If there ever was a time to fear for Scotland, last night would have made the hair on the back of your neck stand straight up. With one cowardly act committed in the dark, lives of many Scottish people were altered irrevocably. At the castle called Inverness, festivities were held for the Prince of Cumberland and the new Thane of Cawdor. After everyone had feasted and drunken their fill (some gluttonously), the many thanes, the royal family, myself, Macbeth and his wife retired for the evening. The great King Duncan and his sons were roomed side by side, yet the princes did not wake when a traitor slipped into their father’s room. And before while readying for bed they did not notice the inattentiveness of the guards. No, this heinous act would go undiscovered untill the solider Macduff would lament the loss of this revered Scottish King. Inverness would drown in the chaos that resulted here after, Macbeth would murder the seemingly guilty guards, Lady Macbeth would faint, and the princes would slip quietly away.
This is where I come into the story, I have fled with the Princes; now innocent suspects in their father’s murder. While Donaldbain heads towards Ireland, I travel to England with Malcolm, sharing with you his side of this story. A tale I fear will mar Scottish history forever with its telling.
