by Amy Jarecki
A castle surrounded by stone bailey walls came into view, jutting into the Forth on a slip of a promontory. Eva gasped and drew her fingers to her lips. “Is that Blackness?”
“Aye.” It looked as menacing from the sea as it did from the shore.
“There’s only one tower.” She pointed. “I hardly recognized it but for the location.”
William looked over his shoulder. The others were tending oars or coiling ropes—having lost interest now that Blair had returned to the stern to take up the rudder with the master. William led her to the bow and kept his voice low. “What is the Forth like in your time?”
She grinned and scraped her teeth over her bottom lip. “It is so different. Towns and houses line the shore and ahead, two bridges cross the Forth at Queensferry.”
“Two? Span the entire body of water?”
“Yes, and they nearly have a third completed.” She spread her hands in front of her face then opened them wide, as if painting a scene. “The railway runs across Forth Bridge with its three expansive red arches giving it support.” She chuckled. “I can see it now in my mind’s eye.”
He wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her back against his chest. “I wish I could see it just once.”
“Oh, that would be something. You’d hardly recognize it.” She pointed. “There’s no dim cloud of smoke hanging over Edinburgh like it’s doing today—and there’s so much more to the skyline—old and new.”
“Is the castle still presiding atop the hill?”
“Yes.” She offered a sheepish grin. “It’s a tourist attraction.”
“A what?”
“Oh dear, that must be another one of my modern words. People pay to go there and look at old relics—old construction—to find out how things used to be.”
“Ye mean to tell me people have time for such malarkey?” He gave her a playful squeeze.
She wiggled against him with a squeak. “It is not malarkey. It’s important to study the past—interesting, too.”
“More important than tilling a field or tending the sick?”
“Of course not, but everyone needs a vacation—ah—a bit of rest from time to time.”
I conjure up a mob of lazy laggards. “It sounds like people from the future have too little to do if they pay good coin to climb around old relics.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And ye’ve more tales than a long-toothed bard.”
“I’m not lying.”
“I didna say ye were.” He tickled her between the ribs with his pointer finger. “’Tis just I’m the only sop in all of Christendom who’s daft enough to believe ye, truth or nay.”
***
Their arrival in the Orkneys brought about more rough living and crude accommodations. But Eva held no illusions that she’d been brought back to the fourteenth century to live a life of a privileged noblewoman. She’d returned because of the deep love she harbored for William, and he for her. Eight years had done nothing to quell it. After they’d been separated, she’d only managed to mask her feelings, push them to the deep recesses of her mind so her heart didn’t hurt so badly.
Yes, she loved William with a fervent passion unsurpassed by anything she’d ever experienced or ever again would know. Their souls were entwined and woven together by a vine of impenetrable iron.
And that terrified her.
When they’d first arrived, Eva often experienced flashes of dread, covering her skin with a sheen of sweat. It took a few blinks and a bit of fist clenching to chase the fear back to the recesses of her mind. Fortunately, she kept herself busy tending to the needs of William’s small band of rebels. Simply existing in this era brought heavy labor. Nothing was easy—no taps to turn for instant, pure water, no light switches, no thermostat for heat, no grocery stores to buy food or refrigerators in which to store it.
Death and darkness lurked in every crevice. They’d even been met by an army of teeth-gnashing Norsemen when their galley ran aground on the Orkney beach.
Thankfully, William’s letter of passage from King Philip had been impressive enough to avoid a battle. And after making enquiries, they’d re-boarded the sea galley and sailed a wee bit south to the tiny isle of Eynhallow where smooth-tongued, multi-lingual William Wallace employed his Latin to convince a group of Monastic monks into giving them sanctuary.
In the past month, a handful of mercenaries had joined them from the mainland—sent by the Earl of Carrick. But it wasn’t enough and William had already grown restless.
