malcom & macduff

jealousy

it was a week since the tyrant macbeth had been killed, and Macduff was visiting the king at a banquet held to celebrate their victory and malcolm's coronation at scone. The celebrations were coming to a close and Malcolm and Macduff spoke together in a corner as they watched the bear baiting.
'I sense something weighs upon your spirits. pray tell, what vexes you? Our victory is great, and public joyfulness greater. Has drink unbalanced your sensitivities?'
Macduff took a swig from his goblet.
'Nay. 'tis the slaughter of my kin that holds my spirits so low. Though the tyrant responsible now is taught his lesson in fire and blood and anguish the vindication neither mends the gash his brandished steel tore through my life nor soothes the pain of it.'
Malcolm nodded, his gaze slipping to the floor.
'I wish thee peace and good tendings in these trying times. If the grief ever is too much for thee, my doors are open.' Malcolm added, gesturing for a servant to refill his goblet.
'Thine generosity is admirable. I give thee thanks but i must bid thee adieu, for it is getting late.' Macduff surveyed the room, looking for the exit and the gate where his horse was tied.
'I should be a dishonourable guest indeed to allow travel at this hour. Surely, the festivities had exhausted thee? Pray, stay the night. There is a chamber where thou'rt always welcome.'
'It saddens me to turn down a gesture so considerate but i fear i can not leave my castle unattended. I feel i owe the duty to my little chickens, to keep the vigilance in their absence.'
'Ah. A noble reason, but thou ought not need to vex yourself. Your sacrifice was for glorious Scotland herself, and your valorous risk was crucial for our victory. Your duties are done.'
Macduff nodded. 'Aye, you are right. 'tis dangerous to venture out on a cliff road when 'tis so dark. Foolish indeed. I thank you, but must make my return immediately in the morrow.' Malcolm embraces him goodnight, and waved the man to his room. He had no desire to retire just yet, instead meandering to the battlements and staring out.
'I suppose i had been foolish, for my assumption his grieving would be summer-seeming. Yet for how long will all gentle Macduff's time and attentions be spent on the dead? Must i cry every day i am not with him, seconded to those most cruelly taken by Macbeth's hand? Damnèd Macbeth. Though perhaps, even had his attentions not been drawn by his kin's death, i would be seconded still by his love for Scotland. O, lovely Scotland, why must you captivate him so! Is my justice, verity, temperance not enough? I have no relish of them, none, but for Macduff? My relish has no bottom.'