Macbeth's Niece (28 page)

“We should not draw hasty conclusions,” the
lady finished. “Macbeth was a good man when I met him twenty years
ago, as good as his brother Kenneth, though different. They had
served the old king well, the man Duncan killed to take the throne
for himself.”

Miriam stressed the last words, reminding
Tessa that Scottish kings were often as not born of violence. The
lady gave her reason to believe in her uncle, to conclude he was
innocent of some, maybe most, of what was being said of him.
Victors would tell the story in their way, but she did not have to
believe it. Even if she could not convince herself of his
innocence, there was at least justification for Macbeth’s taking
control of Scotland if Duncan had indeed grown weak and endangered
the country. It helped to at least allow these possibilities into
her mind, and she was grateful to Miriam for pointing them out.

“I am, of course, prejudiced,” the old lady
admitted. “When I came to Scotland, only Macbeth treated me with
true friendship, having seen a bit of the world himself. I continue
to worship in my own way but allow equal observance of Christian
and Muslim traditions. Macbeth took an interest is my religion,
even read the Qu’ran. He said the God we both worship is the
same.

“When Arbeen was alive, your uncle often
came here to visit, saying it was a restful spot where war and
bickering did not intrude. He loved the things I’d brought from my
father’s home, the tapestries, rugs, and furniture.” She chuckled
ironically. “Of course, I had no idea I was bringing them for a
reason. At home they were merely familiar objects that I loved.
Here, they serve to keep out the cold winds and the Scottish
winters. But we did have good times, both here at Arleigh and back
in Spain, when your father was there, too.”

“I’m so glad you knew them as they were.”
Tessa thought of her harassed father, trying to please a shrewish
wife and provide for six daughters. How carefree his days in Spain
must have seemed.

Miriam smiled. “When Duncan killed the old
king and took the throne, your father was sickened by it. That is
why the three set off to see the world. They accepted Duncan’s
right to rule, but Kenneth in particular found it difficult to do
so. While they were gone, their own father was killed and his lands
taken by some relative. When the news came, Kenneth vowed he would
serve no man, though he would take no part in a rebellion.”

Miriam coughed with a dry, useless spasm
that seemed to cause her pain. “They had a terrible argument over
the situation, Macbeth feeling it was their duty to avenge their
father’s death, and Kenneth saying there had been enough Scottish
blood shed already. In the end they returned home, and Kenneth went
off to the mountains. Macbeth won back his lands and progressed to
the fore among Duncan’s generals. That is the most telling thing
about the brothers: Kenneth rejected the world’s values and Macbeth
embraced them.”

Tessa now understood the last piece of her
family’s puzzle, why her father had had no contact with his only
brother. Distance had separated them, true enough, but the real
separation had been deeper, a difference in their understanding of
the demands of manhood. Macbeth’s understanding, whatever one might
believe about his actions, had led him to violence, very possibly
to a violent death.

Later Tessa went with Ayla to the library
mentioned by her mother. It was indeed impressive, with many books
Tessa would have loved to read had she time. As they perused them,
Ayla touched the covers of certain favorites lovingly, and Tessa
recognized the affection that many a lonely person naturally has
for books, which could relieve daily tedium and transport the
reader to other worlds.

“I have read this one many times,” Ayla told
her, indicating a volume of Ovid’s poetry. Tessa was privately
amused that a girl with such Arabic features produced a Highland
burr similar to her own. “It has many verses concerning love
between a man and a woman.” Her dark eyes met Tessa’s. “Have you
ever been in love?”

Recognizing a need in the girl to confide in
someone her own age, someone who might feel as she did about
things, she answered honestly. “I have, but I’m not sure it was a
wise love.”

Ayla’s round face dimpled in a smile. “Is
love wise? One has no ability to choose. It simply exists.”

“That may be, but should it not be
extinguished if it is a foolish love? If the other is unworthy of
affection?”

Ayla’s brow furrowed in sympathy. “Is this
what you experienced?”

