Highland Vengeance

by Melanie Karsak

  I laughed then sat up. Nausea swept over me, and unable to control myself, I rose and vomited.

  Lulach went still. “Mum?”

  “I’m all right,” I said. My body still ached, my back feeling stiff. “I’m all right.”

  Once I got myself steady and cleaned up, Lulach and I headed to the house. The smells of bread and pork filled the air. My stomach growled hungrily but also heaved with nausea. Such was the way with pregnancies.

  The others gathered at the table. Even Gwen was up and looking cheerful.

  “How are we this morning?” I asked, taking a seat beside Banquo, who took Lulach so I could prepare some food for the boy and myself.

  “He’s full of fire,” Gwen said, smiling down at her little one. “He’s a good eater.”

  “Are you feeling all right?” I asked her.

  She nodded. “As well as can be expected. Many thanks to you, sister.”

  “I’m glad I could come.”

  Ute was very silent. She picked at her food, but her color was improving.

  “Will my ladies be ready to return this morning?” Banquo asked, casting a glance at Ute.

  “Aye, my lord,” Ute answered absently, knowing the question was more for her than me.

  I smiled and nodded. “Back to Thurso for now, but we’ll return south soon,” I told Sigurd and Gwen. “Within the month.”

  Gwen smiled sadly. “We’ll miss you.”

  “And I shall miss seeing little Uffe grow. And little Neda,” I said, reaching out to pat the child’s head.

  She smiled at me. With her father’s red hair and her mother’s face, she was going to be a startlingly beautiful young woman.

  With Gwen and the baby in good health and good spirits, we prepared to depart. My stomach rocked all day, and I barely kept down the breakfast. I hated that my pregnancy sickness was returning. Lulach and Crearwy had not been easy on me while in the womb. I had hoped Macbeth’s child would be calmer. But it seemed that would not be the case. With a promise from Ute that she was okay to travel, we headed out for Thurso.

  As we rode across the countryside, the rocking of the cart made me increasingly more nauseous. I started to sweat, and more than once, I had to steady myself when black spots appeared before my eyes. The village was in sight when I swooned dizzily.

  Banquo pulled the cart to a stop. “Gruoch, are you sick?”

  I nodded and got out, retching at once.

  “My lady,” Ute called, but she was hardly in a better state than myself.

  Banquo rushed to my side, his waterskin ready for when the worst of it had passed.

  “It’s just… The wee one doesn’t like the cart, I think,” I said.

  Banquo rubbed my back then handed me the water.

  Once I’d caught my breath, I climbed back in, and we headed off once more.

  “I’ll ask Morag to come and look after you and Ute. Ute should be off her feet for few days, and you are not well.”

  “Merna won’t mind?”

  Banquo smiled gently. “No.”

  His expression distracted me from my illness. Would she not mind because she was so kind or because she was so obedient? In truth, a man’s manner with his wife is only truly shown in private. No one knew how tough Macbeth was. Did Banquo place such demands on Merna? Was he taken to moods in private?

  I chided myself. No one knew Banquo better than myself. He was nothing like Macbeth.

  When we finally arrived, Banquo helped Ute out of the wagon. I followed behind with Lulach. Thora was already running off to find her pack. Once inside, I poured water for Ute and myself. Ute had already gone to lie down.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, setting a glass of water on the table beside her bed. She lay with her knees pulled up tight against her chest.

  “Yes,” she said tiredly.

  “Do you want anything for the pain?”

  “No,” she said. “The worst is past. I…am sorry to trouble you with such things. I am indebted to you.”

  I smiled down fondly at her, chiding myself for my earlier annoyance with her. Ute had been good to me and had endured a lot on my behalf. She deserved better from me.

  “As I am to you. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. Now or ever in the future.”

  Ute’s eyes watered, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Thank you.”

  I left her. My body ached as well, and I’d started to feel twisting cramps. I knew this was normal, that my body was just making ready for the baby, but I didn’t feel well.

  A short while later, there was a knock on the door. Morag and Banquo appeared.

