Highland Vengeance

Chapter 26

I rested for the next several days, Morag and Merna attending me, Banquo making regular visits. But I had not once seen Macbeth. My child was gone. Once more, it was only Macbeth and me in the marriage. His absence clearly denoted his thoughts on the state of affairs.

On the third day, I was up once more, sitting by the fire when Banquo came in. He had a frustrated expression on his face.

“What is it?”

“Macbeth has arranged for the return south. I had asked him to delay a few more days, but he will not have it. We sail tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

Banquo sat down then shook his head. “He’s…unreasonable right now, despite Thorfinn’s best efforts. And he will not hear from me. At all. I will sail back to Lochaber. Ask Macbeth to send you to Madelaine. It would do you well to be with your sisters at this time.”

I nodded then stared into the fire.

“He blames me,” Banquo whispered.

“How could this possibly be your fault?”

Banquo sighed.

“I need to get my house ready,” Banquo said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

I shook my head. “I’ll be all right.”

Banquo set his hand on my shoulder then left.

* * *

I didn’t see Macbeth at all that day, but he sent men to begin stowing our belongings for the trip south. The idea that Macbeth was brooding vexed me. I was enduring the hardship alone. Ute, who had lost her own child in secret, carried her own burden. Why was Macbeth acting like this? And where was he? Didn’t he care at all how I was? Did he really have no love for me? Was I truly just a tool, a name, a womb to bolster his legacy? Every time I thought it, anger rocked me.

By the time Macbeth finally arrived, I had worked myself up into a fury. The raven had choice words for this puppet of the White Christ who would use my body to make himself king.

“Gruoch, we’ll set to sail in the morning. Thorfinn will feast us tonight, and we’ll sail at dawn,” he said, looking everywhere but at me.

“How nice of you to inform me.”

Macbeth stiffened. “I am trying to get you home as quickly as possible.”

“Why? To stuff another child inside me right away?”

“I… Gruoch, have you lost your mind? I’m trying to get you home so you can recover in comfort.”

The raven laughed. “Liar,” I spat out. “Where have you been, Macbeth? You left me all alone in this house, not even bothering to comfort me, to see if I would live or die. Where have you been? And now you’re packing me up to send me south like some damned animal.”

“I was praying to God for your life, Gruoch! What good would it serve to sit at your bedside and pet your head? I was praying to God to save you.”

“Well, tell your god thank you. I’m alive.”

“But my child—”

“Our child. We both lost a child.”

“I told you not to go running about the countryside again. I warned you. But you are so reckless, so willful. Banquo is too bold in his handling of you. One would think he believes he’s your husband, not me.”

“So I am to blame? Banquo is to blame? Sometimes it is not meant to be, Macbeth, and that is all. I was surprised I could conceive at all.”

Macbeth made a grunting sound that sounded almost like a growl. He ran his fingers through his hair so forcefully I thought he’d rip his hair from his scalp.

“Tomorrow, we’ll go home,” he said then turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

I sat staring into the fire. I was not to blame. Neither was Banquo. But Macbeth’s words had cut close to the heart. Macbeth did not know how true his words were. Perhaps he could feel the secret just under the surface, an itch he could not scratch. I set my hand on my now empty womb. I had not thought much of the little one who had lived and died there. It had not felt like a real thing to me, not in the way Lulach and Crearwy had. In truth, I had felt indifferent toward the child. How strange. Lulach and Crearwy had come to me unwanted, unbidden, but I had loved them both fiercely. I’d wanted a child with Macbeth, or so I’d thought. If so, why did I feel so empty about it?

Frowning, I rose. Working slowly, I packed my things and got ready to travel south.

* * *

That night, we feasted with Thorfinn and the others in the hall. Macbeth neither spoke nor looked at Banquo. Thorfinn tried to keep up the cheer, but the room seemed more subdued than usual. Merna and Banquo departed as soon as they had eaten. Not long after, I also said my farewells, leaving Macbeth, who’d seemed not to notice, behind.

I was walking back to my house when the skald Anor joined me.

“Lady, I am sorry to see you depart. And I’m even more sorry to hear of your woes.”

“Thank you, Anor.”

“You must not trouble yourself with worries of legacy, my lady. Lord Lulach is a fine boy and will grow into a strong and wise man. And a man of our faith, I think.”

I paused then looked at him. “What have you seen?”

Anor cast a glance over his shoulder.

“It’s all right,” I said.

“Lord Macbeth will have no rightful heir save Lulach. You must not trouble yourself, my lady, if you cannot conceive his child. The gods have willed it.”

“And my son?”

“In my visions, I have seen him on a throne. But around his head, I see a crown of mistletoe. More I cannot see.”

A druid king. My heart lurched. But druid kings were often year kings, sacrificed to the slaughter when the year ended. There was no way to know what the skald had seen. I would press Andraste on the issue.

“Thank you, Anor.”

He bowed to me. “Jarl Thorfinn thinks I know things before they pass because I am a spy. It is merely Odin speaking through me.”

“Bring him news of Ingibjorg. That, no doubt, will win you some favor.”

Anor laughed. “You are right, my lady. The only time Lord Thorfinn was ever pleased with me was when I told him he would win his bride.”

“Indeed? And when will that come to pass?”

“When Macbeth becomes king.”

“When?”

“Ask your red lady,” he said with a smile. “I wish you safe journeys south, Lady Gruoch.”

“Thank you. May the gods bless you.”

“And you.”

* * *

We sailed the following morning. Thorfinn and Macbeth stood on the dock beside me as Banquo and Merna prepared to board their ship.

“I hope to see you again soon,” Merna said, hugging me in farewell. Lulach, whom I was holding, giggled at being squished between us.

When she let me go, Morag embraced me. “My lady, take care.”

I smiled at them. “I shall miss you both. And you, little Fleance,” I told the boy who made a silly face at me, making me laugh. Slipping from Merna’s grasp, he rushed off. Merna turned and raced after him.

“Lady Macbeth,” Banquo said, giving me a formal bow.

Lady Macbeth. What a cursed name. “Thane,” I said, nodding to him. “Safe voyage to you and yours. We will see you soon, I hope.”

If things remained cold between Macbeth and Banquo, it might be a long time.

With a nod, Banquo turned to go.

“Baaaannccc,” Lulach screamed at him.

Taking a step back, Banquo leaned in and kissed Lulach on the cheek. “Be a good boy. Watch over your mother,” he said, his eyes resting on mine for a moment before he turned once more.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I willed him to hear the words that hung unspoken in the air.

Snatching Fleance from Merna’s grasp, Banquo turned to go. Merna, Fleance, Banquo, and Morag boarded their ship.

“Lady Macbeth,” Thorfinn said, wrapping an arm around me. “We shall see you next spring, I hope.”

“Thank you for your hospitality.”

He nodded kindly, but there was sadness behind his eyes.

I whistled to Thora, who bounded down the dock toward me. “No more playing wolf pack. Let’s go,” I said, turning to look at Ute who stood staring glassy-eyed behind me. With a nod to Thorfinn, we boarded our own ship.

Thorfinn and Macbeth stayed behind a few moments more. Thorfinn was telling Macbeth something. My husband, such as he was, stood listening, his arms crossed, nodding on occasion. When Thorfinn finished speaking, they both looked up at me.

I frowned and took a spot along the rail out of the way. Not long after, Macbeth boarded the ship.

We headed out to sea, sailing once more to Inverness.

And not once did my husband either speak to or look at me.

And I was glad.