Summary: Macbeth was not plagued by only Banquo’s ghost nor was his wife.
Disclaimer: I do not own the First Evil, it belongs to JW in BTVS and Macbeth is a Shakespeare play that is in the public domain now but produced by William Shakespeare. I have not affiliation with any of them in any way.
They could have been great even with the murder behind them. If murderers could never murder again and go to heaven why couldn’t they? He couldn’t allow that of course, he had too many plans in place to let them ruin them. The problem with the humans was that they were so fragile, a simple thing like guilt could go a long way.
They were staring at her again. She had tried to tell her husband about them,that their ghosts plagued her but they had cursed her, shrieked and had nearly driven her mad from the noise alone. Duncan’s wounds were bleeding again and she could see the blood again, new on her hands.
He was moving toward the closet. Her nightgown, what did it want with her nightgown? Her husband slept next to her, unfazed and unseeing of these spirits. The ghost vanished but the chamberlains still remained with their faces bloody and daggers exposed. They had often run at her but they could not hurt her without physical form. She hoped. The light kept them back though; the light would help her escape these ghosts.
He had to be mad. Her Lord could not be mad they would remove him and in his ramblings they would die, exposed. The thanes were becoming quickly disturbed by this, the blasted Lord Rosse stood.
“Gentlemen rise, his Highness is not well.
” He could not ruin this. Would not ruin this, her Lord wasn’t mad.
“It is a fit.” She heard the King say next to her. “He has always been afflicted by these fits.” He was not so hostile these days toward her…
“Sit, worthy friends; my lord is often thus,
And hath been from his youth. Pray you keep seat.
The fit is momentary, upon a thought
He will again be well. If much you note him,
You shall offend him and extend his passion.
Feed, and regard him not. “
“As they cannot me.” The King said.“––Are you a man?
” she addressed her lord, knowing it was best to ignore the King when not alone.
“I was once.” The King said with a laugh and vanished leaving her to her lord’s rambling.
Less than a day and he was already being plagued by him! No, he was assured that his death would not bring him back. Yet here he was and he would not answer him! This was worse than staring upon the King. At least the others spoke; they would address him. This was worse. He could not be plagued by him so soon. Why did he not speak? Why did he only glare at him.
He heard his wife address him but he could scarcely pay any attention to her words. He was glaring. The hate in his eyes that were not but yet he spoke not. His wife spoke, he had to concentrate on her.
He was gone. This brief relief would allow him to gather his wits. If he could handle the King’s constant presence he could handle this ghost when he reappeared again.
They were at the door of the Church again. He could see them, bloody and foul lined up in a mockery of a procession. Duncan still wore the crown despite the fact that he felt it upon his head. Macbeth tried to walk forward but they began to speak again, yell, shriek and howl. It was deafening but his thanes entered undisturbed by this. He would have strolled forward were it not that the Devil himself awaited him in the Church. Behind Duncan, standing silently was a creature than had to be the Devil. Macbeth fled.
He smiled as the Lady Macbeth looked at him, searchingly. She could sense him; he allowed it. She was never alone and once she died would never be alone. Humans were so easily manipulated by guilt and superstition. Macbeth would die, the army outside would see to that and his plans move on ever so slightly. The Powers would think it was a victory on their part but sacrifices were necessary.
The First smiled and watched as the army marched on. Sacrifice was too strong a word.