by Leela Ash
His sister was sitting quietly in the cloisters. Helena sensed at once that something was not right; surely he should be in bed with his wife? Even though the thought appalled her, it was what he needed, for now. In the darkness, she could not see his expression and he hid his face in the shadows, his anxiety too deeply etched to fool his sister.
“What is wrong, my brother?”
“Andra is tired, and I did not want to bother her tonight.” His voice sounded strained.
“There is something else?”
“Andra is worried about something that belongs to her, a small amulet or stone. She feels it is a good omen, and she thinks that she has lost it. I do not want her to fret about such a small matter.”
There was a pause while Helena thought.
“I have it, brother. I did not think it was healthy for her to keep.”
“Surely it is but a harmless trinket?”
“She seems to think it has mystical powers, and I did not want to encourage her thinking that way again. You know how fretful she was in the beginning.”
Alex nodded. “I think if you give it to me for safe keeping, she will be happy with that.”
Helena bowed her head and walked through the cloister with Alex following closely behind. Entering the room, she fetched out the small stone and placed it in his hand.
“Be careful with this, Alex. I have seen things like this, and they usually belong to the workings of the devil. Some say these stones have strange powers and bring only death and destruction. Perhaps that is right. Think of the child.”
“Surely you do not believe in such things? I would have thought it blasphemy to your ears?”
Helena paused and clasped her hands tightly in front of her.
“But of course I do not believe in such superstitions myself, Alex. I put my faith in God. But in the hands of the wrong person, such beliefs can damage and weaken the spirits and mind, as I fear has happened with Andra.”
“She seems much improved this evening, and a good sleep tonight will help her. I’m sure you can see to that, my sister?”
Bowing goodnight, Alex left the confines of the nunnery and stepped out into the chill night air. The crescent moon hung high in the midnight sky and a myriad of stars looked down upon him. The sky looked the same as always, but tonight he wondered about the girl’s story and its possibilities. In the early days, she had told him of a fantastic world where machines and fantastic inventions seemed to dominate men. It seemed ridiculous at the time, yet standing beneath the heavens, he realized how small and insignificant he was and how little he really understood about life and beyond.
Andra had been his world, but she was right, it was not his Andra that lay in the nunnery that night. Yet he still ached for her with a passion. With only one more day and night until he rode to battle, he had not long to reconcile himself with the past and present. The small rune was still pressed into his hand, and he opened his fingers to look at it in more detail. It was a very simple thing with a sign engraved into it, almost like the end of an arrow’s shaft. He had heard that runes were used to tell the future or carried as good luck charms. Some of the men carried them into battle, but they did not always have the luck they hoped for.
He preferred to put his trust in God and the might of his own strength.
Chapter 8
Helena was troubled by her brother’s visit. Something was wrong, and she could not quite put her finger on it. She had not wanted to relinquish the rune so easily, but she could easily get it back had she a mind. It would be safe enough for now. The Abbess had recognized the old Norse rune at once and understood its significance. It would have been no use in putting up a fight and drawing attention to it. There would be time for all things. Now she must visit the girl and try to find out the truth.
Andrea was slightly dozing as Helena entered the room, but the sound of her feet on the stone flagged floor stirred her awake. The candles had burned low, and the shadow of the Abbess loomed large across the room. She shivered and sat up, wrapping the bed clothes around her. The fire had burned down into nothing but grey ash and smoke.
“You are feeling better, I hear?”
In the darkness, Andrea felt disarmed and slightly afraid. There was something about the stealthy black figure that unnerved her, and at this hour her feelings intensified.
“Yes, I had a good talk with Alex, and I feel much better after resting.”
“Yet he did not stay?”
The question was almost a threat.
For once, Andrea was glad of the semi darkness where she could hide her expression. She felt exposed and knew she had to be careful with her words.
“I am still very tired, and Alex thought it best to leave me to lie alone tonight. I will see him in the morning.”
“He seemed troubled when he spoke to me, his mind heavy. That is not good for a man who will be riding into battle in a few days time. If he is distracted and worried about his wife, he may come to harm, even be killed. A warrior needs all his strength and focus upon the task ahead, not back at home with an ailing wife.”
The words were cold and clear in their meaning. Andrea hardly knew the man but nonetheless felt a deep empathy with him and would hate to be the cause of his downfall. Maybe she had spoken too openly with him, but she needed an ally in this strange place and he was her only hope.
“I will be feeling much better after another night’s sleep. I will speak with him tomorrow and all will be well.”
“It will need more than talk if I know my brother. He needs to find comfort in your bed.”
Andrea could feel herself blushing at the thought but nodded her head.
“He can be with me tomorrow.”
Helena did not speak, taking in the words from the girl. As long as her brother left without worries, then she would be happy. She cared little for the girl herself. Walking to the chest, she picked up the flask and poured more of the potion into the goblet and handed it across.
“Here, take this. You will rest easily.”
