Highland Vengeance

by Melanie Karsak

  I lifted Lulach, bouncing him up and down. He giggled. “When are you going to start talking, my big boy? Look how strong you are! Look at those legs. I wish your father could see you,” I said, kissing Lulach’s cheek.

  The boy giggled, his cheek dimpling. His smile was so much like Gillacoemgain’s, but that was impossible. I only saw what I wanted to be there.

  “I spot a troll and her ilk atop a hill,” a voice called from behind me.

  I turned around to find Sid standing there. Not just in spirit form either. She was really there.

  I gasped then rose. “Sid?”

  “How fare you, sister?”

  I rushed to her, pulling her into my arms, Lulach laughing as he was squished between us. “Sid! Blessed, Sid. What are you doing here? How?”

  “Oh, the fey are full of tricks today. Look there,” she said, pointing back upstream where the forest grew thick. “I was headed one place then popped out in that glen. I followed the stream hoping it would lead somewhere when I saw a woman sitting by the water. And look who I found.”

  “The fey brought you here. Why? Is anything the matter? Come sit. Eat. I have bread and cheese.”

  “Where am I, anyway?”

  “Thurso.”

  “No wonder it’s so cold.”

  “And Nadia?”

  “There.” Sid pointed to Thora, who was watching what appeared to be a glimmer of light circling all around her.

  Taking her by the hand, I led Sid to the spot where Lulach and I had been lounging. I eyed her over. I could not believe she was really there. She was really there. But she was also terribly thin and as disheveled as ever. I handed her my water pouch while I put some bread and cheese into a bundle which I also gave to her.

  She drank and ate hungrily, eating so quickly she became a crumbly mess. She turned to Lulach, her arms outstretched.

  “Now, let me see the little lad. Well, wee one, how are you? What do you think of this world?”

  Lulach blew bubbles and reached out for Sid’s hair.

  She laughed. “He and his sister are just alike. She’s still feisty though.”

  “Is May having trouble with her?” I asked, feeling my heartbeat quicken.

  “Oh, no. Crearwy just seems like she’s mad at the world,” Sid said with a laugh. “I’ve never seen a baby scowl so much,” Sid said, scrunching up her face.

  “Oh,” I said sadly.

  “Not like that, raven beak. She’s happy, I promise you. She’s just got a sour disposition, like her mother. She’s doted on. Epona hardly lets her out of her sight. We love your little lass. She caught a cold a bit back, and Druanne worked night and day looking after her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Druanne be so nice before. It was remarkable, considering how much she hates you.”

  I chuckled.

  “And how are you? Epona said that hulking beast you were married to was murdered and that you married his killer.”

  I frowned at Sid. “It was war.”

  “Oh? Indeed. And?”

  “And, I am sorry to have lost Gillacoemgain.”

  “He was pretty. And this Macbeth? Is he just as pretty?”

  “Pretty is not the word I would use. His looks are fetching, but his manner is…troublesome.”

  At that, Sid turned serious. “I don’t like that word, troublesome.”

  “Nor do I. But there is some bright light. Banquo is here.”

  Sid took a huge bite of bread. “No wonder this Macbeth is troublesome. He’s in the way,” she said between chews.

  “Banquo is married. His wife is here as well. She’s one of us.”

  “Why don’t you just grab that druid of yours, bring your wee one, and come home?” Sid suggested.

  I kissed Lulach on his brow. “Lulach will be Lord of Moray. And if Duncan produces no heir, he will inherit Scotland.”

  “Future king, eh?” Sid said then turned her attention o Lulach once more. “How about I introduce you to a faerie princess, Your Majesty? We could mix the old blood with human blood again, see what kind of mischief we can cause.”

  At that, Lulach laughed once more then his eyes went wide as a blob of bright light zipped all around him.

  Sid rolled her eyes. “I was just joking,” she told Nadia in an exasperated tone but then leaned toward Lulach and added, “I wasn’t joking. You should see the lovely Eolande, daughter of the Seelie king. By the time you’re a grown man, she’ll be of marrying age.”

  “Sid,” I complained, and at the same time, it seemed that Nadia also pulled her hair in protest.

