Banquo's Son (A Crown of Blood and Honour Book 1) (23 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

A
fter filling up his water skin from the well, Fleance led
Willow
to the outskirts of the town, hopped up on an overturned barrel and climbed onto the horse’s back. For a moment, he just sat there, staring. He wanted to weep, such was the depth of his despair. She had been the one thing which kept him going. Why hadn’t she waited for him? Why had she agreed to go away?

He remembered the look of hesitation which crossed her face when they were in the stables at Glamis – perhaps she no longer loved him. Had his desertion wounded her so much that it took away her feelings for him?

Fleance shook the thought from his mind. It could not be; not the way she kissed him.

Where to now? He could go back to Magness and Miri but the thought of that place without Rosie filled him with dread.
Willow
stamped his hoof impatiently. Fleance flicked the reins. ‘Well, then, Willow. What do you suggest? We have no home, no food and no friends.’ He stopped. Yes, he did have a friend. Duncan.
If you ever have need of anything, Fleance, if things do not go to plan send word . . . Rachel and I will always welcome you.
That is what he had said. And now he needed a place to sleep and a place to recover while he thought over what to do next.

‘Right, horse. We are going back to Glamis. Take the highway and get me there without incident.’

Glamis castle was situated in the middle of a wide lowland valley surrounded by a large open space and, beyond that, many fields and large crops of dense woods. Willow splashed
through the
stream which hurried over the road marking the boundary of
the cas
tle grounds. Fleance was sore, stiff and very hungry. Apart from the few times he had dismounted to give himself and Willow a rest, they had headed determinedly towards their destination.

The rain had not eased, making their journey harder on the wet and slippery road. Fleance was soaked through and cold but to stop would be to invite a slow but sure death. He had to get to the castle.

He was startled out of his stupor by a shout from above. ‘Halt. Who goes there?’ A soldier called down from a lookout. Fleance lifted his head and saw that the gates were closed.

‘I am Fleance, son of Banquo,’ he shouted up into the rain.

‘What is your business this late in the evening, Sire?’

‘If you would send word to Duncan that I am here and have urgent need to speak with him.’ Another soldier appeared and they spoke quietly to each other though, because of the incessant hiss of rain, Fleance could not make out what was said. He dropped his head again. His hands and legs were numb with cold. He was so tired. If only he could sleep.

He barely registered the gate being opened and two figures
rushing
out towards him. Nor did he notice when he fell from
Willow
. In the distance, he could hear someone calling his name but all he wanted to do was sleep. He felt himself weightless and thought he must be floating down a river for water was splashing over his face. A women’s soft voice. Rosie? Fleance turned his head and then all was darkness.

There was a soft rumbling sound coming from somewhere n
ear hi
s feet and the feeling that someone was systematically massaging his legs. Fleance opened one eye and peered down the bed. A large grey creature was kneading the blankets at his feet, a look of utter ecstasy on its face. Fleance lay back down on his pillow and closed his eye. It was just a cat.

Suddenly a body swooped in and scooped the cat from the bed. ‘Off you go, Zeus. This is not your bed.’ A cool hand pressed lightly on his forehead. ‘Fleance? Can you open your eyes?’ The voice belonged to Rachel.

He felt like his eyes were stuck together and the light made his head spin. He tried once, twice, three times and was eventually able to focus and saw Rachel’s pretty smile. ‘What happened?’ he asked, his voice leaving his throat unwillingly.

‘You took a cold and a gash, it seems, became infected. You have been feverish for three days now.’

He went to sit up but it felt like his body was made of stone. ‘I am so weak,’ he said.

‘I’m not surprised. You’ve been terribly ill, Fleance,’ she said, straightening his blankets.

‘Really?’

‘Aye. When we found you, you were barely conscious and fearfully chilled. That cut on your hand had festered and you’ve been battling a fever.’ She put her hand to his cheek this time and smiled. ‘It seems to have broken.’ She straightened. ‘I’ll call for some broth and tell Duncan you are awake.’

Fleance nodded, almost too tired to speak. Despite his nagging sadness, it was wonderful to feel warm again and be lying between clean sheets and he drifted off.

The door opened and Duncan walked in. ‘I’m pleased to hear from Rachel you are much better, my friend.’ He sat on the edge of the bed. ‘We were very worried for you.’

‘I didn’t think I was that bad – tired and hungry, that’s all.’

‘And cold and wet and hurt. Not things to be taken lightly in Scotland.’ Duncan smiled. ‘I’m pleased to see you. Did you not find your maid?’

Fleance sighed deeply. He shook his head and told Duncan the whole story starting from the moment he was attacked.

