Highland Vengeance

Chapter 12

It was late the next morning when I woke. Lulach was wide-awake in his crib, gurgling and kicking his legs. The fire in my hearth had been rebuilt. Someone had laid a blanket on me during the night. Ute, I assumed.

I felt hollow. My head hurt. When I sat up, I realized blood had stained the collar and shoulder of my nightgown. Had I had another episode? I thought I’d fallen asleep, but maybe… I couldn’t remember.

I rose, picked up my baby, and sat in the chair by the fire.

I held Lulach, gazing lovingly down at him.

“Sweet baby,” I cooed at him, and much to my surprise, he smiled, a dimple forming on his left cheek.

I laughed and planted a kiss on his forehead.

“My lady?” Ute called from the other side of the door.

“Come.”

Keeping her eyes low, she cast a glance at the bed. Without another word, she opened a trunk and pulled out some blankets and quickly set to work remaking the bed.

“Most of the lords and ladies returned home this morning. Lord Macbeth went out on a hunt,” she said, her words seeming to linger at the end.

I said nothing.

“Is there anything you need, my lady? Did you have any plans?”

“No. I’ll stay in my chambers with Lulach today. Have my meals sent here.”

“Yes, my lady.”

After her work was done, Ute disappeared.

Both my head and heart felt heavy. I spent the day playing with Lulach or dozing by the fire. Late in the evening, I opened my trunk and pulled out Uald’s Gift, the dagger Gillacoemgain had given me, and my whetstone. I sat sharpening my weapons.

I didn’t know what my marriage to Macbeth was. Whatever it was, it looked nothing like my marriage to Gillacoemgain. It was time to stop worrying about it, and do what I was told.

It was time to start training.

* * *

Four days passed. While I heard Macbeth’s voice in the castle, he had not come to see me. Frustrated, embarrassed, and annoyed, I stayed in my chambers. It was late in the afternoon on the fifth day when I finally heard a knock on the chamber door. My heart clamped at the idea it was Macbeth. Shame and confusion washed over me.

Tepidly, I answered the door.

It was Banquo.

“Merry met,” he said, handing me a package. From the overly cheerful tone in his voice, I could tell he was trying to be okay.

“What’s this?”

“A gift.”

I motioned for him to come in.

Thora rose and went to him, wagging her tail and pawing at his leg. He knelt to pet her. “Bad girl,” he told her. “You bored to death inside these walls? Want to come out to the woods and run wild with me?”

“Yes,” I answered for both of us.

Banquo chucked. “Open it,” he told me, motioning to the package.

I undid the small bundle. Within, I found fresh mistletoe. The bright green leaves smelled of the forest. I inhaled their perfume deeply.

I should have run away with Banquo.

“Thank you,” I whispered, fighting back the tears that threatened.

“Cerridwen? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. So, tell me where you were.”

Banquo smiled then sat down on the floor by the fire, tousling Thora’s ears as she nipped at his bootlaces. “There is a ring of stones about a day’s ride from here, a grove of oaks along with it. Like Inverness, it is a thin place. The stones are marked with Pictish designs. Even ravens,” he said, reaching out to touch the torcs on my wrists. “It’s a quiet place. And the further north you go, the wilder it is. In Moray, how was it?”

“Many keep to the old faith there as well. I hope to see your ring one day,” I told him.

Banquo grinned. “When you’re ready, I’ll show you how to get from here to there,” he said with a snap. “The castle and the stones are connected by a line of old magic that rumbles beneath the ground. It runs between all thin places.”

“Thin places,” I repeated, looking toward the balcony. The specter image of Gillacoemgain came to my mind once more. I shook the image away. “I need your help with something.”

Banquo smiled at me. “Of course.” Again, I saw the effort behind the smile, the effort to be okay, the effort not to think about whatever he had imagined.

“Uald and I used to spar. I need to train. In fact, I have been told to train.”

At that, Banquo paused. “Told? By whom.”

“Someone who should be obeyed.”

“Why? I mean, why train now?”

I considered whether or not it was wise to share the words of the bloody goddess. Well, she called me willful for a reason. “Blood is coming.”

At that, Banquo stiffened. “When?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then I guess we’d better start training.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow… Cerridwen, are you well?”

“Well enough.”

Banquo frowned but asked no more, much to my great relief.

I smiled at him, more glad that he was back than I could ever say.

* * *

Banquo and I had an old hall cleared, and I began to train. Archery targets, daggerboards, and a mass of weapons were collected. I didn’t mention the training to Macbeth, not because I wanted to keep it a secret, but because I hadn’t seen him at all. When I went to his chamber, he was either sleeping or out. I wasn’t sure if he was avoiding me or just busy.

Given the distance he’d put between us, I was surprised when he arrived one day when Banquo and I were in the midst of a duel. Dressed in a man’s breeches and a leather jerkin, I was bathed in sweat as Banquo and I fought vigorously. We were testing shields. Though Banquo was much stronger than I was, he allowed me to have at him for as long as I could manage it. I was clearly out of practice, but I was determined to improve.

So involved in the fight, we didn’t notice Macbeth at first. When we had both had enough, Banquo disarmed me.

“Good. You’re getting better with shields but—”

His words were interrupted by clapping. “Well done!” Macbeth called.

We turned to find him standing at the top of the steps by the door.

Still clapping, he walked downstairs into the chamber.

“My wife fights like a Valkyrie. I hope you haven’t ceased the training of my men for the training of my bride,” Macbeth told Banquo.

“Of course not,” Banquo said. I could hear the irritation in his voice. Was it Macbeth’s words or presence that had set him on edge?

