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.
Chapter 34
Duncan stepped off the dais and took the arm of a beautiful woman I had not noticed before. The girl, who would not have been older than eighteen, had long golden hair and wore an ornately embroidered cream-colored grown. A small diadem of gold and pearls sat on her head.
“Queen Suthen,” Madelaine whispered in my ear. “Sister of Earl Siward of Northumbria.”
Following behind them was an attractive older pair who nodded politely to us.
“That is your cousin and my niece, Bethoc, daughter of Malcolm, and her husband, Crinan, Abbot of Dunkeld. Duncan’s parents,” Madelaine whispered.
The attendant waved for us to come next.
Macbeth picked up Lulach, and we processed back through the cathedral.
This time, I caught Banquo’s eye.
He smiled at me and nodded.
We were escorted back to the castle and into the feasting hall. There, we were seated close to Duncan at the end of the table. I glanced at those around us, my extended family, none of whom had anything to do with me.
“Lady Macbeth,” Queen Suthen called. “Please, sit beside me.”
Madelaine took Lulach from my arms and sat down beside Bethoc, Duncan’s mother. Fife, Crinan, Macbeth, and a man I did not know talked with Duncan.
“My queen,” I said, inclining my head, then took a seat beside her.
“Please, call me Suthen. And you’re Gruoch, is that right?”
I nodded.
Queen Suthen smiled as she eyed me over, her gaze assessing. “That’s my brother, Siward,” she whispered as she pointed her chin toward the man. “Duncan speaks regularly of his cousin Macbeth, but he doesn’t seem to know much about you or your aunt.”
“I’m not surprised. Besides whose bed we lay in, Madelaine and I were of little interest to Malcolm.”
Suthen, who was sipping her wine, half spit out the drink as she suppressed a laugh.
Duncan looked up at her, a reproachful glance on his face.
My gaze darkened. I stared at him, daring him to look at his wife in such a manner again.
Acting as though something behind his wife had caught his attention, Duncan fixed a soft expression on his face once more then turned back to his father who was talking quickly, gesturing wildly as he spoke. I couldn’t help but notice the good Abbot’s fingers were covered with gold and silver rings.
“Sorry,” Queen Suthen said, daintily patting her lips with an embroidered cloth. “I’m unused to such frankness.”
I smirked. “I was not raised at court. I am unused to hiding my opinion.”
“All the better for it, then. And that is your son?” she asked, looking toward Lulach.