Realms Gate

by Juliet Anderson

  As Birdie pulled up outside the front door, two dogs came rushing out to greet them. “The Labrador is Paisley and the St Bernard is Jacques.” Birdie patted their heads. “I hope you don’t mind dogs.”

  “No, I love them.” Erin wrestled playfully with Jacques. “Especially mountain dogs.”

  “Well, come on in. I’ll ask Andrew to get your bags.”

  “Who’s Andrew?”

  “He’s the handyman. Husband of Mrs McDowell, our housekeeper and cook.” Birdie ushered her over the threshold.

  The stone entrance bore the McLomard coat of arms, a dragon sitting above two crossed swords. As she crossed underneath it, she felt a wave of dizziness pass over her. She grabbed hold of Birdie to steady herself. “Sorry, I’m not sure what happened just then.”

  “It’s part of your memory returning most likely.”

  “My memory returning?” Erin was confused.

  “Your memories of this place have been suppressed for over a decade. They will gradually start resurfacing now you’re back.”

  Erin spun around looking at the entrance hall in amazement. It was positively palatial. One wall was dominated by a huge stone fireplace, above which hung the McLomard shield and an assortment of ancient swords. At the far end of the hall was a rather ostentatious sweeping staircase. “Impressive,” Erin squeaked.

  Birdie opened a door off the hallway. “How about a cup of tea before we settle you in?”

  Erin followed her into a huge sitting room. It was heavily panelled with numerous painting and coats of arms lining the walls. The selection of chairs and sofas were covered in rich fabrics. It reminded Erin of a grand room in a stately home. “This is the formal sitting room, but I find it far too intimidating unless there’s a large crowd.” Birdie led her to a door at the far end. “Through here is what we call the morning room. It’s much warmer.”

  Everything in the room was just simple and cosy. Two comfortable sofas sat in front of a large stone fireplace. Erin was surprised to see a fire lit.

  “It might be summer, but we’re still in Northern Scotland,” Birdie groaned.

  Erin caught sight of the portrait that hung above the fireplace. He looked magnificent in his black tie and kilt, his ebony hair hanging in waves, his dark eyes seemed fixed on her. It brought a lump to her throat.

  “James certainly was a handsome man,” Birdie sighed. “I had the portrait moved in here after his death. It doesn’t bother you, does it?”

  “Not at all. It’s almost like Dad is watching me.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he is,” Birdie murmured. She turned as the door swung open and a middle-aged woman appeared with a tray. “Tea alright for you, Erin?”

  “Perfect,” she sank down into one of the sofas. Her ankle was smarting. Jacques flopped down at her feet. It seemed she had a new friend. “You must be Mrs McDowell.”

  The brown-haired woman beamed. “Och, Mrs McDowell is my mother. Please, call me Mary.” She passed over a tea cup. “And it’s good to have you back, young lassie.”

  Erin stared at her tea for a while. “It’s very good of you to have me for the summer, Birdie. I’ll try and not get in your way.”

  Birdie rolled her eyes. “You’re family, Erin. Besides, the house belongs to you anyway. Well, on 31st August it will belong to you.”

  Erin’s cup clattered loudly in the saucer. “I’m ….I’m due to inherit this house?” She thought she’d misheard.

  “Yes. It is the McLomard ancestral home and your father left it to you to inherit on reaching the age of majority. I’m just its keeper for now.”

  “You’re not planning on leaving are you?” Erin was shocked.

  “No, my dear. With your agreement, I will keep on running the Estate until such time as you wish to take over.”

  Erin could not stop her hands from shaking as she took a sip of the tea. In a few short months she would own her first house. She shivered. Far too much responsibility. But this place could host one hell of a party!

  “So just how big is the house and grounds?”

  “I’ll give you a quick tour of the house. The grounds are huge by English standards, average for Scottish. We have three staff for the house and five who work out on the Estate.” Birdie stood up. “For getting around we have the Range Rover, two Landrovers and four horses. You’ll get that tour tomorrow.”

  Erin’s eyes lit up. “Horses?”

  “Yes. If I remember correctly, you like to ride.”

  “I love it.”

  Birdie gave a wide grin. “Talking of horse power, I also had your bike shipped up from Surrey so you can terrorize the neighbourhood.”

  Erin leapt up and threw her arms around Birdie. “You are truly the best aunt any girl could have.” Jacques voiced his displeasure at being moved.

  Birdie laughed and opened a door off the morning room. “The library is through here.”

  Erin had never seen so many books outside of a public library. “Wow,” was all she could manage to say.

  “Libraries always look impressive, as though you have a very learned family. But to be honest, most of us have never touched one book in there!”

  They headed back to the main hall, with Jacques in tow. “This room will fascinate you.” Birdie swung open the door. “This was your father’s study.”

