Highland Blood

Chapter 24

We rose early the following morning and headed out. The sun had barely risen over the horizon. Fat snowflakes fell. The ruby red of the sun cast a rosy blush on the snow. Kelpie’s deep breaths cast clouds of fog as we headed into the woods. We rode slowly. My body was already sore from the long ride, and I felt a terrible strain in my groin. I rode wincing at every bump. If I had waited in Moray even another day, I would not have made it on time.

As was our habit, we stopped at the stream to bid Tavis farewell.

“My thoughts will be with you,” Tavis told me.

“Thank you. Please, stay warm. You’ll send Uald to check on him?” I asked Madelaine who nodded.

“I have my bear fur,” he told me.

I nodded, but as I looked closely at Tavis, I recognized that he wasn’t the young man he once was. His days of sleeping on the cold ground should come to a close.

Madelaine and Tavis embraced, kissing goodbye, then my aunt and I headed deep into the forest.

Our slow pace made the ride cumbersome. Finally giving up, I asked Madelaine to help me dismount. Thora, too excited to wait, ran ahead.

“It hurts,” I told her, wincing as a terrible ache gripped me.

“Too much riding. It wasn’t safe,” Madelaine said, the look of frustration on her face evident as she helped me slowly slide off.

“It could not be helped. I wasn’t safe in Cawdor.”

“But Gillacoemgain’s forces are riding north.”

“And Macbeth’s and Thorfinn’s are riding south.”

Madelaine frowned, worry marring her features. “Was Moray…doesn’t Gillacoemgain have the support he needs? Isn’t Malcolm sending reinforcements?”

I stopped to catch my breath, wincing as I pressed my fists into my lower back. I gazed at the snow-covered limbs hanging over me. The forest really did look beautiful. The morning light had given way to soft slants of light. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the scents of pine and snow.

“Did you ever stop to wonder how Macbeth escaped?” I asked Madelaine.

“Macbeth?”

“How could Malcolm’s ward slip away so easily? How is it that Macbeth was able to find his way home and rally those opposed to Gillacoemgain? When my husband sought his allies, he found many were already arming to cut him down. How could that have happened? How could a single man, without a father, an army, or an estate—save that ruled by Gillacoemgain—manage it?”

“Do you think Malcolm…that Malcolm sent Macbeth north? Against Gillacoemgain?”

“I think that Malcolm wants what he wants, when he wants it, and he is apt to change his mind. Malcolm told Gillacoemgain to send me to Aberdeen.”

“But that would put you on the coast.”

“Easy pickings…for Duncan.”

Madelaine shook her head. “My half-brother…he is nothing like Boite and me. We will pray to the Goddess that Gillacoemgain survives. I see in your eyes that you’ve come to love him. For your sake, for your children’s, and for Scotland, we’ll pray for his victory.”

I reached out and squeezed Madelaine’s hand. Snowflakes fell on her red hair. How like a fey thing she looked in the winter woods. “Where do you get that red hair?” I asked my aunt, dusting the snowflakes away.

“My father,” she said. While Madelaine, Boite, and Malcolm had all shared a mother, Aelfgifu, Madelaine’s father had died young, freeing up her mother to marry Kenneth II. “I remember him just a little. I was very young when he died. But I remember his big red beard.” She smiled wistfully, lost in her thoughts.

“What was your mother like?” I asked her as we moved forward once more through the snow.

Madelaine smiled. “When she was young, she was full of laughter. From what I remember, she was very happy married to my father. But Malcolm’s and Boite’s father, Kenneth, was not an easy man. I think some of the light went out inside her when she married him.”

“As it does for many women,” I said.

“Yes,” Madelaine said absently. “But not with you, my little raven. It seems, despite your apprehension, Gillacoemgain and you found your way.”

“He was not the man many thought he was.”

“Then we shall pray all the more for him. Come,” she said, taking my arm. “Let’s get you settled before you birth your little ones in the snow.

It was not long after that I saw Thora darting through the woods, Uald following behind her.

“When I saw Thora, I thought I’d better check on you,” she told us. “Corbie, are you carrying a litter?” she asked with a laugh.

“Perhaps I carry a babe of the high hills. Such great men have not been seen in a thousand years. I thought it was time to rekindle their blood.”

Uald chuckled then took Kelpie’s reins. Working slowly, we finally made it to the coven by midday.

The little space was covered in a blanket of snow. Smoke puffed out of the small chimneys—including Sid’s. I was happy and relieved to learn she was there.

The sound of the horses and Thora’s happy barks caught everyone’s attention. No sooner had we arrived than Epona and Sid emerged from Epona’s house.

Sid smiled at me, shaking her head. “Looks like my bed is the only one that will fit her. Might as well put her stuff in there,” she told Uald.

“Oh Cerridwen,” Epona said, looking worried. “How are you?”

