The rain lashed at the overgrown walls of the castle. All that could be seen was the faint candlelight coming from within. Inside the dreary castle was a gloomy room with a hard oak table. Gliding up and down the room, Lady Macbeth anticipated her husband’s return. The Lady of Cawdor, who was growing impatient, was startled to hear an owl scream. The silent killer wandered through the baron halls and into the chamber where his wife waited.
‘I have done the deed didst thou not hear a noise?’ Macbeth asked.
‘I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. Did not you speak?’ Lady Macbeth explained. They stared at each other in pure silence until the new king whispered, ‘This is a sorry sight.’
Gazing at her husband’s blood-stained hands, the Queen noticed the daggers he was still clutching.
‘Why did you bring the daggers from the place?’ exclaimed Lady Macbeth in anger and disappointment. ‘They must lie there. Go carry them and smear the sleepy grooms with blood.’
Macbeth stared at the daggers in guilt, ‘I’ll go no more,’ He murmured closing his eyes in sadness. ‘I am afraid to think what I have done. Look on’t again I dare not.’
‘Infirm of purpose!’ Lady Macbeth snarled.
The violent wind blew out the candles and slammed the door shut. Macbeth collapsed in grief. Lady Macbeth looked on in disappointment. ‘Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead are but as pictures. T’is the eye of childhood who fears a painted devil!’ She took the daggers and exited the room in anger.