Highland Queen

by Melanie Karsak

  “She looked like she was frightened of me.”

  Banquo shook his head. “You are her mother. But we don’t get many strangers here, and I am sure she was shocked.”

  I nodded.

  Banquo led me down a path that led to a rocky peninsula that jutted out into the river. There, Aelith and her brood were playing. The puppies splashed in the water, chasing one another, nosing through the grass at the shoreline, snapping at fish or flipping rocks.

  Aelith eyed us over her shoulder then threw a stick into the water.

  The largest of her puppies raced after it.

  “What a fine pack, my lady,” I called to her. “Where did you come by them?”

  “Found ‘em in the woods,” she answered in reply.

  “All of them?”

  “Yes. Their dame ran off, I guess. Couldn’t find her anywhere, so I brought them all back with me.”

  “Aelith has been their surrogate mother,” Banquo said. “They’ve been sleeping in her bed with her. Poor Greer has been beside herself for fear of fleas.”

  “They don’t have fleas,” Aelith said, sounding exasperated.

  “Aelith,” I called. I slowly approached her. Part of me thought she would run. But she stilled like a wild thing, watching and waiting. “I have something for you.”

  At that, she brightened. “What?”

  I dug into the pocket of my dress and pulled out a small ring I had been carrying with me for years. It was a tiny silver band trimmed with an amber stone. “This,” I said, showing it to her. “It belonged to Lady Crearwy of Moray.”

  The girl hopped across the stones and came to look at the ring. Taking it from my hand, she slipped it on her still-dirty finger.

  “Does it fit?”

  She gave her hand a shake, making my heart clench with worry as I imagined the ring flying off into the river. “It fits well. It was very kind of Lady Crearwy to give it to me. Now, is she the same person as my sister Crearwy or is she a different Crearwy?”

  “Your sister is named after the late Lady Crearwy of Moray, sister of Gillacoemgain.”

  “Two Crearwys. How funny,” Aelith said then laughed very loud. “Watch this,” she told me, picking up a stone. Aiming it as best she could, she skipped the rock across the surface of the water. “See that?”

  “I did.”

  “Nine times. Can you do better?”

  “I cannot.”

  “You should try.”

  I lifted a rock and gave it a go.

  “Three,” Aelith said with a sigh. She patted my arm. “You need practice, Mother.”

  “Yes, it’s been many years.”

  Without another word, Aelith wrapped her arms around my waist and hugged me tightly. “Don’t worry. I will teach you to be good at it again.”

  I kissed the top of her head. “Bless you, my daughter. Bless you for your patience with me.”

  She laughed lightly then let me go, hopping away once more to hunt for sticks for her pack to chase.

  Banquo crossed the rocks and came to stand behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist.

  “She is so wonderful,” I whispered. “Thank you, my love.”

  He laughed. “She’s wild, dirty, and odd. I’m not sure how well I’ve done.”

  I looked up at him. “You’ve done perfectly.”

  That night, I lay in Banquo’s arms for the first time in many years.

  “How long can you stay?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Lulach has things in hand, but Macbeth is awake once more and is agitated.”

  “There are rumors of war once again.”

  “Yes. We’ve found spies everywhere. I don’t know what Siward is planning, but he is planning something. They say Malcolm, Duncan’s son, is as shrewd. I fear for what they are planning.”

  “Then stay with me.”

  “I cannot.”

  “Are you sure? Cerridwen, are you really sure? If Lulach is ready to take his place, maybe it is time.”

  “Madelaine—”

  “Can come here and live with us. She is old now, my Cerridwen. She would enjoy spending her final days in peace at Lochaber with Aelith.”

  As I lay there in Banquo’s arms, I considered his words. Macbeth had told me not to return. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe Banquo was right. Was I really needed?

  “I’ll have to discuss it with Lulach. And something will have to be done with Macbeth.”

  “Yes, but maybe, for once, not by you.”

  “You’re right.”

  I crawled onto Banquo, bending to kiss his neck.

  “Cerridwen,” he whispered, stroking my hair.

  “It has been a very long time,” I murmured in his ear.

