Macbeth and Son Page 11

  And then he heard a noise.

  Half roar, half scream, followed by mutterings and moans, then it began again.

  Lulach stopped in shock. What on earth was it? Perhaps someone had survived the massacre back there. Someone so badly hurt they could only scream, over and over.

  The noise continued, high and wild. Surely, thought Lulach, no human throat could make a sound like that!

  He ran across the shingle in the direction of the sound and around a tiny headland. Then he stopped and stared.

  The headland opened out onto a tiny beach, hidden from the shore, a semicircle of coarse white sand among the rocks. On the furthest rock sat a girl, her arms wrapped round herself in a vain attempt to stay warm. She was singing. But the noise he had heard hadn’t come from her—her voice was lost in the sound coming from the creature next to her.

  Suddenly the girl noticed him. She stopped singing and scrambled to her feet. A second later the creature gave a final hiss and mutter and was silent too.

  Lulach stared. It was a seal. A half-grown seal. A whisper of superstitious fear ran through him. Was the girl a silkie, a seal woman, one of those who changed into human form on land, then turned back into a sea creature in the water? Who else would sing with a seal?

  The girl gazed at him, poised as though to run. She was tall—nearly as tall as Lulach, although clearly a few years younger—and slim, with wet red hair falling in thick plaits to her waist. She wore a thick gold bracelet on one arm and her dress looked like fine linen. But it was torn and blackened, and there was a red burn mark across her face as well. Underneath the embroidered skirt her feet were bare and sandy, and blue with cold.

  There was only one girl in the Orkneys he could think of who would wear clothes as fine as that.

  ‘Thora?’

  The girl stared at him. The seal stared too. Lulach wondered if seals ever attacked humans.

  ‘Who are you?’ Her voice was clear and firm, though Lulach could still see terror in her eyes and her lips trembled with the cold. She used Norse, but then repeated her words in Gaelic when he didn’t respond. She spoke Gaelic well, with hardly a trace of accent.

  ‘Lulach MacGillecomgain, Tanist to King Macbeth,’ he said tentatively—and watched her tense body sag in relief.

  He took off his cloak and held it out to her.

  The girl took it, then stepped back again at once. She wrapped the cloak around herself, luxuriating in its warmth.

  ‘Welcome to the Orkneys, Lulach MacGillecomgain,’ she whispered through blue lips. She shut her eyes for a moment, as though to stop herself crying, then opened them again and stared at him. ‘Though I’m afraid it’s a poor welcome for a bridegroom.’

  ‘What…what happened?’ asked Lulach softly. He wanted to comfort her, to help her in some way. But she looked like she’d run if he came any nearer.

  ‘Norse soldiers. Father had declared independence from the King of Norway, did you know?’

  Lulach nodded. ‘They attacked?’

  ‘Three nights ago. It was midnight,’ said Thora quietly. ‘Father had posted guards about the Hall. But the soldiers didn’t attack. Not then. They spilled whale oil about the Hall—I could smell it later—and then they tossed a torch.

  ‘There was no time for our guards to fight. No time for anything. I heard Father yelling. It woke me up. He carried my stepmother through the flames…’

  ‘And then he came back for you?’

  ‘No,’ said Thora flatly. ‘I saved myself. The other women were screaming, running around in the light of the flames. It was easy for the King’s soldiers to find them, to kill them, to…My nurse, my friends, the slaves…You know what men do to women in war, Lulach MacGillecomgain?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lulach quietly.

  ‘I ran into the dark. I kept on running to the sea. I heard someone behind me. I waited for a sword blow, or hands to grab me. But it was Father, with Ingeborg in his arms.’

  ‘But why didn’t the soldiers find you?’ Lulach asked.

  ‘The seals hid me,’ said Thora simply. She stroked the seal’s head. It gazed up at her adoringly. ‘I asked them to hide Father and Ingeborg too. We crouched among them on the rocks, with the waves splashing about us. No one looked for us among the seals. And then…and then the soldiers sailed away. And we stayed here.’

  Seals! Lulach stared at her. Maybe she really was a silkie! Why else would the seals obey her?

