Heart Like A Stallion

Death Comes for the Thane of Lochaber

A/N: Act 3 Scene 3 from Shakespeare's play Macbeth

A prose rewrite of the murder of Banquo (I looked it up, and he is thane of Lochaber.)

Instead of writing an essay after reading Macbeth in my English class, I chose the fiction response, which was to rewrite a scene of my choice in prose. If you have never read the play, it definitely contains spoilers, though none that are obviously. However, I don't think you need to know the story of Macbeth to enjoy this. With how I've written it, the scene should stand alone.

So please, give it a look. If you do, I hope you enjoy it. C:

The night had nearly fallen, and the last dying rays of sunlight still stained the horizon in a muted rainbow. Just north could be made out the dusky outline of Dunsinane, where torches scarred the darkness above the battlements. A sentry or two stood in the shadows, most likely drinking and carousing and paying very little attention to the surrounding countryside. However, they were distant enough that near the bend in the road there was nothing but a profound stillness, broken intermittently by the soft sounds of unseen creatures. There was a certain crispness in the air that foretold of winter, the beginnings of which had already stopped the rain that fed a small creek that lay athwart of the deserted highway. Several yards to the south stood a small hut that usually housed a handful of soldiers to watch the road before Dunsinane, but just then it stood empty, with a dying torch thrust into a bracket by the door. Its occupants had gone up to the castle to gamble and drink.

Out of the heart of the forest on the east side of the road there came a pair of stealthy figures, darkly clothed and efficiently armed with daggers in their belts and sheathed short swords. Every few yards, the taller of the two would stop and cock his head, listening, no doubt, for the approach of someone they intended to meet on the road. Unfortunately, it quickly became clear that they harbored wicked intent, perhaps even of murder. Their hands grasped the hilts of their swords in preparation rather than caution, and the taller of the two seemed to be searching the air for some scent. It one were near to him, his nostrils could be seen dilating with an occasional soft, deep breaths. The trees and underbrush grew thickly up to the edge of the road on the one side, providing cover for the figures to reach a vantage point. This point was just north of where the stream bed cut the highway, where the water had carved out a four foot bank. Pausing at the edge of the ditch, the taller figure put a hand on the other's shoulder to still him, then peered first to the right, then to the left, listening carefully.

A soft, guttural sound seemed to be the signal to continue, as they both crouched low and began to slither into the ditch. When the shorter accidentally dislodged several small stones that rattled down into the stream bed, the taller softly snarled an oath in a foreign tongue. Such ire soon became understandable, as the chill wind, undetectable in the trees but traitorous without, would carry their every sound down the road and towards anyone who approached from that direction. Clearly ashamed of his mistake, the shorter ducked his head and took more care. Once they were down in the ditch, they stealthily crouched in preparation for action. Then the taller rose to gain a view of the road, because behind the bank and with the wind against them, it would be difficult to detect the sound of an approaching intruder. Just then, from the woods behind them came the piercing shriek of a screech owl as it dove for its prey. Both unexpected and bearing blood-curdling similarity to a death cry, the figures started and swore, realized it was only an owl, and resumed their cautious vigil.

Whatever or whoever they expected, it was certainly not the shadow that slipped into the ditch behind them and covered their mouths to keep their surprise quiet. After a brief, quiet scuffle, the first two realized that the third was not there to harm them. Though he seemed loath to break the silence, the taller spoke.