“Not at all. I have little patience with such courtly pleasantries.”
Gillacoemgain smiled at me then set his hand on my shoulder. “Then we shall get along very well, Boite’s daughter.” He rose and crossed the room to talk to Madelaine’s husband, who was helping himself to his fourth serving that morning.
As the two men exchanged words, Madelaine rose and came to me.
“I’ll help you dress in your riding clothes,” she told me.
Together, we headed upstairs. I removed my courtly gown and slipped on a long tunic and a pair of riding breeches, strapping Uald’s gift around my waist. In no time, I was ready to leave, my belongings already bundled onto the pack horses.
I met Gillacoemgain and his men outside.
Tavis waited with Kelpie.
“Now, that’s a sight I don’t think I’ve seen before,” Gillacoemgain said as he eyed me wearing the sword. “This nunnery of yours…are you sure you didn’t travel to the isle of Scáthach for training as a shieldmaiden?”
Tavis chuckled but said nothing.
“I was told all women in Moray were armed. Just trying to fit in,” I replied as I mounted Kelpie. I reined in beside Gillacoemgain.
“A rose trying to fit in amongst weeds? I think not…Corbie,” Gillacoemgain said with a smile.
Madelaine laughed at that. “Corbie. It does fit her well, doesn’t it? Take good care of my little raven,” she told Gillacoemgain.
“My Lady, nothing would make me happier,” he replied, and something in his expression told me he was being honest.
In spite of myself, I smiled. Life alongside Alister had led me to believe most courtly men were cruel. Duncan had proven that the world was still full of evil men. But Gillacoemgain, despite the rumors that surrounded him, had offered me some small hope. Perhaps the world was simply a mix of good and evil. Perhaps people were simply a mix of good and evil. And me, who had killed, what was I?
Thora trotted over to Kelpie and looked up at me expectantly.
“It’s a long walk,” I told her.
She simply wagged her tail.
Madelaine laughed then took my hand. “Be well, my little love. I grow weary of saying good-bye to you.”
“And me to you. But I think I leave you in good hands,” I said then lowered my voice. “Will Tavis stay at your side?”
Madelaine nodded. “I cannot live without him,” she replied. “Be safe, and come back to me soon.”
“I will,” I told her, waved farewell to Tavis, then turned to Gillacoemgain and nodded.
“Lady Madelaine,” Gillacoemgain said politely, inclining his head to my aunt. He then whistled to his men, and the party headed out.
It was a long ride from Madelaine’s keep to the castle at Cawdor. Riding was something I always loved. After the darkness of Ynes Verleath, to be amongst the green again was sheer delight. Many times, as we passed through dense forests, when the smell of loam and pine was strong, I thought of Sid. Had she been with me, all of this would have been so much easier. But Sid was not meant for the world outside the coven. Her faerie ways no longer belonged in the realm of men. Despite our separation, however, I knew I was soul-bound to Sid. The world was not done with us yet.
“Look there,” Gillacoemgain said, pointing as we passed through an ancient forest. The trees there, mainly oaks loaded with bunches of mistletoe, loomed overhead.
I followed his gaze to see a mound amongst the trees. I shook away the memory of Banquo that was trying to insist itself on the moment.
“Fairy mound,” Gillacoemgain said. “They say the great warrior queen Cartimandua and her druid advisor are buried within.”
“Cartimandua?” the name struck my memory hard, but I shook my head.
“Cartimandua, Queen of the Brigantes,” Gillacoemgain replied. “My mother loved history. She was proud that Moray watched over Cartimandua’s bones and that of the druid who served her. This area was, and still is, partial toward the old gods, the old ways. You spent many years in the nunnery yet your father—”
“I am my father’s daughter,” I told Gillacoemgain. “And we all serve the gods, no matter their names.”
“The people of Moray will be pleased to hear their lady is so wise.”
“Would all in the kingdom were so wise,” I replied. If Gillacoemgain did take hope to the throne, I would be able to directly influence the incursion of the Christian faith in Scotland. All people should be able to worship the way they wished. The Christians would not have it so. At Gillacoemgain’s side, I could truly do good for those who held fast to the old ways. And the moment the idea struck me, I remembered what Andraste had said. Gruoch was needed in the real world. Was this why? “And what of Gillacoemgain? What gods do you serve?” I asked him.
“I serve Scotland.”
I nodded. “Then serve her we shall.”
Gillacoemgain raised an eyebrow at me. “In all things?”
“As the gods decree.”
Gillacoemgain laughed. “I think the gods decreed us to be together…not just King Malcolm.”
“Who is he compared to the gods?”
“Nothing,” Gillacoemgain said.
I loved his answer. “Indeed,” I replied.
We rode throughout the day. That night we made camp along a stream deep in the woods. I could see from the way Gillacoemgain’s men were eyeing me that they were wondering how I would take to sleeping outdoors. Thus far, despite multiple offers to stop and rest, I hadn’t asked for any special treatment. This had, it seemed, won me some respect.
When the men set about preparing a tent for me, however, I intervened.
“No need, lads,” I told them. “I can sleep under the stars the same as you.”
“No, My Lady,” one of the soldiers replied. “It’s no bother. We wouldn’t want a fine lady like you sleeping on the cold ground.”
“My dog does a good job keeping me warm,” I replied. “And there is always the Mormaer,” I replied with a wink.
He laughed.
Overhearing the conversation, Fergus, who was never far from Gillacoemgain, stepped in. “It’s no trouble, Lady Gruoch.” He turned to the soldier, “See to it.”
The soldier got back to work.
“Gillacoemgain wouldn’t have it, Lady,” Fergus told me.
Of course. It was for my husband to decide, wasn’t it? I said nothing but instead went to work building up one of the campfires. Gillacoemgain, busy organizing his men, didn’t notice. By the time he did finally find me, the small flame was already growing cheerfully.
“Corbie? Did you…” he looked from the fire to me and back again.
I shrugged. “I was cold.”
He laughed then sat down beside me at the fire. “Well arranged,” he said, looking into the flames. “Will make lots of heat and little smoke. Did you learn how to build a fire at the nunnery as well?” And this time, I heard the suspicion in his voice. If Gillacoemgain knew about the old gods, did that mean he also knew about the secret covens? Epona had said there were nine such covens spread about the land. As Mormaer of Moray, did he know of other such places?
I shrugged.
“May I?” he asked then, glancing down at my sword.
I nodded and pulled Uald’s gift from the scabbard and handed the blade to him.
Gillacoemgain gripped the pommel, felt the sword’s balance, then gave the blade a wave. “This is divine craftsmanship. Who gave it to you?”