Banquo's Son (A Crown of Blood and Honour Book 1) (20 page)

This pleased Fleance immensely. ‘Shall I ride to see you
tomorrow
?’

Rosie blushed. ‘If you wish and Da approves.’ Her father grunted but Fleance took that as consent.

‘I have the king’s banquet tonight but I will leave first thing in the morning.’ Boldly, for his heart was too joyous to care, he kissed her on the cheek before helping her up on the wagon. ‘I will see you tomorrow, my love. Before tomorrow’s darkness falls, you will have me again.’

Dougal lifted up the reins. ‘Mind you keep your promise, Flea, or I shall find you and kick your arse.’

Despite this warning, Fleance grinned. ‘Nothing, save death, will keep me from her, Dougal – I give you my word.’ Dougal flicked the reins at the horse and the wagon moved off. Rosie turned around and blew him a kiss.

He stood there until he could no longer see them then, with a glad and giddy heart, went in to find Duncan. As he began to climb the steps to the castle, a movement above him caught his eye – someone was standing on the balcony but moved back into the shadows. Though the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, he shook off any dark thoughts. Today was a day of celebration – for him as well as the new king.

Fleance was infected by the joy of seeing Rosie and was in high spirits as the guests took their places at the banquet. At the high table, Duncan and Rachel sat either side of their father and Bree, next to her sister.

Beside him, Macduff was eating enthusiastically and, between mouthfuls, telling Fleance about his latest foray into England. ‘Harold’s a mad old bugger,’ he said. ‘But he’s mighty powerful. The king, Edward, has stirred up a right old mess between himself and the earls.’ Fleance found it hard to concentrate with Macduff ’s account of English politics. That Harold, the English king’s brother-in-law, was agitating held little interest for him, but Macduff continued.

‘It’s Edward’s Norman sympathies which are making the people nervous. Seems the similarities between the Scottish house and the English house are adding to the worries.’

‘What do you mean?’ Fleance asked politely.

‘Poor Malcolm couldn’t produce an heir and neither can Edward. Harold’s ambitious and he’s working hard to hold onto his share of the power. The king has to mind him or there will be trouble.’

Fleance thought of Magness and Miri. ‘You mean civil war?’

Macduff shook his head. ‘I don’t think the English peasants will come up against their king because they love him; but Harold has a mighty few followers.’ He sighed and took a long drink. ‘You can’t say it’s a peaceful life holding responsibility for your country.’ Fleance saw him look over at Donalbain who was talking rapidly to the pale-haired Calum.

Something about the king’s demeanour had shifted and Fleance saw him look angrily his way. Donalbain stood up quickly and
followed
Calum to the back of the great hall. Was it intuition,
second
sight, that informed him that the king’s action had
something
to do with Fleance?

Suddenly, the king was back in his seat. He picked up his goblet and drank deeply. Then he banged it down with a crash on the table. The room went silent. ‘We have a traitor among us,’ he bellowed, his words slurring slightly. The guests murmured in response, looking around the room. ‘You, man,’ he shouted, pointing a finger at Fleance, ‘wheedle your way into our house holding poisonous secrets and evil plans.’

Swallowing nervously, Fleance stood up, his hands shaking.

‘Father,’ he heard Duncan whisper loudly. ‘Father, you must sit.’ He stood and addressed the guests. ‘The king is not well – it has been a difficult time. Please forgive him for he mistakes my friend as an enemy.’

Donalbain shrugged off his son’s arm. ‘Name yourself boy and tell us what you told that wee lass in the stables this morning.’ Fleance looked at Calum who stared back at him with a smirk on his face. ‘And tell me the meaning behind these?’ The king held up the parchments.

His mouth went dry.

‘Guards!’ Donalbain cried. ‘Take him to the dungeon.’

‘Stop!’ Duncan shouted. ‘This is madness.’ He turned to Fleance. ‘Fleance, would you not speak to explain yourself?’

