Highland Queen

by Melanie Karsak

  The hardest of those three came to me in the briefest of visions. One night, as I was preparing a drink, I spied a ripple on the surface of my cauldron. The water shifted and changed, then formed a window into Ynes Verleath. I saw Andraste there.

  “Andraste?” I whispered.

  She inclined her head to me. “Graymalkin has gone,” she said sadly. “I’m sorry,” she added then slowly disappeared.

  “Thora,” I whispered. “Oh, Thora.”

  Alone in my bedchamber, I wept that night until I felt like I had no more tears in me. I knew her time would come, but I ached all the same. My beloved dog was gone.

  Thereafter, another three years passed. News came that Morag has passed. I mourned her death. But it was at the end of these quiet years, a total of nine years later, that the trumpets sounded, alerting us to the approach of important riders. Not expecting any visitors, Madelaine and I looked at one another.

  Perplexed, we headed outside. It was spring once again, and the forest all around the castle was trimmed with bright green leaves. The scent of fresh flowers filled the air. I closed my eyes, relishing the feel of sunlight on my face. When I did so, I went back in time to that moment in Moray when I was pregnant with Crearwy and Lulach. I remembered Gillacoemgain’s laughter and the taste of summer strawberries. A soft breeze blew, and on it, I swore I could smell the deep lavender and cedar scent that clung to Gillacoemgain.

  “Corbie,” Madelaine exclaimed, surprise in her voice.

  I opened my eyes to see a group of riders coming toward the castle, the banner of Moray flying high.

  And at the front of this band was a strapping lad, a mirror of my dead husband, with long, black hair and the tattoos of a druid.

  I gasped. “Lulach.”

  I wanted to run across the courtyard to greet him, but I restrained myself. It was then that I spotted a familiar face beside him. Looking so much like his father was Fleance.

  “Corbie,” Fleance called, waving to me. He grinned at Lulach, batting his friend playfully on the shoulder, then slipped off his horse.

  Lulach also dismounted. He righted his doublet, and the two of them crossed the courtyard to meet us.

  “My gods,” Madelaine whispered. “Look at them.”

  I swallowed hard and tried to master my emotions.

  Angus trotted along at Lulach’s side, but Thor rushed ahead. Over the years, the dog had grown larger than Thora. But time had passed for him as well. He had silver hairs on his maw. Regardless, he wagged his tail in excitement.

  I eyed Lulach’s party. There were no druids amongst his men. The men there were all from Moray.

  “Mother,” Lulach said, bending to kiss me on both cheeks. “Well met.”

  I smiled up at him. “It is good to see you, my son. You’ve ridden from Moray?”

  Lulach smiled. “Yes. I wanted to surprise you. And to talk.”

  “Of course.”

  “Corbie,” Fleance said, embracing me. “You’ve shrunk.”

  I laughed. “I have not. Look at the two of you,” I said, shaking my head as I studied them. They were both men now. “You’ve both shot up like trees.”

  “How like your father you are,” Madelaine told Lulach, touching his cheek gently.

  “Lady Madelaine,” he said, taking her hand and placing a kiss thereon.

  He smiled at her, but his brow wrinkled as he looked her over. In truth, the years that had passed had aged Madelaine as well. Her red hair had dulled to white. Lines had formed across her brow. Her croning had come upon her. I had fared little better. I was well aware that my once raven-black tresses were trimmed with silver. I sometimes wondered what Banquo would make of his aging bride. Pushing the thoughts away, I turned to Lulach and Fleance.

  “Come,” I said, motioning to the boys. “You will be road-weary. My servants will see to the men of Moray,” I said then turned to the party. “Well met, lads,” I called to them, waving brightly. “We shall feast tonight!”

  At that, the men of Moray cheered.

  Taking Lulach’s arm, I led them to my council chamber. Madelaine sent a servant to fetch refreshments then we all sat by the fire.

  Lulach eyed the room, looking at the shelves lined with scrolls and ledgers. “This is your workroom?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “Where is the king?” Lulach asked.

  Madelaine and I exchanged a glance.

