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Chapter Text

The time is just a few minutes until the middle of the night. By this time, seemingly everyone in Macbeth’s castle is asleep – everyone, that is, except Malcolm. For whatever reason, he cannot sleep.

His inability to sleep certainly is not for the lack of comfort. If anything, the quarters that the newly-made Thane of Cawdor has generously provided him with actually rival his room back at his father’s castle – here, the temperature is warm, the surroundings are clean and rather picturesque, and the bed is exceptionally comfortable – but, unlike his quarters at Duncan’s castle [a place unfortunate enough to have drafts coming through], the mildly warm room temperature is just right.

So, why can I not sleep? Malcolm asks himself, irritated. An answer to the question follows in his thoughts almost as quickly: it is because he, for some reason, is feeling an inexplicable sense of dread.

In theory, there is no reason why he’s feeling this way. The battle from earlier that day is over and dealt with, the soldiers forced to retreat, and the traitorous previous Thane of Cawdor executed; Scotland is in peace once more. Even though Malcolm still cannot figure out precisely why he feels so apprehensive, he eventually attributes it to the fact that he had very nearly been captured in that same battle – it had been a close call, but thankfully the Captain had fought against his potential captors. The Scottish Prince feels indebted to him for that.

Come on, Malcolm. There is nothing to feel tense about. The battle is over, you are not anyone’s prisoner: you are a free man, just as you were before. Malcolm attempts to mentally give himself a pep talk – however, it proves to have little impact, for he is still lying wide awake ten minutes later. By this point, he decides to abandon all attempts of sleeping for the time being, and focuses on contemplating the events of the day instead.

Instantaneously, his mind floats to Macbeth and Banquo, two of his father’s loyal soldiers who had fought fearlessly in the battle that day and emerging victorious. In truth, Malcolm has never seen such bravery and loyalty in his life so far, so it goes without saying that both of them are the most honourable people in Scotland – Macbeth especially, whose valiant nature and courage seems to exceed that of everyone else’s in the country. It is without doubt that the country is lucky to have someone like him fighting for it, and is equally lucky to have that same person possessing the title of Thane for two places, and not just one. Malcolm does not doubt for a second that Macbeth will make splendid use of the title.

The latter’s reaction upon hearing the news about him being granted the title Thane of Cawdor had been one of complete shock, so much so that words had temporarily failed him [or so Malcolm has been told by the Thane of Ross, a trustworthy friend who went to deliver the message.] Actually, he had felt somewhat surprised to hear of such a reaction from Macbeth, one who was usually calm and composed, one who had never been known to be at loss for words. His intense reaction suggests that he had had some form of revelation at the time or something like that – but whilst Malcolm still retains a hint of confusion in regard to the way Macbeth received the news of his new title, he decides that it is understandable: after all, being the Thane of two places simultaneously is quite rare.

Some minutes later, Malcolm’s mind has ceased thinking about Macbeth and Banquo; it is thinking about nothing in particular now, although he still cannot get out of his mind the worrying fact that he feels a sense of foreboding still. Eventually, he decides to get up and go get a drink of water, to see if fluids might help calm his mind. [Macbeth had graciously presented him and Duncan with free access to a guest kitchen a little further along down the corridor, just round the corner from where his father is sleeping.]

Cautiously and quietly, Malcolm leaves the room and proceeds to walk stealthily down the corridor, almost going on tiptoe, for fear of disturbing anyone else from the realms of sweet sleep – something that he himself wishes he could be granted with at that precise moment in time.

Unsurprisingly, the castle is deadly silent, and not even the soft snores of Macbeth’s other guests can be heard in the silence. Of course, the quietness is not out of the ordinary considering the time of night, but for some reason it, combined with the darkness, only heightens his pre-existing sense of anxiety.

Once he’s just a few feet away from his father’s quarters, Malcolm pauses briefly in his tracks and leans against a wall, internally berating himself for being so ridiculous – at least, that is what he thinks. Why on Earth is he so wary of the night-time all of a sudden? What calls for this abrupt and mysterious dread? There is absolutely no reason for it, he thinks; if anything, Macbeth’s castle is one of the places where he should feel the safest, save for his father’s own castle that is but a few miles away.

Suddenly, the soft sound of laboured and cautious footsteps from only a few metres away grabs Malcolm’s attention. Given that he is already on edge for no apparent cause, the presence of a person unknown to him causes his mind to go into overdrive – and, without waiting for an explanation, he reflexively grips the hilt of his sword in his belt [he is in his night-wear, yes, but he decided to put his belt on and take his sword with him for ease of mind] and quickly turns around, squinting in an attempt to make out the identity of the other person. Initially, the attempt is futile for there is, evidently, no natural light to aid him – however, Malcolm has the idea to take the only lamp in the corridor off of the wall behind him and hold it out to provide him with light in front of him, rather than behind him.

As soon as he shines the light on the other individual, Malcolm breathes out in relief – it turns out it is only Macbeth, also in his night-wear, with a furtive expression and a dagger held in his right palm. Even though a voice in Malcolm’s head insists that it is only Macbeth, his worthy friend, and therefore would be a fool to feel fear, the Prince’s former relief dissipates into heightened apprehension upon spotting the dagger. He, of course, lowers his sword because he has absolutely no intention to harm the Thane of Cawdor and Glamis in any way – but nevertheless, he retains his hold on it rather than returning it to his belt. It just feels safer and easier to do so for some reason.

‘Good Malcolm?’ Macbeth sounds surprised to see him here – surprised and a little panicked.

‘Macbeth…good, um, evening,’ Malcolm responds, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice. He frowns curiously and gestures to the dagger still in Macbeth’s possession. ‘Why are you walking around with that?’

Macbeth glances down at the dagger in his hand as if he has only just realised that he is holding it. He then looks back up at Malcolm and quickly plasters an innocent smile on his face. ‘This? Oh, I thought I heard an intruder in the castle, so I got out of bed and took this with me. It is better to be armed than to be vulnerable; I wanted to make sure that no harm was to come to any of my guests,’ Macbeth explains, laughing – though his laughter sounds a little bit too high-pitched. Whilst the oddness of the other’s tone certainly does not escape Malcolm’s attention, he brushes it off as apprehension on Macbeth’s part. After all, if he had thought that someone had broken in, then it was only a natural reaction.

‘But, worthy Prince, what are you doing up?’ Macbeth wants to know, subtly switching topics.

Malcolm sighs and smiles wryly. ‘I could not sleep. For some reason, I am feeling apprehensive beyond explanation,’ he admits. ‘I was just on my way to the guest kitchen to get a drink, actually.’

Macbeth nods understandingly and steps to the side, politely giving Malcolm room to walk past, for the kitchen is round the corner. At first, the latter instinctively steps forward, about to walk on – but something in him makes him stop abruptly, like an invisible force, so insistent that it physically prevents him from walking past Macbeth. Again, Malcolm cannot explain this – but then, the fact Macbeth is gesturing for Malcolm to walk past him with the hand that contains the dagger may be why he feels so hesitant, despite the fact that he knows Macbeth would never do anything to harm him, the loyal and trustworthy friend that he is.

‘Do you think the “intruder” that you thought you heard was perhaps me getting up?’ Malcolm asks suddenly, endeavouring to cover up his hesitation with a question.

Macbeth lets his arm fall to his side and moves away from the wall. ‘I think it most likely was.’

Malcolm nods and smiles apologetically. ‘Ah. Sorry about that, it was not my intention.’

Macbeth smiles back and shakes his head graciously. ‘No worries, gentle Malcolm. No harm done.’

The Prince smiles thankfully, but then he pauses, once again confused. ‘So…now that you know there is no danger, why are you still standing there with the dagger? Do you not want to put it away and return to bed?’ he asks.

Macbeth opens his mouth as if to answer – and then closes it again, apparently having none. Then, out of nowhere a few seconds later, he seems to have a response to the question. ‘I was waiting for you to go past. Guests first, you see. That is the principle in my castle.’

Malcolm nods appreciatively at Macbeth’s courteous and polite behaviour…but at the same time, he cannot take his eyes off of the dagger in the Thane of Cawdor’s hand. Sure, he probably has not got any other use for it; he is probably going to discard it as soon as he gets back into his bedroom, but…something just does not feel right. All of a sudden, Malcolm has the unstoppable desire to go into his father’s bedroom to check up on him – and stay with him for the rest of the night. As stupid as the Prince thinks this sounds, he has the sense that King Duncan is in danger.

‘Thank you, Macbeth…but I think I will stop here for now. I just want to check up on my father,’ Malcolm responds doubtfully. ‘I am a bit worried about him for some reason. Do not feel like you have to wait up…’

To Malcolm’s surprise, a look of faint frustration and guilt crosses Macbeth’s features as he completely lowers the arm holding the dagger and steps back, away from the door to King Duncan’s room. Malcolm considers questioning the expression on the Thane’s face, but decides not to; Macbeth doesn’t comment on it either.

‘That is very good of you, Prince,’ Macbeth says, giving Malcolm a half-hearted smile. ‘I am sure your father is fine…’ he pauses briefly before continuing. ‘…but I do hope that you are able to rest assured soon. Good evening.’

With that, Macbeth retreats back the way he came, still holding his dagger, of which the blade glints ominously at Malcolm in the light of the lamp, making him unconsciously shiver. Since when did Macbeth become so…mysterious? Since when did the Thane wander around his own castle with a dagger in his hand, looking as though he is intending to commit murder? All of these questions spring up in the Prince’s mind as he watches Macbeth’s silhouette walk back down the corridor, into the gloom [for there is a sparse arrangement of lanterns further down]. Perhaps it might have been worth voicing these questions to Macbeth just now, but in all honesty, Malcolm is more concerned about his father’s safety just now [though he’s still not sure why.] Instead, he resolves to take Macbeth aside in the morning and ask him these queries privately, to see if he can ascertain what was going on – because it all seems so nonsensical and eerie.

