“Sid?” I whispered.
She did not stir.
I shook her shoulder. “Sid?”
She groaned a little.
“Sidhe, wake,” I whispered, kneeling down by her bed.
She opened her eyes a little. “Cerridwen?”
“What happened?”
“I haven’t eaten,” she whispered.
I rose and poured her a glass of water. Pulling her up in bed, I helped her drink. After she’d drunk the full glass, I went outside and retrieved a bowl of broth. Lifting spoonful after spoonful, I fed her.
“It’s so hard to remember the passage of time,” she whispered.
“Why are your feet in such a state?” I asked.
“I got lost,” she answered quietly.
“Lost?”
“I traveled far. I wasn’t certain where I was.”
“How long have you been back?” I asked.
“A couple of days.”
“A couple of days!”
“I couldn’t…” she said and then paused. “I couldn’t rise.”
I went to her small fireplace and stoked a fire. I set a small pot of water to warm beside it. Once it was heated, I wet a rag and began washing Sid’s cut and bruised feet. She cringed but let me clean them. When I was finished, I went to Epona’s house and retrieved salve and clean bandages. Sid had fallen asleep sitting up. I applied the salve, the sharp scent of the herbs making my nose tingle, and then wrapped her feet. She never woke.
A few minutes later, Druanne rapped lightly on the door. “I thought I saw you come in here with bandages,” she said as she slowly opened the door. I watched her eyes quickly assess the situation. “Damn her. She is never careful enough.”
“I’ve bandaged her feet, got some food into her, and her heart has quickened.”
In a huff, Druanne turned around. “I’ll be right back,” she said, slamming the door behind her.
Sid slept on.
Druanne returned with a flask. “It’s a sweet mixture which will quicken her blood and wake her.” She moved to rouse Sid.
“She has food in her belly. Let her sleep a bit longer,” I said.
Druanne frowned at me.
“I’ll wake her in a while.”
“You should have let me know. I am your elder. I am trained in the healing arts. I know better than you what to do,” Druanne said then shook Sid’s shoulder, waking her.
“Don’t underestimate me. Epona has taught me as well.”
“Willful girl, your power is reckless.”
“What do you know of my power?” I glared at her.
Sid woke somewhat. Druanne held her jaw, a bit too roughly for my liking, and poured the liquid down her throat. Sid sputtered a little.
Druanne patted her back, helping the liquid clear, then lay her back down. “I know your power is more harmful than good, that’s what I know.”
“You fear it because it showed me your true nature. You have no reason to be afraid of me. I wouldn’t strike at you unless you gave me a reason.”
“Fear you? I hardly fear you. You simply don’t belong here,” Druanne said, and in a huff, she rose and left, slamming the door behind her once again.
“Try not to peck her eyes out, Raven Beak,” Sid said in a whisper.
“I’m doing my best,” I assured her, glaring at the door.
Sid laughed softly.
“You smell horrible. Let me get this dirty thing off you,” I told Sid.
She nodded, and with my help, she sat up. I pulled her old gown, a tattered black cotton dress, off her. It smelled so bad and was in such a shamble that I set it aside to be burnt. I went back to the fire, warmed some wash water, then grabbed the sweet smelling lemon balm soap Sid had sitting on her bureau.
Sid lay naked in her bed. She was drowsy, her eyes opening and closing softly. I covered her body and washed the grime from her legs. She was a thin woman, but her legs were muscular. I washed her arms. They were a mess of scratches and grime.
“Where did you get all this fine furniture, anyway?” I asked her as I cleaned her up.
“A gift…from the Seelie King when our son was born,” Sid whispered absently.
“Your son, is he—”
“Eochaid.”
“Eochaid?”
“My son,” Sid said quietly. “His name is Eochaid. He’s so beautiful.”
“Like his mother,” I said as I gently washed the dirt smudges from her face.
Sid smiled. Her eyes closed.
I gently pulled the cover away and washed her soft, white stomach. My eyes were drawn again and again to her small, pert breasts with their soft pink nipples. My mind went back to the day at the spring with Banquo.
Sid rolled over and looked at me. She took the rag from my hands and pulled me onto the bed beside her. Despite her exhaustion, she leaned forward to press her mouth against mine. I could taste the potion Druanne had given her, the sweet taste of honey, marigold, chamomile, and other herbs lingering in her mouth. I kissed her gently, again and again, tasting her. My hands shaking, I gently touched her breasts, my fingers grazing those small, sweet nipples which hardened to my touch. It was not the power of Beltane guiding me. It was something different, an old longing. I wanted to feel her body close to mine, but I knew she was weak. I removed my clothes pulled her against me, enveloping her in my embrace. It felt so good to feel our skin touching. Sid kissed my neck and gently stroked my body. Her touch felt wonderful, so sweet, so familiar. Sighing deeply, she laid her head on my chest and entwined her fingers around mine.
“Now we just need Banquo,” she whispered, and moments later, she fell asleep.
* * *
A couple of days later, we all reveled in the celebration of two things: the harvest and the handfasting of Gwendelofar and Sigurd. Sid was still not well enough to join us. Most of the time she slept. I stayed by her side as much as I could, but joined the others for the wedding celebration.
Gwendelofar was dressed splendidly. Aridmis had surprised us all a day earlier when she emerged from her house with a wedding gown to give to Gwendelofar.
“It was my mother’s,” she’d told us. “I will never have the chance to wear it. My life is here. Wear it in good health,” she told Gwendelofar.
“Oh, no! I cannot. One day maybe you—”
Aridmis shook her head. “No, I will not. My life is here,” Aridmis repeated again with finality. From her words, we all understood that Aridmis knew her fate and was resigned to it.
“Thank you,” Gwendelofar said, tears welling in her eyes.
I stood with the others at the center of the coven, the fire burning brightly. We said our prayers and listened attentively while Epona performed the marriage rite. Near the end of the ceremony, Epona pulled out the same comb and mirror she had shown me, handing the comb to Gwendelofar and the mirror to Sigurd.
“By the Lord and the Lady, exchange these tokens of marriage and become…not two in one union…but three. The earth is fertile,” Epona said.
Sigurd handed the mirror to Gwendelofar.
“And the seed is sewn,” Epona added.
Gwendelofar handed the comb to Sigurd.
Epona then pulled out a long cord of red ribbon. The couple held the marriage talismans as Epona wove the ribbon around their hands, beginning the wrap on Gwendelofar’s arm, circling until the ribbon was tightly wound on Sigurd’s arm.
“I unite you. God and Goddess. Husband and Wife. Mother and Father,” Epona said, touching Gwendelofar’s stomach gently. “You are now one. In life and in spirit. May the great ones bless you.”
“So mote it be!” we all called happily.
“So mote it be,” Gwendelofar and Sigurd answered in unison, and then they kissed, sealing their wedlock.
By the next morning, Gwendelofar and her husband had gone. Sigurd would take his wife and unborn child north to his small farm. In my heart, I wished her well. Fate, in the end, had been kind.