“And what do you expect Ímar mac Arailt will do? Hand Donaldbane over because you asked nicely?”
“No. I expect him to ask for Echmarach’s lands.”
Macbeth laughed. “And then what?”
“And then we will make a decision. How valuable is Donaldbane? If we leave him in Ireland, he will be used against us. At this time, the Irish king has no reason to entertain offers from Siward. At this time. But Siward is shrewd. He will not slink away. He will make new allies and regain his power. In time, he will be back. He will seek to take the throne from us on Malcolm's behalf. Wouldn’t it be better to have Irish support over Irish enemies?”
“Are you suggesting we offer him Echmarach’s lands?”
“No. You must think ahead. Always think ahead. Echmarach rules himself. Half of the time, he makes war on his Irish neighbors without the blessing or support of the other noble lords. He sees the isles as independent, and he lords over them as such. How presumptuous is he to send an envoy here to pressure us to make war?”
“You are right about that.”
“There is a third option.”
“Which is?”
“We support Echmarach, and we try to strike a bargain with Ímar mac Arailt. Neither will be the wiser. And we will also send an operative to Ímar mac Arailt’s court and liberate Donaldbane on our own.”
Macbeth stared at me. He huffed a laugh. “Who knew…”
“Who knew?”
“Who knew that you were more like Malcolm than any of the rest of us.”
It was my turn to laugh. “I am not like Malcolm.”
“If you say so. So, you suggest we play both sides.”
“Yes.”
“How will we explain it once the boy is recovered.”
“We will tell Ímar mac Arailt it was Echmarach’s doing. We will tell Echmarach we were planning it all along because we hate Ímar mac Arailt, then we step back and let them finish out whatever game they are playing. When they are done, we make peace with the winner.”
“Very well. I shall arrange to have operatives sent into Ireland.”
“Good.”
Macbeth nodded then stood staring at me.
The silence went on for too long.
The hairs the back of my neck rose.
“I should be going,” I said.
“Gruoch, where is Lulach?”
“What difference does it make?”
“People talk. It’s strange that he is not here with us.”
“Is it? Let people talk. If they knew the truth, they wouldn’t find it strange at all.”
“The truth? And what is the truth?”
“If we are to co-exist, it is better if we let the truth lie dead and buried.”
Macbeth scowled. “If Lulach plans to be king, he should be here at my side.”
“No. Don’t push on this topic.”
Macbeth slammed his fists down on the table. “It is you who is pushing. You are forcing me into a corner. I must have an heir, don’t you realize? To secure the throne, I must have an heir. You…you will produce no other child for me. Lulach must come here. I must show this land that I do have an heir, even if he is just my step-son.”
I exhaled lightly, trying not to let Macbeth’s words unnerve me. There was a grain of truth to what he said. The only problem was I would never let Macbeth near Lulach again. “We shall see.”
“You will do as I ask. You will bring that boy here, or I must make other arrangements.”
“Other arrangements? Like what? Divorce me? I would like to see you try.”
“There are other things that can be done.”
“I suppose you could try to kill me. Try, of course, being key there. What else could you possibly do to harm me that you haven’t already done?”
“Gruoch,” he said, his voice dark.
I sighed wearily. “I’ll leave for Moray soon. You can make your other arrangements then,” I said then turned and left the chamber.
“Gruoch?” Macbeth called.
I kept walking.
To my surprise, he rushed down the hall after me, grabbing my arm. “What do you mean you’re returning to Moray?”
“I think I was perfectly clear. I will return to Moray.”
“Lulach is not there.”
“I am well aware of that.”
“Lady Gruoch,” Killian called. He rushed down the hall toward me, pulling his blade as he went. “Your Majesty, I strongly suggest you let go of Lady Gruoch.”
“Or what?” Macbeth spat at him.
Killian’s gaze darkened, answering Macbeth’s threat.
“You see that? See how he disrespects me? I should have him killed,” Macbeth hissed.
“It’s not him you should be worried about. Leave it to you to miss the obvious,” I said, pressing the tip of Scáthach against Macbeth’s neck. “Now, let go of me, or I’ll plunge this dagger in an inch deep.”
Realizing the danger, Macbeth pushed me away from him.
I caught myself before I crashed against the wall.
“One day, I’ll melt that dagger down to nothing or maybe…maybe I’ll plunge it in your damned chest,” Macbeth said then turned and headed back into his chamber, slamming the door behind him.
I stared at the closed door. Had Macbeth just threatened to kill me?
“Gruoch, are you all right?” Killian asked, rushing to me.
In the hall around us, the servants had stopped to stare.
I nodded then slipped Scáthach back into her sheath. “Yes. I’m fine.”
“Bastard,” Killian spat, glaring at the chamber door. “I always heard rumors that Macbeth was unkind to you. I couldn’t believe it.”
“Well, now you see.”
“You would do well to return to Moray.”
“Yes.”
“In the meantime, you must have a guard on you at all time. No arguments.”
“If you insist.”
“I insist. Though I have to say, even I missed that move with the dagger. Who taught you that?”
“Uald.”
“Uald? That lady?”
I laughed. “Yes, that lady.”
“Secrets again?”
I nodded.
“Your secrets are safe with me, my lady.”
“And for that, I am grateful,” I said then cast a glance back at the conference room door. My heart was beating hard in my chest. I knew Macbeth. His ravings often amounted to nothing. But he was also a dangerous man. It had never occurred to me that he might actually kill me. Was it possible?
No. Not if Scáthach had anything to say about it.
Chapter 23
In the days that followed, I did my best to avoid Macbeth. Instead, I made plans to return north. I could still do good for Scotland. I could still make my country strong, but I couldn’t do it at Macbeth’s side. Not only was such a condition miserable, but it was dangerous.
Midafternoon three days later, there was a knock on my door. My guard, Magnus, opened it to reveal one of Macbeth’s messengers.
“Your Majesty,” he said. “Crinian, the Abbott of Dunkeld, is here, but King Macbeth is…indisposed. Will you see the Abbott?”
“Where is Macbeth?”
“He’s unable to attend to state matters at this time.”
I stepped closer to the boy who looked so unnerved that his spirit was about to jump out of its skin.
“What is your name?” I asked the footman.
“Aed, Your Majesty.”
“Aed, please take me to the king.”
The boy nodded then motioned for me to follow him.
Without another word, Magnus fell in line behind us.