Highland Raven

Chapter 10

The next day I emerged from my house, no longer Gruoch, no longer Corbie. I was Cerridwen, and I was an avenger. Alister was dead. Finally. And I had protected the one person I truly loved.

“How were your wanderings? Would you share with us?” Aridmis asked excitedly when we sat down at Epona’s breakfast table that morning.

Ludmilla smiled serenely. “I travel to the most beautiful place I ever see. Two men makes a woman out of flowers. The flower girl comes to me and tells me that I was a maiden, a woman of love. She says that power through beauty and children are mine.”

I smiled at her. “I saw her walk away from her body. Birds dressed her in a silken gown and put flowers in her hair.”

“The flower maiden created by Druids. You will be a mistress of herbs and love potions. You will bless the crops and bring love to all who surround you. Based on the visions Ludmilla described, I chose the name of King Arthur’s beautiful wife, Gwendelofar, for her,” Druanne said.

Epona raised an eyebrow at Druanne. Every girl from our land knew the Arthur tales, knew that Queen Gwendelofar had strayed from King Arthur for Lancelot. Ludmilla, however, would not have known the stories and the fate Druanne had assigned her. What a nasty trick. I glared at Druanne. She pretended not to notice.

Aridmis’ quick curiosity, however, was not yet sated. She looked at me. “And what did you see?” she asked eagerly.

I smiled. What could I say? I could scarcely believe what I had seen. Had the Goddess herself really spoken to me? Told me I was…a goddess reborn? Me? But I had felt the power of the raven inside me. I had flown on its black wings and tasted its power. Just thinking of it made my heart race. Maybe I should feel sorry, shocked, or remorse for what I had done, but I didn’t. Madelaine was finally safe. But would these women understand if I told them? Maybe Sid would, but she was not there. She’d gone again to the barrows. And certainly, Druanne would never understand. “The sow…the star flower…and it seemed as though I traveled on raven’s wings across the night’s sky, under the eye of the moon. But most importantly, I learned my dog’s name is Thora.”

Everyone laughed.

“Clearly, she is Cerridwen, a lady of the cauldron. Knowledge and spells will be her work,” Druanne said.

Bride patted my hand. “Another sister of the Great Mother’s dark face. That is well.”

Epona drained her cup and sat looking at the leaves therein.

“No more smithy for her,” Uald said with a grin.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Epona said absently as she studied the leaves, but she did not elaborate.

Soon after, it was time for our morning rites. It was Beltane, a high holy day for the order of the nine. We ate quickly and went outside.

Epona gathered us in a circle around the fire ring. Without Sid and the wandering Tully, we were only seven, but I could still feel magic resonating. We held hands as Epona called out.

“Mother, we stand here before you as seven of nine daughters. We are your children and your sisters. We worship you and call you into our midst.”

All our attention then turned on the spirit of the Goddess, and it seemed to me that she was present with her earthy, wet magic. I could hear the sound of the birds. I could feel the morning dew, the damp resin of life, on my skin. The rising sun felt warm and soothing on my black hair. A soft breeze full of the fresh, green scents of spring swirled around us. It set my dress, a light blue gown with flower embroidery, aflutter.

“Mother,” Epona called, “on this festival of fertility, we ask you to bless the crops. Let the spring sowing lead to a bountiful harvest. We ask for your loving help, for you to bless the wombs of maidens. May wise souls be born into this earthly plane. We ask you for peace in our land. In return, we give ourselves, your daughters, whole and complete. We dedicate our spirits to your purpose, and we dedicate our wills to heal the land.”

Epona became silent, letting her words trail off into the ether. After several moments, she turned her attention to us. “What say you, sisters? For what do you ask, and what will you give in return?”

Druanne’s voice sounded. “Mother, I ask you to let the land be fruitful with healing herbs so I may better serve your people. In return, I offer my services as cultivator and healer.” Druanne stepped forward and threw a bundle of white sage into the flames. The smoke from the smudge filled the space. We all breathed deeply, letting the herb clear our minds.

Uald’s voice rose next. “Mother, I ask for successful hunts but pray that the wildlife be repopulated. I honor the sanctity of the herds. In return, I offer the length of my hair.”

Uald drew a dagger from her belt. She then cut off her long brown braid and threw it into the fire. The fire crackled. A whirlwind of ash rose upward followed by the smell of burning hair. It was a heavy sacrifice. I studied Uald’s face. Her brow was furrowed. I wondered what secret wish she might have asked for.

“Mother, I come to you as the Crone,” called Bride’s voice. I turned to look at her. “I ask that you use me in these last few years. Make me your instrument. Don’t let me sit as an old woman beside the fire. I ask for purpose. I offer you this gift, a prayer cloth embroidered by my own hands.”

Bride lifted the prayer cloth so we could all see it. It was a fine thing, a long stretch of linen sewn with birds, leaves, acorns, and swirling symbols like those I had seen carved into the standing stones that dotted the lands. She had sewn words in Ogham, names of the Goddess, and blessings. Such prayer cloths were used during childbirth and at sickbeds to protect the vulnerable. It was heavy hearth magic. Bride handed the cloth to Epona who took it gently, kissing Bride on both cheeks.

Everyone turned to Gwendelofar, who stood beside me. “Mother, I ask you guides me on my new path, and teaches me where I should go. Give me your wisdom, and, in return, I give you morning prayers.”

