“You should applaud them for their loyalty to your wife and queen. It’s good to know that Moray will always see that I am safe. Did you need something?”
Macbeth frowned hard. “I understand Banquo is here. I would like to discuss the reports from the south.”
I glared at him, unable to hide my disgust. “Let him pass,” I told Killian. “This time only,” I added under my breath.
“Yes, my lady,” Killian replied, meeting my eyes.
I stepped back inside.
This was only the beginning. Somehow, I was going to have to find a way to live with this man, rule alongside him. I was going to have to find a way to co-exist with someone I utterly loathed. How does a person do that without losing their mind?
“Banquo,” Macbeth said, giving him a nervous smile.
Banquo inclined his head to Macbeth. “I was telling Gruoch that our scouts indicate that the way south is mostly clear. There are a few small bands, paid men, in the hills. I have sent men to route them already. Siward has spies out, but the Northumbrian army has withdrawn all the way back to their own lands. The southern lords have gone home, their armies dispersed.”
“What resistance Siward tried to rally has come to nothing,” Macbeth said.
“Once Duncan fell, there was no support. Even the southern lords will not back the Earl of Northumbria,” Banquo said.
“What about Crinian and Bethoc?” I asked.
“Still in Edinburgh,” Macbeth replied. “We believe that Suthen and Malcolm fled south when the fighting began.”
“How deep?” I asked.
Macbeth shook his head. “I don’t know yet.”
Banquo turned to me. “From what we were able to extract from Siward’s spies, I believe they have withdrawn to the court of Harthacnut.”
Harthacnut was the son of King Cnut who passed during the struggles. Cnut’s timing was certainly excellent, but by all accounts, Harthacnut was worse than his father. Hated by the people of England, inept and cruel, he didn’t strike me as long for the throne. He’d already lost Norway to Magnus and Thorfinn. But sending Malcolm and Suthen to Harthacnut was a wise play on Siward’s part. One day, they would return to take what Macbeth and I had stolen.
“A smart play,” Banquo said.
I nodded.
Macbeth turned to me. “I understand that Donaldbane was taken prisoner by the Irish king and that you’ve sent word.”
“Yes.”
“We must try to ransom him,” Macbeth said.
“The cost will be very high,” Banquo warned. “He will want the isles from Echmarcach.”
Macbeth nodded, considering. “That will brew another war. We should finish this one first. We’ll find another way.”
I raised an eyebrow at Macbeth. That was the first sensible thing I had heard Macbeth say in years.
“Agreed,” Banquo said.
At that, Macbeth smiled softly then turned to me. “And you? Are you in agreement?”
I gave him a steely gaze. What game was he playing? Or was he, too, trying to find a path forward. “Yes. For now.”
Macbeth nodded. “Thorfinn and Magnus have taken the fleet north, Magnus for his throne, Thorfinn for Ingibjorg.”
At that, Banquo chuckled.
“Do they expect any resistance?” I asked.
Macbeth smiled. “Only from Ingibjorg’s father. It will be easier to subdue Norway.”
At that, Banquo laughed. I could not help but grin, feeling glad for Thorfinn that he would finally be with the woman he so adored.
I cast a glance at Banquo who smiled gently at me. I returned the gesture.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Macbeth stiffen. “Well then. We’ll ride in the morning. I’ll see to the men now,” Macbeth said.
Banquo turned back to Macbeth. “Very good. I’ll inform you if any further news comes through from the field.”
“Thank you, Banquo,” Macbeth said then went to the tent flap. He paused. “Goodnight, Gruoch.”
“Goodnight,” I replied.
The tent flapped in Macbeth’s wake. I exhaled a deep sigh of relief.
“Let me get us some wine,” Banquo said as he rummaged through the supplies that had come from Moray. Digging into the trunk, he pulled out two goblets and a decanter, pouring a drink for us both. He handed one to me.
I moved to pull off my glove but paused.
No.
It would be better if I left them on.
I took the goblet.
“Are your hands cold?” Banquo asked.
“Yes,” I lied.
Banquo raised an eyebrow but said nothing. I hated that he knew when I wasn’t telling the truth. Sighing, Banquo drank. “Well, there is one bit of good news. Macbeth seemed steadier that I have seen him in years.”
“Seeming is not being.”
“True.”
“And what do your druid’s eyes tell you?” I asked.
“When it comes to Macbeth, my vision is like muddy water. Seeing him a madman lets me keep him at a distance. It keeps you away from him. It keeps you with me. Seeing him well makes me pity him. If he is well, he can be your husband again, which my heart will not permit. But a steady Macbeth means a steady Scotland. We need him to be steady, not for us, but for the country.”
“I agree that he needs to be well for the good of the country, but you are wrong on one count. It doesn’t matter if he recovers his wits. I will never permit that man near my heart again.”
Banquo raised his goblet. “Praised be the gods.”
I lifted mine as well. “Yes, praised may they be,” I said.
Chuckling, Banquo drank. But I froze. I stared at my hand. The fabric of my glove was marred by red spots. The blood had seeped through.
“Praised may they be,” I whispered again then drank the wine knowing that what I was seeing was not possible. And even though it was not possible, the spots of blood remained.
Chapter 7
The next day, we rose at sunrise and set off on the road once more. Unlike Duncan, we would not call all the lords and ladies from far and wide to come and lick our boots. They could come or not. It was up to them. Macbeth would be crowned, I alongside him, because we had won the battle. The rest would be settled one of three ways: by words, coin, or steel.
I had expected Scone to be silent as we rode toward the abbey. What met us, however, was far different.
The first sound was that of the pipers. The music caught me off guard. The blood bay twitched his ears, straining to listen. First, I heard the pipes, then drums, then horns. As we rode over a rise, a crowd greeted us. The joyful sound of the bagpipes filled the air. The people lined the streets to welcome us. Cheering, they threw flowers in our path and called our names.
“Lady Gruoch…Lord Macbeth…Look, there’s the Lady of Moray…Lord Banquo…Queen Gruoch…King Macbeth.”
King Macbeth.
Queen Gruoch.
Duncan had not been a popular ruler. He hadn’t shown much interest in his people other than collecting taxes from them and sending them to war when it pleased him. Duncan’s costly and unsuccessful wars against his cousins in the north had hurt the southern provinces. Perhaps I had underestimated how much.
Leaving the army encamped around the city, we rode on with a large contingent to the abbey. There, we were met by the sentinel who spoke to Banquo at length.
Macbeth reined his horse in beside me but did not speak.
After a few moments, Banquo joined us. “You were expected. They’re ready for you and whatever lords and ladies will be in attendance. There are people waiting to see you both already.”