Banquo's Son (A Crown of Blood and Honour Book 1) (33 page)

You must do what is right, Fleance, but you will not be alone. Remember that.
Rachel’s words came back to him. He may have lost Duncan but there was still his sister: wise, gentle, unflappable. A calm presence to walk beside him.

But how could he choose?

If he was to be king, he could not consider his own heart and desires. To choose Rosie was to choose for himself and his passion. Fleance turned Willow back towards the castle. What was best for him? he thought. What was best for Scotland?

He looked up at the miserable sky. Perhaps the answer would come to him soon enough.

Chapter Thirty-Five

T
wo days later, Queen Margaret, now called the queen
dowager
, arrived at the castle. Fleance watched from his chambers as Preston helped her down from her carriage. She was dressed in white and though she gave the advisor a smile, grief was etched deeply into her face. Fleance looked down at his hands and sighed. Rachel had sent for the dowager but a message had come before her arrival that the old queen wished for an
audience
with him as soon as possible.

Every time a message came that someone wished to speak with him, Fleance’s stomach chilled. Apart from Rachel’s outburst a few days ago, not one person had pointed the finger of blame at him. They did not need to for Fleance held the full weight of blame in his arms. He was to blame for Duncan’s death. Had he not gone looking for Blair, nor agreed to Duncan’s company, then instead of a funeral meal, they would all be celebrating a victory feast. Instead of facing a future he had not dreamed of, he would be making happy plans for the rest of his life.

There was a knock at his door and Fleance turned from the window. ‘Come,’ he called. The door opened and Preston entered. ‘The queen dowager wishes to know if you are ready to see her.’

Fleance nodded quickly. ‘Aye. Where is she?’

‘Waiting in the blue room,’ he said, holding the door wide for Fleance. He wished it was another room for that one held so many good memories and he could not go there without thinking of Duncan.

The old queen was sitting on Rachel’s usual stool, hands tucked under a soft, woven scarf. She stood as he entered the room. ‘Fleance,’ she said, her voice soft and warm. ‘My dear boy, what a terrible time you have had.’

Her graciousness and sympathy threatened to undo him. ‘For us all, Madam.’

The queen dowager patted the seat beside her. ‘Sit next to me,’ she said. ‘I have some counsel for you if you would be so kind to hear me out.’

Fleance wondered what she could say that might help him remove the rocks of sadness embedded in his chest. ‘I would be glad for it,’ he said.

‘I am informed that you have made a pledge to a young maid in Perth.’

Fleance started. This was the last thing he imagined she would speak of. He swallowed. ‘Yes. Rosie.’

She looked at him kindly for a few moments. ‘I can see that you hold her in very high regard. She is no doubt a wonderful young woman.’ Fleance could only nod. ‘You understand your situation now, Fleance, don’t you? You cannot wed her if you are to be king.’

‘I have thought on this already.’

Margaret patted his hand. ‘Yet, you will need a queen to help you and bear you heirs.’ She paused, considering her words. ‘It would be a very good match indeed if you chose Rachel as your wife.’ Fleance got to his feet and went to the hearth.

She continued. ‘Do you not think, lad, that for a moment you could lay aside your feelings for this Rosie and allow Rachel the centre stage of your heart?’ Fleance stared into the flames. ‘She is very fond of you and, I think, a bit in love with you as well.’

Sorrow pressed into him. Why could he not, for at least a bit of time, have a chance to grieve the death of his dear friend? Why couldn’t he just take a moment to gather his thoughts about the decision he must make?

The needs of the country said
there is no time
.

Fleance bowed his head to the old queen. ‘What you say is wisdom, and though my heart strains against your words, I want to do the right thing.’

She joined him by the fire. ‘Fleance, there are three kinds
of lov
e a person may experience in a lifetime: the first is passionate love. It is the most powerful love a young person will experience. It is potent and the colour, though it will fade with time, remains as a warm shadow on your heart; the second is love that bears children, God willing. It is the kind of love a man feels towards the one who is the mother of his children; the third is loving companionship and lasts until death.’ She was silent for a while. ‘If you are fortunate, as I was, all three can be experienced with the same person.’

