by Leela Ash
It was only the young nun again. Smiling, she proceeded to make up the fire and light a series of candles that brought a cozy glow to the room. Stepping over to the small chest, she brought out a white cotton nightdress inset with beautiful lace work and laid it across the bed. She left the room only to return a few minutes later with a jug of hot water and a bowl, along with a piece of soap and a length of material, presumably for washing with. Pouring the water into the bowl, she set it by the fire and beckoned Andrea over before leaving her in peace to attend to her toilette. It was good to feel the heat from the fire, and stripping off her clothes, she proceeded to wash. The soap was thick and quite greasy, but it had the aroma of lavender and helped her to freshen up. Her feet were still dirty from the morning’s walk and she dipped them in the water, feeling the warmth spread to her toes. At home she spent hours in the bath, the water as hot as she could stand, and lost in the fragrance of some exotic oil or lotion. She could have done with a bath, but even the small bowl of hot water seemed like a luxury at this moment in time. Once dried, she slipped on the nightdress. It fit her perfectly, the lace just skimming her ankles. She thought about the skimpy little outfits that Steve bought her that made her feel like a French tart. Why did she let him treat her like an object? She had never really thought about it before. She just accepted it, accepted Steve for what he was—basically a male chauvinist pig.
A little knock at the door heralded the young nun once again. Walking over to the chest, she picked up a small comb and assorted ribbons, brought them to Andrea, and proceeded to brush through her long hair.
“Do you have a vow of silence?”
The young girl smiled and nodded. It was a shame; Andrea would have liked to talk to her. The face seemed so kind and trusting. Once the combing was finished, the girl tied a red ribbon into her dark locks, forming a neat bow.
Andrea held up the mirror to see the finished look. The ribbon made her look somewhat cutesy, but that was unimportant. Her own face reflected back, and yet somehow it was different. The whole hairstyle was different and made her look more like her Grandma than ever. The only difference was the small beauty spot above her lip, probably the only thing that set the two young women apart.
There was a cough from just beyond the door, and the nun made haste to tidy away the ribbons. Alex appeared in the doorway and looked even more handsome than when she had last seen him. He had changed his clothing and was wearing a softer looking tunic, less warrior like. As he stepped into the room, the young nun gave a quick courtesy and was gone, leaving the two of them alone. Andrea would have liked to call her back, but she had no cause.
Alex closed the door carefully behind him.
His bright eyes looked at her, taking her slowly in, inch by inch, as if he had never seen a woman before. She looked away from his gaze feeling bashful, almost afraid. Walking over to the bed, he sat down, taking her hand gently in his. He smelled much sweeter this evening. He had obviously made the effort for her, and the scent of rosemary and basil filled the air. His hand was trembling against hers, and his eyes softened until the tears were rolling down his cheeks.
“Oh Andra, I thought I had lost you. I really thought you were gone.” He buried his face into her breast, and her hands automatically cradled his head. Her pale fingers intertwined with his dark hair as she tried to soothe him like a child. It was as if they had always been this way and somehow he didn’t seem such a stranger.
“Forgive me, Andra; it has been a long day. There are rumors that our enemies are already gathering in the hills, and it won’t be many days hence until I have to ride out with my men. I seek comfort with you tonight, my wife. Let me share your bed.”
He was almost pleading with her.
Andrea caught her breath as Alex sat up and looked into her face. It seemed so wrong. The man obviously loved her, but she felt like a fraud. She had to make him see.
“Tell me, Alex—have I changed much over these past three years?”
“Only that you are more beautiful than ever. I have never known you as lovely.”
“Can I speak to you plainly, Alex?”
He nodded.
“I’m not who you seem to think I am—”
He brought up his hand to silence her, but she continued.
“I know you think I’m mad, but I want you to look at me, Alex, really look at me. What do you see?”
Alex looked puzzled and shrugged his shoulders.
“My name is Andrea Taylor, and I was born in 1990. For some reason I seem to have traveled from the future and landed here in the past, some 400 years back in time. I believe my Grandmother Betty came before me and that it was she you fell in love with and married. Time here seems to be different, and although she lived with you for several years, it was only a matter of seconds in our own period; in fact, no time at all. For some reason, she was able to return to her own time, whether by accident or intentionally, I don’t know, but I seem to have replaced her. I’m not sure. None of this makes any sense yet, but the death of your unborn son seems to have been a trigger?”
“Andra my love, you have spoken like this before. Your mind is unwell, that is all. Maybe I should call for my sister?”
“No.” Andrea was certain she did not want Helena to join them.
“Look at me, Alex. How well do you know my face?”
“I know it as my own. Why?”
“Well, look here, did your wife have this mark?” Andrea pointed to the beauty spot above her lip.
At first Alex looked confused. He brought up his hand and traced his finger delicately over the small mole. His brow furrowed.
“Well?”
“I cannot recall it.”
“You see, then.”
“I see nothing. What does that prove?”
