Highland Queen

by Melanie Karsak

  “It is. In fact, I’ve just convinced His Majesty to come to have a look,” Kirk replied.

  “I thought you might like to come along,” Macbeth said tepidly. He still looked terrible. He was pale and gaunt, his eyes sunken. If I hadn’t despised him, I might have felt sorry for him.

  “You will have to stay the night,” Kirk said. “You won't be able to ride back in time.”

  “Is the castle suitable for the queen?” Macbeth asked.

  “We can make it so,” Kirk assured Macbeth.

  My curiosity piqued, I nodded. “Yes, I will come. I’ll need a few moments to get ready. And I need to let Madelaine know.”

  Macbeth nodded. “I’ll have your horse saddled.”

  While I had no interest in going anywhere with Macbeth, I really wanted to see the fortress. I headed back to my chambers to dress in my riding clothes.

  “Where are you going?” Tira asked.

  “To Dunsinane.”

  “I heard it’s a craggy old thing, not at all like Glamis,” Rhona said.

  “Glamis is small and insecure,” I said.

  “And, no doubt, too fancy for your liking,” Rhona added.

  I chuckled. “How did you know?” I asked.

  “Because it’s too fancy for me,” she replied.

  We all laughed.

  “Can the two of you please check in with Madelaine? She’s just arrived. She’ll need your help getting settled in the coming weeks.”

  “Of course,” Tira said.

  After I slipped my riding clothes on, I collected Magnus and two other guards then went to find Madelaine. She was busy settling into her chamber.

  “Madelaine, if you don’t mind, I will ride to Dunsinane and return in the morning.”

  “Of course, dear.”

  “I’ve asked Tira and Rhona to look in on you.”

  Madelaine nodded mutely. “They’ll have to find me a maid. Ute didn’t want to come.”

  Of course, she didn’t. “That won’t be a problem.”

  “Are you up for such a long ride?” Madelaine asked, keeping her words as guarded as possible. But I hadn’t missed her meaning.

  “It will be fine.”

  “All right. Be careful, love,” she said, kissing my cheek.

  “Take your rest,” I told Madelaine. “There is no rush.”

  She smiled softly, but there was a dullness to her eyes I hadn’t seen before. All that mirth that used to live inside her had gone dim.

  I let her go then returned to the courtyard. There, I found Macbeth. He was already mounted, a dozen of his own men in attendance. I also spotted Killian mounted and ready.

  “Sir,” Magnus said then went to him.

  I mounted Swift then watched as the two Moray men exchanged words. Magnus nodded to me then headed back into the castle.

  Killian reined his horse in alongside mine. “I will come with you. Just to be safe,” he said, eyeing Macbeth warily.

  I was glad. While I trusted all the men who had come with me from Moray, I had faith in Killian.

  “Ready?” Macbeth asked, glancing quickly at Killian.

  I nodded, and then our party set out.

  The ride to Dunsinane was, to my surprise, enjoyable. A road had been cut through the winding, hilly path between the old fortress and Glamis. We rode through a thick forest filled with ancient trees. The old oaks swayed in the wind, their limbs rubbing against one another.

  “Listen to how they speak,” I told Killian.

  “And do you understand their words, or are they secret?”

  “Anyone can understand. Just close your eyes and listen.”

  Killian closed his eyes. “You’re right. Squeak, squeak, squeak.”

  I laughed, which made Macbeth glance over his shoulder at me. For a moment, a storm cloud rolled over his visage, but he hid it behind a smile and turned back around.

  I frowned. There was no settling the man. No matter how much I secretly hoped he could be recovered, there was no hope. I had to remind myself of that fact again, and again, and again.

  “Now, one such as you, who knows the old gods, should know better,” I told Killian.

  “Oh, I know the trees speak, just not to me. Yet I feel the presence of the gods in the deep woods all the same. Squeaking and all. For instance, the trees near that old camp I visited felt like they had a lot to say.”

  “Did they?”

  “I must say, I was rather glad when those ladies arrived. I was beginning to worry dryads were about. And I don’t spook, Lady Gruoch.”