Fleance cleared his throat and took a deep breath. ‘Your
Majesty
, I am no traitor. It is true that I withheld some information from you for I thought my life in danger. But in recent weeks I have
discovered
the true story of what happened to my father.’ He looked at Duncan, who nodded. ‘I am Fleance, son of
Banq
uo; Banquo who was Thane of Lochaber and most treacherously
murde
red by that monster Macbeth. My own murder was to follow his but whether through good luck or divine intervention, I escaped on my father’s horse.’

There was an excited murmur from the guests and Macduff put a fatherly hand on his arm. ‘I knew it all along,’ he muttered.

‘Yes,’ sneered the king. ‘We know who you are and we know that you have come back to Scotland to avenge your father’s murder by murdering me and my house so that you can become king.’ He waved the parchments in the air. ‘It says so here.’

Macduff stood up. ‘Your Majesty. I believe the lad here is an honourable one. If he came to avenge Banquo’s murder then he knows now that I have already done that for him.’ He bowed his head. ‘I believe you are quite safe – as is your family.’

Calum came forward and spoke into Donalbain’s ear. The king nodded and said, ‘Until we can consider this matter further with counsel, you will be confined to your chamber.’ He nodded to the guards who came towards Fleance.

Macduff patted him on the back. ‘Don’t worry, son. The king will come to his senses.’

Fleance was marched to his room, the silent guards looking ahead and unspeaking. His stomach was churning and his hands were sweaty. Donalbain had never learnt to read, Duncan had told him this, so what had Calum said was in the letters? Nothing in them incriminated Fleance so why did the king think that his life was in danger?

He poured water into the basin and splashed it on his face. When he looked up into the mirror he saw a man standing behind him. He spun around but the room was empty. He heart was thrashing inside his chest and his knees felt weak. He turned back to the mirror but only his frightened face stared back.

Fleance went over to his bed, sat down and put his head in his hands. He was losing his mind.

There was a bang on the door and it opened. It was Duncan. Fleance stared at him a moment and then shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘For what? Were you planning to murder us all in our sleep?’

‘No,’ he cried. ‘For being the cause of all of that,’ he said, waving a hand in the direction of the great hall. ‘I should have destroyed the letters.’

Duncan frowned. ‘Perhaps, but we did not expect them to end up in Father’s hands. You know my father takes any words of prophecy very seriously?’ Fleance nodded. ‘He will think that you wish to do what Macbeth did to
his
father.’

‘I am not a murderer,’ Fleance said, his heart still racing.

‘I figured that,’ Duncan said dryly, ‘else you would have slit
my
throat before now.’

Fleance looked up, now worried that Duncan thought ill o
f him.

His thoughts must have shown on his face for Duncan smiled. ‘I was jesting, Fleance. When will you let go and trust that I am for you and not against you?’

‘What will happen to me?’ Fleance asked

‘Rachel has put Father to bed. He is very drunk. He may not remember tomorrow. Or, if he does, I will speak to him.’ Duncan went to the door. ‘The guards will be here until he gives the orders otherwise.’ He hesitated. ‘Who was the lass Father was speaking of?’

‘That’s Rosie,’ Fleance said and then he groaned in frustration. ‘I told her I would see her tomorrow. If your father won’t let me out . . .’

Duncan chewed his top lip. ‘Who is she to you, Fleance?’ he asked quietly.

‘She’s whom I love,’ Fleance sighed. But even the thought of her did not remove the bitter twisting in his stomach. If he did not get to her, she would think he had betrayed her again and she might be lost to him for good. ‘Do you think you could send word to the inn at Perth that I am delayed?’

His friend stared at him for a moment. ‘I will do my best, Fleance. Now, if you can, I suggest you sleep for I fear tomorrow will be a difficult day – for all of us.’

Duncan left the chamber and Fleance fell back against the pillows. How could a man go from euphoria to despair in less than a day?

Chapter Twenty-Three

I
t was with a heavy heart that Duncan returned to the great hall. The guests were dispersing, though Calum was still there speaking with Macduff. ‘Calum, a word, if you please,’ Duncan said and turned on his heel to go to his father’s meeting room, the sound of Calum’s soft footfalls behind.

When he got there Duncan was grateful that the fire in the hearth had been lit and there was warmth in the room. ‘Sire?’ Calum said.

