Highland Queen

Chapter 2

Tira and Rhona helped me bathe, washing the blood and bits off. Neither said a word, but I knew what they were thinking. I was sorry that they had to see this. I couldn’t imagine any other lady’s maids suffering through as much as they did.

“All those inches,” Rhona said as she rinsed the last of the soap out of my hair, fingering my chin-length locks.

“They’ll grow back,” I said absently. My eyes closed, I relished the feel of the warm water. Every part of me hurt. The muscles in my arms and legs felt like they were made of stone. And my head felt dizzy. Nausea, from the heat of the water or the exhaustion—I wasn’t sure which—crept over me.

“Not in time for the crowning. What will Lady Madelaine say? And look at you, covered in bruises. You’ll need a long-sleeved gown. And there’s no hiding the bruise on your cheek,” Rhona chided.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Rhona clicked her tongue, a sound I’d heard her make a thousand times at Fleance and Lulach, but said nothing.

There was a soft knock on the door. Tira went to answer. She spoke in low tones, and a moment later, Morag entered.

“Well, here is the shield-maiden returned from the battle,” she said then sat down on my bed.

“Have you come to scold me too?” I asked.

“No, I’m just jealous. I had half a mind to slip out myself.”

I chuckled.

“Don’t encourage her,” Rhona said.

“Oh, that one doesn’t need encouragement,” Morag said with a laugh.

Tira huffed heavily. “Let me lay out a dress.”

Rhona handed me a towel and helped me out of the basin. I sat down on a stool in front of the fire while Rhona set about tossing out the wash water. The girls had done their best to clean me up, but when I looked at my hands, I was surprised to see there were still spots of blood on them. I picked up a washing cloth and began to work at the stains. They wouldn’t budge. I poured a bit of oil on the fabric and rubbed more. The effort turned the back of my hands red, but still, the splattered spots of blood remained.

“Rhona, do we have any stronger soap?” I asked.

She looked back at me. “My lady?”

“These spots of blood won’t come out,” I said, working the rag on my hands.

“My lady, you’re rubbing yourself raw. Here, let me have a look,” Tira said. She laid the dress she was holding on my bed then crossed the room and took my hands. She turned them over, took my washing cloth, then worked on my fingernails a bit. “There, that’s better,” she said then handed the cloth back to me.

“But…but here,” I said, motioning to the splatters of blood I saw on the back and palms of my hands. “And here.”

Tira looked at my hands. “Just shadows from the fire, my lady. There’s nothing there. Stop scrubbing. You’re making your skin red.”

My brow furrowed, I looked at my hands. The spots were plain as day. I turned to call Tira back, but my eyes met Morag’s.

She shook her head.

Frowning, I looked back at my hands once more. Scarlet marred my palms, fingers, and the backs of my hands. This was no trick of the light. I rose and went to the window, catching the sunlight on my hands. They were there. Everywhere.

“Don’t you see?” I asked, showing my hands to Rhona.

Rhona glanced briefly at me. “No, my lady. There is nothing there.”

“You’re just tired, my lady. No doubt your eyes are swimming. Come along now and get dressed. I am sure there are a hundred dispatches and just as many men waiting on you below,” Tira said.

I turned to Morag.

“It will pass,” she told me.

It will pass. The girls were right. I was tired, and my eyes were playing tricks on me.

I crossed the room and let Tira redress me. She’d pulled a dark blue gown from the wardrobe. It was a pretty velvet dress with silver trim on the collar. I put my torcs and amulet back on. Lifting my belt, I re-sheathed Scáthach then lifted the dagger with the raven on the hilt, the dagger I had taken from Duncan, my father’s blade. I turned it over in my hand, remembering Uald describing it. But I remembered more. I remembered it on my father’s belt. The memory had been lost, but with the blade in my possession, it returned once more. I remembered hugging my father when I was just a girl. The beak of the raven had scraped my cheek.

“Now,Macha,” my father had said, scolding the dagger. “Be kind to my daughter.”

“Macha?” I’d asked.

My father had nodded. “The raven goddess. I keep her here at my side,” he’d said with a wide grin.

I clutched the dagger. How strange it was that some memories lay buried, unleashed by the smallest things. My father had carried a raven with him. The irony wasn’t lost on me. I went to my trunk and found a spare sheath for the blade. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but it would have to do for now. When I returned to the coven, I would ask Uald to make me another. I added the blade to my belt alongside Scáthach.

“Thank you. I’ll go down now.”

