by Bess McBride
I noted that Dylan had tucked the extra material, normally worn over the shoulder like a sash, into his belt at the small of his back. Given Dylan’s penchant for dark-blue jeans, jackets and T-shirts, I had wondered how he would cope with the fussiness of the garment. To my surprise, I thought I detected him preening just a bit. I noted with a smile that Dylan had not given up his hiking boots in favor of slippers but did sport knee-length stockings.
“All I need now is a sword and pistol,” he said under his breath.
A tap on the doorsill turned all heads toward the two small children I had seen earlier.
“Auntie Cyn-tya says we are to accompany ye to Auntie Ann’s croft,” the boy said self-importantly.
The petite blonde girl dipped a tiny curtsey.
“If ye please. Archibald! Ye were to say please!”
“Hauld yer wheesht, Sarah. I didna forget. If ye please.”
In his little great kilt, Archibald was a miniature version of the highlanders. I did a double take as I looked from him to Dylan. The resemblance was startling!
“No bickering, bairns. Our guests will follow ye.”
Catherine patted me on the back as I fell into step behind Dylan and the children.
“Thank ye so much for the food,” Dylan said, continuing in his thicker Scottish brogue.
“Yes, thank you. I’m sure we will see you again.”
“Aye,” Catherine said, waving us off. “It is a wee village.”
We followed the children down the dirt lane toward another croft where Ann and Cynthia awaited us.
“Come in. Come in!” Ann said. “Bairns, go play now!”
The two sprites trotted off.
The interior of Ann’s croft was similar to Catherine’s, although there were a few more curtains and beds, I presumed for the children. Two small wooden cribs appeared to be empty, and Ann followed my eyes.
“Mistress Glick has all the babies for now, sleeping, thank goodness. We really needed to talk.”
I nodded.
“Well, Dylan, look at you!” Cynthia said.
I eyed her with mixed feelings. Although I had seen her in traditional Scottish dress before, I hadn’t really noticed how stunning she looked. She no longer wore a back brace and moved freely. Motherhood agreed with her. I saw a plain wedding band on her hand.
“Aye, do ye think?” he said with a laugh, giving her another hug.
Cynthia’s cheeks colored, and she stepped back.
“You look wonderful, Debra,” she murmured. “The clothes suit you.”
I smiled faintly but said nothing.
Ann pulled out chairs, and we sat down at the table.
“Well, who wants to start? How did you guys get here? What happened? And how on earth did Dylan get here? Somehow I had begun to think the time travel only happened to women. So where is the dagger now?”
Dylan held up a hand, laughing. “Wait. Wait! Let me answer what I can. But I want to know about you two! Cynthia told me a bit about you, Ann, but it looks as if you found your Torq, Cynthia? Is that right?”
Cynthia blushed and nodded, joy evident in her face. I deduced that she was madly in love with her highlander husband, and I gave Dylan a sideways glance. He didn’t seem particularly unhappy to see her married.
“So, Debra, tell us what happened,” Ann said, drawing me into the conversation. I felt distanced from the threesome, and in fact was. Dylan had known Ann’s secret for several years, Cynthia’s for the past year or so. He had known about the dagger, about time travel. It was he who should have traveled back through time...alone. Why was I in the sixteenth century? Was it truly a random happenstance?
“Oh, I’ll let Dylan explain everything. I can see that he’s dying to.”
Ann tilted her head curiously, then turned to Dylan, who, as I had said, was dying to tell them everything that had happened. I noted that he omitted telling them that searching for the dagger had been my idea, but that seemed petty. No one cared.
While Dylan talked, Ann got up to pour water into several worn porcelain cups for tea. I drank mine, keeping my attention on the cup. I saw both Ann and Cynthia glance at me occasionally, as if waiting for me to offer some tidbits, but I had become tongue tied.
I’d never really been social at the best of times, certainly not in large groups, but even I couldn’t understand my reticence to speak. We were four twenty-first-century people in the sixteenth century. We shared a bond that no other humans might have shared, as far as we knew. Why was I so withdrawn?