“I used to be skilled in arms. I asked Banquo to spar with me,” I told Macbeth.

Macbeth smiled icily. “Well, it’s good to see you feeling so well.” He patted me hard on the shoulder then crossed the room to join Banquo.

“My wife fights better than some of my men,” he told Banquo then picked up one of the training swords.

“She does. She had an excellent teacher in her youth.”

“Ah, yes. In her youth. Odd. I thought you spent time with the holy sisters in your youth, Lady Gruoch.”

“I did spend time with holy sisters and also learned how to wield a sword.”

“Unusual training for a lady.”

“Not all ladies are the daughter of Boite,” Banquo answered for me.

Macbeth gave him a sharp look as he lifted training swords from the rack, measuring the weight and balance of each blade. “Boite. Yes. Malcolm spoke often of your father, Gruoch. Let’s see how good you are, wife. If you’re feeling well enough for the exertion.”

Something in me hardened at his choice of words. Just what did Malcolm say about my father? And what was Macbeth trying to imply about my health?

“If it pleases you.”

Macbeth set the training swords aside in favor of a saber lying on the table. “Ah, here is a gentleman’s sword.”

I raised an eyebrow at Macbeth. Very well. If that was the way he wanted to play, so be it. I lay down my training sword, picked up Uald’s Gift, and slid Gillacoemgain’s dagger into the top of my boot.

“Remember that you have a free hand,” Banquo whispered.

I winked at him and then stood at ready in the center of the room. Macbeth smiled at me and took his position.

Banquo called for us to begin.

I was already weary for the exercise, but there was no way I was going to let Macbeth beat me if I could help it. He was court-trained and fought fancier than Uald or Banquo. His defense was excellent. We moved across the floor, our swords clattering together. Macbeth parried very well.

I decided it was time to play with him. I tossed my sword from hand to hand then feinted again and again. I tried to unsteady and annoy him. The more baits I threw out, the more goading moves I made, the unhappier Macbeth became. His brow furrowed heavily. His frustration unbalanced him, and his attacks became clumsy. If I wanted to beat him, I knew all I had to do was cause an unexpected diversion.

We moved back and forth across the room. Soon his sweaty brow matched my own. I grew tired of his excellent parries, so I lured him in close to me. I saw his eyes gleam as he perceived a win coming and then, reaching out with my free hand, I shoved him hard and quickly spun around behind him. When I turned, however, I found myself looking down the length of his blade.

I cast a glance up at his blue eyes, which glimmered wildly.

“Thought you could trick me?” he asked.

I grinned then tapped the blade of my dagger against his side. I’d anticipated his move. Had we really been on the battlefield, he’d have my dagger sticking out of his gut.

He lowered his sword then looked down at the dagger. His cheeks flushed an angry red, his features hardening. “If any dagger ever kills me, I’m sure it will be this one,” he said then glared at me. “What are you playing at?”

“Only the game you started.”

Macbeth sneered at the dagger. His eyes met mine, and he lowered his voice. “Bloody, murdering dagger. But what can I say? I knew whose bride you were.”

“I…” I began, but I wasn’t sure what to say. I knew what Macbeth thought, that it was the blade Gillacoemgain had used to… But I didn’t know that, hadn’t even thought of it. And I hadn’t meant anything by it.

Macbeth stepped back then and smiled brightly. The shift in expressions, from rage to happiness, was sudden and unexpected. “You fight excellently,” Macbeth said, his face looking overly cheerful. He smiled wide, his eyes even wider. “It’s good to see you out of your chamber, wife. I wondered where you’ve been. And here I find you with Banquo, of all people. My dear, I’ve hardly laid eyes on you these many days. Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not. I’ve been by to look for you many times. You’re always either out or busy.”

“Really? That hardly seems possible. I’m usually at work in my chamber or in the hall. Are you certain you were by? Either way. I doesn’t matter. Do all these physical exertions mean you’re…recovered?”

“Somewhat. Yes.”

Macbeth leaned in and set a quick kiss on my lips. “Stop avoiding me,” he whispered in my ear then slapped my bottom. “What do you say, Banquo? She had me, didn’t she?” he said, turning to Banquo, a smile on his face.

“Indeed she did,” Banquo replied.

“I dare say, had it been a real fight, we might have killed each other.”

“That’s the risk of the dance,” Banquo answered.

Macbeth nodded then set the sword back on the table. “Do make sure my soldiers are getting the same training as my wife, old friend.”

Banquo smiled awkwardly then nodded to Macbeth.

“Lord Macbeth,” a footman called from the door. He was holding a scroll. Macbeth crossed the room and took the message. After he read it, he turned back to us. “You must forgive me. Duty calls,” he said then turned and headed away from the hall.

I took a deep breath, went to the table, and poured myself some water.

“What did he say? You’re upset,” Banquo said.

I shook my head. Did Macbeth really think I had been avoiding him? Why would he think that?

“I…nothing. Just the troubles of learning one another’s ways, I guess.”

Banquo nodded thoughtfully.

I suddenly laughed aloud, the ridiculousness of the situation unmooring me.

“Cerridwen?”

“Has there ever been a more preposterous situation? So, husband, my other husband is not what I expected, and I cannot decide what to make of him, especially considering he’s not anything like that other husband I had—the one everyone thinks was very evil but who was very good to me—in the interim.”

At that, Banquo chuckled. “Indeed. Absurd.”

I shook my head.

Banquo sighed. “I can try to talk to him.”

“Yes, husband, please talk to my husband.”

Banquo groaned. “I think I need a strong drink.”

“Me too. Most certainly, me too.”