  Suddenly Thora sat down again, on her rock. ‘Have…have you any food, Lulach Mac Gillecomgain?’ Her voice was steady, but Lulach could see the effort it took. ‘Darling has been bringing us fish. But…’ She tried to smile. ‘Somehow raw fish doesn’t fill me up like it does Darling.’

  ‘Darling?’

  Thora stroked the seal’s smooth head. It gave a happy hiss. ‘I raised her from a pup,’ she said softly. ‘She was an orphan. I’ve raised other seals too. They all went back to the sea. Seals remember. That’s why the seals hid us. But Darling’s still a baby. She sleeps on my bed.’ Thora’s voice trailed off, as though remembering that she had no bed any more.

  ‘You mean Darling was with you that night? But how did she escape?’ Lulach could have kicked himself. This was no time to question the poor girl.

  But Thora smiled. ‘I had to carry her.’

  Lulach stared. She looked so vulnerable, sitting there in her wet dress with the fire scar on her cheek. But she had run through the flames when her father had chosen to save his new wife instead of his daughter. She had escaped the soldiers when every other woman had been caught. She had run through the darkness—and all this carrying a seal! And she had eaten raw fish to survive.

  He wondered if there was another girl like this in all the world.

  Lulach fumbled in his pouch. He usually kept sweetmeats there—dried apple, or cakes of oats and berries. He held one out to her. She came closer and took it, then stepped back and began to eat it hungrily.

  ‘Where’s your father?’ Lulach asked quietly.

  ‘Around the bay. Darling won’t bring fish when he’s near. I…I sing to her. She likes singing. And then she brings the fish and I can share it with her and Father and Ingeborg.’

  The men have probably found Thorfinn by now, thought Lulach. Or Thorfinn might have found them. He hoped Thorfinn realised they were friends, not enemies, before anyone was hurt.

  ‘You’re safe now, Thora,’ he said gently. ‘No more raw fish. My ship’s at the pier.’

  Thora lifted her chin. ‘I’m not going without Darling.’

  The seal’s big brown eyes stared at Lulach. Her whiskers twitched.

  Lulach blinked. He’d heard ballads where heroes saved princesses. But they’d never had to save a seal as well. ‘She can come too.’

  ‘Are you sure? My father said…he said that no king’s heir would have a seal in his hall. I’d have to leave her behind. But I can’t leave her. There’s no one to look after her now. And she saved my life.’

  ‘I promise,’ said Lulach. ‘Darling will be as welcome as you are. There’s a river near our rath,’ he added. ‘And the sea’s nearby. She’ll be happy. I give you my word.’

  Thora’s eyes met his. ‘My father said once, “Do you know what Macbeth’s strongest weapon is? He tells the truth. Men trust him.” That’s why Scotland has peace, and England and Norway only war. So I’ll trust you too, Lulach MacGillecomgain Macbeth.’

  It was as though she had pinned a medal on his cloak. His heart felt strange, as though it had suddenly been filled. He’d never even known it was empty.

  ‘Come on then,’ he said gently.

  Thora shook her head. ‘She won’t follow me with you here. You go first. We’ll follow along the beach.’

  Lulach hesitated. He didn’t want to leave her, not alone on this desolate stretch of coast.

  Suddenly Darling lifted her head again.

  ‘Carrraaaaggghhhhh!’ she bellowed.

  Darling was singing again.

  Her roar reached notes
no human singer ever dreamed about: high one moment, low the next. Lulach wanted to put his hands over his ears.

  ‘Sorry!’ yelled Thora over the noise. ‘She doesn’t like being ignored!’

  Suddenly Lulach had an idea. He pulled Kenneth’s pipes from his pouch and began to play.

  At the first note Darling stared at him and gave a startled hiss. And then—miraculously—the cove fell silent. There was just the music and the crashing of the waves, until the tune was finished.

  Lulach put the pipes down. Darling had a faraway look. Her head still swayed with the memory of the music.

  Thora stared at him. Suddenly she smiled. It was a faint smile, because her eyes were still tired and shadowed. But it was still a smile.

  ‘She likes you,’ said Thora softly. ‘She’ll follow you now, I think.’

  Lulach grinned. He decided he liked Darling too.

  Even better, he’d learned how to shut her up.

