Chapter Fifteen

 

 

Callum had managed to find an hour to himself. The peace it brought him was in stark contrast to the chaos going on inside the castle. The wedding preparations were in full flow and everywhere he turned someone was asking him something.

He didn’t care about whether the flowers would wilt if they were picked too early, nor what color they were. He didn’t care about the amount of grain being brought out of the winter store to provide the feast. He didn’t even care about his future bride.

He had tried. He had done his best to make conversation with her but she had made it abundantly clear she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

The very first time they’d met, she had whispered in his ear, “I want to make it very clear that I have no desire to marry a MacCleod.”

“Point taken,” he replied, looking around the great hall at all the happy diners. Everyone was enjoying the meal apart from him.

“If I had my way I would marry the man I love,” she continued. “A man with MacKay blood running through his veins.”

“I get it.”

“I hate you.”

It was fair to say their initial encounter did not go as well as Callum’s parents might have hoped.

Standing next to the shore of the loch, the only sound was that of the water gently lapping at the heather covered grass. Across the water two curlews were coming into land. The sun had not long risen and streaks of orange and red coated the far mountainsides. The tops were sprinkled with the first snows of the winter. It would not be long before a white blanket covered most of the MacCleod lands.

Mild autumns always led to severe winters. Callum found himself thinking about the amount of food in the castle stores, making rough calculations about how much was going to waste. First the feast to celebrate the betrothal and now more for the wedding feast. Would there be enough for the winter?

What he wanted to do was go back inside and call off this farce. She did not want to marry him. She had made clear there was a man she loved back at MacKay castle and if only she had an excuse to cancel the ceremony she would take it without a moment’s hesitation.

He could give her an excuse. He could tell her about Kerry, tell her that he too was in love with another woman.

He had thought about raising the issue but decided against it. The wheels were in motion. The wedding was going to happen. If she backed out his father would likely banish him for all time.

Besides, he thought as he skimmed a stone across the water, he hadn’t heard a thing from Kerry since she left. No doubt she was already back home in her own time. Would she look him up in her history books? Find out what had happened to him?

If she did she would see that he married Nessa MacKay like he was supposed to. There would be no mention of his inability to summon up any positive feelings about the wedding. How he’d watch her berating the kitchen girls for burning her toast, yelling at them until they cried. How she’d demanded, and been given, better accommodation at the castle, thicker blankets, a bigger bed, more servants. She seemed determined to make as many enemies as possible but no matter what she did, his parents turned a blind eye. Even when she kicked the farrier’s cat from the battlements for hissing at her, Alan MacCleod just turned away and said nothing.

“Did you not see that?” Callum said to him. “You would still have me marry her?” The cat limped away, mewling piteously.

“You have to marry her to align the clans,” his father replied through gritted teeth, walking away without another word.

Callum felt something by his ankle. Looking down he saw the bundle of fur purring and rubbing against his leg. “Good morning Roughshod,” he said, reaching down to stroke the cat’s head. “Glad to see your leg’s on the mend.”

The cat yawned loudly before darting its head to the left. Catching sight of a field mouse it stalked off leaving Callum to turn back to the loch. He felt more affection for Roughshod than he did for Nessa MacKay. She also didn’t hiss at him as often.

A horn blew out in the castle, the sound echoing loudly around the valley. With a sigh Callum turned and headed back. The sound of his doom. Someone was looking for him. He doubted it would be anything good.

As he walked back up he thought about the men out on patrol. They had gone without him. He hadn’t expected that. On the morning they were due to leave he had climbed out of bed before light and made his way to the stables only to find the horses were gone, the men were gone, and any hope he had of maintaining the life he desired was gone.

The laird had sent them without him, insisted they go according to his mother despite their vocal protests. “It was patrol or be banished,” she said to him when he found her in the solar. “They had no choice. You are soon to be wed. This is not the time to go out and get a sword to the gut.”

On the way back up to the castle he kicked a stone as hard as he could. It struck the castle wall and bounced back with surprising force, catching him on the forehead.

“Violence often has unpredictable results,” a voice said from the castle gates.

