Now I knew why Ute had left.
The vision made me gag. I watched in horror as Macbeth did to her as Duncan had once done to me.
Now I knew who the father of Elspeth’s child was.
I saw her and her tiny, dark-haired baby boy whom she had named Findelach.
Now I knew about all the others.
There were so many other faces, so many other women. They lined up to fall into in his bed—some willing, some not. At Thurso. At Inverness. At Cawdor. At Scone. I saw his hands on ladies while my back was turned. His hands in the lap of a woman beside him at dinner, his fingers playing between her legs, while I sat on his other side, oblivious to it all.
All the while, Macbeth smiled and smiled, relishing his secret revenges—on me, on Banquo, on Gillacoemgain—enjoying the pain and confusion he caused.
A tear slid down my face.
Now I knew.
And the raven would never forgive.
Chapter 40
It took me three days to recover. When I was finally well enough to ride, and the storm had weakened to a light snowfall, I returned to Cawdor. I would play the fool no more.
“My lady,” Standish said, greeting me at the gate. He searched my face, concern plastered on his features.
I handed him a note. “Standish, will you please send a messenger for me?”
“Of course. To whom?”
“The Thane of Lochaber.”
Standish bowed. “As you wish, my lady.”
I kissed Lulach on the top of his head. I had brought my son home. And this time, no amount of lies, guilt, nor desire to have things be good—they were not and never would be—would make me go back. Soon, Banquo would come, and my life would be my own again.
* * *
Banquo and Fleance arrived a month later. I had apprised Standish, Tira, and Rhona of Merna’s death. When they rode in, both Banquo and Fleance looked woefully sad. A small party accompanied them, including Morag.
“My lady,” Morag said as I held her horse so she could dismount. “My tired old bones are happy to see you and Cawdor.”
“I have a nice warm fire ready for you, Morag. This is Tira and Rhona. They will help you settle in.”
“Thank you, Lady Gruoch,” she said as she slowly climbed down. “I used to ride the hills half-wild when I was a girl. Now, I think I broke my arse,” Morag said, rubbing her backside.
Rhona laughed. “I think Morag will fit in just fine here. Come along. I’ll steal some of Lady Gruoch’s good wine for you,” Rhona said, extending her arm to the maid.
“Banc!” Lulach yelled, making Banquo smile. I was glad to see the expression on Banquo’s pale and drawn face.
Reaching out, I helped Fleance down from his father’s horse.
“Welcome, my dear. My, how big you have grown. How old are you now, Fleance?”
“I three. Corbie, my mum go to the otherworld,” he said, his eyes welling with tears.
“Yes, love. I know. I’m so sorry,” I said, hugging the boy. “You will stay with me now. I will watch over you. I promise,” I whispered in his ear.
The little boy kissed my cheek and wrapped his arms around my neck. Given he had always been a sprite-like creature, I expected him to struggle to get down. Instead, he sighed heavily and set his cheek on my shoulder.
“My lord,” Standish told Banquo who dismounted. “I’ve arranged chambers for you and your footman. I’ll house your men amongst those of Moray. If you will, Thane,” he said, motioning toward the castle.
Banquo smiled softly at me then followed Standish inside.
“Such a sad sight,” Tira said. “Lord Banquo is usually so merry.”
“These days will be hard for them, but we shall do our best to help.”
Tira nodded, and we headed inside.
I’d rearranged the sleeping chambers so Lulach and Fleance were housed together in the room beside my own, Morag with the boys, and Tira and Rhona in the chamber on the other side. To avoid the gossip that would no doubt follow, I asked Standish to prepare a room for Banquo in another wing of the castle. He would not be able to stay forever, but at least for awhile, he would be amongst friends.
I heard nothing from Macbeth.
Nothing before I left.
Nothing after.
We had seen the true sides of one another.
I saw him for the lying whore he was.
And he had seen the raven.
