by Amy Jarecki
Blair jolted upright. “Bloody Christmas, I think ye need a slice of roast mutton with your spirit.”
“Nay, ye’ll not skirt around it. I’ll have your word right here and now, ye will not speak out against her.”
“Och, ye ken I wouldna, and it vexes me ye feel ye have to ask.”
“Then we’ll not speak of her again.” William took another sip of whisky and blinked to clear his watering eyes. He’d been wallowing in his misery long enough. No commander ever held his ground by hiding in the dark. “What was it ye said about the Kingdom falling to pieces?”
“Reports have come in about plundering all along the border. Word spread of your chasing the Earl of March out of Scotland and everyone is raring for a piece of it.”
William sat a little straighter. “’Tis good to hear.” And there he’d expected news of another English invasion.
“Aye, but they’re looting churches and monasteries.”
William frowned and drew his fingers down his unkempt beard. “I say we join them. The only way we can ensure the English stay out of Scotland is to invade and attack the very heart of the lion that attempted to oppress us.” He stood and swayed a bit. “Assemble my lieutenants at once.”
Blair hopped to his feet and snatched the flagon. “I’ll have Robbie bring up some food as well, else ye’ll be in your cups afore ye reach the solar.”
Chapter Eleven
Cranked up to the fastest setting, the wipers beat a relentless rhythm, sweeping away water from the windscreen, but still could not keep pace with the driving rain. Eva gripped the steering wheel in her fists and leaned as far forward as possible. She strained to focus on the stretch of road in front of her as she punched the brakes for the turn at the unmarked road at Fail.
She hadn’t been behind the wheel for months. Everything seemed alien. The car fishtailed until it came to a stop sideways on the B730. Thank God no other vehicles were in sight.
“Shit,” she cursed, frustrated with the weather and everything else that had delayed her.
Having attended high school and college in the United States, she’d only driven with the steering wheel on the right side of the car for a couple of weeks before ending up in 1297. Driving in such bad weather, her instincts took over and she’d already ended up on the wrong side of the road twice.
Downshifting in to first, the gears ground as she let out the clutch and proceeded onto the unmarked road until she reached the ruin on the Fail Water. Shrouded in the colors of autumn and darkened by pelting rain, the remains of the old monastery looked completely different than they had the last time Eva parked outside the abandoned rubble.
When she clicked the handle, the wind caught the door and yanked it from her grasp.
She snatched her hand to her chest and peered through the windscreen up at the dark grey sky. “You’re really mad, aren’t you?” A gust of wind yanked back the door further as the car shuddered.
With a shiver, Eva reached inside her shift and pulled out the medallion. Running her thumb over the Latin inscription, she translated, truth is like a beacon. Turning it over, she digested the second part of the axiom, but few choose to follow.
I have always built my life upon the foundation of truth.
From the look of the dark clouds hanging low above, it could be days before it stopped raining. And in no way could she allow herself to be flung into the thirteenth century with an umbrella or a rain slicker. If anyone besides William saw her, she’d be in deep shit.
A little rain never hurt anyone.
After she hid the keys under the passenger seat as she and Walter had discussed, she took in a deep breath and made a mad dash for the center of what once would have been the nave of the ruins. Grabbing the outsides of her arms, Eva hugged herself against the instant cold and wet from the driving rain.
As she’d done on the two other occasions when she’d time traveled, Eva stared up at the rose window embellishing the only complete wall left standing. “It’s me again.” Her teeth chattered as rain pelted her face and dribbled down her chin. But she forced her arms down and stood completely straight. “I know I let William push me too far, but how on earth would I have saved Sir Andrew? He was so sick. I’ve never seen anyone suffer so badly from a wound. But I still stand by my point. I couldn’t have saved him. For goodness sakes, I have absolutely no medical training whatsoever.”
Nothing happened—no lightning overhead like the last time, just the downpour continuing to soak through her kirtle and shift.
