Highland Queen

Chapter 20

I rose the next morning to a familiar warble in my bedchamber; Ute was singing. I had missed her companionate presence.

“Good morning, Ute.”

“Gruoch. Good morning to you.”

Groggily, I rose to see it wasn’t long past sunrise.

“Uald and the healer—Druanne—are downstairs getting ready to depart.”

“Madelaine?”

Ute sighed. “Still in bed.”

“Leave her there.”

Ute nodded.

“And how are you, Ute? Tell me how you’ve been,” I said.

“Very well. Honestly, Lady Madelaine looks after herself. I don’t have much to do. I’ve… There is a man in Fife’s household. I’ve formed an attachment.”

“Have you?”

“We’re not married yet, but we are planning. It’s a happy life. And now you are queen.”

“Yes,” I said with a sigh.

Ute nodded but said nothing. What could she say? Like me, she hated Macbeth, and I didn’t blame her for it. I understood her hatred very well.

I rose slowly and went to the basin to wash my face. I then prepared myself for the day, dressing in the gown Ute had set out for me.

“Do you need anything else?” Ute asked.

I shook my head. “No. Thank you. It’s good to see you doing so well, Ute. It makes my heart happy.”

She smiled softly at me. “Thank you, Gruoch. That means so much coming from you. I’ll go check on Madelaine now,” she said then left.

I pulled on my boots and headed downstairs. Uald and Druanne were talking to Madelaine’s staff. Servants were hauling bags of barley, oats, and flour out the front of the castle and loading them into the wagon.

“Will it be enough?” I asked Uald, watching as the footmen passed.

She nodded. “That should get us through. Hunting is still good.”

“Don’t hesitate to ask Madelaine for help. I didn’t like to see things so thin,” I said.

“Epona is not herself,” Druanne said. “The rest of us will step forward to guide things in the future.”

Uald set her hand on my shoulder. “And look after Crearwy.”

I nodded. “Thank you both. Are you leaving now? Should I wake Madelaine?”

Uald shook her head. “No. But thank her for us.”

I nodded then embraced Uald. “I’d offer to send a guard to travel with you, but I know you won’t accept.”

“You’re right,” Uald said with a wink. She then turned to Druanne. “Ready?”

Druanne nodded.

“Thank you, Druanne.”

She sighed. “There is little to thank me for.”

“You comforted him in the end,” Uald said.

Druanne frowned. “It was too little too late.”

“Thank you all the same,” I told her.

To my surprise, she gave me a half smile. She and Uald then climbed into the wagon. Their horses were tied to the back of the cart. I was relieved to see the wagon was fully loaded with goods. One less thing to worry about.

“Tell Madelaine we’re keeping the wagon and horses,” Uald said with a grin.

I grinned then waved to her.

Uald chuckled, raised her hand in farewell, then rode off into the misty morning.

I stayed and watched until they were out of sight. I turned then and walked out onto the field surrounding the castle. Allister had been dead for many years, but I still could not escape the memories that haunted the place. Everywhere I looked, I saw something that put me in mind of my life here. I climbed the nearby hill then walked toward the valley where the stream flowed lazily past the castle. How many days had I spent here, hiding from Allister and his men?

I sat down by the water. It was still cold, the ground below me not yet thawed. Spring, it seemed, did not want to come. I gazed into the water. It was here that Gillacoemgain had found me the morning after I’d made love to him. He had come with words of love on his lips. I entwined my gloved fingers and pressed them against my mouth. For so many years, I had believed Duncan to be Crearwy and Lulach’s father. But every time I spoke of their father to them, every time I had declared Lulach to be the son of Gillacoemgain, it had felt like the truth. Perhaps, because it was. Perhaps, after all the loss and pain, I had finally won something back. If they were indeed his children, then Gillacoemgain wasn’t really lost. He would live on in them.

I set my hand on my stomach.

“You, on the other hand, present a very big problem.”

“Gruoch?” a voice called.

