“With what?”
“It sometimes floods in the spring. At Cawdor—”
“The commoners have their local thanes. We need not be worried about such small matters.”
I chewed my lip. Gillacoemgain had not seen such troubles as too far below his concern. “If we will not be directly involved in the management of the north, what will we be busy with?”
“Planning.”
“Planning for what?”
“Well, I hope you will be planning for my heir.”
His comment made my stomach quake. “I shall do my best. We have taken the first step,” I said lightly, trying to hide my unsettled feelings.
“You must take care that you don’t exert yourself too much to prevent it.”
“Exert myself?”
“Yes. Your play with Banquo. Don’t you think it would be wise to restrain yourself a bit? You are a new mother, after all. And a lady. It’s not proper. And when you conceive our child, you will want to take care to ensure his safety. We cannot afford any missteps or accidents.”
“Proper is a matter of perspective. But I’ll keep it in mind, my lord,” I said, the flower of hope within me fading.
Macbeth unlaced his hand from mine then rose. Without another word, he redressed. “Get some rest before my uncle’s son disturbs your slumber,” he said then left.
Chapter 14
The journey north came within the month. Dispatches were sent to Lord Thorfinn, and three ships arrived to carry Macbeth’s household by sea to Caithness.
The Northmen’s longships were similar to the ships in Ynes Verleath. I tried to learn what I could about how the ship actually functions, but was eventually escorted by a well-meaning sailor to a safe spot where I wouldn’t be able to put myself in danger. I bit my tongue. Since I’d come into Macbeth’s company, I’d returned to the same attitude that ruled Allister’s household: women were property, not people.
I should have run away with Banquo.
Thora, however, had the run of the ship. The men seemed to think she was good luck. And from the looks she was giving me, it amused Thora that I was told to go sit while she got to do as she liked. Annoying, willful, magical dog.
So, instead of learning how to do anything, I sat and held Lulach while the North Sea passed me by. The sight of the water made me feel lonely for Ynes Verleath. There was so much Andraste hadn’t taught me. My mind went back to the moment in the chamber of the Lord of the Hollow Hills. What I’d seen there was nothing short of wizardry. Now I was forced to sit in a corner and stay out of the way. In Ynes Verleath, I’d learned how to raise the dead. But I should have expected as much. My husband’s brief, nightly visits had become a clear indication that my new purpose in life was to provide him with an heir. Since the first encounter, Macbeth had come again and again. Macbeth’s visits were always brief. He never stayed afterward, never seemed to realize that I might actually want or need pleasure. He pleased himself, filled me with his seed, then left. I knew this was the way most lords and ladies lived, but it was not how I wanted to live. And it was not how I had lived with Gillacoemgain. Maybe Macbeth just didn’t know any better. I was at a loss for what to do. If I did give him a child, maybe things would be different, better.
My hand drifted to my stomach. My courses had not yet started again, but I was still nursing Lulach. There was no way to be sure yet if I was pregnant. I didn’t feel life inside me. My mind drifted to Crearwy. I ached desperately for my child, but this was no life for her—not for any woman. The priests of the White Christ preached submission of women. Macbeth had grown up on the doctrine, and, it seemed, believed it.
I hoped things would be better in Thurso. Otherwise, I was about to spin myself a noose. Surely, those who lived so far in the north knew and honored the old ways—and their women.
When the port of Thurso became visible, my heart leaped with excitement.
“Is that it, my lady?” Ute asked.
“I think so.”
“What an adventure,” she said wistfully. “Ah! There is Macbeth,” she said, pointing happily to another ship that was already in port. I scanned the dock for Banquo but didn’t see him.
At last, our ship finally joined the others. Once our ship was safely moored, Macbeth boarded to see me safely debarked.
“I love Thurso,” he told me. “Come. You’ll see. It is a wonder.”
With his arm wrapped around me, we made our way up the pier toward a hulking blond-haired man. He had long blonde hair with an equally long beard. Braids had been woven through his hair and beard.
Ute followed behind us carrying Lulach.
“Brother!” the man called to Macbeth.
I recognized the blond giant from my visions in the cauldron. This was Thorfinn the Mighty, a man whom Gillacoemgain had vehemently detested. Macbeth embraced him.
“My wife, Gruoch,” Macbeth said, turning to me.
“Lord Thorfinn,” I said with a curtsey.
The huge man smiled down at me. “Pretty, very pretty,” Thorfinn said, looking at me assessing. He smirked at Macbeth. “Hard to tell what you’re going to get with a royal lady.”
Macbeth laughed. “There is no lovelier creature on Earth,” he said, eyeing me with such unexpected devotion that I felt confused. Who was this man? Where had this kind creature been all these months?
I turned back to Thorfinn. “Pleased to meet you, my lord. And what about you? Are you married, sir?”
“Not yet. But if I can get these ridiculous Norwegians to hand over Ingibjorg before I am compelled take her by force, I will be.”
I laughed. “Is she such a beauty that you would risk war just to claim her?”
“I would risk the whole of England for her!”
The three of us laughed then turned and headed down the pier. Thora raced ahead of us to Banquo, who was waiting alongside a dark-haired woman I’d seen—as the raven—once before. The woman was holding onto a small boy who was wiggling to get down.
“Ah, your playmate awaits you,” Macbeth commented lightly, speaking only loud enough for me to hear.
His words startled me. I searched Macbeth’s face, but he quickly covered his expression with a smile.
“My Lady of Moray, may I present my wife, Merna, and my boy, Fleance,” Banquo said. He would not meet my eye.
Merna smiled. “My lady.”
I felt like someone had struck me with a dagger. Was this how Banquo had felt all this time? I stared at Merna in disbelief. How was she his wife?
Pulling myself together, I said, “Merry met.” I turned my attention to their child. “Fleance, eh? Well, come to me, little lad, so I can get a better look at you,” I said, reaching out to the child.
The boy, who was about two years old with curly brown hair like his father, reached for me. I held him on my hip then gazed into his mischievous brown eyes. How like his father he looked. If Banquo and I had our own son, would he have looked like this?
“Aren’t you a handsome one? Strong too,” I said, feeling the muscles in his little arms.
Merna laughed. “Now, that’s a sight. That boy won’t even go to his own kin. He took right to you, my lady. Can you believe it, Banquo?”
“I can,” Banquo answered softly, which earned him a questioning look from his wife.
“Hello, Fleance,” I told him. “I’m Gruoch.”
“Gru…Gruc…Gorch,” he said with a laugh then reached out to touch the torc hanging around my neck.
“Gruoch is such a dreadful name. I never understood why my father gave it to me. How about Corbie? Can you say Corbie?” I asked, tickling him.