“My lady,” Morag said, rising slowly. “Lulach and Fleance…”

She let the question hang unasked in the air.

“They are safe, but hidden, and will remain so until things are quiet.”

“Let’s hope that day comes.”

She was right about that. I inclined my head to her. “Then I had best get to work to see that it does.”

I slipped down the steps and headed to my council chamber. The place was packed with people. Banquo was at the head of the table talking to some of the other Thanes. Both the younger and elder Ross were in attendance.

“Lady Gruoch,” someone called when I entered.

The men cheered, banging their ale horns and weapons.

I nodded to them. “Gentlemen, my greetings and congratulations on this victory.”

The men cheered.

As I crossed the room, I heard whispers in the crowd.

“Look at the Lady Gruoch’s hair,” someone said.

“A battle sacrifice?”

“No. There is talk amongst the men. They say she was on the field.”

“No. It cannot be.”

“No? Look at her face. The bruise.”

“Some say they saw Gillacoemgain’s ghost amongst the men.”

“Strange omens.”

Ignoring the talk, I went to Banquo who handed me the first of many scrolls in his hand.

Shaking my head, I took Banquo aside. “Malcolm and Donaldbane. What did Macbeth arrange?”

“As far as I know, nothing.”

“Then he’s let two adders free who can return to strike us.”

Banquo nodded.

“Malcolm was with his father at court. Perhaps he retreated with Suthen. We need to find out for certain. Many will try to use those boys, to set them against Macbeth and me. I will see them safely fostered in friendly hands,” I said.

“Away from Earl Siward.”

I nodded. “They are as much my kin as his. I must have them fostered by those who would not teach them to seek vengeance now…or later.” Unless I acted now, it would be Lulach who would have to deal with his unruly cousins backed by a Northumbrian army. I needed to do what I could to stop the bad blood from boiling.

Banquo inclined his head to me. “I will send spies south to track Malcolm down. There was a rumor that the younger son, Donaldbane, had been sent to Iona.”

I frowned. “Macbeth didn’t send anyone to retrieve him?”

Banquo shook his head. “No. I will see to it. We were so worried about Lulach and Fleance…”

I nodded. He was right. We should have thought of it before. “We’ll do what we can now. Thank you.”

Banquo nodded then handed the same scroll toward me once more. “Macbeth is victorious.”

I took the parchment and read over the dispatch. Macbeth had played his part. Very well.

“And Thorfinn?”

“He and Magnus have also had their victory.”

“Thank the Great Mother,” I said with an exhausted sigh then sat down.

“Are you all right?” Banquo asked.

“Yes…just weary.”

Banquo chuckled. “That is battle weariness. When you can, you will sleep for days. But for now…” he said then motioned to the stack of scrolls waiting.

“Thane,” someone called, waving to Banquo.

Another messenger had arrived.

Banquo motioned to the man to stay a moment.

“Go on,” I said tiredly. “You have much work to do. I’ll be here.”

“Rest, if you can, Gruoch,” Banquo said, his eyes lingering on mine. I could see there was more he wanted to say, wanted to do, but he could not with everyone’s eyes on us. Already everyone thought we were lovers. But in the presence of all our people, it didn’t do to show our feelings openly.

Banquo set his hand gently on my shoulder then turned to see to the messenger.

I lifted the first of the scrolls and began going through the reports. By all accounts, Earl Siward had survived. He’d left Duncan in the field and retreated with a large portion of his army. We had spies on him. In the future, I would have to pay for more eyes and ears at his court and would have to protect my own from such infiltration. But for now, Macbeth and I needed to move toward Scone. Only once we had the kingdom safely in our palms with crowns on our heads could we begin to think about what would happen next.

I spent the next several hours going through reports and receiving messengers. We’d had our own losses, but they were not as great as we feared. Still, it was too many men. Too much of a price to pay.

I was staring at yet another scroll, my eyes going misty from exhaustion, when someone called my name.

“Lady Gruoch?”

I looked up to find Standish there.

“Standish? What is it?” I could see from the expression on his face that everything was not well.

“Can you come with me a moment?”

I rose. Every muscle in my body protested, and my head swam. No matter the work, I needed to sleep soon.

I crossed the hall to join Standish. “What’s happened?”

He motioned for me to follow him. We made our way out of the castle and back across the yard—which was still bustling with people—toward the stables.

“Thora, your bonnie lass, disappeared out the gate and into the fields right after you returned. She just came back…leading that one,” Standish said, pointing.

I followed his gaze to see a groom guiding Kelpie, who was limping badly, to the water trough.