  “We can see him later, if you wish,” I told Lulach.

  “We were in Lochaber before we came here,” Fleance told me. “You would not believe Aelith. Jarl Thorfinn sent her a stout little Shetland pony. How wildly she rides. Like demons, the pair of them.”

  I chuckled. “Wildly, but safely, I hope.”

  “Father never lets her get too far away,” Fleance reassured me.

  I smiled, imagining the sight. But like always, any time I thought of Aelith, my heart broke a little.

  “So, you were in Lochaber?” Madelaine said, recovering for me. “Then to Moray?”

  Lulach nodded. “Fleance and I completed our service to the gods. We decided it was time to return to our duties.”

  “More like the gods decided, and Balor tossed us out,” Fleance said with a laugh.

  Lulach smiled lightly. “Yes, that’s more accurate. I wanted to talk to you, Mother. I want—if it pleases you—to take up residence and begin to govern Moray from Cawdor.”

  “It more than pleases me, my son. My heart is full of joy to imagine you continuing your father’s work.”

  “We saw Tira and Rhona in Moray,” Fleance told me. “Rhona is still at the castle, but Tira returned home. She came to see us. They both send their love.”

  I smiled when I thought of them.

  “What about you, Fleance? Will you return to Lochaber?”

  “Cawdor was just as much my home as Lochaber. My father has things well in hand in Lochaber. I will stay at Cawdor with Lulach. For now. Unless the wind blows me south again.”

  Lulach gave Fleance a look that I didn’t understand.

  “The gods and Balor have chosen the time very well. There are rumblings in the south. Very soon, we may be at war again.”

  Lulach nodded. “Malcolm’s star is rising.”

  I raised an eyebrow at Lulach.

  He inclined his head to me. “Thus, I must be ready. And where better to begin than Moray?”

  That night, we dined. Everyone was delighted to meet their prince. The lords and ladies in attendance tripped over themselves to introduce their daughters to Lulach. The young ladies eyed my son. He was every bit as handsome as his father, but an otherworldliness clung to Lulach. Add to that the tattoos that covered his arms and brow, Lulach was very different from the lords. While all the pretty girls wanted Lulach to notice them, they were also wary.

  “And what about you?” I asked Fleance, elbowing him as if to push him toward the crowd. “Don’t you want to meet the fair ladies?”

  “No, Corbie.”

  “What, have you given your heart elsewhere already?” I said in jest, but Fleance shifted uncomfortably. I had tripped upon the truth. “Fleance?”

  “I suspect Lulach’s heart is a puzzle even to him,” Fleance said, diverting the topic.

  “What about you?”

  He patted his chest above his heart but said no more.

  I didn’t press. When he was ready, he would tell me.

  As I watched Lulach, I was impressed with his skill handling the lords and ladies. His quiet way made them eager to talk. Too eager. Lulach listened, smiled only a little, and left the great thanes wondering what else to say or do to please their prince. I realized then the power Lulach had. Long ago, Banquo told me Lulach’s reserved ways might serve him well. He was right.

  It was late in the night, after the others retired, that Lulach turned to me and said, “Shall we see him now?”

  I nodded.

  Taking a torch, Lulach and I headed to the old part of the castle. Winding down the narrow halls, we passed
the unused chambers until we found ourselves standing in the great hall of the Parisi. Long ago, I had the room cleaned and the center fire pit rebuilt. A throne had been installed on the wall once more. Here, Lulach and I found Macbeth holding court to phantoms.

  “Macbeth?” I called.

  Jabbering on about something, Macbeth stopped mid-sentence and looked at me. He narrowed his eyes, looking confused for just a moment. “Who is that beside you?” Macbeth asked then he rose, his face flashing with rage. “Damned, murderous uncle.”

  I pulled Uald’s Gift and lifted it protectively in front of Lulach.

  “Fool, it is Lulach you see before you. Gillacoemgain is long dead. You should remember it well. You murdered him.”

  “Lulach?” Macbeth asked, dropping his sword. It clattered to the floor.

  “Your Majesty,” Lulach said stiffly.

