By Honor Bound Part 32

your sake, love, I wish it had been me. Better I should die than have your heart break over this loss."

He knelt down on the muddy, blood-soaked earth and gently closed the boy's eyes before saying a prayer for both father and son By the time he had finished his men had found him. He gave them detailed orders in an unfaltering and commanding voice.

A second letter from Macbeth came to Laggan a week after the first one. Elen would not look at it. Shelay on her bed as she had done since the news of Talcoran's death had come. She stared out the windowwith empty eyes, seeing nothing, while she turned Talcoran's charmstone over and over in her hands.

"You must open it," Fionna urged, trying to make her take the letter.

"Why? It's only more bad news. I don't want to hear any more."

"You can't ignore the king," Fionna said, and broke the seal herself. "We are summoned to return to court. It seems Macbeth has decided your dangerous prisoner will be more secure under his royal eye.

We are both to resume our old positions as ladies to the queen. Gruach has been ill and wants us by her side. Elen, did you hear me?"

"It doesn't matter," Elen said.

"Oh, but it does. You cannot stay here at Laggan and mourn for the rest of your days. You had better start making the arrangements for our journey."

"You make them.""I wish you would bestir yourself, my dear.""I cannot.""Then I will do it all." And so Fionna the prisoner conferred with Nechtan, the captain of the guard, andwith Briga and Ava, and a few days, later they left Laggan to join Macbeth and his court near Aberdeen.

Nechtan, who had come to regard Fionna with an odd mixture of amus.e.m.e.nt and respect, led the way.

He took with him a dozen well-armed men for protection and demanded Fionna's promise that she would not try to escape.

"Else I must chain you," he said, and watched Fionna burst into laughter.

"I am honored by your high opinion of my courage," she replied. "You have my promise. Nechtan, I am seriously concerned about your mistress. She is in a sad enough state just now. I would do nothing to distress her further."

"Thank you, lady. I have seen that you are a good friend to her. I will trust you for the moment."

Ava and Briga went with them, and there were several pack horses loaded with the women's clothes and other household belongings.

The way was long and difficult. They rode due north at first, to avoid Malcolm's troops, who were saidto be ravaging the countryside south and east of Laggan. The old pathway through the mountains was nolonger safe. They turned east after a while, and rode through rough, unfamiliar land until at last on a grayday they came to the castle that was now Macbeth's headquarters.

Again it was Fionna who took charge, ordering the arrangement of the two small rooms a.s.signed to them, dealing with Ava's fears about Drust, who was still seriously ill from his wound, and trying in vain to rouse Elen from her torpor.

"Why should I bother?" Elen asked. "There is nothing left for me now. My life is over. I wish I could die myself."

Fionna regarded her friend with horror, and then went to confer with Gruach. She returned to their rooms later, telling Elen it was the queen's order that they begin attending her that very day.

"Get up and dress yourself," Fionna said. "We have work to do."

Elen grudgingly did as she was told. Even in her continuing grief, she dared not refuse the queen.

"I beg you, dear cousin, let me Laggan. I would mourn Talcoran and Colin alone, in our home."

Gruach coughed, holding a linen cloth to her mouth. She had grown shockingly thin, and there were bright spots of red on her cheeks.

"It is too dangerous in that area now Malcolm's troops are moving northward. I cannot let you go. I need you with me, Elen." Gruach moved restlessly about the room, her unnaturally brilliant eyes darting from Elen to her other ladies and back again. "I am ill, surely you can see that, and I am so lonely. Macbeth is busy every day, planning for the next battle with Malcolm. Lulach is with the army, and his wife Gertha is not over fond of me. She thinks I have too much influence over my son. Perhaps she is right, I don't know any more." Gruach wrung her hands, sending Elena piteous look.

"You are like a younger sister to me, Elen. We have been close for so many years. Don't desert me now. " She gave a wry laugh and coughed again, The linen cloth came away from her lips stained with red. "It won't be for long, I promise you."

Choked with sudden tears, Elen could make no response. Gruach, seemingly unable to remain still, wandered about the room again, coming back to Elen at last. Her thin fingers plucked at the bloodstained cloth in her hands.

"If we let you go back to Laggan, you will turn to the English," she muttered. "Your father always favored Duncan over Macbeth, and new that Talcoran is gone, you will turn to Duncan's: son over your rightful king."

"No, cousin, I swear I will not." Elen was shaken out of her self-absorbed grief, not only by

Gruach's outrageous accusation, but by her 'How can I know if you speak the truth?" Gruach asked. "You and Fionna will remain here, in attendance on me, so I can watch you both. You cannot hatch treasonous plots if you are under my eyes every day. It is one service I can render Macbeth. One last service to my love."

She gave way to another fit of coughing, the desperate spasms racking her frail body. She sank into a chair, unable to stand any longer. Her ladies hastened to wipe the froth of blood from her lips and offer wine for her to sip. Elen watched her helplessly.

