Lady macbethad, p.19
Lady MacBethad, page 19
Gillecomghain lunged towards his brother and for a moment I thought he would strike him. True, Mael Colum seemed stronger, but Gillecomghain was taller, lither, and I imagined he could defeat his brother if he so chose. But the younger man checked himself.
‘And you,’ Mael Colum said, turning his attention back to me, ‘are to return to Scone.’
I was about to protest further when Gillecomghain spoke again.
‘I will marry her.’
Nobody spoke. I could not be sure I had heard correctly. Mael Colum appeared just as surprised.
‘Unless you wish to deny me that as well?’ Gillecomghain repeated, without providing further explanation. I thought Mael Colum would, just to spite him, but he only shrugged.
‘I don’t care. But I’d watch that one. She won’t tolerate your gentle ways as I do, brother.’ He crooned out the word in a sickly, mocking tone. I wanted to punch his nose and feel it crack beneath my fingers.
Gillecomghain led Sinna and me wordlessly to the stables and stationed one of his guards nearby.
‘We leave for Inverness in the morning,’ he said before turning his back on us.
And with that, I had a new fate.
Chapter 17
Life as I had known it was over, but I did not have the strength now to grieve or to plot, wanting only the oblivion of sleep to take me away from it all. The moment I lay down on the warm hay, huddled beside Sinna, I fell asleep.
I dreamt my cloak was on fire and I could not tear it off. Flames leapt at my neck and face, and no amount of water could extinguish them. I ran into the sea and still the fire clung to my arms and neck. Only when I had swum so far that my feet no longer touched the seabed did the flames die down, but by then my cloak had turned to lead and I was dragged into the murky depths. No matter how violently I struggled to reach the surface, my clothes pulled me deeper and deeper beneath the sea.
In the darkness, I could make out shadowy figures swimming all around me. They came closer and I saw that they were beautiful selkies: their bottom halves those of sleek seals, the top bare-chested and pale as sea foam. Their skins glistened and lit the water around us with a milky light.
One of them came close to me, her eyes and lips heather-purple. There was something of my mother in the movement of her arms and something of Ardith in the fire of her hair. She kissed me sweetly on the mouth and I was comforted. But she did not pull away. I slowly felt her draining the life out of me, sucking away my breath. I tried to kick her off me but she was relentless.
Just as I thought I might suffocate, her eyes widened and she released me. She floated away as blood poured from a hole in her belly, staining the water crimson. I gazed down and saw MacBethad’s dagger clasped in my hand.
I had been able to breathe underwater somehow, but as the woman floated away, she took that ability with her, and I felt my lungs fill with water. I woke into another dream, drenched in sweat.
I was now lying on the shoreline of my grandmother’s island in Loch Leven. Grandmother was sitting some distance away, her delicate legs crossed in front of her, skin a pale iridescent ivory, eyes grey and churning. She had not seen me. I tried to call out to her but found I had no voice. I tried to move towards her but found I could not stir. I could only watch while she cast her gaze out over the water. She was speaking to someone I could not see. As she leaned back, I suddenly saw myself seated beside her, a child, a babe, as I had been on the day of the prophecy.
‘You will be the greatest of us all.’ My grandmother sounded as if she were underwater, the words garbled, indistinguishable. ‘Your fame will spread throughout Alba and into Britannia. All the land your feet touches and your eyes can see is yours, and you belong to it.’
‘What does that mean?’ I heard my own tiny voice ask. ‘Will I be a queen?’
‘You will be so much more. You will be immortalised.’
My head started spinning. That was not how I had remembered it. She had said I would be queen. She had prophesied I would be queen. As though she could hear my thoughts, my grandmother said it again.
‘You will be so much more. You will be immortalised.’
I wanted to call out to her. I wanted to tell her that was not what she had said before. She had promised me I would be queen, I was sure of it. But doubt crawled beneath my skin as the rest of the scene unfolded exactly as it had in real life. I saw my grandmother carry me to my mother, and then remain on the shore as we rowed away over a still, misty lake. Her voice followed us out onto the water as she sang the song of parting.
