Banquo's Son (A Crown of Blood and Honour Book 1) (11 page)

Singing? Chanting? Offering incantations, the three women came towards Duncan but did not acknowledge him save the second one, who stood before him a moment and then grabbed his crotch. She held him a moment as she looked deep into his eyes and grinned. Though she reeked, Duncan had no power to move away from her. Then she let go. ‘A waste,’ was all she said and followed the others out.

Duncan fell back against the stones, panting, his head
spinning
. It was too much to try to understand.

‘Come back,’ Donalbain called. ‘Untie me, you whores.’

Duncan stumbled forward and pulled the blindfold from Donalbain’s face. ‘What, in the name of hell, are you doing here?’ his father snarled.

‘We were worried for you, Father. You have been gone a full day and night. A messenger has come from the king. We are to go to Forres at once.’ He began unknotting the ties.

‘Did you see the three women?’

‘Aye.’

‘Did you hear what they said, lad? I am going to change
Scotland
.’

‘So they said.’ Duncan saw now that his father was in a worse state than he imagined. Had he slept? Had he eaten? Did those strange hags poison him? ‘We need to get back to the castle – ther
e is
much to be done.’

‘And, they said that no man will ever harm me.’ Duncan helped him to his feet. His father continued to rant and rave as they picked their way through the ruins to their horses. It was going to be a tedious ride home.

They made it back to the castle in the dark. Duncan was famished and exhausted – Donalbain had talked the whole journey save the last mile. Stablehands came towards them with torches and helped them both dismount. Duncan called for one of the manservants. ‘Take the master to his chambers and arrange for food and drink.’ The servant nodded and put his shoulder under Donalbain’s arm and helped him into the castle.

Rachel came out carrying a torch. ‘What has happened?’

‘I really don’t know. I found him but he’s in a strange state. Nothing that a good meal and a night’s sleep won’t cure, I hope.’ He followed her in. ‘For me and for him.’

The next morning, Duncan was summoned to Donalbain’s bed chamber. His father was running a fever. His face was red, his
bedclothes
damp.

‘You’re not well, Father. I will send for Rachel.’

‘Aye, my whole self aches. I am in need of some of her
medicine
.’ Duncan went to leave. ‘And bring me Calum.’

He met Calum in the hall. ‘Donalbain has asked for you. He is ill and still in his bed.’ Calum nodded and bowed slightly before heading to his master. Rachel was in Bree’s chamber, helping to plait the young girl’s hair. Bree was squirming so much, Rachel had to hold her tightly between her knees.

‘Bree,’ Duncan said. ‘If you sit still, it will be done in no time and you may have your breakfast.’

‘She’s already been told that,’ Rachel said. ‘But she’s a stubborn wee lass.’

Duncan leant against the door frame. ‘Father’s ill.’

Rachel released Bree and pushed her away. She stood. ‘Has he asked for me?’

‘Aye and your balm.’

‘I will go to him at once,’ she said and went out, the sound of her light steps and thick skirts echoing down the hall.

‘You,’ Duncan said sternly, ‘will allow Nurse to finish your hair without fuss or I will have to punish you.’

Bree stared wide-eyed. Her brother rarely growled. She meekly returned to the stool and sat down, all the while staring at him. Duncan saw the faint smile on the nurse’s face and turned abruptly lest his little sister see him do the same and have the effect of his manner spoiled.

He went down to the kitchen. It was a warm and welcoming place and he was too hungry to wait until Bree and Rachel had
finished
with their morning preparations.

‘Good morning, Morag.’

‘Duncan. I have not seen you forever. How I have missed you and my heart has grieved.’

Duncan laughed. ‘I’ve only been gone a day. You saw me not two days ago.’

‘Two days is too long for this old woman to get a look at a handsome young man.’ As she spoke she put together his morning meal. ‘Are you supping here this morning?’

‘Aye. ’Tis a cold place in the dining hall; Rachel is with Father and Bree is up to her usual naughty ways. I have no patience f
or that.’

