“It more than pleases me, my son. My heart is full of joy to imagine you continuing your father’s work.”
“We saw Tira and Rhona in Moray,” Fleance told me. “Rhona is still at the castle, but Tira returned home. She came to see us. They both send their love.”
I smiled when I thought of them.
“What about you, Fleance? Will you return to Lochaber?”
“Cawdor was just as much my home as Lochaber. My father has things well in hand in Lochaber. I will stay at Cawdor with Lulach. For now. Unless the wind blows me south again.”
Lulach gave Fleance a look that I didn’t understand.
“The gods and Balor have chosen the time very well. There are rumblings in the south. Very soon, we may be at war again.”
Lulach nodded. “Malcolm’s star is rising.”
I raised an eyebrow at Lulach.
He inclined his head to me. “Thus, I must be ready. And where better to begin than Moray?”
That night, we dined. Everyone was delighted to meet their prince. The lords and ladies in attendance tripped over themselves to introduce their daughters to Lulach. The young ladies eyed my son. He was every bit as handsome as his father, but an otherworldliness clung to Lulach. Add to that the tattoos that covered his arms and brow, Lulach was very different from the lords. While all the pretty girls wanted Lulach to notice them, they were also wary.
“And what about you?” I asked Fleance, elbowing him as if to push him toward the crowd. “Don’t you want to meet the fair ladies?”
“No, Corbie.”
“What, have you given your heart elsewhere already?” I said in jest, but Fleance shifted uncomfortably. I had tripped upon the truth. “Fleance?”
“I suspect Lulach’s heart is a puzzle even to him,” Fleance said, diverting the topic.
“What about you?”
He patted his chest above his heart but said no more.
I didn’t press. When he was ready, he would tell me.
As I watched Lulach, I was impressed with his skill handling the lords and ladies. His quiet way made them eager to talk. Too eager. Lulach listened, smiled only a little, and left the great thanes wondering what else to say or do to please their prince. I realized then the power Lulach had. Long ago, Banquo told me Lulach’s reserved ways might serve him well. He was right.
It was late in the night, after the others retired, that Lulach turned to me and said, “Shall we see him now?”
I nodded.
Taking a torch, Lulach and I headed to the old part of the castle. Winding down the narrow halls, we passed the unused chambers until we found ourselves standing in the great hall of the Parisi. Long ago, I had the room cleaned and the center fire pit rebuilt. A throne had been installed on the wall once more. Here, Lulach and I found Macbeth holding court to phantoms.
“Macbeth?” I called.
Jabbering on about something, Macbeth stopped mid-sentence and looked at me. He narrowed his eyes, looking confused for just a moment. “Who is that beside you?” Macbeth asked then he rose, his face flashing with rage. “Damned, murderous uncle.”
I pulled Uald’s Gift and lifted it protectively in front of Lulach.
“Fool, it is Lulach you see before you. Gillacoemgain is long dead. You should remember it well. You murdered him.”
“Lulach?” Macbeth asked, dropping his sword. It clattered to the floor.
“Your Majesty,” Lulach said stiffly.
Turning, Macbeth gestured to the empty room. “They tell me Siward’s army is growing. They tell me my cousin’s son wants to kill us. They tell me I need to wake again and rejoin you. Is that right, Gruoch?”
“Their intelligence on the matter is as good as my own.”
“Should I rejoin you?”
“That depends on the manner of man who will rejoin me. You know you cannot speak to them in the presence of others.”
“They tell me they will go away so I can rule again.”
“Then tell them to go.”
“All right. Tomorrow. I will ask them to go tomorrow.”
“Very well.”
Macbeth studied Lulach. “How like your father you look. I loved him once. I loved him more than my own father, in fact. I never understood why he did it.”
“He had a good reason,” I said, instantly regretting saying anything.
“Did he?” Macbeth asked.
“Yes.”
“Oh. All right.”
“Then we shall see you soon?” I asked Macbeth.
He nodded. “Yes.”
Motioning to Lulach, we left the place.
Behind us, I heard Macbeth whispering once more.
“Mother,” Lulach began.
I didn’t know what to say. Macbeth had been mad in fits and starts over the years. Mostly, he kept to himself. It unnerved me to think he wanted to rejoin court life. As it was, it was impossible to dispel the rumors about him. No doubt Siward had already learned that Macbeth was not at the helm in Scotland. Perhaps that is why he was plotting once more. “Lulach, Macbeth is—”
Lulach raised a hand to stop me. “No. I don’t care about him. What you said about my father… Did Gillacoemgain have a good reason for killing Findelach?”
I stared at Lulach. Torchlight bounced off his face, accentuating the tattoos thereon. Of course, he would be curious. Of course, he would want to know the truth. “Yes, he did.”
“Can you tell me?”
I shook my head. “Long ago, I promised I would never speak of it.”
Lulach scrunched up his brow as he considered my words. “Crearwy—my aunt, Crearwy. It had something to do with her.”
I stared at Lulach but said nothing.
Lulach’s eyes took on a faraway gaze. “It’s all right,” Lulach said. “You keep your promise,” he said then took my hand. He studied the glove thereon. “Still? After all these years?”
“Yes.”
“I am sorry for it. I am sorry for all of it,” Lulach said then kissed my gloved hand and led me away.
Lulach and Fleance stayed for several days before returning north once more to Moray. I made sure every lord, lady, thane, mormaer, and clansmen knew that the prince had returned and was ruling in Moray. Maybe Siward thought Macbeth weak, but with Lulach stepping into his place, it might dissuade—or at least give pause to—any action Siward might take.
I had hoped Siward would change his mind.
But that would not come to pass.
What did come to pass was the return of Macbeth. Having left behind his court of shadows, Macbeth returned to rule alongside me once more.
And our first act was to declare war.
Chapter 43
Twice, Siward would rise only to be beaten back by the forces of Scotland. Twice. And on each occasion, it was the Mormaer of Moray and the younger Thane of Lochaber who rode into battle to deter the Earl of Northumbria and Malcolm, son of Duncan, who sought to reclaim his father’s throne.
In the meantime, I ruled Scotland with a steady hand and guided Macbeth as best I could. The man I knew had returned somewhat, but the same darkness lurked within him. Old jealousies, those I thought long-forgotten, resurfaced one evening when I announced I would ride to Lochaber.
“Why are you going there?” Macbeth asked, a hard tone in his voice.
“To see Banquo.”
“I think Banquo has lied to me all these years. I think he quit me because of you,” Macbeth said.
“Banquo was ill. You, too, have been ill. This kingdom has been ruled in peace all these years while you brooded. What more could you want?”
“The truth,” Macbeth replied. “I want the truth.”
“About what? That I don’t love you? I do not. That I love Banquo? I do. What have you done to deserve my love? What have you done to earn anything I gave to you? Nothing. Yet here I am, your wife, and I have tended to you these many years. Me. Is there anyone else around? No. It’s me who has cared for you.”