Highland Queen Read online

  We rode all day, finally arriving at Glamis as the sun was setting. The castle looked beautiful framed with the backdrop of a pink and orange sunset. It was made of reddish-colored brick and stone. The center building was tall with high watchtowers all around. Two small sections of the castle formed wings on each side. From a glance, I could see that either Banquo or Macbeth had housed the army in the south wing of the palace. The grounds around the castle were neatly kept, but forest covered much of the land nearby, which was not ideal for preventing subterfuge.

  In spite of all my courage and sincere desire to rule the land, a knot formed in my stomach as I approached the edifice.

  I had married Macbeth.

  My fate was tied to his.

  Now, I would need to find a way to make everything work.

  While I was carrying Banquo’s child.

  We were met by guards who escorted us to the castle gate. Grooms came to fetch the horses. Killian spoke to Macbeth’s men, nodding as he listened.

  “Your Majesty,” he said, returning to me. “We have been housed in the northern wing of the castle, not far from your lodgings. Shall I go see to the Moray staff?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Do you want me to send someone along with you?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure, my lady?” Killian whispered.

  “Thank you. Yes. I have my steel.”

  Killian shook his head then turned and went with the others.

  Steadying my nerves, I turned to the footman. “Please take me to Macbeth.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  The interior of Glamis Castle was like nothing I had ever seen before. The castles I had lived in were old, showing their ties to the ancient kings of the realm. Glamis was luxurious. Everywhere I looked, I saw tapestries and rugs, beautiful furniture, paintings, and other ornaments. As I followed the servant, I considered the castle. Fife’s estate also had fine trappings. I’d never thought much of it. But as I considered, I wondered why all the wealth in the realm was centered in the south.

  The footman led me to a chamber not far from the great hall. There, Macbeth was sitting at a table reading dispatches.

  “Your Majesty,” the footman called.

  Macbeth waved his hands rudely as if to shoo the man away.

  The servant shifted uncomfortably. Clearing his throat, he said, “Your Majesty, Queen Gruoch is here.”

  Macbeth looked up then flopped back in his seat.

  “You’re dismissed,” he told the footman. When the man left, he asked, “Where is your guard, Gruoch?”

  “I have guard enough here,” I said, setting my hand on my sword.

  Macbeth huffed a laugh. “I’m surprised you’re back.”

  “Did you think you would rule Scotland alone?”

  “Of course not. Why would I ever dream of that? My loving wife is here to help me.”

  “What’s a loving wife without a loving husband?”

  Macbeth laughed. “Will you sit?” he said, motioning to a chair.

  I observed him carefully with my raven’s eyes. It was safe, for the moment.

  I took a seat.

  Macbeth poured some wine and set the cup in front of me. “You’ve just returned from Fife.”

  “Yes. I put a friend to eternal rest.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it,” Macbeth said. He poured himself a glass of wine then sat down.

  “What have you been working on?” I asked.

  “Deciding whether or not to attack England.”

  “Attack England?” I blurted out. He couldn’t possibly be serious.

  Macbeth nodded, his bottom lip jutting out as he considered it. “We have a great army. We’re strong. Why not?”

  “Because many of the southern lords are still against you. And Thorfinn has taken the army to back to Magnus. And, because, there are better ways to gain control. Allies, Macbeth. We need allies.”

  “Such as?”

  “The Holy Church of Rome? The Franks? The Irish? We have many options to choose from. But first, we need to stop bleeding silver. Where is Crinian?”

  “In Dunkeld.”

  “Summon him. While he is here, send a force to seize the treasury. We shall put someone truly loyal in charge of the realm’s wealth. Crinian can return to being abbott if God still calls him, and Bethoc will join us at court.”

  “Now, that is a wily plan,” Macbeth said with a tittering laugh. “You don’t trust Crinian?”

  “We just murdered his son.”

  “True. But I believe his love of silver outweighs his sentimentality for my dearly departed cousin.”

  “We shall see.”