“Tired and achy.”

“The ride from Moray?”

“Kelpie did his best. It was a long ride, but we made it.”

“Once Uald gets your things settled, I’d like to examine you.”

I nodded wearily.

“Sweet friend,” Sid said, setting her hand on my stomach. “Come,” she said, leading me to her little cabin. Madelaine followed behind us. The moment I stepped into the little cabin, it was like I’d stepped into liquid heat. The room was bathed in the cheery orange glow of the firelight. The logs on the fire popped and crackled. I was relieved to be out of the cold. Once inside, I could also see that her cabin was already ready. She had a cot made up for herself, and the bed ready for me. She’d been expecting me all along. With a heavy sigh, I sat down on the bed and started peeling off my heavy riding clothes. My body hurt. The little ones were pressing down so hard I felt like they were going to come out at any moment. At the same time, I could barely breathe.

“Rest,” Sid told me then turned to Madelaine. “I’ll stay with her if you want to get settled in.”

Madelaine nodded. “Be back soon,” she said then headed out.

“Off to Uald,” Sid said, watching her out the window. “And you are here with me once more.”

“I’m half here,” I replied, my eyes closing.

“That’s the way of it. The days close to the end are the hardest. And with two, you must ache miserably.”

For more than she knew. Gillacoemgain. I lay down, forcing the thoughts away. I must have fallen asleep, because I woke sometime after dark to the sound of Epona’s voice.

“Cerridwen?” she said gently, shaking my shoulder.

“Epona?”

“You’ve been sleeping. May I examine you?” she asked.

Disoriented, I looked around. Sid was sitting on the bed beside me.

“Yes,” I said groggily. Sid sat holding my hand while Epona cared for me.

“Within the week for certain, but more likely it will be only a matter of days,” she pronounced after a bit. “There is no sign of injury from the ride. We are lucky.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. All I wanted was sleep. And more than that, I wanted my husband. Where was Gillacoemgain that night? Was he already marching north to, all signs seemed to suggest, his certain doom? A tear slid down my cheek.

“Let me know if she needs anything,” Epona said to Sid.

“Of course,” Sid said softly as she laid another blanket over me.

I heard the door open and close as Epona left. Once more, Sid sat down beside me and took my hand. She bent and set a soft kiss on my forehead. “You’re safe here. Let go,” she whispered.

I feel asleep a moment later.

I woke to thin rays of morning sunlight slanting through the window shutters, illuminating the motes that floated in the air. Sleepily, I raised my hand and chased them through the space.

“Are you saying my house is dusty?” Sid asked.

“Glimmering,” I replied. “Speaking of, where is Nadia?”

“Banished. The good neighbors don’t do well with human childbirth. Have you thought of names for your little ones?” Sid asked.

“Crearwy, for a girl, after Gillacoemgain’s sister.”

“He has a sister?”

“She died,” I replied, the image of Gillacoemgain with orange-colored blood stains on his hands fleeting through my mind.

Sid nodded thoughtfully. “And if they are boys?”

“I’m at a loss.”

Sid laughed. “Boy’s names are always difficult. I struggled for a name for my son as well. His father chose his name.”

“What is it?”

“Eochaid.”

I sat up and looked at Sid. “Eochaid?”

She smiled. “He’s a sweet little thing with a mop of brown curls. His eyes are much like mine. He’s happy in the otherworld with his father, but I miss him terribly.”

She didn’t know. Her son had been with me all this time. Why? Had the fey sent the boy to keep watch over me? My heart twisted. Should I tell her? I wasn’t sure.

“It’s a lovely name,” I said, deciding it was best not to interfere with the business of the good neighbors. I was sorry then, however, that I hadn’t done more for the boy. I would see to him the moment I returned to Moray.

“We’ll think of something for your little ones. Maybe there will be two girls,” Sid replied.

I smiled, thinking how cute two little lasses would be. But it struck me that it would be Malcolm—or worse—Duncan, who ruled the course of their lives. The idea of it filled me with rage.

There was a knock on the door. Epona stuck her head inside. “Ah, awake? Want to walk around a bit?”

It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I knew well enough that if I wanted the babes to come, it would help.

I nodded. “Coming,” I told her. With Sid’s help, I rose to get dressed.

Despite the fact that I felt like my children might come any moment, they did not arrive that day or the next. Ankles swelled to the size of tree trunks, feeling like I could barely breathe, and my emotions beginning to overflow, the hours before the little ones arrived were harrowing. I sat awake early one morning staring at the flames in Sid’s fireplace.

I was about to give birth to Duncan’s children.

It was the truth.

It was a pain I had buried.