Wounded by the truth, I cut off the broken part of myself so I would not feel the pain. I was the Lady of Moray. Unless he set me aside, which he could not do, Macbeth would never have a legitimate heir—bastards, apparently, would be in plenty.
Macbeth was nothing to me.
Now, I would do as had always been intended.
With or without Macbeth, I would rule.
* * *
In the weeks that followed, Banquo and Fleance settled into Cawdor. I even began to see some signs of the mischievous boy who used to bedevil his mother. Banquo, however, had yet to return to his mirthful self.
To my surprise, I found him sitting in the garden in the closed wing of the castle all alone one night. The snow had begun to melt, and the first signs of spring were on the horizon. The place was a wet and muddy mess. Banquo sat staring, tears in his eyes.
I sat down on the bench beside him. “Banquo, what is it?”
He shook his head.
Taking his hand in mine, I gazed at him.
“Is it just…the loss?”
“It’s the guilt, the terrible guilt.”
“Guilt?
“How many times did I wish I had not married Merna? I wished I had waited for you. I resented her, resented my marriage to her. As she was dying, do you know what she said? She told me ‘Go to her now. Go to her. She needs you. And you need her. You love her, and she loves you. Go to her.’ She knew all along, Cerridwen. She knew, but she did not resent it. I…wonder about my actions, my choices. I married her while I was in love with someone else.”
“As did I when I married Gillacoemgain. There, right there,” I said, pointing to the small chapel on the other side of the garden. “But I loved him no less. In truth, I loved him very much. And I still do. You loved Merna?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Love is a dangerous, confusing creature. We are all her slaves. Gillacoemgain is gone. Merna is gone. But we are still here.”
“Macbeth?”
“Macbeth is dust to me. The raven has seen him for what he is. That part of my life is over.”
“Then what now?”
“Now, we shall watch the winds. I am the Lady of Moray. I will rule the north as I was intended to do. To that end, I have discovered there is movement in the south. Duncan’s fleet will soon set sail to join Rognevald. We will back Thorfinn, and he will have his victory.”
“Let’s hope.”
“No. It is certain. I have foreseen it.”
Banquo looked at me, nodded, then took my hand. “That is good news for the country. But what about us? My staying here breeds gossip. If all believe the Lady of Moray has thrown over her husband for the Thane of Lochaber, it will weaken the north. I…must go soon.”
“I’d rather you stayed.”
“I would rather stay, but…”
We both chuckled.
I smiled at Banquo then gently reached out and stroked his cheek. He was right, but would it always have to be this way? War was coming. What if Macbeth died?
“Don’t think such things. You will live to regret them,” Banquo whispered.
“Druid, stay out of my mind,” I said, smiling gently at him. I shook my head. “Macbeth has betrayed me. It is done between him and me.”
Banquo exhaled deeply. “I hoped he would do better by you. You are so very special. He is blind if he could not see what prize he’d won.”
“He is his father’s son,” I said, my eyes drifting toward Crearwy’s chamber. Terrible images wanted to force themselves on me. I blocked them away. Sighin
g, I asked, “What will you do?”
“I will ride north to Thorfinn.”
“Fleance will be safe here and well cared for. I promise you.”
“It is a lot to ask.”
“It is nothing to ask. He is your son.”
Banquo smiled tenderly at me.
“When will you go?” I whispered.
“Soon.”
“Soon?”
He nodded. Our eyes searched one another’s faces, raising and answering questions neither of us dared speak aloud.
I reached out then and squeezed his hand. My heart beating hard, I rose and left the garden.
* * *
Late that night, long after the boys and maids had gone to sleep, I rose. I checked on Lulach and Fleance who were cuddled together like puppies on their big bed, Thora lying alongside them. When I opened the door, Thora lifted her head and looked at me, her eyes glimmering in the candlelight. I smiled at her then lifted a finger to my lips, motioning for her to be quiet.
Thora wagged her tail then laid her head back down.
Morag slept on her bed not far from the boys. She snored so loudly, I thought Thorfinn could have been there in her place. I suppressed a chuckle.
