I flew above the land, over the forest, back to the coven. Below me, lines of silver energy wove through the land between the dark trees and over the hills. I swooped over the forest and returned to the coven, landing once more beside the cauldron. I morphed from the raven back to myself, back to the woman I had become…Corbie no more.
“Feel no guilt, Cerridwen. Avenge where vengeance calls. I mark you as my very own. Do as vengeance and magic bids,” the Goddess said, and then disappeared.
Exhausted, I fell to the earth. The coals under the cauldron kept me warm until Druanne lifted me from the ground and led me back to my house.
“What did you see?” she asked.
My whole body was shaking. What had happened? Had I really killed Alister? Was I a killer? Was it all real? “A flower with five petals enclosed by the cauldron and a white sow.”
Druanne grunted. “That’s all? So much for our glorious Queen. When I took my name, the Merlin came to me. It seems the Goddess Cerridwen has only shown her symbols to you.”
I grinned at her rudeness. “Yes, I am Cerridwen.”
Chapter 10
The next day I emerged from my house, no longer Gruoch, no longer Corbie. I was Cerridwen, and I was an avenger. Alister was dead. Finally. And I had protected the one person I truly loved.
“How were your wanderings? Would you share with us?” Aridmis asked excitedly when we sat down at Epona’s breakfast table that morning.
Ludmilla smiled serenely. “I travel to the most beautiful place I ever see. Two men makes a woman out of flowers. The flower girl comes to me and tells me that I was a maiden, a woman of love. She says that power through beauty and children are mine.”
I smiled at her. “I saw her walk away from her body. Birds dressed her in a silken gown and put flowers in her hair.”
“The flower maiden created by Druids. You will be a mistress of herbs and love potions. You will bless the crops and bring love to all who surround you. Based on the visions Ludmilla described, I chose the name of King Arthur’s beautiful wife, Gwendelofar, for her,” Druanne said.
Epona raised an eyebrow at Druanne. Every girl from our land knew the Arthur tales, knew that Queen Gwendelofar had strayed from King Arthur for Lancelot. Ludmilla, however, would not have known the stories and the fate Druanne had assigned her. What a nasty trick. I glared at Druanne. She pretended not to notice.
Aridmis’ quick curiosity, however, was not yet sated. She looked at me. “And what did you see?” she asked eagerly.
I smiled. What could I say? I could scarcely believe what I had seen. Had the Goddess herself really spoken to me? Told me I was…a goddess reborn? Me? But I had felt the power of the raven inside me. I had flown on its black wings and tasted its power. Just thinking of it made my heart race. Maybe I should feel sorry, shocked, or remorse for what I had done, but I didn’t. Madelaine was finally safe. But would these women understand if I told them? Maybe Sid would, but she was not there. She’d gone again to the barrows. And certainly, Druanne would never understand. “The sow…the star flower…and it seemed as though I traveled on raven’s wings across the night’s sky, under the eye of the moon. But most importantly, I learned my dog’s name is Thora.”
Everyone laughed.
“Clearly, she is Cerridwen, a lady of the cauldron. Knowledge and spells will be her work,” Druanne said.
Bride patted my hand. “Another sister of the Great Mother’s dark face. That is well.”
Epona drained her cup and sat looking at the leaves therein.
“No more smithy for her,” Uald said with a grin.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Epona said absently as she studied the leaves, but she did not elaborate.
Soon after, it was time for our morning rites. It was Beltane, a high holy day for the order of the nine. We ate quickly and went outside.
Epona gathered us in a circle around the fire ring. Without Sid and the wandering Tully, we were only seven, but I could still feel magic resonating. We held hands as Epona called out.
“Mother, we stand here before you as seven of nine daughters. We are your children and your sisters. We worship you and call you into our midst.”
All our attention then turned on the spirit of the Goddess, and it seemed to me that she was present with her earthy, wet magic. I could hear the sound of the birds. I could feel the morning dew, the damp resin of life, on my skin. The rising sun felt warm and soothing on my black hair. A soft breeze full of the fresh, green scents of spring swirled around us. It set my dress, a light blue gown with flower embroidery, aflutter.
“Mother,” Epona called, “on this festival of fertility, we ask you to bless the crops. Let the spring sowing lead to a bountiful harvest. We ask for your loving help, for you to bless the wombs of maidens. May wise souls be born into this earthly plane. We ask you for peace in our land. In return, we give ourselves, your daughters, whole and complete. We dedicate our spirits to your purpose, and we dedicate our wills to heal the land.”
Epona became silent, letting her words trail off into the ether. After several moments, she turned her attention to us. “What say you, sisters? For what do you ask, and what will you give in return?”
Druanne’s voice sounded. “Mother, I ask you to let the land be fruitful with healing herbs so I may better serve your people. In return, I offer my services as cultivator and healer.” Druanne stepped forward and threw a bundle of white sage into the flames. The smoke from the smudge filled the space. We all breathed deeply, letting the herb clear our minds.
Uald’s voice rose next. “Mother, I ask for successful hunts but pray that the wildlife be repopulated. I honor the sanctity of the herds. In return, I offer the length of my hair.”
Uald drew a dagger from her belt. She then cut off her long brown braid and threw it into the fire. The fire crackled. A whirlwind of ash rose upward followed by the smell of burning hair. It was a heavy sacrifice. I studied Uald’s face. Her brow was furrowed. I wondered what secret wish she might have asked for.
“Mother, I come to you as the Crone,” called Bride’s voice. I turned to look at her. “I ask that you use me in these last few years. Make me your instrument. Don’t let me sit as an old woman beside the fire. I ask for purpose. I offer you this gift, a prayer cloth embroidered by my own hands.”
Bride lifted the prayer cloth so we could all see it. It was a fine thing, a long stretch of linen sewn with birds, leaves, acorns, and swirling symbols like those I had seen carved into the standing stones that dotted the lands. She had sewn words in Ogham, names of the Goddess, and blessings. Such prayer cloths were used during childbirth and at sickbeds to protect the vulnerable. It was heavy hearth magic. Bride handed the cloth to Epona who took it gently, kissing Bride on both cheeks.
Everyone turned to Gwendelofar, who stood beside me. “Mother, I ask you guides me on my new path, and teaches me where I should go. Give me your wisdom, and, in return, I give you morning prayers.”
It was a simple enough offering. Now it was my turn. My mind still reeling from my midnight ride, I took a deep breath. “Mother, I ask that you take pity on yourself. Weep for the land. Weep for the people who have forgotten you. When your weeping is done, I ask you to take up your sword and banish the White Christ from this land. In return, I give my blood.” I pulled a small dagger from my belt then sliced open the palm of my hand. I let my blood flow into the fire. It sizzled when it hit the hot coals. The smell of the burning liquid joined the smell of the sage and Uald’s burnt hair. The heady scent of death and sacrifice filled the air.