Footsteps in the Halls

Macbeth

Lady Macbeth

I hear footsteps in the halls of Dunsinane.

I first heard them two nights after we arrived here, my lady wife and I. My first thoughts were of a ghostly procession of future kings, appearing as a brief mist in a witch's haunt. I opened the door and looked out into the dun hall. Naught saw I but a faint light, which instantly vanished around the corner. I chid myself for my first foolish thought; in all likelihood 'twas an attendant finishing his nightly duties.

And it was a foolish memory indeed, for ghosts have troubled me no more since then.

But I hear the footsteps still. I do not know if they come every night, for they happen very late, perhaps after the mid of night. I begin to doubt if it is a servant; the feet sound bare upon the stone.

I have not gone to bed yet, though the castle is asleep now. I had some matters of state to attend to at first, and then I could not find sleep afterwards. I now sit here in my chamber, my mind running over dulled and stunted worries. I look up as I hear the footsteps again, a soft, distant padding. I am on my feet before I know it, and unbar the door with care. I open the door but a sliver, and lo! I see my wife.

She carries a taper and walks slowly, strangely. A chill draught whispers through the hall, causing the flame to waver and cast curious shifting shadows upon her face. Her senseless eyes gleam deathlike, and for a moment time stops and all is still. I look upon her wan face, and unbidden comes a memory of one just like it, lively and winsome. Aye… she was like that before, was she not? I had not noticed the change…

The moment passes; I come to myself. I had stepped out into the hall unknowingly. I stand in the lone pool of light thrown by the door, watching as the other lonely light vanishes into the shadows once more.

I hear footsteps in the halls of Dunsinane.

Those who make them are many, they thrive and grow louder in the dark, whispering threats and laments. I cannot see them, but I fear to. I light a taper in my bedchamber every evening, to silence these rushing spirits so that I may sleep.

I called upon spirits to keep me steeled of thought and cruel of deed, and thus I became and thus I was. Yet now that these dreadful ghosts hound me, I begin to doubt if my remorseless purpose was indeed the work of spirits. The cruelty came from within me; these haunting spirits come from without, with sounds sensible to the ear.

Even when I do sleep and escape my torment for a while, I do not think I am at rest.

One night, I do remember I awoke all of a sudden, standing upon the cold stones of the great hall in my bare feet. At first I thought it was a dream. The uncanny pallor of the full moon glared across the place.

Moon… lune… lunatic. It is said that the full moon affects people, turns them brain-sick, mad. Is it said? I forget.

There was a scorch mark on my hand from the waxy taper I held, a stark red against the whiteness of my skin in the moonlight. It stung, red, red as blood… so much blood…

I passed by the chamber of my husband as I made my way back. The door was shut. I paused. All was silent within. Since when has he slept with the door closed? I… I do not know. Have I become so afear'd of the ghosts that it has escaped my notice?

I returned to my bed and placed my taper beside it once more. I lit a second candle also, in order to clear my mind's eye of the watching moonlight that lingered there still.

It has been four days since I discovered the night-walker was my wife, two since the doctor noticed it also and informed me so. He seem'd far more perturbed about it than it is natural to be, for such a well-known ailment. What else has she been doing in her sleep that troubles him so, I wonder?

I arose early this morning, for sleep does not care to remain in me these days. It alights on me only when it is sure it will not brush against a restless thought on its way down. And it flutters away as a startled moth as soon as the merest whisper of a dream shows itself.

I stare at a wall-hanging and trace the old threads with my fingers. My hand brushes against the face of a child, sitting in an orchard. Wild strawberries grow around him, his hands are among them. A lord and lady are not far off, under an oak tree wrapp'd round with ivy, their eyes only for each other.

My memory wanders again to the witches' haunt.

I gave the wife and children of Macduff to th' edge of the sword, after leaving that place. By bloodshed did I gain this crown, by bloodshed must I now safeguard it.

'Tis so easy now. No more deliberating fearfully in the dark with the dagger in my own hand. Instead I command slaughter from afar in broad daylight. My mind does accuse me no longer for the dispatching of innocent souls to heaven.

I gaze upon the laughing child and the jewel-like strawberries a while longer. I withdraw my hand of a sudden, loath to taint the image with my touch.

I leave my bed, and dress myself with no great care. It is morning and I wish to stand in the sun, to scare the memory of whispering shades away. They have gotten louder, and rest flies from me. Would that the heat of it could burn away the horror I feel! I still think of the old king and our bloodied hands. Damnation is now foremost in my mind, not ambition.

My feet have carried me to a solitary window in some forgotten passageway. I press my hands to its warm, translucent parchment covering. The sunlight, at least, is natural and real, an unchanging comfort.

It is clean and pure, overpowering dreams, darkness and the sickly moon. It is so strong that it shines through my hands, making the blood within them glow red…

I cry out and run away, clutching my hands to myself. I can never wash the blood out, no, not when it has sunk deep into my flesh! I shall not seek the sunlight again, lest it shine upon my hands and reveal my guilt to all!

As I round a corner, I stop short. My lord husband stands there, facing a woven hanging. He turns to leave. There is a troubled look upon his face. He sees me and it passes, his countenance cleared in an instant. There was a time when he would tell me of all that chanced to happen to him, small or great. Now I do not understand even the moiety of what is in his heart.

