Twice Upon a Soul

by Deborah R Stigall

  Taylor stepped through the doorway and stopped, attempting to let her eyes adjust to the darkened interior. The first impression assaulting her senses was the almost over-powering aromas pervading the entire shop. Ancient beams ran across the vaulted ceiling and from these beams dangled bunches of every herb imaginable, each of their individual scents mingling to fill the air throughout the room. In addition to the scent of the herbs, Taylor’s twitching nose recognized the familiar scent of the incense that Mattie always used, the acrid smell tingling as she noticed the tiny smoking cones strategically placed among the shelves.

  Her eyes finally adjusting to the dimness, Taylor was amazed at the walls. Floor to ceiling shelves ran the entire length of the room. These shelves were tightly packed with books of every shape, color and size, not a space left open for as far as she could see. Thick beeswax candles were lit along the counter top, their warm light creating a pathway to the back of the room. As they made their way to the rear of the shop, their footsteps caused the ancient wooden floors to groan in protest. Taylor was beginning to expect a bent old wizard to emerge from the shadows at any minute, chanting spells and incantations over the heads of the unexpected intruders.

  Instead, emerging from behind a shimmering silk curtain at the corner of the room, came a rather ordinary looking middle-aged fellow, open book in one hand, steaming cup of liquid in the other. Upon spying the emergence of this individual, Mattie pushed her way around Taylor to greet her friend. “Drake! Look! I’ve brought Taylor to meet you!” she exclaimed, causing the bespectacled man to jump slightly, nearly spilling the contents of his steaming cup.

  Recovering quickly from Mattie’s exuberant greeting, Drake set down his cup, straightened his wire-rimmed glasses on his beaklike nose and peered at Taylor speculatively. “Why so you have dear, Mattie. Taylor…I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.” His voice was quiet and reserved, a slight British accent coloring his speech.

  Taylor eyed Drake with interest; he just didn’t seem to fit the image of what she’d been expecting to emerge from the recesses of the eerie shop. Tall and well made through the shoulders, neatly trimmed gray hair and mustache, Taylor decided Drake looked more like a history professor then a shopkeeper for the spiritual arts…as the sign out front had proclaimed. “It’s good to meet you too, Drake…although I’m afraid you have me at a slight disadvantage. This is the first time Mattie has ever mentioned you to me.” Casting a throttling glance in the direction of her smiling friend, Taylor silently promised herself she’d deal with Mattie later.

  Smiling slightly at Mattie, Drake’s eyes seemed to twinkle as he nodded in her direction. “Well, Mattie knows that I prefer to maintain a quiet profile here in my little shop.” Extending his hand toward her friend, Taylor’s eyes narrowed as she sensed a little something more then friendship between Mattie and Drake.

  Glancing at Mattie’s flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes as she reached out to take Drake’s hand, Taylor couldn’t help but smile. She couldn’t remember when she’d ever seen her friend so completely besotted.

  “Good,” she thought to herself. She’d begun to think Mattie was going to be alone forever. Hesitating to break the reverie between the two in front of her, Taylor finally slightly cleared her throat to get their attention. “Mattie thought you might be able to tell us something about this painting,” she volunteered, laying the heavy canvas across the round worktable in the alcove in front of them.

  “Is this the portrait you were telling me about?” Drake asked Mattie, examining the oil painting closely.

  “Yes…I got it from the vendor that usually works out of the far corner shop at the fair…he practically gave it to me.” Mattie nodded, lowering her voice to almost a whisper.

  “Why did you wait so long in bringing it to me?” Drake sternly admonished. Glancing at Mattie in agitation over his glasses, he steadied them on the tip of his nose.

  Raising her chin defiantly, Mattie quickly responded, “It wasn’t time to bring it to you…I felt it wasn’t right until today.”

  Drake nodded his head in immediate acceptance of Mattie’s explanation; the two of them totally losing Taylor as she unsuccessfully tried to read the undercurrents of the ensuing conversation.

  Clearing her throat once again to get their attention, “What are you two talking about?” Taylor moved in closer, awkwardly attempting to join in the conversation.

