Highland Queen

by Melanie Karsak

  “All hail,” the massive crowd called in unison.

  Smiling, Macbeth waved to the crowd who cheered loudly.

  I joined him in the gesture, but when my eyes rested on Banquo once more, my joy faltered. In the place of the man I loved, I saw a dead man, a corpse, standing there with a dagger in his heart.

  Chapter 12

  The lords and ladies gathered that day in the great hall to celebrate our coronation. As was the custom in older days, the warriors who had gathered hung their shields on the wall, displaying to all which lords, thanes, and clans had come to pledge their fidelity to the new king.

  While Duncan’s feast had been a lively event—full of proper dinner etiquette and stimulating conversations on the weather—our feast was far different. Pipers played, and lords and ladies danced. The Northmen drank and laughed, and even the more refined in the crowd seemed honestly at ease. Macbeth worked his way through the room, meeting with the southern lords, accepting their congratulations and—it did not escape my notice—introducing himself to all their fair daughters.

  Killian had sent some of the men of Moray to work the room as well, but their eyes were looking for something far different from beautiful girls. And he was right to do so. Amongst all the cheer, I could feel the seeds of anger. The southern lords smiled to Macbeth’s face, but they exchanged wary glances when his back was turned. More would need to be done to bring them back into the fold. Money, land, or properly placed threats would be needed, not pretty words. Surely Malcolm had taught Macbeth that.

  My eyes also scanned the crowd for Banquo. He wasn’t there. In fact, I hadn’t seen him since having that strange, terrible vision at the coronation. My stomach knotted with worry.

  “They will want to send ladies to court once you are settled at Dunsinane,” Madelaine said.

  I scoffed. “Well, I shall tell them no thank you.”

  “Corbie, it’s tradition,” she protested.

  “It was a tradition. I will not lord over a court of luxury and waste. There is work to be done.”

  Madelaine sighed. “There are some elements of politics you must come to accept, despite how odious they may seem, including making nice with the ladies.”

  “We shall see,” I said then turned to the bishop who was on his second decanter of wine—speaking of luxury. “Lord Bishop, I have a question for you.”

  The bishop swallowed the large mouthful of wine he was savoring then coughed lightly. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

  “This crown,” I said, touching the coronet on my head. “It appears quite old. What can you tell me about it?”

  “Ah, you ask an excellent question, Your Majesty. King Macbeth chose the crowns for the coronation. That is the ancient crown of Moray.”

  “Of Moray? Who wore it?”

  “Well, we are not entirely sure. Some say it was passed down from the ancient Pictish kings, saved from loss and ruin by your ancient ancestor, Kenneth. But no one can say for certain. King Macbeth thought it would befit you, the Lady of Moray, to be crowned with the ancient crown of your people.”

  “And it does,” Madelaine said, touching the crown gently.

  “That was very thoughtful of His Majesty,” I said, casting a glance at Macbeth.

  “And King Macbeth’s crown?” Madelaine asked.

  “Newly made, Lady Fife.”

  Madelaine nodded but said nothing.

  Now, why would Macbeth make a special effort to have me crowned with a piece that would hold meaning for me, a crown that would tie me to the land and people I had come to love? Macbeth didn’t care at all for me. So why make such a gesture?

  “Thank you, Lord Bishop,” I said. The man nodded, but he was already refilling his wine goblet and hardly paid me another thought.

  “I don’t see the Thane of Lochaber,” Madelaine told me as she scanned the room.

  I shook my head. “No. I haven’t seen him since the coronation.”

  “So, does he know?” Madelaine asked in a low whisper.

  “Know what?”

  “That you are with child?”

  I turned and looked at her. “How do you—”

  “Corbie, I may not have borne you, but I was a mother to you all the same. And I know your shape like my own. The laces on the gown…”

  I smiled lightly. “Then you are wiser than I, for it had escaped my notice until Injibjorg said something.”

  “I wondered,” Madelaine said.

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “Wondered?”

