Highland Blood (The Celtic Blood Series Book 2) Page 7

  Chapter 11

  The week following the wedding, Gillacoemgain left. Before his departure, however, I began making plans to visit the local families. When Gillacoemgain caught wind of my plans, however, he intervened.

  “I don’t understand,” he told me as he prepared for his departure. I helped him slide his riding tunic over his head, lacing up the sides as he pulled on his gloves. “Why do you want to ride out? There is more than enough to keep you busy here in Cawdor. Mind the castle or do nothing at all, it’s up to you.”

  “I don’t like to be locked up in the keep. The castle makes me weary. I am the Lady of Moray. I want to meet her people.”

  Using his teeth, Gillacoemgain attempted to tighten the laces on his wrist.

  “Here, My Lord,” I said, taking his hand. “You have a wife now who can help with that,” I added with a smile.

  Gillacoemgain reached out and touched my chin. “Stay inside, little Corbie. War is brewing, and you are a valuable prize. You are my bride, and I will protect you, but your pretty head would make for a rich ransom.”

  “Ransom? And who would abduct me?”

  “More forces than I can name.”

  “I’ll take a guard with me. It will be safe, and I have my sword.”

  Gillacoemgain smiled lightly, but I saw irritation growing behind his eyes. “Stay in the castle. Moray’s people, and their problems, will make their way to you. You are my wife. I want you safe. I’ll leave Artos here to assist you. Your voice is the law, but he knows my will, so follow his suggestions.”

  “My Lord, I do wish you would let me ride out to see the people. Even if just briefly—”

  “Enough! Do as I ask, no more. You have a whole castle to run. Is that not enough?”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but Gillacoemgain set a soft kiss on my forehead.

  “I know you are strong. And you are no doubt stubborn, given your blood, but please stay safe while I’m away. I cannot go into battle worried about you. When I return, we shall ride all day if it pleases you.”

  I studied the man. It felt odd to have someone look after me. Madelaine, of course, had mothered me, loved me. I wasn’t sure if I should take Gillacoemgain’s concern as adorable or suffocating. He was no Alister, so I was not running to the woods for a scant breath of freedom as Madelaine had, but Banquo never would have penned me in. And no one dares cage the raven. I felt confused.

  “All right,” I said hesitantly.

  Once more he kissed me on the forehead, and we headed outside.

  Fergus waited with Gillacoemgain’s horse in the castle ward. The Mormaer mounted his steed.

  “How long?” I asked Gillacoemgain.

  “First we’ll silence Lochaber and Echmarcach of the isles. Then, we’ll see what Thorfinn does.”

  “Lochaber?” I asked in alarm. The word came out of my mouth with more emotion than was seeming. “I…I knew a lass from there,” I lied.

  “If I can convince the new young lord of Lochaber to see reason, war will not reach her doorstep,” Gillacoemgain said.

  “Lochaber’s loyalty blows with the wind. Let’s see if the son is any brighter than the father was. No doubt word of your marriage has reached him. Perhaps Malcolm’s niece in your bed will keep him quiet,” Fergus said.

  “We’ll see. Thorfinn,” Gillacoemgain spat, “is busy stirring the beehive. I’ll have that Viking’s heart on the spit if it’s the last thing I do,” he said then turned back to me. “May the gods watch over you, little raven,” he told me then.

  My body shaking, I nodded. “Farewell, Gillacoemgain. May the Morrigu ride with you.”

  Fergus laughed. “Now that’s a blessing I’d take.”

  Gillacoemgain nodded to me then turned and rode out of the castle.

  I watched as they rode off to confront…Banquo. And what if Banquo didn’t see reason? What if…I couldn’t think of it. I swooned.

  Ute came up beside me. She reached out to steady me. “Gruoch? Are you all right? Come inside. You’re pale as milk. I’d swear you are already with child. And with a strapping husband like our Mormaer, it won’t be long if you aren’t already pregnant.”

  “Yes,” I said absently, mindful of how Ute’s eyes were glued to Gillacoemgain’s shape as he rode away. “Yes, he is my husband,” I said, feeling annoyed. I shook Ute’s hand off and headed back into the castle.

