“No,” he answered with a smile.
“Is it somewhere…old?”
“No.”
“Somewhere picturesque?”
“Not exactly.”
“Did you ever bring Macbeth here?”
Banquo laughed. “No.”
“Or Merna?”
“No.”
“I hate it when you’re mysterious.”
“Liar,” Banquo said, playfully pinching my cheek.
We passed Loch Calder and followed one of the tributaries upstream where we eventually met with a farm.
Banquo grinned at me but said nothing. He guided his horse toward the house.
Outside the small roundhouse, I spotted a red-haired child playing in the vegetable garden. Upon spying us, the child raced toward the house. “Mama, mama, riders!”
The child’s alarm brought a striking blonde-haired woman to the door. She wiped her hands on her apron as she crossed the lawn to meet us.
Banquo grinned happily.
Once she was in plain sight, I recognized her. “Gwendelofar?”
“Cerridwen? Is that you?”
I couldn’t believe my eyes. How long had it been since she’d left Epona’s care after her handfasting to Sigurd?
Dismounting, I rushed across the grass and hugged her tightly. Well, not too tightly when I realized she was with child. I leaned back and looked at her.
“Sister, why are you here? Has something happened?” she asked.
“Our sister is Lady Macbeth,” Banquo explained. “We are at court with Lord Thorfinn.”
Gwendelofar gasped. “Lady Macbeth. I did hear Lord Macbeth and his wife had come. I always knew you were someone of importance, you and your aunt. Oh, how wonderful to see you!”
The sound of jingling rigging caught all of our attention as a team of shaggy oxen were driven around the side of the house. An equally shaggy man with red hair followed behind them. Sigurd.
The hulking Northman left his yoke and joined his wife.
“Cerridwen? And Banquo,” he said, clapping Banquo’s shoulder. “Now, this is a surprise.”
“Cerridwen is Lady Macbeth,” Gwendelofar explained.
“Oh, aye? M’lady,” he said, dropping me a courtly bow, chuckling all the while.
“Oh, stop,” I said with a laugh, reaching out to embrace him.
“Come inside. Let’s see where Neda has gone to hide. Neda?” Gwendelofar called. She led us into her little house. Scanning all around, she pointed to a trunk in the corner. A tuft of red hair and the hem of a dress was plainly visible. “I’m sorry, Lady Macbeth. I guess my daughter doesn’t want to meet the Lady of Moray.”
“Mama!” the child exclaimed angrily, stepping out from behind the trunk. She glared at her mother with such fury that we all laughed.
I approached the child, bending down to greet her. “Hello, Neda.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, my lady,” she said then curtsied.
What a beautiful thing she was. Striking red hair, blue eyes, and porcelain skin, she looked every bit like her mother with a mop of her father’s hair.
“Such a beauty,” I said, reaching out to gently stroke her cheek. “And how old are you now, Neda?”
“Seven,” she told me.
Seven. My stay in Ynes Verleath had seen the world move on without me.
“She’s beautiful,” I told Gwendelofar and Sigurd.
They smiled at me.
“And another on the way?”
Gwendelofar nodded. “Coming July or August, I think.”
“I’ll still be here in Thurso, I believe. Send word when you’re close to your lying in.”
Gwendelofar smiled brightly. “That will be a comfort. And you? Do you have any children?”
“I have a son. Lulach.”
“You’ll need to bring him next time. Now, sit down and let us bring you something to drink.”
Banquo and I spent the morning there, talking about Gwendelofar and Sigurd’s life since they’d left the service of the gods. They lived simply but were very content. And from what I could see, they were still very much in love. Sigurd cut wood and sold it to the shipbuilders. Gwendelofar had made a reputation as a local healer. Their lives seemed very content.
The morning stretched on, and eventually, Banquo and I had to take our leave.
“I made this for my little one. Will it fit your boy?” Gwendelofar asked, handing me a beautifully embroidered shirt. The neckline was decorated with leaves and acorns.
“It’s so beautiful. I can’t accept this,” I said.
Gwendelofar laughed. “Cerridwen, if it were not for you, I wouldn’t have this happy life. Please.”
I took the gift, kissed her on the cheek, then pulled her into an embrace. “Thank you. And take care. If you need anything, I will be with Jarl Thorfinn. Please, just send word.”
Gwendelofar leaned back and looked at me. “And if you need anything, you know where to find us.”
I smiled at her then hugged her again. Once more, I turned my attention to little Neda, the merry-begot babe whose parents I’d encouraged to marry. How glad it made me to see their family so happy. “What can I bring you when I come next?”
“Cerridwen—” Gwendelofar began, but I hushed her with the wave of a hand.
“My lady, I have no right to ask you for a gift.”
“Now, you must understand, Lord Banquo brought me here as a surprise. If he had told me where we were going, I would have brought something. It is his fault I don’t have something special for you,” I said, shooting Banquo a playful scolding glance. “Tell me what you’d like, lass.”
Neda looked up at her mother, who nodded in assent.
“My lady, if it’s not too much to ask, would you bring me a harp?”
Be still my heart. “I will do my very best to get one for you.”
“She’s got a lovely voice,” Sigurd said. “Blessed by the gods.”
“Then a harp you shall have.”
I kissed the child on the forehead then mounted my horse. Banquo gave his farewells, and soon we were ready to go. We waved goodbye then headed back to Thurso.
We rode in silence for a long time.
Too long.
I could tell Banquo’s mind was busy.
“Not going to tell me what you’re thinking?” I asked.
He sighed. “We had the same training, worship the same gods, but look how content they are whereas we must play Thane and Lady.”
“We had no say in the matter.”
Banquo reached out to take my hand. “Cerridwen,” he whispered.
In truth, the same thoughts had plagued me. “Banquo, I—”
“How many children do you think we would have had by now?”
I stared at him. We were alone. For the first time in so long, we were alone. It would not hurt to play pretend here…at least, it would not hurt anyone other than ourselves. “Seven years… Let’s say four or five.”
“And would we be farmers?”
“No. We’d have our own place, just like Epona, and we would raise and train people in the ways of our ancestors, men and women alike, side by side.”
“And we would be happy?”
“Perfectly.”
“Every day? Never quarreling?”
“Never.”
Banquo pulled on his reins, stopping his horse. Mine stopped as well. He reached out and touched my cheek. “And we would make love?”
“Every night.”
He pulled off my glove then stroked the scar on my palm. He pressed his hand to mine.
I shivered.
“Cerridwen,” he whispered.
It was just him and me. We’d stopped in the middle of a thick forest. Only the eyes of the gods were on us.
“You are my wife,” he whispered.
“I was your wife. Merna is your wife now.”