Shrugging off the Thane of Cawdor’s odd behaviour for the time being, Malcolm turns towards his fathers’ quarters, gently eases the door open and walks inside as softly as he possibly can. He’s not really sure what he’s expecting to see, but it comes as an immense relief to him to see that King Duncan is there, sleeping peacefully in his bed with a couple of guards sleeping in their own beds nearby, with nearly empty cups of strongly-scented liquor lying, forgotten, on the floor nearby…

The guards are asleep? There’s liquor in the cups on the floor?

That cannot be right, Malcolm thinks to himself, frowning. The guards are supposed to remain awake to protect father.

Upon a second glance, Malcolm notices that, actually, the guards aren’t in their beds – they’re actually sprawled clumsily on top of them, fully dressed, as though they had simply collapsed out of drunkenness. That would certainly explain the scent of liquor in the room, and the nearly empty cups lying on the floor nearby. The Prince cautiously walks towards the nearest one, picking it up and sniffing it to see if there is alcohol in there as he suspects. And, sure enough, he is right. Although he can’t distinguish precisely what drink it is, it’s definitely some kind of alcohol, or maybe even drugs, which in turn explains the disposition of the guards.

At that point, Malcolm steps backwards, warily evaluating the scene and attempting to ascertain why the guards have neglected their duties so wilfully. As he does so, a floorboard underneath his right foot emits a grating creak! causing him to flinch. It’s unfortunate that the floorboards in Macbeth’s castle are really quite old, and are therefore prone to such sounds. It’s equally unfortunate – perhaps, depending on how it’s perceived – that the noise is enough to stir the King.

‘Who was that? Guards, was that one of you?’ King Duncan asks sleepily, before raising himself up on one elbow and rubbing his eyes. Then he focuses properly and realises that it’s none other than his son.

‘Malcom, dear son. What are you doing here at this time of night?’

That same person sighs deeply. ‘Honestly, father? I do not know what it is, but tonight I just cannot sleep. Feelings of dread keep me awake. I was worried about your safety.’

‘My safety?’ Duncan eyes Malcolm with bemusement. ‘Why, what makes you think I am in danger?’

Malcolm hesitates. Should he divulge to his father the encounter that he had just had with Macbeth just now outside of the room? Whilst it might be a good idea, the Prince doesn’t particularly want to give his father any cause for concern, and neither does he wish to keep the King awake with questions similar to the ones that he’s having unsettling his mind. Silently, he concludes that it would be best to keep quiet in regard to that for the moment – at least, until he’s found out more. Rather than make any mention of Macbeth and the dagger that he acquired, Malcolm instead indicates the guards, whom are still asleep, evidently completely out of it for the sound of the floorboard had failed to arouse them.

‘I just had the suspicion, noble father. But look – your guards are not doing their job properly.’

King Duncan peers over at the two guards asleep in a heap on their beds and chuckles softly, clearly finding the situation amusing rather than concerning. ‘So they just needed a bit of sleep themselves? There is nothing wrong with that.’

Malcolm shakes his head anxiously. ‘No, see, they are literally drunk. Can you not smell the liquor from these cups here?’ he asks, holding out the cup that he still had in his hand after smelling it.

‘I admit that I can smell something,’ Duncan admits. ‘But, oh well. My guards do an efficient job of protecting me the majority of the time; I do not mind them having a little time off to unwind.’

‘But it is dangerous to do so at night, when you are asleep and vulnerable to anyone who might try to attack you.’

‘We are in the worthy Macbeth’s castle, dear boy. What are the chances of that?’

Malcolm wants to say that, in fact, the chances appear higher than he had thought, given his recent run-in with said owner of the castle…but, again, he keeps his lips sealed in relation to that, instead opting to hold up the recent battle as a possibility.

‘We have just come through a battle, father. There may still be people around here that are looking to attack you.’

Duncan smiles fondly at his son. ‘You worry too much,’ he declares, in no annoyed voice. ‘But I do appreciate you looking out for me. Seriously, though, Malcolm – you should return to your quarters now. If you do not mind my saying, you look tired.’

His son smiles wanly in response. Absolutely, he’s tired – knackered, in fact – but he knows full well that if he returns to his room and tries to sleep, no success will come of the attempt because he is just too nervous. He doesn’t wish to leave his father alone for the rest of the night, just in case something does happen…which is unlikely, as Duncan had already pointed out – but it would put his mind at rest, certainly.

‘I would much prefer to stay awake and guard you tonight, for your guards are not doing a very good job of it themselves. Anyway, it would make me reassured to know that you are all right.’

King Duncan smiles at his son again in appreciation. Although he does try to convince the Prince to return to his own quarters to get some sleep himself, the latter is insistent, and he doesn’t wish to go against his son’s desires – he is only trying to be a helpful and protective son to the King, after all.

‘Alright, if you do insist, then I shall not stop you,’ Duncan eventually assents. ‘But if you do get really tired at any point, do go back to bed and do not just remain awake for my sake. I am sure I will be fine, even without my guards being conscious. However, I appreciate your devotion and duty all the same. Goodnight, Malcolm.’

‘Goodnight, father.’

Chapter Text

The next morning on the way to the dining room (where Macbeth and his wife have invited their guests for breakfast) Malcolm can’t stop rubbing his eyes and stifling his yawns. He had literally gotten no sleep the previous night. In fact, he had even gone great lengths to remain awake – when he had perceived that he was beginning to feel drowsy whilst sitting down, Malcolm had stood up and remained standing, sometimes walking around the room quietly, to evade falling asleep. Perhaps his actions could be interpreted as stubborn, if not a little dramatic – but he hadn’t felt truly content until he knew for certain that someone was guarding his father: his sense foreboding had still been hanging over him, not easing until he knew that his father was being safely looked over whilst he slept.

Even now, in the morning when things that occur at night-time tend to make more sense, Malcolm is struggling to put his finger on precisely why he was feeling that way. Admittedly, he still feels a little wary – but he’s finding that this sensation is notably less than it had been last night.

By the time the Scottish Prince has reached the dining room, everyone else is already there. When he walks in, he instantly registers the presence of Macbeth and his wife, Lady Macbeth, Ross, King Duncan, Angus, Banquo and his son Fleance, along with Lennox and Macduff – both of whom have recently arrived that morning. The atmosphere is in direct contrast with the faint wariness that Malcolm feels still, since it’s lively and jovial. Not wanting to rain on anybody’s parade, he decides to remain quiet about his perceptions.

‘Good morning, good Prince Malcolm of Scotland!’ Macbeth declares upon his entrance, practically standing up and giving him a standing ovation, and drawing everyone’s attention to the former’s entrance. ‘You slept well I trust?’

‘Oh. Yes, yes I did,’ Malcolm fibs, inconspicuously stifling yet another yawn as he does so. With all eyes on him, he can’t possibly say the truth without perplexing anyone or drawing some form of suspicion – neither of which is his desire to do.

‘Please, do come and sit down; join us for a refreshing early morning beverage,’ Lady Macbeth says graciously, gesturing to a seat in between his father and the noble Macduff. Smiling in an attempt to be as polite as possible, given the circumstances, Malcolm accepts the invitation and takes his seat without saying another word. Besides, he’s not entirely sure of what to say – his mind is too occupied with endeavouring to figure out his worry. In fact, he’s so distracted that he barely notices Macbeth and Lady Macbeth having an intense discussion – or what looks a little more like a minor argument – nearby. The next minute, however, they draw whatever debate they were having to a close as Macbeth abruptly rises once again, hitting his fingers against his cup in order to gain everyone’s attention.

‘Today, friends, is the morning in which we celebrate yesterday’s victory against the traitorous former Thane of Cawdor, along with Macdonwald and his forces. We emerged victorious; we were able to protect the land of Scotland and, equally importantly, its monarchy.’ In saying this, Macbeth pauses briefly to smile over at Duncan and his son. His smile, however, Malcolm notices, is a little…off. It’s as if the Thane is trying to deliberately be overly bright, a smile so genuine that it seems suspicious. ‘In light of this huge success, I have commissioned my servants to pour us all some very special wine made of white grapes that I had imported from another country. Therefore, I propose a toast – to Scotland and the monarchy!’

Everyone except Malcolm [his inexplicably heightened suspicion is really distracting him now] echoes these words as Macbeth returns to his seat, shooting an oddly satisfied smile at Lady Macbeth as he does so, whom proceeds to nod smugly in response. The Prince notices these exchanges, which only serves to heighten his doubt – although he is probably being irrational, Macbeth and his wife are probably harmlessly congratulating themselves on their outstanding hospitality, he cannot help himself from thinking otherwise.

Just then, Malcolm is startled from his musings by the sound of something hitting the table and someone exclaiming, ‘Oh no! Sorry, your liege!’ When he glances over to see what’s happened, he notices that his father’s cup has been knocked over, its contents now leaking out all over the table. Whilst Duncan looks completely unfazed, even a little bit amused, Macduff looks sincere and apologetic – because he had just accidently knocked the King’s cup over on to the table.

‘No worries, good Macduff. There is no harm done,’ Duncan responds easily, shrugging and smiling.

‘I thank you, good sir, but please, allow me to go and re-fill your glass…’

Malcolm, meanwhile, pays scant attention to the brief discourse being conducted between his father and Macduff. He’s too busy carefully and discreetly watching the facial expressions of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, whom have turned from looking pleased to quite irritated. If rational thinking were to be applied to the situation, one would probably assume that they are simply annoyed that some of their wine has been wasted, although it’s not like they don’t have a plentiful amount of it, because they do. But even so, their expressions look a little too…angered, for the spilled wine to be the cause of it.

