Page 36 of Highland Queen

I returned the gesture.

A groom took the reins of my horse, and another attendant helped me down. Macbeth and I moved into place, our guard behind us.

The bishop signaled for Macbeth and me to come forward.

Macbeth ever-so-slightly offered me his arm.

Never. Instead, I set my hand on the hilt of my blade.

“Fine,” Macbeth hissed under his breath.

We moved forward, coming to a stop before the bishop.

“Who comes to Scone today to take their place on the stone of destiny?” the bishop called.

“Macbeth, son of Findelach and Donalda, heir to the throne by right of blood and combat,” Macbeth said in a loud voice.

“And who comes as queen?”

“Gruoch, daughter of Boite and Emir.”

“Come, Macbeth, son of Findelach, and Gruoch, daughter of Boite,” the bishop said, taking us both by our hands. He led Macbeth to the great stone which had been set upon a sturdy dais. Alongside it was another seat that had been carved with ancient symbols. Behind us, the tall stone cross cast its shadow.

The bishop motioned for us both to sit. He then came behind us and began the service in Latin. I only half listened as I eyed the crowd before me.

Thorfinn, whose arms were crossed on his chest, openly frowned at the bishop, but when his gaze fell on Macbeth, he smiled.

Madelaine was openly weeping. She gave me the softest of smiles.

I turned to Banquo. He stared at me. There was an odd shimmer of the Otherworld all around him. His eyes were wide, nostrils flaring. He was having a vision. And from the looks of it, not a good one.

“Bring them,” the bishop said, motioning to one of his attendants.

I turned to look.

Two attendants came forward. They carried pillows on which were set two crowns. The boys stood behind Macbeth and me.

The bishop moved to stand behind me. He lifted the heavy silver crown off the first pillow. The metal was old and thick. I had never seen the crown before. It was not the beautiful diadem Suthen had worn to Duncan’s coronation.

“In the name of Lord Jesus Christ, by right of victory and blood, I crown you Queen Gruoch of Scotland,” the bishop said as he lowered the crown on my head.

In that same moment, a raven alighted on top of the Celtic cross behind me. It squawked loudly.

An audible gasp rolled through the crowd. Several of the Christians crossed themselves.

I turned to look at the raven.

No one would name me queen in the name of Lord Jesus Christ alone. While I had no quarrel with the White Christ, it was the Red Lady who had brought me here. And she would always have her say.

The bishop looked up at the raven, an annoyed expression on his face.

Over the hum of the whispering crowd, I heard Thorfinn’s soft laugh.

The bishop frowned then turned to the other boy holding a crown. On the second pillow sat a solid gold coronet trimmed the blood-red rubies.

“In the name of Lord Jesus Christ, by right of victory and blood, I crown you King Macbeth of Scotland. Upon the sacred stone of destiny, may you take your place in the annals of this mighty kingdom,” he said then slowly set the crown on Macbeth’s head.

The raven squawked once more then flew off.

“Rise, King Macbeth and Queen Gruoch, and be greeted by your subjects,” the bishop said then turned to the crowd. “All hail King Macbeth and Queen Gruoch.”

“All hail,” the massive crowd called in unison.

Smiling, Macbeth waved to the crowd who cheered loudly.

I joined him in the gesture, but when my eyes rested on Banquo once more, my joy faltered. In the place of the man I loved, I saw a dead man, a corpse, standing there with a dagger in his heart.

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