“Nice to have some sympathy,” Callum replied, wiping the blood away from his eyes. “How are you Fingal?”

“Abbot Fingal now.”

“Abbot? Which bunch of fools put you in charge?”

“The monks of Crossraguel have better judgment than you, Callum. In many things.”

The abbot smiled, holding out a hand to shake. Callum took it, surprised by how strong the grip was. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you. What brings you here?”

“I came to bless the wedding.”

“You’ve heard then?”

“All the highlands have heard of the union of the MacCleods to the MacKays. The MacIntyres are thinking of uniting with the Campbells and the MacDonalds in return. They think you mean to invade.”

Callum swore quietly. “The whole point of the wedding was to make things safer, to bring peace to the highlands and islands.”

“Not everyone sees it that way. I tried telling your father but he will not listen. You marry Nessa and the other clans unite against you. All he sees is the dowry that will come with the wedding.”

A light went on above Callum’s head. “Of course. That’s why he’s not worried about wasting our food on the feast. He’ll get the stores refilled by old man MacKay.”

“And their people will starve instead.”

Callum nodded. “Still, it must be done. I have no choice.”

“Do you not?”

“What? Do you know something I dinnae?”

Fingal scratched his chin as he began to walk slowly into the castle, Callum by his side. “I had a woman brought into the abbey unconscious.”

“I knew you monks were starved of female company but isn’t that going a bit far?”

Fingal didn’t laugh. “She mentioned a name in her sleep. In fact, she said the name many times.”

“So what? What’s that got to do with me?”

“It was your name, Callum MacCleod.”

Callum stopped dead, grabbing Fingal by the arm. “Who was this woman? What did she look like?”

“Bruised and half drowned. She said her name was Kerry. Does that name mean something to you?”

“I must go to the abbey. I have to see her.” He was already marching to the stable when Fingal stopped him. “What are you doing? Let go of me.”

“She’s no longer at the abbey.”

“What? Why? Where did she go?”

“I’ve no idea but she left with another woman while we were in the middle of a service.”

“But where have they gone?”

“I’ve no idea. I thought you might know. She is not well. Was muttering all kinds of things in her sleep about flying machines and boxes that can talk and all sorts of gibberish. Said she had to get back to the future like Marty McFly. I fear she is delirious. I have never heard of the McFly clan. Do you know of them?”

“No but I know she’s not delirious.” He smiled. “And I know where she’s going.

“Where?”

“MacIntyre Hall. I just hope I’m not too late. Do me a favor.”

“What?”

“Call off the wedding for me.”

He ran for the stables without looking back. Two minutes later he was riding at full pelt out of the gate, ignoring the shouts of his parents who had appeared in the courtyard.

Spurring the horse on, he sped north. After an hour he looked behind him. No one was following.

That wasn’t the case for long.

By the time he was halfway to MacIntyre hall he was convinced he was being followed. Whenever he looked back there were two horses, little more than dots at first but as time passed and his own steed began to tire they grew larger.

By late that evening he could make out two men riding as fast as they could to catch him.

He stopped only briefly at The Red Fox to change his horse before continuing on his way north, putting on a fresh burst of speed to outride the two men who had no doubt been sent after him from the castle.

If they thought they were bringing him back to marry Nessa they had another thing coming. They might be scouts of course, their job only to report on his whereabouts while a larger force was massed.

That got him thinking about MacIntyre hall. He was riding deep into MacIntyre territory and there was no good reason he could give if he were found there by a patrol. I am running from my wife to be and searching for a woman from the future. He could picture the laughter already.

Still, what could he do? He could stop and kill them both but there were only two possible consequences of that. Clan war or his execution as a sop to the MacIntyres.

Better to outride them. Find Kerry and persuade her to stay. Nothing else mattered. It was possible she was a liar but in his heart he knew that wasn’t true. He decided to trust his instincts. He would find her and let the ancient spirits roll their bones. How they landed was up to them. He could only find her. The rest was up to fate.

Behind him the two riders drew near. Both of them were wearing black suits that seemed very out of place in the medieval highlands.