‘Good Prince Malcolm, would you mind accompanying me?’ Macduff entreats him suddenly. ‘After all, you…know your way around here better than I do.’

Malcolm is about to object to this claim, because, actually, he barely knows his way around Macbeth’s castle, given that he’s only ever been a guest once or twice. However, he figures that there must be a reason for Macduff requesting him to tag along, so he chooses not to question it and nods instead, leaving his seat and following the Thane of Fife out of the dining room.

No less than a second after they have exited the room and the door has shut behind them, Macduff turns to Malcolm, the look on his face grave.

‘King Duncan’s drink was poisoned.’

Malcolm stares at Macduff. ‘What? How do you know that?’

‘It was off-colour, although only slightly. And the scent was off, too.’

Malcolm continues to stare at the Thane of Fife, unsure of what to say.

That same person sighs. ‘I know you probably will not believe it,’ he observes, looking upset. ‘But I promise that I would not lie to you.’ When he notices the expression of disbelief that the Prince possesses, he places his hands together as if in prayer, in an attempt to appear even more sincere. ‘If I can prove it to you–’

‘There is no need. I believe you,’ Malcolm reassures him. ‘It is just…well, who do you think did it?’

Macduff opens his mouth but then stops, glancing apprehensively back in the direction of the dining room. Malcolm steps forward and puts a hand on his shoulder, as if to encourage him.

‘Express your thoughts freely,’ he coaxes. ‘I will not tell a soul.’

Macduff nods gratefully before taking a deep breath. He gestures for Malcolm to come a bit closer, and drops his voice to little more than a whisper, just in case.

‘Between you and me, I think it might have been Macbeth and Lady Macbeth.’

Silence penetrates the air once again as Malcolm absorbs what Macduff has just told him. The Prince trusts the latter’s judgement completely, but…the Macbeths? Surely they would be the last people that Macduff is suspicious of, because one is a Thane and the other is the Thane’s equally virtuous and hospitable wife, respectively. Malcolm wonders if he perhaps heard wrong, because there’s no way it could be the Macbeth’s. Right?

‘Yes, I did say the Macbeth’s,’ Macduff clarifies upon seeing Malcolm’s conflicted facial expression. ‘They are the ones who had it imported and served, are they not? Besides, did you not see how they reacted when I “accidentally” knocked over the King’s drink just now?’

Malcolm has to admit that the rather surprising reactions of the host and hostess certainly hadn’t escaped his attention. In fact, he rather thinks that they’ve been acting oddly all morning so far. Just as he’s contemplating how strange the two seem to have been acting, the Prince suddenly remembers the occurrence from yesterday evening – and all at once, the feeling of dread returns once again, this time so heavy and intense that he has to place a hand over his mouth to muffle the comically loud gasp that escapes.

Macduff watches him in concern. ‘Are you all right, Malcolm? What is the matter?’

Malcolm simply shakes his head wordlessly, temporarily beyond speech as an unwanted and horrifying question enters his mind right at that moment: was Macbeth attempting to kill his father last night?

Once the Prince of Scotland finds his voice again, he briefly gives Macduff a rundown of what he had encountered last night – how he had come across Macbeth wandering around with a dagger outside his father’s room, how he had seemed reluctant to leave – and the unnatural drunkenness and drowsiness of the guards whom were supposed to be protecting his father that night whilst he slept. In retrospect, the fact that the guards were drunk and asleep probably had some kind of correlation with the Macbeth and the dagger incident.

‘Something does sound suspicious there,’ Macduff declares once Malcolm has finished relaying the story to him. ‘It seems to me that Macbeth and Lady Macbeth are conspiring to kill good King Duncan.’

‘Who should we tell? We must reveal this, especially to father himself to keep him out of danger.’

‘There is a problem: who would believe us? We do not have valid proof,’ Macduff points out.

‘Hey, I believed you,’ Malcolm protests faintly.

‘Yes, but you trust me the same as I trust you. Without non-circumstantial evidence, we cannot really accuse them of anything…and if we let on to them that we know of their intentions, it could put Duncan at even more of a risk.’

‘But surely we can warn father himself?’

‘I would love to do so, but would he believe you? I know you are his son, but he really, really worships the Macbeths. Hearing such news would probably break his heart…and it would be even worse if we have no concrete proof to back our claims up.’

Malcolm sighs, deeply conflicted. ‘You are right,’ he admits. ‘But what can we do?’

Macduff considers. ‘How long is your father staying here for?’

‘A week.’

‘Right, a week…that gives them quite a wide scope of time to plot against him again, really.’

‘Yes…so, should we not let father out of our sight?’

‘I suppose actions to that affect might be beneficial – we should accompany him as much as possible, whilst simultaneously keeping an eye on the Macbeths. That way we can expose them as soon as possible, if my suspicions are correct.’

‘For now, then, we are just foiling any attempts on father’s life?’

‘Pretty much – if you are willing to ally yourself with me, we can work together on this.’

Malcolm gives Macduff a genuine smile. ‘Of course I am. I love working with you.’ Then he pauses and blushes slightly as he realises how his words sound. However, Macduff doesn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he reciprocates similar feelings by smiling directly back at the Prince.

‘Glad to hear it – likewise.’ He also pauses, although now he glances tentatively back towards the dining room. ‘As lovely as this moment between us is,’ he continues, ‘I think it might be in our best interest to return to the dining room with speed – one, so we do not look conspicuous, and two, so that Duncan is not out of our sight for too long. It is our duty now, to watch over him.’

Malcolm nods determinedly. Assuming that the two of them are correct, if Macbeth and Lady Macbeth have any plans in store next, they are sure to be foiled. No way is he letting his father meet his end here, not on his watch.

Briefly, Macduff and Malcolm clasp their right hands together to signify that they are united. Then they head back towards the dining room together, ready to start their surveillance of the Macbeths and their discreet guard (and hopefully, protection) of King Duncan.

Chapter Text

When the two of them enter the dining room once more, the atmosphere appears just as merry as it had been when they had left – nobody would think that, behind it all, are two villains conspiring to kill the King, presumably for their own gain.

Either way, though, Macduff and Malcolm don’t let anyone know what they’re thinking. Sure, it’s a pressing concern of theirs, but they can’t just accuse the Macbeths without substantial proof, and they don’t particularly wish to ruin the calm and cheerful mood with their damning news, serious as it is.

Everyone else in the room is, of course, blissfully unaware of what’s going on behind the scenes, talking and laughing as though everything is normal. Which, to them, it is.

The most alarming thing for Malcolm and Macduff is the fact that the Macbeths have taken Duncan aside and appear to be talking to him earnestly…but, more likely, this is just an act; they’re undoubtedly convincing Duncan to do something or other, something that could well lay the foundations for an attempt to murder him. As the three of them continue to converse, the Prince and Thane of Fife exchange wary looks. Who knows what Macbeth and Lady Macbeth are saying to the King?

Malcolm starts sidling towards his father with Macduff following suit a couple of seconds later, both of them doing their best to be discreet. If they can just get within earshot, then they will be able to hear what words are being exchanged by Duncan and the Macbeths…and from there, they can ascertain whether the former is in any immediate danger or not. Unfortunately, their presence doesn’t go unnoticed for long, since they’re both spotted by Macbeth just a few seconds later. The minute that he lays eyes upon them, his voice seemingly gets sweeter and more innocent, although perhaps a little excessively so, which makes it clear to the trained ear that he’s over-exaggerating with the intent of concealing something or other. Lady Macbeth, on the other hand, remains perfectly composed.

‘Prince Malcolm. Virtuous Macduff.’ She smiles serenely, her tone even. ‘What can we do for you?’

Her eyes are a blatant contrast to her tone and smile – they’re dark and deep, staring at Macduff and Malcolm intently, emitting a vibe of danger and suspicion. Although this is only obvious to the trained eye, the two of them glance at each other uncertainly. They have had no trouble figuring it out.

‘Nothing, thank you, fair lady,’ Macduff responds respectfully. ‘We…were going to ask the good King Duncan something.’

‘We were not sure how full he wanted his glass, so we have come to ascertain that,’ Malcolm interjects helpfully, spotting Macbeth and Lady Macbeth regarding them with faint suspicion. He turns towards Duncan. ‘So, father…?’

‘My preference would be halfway or less,’ Duncan replies, smiling sweetly at his son and Macduff. ‘But you may fill it as you see fit.’

The two of them nod, pretending to be satisfied by the precision of the King’s answer. They’ve managed to produce a reason for them approaching in the first place, therefore avoiding making themselves look conspicuous – but now they need to find a way to learn what the Macbeths were talking to Duncan about beforehand.

‘By the way, gracious King, what are your plans today?’ Macduff asks Duncan, speaking as if his question is nothing more than a mere afterthought. Malcolm quietly gives him a nudge of approval – he’d like to make his appraisal more evident, but doesn’t for fear that Macbeth or Lady Macbeth see and question it.

‘Ah, well, I did not originally plan anything,’ Duncan answers. ‘But the Macbeths have been kind enough to offer me the opportunity to have a nice, relaxing stroll with them - close to the woods nearby. Apparently the scenery is divine.’

‘It would be our pleasure to have you two accompany us,’ Macbeth adds, addressing Malcolm and Macduff. ‘But I am afraid that I need to speak to the King in private. I have overheard important information regarding matters of the country’s state; it is imperative that I have his full attention, and that I am giving him mine. This means no distractions, not even the presence of another person.’

