by Jill Jones
Dunnottar Castle, although not her choice of lodgings for the upcoming winter, now held at least some redeeming hope for Taylor…hope that she would discover the secret member of the regalia…Mary’s Scottish Rose.
Chapter Fourteen
The tide rose to its crest by dawn, never approaching the level needed to launch the Intrepid, and since it was just past the time of the full moon, Duncan believed it would be another month before they could expect the tide to reach its maximum again. Nothing short of a hurricane swell would set the heavy craft back in the water.
He leaned against the boat and scratched his head, wondering again how in the devil it had ended up so stranded. But then, how in the devil had all the rest happened either? He pushed away from the hull, which on dry land revealed a crust of barnacles beneath the waterline. Slowly he walked several hundred feet in the direction of the granite rock formation known as the Ladysgate. It, too, was standing on dry land.
He’d read in nautical books that the level of the oceans had risen over the past few centuries. He stared through the gap. It looked innocuous enough. What would happen, he wondered, if he walked through it? Right now. Without thinking about it. Would he just come out the other side? Or would he be met with the wild waves of the ocean that pounded this arch in his own time? If they successfully re-crossed time, unless they made the attempt by boat, he decided, they would risk being drowned.
Duncan drew in a deep breath and started the climb up the hill to the crofter’s lodge and the sorry duty of informing Taylor that there would be no boat ride today. He just hoped she didn’t insist on striking through the portal anyway.
But when he stepped inside the door to the hovel, he sensed something different in her attitude. Something had changed since yesterday’s petulant display of bravery, which he’d recognized as fear in disguise, when she’d mocked him for not wanting to go through the Ladysgate with her on foot. Thank goodness Pauley had made it clear he wanted no part of such a venture.
Today, Taylor stood before him clothed in the tattered dress he knew she hated, and she had made ready to go to the castle. Her back was straight, her eyes bright, eager even. He frowned slightly, curious to know what was going on inside that beautiful head.
“The castle is our only choice,” she told him resolutely. “I could see from here the water wasn’t going to make it to the boat,” she explained her readiness. “But we’d better hurry. Remember, Kenneth warned us we have only a short time before the soldiers arrive.” He noticed she was speaking rapidly, and her voice a little too chipper. What was up with her?
“Are you sure you want to go there? We’ll likely be thrown in with Kenneth and Greta again,” he warned, testing her resolve, not totally trusting her new attitude toward remaining in this time. Duncan glanced at the boy who played on the cot with his new toy boat. He noted that Taylor had somehow managed to clean his face and hands, although his clothes were still stiff with soil. “It could be dangerous for the boy, you know.”
“No, I don’t want to go there,” she snapped. “But like I said, it seems like our only option right now. I’ll just have to keep a close watch on Pauley.” She hesitated a moment, then added, “Duncan, why is Cromwell so interested in Dunnottar Castle? Isn’t this sort of an out-of-the-way place? What is it those soldiers are after?”
He returned his gaze to Taylor, curious about the inexplicable gleam of excitement in her eyes. He wasn’t certain he liked it. “Sit down, and I’ll tell you what I know of this time and this place,” he said at last. “Then you can decide if you want to take part in its history or not.
“When Cromwell gave the Royalists a good thrashing at Dunbar, on the southern coast,” he began, “the Scots fled to Stirling Castle, where he would have a hard time routing them. But instead of trying to take the castle, which was more or less invincible, Cromwell went north and took Perth, cutting off the Scot’s supply lines. The king’s general decided to take advantage of Cromwell’s move to the north and stupidly left the safety of Stirling, marching south again to invade England, where eventually he was defeated.
“When Cromwell at last took Stirling, he was furious to learn that the prize he thought he’d find there had been smuggled out of the castle right and taken north, to Dunnottar as rumor had it, this considered the most secure castle in all of Scotland.”
“What prize?”
“The Honours of Scotland,” he said, doubting that an American would know what that was. “The crown, sword and scepter that for centuries had been emblems of the independence of the Scottish people from England and of their loyalty to the Scottish king. Cromwell hated any vestiges of royalty, and he swore he would find and destroy these symbols, just as he did the English crown jewels.”