I caught Cynthia eyeing me sympathetically, and I wanted to stand up and shout, No, it’s not what you think. I’m not jealous of his affection for you. Dylan and I are over! But you all lied to me. Everyone lied to me, and I don’t trust any of you anymore! I would as soon trust Catherine, who hasn’t lied to me!
Constantinople.
I swallowed hard and stared at my tea. I had lied up a storm not even fifteen minutes before to a kindly woman, and here I was, judging the three before me for lying to me. I knew now that I was a hypocrite. Somehow, that knowledge didn’t make me feel closer to my companions.
“John and Torq just left in the birlinns to reconnoiter the coastline. We’re struggling here on the stronghold, and the men think it’s time to fight back.”
I listened carefully, unwilling to ask for clarification and aware that Dylan knew more about the current situation than I.
“Debra thought she saw a boat sailing away,” Dylan said. “By fight back, do you mean retake Ardmore Castle?”
“Yes,” Ann said, two bright spots on her cheeks. She looked around the croft, as if to see anyone who might overhear.
“I’m terrified,” she said. “I’m just terrified.”
Cynthia covered her hand, her eyes wide.
“We both are,” she said with a half smile in our direction.
Dylan reached out and covered their hands with his.
“I cannot imagine what you must be going through.”
I couldn’t either, and I sympathized with the fear in their eyes as their husbands contemplated battling for their homeland, but I couldn’t join in the handholding. I didn’t think anyone noticed, and that was fine with me.
The sound of men’s voices outside the croft startled me. The women jumped up, looking at each other in alarm. I tensed. What was happening?
“The babies!” Cynthia whispered.
Euan and Kenny strode inside Ann’s croft without knocking, followed by a tall highlander whose mustard-colored great kilt stood out in contrast to all the red I had seen. Chocolate-brown curly hair hung to his shoulders, matching a short beard.
“Iskair?” Cynthia squeaked. She moved swiftly toward him and reached up to hug him.
“Lass! Look at ye. Ye are in one piece!” His broad smile lightened his handsome face, giving him a boyish look.
Cynthia pulled from his embrace and grabbed his hand.
“This is Iskair Macaulay, everyone. Iskair, this is Ann Morrison, John’s wife, and these are cousins of John’s—Dylan and Debra Morrison.”
Iskair gave everyone a slight bow. I noted that Cynthia didn’t introduce Euan and Kenny, but those two grinned at the sight of him. I also didn’t fail to take note of the name Macaulay. Iskair then was a member of a rival clan that had worked with the Macleods to destroy the Morrisons. He appeared to be on good terms with Cynthia and the other Morrisons.
“Pleased to meet the group of ye,” he said in a deep baritone.
“Come—sit down!” Cynthia said, pulling a chair away from the wall for Iskair.
Euan and Kenny remained by the door.
“Sit down, you two,” Ann said to them.
She indicated two chairs, and they obediently sat, albeit on the edge of the chairs as if slightly uncomfortable.
“Why are you here, Iskair?” Cynthia asked. “Oh, I should ask. Do you want some tea?”
Iskair shook his head tersely and leaned forward as if to speak conspiratorially. He looked at me, at Dyla
n, and paused.
“I dinna ken if I can speak freely,” he said, again searching our faces.
“You can. I trust everyone in this room, and I know Ann does as well. What is going on?”
“Euan and Kenny tell me most of the men are gone—Torq, John.”
Cynthia nodded. “That’s true.”
“Cynthia,” Ann said in a warning voice.
“Wait! Iskair! This isn’t another raid, is it?” Cynthia whispered.
“Not by me, not by the Macaulay. Angus Macleod marches overland with his soldiers. He means to have the bairns this time, and he means to destroy the stronghold once and for all. I hurried to warn ye. I dinna ken if he kens the men are gone, but that makes his task easier.”
Chapter Five
Euan and Kenny jumped up at Iskair’s words, hands on the hilts of their swords.
“Where is he?” Ann whispered. “How far out?”
“Hours. He could reach ye by nightfall.”
Cynthia jumped up. “Kenny! Get Rob!”
Ann rose. “What are we going to do? John and Torq won’t know.”
