Tomas: A Time Travel Romance (Dunskey Castle Book 3)

by Jane Stain

  When he got close enough for his eyes tae show him the goings-on, he could na believe them. A large hole had been dug intae the side o the mountain, and men were going in with picks and coming out with chunks o gauld.

  He knew 'twas gauld, for he had seen raw nuggets in their dirt-covered form afore. Ye see, back in those days, they used tae trade in nuggets o gauld, na sae much in coins as we dae now.

  Sean felt the drool dribbling doon his chin and doon his neck as he watched the men come oot with all this wealth while he hid in the brush and heather. Why should those men hae all that gauld? He could go in and dig some oot for himself. That would solve all o his problems, said the devil on Sean’s left shoulder.

  The angel on his right shoulder argued that he wasna likely tae go home with nary being tarnished by the experience.

  Sean sat there quite a while, stroking his beard and thinking this through afore he ran ower and fell in line with the men going in with their picks.

  Only he didna hae a pick.

  Just when Sean had this thought, a man stepped oot from between two boulders and held oot a pick tae Sean. The man was auld, and he wore a long white robe o a cut Sean had never seen afore. 'Twas made o the brawest white linen, with patterns embroidered intae the collar. Only 'twas stained green and brown from life in the wild.

  “Here,” said this grizzled auld one, holding oot the pick tae Sean.

  Sean wasna one tae look a gift horse in the mouth, sae he took the pick and was on his way, na even pausing when he called ower his shoulder, “Thank ye.”

  Sean fell back in line with the men just as they entered the cave. 'Twas dank and dark, but Sean could almost smell the gauld up ahead, sae he didna mind.

  Digging oot the gauld took longer than Sean thought it would — all day and all night for three days, just tae dig oot enough that he thought he could repay his debts. Food would coome in, and the men would lie doon on the grass tae sleep, but otherwise, they were digging and picking and pounding tae get oot the gauld.

  And Sean thought tae himself, “Why should I stop with just enough gauld tae repay my debts? Let me work another three days, and I shall have enough to last the rest o my life, and even be able tae gamble some o it.”

  Sae Sean dug and ate and slept and dug some moore for another three days and three nights, until he had na only enough gauld tae repay all o his debts, but enough tae set himself up comfortable fer life and still hae some for gambling.

  When he had all o this, he hoarded it up intae his sporran and his other pouches and made his way oot with some men who are heading oot, picks ower their shoulders.

  Howsoever, when Sean got out o the cave, who should be lingering there but the auld man who had given him the pick?

  At foremaist, Sean thought the auld man only wanted his pick back, for his hand was oot as if waiting for it. This Sean gladly gave him.

  But the pick wasna what the auld man was after. His beady eyes studied Sean with a malevolent intelligence, and his voice came oot harsh next he spake.

  “Let us hae what ye got oot o the cave, aye?”

  Now, giving the man back the gauld that Sean had worked sae hard for six days and six nights tae get was the last thing on his mind. Nay, he was looking aboot for some aught tae use as a weapon in order tae beat the man doon sae that he could flee with the gauld.

  Not all o oor ancestors were honest, sorry tae say.

  While Sean was thinking this, the auld man called out tae several men aroond him, who came ower and seized Sean and tied him up. Once he was helpless, the auld man’s beady eyes were on him again.

  “Well nae,” says he. “I can take the gauld by force, ye ken. Howsoever, ‘tis curious I am, what ye will give me for it.”

  Sean opened his mouth tae suggest what he might give.

  But the auld man gestured, and his cronies gagged Sean as wull as they had tied him up.

  Sean couldna speak if his life depended on it, and fair tae likely it did.

  The auld man was speaking, puffing on a pipe he had lit while Sean was being gagged.

  “I will tell ye what ye will give me in exchange for the gauld. It willna be all bad, ye ken. I will get rid o this reckless abandon ye hae at gambling yer wages away — and then some. Sae ye hae that gift as wull as the gauld tae pay back what ye hae squandered. In fact, I will dae this now. Tae show my good faith.”