“Yes,” Tessa answered, though her heart did
not accept it still. Feeling a desire to share her misgivings with
a stranger, one whom she would never meet again, Tessa went on. “I
met a man who treated me badly—” seeing the girl’s horror, she
hastened to explain. “Oh, he did not abuse me, but he betrayed me,
separated me from my family.”

“From the king?”

“Yes. I went to England and lived there for
a year. When I returned to Scotland, we met again, and I realized I
loved him. I thought he loved me in return, but then he again
betrayed me, plotting against my uncle, even planning to
assassinate him.”

Ayla’s eyes grew round. “That is a serious
thing, if you are sure he did so.”

“Banaugh and I heard two of the assassin’s
men saying that ‘the Englishman’ had suggested a way to kill
Macbeth. Jeffrey was the only Englishman within miles.”

“But if he is an enemy of your uncle, that
does not make him your enemy, especially now that…things may have
changed.”

“No matter what has happened to the king, I
cannot forgive Jeffrey’s treachery. He pretends to care for me when
we are together, but there are other women he also cares for. He
changes, like a lizard my father once described to me that can
change its color to suit its surroundings.” She thought of that
first night she had seen Jeffrey, when he played the part of an
insipid fop, and of the glimpses she had seen of the real Jeffrey,
his anger when she read his journal, his frustration as he tried to
remember his past, his determination to free her from Hawick’s
clutches. There was good in him, but how could she forgive his
plotting Macbeth’s death, his consorting with Mairie and Hawick,
his betrayal of his own brother with Eleanor, his brother’s
wife?

Ayla, having no experience with such things,
had no comment, and Tessa turned the discussion. “And is there a
special man in your life, Ayla, to make you speak of love?”

The girl blushed, her cheeks turning a deep
rose. “There is a man I find attractive, but he does not notice
me,” she said earnestly.

Tessa felt like she was back in London
giving lessons to Mary in how to flirt. “Men can be very slow to
reveal their attraction to a woman,” she said, frowning at their
perversity. “Sometimes it is the female who must begin, for men are
shy in love for all their courage in other things. How often do you
see this man?”

“Every day.” At Tessa’s look of surprise,
Ayla smiled. “It is Hamish, the one who brought you here. He seems
stern at first, but he is very sweet.”

So the dour Hamish had another side, or
maybe he was attractive to Ayla only because there were no other
choices available. Whatever the case, the girl’s face beamed when
she spoke his name, so Tessa continued her impromptu lesson.

“With a man like Hamish you might begin by
asking for instruction in something. He’ll feel it his duty to
assist you, and you’ll get to know each other in that way. Does
Hamish have a bow? You could become interested in archery.”

The girl’s face crinkled in disbelief. “I
could never manage Hamish’s bow. It is far too strong for me.”

“As it would be for a child, but they are
taught with smaller, more pliant ones. Tell Hamish you wish to
learn so you can entertain your mother.” Tessa rose and paced the
room, warming to her topic. “It’s perfect, because he will have to
stand very close to you to teach the proper technique, and it’s not
a skill learned in a few days. He will spend time with you each
day, and eventually you will overcome his reserve.” With a face and
form like Ayla’s, no man could be immune for long.

Ayla was skeptical. “What if I am not very
good?”

“All the better. It will take more time, and
he will feel superior, being the better shot.”

The girl had one more question. “And if I
become very good and can outshoot him, what then?”

Tessa grinned. “First, you’ll learn what
sort he truly is, for if he can accept defeat at the hands of a
woman, you have a gem among men. Then, you give the credit to him
for being the best of instructors, and you have won him back
again.”

“You are very wise.” Ayla said with a laugh.
“I will begin tomorrow on my campaign.”

“Will your mother approve?” Tessa hoped she
hadn’t added fuel to a fire the lady would rather see fading.

Ayla’s face sobered. “My prospects are not
many, as you might guess. We are mostly shunned by the Scots as
foreigners, some say witches. Our strong site and a few loyal
retainers protect us, but most are older men who served my father.
Hamish comes from a good family. His father was Arleigh’s friend,
and he has been invaluable since my father died, keeping watch on
what occurs around us and protecting our home.”