Malcolm and Macduff nod understandingly, as if they completely accept and believe Macbeth’s explanation – which they don’t. As soon as the two of them move out of earshot, Macbeth and Lady Macbeth resume speaking earnestly to Duncan – but neither Malcolm nor Macduff waste time attempting to hear what is being said, for they know the conversation will just die out if they come even slightly within hearing range. Instead, they both retreat into a relatively secluded corner and begin discussing their next steps.

‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ Malcolm asks Macduff, speaking in a low voice so that only he can hear.

‘Depends,’ Macduff responds, smiling wryly. ‘I’m thinking that you are making use of a hackneyed old cliché in what is supposed to be us planning our next steps.’

Malcolm lightly bats his arm. ‘What I mean is, do you reckon that the Macbeths are planning something else?’

‘Quite possibly. Why do they need to have a walk around the woods just to discuss the state?’ Macduff wonders.

‘Well. Father did say he would like to see the scenery.’

‘Yes, but…well, Duncan is…very easily convinced, if you see what I mean.’

‘I do. Father can be very easily led,’ Malcolm admits, sighing. He glances upwards and sees Macbeth, Duncan and Lady Macbeth heading outside on to the castle grounds. Arching one of his eyebrows, he points this out to Macduff. ‘So much for “no distractions, not even the presence of another person.”,’ he comments.

Macduff shakes his head. ‘That was a bit of an unbelievable excuse to start with. But let us not worry about that now.’ He gestures outside, worry beginning to form on his features. ‘We should follow them out there. You and I know now what the Macbeths are like. They could be planning anything.’

‘You are right. The fact that they are near the woods does not make it seem any better,’ Malcolm responds anxiously.

Macduff agrees. ‘Not in the slightest. Come on – we should follow along inside of the woods, remaining under the cover of the trees and their branches.’

Chapter Text

So far, so good.

Macbeth has his fingers completely crossed as he, Duncan and Lady Macbeth make their way over to the edge of the woods. Presently, the new plan that he and his wife had devised appears to be going perfectly. It’s a lucky job that good old King Duncan is so trusting and easy to please. Once Macbeth introduces the location to him, the former decides to pause for a second to take in his surroundings; which are, admittedly, quite exquisite – so at least that hadn’t been a lie.

Whilst he is busy doing this, Macbeth takes the opportunity to check in with Lady Macbeth.

‘Is the plan still proceeding smoothly? Are they in place?’ he asks her quietly, so that Duncan cannot hear.

Lady Macbeth nods and gives a satisfied smile. ‘Oh yes,’ she answers confidently. ‘Everything is set to proceed exactly as we have planned it.’

‘Excellent,’ Macbeth murmurs. He raises his voice. ‘Your grace, if you would please, shall we carry on walking?’

***

‘Is it just me, or do you find these woods a little…ominous?’

Malcolm and Macduff are currently walking along inside of the woods, discreetly following the Macbeths and King Duncan, unbeknownst to them. Although it’s daytime, the leaves on the branches of the trees block out at least half of the sunlight that attempts to stream in, causing the woods to be darker than the actual day is itself, as though it was nearing dusk rather than mid-morning. Perhaps the lack of light is what makes Malcolm feel a little disconcerted, but he decides to question if Macduff shares this sensation just to see.

‘They are a little,’ Macduff agrees. ‘It is probably because it is darker in here than outside of it, but…’ he pauses and shrugs, biting his lip. ‘…but at the same time, something does not feel quite right about them.’

‘Not that we should be surprised. There must be a certain reason that Macbeth requested for Duncan to walk near here with him, when they could have simply had their discussion in a private chamber back in the castle,’ Malcolm points out.

Macduff nods. ‘True point. Unfortunately, Macbeth and Lady Macbeth are rather unpredictable people.’

The two of them continue on, one of them peering intently at the outside of the woods every once in a while to make sure that the other three are still in their sights. [Not that it is difficult to do – they are walking relatively close to the opening, after all.]

Several minutes pass in silence. Both Malcolm and Macduff appear to be devoting more focus to navigating their way through the woods, although it’s really not that difficult – the paths are surprisingly clear of any blockage, such as leaves and branches, and the trees are easily distinguishable, even in the reduced light.

Although the two of them are silent, their surroundings aren’t. Even from their distance, they can just about make out the voices belonging to Macbeth, Lady Macbeth and King Duncan – and from the sounds of things, all three of them sound like they’re enjoying themselves. So much for discussing affairs of the state.

The woods are prone to some noise also. There’s a gentle wind which causes a smooth rustle through the leaves and branches on the trees, and birds of varying species can be heard chirping a birdsong from miles off. Natural sounds from the surroundings serve to make the woods a little less daunting.

Eventually, Malcolm penetrates the silence by asking Macduff another question.

‘Macduff, what do you think Macbeth and Lady Macbeth’s motives are?’

Macduff is silent for a few seconds more as he considers the question. Even when he forms an answer, he doesn’t sound entirely certain. ‘I am not entirely sure,’ he responds pensively. ‘I struggle to see why they would want to murder the kindly King in the first place. They are supposed to be his kin and loyal subjects.’

Malcolm nods in agreement. It beats him too. Surely, whatever the motivations of the Macbeths are must be serious, or they would never ever plot such a thing. The only plausible explanation for a possible motive, in Malcolm’s opinion, is that of ambition and individualistic principles. He says as much to Macduff, suggesting that perhaps the two of them have set themselves the unrealistic goal of becoming the most powerful people in Scotland. Maybe they are lusting for power?

‘Power often makes people commit selfish acts,’ Macduff responds bitterly. ‘They pursue their own individual interests and stop at nothing to gain themselves favour and status.’

The Prince nods solemnly, all too aware that there’s an increasing number of individualistic people in society nowadays – which is a shame, because it prevents everyone from sharing a sense of solidarity and togetherness, but there you go. Just as Malcolm is about to ask Macduff where he acquired his rather cynical view of society’s inhabitants, he slips over – luckily, the latter is able to catch him and steady his balance before he falls.

‘Moss,’ Macduff says simply, pointing to the ground that they’re walking on; indeed, the originally strong surface had become decorated with soft green moss, which is actually quite a pretty sight to see – but it proves to be rather lethal for any suspecting persons that walk across it.

‘Thank you for stopping me from falling,’ Malcolm responds, smiling gratefully at the other, whom returns the smile with ease. Even whilst they’re exchanging smiles, however, the Scottish Prince notices something…odd about the branches in the trees above them – namely the fact that some rather weighted-looking branches are dangling precariously from the top of the tree that Macduff is standing underneath. Then, without warning, the branch becomes completely detached from the tree and comes crashing down with a thump…

…but the branch misses Macduff, primarily because Malcolm shoves him out of its path just in the nick of time before retreating to safety himself, his eyes wide at how swiftly everything appears to be going down.

‘The woods may be picturesque, but they are highly dangerous,’ he declares, glancing around at their surroundings warily.

Macduff nods. ‘You can say that again,’ he agrees, panting a little from the near-escape. ‘Thank you for your quick reflexes, Malcolm.’

‘No worries. We do make quite the team together, if I do say so myself.’

Macduff chuckles and decides that he cannot possibly dispute such an accurate assertion. Then they continue on, for they both still perceive the Macbeths and Duncan walking along ahead of them. At some points, they’ve been close enough to be within earshot, and the topic of their discussion is certainly not state matters. Macduff and Malcolm wonder if the King is questioning this at all. Presumably he isn’t, because he’s still walking contentedly along with his companions, apparently seeing nothing amiss.

Eventually, however, the three of them come to a halt, prompting Macduff and Malcolm to do the same for risk of exposing themselves. It’s clear that something’s due to happen, otherwise they would have continued their journey…in fact, Macbeth is glancing intently into the woods every few seconds, as if he’s expecting someone or something to emerge – this, as Macduff and Malcolm suspect, is not good news. The two of them have already resolved to sneak a little further on, to see if they can spot anything out of the ordinary, something or someone that would be a potential threat to Duncan – but it doesn’t come to that, not straight away.

As it turns out, their abrupt stop had triggered something in the trees above. At first, it isn’t entirely obvious what had occurred, but it soon becomes evident that the two of them had unknowingly stepped onto a vine trailing on the ground. Usually, such a placement of the vine should be perfectly ordinary…but not this one. As soon as a little weight is placed upon it, it triggers the branches of the tree above, and within seconds, a boulder drops with alarming speed and precision…right on to Macduff’s right foot.

Malcolm claps a hand to his mouth, muffling his comically loud gasp that expresses his sympathy and worry, whilst Macduff presses his lips together to prevent a repertoire of expletives emerging from his mouth. Luckily, the boulder isn’t so heavy that he can’t get it off of his foot – but it’s heavy enough to be downright painful upon impact, especially with the speed that it fell.

‘Are you all right? Your foot is not broken, is it?’ Malcolm questions anxiously, placing a hand upon the Thane of Fife’s shoulder.

Macduff smiles grimly. ‘No, no. It is not as dramatic as that,’ he responds, wincing as pain shoots through his foot upon manipulation. ‘I do not think it is much more than a bruise.’

‘But even so, that must be bad enough. The force in which it hit your foot looked awful.’

‘Well, it certainly was no picnic, let me put it that way. But I am not rendered immobile, so there is a bright side.’

