This morning I was riding on my chocolate brown steed, hooves pounding to the beat of the anguished cries and shouts of the war raging around my castle. A wounded captain then came up to me, his chest oozing tears of blood, and informed me about Scotland's victory over the Norwegians. Macbeth and Banquo, my two most trustworthy warriors, had played a large part in the defeat; for that I am most proud. It also so happens that the Thane of Cawdor had betrayed my trust to try and lead the King of Norway to victory and triumph over my kingdom, so I called for an execution of him immediately. I am very annoyed with the fact that someone could lie to me, so inconspicuously and without any hint of conscience or mere consideration of exactly who they are lying to. Frustrated thoughts ran through my mind as I was riding back to my castle, silence of the deserted land from whence I came again embracing me with every step taken.
Once I was again safe inside my castle walls, the stone floor of the barren throne room gleaming with the incandescent sunlight, my thoughts seemed to change course. I had decided that my loyal son, Malcolm, will be my predecessor to the throne. Macbeth and Banquo entered my presence, and both gracefully bowed as our eyes met. Before I could announce this great news to them, I generously thanked them for their much needed assistance with our battle. Macbeth received a hefty sum of glistening golden coins and sparkling diamonds, and I as well offered to enrich his own castle with my companionship for the night. Banquo, being nothing more than Macbeth's accomplice, received the honour of an arm's embrace to my heart. I feel strongly that Banquo will serve me always, as he seems to think he's forever accountable for my protection and safety. Macbeth, however, is a warrior that one is hard to find. Because of his bravery and loyalty, I feel like I owe him deeply. I'm deeply worried that if I do not pay him in diamond and gold, he will no longer be there for me and Scotland will be victorious nevermore. At long last, I announced the grand news of Prince Malcolm to them both. Banquo looked most pleased, but Macbeth brought on a look of shock followed by a smile that was as lucid as a frosted glass window in a snowfall. I'm certain he shows a little bit of jealousy toward the matter, but I'm quite convinced that from under that envy he's delighted for Malcolm.
Not but a few hours later, I found myself yet again on my valiant steed, this time surrounded by my faithful servants who chaperoned me to Macbeth's castle. We were following the winding path up the hill towards the giant white stone structure that stood upon us, and I was quite thrilled to have this opportunity to spend the night in Macbeth's quarters. Once at the large wooden door, I was greeted by the maiden Lady Macbeth. Just then it had started to thunder; the roar echoing in the heavens like a thousand galloping horses beating the ground with their muddy hooves. We all scattered and ran for shelter, and immediately started our glorious feast. There were servants playing delightful musical compositions, and the table was surrounded with enticing chops of steaming mutton. Soon we were finished our incredible meal, and the servants cleared the table in preparation for a joyful dance. Lady Macbeth joined me for an elegant formal dance to the violin music that was bouncing off the walls of the room. Macbeth, unfortunately, was no where to be found at that time.
I am now still in Macbeth's castle, and preparing for a night's restful slumber. From whence I am writing this, I bid thee good night.