Kenny dashed from the croft, and Euan spoke.
“What do ye need, yer ladyship?”
“I don’t know!”
Iskair spoke. “I have come to take ye to safety.”
“Who? Us?” Ann cried out. “No, I have to take care of the village!”
My heart pounded. Sweat had broken out on my upper lip and forehead. Dylan’s face had blanched. That we were already immersed in the conflicts of the sixteenth century was brutally evident.
“All of ye. I didna ken the men were gone, but I canna leave my kin to die.”
“Your kin?” I spoke up for the first time.
Iskair turned his troubled brown eyes on me, as if really seeing me for the first time.
“I am a Morrison.”
“It’s true,” Cynthia said.
“Go now,” Iskair said to Euan. “Gather the villagers. The tide is high now, but I ken it will retreat within an hour. We can leave then. Tell them to take only what they can carry. Pick a man, your fastest rider, to find John and Torq. I left my horse on the mainland. When the tide retreats, he can take the horse and scour the coastline for the men.”
Rob rushed into the croft as Euan left.
“I’ll round up the kids and swaddle up the babies,” Cynthia said. “We’ll wait for you at Mistress Glick’s.” She ran to Iskair and hugged him again.
“Thank you, Iskair! Thank you!”
“No need, lass. Hurry now.”
He watched her leave, and I saw the obvious affection on his face for Cynthia. The warmth in his brown eyes touched me, and I imagined seeing those eyes turned on me. I gave myself a quick shake.
“What do you want us to do?” I asked.
“Oh, Debra! Dylan! What an awful time for you to come! The dagger! If you still had it...” Ann said in a low voice, turning to survey the croft.
Iskair turned to huddle with Rob and Kenny, clearly to strategize.
“We can’t do anything about it now,” Dylan said. “Apparently we need to get off the island when the tide goes out, not run the wrong way toward the beach to look for the dagger.”
“Oh, that’s right! The bridge isn’t there,” I said foolishly. Of course it hadn’t been built yet.
“No, I know,” Ann said. “It was hard to imagine the stronghold without it, but no, there’s no bridge. There is, however, an incredibly steep, slick path down one side of the sea stack that goes back up on the mainland side.”
She grabbed a thick length of the tartan material and belted it around her waist, then attached it at her neck with a silver brooch in a style I recognized as an arisaid, a form of cloak that the women of the Western Isles had worn. She handed me a similar length of material.
“Here, you’ll have to wear your blanket,” she said with a half smile. “Your kilt will do, Dylan.”
She wrapped some oatcakes inside a length of linen and stowed the food inside the folds of her arisaid. Then she grabbed several pouches before turning back to us, holding out a pouch.
“Water. I boil the stuff. I can’t do the ale all day.”
Dylan reached for the pouch.
“Okay, let’s go get Mistress Glick,” Ann said. “You know where we’ll be, Rob!” She moved past Iskair but stopped and turned.
“Thank you, Iskair. I’ve heard about you, and I wasn’t sure I could trust you, but thank you!”
Iskair bowed his head, and Ann ran from the croft as Dylan and I followed.
Iskair touched my arm as I passed, willing me to stop.
“Did I hear Lady Morrison say ye were visiting? From where do ye and yer husband hail, mistress?”
“Glasgow,” I said, tilting my head to meet his searching eyes. “Dylan is my brother, not my husband.” Lying was coming more easily.
“Glasgow,” he repeated. “It is too bad that yer visit did no come at a better time.”
“No kidding,” I mumbled, sort of lost in the depths of Iskair’s caramel-brown gaze.
He tilted his head and squinted at me. I hurried past him to catch up to Dylan and Ann. We didn’t go far, only to a croft two doors away. Upon entering, we found a hectic scene. A plump silver-haired lady shepherded Archibald and Sarah to seats while Ann hurried toward a bed holding her sleeping twins. Cynthia, also wearing an arisaid, picked up her sleeping infant and tucked her inside the folds of the cloak-like garment.
“Sit there, the pair of ye, while we see to things,” the older woman said.
