my soul. There was no deeper bond. This was the old way of marrying, bonding our spirits together. My guess was that this was not the first time we had performed such a ritual. No matter what, Banquo and I would always be connected. And beyond all imagining, my mother had been the one to bless my marriage.
We joined our hands together, our blood mingling. The essence of our beings mixed together. I closed my eyes. The cut throbbed. I felt the warmth of Banquo’s hand, his blood wet against my palm, my fingers.
“You are mine,” Banquo whispered. “And I am yours.”
“You are mine, and I am yours,” I replied. “Bound through time.”
“From life to life.”
We leaned in and kissed one another.
“No matter what happens, we are linked as man and wife, priest and priestess, before the gods,” Banquo whispered in my ear.
“So mote it be,” I whispered in reply.
Banquo kissed me gently then lay me back on the forest floor. Above me, I saw the tall limbs of the oak tree stretching into the night’s sky, the moon high and full above us. I kissed my husband desperately. I tasted the potion on his mouth, the sharp tang of mushroom and herbs on his lips. I smelled his skin and tasted the sweat on his neck. Though the air was cool, I pulled off his shirt. I wanted to see him. His chest was tattooed with swirling designs, old symbols that pledged his undying allegiance to the old gods. I stroked my hand across his skin, feeling the hair on his chest.
“Land and sea,” I whispered then pulled off my dress and undergarments.
Banquo undid his pants. “Forever one,” Banquo replied. He pulled me up and toward him, kissing me hard, then lay me back down on the ground. I felt the bare earth beneath me. Its energy rose from the ground and filled my spirit. Banquo kissed my face, my neck, my breasts. He opened my legs and soon I felt his wet mouth below, making me tremble. He then rose, and I reached out to stroke him.
“I’ll be easy,” he whispered in my ear, and moments later I felt his cock press into me. I felt the sting as my maidenhood tore for him. I whimpered a little, and Banquo moved easily, carefully. “I love you,” he whispered in my ear.
As he moved, the pain faded. We locked our eyes on one another. His curly hair became wet with sweat and stuck to his forehead. His eyes were soft and loving. He leaned down and kissed me again and again. I loved the feel of him inside me. I closed my eyes and stretched my arms out on the ground, feeling the leaves and earth under me. I looked up at the moon. Everything around me was alive with magic.
I wrapped my legs around Banquo and moved in tandem with him, feeling my body rising in passion. Banquo began to breathe hard. I was sweating with him. My body began to shake with pleasure, a feeling like lightning shooting from my head to my toes as I felt Banquo inside me, growing larger, moving faster, until he found release.
Exhausted, we both lay still on the ground, Banquo still inside me.
“My Priestess,” he whispered. “My bride.”
It was the last thing I heard before I fell asleep.
* * *
I woke the next morning to find the forest covered in thick fog. I could barely see an arm’s length in front of me. Banquo was gone and so were my clothes.
“Banquo?” I called in a whisper. My voice echoed in the mist. “Banquo?”
There was no answer, but I heard the sound of a small hammer striking an anvil somewhere in the distance. Uald?
I sighed. Where had Banquo gone? And how had I managed to lose my clothes? I headed toward the smithy, prepping myself for all the jokes I knew Uald would make. But I had given myself on my own terms. I had wed the man of my choice. It was done now, no matter what anyone said. Now I would be the bride of the son of Lochaber.
I moved forward in the fog, following the sound of the small hammer. I stepped carefully. I was not certain where Banquo had led me, but surely it was somewhere near the smithy. I just must not have noticed the tree before. Perhaps Balor had shown Banquo the place. Druids, after all, were oak seekers.
Soon the outline of the smithy started to clear. I walked toward it but got confused. It didn’t look quite like Uald’s smithy.
I saw the shape of someone standing near the anvil. They stopped and turned to look toward me. I took two more steps in the fog as it swirled around me. Across from me, the other person took a few steps toward me. Moments later, I was standing across from the black-haired man from my visions. He was wearing a leather smith’s apron but was shirtless underneath; sweat rolled down his neck. He was very fair. He had skin white as snow, his eyes clear and bright blue. In one hand, he held a small hammer, in the other, a shield he had been crafting. On it he had pounded the symbol of a raven.
“You!” he whispered then stepped toward me.
I opened my mouth to speak, not even sure what I would say, but all I heard was a raven’s shriek.
I sat up with a start.
“Are you all right?” Banquo whispered, sitting up beside me. “Heavy mist,” he said then, pulling me back down beside him. He covered us with his tunic. “Balor says to never sleep in the fog…too dangerous. The worlds are too thin at such times,” he said sleepily. “But you are so warm, and my head is still so heavy,” he said, snuggling close to me, “wife” he added with a chuckle. He closed his eyes and slept again, leaving me alone and shaking.