Fleance nodded though he could not imagine anything other than what he felt for Rosie. The queen continued. ‘Both you and Rachel have enjoyed the happiness and pain of a first love. Neither of you will forget how it changed you. Nothing and no other person can replicate that love. But bigger events now turn both your heads in a different direction to what you had planned.

‘Know this also, Fleance, that holy men at their death have good inspirations. Duncan’s naming of you as king and his desire for you to wed Rachel is inspired by God. Do not think on his wishes lightly.’

Fleance looked at her. ‘I cannot ask Rachel when my heart is still owned by another.’

‘Neither would she take you unless she knew you were completely committed. You must to your maid and ask that she let you go so that you are free to love Rachel as I know you will.’ She smiled up at him. ‘I don’t doubt that your love is true and honourable but it is a young man’s love. I will leave you to your thoughts and go now before our Lord on your behalf.’ She gathered up her skirts and went out.

Fleance watched her leave. Her last words flowed over him and began to work their way into his head. Something of what she spoke made sense but she could not know the full extent of his love for Rosie. There had to be a way to make things right.

At first light, Fleance sent for Blair. ‘We ride to Perth and meet the others at Scone. I have some business to attend to before I take the crown.’ They walked together to the stables and Fleance watched as Blair lovingly saddled Willow before tending to his own horse. Then, without a word, they mounted, rode out of the stables and through the castle gates.

When they passed the road which took a shortcut through the woods, Fleance spoke up. ‘We will stay on the highway,’ he said. Then he recounted his misadventures. What he did not tell Blair was that he wanted to ensure that, this time, nothing would stop him from speaking to Rosie.

The air was still and cold, the clouds low and heavy. Blair must have sensed Fleance’s mood for the companion joined him in his silence. Fleance’s mind was reliving times with Rosie, relishing all the happiness.

They were about halfway into their journey when Fleance heard a familiar humming – the same sound he had heard many, many months back just after he and Macduff had parted ways. Looking ahead, he saw three figures shuffling towards them.

‘What are they?’ Blair asked, startled.

Willow flicked up his head and snorted. Fleance steadied his horse. ‘They are the hags I have told you of. Witches.’

Blair paled and he reached for the cross around his neck. ‘Are we safe?’ he asked.

‘Aye. So long as you pay no heed to their poisonous lies.’ Even as he said this, anger began to well up inside. He kicked
Willow
. ‘Onward, horse. They are not to be feared.’ Prancing, Willow jumped forward and then stopped dead in front of the three women. ‘Stand aside!’ he shouted.

The women looked at each other and then up at him. ‘Hail to thee, Fleance, King of Scotland!’

‘Enough!’ Fleance shouted. ‘No more of your meddling. We will hear nothing of your venomous riddles.’

As if he had not spoken, the first witch cried up into the sky, ‘Happy and unhappy.’

The second witch continued, ‘Fruitful and barren.’

‘No!’ Fleance said, dropping his reins and putting his hands over his ears. ‘You will not confuse my mind!’

The final witch turned her back on him and spoke to a shrub which was beside the road. ‘Maker and destroyer of kings.’

Fleance squeezed his eyes shut to try to stop the words getting into his head. He would not think on them; remember them; consider them. He would live his life by his own hands and without the interference of the supernatural.

When he opened his eyes again, he was surprised to see the three women cowering to the side of Blair and his horse, hissing and crying. Blair looked terrified and was rooted to the spot. Fleance reached over and took his horse’s bridle, at the same time urging Willow forward. ‘Blair,’ Fleance cried. ‘You are safe.’

Blair shook himself and looked nervously over his shoulder. The women were wailing and hissing at the sight of him. Fleance turned Willow around to face them. ‘This is a command I give you: no more will you trade and traffic with evil and smear your blight on the good people of Scotland.’ His anger intensified. They were the root cause of much grief in his family and Duncan’s. ‘If I learn of any meddling of the supernatural kind, you will be executed,’ Fleance roared. ‘Now, be gone!’

The three pitiful women hurried away, whimpering.

‘Are you all right, Blair?’ Fleance asked, shaken by the force of his temper.

Blair nodded. ‘To think I have seen battle and not been as afraid as I was just now.’

‘Aye, but you are not facing flesh and blood but beings which dabble in the spirit world – a place no man in his right mind should wish to go.’

