CAPTAIN        Yes—

As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion.

If I say sooth, I must report they were

As cannons over-charged with double cracks, so they

Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe.

Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds

Or memorize another Golgotha,

I cannot tell.

But I am faint; my gashes cry for help.

KING               So well thy words become thee as thy wounds:

They smack of honour both.—Go, get him surgeons.

                                                            [Exit Captain, attended]        (1.2.34-44)

You could say it dismayed them, yes, agrees the Captain—oh no!—but only if you think that eagles might be troubled by a sparrow attack, or a lion feel threatened by a hare. Ha! (And breathe again, King and thanes.) If I say sooth, to tell the truth, they were like cannons over-charged with double cracks, that is, loaded with twice the amount of gunpowder. (It would be a very bad idea indeed to do such a thing, the whole cannon would explode and kill everyone. There’s still a lingering smell of gunpowder in the air, perhaps, from the lightning of the first scene. The smell of the battlefield, as much as of hell—never mind that it’s wholly anachronistic for this play set in medieval Scotland. It is, however, bang up to date, as it were, for London, 1606.) Whatever, Macbeth and Banquo went at it, doubly redoubling (ah, doubles, this play is full of twos and threes) their strokes upon the foe, fighting twice as fast, and then twice as fast again, a whirling blur of swords—as if either they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, wade and wallow in blood, the stench and steam and spurt of it (oh, so much anticipation here, the Captain is a wee gem, he is) or memorize another Golgotha, make another Calvary, the place of Christ’s crucifixion, literally the place of a skull. Blood and body parts, bones and death, and not redemption, but hell itself. That’s what I think Macbeth and Banquo were up to, one or the other, not sure which, says the Captain. But I am faint; my gashes cry for help: the Captain’s own wounds are dreadful, bloody mouths, screaming his life away with every word he speaks, every beat of his heart. You’ve done well, both here and on the battlefield, the King tells him, so well thy words become thee as thy wounds: they’re all honourable. Finally: get him surgeons.

The word that’s never used in this episode, that races by only in adjectival form in the opening line, is BLOOD. But the whole scene, the whole play, is soaked in it. Like the witches, you just can’t necessarily see it all the time…