“Cerridwen,” he said looking closely at me, “Lochaber is a vast holding. Surely, I am a good match for you.”
I sucked in my bottom lip, chewing on it as anxiety wracked my stomach and made my already pounding head feel worse. What could I say? He was right. For just about any girl in the land, he was a great match, and he loved me. And I loved him. “You, my love, are the only match for me,” I said, leaning in to kiss his sweet lips. I caught the scents of rosemary and mint in his hair. I inhaled deeply, trying to draw in his very essence.
Banquo pulled me toward him and began to kiss me passionately. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight. He slid from the boulder and came to sit on his knees in front of me, between my legs, clutching me about the waist. He buried his face against my chest. “I love you. Please, tell me who you are,” he whispered.
The words nearly tumbled from my mouth, but I bit them back. He was asking for the hand of Boite’s daughter. Without knowing it, he was positioning himself so his sons would have a claim to the throne of Scotland. What would he think, what would he do, when he knew who I really was? Would he fear to aim so high? Would he flee from me out of hopelessness? Would he divulge it too soon to those who would make decisions for us? I didn’t want to lose him. Maybe Madelaine could convince Malcolm. I had to let her try. If she succeeded, Lochaber would win a great prize. And if Madelaine was not successful, Lochaber’s bid was just one out of many, and no one would begrudge him. It was not impossible that if he knew who I really was, he might leave me, knowing it could never be. I couldn’t take the sting of it, not yet, not while there was still hope.
“I’m Cerridwen,” I whispered. In the end, I was hiding my bloodline while admitting the truth of my soul. My kin could cost me his love, but my soul belonged to him.
Banquo stood, kissed me on the forehead, and held out his hand. He looked pale, his mouth turning sadly. “Let’s go back,” he said. We walked silently back through the forest. I bit back tears. I knew I had hurt him, and it wounded me terribly. But there was no way I could make him understand, at least not yet. I was so sorry. I wanted to explain everything to him, but I couldn’t. I was afraid. The whole way back to the coven I wrestled with the problem, but never found the right words to make him understand. I loved him. I loved him so much. I chewed on my lip and tried not to cry, all the while cursing the blood in my veins.
By the time we had returned, the bards had arrived.
“Lady Cerridwen and Lord Banquo,” Bergen, the leader of the bards, called when we emerged from the woods. It was almost as if he was announcing us at court, like a married couple. I felt the sting of it.
“My brothers,” Banquo called cheerfully, pulling on a false face, then he turned to me. “My love, do you mind?” he asked me softly, motioning to the bards. His face looked haunted, his eyes watery.
“Banquo,” I whispered and reached up and touched his cheek. He closed his eyes when my hand rested on his skin. “I love you. Please know how much I love you.”
He smiled, took my hand, and kissed my fingers. “I trust you,” he whispered then pressed my hand against his lips. “And I love you too.” Once more, he kissed me on the forehead then went to welcome the bards.
I scanned the group. Sigurd was not there.
“My Lady,” Brant called to me as he led the horses to the watering trough. “Fasting makes you even more beautiful! Your skin is glowing like the moon!”
“What can I say? I am a dark goddess,” I replied, grateful to have a distraction. My stomach felt sick. It was too horrible to feel Banquo’s hurt and frustration. I didn’t know what to do. At the risk of losing him, I didn’t speak. By not speaking, I risked losing him.
“Then it is your night. Let’s see who seeks you from the other side!”
I smiled. Whichever of my ancestors would walk that night, I hoped, at least they would come with some guidance. Because once again, I felt to my core that I was an orphan.
We spent most of the day in silent prayer or busying preparing the feasting table. Once Uald returned, I worked as much as I could with her; she seemed adept at avoiding Epona’s ministering. Epona and Uald, old friends, functioned in many ways like equals. And, I noticed, Epona was more apt to let me slide when Uald had a good reason for me to do so. Uald was also very astute, and she picked up on the distance between Banquo and me.
“Are you all right?” she whispered as we sat in the smithy skinning hares.
I nodded, working a knife just under the skin of the hare, a trick Uald herself had taught me. I shot a glance over my shoulder at Banquo who was sitting in silent prayer near the center cauldron.
“I haven’t told him who I am, my family. He wants to wed me, but he needs to know who I am. Who I really am.”
“Of course. They won’t marry Lochaber’s heir to just any girl.”
I nodded. “When he reaches for me, he reaches—”
“For Scotland, without knowing it,” she finished my sentence. “Do you love him?”
“With all my heart. I know him, Uald. As sure as I know myself.”
Uald threw a pile of guts into a slop bucket. Her knife got away from her, dropping into the pail. I reached down to get it for her. But when I pulled my hands back, they were completely covered in blood and bits.
“Ugh,” Uald groaned. She grabbed my hands and tried to wipe the blood away. The more she tried to clean the sticky liquid, the more it spread. “Out, damned spot! Out, I say,” she cursed jokingly.
I stared at my hands. Blood dripped from my fingers. I swooned. All at once, the images started to get mixed up, and I fell into a vision of myself on a battlefield. Blood, lots and lots of blood, dripped down my hands and arms. My whole body shook. Mist swirled around me. I could hear men nearby, but they were lost in the fog. A corpse chopped to bits lay on the field below me. I looked up; I was holding a heart, its blood emptying all over me, in my raised hands. In my vision, I screamed loudly, triumphantly, then cried out Banquo’s name. Hearing his name knocked me from the vision.
I stood with a start, bumping the stool out from under me. The half-skinned hare dropped to the ground. The image of the hare’s carcass overlapped in my mind with the image of the bloody dead body I’d seen in my vision. I shut my eyes and squeezed them tightly, trying to force the gruesome image away.
“Corbie?” Uald asked, so startled she’d dropped my goddess name, grabbing me and holding me steady.
“Cerridwen!” Banquo jumped the smithy wall and took me from Uald’s hands, holding me firmly but tenderly. “Are you all right?”
“A vision,” I whispered, trembling.
Aridmis rushed up behind Banquo. “Cerridwen?” she called. Worry racked her usually placid face.
“She had a vision,” Uald whispered. “The blood.”
“I’ve got her.” Aridmis took me gently by the arm. “Don’t be alarmed. It’s the nature of Samhain, a night where blood is sacred. It draws out the images, the past and future existing all at once with the present.” She led me back to the fire.
Silent, Banquo walked alongside us, his arm wrapped around my waist.
Aridmis sat me down near the cauldron then wetted a cloth. She pulled a vial of lavender oil from her satchel and sweetened the fabric. “What did you see?” she asked as she cleaned my hands.
“So much blood,” I whispered. I was still shaking. I wasn’t sure if what I saw was a memory of the past or a vision of the future. It terrified me.
Aridmis looked at Banquo and me as she worked on my hands. “It is no mistake you called his name,” she told me then cast a glance at Banquo. “I have spun the wheel and looked into your future. As you have always been, the two of you are one, but heed my words. In this life, your love will bring an end to one of you. I cannot see who. The tie between you is the strongest bond I have ever seen. It glows like a silver light from one of you to the other. But this love will end in blood.” Aridmis stood. “I’m sorry,” she said then left us to stare at one another dumbfounded.