  “All the more reason not to delay,” he replied, his hands stroking my back.

  “Then we’d better get to work,” I said, setting the first of many kisses on his lips.

  Chapter 44

  A few weeks later, Banquo, Aelith, and I lounged before the great fire after our morning meal.

  “What happened to your leg?” I asked Banquo, watching as he crossed the hall. He was limping badly. Aelith sat pretending to do some work Banquo had given her. She was supposed to be reading. Mostly, she was just listening to us. I was just relieved that Aelith had warmed up to me after her initial surprise. But I understood how she felt. I remembered how it was for me when Boite would suddenly appear. It was like a star had fallen from the heavens.

  “I was thrown, if you can believe it,” Banquo said. “A deer startled in the woods, and my horse shied. I found myself lying on my arse looking up at the clouds. It’s taken several months to get the leg this loose. The injury happened right before the winter. The cold weather has prolonged the recovery.”

  “Why didn’t you send for a healer?”

  Banquo smiled at me. “I did learn a few things under Balor. Now I’m teaching Aelith. She loves to stay inside and read and write. Especially when it’s bright and sunny outside. She hates being outside.”

  “Oh, aye,” Aeltih said, tilting her head back and forth as she grinned.

  Banquo winked at me.

  I smiled at him. How sweet it was to be together like this. Banquo had proven himself a loving father. I expected no less. He had been a devoted lover. As I studied Aelith, my heart filled with joy.

  If Lulach agreed, I could step back from ruling the country. I could return to Lochaber and stay there. For once, I would be able to have my child by my side.

  “And what are you reading this morning?” I asked Aelith, fully aware that she wasn’t reading anything. If she had, she might have missed the conversation.

  “Words,” she replied pertly.

  “Words,” I told Banquo.

  He chuckled. “Words.”

  “Is it an interesting story?”

  Aelith frowned. “No. I hate it. Just when everyone is happy, the worst thing you can imagine happens to them.”

  “What’s the name of your tale?” I asked, but her answer was interrupted by the sound of a horn. A long, forlorn call echoed across the valley. A visitor had arrived.

  I looked at Banquo.

  “Lulach, maybe?” he suggested.

  “No, I would sense…” I said then reached beyond me, feeling for whoever was there. I gasped. “Oh no.”

  Banquo rose. He looked at the castle door, his eyes going wide. He turned and gazed back at me. “Cerridwen,” he whispered.

  I heard the castle doors bang open and the sound of footsteps.

  “Wait. Please, Your Majesty,” Killian protested.

  A moment later, Macbeth rounded the corner.

  We all froze.

  Macbeth stood looking at the three of us, his eyes going from Banquo, to me, to Aelith. I moved protectively toward my daughter, my hand on my dagger.

  “Ah, so here you are,” Macbeth said with a smile. “I came to see you, old friend,” he told Banquo.

  How strange Macbeth looked. He was in full armor, even wearing his crown, b
ut he lacked any boots or stockings whatsoever. He looked haggard, his skin pale as milk, his eyes bulging.

  “Killian, will you see to the king’s men?” I said.

  “Lady Gruoch, he—”

  “I rode alone,” Macbeth told us. “I wanted to see if I remembered the way.”

  “Perhaps a drink,” Banquo said, motioning to his servant. “A wine, for His Majesty.”

  The servant nodded then rushed off.

  Behind Macbeth, Killian had drawn his sword. His eyes met mine. I motioned for him to hold.

  “I keep seeing you at supper, Banquo,” Macbeth said as he pulled off his gloves. He tossed them into the fire. “All week, you were there in the chair beside me, but you were covered in blood. I asked the others. No one else saw you. Not even Madelaine. She told me I have scorpions in my mind. But every night, you came and sat beside me. You never spoke, you just sat there, staring at me, a dagger sticking out of your chest. Isn’t that strange?”

  “Very strange,” Banquo agreed.

  “Very strange,” Macbeth repeated. “So, of course, I had to come and see for myself if you were among the living,” he said then hit the side of his head. “Scorpions. They scurry.”

  Beside me, Aelith whimpered.

