Dunisbane Castle
5th June 1132
Glen Valley, Edingburgh
To my dearest friend Hamish,
I am sorry to burden you with more ill news, but I must write. English forces are closing in around us even as I write, and I can scarce sit still before some poor lady suffers a bout of hysteria. How I wish you were here, too!- and how I envy you in the comfort of your home. Sent my regards to your wife, my sweet sister Morvern, and tell her not of my dire situation.
Oh God, this is a miserable place! Death is at every corner, secrets in every shadow and I fear a web of deceit is closing in upon us. And now the Queen, for whose sake I was urged to come and minister to, is dead.
Dearest friend, do not judge me when I say that I am unsurprised. I would beg also that you believe all that I write, for in the past few days I have seen sights no man ought to see, heard whispers only God himself should hear.
As you well know, I was called here to tend to her Majesty, the Queen, who has for some time suffered from an unknown illness. This in itself surprised me, for when I met with Her Majesty, she seemed well- a ch arming lady, if a little weary and drawn. There seemed no serious health issue, but I agreed to stay at the castle and observe.
For two nights I watched in the hallways, accompanied by Maeve, one of the Queen's ladies. She spoke all manner of wild stories- sleepwalking, sleep talking, and yet fell silent when I asked further questions, budding me only to stay and watch. For two nights nothing happened and I began to question my presence at the castle. But then- then! On the third night, the strangest occurrence took place!
I was keeping guard with the Lady Maeve when a light appeared in the hallway, and I observed a quiet rustle of robes. Lo and behold, it was the Queen herself!
I asked wherefore the Queen had a light, and was informed that she herself requested it. I must confess I found it strange a grown lady should be so afraid of the dark. Unless she hath had some dealing with dark forces at some point- but there, that is but conjecture, stories told by servants in the night.
Here the Queen began talking, and oh, what strange and tortured things she recounted! As she stood in the hall, appearing to wash her hands, she murmured over and over about a "damned spot", cried out that she need not fear, "Yet who would have though the old man to have had so much blood in him?"
I feared for the Queen; I feared then, as I do now, that she played foully for some role and that she is yet grieved by it. Oh, her guilt was plain to see, for she cried out soon after, "All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand!" 'Twas a most distressing sight to see a lady in such pain, particularly a pain I could not minister to.
God rest her now, the Queen. God have mercy on her soul, for she faded away not long after that- worn, no doubt, by unrelenting guilt. God have mercy on her soul.
My story does not end here, though, Hamish, it grows stranger yet and more disturbing.
His Majesty, the King, as you know, begged me to minister to his lady the Queen. He bade me cure her by any means, gave me access to every medicine in the kingdom. He seemed half wild, half impatient as he spoke. I must confess he scared me a little on that first meeting and continued to unsettle me as the days wore by and the Queen fell further into her nightly despair.
With all these pleas and requests the King had made regarding his wife, and considering all his agitation, it seemed clear to me that he cared for her very deeply. If nothing else, this knowledge touched me and I sought to bring myself to like and respect this taciturn and unpredictable king.
Just this morning, however, when Her Majesty, the Queen, passed through this life, His Majesty seemed frighteningly untouched. H esaid- I quote directly from his lips- "She should have died hereafter."
Good God, how those words shocked me! The King's inability to mourn the passing of a wife he clearly loved was so disturbing to my heart. It was almost as though, by the Queen's untimely death, the King then lost all connection to life and humanity. To be unable to mourn!
Some say he has never been the same since that shocking event. Some say it is due to grief, others whisper dark deeds I dare not write even upon this page. Having dealt with His Majesty I am almost inclined to agree that there is some dark deed he is hiding- but to further in that thought is too fearful, I dare not tread that path.
The Castle is under siege- both by English forces and by mind-forged manacles, oppressed by silence and secrets, disillusioned with life itself. As the King murmured after the passing of his wife, "Life's but a walking shadow."
In this glomy castle, those Godforsaken words feel almost true. The King has lost all meaning in life, and life itself seems lost behind these walls. The late Queen and her unspoken guilt, the King and his callousness, his disillusionment with life have harboured some disease in their soul, and it is spreading through the air, making my very blood run cold.
Oh God, what I would give to leave this castle! Not for all the riches of thie earth would I return.
Pray think of me in your sweet home- think of me, for my soul is heavy and confused.
Yours earnestly,
Doctor Gordon MacLean
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A/N: So I was cleaning out my Yr 11 folder and discovered this letter. It was a creative task from our unit of study on Macbeth and we were charged to write a letter from the point of view of the Doctor, incorporating at least two scenes from the play. I thought I might as well put it up here. Hopefully someone has enjoyed this!