by Dan Glover
"Come with us to Toulon Castle, sweet Amanda. We are paying a visit to my father. I am sure Ginger will enjoy seeing you once more."
Maon had become the sailor of the group. After Nate and Ginger left Orchardton Hall to live in the south of old France, he restored a new ship which he christened The Lady and promptly set sail to all corners of old Europe.
That the others at Orchardton Hall felt sorry for her was a given but Amanda didn’t mind as much as she might have a century ago. With the retreat of the Ladies into a world of their own and the exit of other members of both the People and the descendants of the Lake the old castle had taken on a haunted air of a place no longer lived in so much as tolerated.
Still, Maon and Sileas were as content together as anyone Amanda knew. They reflected the joy she once felt with their son, Alpin, as well as their daughter, Ena. Although she still dreamt of those days together, she knew the love she felt was gone forever.
Arriving at Toulon Castle was like walking into a picture.
The days were filled with sunshine rather than the cool summers and damp days of Orchardton Hall. The castle had been restored to such splendor that Amanda believed it was newly built rather than being hundreds or perhaps thousands of years old.
While Maon and Sileas made sure The Lady was anchored securely Amanda walked up the wharf to Toulon Castle. The fields surrounding the estate were fairly bursting with crops while cattle meandered through lush pastures and chickens scattered and clucked as she walked up the pathway from the landing jutting out into the sea. She felt as if she was coming home for the first time.
When she opened the door and walked inside there was no one there. Sounds of laughter erupted from the back so she made her way through a labyrinth of rooms and corridors to emerge in a garden rivaling any of Lady Lauren's back in old Scotland.
Nate and Ginger were surrounded by a tribe of wild-looking boys who seemed intent at burning them at the stake. The boys wore headbands with feathers sticking out and holding plastic hatchets in their hands they ran in circles making whooping noises by placing their free hands over their mouths while their father and mother pretended to struggle against the string binding them to a fencepost planted in the center of the garden.
"Oh! Amanda has finally come to visit!"
Ginger saw her first and forgetting the game she pulled away from her ties to rush to Amanda and to take her into her arms. When Ginger kissed her full on the mouth Amanda was almost embarrassed at the feelings that crackled to life within her.
Nate looked like a god.
He was nearly naked but for a lion cloth he wore. It was obvious he spent most of his time in the sun as he was deeply tanned which set off the crystal blue of his eyes and the blackness of the hair he had always worn long.
She had never spoken to him other than to exchange pleasantries. It wasn’t because she disliked Nate; rather, she didn’t trust herself around him. When he was with Lady Lily she would catch herself stealing glimpses at him while at the same time chiding herself for coveting another woman's husband.
Now, she felt that same rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Having talked to Lady Lauren a good deal, Amanda knew it was not uncommon among the Lake people for a man to take several wives. This was due in part to the women outnumbering the men by a hundred to one.
The first night at Toulon Castle, Amanda dreamt of Nate coming to her room. Rather than being startled by his appearance, she expected him. Throwing back the covers she invited him into her bed where they made mad and furious love until the roosters began crowing their wake-up songs to the newborn sun.
Waking, she lay in bed for several minutes relishing the dream and considering if she might go back to sleep to find it once again. Instead, she rose and dressed in her most provocative outfit to go down to breakfast.
She was late.
The table bore witness to a terrific feast that she had slept through: pork chop bones were piled high and egg shells dominated the counters. The odor of food lingered hauntingly in the air as she searched about for leftover morsels.
"Oh, you're up!"
Nate's voice startled her. He walked into the kitchen carrying a pail of fresh milk in one hand and a basket of eggs in the other. The night's dream was still so fresh in Amanda's mind that she expected him to kiss her but instead he sauntered over to the counter where he set down his bounty.
"Are you hungry, darling Amanda? I'm afraid those boys don’t leave much behind. If you like, I can fix you some steak and eggs. That's something we have plenty of."
"I'm starved half to death, Mr. Nate. Thank you."
"There is no need to stand on formality here, precious Amanda. Please call me Nate."
She cannot take her eyes from him as he walks around the island in the middle of the kitchen to pull a frying pan from under the counter and fresh meat from the refrigerator.
"Is the power still working back at Orchardton Hall?"
"Yes it is, darling Nate. I remember those days when we had to use candles and lanterns to light the place. And how I hated having to haul water... I never dreamed how convenient electricity could be. Now I don’t know what I'd do without it."
It felt odd talking to this man.
She had idolized him for so long that he had become bigger than life itself. When he left Orchardton Hall with Ginger to start a new life in old France, Amanda considered going with them. But, she was not invited on the trip and she was too shy to insinuate herself into their good graces the way she did when sailing to America with Maon, Sileas, and Ena.
Things were different then. She was angry with Alpin and when her blood got up like that she was liable to do things completely out of character, like talk herself into an apprenticeship with Karen and finally becoming a full-fledged doctor in her own right.
She envied the other women who had children.