‘You must be in a fine mood so that you have no patience. You’re the most patient body on God’s earth.’

A servant appeared. ‘Sire, the master has called for you.’

Duncan swallowed his mouthful. ‘Tell him I shall be there in a moment.’ The servant nodded and bowed before disappearing into the dark corridors of the castle. ‘I will need you to prepare food f
or the
family as we have been called to the king’s palace. Bree will not accompany us, I think, for it is a long way for a child.’

‘As you wish, Sire, and I will ensure your favourite morsels are packed.’

‘Thank you, Morag.’ He drained his cup. ‘And for breakfast. I must go to Father. Have a pleasant day.’

Morag chuckled. ‘The best manners in the castle.’ As
Duncan
left he heard her say to one of the kitchen hands, ‘An’ you could learn well from the young master, you scowling lump of a maid. Hurry up with them vegetables else no one will be eating tonight.’

Duncan grinned. Morag was a force to reckon with and he pitied all who worked in her kitchen if they dared not give their heart and soul and body to her tasks.

Donalbain looked better already though his eyes were too bright and his face still flushed. ‘How are you, Father?’

‘I am too ill to travel. Calum and Rachel both concur. You will have to go to Malcolm’s. Rachel cannot go as I need her here.’

‘But it was a command, Father. He will see it as an insult.’

‘Damned if I will adhere to my brother’s command.’ Donalbain glared at his son. ‘You will go. He thinks more highly of you.’

‘He has called for you specifically.’

Donalbain fell back against his pillows. ‘No worries, lad. I will send along a gift so that he understands my affection for him. We can’t have the king die and the next in line follow straight after.’

Duncan nodded. ‘You are right, of course. I have already asked the kitchen to prepare for the journey. What fellows shall I take with me?’

‘Fellows?’

‘Will you not allow one or two groomsmen to accompany me?’ It was the custom that when they travelled to Forres or to Fife, they had two or three others to attend Donalbain.

‘They are not needed. You are strong and will ride swiftly. There is no danger to you. It is only me who must take care.’ Duncan knew this was madness but he could not order any of the groomsmen against the wishes of his father.

‘As you say. I will make haste. I will be ready to leave within the hour. So please you, send the gift to my chamber.’

Rachel followed him out. ‘He’s right. He is too ill but he will recover. A journey to Forres would be his undoing.’

He gathered her hands in his. ‘I wish you were coming with me. You would have made it a happy journey.’

‘I am of better use here. God speed, Duncan,’ she said, going on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. ‘The castle will be a tedious place until you return. Here,’ she added. ‘Take the pot with you should either you or the horse be grazed – it has mighty healing agents and will fend off an infection and fever.’

‘Thank you. I shall bring you something back, I promise. Some memento or some treasure.’

‘And I shall eagerly await such a gift. Now hurry so that you can make the most of the light.’

He leant down and returned the kiss and then went to his rooms to prepare for the trip to Forres, his stomach churning and his heart heavy.

Chapter Fifteen

P
hoenix was making good time and Duncan arrived at the town of Perth before sunset. He stabled the horse and paid for a room. The meal was adequate: hot and filling but nothing in comparison with what he’d enjoyed most of his life. He went to bed early and had a dreamless night, waking before the cock crowed to continue his journey.

Though the day began with the sun bright and the sky clear save high clouds rushing by, Duncan noted the pinkness of the dawn – a sign that the weather would turn and he would no doubt need to find shelter before he got caught out. The last thing he wanted was to travel in rain and mud. It would slow him down but worse, it would make him utterly miserable.

Rachel often teased him about his strong dislike of rain. She told Bree one evening about when Duncan was much younger and it had first became apparent he was afraid of rain.