  “All right, all right,” Sid assented with a laugh.

  “I’ll not sacrifice my happiness for Lulach’s just to get my boy abducted to the faerie realm,” I said, then felt a sharp tug on my own hair. “Nadia, be reasonable. There are dozens of tales of humans disappearing into the faerie realm,” I said with a laugh.

  “Indeed! Including mine,” Sid said with a laugh. She gazed at the waterfall and across the landscape. “I’m surprised to see you here without a ring of guards, Lady of Moray. Doesn’t your new husband care what happens to you?”

  “I snuck off on my own. I’m sick of the things my new husband cares about.”

  “Troublesome indeed,” she said then set her hand on mine. “I should go back. I don’t want to be found in this place.”

  “Then why don’t you stay with me for a while? It would be good to have you here.”

  Sid scrunched up her face. “It’s too cold.”

  I nodded. I knew I should not press. Sid was not suited for court life, not even Thorfinn’s court. She would not survive here.

  “I do have one sad piece of news to share,” Sid said. “Bride has passed.”

  I frowned. I was sorry to learn it, but not unexpected. “I knew her time was close.”

  “Well, at least maybe we’ll see Tully again,” Sid said, standing once more. “She’ll need to bring in our new girls.”

  I glanced from Sid back to the forest.

  “Thora,” I called to the dog. I rose then motioned for Thora to come to me. “Go with Sid. Stay until close to her until she…leaves.”

  Thora tilted her head then turned to Sid and wagged her tail.

  “You need to be more careful. You can’t just wander about the country like this. What if you pop out somewhere bad?” I told Sid.

  Sid shrugged. “What’s the worst that can be done to me that hasn’t already been done?”

  I frowned.

  Sid embraced me once more. “Love you, raven beak.”

  “I love you too. Send my love to Crearwy.”

  Sid nodded then turned to go. On second thought, she snatched up my water pouch then took off in a run, Thora racing after her.

  Sighing, I looked at Lulach. “Don’t fall in love with a faerie princess.”

  Lulach laughed then blew spit bubbles at me.

  “Very funny,” I said then kissed his cheek. “Time to go.”

  Gathering up my things, I turned and headed back toward the village.

  By the time I returned, everyone was awake and moving about. I slipped quietly back into my house, where I found Macbeth still sleeping. I fed Lulach then lay him down for a nap. By the time I was done, Macbeth was awake.

  “You’re up early,” Macbeth said, rubbing his head as he came and sat down by the fire.

  I eyed him warily then poured him a glass of water.

  “I went for a walk.”

  “Alone?”

  Something inside me stiffened. “I took Thora.”

  Macbeth frowned hard. “Take a guard with you next time. You could be kidnapped.”

  “Things are that bad?”

  “We are far north. Norway is an issue.”

  “And what is the problem with Norway?”

  “The problem with Norway is England. Now that King Cnut has declared himself King of Norway, there is strife. Magnus, the rightful ruler, is all of eleven years old. Cnut says he is king. Norway says Magnus is king. King Magnus has Tho
rfinn’s support, which does not please Cnut. And Magnus has what Thorfinn wants.”

  “Which is?”

  “Ingibjorg’s hand, which he will only grant once Thorfinn helps him settle this dispute.”

  “Magnus is looking for strong allies.”

  “Malcolm has not lifted a hand to stop Cnut. With Malcolm's new alliance to the south, he has no reason to interfere. Keeping Norway in check keeps power out of Thorfinn’s hands. When Malcolm passes, from Moray north, we will handle things differently, including recapturing Norway from Cnut for Magnus.”

  “Who will then ally with you when you and Thorfinn seek to unseat Duncan?”

  “All for Ingibjorg,” Macbeth said with a laugh then cringed. “Ow, my head aches.”

  I went to my trunk and pulled out my box with medical supplies. Returning, I opened up the boxes and began putting together a concoction of herbs.

  Macbeth watched me carefully.

  I ground the herbs down to a fine powder then mixed them with warm water, preparing a healing draft which I handed to Macbeth. “Drink,” I said.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “It will ease your headache.”

