I entered a shuttered hallway. No light save the small candle I held illuminated the space. I was struck at once by the feeling of magic. My skin rose in goosebumps as I moved down the hall. I couldn’t see the chamber at the other end, but I knew I was somewhere thin. I walked past a window when a sharp breeze blew in, snuffing out my candle.
I steeled the fear that wanted to rise up inside me and moved ahead, reaching in the darkness for the door handle.
My fingers brushed against the cold metal handle. Pulling the chamber door open, I stepped into a dark space.
It took my eyes a moment to adjust.
I had expected to find a simple bedchamber, but as my eyes settled in, what I found was something quite different. I was standing just outside my bedchamber in Ynes Verleath. At once, the smell of wisteria assailed my nose. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet scent. Quite by accident, I had walked between the worlds.
I walked out to the terrace where Andraste stood stirring the cauldron. Nimue dropped sprigs of herbs into the pot.
“By the pricking of my thumb, a certain sister this way comes,” Andraste said, looking up at me.
“How now, Andraste? Nimue? Why have you called me here?”
Nimue smiled at me, but I saw she wore a sad expression behind her smile. She dropped a feather into the cauldron.
“Be bloody, bold, and resolute,” Andraste said. “All will burn. Make your heart ready, Cerridwen.”
“And more,” Nimue said.
“Hover through the fog, the snow, the filthy air. There to meet with Macbeth,” Andraste intoned.
“Macbeth?”
“Anon,” Andraste said, waving me away.
“Anon,” Nimue told me with a broken smile.
A moment later, I felt a small hand in mine.
“M’Lady?” I heard someone call. “M’Lady?”
I recognized the youthful voice belonging to the lad, Eochaid.
“Eochaid?”
“They’re searching the castle for you,” he told me then. “I…I found…you know how. He…we knew where you were. Can I help you out of here, Lady? I don’t think Lord Gillacoemgain will be pleased to find you here.”
I was lying on the floor. From the dim light of Eochaid’s lantern, I could see I was in a bedchamber in the closed section of the castle. I looked all around. I spotted a spindle, gowns hanging in a wardrobe, and other women’s things. And on the floor nearby, I spotted a large, dark stain on the flagstones.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Please.”
Eochaid helped me up then led me to a tapestry on the other side of the room. Moving the musty tapestry aside, he led me down a set of winding stairs. The dust was thick there. Clearly, the space had not been used in years.
“It’s not far,” Eochaid reassured me. “Just this way.”
A moment later, I smelled the cool, rain-soaked air. Eochaid and I emerged in a passageway not far from the chapel. The boy quickly led me to a door at the back of the chapel then inside.
“Stay here,” he told me. “Tell them you came inside to shelter from the rain and fell asleep. I’ll find you.”
Still disoriented from my walk to the otherworld, I nodded. Was it night already or had the sky simply grown dark from the rain?
I sat down on one of the pews inside the chapel.
“She’s here,” I heard Eochaid call then. “Lord Gillacoemgain, she’s here.”
With Eochaid’s lantern beside me, I sat waiting in the dark chapel.
“Macbeth?” I whispered to the darkness.
There was no reply.
“Gruoch?” I heard Gillacoemgain call, his voice full of worry. “Gruoch?”
“I’m here,” I said, standing. My knees were shaking.
Gillacoemgain entered the back of the chapel then rushed across the room quickly, pulling me into an embrace. “Corbie, where have you been? No one could find you.”
“I…” I began, passing a look to the boy who stood by the chapel door, “I was working in the garden when the rain started falling hard. I came into the chapel to wait out the downpour. I guess I must have fallen asleep.”
Gillacoemgain stared at me, and I saw the look of fear and worry leave his face. He laughed out loud.
“Lord Gillacoemgain?” I heard Standish call.
“She’s here. She’s fine.”
Shaking his head, Gillacoemgain offered me his hand then led me out of the chapel. Eochaid, who was staying out of the way, smiled at me, nodded, and then ran off.
“Should have known, a pregnant woman can fall asleep anywhere,” Gillacoemgain said, shaking his head.
Understanding, Standish laughed. “You gave us a scare, Lady. Here we thought maybe Thorfinn had come and abducted you.”
“No, I…” I began, shaking my head. “I’m very sorry. I just fell asleep.”
Gillacoemgain kissed me on the forehead. “Let’s get my Lady to bed.”
Slowly coming back to myself, I realized then that Gillacoemgain was soaked. “You’re wet from head to toe.”
He nodded. “It’s bad out there. Lots of livestock lost, damaged crops. Hopefully, the rains end soon.”
I nodded, part of my mind rushing quickly down the list of farms along the stream, but more of me was focused on a single name: Macbeth.
Chapter 17
Though many in Moray wanted to paint Gillacoemgain as a ruthless warlord, each day he rode out to check on cattle, fortify levees, and move his people to higher ground as the floodwaters rolled in. Some warlord. After a few weeks, however, the waters subsided, and Moray returned to a peaceful calm. The harvest season was soon upon us, and the air grew cold, the leaves turning hues of sunset orange, deep red, and vibrant yellow. Despite Andraste’s ominous words, the north, at least, seemed to be at peace. Word came that Malcolm was at odds once more with King Cnut of England and was amassing forces to go march south once more. And Macbeth, Gillacoemgain’s nephew, was at King Malcolm’s side, a virtual prisoner. I had nothing to do with Macbeth. What in the world was Andraste speaking of?
“Will Malcolm call on Moray for support?” I asked Gillacoemgain one night as we rested in front of the fire in the main hall.
“He may,” Gillacoemgain said, sipping his hot apple cider, which I’d spiced with herbs.
Not only was my husband not a murdering warlord, he was neither a drunkard nor a lecher. Occasionally he took a glass of wine, but only occasionally. I never saw his eyes on another woman. He was a quiet, peaceful man. When he wasn’t busy helping the people of Moray, he hunted, fished, and trained his birds, always returning with a woodland flower or wild herb for me. In the evenings, we rested together, Gillacoemgain watching my growing belly with great interest.
“I can see your stomach moving,” he said, setting his hands on my stomach. “Does it hurt?”
I shook my head. “I’m weary, and feel like I can’t breathe at times, but it doesn’t hurt.”
“Any ideas for names?” he asked.
I shook my head. I had, in truth, tried to come up with something. But nothing felt just right.
“If one is a boy, perhaps we should name him Boite for your father. Boite…I will never forget him, marching into my father’s hall in Inverness with his men around him. He was like a giant with his long black hair and an enormous sword dangling from his belt. I remember my father falling to his knee before him. I had never seen my father bow to anyone. I’ll never forget it.”
“I spent little time with him, but I adored him,” I said, remembering the last time I saw my father in Madelaine’s hall. I had truly loved him.
“Boite, then?”
I sent my hand on my stomach, lacing my fingers with Gillacoemgain’s. “No. That doesn’t feel right.”