by Jacky Gray
He chuckled. “Because it tastes so much better when I’ve snaffled it from your plate. Ask any man.”
Brom, sat opposite, agreed as he pinched his wife’s oatencake. Even Alfun, who she considered the height of supportiveness, joined in, quaffing from Cora’s beaker.
“Surely not you, too? I’ve truly been spoilt. Lyran never stole my food.”
Jarl shook his head. “He’s the one who taught us! But he’s such a master you never caught him.”
She turned to catch Lyran sneaking Eanje’s bread twist, but the woman swatted his hand with her spoon and retrieved it. “Mine. Hands off.” She pretended to snarl.
“Yes, my love.” He picked up the empty platter and headed toward the door as Bryce appeared carrying two laden platters fresh from the oven. Lyran turned and followed him to the table, panting like a dog.
Her reservations about Zane were forgotten until Cal stood abruptly with a withering look at the youth. Lyrelie stared up at him in dismay as he hissed something Senna thought was probably a request for her to join him. When she didn’t rise, he stormed out.
Lyrelie sought her mother’s gaze with a question. Senna mouthed the words, “Go after him,” with an accompanying gesture. She had no idea what Zane had said, but the energy rolling off him in waves smacked of sly victory.
Jarl spotted it, too. “If he has insulted her in some way, I’ll …”
“If he insulted her, do you not think he would be on the floor? I suspect he insulted Cal, but not obviously, so Lyrelie could not be sure what he said. The lad is quite adept by all accounts.”
“Whose accounts? I’ve not heard anyone with a bad word to say against him yet I’ve seen things …”
“What kind of things?”
“Not here.” He glanced up and down the table, but she could not imagine who he meant. Surely not Lyran.
She never got the chance to find out as they were met at the door to Lyrelie’s house by the girl herself, tying her cloak around her as she ran.
“What’s the problem?” Jarl caught her as she stumbled.
“Cal is so angry I’m afraid he will do something to Zane. I need to warn him.”
“Who, Zane?”
Her tone scathed. “That viper? Certainly not. He deserves everything he gets.”
Jarl’s eyebrows showed how little he knew of the women in her family.
“I need to remind Cal of the consequences of violence. He has a known history of fighting with the lad and their animosity is never far from the surface. It’s why we always sit with Verat and Freya, but they were late to lunch today.”
“I think he would be less angry if you had stood immediately when he asked.” Senna strove to lighten her tone against the censure.
“I was trying to work out exactly what Zane had said. Wilona demanded my attention and I only caught the last few words. I think he may have been referring to the fact I’m not pregnant yet. Earlier he asked about our handfasting, trying to work out how many moons we’d been wed.”
Jarl scoffed. “I can guess what he was leading up to. Do you remember what he said?”
“I’ve been trying to work it out. Something about swords.” She closed her eyes, speaking slowly from memory. “Maybe she needs the feel of a real blade instead of the paster you have there.” She opened her eyes. Wide. “A paster is the wooden sword young boys play with. He meant …”
“That caitiff.” Jarl spat the word out. “Sorry, ladies. I see now why you didn’t understand immediately.”
“It’s worse than you think. Last time he taunted Cal that I would lift my skirts for a real man, Cal took on him and two of his mates and ended up in a sorry state.”
“I thought I spotted something between them at the Imbolc fight last year. Zane damn near wrenched Cal’s arm out of his socket with his dirty tricks.”
Senna felt her eyes widening every bit as much as her daughter’s. “I cannot believe I’m only just hearing this. I would never have agreed to treat Zane if I thought he could be this kind of monster.”
“You would if Lyran told you to.” Jarl’s grumble was lost as Senna spotted her daughter’s face and realised something.
“You’re doing it. Lyran asked you.”
Lyrelie hung her head.
Jarl glanced from one to the other. “What?” When Lyrelie wouldn’t meet his gaze, he glanced at Senna expectantly. “Tell me.”
