“No, but I need to get cleaned up. There is much to do.”
Rhona shook her head. I couldn’t help but notice her cheeks had turned red. “Part of me wants to slap you, my lady. I’m doing my best to hold myself back.”
“I wouldn’t risk it,” Tira warned her companion. “From the looks of our lady, she just murdered the entire southern army on her own.”
“Not the whole army, just the king.”
Tira tittered nervously, but Rhona met my eyes.
I inclined my head to her.
She returned the gesture.
Tira blew air through her lips, tossed her hands in the air, then turned and pulled out the washbasin. “No sense arguing about it. It’s done now. We need to get her cleaned up before anyone else realizes our lady is mad enough to ride out onto the battlefield like she’s Boudicca.”
“Ah, but there you’re wrong,” I told her.
“Wrong?”
“Boudicca did not survive. I have won the day.”
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.