  “I certainly hope not, or you’d make a terrible guard.”

  Killian chuckled. “Well, you’re still alive. I must be doing something right.”

  “I’m glad for it,” I said with a laugh.

  It took most of the day to cross the countryside to the old hilltop fortress. As we rode, I gazed into the woods. Part of me wanted to jump off Swift and go back where I belonged. In the woods. Among my own people. With my druid under the limbs of an old oak. With my son and daughter. And soon, with my baby. My hand drifted to my stomach. I needed to get north very soon.

  Stopping only to rest and water the horses, we reached the path that led up to the winding hilltop fortress of Dunsinane just as the sun was setting. To my surprise, the edifice was massive. The castle was made of large grey stone and built in three tiers, ramparts on all three levels. Long ago, a mighty king must have ruled in this place.

  “Whose castle was this?” I called to Kirk.

  “You are in the land of the Parisi, my queen,” he replied, referring to the ancient Celtic tribe who were once near neighbors to the Iceni, Boudicca’s people.

  “Such an ancient place,” I said.

  “With deep foundations and strong walls.”

  “Revived, thanks to your help,” Macbeth told the man.

  “Ah, Your Majesty, I’m only touching up the work of masters.”

  Even as we approached the hilltop, I could see the construction going on inside. Everywhere I looked, I saw masons, stone workers, and carpenters.

  Macbeth turned in his saddle and smiled at me. “Your castle, Queen Gruoch,” he said, flourishing his hand.

  Kirk laughed. “What a fine gift for a king to give his queen.”

  I studied Macbeth’s face. He wore an honest, open, even hopeful expression.

  “It’s a wonderful, strong place,” I said.

  “A new home, a new start,” Macbeth said with a smile then turned around.

  Killian gave me a sidelong glance, but I didn’t look at him. I didn’t need to. I wanted Macbeth to be well, but not for my sake. I wanted him to be well, so he would rule well. As for the man, I wanted nothing from him. If he ever thought we would reconcile after all the harm he wrought, he was sadly mistaken.

  We rode to the gate which was securely locked with a heavy steel grate. The men within worked the levers, and a moment later, the gate lifted.

  Swift huffed and snorted.

  “It’s all right,” I told the horse, patting him gently.

  We rode through the entrance into a yard where men worked and soldiers patrolled the grounds. Grooms met us to take the horses. An attendant came from the castle.

  “Please arrange some spaces for King and Queen Macbeth and their escort. They will be here tonight. The second level on the western side should work,” Kirk said.

  The man nodded then headed within.

  “Come,” Kirk called to us. “We will still have time to get a look before the sun sets.” He motioned to us to follow behind him as he headed across the yard. We climbed the stairs to the first rampart. Walking apace, we then climbed another flight of steps to the uppermost section of the castle. Kirk waved for us to join him as he walked toward the western wall. I could see then why he was so eager.

  While it was windy on the uppermost rampart, the view was spectacular. All around, I saw the vast, ancient forest. The sunset painted a vista of red, orange, gold, and deep, dark blue at the horizon. It was beautifu
l. I closed my eyes and swayed in the wind. I could feel the energy of the forest all around me. But beyond that, I heard a deep whispering voice. I couldn’t quite make out the words, but an ancient song echoed all around me, and the castle itself seemed to speak.

  “What is the name of this forest, sir?” Killian asked.

  “Birnam Wood,” Kirk said. “It stretches on for miles and miles. It is said that a great battle happened in that forest long ago. The bard Taliesin tells of how Gwydion fought with the Celtic gods against the Lord of the Underworld. Gwydion used his magic, calling the trees of Birnam Wood to life. They did his bidding, fighting at his side until the battle was won.”

  “Cad Goddeau,” I said. “The Battle of the Trees.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. That’s right.”

  I stared out at the forest.

  “That explains the voices,” Killian whispered to me.