“Because Zane snuck through with the first herd of animals back at Samhain, he never got the potion with Lyrelie’s blood. When Wilona ‘found’ him, he was in a bad way, so Lyran and I gave him a potion with our combined blood to counter the effects.”
Jarl frowned. “I always suspected something suspicious about the way she stumbled across him in the rain.”
“When Zane still needed it after three moons, I suggested he wasn’t meant to be over here and we should let him take his chances. Lyran never asked me again.”
“But he did ask me for some. I’m so used to giving it, I never asked its purpose. I assumed it was part of a blessing ritual.”
Senna suddenly found it difficult to breathe. She could not believe the man she’d loved and trusted for so many years was behaving so secretively. A memory niggled at the back of her brain.
Jarl frowned. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for it all.”
Cal appeared and Lyrelie flew into his arms. “I was so worried when …”
“What? You think that worm will ever have power over me?” He scoffed. “Never. A wise man taught me to walk away.” His grin turned to a frown. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing much. Your wife merely worries your anger is bigger than your brain. But she has never seen you in action and does not know what you are capable of. Maybe you should treat her to a spectacle.”
“Do not jest about things like that. I’m not even sure if the sword dancers would be able to perform. And I’m certainly not foolish enough to do anything more than frown and remove myself from the vicinity of caitiffs.”
“Cal!” Lyrelie looked shocked.
“Sorry. I do not mean to use such strong language in the presence of women. And I’m sorry, my love. I never meant to make you worry so.”
Their concerns were pushed aside as the four new mothers strolled up wheeling identical carts Taron had made for the babes. Ribbons of blue and pink streamed gaily in the wind, identifying boy or girl.
As the women cooed and fussed over the little ones, Lareeta smiled at Senna. “Your babe cart is done, and we have both pink and blue ribbons ready.”
Jarl scoffed. “Blue. You won’t need the pink one, I promise you. He kicks like a mule.”
Lareeta laughed. “You haven’t seen Eanje, have you? Taron has a couple of ideas for a cart which will hold two babes, but he wants to check his designs with her first.”
“Try the roundhouse. If she’s not there, maybe the church.”
Senna had little time to concern herself about problems with Lyran and Zane, imagined or otherwise. As the day of the spring equinox approached, she became caught up with the many schemes and plans as people sought to make their first Sabbat in the new world one to remember.
The Archdruid and his good lady were coordinating the event, but he seemed nervous. His wife explained.
“His confidence took a huge knock after the incident last Imbolc with the fields. And all the nasty business with Domenyk attacking you and Lyrelie, affected him badly. He felt he should have done more to protect you both. And as for the murders, well, I expect you can guess how that made him feel.”
Senna frowned, trying to put herself in this woman’s shoes, but she had not finished.
“And ever since then, every Sabbat has been cancelled because of the pestilence. What he needs is a big success to restore everyone’s faith in him. So we would really appreciate if you can stay at the back and let people see how powerful he is.”
Senna could not believe this attitude; she always had the greatest respect for the man in th
e past. Although, when she thought about it, she’d had little to do with the woman standing in front of her, wringing her hands. As she tried to formulate a reply which would maintain harmony, help came from an unexpected quarter. Neither woman had heard his stealthy approach.
“I’ll thank you to have a little more respect when you talk to my wife, and a lot more respect when you talk about your husband.”
Her eyes widened as she turned, but Lyran continued as though he had not made a huge slip. “If he could hear the way you are belittling his skills and maligning his motives, he would be mortified. I’ve known the Archdruid for many decades and cannot think of a more spiritually powerful man. You do him a great disservice, woman, and should be ashamed of yourself.”
She broke down in tears. Comforting the woman, Senna sensed a kind of decay within her. Behind a skilfully applied layer of lotion, her skin looked grey.
Senna worked it out. “You did not drink the potion Lyrelie gave you. And yet you still managed to transfer. Without the special ingredients, you should not have been able to.”
Lyran smiled kindly. “This can be fixed. I have a potion which will help you overcome the sickness ailing you.”
