Thorfinn frowned as he looked me over. “You’re right, Macbeth. Forgive me, my lady, but you look pale as milk,” he said then turned to Macbeth. “Let’s go make sure your longhouse is ready then we’ll get her settled. Banquo and Merna will watch over her until we return,” Thorfinn said then led Macbeth outside. As they exited, I heard Thorfinn ask, “Hasn’t she ever been on a ship before? Didn’t you advise her on how to keep her stomach calm at sea? Why didn’t you sail with her?”
I heard Macbeth stammer a reply as the two exited, leaving me behind with Banquo and his family.
“Gruoch, are you all right?” Banquo asked. He reached out to touch me then pulled his hand back.
I inhaled deeply then exhaled. “I’ll be okay. It…will pass.”
“My lady,” Ute said, settling in on the other side of me.
“I’m okay,” I whispered.
“Merna, this is Gruoch’s son, Lulach,” Banquo told his wife. Moving carefully, Ute handed Lulach to Banquo.
Merna gasped. “My lady! He’s such a wee thing. How old is he?”
“Four months,” I said then took a sip of wine.
“Oh, but I thought—” she began but left off, her brows furrowing when she could not make sense of the matter.
“Lulach is the son of Gillacoemgain of Moray,” Banquo explained.
Merna’s brows raised in surprise then she nodded. “Difficult times for you then,” she said, looking at me tenderly.
I smiled softly at her, studying her face which had a sprinkle of freckles over her nose, her cheeks dimpling when she smiled. She had a full bosom, round hips, and long, curly dark hair. She was a sweet, pleasing woman. But more, goodness exuded from her, as did the glow of the otherworld. She was one of us. I suddenly felt annoyed with myself for the jealously I’d felt. It was petty of me.
“My husband told me he knew you in his youth, that you met when he traveled with Balor,” Merna said.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“I’m so glad to have you here amongst us. You’ll find Thurso very welcoming to people of our beliefs.”
“And when you have time, I have a little treasure to show you,” Banquo told me.
“Treasure?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“You’ll see,” Banquo said teasingly. He was trying to lift my spirits, distract me from whatever was ailing me. “She’ll see, won’t she?” he said, looking down at Lulach who giggled and reached out to grab his nose. “She’ll be surprised. Won’t that be fun?”
I chuckled, feeling some of the pain recede.
“Welcome, dear sister,” Merna said, reaching out to squeeze my hand.
I stared at her. In that moment, my heart softened. It was no more Merna’s fault that Banquo and I had loved than it was Gillacoemgain’s. I would not hold any resentment toward her.
“Fleance,” Merna called as the boy dawdled to the door, laughing mischievously as he went. She rose and went after the boy, who took off like an arrow when he saw his mother coming for him, racing out the door as fast as his little legs could carry him. Ute rose to help Merna before the child fell into the sea.
Banquo shook his head then turned to me. “Are you all right now?”
“I will be. I’ve always been prone to these kind of fits.”
“Have you talked to a healer?”
“I’ll speak to Epona,” I said absently as I watched through the open door as Merna picked up Fleance who was grinning wickedly. She kissed his face while she chided his recklessness. “He’s a handsome child,” I said.
Banquo gazed down at Lulach. “As is Lulach.”
We turned then toward each other, our eyes meeting. A million words went unspoken.
How had everything turned out like this?
Chapter 15
Macbeth and Thorfinn returned a short while later.
“Our home is ready, the fire lit, the rooms warm. Come, my dear. You need some rest. Ute,” Macbeth said, indicating to my maid to take Lulach. She lifted the boy gently from Banquo’s arms then followed along behind us. We moved away from the great longhouse at the top of the hill to a smaller, similar structure not far away. A dozen such places dotted the landscape.
“Thorfinn had this place built for me,” Macbeth said with a smile. “My home in the north,” he said then pulled open the heavy wooden door.
A wave of heat wafted from the room.