  Turning, Macbeth gestured to the empty room. “They tell me Siward’s army is growing. They tell me my cousin’s son wants to kill us. They tell me I need to wake again and rejoin you. Is that right, Gruoch?”

  “Their intelligence on the matter is as good as my own.”

  “Should I rejoin you?”

  “That depends on the manner of man who will rejoin me. You know you cannot speak to them in the presence of others.”

  “They tell me they will go away so I can rule again.”

  “Then tell them to go.”

  “All right. Tomorrow. I will ask them to go tomorrow.”

  “Very well.”

  Macbeth studied Lulach. “How like your father you look. I loved him once. I loved him more than my own father, in fact. I never understood why he did it.”

  “He had a good reason,” I said, instantly regretting saying anything.

  “Did he?” Macbeth asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh. All right.”

  “Then we shall see you soon?” I asked Macbeth.

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  Motioning to Lulach, we left the place.

  Behind us, I heard Macbeth whispering once more.

  “Mother,” Lulach began.

  I didn’t know what to say. Macbeth had been mad in fits and starts over the years. Mostly, he kept to himself. It unnerved me to think he wanted to rejoin court life. As it was, it was impossible to dispel the rumors about him. No doubt Siward had already learned that Macbeth was not at the helm in Scotland. Perhaps that is why he was plotting once more. “Lulach, Macbeth is—”

  Lulach raised a hand to stop me. “No. I don’t care about him. What you said about my father… Did Gillacoemgain have a good reason for killing Findelach?”

  I stared at Lulach. Torchlight bounced off his face, accentuating the tattoos thereon. Of course, he would be curious. Of course, he would want to know the truth. “Yes, he did.”

  “Can you tell me?”

  I shook my head. “Long ago, I promised I would never speak of it.”

  Lulach scrunched up his brow as he considered my words. “Crearwy—my aunt, Crearwy. It had something to do with her.”

  I stared at Lulach but said nothing.

  Lulach’s eyes took on a faraway gaze. “It’s all right,” Lulach said. “You keep your promise,” he said then took my hand. He studied the glove thereon. “Still? After all these years?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am sorry for it. I am sorry for all of it,” Lulach said then kissed my gloved hand and led me away.

  Lulach and Fleance stayed for several days before returning north once more to Moray. I made sure every lord, lady, thane, mormaer, and clansmen knew that the prince had returned and was ruling in Moray. Maybe Siward thought Macbeth weak, but with Lulach stepping into his place, it might dissuade—or at least give pause to—any action Siward might take.

  I had hoped Siward would change his mind.

  But that would not come to pass.

  What did come to pass was the return of Macbeth. Having left behind his court of shadows, Macbeth returned to rule alongside me once more.

  And our first act was to declare war.

  Chapter 43

  Twice, Siward would rise only to be beaten back by the forces of Scotland. Twice. And on each occasion, it was the Mormaer of Moray and the younger Thane of Lochaber who rode into battle to deter the Earl of Northumbria and Malcolm, son of Duncan, who sought to reclaim his father’s throne.

  In the meantime, I ruled Scotland with a steady hand and guided Macbeth as best I could. The man I knew had returned somewhat, but the same darkness lurked within him. Old jealousies, those I thought long-forgotten, resurfaced one evening when I announced I would ride to Lochaber.

  “Why are you going there?” Macbeth asked, a hard tone in his voice.

  “To see Banquo.”

  “I think Banquo has lied to me all these years. I think he quit me because of you,” Macbeth said.

  “Banquo was ill. You, too, have been ill. This kingdom has been ruled in peace all these years while you brooded. What more could you want?”

  “The truth,” Macbeth replied. “I want the truth.”

  “About what? That I don’t love you? I do not. That I love Banquo? I do. What have you done to deserve my love? What have you done to earn anything I gave to you? Nothing. Yet here I am, your wife, and I have tended to you these many years. Me. Is there anyone else around? No. It’s me who has cared for you.”

  “Without love.”

  “That’s right, without love, but I tended to you all the same.”

