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Her words were unreasonable but still hit home. ‘You know that’s not how it is,’ he said in desperation.

‘So how can’t you keep the promise you made to me, Macbeth?’

He gulped. Searched feverishly for words. ‘I... Can you say you keep all your promises?’

‘Me? Me? ’ She emitted a piercing laugh of astonishment. ‘To keep a promise to myself I wrenched my suckling child from my breast and smashed its head against a wall. So how could I break a promise to you, my only beloved?’

Macbeth stood looking at her. He was inhaling her breath now, her poisonous breath. He felt it weakening him second by second. ‘But you don’t realise, do you, that if this fails Duncan will cut your head off too?’

‘It won’t fail. Listen. I’m going to give Duncan a glass of this burgundy, and I’ll insist that his bodyguards at least taste it. They won’t notice anything, but they might become a little muddled later in the evening. And sleep like logs when they go to bed...’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Shh! You’ll be using your daggers so there’s no chance of them waking. Afterwards smear the blood on the blades all over the guards and leave the daggers in their beds. And later when you wake them—’

‘I remember our plan. But it has weaknesses, and—’

‘It’s your plan, my love.’ She grasped his chin with one hand and bit the lobe of his ear hard. ‘And it’s perfect. Everyone will realise the guards have been bought by Hecate; they were just too drunk to hide the traces of their crime.’

Macbeth closed his eyes. ‘You can only give birth to boys, can’t you?’

Lady gave a low chuckle. Kissed him on the neck.

Macbeth held her shoulders and pushed her away. ‘You’ll be the death of me, Lady, do you know that?’

She smiled. ‘And you know everywhere you go, I go.’

The dinner was held in the casino restaurant. Duff was placed next to the hostess, who had Duncan on her other side. Macbeth sat opposite them with Caithness as his neighbour. Duff noticed that neither Caithness nor Macbeth spoke or ate much, but the atmosphere was still good and the table so wide it was hard to have a conversation across it. Lady chatted and seemed to be enjoying herself with Duncan, while Duff listened to Malcolm and concentrated on not yawning.

‘Caithness looks beautiful tonight, doesn’t she?’

Duff turned. It was Lady. She smiled at him, her large blue eyes innocent beneath fiery red hair.

‘Yes, nearly as beautiful as you, ma’am,’ Duff said but could hear his words lacked the spark that could have brought them to life.

‘She’s not only beautiful,’ Lady said. ‘I suppose, as a woman in the police, she must have sacrificed a lot to get where she is. Having a family, for example. I can see she’s sacrificed having a family. Can’t you too, Duff?’

Grey eyes. They were grey, not blue.

‘All women who want to get on have to sacrifice something, I suppose,’ Duff said, lifting his wine glass and discovering it was empty again. ‘Family isn’t the be-all and end-all for everyone. Don’t you agree, ma’am?’

Lady shrugged. ‘We humans are practical. If decisions we made once can’t be changed, we do our best to defend them so that our errors won’t haunt and torment us too much. I think that’s the recipe for a happy life.’

‘So you’re afraid you’d be haunted if you saw your decisions in a true light?’

‘If a woman is to get what she wants, she has to think and act like a man and not consider the family. Her own or others’.’

Duff recoiled. He tried to catch her eye, but she had leaned forward to fill the glasses of the guests around her. And the next moment Duncan tapped his glass, stood up and coughed.

Duff watched Macbeth during the inspired thank-you speech, which paid homage not only to the hostess’s dinner and the host’s promotion but to the mission they had all signed up to: to make the town a place where it was possible to live. And he rounded off by saying that after a long week they deserved the rest the merciful Lord had granted them and they would be wise to use it because there was a good chance the chief commissioner wasn’t going to be such a merciful god in the weeks to come.

He wished them a good night, stifled a yawn and proposed a toast to their hosts. During the ensuing applause Duff glanced across at Macbeth, wondering if he would return the toast — after all Duncan was the chief commissioner. But Macbeth just sat there, pale-faced and as stiff as a board, apparently caught off guard by the new situation, his new status and the new demands that he would have to face.

Duff pulled out Lady’s chair for her. ‘Thank you for everything this evening, ma’am.’

‘Likewise, Duff. Have you got the key for your room?’

‘Mm, I’ll be staying... elsewhere.’

‘Back home in Fife?’

‘No, with a cousin. But I’ll be here early tomorrow morning to pick up Duncan. We live in Fife, not far apart.’

‘Oh, what time?’

‘At seven. Duncan and I both have children and... Well, it’s the weekend. All go, you know how it is.’

‘Actually I don’t,’ Lady said with a smile. ‘Sleep well and my regards to your cousin, Duff.’

One by one the guests left the bar and the gaming tables and went to their rooms or homes. Macbeth stood in reception shaking hands and mumbling hollow goodbyes, but at least there he didn’t have to make conversation with the stragglers in the bar.

‘You really don’t look well,’ Banquo said with a slight slur. He had just come out of the toilet and placed a heavy paw on Macbeth’s shoulder. ‘Get to bed now, so you don’t infect other folk.’

‘Thanks, Banquo. But Lady’s still in the bar entertaining.’

‘It’s almost an hour now since the chief went to bed, so you’re allowed to go too. I’ll just drink up in the bar, then Fleance and I will go too. And I don’t want to see you standing here like a doorman. OK?’

‘OK. Goodnight, Banquo.’

Macbeth watched his friend walk somewhat unsteadily back to the bar. Looked at his watch. Seven minutes to midnight. It would happen in seven minutes. He waited for three. Then he straightened up, looked through the double doors to the bar, where Lady was standing and listening to Malcolm and Lennox. At that moment, as though she had felt his presence, she turned and their eyes met. She gave an imperceptible nod and he nodded back. Then she laughed at something Malcolm said, countering with something that made both of the men laugh. She was good.

Macbeth went up the stairs, let himself into his and Lady’s suite. Put his ear to the door of the bodyguards’ room. The snoring from inside was even, safe. Almost artless. He sat on the bed. Ran his hand over the smooth bedcover. The silk whispered beneath his rough fingertips. Yes, she was good. Better than he would ever be. And perhaps they could pull this off — perhaps the two of them, Macbeth and Lady, could make a difference, shape the town in their image, carry on what Duncan had started and take it further than he would ever have managed. They had the will, they had the strength and they could win people over. Of the people. For the people. With the people.

His fingers stroked the two daggers he had laid out on the bed. But for the fact that power corrupts and poisons, they wouldn’t have needed to do this. If Duncan’s heart had been pure and idealistic they could have discussed it, and Duncan would have seen that Macbeth was the best man to realise his dream of leading the town out of the darkness. For whatever dreams Duncan had, the common people of the town wouldn’t follow an upper-class stranger from Capitol, would they? No, they needed one of their own. Duncan could have been the navigator, but Macbeth would have to be the captain — as long as he could get the crew to obey, to guide the boat to where they both wanted, into a safe harbour. But even if he accepted that a transfer of power was in the best interests of the town, Duncan would never surrender his post to Macbeth. Duncan, for all his virtue, was no better than any other person in power: he put his personal ambitions above everything else. See how he killed those who could damage his reputation or threaten his authority. Cawdor’s body had still been warm when they got there.