  Sean felt his mind scramble when the auld man put his hand on Sean’s forehead. Visions o all the wages he’d held and lost went spinning aroond in his mind, followed by a whirlpool that spun aroond faster and faster till it drained out the bottom o his nose in a bunch o snot that he blew intae his sleeve.

  “There nae,” said the auld man. “Yer urge tae gamble is gone forever. Nay need tae thank me, for now yer debt is greater than afore, when all ye did was steal my gauld.”

  Sean fought against his bindings and his gag, thinking, “Where did the auld man get the idea this all was his gauld?” Ye see, this was Sean’s clan’s territory — oor territory. Sae the gauld was rightfully the clan’s, didna the auld man ken?

  Sean could hae sworn up and doon he hadna said a word o these thoughts.

  Even so, the auld man threw back his head and laughed. “The land doesna belong tae yer clan. Nay one owns the land. ‘Tis older than all the rest o us put together. Nay, the land isna owned. And what is in the land isna owned either, till it is brought oot with the work o one’s hands.” He looked askance at the men who obeyed his every word. “Or the hands o those one owns.”

  Hearing the auld man say that he owned these other men greatly disturbed Sean — as ye can wull imagine. On hearing this, he looked intae the eyes o the men who had bound him.

  They were glazed ower, na quite clear. But there was nay sign o fear in these men. They were resigned tae their lot. They didna look at all unhappy… just na sae delighted as they might hae been tae be digging up gauld.

  The auld man brought his beady eyes right up in front o Sean’s.

  “Aye, they are na unhappy. And what I hae in mind for ye, ‘tis na sae bad even as they hae it. Ye wouldna need tae serve me and my line yerself. Only the fourth son born tae ye would need tae — and every fourth son barn intae yer line after that — and only once they’ve reached the age o five and twenty. Only tell me ye agree tae that, and I will tell my men tae let ye go with yer gauld back tae yer clan and live yer happy life.”

  Now Sean was still trussed up, and he couldna give his aye or nay till they removed the gag from his mouth. He took the opportunity tae think the offer ower.

  On the one hand, there was slavery for his fourth born son — who had na in fact been born yet, and might never be — and neither had the fourth born sons o any in his line. That last bit was verra distant for him, ye ken. On the other hand, he was already trussed up, sae these men would hae little difficulty at all in beating him senseless and taking the gauld from him.

  He nodded tae show he was ready tae give his answer.

  The auld man cackled in a frightening though somehow still humorous way and gestured that the men should undo Sean’s gag, which they did — still leaving the trusses.

  Sean took a deep breath in order tae give out the speech he had prepared in his moments o contemplation.

  But the white-robed auld man interrupted him.

  “We will na hae a speech. Just tell me aye or nay. Will ye be gang home with enough gauld tae pay off yer debts — and then some, I daresay — or nay?”

  It seemed tae Sean that even the glassy eyed slaves o the auld man leaned forward tae hear his answer. There really wasna a choice, howsoever.

  “Aye.”

  The auld man leaned forward and put his hand tae his ear.

  “What’s that?”

  Sean spoke up loudly.

  “Aye.”

  The auld man turned aroond and looked smugly at all o his servants, nodding mostly tae himself.

  “Ye all are witness tae that. He took this on willingly, ye ken?”

  They
all nodded, and then the auld man gestured, and one o them took off Sean’s right boot.

  Sean looked at him quizzically.

  The auld man hollered, and yet another man came running up the hill from doon below wth some aught glowing in his hand. Sean couldn’t make out what 'twas for the longest time, but then he gasped.

  Soon as he did, the men ganged up and forced the gag back in his mouth and then held doon his body by sitting on it all ower, leaving his right ankle exposed.

  Sean tried tae scream when the brand hit his ankle, but he couldna get wind with all the men sitting on him, let alone get the wind oot o him with the gag in his mouth.

  And then the auld man touched the branded place, and the pain disappeared — but in its place came the oddest sensation through his whole body. Visions o all his descendants flashed afore his eyes, and each fourth born son was born with this mark aroond his right ankle.