The house, true to its name, was long and narrow and built with a rustic design. The roof was made of thatch supported by wide timbers. The walls made of stone, wood, and clay. The floor was made of stone and covered with fresh straw to retain the warmth. The house was divided into sections. It opened to an open room with a hearth. To the right was a partitioned section which appeared to be the sleeping space for Ute. There was another closed space behind that. On the left end of the house was a more substantial sleeping space for Macbeth and me.
“It’s lovely,” I said.
“Lady Macbeth will take her rest now,” Macbeth told Ute. “Only disturb her if you must.”
“Yes, my lord,” Ute said, her voice uncertain. She was not used to taking directions from anyone but me.
Macbeth led me by the arm to our bedchamber. A large wooden bed covered in heavy furs waited. A stone fireplace was built into the corner. It filled the space with a cheery orange glow. There was a tall wardrobe engraved with images of cats and dragons.
“The journey was too hard for you. I forget that the sea is rough, especially if you’re not used to it. Lie down a while. I’ll send someone to fetch you when the feast begins tonight.”
I wanted to protest. The sea had not made me ill, but I was still fighting off the shaking in my hands. “All right.”
“Do you need anything? Ute can fetch you wine or water. We have a large storage area and a cooking space at the other end of the longhouse.”
I looked around the room. “There is no cradle for Lulach.”
“It is in Ute’s sleeping space. I…had hoped that maybe we could…that maybe I could stay with you. Lulach will be close at hand if you’re needed. We haven’t had much of a chance to live as husband and wife. I’ve been keen to come to Thurso, away from rules of propriety in Inverness.”
Was that what he had worried about? Was he trying to keep the ways of Malcolm’s court in Inverness? No wonder he’d seemed so uneven. Something that had hardened inside of me relaxed.
“I’d like that,” I said.
Macbeth kissed my forehead. “Take your rest, and tonight, dress in your finest. You will dazzle them all and put Lochaber’s milkmaid of a wife to shame,” he said then laughed.
Frowning at Macbeth’s rude comment, I lay down on the large bed. The furs were soft, but I felt a sharp pain poke me. Sitting up, I realized Gillacoemgain’s dagger had poked a hole through the bottom of her sheath. To my surprise, the blade had broken through, penetrated my long skirt, and pierced my leg. A tiny spot of blood appeared on the fabric of my dress. I unbelted the dagger and set it on the table beside me.
As I lay down, a thought crossed my mind. I had not named the dagger. My sword had taken the name Uald’s Gift quite by accident—I’d called the blade that so many times, it had become her name. The dagger, as far as I knew, had none. I picked up the dagger once more, pulling it from the sheath. “Scáthach,” I said. “Are you trying to tell me something?” I asked the blade. I turned it over in my hands. It reflected the orange light of the fire. I turned it over and over, the orange flames of the firelight reflecting on the blade. “Scáthach.”
My eyes grew drowsy, but still, I turned the blade.
On the next turn, a vision appeared on the length of the glowing metal. Before my eyes, I saw a field of battle. Banquo rallied a massive force. Torches burned brightly, shimmering orange against the skyline. Banquo rode down the line. Reining in his horse, he paused and inclined his head to me. I looked down to see Kelpie beneath me, my sword and dagger armed and ready.
I gasped, gripping the blade by the handle as it ne
arly slipped from my hand.
“Trying to stab me again, Scáthach?” I said with a smile then set the weapon aside.
War was coming. And I would be in the midst of it.
Chapter 16
I fell asleep thereafter, not waking until Ute shook my shoulder.
“My lady,” she said gently.
I opened my eyes.
At first, I was disoriented. The unusual smells of the longhouse and sea were unfamiliar. It took me a moment to realize where I was.
“They’ll begin the feast soon, and our little lord is hungry,” Ute said.
Nodding, I sat up sleepily and took Lulach.
“They’ve brought some of the trunks from the ship. I’ve been putting things away. I’ll go get one of your gowns ready.”
I settled in with Lulach. “Well, wee boy,” I said with a smile. “You’ve traveled almost the entire length of Scotland in your short life. What a strong boy you are.”
