Highland Queen

Chapter 5

I stood in the window of my chamber and watched as a massive army rode toward Cawdor. At the front of it, I spotted Banquo and Macbeth. A cool breeze swept across the field, ruffling my shoulder-length hair. I closed my eyes and attempted to breathe in Cawdor, breathe in the smell of the stones, mortar, wood, and the lingering scent of Gillacoemgain I imagined in every corner. When I closed my eyes and dreamed, I smelled lavender and fresh mint, tasted strawberries and felt sunlight.

But that was just a dream.

The reality was far sparser.

“So, now it begins,” Morag, who was standing beside me, said stoically.

“Are you sure you won’t ride to Scone with us?”

“No. I will wait here. The boys… They will be back?”

“Yes. Eventually.”

“Very well. I will wait here, if I may. Or I could return to Lochaber if you prefer.”

“Cawdor is your home now too,” I said. In the years that had passed since Merna’s death, Morag had become a permanent fixture in my household. But time had advanced upon her. While she had watched over Lulach and Fleance like they were her own blood, her croning days were upon her.

“Thank you, Lady Gruoch. In truth, I’m too old to ride around the country like some wild thing, and the wine in Cawdor is better than in Lochaber.”

I chuckled. “You’re welcome to it.”

Morag laughed. “Now, let’s get this on you,” she said then turned to the trunk at the foot of my bed. I had dressed carefully, selecting a dark blue riding gown and trousers. I looked the part of a queen in that respect, but with things still so unsettled in Scotland, there was no telling what assassins might line the roads. It didn’t pay to be over-bold. I’d cleaned Gillacoemgain’s chainmail and would put it to use once more. Morag lifted the chainmail shirt. I stooped while she lowered it over my head. Once it was on, I adjusted my belt, so my father’s dagger and my sword were close at hand. I had hidden Gillacoemgain’s dagger safely in my boot.

Morag helped me lace the ties on my cloak.

“The helmet is on the bed,” Morag told me.

“Very good,” I said then went to grab it. When I did so, I was taken aback once more by the scarlet-colored stains on my hands. Stains that no one but me seemed to see.

“Morag, did you set out gloves?”

“No, my lady, but there is a pair here,” she said, pulling a pair of kidskin gloves from the trunk. She handed them to me.

I pulled them on, trying to ignore the spots on my hands.

“I’ll go downstairs and make sure Tira and Rhona are ready,” Morag said.

“Thank you, Morag.”

She nodded then headed out.

I went back to the window. I eyed Macbeth at the front of the army.

Just because I was riding south with Macbeth didn’t mean I had to tolerate a single word from him. He was nothing to me. No one. I would rule this land and rule it well, with or without him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow beside me.

I cast a sidelong glance to see the shape of Gillacoemgain there.

“Now I will go to Scone. I will become queen. But if I’d had a choice, I’d rather have stayed here all my life, content to be your lady and your wife,” I whispered.

While I loved Banquo, my words were true. I missed Gillacoemgain desperately. That beautiful dream Gillacoemgain and I had shared was rare, precious, and fragile… And it had been, in the end, just a dream.

I turned my head to look at him, catching only a glimpse of him before he disappeared back into the aether once more. But at that moment, I caught the soft, regretful look on his face.

One day I would be with him again.

One day.

But not today.

Adjusting my belt, I headed downstairs. Everywhere I looked, people were making ready. I passed through the hall, spotting Thora dozing sleepily by the fire. I went to her, bending to pet her.

“Lazy girl. What, you don’t want to become Queen of Scotland’s dog?”

Thora lifted her head and thumped her tail. Thora had never been one to miss an adventure, but the war had taken some of the spirit out of her. Both she and Kelpie had returned broken. It wasn’t like Thora to let me go without a disagreement. But this time, she didn’t seem interested. In a way, I didn’t blame her. I wasn’t excited to go either.

I patted her gently. “Be good. Keep an eye on my castle.”

Thora licked my hand then lay her head back down, closing her eyes to sleep once more. A nervous apprehension flickered in my stomach. What would I ever do without her?

“My lady,” Tira called from the door. “We have everything ready.”

Rising, I crossed the room and met Tira.

“Rhona is waiting outside with the Moray men. Standish has the horses ready.”

We exited the castle and crossed the courtyard. As we went, I pulled on Gillacoemgain’s helmet. In the courtyard, Standish waited with the blood bay stallion.

“My lady,” he said, helping me up.

“Thank you, Standish.”

“Lady Gruoch, this is Killian,” he said, motioning to a dark-haired man I had seen often about the castle. Killian had a serious, hawkish expression. I remembered him from amongst Gillacoemgain’s men. He was the second son of one of the clan leaders. “He has agreed to go south with you. He will organize your guard.”

I nodded to the man. “Killian. My many thanks to you and the others,” I said, motioning to the men assembled there, faces I knew.

“You are safe with us, Lady Gruoch,” Killian assured me.

“Safe travels, Queen Gruoch. Don’t worry about Cawdor. She will be held as you requested,” Standish told me.

“I’ve no worries,” I said, smiling gently at him. Gathering up my reins, I nodded to the others then we rode out.

The bay trotted gingerly across the field. I could feel the energy coursing through his veins. It took all the restraint he could muster not to sprint.

“Don’t worry,” I told the horse. “You’ll get your chance.”

The stallion turned his ears back to listen to me.

“Wild thing. Swift as an arrow, aren’t you?”

The horse neighed softly in reply.

My stomach turned as I approached Macbeth.

The years had done little to change him. His skin was still as pale as milk, his dark hair flecked with just a bit of silver at the temples. He was looking everywhere but at me.

I rode to him, stopping in front of him.

“How now, Macbeth?”

Finally, finally, he turned and looked at me. I saw his light-colored eyes take in my armor. The muscles around his mouth twitched. He inhaled deeply, slowly blowing out his breath.

“Where is Lulach?” he asked.

“Not here.”

“Not here? Then, where?”

“Not here, and not coming. Shall we?” I said, motioning to the field.

“But Lulach must come. He must ride south with us.”

I turned the blood bay and moved my horse alongside Macbeth. The bay snorted and stepped high, making the steed Macbeth rode shy sideways. Macbeth tightened his reins, controlling his nervous animal. I leaned toward Macbeth. “Lulach is not here, and he is not coming. You will not ask about my son again. Ride south, Macbeth.”

“Gruoch,” Macbeth whispered.

Tapping the bay, I rode to the front of the army, the men of Moray behind me.

Banquo, who had organized the line, called for the army to advance.

Whatever Macbeth thought was going to come next, he was very, very wrong.