Read an Excerpt
Chapter One Night's Black Agents
READ THE FULL EXCERPT
Good things of day begin to droop and drowse Whiles night's black agents to their preys do rouse
---Macbeth, Act III, Scene ii.
"It is plainly murder, my lord," the elderly steward announced unnecessarily.
What else could a stab wound in the back mean but murder? It would hardly be self-inflicted. The fact that Malcolm, the son of Bodhe, prince of the House of Moray, lay stretched on the floor of his bedchamber with the blood still seeping across his white linen nightshirt did not need a fertile imagination to conjure an explanation