Banquo's Son (A Crown of Blood and Honour Book 1) (32 page)

He was still holding Rachel. She pulled back from him, her face red and angry. ‘You were supposed to protect him,’ she yelled. ‘You promised me.’ She began flailing at him with her fists. Eventually he had to grab her hands and forced her to stop.

Ross stood beside them. ‘Madam,’ he said, his voice also unsteady. ‘’Twas Calum, your father’s advisor, who did this. The bolt was meant for Fleance but the king stood in the way.’

She gave him a wild look. ‘I don’t care what happened and why.’ She turned to Fleance. ‘How could this happen? He was so kind and loving and gentle and . . .’ Tears streamed down her face. Her grief more than matched his.

He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. ‘I know,’ he whispered. ‘He was.’ His own tears were again free to fall. ‘He was,’ he repeated as he held her close, his face pressed into her soft hair.

Chapter Thirty-Four
Glamis Castle

D
uncan’s body was carried from the wagon to his chambers where his manservant and attendants would prepare it for the journey to Iona.

So distraught was Rachel that Fleance lifted her in his arms and carried her to her room, whereupon Morag, after attending to poor Charissa, had brought a sleeping draught. Rachel drank it numbly and Fleance sat with her until she was asleep.

As if in a trance, he went to Duncan’s room and stood in the doorway and watched while they prepared the body. On the large bed, he looked so small. His eyes were closed and he looked
peacefully
asleep.

Fleance asked them all to leave so that he could sit alone beside his friend. How did this happen? One moment they were celebrating victory over the rebels and three days later he was sitting here staring at the body of one of the most special people he had had the privilege of knowing. Tears welled up again. So did his anger.

And just as suddenly, the words of the witches came to him:
Hail to you who will gain the prize amidst bloodshed and sorrow.
Was ‘the prize’ the crown? If so, then they were right, for the last time he felt such sorrow was when he was an eleven-year-old boy fleeing for his life.

He stood up and then leant forward and kissed Duncan’s hand. ‘Goodbye, my friend. I promise you I will look after Rachel and Bree as you asked.’ He moved to the doorway and looked back. It was a most pitiful sight.

When he walked into the great corridor, Preston was waiting, his face more pale and drawn than usual. ‘Sire, a word?’ Fleance nodded. ‘The thanes and earls have gathered in the great hall and wish you to attend.’

Fleance sighed wearily. ‘Tell them I will be along shortly. First I must change into dry clothes.’

Preston bowed low and shuffled away. Fleance went in the opposite direction to his room.

He paced the floor. This was not how it was supposed to be. Though the threat to Scotland had been quelled, it was like a heavy summons lay upon his heart. He had failed to protect his king and his friend and, instead of a celebration feast, the king lay dead
in his
chambers, his sister overcome with grief and he was now summoned before the thanes and earls to give an account of himself.

He dressed quickly and splashed water on his face. Then he hurried to the meeting hall, an anxious knot in his stomach. A grim silence greeted him. Lennox, Ross, Angus, the bishop from the abbey, Preston, even Blair, plus a number of others whose names he was not certain of but whose faces were familiar. But not Macduff and not Duncan. The sadness threatened to overwhelm him.

The bishop came forward. ‘Fleance,’ he said, his voice
rumbling
around the hall. ‘Duncan named you as the one to take the sovereignty and Ross and your sergeant here were witness to his
command
. You, who are Banquo’s son and, through him, great-grandson of Kenneth the Third, are the rightful heir. God has selected you, Fleance, to rule Scotland. What is your answer to this?’

Lennox stepped over to him, placing a fatherly hand on his shoulder. ‘We here, Fleance, are all in agreement with Duncan’s command. You are your father’s son but you are more than that. We have seen you fearless and faithful. You are strong, honest and noble. You will rule Scotland wisely – of this we are all certain.’ There was a murmur of agreement.

Fleance looked around the hall. What preparation could there possibly be for a moment like this? He needed time to think. To be king? But, if that was to be, what about Rosie? His head was spinning. Magness’s story and the intense hatred he had seen in his adoptive father’s face; Calum’s threats. Was he ready to take on the weight of all that for the people of Scotland? For people like the old shepherd couple, Michael and Agnes? Accepting the crown meant his life would not be his alone to direct.

