Exiles in Time (The After Cilmeri Series)

by Sarah Woodbury

  Callum rode with Cassie, who’d rescued her breeches from the laundry. Samuel came too, along with a dozen noblemen representing half of the competing interests in Scotland, and Andrew Moray who joined them at his own request. Callum was pleased that he’d chosen to come. Even if the timeline in this world was playing out a bit differently, the man had a lot of history behind him. A companion of William Wallace, he had played a pivotal role in the Scottish wars for independence against King Edward after 1300.

  It took nearly an hour to get everyone together, by which time Callum was worried that they were too late to get out of Stirling before Erik surrounded it. At last, the horses pounded down the road as fast as they could go, winding around the crag upon which Stirling Castle was built. Callum’s heart was in his throat the whole time.

  When they reached the valley floor, they met riders coming the other way, seeking the safety of Stirling. “They’re almost upon us!” the lead scout said. “You must turn back!”

  “Not tonight,” Callum said.

  “But my lord—!”

  “Tell James Stewart that we got through,” Callum said.

  “Yes, my lord.” Then the riders were past them, racing up the road to the castle.

  Callum’s company continued on. The valley Stirling Castle overlooked stretched west and south from the crag while the River Forth wound southeast in a sinuous curve. Looking to his left, Callum could see a swath of light along the river. He imagined that he could hear the Norwegians’ marching feet. Erik’s army didn’t have horses, however, or at least not many, and by the time Callum’s company had ridden a mile and a half from Stirling, they’d left the army and the river in the distance. They’d escaped in time.

  Callum glanced at Andrew, who nodded. The horses slowed as they turned onto the high road that would take them west to Glasgow—the same road upon which the MacDougalls had ambushed Callum’s company nearly six days ago.

  Cassie’s head was down. “I really thought I was going to get to sleep tonight.”

  Callum groaned. “Don’t remind me how tired I am.”

  “Is there any chance of sleep occurring again in this lifetime?” Cassie said.

  “Actually, there is,” Callum said. “We needed to get out of Stirling before the Norwegians trapped us inside, but the plan is to ride to Kilsyth, which is less than ten miles from Stirling, and sleep there.”

  “Thank God for that,” Cassie said.

  “James felt—and I agreed—that it was better not to attempt to travel through the Highlands in the dark. This time, we want the MacDougalls to see us coming.”

  “I’m glad we got out, but I’m worried for those inside Stirling,” Cassie said.

  “I am too, but Erik won’t begin the assault tonight,” Callum said. “He’ll talk first, and James said he would stall him for as long as he can with platitudes and promises he doesn’t intend to keep.”

  “Erik wants the throne but will take it without bloodshed if he can,” Andrew said, riding on the other side of Callum. “Half the nobility of Scotland is in Stirling Castle tonight. In marching on Stirling, Erik proclaims both his right and his power, but at the same time, he risks all in a single move. Therein lies both Erik’s hope and his fear.”

  “How do you mean?” Cassie said.

  “Erik can’t rule Scotland without the consent of the barons,” Andrew said. “He needs us cowed, but not dead and not desperate.”

  “I think it’s already too late for anything but desperate,” Cassie said.

  Two hours later, at some point past midnight which Callum didn’t care to calculate, they reached Kilsyth and entered the rudimentary castle that guarded the road. It consisted of a single tower surrounded by a curtain wall. Tonight, everyone would sleep on the floor of the hall, high and low alike. Callum put Cassie’s pallet between his and the wall, and Samuel lay crosswise at their heads. Though Samuel started snoring immediately, Cassie and Callum lay looking at each other, their fingers barely touching under a blanket while they waited for the room to settle down.

  “I’ve been thinking, Callum.”

  Whenever Cassie started thinking, Callum started worrying. But he just nodded.

  “I’ve been thinking that I love you.”

  It was like she’d punched Callum in the gut. He couldn’t breathe—couldn’t get enough air to make any kind of response. At the same time, if his men weren’t asleep around him, he would have found the wherewithal to sit up and cheer.

