Highland Queen

by Melanie Karsak

  Chains rattled, and a moment later, soldiers led Crinian into the room. I frowned when I saw that he had been roughed up, his lip bloody.

  “Unchain him,” I said.

  The men removed the bindings.

  “Your Majesty. Thank you,” Crinian said, rubbing his wrists.

  I inclined my head to him then crossed the room and poured him some water. I handed him the glass. He drank greedily.

  “You may sit,” I said, motioning to a chair by the meeting table. I signaled to a servant at the back of the room. “Bring food.”

  She bobbed a curtsey then disappeared.

  “My lady, your cousin, Bethoc… What have they done with my wife?” Crinian asked.

  “Bethoc will be brought to court. There is no reason for her to live in fear or discomfort. We are, after all, kin. She need not fear me.”

  He sighed in relief. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  “So,” I said, taking a seat across from him. I relaxed back into my chair. “What are we going to do now?”

  “Do, Your Majesty?”

  “Yes. What are we going to do with you? You’ve been funneling silver to Siward and lining the pockets of the lords in the south—presumably to buy their support. I see you have been unequally distributing coin to the church, which, of course, has made your life very comfortable. So, I am in a conundrum on what to do with you. I’m inclined to have you killed. Can you think of any reason why I shouldn’t?”

  “I…I only did as my son asked.”

  “Duncan ordered you to rob the country?”

  “Duncan ordered me to rob the north.”

  “I’m sorry, but I met your son. He lacked the imagination.”

  “No, Your Majesty. You’re right. Forgive me. I’d forgotten how astute you are. I did what I could to safeguard my son’s realm.”

  “At your own devising.”

  “Yes. At my own devising.”

  “I see. You have been a man of the world for many years. Perhaps it’s best we return you to holy things. After all, you are the Abbot of Dunkeld. The monastery needs its master. You should turn your mind to less worldly things. Yes. That will be good. A return to the spiritual life might just be what you need. Perhaps some time spent in prayer, illuminating manuscripts, seeing to the holy brothers at the monastery will feed your soul.”

  “Your Majesty,” Crinian said, the look of relief plain on his face.

  “And, of course, you can guide the holy brothers on how to run self-sufficiently, without the support of the crown.”

  “You…You’re going to cut off support to the monasteries?”

  “They should have plenty saved from your years of generous patronage.”

  “But Scotland is a Christian nation. We must be supported by the monarch.”

  “Must we? Half of Scotland is a Christian nation. Considering the years we have spent money to support the Christian faith, it’s only fair we send some wealth to provide backing to those who follow the old gods. And you should be feeling lucky to be alive.”

  “Lady Gruoch, you will take the country backward.”

  “If you’re disinclined to accept my offer, that’s fine. I accept your decision either way.”

  “What is the alternative to returning to my position as Abbot of Dunkeld?”

  “Oh. Sorry I wasn’t clear about that. The second option is death. Really, it’s your choice.”

  “And my wife…she will come to court?”

  “As I said.”

  “And the king, is he in agreement?”

  “No. Not at all. He wanted to murder you, but we’ll handle things my way today.”

  “Then I am grateful for your mercy and the chance at life you’ve offered. I accept.”

  “Very good.”

  The serving maid returned then with a platter heaped with meat, bread, cheese, fish, and potted fruits and vegetables. She set the tray in front of the abbot.

  “Funny,” I said, leaning forward to snatch a tender morsel from his plate, popping it into my mouth. “Gillacoemgain used to hunt to feed us. I remember how happy we all were when he returned with a stag or wild hog. We would make tarts from berries I found in the field. There we were in Moray, foraging for food like villagers, while you saw to it that the monks ate better than the lords in the north,” I said then rose. “Eat well, abbot. We’ll see you returned to the monastery as soon as you’re done.”

  I motioned to my guard who stepped in to keep an eye on Crinian.

  Just outside, however, I found Macbeth’s soldiers still waiting.