Chapter 22
Banquo and I returned early in the morning before the others woke. The pentacle fires had burned out but the coals under the center cauldron were still glowing
red. Quietly, I led Banquo into my little house where Thora was sleeping on what used to be Ludmilla’s bed. She raised her head and looked at us when we entered then rolled on her back and went back to sleep.
“Get warm,” I whispered to Banquo, motioning to my bed. The air had cooled overnight, and we’d woken on the cold, frozen ground. After my…vision…my sleep had been restless. I was woken over and over again by strange, bloody nightmares. The dreams featured people I didn’t know, rain, fire, and blood. And my raven-haired man was at the center of it all. Who was he? I shuddered just thinking about it.
“You’re trembling,” Banquo whispered, pulling me onto the bed beside him. “You’re not afraid, are you? Your aunt…”
I shook my head as I nestled into his arms, pulling the covers up to my chin. It wasn’t the real world that frightened me. “No, only cold. I love you, and my mother’s spirit led me to you. I have no doubts in my mind.”
Banquo kissed my shoulder. “Balor and I will ride north again this morning. I have to rejoin Jarl Thorfinn. Once you talk to you aunt, just send word. I’ll make the arrangements to have you join me. You’ll like Jarl Thorfinn. He’s got a kind spirit. He’s like a brother to me.”
“Then Lochaber promotes Thorfinn’s bid for power?” I asked nervously. If Banquo’s family was allied against mine, then I would have no choice but to abandon Madelaine and Malcolm. I would have to turn on my blood, throw my allegiance behind the north, just to keep my husband. It was an act that could cost me my head, but my choice had already been made. I had given my heart.
“Lochaber favors Thorfinn and Macbeth as the rightful powers in the north, but we are not interested in waging war…at least not yet. My father is waiting to see how the King will play out the game now that Gillacoemgain of Moray has usurped power by killing Macbeth’s father, Findelach. No one knows for certain why King Malcolm plotted against his own daughter’s husband, but Findelach is dead. Macbeth’s claim is weakened. One thing is for certain, the path to the throne is much less complicated for King Malcolm’s favorite, Duncan. Cerridwen, my father’s allegiances…do they complicate things for you?”
More than he could ever know. “No,” I said then. “You are my husband now. The matter is no longer complicated.” And in my heart, I told myself that I really believed it.
* * *
Banquo and I didn’t speak a word of our marriage to anyone. And he was right, as soon as Balor had risen, he roused Banquo and bid him say his goodbyes. I followed my husband around the coven like a sick, miserable thing. No matter how hungry I had felt the day before, now my stomach tossed and turned with anxiety. Maybe the potion of the ancestors had pushed us beyond where our logic would have allowed us to go, but we loved each other. My mother had led me to my druid. I had wed him before the old gods. That’s all there was to it.
“We will not be back until spring,” I heard Balor tell Epona. She held the reins to his horse while he mounted.
“May the great ones watch over you. The winter will be long and harsh. Take care,” she told him, kissing his hand in respect.
I turned my attention to Banquo. “I’ll send word soon,” I whispered, handing him his reins. Hot tears were streaming down my cheeks. My heart ached.
“As soon as you can,” Banquo said. His eyes were watery. “I hate this.”
“It will be done soon,” I reassured him.
He leaned over and kissed me on my head. “Let it be done then. Come to me in Caithness. Let’s make babies all winter,” he said then laughed.
In spite of myself, I chuckled and wiped the tears from my cheeks.
Balor reined his horse in and motioned for Banquo to follow. With a wave, my husband rode off, leaving me amongst my sisters. I watched him go, studying every inch of his body. I tried to memorize his frame. I tried to remember his taste and the feel of his hands. I etched his image in my mind. And once more, before he passed through the wall sheltering our grove, he turned and looked back at me. And in that moment, I felt my heart break.
* * *
I decided I would wait until night to tell Epona everything. The bards weren’t planning to leave until later that afternoon. I stayed inside my little house most of the day and thought over what I would say to Epona, to Madelaine. In my mind, the matter was final. It didn’t matter what Malcolm wanted. He could marry someone else to Duncan, or Thorfinn, or anyone else for all I cared. I was married to Banquo.
The moon was high in the sky when I finally went to seek Epona. The coven was dark. All the women had gone to bed. Smoke rolled out of the little chimneys. It would be hard to tell Epona that I was leaving, and I would need to send a casting to Madelaine. It had to be done. I wouldn’t keep any more secrets from Banquo. I would send the casting and be done with it. As I headed across the square, I noticed smoke trailing from Sid’s house. I looked at Epona’s door. It could wait a few more minutes. Surely, Sid could advise me.
