Highland Vengeance

Chapter 9

With Ute’s help, I slipped into one of my better gowns, a beautiful red frock with delicate embroidery all along the neck, and got ready to go to the feasting hall.

“My lady, if you took a wet nurse, it would ease your burden. Our little lord will be looking for you in a couple of hours,” Ute suggested.

The thought of leaving another of my children to a wet nurse made my stomach turn. An image of Crearwy flashed through my mind. My heart broke at the thought that another woman was mothering her. “No. I’ll make do. Just send for me when he’s ready.”

Ute smiled softly. “Very well.”

My mind distracted by thoughts of Crearwy, I headed toward the hall. How was my baby girl? Was she well? Were she and May still getting along all right? Once I’d had some chance to rest and recover, I’d have to send a casting.

When I reached the door of the feasting hall, I heard the sound of rowdy voices inside. I sighed heavily. What kind of hall would Macbeth keep? Like Allister, wild and vulgar? Like Gillacoemgain, quiet and utilitarian? Or like Fife, sweet and festive? In truth, I didn’t even want to know. I didn’t want any of this. My raven-haired man was on the other side of the door, but I didn’t even care. I had dreamed of a life with Banquo, but that hadn’t been possible. Instead, that dream had been replaced by my happy life with Gillacoemgain. Now, all I wanted was my dead husband. And since I could not have him, all I really wanted to do was leave.

But there was nowhere to run.

“So, have you decided?” a voice asked from behind me.

I turned to find Banquo standing there. He was freshly washed and neatly dressed, his beard trimmed but not shaved.

“Decided?”

“Whether or not to go in.”

“And what about you? You’re still standing here.”

“Ah, but I had a reason.”

“And that was?”

“I was thinking about the daughter of Boite.”

Banquo came and stood behind me. We both stared at the feasting hall doors.

“The daughter of Boite,” I repeated.

“You should have told me,” he whispered in my ear.

“I swore to keep my identity secret.”

“If you had told me, I would have convinced you to abandon the courtly world. And I would have done the same. We could have carried on in our faith, priest and priestess.”

“Are you blaming me?” I asked, my voice sounding harsher than I had meant it to. I turned and looked at him.

“No. I am only regretting,” he said, and I could see from the expression on his face that he was telling the truth.

I sighed. “Yet here we are.”

“Yes. Here we are.”

Banquo extended his arm to me.

Without another word, we turned—the Thane of Lochaber and the daughter of Boite—and entered the hall.

* * *

By the time dinner was done, I had grown weary of my own name. “Lady Gruoch” this and “My Lady of Moray” that. It seemed silly to become tired of people trying to please you, trying to make you happy, but that was how I felt. I was in no mood to meet Macbeth’s loyal servants. Each Lord this or Thane that who presented himself to me had me wondering which one had set the fire that had killed Gillacoemgain. Which one of these men had burned my husband alive? I knew I should try to open myself to my future, but I could not. All I wanted to do was go back upstairs and hold Lulach.

As I looked around the room, I saw very few familiar faces. Only a couple of the lords who’d served under Gillacoemgain had come for Macbeth’s return feast. Had he not extended his hand to the others in peace? Did he not think to make amends with those who had been loyal to Moray? Only Banquo, who sat on my side, felt like someone to trust. Everyone else eyed me like a curiosity. Boite’s daughter. Wife of the defeated Gillacoemgain of Moray.

“How do you find the meal, Gruoch? Is it to your liking?” Macbeth, who was sitting beside me, asked. He eyed my plate. I had tried to eat, but my appetite was low. Macbeth had been trying, unsuccessfully, to make small talk with me all night. I had no patience for worthless conversation.

I lifted my goblet and motioned to the crowd of strangers. “In the coming weeks, it would be wise to reach out to Gillacoemgain’s supporters and seek peace,” I said. “You have your own people here, but you must unite Moray and the entire north behind you.”

Macbeth raised an eyebrow at me. “I thought, perhaps, it would be best to wait until I receive word from Malcolm.”

He would have us safely married first. He wanted to show Moray that he owned me and Lulach first.

“There will be fear of retribution. Those who were loyal to Gillacoemgain, who fought against you, will be wondering if they should live in fear. You must calm those worries, assure them they will not be punished for coming to the call of their mormaer,” I said.

“And should they not be punished? Not removed from power? Perhaps executed for treason?” Macbeth asked.

I turned and stared at Macbeth. “If you wish to rule the north with tyranny and fear, do what you like. If you wish to rule them in peace, gather them, speak to them.”

Macbeth smiled brightly—too brightly. “I only jest. I was planning to do as you said. I hoped our marriage might help to smooth things over.”

“If they assume you have taken me by force after murdering their lord, I doubt it.”

“I didn’t murder anyone,” Macbeth retorted sharply. “I’m not like him. He—”

“Gillacoemgain was burned alive. Don’t presume to tell me anything,” I said, setting down my goblet with a thud. I rose.

Seated on my other side, Banquo stood quickly, startled by the sudden noise and movement. “Lady Gruoch, are you all right?”