‘Are you sure it wasn’t just a thief taking his chance?’ he asked.

‘No, he told me that he was being paid. Who would want to do that to me, Duncan? I had nothing save a small handful of gold.’ The cat had returned and, subconsciously, Fleance began stroking its soft fur. Zeus was delighted and showed his appreciation by
dribbling
on the sheets.

‘You are safe here. Shall I send out scouts to find her?’ Duncan asked.

‘No. She made her choice and I have to live with that now. I only wish she knew that it was not through my hand I was delayed.’

Duncan chewed his lip. ‘Perhaps,’ he began and took in a deep breath. ‘Perhaps it is not meant to be, my friend.’

Tears sprang to Fleance’s eyes and he turned his head so that Duncan would not see them. Mercifully, Rachel arrived with a maid who carried a tray of delicious-smelling food. ‘How is the patient? You’re not bothering him, are you, brother?’

Duncan stood and made room for her. While she was busy with the food, Fleance quickly wiped away the tears on his lashes and then rubbed his eyes to conceal his grief.

‘I will leave you to my sister’s fussing, Fleance. There are worse things in the world,’ he grinned and picked up Zeus before leaving. ‘Father and his aides are gone from court and I have some castle business to attend. I will come and see you later.’

Rachel came forward. ‘Can you try to sit a bit, Fleance?’ she asked. When he struggled, she leant forward, put her arms under his and lifted him. He was surprised at her strength. She pulled him up on the cushions and put more behind and on each side as if she feared he would topple over any moment.

All the while he watched her, for the first time really seeing her as someone other than Duncan’s sister. How different to Rosie she was. Where Rosie was energy personified, this girl floated on a sea of calm. Where Rosie spoke like loud and happy music, Rachel was the sound of wind in the treetops.

She placed the tray on his knees. ‘Would you like me to help you or do you think you can manage the spoon?’ His embarrassment must have shown for she stood up briskly. ‘I’ll leave you to it then. Just small amounts and I’ll be back to change your dressing.’

As she turned to leave he called her name. She turned back to him. ‘Thank you,’ he said.

She smiled. ‘My pleasure.’ And then she was gone.

He was in bed for a further three days although he was well enough to walk small distances to toilet himself and wash. On the second day since waking, Bree found her way into his chamber and made him tell her stories about his life in England. There were times when she also insisted Rachel share her bedtime stories.

‘You’re getting spoiled, wee Bree,’ Rachel said after one very entertaining account of an incompetent knight and a very grumpy steed. ‘Perhaps you should not have your bedtime story tonight.’ Bree scowled, and Rachel and Fleance laughed.

It wasn’t long before Fleance found himself part of the routine life of the castle: Bree’s tantrums, the ever-persistent Zeus, the cat, Duncan’s worried face and Rachel’s calm among the storm. And it wasn’t long before the thought of Rosie was tucked away into a small, secret part of his heart.

It was about two weeks since Fleance’s return to Glamis when he heard sounds of galloping horses and shouting. He looked out his window and saw that the king and a number of earls and thanes had arrived. Carefully, he closed the shutters so as not to draw attention to himself.

Though Fleance had spent many a time these last days taking secret walks in the halls of the castle, he sensed the safest place for him at present was to remain in his chambers. At least until Duncan had informed the king of his presence.

After dinner, which Rachel had brought him, Duncan visited, looking pale and worried.

‘How goes things, Duncan? Rachel would not tell me what has been happening but it seems there is news which makes her unhappy.’

‘Aye, I am not surprised,’ Duncan said. ‘Things have taken a turn for the worse it seems.’

‘How so?’

‘The Thane of Lochaber has joined forces with Scottish rebels living in England and has sent word he will march upon Scotland and take the Western Isles and Galloway.’ Fleance tried to sit up again but Duncan gently pushed him back. ‘Rachel will hound me if I do not take care of her patient. She has said complete bed rest until you are eating normally.’

Fleance didn’t argue. It was nice to have a reason to lie in the comfort of the bed but he was concerned with the news his friend had brought. ‘Why? What do they want?’

‘They don’t want Father as King of Scotland and they say they have the support of many of the Highlanders and those to the south.’

‘Is the thane thinking of taking the crown?’ Fleance asked, knowing that would mean a bloody and violent war. Despite the threats, Donalbain had a huge army.

‘No. They want Scotland to join with England and be ruled
by her.’

‘That’s absurd,’ Fleance cried. ‘It would be like running from a snake into a bear’s den.’ Then he realised the significance of what he had said and felt his face warm with embarrassment. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean . . .’