Angrily, Duncan turned to his father’s advisor. ‘What did you tell him?’

Calum coughed politely. ‘I am not certain, Your Highness, that even the king’s son is to be privy to the conversation between king and advisor.’

‘As the king is incapacitated and as I am the heir to the throne, I think you can take it as understood I shall be privy to whatever you say.’ Calum’s smugness was infuriating.

The young advisor bowed his head slightly. ‘As you wish. His Majesty had asked me to check with the stable manager that
his ne
w horse would be at the castle by the end of the week as he wishes to hunt. Your friend,’ Calum said this with a slight sneer, ‘was in the stable with the daughter of the tavern keeper. As I feel it my duty to be aware of all the activities of the castle, I stayed to listen, for he was acting suspiciously. He told the young girl who he was and that his father had told him to avenge his murder and then he read her the letters, the contents of which make for disturbing reading.’

‘How did you come by them?’

‘I took them from his room for I believed the king needed to see what they contained.’

‘As you and I both know, my father cannot read. So, what matters is what
you
told him they said.’

Calum raised his eyebrows. ‘Sire, I told him they contained disturbing prophecies which affected the safety of the crown.’

Duncan shook his head. ‘Fleance is no threat.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ Calum replied. He went to the table where a jug of ale and goblets sat and poured a drink. ‘A young man who has lost everything: his father, his title, his home and lands,’ he handed the drink to Duncan, ‘learns the king is ill and to die. Comes to Scotland and conveniently meets you.’

‘He saved my life,’ Duncan said through gritted teeth.

Calum nodded. ‘Quite and what better way to win your trust.’

‘Not all men are deceitful, Calum. Contrary to what you perhaps tell my father, there are many honourable men among us and Fleance is one of them.’

‘What honour is there in lying?’

‘He didn’t lie – he withheld information for he feared for his life. He’s been on the run since he was eleven years old.’

Calum sighed. ‘And I think he means to take the throne by foul means.’

‘You do not know him like I do. I trust him completely.’

‘And that, perhaps, is your Achilles heel, Duncan. Terrible things have happened to those who have placed their trust in men who have evil intentions.’

Duncan looked at him. An idea moved through his thoughts. Was it perhaps irony that he felt the same way towards Calum as the advisor seemed to feel towards Fleance. ‘You are wrong.’

He moved to leave when Calum called after him. ‘I think it best to advise you, Duncan, your father will take the words of the witches above any mortal.’

Once out in the chilled hallway, Duncan began to shake. Calum was wrong about Fleance. He needed to find Rachel. The banquet had started well and Donalbain had been in a mellow temper. He had not taken any drink before the meals arrived so it was a shock to see him become so agitated so quickly. Once the feast had started, his father’s goblet was never empty, fuelled either by a page or Calum.

And why had Calum chosen tonight to talk to his father about Fleance? Had he not known Donalbain would create a scene and embarrass himself in front of everyone? It was not a good start to the reign. He found Rachel talking with Lennox.

‘Your father is asleep,’ Lennox said. ‘He didn’t put up much of a fight.’

‘Thank you, Lennox. He was not himself tonight. I believe the week’s events have caught up with him.’

‘Aye, well, we are no longer young and have not the stamina we had in our youth – except Macduff. He’s as strong as he was ten summers ago.’ He bowed his head. ‘Good night to you both.’

‘And to you,’ Rachel said. Duncan glanced at his sister who looked pale and drawn.

‘How are you?’ he asked taking her arm.

Rachel sighed wearily. ‘He was worse tonight than I’ve seen him.’ She looked at her brother. ‘I was watching how much he drank and it was not as much as his usual.’

Duncan agreed. ‘Maybe he is unwell.’ They walked towards the blue room, though it was late. ‘Let us put these things to one side, dear sister, while we think how to fix the disaster which occurred this night.’ He poured her some water. ‘Drink. You will feel better.’ Rachel took a tumbler of water and sat on her favourite chair.
Duncan
joined her and they talked long into the evening about their family, their father and what solutions they could find to h
eal the
ir wounded hearts.

