Highland Raven (16 page)

Banquo pulled me toward him and began to kiss me passionately. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight. He slid from the boulder and came to sit on his knees in front of me, between my legs, clutching me about the waist. He buried his face against my chest. “I love you. Please, tell me who you are,” he whispered.

The words nearly tumbled from my mouth, but I bit them back. He was asking for the hand of Boite’s daughter. Without knowing it, he was positioning himself so his sons would have a claim to the throne of Scotland. What would he think, what would he do, when he knew who I really was? Would he fear to aim so high? Would he flee from me out of hopelessness? Would he divulge it too soon to those who would make decisions for us? I didn’t want to lose him. Maybe Madelaine could convince Malcolm. I had to let her try. If she succeeded, Lochaber would win a great prize. And if Madelaine was not successful, Lochaber’s bid was just one out of many, and no one would begrudge him. It was not impossible that if he knew who I really was, he might leave me, knowing it could never be. I couldn’t take the sting of it, not yet, not while there was still hope.

“I’m Cerridwen,” I whispered. In the end, I was hiding my bloodline while admitting the truth of my soul. My kin could cost me his love, but my soul belonged to him.

Banquo stood, kissed me on the forehead, and held out his hand. He looked pale, his mouth turning sadly. “Let’s go back,” he said. We walked silently back through the forest. I bit back tears. I knew I had hurt him, and it wounded me terribly. But there was no way I could make him understand, at least not yet. I was so sorry. I wanted to explain everything to him, but I couldn’t. I was afraid. The whole way back to the coven I wrestled with the problem, but never found the right words to make him understand. I loved him. I loved him so much. I chewed on my lip and tried not to cry, all the while cursing the blood in my veins.

By the time we had returned, the bards had arrived.

“Lady Cerridwen and Lord Banquo,” Bergen, the leader of the bards, called when we emerged from the woods. It was almost as if he was announcing us at court, like a married couple. I felt the sting of it.

“My brothers,” Banquo called cheerfully, pulling on a false face, then he turned to me. “My love, do you mind?” he asked me softly, motioning to the bards. His face looked haunted, his eyes watery.

“Banquo,” I whispered and reached up and touched his cheek. He closed his eyes when my hand rested on his skin. “I love you. Please know how much I love you.”

He smiled, took my hand, and kissed my fingers. “I trust you,” he whispered then pressed my hand against his lips. “And I love you too.” Once more, he kissed me on the forehead then went to welcome the bards.

I scanned the group. Sigurd was not there.

“My Lady,” Brant called to me as he led the horses to the watering trough. “Fasting makes you even more beautiful! Your skin is glowing like the moon!”

“What can I say? I am a dark goddess,” I replied, grateful to have a distraction. My stomach felt sick. It was too horrible to feel Banquo’s hurt and frustration. I didn’t know what to do. At the risk of losing him, I didn’t speak. By not speaking, I risked losing him.

“Then it is your night. Let’s see who seeks you from the other side!”

I smiled. Whichever of my ancestors would walk that night, I hoped, at least they would come with some guidance. Because once again, I felt to my core that I was an orphan.

We spent most of the day in silent prayer or busying preparing the feasting table. Once Uald returned, I worked as much as I could with her; she seemed adept at avoiding Epona’s ministering. Epona and Uald, old friends, functioned in many ways like equals. And, I noticed, Epona was more apt to let me slide when Uald had a good reason for me to do so. Uald was also very astute, and she picked up on the distance between Banquo and me.

“Are you all right?” she whispered as we sat in the smithy skinning hares.

I nodded, working a knife just under the skin of the hare, a trick Uald herself had taught me. I shot a glance over my shoulder at Banquo who was sitting in silent prayer near the center cauldron.

“I haven’t told him who I am, my family. He wants to wed me, but he needs to know who I am. Who I really am.”

“Of course. They won’t marry Lochaber’s heir to just any girl.”

I nodded. “When he reaches for me, he reaches—”

“For Scotland, without knowing it,” she finished my sentence. “Do you love him?”

“With all my heart. I
know
him, Uald. As sure as I know myself.”

Uald threw a pile of guts into a slop bucket. Her knife got away from her, dropping into the pail. I reached down to get it for her. But when I pulled my hands back, they were completely covered in blood and bits.

“Ugh,” Uald groaned. She grabbed my hands and tried to wipe the blood away. The more she tried to clean the sticky liquid, the more it spread. “Out, damned spot! Out, I say,” she cursed jokingly.

I stared at my hands. Blood dripped from my fingers. I swooned. All at once, the images started to get mixed up, and I fell into a vision of myself on a battlefield. Blood, lots and lots of blood, dripped down my hands and arms. My whole body shook. Mist swirled around me. I could hear men nearby, but they were lost in the fog. A corpse chopped to bits lay on the field below me. I looked up; I was holding a heart, its blood emptying all over me, in my raised hands. In my vision, I screamed loudly, triumphantly, then cried out Banquo’s name. Hearing his name knocked me from the vision.