  Macbeth turned and looked at her. His gaze lingered far too long.

  “She’s very like you, Gruoch,” Macbeth said. “And you too, Banquo. I see you both in her eyes.”

  “What do you want, Macbeth?” Banquo asked, his voice hard.

  “Wine. Where is your servant?”

  “Here, Your Majesty,” the girl called. She carried a tray with wine goblets.

  Macbeth lifted a goblet and drained it. He took another cup from the tray. He crossed the room and pushed the goblet toward Banquo.

  “Drink, Thane,” Macbeth said, forcing the drink at him.

  “I’m well enough without it,” Banquo said.

  I watched Macbeth. There was a mad gleam in his eyes. I pulled Scáthach from my belt.

  “I said drink,” Macbeth told Banquo. “Let’s drink, old friend. Look at your daughter. How beautiful she is. I never had a daughter. I had a son, but they tell me he died in battle. And then there is the child Gruoch lost. Two dead sons. But look at your daughter. Your daughter…with my wife. How beautiful she is,” he said, stepping toward Aeltih.

  Banquo moved between us. “Macbeth,” he said, his voice full of warning.

  “Look at her. How like an angel,” he said then exhaled loudly. “Stars, hide your fires. Let not your light see my black and deep desires.” Moving quickly, Macbeth pulled his dagger and lunged at Aelith.

  Aelith screamed.

  Brandishing Scáthach, I readied myself, but then the unthinkable happened.

  Banquo moved to protect us. He stepped between Macbeth and us. But he was unarmed. Using only his body, he blocked Macbeth’s blow.

  There was a terrible thud.

  Banquo groaned then staggered backward.

  Macbeth stepped back, his hands wet with blood.

  Banquo turned to face us, a dagger protruding from his chest.

  “Cerridwen,” Banquo whispered.

  Aelith shrieked then fled, Greer racing after her.

  Banquo fell into my arms.

  Killian rushed across the room. He slashed at Macbeth. Turning fast, Macbeth blocked Killian’s attack. Dodging around Killian, Macbeth raced out of the hall.

  “Stop him! Stop the king! Stop the king! The thane has been murdered,” Killian screamed as he raced after Macbeth.

  “Cerridwen,” Banquo whispered. With shaking hands, he touched the dagger protruding from his chest. “Murder most foul.”

  Quickly sheathing Scáthach, I gently lowered Banquo to the floor.

  Blood seeped through his shirt. Macbeth’s dagger stuck out of his chest.

  “No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening,” I whispered.

  I pressed my hands against Banquo’s chest, trying to stop the flow of blood, but it was no use.

  “Cerridwen,” Banquo whispered, reaching up to touch my face. “Look at me, my love.”

  “No, no, no.”

  “Cerridwen.”

  “No,” I screamed. But this time, it was not me who spoke but the raven. Summoning the full force of that dark power, I let it overtake me. I flung Gruoch away like a tattered rag and looked down at Banquo.

  He stared at me.

  I lifted my hands into the air, pulled magic from the aether, and tore a hole in the world. There, on the other side, I saw Ynes Verleath. Andraste and Nimue looked up. Nimue gasped. Andraste rose, a look of astonishment on her face.

  Reaching down, I pulled Banquo away from the great hall, away from Lochaber, and into Ynes Verleath. Nimue stared out at the world beyond.

  “Nimue. Get my daughter. Now.”

  Without another word, Nimue stepped into the world to fetch Aelith.

  I turned to Andraste.

  “Come, you ancient, black, and midnight crone. Fix this,” I commanded.

  “I cannot.”

  “You will. Now,” I ordered her, my voice booming through the hollow space.

  “Foul, strange, and unnatural,” she muttered as she dipped a ladle into her cauldron, filling it with silver liquid. “This was not foreseen,” Andraste whispered as she knelt. “This cannot be. A price must be paid.”

  “I will pay any price.”

  “Hold him still,” Andraste said.

  I held Banquo’s body firmly against the ground. His eyes fluttered open just a little. “My Cerridwen,” he whispered. “I will see you again in the next world.”