I stopped at the center fire on my way to Sid’s. No doubt she hadn’t eaten. Small pots sat warming on stones all around the cauldron. Aridmis had made lamb mutton. I could still smell its sweet scent. I bent beside the fire.
The bank of coals under the cauldron flickered like a beating heart, thumping red, orange, and black. It had grown very cold outside. I could smell the threat of snow in the air. I was about to lift one of the pot lids when I saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye. In the hours waning from Samhain, it did not pay to ignore shades. The dead, especially those who did not wish to be dead, still roamed the land. And they were not all friendly.
I stood to find a woman standing a few feet back from the fire. She was half-concealed by shadows, but I could still make out her features. Her hair was scarlet red, the color of velvet and blood. Her locks were twisted over her shoulder, decorated with black gems and small bones. She held a tall staff topped with a human skull, and on her left shoulder sat a raven.
“My Lady,” I whispered, bowing my head. My knees went soft. A sharp pain spread across my chest as wild panic beat through my veins. Why had the Goddess of Death come?
“Do you know who I am?” she asked, and I realized then that she sounded angry.
“You…you are the Morrigu,” I stammered, looking up at her.
She smiled, her lips curling to reveal sharp, pointed teeth. “I am death.”
“Pray, what service can I offer you, Lady?” I whispered.
She laughed a full-blooded laugh. “Prey,” she said then paused. “I have marked you as mine since your birth. It was me who answered Boite’s call. The time has come for you to do my will.”
My whole body shook. My heart beat so hard I could hear it slamming in my chest, my eardrums throbbing. “I am yours to command.”
“It is time to join your sisters of the cauldron.”
“The cauldron…the Wyrds?”
The Morrigu clenched her jaw. I could feel anger emanating from her. Her eyes narrowed. She took a step toward me. “Did you think your destiny was your own to choose? Saucy and over-bold, how dare you traffic and trade with Banquo in riddles and the affairs of men, giving what was not yours to give? You don’t belong to Malcolm or Madelaine or Banquo or even yourself. I am your mistress. Boite gave you to me. I am the source of all that power locked inside you. You…are mine. And you will go where I command. You will learn what I deem fitting when I decide.”
“I—” I began, but I wasn’t sure to what to say. My knees were shaking.
The Morrigu nodded to her raven. It flew to Epona’s window to peck on the glass.
“I’ve honored you with this choice. You are the first to join my coven in nearly five hundred years,” the goddess told me.
Shocked, I looked from the Goddess to Epona’s house. Epona’s door opened slowly. She stepped into the doorway, her hair all a mess. She pulled a blanket tight around her and squinted outside.
“Cerridwen?” she called.
With the most subtle twist of her wrist, the Death Goddess recalled her raven. It was then that Epon
a spotted her. I heard her gasp as she took two steps toward us then she bowed deeply.
“She is for the ether,” the Morrigu told Epona.
Thora emerged from the darkness and padded across the coven square to me. She stood beside me whimpering softly.
Epona said nothing. I could see she was shaking.
“Do you understand, horsewoman?” the Morrigu asked Epona.
“Yes, My Lady,” Epona answered hesitantly.
The Morrigu laughed. “You’ll get what’s yours. I’ve already agreed to that bit, but for now, it’s time to play,” she said then turned to me. “Before this one complicates matters further with her…will.” With a flourish of her staff, the space around Thora and me began to roll with twisting black smoke. It snaked around us like it was alive.
“Cerridwen!” I heard Sid scream.
I turned to see Sid rushing from her house toward us, a look of shock and fear painted on her face.
The Morrigu stepped forward, grabbed me by my neck, and looked at me face to face. Her eyes were dark as a starless night, her skin pale, lips red. “Why Gruoch, you look confused,” she said with a laugh then everything went black.
Chapter 23
The Morrigu let go. I twirled like I was trapped in the middle of a windstorm. Around me was a whirlwind of black smoke. I felt dizzy as I twisted in the wind. My head throbbed like it was being squeezed, and my ears popped. Then I hit the ground hard. I was lying on the ground under a flower arbor. Enormous, long purple flowers growing on vines twisted around the ancient stone column. Their smell was sweet, like mint, milkweed, and lilacs. I had only seen them once before. Madelaine had called the vine wisteria. The world around me was lit in hues of black, purple, and silver. I closed my eyes and inhaled the wisteria’s perfume. My ears were ringing; my head felt heavy. I felt disoriented, but I also felt very angry. Slowly, I sat up and looked around.
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