‘He was about the age that you are now, Bree,’ she had said. ‘We had ridden out for the day, but the weather turned bad. Though it was warm, dark clouds gathered over us. There was lightning and the crack of thunder.’ Duncan had smiled at his sister’s excellent storytelling abilities. He remembered all too well the day in question but even he was captivated by the telling. ‘Duncan screamed and Mother could not get him to stop. Then, when the rain came – and mind, Bree, ’twas heavy, heavy rain – Duncan was inconsolable.

‘After that, if ever he was playing outside, and it began to rain, he would rush indoors.’ Rachel had smiled at him. ‘I think it is because you don’t like getting your hair wet,’ she teased her brother.

Duncan had ignored her and instead addressed his younger sister. ‘Let this be a lesson to you, Bree. Every person has at least on
e thi
ng in their lives which they have a passionate dislike for. Yours is going to bed, mine is getting wet from the weather and Rachel’s is—’

‘Not any of your business,’ she’d butted in. ‘No sense in giving the lass silly ideas.’

Atop Phoenix, Duncan smiled at the memory – it was another of the few happy times they had enjoyed at the dining table. It was good to think on pleasant thoughts because the weather was changing rapidly and the clouds were coming thick and fast from the nor’east. Duncan slowed Phoenix to a walk so he could tighten his travelling cloak and then urged him on. He prayed he would find an inn soon.

An hour later, with no sign of civilisation, Duncan began searching in earnest for shelter among the trees. The rain, which had blown in from the north, now fell straight upon them, drenching both man and horse. Through the downpour, he spied a stand of trees and turned Phoenix towards them. As they walked further in, the drenching abated somewhat but the noise was horrendous – a roaring sound as the heavy drops hit the leaves and branches.

Phoenix flicked his ears backwards and forwards. At every thunderclap he startled. It was almost dark although it was not long after midday. Every few minutes, the wood would light up as lightning struck. A few moments later, the booming sound of rolling
thunder
followed. Duncan spread his cloak around him in an attempt to shield his boots but it did little to ward off the water which ran down the skin.

Suddenly, there was another sound and Phoenix heard it
too –
wolves. In the next lightning strike the glare illuminated the scene so that he clearly saw three large wolves making their way towards him. Phoenix smelt them now and began to walk backwards, prancing nervously. There was no time – he had to get away from them.

He spun the horse around and dug his heels into the horse’s flanks. ‘Yeearrggh,’ Duncan cried, urging Phoenix on. Behind him, he heard the high-pitched yelps of the wolves – they were fast but Phoenix was faster. It was difficult to see because the heavy rain continued relentlessly. Being in the woods made it more treacherous for the horse.

Soon, though, they broke out into the clear but the wolves were still in pursuit. He would have to push Phoenix on for some time before they gave up the chase. The slippery state of the road slowed all down but Phoenix galloped on. Duncan’s heart raced and he leant forward, urging and urging him to go faster.

They galloped on, mud splashing into Duncan’s face. Every few moments, he looked back to check but the three wolves were relentless in their hunt. It occurred to him that there had been few battles of late and therefore no corpses for the wolves to gorge upon. These animals were lean and hungry. He dug his hands into the horse’s mane and called some more. ‘Go, Phoenix! Go, boy!’

Lightning flashed across the sky and instantly there was a piercing crash of thunder. Phoenix squealed but did not falter in his stride. Another flash, and this time the bolt of lightning hit a lone tree off to his left. The noise deafened Duncan and he shook his head to try to clear it. Looking back, the wolves were further off but still following fast. He could hear Phoenix’s laboured pants as the horse endeavoured to keep up the swift pace and outrun the predators. Duncan was aware he was putting both of them in danger as he pushed the horse in these conditions. The road was too slippery, the view unclear, his horse nearing exhaustion after a day and a half of travel. He needed to find a cottage, a camp, something to gain refuge from the threat of the creatures behind him.