  “Quite the sacrifice, Gruoch.”

  “Removing Crinian is no sacrifice.”

  “I mean bringing Bethoc to court. I suspect you’d rather gouge your eyes out than listen to her talk about the weather.”

  Surprising even myself, I laughed. “That is true. But it will be good to have her here for when we reacquire Donaldbane.”

  Macbeth raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”

  “Indeed. I’m working on it as we speak. Now, about the southern lords, who do we need to make an example of? Who is still backing Siward, making noise?”

  “Menteith.”

  “Let’s send some men to Menteith to let him know, by the sharp end of a sword, that we disapprove,” I suggested.

  “As you wish, Your Majesty.” Macbeth grinned.

  “I’m tired. It has been a very long day,” I said then rose to go.

  “Gruoch…” Macbeth called out to me. In his voice, I heard the tone of the man I had first met, the man I had first married, the man I had hoped to love. But knew that sound to be a lie.

  I cast a glance over my shoulder at him.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he said with a smile.

  “Goodnight, Macbeth,” I said then turned and left.

  Never.

  Never again.

  Chapter 22

  For the next several days, I worked almost without stopping. Documents and ledgers had come from Edinburgh. I thanked Epona a thousand times over for teaching me to read and write as I went through the records. Everything was a mess. Aside from tracking land, wealth, and resources, I also spent considerable time considering what allies could be made abroad. I had just decided on a course with the Franks when a messenger arrived.

  “Your Majesty, an envoy from Echmarach of the Isles has arrived. King Macbeth has asked if you would join them in his conference room.”

  Setting my work aside, I slipped down halls of Glamis to join Macbeth. I still hadn’t gotten used to the lovely rugs on the floors, gold-trimmed sconces, and tapestries and paintings on the walls. Such opulence seemed foreign to me.

  I arrived at Macbeth’s chamber to hear the sounds of jovial laughter.

  I entered without hesitation.

  “Ah, here is my queen,” Macbeth said, crossing the room, his arm outstretched in greeting.

  The strangers bowed to me, their leader stepping forward. “Your Majesty, I’m Finnegan Macdrummel. I bring good greetings from my lord, Echmarach of the Isles.”

  “We are grateful to hear from our friend and ally,” I said.

  “We come with news. Your Majesty, you sought word of Donaldbane, son of Duncan, who was taken by Ímar mac Arailt?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “We have confirmed he is with the Irish king. Lord Echmarach was eager to learn when he should send a force to retrieve the boy. As I am sure you know, Ímar mac Arailt has taken our lord’s lands by force. He is eager to repay the Irish king for this slight. Given the support Lord Echmarach gave you in your efforts to win the crown, he was hoping to hear news of how you could repay his help—by men or by coin—to both our happy ends.”

  Macbeth poured himself a glass of wine. “Ímar mac Arailt is, undoubtedly, in the wrong here. Does Echmarach have men at the Irish king’s court?”

  “Men, Your Maj
esty?”

  “Spies. How did you confirm Donaldbane is with Ímar mac Arailt?”

  “Oh. Well. I don’t know for certain how such information was acquired. But the boy is there.”

  “Echmarach has been a valuable ally. We shall reward him for that. Please, why don’t you gentlemen take your rest? Feast with us tonight. I will consider his proposition and give you an answer tomorrow,” Macbeth said then motioned to his servants to lead the men away.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Finnegan said, the others echoing him. They bowed then left.

  “You knew Ímar mac Arailt had Donaldbane?” Macbeth asked.

  “Yes. I sent a messenger to the Irish king some time back.”

  “Any reply?”

  “Not yet.”

  “We will support Echmarach’s bid to topple the Irish king and recapture Donaldbane,” Macbeth said.

  “No, we will not. We will negotiate with Ímar mac Arailt.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because we aren’t strong enough to go to war in Ireland. We do not have the men, resources, support, or desire to wage another war. If we do, Siward will come running back.”

