“You’re welcome, Macbeth.”
“Now, you must tell me what favor I can give you as a gift you to celebrate the season.”
“You’ve already bought me something.”
“I have?”
“Eyes and ears. What better gift could a lord buy for his lady?”
At that, Macbeth laughed. The honest sound softened my heart.
We returned to Inverness within the week. While Rhona and Tira were not happy about it, they only complained a little. Thora, Kelpie, and Lulach, however, seemed content to return. On the day we arrived, I took Kelpie to the stable to let Elspeth know her favorite vexing stallion was back. But when I searched the barn, I couldn’t find her. I did, however, come across her father.
“Samuel,” I said brightly, leading Kelpie along behind me.
“Lady Macbeth,” he said then nodded. “Pleased to have you back, my lady. And that giant brute of yours.”
I chuckled. “Thank you, sir. I was actually looking for your daughter. I know Elspeth was partial to Kelpie. I thought she’d be pleased he has returned.
“Oh,” Samuel said, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, my lady. Elspeth is not here with me anymore. She went back to the glen with our family.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Oh, indeed. I am a grandfather now, my lady. Elspeth gave birth to a healthy baby boy not a month ago.”
“Congratulations.” I was happy for the man and for Elspeth, but a child born out of wedlock still created gossip. “Does Elspeth or her child need anything? Can I send anything to her?”
“No, my lady. That is very kind of you. My daughter and her little one as well,” Samuel said then reached out for Kelpie’s lead. “Come along, Kelpie. I’m not as pretty as my bonnie lass, but I guess I’ll have to do.”
“Wish your daughter well for me.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Samuel said then turned and led Kelpie away. I bit my tongue, not pressing the matter further. No wedding nor husband was mentioned. No doubt the child was that of whomever she’d been with that day in the stable. But it was not my business. Turning, I headed back to the castle, thinking nothing of it save for the lingering sound of raven’s wings beating at the edge of my awareness. Odd.
Lulach and I moved back into the chamber near the small garden with the balcony that looked over the river. Over the next few days, a terrible storm blew in. The winter winds whipped against the shutters, and a heavy snowfall blanketed the castle. Macbeth spent more time with us than he had before, and his attentions were not lost on me.
Macbeth was trying.
I should try too.
One evening, after Lulach had gone to sleep, I pulled on my heavy cloak and went to seek out Macbeth. The winter storm had locked us all in the castle. With the Yule celebration just days away, I was hoping Macbeth would be willing to host the servants and hold a grand feast. Perhaps we could even carve a yule log and celebrate the traditions of both religions, those of the old gods and the White Christ. In the least, we could show those who served their lord and lady how much we appreciated them. The idea of a merry event with music, wine, dancing, and cheer sounded like a joy. I hoped Macbeth would agree. And more than that, I wanted an excuse to spend some time alone with him. With Macbeth’s many small kindnesses, I was beginning to feel something once more. Not love. But hope, however small, was blossoming in me once more.
Pulling my cloak around me, I went first to the main hall to look for him, but his papers had been cleaned up. I went to Macbeth’s chamber. As usual, I found his guard posted outside his door. In the midst of such a terrible storm, did Macbeth fear a troupe of winter faeries might come for him? I grinned at the thought, amused by his slight paranoia.
“Good evening. Is your lord within?”
The man eyed me warily. “He’s abed, my lady.”
“Already? Is he well?”
“Yes, my lady.”
I frowned from the man to the door. On the other side of the chamber door, I heard voices. I caught the sound of Macbeth’s voice, but didn’t recognize that of the other person whose voice was very low.
“Who is with my lord?”
The man frowned. “Goodnight, Lady Macbeth.”
The raven did not like this answer.
Frowning, I moved to go around the man, but he shifted to block me. “My lord asked not to be disturbed, my lady.”
“Macbeth,” I called toward the door.
The voices within quieted.
“Macbeth?”
There was no answer.
