Macbeth's Niece (27 page)

A servant appeared at that moment with a
ewer of hot water, which she poured into a basin, mixing it with
cold from a pitcher already there. “I will leave you to yourself,”
Ayla told Tessa. “You will hear a bell when dinner is prepared, and
you will see your friends again at the meal.” Then she was gone,
the servant following with a quick bob of respect.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Tessa had the forgotten luxury of washing
herself all over with warm water, a soft cloth and fragrant
soap—much nicer than the hurried splashes in cold streams that had
served for weeks. Afterward, she dressed herself in a clean linen
shift over which she pulled a light blue dress, its edges decorated
with embroidered flowers. Her hair she arranged as best she could.
It was too long to look boyish now but too short to be truly
feminine. Without a polished brass mirror she had no way to know
what the effect of her preparations amounted to, but in truth she
looked charming with her tumble of auburn hair stopping just over
the white and blue of her costume.

When the bell rang for dinner, Tessa stepped
through the curtain and into the great hall with curiosity. It was
a small household that greeted her. Only about twelve people
gathered for the meal, the soldiers she had seen earlier and
several ladies who seemed likely to be their wives. A long table
was set for sixteen with real plates, real glass goblets, and
something Tessa had never seen before, forks beside each place.

A servant indicated her place by pulling out
a chair for Tessa, not the usual bench, and she seated herself just
as Banaugh and Jamie entered the hall. The eyes of both lit up to
see her, and they looked quite changed, being clean and neat. Jamie
had probably never been so well groomed in his life.

As they took chairs on Tessa’s right,
Banaugh rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “They sent a wee foreign man
t’ trim me up,” he told her with a grin. “He was clever an’ quick
as a squirrel, an’ th’ blade he used was somethin’. D’ ye no’ think
me twa sae handsome?”

She laughingly assured him he had never
looked better, then complimented Jamie’s appearance as well. For
once his hair did not stick up like bristles from his head, and his
plain face shone with pleasure at Tessa’s attention.

There was a small stir among those at the
table, and the three looked up to see Ayla, pushing before her the
wheeled chair in which Lady Miriam sat. She had changed for dinner
into a robe of silk, beautifully patterned in blues and greens,
with a blue headpiece again hiding her hair and forehead. It was a
brave attempt, but her body was still pitiful in its unnatural
shape.

Ayla maneuvered the chair up to its place at
the head of the table then seated herself beside the lady. At a
gesture from Miriam, platters of astonishing variety were brought
in and placed on the boards. No one moved to begin the meal,
however, and Jamie’s anxious eyes sought Tessa’s, wondering what
they waited for. The answer came when, at a signal from Ayla, the
assembly stood as one, Tessa and the two males hurriedly following
custom. A dark-skinned man in strange clothing began without
preamble a sing-song chant Tessa recognized as a prayer, though she
had heard nothing like it before. After the chant, Miriam and Ayla
washed their hands and feet in a silver bowl held by a servant
while another servant handed each one a small towel on which to dry
them.

When this was finished, Hamish, standing on
the lady’s left side, said a simple prayer of thanks for the meal,
one Tessa and her two companions understood. Afterward there was
silence as every head bowed for several minutes. Finally, a
movement from Ayla ended the silence. With a chanted “Amen,”
everyone was seated once more. That grace had been asked was
apparent, but the style was unusual to say the least, a mixture of
Christian and Islamic customs. Immediately the meal began, with
accompanying chatter and good humor. Food was offered, drinks
poured, and things began to feel more normal.

Tessa was delighted with the fork, which she
used after watching Ayla’s deft movement. It was vastly superior
for keeping one’s fingers clean, but she noticed bits of cloth were
placed beside each plate for wiping hands that did become greasy.
Much better than grease-spots on the clothing, she thought, and
resolved that if ever she had a home of her own, forks and these
useful bits of cloth would be part of its furnishings.

During the meal, Miriam chatted with various
people, but her eyes wandered often to Tessa. Clearly she hoped
they could speak further. At one point she leaned toward the girl,
who was on Ayla’s right. “You have Macbeth’s way of watching and
learning,” she said approvingly. “Those anxious to learn make the
best companions. Your uncle helped me to learn your language, never
laughing at my mistakes and always explaining clearly why a thing
was so.”