Reluctantly, she drank the liquid, which had the same bitter herb taste as before. Helena watched until she had taken the last drop and only when her eyes start to droop did the black figure exit the room, locking the door behind her.
Andrea’s dreams were as dark as the night. In the middle of a misty and forlorn battlefield, a distant bugle could be heard calling the fallen souls to their peace. As the sound of the horn diminished, another sound could be heard, growing steadily louder; it was the ghostly wail of a lone piper, the rasping of the pipes echoing the sound of a thousand men’s last gasping breath.
She could see the piper approaching, a long cloak covering him from head to toe. The nearer he walked, the more deafening the bagpipes, until she had to hold her hands over her ears to blot out the sound. Almost upon her, the noise stopped and an eerie silence prevailed as a thin hand rose from beneath the long cloak, pulling away the hood that shielded the face. She looked on in horror at the visage of the dead Alexhander McDonald, the maggots already eating the sallow flesh, his eyes white and glassy.
Andra was soaked with perspiration as she woke up with a start. The dream had been too real, too horrid, and her heart was beating fast. The words of Helena rang in her head; she could not let the poor man ride into battle with a heavy heart and to his probable death. It was almost as if his fate were in her hands.
Alex did not sleep well and spent most of the night wondering what to do. He needed to know more, to understand what was happening. He could no longer turn away and pretend that these strange things were not so or simply the imaginings of a feeble mind, whatever his sister might think. Tomorrow he would ask the young girl about his beloved Andra and try to find the answers.
Chapter 9
The next day was fair, and Andrea was awake and dressed early. She had found a selection of clothing in the large chest, including a long tunic dress of a beautiful red berry hue and long woolen stockings to match. A deep blue cloak would keep her warm
in the early sea breeze and a pair of black leather slippers would protect her feet. They were not very practical, but perhaps women of a certain class were not expected to walk far. They were so different from her multipurpose sneakers she used to pound the streets of New York.
Andrea had to wait to be released from her bondage. She expected Helena, but when she heard the key in the lock and the door opened, she was half relieved to see the young nun from the day before with the beautiful smile. Silently, she brought in a tray containing bread, cheese, and a goblet of ale, laying it out on the bed before bowing her head and leaving the room.
As the footsteps died away down the corridor, Andrea realized that the door had been left unlocked. She was free to venture out on her own at last. Tying the bread and cheese into the large white square of material that had covered the food, she slipped silently out of the door and down the corridor to the outside door and was away.
Never had fresh air smelled so sweet, the rosemary and lavender from the garden filling the dewy air with their soft scents. It was the smell of freedom. Following a little worn path across the grass, she made her way down to the shore overlooking Mull. No ferry this time, just a few old fishing boats and the heathery purples of the distant hill of Ben More. The view was breathtaking and just the right thing to clear her head. Choosing a sheltered and secluded spot beneath a clump of apple trees, she spread her cloak across the ground to sit and eat her breakfast.
Today she would make a plan to get home. She just needed to think, to try and recall some of Grandma Betty’s words. She would convince Alex that all was well, and she would take away his worries. If that meant lying with him, then so be it; she did not want a man’s death on her conscience, whatever time or place. She had done much worse in her time and not necessarily for a noble end. There was something about Alex that drew her to him, and he seemed to be a good man. They were rare.
The sun was rising high, and the bread and cheese tasted good out in the open air. Leaning her back against the tree trunk, she closed her eyes against the warmth, still tired after her disturbed night.
“Andra.”
The voice was soft and low, and at first she wondered if she had really heard it, or if it was just the water lapping against the rocks.
“Andra!”
This time she opened her eyes to see Alex standing in front of her.
“Andra, I came out looking for you. Helena said you had gone walking?”
Helena’s prying eyes saw everything. Perhaps she had instructed the younger girl to leave the door open to see what she would do?
“I needed the fresh air and decided to eat my meal down here. It’s such a beautiful day.”
Alex sat next down next to her and the pair was silent for a few moments before Alex broke the peace.
“Andra, about last night, I—”
She interrupted before he could finish
“I said too much, Alex. I was just tired. I feel much better today.”
Picking up one of her small hands, he cradled it softly in his own much larger hands, looking her fully in the face.
“I believe you, Andra, all you said last night. I do not know how it can be true, but I believe it and I need to know more.”
His face was so trusting, yet she didn’t know where to start.
“Tell me about Andra, my Andra.”
For the next half an hour, Andrea told Alex all she knew about her grandma’s experience on the island in 1956, which was pretty patchy and scant at best. But the she told him about her marriage to Grandpa Joe, her children and grandchildren, and her happy and long life.
Her heart ached to watch his face as she talked about the woman he loved so much and her other life without him.
“And she is still well?”
Andrea had purposely left out the details of Betty’s recent death—it seemed too cruel and heartless—but she had to be honest.
“She died a few weeks ago, she was 93 years old.”
His eyes misted over as he looked across the water to the shoreline.