  Chapter 20

  Lulach

  …the Norweyan banners flout the sky,

  And fan our people cold…

  (Macbeth, Act I, Scene 2, lines 50–51)

  Thorfinn was already on board when Lulach led Thora and Darling up the gangplank. The sailors stared at the seal as she bounced across the plank. Lulach glared at them and they swallowed their grins.

  Thorfinn wore a blanket like a cloak and not much else. His bare legs were fat and hairy, and red in places with blisters from the fire. There was no sign of his wife. Knut must have taken her to the cabin below, thought Lulach.

  ‘My Lord,’ said Lulach politely, ‘I’m sorry to see you in such a state.’

  Thorfinn glanced at his daughter and then at the seal. Then he looked back at Lulach. ‘I must thank you for our rescue,’ he said uncomfortably.

  Then his formality vanished. He met Lulach’s eyes with a steady gaze. ‘Just get me to the mainland, boy. I have supporters there. Give me six months and I’ll rid the Orkneys of the Norwegian King’s men. And my thieving nephew who helped him. In six months your father will have a worthwhile ally again.’

  ‘My father will be glad you’re safe, sir. And your wife and daughter.’

  Thorfinn gave a grim laugh. ‘Pretty words. No need to pretend, boy. The marriage is off. You’ve repaid any debt by rescuing us.’

  Lulach looked at Thora, shivering next to him. Her father hadn’t even spoken to her. And it had been his wife he’d rescued, not his daughter…

  ‘On the contrary, sir,’ said Lulach coldly. ‘I wish to hold you to the betrothal. Thora shall come with me to Moray, to my mother. We will be married there—that’s if…’ he hesitated, ‘if the Lady Thora still wishes it.’

  Thorfinn gave his barking laugh again. ‘You’d take a penniless girl? And her forsaken seal! You’re a fool, boy.’

  ‘Then when I’m king they can call me Lulach the Fool,’ said Lulach calmly. He turned to the shivering girl. ‘Thora?’

  Everyone was listening. But Lulach found he didn’t care. Kings and princes had no privacy anyway. They may as well all listen now.

  ‘I come to this marriage willingly,’ he went on. ‘But if you don’t wish it, tell me. You’ll still be my mother’s guest at Moray, for as long as you want.’

  Suddenly Darling lolloped across the deck to Lulach. She stared up at him and gave a sharp bark, then butted his knees. Thora was grinning at him. For a moment Lulach saw a glimpse of the girl she could be.

  ‘Darling wants you to play again,’ she said.

  Lulach took her hand impulsively. She looked surprised, but didn’t pull it away.

  ‘I can promise you peace,’ he said sincerely. ‘My father is a king of peace. And I will be too, if they elect me when he’s dead.’

  ‘Good,’ said Thora simply, her hand still in his. ‘And, yes, Lulach MacGillecomgain, I would like to be your bride.’

  Chapter 21

  Luke

  …and every one did bear

  Thy praises…

  (Macbeth, Act I, Scene 3, lines 98–99)

  Luke woke as the alarm clock shrilled by his bed. He rolled over to turn it off and smiled. He felt good. It had been an awesome dream.

  So, thought Luke, that was how the story ended. A land of peace and plenty, despite Thorfinn’s wars up north and Malcolm brooding down south. Macbeth loved by his subjects. Lulach happy, married to Thora.

  Luke wondered if he’d managed to keep Darling off the bed.

  Of course, there had to be more to it than that. Macbeth had died, Lulach had died. But it was all a thousand years ago.

  He smiled to himself.

  What did it matter now? They’d lived and been happy. Mrs Easson was right. It was a long time ago, far in the past even when Shakespeare had written his play. What did it matter if the Macbeth that people remembered now wasn’t the real one? Maybe his name wouldn’t have been remembered at all if it hadn’t been for Shakespeare.

  No, thought Luke. Too much truth could hurt. Sometimes it was better to bury the truth.

  Dimly he remembered Thorfinn’s voice—the hoarse, too-loud voice of a man used to shouting in battle or above the fierce north wind—and Thora quoting him: ‘Do you know what Macbeth’s strongest weapon is? He tells the truth.’

  No, thought Luke. Too much truth could hurt.

