By Honor Bound Part 8

"When did you last eat?" Patric asked.

"Yesterday at noon. King Duncan told me to ride without stopping until I found you."

"Get him some food and a blanket," Patric said to his servant. "Let him rest. I'll call you if there is a return message."

"The king said there would be no need for an answer, and that I was to remain with you until you meet him."

"Until--? Very well. Go."

Patric pulled the lamp nearer and broke the royal seal.

Patric.

I write to you in my own hand because there is no one here I can trust, not even my own secretary.

Macbeth and Bancho have grown too rich and powerful. They forget that it is their king who heaped honors on them. They repay me with ingrat.i.tude and treachery. They speak of having submitted to royal authority, and then they do whatever they want.

I will be king of all Alba! I will bring these contentious n.o.bles, and their lands, under royal control! I have relieved them of their commands and appointed Moddan my chief general. Now they are plotting against me-Macbeth, Bancho and Lochaber, all of the northern n.o.bles. Even your brother-in-law sides with them. Only a few of the men of Lothian and c.u.mbria are with me. I know that you are one of the loyal ones.

I need a great victory. You must drive those d.a.m.ned Danes into the sea, while Moddan leads his half of the army into Caithness against Thorfinn. Once you have finished with the Danes, you must march after Moddan to reinforce him. I will sail northward with the navy, and we will trap Thorfinn between our two armies and the sea. After I have destroyed Thorfinn, no one will question my right to rule Alba as I wish.

I am so certain of victory that I have ordered the court to follow the army into Morays.h.i.+re. I want them all to see Thorfinn kneel at my feet to make submission and plead for his life.

Pay no heed to plots or rumors contrary to my orders. We will prevail.

Until we meet in victory.

Duncan.

Patric sat staring at the doc.u.ment in his hands.

It is my death-warrant, he thought. They could beat the Danes; they were nearly finished already. But the overextended, exhausted army, with an inexperienced leader like Moddan, would never defeat Thorfinn, and Duncan and his little four-s.h.i.+p navy could not help.

I have a fool for a king. Only a fool would have dismissed military leaders of the quality of Macbeth and Bancho in the middle of a war. Patric could understand why the others had turned against Duncan, if that was truly what they had done, though Duncan's letter did not say that they were in open revolt.

But I can't desert him, whatever happens. Patric's grandfather and Duncan's were friends, his father and brother died fighting by Duncan's side, and Patric was pledged to serve him unto death. He could not break his oath and leave him, least of all when he was alone and in such distress. He needs Patric now, and Patric would not fail his king. He knew what his duty was.

Oh, Elen, my love, I will never see you again! He brushed the thought of Elen away before the sadness it evoked could unman him. He believed she would understand his loyalty to Duncan, for had not her father also died willingly in Duncan's cause?

He rose from the folding stool by his table and, crossing the small tent in two rapid steps, pulled the entrance flap aside and stepped into the night. A sentry snapped to attention.

"Wake my officers," Patric said. "I want to meet with them at once." After the man had left, he threw the king's letter onto the campfire and watched it burn.

The fortified castle of Forres was cold and damp. It was August, and still summer in the south of Alba, but here in northern Moray there had been a great storm, and the winds off the firth whistled and moaned around the wide walls, then swirled out across the open moors that lay behind the fortress.

To this desolate outpost belonging to Macbeth the Mormaer of Moray, Duncan's court had come. His ailing queen, his n.o.bles and their ladies, their priests and servants, filled the castle to overflowing, whilst several detachments of the army camped with their leaders outside the walls. They were soon joined by Duncan himself and what remained of his inadequate navy, driven southward in defeat after a sea battle with Thorfinn of Orkney.

The king's red-gold banner floated bravely over the walls of Forres, although within there was naught but gloom. No sooner had Duncan reached dry land than he was stricken with a puzzling disease that kept him in his bed for days. He had scarcely recovered when word came that his nephew Moddan, in whom Duncan had placed all his hopes, had been ambushed and slain by Thorfinn's lieutenant, Thorkill Fostri. In the wake of Moddan's death, the remnants of his army made their way to Forres, where they added their numbers to the men already there.

