Macbeth and Son

by Jackie French

  Chickens were precious in these hungry times, but this was the Lord of Moray.

  The Mormaer shook his head. ‘A bannock and a bit of cheese will be plenty. Anything.’

  ‘A bannock!’ The woman looked disappointed that the Lord of Moray didn’t want anything fancier than flat bread. ‘I’ll make them fresh! And cheese—green cheese or hard cheese?’

  Green cheese was fresh cheese, soft and white. Hard cheese was kept to mature.

  ‘Either,’ said the Mormaer. ‘Green cheese, if you like.’ There was a hint of impatience in his voice—but only a hint, as though he guessed how few travellers the old woman had to talk to in these days of Duncan’s wars.

  ‘Green cheese then, my Lord,’ prattled the woman nervously. ‘And you’ll have your bannocks quick as blinking.’

  She bent down to feel the hearthstone, then looked relieved. ‘The stone is hot already,’ she chattered, as she scooped cold barley porridge out of the pot beside the fire, patted it flat then placed it on the stone to bake. ‘It’s a good thing I lit the fire this morning; with this warm weather we’ve only had it lit at night. It’s almost like I knew you were coming!’

  She hurried out again to get the cheese.

  ‘If she knew we were coming,’ the Mormaer said, half to himself, ‘she’d probably have had half the neighbourhood here for a feast.’

  ‘Sir?’ said Lulach. ‘You didn’t answer my question.’

  The Mormaer met his eyes. ‘Thorfinn has asked for a meeting. A secret meeting, just himself and me, with one guard each.’ He paused. ‘And you.’

  ‘Me too? Why?’ He half hoped the Mormaer would say, ‘Because you’ll be my tanist. You’re my appointed heir.’

  But the Mormaer just shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’

  Lulach was silent for a minute. Then he said, ‘Sir? Will we kill him?’

  The Mormaer smiled slightly. ‘No.’

  ‘But sir! He killed my father!’

  ‘He’s killed many men. But that was in war. War is different, Lulach. King Duncan started that war. It was Duncan who invaded Thorfinn’s lands. Thorfinn was defending his country when he killed your father.’

  ‘But…but my father was a hero!’

  ‘Yes, your father was a hero. He fought for his king. But Thorfinn was defending his people. Some might say he was a hero too.’

  ‘But they can’t both be heroes!’ protested Lulach.

  The Mormaer smiled. ‘Why not? Lulach, the land needs peace. We can’t afford another starving winter. If I can reach agreement with Thorfinn there might be an end to all this insanity. If we can—’

  The door opened again. Kenneth’s bulk darkened the doorway. ‘They’re coming, my Lord,’ he said quickly. ‘One guard, as promised. No sign of any more.’

  The Mormaer nodded. ‘I thought so. Men call Thorfinn a murderer, but I have never heard that he broke his word.’

  ‘Perhaps they didn’t live to tell the tale,’ said Kenneth. He looked at Lulach, watching eagerly by the fire. ‘My Lord, leave the boy here, I beg of you. I’ll stay with him, watch him. It will be too easy for them to snatch him, if things don’t go well today.’

  ‘The boy comes with me. He needs to know how things are done. And his presence will be a sign to Thorfinn that I trust him.’

  Thorfinn, the Raven Feeder. The nickname ran through Lulach’s mind. After Thorfinn’s raids, the women said, the ravens grew so fat on the dead bodies that the land was black—burned featureless below, full of black birds above. Thorfinn the killer, Thorfinn whose men tried to burn our lands, Thorfinn whom I vowed to murder one day…

  But the Mormaer had said Thorfinn was a hero too.

  Could there really be a world without war? Could the Mormaer really change things so that men like his father didn’t have to die?

  The Mormaer was watching him. ‘Come on, lad.’

  Lulach paused to pull up his stockings. He couldn’t meet his father’s murderer with wrinkled stockings. Then he followed the Mormaer, who was already striding out the door and calling to the hostel-keeper’s wife that they would eat her fine food later.

  The Mormaer walked across the green, cowcropped grass, Lulach on one side, Kenneth on the other. Lulach felt for the dagger in his belt. It was a new one, a present from the Mormaer last Michaelmas. A dagger wouldn’t be of much use against Thorfinn if he were armed, but it was a comfort all the same.