  “Ride off to Banquo if you want, but don’t come back. I don’t need you. I shall rule this land with Lulach at my side. Already there is talk that Siward is gathering forces once more.”

  “So he is, which is why Fleance and Lulach are rallying the north and readying for war once again.”

  “I am king here.”

  “You are a king of shadows. A king of nothing. I have ruled this land, not you. Now, if you please, stay in Dunsinane and do not interfere in Lulach’s work. I will return within the month,” I said then headed outside to where my horse and guard were waiting.

  To my great relief, Macbeth didn’t follow.

  Part of me worried. With Macbeth so unsteady, I should stay. But if war was coming again, it would be too long to wait to see Aelith. And I had not seen Crearwy in years. I could no longer cast, the skill having left me in the many years that had passed. If I wanted to see my child, I needed to ride out.

  Lulach held the country safely in his hand. For a moment, just for a moment, I wanted to be with my family once more. I rode away from Dunsinane feeling swells of anger. Why now, of all times, would Macbeth revisit such nonsense? What did he hope to gain? Did he seriously think that we would ever reconcile? That would never happen. Surely, he knew that by now. And if he didn’t, then he was truly mad.

  It was three days’ ride to Lochaber. A great sense of relief washed over me when I saw the towers of Tor Castle appear on the horizon.

  I rode through the gate only to be met by an excited scream.

  A girl, followed by a dozen puppies, rushed from the stable to meet us. She was a wild thing with tousled brown hair, which looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days. Her gown was dirty at the knees, her hands a match.

  “Dada,” she screamed toward the castle. “Riders!”

  Soldiers appeared to greet us, including a man wearing the badge of the castle sentinel. Killian.

  “Your Majesty,” Killian called.

  The girl, who had been jumping and clapping her hands, froze.

  She turned and stared at me, her blue eyes meeting mine. Her eyes went wide, and a second later, she turned and ran.

  “Aelith?” I called after her.

  Killian came and helped me off my horse. “How good to see you, Lady Gruoch. We were not expecting you.”

  “Didn’t my messenger arrive?”

  “No, Your Majesty.”

  “I see. I am sorry to surprise you. Will you please see to my men?”

  “Of course.”
<
br />   “And are you well?”

  “I am. I’ve become a father, Lady Gruoch. Greer had a boy this winter. We named him Standish.”

  At that, I hugged Killian. “I’m so glad for you both.”

  A moment later, Banquo appeared. “Gruoch?” he called.

  As he made his way toward me, I noticed he was walking with a limp. When I’d seen him last, his hair had been peppered with gray. Now, much of his locks had changed color, his curly hair thinning at the front.

  As he made his way toward me, he adjusted his clothes, straightening them and re-lacing his ties.

  “Gruoch,” he said as he neared me. “I… We didn’t know you were coming.”

  “So Killian told me, but I sent a messenger.”

  “There was no one.”

  “That’s disconcerting,” I said.

  Banquo nodded then looked around. “Where has Aelith gone?”

  “There, Thane,” Killian said, pointing to a path that led around the castle.

  “She was taken by surprise as well,” I told Banquo.

  “Come,” he told me, linking his arm in mine. My heart melted to feel the warmth of his body beside mine. We had been apart so many years. I loved him still and dreamt of him often. But nine years was a very long time.

  “My Cerridwen, you must forgive me. I’m a mess,” Banquo said, stroking the scraggly grey beard on his chin.

  “My love, you could be covered from head to toe in mud, and I would love you no less.”

  “I am covered from head to toe in grey hair and wrinkles,” he said with a laugh.

  “And? You are always perfect in my eyes,” I said.

  We rounded the side of the castle. This section of Tor Castle faced the river. There, out of the eyes of the others, we paused.

  I reached out and touched Banquo’s cheek.

  “I’ve been eating fish with garlic,” Banquo said with a chuckle.

  “I don’t care,” I said then set my lips on his.

  Banquo pulled me close. I fell into his embrace, feeling his warmth, and loving being close to him again—garlic be damned.

  When we pulled away, he smiled at me. “Come, let’s see where our pixie has gone.”