“It is a birth mark, and it proves I’m not who you think I am.”
Bringing a candle near her face, he inspected her features. She was so alike to his Andra, and yet there had been some hesitation when he had first seen her. He was unsure at first. There was something about her whole bearing, the way she walked, some of the strange words she had used.
“I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“There is something else, too—a stone, a rune that my grandma left to me. I believe it has special powers. Your sister has it now and denies it. I believe I need it to return to my own time, and I need your help to get it back.”
Alex looked crestfallen, and his whole body sagged. Her heart ached to see him so sad. He had loved her so much and maybe she should have been gentler, but how else could she have told him the truth? And there was little time to spare.
Picking up her hand once more, he raised it to his lips and kissed her gently.
“I do not know what is happening or why, but I am willing to believe you. Yet in my heart you are still my Andra, and I love you so very much. If what you say is true, I will do all I can to help. I will ask my sister about the stone.”
“But will you keep the rest of my secret safe, even from Helena? Do you swear?”
“I swear.”
Standing up, he moved to the door, and with one final look behind him, he left to find his sister.
Alex was not the same man he was when he walked into the room. He had always had suspicions about his dear Andra, wondered if her ramblings about the future were true, yet his sister had always insisted that she was unwell and had looked after the girl. It had been an easier story to believe.
And now this girl was his Andra and yet not his Andra. In his heart, she was still his wife and would always be.
His sister was sitting quietly in the cloisters. Helena sensed at once that something was not right; surely he should be in bed with his wife? Even though the thought appalled her, it was what he needed, for now. In the darkness, she could not see his expression and he hid his face in the shadows, his anxiety too deeply etched to fool his sister.
“What is wrong, my brother?”
“Andra is tired, and I did not
want to bother her tonight.” His voice sounded strained.
“There is something else?”
“Andra is worried about something that belongs to her, a small amulet or stone. She feels it is a good omen, and she thinks that she has lost it. I do not want her to fret about such a small matter.”
There was a pause while Helena thought.
“I have it, brother. I did not think it was healthy for her to keep.”
“Surely it is but a harmless trinket?”
“She seems to think it has mystical powers, and I did not want to encourage her thinking that way again. You know how fretful she was in the beginning.”
Alex nodded. “I think if you give it to me for safe keeping, she will be happy with that.”
Helena bowed her head and walked through the cloister with Alex following closely behind. Entering the room, she fetched out the small stone and placed it in his hand.
“Be careful with this, Alex. I have seen things like this, and they usually belong to the workings of the devil. Some say these stones have strange powers and bring only death and destruction. Perhaps that is right. Think of the child.”
“Surely you do not believe in such things? I would have thought it blasphemy to your ears?”
Helena paused and clasped her hands tightly in front of her.
“But of course I do not believe in such superstitions myself, Alex. I put my faith in God. But in the hands of the wrong person, such beliefs can damage and weaken the spirits and mind, as I fear has happened with Andra.”
“She seems much improved this evening, and a good sleep tonight will help her. I’m sure you can see to that, my sister?”
Bowing goodnight, Alex left the confines of the nunnery and stepped out into the chill night air. The crescent moon hung high in the midnight sky and a myriad of stars looked down upon him. The sky looked the same as always, but tonight he wondered about the girl’s story and its possibilities. In the early days, she had told him of a fantastic world where machines and fantastic inventions seemed to dominate men. It seemed ridiculous at the time, yet standing beneath the heavens, he realized how small and insignificant he was and how little he really understood about life and beyond.
Andra had been his world, but she was right, it was not his Andra that lay in the nunnery that night. Yet he still ached for her with a passion. With only one more day and night until he rode to battle, he had not long to reconcile himself with the past and present. The small rune was still pressed into his hand, and he opened his fingers to look at it in more detail. It was a very simple thing with a sign engraved into it, almost like the end of an arrow’s shaft. He had heard that runes were used to tell the future or carried as good luck charms. Some of the men carried them into battle, but they did not always have the luck they hoped for.
He preferred to put his trust in God and the might of his own strength.
Chapter 8
Helena was troubled by her brother’s visit. Something was wrong, and she could not quite put her finger on it. She had not wanted to relinquish the rune so easily, but she could easily get it back had she a mind. It would be safe enough for now. The Abbess had recognized the old Norse rune at once and understood its significance. It would have been no use in putting up a fight and drawing attention to it. There would be time for all things. Now she must visit the girl and try to find out the truth.
Andrea was slightly dozing as Helena entered the room, but the sound of her feet on the stone flagged floor stirred her awake. The candles had burned low, and the shadow of the Abbess loomed large across the room. She shivered and sat up, wrapping the bed clothes around her. The fire had burned down into nothing but grey ash and smoke.
“You are feeling better, I hear?”
In the darkness, Andrea felt disarmed and slightly afraid. There was something about the stealthy black figure that unnerved her, and at this hour her feelings intensified.
“Yes, I had a good talk with Alex, and I feel much better after resting.”
