Highland Vengeance

Chapter 33

The next morning, I woke to the sound of trumpets blasting and drums beating the courtyard. I opened my eyes and stared at the rich drapes. Duncan had arrived. I inhaled deeply then let out a long, slow breath. I would feel nothing. I would remember nothing. Not the rain. Not the mud. Not the feel of him inside me. Not the pain of knowing I carried his children. I would feel nothing. I would show nothing. I was here in the role of Lady Macbeth, mother of Lulach. That was all.

But you are more, so much more. And one day, he shall pay. One day, he shall pay.

Rhona arrived not long after to help me get ready. Footmen raced up and down the halls rousing all the lords and ladies. I bathed and rubbed my body down with perfumes and oils. Rhona fixed up my hair in high looping curls. She set a silver brooch in my locks. Once she was done, we both wrangled Lulach and forced him into his fancy clothes, much to his annoyance. But more, we made sure the boy wore the plaid of Moray.

“I brought this, my lady,” Rhona said, pinning the fabric across Lulach’s chest with a silver penannular brooch. I recognized the piece at once.

“Gillacoemgain’s?” I asked.

She nodded. “I put a cork on the end so Lulach doesn’t take his eye out,” she said with a laugh.

I smiled. “I thought it was gone.”

Rhona shook her head. “I found it by accident myself. It was… Lord Gillacoemgain left it in the chapel.”

“Oh,” I whispered, touched that Gillacoemgain had the foresight to leave the precious item for his son.

There was a knock on the door.

As I righted Lulach’s clothes, Rhona went to answer. A moment later, Macbeth entered.

He smiled lightly but barely met my eye. “If you and Lulach are ready, we should go to the cathedral.”

I eyed him over. He was dressed fashionably in red velvet and black silk under a heavy bear cloak.

“Very well,” I said then put a cap on Lulach.

Macbeth took my cloak from Rhona’s hands and helped me put it on. “You look very beautiful,” he whispered.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Thank you.”

“And you, little Lord Lulach. Would you like to go meet the new king?” he asked, picking Lulach up.

“No,” Lulach said, looking dour.

Both Macbeth and I laughed. “Well, at least there is something all of us can agree on,” Macbeth said with a gentle smile. I eyed him warily, reminded myself not to be fooled again.

We were escorted from the citadel to the cathedral. Pair by pair, we would be processed through the church to the new king who sat on the Stone of Scone. We were expected to profess our loyalty. The footman organized the lords and ladies, sending each pair through. The crowd was thick. I saw many lesser lords and ladies were already seated within. Madelaine and Fife were in the procession line ahead of us.

“Where is Thorfinn?” I whispered.

Macbeth smirked. “North.”

“Bold.”

“It must begin somewhere.”

The footman announced Madelaine and Fife. I strained to look, catching only a glimpse of my aunt’s red hair.

“Your aunt,” Macbeth said.

I nodded.

“If you will… I would very much like to be introduced to her.”

I looked up at him. Macbeth met and held my eyes. I was surprised to find sadness and, I thought, remorse.

“Gruoch,” he whispered. “I want to make amends—”

“Lord and Lady Macbeth. Come forward, please,” the footman said.

Macbeth set Lulach down, and I straightened his clothes, smoothing down his hair. I took my son’s hand, surprised to see that Macbeth held his other hand.

“Come, Lulach. We shall go together like the family we are,” Macbeth said then prepared to be called.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself not to be unmoored by his words. I straightened my back, pulling myself up long and tall. Remembering just a bit of glamour, I worked my fingers and pulled an enchantment around myself. I would appear more radiant, more beautiful, and very powerful. At this moment, Duncan needed to see a hint of the raven. He needed to feel its strength and be wary.

“Mum,” Lulach said, his eyes wide, a smile on his face.

“Sh,” I said, lifting a finger to my lips, grinning when I realized what the boy had noticed.

“Macbeth, son of Donalda and Findelach, Lord of the North and his wife, Gruoch, daughter of Boite, Lady of Moray, and Lulach, son of Gruoch and Gillacoemgain of Moray,” the herald announced.

The cathedral stilled.

Everyone knew that if there was any legitimate challenge to Duncan’s rule, it would come from me and Macbeth. While Duncan had been Malcolm’s favorite, Duncan’s mother was the elder of Malcolm’s two daughters, I was the daughter of Boite. I was the Lady of Moray. Macbeth held the north. We were the only ones in the room with the power to unseat everything—save Thorfinn who was not here to profess his allegiance. Again, I thought about how we should have stayed north. We should have amassed our armies and ridden south in force, not with fancy clothes and pretty words. But here we were.

There were whispers in the crowd. I heard my name and my father’s. I heard Gillacoemgain’s name, Lulach’s, and Macbeth’s.

