"Tapestry"

The wind had long since chased the clouds that hung over Castle Glamis that morning away and the spring sun shone down to warm the cold courtyard.  Near the stables, in the still of midday, two children wrestled. Kay MacBeth and Eric, a servant boy. Kay gripped his opponent’s collar and shoulder, mirroring Eric’s grip. Kay struggled, twisting left and right with his hips and kicking out with his foot in an attempt to throw Eric. He failed. The stable boy wouldn’t be shaken. Eric blocked another strike at his knee and returned with one of his own. Kay lost his balance and Eric twisted hard. Kay tumbled and landed hard on his left shoulder.

Eric followed him down and punched him in the gut. The breath rushed out of Kay as Eric pinned him with a knee. “Yield?”

“Don’t yield.”

Both boys looked up, across the courtyard. Ailsa MacBeth stood there, shoulders back, head high. “Do not yield, Kay.”

“But I’ve beaten him?” Eric had a confused look on his face.

“Kay, get him off of you and fight him like you mean it.”

“I can’t.”

“Break his leg.”

“I can’t!”

Ailsa narrowed his eyes. “You’re a MacBeth. We don’t lose battles. Break his leg.”

Eric stood up off of Kay. “I have to help my dad…” He darted off into the shadows of the stables. Kay heaved himself up off the cobblestone, holding his bruised shoulder. Ailsa stared at him, slowly shook her head.

Servants once again cringed at the rage-filled cries that echoed through the halls of Castle Glamis. Something had set her off again, and her son now bore the full weight of her wrath. No one dared enter the hall.

“You’re a MacBeth, a warrior. How can you let such a worthless wretch of a servant best you?”

“He’s better than me.” Kay tried to avoid his mother’s gaze, his back to the family tapestry that hung on the wall, depicting each member of their bloodline from as far back as four hundred years. Even his name and likeness hung on the very end, right beside his dead father’s. 

“Servants are not better than us!” Ailsa grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. Her right hand squeezed tight and pain seared in his shoulder. “We are nobility. You will be a lord! They are common.”

“I couldn’t beat him.”

Ailsa slapped him across the face, once, twice. Kay jerked his head out of the way on the third. Ailsa let him go and stood up again, her face contorted into a mask of anger.

“You are not a MacBeth. You will never live up to the name of your father.”

Kay looked at her. The child’s mind couldn’t comprehend what she meant, but the words and the slaps hurt. What followed hurt him more.

Ailsa crossed over to the tapestry and grabbed right at the edge, right next to his name. She tugged hard. Fabric ripped. And Kay’s name disappeared. She turned back to him, lips tight. “You don’t deserve to be in our family. Your name will never be up there if you continue to be weak. You have disgraced your bloodline. I don’t want to call you my son.”