Chapter 17

A few weeks later, Banquo and I rode out to see what he called “the treasure of Caithness.” We’d left early that morning. Having had success getting Lulach to eat a few bites of porridge in the past weeks, we would be able to make the trip and back before my wee lad got too fussy. Ute, Morag, and Fleance would, no doubt, keep Lulach distracted. It warmed my heart to see Fleance hopping around my own son, making Lulach laugh and smile.

Things had improved with Macbeth—a little. He was much more relaxed in Thorfinn’s company than I’d ever seen him at Inverness. He’d taken to drink, but it cheered his mood significantly but also unevenly. He came to my bed each night. Thus far, however, only for sleep, which I found peculiar. I couldn’t tell if the man wanted me or not. Did he love me or not? The whole thing was so confusing, at times I felt like I was going mad. The trip into the countryside with Banquo was a much-needed respite from the confusion.

“So, you won’t tell me where we’re going?” I asked as we rode toward a glen.

“No,” he answered with a smile.

“Is it somewhere…old?”

“No.”

“Somewhere picturesque?”

“Not exactly.”

“Did you ever bring Macbeth here?”

Banquo laughed. “No.”

“Or Merna?”

“No.”

“I hate it when you’re mysterious.”

“Liar,” Banquo said, playfully pinching my cheek.

We passed Loch Calder and followed one of the tributaries upstream where we eventually met with a farm.

Banquo grinned at me but said nothing. He guided his horse toward the house.

Outside the small roundhouse, I spotted a red-haired child playing in the vegetable garden. Upon spying us, the child raced toward the house. “Mama, mama, riders!”

The child’s alarm brought a striking blonde-haired woman to the door. She wiped her hands on her apron as she crossed the lawn to meet us.

Banquo grinned happily.

Once she was in plain sight, I recognized her. “Gwendelofar?”

“Cerridwen? Is that you?”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. How long had it been since she’d left Epona’s care after her handfasting to Sigurd?

Dismounting, I rushed across the grass and hugged her tightly. Well, not too tightly when I realized she was with child. I leaned back and looked at her.

“Sister, why are you here? Has something happened?” she asked.

“Our sister is Lady Macbeth,” Banquo explained. “We are at court with Lord Thorfinn.”

Gwendelofar gasped. “Lady Macbeth. I did hear Lord Macbeth and his wife had come. I always knew you were someone of importance, you and your aunt. Oh, how wonderful to see you!”

The sound of jingling rigging caught all of our attention as a team of shaggy oxen were driven around the side of the house. An equally shaggy man with red hair followed behind them. Sigurd.

The hulking Northman left his yoke and joined his wife.

“Cerridwen? And Banquo,” he said, clapping Banquo’s shoulder. “Now, this is a surprise.”

“Cerridwen is Lady Macbeth,” Gwendelofar explained.

“Oh, aye? M’lady,” he said, dropping me a courtly bow, chuckling all the while.

“Oh, stop,” I said with a laugh, reaching out to embrace him.

“Come inside. Let’s see where Neda has gone to hide. Neda?” Gwendelofar called. She led us into her little house. Scanning all around, she pointed to a trunk in the corner. A tuft of red hair and the hem of a dress was plainly visible. “I’m sorry, Lady Macbeth. I guess my daughter doesn’t want to meet the Lady of Moray.”

“Mama!” the child exclaimed angrily, stepping out from behind the trunk. She glared at her mother with such fury that we all laughed.

I approached the child, bending down to greet her. “Hello, Neda.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you, my lady,” she said then curtsied.

What a beautiful thing she was. Striking red hair, blue eyes, and porcelain skin, she looked every bit like her mother with a mop of her father’s hair.

“Such a beauty,” I said, reaching out to gently stroke her cheek. “And how old are you now, Neda?”

“Seven,” she told me.

Seven. My stay in Ynes Verleath had seen the world move on without me.

“She’s beautiful,” I told Gwendelofar and Sigurd.

They smiled at me.

“And another on the way?”

Gwendelofar nodded. “Coming July or August, I think.”

“I’ll still be here in Thurso, I believe. Send word when you’re close to your lying in.”

Gwendelofar smiled brightly. “That will be a comfort. And you? Do you have any children?”

