“Once the wheel has gone around,” Druanne called.
“Once again the year has come and gone,” Balor echoed.
“And with time, we too shall fade. And with time, we too shall
die,” Epona called.
Her words chilled me. I glanced sidelong at Banquo. What did
Aridmis mean that our love would result in one of our deaths? Was she right? Already
she had prophesied that I would wear a crown, but what crown? But was she
right? Could she be trusted?
“But not this night,” Druanne answered.
“This night we live and bid you spirits rise!” Bride called.
“By the Morrigu, by Scotia, by the Crone, join our feast,” I
called.
Banquo spoke next: “Ancient ones, cross the divide. Join us on
this night.”
“In peace,” Bergen called out, striking a cord on his harp. The
discordant sound carried across the night’s sky.
“In goodwill,” Ivar the bard added then began beating his drum
rhythmically.
“With our thanks,” Druanne called.
“So mote it be,” Balor intoned.
“So mote it be,” we all answered.
As Ivar beat his drum, Druanne began her
progression. One by one, she went to
each person and offered them a drink of the potion, whispering something in
their ear. After, everyone stood in quiet contemplation. I saw Aridmis swoon,
struggling to keep her footing. Behind Druanne, Bride followed with her basket
of masks. Epona donned a mask with long silver and red horsehair, the face made
from a horse’s skull. Seeing her costumed like that made me shiver.
A moment later, Druanne stepped in front of me, blocking my
view. I was surprised to see how . . . changed . . . she looked. Her eyes were very
distant. Her skin was pale, the blue veins on her forehead protruding. She looked
almost ethereal.
“Blood of MacAlpin,” she whispered in my ear. “Honor your
ancestors,” she said, handing the potion to me. Her voice sounded hollow.
Her hand was shaking as she held out a small wood cup full of
the potion. I drank the sharp liquid then handed the cup back to her. It tasted
bitter; my tongue caught the taste of mushrooms, berries, and acorns. There
were other sharp, herbal tastes I didn’t. When the liquid hit my stomach, I
almost vomited. Taking a deep breath, I held the liquid down.
With a smile, Bride handed me the raven mask. “Now, my sweet
girl,” she whispered.
I pulled the mask on, again hit with that same dizzying
sensation. I stared out through the slits in the eyes, and this time my vision
seemed sharper. I felt like I could see from far away. I looked at Ivar who
had, at some point, had put on some odd mask formed from a bear’s skin. I
blinked. For a moment, it seemed like it was a bear standing in his place.
Once everyone had drunk the potion and donned their masks, we
all walked around the circle counterclockwise, meeting again at the feasting
table. Epona stood at the head of the table. Silently, we all stood behind one
chair at the table. Banquo stood across from me. He was wearing the stag mask,
looking out at me through the socket’s in the stag’s skull.
“We call you ancestors.
The walls between the worlds are thin tonight. Join us from the beyond. Dine
and dance with us this night. Come amongst us. Take pleasure in these earthly
things. Whisper your secrets and feel our love,” Epona called.
“Call your ancestors!” Balor ordered.
“Thomas!” Epona called.
“Aiden!” Bride called.
“Dorrit!” Uald called.
They went around until they came to me: “Emer!”
“Brighid!” Banquo called. His sister, I guessed.
Once we’d all evoked our ancestors, Balor called out: “Ancestors,
you are welcome. Eat! Dance and be merry so you may remember the feel of flesh
and the pleasure of life!”
With that, we all filled the plates before us. I never knew my
mother. I had no idea what she liked to eat. I knew nothing about her. Feeling
miserable, I set her plate and poured her a glass of honey mead not knowing if
she would have preferred ale or wine. Behind my mask, tears streamed down my
face. In the end, my mother was a stranger to me. She would never come. I was
alone in my misery.
“Come, my dear,” I heard Bride say, putting her soft hand in
mine. She wore a dark mask that covered her face with black lace. She led me to
the fires. There, the bards were playing wild music. Aridmis and Epona began to dance. The place seemed to shimmer with
glowing orbs and silver and while light. I looked around for Banquo, but he was
gone.
I felt hot and very dizzy. The entire world seemed to be
spinning. I looked out with the raven’s eyes and saw the world in double
vision. The music clanged strangely. Everyone looked deformed in their masks.
It was a strange sight. And suddenly, the coven seemed to be full of people. I
sensed a great number of spirits lurking there with us. Intermixed in the crowd,
I swore I could see the smiling faces of maidens, priestesses, and druids, who’d
come before us. Their clothes, from courtly dresses to animal skins, hinted at
ages past. The dead, our ancestors, had heard
our call. For a glimmering moment, I saw Epona standing face to face with the
shining spirit of a young, handsome man. Their eyes were locked on one another:
her wild boy. Had his name been Thomas? Was that who she’d called?
And then I felt someone very close to me. I turned to look for
Banquo, but it wasn’t him. A woman had touched me gently then turned and walked into forest. I squinted with my raven eyes and studied her.
She hand long, daffodil-colored hair and green robes: Emer. She turned and
smiled at me, beckoning me to follow her. Like a fey thing, she floated over
ferns and fallen logs deeper into the forest on feet that never touched the
ground.
“Mother?” I called after her.
She turned and smiled at me but didn’t stop. She beckoned me
forward, leading me deep into the forest. I moved swiftly after her. I prayed
she would stop, would talk to me. I would have given anything to hear just one
word from her. I desperately wanted to look at her face to face: my mother had
come. I rushed deeper into the woods, following her. We passed through a thick
stand of trees then came to a clearing. At the center of the clearing, bathed
in moonlight, stood my druid: Banquo.
