Gwendelofar nodded like she couldn’t care less. “I think this baby is trying to break my back,” she said, pressing her fists into the small of her back.
“And your labor pains?”
“I knew it was starting. That’s why we sent our neighbor to you. My water broke soon after. The pains are not too close yet, but getting worse.”
“Let me prepare you something to ease the aches,” I said then opened my box.
Gwen didn’t argue.
I mixed a concoction, which she drank readily. Then we prepared for a long night.
Gwen paced most of the evening, but with mine and Sigurd’s firm but loving suggestions, and just a little bit of muttered cursing, she finally lay down. To my great relief, she fell asleep. Before Neda fell asleep, I made good on my promise to her.
“Neda,” I called to the girl. Bending down, I opened the trunk I’d brought with me. I smiled at Neda, her long red hair flowing down her back. Her locks put me in mind of Madelaine. “I have something for you,” I said handing her a package.
Sigurd watched, a smile on his face.
The girl unwrapped the parcel carefully, revealing the small harp therein. “Oh, how beautiful!” Setting the harp down carefully, she threw her arms around my neck and hugged me.
I chuckled. “I’m glad you like it.”
Sigurd smiled. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
Neda beamed up at her father then snatched the harp and ran outside. Not long after that, we heard the strings jangle discordantly. Sigurd let the girl play for awhile before he finally ushered her into bed. She passed out with the harp clutched to her chest. Sigurd made up a pallet for Ute and Lulach as well. And as the night wore on, they both finally fell asleep.
Sigurd and Banquo spent most of the night outside by the fire. I had stayed inside beside Gwendelofar who mostly dozed, but finally, I had gotten weary as well. I joined the men only to find they had both been overzealous in toasting the coming babe. They had both drunk themselves half blind which was unusual for Banquo. The sight of them sitting by the fire took me back to nights long ago.
“Cerridwen,” Sigurd called. “Is everything all right?”
“Thank the gods she is sleeping. She’ll need her rest before the hard work begins.”
I sat down beside Banquo, who handed his ale horn to me. I waved it away.
Banquo laughed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lost in your cups before.”
“I don’t think I ever have been. And tonight, alas, is not the night.”
“Cerridwen is far too serious for that,” Sigurd said.
“I am not.”
“I’m not saying it’s your fault,” Sigurd said. “You just spent too much time with Uald.”
“Uald is not serious. She just doesn’t like people,” I said with a laugh.
“And you?”
“Maybe I’m a little serious, and I don’t like most people.”
Sigurd chuckled.
“Cerridwen knows how to have fun. And she’s very serious about it when she puts her mind to it,” Banquo said then smirked at me. There was heat in his eyes which he never showed in public. I was surprised to see his expression so open.
Sigurd caught the glance. “Indeed. Druid?” he said to Banquo then turned to me. “Is that true?”
“What better time to be serious than when you’re having fun?” I asked.
Sigurd laughed. “I hear many a man and woman are serious on Beltane.”
“As Neda can prove,” I said.
Sigurd chuckled then rose. He was wobbly on his feet. “Every day is Beltane when you’re with your beloved. Speaking of, I’ll go check on my wife.”
“For the love of all the gods, do not wake her,” I called.
“I’ll do my best,” Sigurd said then headed inside.
Banquo filled his ale horn once more. “Don’t know how you can handle it without drink. When Fleance came into the world, I thought my hair was going to turn white.”
I laughed.
The fire crackled and popped sending sparks into the sky.
“The old ones are speaking,” Banquo said, motioning to the fire.
“And what are they saying?”
“They’re dreaming of Beltane.”
“Them or you?”
Banquo chuckled. “Both of us.”
“Banquo, are you well?” I asked, looking him over carefully.
“I…I’m fine. In fact, at this moment, there isn’t a thing more I could ever need,” he said then set his hand on the back of my head, gently stroking my hair. “My Cerridwen.”
I gazed into his eyes. He had drunk too much, and it had loosened his tongue.
