Authors: Melanie Karsak
Banquo leaned in, took my face in both of his hands, and kissed me. First he kissed me gently, putting soft, sweet kisses on my lips. Then he grabbed me and pulled me hard against him. His tongue roved inside my mouth. I soaked up the softness of his lips, feeling the brush of the sharp stubble of hair on his face. He smelled so sweet, but even more, he felt so familiar. My heart was racing, my knees weak.
Banquo whispered in my ear. “I never felt this before. Nothing, nothing like this. I have seen lovely girls, danced, kissed, and felt magic before. But not until I stepped foot in this place have I felt anything like this. I know you,” he whispered in my ear. “This place whispered your name. Am I right? All that red hair,” he said, running his hand down my smooth, blue-black tresses, wound for the day with colorful ribbons, “Boudicca. My wife. My wife of old. I found you again.”
I pulled back and looked at him, sucking my bottom lip in, entwining my fingers in his. “It’s true. I felt it as well. That’s why I brought you here. I wanted to see if you remembered too.”
“But what is this place?” he asked again as he stepped toward the mound.
“The tomb of Boudicca.”
Banquo froze and stood staring at the mound. I didn’t know what he was seeing, what he was experiencing, but I could see from the expression on his face that it had moved him deeply. After a few moments, he turned and smiled at me.
“Let’s go and dance and make merry. We are lucky. Let’s revel in our luck. We found each other once again. I have you now, and I won’t let you go,” I told him.
“Promise it,” he said, pulling me close, “Cerridwen, with the violet eyes, promise it with your soul.”
I kissed him deeply then whispered in his ear. “I promise.”
Banquo bent and plucked a small purple violet from the forest floor. Smiling, he stuck it behind my ear. I took his hand and lead him back to the coven. My visions were not fancy. I’d found my love once again.
* * *
Night came quickly. And, as before, the expected pairs disappeared. That evening, however, my mind was clear. I had drunk very little. Banquo and I stayed up talking very late.
“You’ll leave in the morning,” I said regretfully.
“Yes, but I will be back again at Samhain.”
“You speak as if six months is a short time.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Not to me.”
“It will pass quickly.”
I smiled serenely and gazed into the fire, staring at the glowing red coals. The flames flickered and popped. My eyes felt drowsy and soon I thought I saw images in the light. It seemed that I could see myself in a grand castle hall, and I was shouting at the black-haired man I had seen in the cauldron. And, somehow, it seemed to me that Banquo was the reason for our quarrel.
“Cerridwen,” Banquo said and shook my arm.
I pulled myself away from the image and looked at him.
“What did you see?”
I didn’t want to tell him. With Banquo at my side, I had completely forgotten the dark-haired man. After all, what good to me was a phantom in comparison to the real, sweet flesh sitting beside me? Who was this ghost in my cauldron compared to Banquo, a noble lord himself, for whom I felt an ancient pull? I felt with all my heart that I belonged to Banquo. I always had.
“The court life,” I said in a half-truth.
“Will you rejoin the court one day?” Banquo asked. I heard the edge of excitement in his voice.
“I must.”
“When we leave here, I ride north for a brief time to my father. I am…I am also of a noble house. I will inquire with my father on his plans,” Banquo said cautiously.
“I…” I began, but I didn’t know what to say. I dare not tell him who I was without talking to Madelaine first. I would have given him anything, my very soul, but I didn’t dare do anything that would bring harm to Madelaine. I had to think of her too. “I need to talk to my family,” I said.
Banquo smiled. “Then let us talk again. At Samhain.”
We both sighed then giggled because we had done so. The rest of the evening we talked until our eyes could barely stay open any longer, and then we fell asleep in one another’s arms.
The sun woke us, and the sound of the others packing the horses fell on unhappy ears.
Lamenting, I followed Banquo when he gave his goodbye to Epona. Afterward, he pulled me into his arms held me tight against his chest. His kisses grazed the top of my head. He lifted my unbandaged palm and looked into it. I followed his gaze.
“The Roma can look at the lines on one’s hand and see the future. I cannot do so, but in my heart I am certain that I see myself here,” he said and traced his finger down a line on my hand.
“Don’t be so certain,” I said, and took his hand and placed it over my heart, “because I was sure I saw you here.”
He kissed my lips; it was a sweet, soft kiss of love.
“Well, son, will I have to pry you from Cerridwen’s side?” Balor asked.
Banquo smiled. “Not for long, I hope.”
“We shall see you in October?” Epona asked.
“Certainly,” Balor answered.
“Then farewell and blessed be,” Epona told them.