Duncan held up his hand to silence him. ‘You are right, my friend, I know my father’s weaknesses well. However, even with a less than effective king, a Scottish king is better than an English one. I had hoped to help Father rule wisely but it seems our hand is getting forced on this.’ He stood up. ‘Would you like me to open the casement?’ Fleance nodded. Duncan threw open the shutters and a watery sky was visible from where Fleance lay. ‘I have another matter to discuss with you,’ he said his back to Fleance. ‘I have asked Father to give you back Lochaber.’

‘What?’ Fleance was stunned. His home? To be his again?

‘Aye. The thane will be caught and tried for treason against t
he cro
wn. He will lose his title. I have convinced Father that it belongs to you, as it was unfairly taken by Macbeth and given to the present thane.’

‘That is very generous of you but I can’t see your father agreeing to it. I did not please him.’

‘He has other things to occupy his mind but he did say he would consider it – on one condition.’

‘Aye?’

‘That you would fight alongside me when we face the rebels.’

There was a heavy silence in the room save for the cat’s purring. ‘It is certain, then, that Scotland will go to war?’ Fleance asked.

‘Aye,’ Duncan sighed.

‘Our army will gather at the border come spring. We will to Perth and then by sea to Edinburgh where we will meet them on the heath outside the city limits. It seems when this winter is finished, my friend, we will be at war.’

Chapter Twenty-Seven
Glamis Castle

F
leance agreed to the request that he be a soldier of the king’s army. But Donalbain had not left it there. According to Duncan, Calum recommended to the king that Fleance become a general for it was clear Fleance was a skilled fighter and also a leader of men.

How Calum would know anything about Fleance’s leadership potential bemused him but Duncan assured him it was a great honour and spoke well of the king’s attitude towards him.

‘I am pleased to hear the king no longer has concerns that I am here. To any he places under my leadership, I will pass on all that I have learnt from the two men who have guided me.’ He grinned, thinking fondly of both his father and Magness. ‘The king and his advisor have a strange way of working.’

Duncan returned his smile. ‘Father wants what is best and chooses the best. That Calum has signalled you as right for the cause is but honey in the bread.’ Fleance frowned at this. ‘That’s Morag’s saying for making sweet or better a dire situation.’

‘Duncan,’ Fleance confided. ‘I am, because of this illness, not as strong as I usually am.’

Duncan shook his head. ‘We have time, Fleance. These winter months will allow you to gain strength and to train in readiness for the battle.’

‘As you say,’ Fleance said, but the idea of going against a vast army was both thrilling and terrifying. He felt so weak and this
frustrated
him. Never before had he been so hindered by his own body. Never before had it taken him so long to recover from being hurt. The disturbing dreams and nightmares had returned nightly, preventing him from enjoying healing sleep – this surely was
hindering
his recovery.

So, while Duncan, with the king and other advisors, made preparations for their eventual sojourn to the south of Scotland, Fleance worked hard to build up his strength. He walked a longer distance each day and ate the food Rachel recommended. And yet, every morning, he awoke exhausted. He did not want to let Duncan down so said nothing of his struggles.

One day, however, Rachel cornered him in the garden. ‘You are still not well, Fleance,’ she said. ‘I see you when you’ve climbed the stairs; when you’ve gone out with Willow. I have not healed you.’

‘I am fine, Rachel. It is taking longer but each day I can feel my body work better than the day before. Leave off worrying.’

Rachel paused and looked out towards the castle walls before continuing.

‘Perhaps it is not your body that is still in need of mending,’ she said, her voice little more than a whisper. ‘Perhaps it is a wound of the heart that grieves you more. My brother spoke of a maid . . .’

‘No,’ Fleance interrupted. ‘It seems her choice has been made with not a backward glance nor hint of regret. Do not worry yourself on my behalf, Rachel. It is simply a burdened memory I have learnt to carry.’

Rachel blushed then turned away. ‘If you say so, Fleance. But I know you have to carry a load for my father’s army as well. I just want you to be well.’

He looked at her. ‘Be assured, I will be. I just need time.’

Rachel shook her head. ‘You are a stubborn man, Fleance, and proud with it.’ She sighed. ‘I will think on what I can do to help you gain back your strength.’

‘Thank you, Princess.’

She returned inside. Fleance watched her leave and, for the rest of his walk, found his gaze being drawn back towards the castle.

Later that week, while he was recovering from another training session, a message by way of a farmer delivering vegetables came to the castle.

Morag found him sitting on an upturned barrel catching his breath. ‘You have a message, Sire,’ she said. ‘On the road and coming presently is one who goes by the name of Blair.’

Fleance roused himself and looked up. ‘Blair?’

