I nodded. “Lulach.”
“And his father was Gillacoemgain of Moray?”
“Yes.”
Queen Suthen tapped her finger on the side of her glass as she stared at Lulach. I could see she was calculating: Lulach’s age, the length of my marriage, and so on. There was no one in the land who did not know Lulach’s fate if neither Duncan nor Macbeth produced an heir. And by now, both Macbeth and Duncan should have an heir on the way—yet neither did.
“He is a fine boy. I hope to soon be blessed with a child of my own. Perhaps when Lulach is older he—and you, of course—should come to court. But only if it won’t curtail your frankness,” she said then smiled. “One day, Duncan and I will have sons of our own. It would be nice to see our children grow side by side, let them grow to love their cousins as our husbands do.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. Was she really so clueless about the true nature of affairs in Scotland, or was she playing? She picked up her wine and sipped once more.
“Indeed,” I answered simply. Dammit, what was I doing here?
“Or, perhaps, if we have a daughter… What better alliance could be found? But now I speak like a politician, and I see you’re already weary of the conversation. Let’s have a change of subject. I understand you were north with Thorfinn of Orkney? Is he the monster they all say?”
Duncan gave his wife a sidelong glance, but he did not interrupt.
“Worse,” I said with a smirk.
“And is he married?”
“He is betrothed to a girl from the north.”
Queen Suthen nodded. “Of course. My mother and father would have the whole world married off, paired like the beasts of Noah’s ark,” she said then glanced at Duncan. I could see the look of disgust that danced on her lips. She lifted her wine and drank again.
In that single moment, I pitied her. I had run from Duncan, but this girl had taken my place. I could not imagine what kind of man he must be, how he must treat his wife, but then my eyes fell on Macbeth. No, I knew how Suthen was treated. I was treated the same way.
The meal took far longer than was tolerable. Madelaine chatted happily with both Suthen and Bethoc. I eyed Duncan’s mother who, despite being Malcolm’s daughter, didn’t seem to have any of the blood of MacAlpin in her. How many times could someone have the same conversation about the weather? Bethoc had found at least a dozen ways to consider the subject thus far.
As I listened, I learned that the Crinan, the Abbot of Dunkeld, was actually in charge of the realm’s silver—her mines, her coins, her wealth. And money was, it seemed, the only thing that interested him. Despite his wife’s sincere passion for the weather, Crinan always returned the conversation to coin.
My head ached. I had ridden south in good faith. I had come to see Lulach acknowledged, and that work was done. There was no other reason for me to stay here. I would not sit for days on end and talk of marriage alliances—or the damned weather.
I cast an eye at Duncan. He was nothing. As I sat and listened, I realized that Duncan merely repeated his father’s words and ideas. Crinan was the power behind the throne. I suppressed a sneer.
“How about a hunt, Macbeth? Shall we see if there are any winter stags about?” Earl Siward offered.
“It is far too cold for hunting. If the wind comes in from the west, you will all catch frostbite,” Bethoc informed them.
Macbeth smiled at Duncan. “What say you, cousin?”
Duncan shrugged. “There is meat enough here.”
“There, you see how smart my son is? No, no. You should not go out. I have heard that if a man lets his beard freeze, it can cause his jaw to crack,” Bethoc said.
I cast a glance to Madelaine who was holding her face so still, frozen in such a practiced smile, that I almost laughed.
“Mother, really,” Duncan said, rolling his eyes.
Bethoc turned her attention to Macbeth. “You must take care, nephew. And after your long ride south. Well, it’s a wonder you all aren’t sick.”
“Thank you for your care, Aunt,” Macbeth told her.
Bethoc smiled, looking pleased with herself.
May the gods save us from fools.
Lulach, seeming to sense my great need for an escape, began to wriggle in Madelaine’s lap.
“My little lord has grown tired, I’m afraid,” I said, rising to take him from Madelaine. “With Your Majesty’s permission, I will take him to rest.”
“Don’t you have a maid to look after him?” Bethoc asked.
“I do, but I prefer to stay with him. It is a strange place for him.”
Bethoc clicked her tongue, but Duncan gave his mother a reproachful look.
“It is good of you to take such close care of your child, Lady Gruoch,” Duncan said. “There were times in my youth when I didn’t remember what my mother looked like,” he added, giving Bethoc a sharp glance.
“Well,” Bethoc said, shaking her head.
Before she could discover a way to turn the conversation to the weather, I curtseyed to Duncan. “Your Majesty.”
The king, who had risen when I moved to leave, inclined his head. “Cousin.”
“My lady,” Macbeth said, nodding to me.
“My lord,” I added with an inclination of the head. I then turned to Lulach. “Come along, love.”
“She is a fine woman, Macbeth,” I heard Duncan say as Lulach and I headed out.
“As is Her Majesty,” Macbeth said.
I heard Queen Suthen laugh lightly.
As I exited the room, it was all I could do to keep a straight face. It would not do to show my immense relief at escaping. My lord, my lady, my lord, my lady, my lord, my lady. Ugh. It was dizzying.
I headed away from the great hall and toward the section of the castle in which I had been housed. As I walked down the stone corridor, I heard someone approach. My nerves on edge, I pulled a dagger from my belt but turned to find Banquo there.
He lifted his hands then grinned at me. “I come in peace.”
“Banc!” Lulach screamed then struggled to get down. Rushing quickly on unsteady feet, he went to Banquo.
Banquo picked him up. “Little Lord Lulach, what an impression you made on the fair court.” Smiling, he fell into step with me. “I didn’t like to see you leave the company alone. We have enemies here at court. Macbeth should have sent someone with you. Since he did not, here I am. As it is, you are watched,” he said, whispering the final piece.
So busy with my own thoughts, I had not been wary. Now, as I stilled my mind and shifted my vision with the keep sight of a raven, I noted a man lingering by the window.
“Whose man is he?”
“Northumbria,” Banquo said, and we continued on. “Lulach did make quite the impression, reminding everyone in the room that the future of this country is not yet decided, and that, as things stand, the north has more power than the king himself. You need a guard on you and Lulach at all times.”
“I brought men from Moray. I’ll send for them.”
“Not that you were slow at pulling that dagger. A child in one arm, a blade in another. How little you have changed, my Boudicca.”
I smiled at him. “I’ve missed you,” I whispered, looking deeply into his chestnut colored eyes. It had been months since we had parted on the shore in the north.
“And I you.”
We returned to my chamber, which we found empty.
“Where is Ute?” Banquo asked.
“Ute is a maid for Madelaine now. She’s back in Fife. I brought a woman from Moray, Rhona. The servants are, no doubt, feasting as well.”
Lulach had fallen asleep in Banquo’s arms. He laid Lulach down on my bed, pulling off my child’s boots and unpinning his tartan. “In case he rolls in his sleep,” he said, handing the brooch to me. He looked at the piece as he did so. “It has the same flower as your dagger.”