Something about the woman’s meek smile did not ring true. Senna could not be sure, but she thought she spotted a strange glint in her eye, hastily suppressed as she apologised again.
“Pride and arrogance, that’s all it was. He couldn’t understand why he was not chosen to carry out Gaia’s wishes. And when he told me we could get through on our faith alone, I could not go against him. He is my husband, after all.” The surreptitious glance she aimed at Lyran suggested his slip had not gone unnoticed.
Unfortunately he missed the look. “Senna, wait here while I fetch the potion.”
Alex chose that moment to rain down such kicks it were indeed as though the babe had planned an escape. Senna bent double, trying to ease the pain.
“What is it? Is the babe coming?”
“No, I …” A flurry of kicks. “Yes. I think it might be.”
“Sorry, I must get Senna back home. I will send Lyrelie with the potion for you both.”
Senna’s legs buckled as Alex’s movements pinched a nerve. Lyran scooped her up, his face contorting, whether from fear or the effort, she could not tell.
As he crossed the henge, she stopped him. “Please, I need a moment.”
He glanced around, heading for the moon circle. “Of course. Although Jarl’s not going to be best pleased when he finds out his Alex is not a boy.”
“You know? How?”
He grimaced. “Let’s just say not many boys will be born for a while. Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”
“I’ve had my suspicions. She will be no ordinary girl; she has more warrior energy than most of the men I know.”
He chuckled. “That is certainly true. Have you noticed the hair?”
She blushed. “How can you possibly know about that?”
Touching the whiskers on her chin, he whispered, “Do not worry, it will not grow into a full beard. You will lose it when she’s out.”
“What’s this? I find you with my wife in your arms, whispering sweet things in her ear? Should I run you through, now?” Jarl’s shadow blocked the sunlight as he towered over them, arms akimbo.
“No, you donkey. She just had a false alarm, that’s all.”
“I’ll believe that when … a false alarm? You mean Alex?” He dropped to his knees. “What happened? What do we do? Should I take her …?”
“Actually, when Alex is ready to appear, I know no better place. Lyrelie demanded to be born here.” Lyran shrugged. “Something about the henge’s energies speeds the birthing process and lessens the pain.”
“Of course.” He scanned around. “Shouldn’t it be the sun circle?”
“If you want it to shoot out so fast we have to hold a bucket to catch it.”
Jarl frowned. “You said it speeds the birthing.”
“I did. Good to know you are listening for a change. Trust me; the moon’s energies are much gentler.”
Weary of their bickering, Senna attempted to get up. Both men rushed to her aid. “I am stiffening on this hard ground. I think Alex merely wanted you both to know the correct birthing site. We merely have to wait two weeks.”
Senna struggled to deal with the idea she and her family were once more being targeted by forces trying to disrupt them. She could not imagine for one moment why Lyran would be so careless about these dangers. What if Zane’s intention was to destroy them as Domenyk’s had been?
At least this time, she knew who it was, although her personal paranoia suggested more than just the Archdruid’s wife and Zane. Certainly Wilona appeared a willing accomplice, and maybe the Archdruid himself.
Returning home, she imagined all manner of scenarios where the man was already dead, poisoned by his murderous wife.
Lyran delivered the potion with Bryce and Dennon in tow. The constables had ostensibly gone along to enquire about clearing the route from the Sanctuary. Because it had not been used for rituals in this world for many centuries, it was quite overgrown. They offered to put together a team to clear it, and he happily accepted.
When she quizzed Bryce later, he said the man looked as though he had aged a decade, but seemed well enough.
Since that day, she had diverted anyone with questions about the ceremony to address them to the Archdruid, gently reminding people of his purpose; hers was to heal.
Ostara dawned clear and bright, if a little chilly, and everyone in the village seemed determined to co-operate to ensure the day ran smoothly and in perfect harmony. For Senna, it held the same joyous energy as Yule’s Freya-Day, and she quite expected people to be greeting each other with kisses and dancing in the street. Several people had similar ideas and Cora made up a greeting, trying it out on Senna first.