Mistress Glick, I presumed, greeted us. She looked me up and down, something I was getting used to.
“Mistress Morrison, Master Morrison, pleased to meet ye,” she said with a grim nod, hurrying over to the bed. Instead of helping Ann, who appeared to be changing her twins’ diapers, she knelt to pull a trunk out from under the bed. Reaching in, she grabbed a belt and a metal object.
“Debra,” I murmured to her back.
She returned to my side, and without asking, took my arisaid and wrapped it around my waist, belting it before hauling the rest of the material up over my back and attaching it at the neck with the metal object that was, in fact, a pewter clasp.
“Oh! Thank you!” I murmured.
“Ye are welcome.” She moved away again and donned another arisaid before grabbing up what food she could to stuff into the folds of her cloak. I watched as she quickly poured what looked like ale from a brown glass jug into another pouch and stowed that within her arisaid.
“Can I help carry anything?” I asked, eyeing the oatcakes.
“Aye, how can I help?” Dylan said. “Perhaps I should seek out the men and offer my assistance.”
“Actually, Dylan,” Ann began. “Here! Take a baby.” She thrust one of the twins into Dylan’s hands, and he froze.
“Ann! I don’t know—”
Ann picked up the other twin. “I need the help. You can do it. I can’t carry both of them as far as we need to travel. I might have to get one of the other men to help me carry this one.”
The babies, by now both awake, watched the activities with remarkable composure, even grinning on occasion.
“Debra!” Ann began. “Could you shepherd Archibald and Sarah? It’s a big job. They are Angus’s target—” Ann stopped herself. “They are a handful, aren’t you two?”
The two blondes looked at each other, eyes wide. Unlike the babies, they realized something was wrong.
“Yes, of course,” I said.
Ann moved toward the frightened children and knelt before them.
“Now listen, my sweets. We’re going on an adventure! Auntie Debra will keep a close eye on you. We will all watch over you, but I want you to hold her hand when we leave. What fun we will have!”
The children tried to smile, but they were unable to sustain the curved lips.
I had no experience with children. I had been an only child, had never babysat. But there I was in charge of two sixteenth-century children.
Dylan leaned in to whisper in my ear.
“No pressure, dear, but this is my family.”
I turned to Dylan with my jaw hanging open. On the point of offering to take the baby, I realized that the twin was one of Dylan’s ancestors as well.
I shook my head and marched across the room to stand by the seated children. Dylan got out of the way as well, moving to stand next to Archibald. We watched the flurry of activity in Mistress Glick’s croft followed soon by the arrival of Iskair, Kenny, Euan, Rob and Catherine, provisioned for the journey. If someone would have told me the crofts could hold so many people, several well over six feet tall, I would have scoffed.
A small, cold hand slipped into my left hand, and I looked down to see Sarah clinging to me, azure-blue eyes regarding me with trust. My stomach twisted. I wasn’t up to the task of protecting the children—especially since they were Angus Macleod’s primary targets, as Ann had stopped herself from saying.
“Auntie Debra,” Sarah said, as if trying the title out.
I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring nod.
“Sarah Macleod,” I murmured.
She smiled at me, albeit tremulously, and returned to watching the activity.
“The people are ready,” Euan said to Rob and Iskair, the two who seemed to have taken charge. I looked to Ann, who in my opinion was the decision-maker as the laird’s wife.
Rob quite rightly turned to her. “We are ready, yer ladyship.”
“Where do you plan to take us, Iskair?” she asked, adjusting her baby on her hip. She looked like a little powerhouse, the lady of the clan with an armful of infant. “Not to Broder Castle! I will not put the people in the hands of Murdo Macaulay.”
“I agree that is no wise, yer ladyship. I didna give this matter any thought on my way here because I didna ken that John and Torq would be gone. There is an abandoned castle further inland, ye ken the one?”
Ann shook her head.
“Aye, ye mean the old ruins of Knockbost Castle?” Rob asked.
Iskair nodded. “Aye, we can hold out there until the rider reaches John and Torq to return with the men. I dinna ken if Angus would realize we had gone there. It is no but a pile of auld stones.”