“Please, the truth is my beacon and I will always follow it.” She held up the medallion. “Just as it is inscribed right here. You wanted me to have this—encouraged Walter to put me on the dig team last summer. I know it wasn’t fate.”
She stared at the rose window and watched heavy droplets of water streak from the ledge twenty feet down to the ground. “This cannot be over.”
Rain streamed into her eyes, but she wasn’t about to give up. “Why did you send me there in the first place, if you intended for me to be hurled back without my writings? What was the purpose of my visit? You knew I would fall in love with him. You knew I wouldn’t be able to take losing him—at least not yet. Dammit, I planned on a year. Couldn’t you give me that? One lousy year of happiness with him?”
She walked in a circle, rubbing the outsides of her arms. “I tried so hard not to change anything—to be helpful—to prove that I could survive. Do you know how difficult that’s been for me? I’m from a wealthy family that takes luxurious vacations on private islands in Fiji. But did I complain about bathing in a river? About sleeping in a cave when William’s rebels were just getting started? No! I accepted everything thrown my way without complaint.”
All the memories from the past six months hit her in the gut like the force from an iron hammer. “Jesus Christ, I’ve even overcome my fear of knives…well, almost. Sharp objects will probably always make me squeamish, but I haven’t freaked out in months. I’ve hung in there. I stood by and watched the horrific Battle of Stirling Bridge and was on hand to assist Brother Bartholomew. I helped Paden and Adam, and especially Robbie—stood in as their surrogate mother. And I’m only twenty-seven fucking years old!”
Eva slammed her fist into her palm. “Come on. I’m pleading. I’m begging. I cannot walk away from William right now. I’m not ready. I need him. He needs me. We need each other.”
She stamped her foot so hard, pain seared all the way up to her thigh. “I’m a widow for Chrissake. The first love of my life ended up stabbed to death in a New York subway, and now you cut short the fleeting bit of happiness I had with William? How can you do this to me? I’m. Not. Ready. Goddammit!”
Shivering, her gown soaked through, Eva stood in the center of the ruin and glared at the rose window while unrelenting rain pummeled her body. Her throat thickened while the rain commingled with her tears.
“I’m not leaving.”
Distant thunder rumbled, and Eva finally gave in and rubbed the outside of her arms and bounced her legs to keep warm. “Please, send me back.”
Her teeth chattered and she stole a glance at the Fiat. She could turn on the engine and run the heater, but that would be like giving up. “Please,” she whispered. Closing her eyes, she pictured the monastery with walls and a solid roof as it had been when she’d arrived in the midst of a battle in 1297. She saw William’s face—the intensity of his crystal blue eyes when he stared at her from across the fire.
Eva rocked to assuage the cold. “Please.”
She dropped to her knees and curled into a ball. “I have no other place to go. William is my home. I can’t just leave it like this. Please, please, please, send me back.”
***
By the time the headlights of a car bombarded her with blinding light, Eva had grown numb to the icy cold of the pelting rain, though her teeth refused to stop chattering. The car door slammed. Eva squinted and shaded her eyes against the brightness. The outline of a man moved toward her, carrying an umbrella
in one hand and a torch in another.
“Eva?” It was Walter’s voice. “Come, I’ll drive you back to Glasgow.” As he walked forward, the torch blinded him—the battery-operated kind. Then his car drove off.
Eva stared at the black galoshes that stopped beside her. “I-I’m n-not going.” So wracked by excessive tremors, she could hardly force the words out.
“You can do what you like, but you’ll most likely have pneumonia by morning.”
“I h-have to find a way back.” Water streamed into her mouth.
“I’m afraid that portal has been closed, just as it was for me—and I only spent a matter of minutes in the past.” He held the umbrella over her, though it didn’t make much difference. “Come, let’s see you dried off. Do you have a place to stay?”
“N-no. Hotel, I guess.”
He gave her arm a gentle tug. “It’s time to give it up, lass.”
She yanked away. “Never. Not g-giving up.”
