THE GENERAL
ACT ONE
SCENE TWO
SUB ACT TWO
The officer pondered over the reports that reached the
command centre. He was a fine officer with years of service to his credit,
having fought in the battles for the King, but that was one moment when he
dreaded Thinking of the outcome. He had seen defeat and victory, but at that
moment, he was unsure.
“Corporal, has the General seen the reports?” The
officer asked the infantry assigned to the task of relaying the reports. The
officer was an elderly man dressed in infantry fatigue and had on his side
arms. He held the electronic tablet with the display of the reports on the
front line.
“I am unsure, sir." The corporal, a young recruit
who was promoted on the battlefield, looked around for the senior officer.
“I think he did; for last, I saw he was rushing out to
battle.”
“What? When was this?” The officer looked at the
other. “Why was I not told?”
“Sir, you were reading the reports then. I had...” The
corporal was shoved aside by the office, who had rushed to meet the general.
The moment he reached outside of the command centre, he was surrounded by the
movement of the infantry with the wounded to the healing centre, while newly
injected recruits were moved to the front line.
“We are in a hopeless situation. Neither of us can
move forward or retreat.” An officer stood there and made that remark. “We
must...”
“Lieutenant, hold your misgivings. Have you seen the
general?" The officer who has just left the command centre called out.
“General?” The junior officer stammered when he saw
the other officer addressing him. “General? General MacBeth? I think he went to
the front line. I was...”
Meanwhile, at the front line, General MacBeth dug in
at the trench next to the other infantry units and looked to the sergeant who
was leading the recruits.
“General, Sir. We are...” The sergeant took the time
to provide the update then.
“You are not dead yet, Sergeant. That means you can
still fight.” General MacBeth peeked over the top. He was neither young nor
elderly, but his years of fighting had doubled. He was in infantry fatigue and
carried the sabre that marked his seniority.
“The MacDonels are a strong foe to challenge. Once our
ally, now our enemy.” The general looked at the opposing side, which had
stalled his infantry.
“Aye, the MacDonels held villainous qualities and are
the ones you cannot trust to be at your back.” The officer who followed the
general to the front line gave his assessment. His name was Banquo, Colonel by
rank, and he spent the same number of years fighting with MacBeth. They were
both from the recruiting school and had fought in the same battles over those
years. He was assigned to the General as the Senior Staff Attache, but the
reckless attitude of the General had made him ‘an ally worthy at my side’ with
the General.
“I would not curse on my Highlanders, Banquo.” MacBeth
was of a different clan among the Highlanders, and he refused to defile the
bravery of the clans. “We have our differences, but they are mine in blood. It
is the others who influence them to fight us.”
“Darned the Irish’s. and those Hebrides. They are the
lackeys of the enemy to fight us.” MacBeth roared out before he looked at the
sergeant. “Do you want to die today as a Highlander or as a defeated lad of the
hills?”
“We will die for the clan, sir." The sergeant
replied. He then called on the recruits. “Heave on, lads. The battle would not
end until we won.”
“MacBeth ….” Banquo addressed the general by his name.
“Should we not wait for the armoured...”
The general was past holding back then and was the
first to charge over the trench. His action spurred the infantry to follow
suit. The swarm of soldiers, led by their brave general, rushed across the
stretch of land to meet the enemy. It was the Irish’s pride not to be waiting
for the fight; they took to their charge, then onto the infantry. Both sides
met at the stretch, and the bloody fight was to be done. The blasters were
discarded, with both sides resorting to brute strength, blades, or whatever their
hands could reach. It was too grisly to mention, but the one factor that stood
out was the general.
“The Citadel will be ours!” MacBeth, covered in blood
over his fatigue, was relentless with his sword, slashing at every step of the
fight.
“Over my dead body, laddie.” The call was heard by MacBeth
then. He turned to look and saw his adversary standing there, holding the axe,
with a vicious smile.
“Allen MacDonel, the devious weasel that ever crawled
out of your mam wee womb. You never knew your dad at all.” MacBeth cursed at
the other, once his ally and friend, before the other betrayed the cause.
“I may not know him but you did not of your mother.
Was she a whore as manty had said?” Allen MacDonel snapped back.
“At least she was a lady and not a sheep who birthed
you.” MacBeth slammed back.
“Cursed all you want, MacBeth, but your blood will
soak the land today.”
The battle was brief but intense before MacBeth sank
his sword into the other, halving the head from the left shoulder. The
adversary of his fell to the knees with a grin on the face.
“I am glad it was you, MacBeth. We are the same
murderous weasels of the Highlands.”
“Finest act of my cousin.” The sergeant was
interrupted by the prince, who praised the general.
“A fine laddie there, my nephew.” King Duncan added to
the praise. “Do continue, Sergeant. Your news is a pleasant one to my ears.”
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