Lulach treated me with a smile, his eyes watching my mouth carefully as I spoke, his hand opening and closing as he ate. I closed my eyes and thought of Crearwy. I would never have been able to manage all this with two tiny babies. It was better this way. She was safe and away from all this…mess. While my thoughts were correct, my heart still hurt, and I longed for my daughter regardless. Who had earned her first smile? I hoped it was Sid. In fact, I was almost sure it would be Sid.
After Lulach was sated, I rose and got dressed. All my muscles ached.
“Where is Thora?” I asked Ute as I pulled on an elegant red gown trimmed with fur around the neck and wrists. Ute brushed out my hair then braided it from the temples, fixing it at the back.
“She was here. She nosed through everything then went back outside. There are other dogs around. Last I saw her, she was running off with a pack.”
Typical.
Once I was dressed, I slipped on my raven amulet and torcs. Ute, I noticed, was still in a house gown.
“Aren’t you coming?”
She smiled nervously. “Lord Macbeth asked me to stay back and look after Lulach.”
“He did?” I asked, feeling annoyed with Macbeth for ordering my maid—and my child—about.
“It’s all right. I don’t mind,” she said then added, “It’s just… It’s a wild place, and I don’t know the manners of the gentlemen here.”
I nodded. “I’ll see to it you and Lulach have a guard.”
She exhaled deeply. “Thank you, my lady.”
I nodded, pulled on my heavy fur cape, and then turned to exit. “If you or Lulach need anything, please come right away.” I eyed Lulach who was now lying in the crib. Suddenly the same anxiety that had Ute jittery washed over me. I turned then and left.
The noise coming from the longhouse was very rowdy. Loud voices, music, and light seeped from the house.
“Corbie,” a voice called.
Banquo, who had come from the docks, made his way toward me.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked, extending his hand to me.
I nodded. “Do you… Are there some of your men here? Loyal men of Lochaber?”
Banquo paused. “Yes. Why?”
“Macbeth suggested that Ute and Lulach stay behind tonight. I want a guard on my son. Someone I can trust.”
“And you’re asking me, not Macbeth?”
I stared into Banquo’s chestnut-colored eyes. “I am.”
Banquo stiffened.
“Lulach is the heir of Moray, a fact that, despite his pretty words, does not seem to sit well with Macbeth. Macbeth is so… I don’t know.”
Banquo stroked his beard. “It troubles me that your instincts bid you be wary.”
“As it does me. Believe me. Macbeth is difficult to read.”
Banquo nodded. “He’s been more erratic of late. I’ve also felt a frost from him that was not there before. I don’t think he likes our friendship. And he certainly didn’t take well to my brotherly advice on how to make you more comfortable.”
“Brotherly advice?”
“I see you are unhappy. I tried to tell Macbeth that you are not like the southern ladies he is used to. He was not interested in my counsel on the matter.”
“I see.”
“Merna’s maid, Morag, is watching Fleance tonight. I’ll ask her to join Ute and send a guard to them both so not to raise questions. Our sons will grow up together. We shall raise them to be the best of friends,” he said then took my hand, kissing it gently.
“Banquo,” I whispered.
“I’ll see to it and meet you later. You look very beautiful, Lady of Moray.”
“And you look very handsome, Thane.”
He laughed. “I haven’t even changed out of my traveling wear yet.”
I grinned. “I know.”
Banquo smiled, pleased with the comment, then headed toward one of the smaller longhouses nearby.
My nerves calmed, I joined the others in the feasting hall. The place was a wild scene. Its drunken revelry reminded me of Allister’s hall. But here, everyone was merry—not just the lord. The other thing I noticed was how much larger the ale tankards were. One could practically bathe in them.
“Lady Macbeth!” a loud voice called.
I looked across the room to Thorfinn who was standing—more swaying—his tankard lifted, a smile on his face.
“My friends, let us all properly welcome Lady Macbeth, wife of the Lord of the North, and queen hereafter!”
The assembled crowd broke into raucous cheers. I couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling my worries dissipate. The room was full of drunken Northmen, not cutthroats. I was over-zealous in my care of Lulach, but I was a mother.
Macbeth rose. I was surprised to see his steps were also unsteady. From what I’d seen of him in our marriage thus far—little as it was—he was usually careful to be very correct in his manner. His cheerful smile and red cheeks, rouged from drink, were unguarded.