  Morag nodded to me. “My lady.”

  “Reinforcements,” Banquo said.

  “Now, come along, Lord Lulach,” Morag said, picking up the boy.

  “Gruoch, you should lie down,” Banquo told me then set a hand to my forehead. “You’re warm.”

  “Ah, my wife has returned!” Macbeth called happily as walked toward us. His smile dimmed when he took us all in. “Is everything well?”

  “Ute took ill on the trip. She’s resting,” I said.

  “Morag will attend Lady Gruoch until Ute is better,” Banquo added.

  Disinterested, Macbeth gave a slight nod. “And you, lady?” he asked, looking at me.

  “Just the normal troubles,” I said, setting my hand on my stomach.

  “And your friend?”

  “Safely delivered a son.”

  Macbeth smiled. “Would we were so lucky, Gruoch.”

  “I think Lady Gruoch should lie down,” Banquo said, his face scrunched with worry.

  “Indeed, you’re not looking well, my lady,” Morag said, taking me gently by the arm. “Sons, sons, sons, that’s all some men care about. Can’t he see you’re aswoon on your feet,” she added under her breath.

  Settling me into bed, Morag patted my arm. “Don’t worry about your boy, Lady Gruoch. Merna and I will watch him like he was our own blood. Get some rest.”

  Grateful to her, I slipped under my blankets.

  “Gruoch, are you all right?” Macbeth, who was standing in the doorframe, asked.

  “Just weary. I didn’t sleep much. I just need some rest, that’s all.”

  “Oh. All right. Very well.”

  “I’ll be fine by morning. Nothing to worry about.”

  He nodded then turned and left.

  Afterward, I fell asleep. I saw a terrible dream. Gillacoemgain standing in the roundhouse as fire burned all around him. I heard him calling my name. I watched as if through a window and could do nothing, could not move, could not speak. The fire burned so hot. I stood frozen, watching as the flames took him. All the while, he screamed my name. The image startled me so that it shook me awake. I woke with a scream.

  “Gruoch?” Macbeth said, sitting up.

  When had he come to bed?

  “Macbeth. I…” I began then a sharp pain rocked my groin. Grunting in pain, I strangled back a scream.

  “My lady,” Morag called. Without waiting for permission, she entered the room. “What’s the matter?”

  “She had a dream,” Macbeth said.

  Morag frowned at him then set her hand on my forehead. “Burning with fever. We need to get you out from under the blankets,” she said then pushed the cover aside to reveal the puddle of blood all around me.

  Macbeth gasped.

  “Go get Lady Merna. Now,” Morag told Macbeth.

  “Morag,” I whispered.

  Macbeth rose and ran out of the house.

  “Lie back, Gruoch,” she said.

  Another sharp pain crashed across my back and waist.

  Morag adjusted my legs and lifted my skirts to examine me. After a moment, I heard her suck in a deep breath then let it out slowly.

  “Morag?”

  She lowered my dress. “Lay on your side. It will ease the pain. Gruoch… I’m sorry.”

  I closed my eyes. The pain hadn’t felt right. I should have known. I should have known. My back
ached miserably, and hard cramps shook me. Black spots appeared before my eyes.

  “The pain will pass by morning,” Morag said. “But then it will be over.”

  No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.

  “My lady?” Ute called from the door.

  “Lady Gruoch has had a misfortune,” Morag whispered.

  Ute gasped.

  “It happens to many ladies, most of whom go on to have children later. I’ll watch over her. Get your rest,” Morag said.

  A few moments later, the door opened once more.

  I heard Merna, Banquo, and Macbeth. I could not make out their words, but Macbeth seemed to be in a panic. Merna was the first to enter the bedchamber. Morag spoke quietly to her. I did not hear all their words, but a few moments later, Merna sat beside me on the bed.

  “Morag will bring you something for the pain,” she said, gently taking my hand.

  I kept my eyes closed. Terrible cramps racked my body.