“Well, at least come with me for tonight. Chrissy has gone to see her parents and I’m here to take your car as you asked. You may intend to die of exposure out here in the driving rain, but I assure you, I’m planning on having a long life.”
Eva didn’t budge.
“Look, I reckon you’ve been out here at least five hours. The magic would have worked by now. It’s not only dark, it’s cold, and I’m not about to leave you in the midst of this downpour.”
With a shudder, she looked up at the wheel-shaped window. “I might concede defeat for today, but I’m not about to give up.”
Walter offered his hand. “There’s a good lass.”
He led her to the car and helped her climb into the passenger side. “Do you have anything dry to change into?”
She crouched forward, gripping her arms tight to her body. “I might have a blanket in the back.”
The gravel crunched under his feet as he went around and opened the hatch. “You’re in luck.” He tossed up the plaid she’d left there when she’d first joined the dig team.
That seems like an eon ago. Eva pulled the wool around her shoulders and used the edge to wring out her hair while she still shivered.
Walter revved the engine and cranked up the heat. “It’ll be toasty warm in here in a minute.”
Her lips quivering out of control, all she could do was nod.
“Tell you what.” He put the car in gear and headed north. “I’ll let you stay in my spare room until you can find a place of your own.”
She gave him a sideways glance. She had no intention of staying anywhere for long.
“How does that sound?”
But still, he’d gone out of his way to pick her up. “T-that’s very kind. Thank you.” The warmth from the heater brought back the feeling in her toes.
“Do you have any money? I might be able to find you a position at the university until you can find a job.”
“Are you serious?” He knew she was loaded. Nonetheless, she shook her head. “I have the money from the insurance settlement.” She snorted with a smirk. “Unless someone cleaned out my bank accounts while I was gone.”
Walter chuckled. “Well that’s good, then. You can start in on writing the articles about your time there—I’ve no doubt they’ll sell.”
She nodded and stared out the window.
“Have you any ideas for a title?” he asked as if he seriously believed she’d be staying more than a day.
She blinked and studied a stream of water as it trailed sideways on its way down the glass. “No.” A tear leaked from her eye and slowly dribbled down her face—just like the rainwater she watched.
He clicked on the blinker and proceeded through a roundabout. “You know, this is probably for the best. If you’d stayed much longer…well, it would have been that much more difficult.”
Eva’s gut clamped into a knot. “Look, I gave myself a year. That means I’ve got six more months.” She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “I’d give anything to spend that time with him.” And maybe a wee bit more.
“And then what?”
She whipped her head around. “What are you doing? Are you trying to talk me out of going back? Because if you are, you can stop it right now. I do appreciate that you came after me, but I never felt for anyone the way I feel for William, and God dammit, I’ll take every moment I can with him. I don’t think about the future.”
“No?”
“No. I do not. All that exists for us is the now.”
Walter pursed his lips and drove on while the wipers hammered a morose rhythm.
Chapter Twelve
With eight thousand soldiers behind him, William led the march to Berwick. Sacked by the English nineteen months ago, they were finally ready to reclaim the border town for Scotland. It hadn’t taken long and he’d gone from living in a cave and leading a score and ten men to being in command of the combined forces of Scotland.
In their company, marched the powerful border clans of Home, Graham, Hay and Ramsay—trained armies carrying pikes, sword, battleaxes and longbows.
Marching eight thousand foot soldiers across the rolling hills of the Marches made the going slow. But it gave William time to think—and stew. God’s bones, he needed a good fight to release the seething angst boiling just beneath the surface of his skin.
Ever since Eva had disappeared, a black hole had taken up residence in his chest The chasm’s only positive purpose served to feed his relentless drive to rid Scotland of the English all the more.
As dusk set upon them, Sir Geoffrey Home pointed to a copse of trees near the shoreline. “We can make camp yonder. We’re a mere two miles’ march to Berwick.”
“Do ye reckon there’s enough cover to keep us hidden?” William asked.