I glared at the man, feeling the flash of the raven in my eyes. “Liar. I will not forget,” I told him.
“Lady Gruoch,” the man said, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, my lady. Macbeth ordered me…” he began, but I didn’t hear the rest.
Turning, my anger boiling, I headed back to my chamber. I was about to go within when I spotted movement in the small garden below my chamber. There was a hooded figure sitting near the tree. Why was someone in my garden? Already seething, my heart beat quickly. Who would dare to come so close to me and my son? There was treachery afoot at Inverness. The raven was set on edge.
I pulled Scáthach from my boot, extinguished my lamp, and slipped down the stairs. The dagger before me, I stepped into the garden. The snow was so deep it was above my knees. I eyed the ground all around me. There were no other footprints in the snow.
I stared at the robed figure. The person held their head in their hands and wept.
A god?
A goddess?
The air around the figure simmered and waved. For a moment, I saw a hall I did not recognize. Images of stones and the orange glow of fire were superimposed over the snow. I saw the garden and the hall all at once. The stranger was both here and there.
The figure moaned miserably.
Gasping, I recognized a familiar catch in his voice.
“Banquo?” I whispered.
He looked up, his face scrunching up as if he was unsure where he was. The image of the hall around him wavered. I realized then what was happening. His despair had called to me, and I had found him in one of the thin places. Given the raven was already awake within me, it was not a surprise I had heard his distress. Banquo was not at Inverness. He was in Lochaber. But, at the moment, neither of us were quite in one place or the other. We were in the thin place, the place that was neither and both all at once.
“Banquo?”
He wiped a tear from his cheek. “Merna is dead,” he whispered.
I gasped. I had been jealous of the woman, but had never wished her gone. In my most desperate hour, Merna had been there for me whereas others who pretended to love me had not. It was Merna who had been at my side when my unborn child died, not Macbeth.
“I’m so sorry. Fleance?”
“Recovering, thanks to the gods. Balor arrived just in time. He was able to heal Fleance in time, but Merna… She was too far gone.”
“Oh, Banquo,” I whispered, stepping toward him. My heart ached. “Banquo,” I said, reaching out to him.
“Don’t come too close,” Banquo said, motioning to me in warning, “or you will step through.” Banquo looked off into the distance. “What will I do now? My son…”
“Bring him to me. Bring him to me, and I shall care for your child. I will raise him alongside Lulach. Bring Fleance when he is well enough to travel—and Morag.”
Banquo stared at me. “Are you… Are you certain?”
Tears welled in my eyes. “I will never give you a son in this life. Let me care for your boy as if he were my own. For Merna and for you.”
Banquo wept hard.
My heart broke at the sight.
But then there was a sound in the distance, and the dual image wavered. I heard someone call Banquo’s name.
Banquo turned and looked at me. “Cerridwen?”
“My heart goes with you,” I whispered.
A moment later, the image disappeared.
I
squeezed the handle on my dagger then stared up at the moon. My mind whirled. I was furious at Macbeth, sad for Fleance and Banquo, grieved Merna’s loss, but also—much to my shame—felt an enormous sense of relief over her death. Merna was a good woman, and her goodness had served as a barrier between Banquo and me. And now… I was ashamed of my thoughts.
“I’m sorry, Merna,” I whispered. “You were so good to me. I am sorry I loved him first,” I whispered then turned and headed back upstairs.
Merna was gone.
But there was still Macbeth.
When I reached the landing, I heard boots coming my direction. I turned to find Macbeth walking toward me. “Gruoch?”
Scáthach still in my hand, I held the dagger in front of me.
Macbeth slowed. “Gruoch?”
“How now, Macbeth?”
“Gruoch, what is the matter? You’re as pale as snow. Have you… Were you crying? What’s wrong?”
“Who was in your chamber?” the raven hissed.
“My chamber?”
“Who was in your chamber?”
“I…was with my priest. I was in prayer. It is the time of Christ’s birth. I took my prayers in private so I would not disturb you. I know you do not follow the White Christ. My guard always sees to it my prayers are not disturbed.”