Malcolm breathes a sigh of relief. ‘That makes me so glad,’ he declares. Then he stops, realising that whilst they were distracted, Macbeth, Lady Macbeth and Duncan had continued on a few more paces before stopping once again. He peers over and is just about able to make out Macbeth and Lady Macbeth giving each other smug, satisfied glances before sneakily looking from Duncan to the woods and back again. All too suddenly, his feeling of dread returns. He isn’t sure what’s going to happen, but whatever it is, he knows that it’s not going to be good. He’s just about to hurry over there, not caring that Macbeth requested that he and Duncan be left alone – but something stops him. A noise within the woods, a snapping noise that actually sounds chillingly close by.

He glances over at Macduff, wondering if he had heard it too; his expression confirms that he had. He silently puts a finger to his lips and points over to a nearby clearing, his eyes wide. When Malcolm turns to see what he’s pointing at, his eyes also widen – for there is a cloaked figure, completely clad in black. But the colour of this person’s attire isn’t even the most disturbing part: in his possession is a dagger, carried threateningly out in front of him. It doesn’t take the greatest powers of deduction to figure out that whoever they are, their profession is one thing: murderer.

‘He’s probably here to murder father!’ Malcolm realises in horror. Macduff nods silently, his eyes full of similar unrest. Neither of them is sure what they should do – if they approach the murder and attempt to assail him themselves, they run the risk of putting themselves in danger. But if they don’t, Duncan will end up being in danger.

The figure continues moving onwards, quite clearly headed for the Macbeths and Duncan. Macduff and Malcolm don’t have a second to lose if they want to prevent a harsh, messy and futile death.

Just then, Macduff quietly but quickly draws his sword, his face determined. ‘There’s nothing for it. We’ve got to apprehend him.’ He looks at Malcolm’s distressed and conflicted expression. ‘We’re not going to kill him. Just stun him.’

Malcolm looks relieved, and nods decisively, drawing his own sword and holding it at the ready. The two of them exchange no more words between them as they start moving quickly but quietly towards Duncan’s very possible attacker. Unfortunately, it’s at that point that Macduff is forced to stop and steady himself against a tree, his right foot causing too much pain to run properly. Malcolm automatically stops upon seeing his struggle, intending to provide aid of some sort – but then he realises that the murderer hasn’t stopped moving, he’s still heading fearlessly and horrifyingly swiftly towards his target. Without hesitating, Malcolm runs toward the figure (thankfully, unbeknownst to him, for he’s got his back to the Prince), turns his sword around so that the hilt is facing towards this black-clad figure, and proceeds to strike him in the back of the head with it. Predictably, whoever they are, they immediately fall down, knocked out by the force of the strike and the weight of the hilt. Malcolm is glad – he didn’t want to kill this guy, just render them unable to take out his father. Whilst not a solution that will work in the long-term, it gives him enough time to get his father away from the woods and into the surveillance of himself and Macduff, where it’s unlikely that anyone will try any murder attempts, secret, planned or otherwise.

Once the necessary deed has been done, Malcolm sneaks back over to Macduff, lest the Macbeths catch him, although he’s surprised that they hadn’t. Surely they had view enough, despite the relative obscurity of the trees? Not that he’s complaining if they haven’t seen – it prevents him from having to make up an excuse for his actions, outside of him knowing what they’re trying to do to his father.

Once Malcolm reaches Macduff, the latter grins at him and claps him on the back appraisingly.

‘Nice going, Malcolm! Your bravery and skill helped avert disaster.’

‘Thank you,’ Malcolm replies modestly. ‘But it was you, too. You came up with the idea.’

‘But I was unable to carry it out,’ Macduff points out. ‘You were able to – and you did it perfectly.’

Malcolm smiles again, thankful for his companion’s praise. ‘You are too complimentary,’ he responds, laughing. Then his merriment fades away as quickly as it came upon remembering Macduff’s condition. ‘Your foot – is it extremely painful?’

Macduff shakes his head. ‘Not extremely. I think it is a mild sprain, so I cannot really exert it too much – but I think we already ascertained that from what happened just now.’

Malcolm nods sympathetically, wondering if it might be a good idea for him to offer Macduff his shoulder for support. ‘Can you walk on it?’

‘Sure,’ Macduff responds, demonstrating by walking forward a few paces. He’s limping ever so slightly, but it’s not very noticeable.

‘So I do not need to support you by offering you my shoulder?’

‘Not yet,’ Macduff chuckles. ‘If it gets any worse, then maybe. But thank you for offering.’ He pauses thoughtfully, glancing over to where the Macbeths and Duncan are still standing. ‘Perhaps we ought to approach them now, and come up with an excuse to draw Duncan away from here?’

Malcolm nods in agreement. That would be their best bet, for the murderer is not going to be out forever; besides, along with other possible hidden dangers inside the woods, who knows what else the Macbeths have planned?

The two of them retrace their steps a for a few paces so that they won’t be noticeable when emerging from the woods before carefully making their way out into the open. Words cannot describe the relief that the two of them feel running through their systems upon emerging from the trees and into the clear, danger-free open, where the skies are blue and the sun is shining down on them softly, reassuringly.

Within a matter of a couple of minutes, they’ve caught up with Duncan and the Macbeths (who still hadn’t moved from their spot). As they get closer, the expressions of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth are more easily identifiable – and both of them sport faces that look mildly exasperated and impatient, though they drop these looks the second that they register the presence of Malcolm and Macduff.

‘Prince of Scotland and Thane of Fife! Hello again,’ Macbeth says, smiling – although the smile doesn’t travel towards his eyes. It’s as though his face is a mask, concealing his real thoughts, with his eyes being the only realistic part. ‘What brings you—Macduff, why are you limping?’

‘Oh…’ Macduff waves his hand dismissively, searching for an excuse to explain away his limp. If he were to let on that his foot had been hit by a boulder, it comes as no doubt that Macbeth and Lady Macbeth would clue in to the fact that he and Malcolm had been tracking them inside of the woods – if they had been the ones to place the trap there, which is more than likely. ‘…I just caught my foot between the door to your castle not long ago. I was not looking what I was doing,’ he answers, shrugging but internally cringing at how lame his response sounds.

Macbeth and Lady Macbeth appear to be none the wiser – either that or they’re doing a stellar job of acting like they appear none the wiser.

‘Oh dear! Do you require any aid?’ Lady Macbeth asks, going into World’s Best Hostess mode.

Macduff simply shakes his head, responding that it’s a very minor injury that doesn’t impair his ability to walk unaided in any way. Then he hurriedly changes the topic in order to prevent any suspicion – and they need to get Duncan away from the woods at the first possible opportunity, besides.

‘Your grace.’ Macduff turns to King Duncan, who has been watching sympathetically the entire time. ‘I do hope that you and Macbeth were able to conclude your discussion regarding matters of the state, for Malcolm and I require your presence back at the castle.’

‘Matters of the state?’ the King repeats. ‘Actually, we have not even touched upon the subject for the last hour…’ he glances at Macbeth in confusion, as if he’s only just remembered the reason that Macbeth had asked to walk with him in the first place.

‘Oh. Erm, I got distracted with general topics. It was the euphoria of being out here. The scenery is so lovely that it makes me forgetful,’ Macbeth responds hastily.

‘This is completely normal for him, so do not worry,’ Lady Macbeth explains, doing her best to cover for her husband upon seeing the faint bewilderment of the other three. ‘He tends to forget things easily, especially when there is something visually appeasing that distracts him.’

Duncan nods understandingly whilst Macduff and Malcolm pretend to smile empathetically, despite feeling anything but. Still, it’s necessary for them to maintain their appearance of being ignorant towards the Macbeths’ plans.

‘So, what do you request my presence for?’ Duncan asks Macduff and Malcolm curiously.

‘Something of great importance. It is, ah…’ Macduff trails off as he endeavours to find a suitable excuse from off the top of his head. Apparently, improvisation is not one of his best abilities.

‘There is an urgent letter from King Edward of England that requires your attention,’ Malcolm interjects smoothly.

Duncan smiles. ‘In that case, I shall return with you straight away,’ he declares. ‘I just need to ask Macbeth for a briefing on what he was planning to discuss with me on our walk, and I will be right with you.’

Whilst Duncan quizzes Macbeth and Lady Macbeth (who, Macduff and Malcolm note, look increasingly annoyed and flustered upon being questioned about the topic that they were allegedly going to talk about) Macduff turns to Malcolm.

‘Your idea of there being a letter was brilliant – but are there actually any letters for Duncan to respond to? He might get suspicious if there are not any,’ Macduff whispers, his voice pitched so that only Malcolm can hear.

‘There are indeed – father received one from the King of England this morning, but I was too distracted to mention it to him,’ Malcolm answers, his voice equally low.

Macduff nods, relieved, just as Duncan and the Macbeths finish their brief question-and-answer session. Although Lady Macbeth looks highly exasperated and Macbeth continually keeps glancing inside the woods as if he’s expecting someone to appear out of the blue, they both accept Duncan’s departure – they don’t, however, accompany them back to their castle, instead opting to remain outside for a few minutes longer so that they can ‘enjoy the delights of the bountiful and beautiful landscapes before them’. Neither Macduff nor Malcolm insist that they return with them, and Duncan is perfectly happy to return without the presence of the host and hostess of the castle. As such, the three of them exchange temporary farewells with the Macbeths before starting to make tracks towards the castle once more.

Duncan, preoccupied with describing the beauty of the woods and the nature before him to Malcolm and Macduff, doesn’t look behind him once they’ve headed out of earshot. The latter two do, however – and perceive both Macbeth and Lady Macbeth staring after them grimly.

Chapter Text

Later on that night, Macduff is standing in one of the corridors in the Macbeths’ castle, alone.