  Macbeth drank the concoction, frowning at the flavor. “Tastes awful.”

  I chuckled. “Yes, but you’ll feel better within the hour.”

  “I heard people talk about you at Inverness. They said you were a healer, that you prevented an illness from spreading in Moray.”

  “Not all of my heathen ways will damn me forever. I suppose I could have gone to the convent and learned to sing. Instead, I learned to heal. Which is better?”

  “That depends. How well do you sing?”

  “Terribly.”

  “Show me.”

  “Dogs will bark. Crows will caw. Night will become day. And worse than all that, Lulach, who just fell asleep, will wake up.”

  Macbeth smiled. “Clever wife.”

  I stared at him, unsure what to think. The expression on his face was so open and honest that I softened. Maybe, one day, things could be better.

  Maybe.

  Chapter 21

  Things improved between Macbeth and myself. I trained myself to worry less over his moods and keep my mind more on my own concerns. Against all odds, I’d gotten lucky with Gillacoemgain. We’d found our way from the start. Even those who married for love struggled the first year of marriage to find their way together. The summer passed peacefully. As time passed, Lulach grew into a strong boy with a mop of dark hair and twinkling blue eyes. Everyone remarked how much he favored me.

  It was nearly August when I realized that not only had my courses not come on me again, but my dress was fitting snuggly around my waist. This time, I had no visions of my child as I’d had with Lulach and Crearwy, but from the quickening feelings in my womb, I knew I was with child once more.

  Merna was the first to notice. We were sitting outside, and I was busy embroidering a dressing gown for Gwendelofar’s babe who would arrive soon when I noticed Merna eyeing me carefully.

  “Gruoch,” she began, her voice light. “How has Lulach taken to eating solid foods?”

  In that single moment, I realized that I not only was I sitting around embroidering, but I was also talking about babies. Wasn’t this precisely what I didn’t want?

  “Well. He’s taken to bread, cheese, and porridge. And he liked the summer fruits and vegetables. Macbeth tried to get him to eat mashed fish, but he wouldn’t have it.”

  “Hmm,” Merna said. “Then you’ve been able to wean him some.”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Gruoch,” she said then leaned toward me, “Are you with child?”

  I set down my embroidery and took a deep breath. “I…I’m uncertain. My courses were not regular yet. But this,” I said, my hand drifting down to my bulging midsection, “seems to suggest there is something to that question.”

  Merna reached out and squeezed my hand. “I’m so pleased for you. Macbeth dotes on you so. I cannot imagine his joy when he learns. And Banquo—you’re like a sister to him—will be so pleased for you,” she added, her voice falling a bit flat at the end, her expression darkening for just a moment. She quickly covered it with a smile then pulled her hand back.

  Did Merna suspect something between Banquo and me? Or had Banquo told her something?

  “Look at Fleance and Lulach,” she said, pointing to her son who was rolling a ball to Lulach. Ute held Lulach’s hands as he walked, but very soon, he would be able to get around on his own. Lulach gave the ball a kick, laughing wildly when he did so. “I hope you have a girl.”

  My stomach knotted. I did have a girl. A feisty, sour, but a much-loved girl. “And why do you say that?”

  “Our boys will be close. But a girl would give us a way to link our houses.”

  Merna had never struck me as the ambitious sort. I eyed her as she gazed happily out at Lulach and Fleance. No. Her words had been spoken out of love. “I hope so too,” I said, setting my hand gently on her arm.

  * * *

  It was late in the evening when Macbeth returned from the longhouse looking overly tired, but not over-worn with drink, for once. I had laid all the dressing gowns I’d made for Gwendelofar into a pile. I wanted to have everything ready by the time her lying in began.

  “What’s this?” Macbeth asked, pausing to look.

  “My friend will deliver her baby soon. I’ll go stay with her then, make sure she has someone learned in medicine watching over her. I made these for her little one.”

  Macbeth looked down at the tiny garments. His thoughts hung unspoken like a dense fog in the air. In that denseness, I felt his despair. My heart felt glad that, for once, I could do something that would make him pleased with me.