  Then she spoke again. “But I’m also thinking that love isn’t going to be enough for us. You only like me because I’m the first single time traveler you’ve met. You don’t know anything about me, really, and I can’t imagine I’m going to be good for you in the long run. Just because you love someone doesn’t mean you should marry them.”

  Callum went from joy to desolation in the space of four sentences. A million things passed through his head, but all he said was, “You’re wrong, Cassie. I need you to give me—and us—a chance.”

  She slowly untangled her hands from his. “I don’t think so. I’ve never been one to lie to myself, and I just don’t see where our two very different worlds can ever intersect.”

  “They’re not so different and they intersect in the middle,” Callum said.

  “But they don’t. We worked well together almost this whole time, up until we got to Stirling Castle. But Stirling Castle is the world you live in. I don’t see how we can be partners there.” Cassie bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m not as good a person as you are, Callum. When this is over, I need to go home and you need to go back to London, or to wherever David sends you next, and make this world a better place.”

  “Cassie—don’t be this way. I love you too.”

  She shook her head again. “You’ll find someone else. Someone who will be the person you need her to be. I can’t—I just can’t—” Cassie rolled over to face the wall without finishing the thought.

  Maybe in their old world, Callum wouldn’t have pressed her—he’d only known her for a week, after all—but this was the rest of their lives they were talking about. This could be the only chance at love either of them were going to get. Cassie was still giving Callum the cold shoulder, but he scooted closer and put his arm around her. What he had to say had to be said up close.

  “I don’t know where you got the idea that I wanted a medieval wife,” Callum said. “I don’t. I don’t expect you to be one, even if you could. I don’t expect you to change a single thing about yourself.”

  “You want me to leave the mountains for you,” Cassie said.

  Callum closed his eyes. She’d hit upon the one thing he was asking her to change. “I can’t stay in the Highlands, Cassie.”

  “And I can’t leave.”

  Cassie refused to talk to Callum about it again. He stayed close to her as she fell asleep, and even managed a few hours of sleep himself, though his heart was heavy.

  Because their mission was urgent, they rose early, breakfasted quickly, and left Kilsyth two hours after dawn. Although Cassie rode near Callum as they headed up the river valley to Mugdock, she remained quiet. Callum and Andrew had a quick debate about which path to take and in the end determined that a visit to Patrick Graham on the way to wherever the MacDougalls were fighting the Bruces was in order.

  While the morning had dawned clear, once the company left the main road for the smaller track heading north, a swift mist came down from the mountains and settled on the path. If others in the company hadn’t known the way—Cassie among them—Callum would have gotten lost immediately.

  “Whatever has happened, sir?” Samuel pulled in close to Callum’s left side, his eyes on Cassie, who rode ten yards ahead near the front of the company. “When did you two have time to quarrel?”

  Callum glanced at Samuel, surprised that he would bring up such a delicate subject—and lied through his teeth. “We didn’t quarrel. We’re fine.” Callum eyed Cassie’s straight back. She was giving nothing away. Callum feared that he
r words of last night would become entrenched in her mind and no amount of pleading on his part would change them.

  Callum had experience with keeping people he cared about at arm’s length. Who knew better than he about the perils of opening up? It wasn’t even the possibility of getting hurt that made him unapproachable. It was the knowledge that what was going on inside his head was so horrific, if those he loved knew what he was really like, they would turn away from him. It was better—and easier—to push them away first. But for the first time since the war, he didn’t feel that way. He wanted to share himself with Cassie.

  Samuel snorted. “You may be, but she’s not.”

  “Let it go, Samuel. She’ll come around.” Callum paused. “I hope.”

  Mist or no mist, they found their way to Mugdock unmolested and circled to the north of the loch, through the site where Daddy Bruce and his men had camped a few days before. The Bruce forces had left behind burned circles from their campfires and trampled grass—and a castle in far worse shape than when they’d found it.