  Erin felt her emotions run riot as she stepped into the stone room. She ran her hand across his ornate walnut desk. A table next to it was filled with photos of her. Above the marble fireplace hung two swords with another shield bearing the McLomard coat of arms. It was her father through and through. So masculine, so strong.

  “I’ve never been to my father’s grave,” Erin said softly. “Is he buried here on the Estate or in Muirhead church?”

  “He’s on the Estate. We have a small mausoleum down near the loch.” Birdie rested a hand affectionately on Erin’s shoulder. “I’ll take you tomorrow. Now let me give you the abbreviated tour of the rest of the house.”

  Erin’s head was spinning as Birdie showed her the formal dining room, informal dining room, billiards room, kitchen, the ballroom, and upstairs several bedrooms, another living room and her own turret room. “I thought you’d like this one,” Birdie beamed.

  It was just gorgeous, decorated in purple and silver fabrics offset with black metalwork. It was kind of gothic meets Scotland. She even had a four poster bed. “It’s amazing,” Erin breathed. She opened the door to the en-suite which contained a large Victorian stand-alone bath. Absolutely stunning.

  She turned back around to see Jacques making himself comfortable in the middle of her bed. “Hop it, slobber chops,” she grunted. “This is a girl only room.”

  “Sorry,” Birdie winced, “the dogs think they own every inch of the house.”

  “Time for some radical changes,” Erin dragged the dog off the bed. “Can I see my father’s room?”

  Birdie nodded and led her back along the corridor. Erin stepped into the room which had remained almost untouched for a decade.

  “It’s pretty much as he left it,” Birdie explained. “I didn’t have the heart to move anything. I thought you might want to do that one day.”

  All the fabrics in the room were in the McLomard tartan; blue, green and red. The four poster was exceptionally heavy and the whole room had a masculine feel to it. She picked up his wrist watch that was sitting on the dresser. “I remember him wearing this,” she stroked it lovingly. “He taught me to tell the time with it.”

  Her eyes focused on a portrait that hung opposite his bed. It was of a blonde-haired woman with the most dazzling blue eyes. She was wearing ancient style clothing, but it was the pendant hanging around her neck that really caught Erin’s attention. It was cast from pewter and bore their coat of arms. It was identical to the one her father wore. “Is she a relative?” Erin asked.

  “That’s Lodraill. And yes, she is a relative of yours, so to speak,” Birdie shifted a little uncomfortably.

  Erin glanced back at the portrait. Why would
her father have a picture of a relative in his bedroom? It seemed a little weird. “There’s nothing of mum’s in here,” she commented.

  “Susannah never came to this house. It was only you who spent time here with your father.”

  “Veronica never came here either?” Erin was shocked.

  “No. Your mother would not permit it. Just you.”

  Okay, that’s even weirder, she thought. But then they were talking about her mother. Leafy, elegant Surrey against midge-infested wild highlands. A tough call for her precious Veronica.

  Birdie crossed to the dressing table and removed a black leather box. “I know James wanted you to have this.”

  Erin opened it. It was his coat of arms pendant. Her fingers traced the delicate outline of the dragon. “Am I okay to wear it?”

  “Well it won’t look that good on Jacques,” Birdie responded.

  Erin laughed and attached it around her neck.

  “Perfect. Now, how about you soak in a nice hot bath before dinner?” Birdie suggested brightly. “You need to give that ankle a rest, you’re definitely hobbling.”

  Her aunt was very perceptive, her ankle was throbbing. She headed back to her room. She needed a little time alone, being so close to her father after all these years had a profound effect on her emotions. There were so many reminders of him in the house, she felt she could almost reach out and touch him.

  She filled her huge bath to almost the brim and dropped in plenty of bubble bath. As she sank beneath the foam, all her aches seemed to fade. Sheer bliss. Her body was soothed but her mind was still racing. She suddenly had so many questions, mainly about her father. Strange as it might seem, she had no idea how he actually died. And why had she not been allowed to visit Birdie in the past ten years? In fact she had no contact with any McLomard, if there were any others.

  But what was once looking like a summer from hell was starting to shape up quite well. With LandRovers, horses and her dirt bike, she was going to have an okay time.

  Wilhelm strode angrily across the Great Hall and over to his parent’s private quarters. His father had summoned him. That was never a good sign. The guards threw open the huge wooden doors as soon as he appeared. His mother was seated on a small bench, fussing with some needlework.

  “Wilhelm.” Her eyes lit up upon seeing her son. “We have not seen you for a while.”

  “I’ve been out safeguarding our lands, mother.” He kissed her cheek dutifully.

  “Is that what you call it,” she laughed softly. “Your father is waiting for you in his study. Please try and keep the shouting to a minimum.”

  Wilhelm rolled his eyes and headed into the bear pit. Olav was seated at his desk and glanced up as his son entered. Father or not, the sheer size of the King made him quite the intimidating figure.

