Balor shook his head. “It wounds my heart to see her thus.” I was sure it did. Balor and Epona had always been very close.
“When I saw her last, I asked her what I could do to help our people. She advised me to speak with you,” I told Balor.
“We could use your aid, Queen Gruoch. Lands granted for our use, protection, coin, and acknowledgment. The south has shifted toward the White Christ. The southernmost coven is over. The last of the priestesses have gone.”
“How terrible.”
Balor nodded.
“I will do anything in my power to help you. It would be useful if I knew where my holy brothers and sisters resided, the locations of the other covens and holy sites.”
Balor considered the matter. “We have always thought it unwise to set such information down.”
“Do you read Ogham, Father?”
“Of course.”
“Are many others learned in the art?”
He laughed. “As far as I know, only Epona…”
“And me.”
Balor chuckled. “Very good, Your Majesty. Very good. Let’s meet and discuss further before we depart.”
“And Crearwy,” Lulach piped up.
“Sorry, love?”
“Crearwy can also read the language you speak of.”
Banquo cast a wary eye toward Lulach.
“Very good,” I said, seeking to curb Lulach’s tongue. It was one thing for him to be proud of his sister, but quite another to speak her name in open spaces.
Fleance, who must have had a better sense of the matter then Lulach, elbowed his old friend.
Lulach gave Fleance an annoyed look but said nothing more.
We spent a pleasant evening feasting and talking of old things. Banquo’s staff moved in and out of the room as if the druid visitors were nothing of particular interest, but I watched Killian out of the corner of my eye. How closely he listened to their words and eyed the men over. It had been a long time since the druids had walked freely amongst our people. Perhaps it was time for that to change.
Late in the night, after Balor and the others had gone to bed, I sought out Lulach. Though they were both older, Lulach and Fleance had asked for a room together. It was late in the night when I found them there—both still awake—talking like two old women.
“My boys,” I said, entering the room quietly. I closed the door behind me.
Both dogs, Thor and Angus, looked up at me. Thor lay his head back down, deciding it was too much trouble to get up from the comfortable spot on the end of Fleance’s bed to come see me. Angus, who’d been resting by the fire, came to me and licked my hand. I scratched his red ears then sat down on the corner of Lulach’s bed.
“You should be asleep, Corbie,” Fleance told me. “A woman should rest when she’s coming to the end of her time.”
“A month and a bit to go,” I said, setting my hand on my belly. “Depending on how stubborn your sister is.”
“How odd, isn’t it?” Fleance asked Lulach. “We shall share a sister. What have you and father decided to name her?”
“Aelith.”
“And are you sure it’s a girl?” he asked.
I nodded. “As sure as one can be.”
“It’s a girl,” Lulach said absently, his eyes fixed on the fire.
“Lulach,” I said, touching his leg. “I love you well, my son, but you must hold your tongue when it comes to Crearwy. I have paid a heavy price to keep your sister’s identity secret. If others were to learn you had a sister—”
“But who would ever guess?” Lulach asked.
“She is named after your father’s sister. One doesn’t need the sight to make connections. Among the holy brothers, it is one thing to speak her name. But never among servants or in common spaces.”
“I told you,” Fleance chided Lulach. “How like you she is, Corbie.”
“You think so?” I asked.
Fleance smiled, and for a moment, I saw a strange wisp of a soft expression cross his face. “Yes. Though a bit more waspish.”
“She is angry,” Lulach said.
“Was she…unkind to you, Lulach?” I asked.
“No. Not to me.”
“I see,” I said, guessing that Crearwy had spoken harshly of me to her brother. “She doesn’t understand. I can’t blame her. One day, she will realize and forgive.”
“May the gods let it be so,” Lulach said, his voice resonating with a deep otherworldliness.
“Have you shown her?” Fleance asked Lulach.
Confused, I scrunched up my brow. “Shown me what?”