Taylor drew in a sharp breath. “He destroyed the crown jewels of England?”
Duncan laughed. “Don’t worry. The queen’s got more. You can see them in the Tower of London. But to finish your history lesson, if we are in the time we think we are, the Honours are hidden in Dunnottar Castle even as we speak.”
“And Cromwell’s men are on the way to get them,” she nodded thoughtfully.
“Aye.”
“Do they succeed?”
“Nay.”
She was silent a moment, then turned and looked at him with a single but serious question in those enormous blue eyes. “Duncan, you know the history. If we go to the castle, will we survive?”
“Maybe.”
Edinburgh Castle
1 June 1566
We are heavy with child, and burdened with care lest we die in giving birth. The night is stormy, and we have sent away all except the midwife, who sleeps in the next room. As we lie alone upon this bed which is already draped in blue taffeta and velvet in honor of the birth of a royal child, we wonder what the future holds for him, or her. For any of us.
We have forgiven Darnley for his part in the Riccio affair, but we will never forget it, and we watch our back carefully. That is why we are in the safety of Edinburgh Castle to await the arrival of the bairn instead of our chambers at Holyrood, and why today we have drafted a will ordering that all of our worldly goods should be transferred to the heir, without distinction, and that Darnley shall not inherit anything. We cannot prevent him from inheriting if the child does not survive, but we have charged our two most loyal nobles, Bothwell and Erskine,with protecting the child from Darnley’s evil, for we doubt not he is capable of killing his own son to satisfy his greed for power and fortune.
In the same document, we annexed our most precious jewels, including the Great Harry, to the Scottish crown, but we did not include the Scottish Rose, for we doubt that even our most faithful nobles would honor our wishes, such remains the rancor between the religious factions in the land. Instead, we have entrusted the chalice to Mary Seton until the danger has passed. If God grants our survival of the birth of this bairn, the chalice shall once again be returned to its use at our private Mass. If we do not survive, we have given Mary S. a separate letter indicating my wishes for the future of the chalice.
The queen did survive, Gordon knew, at least that time. But that separate letter…did it exist?
Duncan, Taylor and Pauley, looking for all the world like a typical seventeenth century family, appeared at the castle gate and asked for admittance. “I am kinsman of Kenneth Fraser,” Duncan said, “come with my wife and bairn t’ serve his Majesty King Charles in th’ defense of this castle.”
Taylor bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. He sounded more like he was trying out for a play than to gain admittance into a castle. But he must have been convincing, for after some debate among the gatekeepers, they were allowed to enter.
Taylor’s levity soon changed to an uneasy foreboding, however, as they climbed the stone steps and ventured ever deeper into the mighty fortress. Their choice of refuge meant they would not leave this place until the siege was lost, which according to Duncan would be some time next spring. He had reassured her, however, that their cha
nces of survival here were good, better than if they opted to flee into the wilderness. She wondered again briefly about the fate of her camera crew and the captain. Were they somewhere out there in the wilderness? Would she meet up with them inside the castle if they, like she and Duncan, were taking refuge there? Or had they been drowned in the accident? Guilt riddled her once again. She should never have made that boat trip.
But there was nothing she could do about it now.
She had to think of the future, not the past. Duncan’s history lesson had fleshed out Robert Gordon’s earlier account of the daring rescue of the Honours of Scotland. She believed now she was about to witness that event in history. Witness it, and record it, hopefully with her camera, certainly in her notes. If nothing else good came of this mishap, she might come away with the start of the next phase of her career.
What she wouldn’t give for a video camera right now, she thought as she progressed up the steep climb. No production studio in Hollywood could create so authentic a setting for the drama that was about to unfold in this ancient stronghold.
Her heart began to beat heavily, however, as they approached the summit. She felt Pauley’s little hand tighten around her own and gave it a reassuring squeeze, even though she needed reassuring herself. He looked up at her, his eyes revealing both trust and fear. Would she protect him? She read his silent message clearly. She answered with a nod and a smile, trying to squelch her own misgivings about his safety.