  Glancing first in Mattie’s direction with a questioning look, Drake took a deep breath. “Apparently, my little Mattie hasn’t explained everything about this painting to you.” Turning to Taylor with an apologetic smile, his voice seemed to soften. “You see…Mattie described the portrait to me over the phone, the day after your rather….enlightening evening with the scrying mirror.”

  Taylor’s eyes narrowed as she turned to find Mattie shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, studiously examining a dusty book of shadows to avoid Taylor’s accusing glare.

  “I was able to locate a bit of the portrait’s history, but after I hadn’t heard from Mattie for a few days…I had assumed you had both decided to abandon the search.” Drake folded his arms across his chest as he cocked his head to one side.

  Shrugging her shoulders in defeat, Mattie’s hands fluttered theatrically as she struggled to explain. “Taylor…I didn’t want to confuse you even more, what with your break-up with Chandler and then your mother crossing over. I was trying to wait until your life calmed down a little before I told you everything that Drake had found.”

  “So, you were planning on visiting Drake today…even before the portrait changed positions?” Taylor felt her throat constricting in aggravation, uncomfortable with her friend’s well-intentioned plotting and her own obliviousness to Mattie’s plans.

  “Well…yes,” Mattie admitted in defeat. “But I was only trying to ease you into everything. Taylor…you know I’d never do anything to hurt you,” she whispered, squeezing Taylor’s hand in a silent plea for forgiveness.

  With a deep sigh, Taylor eyed Mattie’s dejected expression, shaking her head in disbelief. No matter what stunt Mattie pulled, it seemed Taylor could never quite stay angry with her for very long…especially when Mattie adopted her longest face, with the most sorrowful eyes she could muster.

  Turning to catch Drake watching the two of them with amusement, Taylor shot him a sardonic look. “Well…now that I’m finally here, why don’t you fill me in on our little mystery?”

  Stretching to pull a thick book from an overhead shelf, Drake began quickly thumbing through the pages. Adjusting his spectacles as he peered through the crackling yellow sheets, one eyebrow rose high above the frames of his glasses as his forehead rippled into a frown. “Not a mystery,” he offered, flipping the pages of the book. “More a tale of tragedy.”

  Glancing up over his spectacles as he continued searching through the book, Drake inclined his head toward a couple of nearby chairs. “Perhaps you’d best sit down…this telling could become rather involved.”

  Eyeing Drake with distrust as she sidled over to one of the chairs, Taylor balanced on the edge of the seat expectantly. Gingerly perching upon the chair, Taylor was not quite comfortable with the idea of relaxing on the dusty velvet cushions. Mattie took the chair beside her, patting her hand encouragingly as she smiled up at Drake; an unmistakable expression of adoration plastered across her face.

  “You were quite right in assuming the artist to be Sir Joshua Reynolds,” Drake began, sliding the portrait over slightly on the table to clear a space for the book. “But his subject never posed for this portrait, Sir Joshua rendered this work completely from sketches he found in books and his own imagination.”

  Frowning in confusion, Taylor leaned closer. Squinting her eyes in the flickering light of the candles, Taylor attempted to scan the passages where Drake had opened the book. Craning her neck to see the faded sketches, “How do you know that?” she asked.

  “Because Quinlan Macleod disappeared long before Sir Joshua was ev
er born.” Drake nodded as he directed Taylor’s eye to a finely drawn sketch displayed within the book.

  Taylor slowly stood; drawing closer to the faded pages to examine the detailed sketch scattered across the yellowed page. There among the paragraphs was the same face, the same eyes, hypnotically locking her within his stare. Taylor swallowed hard as she compared the sketch to the painting beside the book; the two images most definitely portraying the same man.

  Taylor licked her lips nervously as her eyes flicked from the portrait to the book. “What do you mean…disappeared?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes never leaving the pictures.