Though she desperately desired a boy or even a girl of her own she felt forever bound to helping others achieve that which she never would. They flocked to her. Each year tens of children were born while Amanda attended to them and their mothers all the while wishing she could find a man who did it for her.
When she first saw the scientists from old America she had eyes for the one named Pete but it became clear that he and Karen were meant for each other. The other two, Ronald and Freddi, seemed content with the company of each other rather than actively seeking out women. Some of the other girls at Orchardton Hall gossiped about this predilection but Amanda paid it no mind.
She hated Kirk ever since he pushed Ginger down those horrid dungeon stairs. She voted to exile him from Orchardton Hall but hers was in the minority. Even when she moved to old France it pained her to see him though she realized he had grown in ways she never envisioned.
Delilah bore him half a dozen daughters over the years some of whom married the sons of Nate and Ginger. They now had families of their own. Amanda kept wondering when her time would come to take a husband and have children and about the time she gave up, it happened.
Chapter 15—Niall
He never liked the Isle of Skye.
The weather was atrocious with dark rainy days and chilly nights and though he loved swimming in the ocean alongside Luciana when she left for the south of old France even those escapades faded into the depths of time.
"Why do we have to live here, mother? We should move away to where the weather is warmer."
"Your father will never abandon this place, my darling Niall."
"He doesn’t even live with us, mother."
He loved both his parents but had never felt close to either of them. Alpin spent most of his time away from the villa where the family lived and Ena pretended to care but it was clear she had other things on her mind.
"Why are you leaving me here alone, my precious Luciana? There is nobody left but for mother and she won't swim with me."
His sister was older and worldlier having spent many months living at Orchardton Hall with the Ladies..
. mythical beings who had been born thousands of years ago in a Lake half way around the world. He had never met them. It was just another disappointment in a long line of them that comprised his life.
"I'd take you with me, sweet Niall, but you're too young. Maybe in a few years you can come to Toulon Castle and visit."
It angered him to be told he was too young. He turned fifteen years old last month. He was a fully grown man unlike the girls of the People who did not reach maturity until they obtained twenty years or more.
"Why does everyone judge me on my age according to what the People believe? I'm a man, Luciana... not a child. Take me with you, please."
She had walked away without a word and the next day when he arrived at the beach for their morning swim she didn’t show up. He knew she had gone even before he went to her rooms and discovered all her clothing missing.
He had met his grandfather a number of times... the man intrigued him. Unlike his father, Grandfather Nate was more than willing to teach him how to sail and even how to fly, although the thought of leaving the ground disagreed with his constitution so he had never gone up in a plane.
Sailing was another story.
He had gone on trips around the old British Isles many times with his grandfather and even to the shores of old Europe where they sailed up rivers and stopped at museums and other storehouses of treasure.
"Who created these portraits, Grandfather?"
"These were painted by a human male by the name of Vincent van Gogh. He lived a tormented life hundreds of years ago and ended up committing suicide."
"I don’t understand... why would anyone kill themselves, Grandfather?"
"They say van Gogh was insane. That's how he was able to make such masterpieces."
"I've read how mental illness and artistic ability seemed to go hand in hand in the old days. Were all great artists crazy, Grandfather? Is that why no one is creating art these days?"
"That's a great question, Niall. I haven’t a ready answer but I would say most of the great artists were people who couldn’t function the same way normal people did. I think a better word to use might be eccentric. Most great artists were so different from other people that they might well have been thought of as insane but maybe they just saw the world in a way no one else did. That doesn’t make them crazy. Have you ever met Kāne?"
"No but I've heard of him."
"He is an artist, Niall. You'll have to go to Edinburgh Castle some day and see his work. It's quite incredible."
"I heard he's unstable, grandfather. Is that true?"
"He is the only living male of the Lake but from what the Ladies tell me, Kāne exhibits all the same traits as the others. There were never more than a hundred males of their species. Lady Lily told me they were not ones to be trusted since their memories were so short. That and the Ladies outnumbered them a hundred to one."
"Is that why there are so many more girls than boys now, grandfather?"
"Up until just a few years ago, any union between human beings had resulted in female children. If not for Lady Lily and her initiative, there would be no males left on earth other than Kirk."
Niall wanted to see Grandfather Nate again but he no longer lived in old Scotland and visited rarely. He had moved onto the old European continent a century before he was born. Mother told him how there were great vineyards there and how his grandfather made wine and sherry.
He wanted to learn the art of becoming a vintner too but making his way to the south of old France wasn’t an easy proposition, especially since his mother was against his going.
"I want to take one of the old cars or motorcycles of father's on a trip, mother."
"It's too dangerous, darling Niall. Did I ever tell you what happened to your father when we were young?"
He'd heard the story hundreds of times. It seemed to serve as a kind of morality fable about going off on one's own and the terrors of the wild. The only thing was his father continued his journeys even after he'd nearly been killed in a motorcycle crash.
He had to get away from the Isle of Skye one way or other. If it meant leaving without telling anyone, then that was what he would do. He began making plans while continuing to bide his time studying old maps and doing maintenance on the motorcycles he favored.