Banquo mounted. I reached my hand out to him. He took it, squeezed it tight, and leaned toward me. “Tell your family I am Banquo of Lochaber. I will be Thane after my father, and I would have you as my bride. And the next time I come, I will ask my future wife’s name,” he said, smiling mischievously at me, then turned and rode away.
I sighed heavily. I wasn’t sure
if Epona had heard Banquo’s words or not, but she said nothing. The bards were leaving and goodbyes were being given. Not having the heart for another farewell, I went to Sid’s house.
I knocked on her door. The door opened swiftly. She pulled me inside before I could think of resisting and banged the door shut behind me. We both watched in horror as several objects—a brush, a cup, a scarf, and a scroll—whirled around the room.
“What…what is this?” I stammered.
“Brownies. I can’t get rid of them.”
“Let me go get some snowdrops. I think Druanne has some in—,” I said and reached for the door handle, but a brush came hurling at me. I ducked before it could hit me in the face.
“Buggers,” Sid shouted.
“Where is Nadia?”
“She went back through the barrow.”
“Well, what now? How do you get rid of brownies?” I squinted around the room. I didn’t see sign of the actual creatures themselves, just the items they had enchanted.
“Drive them away.”
“How?”
“You must see them first. Call your wings. Do what you were taught, Raven Beak.”
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to calm my heart, which was slamming in my chest. At first all I could hear was Sid’s upset breathing.
“Scotia,”
I whispered in my mind.
“I need you. Scotia?”
There was a distant, hollow, rustling sound. Faintly, I heard: “
Yes?”
“Aid my eyes.”
“It is within you, ancient one,”
she said in an echoing reply, then the voice disappeared.
I slowly opened my eyes. The room shimmered gold. Then, I saw them. Neither fairy nor troll, brownies were kin of the fey folk somewhere in the middle. They were no more than six inches high, had wings like wasps, lionesque manes, and bushy tails like squirrels. Their skin was furred and spotted like spring fawns. They had small, wrinkled faces with long noses. When they saw me looking at them, really looking at them, they stopped and stared, their small black eyes gleaming.
I took a deep breath and felt my body, my power. My arms had become the wings of a raven, yet my body remained intact. I rose on my wings; the brownies scattered. They flew toward the fireplace and went up and out. As if I were translucent, I floated through the roof. The brownies balked to find me on the other side. I laughed, and in a heartbeat, I overtook them. I flapped my raven wings on them, teasing them a bit. I didn’t want to hurt them. I just wanted them to go. They zipped off on their tiny wings, never looking back. It was a warning. It was enough.
I opened my eyes. With a whooshing sensation, I floated back into my body. The wings were gone.
“My thanks,” Sid said then went to pick up the fallen items. She looked up at me from under her long lashes. “Raven Beak,” she said then chuckled, shaking her head.
“How is it you see all these things, them, me?” I whispered.
“I see what no one else wants to see.”
“Yet you don’t dislike or mistrust me. Druanne dislikes me.”
Sid set the brush on her bureau. It was then that I realized her room was very beautiful. I hadn’t noticed before, but Sid’s room was decorated with fine furniture. The ornately carved bed, looking glass, and armoire inlaid with shells were all beautifully designed. As well, her bed was covered with heavy green velvet blankets and black bear furs. Her room was outfitted finer than my old chamber in Madelaine’s castle. I was puzzled.
“First, for all her pomposity, Druanne lives in this world. She knows only the rules, the procedures. She never takes the next step into the unknown, to really feel the magic at the heart of it all. She says the words then calls it done. That is not the way of the otherworld, so she does not understand the powers you possess. You are a protector of the land, as you have always been. Because of the White Christ, the fey now live on the other side. I speak for them as best as I can, and it is time for some wrongdoing to come to an end. And second, dislike you? If I disliked you, why would I be back with you yet again?” Sid asked then laughed. “Besides, it has been a long time since anyone has understood me. I’m so thankful you’re finally here. Ah, and here is Nadia,” she said then looked toward her fireplace.
I followed her gaze. Floating before the fireplace, inside a capsule of golden light, was a tiny woman in a gown made of flower petals. She had long, bronze-colored hair strung with ribbons. She floated on tiny gossamer wings. The look of surprise on her face was a mirror of my own. Instantaneously, however, she disappeared. Nadia. I had seen her.
After Beltane, my training in the
magical arts continued. Epona finished her lessons on Ogham then turned to the symbols carved into the standing stones by the ancient people of the land, the Picts. My father’s blood was the blood of old Alba. I was descended from the woad-painted Picts. The first people here, the native people of this land, the Picts, practiced ancient and arcane magic. Engraved on stones, worked into embroidery, and even tattooed on bards, Pictish symbols were everywhere. I wanted to know what the symbols meant.