Had my grandmother tricked me? Had she deliberately led me to believe something that was not true? Had I misunderstood her prophecy? Had she known the lengths to which I would go, the sorrow and uprooting I would put myself through, to fulfil the words she had spoken over me? Had they even been true, or had they been merely the hopeful murmurings of a rambling old woman banished to a tiny island? My eyes filled with angry tears.
With blurred vision, I saw the king’s guards approaching my grandmother where she stood on the sand, looking out over the lake, her back to them. One raised his sword high above his head to strike her. Panic filled me and I found my voice. I cried out loudly in warning and they all turned to look at me. But when my grandmother turned, it was Thamhas’s face staring back at me.
The sword came down. Thamhas’s head fell to the ground.
I woke up screaming. Sinna was at my side, desperately trying to calm me. As I sat panting, recovering, Gillecomghain appeared at the stable entrance with something like concern on his face.
‘Is she ill?’ he asked Sinna.
‘I do not know, my lord,’ she replied without taking her eyes off me.
‘A bad dream,’ I tried to reassure her.
I fought for composure. Gillecomghain lingered and for a moment I thought he might kneel down beside me, but he turned on his heel and walked away. My breath returned. My eyes adjusted. The morning light streamed in, and I hated the sun for her brilliance. It should be dark, storming, the wind should be raging. But all was calm.
My dream felt like some portent of a vengeful god sent to throw me off course. I wanted to ask Sinna what she thought of it but knew such an enquiry would be fruitless. Ardith alone might interpret its meaning. Ardith, whom I had betrayed. Ardith, whom I needed more than anything in this moment.
Pulling the last clean dress from my satchel, I drew it over my head. Sinna helped to pluck the straw from my hair and attempted to secure my cloak, her tired fingers wrestling to fasten it around my shoulders. Taking her hands in mine, I kissed them gently before fastening the cloak myself and walking out into the cold morning.
All Findlaich’s fighters were dead – only a few skilled workmen had been spared. They had cleared most of the dead in the night, though I could still make out where the earth had been stained with their blood, the frozen ground preserving the violent red. Men and women were working to remove the burned timbers from the Great Hall. I averted my gaze, still fearful I would find Findlaich’s body in the wreckage.
Gillecomghain was readying the horses for our journey to Inverness. I was about to walk towards him when a soft, hoarse voice spoke behind me.
‘I’m glad to see you have not lost your spirit.’
I spun around, choked with relief and sorrow.
Donalda.
Flying into her arms, I held her tightly, sobbing as a great dam broke inside me. My shoulder grew wet with her answering tears and still I clung to her. Only once my shaky breath returned did I pull away.
It had been three years since I had seen her last, but she was much changed. Her face was lined, and her frame, once robust, was now withered. Her cheek was purpled over with bruises and her eyes red from weeping and smoke, but still she held her head high and found the strength to smile at me.
‘How did you . . . when did you . . . is MacBethad. . .’
A thousand questions leapt to my tongue, but emotion prevented any one of them from being asked. Donalda laughed softly, though movement made her wince.
‘MacBethad will learn of this and come to avenge his father,’ was all I could muster.
‘Perhaps, perhaps not.’
‘But Bethoc says he is well favoured at the court of King Cnut. Perhaps he might convince the king to lend him troops—’
Donalda cut me off, shaking her head as she glanced around, and I understood now was not the time to discuss such things.
‘Did you see him in Dunkeld?’ she asked.
‘See who?’ I asked, confused.
‘MacBethad. He left only weeks after you and hoped to see you when he stopped there.’
I bristled.
‘No one told me! It would have brought me the greatest pleasure to see him,’ I said, thinking about the isolation of that first year, and how welcome his presence would have been, no matter how brief.
Donalda’s face fell.
‘He must have known that I would have loved to see him,’ I said.
‘Of course.’
