Highland Queen

Chapter 34

As the weeks passed, autumn faded into winter. The first of the winter winds howled through the valley and snow fell. The River Lochy was trimmed with ice and snow. Life at Lochaber slowed. And so did I.

Every muscle in my body ached.

It pained me to move.

Somehow, I thought carrying one child would be more comfortable, but the pain in my lower back was excruciating. The terrible ache went on for days. Given how achy I was, it came as no surprise when I rose one morning to find my bedclothes were wet. I had barely slept the whole night. Cramps had wracked me. Crearwy and Lulach had been so reluctant to come into the world. Aelith, it seemed, was ready to go.

“Oh,” I said lightly, touching the gown.

Thank the Goddess, there was no blood.

“What is it?” Banquo asked groggily.

“I think…I think I may have this baby today. Can you go fetch Morag?”

Banquo jumped from the bed, nearly tripping on the furs, and rushed out of the room.

I chuckled then winced as another pain wracked me. My labor had started in my sleep.

“Little sneak,” I said, patting my stomach.

I breathed through the pain then poured myself some water.

“My lady,” Morag said with a smile when she entered the room. “I hear you have news.”

I nodded. “We’d best have a look.”

“Come, Banquo, collect your clothes and get out,” Morag told him. “We will be here awhile.”

“Gruoch, I won’t be far away,” Banquo reassured me.

I moved to smile at him but cringed as another pain wracked me. That was fast.

“Morag, the pains are coming quickly.”

Morag clicked her tongue at Banquo, hurrying him along. His hands full of boots and clothes, Banquo left.

Morag’s niece, Greer, a pretty red-haired girl with a face full of freckles, closed the door behind Banquo.

I lay back down on the bed. Morag washed her hands then had a look.

“Well, Gruoch, we’ll be at this very soon.”

“What do you mean?”

Morag laughed. “It’s almost time to push.”

I wanted to laugh, but the pain took me once more. I lay back and closed my eyes.

Goddess, Mother, watch over us.

It was not long after that the hard labor began. As Morag said, the time had nearly come. Giving birth to Lulach and Crearwy had been the hardest thing I had ever done. Aelith, on the other hand, seemed to be in a great hurry. I grunted and strained with the effort, but before lunch, our daughter arrived screaming.

Her squall echoed throughout the castle.

From the great hall below, I heard cheers.

Exhausted, I slumped back in bed while Greer and Morag tended to the baby and me.

“She looks good,” Morag reassured me. “Everything looks perfect.”

I closed my eyes, tears slipping down my cheeks.

After a few minutes, Morag came to me. “Here you are, my lady. A healthy baby girl.”

Inhaling deeply, I opened my eyes and looked at the child. She had a mop of dark hair. Blinking like she was still trying to make out where she was, she looked at me.

“Hello, Aelith,” I whispered.

Morag smiled at us then motioned to Greer. “Let the thane in,” she told him.

When Greer opened the door, Banquo rushed past her to my side.

“Oh, my Cerridwen,” he whispered, forgetting himself at the moment. He sat down behind me and wrapped his arm around me, gently holding on to Aelith and me with his other hand. “What a wondrous sight to behold.”

“Say hello to your father,” I whispered to the baby.

Aelith arched her eyebrows and puckered her lips.

We both laughed.

Beyond all hope, beyond all possibility, there we were: mother, father, and child.

“May the gods be praised,” I whispered.

Banquo leaned forward and kissed our daughter. “May the gods be praised.”

The winter winds blew, snow fell, and Aelith filled our hearts. There was no describing the deep joy our daughter brought to Banquo and me. I recovered quickly, and Aelith was in good health. For once, it seemed like the gods had blessed us.

The whole winter passed, Aelith growing before our very eyes. In March, the chill began to recede, and the winds calmed. The sun woke the land, and as it did, news began to flow north once more.

I was sitting by the fire with Aelith when Banquo came in holding a scroll.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“From the king.”

I frowned. Part of me didn’t want to know what it said. Macbeth seemed so far away. It was like he had nothing to do with me.

Banquo warmed himself by the fire as he read. His countenance growing increasingly dark as his eyes scanned the page.

I handed Aelith a rattle, propping her so she could sit. She immediately stuck the toy into her mouth and started biting. I smiled at her. Her little teeth had begun coming in. She loved to bite to relieve the itch in her gums. Reluctantly, I went to Banquo.

“What is it?” I asked.

“You aren’t going to like it.”

“No doubt. But tell me all the same.”

“Macbeth has talked Thorfinn into joining Echmarach on a raid into Ireland to retrieve Donaldbane,” he said then shook his head. “They are, no doubt, underway already.”

“What?”

Banquo nodded stoically.

“But I told Macbeth I would go with a delegation this spring,” I said.

“So you did.”

“What does he want from you?”

“From me,” Banquo said then scratched his chin. “He wants me to ride south to Dunsinane to help him prepare the army.”

