“Thank you,” I said, taking his hand.
“She wept a lot, and there was some pain. I eased her struggle as best I could,” he said, setting his hand to his brow.
Druid magic.
I squeezed his hand. “Thank you. We’ll let her rest today then go back tomorrow morning.”
Banquo nodded then looked toward the house. “Let me go greet the little one.”
I took Lulach from Banquo.
“He’s getting pretty good on those little legs of his. You’ll be in trouble soon,” he said, grinning at Lulach.
I smiled and kissed my boy. “Come, let’s check on Ute,” I told Lulach.
Banquo headed inside while I went in the direction of the stream. It took me a bit, but finally, I found Ute sitting beside what I guessed to be the same wide oak tree Banquo had mentioned the night before.
She sat with her knees drawn to her chest, her face wet with tears. She looked terribly pale.
“Uuuute,” Lulach called to her.
She smiled at him, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
I settled on the ground beside her, holding Lulach in my lap.
“How is Gwendelofar? The baby?” she asked.
“Both are well. It was a boy. They’ve named him Uffe.”
“Wolf,” Ute said. “The name means wolf.”
I laid my arm across her shoulders and pulled her close to me.
“Are you all right?” I asked softly.
“I will be. Lord Banquo… He is a very good man.”
I kissed her on her forehead and said no more, only sat with her watching the water tumble over the rocks.
Sigurd, Gwen, and Neda were lost in their new little one. Ute rested. As the day wore on, my back ached more and more. I had been under a heavy strain of tension all night. Every muscle hurt. Later that day, I’d prepared dinner for everyone then went and sat down at the table, watching pretty little Neda eat with one hand while she held her harp with the other. My mind drifted to Crearwy. Would she like a harp too? I remembered the story the Lord of Mar had told me about my mother, about how she’d played the harp. What was Crearwy even like? My own daughter was a stranger to me. I began to feel drowsy. I was surprised when Banquo shook my shoulder. I had fallen asleep at the table. It was already dark outside once more.
“There’s no room left in the house. If you’ll consent to sleeping in the barn, your bed is ready,” he said playfully.
I yawned tiredly. “I’d sleep in the mud at this point.” I rose and looked around to find Gwen and Sigurd asleep with their little one and Neda on her own bed with her harp.
“How long have I been sleeping?”
“An hour or so. I say, I never knew you could snore as loud as Thorfinn,” he said with a laugh.
“I did not.”
I cast a glance at Ute who also lay sleeping, Lulach at her side. I stopped and checked her for fever. She was fine. I lifted Lulach. Thora, who had been sleeping at their feet, lifted her head to see what was going on. She rose and followed Banquo, Lulach and me outside. In the barn, the horses nickered at us. Banquo lifted a lantern and led me to a stall where he’d laid some furs and blankets over a heap of straw. Exhausted, I lay Lulach down then settled in beside him.
Banquo lay down on Lulach’s other side.
Thora stomped around until she finally found a spot at our feet.
Banquo and I giggled then lay looking at one another, staring into one another’s eyes. I smiled gently at him. The moment was a rare bliss. There was no one here who could ruin this.
Banquo reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from my face. His finger stroked my bottom lip.
“Sleep, Cerridwen,” he whispered. “You look very tired.”
My eyes closed as if he’d cast a spell on me. In truth, my whole body ached. My back and hips hurt the most. I wanted nothing more than sleep.
“I love you,” Banquo whispered.
“I love you too,” I replied as I drifted off to sleep. A strange pain racked my stomach. Macbeth’s seed seemed to protest my love on his father’s behalf.
“Shush,” I whispered, my hand drifting to my stomach. And then I was lost to dreams.
Chapter 25
When I woke the next morning, Banquo was gone, and Lulach was laying handfuls of straw on me as if to cover me.
I laughed then sat up. Nausea swept over me, and unable to control myself, I rose and vomited.
Lulach went still. “Mum?”
“I’m all right,” I said. My body still ached, my back feeling stiff. “I’m all right.”
Once I got myself steady and cleaned up, Lulach and I headed to the house. The smells of bread and pork filled the air. My stomach growled hungrily but also heaved with nausea. Such was the way with pregnancies.
The others gathered at the table. Even Gwen was up and looking cheerful.
“How are we this morning?” I asked, taking a seat beside Banquo, who took Lulach so I could prepare some food for the boy and myself.
“He’s full of fire,” Gwen said, smiling down at her little one. “He’s a good eater.”
“Are you feeling all right?” I asked her.
She nodded. “As well as can be expected. Many thanks to you, sister.”
“I’m glad I could come.”
Ute was very silent. She picked at her food, but her color was improving.
“Will my ladies be ready to return this morning?” Banquo asked, casting a glance at Ute.
“Aye, my lord,” Ute answered absently, knowing the question was more for her than me.
I smiled and nodded. “Back to Thurso for now, but we’ll return south soon,” I told Sigurd and Gwen. “Within the month.”
Gwen smiled sadly. “We’ll miss you.”
“And I shall miss seeing little Uffe grow. And little Neda,” I said, reaching out to pat the child’s head.
She smiled at me. With her father’s red hair and her mother’s face, she was going to be a startlingly beautiful young woman.
With Gwen and the baby in good health and good spirits, we prepared to depart. My stomach rocked all day, and I barely kept down the breakfast. I hated that my pregnancy sickness was returning. Lulach and Crearwy had not been easy on me while in the womb. I had hoped Macbeth’s child would be calmer. But it seemed that would not be the case. With a promise from Ute that she was okay to travel, we headed out for Thurso.
As we rode across the countryside, the rocking of the cart made me increasingly more nauseous. I started to sweat, and more than once, I had to steady myself when black spots appeared before my eyes. The village was in sight when I swooned dizzily.
Banquo pulled the cart to a stop. “Gruoch, are you sick?”
I nodded and got out, retching at once.
“My lady,” Ute called, but she was hardly in a better state than myself.
Banquo rushed to my side, his waterskin ready for when the worst of it had passed.
“It’s just… The wee one doesn’t like the cart, I think,” I said.
Banquo rubbed my back then handed me the water.
Once I’d caught my breath, I climbed back in, and we headed off once more.
“I’ll ask Morag to come and look after you and Ute. Ute should be off her feet for few days, and you are not well.”
“Merna won’t mind?”
Banquo smiled gently. “No.”
His expression distracted me from my illness. Would she not mind because she was so kind or because she was so obedient? In truth, a man’s manner with his wife is only truly shown in private. No one knew how tough Macbeth was. Did Banquo place such demands on Merna? Was he taken to moods in private?