For a moment, I stilled. Remembering this place and this moment with Gillacoemgain, I rose, half expecting to find his shade there.

Instead, I found Banquo.

“Banquo?”

He grinned.

I rose and crossed the field to greet him.

He cast a glance around. Once he was sure we were alone, he planted a kiss on my lips. “I was met on the road by a fey thing. She told me what happened and that I should come here.”

“It’s good you’ve come. We need to perform rites for Tavis today. Will you…”

Banquo nodded. “Of course. How is Madelaine?”

“As expected. It breaks my heart to see her like this. But you must tell me, how was Sid? Did she delay you overlong?” I asked, arching a playful eyebrow at Banquo.

He coughed uncomfortably. “She tried.”

“And did she succeed?”

“Not in full. I like that woman, but my heart belongs elsewhere.”

Somehow, it felt unfair that Banquo and I loved one another so much—without Sid. Echoes of past lives wanted to impose themselves on me. I reminded myself that I was not obligated to choices I made in another time and space. I loved Sid well, but this life was mine. And so was Banquo.

“This is where you grew up,” Banquo said, looking back at the castle.

“Alas.”

Banquo raised an eyebrow at me.

“Madelaine’s first husband, Allister, was a very cruel man. It was not an easy upbringing,” I explained.

“I’m surprised he would dare be anything but kind to the sister and niece of the king.”

“Perhaps it was different while my father was alive. Afterward…”

Banquo frowned. “I’m sorry for you both.”

I nodded but said nothing more on the matter. It was rare for Banquo and me to find moments alone. I didn’t know how long Banquo would be able to stay, and we would have little chance to talk away from the prying eyes of others. While the timing was not ideal, there may not be another chance.

“Banquo,” I whispered. “I must tell you something.”

Banquo stilled. “Is something wrong? I know you’ve seen some visions you have not shared with me.”

For a fleeting moment, I remembered the image of Banquo with the dagger in his chest. I pressed the memory from my thoughts. “No…” I said then took his hand. “For once, it’s something good, actually.” I set Banquo’s hand on my stomach. “Something unexpected, but good.”

Banquo looked down at his hand then back up at me. “Cerridwen?” he gasped.

“I am with child.”

Banquo stroked his hand across my stomach then stepped back. He shook his head over and over again, his eyes going wide.

“Banquo?” I stepped toward him.

“No, no, no,” he whispered.

“Banquo?” There was strange energy all around him. He seemed to waver in and out of this plane of reality. “Banquo, stop.” I grabbed his arm. “Banquo.”

He gasped loudly then shuddered. “Cerridwen.”

“What happened? What did you see?”

“Oh, Cerridwen,” he said then pulled me into an embrace. He was shaking.

“Our child? Did you see our child?”

“Such strange and prophetic things. Dark omens. Cerridwen…a child.”

“Yes. A child. Tell me what you saw. Was it something about our child? Tell me.”

“No…just dark signs. I don’t know what lies ahead, but there is trouble in our path.”

I nodded. “We will make a plan. We will keep our child safe. I must return to Glamis for a time, only to set some matters of state in order, then I will return to Moray. We will find a way to hide her, protect her.”

“Her?”

I nodded. “Injibjorg. She saw a daughter for us.”

Banquo stepped back then stroked my cheek. “A daughter. You’re going to give me a daughter?”

I smiled softly at him. “Yes,” I whispered.

“Then may all the gods protect her,” Banquo said, touching my stomach gently once more. “May all the gods protect her.”

That night, a funeral pyre was laid out for Tavis. We placed trinkets, food, drink, and items Tavis had loved, alongside him. Madelaine clung to me as we watched Banquo perform the funeral rites.

Dressed in his druid robes, Banquo stood before the pyre. He had painted his face with woad, trimmed his hair with leaves. He stood barefoot, a torch in his hands. The Christian priests who were part of Fife’s entourage were not in attendance, but the Thane and the household staff had come. The Thane of Fife stood on the other side of Madelaine, his hand on her back in loving support. I admired his generous spirit.