‘They were terrified of me,’ Blair said.

‘It was your cross, man. That and your good heart.’ Fleance gathered up his reins. ‘Come, let us get to Perth for I have a meeting which will be, I fear, a more distressing one than this we have encountered.’

It was raining lightly when they descended the small
rise towards the
village. The river was dark grey and moved sluggishly towards the sea. Despite it being close to supper time, the streets were busy with fishermen pushing barrows or children rushing home, wet, muddy and happy. They stopped outside Rosie’s inn and dismounted. Fleance threw Willow’s reins at Blair. ‘Take the horses and wait for me. I wager this meeting will not be a lengthy one.’

Blair hesitated a moment and regarded Fleance. ‘Do you need my help inside, Sire?’ he asked.

Fleance shook his head. ‘Only I can do this task, but thank you for your kind offer.’

He turned towards the door, took a deep breath and pushed
it open.

It was overly warm, filled with smells – of damp clothes, ale and hot food. Fleance spied Dougal behind the counter, lining up full tankards while Rebecca was talking with some customers. And there was Rosie, delivering plates to a table across the room.

Suddenly, everyone went silent and all turned their eyes towards him. Some removed their hats, some stood and then bowed. Others just stared.

Rosie straightened and looked in his direction. Their eyes met and her face filled with joy. His heart skipped a beat and his lips went dry. She came over to him and pulled him into the nearest empty table and chair.

‘You made it back,’ she said, her eyes moist with tears.

‘Yes,’ he whispered, a pain stabbing him in the chest. ‘Rosie, I must speak with you.’

Immediately, the light left her face and she stood up. ‘Aye, yo
u must.’

Fleance looked around the room. ‘Is there somewhere private we can go?’

Rosie shook her head. ‘All the rooms are full. We can walk a bit if you don’t mind the rain.’

‘It’s not so bad.’

‘I’ll get my cloak and meet you outside,’ she said just a bit too brightly.

Fleance looked across to the bar, at Dougal glaring. Fleance nodded his head and went out.

The rain, thankfully, had stopped though the road was awash with puddles. In a moment, Rosie was beside him. She took his arm and led him towards the bank of the river.

They stood alongside it staring for some time. Eventually, Fleance cleared his throat and said, ‘I am to be king.’

For a brief time she did not answer, and he wondered if he had spoken too quietly. He was about to repeat himself when she turned to him, tears down her cheeks. ‘I have heard. And, I understand.’

‘Understand?’

‘Flea, you cannot choose me if you choose to be King of
Scotland
,’ she said, her chin trembling.

Fleance winced as if she had struck him. To hear such things from Duncan or Queen Margaret held little power compared with the strength of hearing them from her mouth. ‘Rosie, I said
after the
battle I would return to you . . .’ His voice trailed off. ‘I never imagined things would turn out this way when I made that pledge to you.’ He took her arm. ‘You are my first love, Rosie.’

‘And you, mine,’ she cried, tears welling up.

‘I’m sorry. For everything. For leaving you. Missing you.
Making
you wait for me.’

‘You did not
make me
wait for you. I could never think of another while you were free . . .’ She gave a kind of choked laugh, smiling through her tears. ‘Never has someone made me so happy, so angry and so sad.’ She swallowed and dabbed her nose with a kerchief. ‘Da will be wondering where I have got to,’ she said, her voice unsteady.

Fleance reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips. ‘I love you, I always have and always will. My duty is but one part of the life I must live but my love for you is constant . . . never forget that.’

He stopped and turned quickly away from her, trying to mask the tears that threatened to flow. Outside the tavern Blair stood holding Willow with one hand, the royal pennant flying from the standard he held in the other.

Rosie wiped the tears which spilled down her face. ‘I wish I was more stout of heart,’ she said, trying to smile. ‘I love you, Flea, and I always will.’

As if on cue it started raining again.

Then she reached up and tenderly stroked his cheek.

‘My liege,’ she said, barely audible above the rain that was now falling relentlessly.

Then she spun on her heel and ran to the tavern, the door closing firmly behind her.

Flea strode across the yard and took Willow from Blair. He mounted in one swift movement and left Perth without a backward glance, riding towards Scone, towards his future.