“Why do a husband and wife exchange a comb and mirror at their wedding?” Epona asked as we stood alone, deep in the forest, beside a large boulder. Epona had cleared away some lichen and fern to reveal that the stone was carved. On it were many symbols, boars, crescents, and a set of double discs, but it also had a comb and mirror carved thereon.
“I always thought it had something to do with the woman’s beauty,” I replied.
Epona smiled at me. “As do most people, but I want you to look at the actual objects,” she said, and from her small bag she pulled out a small round hand mirror and a comb. She handed the comb to me.
“What is it made from?” she asked me.
I felt the pale-colored comb. On it, someone had engraved the image of a merwoman. “Bone.”
“But what kind of bone?”
I shook my head. “Stag?”
“That is whale bone, a great creature of the sea. And, of course, you see the traditional merwoman carved thereon. Have you ever noticed there is always a merwoman or some sea creature carved on the comb?”
I nodded. She was right.
“The comb,” she said, “is a symbol of the sea. If the ritual is performed properly, the comb is always made of whale bone and always decorated with water images.” She took the comb from me and set it on the boulder. She then lifted the mirror to reflect my face. I had grown tan from my work in the smithy. The sunlight overhead made my black hair shimmer blue and brought out the violet color of my eyes. Behind me, the forest glowed vibrant green. “A woman, and her womb, is all earth, but around her is all spirit, air. She is ready. She is all. She is the fertile land. Around her is the air of heaven. But her womb cannot grow without—”
“Without seed…water,” I said.
Epona lowered the mirror. “Land and sea. The mirror and the comb are fertility magic. They have nothing to do with beauty. They are a reflection of the two forces, male and female, that come together to bring life into the world, the land and sea merging to become one living force,” Epona said then turned and touched the stone. “Someone married here.” She reached out to touch the symbols. “In days long past, true love was pledged here. Long forgotten.” She gently put the items back into her bag, and we headed back to the coven.
As we walked back, I could not help but think of Banquo. Would I be permitted to marry the Thane of Lochaber? Certainly, it was the title of a lesser house, but it was still a title. Maybe if Malcolm knew I had found someone I cared for, he would permit it. And certainly Banquo’s father would never deny my family. I would have to entreat Madelaine. She would come soon. If Alister was really…dead…she would come soon.
* * *
But Madelaine didn’t come that day nor the next. What if my vision had been false? What if Alister was alive and well and still beating Madelaine every night? I couldn’t stand the thought of it: her dislocated shoulders, broken lips, swollen eyes. It made me sick. It made me angry. So I waited, every day, praying she would come. Days turned into weeks and then months.
One day near midsummer, when I still pined for my aunt, Epona and I took the horses out for a ride so Epona could teach me rule of nines Madelaine had mentioned.
“The natural order of things comes in specific sets of numbers. Three is a holy number, as well you know. Even the priests of the White Christ know this with their Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It is interesting, no, that the Christians maintain a pantheon of gods, or a single god with three faces, but still call us heretical for having more than one god?”
“I am afraid I know very little of Christianity. Madelaine didn’t permit the priests to teach me.”
“Then you must read the holy writ of the White Christ.”
I frowned.
“If you seek to help the Goddess, you must understand what mistruths and wrongdoings you are avenging. To do so, however, you must know their holy tales. You must learn Latin. It should be easy for you. You have a quick mind for languages.”
I was often complimented on my beauty or my lineage, but rarely complimented for my mind. Epona’s words made me smile; I felt proud.
We rode across the windswept Lowlands. The rolling fields spread across the land, a vista of shades of green: emerald, chartreuse, and sage. We’d left the woods and had been riding toward the east coast.
“Yet, I digress. Three is a holy number. It relates to the three faces of the Goddess. Nine, as well, is a holy number. A multiple of three, it is the number of the Queens of the Fisher King, and goes even further back to the old covens, such as the ones on Avalon, Hy Brasil, the Fortress of Shadows, and Atlantis. The number three also relates to the stone circles that dot our land. Your friend Banquo is riding from circle to circle to learn the mysteries of the stones. He walks where the worlds are thin, much like you do. That is why he wears the mark of the stag god. He has walked in the old worlds, encountered his god, and survived. Your Banquo is a rare talent,” Epona said.
I could tell from the look on her face that she was baiting me. But I didn’t mind. Epona felt like a mother. I felt natural warmth and protectiveness coming from her.
“He is special,” I replied.