Returning once more to the coven, to the sights and smells of a place I loved so well, so far removed from the comfort of Moray, and so close to the very forest where I’d been a victim to my cousin’s lust, the lies I’d told myself wore thin. If I had not met Duncan in the woods, I would be pregnant with Gillacoemgain’s children. The babes I carried would have been born of two loving parents. Duncan had robbed me of much that day. He’d taken my body, my dignity, and stolen my womb for his own use. It was not the fault of the little ones within me. They were innocent. But Duncan, the man who had helped himself to whatever he pleased, was destined to one day be King of Scotland. My cousin. My kin. Why had Malcolm asked for me to be sent to Aberdeen? Did my uncle wish me to be the next Queen of Scots? I shuddered at the thought. Would Malcolm really try to marry me to Duncan if Gillacoemgain fell? Andraste and Aridmis had both prophesied I would be Queen. Was that how? Would the babes in my womb help to seal Duncan’s power over Moray? It was a smart and disgusting move. Believing I carried Moray’s heirs, would Malcolm kill Gillacoemgain, then Macbeth, leaving Duncan to stand alone at the top of the heap? With the Lady of Moray and Moray’s heirs at his side, Duncan would win it all. The move was grotesque and exactly the kind of thing Malcolm was capable of orchestrating.

As I stared into the flames, tears rolled down my cheeks. I chided myself for my sadness. It was not sorrow I needed. It was anger. Revenge. The raven within me shrieked for vengeance. But I had to wait. The time wasn’t right. I could feel it in my bones. One day, I would take my revenge on Duncan. But not here. And not now. But when?

Frustrated with myself, I left Sid sleeping and pulled on my heavy robe. Walking carefully on the slick snow, I went to the little cabin Aridmis and Druanne shared and knocked on the door.

Aridmis smiled at me when she answered. “I was expecting you,” she said. “Druanne is off distilling herbs. Come in.”

“You were expecting me?” I asked.

She nodded. “Of course. Your little ones. I’m sure you are curious to know their fates.”

I looked at my old friend. Her curly golden hair looked the same, but there were lines around her eyes and mouth that were not there before. The years were working on her as they were on me. “No,” I said. “I…I want to know what is to come. My children will be safe with me.”

“Will they?” Aridmis asked absently as she shifted some papers on her table. She smiled softly at me. “There is much on your horizon.”

“Yes. Please tell me, will Gillacoemgain live? Will Macbeth win the north from him? What of Duncan?”

Aridmis frowned then said, “Some believe our fate is in our stars, but many times our faults are not in our stars but in ourselves. Soon, you will have to make choices that will wound you. Choose wisely. Choose what feels right in your heart. If you do that, good things shall come to pass.”

“And if I make the wrong choice?”

“What is the wrong choice? How will you ever know?”

“You riddle like someone else I know.”

“You speak of the Wyrds.”

“Yes.”

“And what do they say on the matter?”

Hover through the fog, the snow, the filthy air. There to meet with Macbeth. “Little I can understand.”

Aridmis smiled. “I’ve met your sisters a few times. They have their own ways. In the end, your choices are your own to make. Choose wisely.”

I nodded. The first rays of morning sunlight shimmered into the room. “Breakfast?” I asked her.

She shook her head. “Fasting.”

“Thank you, Aridmis.”

“For riddles?” she asked with a smile.

“For…for reminding me that I can choose.”

She nodded and opened up the door once more.

“I can tell you one thing you will like to hear,” she said as I stepped out into the snowy square.

I raised an eyebrow at her.

She set her hand on my stomach. “A boy and a girl. Both healthy.”

I set my hand on hers. “Thank you.”

She let me go, nodded, and then went back inside.

I looked up at the sky. A hawk called as it flew over the coven then off into the forest.

“Gillacoemgain,” I whispered. “May my love fly to you,” I said then closed my eyes, trying to feel the thin space between the worlds, the space between him and me, wanting him to feel me. I dare not cast to him, but I wanted him to know how much I loved him. In that small moment, I sensed my husband. I surrounded him with my love, then felt it reflect back to me. But in that strange empty space to which I’d opened myself, I felt more love than just Gillacoemgain’s. There was another voice in the ether, another spirit that sought me, and I knew his nature like I knew myself. Banquo.

Cerridwen?

I pulled back, forcing myself away from him. I opened my eyes, planting myself in the real world once more. The wound on my heart strained. I would not think of Banquo. Not then. Not now. Never again.

“Cerridwen,” Bride called as she stepped out of her house. “I’ve got a taste for elderberries this morning. Come, let’s see what Epona has in storage.”

Moving slowly, I joined Bride, hooking my arm in hers. Together, we shuffled through the snow toward Epona’s house.

Bride laughed. “Like two turtles racing.”

I chuckled and wrapped the world around me like a blanket, insulating myself from the feeling that wanted to break my heart. A familiar ache crept across my head, threatening to explode. I steeled myself to it. Instead, I listened to the call of birds in the forest and the sound of Kelpie nickering as Uald chatted to him. I would not let the sorrow drown me.

