by Jane Stain
No one had overheard what Lews said.
For once, Emily wished she had her phone on her. Then at least the druid on spy duty would know Lews had it in for her.
“Actually,” Emily said, backing toward the gazebo, “I think I’ll sit this one out.” Keeping her eyes on Lews, she managed to take two steps.
And then Lews was lunging at her. A real lunge, meant to do harm.
Shocked but not surprised, Emily raised her hilt up just in time with her blade down, catching the tip of the other sword in the middle of her blade and deflecting it away from her. The actor in her knew she should turn from him now and run, make it obvious to their audience that she was not playing. However, the survivor in her would not allow her to take her eyes off her attacker’s blade.
His sword tip went up above her head and was coming down with all his strength.
This was the move she dreaded most. She raised her blade up to block his blade’s descent, but she feared that gravity and his manly strength combined would overwhelm her—and her head would get bashed in.
And then his blade whooshed to the side, and Emily heard him grunt as he hit the dirt.
“Dall.” Siobhan called out. “What did you do that for?”
Whirling to look for Dall, Emily jumped when she found him right next to her.
“Are you hurt, lass?” Dall said, looking her all over.
Still kind of shocked, Emily just shook her head.
“We will be seeing you later.” Dall called out to everyone in general as he put his arm around Emily and walked her back to their trailer.
Once inside, they took off the fencing jackets and put them outside along with her practice rapier.
“Dall. He—”
Dall pointed at her phone, saying “I know, lass, I know.”
They stayed in the rest of the day.
After dinner, Siobhan came knocking on their trailer door.
“Come to the Scots guild meeting, you two.”
With her spirits up again after a whole day of Gaelic lessons, Emily tried to be funny. She called out to Siobhan through the trailer door.
“Go away. We don’t want any.”
Apparently unamused, Siobhan used her own key and opened their door.
“It’s not a choice, you guys. Guild meetings are part of Dall’s … job. Now straighten yourselves up and come meet this location’s Scots guild members. Emily, you might want to wear your Scots clothes. They would make a great first impression.”
Emily wasn’t surprised that Siobhan had a key, only saddened that she had used it instead of playing along with Emily’s joke. Good to know, though. This confirmed that Siobhan wasn’t really her friend. No, the druid woman was something between a boss and a jailer.
Still, Emily had walked into this jail of her own free will, and on balance, she was happy. For now.
Anyway, the local aspiring actors and dancers and sword fighters who would be their fellow guild members at the renaissance festival in this location weren’t part of the druids’ scheme. No sense in making a scene by being dragged to the guild meeting kicking and screaming.
There were potential friends among these locals.
Emily didn’t want them to think she was high maintenance.
And Emily agreed that she should wear her Scots clothing. For one thing, the way the two of them matched clearly marked her as Dall’s—and Dall as hers. For another, she was new at being a Scot, and she could use all the practice she could get.
Emily was dressed in her plaid and ready to go in five minutes. She actually smiled on the way over to the picnic tables where the Scots’ guild meetings always were. Dall’s mother’s loving attention to her new clothes made Emily feel good.
“Vange.” Emily separated from Dall to run over and hug her friend. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize you would be here. Yay.”
Evangeline’s brown face smiled as she reached up and hugged Emily back.
“Of course I’m here. It’s tradition, isn’t it? And look at you. All decked out in the Scots garb. You know what? I’m going to have to join the Scots, too. Something tells me that’s the only way I will get any time with you.” Vange was in jeans and a T-shirt at the moment.
Emily noticed Ian standing there next to Vange.
“Can she join, Ian? It’s not too late, is it?”
“I’m sure we can squeeze her in somehow,” Ian said with a grin at Vange. “But the Scottish fair accent workshop was last weekend, and what will you do about a Scottish costume, Vange?”
Siobhan opened her mouth to say something.