Their diversionary tactic from earlier on that day had gone successfully enough. After returning to the castle, Malcolm suggested that the three of them retreat to his room to read the letter in relative privacy and peace; not only that, but it had been where the letter was left that morning, which made it more convenient anyway. Duncan, always easy to please, had complied without complaint – and thankfully, the task of reading over and responding to the King of England’s letter had taken a decent amount of time (because the Scottish King had always been one for being meticulous in his reading of and responses to letters.) Even after that, they didn’t leave the room straightaway, because Ross, Lennox and Angus had come by to pay them a visit. The six of them had engaged in a generally light conversation about the weather, the generosity of the castle’s host and hostess (to which Macduff and Malcolm had to really hold their tongues) and even the fact that the three thanes had finally entered into a relationship together, to which both Malcolm and Macduff were immensely happy for them. After congratulating them, the relaxed and pleasurable ambiance in the room hit an all-time high - although it didn't slip Macduff's notice that Ross seemed to be acting a little out of sorts. For one, he spoke significantly less than the other two did, and when he did chance to chime in, his speech was vague and clipped, not at all like his usual elaborate, refined manner of speaking, and throughout the entire time, he occupied a slightly glazed-over expression. Macduff knows his cousin well, and he is completely certain that Ross never normally speaks so tersely, nor does he look so distant. As far as he could tell, neither Angus or Lennox had noticed anything off with their new boyfriend (unless they were hiding it and planning on questioning him when they were alone) and Macduff chose not to pursue the subject. He hopes that the other two had taken notice and are currently endeavouring to ascertain the issue - if not, the Thane of Fife resolves to keep a close eye on his cousin over the next few days, on top of keeping one on King Duncan.

But, when all was said and done, the time that had been consumed by the task and then the catch-up had been much to their advantage, because it meant that Duncan was safely out of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth’s reach for the entire period, which had been as useful as it had been comforting to Malcolm and Macduff, since it provided them with a little more time to figure out their next strategies.

One thought that had occurred between them was the subject of what they were going to do tonight. Both of them had drawn the conclusion that it would be a smart idea to have at least one of them standing guard outside of Duncan’s room whilst the King slept, since that was the time where he was most vulnerable and unable to defend himself against any potential attacks.

Malcolm had been perfectly willing to take up the post, but Macduff insisted that he be the one to guard, as an expression of gratitude for the Prince’s swift and brave reflexes earlier on that day. Not only that, but the Thane of Fife was well aware that poor Malcolm had already not slept in 24 hours, given that he himself had been busy guarding his father the previous night after the ominous run-in with Macbeth. Under no circumstances should he be permitted to miss out on a full 2 days’ worth of sleep, which is partly why Macduff volunteered for the role tonight. Malcolm, exhausted enough as it was, had eventually assented – after entreating the former to be careful and to not do anything that would cause further damage to his foot.

Truthfully, though, Macduff feels that his foot is almost completely back to normal, all signs of any sprains having completely disappeared. Whether it had been resilience, determination or sheer luck, he isn’t sure; he’s just grateful that his foot is more or less healed now.

In fact, that’s the foot that he’s quietly tapping at present whilst he contemplates a rather confusing thought. Part of the reason that he is standing guard tonight (unknown to Duncan and the Macbeths) is because the King’s guards appear to be nowhere in sight. Malcolm said that he hadn’t seen them since that morning after leaving his father’s room, Macduff hadn’t seen them all day, and Duncan hadn’t either. Although the absence of the guards is certainly odd, for it is literally their duty to protect their monarch, it’s not a coincidence. As a matter of fact, Macduff strongly suspects that their disappearance is linked to Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, and their attempts to bring Duncan down.

He unconsciously squares his shoulders and puts a hand on the hilt of his sword (which he had decided to bring along with him as a precautionary measure). No matter what, there’s no way that the Macbeths are killing the good King Duncan, not on his watch – or Malcolm’s either, come to that.

The main question that’s been on his mind for most of the day, however, is why? Why on earth are the Macbeths suddenly ganging up against Duncan, someone who’s not only their loyal sovereign but also one of their own kin? It makes absolutely no sense unless there are some ungodly evils instilled within the couple that are serving as the driving force behind their actions. Admittedly, Macduff is struggling a little to figure out what these might be, primarily because he himself could never even imagine attempting to do away with a family member or a monarch, let alone actually performing the deed.. The best he can come up with at the moment is that the Macbeths are either being driven by lust for power, or ambition. In retrospect, these motivations shouldn’t come as any surprise, considering that Macbeth had received the title of Thane of Cawdor only yesterday.

But at the same time, would these motivations have really caused the two of them to change so suddenly? During the battle, Macbeth had (alongside his noble friend Banquo) been fighting bravely and fearlessly in order to protect the King and the country. Yet now Macbeth is going against the King? The change is so dramatic and abrupt that Macduff finds it difficult to really comprehend it. Surely there are no motives in the world to prompt such a switch in allegiances?

As Macduff contemplates these questions, attempting to understand the possible causes behind the betrayal of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, he doesn’t, at first, notice someone slinking stealthily down the corridor towards him. They’re mostly hidden by the shadows and the darkness, which serve as a clever sheet of obscurity for whoever this unidentified figure is. It’s not until they move closer that the Thane of Fife registers the sound of someone’s relatively laboured footfalls, to which he instinctively puts a hand on the hilt of his sword in his belt, his first instincts being to protect Duncan – and himself – from whoever it is.

He squints in the dim light, endeavouring to piece together who the other person is, but the attempt is little more than futile to begin with, because his eyes aren’t adjusted to the darkness enough and the other person doesn’t happen to have any form of light with them. Sighing deeply, Macduff starts quickly and cautiously retreating backwards, intending to go and grab a lantern from farther back along the corridor – before the other person suddenly lets out a sneeze, and though they seemingly do their best to muffle it, their voice is easily distinguishable. Macduff pauses and then realises that the other individual is no-one other than Lady Macbeth herself.

‘Oh. Greetings…fair lady,’ Macduff says, doing his best to be at least a little chivalrous despite the fact that he knows what Lady Macbeth is up to. She’s probably come to try and kill off Duncan herself; nevertheless, the Thane of Fife affects a confused facial expression and aims it straight at her, as if he has no idea what she’s doing here at this time of night.

‘You have my warm regards, good Macduff,’ Lady Macbeth replies, her tone of voice serene – not an ounce of exasperation can be detected in it. Her serenity causes Macduff to hesitate again. Perhaps she’s not actually here for the reason of killing Duncan? After all, this is her castle – there’s a very good chance that she’s just heading towards one of the other rooms. However, almost immediately after he has this thought, Macduff glances down and realises that Lady Macbeth is gripping a dagger, its sharp end refined and threatening, the point glinting ominously in the light of a nearby lantern. It looks a little similar to the one that Malcolm had described Macbeth as having possessed the previous night – perhaps they’re the same one, to be used for the exact same purpose…murder.

Lady Macbeth notices Macduff’s taken aback expression upon seeing her possession of the dagger. After briefly glancing from him to the dagger and back again, she offers him a smile of complete composure, which would normally suggest that there’s no cause for alarm…but in this situation, it’s downright suspicious.

‘Is everything okay with you, Lady Macbeth?’ Macduff asks, playing innocent and looking pointedly at the dagger in her right hand.

She laughs. ‘Ah, I am just returning this to Macbeth’s weaponry room,’ she explains. ‘He does not like to have it laying around the place in case someone comes across it and decides to create chaos with it.’

So, not unlike what you and Macbeth are both attempting to do, then, Macduff thinks sourly. However, he doesn’t let the thoughts show up on his facial expression, for it’s crucial for him to maintain an act of having no idea about the intentions of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth.

‘Is Macbeth not able to come out and return it himself?’

Lady Macbeth shakes her head. ‘Bless him, he has fallen asleep. The last few days have been rather draining for him, I think, what with the new titles that he has suddenly taken on.’

Draining because of his new titles, or draining because of his attempts at murder? Macduff wonders grimly. His thoughts are interrupted by Lady Macbeth beginning to speak once again.

‘If you do not mind me saying, you appear to be quite tense and tired yourself. Why do you not leave here and return to your own quarters for some rest?’ she suggests innocently. Of course, it’s clear to Macduff what she plans to do if he were to leave – and he’s not going to give her that opportunity, not for all the sleep in the world.

Instead of complying, he smiles grimly. ‘I thank you for your concern, kind lady,’ he returns. ‘But I am fine. It is best that I remain here for the night, since the King’s guards have mysteriously disappeared.’

Lady Macbeth nods as though she understands, but deep in her eyes there’s a flash of ire. ‘Oh, how valiant of you!’ she declares appraisingly. ‘But Duncan is safely in his quarters in our castle. What harm do you possibly think could come to him here?’

Do you really want me to answer that question? Macduff thinks, discreetly shaking his head. Then he plasters a wan smile on his face as he looks at Lady Macbeth, who’s still pretending to be a picture of innocence.

‘Indeed, your castle is undoubtedly one of the safest and secure places that he can be,’ he answers, twitching slightly at the dishonesty of the claim. ‘But it is always best for the King to have some guard around this time, not least because he is asleep and therefore vulnerable to any potential attacks.’

‘Why, who do you think would do such a thing?’

Macduff barely manages to restrain himself from saying her name, along with her husband’s. Once he’s composed himself, he gives a pretend shrug as if he’s uncertain, despite the fact that he’s resolute.

‘I do not know of anyone in specific,’ he admits. ‘But you never do know. Caution, especially where the monarchy is concerned, is always crucial.’

Lady Macbeth smiles at him sweetly. ‘Oh, you are too kind, virtuous Macduff. Are you sure about this? You will not be getting any sleep otherwise.’ She pauses. ‘Of course, I could send a servant of ours to do the job for you.’

