“When I found you in that dark place, this was the passage I used to enter the otherworld. This place is a gateway. The worlds are thin here, and these stones are very, very old. They are different. See their color, texture,” Banquo said, setting my hand on the stone. “This stone isn’t from our island. It’s from a lost land. Even the symbols are not Pictish. The faces, the designs, these are not the engravings of druids. Balor taught me how to move between the worlds, to use the thin places,” Banquo said, touching the stag tattoo on his brow. “I searched everywhere for you. But then it occurred to me that you were not in the places known to the druids. You were somewhere far older, darker. That place… It was so strange.”
“Yes,” I said in a whisper.
“An ancient place,” Banquo said.
“An island lost in the mist,” I said, staring up at the monolith.
“Were you alone there?”
“No. I was with the Wyrds.”
“The Wyrds,” Banquo said aghast. “The earth has bubbles, and they are of them. And what did the three dark ladies teach you?”
“Two.”
“Two?”
“There were but two there…until I came.”
Banquo stared at me, understanding washing over him. “The gods are at work.”
“Yes.”
My hand still lying on the stone, Banquo set his hand over mine. I could feel his body beside me, feel how I fit into the curve of his shape. I could feel his warmth and breath on my neck. And more than anything, I wanted to turn around and take him into my arms and make love to him there in the eyes of the gods. But I couldn’t.
“It is agony to be this close to you,” he whispered in my ear.
“It is a pain we must endure.”
“Must we? We are alone here.”
“Please don’t ask me such questions.”
“Do you still love me?”
“More than anything,” I said then turned and looked at him. “But we cannot. We cannot. I love you, but we cannot. We must wait until the time is right again.”
“And what if that time never comes?”
“Then I shall meet you in the next life.”
“Promise me here, before the old gods, that in the next life we will overcome any obstacles and be together. We will forsake any blood or creed to be together. Promise me. Promise me that we will be together in the next life. Promise me, then I can bear it.” Banquo’s brown eyes shimmered with tears. In them, I saw the druid I had fallen in love with. And through his eyes, I saw the echo of Prasutagus.
The wind shifted, and I felt buzzing in the air. The gods were listening.
“I promise.”
“As do I,” Banquo said.
Banquo pulled me into his arms. I closed my eyes, lost in his embrace. When I opened them once more, I discovered that the world around us had changed. It was very dark, and I smelled the sweet scent of wisteria. Slowly, the world came into focus. Ynes Verleath.
“Banquo,” I whispered, pulling back.
Banquo turned, his eyes wide as he took in the sight.
We were on the cauldron terrace.
Nimue stood there in her purple robe.
“Hail, Banquo!” Nimue called.
Banquo stared at her.
“Hail, Banquo. Lesser than Macbeth but greater. Thane of Lochaber, thou shalt get kings, though be none. Thou shall have the love of a queen, though wear no crown. Hail, Banquo and his queen hereafter. Old blood, may your vows carry on the winds of time, and your love last forever,” she whispered then waved her hand, closing the veil between our world and hers.
Ynes Verleath, the terrace, and Nimue disappeared.
Once more, we stood in the grove of standing stones.
Banquo stared into the space where Nimue had appeared then looked at me.
“Come, my druid, it’s time to go,” I said. Taking Banquo’s hand, I led him back to the horses.
“What is the name of that dark place?” Banquo asked.
I smirked, remembering how I’d asked Andraste the same question. I shook my head then mounted my horse once more.
“One day, you will tell me,” I said.
Banquo raised an eyebrow at me. “I will tell you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“You will remember,” I said with a smirk.
“Remember?”
I nodded.
Banquo shook his head. “Was there ever a pair like us before?”
“Yes,” I replied with a laugh, “life, after life, after life, which is precisely our problem.”
At that, Banquo laughed, his strong voice filling the enchanted woods.
Chapter 18
When we returned, Banquo and I reluctantly parted ways. Morag and Fleance were with Merna at the great hall. Lulach was sleeping at the longhouse. Ute looked exhausted, her eyes having an odd, wild gleam. Lulach must have been hard on her. I didn’t remember her ever looking so frazzled before. Suddenly I felt sorry for taking so long. Ute appeared to be in desperate need of a break.
Macbeth, must to my surprise, was also at our longhouse. He was drinking wine and looking over dispatches.
“Ah, so my wife returns from the wild. Now that your lady is back, Ute, why don’t you go out,” Macbeth said absently as he looked over a letter.
“Yes, my lord,” Ute said then rushed out of the house leaving the door open behind her.
There was a strange tension in the air. Had Ute and Macbeth quarreled? I turned and watched Ute go. She headed down the hill toward the shore.
“Is everything all right?” I asked, closing the door.
“Hmm? Yes. Why do you ask?” he asked as he sipped his wine, a light smile dancing on his lips.
“It’s just… No reason. Anything news of importance?” I asked, glancing down at the scrolls.
“Nothing interesting. Duncan is Duncan. Malcolm plays games. All is the same.”
Somehow that seemed like a less than specific answer.
“Is Malcolm aware you are in Thurso?”
“Apparently,” Macbeth said, tapping one of the scrolls.
