“My brother!” she said excitedly. “My brother! Why have you come? Is anything the matter?”
Taking their cue, the waiting women picked up their belongings and left.
“Here, come close to the fire,” she told him, pulling a chair near the hearth. She pushed him into the seat then began unlacing his boots. “You’re chilled to the bone. Warm your feet by the flames. Corbie, get your daddy a mulled wine,” she told me, sending me scrambling. “Is it Malcolm? Has he died? Alister? He was at court. Has anything happened to him? Is war coming?”
“Sister, sister,” Boite said with a laugh. “Peace, sister. I do come with family news, but the news is fair,” he said.
I poured a mulled wine from the copper decanter sitting by the fire and handed it to my father. He took the drink from me then kissed my hand.
I stood behind Madelaine and watched.
“I’ve a new wife,” he said then.
Madelaine stopped for a moment, her hands growing still. She didn’t look up.
Boite drank his wine. “Northern girl. A daughter of Moray. She’s quite young. I’ve got her at Malcolm’s court. I’ve come…I’ve come to see if Gruoch would like to join her stepmother.”
For a moment, Madelaine said nothing. “If she would like?”
I stared at both of them. What did he mean he had a new wife? Would he really take me to Malcolm’s court? Would I really join the royal household? Certainly, I deserved to be there as much as anyone. But how could I leave Madelaine?
“I’ve no wish to break the hearts of the two women I love most in this world. It is Gruoch’s choice. I would not abuse either of you by forcing my will on the matter.”
Boite looked from Madelaine to me. His eyes were soft. The awkwardness of the situation struck all of us. My father wanted me. I could live the life of a royal girl, be exposed to all the niceties of court rather than the debauchery of this castle. I could be near him. And in exchange, I would leave the woman who raised and loved me.
Madelaine turned at looked at me. “Don’t answer now. Think it over,” she said then looked back at her brother. “Tell us about your new wife,” she said then, pulling off Boite’s boots.
“Aedha. She’s a wee lass. Pleasant spirit, but not hardy stock. I had expected more from Moray. She is sweet and kind.”
Madelaine nodded. “Is she one of us?” she asked. One of us. Madelaine used the phrase from time to time. One of us, a follower of the old ways, those who carry on the belief in the ancient things.
Boite shook his head. “There are not so many of us left, dear sister.”
I stared at them. My father wanted me. He wanted me with him. My heart sung. But then I looked at Madelaine. I had grown up under her watchful eyes, felt her loving kisses. Madelaine had always put me first. How many times had she taken a blow from Alister then straightened her back and attended to my needs with no thought for herself. There was nothing worse I could have done to Madelaine than leave her.
“I’ll stay with Madelaine,” I blurted out, interrupting their conversation.
They both turned and looked at me.
“Are you certain?” Madelaine asked. “The court life would be a good life for you. You would be able to get to know everyone, grow up amongst the royal ladies, alongside your cousins.”
I shook my head. “I’ll stay here,” I told Madelaine whose eyes watered. I turned to my father. “If you’ll pardon me, father, I will stay with Madelaine.”
My father smiled at me. “Praise the gods you love each other so well. As you will, Little Raven. But should you ever wish to come, you are welcome.”
Fate. Fate had offered me my father. But my will had trumped all. I stayed with Madelaine until the Goddess called. And my father and his new bride…both were dead before I ever had the chance to make good on his invitation. If I had known that visit would be his last, I might have chosen a different fate.
Chapter 17
Two days after I found Gwendelofar in tears, the bards arrived to celebrate the autumnal equinox. It had been a magnificent growing season. We had a bounty of food. Every day leading up to the celebration, Druanne had us all harvesting herbs, gourds, grains, and all manner of foods. Uald brought home fish and wild game. All of our houses and the coven square were filled with flower cuttings. Gwendelofar worked with Druanne to extract plant and flower oils. She came home smelling like flowers.
I was in the square preparing a broth with Uald when the bards arrived. Epona came out to give greetings.
“My friends! Welcome back,” she called.
Uald, her hands sticky with fish guts, smiled in welcome.
I saw Sigurd scan the coven grove. Aridmis and Druanne were crossing the lawn to join us, but Gwendelofar was still inside our little cabin. She had been napping all morning. Something told me fate was going to need a little help. I set down the onion I’d been cutting, wiped my hands on the skirt of my once-lovely green gown, now worn to tatters, and went to Sigurd. I took the reins of his horse while he dismounted.
“Ah, sister Cerridwen. Pleasure to see you again! Where is Gwen?” he asked, and I saw a glimmer of worry cross his face. Was he worried she was gone? Maybe he did care for her after all.
“Within,” I said, motioning back to my house. “Let’s go surprise her,” I said with a smile.
I handed Sigurd’s horse’s reins to Brant. “Lady Cerridwen,” he greeted with a smile.
“Welcome back,” I said nicely then led Sigurd across the lawn to the little home I shared with Gwendelofar. I could feel the eyes of my sisters, who now all knew Gwendelofar’s condition, on us. I felt a bit bad for Sigurd. I knew Gwendelofar would find a happy life for her and her child with or without him, but I could feel the hopes of the women around me…and Druanne’s judgment.
I opened the door to my house. Gwendelofar was sleeping. The sunlight was just shining through the window and cast a scattering of light on her golden hair. Her cheeks were rosy. She wore a pale pink gown, a simple thing that she had embroidered around the neckline with small blue flowers.
I heard Sigurd gasp at the sight of her. Her belly had just begun to show.
“I’ll go,” I whispered. “You wake her.”
“Are you certain?” he said nervously then looked at me. He was such a hulking figure. His muscular and tattooed arms peeking out from under his tunic, his wild hair woven into braids, and he had grown a beard since we’d last seen him, as most men did as winter approached. He was the very picture of a warrior. But his voice trembled. I realized then that no matter what, the Goddess wields her own power. Love, beauty, sex, these powers belong to the Goddess in us all. Lying there the picture of beautiful, blossoming in motherhood, Gwendelofar’s power emanated from her even as she slept. Sigurd and Gwendelofar were a great match.
I took his hand. “I am. It will please her so. May the Gods bless you both,” I said. Then grabbing a bag filled with my clothing that I had packed in anticipation of his arrival, I quietly left.
I would stay at Sid’s house, I’d decided. I took my pack and crossed the lawn. Quietly and carefully entering Sid’s home, hoping to find no brownies within, I went inside. I was surprised to find Sid lying on her bed.
She was a sorry sight. She was extremely dirty. Her feet were bloodied. Her hair was all tangles. Her dress was torn. I had not seen her in several weeks. I dropped my pack and went to her. I lifted her wrist to feel for her heartbeat. It was faint.