Macduff smiles as though he’s grateful for the idea, but as soon as Lady Macbeth voices the proposal, he politely declines it. Heaven knows what would happen if he were to pass the role over to one of her handpicked servants. They would either be instructed to commit the murder on her and Macbeth’s behalf, or they would make the servant drunk so that Duncan was left unprotected. No way is he subscribing to that.

‘Please…lovely lady.’ Macduff adds the last bit out of hesitation, for he thinks she is anything but. ‘I do appreciate your proposals, but this job I am happy to do. Not a thing will change my mind.’

Lady Macbeth maintains her smile, but her eyes once again flash with anger and her mouth twitches. She doesn’t, however, make her anger apparent in any other ways, and simply nods in acceptance.

‘So be it, then,’ she answers gracefully. She starts heading back the way she came.

For a brief second, Macduff is tempted to call her out on her suspicious action – why isn’t she continuing on down the corridor if that was her original destination? Of course, he knows that this isn’t the case, but he’s curious to hear what her cover-up would be. However, he decides against it: to voice his suspicions would let on that he was at least acutely aware of what she and her husband were planning to do, although he does wonder why Lady Macbeth didn’t think to carry on going the same route as before to avoid looking conspicuous – given her proficiency in disguises and deceit, he thought it would have been a rather obvious thing to do – unless she simply assumes that Macduff isn’t observant enough to notice the inconsistency. There has been nothing else that implies this, but he cannot prevent the indignation that washes over him all the same.

Once Lady Macbeth has left, Macduff steals a quick glance into the King’s room to make sure that everything is as it should be. When he establishes that yes, things are fine, he quietly shuts the door again and leans against the wall outside, wishing that Malcolm were here for him to talk to and simultaneously acknowledging how resilient he had been in guarding his father for the entire night, without sleep and without anything else to do but stand there guardedly. Now that Macduff is in the same position – and it’s not at all that he’s not willing to do it, because he would do it for more than one night if necessary – he understands how much devotion and loyalty the Scottish Prince possesses. They’re some of his most fine qualities, qualities that help Macduff to admire him whole-heartedly. Truthfully, he doesn’t think there is a better person for him to partner up with on their current ‘mission’ as it were; the opportunity to interact with Malcolm as much as he has been able to as a result of the partnership has been wonderful. Even though the circumstances are less so, there is at least something positive emerging from them.

Chapter Text

By the time the day has dawned, Macduff is yawning profusely – not surprising, considering that he’d been keeping guard the entire night. But he had been happy to do it, if it meant the protection of their worthy King Duncan.

After the King has risen for the day and left his chamber (thanking Macduff fervently for his trouble on the way) the Thane of Fife begins making tracks towards his own chamber to briefly freshen himself up before he has to head towards the dining room, a customary routine every morning in the Macbeths’ castle. On his way there, Macduff meets a refreshed-looking Malcolm. The latter is also largely grateful to him, since his guarding of Duncan meant that the Prince was able to get some restful sleep after the restlessness of the previous night.

‘You do, however, look exhausted yourself,’ Malcolm notes sympathetically as he studies Macduff’s weary-looking face. ‘If you so desired it, you could have a nap this morning? I would be happy to cover for you in the dining room…’

Macduff smiles appreciatively at Malcolm even as he shakes his head insistently. ‘There will be no need. You managed it yesterday, so I am sure I can manage it today.’ He sighs faintly. ‘After all, it is probably best for us to both keep surveillance of Duncan and Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, considering what they have been attempting.’

Malcolm agrees. ‘You are right,’ he admits. ‘But I know just how difficult it can be after a sleepless night.’

‘I am sure I can cope.’ Macduff smiles wanly at Malcolm and gestures towards the dining room. ‘Not that I want to get rid of you, but I think it would be best for one of us to be in there in case the Macbeth or Lady Macbeth try anything like they did yesterday.’

Malcolm nods. ‘I take your point…but honestly, I’m hoping that they give it up some time soon. It’s seriously starting to get a little bit draining, having to worry about father and having to be on our toes all of the time.’

Macduff agrees, smiling empathetically before giving Malcolm a wave, bidding him a temporary farewell as the two of them part ways. He, too, wishes that Macbeth and Lady Macbeth would just give up. Why bother harming the king, anyway? He’s an innocent, virtuous monarch who deserves nothing but love from his subjects, not flat-out betrayal.

The Thane of Fife sighs deeply as he heads towards his room. Soon, he hopes, this mess will all be over and he and Malcolm can finally let their guard down, finally breathe out.

***

No less than ten minutes later, Macduff is walking towards the dining room. As he goes, he cannot help but wonder what methods Macbeth and Lady Macbeth may have in store today – that is, if they are still obsessed with attempting to bring down King Duncan. Though he wishes that were not the case, it would come as a huge surprise if they weren’t still plotting against the monarch. Macduff knows Macbeth; he’s known for his ambition, it’s one of his most obvious features. He’s also terrifying resolute, never backing down once he’s set a goal for himself. Lady Macbeth is very much the same as her husband – ambitious and steadfast, if not even more so. Certainly, they make quite the team, especially in planning someone’s demise.

‘Honourable Thane of Fife!’ Macbeth greets him enthusiastically upon his entry. ‘We were beginning to wonder where you were. The gathering is never the same without your presence.’ His tone contains some extremely subtle sarcasm, sarcasm which would likely go undetected by any unsuspecting person – but because Macduff is suspicious and knows what discreet hints to look for, he does pick it up. However, he manages not to react to it and flashes Macbeth a fake smile instead.

‘Indeed?’ he replies. ‘Such knowledge is very pleasant to be aware of.’

‘For certain, you would not have needed to guess at it. Surely it is evident to you that your presence is of high value to us all?’

‘Not necessarily…’

‘Well, be assured that it is.’

‘Thank you. I shall be so,’ Macduff responds quietly. Twitching in irritation, he walks over to his seat next to Malcolm. He’s rather confused as to why Macbeth is suddenly being so praising all of a sudden (the sarcasm notwithstanding) – almost as though he was attempting to butter him up for something.

‘Do you know why Macbeth is being so…flattering?’ Macduff asks Malcolm in a whisper as soon as he sits down.

Malcolm shakes his head, looking equally puzzled. ‘I have no idea,’ he murmurs back. ‘He was complimenting me nineteen to the dozen as well, when I first entered. Maybe he is trying to set us both up for something.’

Macduff shudders unconsciously. With Macbeth and his wife, they could be trying to set them up for anything. Then he has a thought. Perhaps Macbeth is trying to present himself as courteous and loyal, so as to evade suspicion for his and Lady Macbeth’s recent actions? When he suggests this theory to Malcolm, the prince decides that it’s a very solid point – and, in fact, they weren’t the only ones that Macbeth and Lady Macbeth were being highly complimentary towards, either: they had treated everyone present in such a way that morning already, particularly King Duncan. This, as far as Malcolm and Macduff are concerned, just proves that they’re trying to cast away any possible doubts that their guests may have of them.

Just then, Macbeth rises and claps his hands to draw the attention of all his guests. Once everyone’s focus is on him, he begins to speak.

‘I hope this does not inconvenience or distress any of you to hear this, but Lady Macbeth and I will not be able to act as proper host and hostess to you today, for we shall be going over some essential state and financial matters in the privacy of our room, in order to minimise disruption – for these matters are rather important. I trust that you all have the means to amuse yourselves today; with that being said, you may all have unrestricted access to anywhere within this castle, with the exception of mine and my wife’s room. Oh, and that exception also extends to the royal Duncan’s chambers, and that of his son’s, Prince Malcolm, and also the honourable Macduff. Nobody should be permitted to go near their private chambers for fear of causing disturbances to the worthy and noble-born individuals.’ Macbeth smiles over at them as he draws his small speech to a close. Duncan beams back at him in response, suspecting nothing. Malcolm manages a faint smile. Macduff barely manages more than a half-hearted smile in response, not liking Macbeth’s constant pretence of actually caring about them. It’s insulting, because he knows that the Thane of Glamis (probably) doesn’t give a damn about him or Malcolm or Duncan, really. Not only that, but Macduff also dislikes being singled out as someone who should be treated specially, for although he’s a Thane and of a relatively noble standing, he is by no means royalty like Duncan and Malcolm are. Any indication of exceptional treatment makes him uncomfortable.

‘We will still be hosting the usual events this evening,’ Lady Macbeth chimes in a few seconds later. ‘We are, and shall continue to be, your loyal and hospitable hosts, no matter what the circumstances may be. All that we request is this morning and a large part of the afternoon to ourselves, in order to settle these necessary matters. Once they are out of our jurisdiction, we will be able to focus even more on ensuring that everyone’s stay here continues to be a pleasant one.’

Their mini-speeches are met with acclaim by the majority of their guests – King Duncan, Ross, Lennox, Angus, Caithness, Banquo and Fleance all receive them well. In fact, Malcolm and Macduff appear to be the only ones that aren’t praising the speeches, though they’re careful not to show it. After all, they really don’t need anyone else asking why – particularly not Macbeth or Lady Macbeth themselves, as a lack of reaction in comparison to their other guests is bound to cause some suspicion, which is what Macduff and Malcolm wish to avoid.

Macbeth and Lady Macbeth continue speaking for a few minutes more, with the others interjecting with questions or praises or exclamations of approval every so often, whilst the atmosphere remains highly above cheerful – most of the people in the room are positively merry, even after Macbeth had delivered the news that he and Lady Macbeth wouldn’t be as available today.