But her mind was far away as she cast a desolate gaze around Burghead – the home that now belonged to her husband’s murderer.
‘How did it happen?’ I asked.
‘Mael Colum came in the night. Findlaich and his men fought bravely but they were outnumbered. Findlaich was bound to a pillar in the Great Hall and set on fire.’
I bit my tongue to keep from asking more. Her tell-tale brevity was sign enough that she had no desire to dwell on the event any longer than she must.
I recalled how easily Findlaich laughed, his kindness, how his people loved him. I thought of how good he had been to my family, taking us in when we needed it most, and my hatred for Mael Colum rose afresh. Whatever ambition I had clung to in begging him to take me as his bride would, in time, have been overshadowed by hate. I could never marry the man who had killed Findlaich. I wanted to see Mael Colum strung up for what he had done. I wanted to put his head on a pike, cart it all the way down to Scone, and drop it at the feet of King Malcolm.
‘There is the man you sent to kill Findlaich, you coward,’ I would say before killing him, slowly, painfully, and taking the crown for myself. It was a violent fantasy, and the pleasure of it took the edge off my anger.
‘What part did Gillecomghain play?’ I asked.
‘He stood watch at the gate and wept when he thought no one saw,’ Donalda said.
‘There is some consolation in that,’ I said.
‘The one who looks on and does nothing is just as guilty as the one who strikes the blow,’ she replied.
As if summoned by our thoughts, he emerged from the stables and approached us.
‘I see you found each other.’ He extended the words like a peace offering. Donalda smiled and I followed her example. ‘We will accompany you and your father’s men as far as Inverness,’ Gillecomghain addressed her, with all the respect due to a queen. His manner seemed so at odds with what had taken place the night before. ‘We are leaving now, so if you would gather your things—’
‘I have nothing to bring; I am ready,’ she said. Gillecomghain nodded and accompanied us towards the horses. Donalda clung to me for support. I thought she might faint with relief.
*
I rode close beside her and told her of my time in Dunkeld: the loneliness and isolation, the comfort of Sinna, the loss of Thamhas. I did not speak of Ardith, but Donalda rooted it out of me.
‘Had you no other friends?’ she asked.
‘I had one,’ I said, hoping the terseness of my voice would arrest further conversation.
‘And where is he? She?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘She remains at Dunkeld,’ Sinna broke in. ‘She was meant to come with us to Scone, but in the end we left her behind.’ She spoke with unsettling informality, as if she were Donalda’s equal.
‘Why would you forsake your friend?’ Donalda asked me.
‘She was a pagan,’ I said, hoping to appeal to her Christian faith.
‘I would not have thought that would bother you. Is it possible you’ve been converted in your time away from us?’
Before I was able to retort, Sinna cut in.
‘Ardith would have betrayed Gruoch the moment she was no longer useful to her.’
‘And,’ I added, ‘she could have got us into a lot of trouble in King Malcolm’s court.’
‘More trouble than you are in now?’
‘How could I have known what would befall us?’
‘If you had known, would you have left her behind?’
She spoke to me as if I were still the young girl she had known years ago, to whom she might impart wisdom. But our fates were not so different now and I was tired of her moralising.
‘If I had known what would happen in Burghead, I would not have left Dunkeld. In truth, if I had known what a misery Dunkeld would prove to be, I would never have left Moray.
‘You sent me there in the first place, knowing full well the torment Bethoc was capable of unleashing. Why didn’t you prepare me better for it?’
Donalda winced. While I regretted my harsh words, I didn’t take them back.
Silence fell.
As we plodded on towards Inverness, the reality of what now awaited me settled in. The guiding star I had been following my whole life was dying out, leaving me without direction, unsure of my footing.
I had believed in my grandmother’s prophecy implicitly and yet I had resisted Ardith’s urging to join her in the sacred traditions. In abandoning my heritage, had I also turned my back on the promise of a great destiny? Had I been foolish to believe in my grandmother at all? How different my life would have been without that prophecy. I might have stayed in Moray. I might have married MacBethad. My heart twisted to think of the life I might have led by his side.