I blew out my little candle and set it aside.
The castle was quiet, everyone asleep.
I crept down the hallway to Banquo’s chamber.
The door opened even before I had a chance to knock.
Taking me by the hand, Banquo led me inside.
He turned and closed the door, locking the latch.
He exhaled deeply then took my face into his hands. He leaned in and set a soft, sweet kiss on my lips. His mouth tasted sweet and salty, the taste of honey mead on his lips. The familiar smell of his masculine scent and that of the woods overcame my senses. I fell into the kiss. I kissed him desperately, passionately, setting free years of unspent passion, kisses that had been smothered, love that had been chained.
I set it all free.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and hooked my legs around his waist.
Holding me by my bottom, Banquo carried me to the bed. We started pulling off our clothes as our mouths roved over one another, desperate to make up for lost time, desperate to have that one thing we had both wanted so badly but had denied ourselves due to promises we had made in good faith. Merna, alas, was gone. But she had blessed us and forgiven Banquo all in one breath. And my faith had been utterly destroyed. I could not even fathom the depths of Macbeth’s betrayal. One cousin had been no better than the other. In the end, Macbeth was Findelach’s son. But he wasn’t my husband anymore. His lies had broken the accord between us.
I kissed Banquo eagerly, lovingly.
Laying him down, I slid on top of him and gazed deeply into his eyes. Banquo reached out and stroked my cheek, my hair, touching my breasts tenderly, lovingly. He laced his fingers with mine, the palms where we had made our handfasting touching. My body trembled when those sacred marks met, renewing the promise between us. I leaned forward and kissed him again. Moving gently, I joined my body with that of my true husband. And the pleasure of it was like nothing I had felt in a very long time.
I locked my eyes on Banquo’s.
This was love.
This was what love felt like.
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
Macbeth had made me forget. Macbeth had used and hurt me. Macbeth had used and hurt others to hurt me. Nothing with Macbeth had ever been love.
This was my real husband.
This was my soul’s mate.
This was love.
This was true love.
And it was everything.
* * *
Two days later, Banquo rode to the Moray Firth where he took a ship and sailed north to Thorfinn. War was coming, and Banquo was a soldier. And I, the Lady of Moray, set my sights south and waited, content that I had reclaimed some piece of the life I had always dreamed of.
Chapter 41
Long ago, Epona taught me that three was a sacred number. The goddess comes in threes: maiden, mother, and crone. There were nine of us at the coven. And there were nine covens in the land, though I did not know where the others were. I’d spent six years in Ynes Verleath, though it had barely felt like six months. And I’d had three husbands. With the addition of Fleance in my life, I had a third child to love.
In the days ahead, more threes came to be of importance.
Six years. The length of time that passed since Banquo rode from Cawdor. Also, the number of years that had passed since I saw Macbeth in the flesh. And the numbers of years it had been since I’d seen my own daughter.
And another three.
Three wars.
The war at sea that I had foreseen came to pass the spring Banquo had ridden off to war. Duncan’s ships—not the king himself—were soundly defeated by Thorfinn’s armada. Rognevald went down with his ship, and the king’s force returned south. Once the country was stirred, it did not rest.
Two years later, as the Morrigu had predicted, Duncan built up a new army made of mercenaries from Ireland. Misunderstanding Thorfinn’s close relationship with Echmarcach, Lord of the Isles, Duncan solicited the lord’s help to land his army on the west coast. This time, Thorfinn and young King Magnus, who had come to live with Thorfinn, met the mercenaries at sea. Banquo, under Macbeth’s directive, went with an army and destroyed the troops who managed to make landfall. A second defeat still did not deter Duncan.
It took Duncan two more years to devise a plan to crush the north. In the sixth year of his reign, on one very dull and inauspicious evening, the last and most important three was born.
“Mum,” Lulach called as he and Fleance sat with their tutor, both boys trying hard not to learn Latin as I had once done, much to their tutor’s consternation. “I think Fleance and I would both learn better if we had a mug of honeyed herbs.”