  “And after I finish these, I’d best begin a new set.”

  “For whom? Merna? She always looks plump to me. I can’t tell if she’s—”

  “For me.”

  Macbeth stilled. “For…you?”

  I nodded then looked up at him.

  “Gruoch, are you certain?”

  “Yes,” I said, taking his hand and setting it on my stomach.

  Laughing, he stroked his hand across my stomach. “Bless you,” he said, kissing me on the cheek. “And bless you,” he said, bending to kiss my stomach.

  I laughed.

  “Do you know how far along you are?”

  I shook my head. “Not for certain. I’m guessing maybe ten or fifteen weeks.” Last time I’d grown so large due to the twins, I showed far earlier, but I didn’t want to bring any of that to Macbeth’s mind. The sooner everyone forgot there had ever been two children, the safer for Crearwy.

  To my surprise, Macbeth scooped me up then and carried me to the bed. He planted kisses all over my face then touched my stomach. “A boy or a girl?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “If a boy, we’ll name him after my father. And if a girl, we’ll name her after my aunt Crearwy. Poor lass, she died young. Did Gil—did anyone ever tell you about her?”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Perhaps if it’s a girl, you’d consider my mother’s name?”

  “Your mother?” Macbeth said then paused. “Gruoch, I don’t even know who your mother was.

  I smiled. “Few remember her. She was Emer.”

  “Emer. Emer of House…”

  “I don’t know, really. I’ve had no contact with my mother’s family. But Allister, my aunt Madelaine’s first husband, once mentioned that my father went to war against Máel Sechnaill of Ireland, making treaty thereafter which included one of his daughters, my mother.”

  Macbeth stared at me. “Máel Sechnaill?”

  “I believe that was the name.”

  “You’ve never studied the Irish families?”

  “No. I’ve heard since before I could remember that I was of Kenneth MacAlpin’s line. I gave little thought to my other family, considering Emer was one of six daughters.”

  “Malcolm taught Duncan and me about th
e wars, the feuds. The blood of the Irish kings is mixed with the old kingdom of Dal Riata. Gruoch, Máel Sechnaill was of the Uí Néill.”

  My brow furrowed. “The Uí Néill?”

  “The kings of Tara… Gruoch, your mother was an Irish princess.”

  “But that’s—”

  “No wonder Malcolm keeps you chained to one man or another. As his brother’s daughter and the granddaughter of a foreign king, your claim to the throne outweighs Duncan’s or mine.”

  “My mother’s family has forgotten me. My mother died very young, wed off to a foreign prince who died. None of the Uí Néill will remember I exist. It hardly matters.”

  “What matters is that you know. And if the need ever arises, we know. But for now, little one, what do you say? What name can we claim for you?” he asked my stomach, laying a gentle kiss thereon. Macbeth stared at me, his eyes swimming with emotion. “I love you, Gruoch.”

  “And I you,” I said, but there was hesitation in my heart. Did I love him?

  Chapter 22

  I had never seen Macbeth so happy. It was as if all our old troubles had been erased, wholly forgotten in the wake of the happy news. That night at the feasting hall, everyone toasted in cheer at the good news.

  “He’ll be a fine, strapping lad,” Thorfinn said. “We’ll make sacrifices to Thor and Odin to celebrate.”

  Macbeth smiled at his friend. “Your cheer is all that’s needed.”

  Thorfinn rolled his eyes and leaned forward to look at Banquo, who’d said little throughout the night. “You hear that, Lochaber? We’ve failed miserably to turn Macbeth to the old ways. Odin, forgive him.”

  “Aye,” Banquo said then picked up his tankard. He finished it off in one long drink then waved to one of the serving maids to bring him another. Merna was not in attendance this night.

  “Aye, aye, aye. That’s all you have to say tonight, Lochaber. Aye, indeed. Maybe Lady Macbeth will have more luck getting you to speak up,” he said clasping my shoulder.

  “Are you well, Banquo?” I asked, suddenly feeling all eyes on me.

  Banquo smirked then nodded. “Aye,” he said then took a long drink of his freshly-filled tankard.