I really had thought the day would never come. Macbeth, my friend and brother in arms, has become king. Such a lucky dog. He has a lovely wife, beautiful manor, became a war hero, and now king? Such luck is only heard of in children’s stories. One might think that sorcery was at hand here. I enter Macbeth’s abode and take in the room. Rich purple and royal blues hang from the tresses and decorate the tables, windows and door ways. The regality of it all amazed me. My attention is taken away from the décor as the man of the hour arrives. Macbeth emerges from the chamber room in velvety red robes with shiny golden accents and draperies. He looks regal I must give him that. I have never seen him look so kingly. Even on the battle field he looks like any other good soldier we have. Until the fighting starts that is. But what is this? His face is not of the man I once fought by. He looks worn and battered. Like something is haunting behind his eyes for no one to be witness to. He sits at his throne with his wife by his side. We all follow to our seats and await the ceremony’s beginning.
The ceremony begins, and Lady Macbeth begins to tell her story. I seem to be distracted though. Macbeth looks so unsettled. Does he see someone dangerous here? Is he
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They disappear into a chamber. Most likely to continue their discussion. I wait a few moments and follow towards their path. It takes me a few moments, but I find the room they had interred. I can hear some words through the door and that is enough for me. They are still talking about King Macbeth. I listen more for tidbits, but I hear something in the distance. Are those footsteps? I should move somewhere else unseen. A grove for torches fights my size perfectly. I peek around to see who had entered the hall. Is that Lady Macbeth? She has her ear pressed to the door and is listening to the conversation just as I had. She is mumbling to