A chill washed over me. “What for?”

“For war.”

I swallowed hard then took the parchment from Banquo. As I expected, the handwriting thereon was a barely legible mess. Macbeth had fallen to the darkness once again, and unless I acted very soon, we would all fall with him.

Turning, I looked back at my daughter. Her dark hair had softened to brown, much like Banquo’s, but her eyes were a lovely mix of deep blue and brown. She didn’t take after me as much as Crearwy and Lulach did, but she was clearly my daughter—mine and Banquo’s. You could see her parents in her face.

Grinning, she pulled the toy out of her mouth and showed it to me. “Dah,” she babbled with a grin.

I smiled at her. “Yes, I see it.”

She giggled then began chewing once more.

“What are we going to do?” I asked Banquo.

“As for me, I will tell him I am unwell and cannot leave Lochaber. And I won’t. Not for him. Never again.”

“You’ll resign your post as his general?”

“Yes. I won’t leave Aelith. I have made too many mistakes over the years. I have sacrificed many things for Macbeth. At last, I have a chance to do something right. I will stay here with my daughter.”

I felt ill. Banquo was right. His choice was best. But it was his choice. As for me, I felt the tug of fate. I was Queen of Scotland. Lulach was Macbeth’s heir. I couldn’t just let it all go, could I?

Aelith jabbered, picking up then setting back down the toys I had laid on the fur around her, biting each one in turn. Again, I was asked to leave a child behind to follow a destiny I didn’t want.

“You won’t have to go right away,” Banquo whispered.

I nodded. I had known all along that I would not be able to stay in Lochaber forever, but knowing a thing and facing a thing were very different. What I hadn’t expected was Banquo’s decision. But now that it was out, I was glad. I wasn’t leaving Aelith alone; I was leaving her with her father. That, at least, would give me some comfort. Once things were settled, I could return to Lochaber.

Banquo wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest.

“I love you,” he whispered in my ear.

“I love you too,” I replied.

I waved to Aelith who giggled then waved back with both hands, one pointing backward. Our child. The gods were both cruel and kind. At that moment, I had the only thing I had ever really wanted. Yet a greater destiny called me, and there was no ignoring the call.

A rider came from Moray within the week. He carried messages from the local thanes as well as a letter from Macbeth.

While Macbeth’s letter to Banquo had been less than detailed, Macbeth told me more. As it turned out, Crinian was not content to be Abbott of Dunkeld. He had fled south to join Siward and young Malcolm in Northumbria. Rumor had it the pair were plotting, planning to retake the southernmost lands as soon as the spring arrived. Macbeth pleaded for me to return south.

“Please come back,” he’d written, then signed the letter with his name.

Given what I now knew, Macbeth’s calls for war made sense. Crinian deserved to be punished, and Siward could not be permitted to step foot in Scotland. I could see Siward’s plan unfolding. One square of land at a time, one turned or murdered lord at a time, he would make his way north.

I looked at the handwriting in Macbeth’s letter to me. As with Banquo’s, the perfect courtly script Macbeth usually used had disintegrated to scratch. Crinian’s treachery—and god knows what else—had unhinged Macbeth. But unlike in his letter to Banquo, Macbeth made no mention in his letter to me about Thorfinn and Echmarcach.

That night, while Aelith slept, Banquo and I composed our reply letters to Macbeth. Banquo wrote that he contracted an ailment in the winter and had not recovered. He could not come. I wrote that I would return south within the month.

I handed my letter to Banquo. He read it then set it aside.

Rising, I went to Aelith. How sweet she looked. Her brown hair, glimmering with red highlights, sparkled in the firelight. Her lips were puckered like little roses.

“She’ll be all right,” Banquo told me. “She’s eating solid food very well now.”

I nodded. Already Aelith had begun to wean herself, preferring the taste of table food to milk. Poor lamb, she had no sense of flavor at all.

“It would be better if I had more time.”

“Of course,” Banquo said. “But you do not.”

“I don’t want to leave her or you or this life. This was the life I was supposed to have. I don’t want to go. All those years ago, we should have run away together.”

Banquo huffed a laugh. “So we have said, time and time again, but we didn’t. We had our reasons. Now, here we are.”

“Do you think Macbeth will believe you? Will he believe the story of the ailment?”

“He has no reason not to. And if you confirm it to him, he will have no doubts.”

“Will you regret giving up your duties?”

“No,” Banquo said very matter-of-factly. “I have caused enough harm on Macbeth’s behalf. Now, I will live my life. I will care for our daughter and look after our boys as best I can when I can. And I will rule the land of my fathers. I love Lochaber. I want to be home.”

“I will miss Lulach and Fleance’s return,” I lamented.

“Yes, but one day, you will come back.”

“Yes. I will.”

“Yes, you will,” Banquo echoed, but his voice had taken a faraway sound. When I turned and looked at him, he was staring into the fire. The look on his face was one of fear.