I stood with a start, bumping the stool out from under me. The half-skinned hare dropped to the ground. The image of the hare’s carcass overlapped in my mind with the image of the bloody dead body I’d seen in my vision. I shut my eyes and squeezed them tightly, trying to force the gruesome image away.

“Corbie?” Uald asked, so startled she’d dropped my goddess name, grabbing me and holding me steady.

“Cerridwen!” Banquo jumped the smithy wall and took me from Uald’s hands, holding me firmly but tenderly. “Are you all right?”

“A vision,” I whispered, trembling.

Aridmis rushed up behind Banquo. “Cerridwen?” she called. Worry racked her usually placid face.

“She had a vision,” Uald whispered. “The blood.”

“I’ve got her.” Aridmis took me gently by the arm. “Don’t be alarmed. It’s the nature of Samhain, a night where blood is sacred. It draws out the images, the past and future existing all at once with the present.” She led me back to the fire.

Silent, Banquo walked alongside us, his arm wrapped around my waist.

Aridmis sat me down near the cauldron then wetted a cloth. She pulled a vial of lavender oil from her satchel and sweetened the fabric. “What did you see?” she asked as she cleaned my hands.

“So much blood,” I whispered. I was still shaking. I wasn’t sure if what I saw was a memory of the past or a vision of the future. It terrified me.

Aridmis looked at Banquo and me as she worked on my hands. “It is no mistake you called his name,” she told me then cast a glance at Banquo. “I have spun the wheel and looked into your future. As you have always been, the two of you are one, but heed my words. In this life, your love will bring an end to one of you. I cannot see who. The tie between you is the strongest bond I have ever seen. It glows like a silver light from one of you to the other. But this love will end in blood.” Aridmis stood. “I’m sorry,” she said then left us to stare at one another dumbfounded.

Banquo put his arm around me. “Don’t fear,” he whispered. “Tonight, we will put it before the ancestors and let them decide.” His words were mysterious, and I was too shaken to puzzle it out. I bit my lip, closed my eyes, and rested my head on his shoulder. In that moment, all I wanted to feel was the present.

It was sundown when Druanne
finally emerged from the forest. She wore long, black robes and carried a vial of red liquid and a small wooden goblet. Her face looked very pale, and her eyes had a faraway look. Her arrival marked the beginning of the night’s ritual.

“Where’s Sid?” I whispered to Uald who was standing beside me. I had recovered from the vision the blood had prompted earlier that day, but Aridmis’ words and the tenor of the day left me feeling shaky and on edge. It was as if I could feel the worlds thinning between us as we moved toward midnight. What was real, what was past, what was present, all were starting to get confused. I hated the feeling.

“Gone.”

My stomach dropped, churning with worry. “Gone where?”

Uald shrugged.

We gathered at the center of the coven, standing in a circle around the star we had laid with stone, the five fires at each point, the center cauldron fire burning brightly. Druanne came to stand in the middle. Once she was in place, we began.

“Once the wheel has gone round,” Druanne called.

“Once again the year has come and gone,” Balor echoed.

“And with time, we too shall fade. And with time, we too shall die,” Epona called.

Her words chilled me. I glanced sidelong at Banquo. What did Aridmis mean that our love would result in one of our deaths? Was she right?

“But not this night,” Druanne answered.

“This night we live and bid you spirits rise,” Bride called.

“By the Morrigu, by Scotia, by the Crone, join our feast,” I called.

Banquo spoke next. “Ancient ones, cross the divide. Join us on this night.”

“In peace,” Bergen called out, striking a cord on his harp. The discordant sound carried across the night’s sky.

“In goodwill,” Ivar the bard added then began beating his drum rhythmically.

“With our thanks,” Druanne called.

“So mote it be,” Balor intoned.

“So mote it be,” we all answered.

As Ivar continued to beat his drum, Druanne began her progression.  One by one, she went to each person and offered them a drink of the potion, whispering something in their ear. After, everyone stood in quiet contemplation. I saw Aridmis swoon, struggling to keep her footing. Behind Druanne, Bride followed with her basket of masks. Epona donned a mask with long silver and red horsehair, the face made from a horse’s skull. Seeing her like that made me shiver.

A moment later, Druanne stepped in front of me, blocking my view. I was surprised to see how…changed…she looked. Her eyes were very distant. Her skin was pale, the blue veins on her forehead protruding. She looked almost ethereal.

“Blood of MacAlpin,” she whispered in my ear. “Honor your ancestors,” she said, handing the potion to me. Her voice sounded hollow.