But there was nothing and Duncan saw they were coming to a fork in the road. He needed to turn right and told Phoenix so. The horse obeyed but the path was uneven and he stumbled. Duncan lost his balance and tried to right himself but there was another bolt of lightning and a crash of thunder. A tree to the left of the path was struck and burst into flames. All of this was too much for Phoenix and he put his head down and bucked so that Duncan, still unsettled on the saddle, was thrown over the horse’s head and into the mud.

Phoenix, though brave and sturdy of heart, did not stay. He bolted, stirrups flapping, in the direction they were heading. ‘
Phoenix
,’ Duncan cried. ‘Come back!’ But the horse was gone, leaving Duncan to face the attack of three very hungry wolves.

He scrambled to his feet and desperately looked around. There must be somewhere he could go to get away from this danger. Nothing. The land was desolate and the road empty except for the burning tree. Duncan scouted around for rocks. At least he could ward them off. The trouble was, Duncan had heard the stories about these wolves. So many battles of men with so many dead, that they had feasted upon the bodies of those slain in battle for such a long time they’d grown accustomed to the taste of human flesh.

Just as suddenly, the rain ceased. Thank God. He had one less thing to contend with. Looking around, he saw some stones and stepped forward to collect them but slipped in the mud and fell hard to the ground. The wolves came forward some more and stopped. Their whining and growling reminded him of fawning servants. They were close enough that he could see their tongues
lolling
and their yellow eyes glaring.

He pulled out his dirk – his only weapon, for Phoenix had carried off his sword. Though his father and his tutors had tried to school him in the art of combat, he was at best only an adequate fighter. Duncan hated warfare and the pain it inflicted upon others. It was bad luck that he had not taken his weapons schooling more seriously for these beasts had chosen him as their next meal and
he fe
lt ill-prepared. One by one the wolves lay down on the road. There was no escape.

The first wolf rushed at him but he was ready and the dirk went cleanly into the animal’s heart. It was heavy, despite its poor state, and Duncan was thrown to the ground. He had just enough time to throw off the wolf when the other attacked. It bit deep into his arm and the power behind the jaws, even in this terrible moment, impressed Duncan. He grabbed the dirk from his right hand and inverted it before plunging it deep into the wolf’s neck. Blood spouted everywhere and Duncan was covered. No mind. The animal was gone and, like the other, he pushed it off his body.

He was badly injured and bleeding and there was one more wolf to contend with. The wound in his arm was serious and he began to feel weak. The third wolf licked its chops and stepped forward steadily.

Duncan had the dirk but not the strength. Phoenix was gone; he was wounded. What would Rachel do if he died? How would Bree fare? And his father. It was impossible to imagine how things would turn out without Duncan’s intervention.

Panting, he pulled away from the two animals and faced the one determined to gain victory. He held the dirk in his left hand and hoped, prayed that perhaps this one would do as the others
did an
d lunge at him.

Not so. It circled so that Duncan had to twist his bruised body around to keep facing the creature. To make matters worse, the weather was not done with him yet and the rain fell again with lightning far off, accompanied by the sounds of thunder. He wanted to shout at the wolf. He wanted to be profane and say the words he’d overheard in the stable. But, remembering Rachel’s sweetness and calm demeanour, even during her time of grief, Duncan held back. Damned if he would go so base.

Still the animal circled, howling and whining. Duncan would provide a great meal. And he was weakening. For the first time in his life, he prayed.
‘God who loves my sister Rachel, please do not inflict upon her another grief. Save me for her.’

There was a thwack and the wolf fell dead. Duncan blinked and saw a bolt in the side of the animal. It did not even twitch. Groggy, he looked around. Standing before him was a giant of a horse and a rider atop. The wolf was dead. Duncan fell back with relief.

The rider leapt from the horse and came to Duncan. ‘Are you hurt?’

Duncan blinked. ‘I am injured,’ he offered and held up his bleeding arm. ‘I don’t know how bad but it is painful.’

‘You don’t say,’ the rider said, and Duncan then saw that he was a young man, around his own age but possessed of an authority which seemed to age him. He leant down to examine Duncan’s arm. ‘I’ll have to wrap it to stop the bleeding.’