Lulach's wife Gertha came into the room. She and Elen had always been on good terms. Where some of the ladies of the court had been cold to Gertha when first she came to Alba, Elen, because of her own affection for Lulach, had sought Gertha out, welcomed her, and made a friend of her. The tall, large-boned young woman with the silver-blonde braids and the proud, chiseled profile had accepted Elen at once, for behind her cool exterior she was lonely and frightened in her new home. Now she greeted Elen warmly.

"You have been too long absent from us," Gertha said with her heavy Norse accent. "I have missed you. We need you here."

"What in heaven's name is wrong with the queen?" Elen whispered.

"The doctors say the fever is consuming her lungs. She has grown steadily worse for months. She coughs up blood more often now. She will not live long and she knows it.' Gertha regarded her mother-in-law with sad eyes. "Poor lady."

"She seems so agitated. She says things she must know are not true."

"It is the sickness. She does not sleep well She wanders about the castle at night because she breathes more easily when she stands. After such a night, her thoughts are often muddled. Only when Macbeth is with her does she rest."

Elen saw the truth of Gertha's remarks at that evening's meal. Gruach sat beside her husband, holding her restlessness in check, though Elen could see her wringing her hands as she tried to keep them quietly in her lap.

While the ranks of his n.o.bles were noticeably depleted, Macbeth himself did not seem to be greatly changed by his recent defeat in battle. He still kept royal state. The walls of the great hall had been hung with tapestries, and the food, no longer as lavish as his feasts had once been, was presented with the usual ceremony. Everyone present spoke and acted as if Malcolm's latest victory were only a temporary setback.

"We will retake everything Malcolm now holds," Macbeth told Elen confidently after the meal had ended and they had a few moments to speak together. "It is just a matter of time. There are some who do not believe that, a few who fear I will lose my throne and who have defected to Malcolm, hoping to preserve their estates if he wins this latest war."

"Never say defeat, husband," Gruach urged nervously. "You must not think of such a thing."

"I do not, my love." Macbeth laughed easily, putting one large strong hand over her thin ones "You will see. I will rule all of Alba again, with you by my side."

"Then it must be very soon," Gruach said, her voice low.

There followed an uncomfortable silence Elen broke it, rousing herself out of her depression.

"Talcoran would never have deserted you, my lord, no matter what the cost, and neither will I." her eyes filled with tears. "Talcoran was a good husband to me, and a loyal subject to you. I am glad you made me marry him. You were wiser than I when you made that decision for me. I grew to love him deeply. I love him still." She stopped, unable to go on. She was surprised to see Macbeth's eyes glistening with unshed tears as he answered her.

"I thank you for those words, cousin. How I wish I still had Talcoran to guard my back when I ride into battle." He paused, swallowed hard, and then went on, his voice becoming stronger as he spoke. "I will not be defeated by those soft Englishmen. I'll make them all sorry they invaded my Alba. And I swear to you, Elen, that Talcoran's death, and Colin's, will be avenged. You have my word on it."

Elen was forced to put aside her grief over her husband and son in order to deal with the imminent death of another who was dear to her. Gruach's condition grew steadily worse. She would not allow the doctors to come near her, saying their bleedings and purgings only made her weaker, and she was weak enough already. Let the physicians tend to Macbeth's wounded men, and leave her to die in peace.

But she was not peaceful. Her restlessness increased with each day that pa.s.sed. She ate nothing unless urged repeatedly by Elen or her other ladies, or by Macbeth himself when he was present. When she did eat, she would take only a single mouthful before declaring she could swallow no more. Even Briga's most delicious herbal brews could not tempt her. No one who saw her could doubt she was dying. She grew ever thinner, and her race was chalk-white, bloodless except for the scarlet patches on each cheek.

"I am so tired," she said one afternoon Her thin fingers shook as she pulled at the linen cloth she now carried with her everywhere. A thread had unraveled from the edge, and she worried at it until it was loosened completely from the fabric then rolled the single thread into a tiny ball and broke it off. She stood looking at it as if wondering what do do with it.

"Lie down and try to rest," Elen said, taking the cloth from her hands and leading her into her private chamber. Gruach stretched out upon her bed, but soon rose again and wandered into the reception room.

"I can't breathe when I lie flat. Where is Lulach? I want to see my son."

"I'll send for him." Elen went searching for a man-at-arms to carry a message to Lulach. When she returned to the room Gruach was pacing back and forth in great agitation.

"Where is he? Is he coming? I must see him."

"He will be here shortly. Sit down and rest* dear cousin. You will wear yourself out." She put an arm around the thin shoulders and led Gruach to a chair. The sick woman sat down, then quickly stood and began pacing again.

"Why should I rest? A few days, a week al most, and I will be gone." She caught at Elen's hands. "You are so patient with me. I have often been harsh with you, but you repay me with goodness."