  Drake gently removed the book from beneath Taylor’s stare, adjusting his glasses once again. Running his finger lightly along the page, he methodically read aloud. “The legend says that Quinlan Macleod defied the ancient Druids…denied them of one of their sacrificial virgins, it seems.” Arching his eyebrows with amusement, “My...wouldn’t that be a find?” he drolly noted under his breath. Noticing Mattie and Taylor’s collective frown at this last statement, he cleared his throat as he continued. “The story goes that the evening following the kidnapping of their ill-fated maiden, the Druids gathered among the stones…calling to the elements and combining all of their powers to punish the man who had dared to challenge them.”

  Carefully turning the weathered page, Drake glanced quickly at Mattie…pausing as though silently asking her permission to continue. At the slight nod of her head, he continued reading from the book. “After the gathering of the Druids and the completion of their ritual…Quinlan Macleod was never seen again.” Eyeing Taylor quietly, the opened book cradled in his hands, Drake patiently waited for her reaction; peering over the spectacles perched on the end of his nose.

  Choosing her words carefully, Taylor chewed on her lower lip as she mulled over the story Drake had just shared. “It sounds like a bittersweet fairy tale…many artists have chosen such subjects for their paintings.” Looking first at Mattie’s smug expression, then shifting to Drake’s satisfied smile, Taylor finally shook her head as she spoke. “I don’t understand why you’re taking this so seriously…what has this to do with me?”

  “Sir Joshua only chose one of the subjects of this fairy tale…as you put it…to include in his portrait.” Drake paused, smoothing open another page of the book as he handed it over to Taylor. “There was another individual…the maiden…who was also a most important character in this legend.”

  As Taylor took the opened book from Drake, she nearly dropped the ancient tomb as her eyes fell on the page Drake had flipped open for her to see. There…staring up at her from the ivory colored sheet of paper was her own face…the maiden destined to die at the hands of the Druids. She felt as though she were looking into a mirror…large doe eyes, pert little nose, full mouth…all were identical. Today, she was even wearing her hair similar to the woman within the book, loosely pulled back from her face in a simple braid, carelessly tossed over one shoulder.

  Taylor slowly lowered herself back into the chair; silently afraid her knees were about to buckle. She shivered and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, as she continued staring at the sketch. Looking first at Drake then settling her gaze on Mattie, Taylor lightly traced the sketch with a trembling hand. “What else does the legend tell us about this Quinlan…and the maiden. What happened to her after he disappeared?”

  Bending over her shoulder, Drake ran his finger down one column of print along the page, searching for the paragraph that might answer Taylor’s question. “Here it is…this passage finishes the legend,” Drake replied, lightly tapping the page.

  Taylor lifted the book closer; to better read by the flickering candles. In a low voice, she quietly read the paragraphs aloud. “The ancient Druids, the Auld Ones who had been betrayed, recovered the chosen maiden from the castle of Macleod the Lost. But when they laid their hands upon her, to spill her blood upon the great stone, they knew her to be a maiden no more…for she proclaimed her love for her kidnapper and told the Auld Ones of their hand-fasting the eve before. Enraged by the woman’s insolence, the ancient keepers of the faith lashed her to the standing stone of judgement…to burn her violated body too impure for sacrifice. As the leader of the priests was about to set his torch to the brush surrounding her…the skies opened up with a roar, a great bolt of lightening striking in their midst…taking the maid from among them and cleaving the judgement stone in two.”

  Taylor looked up into Drake’s face, as she finished reading the passage. “The lightening took the maid from among them?” she repeated, frowning in confusion.

  “Whether it was lightening…or perhaps Quinlan’s lost soul, the legends say the girl was rescued once again,” nodded Drake seriously. “I’ve been able to find this story in several of my older books. It’s even vaguely referenced in one of the texts copied down by a Christian monk sometime during the Seventeenth Century. The Druids never recorded anything…you see they committed everything to memory…passing their secrets down in turn to each apprentice. That’s why much of their knowledge and lore has been lost…forgotten with the passage of time.”

  Taking the book from Taylor’s lap, Drake placed it on the table as he reached above her to fetch another dusty manuscript from the shelf. “This version expounds a bit more on the history of the man himself.” Drake muttered aloud as he flipped through the pages, absorbed in finding the passages he had in mind.