Lulach pushed his sleeve up to reveal a small tattoo on his wrist. Inked thereon was a dog surrounded by swirling Pictish designs.
I took his hand into mine and studied the tattoo. “It’s beautiful, but why did they give you such a mark?”
“I walked…beyond,” he said. “Angus guided me.”
I stared at my son. Before me sat the future King of Scotland. And before he had even reached full manhood, the gods had shown fit to take him to the Otherworld.
“And what did you see there?”
Lulach smiled at me. “You know I cannot say more.”
“Then know this, my son, that the Otherworld is full of those who love us, but also many who would trick and harm us.”
“Not where I went. Not who I saw,” Lulach said.
“And who did you see?”
“The one who brought me my dog. Eochaid.”
At that, I laughed out loud. “Fey things. Love them well, but always be cautious of fey things,” I said then reached out to scratch Angus’ ear. The dog tipped his head at me, giving me the impression he understood my words.
“Like these?” Lulach asked, reaching out to touch my gloved hand.
“Why are you wearing those gloves, Corbie?” Fleance asked.
“The better question is, who gave them to you?” Lulach said.
“Fey things,” I said. “You know I cannot say more.”
Lulach chuckled.
“But why are you wearing them?” Fleance asked again.
“My hands are…bespelled. The gloves contain the curse.”
Both boys stared at me, their eyes wide.
“I’m not in any danger, I swear,” I told them.
Frowning, Lulach looked back at the fire.
“As long as you’re not hurt,” Fleance said.
“I’m not hurt,” I reassured him.
“But you should get some rest,” he told me.
“Yes, you’re right. Hopefully Balor lets you stay for a time.”
“A fortnight,” Lulach told me.
“Do you wish to continue on with him?” I asked Lulach. I wasn’t sure what Lulach would make of the holy life, but I could see that it suited him as it had suited me.
“Yes. I hope you will permit me.”
I nodded. “Of course. My father, Boite, once studied amongst the holy brothers.”
At that, Lulach smiled. “Thank you, Mother.”
“And you, Fleance? Will you stay in Lochaber?”
Fleance laughed. “Only if father makes me.”
“That is unlikely.”
Grinning, Fleance looked at Lulach. “Then we’re for the road once more.”
Lulach returned his smile.
Shaking my head, I rose. “Goodnight, my dears,” I said then left, my heart brimming with joy.
Chapter 33
Relishing every moment I had with Lulach and Fleance, I was very sorry when it was time for them to depart.
“We need to reach a holy site in the north before the weather becomes too harsh. We will winter in Caithness then return this way in the spring,” Balor told me. “But if you need our prince, Banquo can always send word.”
“Thank you, Father,” I said, watching Lulach pack up his horse. Already the wind had become cold, and I could smell snow in the air. The autumn leaves had lost their luster and were starting to turn brown. “And thank you for trusting me,” I said, refe
rring to the conversation Balor and I’d had regarding the other covens in Scotland. With the southern-most coven disbanding, there were now only eight covens in the realm. Balor and I had pored over a map, Balor showing me the location of each of the other covens. As it turned out, the covens all sat upon ley lines, magic lines of energy, that crisscrossed our realm. I had made notes in Ogham, noting the location of each holy site. As I had suspected, deep within Birnam Wood was a sacred place.
“I know you will do what you can,” Balor said. “After all, the Great Mother and Father put you on the throne. How can you not?”
“I will do my best. Safe travels to you.”
Balor inclined his head to me.
I left him and went to Lulach. Part of me wanted to bother him with a million questions and concerns—Did he pack enough warm clothes? Did he have enough supplies? Had he remembered all his gear?—but I held my tongue. Lulach was much changed. He was approaching manhood. He had always been a thoughtful child, but now his contemplation and reserve had more depth. In a way, he was becoming more like his father—thank the Goddess.
“Do you remember when we went to Thurso?” I asked as I tightened the ties on his saddlebag.
