MacBeth: His Own Tale

By W.Wm. Mee

Come and read it again, but for the first time in MacBeth's own words! Through a mixture of verse and prose, W.Wm.Mee makes Shakespeare's most hated villain come to life! MacBeth himself comes back to tell his own version of 'the wickedest play ever penned', giving reasons why he did what he did and who he did it for! So come, Gentle Reader, back to the twelfth century in savage Scotland and walk with MacBeth's ghost through Dunsinaine's stony halls and stand by his side as he plunges the dagger into the sleeping king in order to steal his crown and make the love of his life into a queen!

• Language: English
• Publisher: W.Wm. Mee
• Release date: Mar 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370098392

W.Wm. Mee

Wayne William Mee is a retired English teacher who enjoys hiking, sailing and walking his Beagle hound. He is also a 'living historian' or 'reenactor'. You can see Wayne's historical group on Facebook's 'McCaw's Privateers' 18th Century Naval Camp' page. Building & sailing wooden sailboats also takes up a chunk of Wayne's time, but along with his wife Maggie,son Jason and granddaughter Zoe, writing is his true love, the one he returns to let his imagination soar.Wayne would like you to 'look him up' on FACEBOOK and click the 'Friend' button or even zap him an e-mail.If you enjoyed any of his books, kindly leave a REVIEW here at Smashwords and/or say so on Facebook, Twitter, Tweeter or whatever other 'social network' you use.Thanks for stopping by ---and keep reading!!Drop him a line either there or at [e-mail]'ll be glad to hear from you!'Rest ye gentle --- sleep ye sound'

Book preview

‘MACBETH’

by

W.Wm.Mee

Retold by

MacBeth himself

***

Dedicated to my son,

Jason Christopher

Copyright 2018 W.Wm.Mee

Smashwords Edition

INTRODUCTION

My name is Mac Bethad mac Findláich and I’ve been dead for over a thousand years. I am, or I was, the Thane of Glamis, Scotland. But the bloody English couldn’t wrap their tongues around my name so they called me MacBeth instead.

Then five hundred years later that quill pusher Shakespeare wrote that damned play about me and sealed my fate! So, for the past millennium I’ve been MacBeth the Deranged, Macbeth the Murderer, MacBeth the Oath-Breaker --- but the one that really angers me, MacBeth the Weak-Willed!

But, to quote the drunken plagiarist; ‘A rose by any other name can still prick your bloody finger!’

But regardless of what the world calls me, you and I both know that nothing succeeds like success --- and the fastest way to be successful in this life is to win! Win in business; win in the bedroom; but most of all, win on the bloody battlefield!

It’s always been that way and it always will --- even in your time --- that ‘weak, piping time of peace and political correctness.’

But, think you, is your time really so very different than mine? Somehow I think not. In the thousand years since I last walked the earth, how much has really changed?

Are there not still small, bloody wars started by small, bloody men? Is there still not hunger and sickness, with the few rich and powerful grabbing it all while the rest of you fight over scraps?

Does not the many religions of your ‘modern, enlightened’ world still speak fine words but still do foul deeds? Do the priests and politicians still not live like kings while the rest of you are slaves to the banks and money lenders?

And is not both your hunger for fame and riches and your capacity for murder and violence the same as mine?

To borrow yet another quote from that fellow Shakespeare:

‘If you prick us do we not bleed?

If you tickle us do we not laugh?

If you poison us do we not die?

And if you wrong us,

Shall we not seek revenge?’

And make no mistake, Gentle Reader, ‘revenge’ is what I am here for! Ten centuries of being maligned and looked down upon is enough! I have dug my way out of the grave and left the litchyard for one reason and one reason only --- to set things straight!

To tell the true tale of what really happened, and, perhaps even more importantly, to tell you why I did what I did!

So come with me now, if you dare. Back to a time when a man stood or fell by sharpness of his wits, the might of his sword arm and the strength of his ambition!

Come, grasp the bloody dagger that you’ve all read about! Hold it in your hand and feel it’s dark power!

‘Is this a dagger I see before me?

Or art thou but a dagger of the mind?’

***

Chapter 1: ‘The Bloody Field’

1040 AD Scotland

For as long as anyone can remember the Scottish clans had been waging war on each other. Also, for two centuries the blood-thirsty, land hungry Norse had been raiding our coasts; robbing our churches, killing our men and stealing our women! (They were also murdering our priests, but I was never overly concerned about that.)

In the year 1018 AD my great uncle, King Malcolm of Scotia, somehow united the clans and routed the bloody handed Angles out of Lothian. The following year, after winning the Battle of Carham, the wily old bastard made himself King of all Scotland!

Things went fairly well for a decade or two, mainly because my great uncle was such a good fighter --- as well as a ruthless old bastard! But then the tough, old bugger died in 1034 and things turned to shite!

My cousin Duncan, the old king’s greedy, self-centered, idiot grandson became king --- and a poorer, more weak-willed excuse for a mahn ya could na o’ found!

As I’ve already mentioned, ‘nothing succeeds like success’, and when Duncan the Dunce, in a poorly planned attempt to expand his kingdom, lost three bloody battles in a row against my cousin Thorfinn, the Jarl of Orkney, I knew that it was high time I thought about switching sides!

King Duncan’s first loss was at Durum, in Northumbria. In 1040, Duncan made the ridiculous mistake of starting a war on two fronts --- something your infamous madman Hitler also did. Duncan marched south with one army to attack northern England, hoping to take advantage of the chaos there following the death of King Harold Harefoot. At the same time Duncan the Dunce sent another army north to attack my cousin and friend, Thorfinn of Orkney.

Going south into England, ignoring the advice of myself and his other warchiefs, Duncan ordered cavalry to attack Durham’s stone walls. Naturally both horses and riders were slaughtered by defenders on the city’s high battlements! Then, in the confusion the defenders wisely sallied forth with their own cavalry, killing nearly all Duncan’s foot soldiers! Those few of us that did survive had to run for our bloody lives!

Once safely back in Scotland, Duncan the Dunce then decided to concentrate on the north. He ordered his arse-licking nephew Moddan to gather a newer, larger army and march north to attack Thorfinn’s base on the mainland while he and the rest of us sailed up the coast with a fleet of eleven warships.

As luck would have it, Duncan met my cousin Thorfinn’s five longships off Deerness. Thorfinn wisely targeted