  While I knew he thought he was jesting, Killian was right. This place was full of magic. The trees had been touched by the Otherworld. The ancient oaks and ash, once living warriors, carried on. No wonder all my senses were on edge, my breath quick, and the wings of the raven were thundering in my heart. Macbeth had chosen a castle in the seat of magic.

  “What a strong edifice. No one can defeat this castle,” Macbeth said proudly.

  “Macbeth shall never be vanquished until Birnam Wood comes again to high Dunsinane Hill,” I said in a voice that was mine and not mine. I gazed out at the trees, watching in my mind’s eye as they rose, pulling their roots from the ground. They moved toward the castle. Their weapons glinted in the moonlight. In my mind’s eye, I saw the trees scale the walls and overtake the castle. Macbeth fell amongst the tangle of limbs and roots. They pulled him down until the very breath was choked from him.

  I swooned.

  Killian reached out to catch me before I fell.

  “My Queen,” Kirk said.

  “Gruoch,” Macbeth called, reaching out to grab me.

  I shied away from Macbeth, nearly causing Killian and myself to tumble in the process.

  “I’m all right. I’m all right,” I reassured them.

  Killian, handling me gently, helped me back on my feet.

  “Must be careful, Your Majesty. Such heights make many people dizzy. Why don’t we get you back inside and find something to drink? It was a very long ride,” Kirk suggested.

  I inhaled deeply then slowly exhaled, shaking off the remnants of the vision. “Yes, you’re right,” I said. “The height got the better of me. It’s a beautiful view though. Thank you for bringing us.”

  Motioning for us to follow, Kirk led us within the castle. As I went, I turned the vision around and around in my mind, puzzled by the sight. But most of all, I felt troubled by my reaction to the dream. When Macbeth’s eyes had closed, when death had finally taken him, a deep sense of relief had washed over me. I had been glad.

  Chapter 27

  While the castle was still under construction, Kirk saw that a small meal was prepared for Macbeth and me and our guard. We kept the conversation pleasant and light, Macbeth mainly asking about the construction of the castle and me keeping quiet as I mulled over my vision and fought off fatigue. The ride had taken more out of me than I had expected. I really needed to go north soon.

  “Sir,” I said to Kirk, “has a chamber been prepared for me? I’m a bit weary.”

  Kirk motioned for a servant to come forward. “No ladies’ maids on hand, Your Majesty. We could ask one of the cooks or serving girls—“

  “No. I know well enough how to dress myself,” I said with a smile. “Thank you.”

  Killian motioned for the other men to stay and eat while he joined the servant and me.

  “This way, Your Majesty,” the servant said.

  “Goodnight, Gruoch,” Macbeth called.

  “Goodnight, Macbeth.”

  The servant led me down the halls to a room on the second tier of the castle. Some of the rooms were still having masonry work completed, but the chambers on this end of the castle seemed to be in good condition.

  “Here you are,” the servant said, opening the door. The room was simply adorned with a huge but old wooden bed. I could smell the scent of new straw therein. Skins lined the floors. There were no windows in the space.

  Killian inspected the room, nodding when he found everything in order.

  “I’ll have two guards on the door all night,” he told me.

  “Thank you,” I told him. “And please, don’t forget to rest.”

  He smiled.

  “Do you need anything, Your Majesty?” the servant asked.

  I looked around the room. Both water and wine had already been set out.

  I shook my head. “No. Thank you.”

  At that, they left me. I closed the door behind them then went and sat down on the bed. I sighed heavily, feeling overcome by weariness. I set my hand on my stomach.

  “What do you think, little one? Do you like this old, magical place?”

  I could sense my tiny babe there but heard nothing more.

  I lay back and looked up at the stone ceiling. The land of the Parisi. Well, at least I was in the home of my allies once more. Closing my eyes, I soon drifted off to sleep.

  It was the caw of a raven that woke me late that night. Sitting up, I listened intently. It sounded like the raven was in the castle, not outside.

  Rising, I grabbed a taper and went to the door.

  I was surprised to see that there was no guard stationed there.

  “Killian? Camden?”