“I am not certain that a match with Lochaber will be permitted. You must steel your heart, just in case. It is so painful to love someone but be given to another,” she said, and for a moment, her brown-gold eyes looked far away.
Her words struck me. She was right. What if we were denied? It would be hell to be married off to someone else. I couldn’t stand the thought of it. I gazed at Epona. A single tear streamed down her cheek. She wiped it away. “Epona?”
“Once, long ago, such was my fate. A wild girl in love with a wild boy…given to a harsh old man in marriage,” she said.
“I’m sorry for you,” I told her, reaching out to touch her hand. “But you’re here now. What of your wild boy? I mean, if you are here now, perhaps he—”
“He is long dead.” Epona cleared her throat then painted on a smile again. “Yes, all that is long past. But remember, dear Cerridwen, no one is married on Beltane,” she said with a smile. “Now, besides three, four is also a number of significance: four seasons, four elements. Fire, of course, is the most volatile of all the elements. It creates energy in a quick and forceful way. Even the priests of the White Christ can sense the power of fire. That is why candles burn on their altars. The power in fire can bring images to the mind and help one divine the future. Have you ever seen images in fire?”
I nodded.
“What did you see?”
“Recently, myself and a man. We were arguing.”
“Have you seen this man before?”
“Not in the flesh, but I have seen him…in the cauldron. It was the Wyrd Sisters who first showed him to me.” Their words haunted me. Your King, they had called him. But did they mean that he would be King of Scotland, ruler over us all, or would he be
my
King?
“Go cautiously with the Wyrd Sisters. They have their eyes on you but they plot and meddle at times where they should not. Heed my word and be careful.”
I nodded. Epona was right. I sensed their old, dark magic. It had a hint of danger to it. “And once, in the fire, I saw a vision of ravens in the snow, bloody snow, when my father died.”
“Then the talent for divination lies in you. Not surprising. Use this power. Practice it. If the power to see the future lies in your hands, it is a great tool. Never trust the Wyrds blindly. Always seek answers for yourself. Fire, of course, is not the only diviner. Water can also show the future. Water and air are essential elements. The winds, however, come from four directions, and those directions each have a specific function. When the wind comes from the north it can mean death or change. An east wind indicates wisdom. A south wind is a powerful wind. A west wind is fertile and love-giving. And, finally, we come to earth. Earth is the embodiment of fertility. Think of it; we put a seed in the ground, it grows, from it springs food that allows us to live. To me, that is magic.”
Epona directed her mare up the hill. When we reached the top we found ourselves at the shoreline. Far below us was a sandy shore and dark blue water. It was beautiful. I looked behind me to see the horizon rolling with fat hills.
“Look. There is a ship,” Epona said and pointed out toward the water.
We dismounted.
Epona plucked some grass. The wind took it and pulled it behind us. “We have a west wind.” She then took my left hand and lifted it above our heads. She raised her other hand. I mimicked her.
“We call you, wind of the west, wind of love and fertility, and we offer you our love and respect in exchange for your power.”
We both stilled, and the wind continued to blow around us.
“We ask for a fair wind if those upon that ship are friends to our land and country. If those upon that ship mean to do ill to our kinsmen, then whip up your strength and banish them from the sea!”
I channeled my power into Epona’s words, closing my eyes, and let my body feel the wind around me. At first it blew erratically, but then began to blow strong and steady. A firm, good wind pushed from the land to the sea, lending its power to the ship’s sails. In my mind’s eye, I could see the wind whipping around me, sparkling gold.
Epona brought our hands down.
I opened my eyes. “Friend,” I said as I looked out at the water.
Epona nodded and pulled a wine flask from her saddle bag. She took a long drink and handed the skin to me. We rested quietly, and after a while decided it was time to turn back.
My mind was lost to my thoughts as we rode back. Epona, too, was quiet. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was thinking about her wild boy. Who had Epona been before this place?
I sighed heavily. So much was happening. I knew I had come to the grove for training, but I had not expected…well, all of this. It was far beyond any girlish expectation. I felt awed by the world that had opened itself to me. I felt strength under my skin I’d never felt before. That strength made me feel powerful. I felt alive. I felt anger and lust. It was almost like pieces of myself were collecting themselves back to me once again. When I was with Sid, I felt more solid. Banquo ignited feelings I had only ever dreamed of. He was
my
wild boy, a druid who walked between the worlds. I wanted to be with him…and with Sid. I wanted there to be a place, a world, where we could all be together. I wanted to feel Cerridwen, and the raven wings, and be that part of myself living just under my skin. What would that place look like? What would that life look like? If my visions were true, that life would look like the life of Queen Boudicca, and it was a life I’d already lived.