  “I wondered why you would go into battle in such a state. You didn’t know.”

  I shook my head. There was no use in trying to keep anything from Madelaine. “No, I didn’t know.”

  “It is a glad tiding,” she said, setting her hand on mine.

  When she did so, I followed her gaze only to find my own hands covered in blood once more. Slick red blood covered my fingers. The ruby red liquid marred Madelaine’s pale skin.

  Gasping, I pulled my hands back and grabbed a cloth. Moving quickly, I turned to clean the filth from Madelaine’s hands, but when I did so, I found nothing there. I glanced at my hands again. The marks were there, red splotches staining my skin, but the dripping blood was gone.

  “Corbie?” Madelaine said, startled. She took my hand again. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? That was not a nothing.”

  “I’m plagued by strange visions. Like clouds on a summer’s day, they come then go, blocking the sun in the interim. I just need some air.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  I shook my head. “Please, stay and keep the others company. I’ll return shortly,” I said then rose.

  “Very well,” Madelaine told me, a confused and worried look on her face.

  Killian stepped forward to pull out my chair.

  “My Queen?” he said.

  “I’ll retire for a short while,” I told him.

  Killian signaled to some other guards.

  We turned and headed toward the exit of the hall. As I went, I was greeted with bows and curtsies. I felt like I could barely catch my breath.

  We had just reached the doors when the crowd parted to reveal Banquo—but not Banquo—standing there. Once more, I saw my love like a man dead. His face was pale, eyes a milky white, clothing ragged. And again, I saw a dagger hanging from his chest, his clothes marred with blood.

  I gasped and stepped back, tripping on Killian.

  “Cerr—Gruoch?” the corpse said. But when he opened his mouth to speak, his lips and tongue were black. A swarm of flies flew out, some of them pausing to land on his face.

  “No,” I stammered.

  “My Queen,” Killian said, holding my shoulders to keep me upright.

  “Who has done this?” I whispered, staring at Banquo, abhorred by the sight. “Who has done this?” I demanded loudly.

  “Lady Gruoch?” Killian said again. He then turned to the others and whispered, “Our Queen is not well. Let’s get her to her chamber.”

  “Do you see him there?” I whispered to Killian. I lifted my finger and pointed at Banquo. Blood dripped from my extended digit.

  “Lord Banquo? Of course.”

  “But do you see?”

  Banquo advanced quickly on me. Closing my eyes, I suppressed a scream.

  “Gruoch,” Banquo said sharply, grabbing my arm.

  “She’s taken ill, my lord,” Killian said.

  “No. She’s had a vision. Come, let’s take her from this place before the others notice something’s wrong. Gruoch, look at me,” Banquo said, taking my hand.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “It was a vision. Look at me.”

  His hand in mine, I felt the warmth of his flesh.

  Great Lady, let the vision pass.

  I opened my eyes only to find Banquo standing there, whole and alive.

  “Banquo,” I whispered.

  “What did you see?” he asked.

  I shook my h
ead, not wanting to tell him.

  “My queen?” Killian said.

  “Killian, I’m all right now. Please, let’s return to my chamber,” I said. Banquo and I departed then, the men of Moray following close behind.

  “You were frightened of me,” Banquo whispered.

  “Not of you, for you.”

  “For me?”

  I nodded.

  Banquo frowned. “This day has been full of ominous portents.”

  “At the crowning, you saw something as well.”

  Banquo nodded.

  “I’ll ride with Madelaine when we are done here. Will you come with me?” I asked.

  “Yes. I too need…time.”

  “Banquo, what does it mean, such ill omens?”

  “You know as well as I,” he said, his voice dark.

  Dark times were ahead. On the day I had been crowned queen, I had foreseen the darkest visage I could imagine…the death of my soul mate.

  Chapter 13

  Banquo stayed with me late into the night. We spoke of everything except our visions. We mocked the courtly southern lords in their fancy silk robes and pondered over the shows of wealth we saw all around us. We spoke of Lulach and Fleance. And we reminisced about Sid. There was no subject under the sun we didn’t touch save our visions.