The next morning, a messenger was sent to fetch Duncan. His Majesty desired an immediate audience with his son. Duncan
hurried
to his father’s chamber and was alarmed to see him still in bed. ‘Are you ill, Father?’ he asked.

‘I let the drink get to me last night,’ Donalbain said. ‘Water!’ he barked at Calum. ‘We would have a word with our son.’

‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ Calum replied.

‘Alone,’ Donalbain snapped. Calum bowed and made a hasty retreat. The king motioned for Duncan to sit on the bed, something he had not done since he was a wee lad and his mother was alive. ‘I need to discuss the contents of Macbeth’s letters.’

‘Would you like me to read them to you?’ Duncan asked.

‘Aye,’ Donalbain said and reached under his pillows. His hand trembled as he handed them over.

Duncan read them all as his father lay back and stared at the ceiling. When he’d finished, it was clear the news was distressing. ‘They warned me,’ Donalbain said. ‘They said to beware the son of a murdered father. Was not Banquo murdered? And is not Fleance Banquo’s son? And, now, here he is, under our very roof.’

‘I tell you again Father, Fleance is no threat. I have journeyed with him these past weeks and always he looks out for me – he saved my life!’

‘That was before he knew who you were.’

‘Do you trust me? Did you not say just some days ago that you found me wise?’

‘Aye.’

‘Fleance is my friend and I know him to be honourable. I think that there are other folk who perhaps are twisting things for their own ambitions.’ Duncan lowered his voice. ‘I will caution you to be careful of Calum . . .’

‘Calum has my complete trust!’ Donalbain spluttered. ‘It is because of his wise counsel that I am able to look to see the progressive future of Scotland. We can easily extend Scotland’s borders into England.’ The outburst exhausted him because he lay there panting.

‘He is my friend, father,’ Duncan repeated. ‘And I am your son. Think about it: he would be a perfect match for Rachel.’ Donalbain scowled. ‘I can see already she has some affection for him and now that we know he comes from the royal line, it would be
appropriate
.’

‘I need her, still,’ Donalbain grumbled. ‘She is the only one who can heal these terrible headaches which plague me constantly.’

This gave Duncan some hope. ‘But in marrying Fleance, she would stay here to help manage the castle. Fleance has no land and no title, unless you bestow one on him. And, I believe he will make her happy.’

His father looked sharply at him. ‘She is unhappy?’

‘Aye, Father, she is ever since Ewan’s death. She pretends otherwise but she carries her grief gently and is so keen to comfort others. These past weeks, I have seen her laugh and smile more than in the two years since.’

‘Well, Ewan was suitable. It was a tragedy he was not a skilled enough soldier.’

The king was softening. ‘Trust me, Father. Fleance is a good man; an honourable man. He would be a valuable member of the family. He is a masterful and fearless fighter and seems to read people well.’ He waited but his father just stared. ‘He would be useful should we need to defend ourselves.’

Donalbain’s eyes widened. ‘Why would we need to do that? What have you heard? Calum has told me nothing!’

Duncan stood up. ‘There are rumours coming through that a rebel force is preparing to attack the Scottish throne.’

‘What? Who? Who would want to do that?’

‘The word is that a number of groups have banded together, unhappy with Scotland’s place and wanting English rule.’

Donalbain sat up. ‘English rule? That is mad. Edward has already alienated his people; why would ours want the same? There is sure to be war in England.’ He tried to get out of bed but became tangled in his bedclothes. ‘Help me, son. I must go to Preston and Calum. They will tell me what to do.’

Duncan helped his father dress, unwell and sweaty as he was. Donalbain leant heavily on his arm as he prepared to leave his chamber, all the time muttering. As they were about to leave,
Duncan
stopped his father. ‘Fleance. What is your ruling?’

Donalbain’s eyes were almost unseeing. ‘Eh?’ He frowned and then waved a pale hand. ‘He is of no consequence. Me, I must to the sisters, for they can show me which way the fortunes of Scotland and England lie.’

They were out of his room and into the antechamber.
Donalbain
signalled to one of the servants. ‘The king sends word that Fleance is free to go.’

‘Thank you, Father.’