  Much of the palisade had burned, though repairs had already begun. Not a single intact roof peeked over the curtain wall. If the castle looked this bad from the outside, the interior damage must be considerable. Even though the only banner that the company carried was a white flag, nobody came out to greet them. Callum couldn’t blame Lord Patrick for his anger.

  Cassie and Callum dismounted just outside of arrow range, and Callum waved at the rest of the company to stay astride. “Wait.”

  “My lord,” Andrew Moray said, “this is foolish. He may be hostile.”

  “He may,” Callum said, “but I trust him not to shoot first and ask questions later.” Callum reached for the pole upon which the white flag hung, lifeless in the fog with no breeze to fill it.

  Cassie put a hand on Callum’s arm to get his attention but then quickly dropped it. “Stay back with the rest of your men. I would speak to Lord Patrick alone.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” Callum said.

  “I’m a big girl, Callum. I can do this.”

  Callum had to catch her by the arm to stop her from heading off immediately—and then had to stop himself from shaking some sense into her. “Just because you’re capable of doing something all by yourself doesn’t mean you have to, Cassie. You don’t have anything to prove. Not to me! Why to you?”

  Cassie glared at Callum for a second and made to wrench away, but then she took in a deep breath and let it out. “You’re right. We did this together before. We can do it again.”

  Thank God for that. Leaving the other men still mounted, Cassie and Callum walked together towards the gatehouse, through the churned-up earth, debris, and refuse of war that hadn’t yet been cleared. The fog had made the day cold, but Callum wore no helmet or hood so his face would show to Lord Patrick and he would know who was coming to speak to him.

  One of the guards peered down at them from the top of the palisade. He jerked his head at Cassie. “The lord doesn’t want to talk to you. The last time you were here, you took a prisoner with you, our only leverage against Robert Bruce.”

  “Oh, be quiet, Rory.” Donella popped up beside him. “Don’t speak unless you have something useful to say.” She looked down at Callum and Cassie. “He’s coming. He’s angry, but he’s coming.”

  “Thank you,” Callum said.

  As the gate opened, Cassie stirred beside Callum. Lord Patrick came through it all by himself. He looked past Cassie and Callum to the men who waited on horseback a hundred feet away, nearly invisible in the heavy fog. “Is this all you brought to finish us off?”

  Callum stuck the flagpole in the ground in front of him.

  “We’re not here to fight,” Cassie said.

  Lord Patrick kept his eyes fixed on Callum, resolutely not looking at Cassie. “I only came to speak with you because I understand that I have you to thank for my son’s rescue. I would not want you to think me ungrateful.”

  Cassie wasn’t giving up. “You’re welcome. Now we need your help.”

  Lord Patrick lifted his chin to point behind them at the motley crew of Balliol and Bruce supporters, as well as a few undecideds. “I see Andrew Moray rides with you. And—good Lord!—is that Henry Percy? You clearly don’t need me.”

  “You don’t know what we’re asking of you yet,” Cassie said.

  He glared hard at her. “You betrayed me.”

  “I didn’t,” she said. “Or at least, not in any way that mattered. It was Callum and I who convinced Robert Bruce to break off his attack on you.”

  “Bruce and I were conferring on a truce when he discovered your absence from his camp,” Lord Patrick said. “His anger was a sight to behold.”

  “You don’t need to concern yourself with Bruce,” Callum said. “He will not trouble you further.”

  “So you say.”

  “So I do say,” Callum said and held Lord Patrick’s gaze for a count of ten.

  Lord Patrick broke off the staring contest to turn to Cassie. “So ask.”

  “Erik of Norway has come to claim the throne of Scotland,” Cassie said. “He besieges Stirling Castle even now. We ask that you gather all who support you and come with us to Stirling.”

  Lord Patrick’s surprise made him forget that he was supposed to be angry at Cassie. His mouth opened and closed, and then he rubbed at his chin as he looked at her.