But Emily didn’t want Vange beholden to the druid. She hugged her best friend. “I have two Scottish skirts and three Scottish leine shirts, and I can only wear one at a time. We have a week to shorten one of the skirts for her before the festival starts.” She looked at Ian. “Surely her English bodice would work along with the Scottish skirt and leine?”
But tiny Vange held her hands up as if she could block the sounds of everyone’s voices with them.
“I was thinking I would just buy my own Scottish outfit, Emily, with the money I’m going to save by staying in one of your spare rooms instead of blowing so much on a hotel room.”
Emily felt her face fall at that.
Siobhan and Ian were talking to some other people.
So while they were distracted, Emily whispered in Vange’s ear.
“You didn’t cancel the reservation, did you?”
Vange looked puzzled.
“No, not yet, but—”
Emily sighed deeply. And then she whispered some more.
“Oh, good. Please don’t. I’ve been looking forward to time away from here.”
“But the money—”
Emily was so worked up, she gave up on whispering.
“You know what? I want that room so bad that I’ll pay for it by myself, all seven weeks. You can crash here in our trailer, and we’ll go stay at the hotel.”
Emily got out her keys and took the trailer one off and handed it to Vange.
Vange gave Emily a sly smile and handed over her share of the hotel meal tickets—and her car keys.
“It’s parked by the front gate. The parking pass is in the glove box. Oh. But my stuff’s in it. So I’ll have to walk you guys out there after the guild meeting.”
Emily nudged her friend’s shoulder.
“Yeah, we’ll need to stop by the trailer and pack a bag. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.”
The guild meeting went OK.
Emily made a point of bringing Dall and Vange over to sit with some of the new people who hadn’t been in Dall’s sword-fighting class, just to meet as many of the locals as possible. She promptly forgot their names, but they seemed nice enough. They were so eager for the festival to start, it kind of made Emily excited about renfest again.
And good thing.
After they were dismissed, several of the women fussed over Emily’s Scots clothing.
“Wow. Look at this embroidery.”
“Oh my gosh. How long did this take you, Emily?”
“Dall’s Scottish mother made my … costume. She made me two, even, and all by hand. Isn’t her work wonderful?”
All the women came over to ooh and ah over it, and those who were still making their own costumes took careful notes.
Emily was amused to see the men surreptitiously doing pretty much the same with Dall’s great kilt.
And then Siobhan handed Dall a tarp.
“Take the men over there and show them how your kilt looks on the floor, and how you put it on. You did wear your shorts underneath, right?”
Emily thought her husband looked just a tad annoyed at that last bit, but she was proud of him for hiding it well.
All he said was:
“Aye.”
Later that night at the hotel registration desk, Mr. Simmons said he was happy to let Dall and Emily use his hotel as their temporary mailing address. He even gave Emily his personal email addr
ess and said that if she gave him the location of their next faire site, he would see if he knew any of the hotel managers nearby from conferences he’d attended.
Emily scoffed a little, thinking that was above and beyond what was reasonable.
“Oh that’s OK. I don’t want to be so much trouble.”
Mr. Simmons took both Dall and Emily’s hands and looked earnestly into their eyes.
“I have kids of my own. They aren’t your age yet, but when they are, I would hope my own friend’s cousin would look out for them if they moved halfway around the world. It’s no trouble. I really want to help make sure you get your mail,” he swung her hand up in a playful way, “and to help your parents keep an eye on you, Emily.”
They all laughed.
“Thank you again, Mr. Simmons, for everything.”
“You’re very welcome, Mrs. MacGregor.”
It felt odd to be called a misses, but it felt wonderful to be called a MacGregor. Emily could tell her smile was beaming at the hotel manager as she and Dall looked at their mail.
Most of their papers had already arrived, but what still came in would be held for them at the front desk in a special box that Mr. Simmons had set up for them. She and Dall signed all the papers, and Mr. Simmons promised to keep copies for them and to get them into Saturday’s outgoing mail.
