Balor nodded kindly toward me.
“These are Balor’s students. Calean, I know,” Epona said, introducing me to a young man with long, straight black hair. She turned to the young, handsome druid. “And Lord Banquo, isn’t it?” Epona asked.
“I’ll leave the titles to my father. Here, I’m just a servant of the ancient ones,” Banquo said, motioning to the small tattoo of a stag’s head on his brow. Such designs were frowned upon by the priests of the White Christ, but the worshippers of the old ways would know the symbol. A man could only receive the mark of the stag after being initiated in the rites of Cernunnos, the Lord of the Forest. “Just Banquo, please,” he told Epona, but I couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were on me.
I smiled at him as I eyed him over. His muscular arms were tattooed with the swirling Pictish designs of animals, trees, leaves, and birds. Banquo’s skin was tanned from hours in the sun. His brown hair, touched lightly with red, curled softly around his face. He was the most handsome man I had even seen…save, perhaps, the black-haired man in my visions.
Banquo’s dark eyes met mine. He winked playfully at me.
I looked away, surprised to feel my cheeks redden.
“Cerridwen, perhaps Banquo would like some wine?” Epona suggested then left us, escorting Balor and Calean to the other side of the fire.
“Please,” I said to Banquo, motioning to a bench nearby. I turned, reached for the jug of wine, but felt Banquo’s hand on mine.
“Please, My Lady, allow me,” he said, taking the bottle from my hand. “I hope you take no offense, but my mother would never forgive me if I let a daughter of the goddess serve me.”
“Your mother is very wise,” I said with a nervous laugh. My hands shook. I felt like a fool.
“So…Cerridwen?” Banquo asked as he handed me the drink. “Named for the Welsh cauldron goddess?” I noticed then that he had stags’ heads tattooed on his hands as well, the antlers extended out onto his fingers. He must have participated in heavy earth magic to earn such marks.
“Cerridwen, yes, amongst other names,” I said with a sly grin. I realized my voice was slurring somewhat.
“Ah, yes, Cerridwen would be your goddess name. Now,” he said, leaning in toward me as he sipped his wine, “tell me why you look so familiar. Have we met before?”
I looked closely at him. His eyes were dark brown, the color of acorns in fall. He had a strong, square jaw and just the hint of a beard. He was so striking. I would remember such a fine man visiting Alister’s estate, but no man so lovely had ever graced those halls. And yet, I recognized him. The ale and the magic of Beltane had my mind lost in a haze. “No, we haven’t, but you look familiar to me too,” I told him. My stomach fluttered.
Banquo smiled, his cheeks dimpling. “Perhaps…Inverness?”
I shook my head. “I’ve never been there.”
“Maybe we were friends in another life,” Banquo said and took my hands. “Let me see. Your callouses are new, your fingernails are unbroken, such lovely, soft, sweet hands. Are you from a royal house?”
“Aren’t you, Lord Banquo?” I smiled at him and squeezed his hands.
“I suppose I am,” he said with a laugh.
“Do you suppose that’s why Epona left us alone?” I said in a mock-suspicious whisper.
“Shall we talk affairs of state?” he asked with a sarcastic deepening of his voice. “Which successor do you favor, Lady? Duncan, Thorfinn, or Macbeth? Or do you promote Moray? Shall we plot the line of succession or shall we discuss the life in service of spirit? Which do you prefer?” He paused. His voice calmed. “Let’s start with how you find this life?”
His boldness surprised me. It caught me off guard to hear my cousins’ names bandied about so freely. Banquo didn’t know who I was, how important the next successor was to the course of my life. The thought that, in this place, it mattered so little, amused me. I chuckled. “Let the Wyrds sort out the kingdom. The castle was a prison. This life is far more preferable.”
Banquo lifted his cup. “I’ll drink to that,” he said, taking a swallow. He gazed into his cup. “The castle life…I agree, a prison…a brothel…or worse. My father liked his whores more than his children. The castle is no place for me either.”
“How terrible for you.”
“It’s worse for my mother,” he said with a frown. His soft features hardened a bit, and I saw the pain behind his eyes.
“I’m sorry…for you and your mother. In the very least, it is a blessing you have her,” I said, the sting of the poem of Emer and Cú Chulainn still fresh.
He smiled softly at me. “You lost your mother?”
“In childbed.”
“She must have been very beautiful, though. You are quite stunning. Are your eyes purple? I’ve never seen violet eyes before.”
“My looks come from my father. My mother was fair.”
“And your father, is he—”
“Dead as well.”
I realized then that Banquo was still holding my hands. He gently stoked my fingers, my knuckles. He looked deeply into my eyes. “You’re an orphan,” he said gently.
Surely, I was drunk. I fell silent and started to weep. Somehow, this man, this newcomer had brought up all my hurt and anger at the loss of my parents. Maybe it was the ballad of Emer and Cú Chulainn. Or maybe it was Beltane, or maybe the ale, or maybe it was just…him. My parents, their loss was a deep sorrow I rarely touched, and here it had been uprooted.
He wiped a tear off my cheek. “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I just opened my mouth and…the words just came tumbling out. I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s not you,” I whispered. “It’s the drink,” I said, trying to chuckle.
“Balor is like a father to me,” he said, his gaze going to Balor and Epona. Calean had moved off and was chatting with Druanne. Poor man. Balor and Epona were sitting very close to one another, talking in low tones. But Epona was smiling in a way I’d never seen her smile before. I realized then that she was flirting. I was surprised.
“He and Epona are…familiar,” I commented.
“By the end of the night, I’d wager they will be very familiar,” Banquo said with a grin.
I giggled, wiping the tears away.
“How old is she, I wonder?” Banquo asked.
“Her face tells one tale, her hair another.”
“They say that those who have done grim magic sometimes loose the pigment in their hair, the magic draining them, but she seems very kind.”
I gazed at Epona, wondering what arts she might have worked that would have changed her so. “She is.”
“It’s good that you are with her.”
The tears welled again, but I fought them back. “Have you any siblings?” I asked.
“A sister who died during the harsh winter two years ago,” he said sadly. “And you?”
“Two half-brothers who did not outlive their cradles,” I said. My father had taken a second wife, but she had produced no surviving heirs, and like my mother, had died trying. It made me terribly sad to think of it. “Let’s talk of happier things. What does Balor teach you, if I may ask?”
“To read, write, heal, and…well…other things.”
“Other things…now, that’s the interesting part.”
Banquo smiled at me again, once more evoking his dimples.
“Do those ‘other things’ include your tattoos?” I asked, reaching up to just barely stroke the tattoo on his forehead. When I did, I felt a sudden jolt. My whole body shook and for a brief moment, I was caught up in a vision. I saw and felt Banquo and me in bed together, naked, making love. In my vision, my long red hair fell in a wild tumble around me. Banquo’s hair was also red and was pulled back in a long braid that tickled my nipples as he thrust into me, his hot mouth on mine. But the eyes, his eyes were still the same chestnut color. I gasped.