  If they try to take me hostage I’ll fight them, he promised himself. For a moment he imagined himself single-handedly keeping Thorfinn at bay, and all his men as well, while the Mormaer and Kenneth were already prisoners…

  And then he saw them, far along the muddy road. A group much like theirs, with one man out front, his red hair bright as the flames in the hearth they had just left, like the Mormaer’s, but bushier; he was broad as a bear and fat as a chicken after stuffing.

  Thorfinn, thought Lulach. He looked too fat to be a hero. But he didn’t look like a villain either.

  The two groups drew closer together. Suddenly Thorfinn held up his hand. It too was fat. Rings sparkled on each finger.

  At this signal his guard stood back. The big man walked on alone.

  The Mormaer nodded to Kenneth. Now he and Lulach walked by themselves too.

  The wind began to gust. It blew icy air onto their faces. The trees swayed like they were trying to swim into the wind. The sudden cold made Lulach’s nose run. He wiped it on his cloak.

  He and the Mormaer were only six lengths from Thorfinn now. He could see Thorfinn’s stomach sway as he walked. Thorfinn’s huge nose was crooked as a fish-hook.

  The Norseman put one hand down to his scabbard and drew out his sword, while the other pulled a white-painted branch from his belt.

  ‘Well!’ he called. ‘Which do you choose? The sword or the stick?’

  The Mormaer smiled slightly. ‘You called this meeting, Thorfinn. I choose the white stick of truce. What do you want to say so secretly?’

  Thorfinn grinned. His teeth were long and very white. He slipped his sword into its scabbard again.

  ‘I think you know. Your great King Duncan has started five wars in five years and lost them all.’ Thorfinn’s grin grew wider. ‘Two of them were against me and my people. Now he’s heading north to fight us again.’

  Lulach’s stepfather nodded. ‘Well?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve been told,’ said Thorfinn slowly, ‘that Alba’s chiefs asked Duncan to step down as high king. But he refused.’

  ‘You’re well informed.’

  ‘If Duncan died in battle,’ continued Thorfinn, ‘you might be elected high king.’

  ‘I might. Duncan’s brother might too.’

  ‘Face facts, man!’ cried Thorfinn, rapidly losing patience. ‘Duncan is mad! No one is going to vote for a madman, nor for his brother! The Moray Clan is as strong as Duncan’s. The people will follow your lead!’

  Lulach glanced up at the Mormaer. His face was expressionless, as though waiting for Thorfinn to say more.

  Thorfinn flung the white branch down so hard that it broke. ‘Admit it! Your people are starving! There are hardly enough men to bring your harvest in! Crops have been burned year after year!’

  ‘And you’ve done much of the burning,’ said the Mormaer grimly.

  ‘Aye. War is war. But you and I could come to an agreement. Both of us against the King now. And afterwards, when you are king…’

  ‘If I am king…’

  ‘Neither to attack the other’s lands. Moray and Orkney to come to each other’s aid if one of us is invaded. I have trouble enough from Norway. The last thing I need is a land-crazed southern king snapping at my heels.’

  ‘And that is all?’

  ‘One more thing. When you are king…’

  ‘If I am king…’

  ‘When you are king, your son to marry my daughter. Well, what do you say?’

  Son? thought Lulach stupidly. He means me! That’s why he wanted to see me, to make sure I’m not lame, o
r a halfwit. He wants me to marry his fat, ugly daughter!

  Lulach watched as his stepfather held out his hand.

  It began to rain.

  Chapter 10

  Luke

  By the pricking of my thumbs,

  Something wicked this way comes.

  (Macbeth, Act IV, Scene 1, lines 44–45)

  The bus was late. Luke stamped his feet as he waited at the gate, trying to keep warm. The bus was always late. One day, Luke thought, it’ll be on time and half the kids will miss it.

  He couldn’t get Saturday night’s dream out of his mind. It had been even more vivid than the first time. But different too.

  Things hadn’t been as simple back in Lulach’s time as he’d first thought. Someone like Thorfinn might start off as your enemy and then become your friend, or at least your ally. For some reason something Sam had said on Saturday night came into his head. ‘Sometimes you have to make compromises, mate.’