“Just a little. I remember Thorfinn and the seals. And…”
“And?”
“And…selkies.”
I reached out and touched the birthmark on his forehead, a blessing from the faerie realm. “You have always been able to see the Otherworld, even when you were a boy.”
At that, Lulach smiled. I could see he was pleased with himself, but he didn’t want to bring attention to his pride.
“I’m sure I don’t need to caution you to be careful,” I told him, anxious to see him depart.
“Mother,” he said with a smile. He turned and embraced me. “I wish you well. I’ll be back in the spring to see my sister.”
“We will see you then.”
Lulach mounted his horse and reined in beside Fleance.
I went to Fleance and took his hand. “Do you have everything you need?”
He nodded. “Father provisioned Lulach and me. Balor and the others watch over us well.”
“And what about Thor? How is he?”
Fleance laughed. “He doesn’t realize he’s grown, bouncing around like a big puppy. But he’s a good hunting dog. His ears are sharp. He hears every sound in the forest.”
“Just like Thora,” I said, feeling sad for a moment. In Ynes Verleath, it would have seemed like very little time had passed, but I missed my dog.
“I’ll be thinking of you. I hope all goes well with our sister.”
“I’m sure it will,” I said, setting my hand on my stomach.
“We’ll be back in the spring. I can’t wait to see you then. This visit was too short.”
“Agreed. But for now, I wish you safe travels,” I said, squeezing his hand.
Fleance’s eyes grew watery, but he gave me a nod then let me go.
Banquo joined me, and we walked with the party to the gate of Tor Castle.
“Farewell, brothers,” Banquo called to the druids.
I inclined my head to Beric, Diarmad, and Calean who rode out ahead of the party. Fleance and Lulach, their dogs following behind them, trotted out behind the druids. While Angus ran on, Thor stopped by to give my hand a lick before he raced after Fleance.
When Balor passed, both Banquo and I bowed.
Balor returned the gesture.
His arm around me, Banquo and I watched as the druids turned their horses from the road and into the forest, blending in with the trees. A moment later, they were gone.
I sighed heavily.
“They’ll be back soon,” Banquo reassured me.
“I know. It’s just…they’re so changed.”
He nodded. “It’s for the best. You’ve raised good, strong boys, my Cerridwen. Now Balor will shape them into men.”
“Lulach’s spirit is inclined toward the holy life. He already has his first tattoo.”
Banquo nodded. “He showed me.”
“He may struggle to rule this nation.”
Banquo considered my words. “A mother’s worry is never misplaced, but Lulach’s thoughtful nature will make him a good ruler.”
“He is very like his father.”
Banquo stroked my hair gently. “And his mother. He will be a force to be reckoned with.”
“I hope.”
“Speaking of forces to be reckoned with,” Banquo said, touching my belly. “When will this one arrive with all her sound and fury?”
“Very soon, from the feel of it. Every time I go up the stairs, I feel like she wants to jump out.”
Banquo smiled. “I do not wish labor pains on you any sooner than needed, but I can’t wait.”
“Neither can I,” I said.
Banquo smiled down at me then and planted a soft kiss on my lips.
Turning, we headed back into the castle. Just off the castle yard near the stables, I noticed Killian watching. He was smoking a pipe, the smoke twisting up in the air around him. The great affection between Banquo and me was no secret in Lochaber, but when I felt Killian’s eyes on me, it made me remember I was a married woman. A twang of shame washed over me.
I pushed it away.
No. It wasn’t like that. I had married Banquo first, in the eyes of the gods, and Macbeth had abandoned me. Besides, Killian would never judge me. My own guilt was tripping me up.
But why?
Why would I ever feel guilty over betraying Macbeth?
Pushing my thoughts away, I headed back inside.
Chapter 34
As the weeks passed, autumn faded into winter. The first of the winter winds howled through the valley and snow fell. The River Lochy was trimmed with ice and snow. Life at Lochaber slowed. And so did I.