“Equal day, equal night, share the joy with love and light.” Just like the Freya blessing, it involved a kiss on both cheeks, then a twirling dance step into a hug.
Senna clapped her hands. “That is perfect. You watch; they’ll all be doing it by the end of the day.”
The procession to the henge was not as solemn as normal, and some people even broke into Cora’s rhyme, adding a couple more verses as they gave thanks for so many blessings. Zane and Wilona picked it up, adding dance steps and hand claps until it built into quite a routine. Behind them, a number of the younger men and women, and most of the older children joined in.
Senna expected the Archdruid to object, but even he and his wife joined in on Cora’s chorus. The Michael line began to glow with the energy and, as they passed through the outer henge, the Mary line joined it. Alex decided she would mark the occasion with a little dance of her own, swimming from one side of her mother’s belly to the other.
Perfectly happy to stand back, Senna watched in delight as her friends called corners and invited the spirits above and below. For each of these, she felt the appropriate energy, but when the Archdruid and his wife invited the God and Goddess, nothing happened. Instead of their familiar regal presence, she felt nothing.
Scanning around, it seemed only Eanje detected the lack of their powerful presence. The two women exchanged curious glances as the ceremony proceeded following the normal routine. The vibrations of the Michael and Mary lines were very close to those of the God and Goddess, and the extra energy raised from Cora’s dance was more than enough to fill the void. She figured this was why others hadn’t noticed.
Joining in with the prayers and incantations, Senna was genuinely pleased with how well it went and, after the Archdruid bade everyone farewell and merry met, she felt his wife’s gaze upon her, radiating triumph.
Deciding she must have imagined any danger, Senna nodded acknowledgement, pushing out a huge burst of the energy gained during the ritual and watching it fill her aura with a beautiful, pink unconditional love. The woman’s initial surprise turned into a genuine smile as the powerful energy worked its magic.
>
Seeking out the Archdruid, she repeated the burst, feeling an extra surge as Alex added her contribution. Goodness, this one was proving to be every bit as special as Lyrelie.
Three days later, Senna returned to the moon circle at midnight with Jarl rubbing her back while Lyran held one hand and Lyrelie the other. The absurdity of having her own daughter help deliver her babe had not escaped her, but she could think of no one more suitable. Whereas Marena was an excellent midwife, she knew this birth would be touched with more than a little magic.
Her second daughter chose her entry into the world precisely: Midnight on the night of the new moon, three days after the powerful equinox celebration so the henge still resonated with energy. Cora, Alfun, Lyrelie and Cal formed a circle around them, and they called the corners much more powerfully than at the recent celebration. Lyran and Eanje had invited the spirits above and below, but as Senna and Jarl called for the Goddess and God, they arrived instantly. It may have been her fanciful imagination, but she got the impression they had been waiting close by, impatient to get started.
Within a few moments, Alex arrived, as though doing her best not to keep such an important audience waiting. Surrounded by the love of so many powerful, loving friends and entities, Senna’s contractions almost felt pleasurable, like a tender massage instead of the painful stretching of muscles way beyond the limits of their endurance.
Jarl grunted. “Well, that was easy. Can’t see what all the fuss is about.”
Eanje shoved him, hard. “Stop being a dullard and say hello to your daughter.”
“What? That cannot be right. He has a …”
“Nope. Sorry, mate. It’s a girl.” Lyran winked. “I hope you didn’t lay any wagers.”
Jarl’s eyes narrowed. “You knew.” He glared at each person in turn. “You all knew.”
As he blustered and protested, Lyrelie had been calmly clearing away the birthing residue, and wrapping the babe. “Uncle Jarl. Meet Alex. She’s perfect.”
The poor man never stood a chance. One glance at his babe’s steady, soul-searching eyes and he was smitten.
Two weeks later, Alex returned to the moon circle with her mother for her very first Esbat celebration. Senna wanted to stand back and let others take the lead, but the women would not hear of it.