‘Aye, the farmer passed him not a mile back walking with
a mule.’

Standing up, Fleance stood before her. ‘Thank you, Morag. That is happy news. I shall go out and welcome him to Glamis.’ Morag went back to the kitchen and he to the stables. In too much of a hurry to saddle Willow, he just bridled him then leapt on the horse’s back.

‘Come, Willow. We shall meet someone I warrant you will be most pleased to see.’ Once out of the gates, he cantered down the road and in no time came up to his childhood friend, walking with a grey mule. ‘Scar and all, you are still a beautiful sight, wee Blair,’ he said, sliding off Willow’s back.

Blair grinned, his freckles seeming to dance across his face. ‘You call me wee? I am at least an inch taller than you.’

Fleance embraced him. ‘What brings you to Glamis?’

‘I have come to declare my allegiance to the king.’

‘I am glad for that and I am also glad you have come.’

They walked towards the castle leading their animals. ‘It’s good to see you also, Flea.’

Fleance grinned. ‘And you, you corny lad.’

They were soon at the castle gates and Blair stopped. ‘The word is that you have outed yourself and are serving in the king’s palace. I had hoped I would find you here.’

‘I am part of the king’s army but I do not feel as ready as I would like. If you would think on it Blair, I would have no other sparring partner to help me prepare.’

Blair rubbed his forehead. ‘Well, I’ve not had much cause for weaponry these last years – I’m no’ certain I’d be that much use
to you.’

‘’Tis like riding a horse. You never forget how, though you might feel a bit sore from exposing parts of your body that have almost forgotten they were alive.’

Stablehands came to them, relieving them of their mounts so together they walked into the castle. ‘What is your title then, Fleance, that has you in the king’s palace?’

‘It is a strange position I find myself in. I am friend to the prince; have been made a general in the king’s army though he himself is most distrustful of me. I cannot go anywhere but his aides and spies are following.’

Blair looked alarmed. ‘What have you done to displease t
he king?’

Fleance shook his head. ‘I have done nothing wrong but
Donalbain
has received a prophecy, his son Duncan tells me, that I am a threat to him and his family.’

Blair snorted. ‘Threat? From what I remember, you have a wicked temper and a soft heart.’ They continued to walk the corridors of the castle talking. ‘You remember that damn rabbit?’

‘Rabbit?’

‘I don’t believe you,’ Blair cried. ‘You had a rabbit which your father had found wounded and you’d fixed and nurtured it.’

Like his friend, Fleance frowned. ‘Aye?’

‘Aye. And the bloody thing was sick and useless and all in the manor wished to put it out of its misery but you cried like a girl and so we, who knew better, stood back so that Banquo could sort through the problem.’

Fleance turned to Blair. ‘Really? All I remember is that someone told me the rabbit had to die and I believed that was too harsh a judgement.’

Blair smiled at his friend. ‘Which is often the way, my friend. In response to those men whose powerful place in the world holds much strength to determine all outcomes, the rest of us must work hard to accommodate.’

Fleance shook his head. ‘Still as deep as the loch, I see. For the love of God, man, speak plain.’

Blair sighed heavily and looked down. Then, taking a deep breath, he faced Fleance. ‘You have always been part of the royal family. I am not. I am a servant. You have power. I have not. No one listens to me or my kind. My kind is called to serve yours. Good or bad, that is what we do.’

‘No,’ Fleance said. ‘The wee spawn had no need to die. Do you not think that right?’

Blair laughed aloud. ‘Rabbits, horses, dogs, servants. In the end you treated them all the same. Would you still do that?’

‘You make it sound like I have sinned against God for doing such things.’

Blair laughed up at the sky. ‘No, man. But, looking at you now, I see that things have changed somewhat for your future and, perhaps, Scotland’s.’

Fleance stared into the face of the young man, his ally and his friend. But not his equal.

‘You
are
my friend,’ Fleance said eventually.

Blair nodded low. ‘Aye, and you are my commander.’

The next day, Fleance and Blair shivered in the bitingly cold air as they watched over the servants who laid out the weapons and marked the arena where they would practise. Fleance picked up his father’s sword and swung it in slow circles above his head, reacquainting himself with the weight of the steel. Though his hands easily held the hilt, Fleance could feel a twinge in his left arm and his shoulders. He remembered the days when Magness made him swing over and over and over until he cried with the pain and frustration. It had worked though and Fleance knew that with more training he would once again possess the strength and stamina needed to brandish a heavy claymore.