Duncan strode confidently a few feet ahead of them, as they had decided would be appropriate for a man of this day to do, even though the thought of such behavior gagged Taylor’s feminist nature. There was much about 1651 she could live without.
They progressed through a succession of heavily defended bulwarks before reaching the flat, grass-covered area upon which the Earl Marischal and his predecessors had created an impressive group of structures that were not visible from below. A two-story building spanned the entire length of the rampart on their right where men milled about, watching them curiously. Directly in front of them was a church, and to their left was another, grander edifice that Taylor decided must be the palace. A man approached them, a guarded look on his face.
“That’s Ogilvy,” Duncan whispered to Taylor. She smoothed her dress. They had decided before leaving the crofter’s lodge that their best protection for Pauley would be to attempt to secure a position for Taylor as a personal servant to the governor’s wife, and for himself to volunteer to sail aboard the vessel Duncan knew from history the castle had available to it. Otherwise, they would likely be thrown together with the rag tag, “divil”-fearing crowd that had left them behind in Stonehaven.
“Are ye not th’ kinsman of yon Kenneth Fraser?” Ogilvy recognized Duncan, and his greeting, though cautious, was not unfriendly.
“Aye, my honorable Governor,” Duncan replied, duly respectful.
“Why did ye not arrive with th’ rest from th’ village?”
Duncan hesitated. He and Taylor had decided telling the truth was the best strategy for achieving their aims. “Th’ others from th’ village refused t’ bring with them this orphan lad,” he said, filling his voice with compassion. “He is a simple lad, who has been rejected by the others because he is deaf. My good wife,…Janet…,” he laid his hand upon her shoulder, “couldna bear t’ leave him t’ such a fate.”
“What say ye, ‘deaf?’”
Duncan touched his ear. “He canna hear, sir.”
“Oh, deef i’ tis ye say. Thy tongue, my good man, is foreign t’ mine ear. From whence d’ye hail, and what brings ye t’ Dunnottar?”
Duncan recited his story about escaping from Perth just ahead of the invasion of Cromwell’s army, and Taylor watched with satisfaction as the governor believed every word. Duncan’s performance was getting better and better. Then he offered what she hoped the governor could not refuse.
“I am a sailor, sir,” he said. “‘Tis my skill upon th’ sea that’ll serve ye best.”
“How so?”
“Ye told my kinsman that y’re expecting a long siege, and that food was scarce. Hath ye not a vessel moored behind th’ castle fortifications that could be used t’ sail for victuals if provisions become dire?”
Keep it up, Taylor thought, pressing her lips together nervously. You might land the part yet.
Ogilvy studied Duncan openly. “‘Tis a possibility t’ be considered, as there’s a small ship anchored in th’ cove just behind th’ castle. But there’s not a qualified captain amongst us. Are ye a sailor of enough skill and experience t’ stand as captain of it?”
“Aye, sir. I have stood behind the helm for many years upon th’ sea. ‘Twould be th’ best service I can offer.”
Ogilvy extended his hand. “Then welcome. What be thy name?”
“Fraser. Duncan Fraser.”
Then Ogilvy turned to Taylor. “Hath ye skills at serving a lady, madam? My wife’s companion, Ann Lindsay, is…t’ be leaving us soon on a gallant errand, and I fear that Mrs. Ogilvy will sorely miss th’ presence of another woman. Ye appear t’ have a good demeanor.”
Taylor dropped an awkward curtsey. “‘Twould be my honor to serve thy wife,” she replied humbly, hoping she could adequately disguise her American accent.
“Now, about th’ bairn,” Ogilvy turned his attention to Pauley, but not for long. “He shall have a good scrubbing and other clothing before he enters my household. See t’ it…uh…what be thy name?”
It was an effort, but Taylor managed it. For Pauley, she’d do just about anything.
“Janet,” she said. “My name is Janet Fraser.”