  “When the abbot is done eating, put him back in chains and have him taken to the monastery of Dunkeld. He won’t need his fine clothes and jewels. A simple shift should do.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “And the treasury?” I asked.

  The man motioned for me to follow him. We headed back outside. There, I found three wagons waiting. They were surrounded by a ring of guards. The soldier lifted the tarp on one of the wagons to reveal chest upon chest within.

  “Have it all secured in Glamis’ armory. Put men on it at all times.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. As King Macbeth ordered, we have sent men to secure the silver mines,” he said, handing some scrolls to me.

  I nodded. “Very good. I will see to the rest. And Lady Bethoc?”

  The man sighed heavily, exasperation filling in his voice. “Another battalion was sent to the castle to retrieve her ladyship. She should arrive soon. I understand that removing her was more difficult than displacing the abbot.”

  “Well, the abbot can always be smacked about the head and neck if he fails to comply. Her ladyship is quite another matter.”

  The man chuckled.

  “When she arrives, she can be taken to a family chamber. Surely there’s a maid or two around here who are hard of hearing.”

  At that, he laughed aloud. “Very good, Your Highness.”

  “And well done, sir…”

  “Wallace, Your Majesty.”

  “Well done, Wallace.”

  He bowed. “I shall see to the rest now, Your Majesty.”

  “Thank you.”

  I tapped the scrolls in my hand then headed back inside. Getting the crown’s coin in hand was a critical step. But more importantly, I needed to get the ladies’ chambers ready for Bethoc. It was of the utmost importance to my sanity that she was housed far, far away from me before I started seeing blood spots everywhere.

  Chapter 24

  Once Crinian was dealt with and on his way back to his monastery, I returned to Macbeth’s chamber and began sorting through the mess. As I went through the papers on his desk, I could see his slip from competent to his current vertical position on the chapel floor. There was so much work to be done. There was no time for madness. No time for anything. The state of the realm was one of upheaval. I hardly knew where to start.

  But I did start.

  One item at a time, I answered every letter, sent messengers, ordered supplies, redistributed troops, and plotted a way forward.

  Wordlessly, servants brought in food and drink for me, but the day passed so fast that I was surprised when it was nightfall once more.

  I rose, pulling up my gloves, then headed back to the chapel.

  There, I found Macbeth sitting cross-legged in front of the altar.

  He stared at the crucifix hanging there.

  “Go to bed, Macbeth. You need rest.”

  “I am tired,” Macbeth said.

  “Yes, I’m sure you are.”

  Macbeth rose on unsteady feet. I gestured for his man to take his arm. “Think nothing of this. He’ll be well in a few days,” I told the servant.

  “Of course, Queen Gruoch.”

  “And say nothing.”

  “Of course not, Your Majesty.”

  I nodded then watched the two depart.

  I stood in the chapel for a few moments. It was a small, congested space with wooden walls, floor, and a low ceiling. A breeze blew in from
the open window. On the breeze, I caught the slightest scent of spring tinged with wood smoke.

  Moonlight shone in from the window, casting its rays on the effigy of Jesus hanging above the altar.

  “If he is your son, as your priests say we all are, then heal his mind,” I whispered to the effigy.

  There was no reply.

  I had not expected one.

  The White Christ had never spoken to me.

  As I crossed the room to leave, however, there was an odd commotion behind me. A bird had come to roost on the open windowsill. It was a dove. It turned and looked at me, it’s dark eye glimmering in the moonlight. It cooed softly.

  I sucked in a breath, remembering the vision Scotia had given me.

  Perhaps there was a way to put the pieces of Macbeth together after all.

  Chapter 25

  I worked tirelessly over the coming weeks as Macbeth lay in his bedchamber staring at the wall. It was long past time when I had hoped to return to Moray. I eyed my growing belly skeptically, knowing that I would soon have to think of a solution to my problem. Aside from fleeing and letting everything fall into disrepair, my options were limited. I needed to get Macbeth on his feet if I had any hope of making my way north before anyone knew I was with child.