“I have a son. Lulach.”

“You’ll need to bring him next time. Now, sit down and let us bring you something to drink.”

Banquo and I spent the morning there, talking about Gwendelofar and Sigurd’s life since they’d left the service of the gods. They lived simply but were very content. And from what I could see, they were still very much in love. Sigurd cut wood and sold it to the shipbuilders. Gwendelofar had made a reputation as a local healer. Their lives seemed very content.

The morning stretched on, and eventually, Banquo and I had to take our leave.

“I made this for my little one. Will it fit your boy?” Gwendelofar asked, handing me a beautifully embroidered shirt. The neckline was decorated with leaves and acorns.

“It’s so beautiful. I can’t accept this,” I said.

Gwendelofar laughed. “Cerridwen, if it were not for you, I wouldn’t have this happy life. Please.”

I took the gift, kissed her on the cheek, then pulled her into an embrace. “Thank you. And take care. If you need anything, I will be with Jarl Thorfinn. Please, just send word.”

Gwendelofar leaned back and looked at me. “And if you need anything, you know where to find us.”

I smiled at her then hugged her again. Once more, I turned my attention to little Neda, the merry-begot babe whose parents I’d encouraged to marry. How glad it made me to see their family so happy. “What can I bring you when I come next?”

“Cerridwen—” Gwendelofar began, but I hushed her with the wave of a hand.

“My lady, I have no right to ask you for a gift.”

“Now, you must understand, Lord Banquo brought me here as a surprise. If he had told me where we were going, I would have brought something. It is his fault I don’t have something special for you,” I said, shooting Banquo a playful scolding glance. “Tell me what you’d like, lass.”

Neda looked up at her mother, who nodded in assent.

“My lady, if it’s not too much to ask, would you bring me a harp?”

Be still my heart. “I will do my very best to get one for you.”

“She’s got a lovely voice,” Sigurd said. “Blessed by the gods.”

“Then a harp you shall have.”

I kissed the child on the forehead then mounted my horse. Banquo gave his farewells, and soon we were ready to go. We waved goodbye then headed back to Thurso.

We rode in silence for a long time.

Too long.

I could tell Banquo’s mind was busy.

“Not going to tell me what you’re thinking?” I asked.

He sighed. “We had the same training, worship the same gods, but look how content they are whereas we must play Thane and Lady.”

“We had no say in the matter.”

Banquo reached out to take my hand. “Cerridwen,” he whispered.

In truth, the same thoughts had plagued me. “Banquo, I—”

“How many children do you think we would have had by now?”

I stared at him. We were alone. For the first time in so long, we were alone. It would not hurt to play pretend here…at least, it would not hurt anyone other than ourselves. “Seven years… Let’s say four or five.”

“And would we be farmers?”

“No. We’d have our own place, just like Epona, and we would raise and train people in the ways of our ancestors, men and women alike, side by side.”

“And we would be happy?”

“Perfectly.”

“Every day? Never quarreling?”

“Never.”

Banquo pulled on his reins, stopping his horse. Mine stopped as well. He reached out and touched my cheek. “And we would make love?”

“Every night.”

He pulled off my glove then stroked the scar on my palm. He pressed his hand to mine.

I shivered.

“Cerridwen,” he whispered.

It was just him and me. We’d stopped in the middle of a thick forest. Only the eyes of the gods were on us.

“You are my wife,” he whispered.

“I was your wife. Merna is your wife now.”

“You will always be my wife. Feel the spirit world around us. Don’t you feel the Lord of the Wild Hunt? The Great Lady? We are their children, and under their watch, we are man and wife.”

“Banquo,” I whispered. His words spoke to my heart.

Banquo exhaled a shuddering breath. “There are standing stones on the other side of that rise, a sacred space. Do you have time to see them, just for a moment?”

I looked around me. The forest floor was covered in thick green moss. Shafts of golden sunlight slanted through the green canopy overhead. Motes made the air sparkle. Trained in Ynes Verleath, the goddesses of death and darkness called me. I was not a druid and knew only what Epona had taught me of the Stag God and the Great Mother, but I did feel the woodsy energy around me. It called to me.

I nodded.