“Great Mother, Father Cernunnos, I consecrate this body and return your son back to you,” Banquo called. “May the flames lift his spirit to the stars. May his body replenish the earth. May he be reborn into a world full of love and life,” Banquo said.

He then lowered his torch, setting the wood on fire.

Madelaine sobbed.

Banquo circled the pyre. Orange flames flickered to life. The wood crackled and popped.

Banquo came to stand at Tavis’ head once more. His arms outstretched, he looked toward the sky. “Great Mother, Father God, receive his body. May his spirit ride on the winds. May the gods bless this man and provide him comfort until the day he is reborn. Tavis, long may you be remembered.”

Sparks flew as orange flame leaped up into the night sky.

The scent of pine and sage filled the air.

Madelaine watched the sparks twirl upward toward the heavens. The light of the flames bounced on her face, her cheeks slick with tears. Her eyes sparkled, and a calm washed over her features, her eyes softening.

We stayed for the longest time, keeping a watchful vigil over a man we had loved. In the end, only Madelaine, Banquo, and I remained.

“I will see him again in the next life,” Madelaine whispered. “We’ll be reunited once more. And next time, for the better.”

I kissed Madelaine on the cheek.

She took one last look, then turned and went back to the castle.

Banquo took my hand. “I will stay with him until the flame grows cold. But the fire of the dead can’t warm the spirit. Why don’t you go back inside?”

“I hate to leave you alone.”

“I am not alone,” Banquo said, motioning to the pyre.

“Come to me tonight.”

“But your guards.”

“Come anyway.”

Banquo nodded.

I turned then and headed back to the castle. I paused just once to look behind me. Banquo stood staring at the flames. At his side, for just a flickering moment, I saw Tavis.

Later that night, once he had finished with the rites and bathed, Banquo joined me in my chamber. Killian, who was keeping watch outside, gave me a puzzled expression when I answered the door. Killian looked from me to Banquo. I motioned for Banquo to go inside.

“My lady, is everything all right?” Killian asked.

“Yes. Goodnight, Killian,” I told him.

“I…Goodnight, Gruoch,” he said, inclining his head. I couldn’t help but notice the look of jealousy that washed across his face. No doubt he had heard the rumors. Perhaps he had hoped they weren’t true. Of course, if he had affection for me, he had no doubt wished they were untrue. But jealousy was a tricky thing. When I returned to Moray, Killian might need to stay behind.

I closed and bolted the door behind me.

“I would offer you wine…” Banquo said, pouring himself a glass. “But…”

I chuckled. “Alas, no wine for me. And it’s all your doing.”

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not,” he said then polished off his cup.

I slipped into bed, motioning for Banquo to join me.

Setting his drink aside, he slipped under the blankets with me and pulled me close. He kissed the back of my head then breathed in the scent of my hair.

“How I miss you when we are apart,” he whispered. “And now—” he set his hand on my stomach—“what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know. Once she is old enough, we could send her to fostering.”

“I cannot,” Banquo whispered. “I’d rather quit the court life.”

His words stung my heart. Banquo still didn’t know about Crearwy. I planned to tell him when he came to the coven, but now I wasn’t sure I’d ever find the right time.

“Lochaber is quiet. I have a small but loyal staff there. If you come to Lochaber, it’s possible we can hide the truth. No one will ever know you bore a child.”

“Perhaps. That may work. But I will need to return. I will need to rule. Otherwise, we are all in ruin.”

“Yes,” Banquo said, kissing my cheek.

“And you?”

“I will not be separated from my child because I have placed the wrong man on the throne.”

“If Macbeth ever learns—”

“If Macbeth ever dreams of touching my child, I will murder him.”

“Don’t tempt the gods,” I whispered, remembering the terrible vision I’d had.

“No. I won’t tempt the gods,” Banquo said then took my hand. He paused when he saw the gloves. “I saw you wearing these. I thought you were cold. But now that I see them under the light… Cerridwen, this is no normal stitching.”