Her hand was shaking as she held out a small wood cup full of the potion. I drank the sharp liquid then handed the cup back to her. It tasted bitter; my tongue caught the taste of mushrooms, berries, and acorns. There were other sharp, herbal tastes. When the liquid hit my stomach, I almost vomited. Taking a deep breath, I held the liquid down.

With a smile, Bride handed me the raven mask. “Now, my sweet girl,” she whispered.

I pulled the mask on, again hit with that same dizzying sensation. I stared out through the slits in the eyes, and this time my vision seemed sharper. I felt like I could see from far away. I looked at Ivar who had, at some point, put on some odd mask formed from a bear’s skin. I blinked, and it seemed then truly to be a bear standing in his place.

Once everyone had drunk the potion and donned their masks, we all walked around the circle counterclockwise, meeting again at the feasting table. Epona stood at the head of the table. Silently, we all stood behind one chair at the table. Banquo stood across from me. He was wearing the stag mask, looking out at me through the sockets in the stag’s skull.

“We call you, ancestors. The walls between the worlds are thin tonight. Join us from the beyond. Dine and dance with us this night. Come amongst us. Take pleasure in these earthly things. Whisper your secrets and feel our love,” Epona called.

“Call your ancestors!” Balor ordered.

“Thomas,” Epona called.

“Aiden,” Bride called.

“Dorrit,” Uald called.

They went around until they came to me. “Emer!”

“Brighid,” Banquo called. His sister, I guessed.

Once we’d all evoked our ancestors, Balor called out, “Ancestors, you are welcome. Eat! Dance and be merry so they may remember the feel of flesh and the pleasure of life!”

With that, we all filled the plates before us, not to eat, but to serve. I never knew my mother. I had no idea what she liked to eat. I knew nothing about her. Feeling miserable, I set her plate and poured her a glass of honey mead not knowing if she would have preferred ale or wine. Behind my mask, tears streamed down my face. In the end, my mother was a stranger to me. She would never come. I felt alone in my misery.

“Come, my dear,” I heard Bride say, putting her soft hand in mine. She wore a dark mask that covered her face with black lace. She led me to the fires where the bards had pulled out their instruments and joined Ivar, who was still drumming, in making wild music. I scanned around for Banquo. He was gone. Aridmis and Epona began to dance. The place shimmered with glowing orbs of silver and while light.

I felt hot and very dizzy. The entire world spun. I looked out with the raven’s eyes and my vision doubled. The music clanged strangely. Everyone looked deformed in their masks. And suddenly, the coven seemed to be full of people. I sensed a great number of spirits lurking there with us. Intermixed in the crowd, I swore I could see the smiling faces of maidens, Priestesses and Druids who’d come before us. Their clothes, from courtly dresses to animal skins, hinted at ages past. The dead, our ancestors, had heard our call. For a glimmering moment, I saw Epona standing face to face with the shining spirit of a young, handsome man. Her wild boy. Their eyes were locked on one another. Had his name been Thomas? Was that who she’d called?

And then I felt someone very close to me. I turned to look for Banquo, but it wasn’t him. A woman had touched me gently then turned and walked away from me toward the forest. I squinted with my raven eyes and studied her. She hand long, daffodil-colored hair and green robes. Emer. She turned and smiled at me, beckoning me to follow her. Like a fey thing, she floated over ferns and fallen logs deeper into the forest on feet that never touched the ground.

“Mother?” I called after her.

She turned and smiled at me but didn’t stop. She beckoned me forward, leading me deep into the forest. I moved swiftly after her. I prayed she would stop, would talk to me. I would have given anything to hear just one word from her. I desperately wanted to look at her face. My mother had come. I rushed deeper into the woods, following her. We passed through a thick stand of trees and came to a clearing. At the center of the clearing, bathed in moonlight, stood my druid.

My mother stopped at the edge of the clearing. I moved toward them, stopping as I neared my mother’s shade. My heart felt like it was shattering in half. I looked into her face, into her eyes. She shimmered. Her eyes were so green! I had never known that, that her eyes were the color of new leaves in spring. She smiled at me, raising one heavy brow at me, then smirked playfully.

“Mother?” I whispered, but she shook her head, motioning with her fingers to her lips that she could not speak. She smiled at me gently then flourished her hand toward Banquo. I turned and looked at him.

My druid. My bridegroom. My love. My husband. He was everything to me.

I took two steps toward him but turned and looked back at my mother. She nodded to me then turned and floated back into the forest. Not far away, waiting on a small knoll, was my father. My mother went to him and took his hand then the pair faded back into the ether. I turned back toward Banquo.

Behind the raven mask, my vision was still in double. The world around me glowed with the silver light of the moon. Banquo motioned for me to follow him then began walking through the trees.

“Where are we going?” I tried to ask him, but I swore that instead of my voice, I heard the caw of a raven.