  In the vision, Sean saw that the mark was a ring o standing stones.

  ~*~

  After the story, they had all looked at the standing stones birthmark which Tavish clearly had on his right ankle. It had been so disturbing at the time, and sometimes, like now, Tomas thought of Sulis’s white robes and compared them to the robes in the story. His mind was going a million miles an hour with fear and worry and even guilt.

  But then he found Sulis. He didn’t even know what she whispered in his ear, only that all the turmoil in his mind went away.

  Dà Dheug (12)

  Beset by a sudden drench of tears and choking sobs, Amber ran out of the castle and through the town to the weaver shop, where she flung herself on the floor in front of Eileen’s spinning wheel, laid her head in the woman’s lap, and wept.

  Eileen stopped working and stroked Amber’s hair.

  “Ye must get hold of yerself.” She projected her voice across the room to her children. “Gae on ootside and play, ye bairns.” She waited a minute while they complied, then spoke in the same soothing voice as before. “What is it?”

  Amber was sobbing so hard, she could barely breathe, let alone talk.

  “I… He… Sulis…”

  Eileen handed her a handkerchief.

  “Here ye are. Try yer best tae pull yerself together now.”

  Amber gratefully blew her nose. Doing so helped her gain her composure a bit, so she got up and sat on her stool and began carding wool after she wiped her tears as well, taking several deep breaths in order to calm her breathing and stop the choking effect.

  “I thank ye. Oh, ‘tis Tomas. Ye wouldna ken from how he behaves now, but he is a good man, Eileen. A good man who is trapped under Sulis’s thumb.”

  Eileen watched Amber card for a moment, as if she expected her to break down again, but when she didn’t, Eileen went back to spinning the wool into yarn.

  “’Twouldn’t be the first time a pretty lass brought a good man doon. Nay, ‘twouldn’t.”

  Thankful for the affirmation, Amber gave Eileen a grateful look.

  “I did spend the day with him yesterday, ye ken. At first, he was grumbling, but toward the end o it he seemed wull. Howsoever, then she showed up and whispered in his ear — and he transformed once again tae this zombie—”

  Eileen put a hand on Amber’s elbow.

  “Pray tell, what be a zombie?”

  Amber cast about the room for an answer that would be suitable.

  “’Tis a creature in a story I heard once. A mindless slave.”

  Eileen nodded.

  “’Tis a suitable name for him, aye.”

  Eileen studied Amber’s face a moment, appearing to be making a decision. And then she lowered her voice to barely a whisper, darting glances over at the male weavers at their looms across the room.

  “There is a good enchantress nearby tae the south. Elsbeth may be able tae help him. Mayhap she is powerful enough tae break the spell. Howsoever, ye mustna go alone. ‘Tis tae dangerous. Seumas knows the way — everyone roond here does — and if ye ask him tae go with ye — and perhaps Tavish as wull — I’m certain they will.”

  Amber wiped the last of her tears away with a small smile for Eileen, then held up the handkerchief with a questioning look in her eyes.

  Smirking, Eileen pointed to the wash buckets on the other side of the looms.

  Amber put the handkerchief in with the white clothes and then helped Eileen spin some more.

  But the first chance she got, she excused herself to go to the privy, asked someone how to get to Elsbeth’s, and set off on her own to the south.

  ~*~

  Amber expected the woods to be scary, going by Eileen’s warning. So she was pleasantly surprised that the birds were singing and even the sun was shining and the flowers blooming as she made her way to the witch’s little cottage by a stream, deep in the woods.

  Only two things kept it from being a pleasant stroll.

  One, she had the uneasy feeling someone was following her.

  Every once in a while she would pause at what she thought a random point and whip her head around in the direction she thought she felt the pursuit from. But she didn’t see anything. She thought she heard something a few times, but with all the birds singing, it was hard to be sure.

  Two, she was going to visit a witch.

  Three days ago, Amber would’ve laughed if you told her someone was a witch. She hadn’t believed in such things. But with the evidence that magic actually did exist all around her because of this trip into the past, a healthy amount of fear loomed in her mind. Would she herself fall into some sort of spell as soon as she saw the woman?