“They were a gift.”

“From whom?”

“Sid brought them to me from the Unseelie Queen.”

Banquo rose up on his elbow and looked at me. “Why?”

“Because…because my hands are marred.”

“What do you mean?”

I swallowed hard then pulled off my gloves. When I did so, I instantly saw both hands as though they were slick with blood. “Can you see?” I whispered.

“See what? There is nothing there.”

“With your druid’s eyes.”

There was a strange hum in the air, and a moment later, Banquo gasped.

Sighing, I pulled the gloves back on.

“What is that?” Banquo whispered.

“A curse. Blood of my blood. The gloves are bespelled. They disrupt the enchantment.”

“Oh, Cerridwen. Why would the gods do such a thing to you?”

“I don’t know. But no matter what, I cannot get rid of the spots.”

“They set us on this path, they move us toward our fates, then they punish us for following the trenches in the road they’ve dug,” Banquo said, a hard edge on his voice. “Sometimes, I wonder about the teachings of the White Christ. The doctrine, unpolluted by his priests, promotes love and forgiveness. Maybe—”

“Oh, my love, don’t even speak the words.”

“Yes. You’re right. But your hands. And the Unseelie Queen…such a dangerous creature. She must want something from you.”

“Perhaps. One day.”

“What could you give her?”

“Only time will tell,” I said, then turned and looked at Banquo. “Let’s leave off these things for now.”

Banquo smiled down at me. He pushed my hair away from my face. “I’ve missed you terribly. Are you well?”

I grinned slyly at him. “Yes, I am well.”

“Good,” he said then leaned down and placed a soft kiss on my lips.

Once more, Banquo and I carved out a moment for ourselves. And like every time, I hoped it would not be the last.

The following morning, Madelaine met Banquo and me in the yard to wish us both farewell. Banquo would ride from the Madelaine’s castle to Lochaber. I would return with my guard to Glamis.

Dressed in black, her face pale, Madelaine was a portrait of misery. My heart broke when I saw her.

“We will leave tomorrow,” Madelaine told me. “We’ll return to Fife’s keep. Ute is inside getting everything ready. She told me to say goodbye for her.”

“Wish her well for me.”

Madelaine smiled weakly. “I think she will leave me soon. She and one of Fife’s men have formed an attachment. I suspect they will soon be married.”

“I’m glad for her but sorry for you.”

Madelaine shrugged. “I can lace a gown myself if I have to. I may need some time, but I will come to Glamis to help you when I can.”

“Do not rush. I will go to Glamis to set my affairs in order then return to Moray.”

“And then?”

“Nothing is decided yet.”

“Oh, Corbie. I cannot stand the thought of you being separated from another child. Please, try to find another way,” she whispered.

“I will. I promise. Things will be different this time. I will choose better.”

“Take care, my little raven.”

I pulled Madelaine into an embrace. “And you, my beloved aunt. And you.”

Once I let her go, we joined Fife and Banquo.

Fife smiled gently at me. “We shall see you soon, Queen of Scots,” he said, giving me a bow. “And Thane,” he said, turning to Banquo. “I wish you safe travels.”

Banquo nodded.

“I hate to see you ride off alone,” Madelaine told Banquo.

“I will take great care, Lady Madelaine,” Banquo reassured her.

I went to Banquo and took his hand. We walked over to his horse. “Send a rider when you can.”

“And you. Please, my Cerridwen, be careful and stay safe. My heart and my child go with you.”

Our eyes lingered on one another for a long while. There were too many eyes on us. I squeezed Banquo’s hand. After a long moment, we finally let each other go.

Leaving Banquo, I went to Swift and climbed on. I motioned to my guard that I was ready.

“Farewell,” Madelaine called to me. Fife stood beside her, his arm wrapped comfortingly around her waist.

I waved to her then looked one last time at Banquo.

We exchanged a glance then both of us turned and headed on our separate paths, Banquo home to Lochaber and me to Glamis and Macbeth.