Emily’s driver license and passport name changes would take the longest, but she felt sure the druids would be able to transport her to their next festival site—on the other side of the world in Australia.—without the passport. She also figured her US driver license wouldn’t be good or needed over there, anyway.
Well, free transportation was one good thing about being connected to the druids. Besides, Dall didn’t even have ID, let alone a passport. She hoped that wouldn’t be a problem.
Mr. Simmons’ hotel felt like a haven of privacy compared to the huge trailer the druids provided for the newlyweds in exchange for Dall’s servitude.
Dall and Emily MacGregor enjoyed what felt like their second honeymoon, after less than a week of marriage. They enjoyed being served a lavish dinner on their food vouchers in the lobby restaurant, and they particularly liked talking in the Jacuzzi. It reminded them of Dall’s second proposal.
Besides, even a hotel room could be bugged, but who could bug a Jacuzzi?
Emily smiled amid the bubbles from the Jacuzzi jets.
“Will we go and visit your family again, Dall, once we go back on Monday?”
He gave her a sincere and earnest look and a little hug.
“They are your family too now.”
She smiled and caressed his face.
“Thank you. I hope we’ll go see them.”
Dall gazed at her stoically and used his nickname for her.
“I very much do as well, Drusilla. However, you know that Alasdair and Colin rule what I do there.”
Emily felt her face grow serious.
“Somehow, that doesn’t seem near so oppressive to me as how the druids rule what you do here. Do you know exactly what your service to the druids entails? Is it spelled out anywhere, like in a contract, or ...”
“Nay so far as I know, lass.”
He pulled her close in the steaming water, and that just had to be enough comfort, it seemed.
In the morning, Emily donned her Scots attire once more.
Dall donned his kilt in less than 30 seconds as he always did, and Emily enjoyed watching as she always did. He made it look as easy as pulling on a pair of pants, compared with their guild mates who made a production of it rolling around on a tarp.
Emily knew he had exaggerated and extremely slowed down his demonstration the night before, in front of their new local Scots guild mates.
They drove to the fair site, parked the car, and walked arm-in-arm to the opening meeting of rehearsals. Vange called out to Emily from where she was sitting on the straw bales with Ian and a bunch of people in jeans whom Emily recognized from the Scots guild meeting the night before.
“Is my wife’s best lass in our guild then, Ian?” Dall asked matter-of-factly.
“Why yes, I do believe she is,” Ian said with a wry smile and a tug on Vange’s hand, which he was holding.
Vange chortled. “It’s not what you know; it’s who you know.”
Everyone laughed.
“Love your new Scots clothes, Vange.” Emily cooed.
Vange nodded to an older woman sitting behind her and then stood up and slowly turned around, showing off her new plaid skirt and bodice and her new drawstring-sleeved chemise. “It used to be Audrey’s. Turns out she’s been doing faire for thirty years. I didn’t believe her when she told me she had something my size, but she showed up with this an hour ago, and now it’s mine.”
“Yay.” Emily said, taking Vange’s hands and jumping up and down with her in excitement. “Now we’re guild mates.” They grinned at each other like kids for another moment.
And then everyone sat down again and got quiet for the meeting. After it was over, Ian and Dall stalled at getting up and moving on to workshops, and then Emily got a pleasant surprise.
Tea Dye Aiden and his entourage of co-directors came over, and Aiden himself said to Emily, “As you are now Mrs. MacGregor, you are considered staff. This means you must attend staff meetings and do various … duties.” He looked at her significantly.
Emily nodded. Yes, she had already been shown that, hadn’t she.
Aiden smiled. “It also means you will automatically receive a gate pass and you are exempt from the compulsion to attend workshops, though I’m pleased you have agreed to help Dall teach his workshops. That should continue, so long as you are not with child.”
Emily was a little embarrassed to have a relative stranger discussing her possible imminent pregnancy, but she had a feeling it would only get worse if she let on that it bothered her. All she did was sort of nod her head at him in agreement and hope he went away. The man gave her the creeps, a little.