  I didn’t know what Banquo had seen during the crowning, but I knew him well enough to know that the vision still plagued him.

  He was doing his best to hide his worries from me.

  But I was hiding more than that from him.

  “Thorfinn and Injibjorg will leave soon,” Banquo said. “What will you do once they are gone?”

  “Madelaine advised me to go to Glamis, but I’m not certain.”

  Mainly, I was not sure because I was still getting used to the idea that I was with child. I couldn’t reconcile the idea. I didn’t dare tell Banquo the truth that was tripping over my tongue. I was carrying his child. The idea was a joyous one, but a problem all the same. Macbeth and I had long been finished. I didn’t care what he thought, but I did care about what Macbeth might do. The resentment he felt for Lulach, son of an uncle he hated, would be nothing compared to the resentment he would feel for the child I carried.

  And if it were a girl…

  “You said you want to return to Lochaber. Is that your plan?”

  Banquo nodded.

  “Why don’t I come to Lochaber with you?”

  “I would love to show you my home, but there would be talk.”

  “Not if we keep things quiet. I could go to Moray and travel from there.”

  Banquo smiled. For the first time, the clouds that covered his face lifted. “Let’s consider it more. We’ll make a plan,” he said then tapped his drink against mine. He drank then eyed me over. “You look very tired, my Cerridwen. It’s late. I should leave you now.”

  “I wish you could stay.”

  “So do I. Trust me. But I’ll see you first thing in the morning,” he said then rose.

  I followed Banquo to the door. He stopped and took my face into his hands.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  “And I love you,” he replied, leaning in to kiss me. His lips were sweet and warm. I caught the scent of the earthy smell that always perfumed his skin. I was carrying Banquo’s child. How impossible it seemed. I was carrying his child.

  He pulled away then set a soft kiss on my forehead. “Sleep well.”

  “And you.”

  Banquo opened the door.

  The guards outside came to attention.

  I waved farewell to Banquo, nodded to my men, then went back inside, bolting the door behind me.

  I went to the table. Sitting there was a beautifully ornamented box. I opened the lid. Inside was the ancient crown of Moray. I lifted the heavy silver piece and inspected it. There were old engravings that had worn themselves almost invisible along the band. I stroked the metal with my finger. Setting the crown down for a moment, I reached back and undid the braids Tira and Rhona had made and let my short hair fall loose. I lifted the crown and placed it on my head.

  I walked over to the fire and gazed into the cauldron hanging there. My reflection wavered on the surface of the liquid. Banquo was right. I did look tired. My skin was pale, and there were dark rings under my eyes. Hardly the picture of a youthful May Queen.

  But I was in bloom.

  My hands drifted to my stomach.

  I closed my eyes.

  “Are you there?” I whispered.

  At that moment, I felt something. I felt life.

  But more, I felt a shift in the world around me.

  The air cooled, and I smelled wisteria.

  “How now you, midnight messengers?” I whispered, opening my eyes once more.

  I was standing on the terrace before the great cauldron, but neither Andraste nor Nimue were there.

  The fire crackled, and a soft breeze blew, stirring up the sweet scent of flowers.

  Frowning, I looked all around.

  I was alone. I walked through the ruins. As I passed by the living quarters, I heard the soft sounds of someone sleeping. I peered into Nimue’s room to find her on her bed. Moving further down the hall, I discovered Andraste sleeping as well, snoring like Thorfinn.

  Winding down the halls of the ruins of Ynes Verleath, I made my way to the room of the eternal flame. There, I found a robed figure kneeling before the broken statue of the Goddess.

  It wasn’t the red-robed Morrigu or even the Crone. I had seen this lady only once before. It was silver-haired Scotia.

  The Goddess whispered, her incantation nearly inaudible, then rose and walked toward me, her silver cloak billowing all around her. Her eyes twinkled like the stars. She eyed me over then walked in a circle around me, assessing me.