He learned by happenstance that he had a natural inclination when it came to working on small engines. He must have been four years old when he tore apart his first lawn mower engine. It was easy to disassemble it but when it came to putting the infernal thing back together he had a time of it.
By the time he turned six he was rebuilding motorcycle engines... dirt bikes, mostly... and riding them through the fields and streams that surrounded their home. His mother had constantly harangued him on the dangers but over the years he had proven himself a skilled rider.
It bothered him a good deal that she still treated him like a child. It was he who provided the meat and vegetables for the dinner table as well as hauling the water they needed from the nearby spring both day and night.
The day he left it dawned on him that the sole reason for his mother's recalcitrance at allowing him to go was her own fear of being alone. He could count the times his father had visited their home during the last ten years on the fingers of one hand. The man was nearly a stranger.
He just about turned back at the realization but then he mollified the guilt arising in his mind by telling himself that his mother had chosen the life she led on the Isle of Skye. Anyone else would have left ages ago yet she remained, always waiting for a man who didn’t seem to care about anything but himself.
Chapter 1 6—Luciana
Kirk had never been happy.
He grew up an unwanted child hated and reviled by everyone around him including his own parents. Perhaps it was on account that he started late but all the kids bullied him in school to the point where he stopped going when he grew just a bit older. Instead he spent his time hanging out at the smoky pool hall, throwing rocks into the greasy river that ran through the village, and casing houses for the purpose of breaking into them when the homeowners went off to work.
When Karen and Marilyn brought him to Orchardton Hall that first time, he considered running away. He hated Drummond. He hated having to travel to Lake Baikal every seven years. Most of all, he hated the Ladies. They acted as if they were too good to even look at him, much less speak to him.
Marilyn was his first mistake. She said she loved him and yet all she wanted to do was to change him into someone else who she thought would be better. Between shoving the bible down his throat, making love to him like a corpse, and prattling on about how dumb he was, she played off his emotions, leading him on, making him believe he could actually be someone.
After she died he blamed himself. In time, though, he came to see that he had nothing to do with Marilyn's demise. She brought that on herself. He thought sure that they would exile him from Orchardton Hall until Nate's vote saved his life.
He knew exile would mean certain death but he didn’t care. In fact, he would rather have died centuries ago than to have lived like he had all those years, always afraid, forever trying to placate everyone around him and failing at every turn.
He was tired of life, sick of being a pawn in schemes that were set in place hundreds of years, perhaps thousands of years before his birth. Nothing ever changed. The harder he tried to do right the worse the People treated him.
When he married Delilah, he thought his life was complete. He told himself he was happy at last. When their girls were born—each a precious angel in her own right—he thought how he had never seen such beauty.
One by one they grew up, married the sons of Nate, and moved away from Toulon Castle to carve out an existence apart from everyone. Kirk thought perhaps there would be visits from time to time, but he was wrong. He understood. The girls had their own lives to lead, their own families to tend to.
"Perhaps we could have another baby, sweet Delilah."
He had been arou
nd Nate so long that his speech had taken on the same inflection as his friend's. He knew it irritated Delilah but he couldn't seem to help it. Like the old stutter that afflicted him for years, his habits were deeply ingrained and difficult to break.
"We've had eight girls, Kirk. Isn't that enough?"
There was a time when his wife would have gladly acquiesced to his request but that was long ago. Now Delilah was more interested in spending time painting portraits of the lands surrounding Toulon. She was very good, so good that for a time he was motivated to pick up his brushes again. But his efforts were a poor substitute for the beauty of Delilah's works.
Lately, the same malaise that insinuated itself into his psyche as a young man had reared its ugly face again. He was mistaken to think he could ever amount to anything. Putting down his brushes he tried sculpting for a decade, using the massive blocks of stone already cut and still sitting in an old quarry not far from the castle. But his efforts were too weak to even show anyone.
Once, he thought of Nate as his friend. He knew now that the man was only being gracious. Whenever he asked his old friend over to share a bottle of wine, Nate refused saying he had business. Kirk suspected he bored him and Nate was too polite to say so outright.
Delilah was the love of his life. Now she had left him to stay with their daughter Crystal and son in law Blane who lived in a mansion in the north of Spain.
"When are you coming home, darling Delilah?"
"I don’t know you any more, Kirk. I always hoped things would get better between us but I'm tired of waiting. I'm going to stay here with Crystal for a few more weeks. I have some thinking to do."
The few weeks she spoke of turned into months and then years.
He didn’t know what he had done to cause his wife such heartache. He had always been faithful. He tried to be a good father and grandfather but there were times when he grew impatient. It seemed better at those times to go to his shanty that he built on the edge of the estate where he could be close to Chester.
He had a love affair with the big cat ever since that night Chester climbed aboard the Nautilus causing Kirk to nearly soil his pants. He hadn’t run, though. He stood his ground, willing to be eaten alive if it meant his friends had time to make their escape.