But it was time to go help Dall teach stage fighting, and Emily loved that. She hugged Vange goodbye saying, “See you at lunch.” and she let Dall walk her arm-in-arm as he always did now, since they wed.
Emily managed to avoid Lews all weekend. That night was Saturday night, but it was still workshops, not faire proper. Dall and Emily enjoyed the privacy of the hotel once more. Sunday morning, their whole guild attended the Scottish dancing workshop together. Ian and Vange were partners once more. They seemed to always be together, which made Emily smile until she remembered that Ian—and Dall and she herself—would be with the faire in Australia half of every year, away from Vange.
The two of them came to Dall and Emily’s trailer for Sunday dinner and stayed late talking and laughing. It was a good time, and Emily had trouble letting them leave. She was anxious about leaving them the next morning, even though she knew the druids could bring her back the moment after she left.
Monday morning, Aiden supervised Dall and Emily’s time travel right inside their own trailer.
Emily made sure first that all her supplies were in her various pouches. She had bought a new period-looking dagger from Murray, and it was now sheathed in her boot. She wore her favorite of her two new skirts, hats, and shifts, with the shift she had traded for tied around her waist under her skirt, for a clean change. She wore an additional new belt minus the sword and dagger sheaths, which would have made her a target for sword attacks back in the 16th century. Women of that time simply did not wear swords, even if they did know how to use them.
Dall wore his usual kilt outfit complete with a claymore sheathed at his side. He looked gorgeous as always from where she stood glued to his other side.
“Alright, Emily,” said Aiden. “I sent the destination information to your phone. It should be on the screen now along with your arrival date of August 2, 1540 and your return date of October 2, 1540. Remember: in 1540, your wedding day was July 26.”
“It’s on the screen.” Emily couldn’t help being excited at the
prospect of her second time-travel adventure.
“Well, whenever you’re ready, push the button.” Aiden smiled.
The world went swirly, and then once more, Emily woke up in Eamann’s dark healer basement inside Kilchurn Castle. It must have been during preparation for the midday meal, because a lot of bright light filtered in through the wooden floorboards overhead. She could hear a large amount of activity up there, including footfalls immediately above them to indicate a meal was in the making, just like the last time she had arrived here with Dall.
Emily had a moment of panic, remembering how alone she had felt the last time. She didn’t normally pray, but she said a quick silent prayer right then and there. “Please God, don’t let Dall have forgotten all about me again.” Mustering up her courage, she looked at him while she stowed her phone in her boot.
Dall winked at her.
“Thank you, God.” Emily said silently while looking up. Some sort of spilt food falling through the noisy ceiling kind of ruined the mood, though.
There was a coarse burlap curtain drawn in front of them. That was new. Gingerly, Emily started to open it.
Out loud and with a huge smile, Dall said in Gaelic, “Well lass, shall we go up and tell everyone your new name?”
There was a profane exclamation from the other side of the curtain, and then Eamann opened it. He was wearing his white druid robe, and there were several bloodstains down the front of it.
Emily gagged. On a wooden table in front of her was a kilted man whose wounded but healing hand was covered in leeches. They were sucking his blood. He was just lying there like this was normal. Emily had to fight hard not to lose her breakfast on the stone floor.
Eamann had collected himself, and now he covered for their mysterious arrival in front of the man with the wounded hand. “It is glad I am to see you have both recovered from your traveling sickness. Did you make up the cots?”
Emily looked behind her. Sure enough, there were two made-up cots back there. She nodded.
Dall was bolder. He stood up straight at attention, as if in front of a drill sergeant. “Aye, we did, Eamann.”
Eamann appeared to examine the two of them. He opened Dall’s mouth and looked inside. When he started to touch Emily’s face, she cringed away from him. He rolled his eyes and said in Gaelic for the man on the table to hear, “Very well, on up the stairs you go.”