Lies. He lies!
With the double vision of myself and the raven, I studied his face. Was he lying? Gruoch doubted, but the raven did not. It was all I could do to keep the raven within from stabbing him right then and there.
“Gruoch, is that why you are upset?” He moved toward me.
I stepped back. “I was not crying over you,” I snapped.
Macbeth recoiled like he’d been slapped. “You don’t have to be so harsh. Then…what is it?”
“Merna is dead.”
“There was a messenger? Someone came in this storm?”
“There was a messenger, but there is no one here.”
At that, Macbeth paused. Understanding, his expression darkened. “I see,” he said.
I stared at him.
“Is Lulach abed? I brought this for him,” Macbeth said, holding out a small wooden duck.
I stared at the toy. “He’s sleeping.”
“No matter. I have a whole barn of them carved to give him in the morning. Why don’t you get some rest? This news from Lochaber is upsetting.”
Without another word, I turned and headed toward my chamber.
“Gruoch?”
I went inside my chamber, closing and locking it behind me. I leaned against the door and stared into the bright space. The fire was burning brightly. I could hear Tira and Rhona inside their maids’ chambers, both of them snoring. The door to my bedchamber was open. I spotted Lulach sprawled out the bed, Thora taking up what little space Lulach had left.
My heart was pounding in my chest. I was filled with rage. But why?
He was with his priest.
That made sense.
Right?
Right?
But if it did, why was I so angry?
He lies! He lies!
I closed my eyes and let the raven wholly in.
I felt a sharp jarring woosh as the raven and I became one. The beating sound of raven’s wings overwhelmed me, and a moment later, I flung myself from my body and flew out the window. I glided, an ethereal creature, on black feathers around the castle to Macbeth’s chamber. A thing no denser than the wind, I blasted into Macbeth’s bedchamber then shifted once more into my own form.
There, lying in Macbeth’s bed, was one of the kitchen wenches. A plump girl with long brown hair lay sleeping in the nude. The distinct smell of carnal relations filled the air.
You see! He lies! He lies!
The chamber door opened.
Macbeth stepped inside.
He grinned at the girl then began untying the lace on his shirt. He tossed the little wooden duck into the fireplace.
But then, he felt it.
He shivered as if struck by the cold.
His eyes wide, he turned and looked at me.
Not just me, but the raven.
I shrieked loudly.
The sound rattled everything in the room. The looking glass on the wall shivered and fell to the ground, crashing into a thousand pieces. The wail woke the woman who looked around the room, disoriented. She looked through and past me. She did not see.
Macbeth made the sign of the cross over himself.
I sneered at him then turned and flew back out the window, shifting into my winged form once more. I flew back into my own chamber then slammed back into my body.
I gasped then my eyes popped open.
I fell to the floor, my head hitting the stones hard.
Scáthach fell from my hand and bounced across the floor.
Then the tremor struck.
My back stiffened first, and then my arms and legs started shaking.
“What in the world was—Lady Gruoch!” I heard Rhona call. “Tira, get up, Lady Gruoch is having a fit.”
“Oh my goddess, my lady!” Tira exclaimed.
“Her head is bleeding. Dammit, Lord Banquo has gone back to Lochaber. Run downstairs, and find the healer that rides with Macbeth’s army.”
I heard the door open and close.
Rhona’s strong hands fought to hold me still. I shook and shook, unable to control the tremors. The taste of blood filled my mouth.
“Hold on, my lady. Just hold on. Try to breathe, and let it pass. Just try to breathe, and let it pass. Hold on.”
“Mum?” I heard Lulach call.
“Your mum is sick, little lord. Please stay abed until we get her well again.”
“Mum? Mum?”
I stared at a spot on the ceiling.
A moment later, the image of Gillacoemgain appeared over me, looking down at me with worry on his face.