“Come, Gruoch,” he said, taking me by the arm. “Glad to see you feeling better. How lovely you look. Like a queen, a true queen. Come,” he said, pulling me toward the head of the table where Thorfinn sat.
“Sit here by me. I’ve heard enough of your war mongering for the night,” Thorfinn told Macbeth, pulling out a chair beside him. He patted the seat.
Chuckling, I sat beside Thorfinn.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Well, my lord.”
Thorfinn leaned toward me. “Ah, she smells as pretty as she looks,” he said then looked me over with such intensity that I blushed. “She’s a beauty. Not pretty…more than that. You have a glow to you, girl.”
“Do I? Or all that ale you’ve drunk doubled your vision,” I said, tapping on the side of his tankard.
He laughed. “That’s true. All women look beautiful once I’ve found the bottom of my cup,” he said with a laugh, slapping the bottom of a girl passing with a basket of bread.
The girl laughed. “My lord,” she said, then pinched his cheek playfully.
“Now,” Thorfinn said, leaning in toward me. This time I got a good look at his green eyes. They were a mix of spring green with flecks of gold. He had playful, but honest eyes. “Now, tell me, how do you like Macbeth? Does he treat you well?”
I looked over my shoulder at Macbeth. He was grinning at Thorfinn.
I struggled to find a good answer. “He treats me like a lady.” That, at least, was honest.
Thorfinn laughed. “I hope better than that.”
“Of course she’s well treated,” Macbeth interjected. “Her and her boy, little Lulach. I’m so proud of them both,” Macbeth said, gently stroking my hair and pulling me close to him, planting a wet kiss on my cheek.
What the hell? I looked at Macbeth, who was smiling at me in complete adoration. Who was this man? Where had he been all this time?
The door opened again, and Banquo and Merna entered. Banquo made quick eye contact with me, his gaze reassuring me that he’d done as I asked and all was well.
&nb
sp; Some of my tension left me.
“Thane of Lochaber!” Thorfinn called, the others in attendance cheering.
“My lord,” Banquo said, joining us at the front, taking a seat on the other side of Thorfinn.
“Come, Merna. Kiss me. How sweet you look,” Thorfinn said, claiming a kiss on the cheek from Banquo’s wife, who smiled at me in greeting. “I was just getting acquainted with Lady Macbeth,” Thorfinn told them.
“Did you know that Banquo had already known my wife? Only after I made war to win her did Banquo bother to tell me they were childhood friends,” Macbeth said, his voice slurring.
“Is that right?” Thorfinn asked, his eyebrows raising. “You knew one another?”
“In passing. When I traveled with Balor,” Banquo explained.
“Ahh,” Thorfinn said thoughtfully. “Is that so?”
Banquo nodded, and a look passed between them.
Thorfinn smirked knowingly then winked at me. After, he turned his attention back to Macbeth.
“Macbeth, you look for reasons to complain. How is Banquo supposed to remember every pretty girl he met in his youth? I can’t even remember the names of all the ones I’ve tumbled this week. Hell, sometimes I forget their name before I get their knickers off,” he said then laughed.
“My lord,” Merna scolded him. “Lady Macbeth is not used to such rowdy talk.”
“Oh, isn’t she?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow at me. “Those eyes tell me differently. Macbeth, go easy on Banquo. God knows, I’m sure you can’t remember all the ladies you’ve met in your travels. Don’t pick on poor Banquo.”
Macbeth stiffened a bit but smiled all the same. “Of course, brother. You’re right.”
“He’s just jealous,” Thorfinn said, patting Banquo good-naturedly on the shoulder. “He’s afraid you tumbled her first. Not like he’s one to talk. Do you remember when we were in port at the Isles? How many girls did Macbeth have that one night? Lord, there must have been at least four—no, five—or was it more? I’ve never known him to—”
“My lord,” Banquo interrupted, casting a glance at me.
Thorfinn passed me a quick look then stopped talking. “No matter. Let’s have some ale, wench! We’re thirsty,” he called to one of the women passing through.
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