  “Avenger. Warrior. Queen. You have come full circle, Cerridwen. Now it is time for you to do my bidding.”

  “And what is your bidding, Great Lady?”

  She reached out and took my crown into her hands. She turned the circle around and around. The movement made my head swim.

  “Like a wheel of fortune, with no beginning and no end, you must spin the wheel of fate once more and make something new. A new Scotland. A land reborn. You will fashion it with wisdom, cunning, and faith. Now, you must do my work,” she said then set the crown on my head once more. As she did so, she said. “Rule in my name.”

  “I am your servant.”

  She straightened my crown, pushed my hair behind my ears, then looked me in the eyes. “And like all servants, you will grunt and sweat under the yoke. The chore will burn and wound you. But in the end, it must be done.”

  “With your help, all things are possible,” I whispered. But there was so much more I wanted to say. I wanted to ask about my child. I wanted to ask about the visions I had seen of Banquo. I wanted to know why there was blood all over my hands. And I wanted to know what to do about Macbeth.

  Scotia set two fingers to my brow. When she did so, an image of Macbeth came to mind. He was wearing humble traveler’s robes and holding a staff. Alongside him were monks and other holy men. He wore a simple wreath on his head. I watched him walk away from a castle I didn’t recognize. And beyond that castle’s walls, I saw a very long road threading out into the great unknown. With the eyes of a raven, I watched the road twist and turn until it reached a vast city over which hovered a white dove.

  Scotia pulled her fingers away. “Wake now, Cerridwen, and begin.” She blew gently on my face, making me wince. When I opened my eyes once more, I was lying on the floor in Scone. I clutched the ancient crown in my hand, but the ornament’s sharp edges had pricked my fingers. Droplets of blood dripped down my hand, melding with the stains thereon.

  The first hint of morning light peeked in through the window. My body aching, I rose and set the crown back in the box. Lifting a rag, I went to clean the blood from my fingertips only to find my hands covered in slicks of red once more.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “It’s
not real. There is nothing there.”

  Opening my eyes again, I went to my bed, lay down, and pulled my blankets up to my neck. Tira and Rhona would be there soon. I needed to get some sleep before the day began again.

  When I woke, I had much to consider.

  Including the city of the dove…Rome.

  Chapter 14

  “My lady,” Tira chirped happily. “Lady—no, Queen—Gruoch. Best get out of bed.”

  “Leave her be a while longer. Get me some kindling for the fire,” Rhona said.

  “But the other lords and ladies are already at morning meal,” Tira protested.

  “Let Lady Madelaine entertain them. If our lady is tired, let her sleep. She’s worked herself half to death.”

  “But what will they say if she doesn’t come for morning meal?”

  “That’s she’s odd and unfriendly.”

  “Rhona!”

  “I hardly think Lady Gruoch would mind such gossip,” Rhona said then added, “since she knows herself it’s true.”

  Both of the maids chuckled lightly.

  “But still,” Tira protested.

  “Lay out her clothes. When she rises, you’ll have everything ready.”

  “By all the gods, who could sleep with such noisome and gossiping maids anyway?” I complained from the bed.

  At that, they both laughed.

  “Now, see what you’ve done,” Rhona complained to Tira.

  “Well, it’s time to get up anyway.”

  “Right, otherwise I’ll seem odd and unfriendly,” I said.

  Both of the maids stilled. For a moment, it seemed they were unsure if I had been offended or not.

  I laughed. “I am odd and unfriendly. Rhona is right. There are only a handful of people in this world whose company I enjoy. I suppose that includes the two of you…most of the time.”

  The maids chuckled.

  Rising slowly, I began getting ready for the day. Once I had properly cleaned up, I dressed in the green gown Tira had selected. With a yawn, I headed toward the feasting hall.

  As I neared the room, the scents of roasting meat and bread assailed my nostrils. I paused a moment when a wave of nausea swept over me.