“I’m so sorry, Alex.”
Smiling softly, he squeezed her hand. “It is a lot to take in, to believe, but if I think my dearest one has had a good life, then I can be happy for her. From the way I look at it, if what you say is true, then she still has all of her life to live, long after I am dead. It seems that life is renewed, whether we are reborn from our ancestors or...”
Alex stopped short with a catch in his throat, and Andrea squeezed his hand for him to continue.
“Go on.”
His lips wavered and his eyes shone in the morning light. “I was just going to say that we live on in our children.” And with that, a giant sobbing sound rose from his throat as he struggled to maintain his composure, and a few heavy tears rolled from his eyes which he quickly brushed away.
“It is of no consequence.”
“You lost a son. That must have been a difficult time.”
Alex hung his head and deeply breathed in the morning air.
“It was only ten days ago that it happened. Everything had been going so well. Andra was blooming, and then suddenly she became very sick and the child was born too soon. He was perfect in every way. Andra held on to him and wouldn’t let the little body out of her arms. Her grief was almost too much to bear. So was mine, but I had to be strong. We named him after me and buried him in the grounds of the little chapel. Andra got weaker and weaker and refused to eat and eventually lay unconscious. We thought she would die, and after a long and sleepless night, I headed for the Abbey to pray for her soul, not expecting her to live, and that was when I saw you.”
Andra remembered the grave of Alexhander MacDonald; it was where she had stood that first morning, just before she found herself part of this strange experience. The death of the child had been significant.
“Maybe Andra did die, and that was the trigger for Grandma Betty to return back to her own time?”
“But what brought her here in the first place? She was found like you in the graveyard of St. Oran. Anyway, Andra did not die, not exactly, and you seem to have taken her place?”
Andrea looked at Alex. A picture was forming, but the significance still wasn’t clear.
“The ancient rune seems to have played a part, but now Helena has that.”
Reaching into his pocket, Alex brought out the small, pale stone. “I have it now. Here, take it back.”
Shaking her head, Andrea refused the offering.
“I think it’s safer with you, Alex. I have nowhere to hide it in my room, and Helena will find it.”
“Surely you are not afraid of my sister?”
His blue eyes were honest and open. She did not trust Helena, but she did not know why. Call it a hunch, but it was nothing she could verbalize, especially not to such a loyal brother.
“I just think it would be safer if you kept it for now.”
“But you do want to return to your own time?” His voice was sad.
Reaching across to him, she laid her hand softly on his. Of course she needed to return to her own time, but it would be hard to leave him. It was a tender act, and she could feel her fingers tremble with emotion. His hand brushed her arm, so delicately that it was hard to imagine those strong hands fighting and killing in battle.
Her heart began to beat wildly, and it was as if she had always loved him. Part of her had always known it, deep inside. Bringing his face towards her, his lips lightly touched hers. A ripple of electricity passed through her at his touch, as the soft, full lips met hers. She had never felt so heady.
The weight of his body pushed her against the ground, and she felt helpless against his passion, not wanting it any other way. His kisses became more fervent, his mouth hard against hers as their lips slipped together in passion.
His hands moved up her body, finding her small, pert breasts and started to fondle them gently. Never had she abandoned herself so freely to passion. She moaned gently, arching her back towards him, feeling his hardness p
ushing against her.
The sound of voices approaching brought their lovemaking to a sharp halt. Alex sat up quickly, his face flushed and his breathing heavy.
“Tonight is my last night before I ride away. I must come to you.”
“Yes.” Her voice was weak with longing.
“Come, we will visit the grave together.”
Taking her hand and pulling her up, he fixed the cloak around her and proceeded to brush away the pieces of twig and grass. He was so attentive, so chivalrous, so unlike the men she had met in her life so far. Steve wouldn’t have even contemplated sitting on the grass in case he ruined his designer jeans.
It was quiet in the graveyard and the pair held each other close for support. The headstone had yet to be carved, and in its place as a temporary measure was a small wooden cross.
The grave was so small and so simple that Andrea felt a wealth of grief overcome her. She, too, had wanted children and if she wasn’t careful, time would run out for her. Steve had made it clear that he didn’t want any children, and she thought she had been happy with that decision, his decision. Now she realized how deeply she longed for a child, to feel a new life warm inside her.
Alex removed the stone from his pocket and held it out to her. They were at the place where it had all started, and it could be her passage home. He gently pressed the rune into her hand as he tenderly kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes and waited. Nothing happened, and she was half relieved. As much as she wanted to return to her own time, she had unfinished business with this man, this kind and unselfish man.
Chapter 10
Andrea spent the rest of the day in the nunnery garden, sitting among the sweet smelling herbs and late roses. Alex had another meeting with his men about the preparation for the battle, but she would be seeing him later. She wished she knew more about history and this battle he was riding to.
Maybe it was better that she did not. How could you tell a man that he was riding to certain death or victory without changing the course of history?