I rouse myself from my pondering and turn to go. I look up, and my wife is there! Seldom do we cross paths anymore. Her hair is unkempt, and her eyes stare wide, void of feeling, like an animal's. She looks ill, I would that whatever ails her be cured. I shall tell the doctor to watch over her more closely. At least one thing in this diseased kingdom should be put to rights.

"Look at his uncaring face. His heart is that of a murderer."

I start as a bodiless voice hisses bitterly into my ear.

"It is your doing. All your doing. You are the instigator, the spark to the oil. You started Macbeth on this path, and he falls further down it by the day, bringing the kingdom down into the fire with him." The voice rises to a wail, and I cower. "Where is Macduff? What have you done, wretched woman, to remove me from my husband? By your fault is Macbeth king, he who murdered me, ay, and all my children too! By your fault is Macduff stripped of all he held dear, and so hear what I say to thee, Macbeth's dearest partner of greatness, my husband will only become a spike for yours to fall upon, and thus we will be avenged!"

I stagger backwards, reaching out towards Macbeth, trying to warn him of this danger, but my mouth utters nary a sound. My head spins, I need air. I am overcome, a veil of darkness falls.

I catch her as she faints away. What strange fit plagued her then, starting and stumbling at the unseen? I shake off thoughts of a ghost in the last seat at a crowded table.

I grit my teeth in fury. When will this curse on the land end? How can I put it to an end?

The kingdom is in uproar against us. The old king's son and many false and treacherous thanes have join'd with English soldiers, and all march here to fight and o'erthrow me. But no wood see I coming to Dunsinane. I cannot be destroyed, and I will watch as these forces dash themselves upon the walls of my castle like so many brief waves beating fruitlessly against a mountain.

The castle is full of fear, it sickens me. These loons have not seen the half of what I have, and already they quake in their boots!

I send out scouts, I call for my armour. I weary of life, yet am fill'd with anger. I have nothing left, yet I cling to it still. I have stepped in blood so far that it is futile to return.

The doctor is there. I ask him how my wife does, and he says that she is not sick, but kept from her rest by 'thick-coming fancies', as he calls them. I can guess what she truly sees, for have I not gone there before her? I am repulsed by it all.

I stand in a low doorway, watching as people hurry to and fro. And there he stands in the midst of them, being arm'd by an attendant.

Who is this cold, crown'd commander? I cannot recognise that face, unmoving and shuttered to the world.

I want to take him by the shoulders and cry 'Where are you, Macbeth?! What have you done, wretched ambition, to remove me from my husband?'

I turn away and clutch my head in my hands as the accusing spirits grow louder about me, drowning out the clamour of soldiers readying themselves. I retreat down a hallway, away from the noise. This is all wrong, I have done wrong…

Cold fear grips me, stopping my feet from taking another step. I turn around and see nothing in the dark hall. Then suddenly Lady Macduff and her bloodied children appear out of thin air! I try to shout for help, but not a sound do I make, chok'd as I am, for this is what I have feared to see all along!

They do not speak anymore, only glare silently as they advance. "Forgive me, I have sinned!" I cry, as I run blindly from the place. I fly past bolted doorways, pursued by the vengeful ghosts. I see a flight of stairs, but as I reach them the way is blocked by grim Banquo, with many trenched gashes in his head. I cry out again and turn left instead, not daring to look back.

The hall comes to an end, but on the right I espy a narrow passage, into which I hurry. I gasp, a dagger is before me, bright against the dun stone of the place. It is suspended in the air by no visible means, and as I watch, blood seeps out from within the blade, it spins around in an instant and throws itself at me, compelling me to duck into a murky stairwell. I fly down it, almost weeping, as the ghosts' fell footsteps echo in the passage.

The stairs lead to a small heavy side-door, which I wrench open, finding myself outside, in the shadowed place where the castle keep almost touches the encircling outer wall. I press myself flat against this wall, in the shadow of the rampart stairs. It is dark here, no-one will find me. I see the spirits no longer, and I breathe more freely.

Surely I am safe now. No more can they affright me, they have us'd up all their weapons of terror. But... no, no, I must not think it!

I step back, for there in the shadows with me is King Duncan, like his dead corpse in all manner of being, save that he is upright. Eyes kind and innocent, he holds out a dagger to me in his bloody hand, hilt first. 'Is this yours?' he seems to say, puzzled. 'Have you lost something?'

My face in my hands, overcome by remorse, I let out a strangled cry and escape up the rampart stairs. The light of the sun… I must find it, I wish to hide no longer from my deeds…

The light is warm and welcoming, I dash along the rampart, glimpsing the besieging armies below. Only Lady Macduff has followed me up here, relenting not in her pursuit, whispering still. "You have severed me from my husband! Lost, lost to me he is!"

I will put things right. Too long have I dissembled and shied away from truth. I spy him, Macduff, on the field below.

"There!" I cry triumphantly. "There he is, I won't let you lose him too, I'll take you to him!"

Running full tilt, I leap, at first feeling rough stone under my hands and feet, then a great lightness of spirit as I vault into the joyous blue.

She is dead then. 'Not so sick' indeed, doctor. And Birnam Wood is at Dunsinane's gates. I lead my men out into the field, laughing almost, the blood rising to my head. So this is how it ends.