“Oh, aye. Lulach is right. Please, Corbie?” Fleance echoed.
I grinned. At some point over the years, I had made a small pot of the same honeyed herb drink Gillacoemgain favored to soothe my own loneliness. Banquo had been gone for years. For fear of Lulach’s and Fleance’s safety in time of war, I had not gone south to see Crearwy or Madelaine. The entire country had held its breath waiting to see what would happen next. I waited, grew herbs, raised my boys, and brewed honeyed herbs which Lulach had loved from the first moment. Fleance? Well, any excuse to take a break from learning Latin was appreciated.
I went to the fire where I had a small pot warming beside the cauldron. When I glanced into the large cauldron, I saw a ripple on the surface. Slowing, I paused and looked within. The water pitched and boiled then I saw blood. Unbidden, I heard the raven’s wings, and the dark spirit awoke within me.
Look. Look!
I saw the king’s ships travel up the east coast. A battle ensued near Aberdeen. In the north, I saw another battle take place in the rough waters between Caithness and Orkney. To the south, I saw Duncan’s golden armor shining as he crossed boldly, under the mantle of peace, into the northern districts, a massive English army headed by Earl Siward of Northumbria not far behind him.
Gasping, I pulled myself back before I fell into the fire.
“Mum,” Lulach called, rushing to me.
I stared wide-eyed at the flames.
Fleance took me by one arm, Lulach by the other.
“What is it?” Fleance asked.
“My lady?” Tira called, rushing across the room.
“Tell Standish to ready riders at once. I… Bring me my parchment and ink. I must send messages, and quickly.”
“Yes, my lady,” Tira said then rushed off.
“Mum, what did you see?” Lulach whispered.
I stared at him, looking from Lulach to Fleance. “My boys… War is upon us again.”
* * *
I wrote first to Thorfinn and Banquo who were together at Thurso, telling them what I had foreseen. Then, begrudgingly, I wrote to Macbeth. Over the years we had entere
d into a formal relationship. Macbeth treated me like any other constituent in the north, and I was settled with it—for now. He never came to Cawdor. He never asked anything of me. I sought no rumor of him. It was done.
But now, Duncan was coming for us as I had always warned he would. If we were going to survive, we would need to find a way to navigate, not just our enemies, but one another.
As I was taking Macbeth’s note to the messenger waiting in the yard, Tavis rode through the gates of Cawdor.
“Tavis?”
“Gruoch, thank goodness. I must speak to you at once.”
“Is it Madelaine? Or Uald?”
Tavis shook his head. “All are fine. All of them. But I have a message.”
“Here. For Inverness,” I said, handing my note to the rider who quickly headed out.
“Come inside,” I told Tavis, motioning for a groom to come take his horse.
Fleance and Lulach had given up on the Latin and were talking about my news with intense seriousness when I returned to the hall with Tavis.
Tavis slowed when he saw them. “Is that Lulach? The dark-haired boy?”
I nodded.
“He looks like you, and I see his father in his face as well.”
I had grown used to the comment and used to pretending it didn’t still hurt. “Thank you.”
“The other boy?”
“Fleance of Lochaber.”
“Ah,” Tavis said, his brow arching. He said nothing more, but he didn’t have to. I knew Tavis was Madelaine’s closest confidant. No doubt he’d been told something.
“Lulach, ask the kitchen maids for ale and food for our guest,” I said then bid Tavis to sit.
Lulach nodded then he and Fleance ran off to the kitchen. Together, always together. Thora, who was heavily pregnant—surprising me with a litter of puppies so late in her years—was dozing by the fire. She, like me, had prolonged her life due to her time at Ynes Verleath. But still, she was no young dog anymore. She lifted her head and looked to see where the boys were going. Determining it was too much work to follow them, she looked back at me. Spotting Tavis, however, she rose and slowly came to him.
Highland Vengeance (The Celtic Blood Series Book 3) Page 23