Why would the Goddess do this to me? Why would she give me someone to love, take him from me, then throw them back in front of me in a place and time where we could not be together?
But what was standing in my way? A promise I’d made to Macbeth, fidelity promised to please a god I did not honor. Didn’t my vows to Banquo mean more than that? In truth, Macbeth was difficult to love. No amount of visions and dreams could change that truth. My honor held me back from taking what I really wanted. But should it?
As if reading my thoughts, Banquo took my hand. “There is a glade not far from here where the moonbeams fall on a stream, and a wide oak grows. Maybe we should have a look. We wouldn’t be far away. If Sigurd called, we would hear. Cerridwen, I need you.”
I stared into the fire. Could I? I carried another man’s child. It was not right. But still.
“Banquo,” I whispered, squeezing his hand.
Banquo rose. Taking my hand, he gently pulled me to my feet.
The door to the house opened, and Ute stepped out.
“My lady?” Ute called, her voice wavering.
“Is something the matter?” I asked, trying to kill the resentment in my voice. By all the gods, why had she come?
“Um, no. Lady Gwendelofar and Lulach are fine. I… Can I have a moment, Gruoch?”
Her use of my common name stamped out the fire in me at once. Something was very wrong. I turned to Banquo. From the look on his face, I could see he had also heard the plea. He nodded to me then dug into his coat where he pulled out a pipe and lit it. He refilled his ale horn once more and sat back down, staring into the fire.
I crossed the lawn to meet Ute.
“What is it?” I whispered, looking closely at her.
She cast a glance back at Banquo, seemed to steel her nerve, but then a small sob escaped her lips.
“I… I am with child,” she whispered.
When I opened my mouth to tell her it was no matter for me, she tapped me on the arm gently to stop me.
“You’re skilled with herbcraft. I want to be rid of the babe,” she said.
“Oh, Ute. Are you certain? You know I follow the old ways. A child born out of wedlock is not a probl—”
“No! I want to be rid of it. Will you please help me? I trust you, my lady. You’re such a good woman. You deserve a good life,” she said then broke out into a sob. She sucked her tears back. “You’ve been so good to me. Please, will you help me?”
“Maybe if you told the father,” I began then stopped cold when her eyes, wet with tears, met mine.
“No,” she said with a shaking gasp.
It was not my business to press her for details. If she wanted to tell me, she would. “It’s not without risk,” I told her.
“I know.”
“I… I will have difficulty attending both you and Gwen. But Lord Banquo was druid-trained. He can watch over you.”
“Do you trust him to keep my secret?”
“I’d trust him with my very soul.”
Ute paused then nodded. “Go ahead and make the draft. I’ll go sit by the fire.”
“Very well.” My head was reeling. Poor Ute. This was not what I wanted for her. She knew the cost. This would be painful, and there was a risk she may not have a child again. And it was ill-timed with Gwen’s baby comin
g. But at least now I knew why she had come, knew what had been troubling her. She’d wanted to get away from the village to take care of this problem and do so in secret.
I motioned to Banquo to join me at the wagon.
Still weeping, Ute sat down by the fire.
“I need your gloves,” I told Banquo.
“What’s happening?” Banquo asked quietly.
“Ute has asked me for a tonic to rid her of a child. Will you help me watch over her?”
Banquo paled. “Whose child?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t say.”
Banquo frowned hard then pulled out his gloves and handed them to me. I slipped them on.
“You must be very careful with the mixture in your state,” he cautioned.
“Yes, you’re right. I will be.”
Banquo put his hand on my arm, his eyes meeting mine. “Do you ever get the feeling it’s just not meant to be between us. Maybe never again?”
Tears pricked at the corners or my eyes. “Speak on it no more.”
Banquo squeezed my arm then let me go.
My medicines were inside. “Give Ute an ale. I’ll be back soon,” I said then headed within. There I found Lulach and Thora sleeping together. Sigurd had lain down beside Gwen. Both were sleeping, but Gwen winced in her sleep. She wouldn’t rest for long.