But this was another kind of foolishness.
The truth of it was that I had been born to be a queen. My blood sang of it, with or without a prophecy. And in my heart, I knew with complete conviction that Grandmother had been right.
I tried to focus my attention on Gillecomghain. His golden hair had been cut short above his shoulders in the Saxon style. His beard was sparse unlike his brother’s, so you could make out the line of his jaw. He conducted himself as a man who preferred to speak with his eyes – there were a thousand more secrets to be discovered there than ever he would utter. Perhaps there was something to be gained from marrying him. If only I knew the limits of his loyalty to Mael Colum.
Perhaps, given time, I could wear away at the bonds that tied them. Inverness could thrive under our instruction. If we drew traders from Burghead, we might cut Mael Colum off from the funds he would need to keep the settlement well managed. Gillecomghain might not raise an army against his brother, but there were other ways to undermine him. It would take time. But I could be patient.
How then to get back the crown? That too would take time, but I had survived thus far and, for as long as there was breath in my body, I would not stop until King Malcolm and Duncan had paid for their betrayal. These thoughts occupied my mind until we reached Inverness.
The king’s guards were keen to carry on, eager to be back at King Malcolm’s court and out of this wild northern land. I held Donalda tightly, hoping that my affection would be enough of an apology for my earlier manner. She kissed my forehead in blessing.
I assumed that Gillecomghain would keep me under careful watch, but while I was bidding her farewell, he disappeared. A guard informed me that he had gone to seek the bishop from the next settlement over to come and marry us that night. I was to wait in my room for his arrival.
Sinna and I were conducted to a large chamber within the keep. We had anticipated that would be empty, stripped by the previous Lord and Lady of Inverness. But everything was still in its place, untouched. Sheepskins and furs were laid out on the bed; a wooden table stood in the corner; a large oak chest pressed up against the wall, filled with several shifts, thick dresses and warm cloaks. It seemed they had not had time to pack their things before they fled, and I wondered where they were now.
Broth, bread and heather mead were brought to our room by silent servants. I picked at the bread, wondering when Gillecomghain would return, anticipating our coupling. Ardith had tried to prepare me for the bedding ceremony with Duncan, but such talk had made me squeamish. All I could remember of her instruction was that ale would ease the discomfort. After my time with Thamhas, I could not imagine where the discomfort would come from. Still, Ardith had always been more knowledgeable than I about such things, so I consumed the mead.
‘Do you not want to be alert when Gillecomghain returns?’ Sinna asked.
‘I have had enough of your meddling for one day. When did you find your tongue?’ I asked, unable to keep the childish petulance from my voice.
‘We can work together to make the most of all that has happened,’ Sinna carried on. ‘I can help you here as I could not help you in Dunkeld, advise you as Ardith did but with impartial loyalty. We can be friends.’
I was in no mood to be reasonable.
‘Tell me then,’ I asked, the mead making my head heavy, ‘how shall I greet Gillecomghain? With a kiss like a demure maid? Or shall I grab his cock and drag him to bed, to show my eagerness for our coupling?’
This crudeness produced the desired effect as Sinna blushed and cast her eyes downward. I felt immediately ashamed and flew to her side, taking her hands.
‘I’m sorry. Pay me no mind. Not tonight, that is.’ I kissed her cheek, hoping to have made amends, and she rewarded me with a small smile.
I continued to drink until my head swam and my cheeks went warm. Two cups and a pitcher had been set out, but I drained mine and nearly all of Gillecomghain’s, realising only as I neared the end that he might need the same remedy.
I lay back on the bed and another of Ardith’s suggestions sprang to mind. I should imagine someone else when the time came. From what she gathered, the ceremony took quite some time, and being the focus of so many eyes usually made the man self-conscious. Thamhas was the clear candidate for use in such fantasies, but as the mead dulled my senses completely, my fancies drifted to MacBethad.