  “My lord—” One of the men on the battlement called down to him, but Lord Patrick raised a hand to stop him speaking.

  He glared at Callum and swept out his arm to indicate the destruction around them. “Do you not see what Bruce has done to us? How can I leave Mugdock when we have been so ill-used?”

  “What if I asked you to do it?”

  Cassie and Callum wheeled around to see Robbie Bruce swing down from his saddle. A host of men, twice the number of those Callum had brought, came to a halt on the far edge of the clearing beside Callum’s men.

  Lord Patrick’s face reddened. “How dare you—”

  Robbie bowed before him. “My father is dead, my lord, as is Alexander MacDougall, both felled in a fight that never should have been fought.”

  Lord Patrick pressed his lips together. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  If the face hadn’t been the same, Callum wouldn’t have recognized Robbie by his manner.

  “Thank you,” Robbie said. “I know now that Alexander MacDougall abducted your son to force you to do his bidding. I have just heard that John is alive and free.”

  “Yes.” Lord Patrick wasn’t giving anything away, but this was the truth Callum had been waiting for. Lord Patrick had been fearful when they’d spoken to him a week ago. Now Callum knew the cause of his fear had been the worst thing that could happen to a parent—the loss of his child.

  “Erik of Norway must not be allowed to take Stirling Castle. Regardless of your feelings towards my family, we need you—Scotland needs you—to speak to the men of your party—the MacGregors, the Comyns, and the MacDougalls—and convince them that they must fight, even if it means fighting beside us.”

  “John Balliol is among those besieged at Stirling,” Cassie said.

  “And my grandfather, too?” Robbie said.

  Cassie nodded.

  Robbie turned back to Lord Patrick, an expectant expression on his face. Lord Patrick gave Robbie a long look and then nodded. “I will come.”

  A valley separated Callum’s company from Stirling Castle. Smoke rippled from the homesteads and little villages that Erik of Norway’s army had burned, avenging the death of his daughter and hoping to subdue Scotland before it could marshal its forces against him. The army circled the crag upon which the castle perched. Roofs within the castle walls were on fire too. Despite the speed at which they had ridden once they’d left Mugdock, they had come almost too late.

  Callum waved a hand to his captains. “Spread the men along the cliff. I want Erik to see the force that comes against him!”

  Callum’s captains shoute
d orders to their men, following his commands. Cassie sat on her horse to his right. “They have to know they can’t maintain the siege under these conditions,” she said. “James will charge out of the castle with as many men as he can muster and they’ll be caught between us.”

  Robbie’s horse danced up to Callum, Robbie’s eyes alight with what he believed already to be a victory. “See them cower behind their shields! In a moment they will turn and run.”

  Callum looked into his face and then at the men behind him. Unlike Robbie’s, their faces were set, grim with the knowledge that they would lose men in the battle that was to come. Experience told them it was inevitable. Erik of Norway would make a stand, even if he had to fight on two fronts simultaneously. He hadn’t come all the way from Norway to run away with his tail between his legs at the first sign of resistance. His men would never countenance it and he wouldn’t be able to call himself King of Norway, much less King of Scotland, if he did that.

  “No,” Callum said, under his breath.

  Only Cassie and Robbie heard him. “No?” Cassie said.

  “Erik of Norway has a genuine grievance,” Callum said. “He lost his daughter who should have been queen and now other men fight over her throne. Why shouldn’t his sins be forgiven as much as Robert Bruce’s?”

  “Bruce is dead,” Cassie said, dryly.

  “True,” Callum said, “but the question still stands.” He turned to Robbie. “I don’t know if you will ever become king, but I do know that Scotland would be ill-served by any man gaining the throne over the bodies of his rivals. When you expressed as much to me, you showed wisdom beyond your years.”

  “My lord?” Robbie said. “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t either, Callum,” Cassie said.

  Callum turned in the saddle and waved at Lord Patrick, who sat on his horse a few feet away. “I want twenty noblemen to ride into the valley with me. And I want my white flag again.”