Banquo looked back at me, but he was not himself. He was a stag, strong and powerful, his wide horns glimmering in the moonlight. He was no longer a man; he’d become the embodiment of the horned god. He had morphed into his true form. And as I moved, I realized that I was no longer myself either. I followed him on my raven’s wings. I too had revealed my true nature. I was the embodiment of my clan’s crest. I was Cerridwen, but I was also a MacAlpin: I was the daughter of ravens.

I followed my stag deeper into the forest. Soon we came to a giant oak tree at the center of a grove I did not recognize. The tree was immense and seemed as old as the woods itself. How was it I had never seen this tree before? I looked around me and realized that nothing looked familiar anymore. I wasn’t near the coven. I had walked…no, I had flown…between the worlds. I scanned all around. In the darkness just beyond the tree, tall Samhain fires burned. I saw silhouettes of men and women spinning fire. They held long torches, flames burning at the ends, and spun the flames, making ancient shapes appear on the canvas of night. From somewhere in the dark, I heard the beating of drums and the sound of flute music.

“Where are we?” I asked Banquo who stood before me still in the form of a stag. This time, however, I heard my voice. And moments after I spoke, I felt a shift in myself. My raven wings had gone.

Banquo turned and looked at me, morphing from a stag to a man. He took my hand. “Lost in time.”

I peered around me, trying to make out the people nearby. I saw their woad-painted faces and primal clothes. Their hair was braided in a strange fashion, and they beat on shields made of leather. They carried copper swords, and the bards amongst them played flutes made of bone. They were the Picts, the ancient blood of Alba. We had traveled back, or perhaps we had been conjured back, in time.

I stared at Banquo and then I knew the truth. Banquo had led me to one of the thin places. We had not traveled back in time: we had simply found a place where all times exist. He had taken me between the worlds, to a place stuck in the very middle.

Banquo reached toward me and pulled off my mask. Tentatively, I too reached up and removed his. With the masks off, Bride’s spells were undone. Some of the dizziness passed. Druanne’s potion, however, still had my mind reeling. Regardless, we were, once more, Cerridwen and Banquo. And in that moment, all of the chaos and noise and fire and people simply faded. The ancestors departed. The forest became still and quiet. There was no one and nothing but us and the moon. We stood alone under a tall oak tree in the forest in the dark of night.

“Marry me, my love. Here, in this old, sacred place, before the Gods and our ancestors, marry me,” Banquo said then.

I stared at him.

“Maybe our families will deny us in the end, so marry me here, as my priestess and I am your druid. Marry me here as Cerridwen. And as Cerridwen, you are my wife, my bride. Before your ancestors and mine, marry me. Before the old gods, please, Cerridwen.”

“Yes.” I knelt down on the mossy ground at the foot of the oak tree. Taking Banquo’s hand, I pulled him down to join me. My druid then pulled out his ceremonial, silver-hilted knife. I wasn’t surprise to see it was capped with a stag’s head.

“By the Father God,” he said, “Stag Lord Cernunnos of the Forest…”

“And by the Great Mother, as Maiden, Mother, and Crone…”

“I pledge my soul, my heart, and my blood to you,” Banquo said.

With a quick move, Banquo ran his hand along the top of the blade. Sharp crimson erupted from his flesh, blood pooling in his hand.

“And I pledge my soul, my heart, and my blood to you,” I told him. I took his knife and sliced my hand the same way Banquo had done. The metal bit sharply. The pain seared my palm, shooting pain all the way to my shoulder. I shuddered but accepted it. The sacrifice of blood would bind us, no matter what fate threw in our way. I was pledging myself to him, to my druid, with my blood and my soul. There was no deeper bond. This was the old way of marrying, bonding our spirits together. My guess was that this was not the first time we had performed such a ritual. No matter what, Banquo and I would always be connected. And beyond all imagining, my mother had been the one to bless my marriage.

We joined our hands together, our blood mingling. The essence of our beings mixed together. I closed my eyes. The cut throbbed. I felt the warmth of Banquo’s hand, his blood wet against my palm, my fingers.

“You are mine,” Banquo whispered. “And I am yours.”

“You are mine, and I am yours,” I replied. “Bound through time.”

“From life to life.”

We leaned in and kissed one another.

“No matter what happens, we are linked as man and wife, priest and priestess, before the gods,” Banquo whispered in my ear.

“So mote it be,” I whispered in reply.

Banquo kissed me gently then lay me back on the forest floor. Above me, I saw the tall limbs of the oak tree stretching into the night’s sky, the moon high and full above us. I kissed my husband desperately. I tasted the potion on his mouth, the sharp tang of mushroom and herbs on his lips. I smelled his skin and tasted the sweat on his neck. Though the air was cool, I pulled off his shirt. I wanted to see him. His chest was tattooed with swirling designs, old symbols that pledged his undying allegiance to the old gods. I stroked my hand across his skin, feeling the hair on his chest.