Tessa’s mind flashed back to Eleanor
Brixton, who had done the same for her, teaching her how to behave
like an English lady with no disparagement of her Scottish ways.
She understood the gratitude Miriam must have felt for one who
helped make a strange society less confusing.

Miriam finished, “I will always remember
that he treated me well when others avoided me, calling me ‘foreign
witch’ and ‘heathen.’ Macbeth macFindlaech was a man who could see
more than two feet from his nose.”

Tessa could have argued that Macbeth had not
been able to see past his own ambitions, but it was not the time
for such a statement. She made a response that was germane but not
direct. “Did you know Macbeth’s lady? I served her until I went to
England. When I returned yesterday they told me she is dead.”

“Is she,” Miriam responded. Her face showed
pity but not sadness, and she spoke bluntly. “She and I were of an
age, but I found her cold. It might have been my Arab blood that
made her shun me, but I sensed something within the lady herself.
Once Macbeth married her, we saw him less and less frequently.”

Again Tessa could have said more than she
did. Looking at Miriam, one would think her ancient, as she herself
had at first, but she was of her parents’ generation—old,
certainly, to one not yet nineteen, but not ancient. Her summation
of Gruoch’s character was acutely drawn. Tessa’s aunt had had no
warmth for those around her except Macbeth himself. Despite the
fact that Gruoch had indeed loved her husband, she had perhaps
destroyed him with her love, demanding more of him than he could
give and leaving him the creature Tessa had last seen: haunted,
bestial, devoid of the human kindness that might have saved his
kingship and his life.

No, Tessa corrected herself. Macbeth had
chosen his own way and it would be wrong to blame his wife for his
crimes. But sometimes people chose mates who brought out their
worst parts. Through his own weakness and his wife’s, Macbeth had
become a man of blood.

Tessa’s face must have shown something of
her dark thoughts, for like a good hostess Miriam changed the
subject to more neutral things, asking politely about young Jamie’s
family and Banaugh’s health. When the meal was completed, however,
she invited Tessa to accompany her to a “ladies’ bower.” She
excused herself, telling Tessa’s companions, “We dine simply at
Arleigh, and there is no entertainment most evenings. Still, the
men of the household will share some passable wine with you if you
will stay and share your experiences of the world with them.” With
that Ayla pushed the lady’s chair from the great hall, and Tessa
followed.

They ascended a small ramp that ran
alongside six steps leading to a half-story section of the crannog.
Ayla saw Tessa’s look of interest and explained the layout of the
structure. “Beneath this level is the pier where you entered and a
storage area that includes some underwater shelves as well as dry
ones. It keeps things cool and slows spoilage, like a root cellar.
That space allows a raised section on this level for Lady Miriam,
who finds the damp painful.” They entered a small room in which a
cheerful fire burned in a metal brazier. A window view opposite the
doorway took Tessa’s breath away. The moon had risen over the tarn,
throwing ever-smaller images of itself in gold on the gently moving
water.

“It is beautiful,” Tessa murmured.

“Yes,” the lady agreed. “Some have wondered
why I stayed on in Scotland when my husband died. There are many
reasons, but that view is not the least of them.”

“It must have been hard for you,” Tessa
said, thinking how much worse this woman’s situation was than hers
had been in London. She had felt she did not belong there at times,
but to be of another race, another faith! Among provincial Scots
who had no understanding of her background, Miriam had probably
been snubbed and criticized at every turn.

“Oh, sometimes it was,” the lady admitted
now with a dismissive gesture. “But I count it all worthwhile since
I had the love of a wonderful man and a beautiful daughter.” As she
smiled at Ayla, Tessa mentally chided herself. She should have
guessed. The girl looked Arabic but dressed and spoke like a
Scotswoman. Her retiring demeanor had caused Tessa to take her for
a servant, and she had not identified herself as the daughter of
the house. Ayla smiled shyly as she took in Tessa’s expression. “I
misled you only to please my mother, who is sometimes overly
concerned for my safety.”