Soon enough, however, the room has emptied out and everyone else has gone their separate ways, intending to entertain themselves for the day. Banquo and Fleance have headed out to the stables to admire the horses, Ross, Angus and Lennox have accompanied each other on a lengthy stroll of the castle courtyards, Duncan has retreated back to his chamber to peacefully do some reading, and, presumably, Macbeth and Lady Macbeth have returned to their own private chamber to discuss their ‘private and urgent matters’. Unsurprisingly, Malcolm and Macduff suspect that this isn’t truly the case, and that this is either part of a new plot to murder Duncan, or it’s the process of constructing another one since every other attempt had been foiled by the Thane and the Prince thus far.

Once the two of them are alone, Macduff starts pacing agitatedly. Malcolm watches him silently. No words are spoken until the former abruptly stops pacing, swings round to face the Prince, and makes a declaration.

‘This feels suspicious.’ He sighs deeply. ‘Does it to you?’

‘Absolutely,’ Malcolm replies, drumming his fingertips on a nearby tabletop nervously. ‘But whilst Macbeth and Lady Macbeth are in their room and father is in his…nothing bad will happen, right? They are nowhere near each other.’

Macduff admits that this is a very solid point, but points out that, at the same time, it’s knowing when they’ll leave their room and when they’ll try again that has him on edge, precisely because he doesn’t know when this will be, and neither does Malcolm.

‘Yes, that is the hardest bit,’ Malcolm concedes. ‘We can keep an eye on them throughout today, surely? When they leave their room, we can immediately go and accompany father to make sure nothing happens.’ He pauses elaborately and studies Macduff’s careworn face. His worry over King Duncan, combined with his all-nighter last night doesn’t make things any easier for the Thane. ‘And look…you ought to use this time to catch up on a bit of sleep. It is obvious to me that you are exhausted,’ Malcolm continues gently.

Macduff starts to protest, something along the lines of the situation being too important for him to go off and sleep, and that Malcolm managed it just yesterday himself. However, the latter places a firm hand on his shoulder, looking at him insistently.

‘The anxiety you feel over my father’s safety even rivals mine. You are truly a loyal subject and an equally loyal companion, but it is weighing down heavily on you. You need rest,’ Malcolm insists. ‘I know I remained awake the entire night yesterday, but at least I had slept properly the previous night – and my worry has not managed to physically drain me the way that yours has. Besides, if anything does happen, whether it be later on today or tomorrow, it would be a benefit to us both and father if we were both on top form. Which will only happen if we are relatively well-rested.’ The Scottish Prince finishes his attempt to convince Macduff to go and have a rest – and, as luck will have it, the Thane of Fife finally accepts.

‘But it will be no longer than the early afternoon,’ he responds stoutly. ‘And if you suspect anything, like either Macbeth or Lady Macbeth making another move against Duncan, come and wake me up, regardless of how much time I have had to sleep. Even if it were only a minute, or a second – please come and get me.’

Malcolm nods and responds that he shall do so if it comes to that – but hopefully, he adds, it won’t, which would allow Macduff to get at least a few hours of peaceful sleep. The two of them then decide to meet outside in the castle courtyard in the early hours of the afternoon if the morning proceeds without disruption. After exchanging warm smiles, the two of them depart, both of them trying to keep their current worries level.

Chapter Text

As luck would have it, the morning passes without disruption – Macbeth and Lady Macbeth don’t emerge from their room the entire time, and King Duncan, aside from leaving to take a stroll in the gardens with Ross and Lennox in the middle of the morning, also remains inside his room, a safe distance away from his plotters.

During the course of the morning, Malcolm had alternated between being in his own chambers and walking the corridors of the castle to make sure that Duncan wasn’t about to encounter the Macbeth or his wife, in addition to accompanying his father to and from the gardens after his stroll, just in case someone tried to attack him unawares. Despite this game of musical chairs, however, the morning isn’t a particularly busy or tense one for the Prince, and for the first time he’s able to relax himself somewhat – although he still keeps a cautious eye and an ear out, just to make sure Macbeth and Lady Macbeth aren’t enacting another plan in secret.

By the time Malcolm reunites with Macduff in their arranged location in the early afternoon, he is at his most relaxed as of recently, but he’s still vaguely on tenterhooks, since he’s expecting something will happen to his father at some stage; considering what lengths the Macbeths have started going to recently, it isn’t like them to remain quiet and on the down-low for this long.

‘Their silence, whilst a blessing in a way, is definitely distressing,’ Macduff agrees, his facial expression and voice both refreshed. Whilst he’s clearly not free of all of the draining anxiety, the physical effects are notably less since having the opportunity to sleep.

‘Did you see or hear anything on your way here?’

‘Not a single syllable. Mind you, the door to their room is made of heavy enough material, so when it is closed, very few sounds penetrate it.’

‘But they were definitely in there?’

‘Yes – I could hear muffled voices; I just could not distinguish the words in which they were speaking.’

Malcolm sighs. At the moment, not knowing what Macbeth and Lady Macbeth are discussing behind closed doors really is fuel for apprehension. Still, he knows that there is nothing that can be done about that, since neither of them could well just barge into their bedroom uninvited – it would be impolite and a breach of manners, and the two of them wouldn’t even dream of doing such an unmannerly act. It looks like they’ll simply be waiting for quite possibly the rest of the afternoon, and perhaps a little bit of the evening as well – but for now, all they can do is keep an eye and an ear out. And, in the meantime, keep themselves hydrated. Malcolm notes that he hasn’t had a drink all day, not even that morning at the customary time; as such, he finds himself feeling quite thirsty now.

‘I will be back in a minute – I am just going to get a drink of water,’ Malcolm tells Macduff, whom has been examining the scenery in an off-hand manner throughout the course of the Prince’s silent musings. ‘Do you want one too?’

Macduff smiles but shakes his head, claiming that he had a drink of water just before he met up with Malcolm not too long ago. He indicates that he will remain in the present location until the latter returns.

Once this has been ascertained, Malcolm starts heading back towards the castle, resolving to go to the kitchen to grab some water before going back outside, rather than the dining room, partly because it’s more convenient and partly because it gives him the chance to pass by his father’s room on his way there. That way, he can check once more that nothing is amiss – taking every opportunity to do so is best.

Upon approaching his father’s room, Malcolm briefly peeks inside after knocking, and is relieved to see that everything remains absolutely fine. Duncan is continuing to read, as he has been most of the morning, and he looks perfectly content to do so. After a quick exchange of greetings and checks from both of them to make sure that the other is okay, the Prince exits the room and carries on towards his destination. One other advantage of choosing to go to the kitchen as opposed to the dining room, he notes, is that it gives him the chance to pass by Macbeth and Lady Macbeth’s room on the way back. He’s not planning on eavesdropping, even if their conversation had been audible to hear past the door, since that would just be a flagrant disregard of their privacy – there’s no way of telling what they would be talking about, and there’s no guarantees that they would be discussing anything related to Duncan. The advantage comes more from the fact that he will be able to guess whether or not the two of them are present in their room from the muffled voices – and if they’re not, then he and Macduff would need to return to the castle and stick around with his father, just to be on the safe side.

However, Malcolm is in for a surprise when he arrives at the kitchen: as soon as he comes within a few feet of the door (which happens to be ajar), he registers the only slightly hushed voices of Macbeth and his wife. Of course, he has no intention to listen because they could well be talking of something private – but when he picks up the mention of his father, Malcolm knows instantly that they’re discussing their next plot against him.

‘Is it ready yet? Duncan is probably not going to remain in his room all day,’ Macbeth is saying to his wife.

‘Soon,’ Lady Macbeth clarifies mysteriously. ‘Now all we need to do is release it.’

‘And we are agreed on the strategy of doing so? This stuff is toxic. We must not allow it to spread anywhere else within the castle.’

Outside, Malcolm goes on high-alert. What is toxic?

‘I am well aware of the process. The King always keeps his door ajar, so all we are going to be doing is spraying this inside of his room through the crack before shutting the door. He will not be any the wiser; he is too laid-back to question things such as why his door has closed all of a sudden, or why the air has turned different.’

‘That is true,’ Macbeth admits, sounding smug. ‘And now our strategy is clear. The arsenic will be released into his room. All we’ll have to do is wait…the poisoning that results will do the rest.’

‘Excellent. That being said, let us not waste time.’

From outside of the door, Malcolm freezes up for a brief second, astonished. From what he could gather from their conversation, the two of them are planning on releasing a highly toxic chemical into his father’s room which would kill him almost instantaneously due to how lethal it was. It takes a few seconds for this information to sink in…but the moment that it does, the Prince snaps into action. He backs quietly away from the kitchen until he’s sure that he’s out of earshot of the Macbeths – and then his pace turns into a run. By this time, Malcolm has forgotten all about his thirst – he needs to find Macduff and alert him. Now.

After barely even a minute has passed (for Malcolm is running so fast) he arrives at the courtyard where he had left Macduff only a few minutes prior. The latter is currently bending down to smell a rose, clearly admiring the blooming flowers before him – but there’s no time for that now.

Malcolm sprints up to him and doesn’t even pause for breath before frantically blurting out everything that he’s just heard. ‘Quick! I just overheard Macbeth and his wife in the kitchen, they’re planning on releasing arsenic into father’s room! Come on, come on, we’ve got to go and remove father from his room before they release it!’

Macduff immediately straightens up. ‘What! They’re doing it now?’ he asks in alarm.

Malcolm nods frantically. ‘Lady Macbeth said it would soon be ready, so it won’t be long until they do – there’s no time to lose!’

Macduff immediately breaks into a run along with Malcolm. ‘I know of a secret exit in Duncan’s room that we can use – but we need to actually get there first!’

The two of them race back towards the castle as fast as they possibly can, not bothering to close doors in their wake. They have no time for that – if they are even just a few seconds late, King Duncan’s life could pay the price.