  “Gruo—My Lady?” she called.

  “I’ll send for you if I need you,” I replied then headed back to my chamber. Seized with a sudden and fierce desire to know, beyond all shadow of doubt, I barred the door to my chamber and closed the heavy drapes, shutting out all light.

  I opened my bags and pulled out all manner of herbs. Stoking the fire, I dashed the herbs on the flames. The room filled with smoke. I sat before the fire and stared into the small cauldron hanging there.

  Cerridwen of the cauldron.

  Raven goddess.

  Mother.

  Queen.

  Come to me.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. The room was filled with the scent of heady white sage. Once my spirit loosened from my body, I opened my eyes and stared into the cauldron.

  Banquo.

  Banquo.

  The water in the cauldron stirred and soon I saw a rocky coastline. The moment I saw it, my spirit leapt into the scene. I was the raven once more.

  Wind rushed against my face, and the sound of my raven’s wings beating in the air made my heart quicken. I dived, feeling the rush of the wind, smelling the sea air. With my sharp raven eyes, I looked down the coastline. Ahead, I saw a bay wherein at least a dozen ships were preparing to set sail. I flew toward the scene. Soldiers boarded ships as a party on land made their good-byes.

  From above, I circled the scene. Something, someone, glimmered silver amongst the assembled crowed. I swooped lower to see.

  There he was.

  Banquo.

  Keeping a distance, I landed on a dead tree nearby and watched as my husband, my real husband, embraced a man I had seen once before. Before Banquo stood the same blond-haired giant who had saved my raven-headed man in battle. Banquo said something to him that I couldn’t quite hear. The man laughed out loud.

  “Jarl Thorfinn, we’re ready for you,” a soldier told the man.

  Thorfinn. I eyed him closely. He seemed…merry. That was a surprise. Banquo embraced the Viking.

  I studied Banquo closely. He looked older. Worry clouded his handsome features. The others would not have noticed, but I did. How handsome he was. How sweet and wonderful he was.

  “Farewell!” I heard a lady call.

  The raven turned and saw a woman come to stand beside Banquo, taking his hand in hers.

  “My Lady of Lochaber,” Thorfinn called cheerfully in reply, lifting his massive axe in salute, then headed with his men in the direction of the ships.

  I could not take my eyes from her. She had dark hair and light eyes. In truth, she looked a bit like me. And in her arms, she held a small child.

  She smiled up at Banquo.

  Banquo sighed, buried his worries, then turned and smiled at her.

  The raven could not bear it.

  I shrieked loudly at them.

  Banquo trembled then turned and faced me.

  It was all true. He was allied with Thorfinn. He had wed another and had a child with her besides. He had forgotten me.

  I opened my mouth to speak, to scream in anguish, but only the raven could call. She screeched in angry tones.

  Banquo took a step toward me.

  “Cerridwen?” he whispered.

  I gasped then turned and fled. But I was overcome, suddenly, with the sensation that I was falling. And a moment later, I found myself lying on the stone floor beside the cold fire.

  Unable to stop myself, I wept. Everything caught me then, and I dropped down into a dark oblivion. Sharp pains shot across my skull, and I felt my body shake and shake. I couldn’t stop myself, no matter how hard I tried. The pain felt to
o real. It was too much. I shook and rocked until my body had worn itself out. After, I fell into a deep sleep. In that dream, I walked the deserted streets of Ynes Verleath in complete quiet and darkness. Nothing plagued my soul. I walked and walked, breathing in the deep scent of wisteria. I travelled down the crumbling hallways until I found myself at the cauldron terrace once more.

  Andraste’s familiar huddled shape sat near the fire.

  “Andraste?” I asked.

  But when the figure turned, it was the Morrigu. Blood dripped from the corners of her mouth. “Wake up, and get to work,” she snapped.

  Startling me awake, I found myself lying still on the cold floor.

  I rose and crossed the room, pulling away the window covers to discover it was already night.

  The yard was empty save one small boy who was looking up at my window. When he saw me, he bowed then ran off to the stables.

  I sat down on my bed and stared up at the moon shining in through the open casement.