“Ayla is my overseer, bailiff, and a hundred
other things as well as my daughter,” Miriam explained. “But I am
careful when strangers visit, lest she become the subject of
wagging tongues. Since I have become crippled, as you see me, she
has taken over most of the work as thane of Arleigh.” Her eyes
softened. “Her life has not been easy, I know. There is nothing
here for a young woman, no friends, no parties—”

“Mother, I want none of that,” Ayla hastened
to reassure her. “I am content here with the beauty of the place,
the people around me that I love, and my studies.”

Miriam looked proud, her rather hooked nose
almost meeting her lips. “Later Ayla will show you her library. Do
you read, by any chance?” Her tone was doubtful.

“I do,” Tessa was proud to answer. “My
father believed in education, though my mother did not
approve.”

Miriam sniffed in dismissal of such a
mother. “We had only Ayla, but I have seen to it that she lacks
nothing that would advance her education.”

Tessa smiled. “My father had six daughters,
but I was the only one interested in books.” She added in
half-hearted defense of her dead mother, “Most Scotswomen see
little value in that sort of learning.”

Miriam’s face clouded. “It is sometimes so
in my homeland also, but my father provided me with an education.
Because my husband agreed, Ayla reads Greek and Latin as well as
English, and she has mathematics.” Ayla, standing behind the chair,
gave Tessa a look that conveyed the universal exasperation of young
women whose mothers sing their praises to an embarrassing
degree.

Tessa, obliging both her hosts, complimented
them and changed the subject. “You wished to know more of Macbeth’s
situation.” She quickly related her coming through Birnam Wood, the
warning she carried to Macbeth that had sent Hawick scurrying away,
and the attack, ending with the king’s order that Jamie take her to
his village.

“I know the place,” Miriam said when she
mentioned Dunangus. “It is not much. You are welcome to stay here
with us if you prefer. It will be more comfortable.”

“I thank you for that,” Tessa replied, “but
I must go on. The boy’s parents will hear of the English attack and
worry about their son. Besides, I would not put you in any danger.
Malcolm’s men might seek me here, but they will not suppose I would
hide in a lowly place like Dunangus.” She shrugged, “I do not know
how much danger there is. I am the king’s niece, but I have no
power.”

“Oh, but you are wrong there,” Miriam
interrupted. “I see a way in which you would be very valuable to
the English. You would link Macbeth’s clan to Malcolm, solidifying
his claim to the throne.”

Tessa felt a surge of panic: again to become
a pawn in the machinations of power! The lady was not timid in
sharing her opinion of the new king. “Disloyal puppy! To ask
English invaders into our country to help him do what he could not
do on his own. Whatever Macbeth had become, he was no traitor to
his own people.”

Tessa was surprised that Miriam defended her
uncle. All she had heard since returning north were complaints of
his erratic behavior and rumors of deaths at his hand. Miriam
continued, “I know what they say of Macbeth, and perhaps it is
true. If he killed old Duncan, then it may be he deserves to die.
But who is to say Malcolm himself did not kill his father? Was he
not at Inverness too, and is that not what Macbeth claims
happened?”

“Yes, but—”

“Don’t be too quick to believe rumor and
gossip. Malcolm and Donalbain fled after Duncan’s death. Malcolm
went to England to raise an army, but where did his brother go? It
may be he stayed behind to begin a secret campaign against Macbeth,
whispering lies and doing deeds that undermined his kingship.”

Tessa considered this, then shook her head.
“I have seen him, though, seen the changes in him. He was quite
distracted and plagued with guilt.”

Miriam nodded. “I witnessed his changed
demeanor as well. Still, leadership is difficult, and everything a
king does affects hundreds, even thousands, of lives. The strain
may have been too much for Macbeth, and other forces may have
contributed to his madness as well.”

Tessa’s mind returned to the three wild
women who had teased both her and her uncle with predictions for
the future couched in confusing terms. Had they been toying with
them, trying to see how far each would go to make the predictions
come true? Macbeth had certainly become obsessed with their
words.