  Nah, thought Luke. That’s different. The Mormaer was protecting his people. Sam just thought about his precious job.

  What had happened next? Had the Mormaer become king? Had Thorfinn kept his word? he wondered. Luke had hoped the dream would come again last night, but it hadn’t.

  It was just a dream, he reminded himself, as the bus rounded the corner and pulled up in front of him.

  Mrs Reynolds was driving. She smiled at Luke, showing a few too-white false teeth next to her yellow real ones. ‘Saw your stepdad on TV this morning. He really gave the Prime Minister what for. Politicians should tell us what they’re really going to do when they’re elected! Can’t trust them as far as you can throw them, in my opinion. You tell Sam from me he’s doing a great job.’

  As if! thought Luke as he made his way down the bus. Old witch, old shark, old velociraptor. When Mum had been really broke, Mrs Reynolds hadn’t even let her ride on the school bus so she could take that checkout job in town.

  What was that bit in the play? Double, double toil and trouble: Fire, burn; and, cauldron, bubble. That was Mrs Reynolds, all right. She probably had a cauldron in her laundry and went out at midnight stealing stray dogs and hacking bits off black snakes…

  ‘Luke! Oy! Luke!’

  Patrick was waving from the back of the bus. Megan was sitting beside him.

  ‘What were you dreaming about?’ demanded Patrick, as Luke sat down next to him.

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ he said.

  ‘What did Sam say?’ asked Megan eagerly. ‘Will he put our case on TV?’

  Luke hesitated. Why wouldn’t the words come? He wanted to say, ‘The bastard won’t do it. He’s scared of what the advertisers will say.’ But what if Patrick told someone else? And they told a reporter and it got into the papers? Hurting Sam meant hurting Mum. And Sam could hurt him now too.

  What would Pat and Meg think when they heard the truth? Maybe they would think he just hadn’t tried hard enough to convince Sam to help them. But how could he argue with Sam while his own grubby secret was hanging over him?

  Coward. And Patrick and Megan were still waiting.

  ‘I…I asked him. He said he’d see what he could do.’ The words came out before he realised he was saying them.

  More than a coward. Liar. Cheat.

  Again.

  Megan beamed. ‘That’s fantastic!’

  ‘You’re the best!’ said Patrick.

  ‘No, really.’ Luke tried to backtrack. ‘He may not be able to do anything! The producer has to agree. Maybe they just won’t think it’s interesting enough for the whole country.’

  ‘They will,’ said Megan confidently. ‘There must be things like this happening all over the place, not just here. Big developments forcing people out, using all the resources…’

  ‘Yes, but…’

  The bus stopped again and more kids got on. ‘Hey, Jingo!’ called Patrick.

  Jingo lumbered down the bus. ‘Hiya!’ he said, dumping his bag at Luke’s feet. ‘Heard your dad asking the Prime Minister about terrorists this morning.’

  ‘Stepdad,’ corrected Luke.

  ‘Whatever.’ Jingo glanced at Megan, then pretended he hadn’t. But his voice grew louder as he deliberately didn’t look her way.

  Huh, thought Luke. Showing off.

  ‘We should just nuke them, dude,’ he announced. ‘That’d show them!’

  ‘Nuke who?’ demanded Megan.

  ‘Those Iraqis,’ said Jingo. ‘They’re all terrorists, aren’t they? Get rid of the lot of them.’

  ‘Why? Aren’t we supposed to be liberating them? How can you nuke someone and liberate them at the same time?’

  Luke grinned. He knew Megan really meant it. She wasn’t just showing off back at Jingo.

  ‘It was all a lie, anyhow,’ said Megan, shoving her hair out of her eyes. ‘All that stuff about the weapons of mass destruction.’

  Jingo shrugged. ‘So? Saddam Hussein was a crook and we went in and got rid of him. What does it matter what it took to get us in there?’

  ‘But it wasn’t true!’ objected Megan.

  ‘Yeah, okay. But what if everything’s better because he’s gone?’ argued Jingo. ‘The Iraqis have elections and stuff now. What if everything works out for the best and they finally have peace after all these years? Isn’t it worth a few lies?’

  ‘Politicians say stuff that isn’t true all the time,’ Luke put in. ‘Or they use spin doctors to try to make things sound better than they really are.’