Ross cleared his throat. ‘Fleance, we understand that this is a difficult thing to consider for few men even dream of the possibility that they could one day be king.’ Fleance stared at him, struggling to understand the simple words of the thane. Ross continued. ‘You will not be alone for all in this room will guide you and sup
port you.’

‘As will the Lord,’ the bishop added.

‘The people will accept you, Fleance,’ Lennox said. ‘No other man has a rightful claim to the throne. To choose another will pull Scotland back into civil war.’

The sights and sounds and smells of the battle still clung to Fleance and he shuddered. It would be a dreadful thing to go so quickly back to that.

‘It is an honour bestowed upon the one the Lord has chosen,’ the bishop said. ‘And, though it will require personal sacrifice, He will reward you abundantly for your obedience.’

The word ‘sacrifice’ stung him for he understood what that would mean. Should he be King of Scotland, then his life’s c
ourse wo
uld change completely. After the battle he had intended to return to his home at Lochaber with Rosie beside him and to
live o
ut his days rebuilding his life and in service to his king.

Now, the king was dead and a new path was opening out in front of him. He could say no and tread the journey he had planned. He could turn his back on this offer but, even as he thought it, Fleance knew that he could never do that. If, as Lennox said, another was chosen and Scotland went back to bloodshed and death, he would be pulled into the fray and those he loved would be in danger of their lives. It could not be.

Fleance inhaled deeply, straightened his back and lifted his head. ‘I will accept the crown,’ he said. The bishop nodded and signalled to Preston.

‘Again we take the journey to Iona but it is advisable, Sire, that we carry out the ceremony at Scone immediately. Your people need to feel secure after such a time.’

‘Aye, but they also need to grieve. Is Duncan to be forgotten so quickly?’ Fleance asked.

This time, Ross spoke. ‘Like his grandfather, like your father, Duncan will never be forgotten but you must no longer look back. Though we defeated the rebels, this is still an uneasy time. We will send out word to all the land that you are named. Some fellows
will go wi
th the king to Iona; others with you to Scone.’

‘Aye, but no word until I have spoken with Rachel,’ Fl
eance said.

Ross nodded. ‘I will see it is done.’

‘Thank you,’ Fleance replied and then walked out of the hall, his head spinning.

The next morning, the rain, which had started lightly, began to buffet the castle. Fresh and angry winds from the north stirred up wet leaves and twigs. The weather’s mood was matched by thos
e inside.

Fleance found Rachel in Morag’s kitchen. Her skin was pasty and there were dark smudges under her eyes. Morag was encouraging her to eat. Across from Rachel, sat Charissa. She was weeping and her nose was red and swollen.

He stood there looking at them, unsure how to find the words to offer comfort or the news he must break to Rachel. He coughed politely. ‘Rachel, I must speak with you.’

She looked at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. She
nodded
and stood up. ‘Thank you, Morag,’ she said quietly and then followed Fleance out of the kitchen, up the stairs and into the main corridor.

‘Let us go somewhere warm,’ she said and led him to the b
lue room.

When they were inside, they both instinctively looked to the empty chair where Duncan used to sit. They remained standing.

‘What is it you wish to speak to me about?’ Rachel asked and Fleance noticed her formal tone.

He moved his jaw to speak but could not find the words. He cleared his throat and studied the rich blue rug at their feet. ‘I am sorry,’ he started.

‘So am I,’ she replied. ‘I should not have said those things
to y
ou.’ Tears began to slide down her face. ‘Morag has told me
the m
en have spoken of your bravery and how many times you saved him.’

‘But I didn’t in the end, Rachel,’ he cried. ‘I could not save him and the bolt was meant for me.’

She frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘All this time it was Calum trying to destroy me.’

‘Calum?’

‘Aye, these past years he has been a spy in this household. He wormed his way into your father’s head and whispered unwise plans into his ears.’

Rachel frowned and sat down on her chair. She looked up at him. ‘Why would he do that?’

‘Do you remember your father one night yelling about being in danger from the son of a murdered father?’ She nodded. ‘Donalbain thought it was me but those evil hags were talking about Calum. His father was killed in the battle against your grandfather. Killed by my father.’ His head ached from lack of sleep and too much emotion. He went to the side table and was pleased to see a jug of water. He poured a drink and drank it thirstily. ‘Calum is the King of Norway,’ he said. ‘He aimed to kill me to avenge his father. He spent his time in this household determined to exact revenge on your family as well.’