Chapter Fifteen
Their acceptance into the castle household had been far easier than Duncan had expected, but he suspected that Taylor’s beauty had something to do with Ogilvy’s decision to assign her to wait upon his wife. It was an excellent outcome to their dilemma, however, and he was gratified, although it meant he would be separated from her most of the time.
And that, illogically, threw a shadow upon the rest of their good fortune.
Duncan had spent an almost sleepless night tossing and turning in one of the small bunks aboard the Intrepid, for his mind would not let go of the idea of Taylor Kincaid. She was everywhere in his senses. The unquenched passion they had shared on the pallet by the fire had ignited flames within him that had been dormant so long he’d thought they had died out.
Walking behind her now, she side by side with Ogilvy who was talking to her in an animated manner, as if they were well acquainted, Duncan felt a surprising rush of jealousy, a possessiveness that didn’t make sense, but there it was. He watched the long skirt sway at the curve of her hips, admired the way the bodice fitted her slender torso. On Taylor, the homely rag looked almost sexy.
But his attention was jolted from thoughts of Taylor by a rude shout. “So, kinsman, I see ye decided t’ follow us after all. But ‘tis no good ye’ve done us bringin’ in that cursed child.”
Duncan turned to Kenneth Fraser, whose formerly friendly face was distorted and threatening. Glancing over his shoulder, Duncan was relieved to see that Ogilvy had led Taylor and Pauley into one of the structures of the quadrangle and out of sight of this confrontation. He returned his attention to his “kinsman.”
“What do ye care if I take responsibility for th’ lad?”
“‘Tis not a lad, but a bairn of th’ divil,” Kenneth replied, as if Duncan might be part of that same fiendish family. “Know ye not th’ dangers of bringin’ th’ evil among us? ‘Tis like t’ curse us all when Cromwell’s army marches upon us.”
Duncan shook his head. “He is no child of th’ devil, kinsman. He is a starving, misused lad who brings no curse among us. Why doth ye fear him so?”
But Kenneth’s fury was beyond reason. “Ye’ll see,” he growled. “‘Tis a bad business, just as Greta foretold.”
Duncan raised a brow, thinking quickly. “Thy wife has th’ power of foreknowledge?”
Kenneth blinked, t
hen glowered. “Of course not. Only witches can foretell the future.”
“Then how can thy good dame know whether th’ lad is a bad business or not? Unless…she can see into th’ future…”
His implication was clear enough and quieted the other man abruptly as he became suddenly aware of the stares of his fellow villagers. Kenneth turned on his heel and quit the scene. Duncan knew he’d won this round, but the incident did not bode well for the peace and security of those who would spend the long winter cooped up with one another inside the castle.
Ogilvy returned alone. “What was that commotion about, Fraser?” he asked with a frown.
“‘Tis th’ villagers who fear th’ lad,” he replied.
“Ye must keep him away from th’ others,” Ogilvy replied. “We can ill afford dissention within our poor ranks.” But then he brightened. “With any good luck, King Charles will send troops and supplies soon, and we will be rid of th’ damnable English from Dunnottar Castle, even from all of Scotland. ‘Twill be a glorious day, that, and one I pray for with my every breath.”
Good luck, Duncan thought glumly. “Are my wife and th’ bairn safely housed?” he asked, feeling a little more comfortable with the archaic language that fell from his lips. He was surprised at how easily it came to him, and he hoped it sounded natural to Ogilvy and the others.
“Aye. My Elizabeth is much satisfied t’ have such a ladysmaid as Janet. And as for th’ bairn, he was doomed for th’ basin even before I took my leave.” Ogilvy laughed. “Now, I will show my new captain his quarters.”
The quarters were comprised of a small apartment, one of seven lined in a row that had originally been built to house guests of the Earl Marischal and his Countesses. Each had its own fireplace and separate entrance. “I trust this shall be sufficient for ye and thy wife?” Ogilvy said, proud of the accommodations, knowing they had been meant for men of far higher rank than Duncan Fraser.