The circle had stiffened and, perhaps, had taken in a breath at my call, but it was mine to make. The aching throb in my hand felt powerful. The dark spirit inside me had not left, and it smiled with satisfaction.
Aridmis broke the tension, her voice ringing like a silver bell, cutting the strange silence my vow had made. “Mother, I ask for clarity of vision so that the images before my eyes may be understood. In return, I spin the silver wheel to the future and offer this knowing: this coven will survive for six hundred more years, and when it is finally disbanded, your daughters will not be lost to you. They will carry on in new ways. You will not be forgotten.” Her words settled the air my vow had stirred.
“Mother, for myself I ask that you watch over our sisters, Sid and Tully,” Epona called. “Their travels take them far and to dangerous places. Protect them. In return, I offer my skills as teacher. I shall keep your coven full and fill your daughters’ minds. May our words ride on the wind. May our wishes become substance. May our hearts be full. We give thanks. So mote it be.”
“So mote it be,” we called in reply.
Everyone smiled and began to disband. Blood dripped from my hand to the ground. Druanne came to me, pulling a piece of clean cloth from her healer’s satchel. She pressed it into my hand. “Come, let’s bandage this lest infection set in.”
She led me to the house she shared with Aridmis. The seer had large pieces of parchment spread all over the walls, mapping what I supposed were the stars. Druanne’s side of the room was filled with jars and drying herbs.
“You are very different from the other women here,” Druanne said as she sat me down on her bed. She frowned as she looked over her jars. Her mouth was pulled into two tight lines as she emptied a pinch of root and leaves into a mortar. I smelled a sharp scent that reminded me of anise. She ground the herbs to a fine powder and mixed them with a salve.
I chose not to respond. I didn’t want to go to war with her.
Druanne washed my hand and began rubbing the salve on the wound. “Druidic law teaches us to harm none, but it seems you feel that law does not apply to you.”
I smiled and thought on Scotia’s words, remembering the Goddess and what she had said to me. I would harm, but only those who deserved to be harmed. I would protect the innocent, and I would punish those who brought ill will, cruelty for meaningless gains and destruction. It was beyond what Druanne could conceive and so I was sad for her in that she was so wrong.
Druanne looked sharply at me. “I am not wrong,” she told me, pulling the bandage too tight.
I inhaled deeply. “Can you hear my thoughts?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“Scant pictures,” she answered. “Words as if spoken on the wind. But I heard you now, and I am not wrong. What has the Goddess said to you?”
“Why would I tell you? And what else have you stolen from my mind?”
“Just pictures. I needed to know what kind of girl you are…you are dangerous.”
“What pictures? Name them,” I said, not asking, but commanding.
“A man with black hair and blue eyes. You think of him often,” she said as she tugged on the bandage again.
“Yes, I do,” I replied. Many times my mind wandered, and I dreamed of the man the Wyrd Sisters had called my King. I puzzled it over more than I cared to admit.
“And the Wyrd Sisters. You think of them more.”
I said nothing.
“They are an old and dangerous magic. Their art is not part of our world; it comes from a land now lost. They are something other, and they cannot be trusted. Their ways are not our ways. You are not one of us.”
“The mind, Margaret,” I said, suddenly knowing Druanne’s given name, ”is a trunk full of wisdoms, secrets, desires, and shames. Don’t you dare judge me by what secrets you’ve pulled from me without my permission. I am a young woman and have not yet lived. Think of how you might hate me when you come to know my future. Harm none may belong in your trunk, but protect belongs in mine. Don’t slip your fingers too deeply in or the lid may fall and break them off,” I threatened.
“Or would you rather I look into your trunk?” I continued. “I see you riding away from a hovel where two children and a man slept softly, unknowingly, inside while you abandoned them. Your own children, your family, left behind…what kind of woman are you?” I said, my voice full of venom. I pulled my hand from her grasp.
Druanne paled.
“How does it feel to have someone draw from the well of your mind? Perhaps, all these years, when you have stolen from other people without them inviting, you have been trespassing on a sacred ground. See how it feels, Margaret? Is it kindness? Is it right? No. It is harm. Despite all your pompous piousness, you are no better than the priests of the White Christ.”
Druanne slid to the floor.
It was Scotia who had given me the images, given me Druanne’s secrets.
“How do you know those things?” she whispered.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said and rose. “You are my sister. Treat me with the same respect that you ask for yourself, and we shall get along just fine,” I said. Extending my good hand, I helped the tall woman to her feet.
Druanne looked shaken. “I apologize,” she said, her voice quivering.
I squeezed her hand tightly, a bit too tightly. “Never again.”
She shook her head. “No, never again.”
I let her go. “Thank you for the mend,” I said, looking at my bandaged hand.
“No, thank you,” she replied absently as I turned and left her house.
I stepped outside then leaned against Druanne’s door. I closed my eyes. My head thundered with the sound of raven’s wings, and rage made my hands shake. My anger came too quick, too ready. I took a deep breath and quieted the raven inside me.
Chapter 11
A party of five men rode into the coven. Their rough and brawny appearance made it seem as though we were being invaded by Vikings. But they were the bards of the north, handsome men more built for warfare than music. Each man carried an instrument strapped to his back; some carried a battle axe or a sword as well.
Epona rushed to greet them while Uald helped with their horses.
“Cerridwen?” Epona called.
I crossed the yard to join her.
“This is Bergen,” Epona said, introducing me to a fair-haired giant with a harp strapped across his back, “He is the chief bard amongst this group.” Bergen’s long locks were braided at the temples. He also wore braids in his beard. He had swirling tattoos around his forehead and down his arms.
“My Lord,” I said with a curtsey.
“My my, a Lady amongst your flock, Epona?” he said with a smile.
She smiled in reply but said nothing.
Gwendelofar joined us. “He-hello,” she stammered meekly.
Bergen smiled at her. “Good morrow to you, Mistress. Men, where are your manners? Come meet Epona’s new sisters,” he called to the others, introducing us to Brant, Ivar, Frey, and Sigurd in turn.
The bards bowed to us.
“Ladies, we shall have music tonight!” Brant, a dark-haired bard with a beard that stretched to his belly said as he strummed his lute. “Praise be to the gods!”
The bard introduced as Sigurd, a tall man with fiery red hair and deep blue eyes, laughed. “If you’re not passed out by nightfall!” He then smiled toward Uald and leaned in toward Gwendelofar and me, “I’d recite you fine ladies a romantic ballad, but Uald finds them dull,” he said teasingly.