“And?”
“Questions, veiled threats, boasts of power, lots of wind, but nothing to worry yourself over. I’ve already written to him, told him I’m here spying,” Macbeth said with a laugh. “Thorfinn and I are watching and waiting. We will make our plans carefully. Now, tell me, where did you and your playmate run off to?”
His choice of words stung. I bit back my annoyance then said, “There is a family living not far from here. The lady of the house is an old friend.”
“From court?”
“No.”
“From the convent?”
I paused. Already there was too much mistruth between Macbeth and me. Perhaps I was partly to blame for the difficulties between us.
“In truth, I was never at a convent. It was a lie we spread to hide the fact that I was, in fact, sent to study amongst some holy women of the old faith. You know Banquo studied under a druid. So did I. That is how we met.”
Macbeth lowered his paper then looked up at me. For a long moment, he said nothing.
“Macbeth?”
“Malcolm always said your father was a heathen.”
“Malcolm should not breathe a word about my father. My father’s blood is on Malcolm’s hands. Half this kingdom is heathen. And most of the north. You’ve been away from the north for a very long time.”
“As if that was my fault,” Macbeth growled. “It was only after your husband murdered my father that I was sent away.”
“That was long before I had anything to do with Gilla—”
“Don’t speak his name in my presence.”
“So much for your pretty words about that matter.”
“And so much for your honesty, Lady of Moray. So, you spent the morning playing druid while I sat here keeping an eye on my murdering uncle’s son. Very good, Gruoch. Well done.”
“No one asked you to stay with Lulach. Ute was h
ere, and Merna and Morag are close by. Why do you even bother to play father to Lulach when you’ve made it so clear to me how much you despise him? I went with Banquo with your blessing. God knows I don’t dare give Banquo a passing glance without being accused of tumbling him.”
Macbeth rose. Red flashed in his cheeks. “Do not take the Lord’s name in vain.”
“Are you joking? You, who stand there speaking nonsense, mean to lecture me about God?”
“You are the one speaking nonsense. What are you talking about? I’ve never accused you of anything.”
“Yes, you have. When you were drunk, of course, but that seems to be your usual state since we got here.”
“And did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Enjoy a tumble with the good Thane today?”
“Macbeth! He is your friend, and I am your wife.”
“Yes, you are,” Macbeth said sharply. “Don’t you think it’s about time you started acting like one?”
“What?” I stared at Macbeth. His eyes were bulging, and he was breathing hard.
“Do you love me?” he asked coldly.
“Of… Of course.”
“God gave you to me. He showed you to me in a vision. You are my wife, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“Then come,” he said then grabbed my arm.
I stared at him. “Come where?”
“Come to your bed and do the duty of a wife.” Pulling me along behind him, he led me to our bed.
“Macbeth, this is hardly the right moment,” I protested, but still, he took me to the bedchamber.
Turning, he started untying the laces on my dress.
“Macbeth.”
“If you are my wife, be my wife.”
“Macbeth.”
He yanked on my dress, pulling the bodice down to reveal my breasts. When the fabric did not bend to his satisfaction, he yanked it hard. I heard the material rip.
“Macbeth,” I whispered, my hands shaking. What was happening?
“Have your courses come on you since we’ve arrived?” he asked, moving me onto the bed. Moving, however, was more like pushing. Underneath my gown, I wore simple linen riding breeches. He untied those and pulled them and my boots off at once.
“No,” I whispered, feeling tears prick the corners of my eyes.
Macbeth’s hot mouth closed on my nipples, and he sucked hard. I struggled to move away. My breasts still ready with milk, the sensation confused my mind.
Macbeth stepped back then undid his pants. “No courses. Are you with child?”
“I…I don’t think so. My courses won’t be regular until Lulach is weaned.”
“Then wean him,” he said then grabbed my legs and pulled me toward him.
He put himself inside me and pumped hard, beating himself into me as I lay staring at the ceiling.
My mind flashed back to Duncan who had forced me facedown in the mud, pleasing himself as he liked. But this was not the same, was it? Macbeth was my husband. That made this different, didn’t it? But if it did, why did it feel the same as before?
“Macbeth,” I whispered.
“I love you too,” he whispered between breaths.
He rode me hard, and when he had pleased himself to satisfaction, he let me go.
I lay still on the bed, my legs bare and open, staring up at the ceiling. I heard Macbeth refastening his clothes. As I lay there, half-naked and feeling terribly confused, Lulach started crying.
Macbeth leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Our son needs you. Do you want me to bring him?”
“N-no. I’ll get him.”
Macbeth stroked the stray hairs away from my face. “You won’t go out alone with Banquo again, do you understand?”
“What?”
“You heard me. Now get up and see to that babe,” he said then a moment later, I heard the longhouse bang shut.
Lulach, his needs unmet, began crying in earnest.
My knees and legs shaking, I rose and pushed down my skirts. Crossing the house, I went to Ute’s bedchamber where Lulach lay in his crib, his face red, a pouty expression on his face.
“Oh, my little one, I’m so sorry,” I said, picking him up and pressing him against me.