“Kelpie,” I called, rushing to him.

At the sound of his name, the old stallion turned and nickered at me.

I rushed to him. But even from a distance, I could see the terrible wound on his leg.

“He’s taken a bad injury, my lady. Looks like something caught his leg. A sword, maybe. I’m going to clean and dress his wound now. He… There is a lot of damage, my lady.”

I stroked Kelpie’s ear. “I’m going to have a look now,” I told him.

Kelpie had lifted his hoof, holding his leg up. There was damage to the ligament. He would recover from the injury, that was evident, but he could never be ridden again.

The groom caught my eye. The expression on his face told me he’d already come to the same assessment.

“Treat it as best you can. We must keep the wound clean, let it heal as best it will. Do you need medicines?”

“No, my lady, we are well stocked to deal with such wounds. But some say that when a horse’s leg is too badly—”

I raised my hand to stop him. “No. He will be lame, I understand. I’ll not reward him for a lifetime of service and friendship in that manner. Oats and pasture. That will be his future.”

The groom breathed a sigh of relief. “I hoped you’d say as much.”

I pressed my head against Kelpie’s neck, wrapping my arms around him. “I’m sorry, old friend.”

Kelpie neighed softly at me.

I patted Kelpie once more then turned to look at Thora who was sitting nearby. I bent to take her face into my hands, ruffling her ears. “My good girl. What would I ever do without you? Why don’t you head to the kitchen and see what scraps you can win. You’ve earned them.”

Thora thumped her tail, licked my face, then turned and trotted off to the kitchens.

Willful, magical, and wonderful dog.

“Rest and heal, old friend,” I told Kelpie. I patted his neck once more then nodded to the groom who took Kelpie by the lead and coaxed him toward the stable.

Watching them go, I sighed. I then turned my attention to the yard. A tent had been erected along the east wall. There, the wounded men were receiving care for their injuries. Even from this distance, I could hear their groans.

We had won, but it had come at a cost.

Now, we had to make good on everyone’s sacrifice.

Rather than heading back inside, I climbed the rampart and looked out over the army encamped there. Dusk had come once more. As far as I looked, I saw the light of campfires. Like fireflies in a summer field, the soldiers’ fires illuminated the landscape.

I closed my eyes.

Everything the Morrigu predicted had come to pass.

Duncan was dead.

Macbeth would become king.

I would be queen alongside him.

I should have felt happy, excited.

Instead, I felt terrible loathing and dread.

Maybe I had won the day, but I didn’t really want it. I didn’t really want to be queen. I wanted Duncan to die, to pay for what he did. The rest? No. Once upon a time, I’d dreamt of a life that was of my own imagining, a life not willed by the gods, or memories of past lives, or led by anyone or anything but myself. I’d dreamt of a peaceful life at Cawdor. A life with my children and a man who loved me.

A soft hand settled on my shoulder.

In that moment, I felt frustrated with Banquo for breaking apart my memory.

I opened my eyes to see the shade of Gillacoemgain standing there. He was looking down at me, a soft, sad smile on his face. He reached out and touched the bruise on my cheek.

The caress felt so real.

I lifted my hand to lay it on his.

When I did so, the expression on Gillacoemgain’s face changed. A look of terror crossed his features.

I followed his gaze to my hand, which was dripping with blood.

Suppressing a scream, I pitched sideways, black dots appearing before my eyes.

“Lady Gruoch,” one of the watchmen called.

I reached out to grab the stones before I tumbled.

A moment later, strong hands steadied me.

“Get Standish. Lady Gruoch is unwell.”

“No,” I said, regaining my footing. “No. I’m all right. Just tired,” I said, righting myself.

My heart pounded in my chest. With terror racing through me, I looked at my hands. The blood stains were still there, but the wet, dripping blood was gone. I scanned around, looking for Gillacoemgain’s shade, but he was gone.

“My lady, you should go back inside,” the guard told me. “Please, allow someone to accompany you.”

“I’m all right now. Thank you. You have your work here. I’m sorry to give you a fright.”

“Please, my lady, think nothing of it. You must have a care for yourself and take rest,” he said then lowered his voice to a whisper and added, “All warriors must rest after battle.”

So, the rumor the other men had spoken was a common one.

I gave the man a soft smile but said nothing. I took a deep breath, righted myself, then headed back into the castle. As I walked, I tried to shake off the image of Gillacoemgain’s expression. But no matter what, it wouldn’t leave me, and his terror from beyond the grave shook me to the core.