Every muscle in my body ached.
It pained me to move.
Somehow, I thought carrying one child would be more comfortable, but the pain in my lower back was excruciating. The terrible ache went on for days. Given how achy I was, it came as no surprise when I rose one morning to find my bedclothes were wet. I had barely slept the whole night. Cramps had wracked me. Crearwy and Lulach had been so reluctant to come into the world. Aelith, it seemed, was ready to go.
“Oh,” I said lightly, touching the gown.
Thank the Goddess, there was no blood.
“What is it?” Banquo asked groggily.
“I think…I think I may have this baby today. Can you go fetch Morag?”
Banquo jumped from the bed, nearly tripping on the furs, and rushed out of the room.
I chuckled then winced as another pain wracked me. My labor had started in my sleep.
“Little sneak,” I said, patting my stomach.
I breathed through the pain then poured myself some water.
“My lady,” Morag said with a smile when she entered the room. “I hear you have news.”
I nodded. “We’d best have a look.”
“Come, Banquo, collect your clothes and get out,” Morag told him. “We will be here awhile.”
“Gruoch, I won’t be far away,” Banquo reassured me.
I moved to smile at him but cringed as another pain wracked me. That was fast.
“Morag, the pains are coming quickly.”
Morag clicked her tongue at Banquo, hurrying him along. His hands full of boots and clothes, Banquo left.
Morag’s niece, Greer, a pretty red-haired girl with a face full of freckles, closed the door behind Banquo.
I lay back down on the bed. Morag washed her hands then had a look.
“Well, Gruoch, we’ll be at this very soon.”
“What do you mean?”
Morag laughed. “It’s almost time to push.”
I wanted to laugh, but the pain took me once more. I lay back and closed my eyes.
Goddess, Mother, watch over us.
It was not long after that the hard labor began. As Morag said, the time had nearly come. Giving birt
h to Lulach and Crearwy had been the hardest thing I had ever done. Aelith, on the other hand, seemed to be in a great hurry. I grunted and strained with the effort, but before lunch, our daughter arrived screaming.
Her squall echoed throughout the castle.
From the great hall below, I heard cheers.
Exhausted, I slumped back in bed while Greer and Morag tended to the baby and me.
“She looks good,” Morag reassured me. “Everything looks perfect.”
I closed my eyes, tears slipping down my cheeks.
After a few minutes, Morag came to me. “Here you are, my lady. A healthy baby girl.”
Inhaling deeply, I opened my eyes and looked at the child. She had a mop of dark hair. Blinking like she was still trying to make out where she was, she looked at me.
“Hello, Aelith,” I whispered.
Morag smiled at us then motioned to Greer. “Let the thane in,” she told him.
When Greer opened the door, Banquo rushed past her to my side.
“Oh, my Cerridwen,” he whispered, forgetting himself at the moment. He sat down behind me and wrapped his arm around me, gently holding on to Aelith and me with his other hand. “What a wondrous sight to behold.”
“Say hello to your father,” I whispered to the baby.
Aelith arched her eyebrows and puckered her lips.
We both laughed.
Beyond all hope, beyond all possibility, there we were: mother, father, and child.
“May the gods be praised,” I whispered.
Banquo leaned forward and kissed our daughter. “May the gods be praised.”
The winter winds blew, snow fell, and Aelith filled our hearts. There was no describing the deep joy our daughter brought to Banquo and me. I recovered quickly, and Aelith was in good health. For once, it seemed like the gods had blessed us.
The whole winter passed, Aelith growing before our very eyes. In March, the chill began to recede, and the winds calmed. The sun woke the land, and as it did, news began to flow north once more.
I was sitting by the fire with Aelith when Banquo came in holding a scroll.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“From the king.”
I frowned. Part of me didn’t want to know what it said. Macbeth seemed so far away. It was like he had nothing to do with me.
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