“Mum. Mum, Banc,” Lulach whispered pointing. I tapped his hand gently, reminding him to be quiet, and thanking the Goddess that Lulach had not simply screamed out Banquo’s name as was his usual fashion.

I cast a glance toward the Highlanders and spotted Banquo amongst them. His eyes met mine for just a fleeting moment, but I looked away, knowing my face would betray me if I did not. I could not be soft at this moment. I could not feel anything. I must radiate power. And I must forget the past, forget that the man before me was the father of the child whose hand I held. I needed to forget the smell of the wet earth and the rain. Forget the glow of torchlight. Forget the feel of his hand on my back. Forget the sound of his coin purse falling at my feet, the coins inside jangling.

I set my eyes on the man before me.

Duncan’s arrogance and utter joy at having the world at his feet was the first thing that shone through. What I did remember of him, I remembered perfectly. The thin face, fat lips, fair hair, and gangly body were the same. He looked like a child playing at king, like his rich robes adorned with jewels weighed more than he did. He smiled smugly at us.

The raven within me screeched loudly, and I heard the heavy beat of raven wings. My eyes flashed silver, and in that moment, I saw the expression on Duncan’s face change. An expression of confusion and fear washed over his face. What had the raven shown him?

I sucked in my breath and held it in, keeping the raven at bay. A terrible rage washed over me, and all I could think about was killing him where he sat, freeing the stone of destiny from the fungus that sat upon it.

Duncan wet his lips nervously then rose. “Worthy cousins,” he called.

I exhaled slowly.

“My king,” Macbeth replied with a bow. “May I present my wife and stepson?” Macbeth said, turning to us.

“All men say the Lady of Moray is the most handsome woman in the land. It is not a boast,” Duncan said, turning to me.

One day, I will kill you. “Thank you, my king,” I said then curtsied.

Duncan stared at me, examining my face longer than expected. “Lady, have we met before?”

Fool! “No, my king.”

Duncan nodded. “Perhaps I am seeing your father in your face. I remember Boite. I thought he was a giant,” Duncan said then laughed loudly.

I stared at him.

Duncan coughed then looked down at Lulach.

My heart slammed in my chest. What if he realized? What if he recognized his own blood? I curled my free hand into a fist so it would not tremble.

“And this is your stepson,” he said, glancing from Lulach to Macbeth.

The comment was meant to wound, and from the fleeting expression on Macbeth’s face, it had. Worse, Duncan had seen Macbeth’s pained expression and had relished in it. He smirked, looking self-satisfied. His expression enraged me.

“This is Lulach, Son of Gillacoemgain, heir of Moray,” I said firmly. To my surprise, my voice echoed throughout the cathedral, the words sounding more like a proclamation than an introduction.

The poignancy was not lost on the assembled crowd. If Duncan nor Macbeth produced an heir—not considering Lulach’s true paternity—the tiny boy who would one day be king, would one day come to this very room and sit on the stone of destiny.

“Lord Lulach,” Duncan said more formally, inclining his head to my boy. Out of the corner of his eye, Duncan gave me a wary glance.

Good. He had realized I would not let his petty games pass. Perhaps he and Macbeth had grown up together at Malcolm’s knee, spent a lifetime tormenting one another and vying for the king’s affection and attention, but I would have no part of their cheap slights. I was the daughter of Boite. Lulach was Boite’s grandson. Duncan was a cheap version of power, a raping ruler. He was a fool, and I would never again suffer a fool. I narrowed my eyes at him, feeling the raven look out once more.

Duncan looked away. He turned to Macbeth. “Come, cousin. Let’s be done with this so we can get to our meal,” Duncan said then motioned for Macbeth and me to kneel.

Do not kneel. A daughter of the Goddess does not kneel. Rip out his heart, and eat it before the assembled crowd. Let them see the real you.

Macbeth kneeled.

Inhaling deeply, I followed his lead. I wrapped my arm around Lulach’s waist and held him at my side. Lulach did not kneel because he did not know better. And I did not ask him to. His small refusal would not go unnoticed by the gods.

“I, Macbeth, son of Findelach and Donalda, swear the loyalty of my lands in the north to Duncan, king of Scotland.”

“I, Gruoch, daughter of Boite and Emer, swear loyalty to King Duncan as the Lady of Moray for both myself and my son, Lulach of Gillacoemgain.”

“Lord and Lady Macbeth, I accept your fealty and acknowledge Lulach as the rightful successor to Moray. I bid you go in peace.”

With that, we rose and were escorted to a seat at the front of the cathedral close to Madelaine, Fife, and some other lords and ladies I did not know. The bishop came forward then and began speaking in Latin. He said his prayers and blessed Duncan, ending the performance when he set a crown on Duncan’s head.

“Long reign King Duncan,” the man intoned.

“Long reign the king!” the assembly answered.

Until his reign comes to its end.