  Andraste grabbed Macbeth’s dagger and tugged it from Banquo’s body. It came out with a spray of blood. She ripped the fabric on his shirt. Drawing arcane runes in the air, she began chanting in a language I did not know. She poured the liquid from the cauldron onto Banquo’s wound. Still, she chanted, moving her hands in front of her. I watched with my raven’s eyes as swirling blue designs formed in the air then sank into Banquo’s body. Again, Andraste poured her liquid on his wound. Before my eyes, the deep cut healed.

  Banquo sucked in a breath and opened his eyes.

  “Cerridwen,” he said, staring up at me.

  I turned and looked at Andraste.

  She inclined her head to me, a soft smile on her lips. “For all that I have done, I will pay the price,” she said then fell over dead.

  I gasped.

  A moment later, I felt a rush of air. Nimue appeared with Aelith at her side.

  “Father,” Aelith cried, rushing to Banquo.

  Disbelieving and in shock, Banquo stared at me.

  “May all the gods be silent,” Nimue whispered, her hands covering her mouth. She stared at Andraste.

  I swallowed hard then closed my eyes. I tried to push away the raven, to send it back from whence it had come. But when I did so, I was met with resistance. There was no separation between it and me. There was only we.

  Aelith let out a little whimper.

  “It’s all right, my girl,” Banquo told her, reaching out to touch her cheek. “It’s all right. We’re safe now,” he said.

  “Say a prayer for this lady. Give your sorrow words,” I said, motioning to Andraste. “She has sacrificed herself to save your father’s life. May she be reborn into a better world.” I reached out and closed Andraste’s eyes.

  Aelith nodded and began whispering.

  A tear trickled down her cheek.

  I reached out to wipe it off then hesitated.

  Pulling off my gloves, I stared at my hands.

  There was nothing there. The spots were gone.

  I wiped away my daughter’s tear with one hand then took Banquo’s hand into the other.

  “Cerridwen?” Banquo whispered.

  “What’s done cannot be undone,” I said then gazed at Andraste’s still form.

  Thank you, Andraste.

  Chapter 45

  “Help me get him up,” I told Nimue who appeared to be in shock.
“Nimue!”

  “Yes. Yes, all right,” she said.

  Working together, Nimue and I lifted Banquo to his feet.

  “We’ll take him to my chamber,” I told her.

  “Mother,” Aelith said, worry in her voice. She held on to the skirt of my dress.

  “It’s safe here, Aelith. This is a hidden place. No one can come here.”

  We supported Banquo as we guided him to my old bedchamber. Moving gently, we lay him down on my bed. Banquo groaned.

  “Are you in pain?” I asked.

  “It’s a strange ache,” he said.

  Blood still marred his skin.

  “Can you bring some water?” I asked Nimue.

  She nodded then rushed away.

  “I know this place,” Banquo said. “I was here, once.”

  “This is the home of the Wyrds.”

  “That smell…that beautiful flower smell,” he said sleepily.

  “Rest, my love. You will heal now, but you must rest.”

  Nimue returned a few moments later carrying a bowl of water. I took it from her and cleaned the blood from Banquo’s chest. Again and again, I checked the rhythm of his heart, his breathing, his temperature. He was well. He was in shock and aching, but he would live.

  I removed his ripped and bloody shirt then covered him with a blanket. When I was done, I rose.

  “We must see to Andraste,” I told Nimue.

  Nimue, who had gone terribly pale, nodded. I pitied her. She and Andraste had been together for hundreds—hundreds—of years. In a single instant, her sole companion had disappeared.

  “Aelith, stay with your daddy,” I told the girl.

  She nodded but said nothing.

  “No wandering out of the temple. I mean it.”

  She nodded again.

  Nimue and I went back to the cauldron terrace.

  “What should we do?” I asked Nimue.

  “We’ll take her to the temple of the Lord of the Hollow Hills.”

  Bending, Nimue and I gently lifted Andraste. I was amazed at how light she was. Her body was frail, most of her weight coming from her robes. It was not easy carrying her down the steps and into the city, but neither Nimue nor I spoke or complained. We did the task that needed doing.