  “And what do you expect Ímar mac Arailt will do? Hand Donaldbane over because you asked nicely?”

  “No. I expect him to ask for Echmarach’s lands.”

  Macbeth laughed. “And then what?”

  “And then we will make a decision. How valuable is Donaldbane? If we leave him in Ireland, he will be used against us. At this time, the Irish king has no reason to entertain offers from Siward. At this time. But Siward is shrewd. He will not slink away. He will make new allies and regain his power. In time, he will be back. He will seek to take the throne from us on Malcolm's behalf. Wouldn’t it be better to have Irish support over Irish enemies?”

  “Are you suggesting we offer him Echmarach’s lands?”

  “No. You must think ahead. Always think ahead. Echmarach rules himself. Half of the time, he makes war on his Irish neighbors without the blessing or support of the other noble lords. He sees the isles as independent, and he lords over them as such. How presumptuous is he to send an envoy here to pressure us to make war?”

  “You are right about that.”

  “There is a third option.”

  “Which is?”

  “We support Echmarach, and we try to strike a bargain with Ímar mac Arailt. Neither will be the wiser. And we will also send an operative to Ímar mac Arailt’s court and liberate Donaldbane on our own.”

  Macbeth stared at me. He huffed a laugh. “Who knew…”

  “Who knew?”

  “Who knew that you were more like Malcolm than any of the rest of us.”

  It was my turn to laugh. “I am not like Malcolm.”

  “If you say so. So, you suggest we play both sides.”

  “Yes.”

  “How will we explain it once the boy is recovered.”

  “We will tell Ímar mac Arailt it was Echmarach’s doing. We will tell Echmarach we were planning it all along because we hate Ímar mac Arailt, then we step back and let them finish out whatever game they are playing. When they are done, we make peace with the winner.”

  “Very well. I shall arrange to have operatives sent into Ireland.”

  “Good.”

  Macbeth nodded then stood staring at me.

  The silence went on for too long.

  The hairs the back of my neck rose.

  “I should be going,” I said.

  “Gruoch, where is Lulach?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “People talk. It’s strange that he is not here with us.”

  “Is it? Let people talk. If they knew the truth, they wouldn’t find it strange at all.”

  “The truth? And what is the truth?”

  “If we are to co-exist, it is better if we let the truth lie dead and buried.”

  Macbeth scowled. “If Lulach plans to be king, he should be here at my side.”

  “No. Don’t push on this topic.”

  Macbeth slammed his fists down on the table. “It is you who is pushing. You are forcing me into a corner. I must have an heir, don’t you realize? To secure the throne, I must have an heir. You…you will produce no other child for me. Lulach must come here. I must show this land that I do have an heir, even if he is just my step-son.”

  I exhaled lightly, trying not to let Macbeth’s words unnerve me. There was a grain of truth to what he said. The only problem was I would never let Macbeth near Lulach again. “We shall see.”

  “You will do as I ask. You will bring that boy here, or I must make other arrangements.”

  “Other arrangements? Like what? Divorce me? I would like to see you try.”

  “There are other things that can be done.”

  “I suppose you could try to kill me. Try, of course, being key there. What else could you possibly do to harm me that you haven’t already done?”

  “Gruoch,” he said, his voice dark.

  I sighed wearily. “I’ll leave for Moray soon. You can make your other arrangements then,” I said then turned and left the chamber.

  “Gruoch?” Macbeth called.

  I kept walking.

  To my surprise, he rushed down the hall after me, grabbing my arm. “What do you mean you’re returning to Moray?”

  “I think I was perfectly clear. I will return to Moray.”

  “Lulach is not there.”

  “I am well aware of that.”

  “Lady Gruoch,” Killian called. He rushed down the hall toward me, pulling his blade as he went. “Your Majesty, I strongly suggest you let go of Lady Gruoch.”

  “Or what?” Macbeth spat at him.

  Killian’s gaze darkened, answering Macbeth’s threat.

  “You see that? See how he disrespects me? I should have him killed,” Macbeth hissed.