  ‘That doesn’t make it right!’ said Megan.

  ‘Why not? I bet you say things that aren’t true,’ insisted Luke.

  ‘I don’t!’

  ‘I bet you do! Like on Saturday, when you said you couldn’t remember what “will” meant in Shakespeare’s time. I bet you could.’

  ‘What does it mean?’ Jingo actually sounded interested, not like he was just showing off.

  ‘Something rude,’ said Luke. ‘But Megan won’t say.’ He turned to Megan again. ‘Look, I bet you’d tell Briony her haircut was cool even if she looked like a loser.’

  ‘But that’s different!’ insisted Megan. ‘That’s…that’s just so I don’t hurt her feelings!’

  Suddenly it seemed desperately important to prove to her that some lies were okay. ‘Yeah, well, I bet that’s what politicians say. “It’s just to make people feel better. It’s just so we can get into power and get some good things done.” That’s how they win elections.’

  Megan was silent for a moment. Luke was worried he’d offended her.

  But then she said slowly, as though she’d really been thinking, ‘Maybe you’re right. It’s not just black and white, is it? There are times when it’s okay to tell a lie. But sometimes you know it’s wrong, when truth really matters.’

  ‘Maybe it’s only okay to tell a lie when it doesn’t hurt someone. If you think you’re doing it for a good reason,’ said Patrick suddenly.

  Luke blinked at him. It wasn’t like Patrick to think about things like that.

  Patrick shrugged as everyone looked at him. ‘It’s just what Nanna used to say,’ he said. ‘“It’s only all right to lie when you don’t hurt anyone.” That was when I put a cow’s tooth under my pillow for the tooth fairy…’

  The bus pulled up outside the school.

  Chapter 11

  Luke

  Not in the legions

  Of horrid Hell can come a devil more damn’d

  In evils, to top Macbeth.

  (Macbeth, Act IV, Scene 3, lines 55–57)

  Luke stared out at the pigeons strutting around the garbage bin, then forced his attention back inside the classroom. He tried to concentrate as Mrs Easson read from Macbeth.

  He didn’t mind the play now—bits of it were good, he’d decided. But it was all so far away from what was really on his mind. This morning’s conversation kept going round and round in his head.

  Maybe lies were all right if they didn’t hurt anybody. And no one was hurt by his winning the scholarship, were they? Except maybe the
kid who would have won the scholarship. Luke thrust the thought away. Mum was happy, Sam was happy; the only person really hurt was him. He’d have to go to St Ilf’s now.

  Maybe if he really worked he wouldn’t do too badly there. Maybe Mum was right and he wasn’t dumb, he’d just lost so much school with Dad being sick.

  Everyone lied sometimes, didn’t they? So what did one more matter?

  And what about the lies you didn’t actually tell? Sam pretending that he made up everything he said on air but really only saying what someone else had written for him. Politicians not mentioning what they really planned to do after an election. Was there such a thing as a lie that wasn’t there?

  He’d never actually lied about the exam, had he? He just hadn’t said, ‘I had the answers all prepared.’ None of it was his fault, he hadn’t wanted it to happen. So maybe…

  ‘“Aroynt thee, witch!” the rump-fed ronyon cries,’ read Mrs Easson.

  What’s a ‘ronyon’? wondered Luke.

  Maybe Shakespeare wasn’t as out of it as he’d thought. Shakespeare seemed pretty sure about lies, at any rate. Evil people like witches lied, Macbeth lied. Good guys like King Duncan told the truth. Hey, that was one of the names out of his dream, wasn’t it? There’d been a King Duncan, just like there’d been witches (or old ladies with beards, anyway).

  So what? That’s what you did in dreams, he supposed. You mixed up real things with dumb things, like being able to fly.

  He glanced over at Megan. Her eyes were on her book. But somehow she had lost some of her brightness since last week.

  She’s really worried about the development, he thought. And now I’ve lied about that too.

  Lulach’s stepfather would have raised an army to drive the developers out, or thought of some cool trick to get rid of them. But he was just dumb old Luke…

  There had to be some other way he could help the Fishers!

  Chapter 12

  Lulach

  Where are they? Gone?—Let this pernicious hour

  Stand aye accursed in the calendar!