  But when she got there, she laughed.

  The enchantress’s cottage was adorable. Different-colored river rocks piled up on top of each other to make walls. The roof was made from a million handfuls of straw. Amber walked up the stone pathway through the grass and flowers and knocked on the cute little maple-wood door.

  “Aye, be with ye in a moment,” called out a sweet woman’s voice from within.

  While she waited, Amber took stock of the cottage. There was smoke coming out of the little stone chimney, and little maple-wood shutters covered the tiny windows. The whole cottage could fit in her parents’ living room. She wanted one just like it.

  The little door opened, and inside was a woman as pretty as Eileen, only thirty years older. Her smile was tentative, but welcoming.

  “Hello, I suspect ye know I’m Elsbeth.”

  Amber found herself stumbling over her words, the woman had such a presence.

  “Aye. Eileen told me o ye. She says ye might be able tae help me — or rather, tae help my friend Tomas. I’m Amber.”

  After briefly looking over Amber’s shoulder for a moment for some strange reason perhaps only a witch would understand, Elsbeth stepped to the side and opened the door wider.

  “Come in.”

  The cottage looked cozy from outside the door, with a fire in the grate of the little stone fireplace and a handwoven rag rug on the hardwood floor.

  But something in her gut made Amber hesitate. The decision to cross the threshold of this house seemed monumental. But she’d walked all the way out here just to see this woman, so it would be silly to turn around and walk all the way back without even talking to her.

  Amber went in and paused, looking about while her eyes adjusted to the firelight.

  There were drawings of people mounted on the wattle and daub that sealed the river rock walls, and the only furnishings were a bed, two chairs, and a tiny kitchen table.

  But the fourth wall grabbed Amber’s attention, once she could see. It was full of little cubbyholes that held the most random collection of things: feathers, tiny little sticks of different varieties, stones, mushrooms, whole leaves, tiny glass jars with different colored liquids…

  Elsbeth gestured to one of the chairs and sat down on the other side of the tiny table.

  “Sae Amber, I will save ye the trouble o making small talk and just ask ye now — why hae ye come tae see me?”

  Amb
er searched Elsbeth’s eyes for any sign of mocking, but they looked sweet and kind. She decided she was going to trust Elsbeth. After all, Tavish and Kelsey trusted Eileen, and Eileen had said Elsbeth was a good enchantress.

  “’Tis a long story.”

  Elsbeth rested her head in her hands, which she had propped on the table by her elbows.

  “I hae naught tae do all the day. Dae tell.”

  Somehow, looking at the witch was tiring. So while she talked, Amber slouched in her chair and studied the slats of the ceiling that held up the straw of the roof. She had to concentrate in order to pick out only the details in her story which would make sense to a woman of this time.

  “When I was fourteen, my parents finally let me volunteer at the Ren… at the market fair for the summer. ‘Twas far enough away from oor haime that I had tae camp there overnight two days a week. I’d never stayed away from haime afore, and it gave me a lot o freedom. I met Tomas there, and we had sae much in common. We were inseparable whenever I was at the fair. I fell in love with Tomas, and I am certain he fell in love with me tae. For four summers this went on. I thought we would be together forever — that once we were grown, we would be marrit. But the day after his eighteenth birthday, Tomas disappeared from my life. Went away withoot saying where. All his kin went, tae.”

  Elsbeth’s face looked sorry for her to the extent Amber hadn’t expected. It was almost as if Elsbeth were living through what Amber described, the sorrow in the enchantress’s eyes was that deep.

  “Such a loss is hard to bear. It strengthens us, but the pain… Most believe the pain is not worth the gain in strength of character.”

  What an odd thing to say.

  Amber had to think about it for a minute before she even realized what it meant. Deciding she had been paid a complement — albeit a weird one — she smiled the tiniest bit and gave the enchantress a little nod before continuing her tale.

  “That happened seven years ago. I tried tae forget him, tae fall in love and marry anoother, but ‘twas a losing cause. I despaired o ever being marrit.”