Highland Vengeance

Chapter 4

Our small party met with Macbeth’s larger force at the River Spey that night. The full moon was high in the sky. It was a cold night. A light dust of snow covered everything. The trees shimmered crystalline in the moonlight. I smelled the sweet scent of the river in the distance.

While Macbeth had ridden close throughout the day, there were too many ears around us to talk. The ride had been long, cold, and awkward. Ute was clearly displeased at the turn of events, and Thora watched Macbeth suspiciously. While Lulach mostly slept or rested against my chest, I knew well that my son had no business on the road. The sooner we got to Cawdor, the better.

When we reached the Spey, Macbeth left us. “I must see to my men, but I’ll return soon. I’ll do my best to have you and the little one back to Cawdor tonight.”

“Thank you,” I replied then watched him march off. The soldiers nodded or bowed to him as he passed through the row of tents.

“Why don’t you walk a little, my lady. Your body must ache. Our little lord is sleeping. I’ll watch over him,” Ute, who had been holding Lulach, told me.

“Are you certain?” More than anything, I wanted to move, to get some air, to get away from all the strange people. But I felt uncertain.

She nodded. “I don’t want to move. Lulach and I will stay right here.”

“Stay close to Ute,” I told Thora, who was busy sniffing the ground. She kept nosing the air then the ground again. Something had captured her attention. “No adventures. I don’t care what interesting thing you smell. Stay with the baby.”

Thora gave me a muffled bark then jumped up into the wagon and settled in next to Ute and Lulach.

I crawled out slowly, in more pain that I’d expected. Kelpie, who’d been tied to the wagon, nickered at me.

“Rest, old friend,” I said, patting him lightly on the nose.

Snatching a torch, I headed away from the party in the direction of the river. I just needed a minute alone. It was all so much to take in. I needed some air. Soon, I would be back at Cawdor. I needed to make my heart ready.

The sounds of the men drifted into the background as I headed toward the river. I could hear the water tumbling over the rocks. The forest shimmered with silver light. The air felt charged with energy. I stood still under the moonlight. I closed my eyes and breathed in the clean air. In and out. I soaked in the silence. I let nature surround me, comforting me like a blanket. I inhaled the frozen air, my nose and throat burning, then headed toward the river.

As I worked my way through the trees toward the water, the hair on the back of my neck rose. A strange sensation came over me. There was magic in the air. The snow sparkled liked jewels, the icy branches casting long shadows on the snowy ground. Magic filled the space around me. The tree limbs, covered in ice, twinkled. Moonlight illuminated the forest. I snubbed out the torch then gazed into the woods. I could practically feel the otherside near me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw movement amongst the trees. I looked closely and discovered a stag working his way toward the river. He exhaled deeply, causing steam to puff out his nose. He was a massive creature with a wide rack of horns. I had never seen such a magnificent beast before. He moved toward the water.

Wordlessly, I followed him as he trotted over a rise at the river’s bank. It was fortuitous to find the King Stag in a winter forest, and I was in desperate need of guidance. The Stag God, the partner of the Great Mother, was a guide and protector. While he’d never appeared to me before, I knew of his magic. Surely, he would guide a widow with a broken heart, the mother of a fatherless son.

Moving from tree to tree, I edged toward the riverbank.

There, along the frozen shoreline, I found not the stag, but a man with his arms uplifted toward the moon. Cernunnos, the Father God. Moonlight shone down on him. He glimmered with silver light.

I steadied myself and took a step toward him. When I did so, the ice between the stones at the river’s edge cracked.

The god turned toward me. I expected to see him as he’d often been described: bright silver eyes, a massive beard, and the hint of antlers under a mop of hair. But what I found was quite different.

I gasped.

“Banquo?” I whispered, the word coming out of my mouth no heavier than the cloud of warm air that cushioned it.

He lowered his arms. Moonlight illuminated his face.

“Cerridwen?” Banquo breathed.

We stood there, both frozen, staring at one another.

Had we drifted between the worlds?

Banquo took a step toward me, the ice breaking under the weight of his footfalls.

No. We were in the real world.

This was real.

He was there.

He was right there.

“Banquo?”

Moving carefully, Banquo came to stand before me. Hands shaking, he reached out and touched my face. “Cerridwen,” he whispered.

“This way, my lord. The tracks lead toward the river,” a voice called from behind me.

I looked back. The gaudy orange light of a torch moved our way.

“Don’t go,” Banquo whispered.

I realized then that he believed I had walked between the worlds to meet him and that any minute now, I’d disappear back to Ynes Verleath.

“I…” I began, trying to think how I would explain, but there was not time.

The firelight and footsteps drew near.

“Stay with me. I’ll keep you safe,” Banquo whispered.

“Here, my lord,” a soldier called, his torchlight breaking the otherworldly glow with its blinding light. “Is that you, Lord Banquo?” the soldier called.

“It is,” Banquo said, and I heard a hard edge on his voice.

“Here,” the soldier called into the woods behind him.

Macbeth appeared on the rise. He looked at me and Banquo and then smiled.

“Banquo,” he called happily. “Well met, friend. Seems you’ve found the Lady of Moray. Lady Gruoch, your maid said you went off for a walk. I followed your footsteps here. I was worried.”

“Lady of Moray?” Banquo whispered. I realized then that he had wrapped his arms protectively around my waist and had pulled me close to him.

“I… I just needed to move a bit,” I answered, stepping away from Banquo’s grasp. “By chance, I met the Thane of Lochaber, whom I knew in my youth.”

Macbeth’s brow furrowed. “That old teacher of yours kept you in wide acquaintance, Banquo. You never mentioned you’d met the daughter of Boite.”

I turned and faced Banquo who stood staring at me so intensely that his gaze nearly hurt. “The daughter of Boite,” he whispered.

I felt like my heart was being sliced in half. I searched Banquo’s face, my eyes begging his, screaming out in apology. Understanding, then pain, washed over his face, but he masked it at once. Standing so close to him, I saw the unshed tears that wet his eyes.

“As the lady said, just a passing meeting in our youth. Nothing more. It was many years ago,” Banquo answered Macbeth in a light voice.

“My lady,” Macbeth called. “We’ll make for Cawdor. We’ll have you by your own hearth one last time before we go to Inverness.”

“Thank you,” I replied, my eyes still on Banquo.

“Come, my lady,” Banquo said, carefully taking my arm. “Let’s get the daughter of Boite to Cawdor.”