Drum and colours. Enter Malcolm, Siward, MacDuff, and their army, with boughs

MALCOLM      Now near enough, your leafy screens throw down,

And show like those you are.

 [The soldiers throw down the boughs]

You, worthy uncle,

Shall with my cousin, your right noble son,

Lead our first battle. Worthy MacDuff and we

Shall take upon’s what else remains to do

According to our order.

SIWARD                     Fare you well.

Do we but find the tyrant’s power tonight,

Let us be beaten if we cannot fight.

MACDUFF      Make all our trumpets speak, give them all breath,

Those clamorous harbingers of blood, and death.

Exeunt. Alarums continued                (5.6.1-10)

 

Short, sharp, and functional, and a stark contrast to the increasing panic and disorder on Macbeth’s side. It would make sense for the drum to beat throughout, increasing the sense of urgency and imminent action. The suggestion is that Malcolm, Macduff and the English troops have arrived at Dunsinane, or almost, near enough to throw down their leafy screens, the branches that have concealed their numbers from Macbeth and the castle’s defenders. They’re not going under cover any longer, not going to creep in disguise: this is the army that has come to retake the throne of Scotland, led by Malcolm, the rightful heir. He’s the one giving orders here, and he too must show himself. No more dissembling or doubt or uncertainty—another contrast to the situation Macbeth’s in. Siward, the experienced general, Malcolm’s uncle, will lead the fight with his son, young Siward; they’ll be in the vanguard of the first battle, the first battalion. It’s a sign of honour and also trust, and perhaps of generational continuity: Siward and his son, though minor characters, are the only father-son pair left in the play, and Macbeth (of course) has no children, no son, no posterity. Malcolm and worthy Macduff—another trusted ally; there’s a sense of teamwork here—will lead the rest of the troops, do what else remains to do. The roles are being carefully and calmly distributed; there’s a plan.

 

Siward is grim, measured, dignified with his couplet in response: fare you well. Good luck, lad. Do we but find the tyrant’s power tonight, let us be beaten if we cannot fight. Let’s do this. All we have to do is locate and engage with Macbeth’s troops, and if we’re not capable of fighting with them, well, let us be beaten. (No chance.) And Macduff adds another couplet, giving an order of his own: Make all our trumpets speak, give them all breath, those clamorous harbingers of blood, and death. Sound the alarum, the call to battle, the charge; it’s time to do this, do or die.

 

What’s striking, especially in comparison with the previous scene, is how focused Malcolm, Macduff, and Siward are, how resolute (emphasised by the couplets) and how united; three men, old, perhaps middle-aged, and young (a weird version of the three witches?) who are able to work together in a relationship of trust, shared purpose, and equality. The sounds of battle, drums and trumpets, continue as the scene ends…