A realization struck me. I could let go. I could just let go and go to him now if I wanted to. If I let go, if I stepped out of my body, I could stay there with him in the otherworld. My body shook hard, the taste of blood filling my mouth. I could let go and be done with all this pain.
“Mum? Mum?” Lulach called then began crying.
Gillacoemgain looked at Lulach then back at me, a sad smile on his face.
No. It was not time yet.
I opened my lips to whisper.
“Don’t try to talk,” Rhona told me. “Don’t try to talk, my lady.”
“An…An…Andraste,” I whispered.
A moment later, I caught the scent of flowers, and the world around me and Rhona grew dark.
“Mum. Mum!”
“What the… May the Great Mother watch over us,” Rhona said, her eyes wide as Andraste stepped out of the darkness.
Frowning and shaking her head with annoyance, Andraste held my jaw still with one hand while she poured an ice-cold liquid from a small silver vial down my throat. The deed done, she turned and stepped back into the darkness, disappearing once more.
I twitched hard one more time then the shaking subsided.
“Oh, my lady, the gods themselves watch over you,” Rhona said in an astonished whisper.
Tira returned a moment later with Macbeth’s healer and two soldiers, men of Moray, alongside her.
“We must move her to the bed,” the healer said.
“I’ll get Lulach,” Tira said.
Half-unconscious, I felt hands move me. Rhona explained to the healer what had happened—leaving out Andraste’s sudden appearance. Macbeth’s man looked me over, looking deeply into my eyes, which I could barely keep open.
“The worst has passed. Does she have these fits often?”
“I don’t know,” Rhona said.
“Rhona, don’t you remember?” Tira asked. “When Lord Gillacoemgain was alive, she had that fit during the council meeting just before—” Tira began but left off, her eyes narrowing as she looked toward the door.
“What’s happening here?” Macbeth asked.
“Y
our wife, my lord. She had a fit, a shaking ailment,” the man replied.
“Is she… Is she all right?”
“The worst is over, I believe. I did not see the fit myself, but she seems calm now. She does have a nasty cut on her head.”
“We’ll attend to it,” Tira said. “We have Lady Gruoch’s medicines here.”
“Your lady may not wish you to use her—” Macbeth began.
“We’ll attend to it, my lord,” Rhona said firmly.
“Mum! Mum?”
“Mum is sleeping, little lord. She’ll be well soon,” Tira said.
“I, well, very well then,” Macbeth said.
I closed my eyes.
A moment later, I heard Macbeth’s footsteps retreat.
“Call me if she becomes ill again,” the army healer said then left.
“You men, stay by the door. No one comes in to see the Lady of Moray unless she permits it,” I heard Rhona tell the guards.
“What happened?” Tira whispered. “Did something upset her?”
“I don’t know. She was out somewhere. There is snow on the hem of her gown. God knows what game Lord Macbeth played with her now. Take Lulach and get him to sleep in our bed,” Rhona told Tira.
“Come along, little lord,” Tira said.
I heard Rhona sigh as she opened my medicine case. A few moments later, I felt her apply an astringent to the cut on my forehead. She then applied a salve to the wound. She exhaled heavily then sat beside me and took my hand. “I don’t know what happened to you, my lady, but I know one thing for sure. Inverness is no place for you. Only Cailleach saved you from Findelach’s house tonight. Tomorrow, we should return to Cawdor where our mormaer’s spirit can watch over his wife and son. This place is poison.”
I could not speak, but I squeezed her hand.
She was right.
There was no Lord and Lady Macbeth. There never had been, really. My mind replayed scenes, incidents, moments. Suddenly, everything began to fall into place. All the pieces started to fit. I remembered Thorfinn’s words about Macbeth’s whoring ways. I remembered things that had not been quite right, but I didn’t know why.
And then the raven let me see.
Images flashed before my eyes.
Suspicions I had buried because they were too odious, too unthinkable, came to life before me.
Highland Vengeance (The Celtic Blood Series Book 3) Page 22