  “It’s not him you should be worried about. Leave it to you to miss the obvious,” I said, pressing the tip of Scáthach against Macbeth’s neck. “Now, let go of me, or I’ll plunge this dagger in an inch deep.”

  Realizing the danger, Macbeth pushed me away from him.

  I caught myself before I crashed against the wall.

  “One day, I’ll melt that dagger down to nothing or maybe…maybe I’ll plunge it in your damned chest,” Macbeth said then turned and headed back into his chamber, slamming the door behind him.

  I stared at the closed door. Had Macbeth just threatened to kill me?

  “Gruoch, are you all right?” Killian asked, rushing to me.

  In the hall around us, the servants had stopped to stare.

  I nodded then slipped Scáthach back into her sheath. “Yes. I’m fine.”

  “Bastard,” Killian spat, glaring at the chamber door. “I always heard rumors that Macbeth was unkind to you. I couldn’t believe it.”

  “Well, now you see.”

  “You would do well to return to Moray.”

  “Yes.”

  “In the meantime, you must have a guard on you at all time. No arguments.”

  “If you insist.”

  “I insist. Though I have to say, even I missed that move with the dagger. Who taught you that?”

  “Uald.”

  “Uald? That lady?”

  I laughed. “Yes, that lady.”

  “Secrets again?”

  I nodded.

  “Your secrets are safe with me, my lady.”

  “And for that, I am grateful,” I said then cast a glance back at the conference room door. My heart was beating hard in my chest. I knew Macbeth. His ravings often amounted to nothing. But he was also a dangerous man. It had never occurred to me that he might actually kill me. Was it possible?

  No. Not if Scáthach had anything to say about it.

  Chapter 23

  In the days that followed, I did my best to avoid Macbeth. Instead, I made plans to return north. I could still do good for Scotland. I could still make my country strong, but I couldn’t do it at Macbeth�
�s side. Not only was such a condition miserable, but it was dangerous.

  Midafternoon three days later, there was a knock on my door. My guard, Magnus, opened it to reveal one of Macbeth’s messengers.

  “Your Majesty,” he said. “Crinian, the Abbott of Dunkeld, is here, but King Macbeth is…indisposed. Will you see the Abbott?”

  “Where is Macbeth?”

  “He’s unable to attend to state matters at this time.”

  I stepped closer to the boy who looked so unnerved that his spirit was about to jump out of its skin.

  “What is your name?” I asked the footman.

  “Aed, Your Majesty.”

  “Aed, please take me to the king.”

  The boy nodded then motioned for me to follow him.

  Without another word, Magnus fell in line behind us.

  The boy led me down the halls of Glamis to the chapel. Inside, I spotted Macbeth before the altar. He was wearing a simple white robe and lying prostrate on the floor.

  I suppressed a gasp, but then anger washed up in me.

  Now what?

  By all the gods, now what?

  I entered the chapel, Magnus just behind me. I motioned for him to stay by the door. Moving carefully, I approached Macbeth.

  He was lying there, his eyes open wide as he gazed off toward some faraway place. The back of his dressing gown was wet with blood. The fabric had been torn. He had flagellated himself.

  “And what are we doing, Macbeth?” I asked.

  “Praying,” he whispered.

  “Prayer is important, but there is an element of timing to the matter. Crinian is here.”

  “You see to him,” Macbeth said absently.

  “Very well,” I said then turned to go.

  “Gruoch,” Macbeth called weakly.

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry for what I did.”

  I huffed a laugh. “Which thing, Macbeth? Which thing?” I said then stalked away. Leaving the chapel, I entered Macbeth’s meeting chamber located not far away. “Bring Crinian here,” I told Aed.

  The boy nodded then rushed off.

  I took a seat at Macbeth’s desk. All around the table were notes, most of which I couldn’t read, mad scribbles. Amongst the incomprehensible papers were dispatches with important news. As I waited, I started sorting. From what I could see, Macbeth had left many important matters unattended.