“Yet he did not stay?”
The question was almost a threat.
For once, Andrea was glad of the semi darkness where she could hide her expression. She felt exposed and knew she had to be careful with her words.
“I am still very tired, and Alex thought it best to leave me to lie alone tonight. I will see him in the morning.”
“He seemed troubled when he spoke to me, his mind heavy. That is not good for a man who will be riding into battle in a few days time. If he is distracted and worried about his wife, he may come to harm, even be killed. A warrior needs all his strength and focus upon the task ahead, not back at home with an ailing wife.”
The words were cold and clear in their meaning. Andrea hardly knew the man but nonetheless felt a deep empathy with him and would hate to be the cause of his downfall. Maybe she had spoken too openly with him, but she needed an ally in this strange place and he was her only hope.
“I will be feeling much better after another night’s sleep. I will speak with him tomorrow and all will be well.”
“It will need more than talk if I know my brother. He needs to find comfort in your bed.”
Andrea could feel herself blushing at the thought but nodded her head.
“He can be with me tomorrow.”
Helena did not speak, taking in the words from the girl. As long as her brother left without worries, then she would be happy. She cared little for the girl herself. Walking to the chest, she picked up the flask and poured more of the potion into the goblet and handed it across.
“Here, take this. You will rest easily.”
Reluctantly, she drank the liquid, which had the same bitter herb taste as before. Helena watched until she had taken the last drop and only when her eyes start to droop did the black figure exit the room, locking the door behind her.
Andrea’s dreams were as dark as the night. In the middle of a misty and forlorn battlefield, a distant bugle could be heard calling the fallen souls to their peace. As the sound of the horn diminished, another sound could be heard, growing steadily louder; it was the ghostly wail of a lone piper, the rasping of the pipes echoing the sound of a thousand men’s last gasping breath.
She could see the piper approaching, a long cloak covering him from head to toe. The nearer he walked, the more deafening the bagpipes, until she had to hold her hands over her ears to blot out the sound. Almost upon her, the noise stopped and an eerie silence prevailed as a thin hand rose from beneath the long cloak, pulling away the hood that shielded the face. She looked on in horror at the visage of the dead Alexhander McDonald, the maggots already eating the sallow flesh, his eyes white and glassy.
Andra was soaked with perspiration as she woke up with a start. The dream had been too real, too horrid, and her heart was beating fast. The words of Helena rang in her head; she could not let the poor man ride into battle with a heavy heart and to his probable death. It was almost as if his fate were in her hands.
Alex did not sleep well and spent most of the night wondering what to do. He needed to know more, to understand what was happening. He could no longer turn away and pretend that these strange things were not so or simply the imaginings of a feeble mind, whatever his sister might think. Tomorrow he would ask the young girl about his beloved Andra and try to find the answers.
Chapter 9
The next day was fair, and Andrea was awake and dressed early. She had found a selection of clothing in the large chest, including a long tunic dress of a beautiful red berry hue and long woolen stockings to match. A deep blue cloak would keep her warm in the early sea breeze and a pair of black leather slippers would protect her feet. They were not very practical, but perhaps women of a certain class were not expected to walk far. They were so different from her multipurpose sneakers she used to pound the streets of New York.
Andrea had to wait to be released from her bondage. She expected Helena, but when she heard the key in the lock and the door opened, she was half relieved to see the young nu
n from the day before with the beautiful smile. Silently, she brought in a tray containing bread, cheese, and a goblet of ale, laying it out on the bed before bowing her head and leaving the room.
As the footsteps died away down the corridor, Andrea realized that the door had been left unlocked. She was free to venture out on her own at last. Tying the bread and cheese into the large white square of material that had covered the food, she slipped silently out of the door and down the corridor to the outside door and was away.
Never had fresh air smelled so sweet, the rosemary and lavender from the garden filling the dewy air with their soft scents. It was the smell of freedom. Following a little worn path across the grass, she made her way down to the shore overlooking Mull. No ferry this time, just a few old fishing boats and the heathery purples of the distant hill of Ben More. The view was breathtaking and just the right thing to clear her head. Choosing a sheltered and secluded spot beneath a clump of apple trees, she spread her cloak across the ground to sit and eat her breakfast.
Today she would make a plan to get home. She just needed to think, to try and recall some of Grandma Betty’s words. She would convince Alex that all was well, and she would take away his worries. If that meant lying with him, then so be it; she did not want a man’s death on her conscience, whatever time or place. She had done much worse in her time and not necessarily for a noble end. There was something about Alex that drew her to him, and he seemed to be a good man. They were rare.
The sun was rising high, and the bread and cheese tasted good out in the open air. Leaning her back against the tree trunk, she closed her eyes against the warmth, still tired after her disturbed night.
“Andra.”
The voice was soft and low, and at first she wondered if she had really heard it, or if it was just the water lapping against the rocks.
“Andra!”
This time she opened her eyes to see Alex standing in front of her.