It was a simple enough offering. Now it was my turn. My mind still reeling from my midnight ride, I took a deep breath. “Mother, I ask that you take pity on yourself. Weep for the land. Weep for the people who have forgotten you. When your weeping is done, I ask you to take up your sword and banish the White Christ from this land. In return, I give my blood.” I pulled a small dagger from my belt then sliced open the palm of my hand. I let my blood flow into the fire. It sizzled when it hit the hot coals. The smell of the burning liquid joined the smell of the sage and Uald’s burnt hair. The heady scent of death and sacrifice filled the air.

The circle had stiffened and, perhaps, had taken in a breath at my call, but it was mine to make. The aching throb in my hand felt powerful. The dark spirit inside me had not left, and it smiled with satisfaction.

Aridmis broke the tension, her voice ringing like a silver bell, cutting the strange silence my vow had made. “Mother, I ask for clarity of vision so that the images before my eyes may be understood. In return, I spin the silver wheel to the future and offer this knowing: this coven will survive for six hundred more years, and when it is finally disbanded, your daughters will not be lost to you. They will carry on in new ways. You will not be forgotten.” Her words settled the air my vow had stirred.

“Mother, for myself I ask that you watch over our sisters, Sid and Tully,” Epona called. “Their travels take them far and to dangerous places. Protect them. In return, I offer my skills as teacher. I shall keep your coven full and fill your daughters’ minds. May our words ride on the wind. May our wishes become substance. May our hearts be full. We give thanks. So mote it be.”

“So mote it be,” we called in reply.

Everyone smiled and began to disband. Blood dripped from my hand to the ground. Druanne came to me, pulling a piece of clean cloth from her healer’s satchel. She pressed it into my hand. “Come, let’s bandage this lest infection set in.”

She led me to the house she shared with Aridmis. The seer had large pieces of parchment spread all over the walls, mapping what I supposed were the stars. Druanne’s side of the room was filled with jars and drying herbs.

“You are very different from the other women here,” Druanne said as she sat me down on her bed. She frowned as she looked over her jars. Her mouth was pulled into two tight lines as she emptied a pinch of root and leaves into a mortar. I smelled a sharp scent that reminded me of anise. She ground the herbs to a fine powder and mixed them with a salve.

I chose not to respond. I didn’t want to go to war with her.

Druanne washed my hand and began rubbing the salve on the wound. “Druidic law teaches us to harm none, but it seems you feel that law does not apply to you.”

I smiled and thought on Scotia’s words, remembering the Goddess and what she had said to me. I would harm, but only those who deserved to be harmed. I would protect the innocent, and I would punish those who brought ill will, cruelty for meaningless gains and destruction. It was beyond what Druanne could conceive and so I was sad for her in that she was so wrong.

Druanne looked sharply at me. “I am not wrong,” she told me, pulling the bandage too tight.

I inhaled deeply. “Can you hear my thoughts?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“Scant pictures,” she answered. “Words as if spoken on the wind. But I heard you now, and I am not wrong. What has the Goddess said to you?”

“Why would I tell you? And what else have you stolen from my mind?”

“Just pictures. I needed to know what kind of girl you are…you are dangerous.”

“What pictures? Name them,” I said, not asking, but commanding.

“A man with black hair and blue eyes. You think of him often,” she said as she tugged on the bandage again.

“Yes, I do,” I replied. Many times my mind wandered, and I dreamed of the man the Wyrd Sisters had called my King. I puzzled it over more than I cared to admit.

“And the Wyrd Sisters. You think of them more.”

I said nothing.

“They are an old and dangerous magic. Their art is not part of our world; it comes from a land now lost. They are something other, and they cannot be trusted. Their ways are not our ways. You are not one of us.”

“The mind, Margaret,” I said, suddenly knowing Druanne’s given name, ”is a trunk full of wisdoms, secrets, desires, and shames. Don’t you dare judge me by what secrets you’ve pulled from me without my permission. I am a young woman and have not yet lived. Think of how you might hate me when you come to know my future. Harm none may belong in your trunk, but protect belongs in mine. Don’t slip your fingers too deeply in or the lid may fall and break them off,” I threatened.

“Or would you rather I look into your trunk?” I continued. “I see you riding away from a hovel where two children and a man slept softly, unknowingly, inside while you abandoned them. Your own children, your family, left behind…what kind of woman are you?” I said, my voice full of venom. I pulled my hand from her grasp.

Druanne paled.

“How does it feel to have someone draw from the well of your mind? Perhaps, all these years, when you have stolen from other people without them inviting, you have been trespassing on a sacred ground. See how it feels, Margaret? Is it kindness? Is it right? No. It is harm. Despite all your pompous piousness, you are no better than the priests of the White Christ.”

Druanne slid to the floor.

It was Scotia who had given me the images, given me Druanne’s secrets.

“How do you know those things?” she whispered.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said and rose. “You are my sister. Treat me with the same respect that you ask for yourself, and we shall get along just fine,” I said. Extending my good hand, I helped the tall woman to her feet.

Druanne looked shaken. “I apologize,” she said, her voice quivering.

I squeezed her hand tightly, a bit too tightly. “Never again.”

She shook her head. “No, never again.”

I let her go. “Thank you for the mend,” I said, looking at my bandaged hand.

“No, thank you,” she replied absently as I turned and left her house.

I stepped outside then leaned against Druanne’s door. I closed my eyes. My head thundered with the sound of raven’s wings, and rage made my hands shake. My anger came too quick, too ready. I took a deep breath and quieted the raven inside me.