Rachel put a hand to her forehead. ‘All these secrets; all these foolish men wanting vengeance and power and gain.’ She looked up at him. ‘Why can’t men live in peace, Fleance? Why does there always have to be war and bloodshed?’

‘Because in the secret chambers of men’s hearts there is always ambition. And ambition without honour or restraint leads to
ruthless
and violent action.’ He put down the empty goblet and went to her. ‘There is something else I need to tell you, Rachel.’ He knelt before her and took her hands in his. She looked at him, her eyes searching his face. Fleance took a deep breath. ‘I am to be king.’

Her eyes widened and she pulled away. ‘King?’ she whispered. He watched as confusion made her frown and shake. ‘But,
Duncan
.’ She stopped, eyes searching the room as if trying to find the clues to make sense of all he was telling her.

‘Aye. I have already been named. The thanes are sending word out this morning. You will journey with Duncan to Iona and I will go to Scone.’

Rachel stood and pushed back her shoulders. She moistened her lips and swallowed. ‘God has chosen wisely,’ she said. ‘I must tell Bree of our brother’s death.’

She went to leave but he reached out and held her arm. ‘Rachel, I made a promise to Duncan before he died, to take care of you and Bree. I make this promise to you also. You, Bree and Keavy are
my family.’

Rachel stared at him for a moment. ‘Is that how you see me, Fleance. As a sister?’

The question came from nowhere and he was unprepared.

The unspoken was now before them.

Fleance released her arm and turned to look out the window.

Behind him he sensed Rachel standing, waiting for an answer.

‘Rachel,’ he sighed. ‘I have made no secret of the fact that my heart belongs to another. In truth, if all had gone well and Duncan still ruled, I would be on my way to Perth right now to ask Rosie to marry me.’

He turned and took her hands in his once more.

‘However, it seems Fate and God have other plans for me and I must now choose honour and duty over love. It seems whichever way I turn with this I will be causing someone pain.’

Surprisingly, Rachel smiled although her eyes had filled wit
h tears.

‘Fleance, remember I too have felt the pain of a lost love. It’s true I had hoped you would help me forget this pain and perhaps I have read too much into the small crumbs of kindness you have shown me.’

She sighed once more and moved to sit in her usual chair before looking up at Fleance once more. ‘Perhaps we can help each other here. I can’t take the place of Rosie in your heart nor can you be Ewan in mine . . .’ Here she swallowed quickly and Fleance recognised the emotion was still raw and tender.

‘However,’ she continued more forcefully, ‘I feel we can achieve something as strong and enduring as the love we have both experienced, something to aid us both through the pain of Duncan’s death and the demands ruling this country will bring. Remember, I told you once before I am a descendent of a warrior clan. I am not a shrinking flower that will snap at the first sign of hardship. You must do what is right for you, Fleance, but remember, you will not be alone in this. Think on this when you ponder what needs to be done.’ She rose and laid a hand gently on his arm for a moment.

‘Now I must tend to the children,’ and she was gone.

Fleance was left alone, his mind reeling.

I am to be king, he thought. It felt as if his world had been turned onto its head. He needed air and he needed space. Fleance went out of the castle and into the stables. He found Willow snoozing contentedly in his stall.

‘Hey, old man,’ he said. Willow’s head bobbed up and he gave Fleance a hostile look. Fleance ignored him and set about brushing him down and then tacking him up. He led the horse outside and mounted. Just then he spotted Lennox and Ross coming through the castle gates and rode over to them.

‘I have given the news to Rachel. You can send the posts out. I am in need of a ride to clear my thoughts. Please inform Preston I will be back by midday.’

The men bowed their heads and went on.

He pushed Willow into a fast canter and was soon comforted by the rhythmical pounding of hooves and the rise and fall of the horse’s body. The cold rain bit at his face and stung his eyes but
he did
n’t care. It was as if wild weather were urging him on. At the boundary of the palace grounds he slowed Willow and they wal
ked on.

All his life, he had been guided by the voice of his father telling him to live with honour and loyalty; to be faithful and honest. And he had done his best to live out the example he’d seen in Banquo. Now he was being called upon to live his life publicly and to continue to uphold the same values he held dear. In the past, he was responsible only for those immediately in his care; now it was the whole of Scotland who would look to him for leadership.

The power frightened him. Without Duncan he felt uncertain, for his friend had always known the right thing to do.