  “You summoned me,” Wilhelm grunted. He was the King’s son. He deserved more than being treated like a mere commoner.

  “You took troops to Skarsgaard. On what authority?” Olav looked back down at his paperwork.

  “I needed to check our defences on the border with Vasmaar.”

  “Did I ask you to check them?” Olav’s voice was far too controlled.

  “No. But I don’t trust Heinrekh. He needs to see that we are serious about defending our territories.”

  Olav fixed his son with a very icy glare. “I order troop movements not you. Heinrekh is well aware of how fiercely I will defend our lands. The last thing I need is my fool of a son enticing him into a fight.”

  “At least I’m not afraid to face him,” Wilhelm replied hotly. “We should attack him rather than wait for him to catch us when we are least expecting it.”

  “Why would I risk losing men in battle when I have no desire to take Vasmaar from Heinrekh. That land belongs to him and as long as he stays where he is, there is no reason for bloodshed.”

  “Heinrekh will consider you weak if you do not act.”

  Olav rose from his desk and advanced on his son. “Do you think me weak, son?” he thundered.

  Wilhelm took a few paces backward, partly from fear, partly for self-preservation. “No, father, but doing nothing can be construed as weakness.”

  “I have an entire realm to consider. Not just the ego of my rash and foolish son. By strengthening our borders, you are sending a message loud and clear to Heinrekh that we consider him a threat. And with the child’s eighteenth birthday almost upon us, that is not good.”

  “He will see we are not prepared to let her go without a fight.” Wilhelm tried to defend his position.

  “I wanted him to see that we were not afraid of him. That we considered his presence trivial. Your actions have done the opposite.”

  “But, father…..”

  “Enough,” Olav barked. “You have seriously compromised our position. Until you learn the art of thinking before acting, you will head up the guard at the Realms’ Gate.”

  “You are reducing me to a mere guard?” Wilhelm bit back.

  “Until you learn respect, yes.”

  “I am your son. Heir to your throne. You cannot demote me to such a menial level,” Wilhelm hurled at his father.

  “When you start acting like a Prince of Lokranor and not a Norse raider, I will treat you as such.”

  Wilhelm pulled the medallion off from around his neck and tossed it angrily at his father. “Perhaps you should find yourself a better son. One you can shape into an exact replica of yourself.”

  He stormed furiously out the door. Downgraded to a mere guard. His father had gone too far this time. As he tore back through the Great Hall, his two good companions, Fallig and Anders fell in with him.

  “Where are we headed?” Fallig asked.

  “The nearest tavern,” Wilhelm snapped. “I need to get excessively drunk and spill blood.”

  “A night of drunkenness and debauchery,” sighed Anders. “It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.”

  “I said spill blood not seduce women,” Wilhelm scowled. He was in no humour for sex.

  “Hey, it’s every Viking’s true pleasure. Drink, fighting and women.” He slapped Wilhelm jovially on the shoulder. “Lead on. And if you don’t want the women, I’ll have your share.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Erin felt like she was in the middle of a tornado, her feet had barely had time to touch the ground since arriving in Muirhead.

  True to her word, Birdie had taken her on a tour of the estate. The land was impressive with fish in the loch, livestock on the hillside and woods packed full of deer. According to Birdie, the estate was pretty profitable.

  Birdie had saved the Mausoleum until last. It was in secluded area down near the loch, the location could not have been more beautiful. It was made entirely out of marble and was the interior was so serene.

  “I’ll see you back at the house. Take all the time you need.” With that, Birdie left her alone.

  Standing next to her father’s beautifully ornate tomb, she felt very tearful; it was the closest she had been to him in ten years. She stayed there a while, talking to him, pouring out her grief, half hoping he would rise from the dead and give her one last hug. Every ounce of her missed him terribly, she would give everything she owned to spend one last minute with him. Red-eyed, she eventually headed back to the house. The walk helped clear her sorrow. Or perhaps it was the sight of the house that lifted her spirits.

  She caught up with Birdie in the morning room. “How are you feeling, my dear?”

  “Alright, I think. I thought I would be saying goodbye to Dad, but it actually feels like the opposite.”

  “I know what you mean. I swear I can still feel him in the house. In fact I don’t think he ever left.”

  “Do you often visit him?”

  Birdie shook her head. “No, I shout at his portrait instead.”

  Erin gave a small laugh. “For what?”

  “Leaving me with this estate to run. It was not the career I’d planned.”

  It dawned on Erin how little she knew abo
ut her aunt’s past. “What did you do before taking over the estate?”

  “I was a vet.”

  “You no longer practice?”

  “Just on the estate. We have the best kept animals in the highlands.”

  “I’m sorry.” Erin felt incredibly guilty.

  “Why?”

  “For you having to give up your career to look after the estate.”