  “As you wish,” I answered the bloody goddess.

  Chapter 12

  “How many cases of wine this evening, Lady Gruoch?”

  “What songs would you like to hear?”

  “How many pheasants would you like roasted?”

  In the weeks that followed, the “get to work” mandate made by the bloody goddess started to feel like a joke. I was, once more, back to the same dull lifestyle I had lived while growing up. Again, I was bound to the castle and the boring drudgery it wrought. How had Madelaine endured the unending tedium of running a household? But I did as Gillacoemgain asked, not just because he asked it, but because the quickening within me was starting to become more and more obvious. And along with it, I was suddenly taking with vomiting in the morning, dizzy spells, and heavy afternoon tiredness. The first three months, alone in the castle with no one but Ute for company, began to feel a lot like a replay of my time with Madelaine.

  “My Lady is with child,” Ute told me.

  “Yes,” I replied absently as I sat looking out the window.

  “Have you sent word to the Mormaer?”

  “No. I don’t want anything to distract Gillacoemgain.”

  “But the news is joyful,” Ute said, confused.

  “Yes. And when he returns, I’ll tell him. In the meantime, we’ll say nothing. I won’t have him worried about me, or his unborn child, while he’s on the battlefield.”

  “Yes, My Lady.”

  Word had slowly returned that Gillacoemgain had, in fact, travelled to Lochaber. There he’d brought young Lord Banquo, who’d recently taken over power due to his father’s death, into accord. Banquo, it seemed, was extremely good at deceptive diplomacy. Gillacoemgain, near as I had learned, had not discovered Banquo was in league with Thorfinn. Did I have an obligation to tell him? I wasn’t sure. My emotions tumbled over themselves, and at times my head ached as much as my heart.

  Rumors about the Thorfinn, blond-haired Viking, however, were easy to come by. As Jarl of Caithness and Orkney, Thorfinn should have bowed to the will of the Lord of Moray who was overlord of the north. But he held no allegiance to Gillacoemgain. The north was not at peace with the Mormaer of Moray, despite our marriage. In the hall they whispered that Gillacoemgain was thought a cutthroat and usurper by those in the northern-most provinces. The people of Moray, however, seemed to respect him. Rumors abounded that Gillacoemgain’s elder brother, Findelach, had been the man Thorfinn had rallied behind. For reasons I had not yet discovered, Gillacoemgain had murdered his brother. Findelach’s son, Macbeth, was still held in watchful “fostering” under Malcom, a condition that was little more than political imprisonment. My marriage to Gillacoemgain was intended to subdue the north, but it had only done so in halves.

  One morning, I went to the council chamber where a number of people had gathered to have their complaints heard.

  Artos, Gillacoemgain’s advisor, attended to most of the small issues. By the time I arrived, only a few people remained, including a tearful scullery maid whom I found on her knees before Artos.

  “My Lady,” he said politely when I entered. While most of Gillacoemgain’s household had welcomed me eagerly, Artos was an exception. Artos had a sharp tongue, and an attitude that suggested he believed women had their place…subservient to men. It was an attitude I could not abide. That morning, already feeling out of sorts due to my growing stomach, worry over Gillacoemgain, and frustration with Banquo, I was in no mood for misogyny.

  “What is the matter here?” I asked.

  “My Lady of Moray,” the girl said, who I recognized as part of our household, pleaded, looking desperate. “Please, will you hear me? Master Artos—”

  “We need not bother her ladyship with petty issues. Take her away, and twenty lashes, as I have ordered.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. She looked about frantically.

  I motioned to the guards to hold.

  “I will decide what I hear, Artos. What is it, lass?”

  “She’s a thief, My Lady,” Artos injected.

  “I didn’t ask you,” the raven snapped at him. “Go on,” I added, turning to the girl.

  “My Lady,” the girl said, “please, I beg your forgiveness. My father’s farm burned. My family has had but scraps to eat these many weeks, barely holding on with what I can bring home. My father is too old to hunt, and my husband was wounded in the fire. I…I took some extra food to my family. My boy, he’s but a wee slip of a thing. He’s caught the fever that is spreading amongst the children. If he—”

  I raised my hand to stop her then turned to Artos.