By the time May rolled around, Eva had resumed her writing. While William and his men trained the new recruits who were trickling in, she also helped the monks tend the garden and went for long walks along the craggy shore of the islet. Accustomed to the city, it surprised her that she hadn’t grown a bit antsy as the months passed. The remoteness of Eynhallow gave her a sense of calm—a sense of being detached from the rest of the world.
She’d finally figured it out—and perhaps that’s why a calm sereneness filled her with contentment. She no longer had to push future dreads from her mind. Convinced the medallion had sent her back to change the horrific course of events, she fully intended to keep William on Eynhallow through summer at the very least.
Summer came late in the Orkneys and the weather still drizzled. The abbot had given the couple a chamber with a narrow window overlooking the sea and Eva had moved the table where she could look out when writing. In the mornings she took up the quill and recorded every detail about her time there.
She’d just dipped the tip in the inkwell when the door to the chamber opened.
“Och, Willy, I dunna need to be mollycoddled,” Robbie said as William ushered the young knight inside.
William thrust his finger in Eva’s direction. “Ye’ll have her look at ye and that’s the end of it.”
Groaning, the young man plopped into the chair opposite Eva. Blood soaked his sleeve.
She rested the quill in the holder as she hissed. “What happened?”
“The lad got a wee bit too close to my blade,” said William, then he pointed to young Boyd. “Take off your shirt so she can have a peek.”
Robbie knit his brows with an annoyed huff. “Bloody hell.” But he whipped the garment over his head. Indeed, he’d grown muscles as thick as a Brahman bull. But the laceration on his arm bled profusely.
Eva cringed and placed her fingers above the wound. “Oh dear, that’s quite a cut.”
“’Tis nothing,” said Robbie.
William bent down and gave the wound a once-over. “I reckon it needs to be stitched.”
“I agree.” The laceration had to be at least four inches long. Eva retrieved her basket from the bedside table. “We need to staunch the bleeding first.” She pulled out one of the cloths she’d sterilized with boiling water, rolled it and pressed against the wound.
Robbie winced. “It’ll come good in a day or two. ’Tis merely a scratch.”
William clapped him on the good shoulder. “Let Lady Eva tend ye, then I’ll see ye in the courtyard for another round.”
The lad grinned. “Ye’re on.”
Eva dabbed at the wound, regarding Robbie’s well-muscled bicep. “You’ve grown strong over the years.”
“Aye? Who wouldna? I’ve been watching Willy’s back since I was a lad of eleven. If I’d been a milksop, I couldna survived.”
“I admire you for standing by him through both the good and trying times. Not many have done so.” She fished in her basket for the tub of antiseptic ointment and squeezed a small dab onto her finger. She’d been using less, trying to make it last.
He smirked. “Ye had the good sense to leave him when times were at their best.”
Holding her finger still, she regarded the lad and frowned. “It wasn’t my choice to leave.”
“Then why did ye? And dunna lie. I was just a lad. Ye were the only mother I kent—ever, and ye just up and disappeared without so much as a goodbye.”
The lad’s w
ords cut deep. He still resented her for her disappearance. She carefully applied the ointment, trying to think of something to say to make him understand she hadn’t abandoned him—at least not on purpose. “I wanted to stay. I wanted to say goodbye to you, to William. But I couldn’t.”
“Ye mean ye wouldna.”
“No.” Standing back, she pulled out the medallion. “Can you read Latin?”
“Willy taught me a bit.”
She handed it to him. “What does this say?”
“Truth is like a beacon.”
“Mm hmm.” Then she turned it over. “And on the other side?”
“But few choose to follow.”
“The magic—or whatever it is—behind this medallion chose me of all people to travel through seven hundred years to write William’s story. Do you know the only rule?”
He shook his head warily.
He seemed so reluctant to believe her, but Eva figured she might as well finish. “I cannot do anything to alter the past. I suspected Andrew Murray was suffering from lead poisoning caused by the arrow tip lodged in his shoulder—but I’m not a physician. I’m a chronicler, regardless, when William insisted that I try to help Sir Andrew, I was hurled back to my time before I made the first incision.”
