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 beautiful. 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.