  The outside door opened and closed once more. From outside the longhouse, I could hear Banquo’s and Macbeth’s voices. Their conversation was heated. Macbeth’s voice was low and angry. I heard a hard edge to Banquo’s voice I’d never heard before. Their words were muffled, but I guessed the nature of the quarrel. Macbeth would blame Banquo. And me. He would place the burden of this on our shoulders.

  As I listened, their voices grew louder.

  Macbeth screamed at Banquo. “This is your fault. You, who are so free with my wife. What have you done? My son!”

  “Macbeth, please,” I heard Banquo try to reason, but soon I heard a scuffle.

  “Oh, my gods. These men,” Merna said glaring at the door.

  “What’s happening here? What in Odin’s name are you two doing? Get off him, Macbeth,” Thorfinn said.

  There was another muffled, angry exchange when finally Thorfinn, it seemed, had enough.

  “Don’t you know your wife could die?” Thorfinn shouted. “Stop blaming Banquo, and go to her.”

  A few moments later, Morag returned. “Men. Always looking for someone to blame. Sometimes it’s just not the will of the gods. Drink,” she told me, handing me a cup.

  I sat up slowly, drinking the warm tonic. I recognized the herbs therein. They were strong. I knew they would loosen my mind and numb the pain.

  Outside, the shouting continued, and I heard Macbeth’s voice recede into the night, Thorfinn following him.

  A moment later, the door opened. Banquo appeared at the entrance to the bedchamber. His face was shadowed in the darkness, but I could see there was a fresh cut above his eye.

  Merna flicked her eyes toward her husband. She shook her head but said nothing. Instead, she turned back and smiled down at me, gently pushing my hair behind my ear.

  “I’m sorry this happened. I truly am. Please don’t worry about Lulach. I’ll take him to my home and put him down with Fleance. I’ll look after them. Morag will stay with you.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  Merna squeezed my hand, nodded, then rose. Passing a few low words to her husband, she left.

  “I’ll make a hot compress for your back,” Morag said then went back out to the main room.

  Banquo sat down beside me.

  “You’re bleeding,” I whispered, reaching out toward his broken face.

  Banquo shook his head, dismissing it. He gently touched my cheek. “Do you think it was the tonic you made for Ute?” he whispered.

  “No. I was careful. Epona taught me well.”

  “The wagon?”

  “It started before that. I just didn’t realize. It was just not meant to be.”

  A look of guilt crossed Banquo’s face.

  “It is not your fault, no matter what Macbeth said.”

  “You heard?”

  “I heard enough.”

  Banquo exhaled. “He’s so damned difficult. I hoped you would never know that side of him.”

  “It’s the side I know best.”

  “Then I am truly sorry.”

  Banquo gazed at me. He sighed heavily then took my hand in his. He closed his eyes and began whispering softly. From the cadence of his words, I knew he was casting an incantation. He pulled out his dagger and opened his palm. He made a small cut, following the scar on his palm from our handfasting. He then wet one finger with his own blood. Opening my hand where I had a similar scar, he drew a rune in blood. He whispered as he spoke, and I felt magic in the air around us. When he was done, he whispered, “So mote it be” then closed my hand.

  Banquo leaned over me and kissed me on my brow.

  “Banquo?”

  “Rest. I’ll stay nearby. When Macbeth returns, he can either murder me or have Thorfinn force me to leave. But I’m not going until you are out of danger.”

  “Ah, here we go,” Morag said, returning once more. She carried a mug of something and a bundle of steaming cloth. A strong, heady herb smell filled the air.

  “Banquo, will you please check on Ute,” I whispered.

  He nodded then left.

  Morag smiled after him then turned me so she could apply the hot compress to my back. “A good man, the Thane. I was a maid for his mother. I have always served the house of Lochaber. I was with him when he was just a boy. Banquo cares deeply for you.” There was no accusation there, only understanding. But the comment led me to wonder just how much Morag knew.

  I closed my eyes. Everything was going wrong.

  I should have listened to Banquo that night in Gillacoemgain’s chamber. We should have walked between the worlds and disappeared forever. Now it was too late.

  As I drifted off the sleep, I dreamed once more.