His nose twitched. “It sent ye away ’cause ye were trying to help? But ye’re always trying to help.”
“Yes, but this time, evidently helping Sir Andrew would have altered history.” She threaded a bone needle.
He regarded his arm. “And ye’re not changing history by helping me now?”
“If I weren’t here, I imagine a monk would sew you up—regardless, I doubt you’d die from this cut, though without my ointment it might take a bit longer to heal.”
When she bent forward, he pointed to the medallion. “Why are ye wearing the blasted thing if it could spirit ye away? It would ruin Willy to lose ye again. Do ye ken what he went through after ye left?”
Eva made the first suture. “I can imagine—though I doubt his pain was worse than my own broken heart. At least I returned to a time of peace.”
“Aye, Willy hasna had a moment of respite since he took up the sword for King John.”
“I worry about him.”
“As do I—especially now ye’re here.”
She looked the lad in the eye. “You do not trust me, do you?”
He shrugged. “With that medallion around your neck, I fear ye may snap your fingers and be gone.”
She tied off another suture. “It isn’t that easy. I have absolutely no control over it whatsoever."
He jolted when she pushed in the needle for another stitch. “If ye are from the future, tell me what happens? I’ve been at war my entire life. I dunna have a home. I havena seen my own lands in years and now we’re hiding on this Godforsaken isle. When will it all end?”
She sucked in a sharp inhale before stepping back and regarding his face. “You know, I refuse to lie, but there are things better left unsaid?”
“Aye?” He batted his hand across his face. “Ye speak with a forked tongue if ye ask me.”
“Things will grow worse before they improve,” she said, wrapping her fingers around the medallion.
“Are ye planning to leave again—afore the bad comes? Abandon Willy when he needs ye most?”
Her hands trembled. A sudden queasiness attacked her stomach. She couldn’t leave William. The only thing she could do was influence him to change his course of action. Could she do it subtly enough not to invoke the ire of the medallion? Removing it from around her neck, she placed the bronze disc on the table. “He is my husband now. I will stand beside him no matter what.” Her words made the anxiety melt from her shoulders. She rubbed another swipe of ointment across the wound. “Listen to me. Your future is what you should focus on now. You will become a renowned knight—one who bears a legacy through the ages. It is time you pledged your fealty to Robert Bruce.”
“Is that right?” Robbie said with an edge of sarcasm.
Picking up his shirt from his lap, she stuffed it into his chest. “Think! King John abdicated the throne, and now he’s retired to France. He’s never coming back. Who is strong enough to be king? Who among the gentry has the grit to take on England and throw the bastards out of Scotland?”
The pupils of Robbie’s eyes shrank into tight beads. “Bruce?” he whispered. “Is that why he met with Willy at Torwood?”
“I think you know the answer, Robert Dominus Boyd. Who do you think is man enough to take up the king’s mantle and finish the work William has spent his life trying to achieve?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
More than anything, during his stay at Eynhallow, William enjoyed his afternoon walks with Eva. Today she let her tresses fall loose. He loved how the breeze picked up her curls and made them dance.
Opening her arms, she twirled along the path as if they had not a care in the world. “I love it here.”
“What do ye like best?” William caught a lock of her hair in his palm and held it to his nose.
Giving a wry look, she giggled and fell in step beside him. “The remoteness, the quiet, the fresh smell of the sea.” A seal sounded on the shore ahead. “Look—where else have you watched seals sunbathing on the shore?”
“Ye like the seals, then?”
“I love the seals and the seabirds.” She pointed. “And look there, the daisies are in bloom since yesterday.” Taking his hand, she skipped for the flowers. “We must make a daisy chain.”
“I like seeing ye carefree like this.” William’s rigidity eased with her exuberance. He helped by picking a fistful of the flowers and held them up. “Is this enough?”