  Of course, hiding such knowledge from my maids was impossible.

  “I’ll select dresses with more fabric at the front. They will conceal your state better,” Tira told me. “And I’ll loosen the laces where I can.”

  Rhona studied me carefully then shook her head. “You know there will be talk.”

  “And Macbeth… Would be best if we move back to Moray,” Tira said, echoing my thoughts.

  I nodded. “I agree. But there is much to be done.”

  “Yes. But I worry, my lady.”

  She didn’t have to tell me. I, too, worried. I needed to leave, and soon.

  Rising early one morning, I took out my box of medicines and went to Macbeth’s chamber.

  “Queen Gruoch,” his servant said, bowing when I approached. Remembering Macbeth’s whoring at Inverness, I hesitated.

  “Is His Majesty within?”

  The man nodded then went inside, motioning for me to follow.

  The room was dank and dark. Incense burned, making the air stifling.

  “Has he left the chamber at all?” I whispered.

  “No. But the priest comes three times a day.”

  I nodded to the man then motioned for him to leave.

  Crossing the room, I pulled back the heavy drapes and flung open the windows.

  “Who is there?” Macbeth called from his bed.

  “Your wife.”

  “My wife,” he repeated.

  I pushed open every window then eyed the room. Macbeth had drawn the drapes on his bed closed. Feeling unreasonably furious, I snatched the fabric back.

  “What—what are you doing?” Macbeth asked, wincing at the bright sunlight.

  “Airing out this sty.”

  Macbeth sat up in bed. He had grown a scraggly beard. His bedclothes smelled sour.

  I went to the door. Macbeth’s man came to attention. “Have fresh linens brought. I need a maid to come tidy the room.”

  The servant nodded then rushed off.

  Turning, I headed back inside. Opening my box, I pulled out one herb at a time, carefully selecting those I thought might ease his mind and balance him. I ground the herbs into a fine powder then mixed them into a glass of water.

  “Get up,” I told Macbeth, pulling out the chair at his table.

  “What is that?”

  “Medicine. I made you a similar tonic in Thurso…many moons ago.”

  Macbeth rose slowly then slumped into the chair.

  I pushed the cup toward him.

  “Your Majesties?” a voice called from the door.

  I turned to find the maid there.

  “Strip everything,” I told the maid, motioning to the bed. Macbeth’s servant stood at the door. “And you, sir. Set out fresh clothes for the king. Get his washing tub. And a shave…” I said then paused. “Well…the beard suits you,” I told Macbeth.

  “I’ll leave it,” he said absently.

  I nodded. “It needs to be trimmed, as does your hair.”

  I turned to Macbeth’s servant who nodded.

  Just outside the chamber, I spotted another footman. “You there,” I called to the boy. “Bring a breakfast for His Majesty. Tell the cook I want whatever fresh fruits and cheese there is to be had. Fish, if there is any. Honey cakes.”

  I looked back at Macbeth who was staring at me, his eyes wide and fixed.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered.

  “What needs to be done.”

  One obstacle at a time, I would make my way to my fate.

  I glanced at Macbeth’s cup. “Drink. Finish it.”

  He did as I asked then slid the cup toward me. I took it from him, rinsing it in the basin. I cleaned my tools then packed my bag back up.

  “After you are dressed, you will go outside, walk the grounds, and check on the soldiers.”

  “Gruoch, I—”

  “I don’t want to hear anything. You need fresh air and exercise. I will be in your council chamber when you are finished,” I said then latched my box closed once more.

  Satisfied I’d made a start forward, I left Macbeth’s chamber.

  It was some time after lunch when Macbeth arrived. He looked pale and gaunt. There were dark rings under his eyes and an odd gleam within them. He sat down in a chair in front of the fire.

  “Gruoch,” he said, but then he said nothing else.