‘You have made much sense and your suggestion shows how much you love your father and sister.’ Donalbain turned to the servant. ‘Go at once and tell him.’ The servant bowed low, opened the doors for king and son and then hurried in the opposite direction.

They did not have to wait long for the two advisors. Donalbain began bombarding them with questions about England and news of a Scottish uprising, to which neither had much to say. Eventually, Calum interrupted the king’s ranting. ‘Your Majesty, it is true there have been rumours of groups talking of joining together against the crown but we have seen no clear evidence of this. We suspect it is just empty noise from those who wish to unsettle Your Majesty.’ He gave Duncan a meaningful look. ‘As to England, that is of no concern to us.’

‘Of course it is,’ Donalbain exploded. ‘We wish to expand our trade into England and we cannot do this with civil unrest.’

‘No, Sire,’ Preston said. ‘But there is nothing we can do at t
his time.’

The king turned on him. ‘Yes, we know that, Preston, but it is a wise king who is forewarned before needing to be forearmed.’ He coughed and Calum brought him a drink of water. Donalbain took a gulp and then spat it out. ‘Get wine, not water, fool!’

Duncan signalled to a servant who scurried away.

‘Have a seat, Father,’ Duncan said, guiding the king towards
a chair.

Calum stepped forward. ‘What shall we do about that traitor, Fleance?’ Duncan glared at him.

Donalbain waved his hand. ‘Nothing. Duncan has assured us he is harmless.’

‘But—’ Calum interrupted.

The king lurched forward. ‘There are more important issues now at hand. We must go to the sisters to get more reliable guidance,’ he cried and Duncan was amused to see that Calum looked like he had been slapped.

‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

Donalbain rubbed his neck. ‘Besides, we have other plans for him.’ Then he waved Duncan to his side. ‘The king feels unwell.’

‘Yes,’ Duncan whispered. ‘Shall I declare a time for your repose?’

The king wobbled his head towards him and nodded. Duncan stood strong. ‘His Majesty is unwell. He is recovering from the illness which attended him last night. Preston,’ Duncan looked pointedly at the old man, ‘and Calum,’ he worked harder to avoid the sneer, ‘my father is in need of quiet. There will be no more
consultations
.’

He helped the king towards his chambers after dismissing the advisors and servants. As he grabbed a hold of his father’s arm, he was aware of the fragility of royalty.

Sometime later, he went to find Rachel. She was in the blue room as was her custom at this time of the evening. Duncan poured himself some water and drank it down in one long gulp. When he put the cup on the table, hand shaking, it caused Rachel to look up.

‘Duncan?’

‘Fleance is no longer under house arrest,’ he said.

The look of relief on her face confirmed what he suspected. His sister was obviously growing very fond of Fleance. ‘That is go
od news.’

‘Aye, but he is now free to go back to his maid.’

Rachel tilted her head. ‘So, what is it that actually bothers you, Duncan?’

Duncan sighed and taking up the cup again filled it with more water, this time sipping more leisurely while he sat closer to the fire. ‘I had hoped . . .’ he hesitated and raised his eyes to Rachel once more.

She smiled.

‘I know what you have hoped for, brother. And I know you have deliberately set about pushing us together.’ She regarded him for a few moments. ‘I enjoy his company and we do share a common bond – we both love and honour you.’

Duncan snorted. ‘Honour is all well and good but I want my sister to find a good match – and be happy,’ he added.

‘A good match?’ she asked, her voice strained. ‘Duncan, Fleance has already given up much to fulfil his father’s entreaties. I think it unwise to ask him to give up more.’ She left her own seat and sat by him, taking his hand. ‘You know Fleance would do anything you ask of him. Would you have him spend the rest of his life looking at me and knowing it was only through duty that he lost his true love? That would indeed be a bitter cup to drink – for me as well as him. I don’t want another woman’s cast-offs, nor do I want a man
marrying
me out of some misguided sense of what is honourable. The husband I choose must choose me first above all others.’

‘But you and Fleance are so well suited,’ Duncan whispered. ‘I know he holds you in high esteem and I have seen how he looks at you . . .’