As I turned from the little space, I noticed that Ute’s bed was unmade, the furs and blankets thereon a tangle.
Lulach squirmed in frustration. “All right,” I whispered, then went back to the fire and sat down. I set Lulach to breast then leaned back and closed my eyes. My head was spinning. Did Macbeth just not know how to be gentle with a woman? Had he been raised to believe it was all right to behave just like Allister? Thorfinn’s words told me my husband was experienced with women, but he was decidedly inexperienced with how to please a lady. He most certainly did not know how to be carnal in a way that felt like love.
I closed my eyes.
Tears streamed down my cheeks.
No. Nothing about this felt like love.
Chapter 19
That night at the feasting hall, Macbeth was smiles and cheer, petting my hair and kissing my cheeks, the picture of perfect happiness. In fact, his effusive displays of affection seemed to grate on Banquo’s nerves. It was early in the night when Banquo claimed a headache and left. I could hardly blame him. The moment in the forest and the echo of the life that could have been lingered in my heart as well. That, coupled with what had happened with Macbeth, left me feeling desperately confused. I couldn’t handle any more of his excessive affection. Taken alongside his rough treatment, it made my soul feel sick.
“If my lord will excuse me, I think I’ll return to our lodgings,” I said sweetly, hoping desperately to not incite his unsteady nature.
“Goodnight, lady,” Thorfinn called happily, raising his drink to me.
“I’ll walk with you,” Macbeth said. Taking my arm, he led me outside. Given the sway of his step, I wasn’t sure who was walking whom. I didn’t want to be with him. I wished he’d let me go alone. I didn’t understand his moods, wavering from sweetness to darkness one moment to the next. I had heard of some people who had a mad streak to them, and from what Gillacoemgain had told me, Findelach was certainly a sick man. Perhaps, after all, the son did resemble the father. It had never occurred to me that Macbeth might be like Findelach—and Duncan. I was so fixed on escaping Duncan, I had never considered that Macbeth could be worse.
I should have run away with Banquo.
When we got to the door of the longhouse, Macbeth set a soft but clumsy kiss on my lips. “I need to go back. Will you be all right on your own?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“I had word amongst the dispatches that Malcolm has taken a bad fever. It’s rumored he may die. Thorfinn and I have much to discuss.”
“A fever? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“You looked so happy about discovering your old friend, I didn’t want to upset you.”
I stared at Macbeth. Was he joking?”
“Goodnight, wife,” he said, kissing me once more. He turned and headed back to the hall.
I stood outside the door and watched him go. What in the world? Sighing, I turned from the house and walked to the cliff overlooking the sea. The view of the water brought Ynes Verleath to mind. One day, I would return. I felt sure of it. And right now, the idea of escaping to that dark place sounded wonderful.
“My lady,” said a voice.
I turned to see Anor, Thorfinn’s skald, walking toward me. I had seen the man around the hall since that first day but had never spoken to him again. Part of me hoped that if I avoided him that he would forget he’d ever seen me during the casting. As I looked into his dark eyes, it was clear to me he had not forgotten.
“Anor,” I said, painting on a smile.
“It’s a beautiful view,” he said, looking out at the harbor. He pulled his dark robes close around him. “But in the winter, when the wind whips off the sea, you’d think your very blood could freeze.”
I laughed ligh
tly. “I believe it.”
“But when the full moon falls on the dark waters, casting her beams against the wave caps, one would almost think they were living in another time, another place, so different and far from here.”
And there it was. “I’m told you are schooled in such matters.”
“I’m told nothing about you, lady, save you are the daughter of a man who would have been king and the widow of a murdered soldier. But you are, of course, aware that I know aught of you.”
“Do you?”
“Long ago, I saw you appear to Lord Banquo. I never forgot your face. I had thought…I had thought you were one of the dark ladies, one of the Wyrds.”
I stared out at the water, debating what would serve me better, lies or truth.
“I am of the old ways, like yourself,” I said simply.
“Then it is good you will be queen alongside such a Christian man.”
“Malcolm is king. And Duncan will follow him. We are the Lord and Lady of the North, no more.”
Anor chuckled. “Lady Macbeth, I am a skald, not a fool. May Odin and Freya guide you to the throne, and may you bend your husband’s ear to your wisdom,” he said then bowed. “My lady,” he added then walked away.
I took a deep breath, inhaling the scene, letting the crisp sea air refresh my wounded spirit, then turned and went inside.
Chapter 20
The next morning, I left before Macbeth woke. It was just after sunup when Thora, Lulach, and I headed out. I had overheard Morag and Ute speak of a waterfall on the cliffs near Thurso. Headed in that direction, I set out, Uald’s Gift and the dagger Scáthach at my side. After an hour’s walk, I finally found the spot. A stream ran across the grassy land then tumbled over the cliff to the sea below. I settled into a spot nearby.
At once, Thora waded into the water, turning over stones with her feet and snapping at fish.
“Don’t let the current catch you. I’ll be picking up your bones at the bottom of the cliff,” I told her.
She lifted her head, cocked it sideways to look at me as if she were saying she knew better, then went back to work hunting the perfect rock.
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