  He’d do his assignment tonight, just the way Mrs Easson expected him to, showing how Shakespeare’s Macbeth had gone from being a weak but loyal man to a villain. And everything else would work out somehow. He’d keep quiet about the exam, and hopefully the Fishers would be okay.

  At least if they had to sell out he wouldn’t be here to see it. He’d be at St Ilf’s.

  Maybe he’d meet a girl like Thora for himself down in Sydney. But all he could think of was Megan, the bright flash of her hair as she pruned the trees…

  Chapter 22

  Luke

  Son: And must they all be hang’d who swear and lie?

  Lady Macduff: Every one.

  (Macbeth, Act IV, Scene 2, lines 51–52)

  For once school was okay. It was almost as though real life had decided to follow Luke’s dream. He even got every answer in his Maths test.

  Maybe Mum and Sam were right, he thought happily, climbing onto the bus that afternoon. Maybe the only reason he had done so badly at school was because he’d missed all that time when Dad was sick. Maybe he would be able to cope at St Ilf’s, even if he hadn’t really won the scholarship…

  Patrick and Megan were waiting for him at the back of the bus.

  He was almost tempted to say, ‘How now, you secret, black, and midnight hag!’ to Meg. Somehow that line from the play had stuck in his head. But she mightn’t think it was funny.

  ‘Hi,’ he said instead.

  ‘Hi, yourself,’ said Megan, moving up the back seat to give him room to sit down. ‘Hey, are you going to the meeting down at the hall tonight? For people who want to protest against the development?’

  ‘Yeah, Mum told me she was organising it with your mum. They haven’t given people much notice, have they? Mum was still ringing people up last night.’

  ‘No choice,’ said Megan. ‘The Council meeting is next week.’

  Luke watched her as she gazed out the window. Normally Megan would be yakking away like the rest of the kids on the bus. He’d never seen her so quiet before.

  He hadn’t thought it would affect her so much. She’d always been bored by the work on the farm. Pat was the one he discussed cattle breeds with, who planned to go to Ag college and talked of farming as though he’d never thought of anything else to do when he left school.

  Luke got off at his usual stop, before Meg and Pat, and began the walk up to the house. He could hear Mum down in the bottom paddock as he trudged up the drive.

  ‘And though my love lies bleedin’, I know she’ll hear my cry, “Just bury me…in Texas…when…I…die!”’

  Luke grinned. He wondered what the cows thought of Mum’s singing. They must be used to it by now.


  Suddenly he didn’t want to go inside. It’d been such a great day and he wasn’t ready to go indoors yet.

  He could go down and help Mum and Mr T tag the weaners. But they didn’t really need him. And anyway, he felt like being alone.

  Luke dumped his school bag by the garage and headed back across the paddocks, then up the hill into the rough country again. It was as though he could really breathe up here.

  There was a flat rock platform at the top, five metres long at least and almost as wide, just past their boundary with the Fishers’ place. This was where he and Pat and Megan had played Explorers when they were small, or pretended they were bushrangers trying to see the troopers far below. But it had been ages since Luke had climbed up here.

  He headed for the rock now, then clambered up and sat on the edge, feeling the warmth seep into his body. He could see his place from here, and the Fishers’ too, and the orchards and Mum’s cows. He could even see Mr Fisher, small as a Lego man in the cabin of his tractor as he sprayed a white cloud on the trees. Fungicide, thought Luke vaguely. Curly leaf, brown rot…

  No, he wouldn’t want to have an orchard again. Japanese Wagyu, yeah, that was the way to go, with really good feed…

  ‘Luke!’

  Luke jumped, then turned round. Megan was staring at him from below the rock. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

  ‘I live here,’ said Megan. ‘Remember?’

  ‘Oh. Yeah,’ said Luke, embarrassed. He’d forgotten it was the Fishers’ land. ‘Sorry. I just came up here to…’ He tried to think of something that didn’t sound dumb, but all he could come up with was, ‘to think.’

  ‘Really?’ Megan held out her hand. For a moment he didn’t understand, then worked out she wanted a hand up. ‘I come up here too sometimes,’ she added, sitting down next to him.

  It was no closer than they’d sat on the bus. But for some reason it seemed closer. He could even feel her warmth.

  Neither of them said anything for a while. Why do I feel so nervous around Megan all of a sudden? thought Luke. What had changed between them?