It was not long before the castle and its environs reeked of its guests, of food cooking and peat fires, of animal and human ordure, of rotting food and unwashed bodies. Gulls circled above the walls, now and then diving down to scavenge some choice morsel from a rubbish heap. Their wild, forlorn cries added one more note to the sounds of horses, of shouted commands, of the ringing of the blacksmith's anvil, of the shrill voices of courtiers.

Elen picked her way carefully across a littered courtyard and into the castle, followed by

Ava."Did you hear about the witches?" Ava wasbursting with the latest gossip."I am sure you will tell me." Elen could not resist a smile, for all that her heart was heavy. The worldseemed to be falling apart. Nothing was certain any more. The one hope she had had of the northwardjourney of Duncan's court-that she might see Patric at Forres-had proven false.

"I heard the story from Drust. You know Drust, Talcoran's aide? He was there, so it's not

just gossip."

Elen wondered if the sparkle in her servant's eyes was for her tale or for Drust. She had seen the two together on several occasions recently.

They came at last to a niche where a narrow window pierced the stone wall. Elen paused, looking out toward the rugged mountains in the

distance.

"Tell me here," she said. "At least it's quiet. I am not accustomed to living in a chamber with four other women. They giggle so."

"You should have your own quarters," Avasaid."There is no room. You know that perfectlywell. Let me hear your story, Ava.""Well . . ." Ava moistened her lips in eager preparation for her speech. "The day before yesterday, KingDuncan said he felt well enough to ride out with Macbeth and Bancho to observe the troopemplacements. Talcoran and Drust went with them, and some other men, too. When they stopped by a stream to water their horses, they were met by two ugly old women dressed in rags. At firstKing Duncan thought they were mad, and he wanted to leave the place, but when the women flew into atrance and began to prophesy, the king and his men knew they were witches." Ava paused to crossherself nervously. "Drust saw them with his own eyes, mistress."

Elen felt a chill along her spine. She knew as well as anyone that such creatures were real and powerful.

She, too, crossed herself, as Ava went on with her tale.

"The witches told Duncan he would lose his throne, and his life, before the next full moon, and that his children must travel far from their native land before they dare return."

"No, it can't be."

"All the men there heard them. Duncan declared that these women must have caused his recent illness, and they should be punished for witchcraft. Do you want to know what happened next?"

"You will tell me whether I want to know or not." Elen wondered if the prophecy meant that Thorfinn would defeat and kill Duncan in the battle everyone knew would soon take place. Thorfinn was even now camped close by at Burghead, gathering his troops. Would that huge, black-bearded Viking be the next king of Alba? And if he were, what would happen to her kin and to herself? And Patric-would he die in battle for a hopeless cause?

Ava was talking again, continuing her story. In spite of her uneasiness about the tale, Elen made herself listen.

"Duncan had each of the witches put into a barrel and the barrels pierced all over with long spikes. They were rolled down a hill, and then were dumped into the sea. Drust says it was a waste of good spikes. He says drowning is enough to get rid of witches. Drust says the king ordered everyone present to say nothing of what happened, because he says the king was afraid the troops would begin deserting if they heard of the prophecy. He says-"

"Drust says, Drust says!" Elen put her hands over her ears as she scolded her maid with unusual anger. " Be still! I've heard enough of this man of Talcoran's. Do not repeat this story to anyone else. The king has forbidden it. You will be silent on this, Ava."

"Yes, mistress."

As Elen listened to Ava's lurid tale, Patric rode through the gates of Forres, leaving his men camped some distance outside its walls. He had been summoned to a meeting of Duncan's council, and he was late. He met Talcoran outside the closed door. After a hurried greeting, Patric commanded the door wards to admit them, and together the two soldiers moved quietly into the council chamber.

Macbeth was speaking. He stood before the seated king with his legs spread wide and his huge fists planted firmly on his hips. His blue cloak was flung back over his shoulders, his golden head was held high and proud.

"We, your n.o.bles, demand that you make peace with Thorfinn before Alba is destroyed."

Duncan had grown irritable since losing the sea battle with Thorfinn, and his recent illness had done nothing to improve his temper.

