A little late this week. Sorry. Busy writing a big chunk of Locksmith's Journeys yesterday.
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Tyrant Takes the Helm
It was a quiet day in the court of King Macbeth. There was supposed to be a meeting of state discussing the situation with Malcolm and Donalbain, who have taken shelter in England and Ireland and are “filling their hearers with strange invention.” Lennox could make a pretty good guess as to what the princes have been saying, but when Macbeth’s old friend
I’d just like to start by saying that the opening night performance of Macbeth on Friday the 13th went quite well. Superstition, as aforesaid, can suck it. Now, where were we?
When Lennox and the rest of the court got to Inverness, it was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the air was sweet and the temple-haunting martlets (at least, that’s what the birdwatcher Banquo said they were) were everywhere.
The night, however, was miserable. The sky was clouded over a