  Taylor vainly attempted to quell the rising feeling of uneasiness settling like a rock in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to know more about this Quinlan Macleod…find out just what the real mystery was behind the magnetic stare of the man in the painting. But somehow it was more then that…Taylor was strangely drawn to him. But something deep within her soul seemed almost afraid to find out the truth behind the portrait. She was almost embarrassed by her obsession with the canvas but when she tried to put it out of her mind, a gnawing sense of urgency and uneasiness tugged at her heart.

  Sensing her friend’s increasing sense of apprehension, Mattie quietly reached over and placed her hand atop Taylor’s. Eyes filled with sympathy, Mattie gave her a gentle squeeze of reassurance. Drake had been researching the painting ever since Mattie had filled him in on the details of the eerie visitation of Quinlan through her scrying mirror. The more information he uncovered, the more Mattie sensed there were more powerful forces at work here then she had ever encountered. She was excited at the prospect of filling in the missing pieces of the legend that had suddenly dropped into their midst…but she was also a bit apprehensive herself at what they might uncover.

  “Here it is!” Drake announced, causing Taylor and Mattie both to jump as he startled them from their respective reveries. “Quinlan MacDara MacLeod,” Drake began, running his finger along the paragraph. “Laird of Clan Macleod whose lands were on the Isle of Lewis, Outer Hebrides of Scotland. The book refers to quite a grand dwelling on the banks of Loch Roag.” Drake paused, attempting to decipher the faded text before he continued. “It seems our Laird here was quite the loner…he never took a wife, nor produced an heir to take his place when he disappeared at the ripe old age of thirty-five.”

  “What else does it say,” Taylor prodded, leaning forward in her seat.

  “What about the maiden?” Mattie urged, stretching to her tiptoes in an attempt to read over Drake’s shoulder.

  “Ladies…please,” Drake scolded. “If you’ll sit down and be quiet, I’ll be most happy to continue.”

  Both Mattie and Taylor sat back in their chairs, glaring at Drake as he slowly and methodically turned the pages. He was enjoying this moment of suspense, his audience captivated by his words.

  “It appears Quinlan was quite the believer of the old ways…a pagan…as some would say…seems he declared Christianity a political ploy to gain his land.” Drake observed with a grin. “But the text is very vague about why he would suddenly challenge the Auld Ones by robbing them of their virgin. Perhaps he already knew the woman and loved her
…who knows?”

  “Is that all it says?” Taylor asked, rising once again to stare down into the eyes of Quinlan Macleod.

  “I’m afraid that’s the most I’ve been able to find so far.” Drake nodded with disappointment. “We’re dealing with a period of history where the written records begin to get a bit sketchy…not everything was always recorded.” Returning the books to the shelves, Drake removed his glasses, slowly rubbing his tiring eyes. “There are still a few more reference books that I’d like to examine…I might be able to find out at least a little more information about the Laird and hopefully some scrap of something about the maiden. I’m still not sure exactly when the Laird’s disappearance took place…apparently Christianity was on the rise but the old rituals were still openly active.” Drake resettled his glasses on his long narrow nose and sighed. “Also, dear ladies…you must remember. We still have to discern if what we are dealing with here is legend…or merely an obscured period of history.”

  Rising wearily from her chair, Taylor cast a nervous glance in the direction of the canvas upon the table. “How about if I just leave the portrait here while you continue with your research? His eyes follow me constantly…it’s unnerving…the picture almost seems to emanate a personality.” Taylor’s voice trembled as she spoke, hurrying to make her escape from the portrait as she headed toward the front of the narrow shop. Taylor felt the air was almost stifling, the book-filled walls seeming to slowly close in around her. She had to get out of this place before she was buried alive.

  Mattie tiptoed to plant a kiss of thanks on Drake’s cheek, handing Taylor her purse as she sidled around the table. As Drake nodded in agreement with Taylor’s request that he keep the portrait, the painting upon the table slowly began to tremble…the heavy frame supporting the tautly stretched canvas rattling hypnotically against the tabletop.