  This time, I was walking through the ruins of Ynes Verleath to the temple of the goddess. The place was the same as it had always been. But I felt different.

  “Cerridwen?”

  I smiled at the sound of my name. My heart filled with joy when I looked up to see Banquo at the top of the temple stairs. His dark hair had faded to silver. He wore it long. He smiled and beckoned to me.

  Leaning against my tall staff, my steps slow, I went to him, my heart filled with love.

  Chapter 26

  I rested for the next several days, Morag and Merna attending me, Banquo making regular visits. But I had not once seen Macbeth. My child was gone. Once more, it was only Macbeth and me in the marriage. His absence clearly denoted his thoughts on the state of affairs.

  On the third day, I was up once more, sitting by the fire when Banquo came in. He had a frustrated expression on his face.

  “What is it?”

  “Macbeth has arranged for the return south. I had asked him to delay a few more days, but he will not have it. We sail tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  Banquo sat down then shook his head. “He’s…unreasonable right now, despite Thorfinn’s best efforts. And he will not hear from me. At all. I will sail back to Lochaber. Ask Macbeth to send you to Madelaine. It would do you well to be with your sisters at this time.”

  I nodded then stared into the fire.

  “He blames me,” Banquo whispered.

  “How could this possibly be your fault?”

  Banquo sighed.

  “I need to get my house ready,” Banquo said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll be all right.”

  Banquo set his hand on my shoulder then left.

  * * *

  I didn’t see Macbeth at all that day, but he sent men to begin stowing our belongings for the trip south. The idea that Macbeth was brooding vexed me. I was enduring the hardship alone. Ute, who had lost her own child in secret, carried her own burden. Why was Macbeth acting like this? And where was he? Didn’t he care at all how I was? Did he really have no love for me? Was I truly just a tool, a name, a womb to bolster his legacy? Every time I thought it, anger rocked me.

  By the time Macbeth finally arrived, I had worked myself up into a fury. The raven had choice words for this pu
ppet of the White Christ who would use my body to make himself king.

  “Gruoch, we’ll set to sail in the morning. Thorfinn will feast us tonight, and we’ll sail at dawn,” he said, looking everywhere but at me.

  “How nice of you to inform me.”

  Macbeth stiffened. “I am trying to get you home as quickly as possible.”

  “Why? To stuff another child inside me right away?”

  “I… Gruoch, have you lost your mind? I’m trying to get you home so you can recover in comfort.”

  The raven laughed. “Liar,” I spat out. “Where have you been, Macbeth? You left me all alone in this house, not even bothering to comfort me, to see if I would live or die. Where have you been? And now you’re packing me up to send me south like some damned animal.”

  “I was praying to God for your life, Gruoch! What good would it serve to sit at your bedside and pet your head? I was praying to God to save you.”

  “Well, tell your god thank you. I’m alive.”

  “But my child—”

  “Our child. We both lost a child.”

  “I told you not to go running about the countryside again. I warned you. But you are so reckless, so willful. Banquo is too bold in his handling of you. One would think he believes he’s your husband, not me.”

  “So I am to blame? Banquo is to blame? Sometimes it is not meant to be, Macbeth, and that is all. I was surprised I could conceive at all.”

  Macbeth made a grunting sound that sounded almost like a growl. He ran his fingers through his hair so forcefully I thought he’d rip his hair from his scalp.

  “Tomorrow, we’ll go home,” he said then turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

  I sat staring into the fire. I was not to blame. Neither was Banquo. But Macbeth’s words had cut close to the heart. Macbeth did not know how true his words were. Perhaps he could feel the secret just under the surface, an itch he could not scratch. I set my hand on my now empty womb. I had not thought much of the little one who had lived and died there. It had not felt like a real thing to me, not in the way Lulach and Crearwy had. In truth, I had felt indifferent toward the child. How strange. Lulach and Crearwy had come to me unwanted, unbidden, but I had loved them both fiercely. I’d wanted a child with Macbeth, or so I’d thought. If so, why did I feel so empty about it?