We dismounted and led the horses through a thicket of tall ferns to a small, secluded valley. Leaving the horses to graze, we walked into the green space. At its heart was a small ring of stones. Golden sunlight shimmered on them, illuminating the swirling symbols carved thereon. A ring of oaks surrounded the stone, their tall branches reaching toward the sky. It was a beautiful place. Magic filled the air.

“When I found you in that dark place, this was the passage I used to enter the otherworld. This place is a gateway. The worlds are thin here, and these stones are very, very old. They are different. See their color, texture,” Banquo said, setting my hand on the stone. “This stone isn’t from our island. It’s from a lost land. Even the symbols are not Pictish. The faces, the designs, these are not the engravings of druids. Balor taught me how to move between the worlds, to use the thin places,” Banquo said, touching the stag tattoo on his brow. “I searched everywhere for you. But then it occurred to me that you were not in the places known to the druids. You were somewhere far older, darker. That place… It was so strange.”

“Yes,” I said in a whisper.

“An ancient place,” Banquo said.

“An island lost in the mist,” I said, staring up at the monolith.

“Were you alone there?”

“No. I was with the Wyrds.”

“The Wyrds,” Banquo said aghast. “The earth has bubbles, and they are of them. And what did the three dark ladies teach you?”

“Two.”

“Two?”

“There were but two there…until I came.”

Banquo stared at me, understanding washing over him. “The gods are at work.”

“Yes.”

My hand still lying on the stone, Banquo set his hand over mine. I could feel his body beside me, feel how I fit into the curve of his shape. I could feel his warmth and breath on my neck. And more than anything, I wanted to turn around and take him into my arms and make love to him there in the eyes of the gods. But I couldn’t.

“It is agony to be this close to you,” he whispered in my ear.

“It is a pain we must endure.”

“Must we? We are alone here.”

“Please don’t ask me such questions.”

“Do you still love me?”

“More than anything,” I said then turned and looked at him. “But we cannot. We cannot. I love you, but we cannot. We must wait until the time is right again.”

“And what if that time never comes?”

“Then I shall meet you in the next life.”

“Promise me here, before the old gods, that in the next life we will overcome any obstacles and be together. We will forsake any blood or creed to be together. Promise me. Promise me that we will be together in the next life. Promise me, then I can bear it.” Banquo’s brown eyes shimmered with tears. In them, I saw the druid I had fallen in love with. And through his eyes, I saw the echo of Prasutagus.

The wind shifted, and I felt buzzing in the air. The gods were listening.

“I promise.”

“As do I,” Banquo said.

Banquo pulled me into his arms. I closed my eyes, lost in his embrace. When I opened them once more, I discovered that the world around us had changed. It was very dark, and I smelled the sweet scent of wisteria. Slowly, the world came into focus. Ynes Verleath.

“Banquo,” I whispered, pulling back.

Banquo turned, his eyes wide as he took in the sight.

We were on the cauldron terrace.

Nimue stood there in her purple robe.

“Hail, Banquo!” Nimue called.

Banquo stared at her.

“Hail, Banquo. Lesser than Macbeth but greater. Thane of Lochaber, thou shalt get kings, though be none. Thou shall have the love of a queen, though wear no crown. Hail, Banquo and his queen hereafter. Old blood, may your vows carry on the winds of time, and your love last forever,” she whispered then waved her hand, closing the veil between our world and hers.

Ynes Verleath, the terrace, and Nimue disappeared.

Once more, we stood in the grove of standing stones.

Banquo stared into the space where Nimue had appeared then looked at me.

“Come, my druid, it’s time to go,” I said. Taking Banquo’s hand, I led him back to the horses.

“What is the name of that dark place?” Banquo asked.

I smirked, remembering how I’d asked Andraste the same question. I shook my head then mounted my horse once more.

“One day, you will tell me,” I said.

Banquo raised an eyebrow at me. “I will tell you?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“You will remember,” I said with a smirk.

“Remember?”

I nodded.

Banquo shook his head. “Was there ever a pair like us before?”

“Yes,” I replied with a laugh, “life, after life, after life, which is precisely our problem.”

At that, Banquo laughed, his strong voice filling the enchanted woods.


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