The knight inclined his helmed head. “Aye, beyond those trees, there’s a gully well out of sight of any passersby.”
William peered through the wood. He never would have guessed there was a ravine beyond. He circled his hand over his head and pointed to the forest. “We shall bed down in the gully. Blair—station the watch around the perimeter. Eddy—send your spies ahead. I’ll not be leading the men into a trap on the morrow.”
Though the weather had turned bloody cold, William’s orders were for no fires and no smoke to alert the enemy to their location. He did allow the men to pitch tents to keep from freezing their cods and for a bit of shelter from the drizzle.
Huddling beneath the white canvas, William and the barons discussed their plans.
He picked up a stick and drew an outline of the town, with the castle and the river behind it all. “Our greatest advantage is the Tweed. If we corner them between the bailey walls and the river, we’ll win for certain.”
“They ken we’re coming, no doubt. They’ve spies everywhere.” said Sir Home.
“Most likely, but the question is, what are they planning to do about it?” William drew an “X” where their army would stage their attack. “Ye said the Earl of Surrey had called for conscripts. How many have answered the call?”
“Not as many as there will be,” said Sir Ramsay.
“Then now’s the time to strike for certain.” Wallace jabbed his stick in the center of the “X”. “Right here. Home—wait until my ram’s horn sounds, then flank us with the cavalry. That’ll stop any English bastards from fleeing.”
The sound of clipped voices approached outside the tent. “He’s not leading a raid on Berwick without me.”
Wallace recognized the deep burr and his gut clenched. In the past, he’d had one too many run-ins with Sir William Douglas. The man was unpredictable and vainglorious to boot, but he commanded a contingent of well-trained cavalry men. William ducked outside and stretched to his full height. “Ye come for a fight, did ye?”
Sir Home joined them, crossing his arms over his barrel chest. “Ye had your chance to fight the English over a year past, and ye lost Berwick Castle. Then ye lost at Irvine. I reckon ye’ve done enough damage.”
Reaching for
his hilt, Douglas lunged within a hand’s breadth of Sir Home’s face. “I ought to skewer ye for that.” At least the baron had the good sense not to draw his sword.
“With what?” Home closed the distance until their noses practically touched. “Your ma’s eating knife?”
Bellowing, Sir Douglas threw his arms around Geoffrey’s trunk and the two men crashed to the ground, fists flying.
“Cocksburnpath Tower s mine,” Douglas bellowed, slamming an undercut to Home’s jaw.
Geoffrey responded, jutting the heel of his hand into the side his opponent’s chin and twisting his head back. “Get off me ye milk-livered swine. The tower’s mine. Always has been.”
Douglas twisted back, then dove atop Home with a fist to the nose before the older man could right himself. Blood streamed from Sir Home’s nose.
William rolled his eyes and shook his head at Sir Ramsay. “Does anyone have a bucket of water?”
Shouts resounded from the gathering crowd—a bit of pushing and shoving, too.
Ramsay smirked. “Are ye aiming to stop the flea-bitten dogs or let them have it out?”
“I’d boot both their arses out if we didna need their armies.” William stepped into the brawl, grabbed Sir Douglas by the scruff of the neck and hefted him across the clearing onto his backside. “Boar’s ballocks, can the pair of ye not wait until the morrow to take out your aggression? And not against each other. Ye’re a disgrace to your men.”
Sir Home shook his finger. “He’d sooner cut my throat in the wee hours of the night.”
William eyed Douglas. “If ye want to be a part of this, I expect ye to obey my orders.” He panned his gaze across the dirty faces of the bedraggled onlookers. “That goes for the lot of ye. There’ll be no infighting amid the ranks, else ye’ll be out on your own with nary a sword at your back.”
Sir Douglas lumbered to his feet. “Och, ye’re still sore about burning the barns in Ayr, are ye now?”
Slowly, William strode toward the wayward knight. “Among other things. No man wants to be backstabbed by a colleague.”