It was a not a confidence she would not have
shared with most visitors, but Tessa had noticed the signs of
prosperity, some of them Arabic, some Scottish. Evidently the
marriage had united two well-to-do families.

“We keep to ourselves, so few are reminded
of two women defending a castle. If Hamish and I were wed, it would
strengthen our position, and our children would be more accepted as
second-generation Scots. My mother would never force me to marry
Hamish, but if we find we suit each other, she will be glad to have
my future settled.”

Ayla’s manner was typical of girls of the
age. Hamish was the man she should fall in love with so she had, as
a good daughter and steward of her people’s welfare.

The girls talked far into the night, each
finding in the other something she had lacked, a confidante, a
peer, and a sounding board for ideas. They spoke of books, of
people, and of the world, finding they agreed on most things but
comfortable with the minor variances they found in their opinions.
Ayla was more idealistic, having little experience outside her
books, and Tessa was more prone to be critical, especially of the
place of women in the world. She told Ayla of Eleanor, of her
sister Meg, and even of Auntie Madeline, women with much potential
that went unappreciated. Ayla listened but in the end disagreed
with Tessa. “The talents of the women you speak of are not ignored.
They run households, they raise families, and they gain the love
and respect of those around them. They seem to have won your love
and respect as well. Who can count that as failure?”

Tessa had to admit the truth of that, but
she still wondered at a world where half the inhabitants’ voices
were muffled by the very fact that they were women and therefore
unworthy of serious consideration.

At last Ayla left Tessa to herself, giving
her a warm hug and exclaiming, “I have enjoyed my time with you,
and I feel I have known you my whole life. I am so glad you
came!”

Tessa didn’t remind her new friend it hadn’t
been her choice to stop at Arleigh and forgave the threat implied
in Hamish’s invitation. She had learned much, and found two new
friends as well.

Chapter Twenty-Three

At breakfast in the morning, Tessa and Lady
Miriam talked of many things until Ayla came in white-faced and
tense. “I am sorry to intrude,” she said, her dark eyes troubled.
“There are visitors, men who demand to see you immediately in the
name of Malcolm, King of Scotland.”

To Tessa the name felt like a blow, and at
the same time she heard the older woman gasp. Miriam spoke
urgently. “Quickly! Hide yourself in there.” She pointed at a
tapestry. Tessa did not at first understand, but Ayla hurried to
the wall hanging and pulled it aside to reveal a small door.
Without hesitation Tessa opened it and found herself in a small
room stacked with linens and blankets. Leaving the door ajar, Ayla
dropped the hanging back into place as the sound of heavy steps
told Tessa that someone had entered the hall.

“My lady,” said a man’s voice. “I greet you
in the name of Malcolm, King of the Scots, and bring you the joyous
news that the tyrant Macbeth is dead.”

Tessa had known it was coming, but she
almost sobbed aloud. Miriam, however, seemed unaffected as she
answered, “When a tyrant rules, then news of his death must indeed
be joyous. May I ask your name, sir?”

“I am Thomas Perth, my lady. My thane is Ian
Hawick, newly made laird of Glames.” So the man was one of Hawick’s
louts, the haughty seneschal, by his voice, and Hawick had
ingratiated himself with the new king already. Things grew worse
and worse for Tessa. Had she mentioned Hawick to Miriam last night?
Would she recognize this was Tessa’s worst enemy?

The man came quickly to the point of his
visit. “I seek three criminals who escaped the king’s justice, an
old man and two young ones. One is a servant boy who saw his chance
to pilfer items before fleeing the castle. He is not important, but
he guides the other two. The third looks like a boy but is in truth
a woman, and a most wicked one at that. This woman is responsible
for crimes against my master, King Malcolm, and even the erstwhile
king, Macbeth. She stole a large sum of gold from him that will
belong to the person who turns her over to me. However, anyone who
is caught concealing the girl will be branded traitor to the new
king and suffer the consequences.”

Tessa shivered in her hiding spot. The
carrot and the stick had been cleverly offered. If the lady
surrendered her guests, she would have gold and the gratitude of
the new king. If not she could lose everything.