"You mean, before Thorfinn marches through your lands and ravages them," he sneered at Macbeth. " Before the harvests of Morays.h.i.+re are trampled and bloodied in battle."

"I speak for all the men of Alba." Macbeth's steady gaze did not waver.

"You speak for yourself, Moray. Anyone with wits knows you crave this for your own head." Duncan touched the circlet of gold that sat upon his brow.

"No," Macbeth said softly. "You are mistaken, my lord. Those who know me well know I have never wanted your crown. Had we a good king, a strong and wise king who would make an agreement with Thorfinn and keep Alba safe against the English, then Moray would be enough for me."

"And have you not a good king now?" Duncan pounded on the arm of his chair like an angry child. "I will make you bow your head to me and mean it. When I have defeated Thorfinn you will all"-his eyes swept the room, taking in the faces of his n.o.bles who were irritated or disgusted, according to each man's temperament, but not really surprised at yet another royal outburst-"all of you, I say, will bow the knee to me, and it will not be that false oath-taking you mouthed when first I became king, but true and total submission! And if you do not, I'll set your heads on pikes around the walls of Dunedin."

"Were you a true king of Alba, your new capital would be in the north, and not so near to England," Bancho growled, voicing a grievance felt by at least half the men in that room.

"Get out. Out of my sight, all of you. Go!" Duncan stood, his fury against these traitors now uncontrollable, his thin face blotched red with anger. "I hereby disband this council. I will rule alone. Leave me!"

For a moment it appeared that Duncan would personally push the men out of the room, but then, led by Macbeth, they all stalked out with great dignity. Talcoran was the next to last one to go. He turned and questioned Patric with raised brows.

"I'll join you shortly," Patric said, and Talcoran left him alone with Duncan.

"My lord," Patric began."They are traitors, every one.""They are men who fear the loss of their lands and wealth. Calm yourself, my lord, for you must recall them."

"Do you dare say 'must' to your king?" "Aye, for it is necessary. Those men are bound to you by theirsacred oaths, and you need them. They must use their men-at-arms to fight Thorfinn for you. They are allthe army you have. If you send them away, you have lost your crown." Duncan's thin shouldersslumped. "Why have I failed?" he asked querulously. "I wanted a strong, united kingdom. I wanted themfirmly under my thumb so they would stop warring on each other and live in peace. I thought the Englis.h.i.+nfluence of my queen and her friends would civilize them, and instead they resent me for trying to changetheir customs. They are only tribal chieftains. Why won't they obey me? d.a.m.n them! I am the king!"

"You need them, my lord," Patric repeated. "How like your father you are." Duncan was calmer now,the outburst over. "Keith of Bute always gave my grandfather good council, and me, too, while he wasalive. I think you must have learned from him.

"I know you are right," Duncan added, sighing, "and I know most of the southern n.o.bles will follow me,but the northern men, Bancho and Macbeth and the others, are lost forever, I think." "Macbeth andBancho could not bear the final insult to their pride when you unmade them and made Moddan general intheir place. The others, who look to Macbeth and Bancho as their leaders, felt the insult reflected upon themselves."

"I see that now." Duncan rubbed his face with his hands, a weary gesture. "It was a great mistake, and it is too late to remedy it. Patric, I have a commission for you."

Patric's heart sank. He had hoped for a meeting with Elen before what he believed would be Duncan's, and his own, final battle. Once more, he unhappily put the thought of Elen away and did his duty.

"I am yours to command, my lord," he said.

"There is no one more loyal than you, my friend. These are my orders, and I want you to swear to carry them out. If anything happens to me, if I am killed or captured, I want you to take my sons into England.

Their uncle, Earl Siward of Northumbria, will give them sanctuary and will welcome you for their sakes.

Remain with them and keep them safe until Malcolm can claim this kingdom for his own. My boy is only nine years old, and he must wait for manhood, but when he is grown, you must help him regain his inheritance."

Patric was deeply moved by Duncan's appeal. He did not question what Duncan had said, for he had no doubt that Thorfinn would soon defeat the men of Alba, and when that happened, the young princes would quickly be killed.