The day passed slowly. My body ached with contractions. I felt like someone was knifing me in the back. When I lay down that night, my groin felt heavy, so I was not surprised when I woke in the middle of the night with labor pains. It was beginning.

“Sid,” I gasped, realizing that my water had broken. My clothing and the blankets were wet.

Sid woke groggily. “Ugh, you could have waited until morning, at least, Raven Beak,” she said with a laugh. “Let me go get Epona.”

The pain lasted for hours, coming in sharp, shooting batches, but I was able to manage. Night passed into morning, and the sun climbed higher into the sky as the birthing pains racked me. Epona and Sid stayed with me the entire time, Madelaine coming in and out to check on me. Seeing me in pain, so it turned out, was too much for her to bear. Bride brought everyone food and drink, eyeing me sympathetically.

By the lunch hour, it was time.

“Help her,” Epona told Sid who sat on the bed behind me, supporting my body. “Now, Cerridwen, comes the hard work. Do as I say.”

I nodded, tears streaming down my cheeks. The pain was unbearable.

Epona checked me once more then nodded. “Good girl. Now we push,” she told me. “Push with all your might.”

I pushed hard, feeling like my body was breaking. I screamed.

Outside, Thora howled. In the midst of all the pain and confusion, her distress worried me. When I heard her, I flung myself from my body. I stood in shadow form outside Sid’s house. I bent to comfort my dog.

“It will be all right,” I told her.

Thora quieted and wagged her tail.

I saw that Madelaine and Uald were also waiting outside. Madelaine wept as she heard me cry out.

“She’ll be okay,” Uald reassured her. “She’s a fighter.”

“It’s too dangerous, carrying two.”

Uald shook her head. “Nothing will stop your niece. Nothing would dare.”

I smiled at Uald then turned to go back. Before I did so, however, I noticed a strange, blurry spot on the hillside. The moment I saw it, I traveled to and through it, arriving once more at the cauldron terrace in Ynes Verleath. Andraste and Nimue stood waiting.

“Andraste?” I whispered.

“The legend of Cerridwen tells that the Goddess bore a son who was Taliesin. Yet, as we all know, Taliesin was Goddess-loved, thus he had a secret name. Can you guess it, Cerridwen?”

I shook my head. My soul was tired. I had lost so much energy in the birthing process. I heard Sid whisper “come back” into my ear.

Andraste smiled at me. “The Goddess called him Lulach. Go, child. Your babies await.”

I turned away from Ynes Verleath, my raven’s eyes spying the coven below me, but in the darkness far away, I saw fire. I smelled smoke and felt the flames. And I heard screaming.

“Gruoch!” Gillacoemgain called. “Gruoch!”

“Gillacoemgain,” I whispered. I moved to go to him.

“No,” Sid yelled, appearing in her spirit guise before me. “No!” She grabbed my arm and pulled me roughly back toward my body.

I heard myself suck in a deep breath.

“Back. She’s back,” Sid said, sounding relieved

“Thank the Mother,” Epona said, her words drowned out by a squalling voice. “Your daughter,” she said, setting a wailing bundle in my hands.

“Oh Crearwy,” I whispered, pressing my cheek against her head. “Oh, my poor sweet baby, your father is dead.”

The women in the room were struck silent.

Through my tear-clouded eyes, I looked at Sid who picked up another bundle and handed it to me. “Your son.”

Madelaine entered a moment after, clasping her hands before her mouth as she looked at me.

“A boy and a girl,” I told her.

Weeping, Madelaine leaned over me and the little ones, kissing all of us.

While Crearwy cried, my baby boy looked around with squinty little eyes. “Hello, Lulach,” I said, kissing him on the forehead. My emotions poured out of me, and I wept bitterly. I knew that Gillacoemgain was dead. And he had died thinking he was leaving me and his children behind. I didn’t know what was going to come next, but more than anything else, I knew I had to protect our children.

“Feisty gal,” Sid said at last, bending over to kiss Crearwy. “Maybe try nursing her?” she suggested, gently taking Lulach from me.

“Come now, little lass,” I told her, setting her to my breast. Luckily, she latched easily.

It was then that I saw that something had caught Sid’s attention. She was looking from Lulach to the incorporeal air, seemingly listening to someone. Nadia.

“Yes,” she whispered then added, “go ahead.”

I squinted my eyes to see the fairy woman but was too exhausted.

Sid smiled at me. “She kissed him, put a blessing on him. Look,” she said, touching Lulach between eyebrows where he now had a small red dart on his skin.

I nodded then lay my head back. I felt hot tears stream down my cheeks. My whole world had shifted out from under me in a single moment. I looked from Lulach to Crearwy then closed my eyes.

“Farewell,” I whispered, hoping that if Gillacoemgain’s spirit lingered nearby, he would hear.