“Yes.” Laughing, she led him to the stony shore and sat with her legs crossed. She spread the daisies in her lap. “Have you made a chain before?”
“With flowers?” he asked. “Nay. Repairing my mail is about all I’ve done with chains.”
She broke the stem near the top, then made a hole with her fingernail. “See, you slide the next stem in like this, then pull until the base of the flower hits.”
William picked up a daisy and followed her instructions. “Like this?”
“Yep. Easy, huh?”
He chuckled. When they were away from others, she relaxed into her normal speech. Now he’d grown accustomed to it, he loved to hear her talk when she wasn’t trying so hard to be her ladyship. “What do we do with these once we’ve used up all the flowers?”
She held up her strand of three flowers. “Make a necklace.”
Stilling his hands, he gave her a flabbergasted smirk. “Ye expect me to trudge back to the monastery with a ring of daisies around my neck?”
“Why not?” Eva pushed another daisy through her chain, looking unfussed.
“I’d never be able to show my face to my men.”
“Oh? I think if anyone were bold enough to tease you, they might end up regretting it, and in short order.”
“Och, ye’re right there.” He pulled a stem a bit too hard and broke off the bloom.
Eva reached for it. “Oops.” Her movement graceful as a swan, she plucked it from his thigh and tucked it behind her ear as if she were born to be adorned by daisies.
William brushed her windblown tresses from her forehead. “It suits ye to have flowers in your hair.” Watching her bonny face, his heart squeezed. Jesu, he would never cease to adore her beauty. “Och, ye are so fine, wife.”
The green of her eyes gleamed when her gaze met his. She reached up and cupped his cheek. “You know I love you with all my heart—always have.”
“Aye.” A lump filled his throat while his fingers worked the flowers.
She rubbed her outer arms and looked toward the horizon. “Are you happy here?”
He shrugged. “I’d be a fair bit more content if Lord Bruce would send more men.” He completed his ring of daisies and slipped it over her head. “And news from the mainland has been sparse.”
“I rather enjoy having you to myself
in the afternoons. There’s nothing more romantic than a quiet stroll along the secluded shore.” She held up her palms and grinned sheepishly. “No daily running for our lives.”
“’Tis romance ye want?” he teased, prodding her with the tip of his finger. He could be happy spending the rest of his days walking the shore holding Eva’s hand. He couldn’t deny her point either. Living without fear was what every man desired. William sighed. If only he could walk away from the cause, but he’d never forgive himself. He owed his life to Scotland and his kin. Images of his murdered countrymen haunted him nightly. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his slain father lying face down in the mud, his sinews cut behind his knees. This respite in Orkney could not possibly last. Did he want to stay and pretend he and Eva were all that mattered in the world? More than anything.
But his desires were selfish musings of a mortal man.
She draped her chain around William’s neck. Then her eyes grew dark with a waggle of her brows. God’s teeth, the woman could make him hard as a bedpost with one wanton look. “I wish we could remain here forever—let the world’s problems pass us by.”
“Problems have a way of catching up with a man.” He slid an arm over her shoulder and squeezed. “We canna hide from our destiny.” Mayhap they could steal an hour or two of respite. Inhaling, he closed his eyes and succumbed to her intoxicating allure.
“I don’t know.” Frowning, she drew away from his arm, then moved behind him and sunk her fingers into his shoulders. Good God, she could also pacify an angry mule with her hands. “You’ve been regaining your strength with rest and my massages. Perhaps a year on Eynhallow wouldn’t be too much to ask.”
“And ye have more fanciful dreams than I.” But William doubted his strength would ever be equal to his prime. He’d suffered too many injuries—and no matter how hard he tried, he didn’t improve.
Eva swirled her thumbs between his shoulder blades. “If the war was over, what would you do?”
He rolled his shoulder as the tension in his muscles responded to her magic. “That’s easy. I’d take ye to my lands in Ayrshire. We’d have bairns and till the paddocks. I’d build ye a fine cottage with an enormous hearth.”