  No one answered, but from deep within the castle, I heard the call of a raven once more. How strange.

  Taking my candle with me, I followed the raven’s cries. I had nearly reached the feasting hall—and I had still not seen anyone else in the castle—when I heard the raven caw once more.

  I looked all around, realizing that the sound was coming from the lower level of the castle. Maybe someone had a pet raven. They were smart birds. Some said they made good pets.

  Panning my candle all around, I looked for any sign of the servants.

  “Hello?” I called.

  While the wall sconces were lit and there was a fire burning in the great hall, no one answered.

  It was very late, and the castle was not fully staffed. Perhaps everyone was asleep.

  Again, the raven called.

  Grabbing my skirts, I went downstairs. It was only then that I realized I had left my gloves behind. They must have slipped off in my sleep. As before, my hands were covered in slick, red blood.

  I frowned and told myself to ignore the sight.

  I followed the winding castle down to the first level. Here, I caught the scent of the woods outside. Having not yet toured this level of the castle, I felt easily turned around. I looked about for a servant or soldier, but everything was quiet.

  “Hello?”

  Again, the raven cawed.

  I passed through another elaborate hall and down a narrow hallway. Here, the castle stones were a different color. The rocks were darker. The candlelight woke the sparkles in the stones. They shimmered. The masonry was shaped differently here as well. When I studied the walls, I noticed someone had made carvings around the doorways.

  I realized then that I was in the original section of the fortress. These stones were the first stones. These walls were the first walls. I reached out to touch them.

  When my bloody fingertips grazed the stones, the entire castle seemed to shudder.

  The raven cawed once more. It was somewhere inside. Somewhere still ahead. I shifted my taper and moved deeper into the castle. This part of the fortress had not yet been touched. It was full of dust and cobwebs. I followed a narrow hallway that led into a wide, open room. Old, broken furniture littered the place. As I gazed across the room, a sense of wonderment filled me. This was the hall of some forgotten king or queen. A cold hearth trimmed with finely chiseled masonry work was on one wall. A raised dais, where the throne must have once sat, wa
s on the other side of the room.

  I jumped when a fire sprang to life in the hearth.

  A raven shrieked sharply.

  I followed the sound.

  I spotted a stairwell that I hadn’t seen before in one corner.

  The raven cawed, its voice echoing up from below. Had the creature gotten trapped inside?

  Moving carefully around the broken stones, I followed the sound of the raven, winding down the stairs.

  The air chilled. I smelled the thick scents of loam and lime. I was moving underground. This part of the castle had been dug into the very mountain. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I realized I was standing in a cave. Torches on the cave walls had been lit. A raven sat on a perch. When it saw me, it cawed then flew into one of the connecting tunnels.

  My hands shaking, I followed the bird.

  The gods were at work.

  I walked down the dark passage. I heard the call of the raven ahead of me. A dim, blue light shined. I moved toward it. All the hairs on the back of my neck had risen. To my surprise, the amethyst gems on my raven torcs and amulet began to glow. I could feel the buzz of magic in the air. The scents of heady white sage perfumed the place. Under them, I smelled loamy earth and mud. Water trickled down the cave walls. The ground below me was wet.

  As I walked, I noticed the cave walls were lined with tombs. The empty eye sockets of skeletons looked out at me. An arch trimmed with skulls led into an open space that was illuminated blue.

  I crossed the threshold only to find myself standing in the chamber of the Lord of the Hollow Hills on Ynes Verleath. It was just as I had left it. The place was full of skeletons, the lord still seated on his throne. Blue flames shimmered in the sconces. And in the center of the space stood Andraste who was leaning against her staff.

  The raven landed on the back of the throne of the Lord of the Hollow Hills. It cawed at Andraste then it turned and flew off down another tunnel.

  “Well, now I know what all the screeching was about,” she said, her eyes following the bird. She looked back at me.

  “Tell me the truth,” I said, glaring at Andraste. “You cannot hide from me now. The Goddess has brought both of us here. Tell me the truth about Lulach and Crearwy.”