A Coronation

It was a cold, dark evening. The warm, amber light from the chimney fire illuminated the book I was reading. I sank into my most comfortable chair and flicked one white page after the other. I did this for hours, losing myself in the sea of black and white text. The sun sank further down the horizon until only the moon, and the stars provided celestial radiance. The time proceeded further into the night, and I disregarded sleep for literature. So, I was surprised to hear the definite "thunk" of a bony fist against the hardwood door of my small manor.

"What is that? Who is it? What are they doing at this ungodly hour?"

I called for one of my butlers and told him to answer the door and see who it was. I looked to the wall of my room and stared at the sword hanging above the fireplace. Could it be a trickster hoping to invade my home by having one of my men open the door? Was this a distraction for someone to enter my abode? Paranoid thoughts kept entering my mind, and restlessness filled my soul. So, I was immediately relieved when the butler returned with an envelope in hand.

"What is it?"

"Sir, it is a summoning. This envelope is adorned with the royal seal's stamp!"

"Open it. Quickly."

The paper package was gently opening, and a crisp white note emerged.

"Please, hand it over."

My butler complied and handed the letter to me. I read it and was left shocked.

"Macbeth, Thane of Glamis, and Cawdor has ascended the throne and has become the King of Scotland. I, a lesser noble of my clan, are cordially invited to the coronation of the new prevailing ruler!"

This news was a shocking revelation. The political world was thrown into unrest since the assassination of King Duncan and the abrupt departure of his sons. The majority of the nobles suspected they murdered their father to gain the throne but were quickly discovered, so they fled to avoid repercussions. So, they appointed the most qualified figure – Macbeth, the ingenious general who fought against the former Thane of Cawder and the King of Norway. In the end, there was no better decision. Macbeth was the most qualified, and even the late King himself spoke highly of him. It wasn't direct, but the former King's praise was a blessing for Macbeth's new coronation. Now it was time to celebrate the new King and welcome a new age.

"I just… can't put my finger on it," I muttered to myself.

For some reason, I felt wary and suspicious of Macbeth.

***

The day had finally come. Hundreds of nobles gathered at the royal palace, and the festive gathering commenced. A ball was being held, and the most prominent couples took center stage and danced, displaying their gracefulness and status. I skirted the edges of this party – I was merely a lesser noble of a humble estate that owned several farms. My status was nothing compared to the lords who owned mines, entire towns, and swaths of forest.

I looked in one direction and saw women in extravagant gowns whispering to each other; they seemed to engage in common gossip. They kept peeking in one direction, and when I turned to where they were staring, my breath was taken away. One woman with incredible gravitas was walking with an arm linked to her husband's. The gown she wore was a deep crimson red, darker than blood. The dress she wore was embroidered with gold and gems, showcasing her wealth. Her symmetrical features, dark hair, and unparalleled beauty fit a fledging queen: it was none other than Lady Macbeth.

Still… there was something about Lady Macbeth that was off-putting. I stared at her carefully – her eyes were filled with a cunning glint as if carved from sharp obsidian. The presence Lady Macbeth exuded was heavy – she was a swirling whirlpool devouring light. Perhaps it was my mind's eye, but the area grew dimmer wherever she walked. It could be the contrast between her darkly colored dress and the lighting.

(Still, I shall not dare say this aloud…)

But Lady Macbeth did not have the presence of a woman.

(It must be my imagination.)

I tore my eyes away from the couple and moved farther into the party. I conversed with other nobles and socialized as much as possible. After an hour of doing so, dinner proceeded. The numerous nobles filed in an opulent dining hall: the roof was thirty meters high, and the table was double the length. Servants led us to our arranged seating, and – of course – I was furthest away from the two rulers. It seemed it the assigned seating was sorted by status; the Thanes who possessed more importance sat closer to the King. Any other noble would feel the embarrassment from this situation, but I felt glad for some reason. Everyone stood upright; we waited for the newly crowned King to sit first, but as he did-

"Noooo!!! No!! Begone!!"

King Macbeth shrieked in fear and clutched the fabric of his wife's dress as if it was a lifeline. In an instant, he appeared sickly pale… as if he saw a ghost.

"Which of you have done this?!" His Majesty cried.

"What, my good lord?" Thane Ross asked.

"You cannot say I did it," Macbeth whispered to an empty chair.

"Gentlemen rise; his highness is not well," Thane Ross said.

"Sit, worthy friends, my lord is often thus, and has been from his youth. Pray you keep seat, the fit is momentary, upon a thought he will again be well," Lady Macbeth interjected, "If much you note him, you shall offend him and extend his passion; Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man?"

Lady Macbeth's condescending attitude and scolding shocked me. How could she say that to the King? Never mind that, how could she say that to her husband? All the nobles grew uncomfortable but kept straight faces. I was not as controlled, so I looked at the extravagant dinner laid before me.

After talking for a few more moments, we were formerly invited to dine by the King and Queen. I was glad for the atmosphere to shift to merrier moods; I happily raised fork and knife and dissected the food on my plate. Although, perhaps the food disagreed with me somewhat. For some reason, I felt unsettled.

"He did it…"

I looked around.

"Excuse, but did you say something?" I asked my neighboring noble.

"Hm? No, I did not. I was a little too focused on eating! A divine coronation, simply divine!"

"Ah, my apologies, I shall leave you to it."

As I was brought my fork and knife to the steak, I gently cut into it but heard something again.

-!Shiiiik!-

It sounded like a knife slicing through flesh.

(What was that!?)

I looked around frantically, peeking over my shoulder; I disturbed the nobles sitting beside me but ignored their admonishing gazes. My heart began to beat quickly as if I was in danger. What was this? I tried to forget what I heard and return to my food but was shocked again.

(What….)

I dropped my knife, and it landed with a dull "clang" onto the table.

"Aahhh…."

I gasped out in horror. Why? Why? Why was there blood on my knife and head?

"Your Lordship, are you alright?"

A female servant from behind bent down and spoke into my ear, but her voice and the voices of others drowned out. I heard a buzzing noise and the world seemed to blur as if I was drowning in water. Instead of the feminine, gentle voice of the servant, I heard the seething whispers of an angry, gruff man.

"Murderer…"

"Killer…."

"He did it…."

"No ocean may wash their hands…."

"Stains blind to the eye, but not to the mind…."

"He did it…."

"False crown…."

"Noble one… avenge us…."

"Your Lordship? Are you there?"

I felt a soft handshake on my shoulder. The world refocused, and the malicious whispers vanished. I saw my food with no blood on it; my meal was as extravagant as ever. I turned to look at the young maid, stared into her eyes, and slowly nodded.

"Yes, yes, I am well. Thank you."

"Your Lordship, are you sure? Your complexion has paled – as if you saw a ghost."

After that remark, my food was hard to swallow. After the King's speech and the following events, all attendees were dismissed. I stepped into my carriage, still thinking of what I heard at the banquet. This unsettling feeling continued to haunt me in the night and didn't fade until the following morning.