Though his precision and deft movement with the crossbow left all others in his wake, Fleance understood that this battle would be won by sword and axe, by might and commitment. And a wit about him to keep himself and those under his command alive and well. Every time he thought on this, Fleance felt a wave of nervousness sweep through him. To be assigned the responsibility of so many lives was both an honour and burden. He felt ambivalent towards the task and only hoped that as the time approached he would be more willing and excited and less afraid.

Blair had been mimicking Fleance’s moves and both now felt warm enough to throw off the cloaks which had been hampering their movements. Fleance was surprised to see how much Blair had filled out; under his shirt, thick muscles contorted and bulged as Blair swung the sword out and up to the right before turning and bringing it in and down to the left – over and over, moving forward and spinning around gracefully and almost silently.

Fleance’s strength left him long before Blair stopped. A servant brought him over a drink and he swallowed it thirstily. When Blair realised Fleance was not matching his moves, he also stopped. Fleance waved him on. ‘Keep going. My body has yet to fully recover but if you keep up the practice, you’ll be as good as any on the field.’ He drank some more.

Blair ignored his instruction and came over. ‘Shall we rest these a bit, and take up our daggers?’

Fleance was grateful for Blair’s suggestion as it would save him losing face before the castle and therefore those in his command. ‘Aye. This requires a sure foot and a quick mind.’

The servants took the swords and handed them the dirks with their short blades and sharp edges. For the next hour, they sparred and Fleance was pleased with the natural ability Blair displayed. Fleance showed his partner a number of moves which would enable him to escape from certain death but at the same time end the life of an enemy.

By midday, both were hungry and tired. ‘That will be all for today,’ Fleance said, wiping the sweat from his face and taking the cloak offered by his servant. ‘You have been schooled well.’

‘Do you not remember?’ Blair asked. ‘It was your father who first taught me.’

A vivid image came to Fleance: two young boys holding the dirks and circling each other as Banquo called out instructions and encouragement. Blair was as slippery as an eel and Fleance became more and more enraged because he could not hit the other. Each time, when he thought he had his friend and lunged forward, Blair spun away but not before Blair had hit him with the weapon. After thirty minutes, Fleance threw down the dirk and stormed off out of the stables, fury clouding his mind.

Banquo found him down by the stream, chucking large stones into the chilly water. ‘You let yourself down, young man,’ his father said, standing beside him on the bank. ‘You let anger get control of you.’

‘I couldn’t get him,’ Fleance said, hoisting another rock into the stream. ‘He wouldn’t let me get him.’

Banquo turned his son to face him. ‘That’s the point. Blair was in control the whole time. He didn’t need to get you because you did the work for him – working up a rage which clouded every sensible thought.’

‘He’s faster than me,’ Fleance grumbled.

‘No, you are faster but he is wiser.’ Banquo took the rock from the hands of Fleance. ‘Son, this will be your great undoing if you do not learn to control your emotions. At the moment, this is your greatest battle.’

Tears spilled down Fleance’s face and he felt the humiliation and shame because of the truth of his father’s words. More than anything, he wanted to be like Banquo: brave, strong, calm, wise. He would not be beaten by this.

Fleance wiped his face roughly and swallowed back the rest of the tears. ‘May we go again, Da?’

Banquo stared at him for a moment and then nodded. ‘Aye. But keep in mind that your enemy is your uncontrolled emotion, not your poor wee friend.’

They walked back to the stables in silence and found Blair
busi
ly engaged in rubbing down Willow. ‘Blair,’ Banquo called. ‘Do you have time for one more round before supper?’

Blair grinned. ‘Aye, if Flea is up to another thrashing.’

Fleance ignored the gibe, picked up the dirk from the bench where someone had placed it, took a deep breath and prepared
to spar.

‘Aye,’ Fleance nodded. ‘You whipped my arse almost eve
ry time.’

‘At the start but once you stopped losing your rag, you were hard to beat.’

‘Same time tomorrow?’ Fleance suggested.

‘Aye,’ Blair agreed and took his sword and dirk from the waiting servant and headed to his quarters, one of the wooden cottages which sat huddled at the back of the castle.

Fleance was feeling a burning in his upper arms and back. He was trying to stretch and twist out the knots and pain as he walked towards his chambers. Rachel, Bree in tow, bustled out of the landing which led down to the kitchens, her face flushed and Bree’s own face tear-stained. When they saw him, they stopped.

‘Are you hurt, Fleance?’ Rachel asked, still holding tightly to Bree’s arm.

‘I think I overdid it today in training. My strength is not as it was before.’ Fleance was amused to see Bree glowering at him.

‘I have an errand to attend to,’ Rachel said, nodding towards her sister. ‘But I shall shortly meet you to administer some medicine which I know soothes angry limbs.’