“Thank you, Thorfinn,” I told him.
Before he left, Thorfinn and I stayed awake late into the night talking about everything he had seen, the other rulers they had met, and the friendships he had formed abroad, many of which would prove helpful in the years to come. Rather than staying with us, Macbeth went to the chapel to pray. I should have known from the first night that nothing would be the same. But who could guess it?
Thorfinn rode out the following morning. I stood at the castle gate and watched him go.
As I did so, a wind blew, and the trees around me swayed.
“Never again will thy eye meet. Farewell, farewell,” I heard a light voice whisper on the wind.
My flesh rose in goosebumps, and I looked all around. There was no one there, just myself and the trees. But then I remembered, in Birnam Wood, the forest always spoke.
Little did I know then, what they had whispered was true.
* * *
Everything comes in threes. Epona had taught me that. The last time I was reminded of her teachings, I had been left alone at Cawdor for six years. I should have known another such time was coming. Threes were all around me, including the number of losses I would face. Tavis’s death was the first, followed by Epona’s, and sadly, Standish wrote not long after Epona had gone, that Kelpie had lain down in his stall one night, and never rose again. In my mind, I imagined Epona and Kelpie together, Epona riding my warhorse bareback across the fields, both of them dizzy with joy.
Three found me once again. After three years, I returned to Lochaber to see Aelith and Banquo. My visit there was not long. While Madelaine did everything she could to care for the kingdom in my absence, I was needed at Dunsinane. Every time I rode out, I left a madman on the throne. So I saw my sweet girl, who didn’t remember me at all, in the flesh for less time than a mother deserved. Aelith, who was a silly, wild thing, grew in Banquo’s and my image, a miniature combination of us both. And the husband of my heart aged, silver streaks lining his hair.
Three came again, and with it, the Thane of Fife and Standish passed from this world to the next. Madelaine left Fife and Lothian to the rule of her husband’s nephew and retired with me to Dunsinane.
The hardest of those three came to me in the briefest of visions. One night, as I was preparing a drink, I spied a ripple on the surface of my cauldron. The water shifted and changed, then formed a window into Ynes Verleath. I saw Andraste there.
“Andraste?” I whispered.
She inclined her head to me. “Graymalkin has gone,” she said sadly. “I’m sorry,” she added then slowly disappeared.
“Thora,” I whispered. “Oh, Thora.”
Alone in my bedchamber, I wept that night until I felt like I had no more tears in me. I knew her time would come, but I ached all the same. My beloved dog was gone.
Thereafter, another three years passed. News came that Morag has passed. I mourned her death. But it was at the end of these quiet years, a total of nine years later, that the trumpets sounded, alerting us to the approach of important riders. Not expecting any visitors, Madelaine and I looked at one another.
Perplexed, we headed outside. It was spring once again, and the forest all around the castle was trimmed with bright green leaves. The scent of fresh flowers filled the air. I closed my eyes, relishing the feel of sunlight on my face. When I did so, I went back in time to that moment in Moray when I was pregnant with Crearwy and Lulach. I remembered Gillacoemgain’s laughter and the taste of summer strawberries. A soft breeze blew, and on it, I swore I could smell the deep lavender and cedar scent that clung to Gillacoemgain.
“Corbie,” Madelaine exclaimed, surprise in her voice.
I opened my eyes to see a group of riders coming toward the castle, the banner of Moray flying high.
And at the front of this band was a strapping lad, a mirror of my dead husband, with long, black hair and the tattoos of a druid.
I gasped. “Lulach.”
I wanted to run across the courtyard to greet him, but I restrained myself. It was then that I spotted a familiar face beside him. Looking so much like his father was Fleance.
“Corbie,” Fleance called, waving to me. He grinned at Lulach, batting his friend playfully on the shoulder, then slipped off his horse.
Lulach also dismounted. He righted his doublet, and the two of them crossed the courtyard to meet us.
“My gods,” Madelaine whispered. “Look at them.”
I swallowed hard and tried to master my emotions.
Angus trotted along at Lulach’s side, but Thor rushed ahead. Over the years, the dog had grown larger than Thora. But time had passed for him as well. He had silver hairs on his maw. Regardless, he wagged his tail in excitement.
I eyed Lulach’s party. There were no druids amongst his men. The men there were all from Moray.
“Mother,” Lulach said, bending to kiss me on both cheeks. “Well met.”
I smiled up at him. “It is good to see you, my son. You’ve ridden from Moray?”
Lulach smiled. “Yes. I wanted to surprise you. And to talk.”
“Of course.”
“Corbie,” Fleance said, embracing me. “You’ve shrunk.”
I laughed. “I have not. Look at the two of you,” I said, shaking my head as I studied them. They were both men now. “You’ve both shot up like trees.”
“How like your father you are,” Madelaine told Lulach, touching his cheek gently.
“Lady Madelaine,” he said, taking her hand and placing a kiss thereon.
He smiled at her, but his brow wrinkled as he looked her over. In truth, the years that had passed had aged Madelaine as well. Her red hair had dulled to white. Lines had formed across her brow. Her croning had come upon her. I had fared little better. I was well aware that my once raven-black tresses were trimmed with silver. I sometimes wondered what Banquo would make of his aging bride. Pushing the thoughts away, I turned to Lulach and Fleance.
“Come,” I said, motioning to the boys. “You will be road-weary. My servants will see to the men of Moray,” I said then turned to the party. “Well met, lads,” I called to them, waving brightly. “We shall feast tonight!”
At that, the men of Moray cheered.
Taking Lulach’s arm, I led them to my council chamber. Madelaine sent a servant to fetch refreshments then we all sat by the fire.
Lulach eyed the room, looking at the shelves lined with scrolls and ledgers. “This is your workroom?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Where is the king?” Lulach asked.
Madelaine and I exchanged a glance.
“We can see him later, if you wish,” I told Lulach.
“We were in Lochaber before we came here,” Fleance told me. “You would not believe Aelith. Jarl Thorfinn sent her a stout little Shetland pony. How wildly she rides. Like demons, the pair of them.”
I chuckled. “Wildly, but safely, I hope.”
“Father never lets her get too far away,” Fleance reassured me.
I smiled, imagining the sight. But like always, any time I thought of Aelith, my heart broke a little.
“So, you were in Lochaber?” Madelaine said, recovering for me. “Then to Moray?”
Lulach nodded. “Fleance and I completed our service to the gods. We decided it was time to return to our duties.”
“More like the gods decided, and Balor tossed us out,” Fleance said with a laugh.
Lulach smiled lightly. “Yes, that’s more accurate. I wanted to talk to you, Mother. I want—if it pleases you—to take up residence and begin to govern Moray from Cawdor.”