“Fine,” I said. I realized then that others had noticed the quarrel. I softened my expression. “If you’ll excuse me, my lord, I’ll go check on my son now,” I said, painting on a false smile.

Macbeth rose. “Of… Of course. What a good mother you are, Gruoch. Very well,” he said then smiled for the crowed.

I gave a curt nod to the assembled crowd then turned and left the hall.

Behind me, I heard Banquo and Macbeth talking in low tones.

I didn’t care what was being said.

I didn’t care what anyone thought.

I was halfway up the stairs when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to find Banquo there.

“Cerridwen,” he called lightly.

Annoyed, I stopped.

“May I escort you back to your chambers?”

“Why?”

“Macbeth thought maybe…”

“Macbeth needs to watch his words.”

“This situation is difficult for everyone. Macbeth asked me to—”

“Asked you to what?” I said, feeling my fury rise. Unbidden, the raven peeked out from behind my eyes. “Remember who you are, Son of Cernunnos. You are the servant of no one but the gods. This man is not your master.”

Banquo stopped. “Yes, my lady,” he said, bowing his head.

It was to the raven, not to me, that he offered his deference.

I huffed with frustration at the lot of then, including the Dark Goddess who would not let go, then turned and headed back upstairs and went to my chambers.

“Ah, my lady, I was just about to send for you,” Ute said when I entered. She held a fussy Lulach in her arms. When she looked up at me, I saw her expression change. She looked away.

“Very well. You are excused,” I told her.

“My lady,” she said, handing Lulach to me.

Without another word, Ute turned and left.

I hugged my fussy baby, kissing him on his head, then sat to nurse him. As I did so, I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself. The dark energy of the raven, the sound of raven wings, beat loudly in my ears. Slowly, with each deep breath, I ruled her. Cerridwen fell away, and after a time, I was just Gruoch once more.

When Lulach finally fell asleep, I laid him in the cradle beside my bed then lay down.

I had to make this situation work even if I didn’t want it. I had to put my feelings, my love, for Gillacoemgain aside and try my best get along with Macbeth. War was war. Gillacoemgain had died a soldier.

I had just drifted off to sleep when there was a soft knock on the outer chamber door.

Reluctantly, I rose.

I opened the door, expecting to find Banquo or Macbeth. Who I saw there puzzled me. On the other side of the door stood a holy man of the White Christ. He was just a wisp of a man, shorter than me with dark, beady eyes. He wore the dark robes of his order.

“My lady, I am Father Lawrence. I minister to your future lord. Lord Macbeth asked me to visit you. He was concerned for your well-being. You have endured much of late, my lady. Perhaps prayer—”

“Father Lawrence, I am my father’s daughter. You will not offer the words of the White Christ to me ever again. Do you understand?” I said hotly.

The little man swallowed hard then nodded. “We are all God’s children, my lady. If you ever change your mind, I am at your service,” he said then bowed and walked away.

Well, at least he had more sense than Macbeth to stop talking while he was ahead.

I closed and locked the door behind him.

I went back to my bedchamber, but stilled when I saw a figure standing over Lulach’s cradle. Her braided red hair trailed down her back. The Morrigu.

“Priests,” she said with a disgusted snort. “Another problem you must contend with in the future,” she said then reached out and gently touched Lulach’s cheek. “He is healthy and strong.”

“Lady.”

She turned and looked at me, “My willful one.”

“Lady, how fares Crearwy?”

“Seek the answers for yourself. We have given you that ability.”

“You forget what it means to be flesh and blood. I am exhausted.”

The Morrigu turned from Lulach and crossed the room. She took hold of my wrists, and looked me deep in the eyes. Her own eyes were so black it was like looking into a starless sky. “Your child is well.”

“Thank you.”

She looked at my arms. “You have been a mage, and now you are a mother. In the days to come, you must become the warrior once more. Train. Train your body. Remember what Boudicca knew,” she said then stepped back into the shadows. “And get your mind clear. You must concern yourself with more than which man’s bed you lie in. A new day is coming, and you must be ready.”

“Have you no heart? Look where your meddling has gotten me.”

The Morrigu laughed. “Heart? My girl, what’s fair is foul and foul is fair,” she said then disappeared into the aether.

I scanned the room. My trunk was sitting at the foot of my bed. I opened it, tossing the gowns aside, then pulled out Uald’s Gift. It had been a long time since I’d trained with Ute. I was out of practice. The Morrigu’s words were ominous. Macbeth had just subdued the north. If so, then why was she warning of war? What did the Morrigu know that I did not? But she was right, my body was weak. I still had pain from childbirth, and I had not trained at all since my days in the coven. I needed to train with a man in order to fight men. Once I had recovered a little from childbirth and the rough flight north, I’d start. I would confuse and worry them all, but a man worships a warrior woman because he does not know what else to do with her. Either that or Macbeth’s priest would try to exorcise demons out of me. One way or the other, I would do as the red lady asked.

But not tonight.

I set the sword back in the chest and closed the lid.

I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes. Not tonight. A moment later, I was lost to sleep.