Elen took Gruach into her arms. She felt the frail bones under Gruach's dry, hot skin and sensed the heavy laboring of her exhausted heart as Gruach laid her head on Elen's shoulder. The golden braids were thin now, and heavily streaked with grey. Elen thought her heart would break all over again from her feelings of helplessness and from the pity evoked by the ruin of her cousin's strength and beauty.

"You have helped me more than you know," Elen told her, holding her close and kissing her hot cheek. " In caring for you I have begun to put aside some of my grief over Talcoran and Colin. Before, I could think of nothing but myself and my loss."

"And now you worry about me. That's not much better." Gruach pulled away, laughing, then started to cough and could not stop.

When the hemorrhage began, Elen called frantically for the serving women, who came running with basins and cloths. By the time Lulach got there the bleeding had stopped and Gruach was lying exhausted on her bed, too weak to rise After sending the servants away, Elen piled more pillows behind her to ease her breathing a little, then left mother and son alone.

As she went into the reception room, Gertha arrived, out of breath from running. She was followed by a priest, who entered the bedchamber. Lulach reappeared.

"She is making her confession," he said. "Where is Macbeth?"

Fionna was just entering the room. She took in the situation in her usual competent way.

"I'll send word to him," she said, and left again The priest returned to the reception room.

"The queen wishes to see you again, my lord," he said to Lulach. "Also your wife, and this good lady." He nodded to Elen.

"Come with us, father," Lulach begged. "She will be glad of your presence, too."

The four of them crowded into the small room. Lulach knelt down at one side of the bed, his mother's hands clasped tightly between both of his. Gertha stood behind her husband, supportive hands resting on his shoulders. Elen knelt beside Lulach, while at the foot of the bed the priest murmured unceasing prayers.

"I have loved you all," Gruach whispered, her voice a fragile, rasping sound. "Elen, my dear cousin, and dearer friend. You, too, Gertha, though you have not always thought so. "You have been a good wife to Lulach. If my love for him made you unhappy, I ask your forgiveness."

"I give it freely." Gertha reached out and laid one hand atop her husband's hands which still held Gruach' s bone-thin fingers. "There is little to forgive, because we both love Lulach."

Gruach smiled, then fastened her eyes upon her beloved son's face.

"He will make you King of Alba after him," she whispered, and Elen could see in Gruach's heaving chest the effort each word cost her. Her voice was so faint they all leaned forward to hear. "You are the next rightful king, and he promised. Macbeth always keeps his promises. Depend on him, Lulach. Where is he?" Macbeth? My lover' She looked around and made as if to rise, then slumped back upon the pillows. The light flared up once more in her grey eyes. Then her lids dropped and the life went out of her so softly that Elen was not certain she was gone until the priest moved around the bed and bent to listen for breath or heartbeat. He shook his head, looking directly at Elen.

"The queen is dead," he announced. In the silence that followed, Elen bent her head in prayer. When she rose, she and Gertha both had to help Lulach to get off his knees. He did not want to release his mother' s hands, but Gertha insisted, gently yet firmly. When he was finally standing he burst into tears, his arms about both women.

"Come, husband," Gertha urged. "Come to our rooms. This place will soon be crowded and such grief as yours should be private." She led the sobbing Lulach away, while Elen went to find the servants to tell them to come and prepare Gruach's body for burial.

When Macbeth finally appeared, Elen was on her knees again, praying at Gruach's bedside. Candles had been lit at the head and foot of the bed, and Gruach's pale face was serene in their flickering light. Macbeth knelt beside Elen and put his face in his hands. Thinking he would want to be alone, she moved to leave. He caught her elbow and held her in her place.

"Stay," he said. "She would want you here."

At last, a long time later, he stood and helped Elen to her feet. He showed no embarra.s.sment at the wetness on his cheeks, nor did he deign to wipe it away.

"I should have been with her," he said. "I have been so preoccupied these past months that I have had little time for her."

"She understood, my lord."

"Perhaps she did. We shared so much, she knew how deeply I loved her. Still, I should have been here. And now I have not even time to mourn her properly. Malcolm is advancing on us. We will meet in battle in a day or two and his strength is the greater now. He has called up an enormous army from his English allies. But I will win. I must, for this Alba I love so much, for the old ways that Malcolm would heartlessly destroy, and for Lulach's right to rule when I am dead. Gruach would understand that, too, I think."

"She would indeed, my lord. You are a good king to us."

"It Malcolm wins this war," Macbeth sighed, "Men will say I was a wicked king. He will see to that."

"Those of us who have lived under your rule," Elen told him gravely, "will never forget that you brought years of peace and prosperity to Alba. We will remember you with love."

It occurred to her with horror that she was speaking as though he were certain to die in the coming battle. With a little cry, she put out her hands to touch him, to rea.s.sure herself that he was still solid and alive. She found herself in his arms, held close against his strong warmth, and the dark premonition that had been forming in her mind vanished.

"My dear and faithful cousin," he said, his deep voice husky with emotion. A moment later he released her. "See to her burial. I entrust to you my love's remains." He nodded toward Gruach's body, and then he was gone.