I opened my box of medicines and pulled out what I needed. Epona had taught me the mixture. Working carefully with my gloves on, I ground the herbs and mushrooms into a fine powder. It had a sharp smell that made my nose burn. When I was done, I used a simple wooden cup to prepare the drink. It would need to be burnt afterward, as would the tools I’d used to make it. Working carefully, I made the concoction. If prepared it wrong, it could kill her. She could bleed to death. If it was not strong enough, the child would still be born but deformed. Epona had warned of the use of such heavy hearth magic. I would have advised Ute against it once more if not for the look on her face. She was desperate to be rid of the babe.
While Ute was my maid, I did not own her. I could not force her to tell me what had happened, or who the father was. Perhaps the man was married. Or maybe she did not want to ruin her future prospects by having a child out of wedlock. No matter the reason, it was her reason alone. I would not press her.
My work done, I set the tools and the drink on a tray then carried them outside.
Banquo and Ute sat together.
Banquo was speaking kindly to her. She nodded mutely, dashing tears from her cheeks. When she saw me walking toward her, she paled then rose to meet me.
“Are you certain?” I asked her once more.
She nodded then took the drink.
“Drink it all at once then lie down. You’ll have pain like you do during your monthly cycles, but it will be worse.”
“How long?”
“A day. No more.”
“I am sorry. I know that I suggested you bring Lulach, but I might not be able to watch over him as I intended.”
“No matter,” Banquo said. “I’ll take care of him.”
Blessed Banquo.
Ute returned to the fire where she sat and drained the drink, wincing at the taste. She threw the empty cup into the flames.
I handed the tray to Banquo who carefully pulled off my gloves. He took the materials and disappeared into the night with them. I sat down beside Ute and took her hand.
“Whatever went wrong, I am very sorry,” I said softly.
“Thank you, Gruoch.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No,” she said with a soft sob.
I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her close.
Banquo returned once more, his hands empty, and sat down beside us.
It was late in the night when Sigurd called for me. I woke to discover that sometime during the night, I’d fallen asleep by the fire leaning against Banquo, his arm wrapped around me, my head on his chest. Ute slept on the ground nearby. She shook in her sleep, looked very pale, and was sweating.
“She doesn’t have any fever. I checked on her. I’ll watch over her,” Banquo whispered. “But we should tell Sigurd what’s happening.”
“Discreetly,” I said.
Banquo nodded.
I rose and went to Gwendelofar who was sitting on her bed, gripping handfuls of straw as she gritted her teeth.
“Well, your little one about ready?” I asked her, helping her lie down once more so I could have a look. After a quick examination, I saw she was very close.
I stayed with Gwen the rest of the night. It was mid-morning when, at last, Gwen’s baby arrived. After a good hour of pushing, along with a lot of swearing in Rus which I was glad I did not understand, a little boy was finally born. His hair was as red as his face, and he squalled loudly.
On hearing his son’s cry, Sigurd appeared at the door.
I cleaned the child off then handed him to his mother. Gwen’s labor had been hard, but she’d delivered cleanly, unlike my own birth which had left me torn and in pain.
Sigurd rushed to his wife, kissing her and his newborn child. They were all smiles and love.
“Have you decided on a name?” I asked.
“Uffe,” Sigurd said.
Rising, I washed off my hands and removed my apron. I headed back outside. Banquo had already given the children their breakfast and was playing a game with Neda, Lulach, and Thora. Ute was nowhere to be seen.
“Neda, you have a little brother,” I told the little girl, who stopped and looked up at me.
“Can I see him?”
I nodded.
The girl ran off to join her family.
“Ute?” I asked Banquo as I stretch my back. My whole body ached, my muscles feeling like I had carried a thousand Gwendelofars to Edinburgh and back.
Banquo exhaled deeply then nodded. “It’s done. She’s all right. She was sitting by the stream when I saw her last,” he said, motioning across the field.
“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 L
ord 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.
Highland Vengeance Page 14