  “I’ve had an idea,” I told Macbeth.

  “What idea?” Macbeth asked absently.

  “That you should take a pilgrimage to Rome.”

  Macbeth turned and looked at me. “To Rome? Me?”

  “Many rulers do so. We need to strengthen our ties abroad, and you need to strengthen yourself.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Yes, you do. I have never fully agreed with the priests of the White Christ nor do I embrace your faith. But I believe that if you embrace your faith, you may find a way back to that man I met at Lumphanan.”

  “That man is a stranger to me.”

  I laughed. “And to me.”

  Macbeth smiled slightly. He looked at his worktable where I had neatly stacked all the correspondence. I’d had shelves moved into the chamber where I kept ledgers and essential missives. Ruling Scotland, it turned out, was not much different from ruling Moray. Scale was the only factor. After the initial shock at the confused state of things, I was beginning to make progress.

  Macbeth exhaled a heavy sigh. “You have been doing everything.”

  “Someone has to.”

  “And things are…”

  “Settling down. You’ll be delighted to know that cousin Bethoc is here. If you wanted any greater motivation to walk to Rome, I can’t think of another.”

  To my surprise, he chuckled. “I’ll consider it. And Crinian?”

  “He’s revisiting his dedication to his vocation. He is Abbott of Dunkeld once more. The mines and treasury are secure. Now that I’ve choked off the money we’ve been bleeding south, the southern lords are suddenly very eager to ally with us.”

  “Thank you, Gruoch. These days have been very strange for me.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek but said nothing. How many strange days had Macbeth caused me?

  When I looked up, I realized Macbeth was studying me carefully. “Are your hands cold?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.” He eyed the papers on the table once more. “What can I do?”

  I looked across the desk, selecting the messages I’d received from Thorfinn. I handed them to Macbeth. “Get well.”

  He took the parchments from my hands. “Gruoch, I don’t deserve—”

  “No, you don’t. So do us all a favor and come back to yourself. For now, I have to send some messages,” I said then strode
out of the room.

  Chapter 26

  I was both sad and relieved when Madelaine arrived with a small party the following day. She looked very pale and weary, but she smiled when she saw me.

  “Corbie,” she said, kissing me on my cheeks.

  “My dear, sweet aunt. How are you?”

  She shrugged. “As well as I can be.”

  “Perhaps you should not have come. If it will be too much burden—”

  “No. I need to stay busy, to distract myself.”

  “Good, because I have a dozen letters from noble lords, thanes, and clansmen who want to send their wives and daughters to me. I need your help.”

  Madelaine smiled. “Of course.”

  “And Bethoc is here. I haven’t actually seen her, but they tell me she is here.”

  “Ahh,” Madelaine said then nodded. “Very well. Let me rest for a time then I’ll get to work.”

  “Whatever would I do without you?”

  “I love you too, my dear.”

  Motioning to the servants, I directed them to come help Madelaine. As I watched her go, I thought about Crearwy. If she had stayed with me, she would have honestly been a princess. She would have had beautiful clothes, jewelry, a fine chamber, tutors, and more. It would have been a very different life. Clearly, she had imagined a life like that. She wasn’t wrong to want those things. The idea of her being here with Madelaine and me would have been good, happy. But at what risk? Everything could change in a moment.

  My hand drifted to my stomach.

  Very soon, I would have to make the same choice again. Was there a different way, a better way?”

  “Gruoch?” Macbeth called from behind me.

  I turned to see him standing alongside a gentleman who was holding a large piece of rolled parchment and wearing a square builder’s cap.

  I swallowed hard, hoping Macbeth had not seen my hand on my stomach. “Yes?”

  “Is that Madelaine who has arrived?”

  I nodded.

  “Very good. This is Kirk. He has been working on Dunsinane.”

  “How nice to meet you, sir. I’ve been reading over your updates. It seems as if the work is coming along very well,” I told the man.