Duncan watched as his arm was tidily wrapped and, though it ached, there was no sign of fresh blood. ‘I am on my way to Forres but perhaps today was not the day for leaving home.’

The young man in front of him grinned. ‘I think so too. So, where is home?’ he asked, pulling Duncan to his feet.

‘Glamis. If my horse had any sense, he’d have taken himself back there but my sister will now be a-worrying. I saw him gallop on.’

‘I think you should ride mine to save your strength,’ the man said. ‘Let me help you up.’

Duncan put his foot in the stirrup and the rider lifted his other leg so that he was pushed up onto the saddle without using his injured arm.

The horse snorted and rolled its eyes. ‘Willow doesn’t like the smell of you,’ Duncan heard. ‘He would rather you walked but I’ve told him you’re hurt.’

Duncan looked down at the young man, dark-haired and fair-eyed. ‘Thank you.’

‘Well, no thanks needed until I get you safely to a place of rest.’ He walked on for a bit then added, ‘Did you not think of the wolves?’

Duncan blushed. ‘I have to say, no.’

The young man chuckled. ‘You’re daft then.’

‘Aye,’ he replied. ‘That’s the truth.’ Duncan felt sick. He’d lost a lot of blood and the day’s travelling had taken its toll. ‘I have money. I would be thankful if you found us lodging as soon as possible.’

‘Don’t worry, man, these have been my thoughts exactly. I hear there is an inn not some three miles in front. Once you are well and we find your horse, sir, you can return to your journey.’

‘Of course,’ said Duncan, remembering now. ‘I know the place.’

‘And folk call me Flea.’

Duncan regarded the young man who walked tall beside him. ‘Thank you for saving my life, Flea. My sisters will be most grateful.’

They arrived at the inn and to Duncan’s relief, Phoenix was tethered in front. ‘That’s my horse, Phoenix,’ Duncan said. He remembered, ‘My sister has made an ointment which may help with the bite.’ Flea helped him down from Willow. ‘I will enquire about our lodgings. Would you stay and share a meal with me?’

Flea nodded. ‘I will. Thank you.’

Duncan went to Phoenix who, though looking unhappy, had been attended to. This did not surprise Duncan for the horse was well known. This was the same tavern they rested at each time they made the trip to Forres. ‘Thanks for leaving me to the wolves,’ he muttered as he untied his bags. Phoenix dipped his head. Perhaps he understood.

He and Flea went into the inn. The innkeeper put down the plates he was carrying and bowed slightly. ‘Welcome, Sire. We were about to send fellows out to look for you but the horses were too spooked from the weather. Our humblest apologies.’

‘No matter, man. This fellow was on hand and saved me. But I am injured and in need of food and rest. Are you able to off
er that?’

‘Yes, Sire. The master room is available.’

Duncan turned to his new companion who was regarding him strangely. ‘Will you order us some food and drink while I tend to this injury?’ He addressed the innkeeper, ‘Have you a wife or a maid to help me and some dressings?’

The innkeeper nodded. ‘Aye, my mam is a midwife.’ He caught the eye of a young boy. ‘Get your gran and tell her we have the king’s nephew and he’s hurt.’

There was a sharp intake of breath from Flea. Duncan grinned at him. ‘I didn’t feel it the time to tell you, under the circumstances, that I was royal kin. My father is brother to the king.’

‘Donalbain?’

‘Aye. But we will talk more if you like after I am refreshed.’ An old woman appeared out of the shadows, arms filled with white cloths and bandages. When she saw Duncan, she bowed. ‘Lead on, Mother,’ Duncan said wearily.

The room was large and the bed very wide. He sat down, his head pounding. As if reading his thoughts, the old woman gave him a drink. ‘This will help with the pain, Sire,’ she said quietly. While he drank, she opened his bags and removed some clothes. ‘These are damp. I will get them dried but for now, you can wear my son’s clothes, if that is acceptable.’