  “Did she explain the same to you?”

  “She did,” Artos said, puffing out his chest.

  “And is it true, that their farm burned?”

  “I…I don’t know,” Artos answered.

  “Of course you don’t,” I told him then turned back to the girl. “Are you telling me the truth?”

  “Yes, My Lady.”

  She was. The answer was plain on her face. I turned to Artos once more. “And the fever afflicting the children? Is there a fever in Moray?”

  “I…” Artos began, “I’m not—” he began but someone from the crowd spoke up.

  “There is, My Lady of Moray,” one of the farmers called. “In Nairn, we’ve lost ten children already, and many more are ill.”

  “Do you have learned women in these parts to heal such ailments?” I asked the farmer.

  “Not anymore,” he said, flicking an eye at the collection of Christian petitioners waiting to be heard.

  I turned to Artos. “We feed the hungry in Moray, sir. And if that was not the custom before my arrival, it is now.”

  “But My Lady.”

  “Artos, I want you to provide me with a full accounting of Moray’s supplies when I return this evening.”

  “Return?”

  “Yes,” I said. I crossed the room and lifted the girl by the hand. “Go to the kitchens and take what you need for your family. What’s your name?”

  “Tira.”

  “Tira, my apologies for how you were treated in my house,” I said then turned on Artos. “You are no longer permitted to hold public hearings on behalf of Moray. Busy yourself with papers and coins but not with people. I’ll let Gillacoemgain decide what to do with you when he returns.”

  “My Lady!”

  “That is my word. Abide it,” the raven spat.

  “But My Lady…”

  I turned then and fixed my eyes on him. I could feel my heart beating hard. The raven wanted to rip him to shreds. “Who was my father?”

  “You…you are the daughter of Boite.”

  “And who is my uncle?”

  Artos paled. “King Malcolm.”

  “I am no pampered lap dog, Artos. I’m made of the stuff from my father’s line. You will not disobey the blood of MacAlpin.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” he said, the blood completely drained from his face. He was shaking. He’d seen the raven and had feared it.

/>   “You, sir,” I said, waving to the farmer. “Has your case been heard?”

  “No, My Lady.”

  “I shall hear it as we ride.”

  “Ride?” he replied.

  “To Nairn,” I answered, then looked down at the girl. “My maid shall bring you a tonic for your boy.”

  “Thank you, My Lady,” she said, a relieved, and mildly shocked, expression on her face.

  “Anyone else seeking the justice of Moray today?” I asked the assembled crowd.

  One of the Christians stepped forward. “We’ve come to offer our services to your court, Lady Gruoch. We’ve travelled from the court of King Malcolm ready to serve you and the Mormaer of Moray.”

  I smiled as nicely as the raven would allow. “Please give these men supplies so they may travel back to my uncle, the king,” I said, glancing back at Artos. “Their services are not required in Cawdor.”

  “But, My Lady, Cawdor doesn’t have anyone from the holy brotherhood providing ministering to your household,” one of the holy men protested.

  “Correct,” I replied. “Nor do we need any. Safe travels to you, gentleman,” I replied, then turned to the farmer. “Your name, sir?”

  “James, My Lady.”

  “Let me assemble my supplies and a guard, and we’ll see what we can do about that fever.”

  The man looked stunned. “Many thanks, Lady Gruoch.”

  I nodded and headed back upstairs.

  It was time to get busy.

  Chapter 13

  “My Lady,” Ute protested as I packed my box full of the medicines I’d brought with me from the coven, “the Mormaer wouldn’t want you leaving the castle in your fragile condition.”

  “Fragile? What about me is fragile?” I retorted, annoyed, as I pulled out several small bottles and mixed a draft. I then applied some distilled oils to a salve. When I was done, I packaged both up and handed the bundle to Ute. “Take this to the lass, Tira, who Artos nearly had lashed. Tell her but two sips once a day of the draft, but to rub the oils on his chest and feet. If she sees no change in two nights, let me know and I’ll go see the boy.”

  “My Lady, you are with child! You will risk the life of your unborn healing these children.”