by Amy Jarecki
A high-pitched cry came from outside the city gates. By the shudder crawling up William’s back, he knew who had uttered it. Why does that woman find trouble at every turn? With haste, he ran, finding Eva on her knees, cradling Lachlan. It only took a glimpse to spot Robbie speeding toward them on his horse.
William’s stomach dropped to his toes. Eva had asked him to look after two souls and one lay in the grass with an arrow protruding from his chest.
The woman rocked back and forth, her bottom lip trembling with her wails. Looking at her swollen eyes and tears streaming from Eva’s eyes, his heart could have stopped beating.
But the boy’s face was snow white and his eyes held a vacant stare at the sky.
William looked to Eddy Little. “How many dead?”
“Only three.”
“Three with one child’s life cut short.” William’s jaw twitched. “I told ye to watch after the lad.”
Eddy’s face fell. “I ken.”
“Then what happened?”
“Christ, William. If ye didna want anything to go awry, why did ye allow him to carry a bow?”
William pursed his lips to keep them from trembling. Och aye, only one man could be blamed and Wallace clenched his fists against the guilt. The worst part of war was the aftermath. “Three dead? Now tell me how many injured,” he groused.
“Lachlan!” Robbie cried, hopping down from his mount.
“He’s…” Eva looked at the lad with a tear streaked face. “We’ve lost him,” she whispered.
Robbie stood motionless for a moment, tears dribbling down his cheeks. He wiped his face with both hands, then glared at Wallace. “You made me stay with Brother Bartholomew and Miss Eva, but you let him join the archers. Now look what happened! I hate you. I’m the one who should have been shot through the heart with an arrow. Not Lachlan. He never did anything to hurt anyone.” Robbie dropped to his knees beside Eva. “Why does everyone I love have to die? My ma, Da…and now—” The lad couldn’t finish. Curling into a ball over his friend’s body, he broke down and wept while the lass pulled him into her arms and cradled the child to her breast.
William’s self-loathing sank to new lows. He pointed to a group of men standing by. “Dig the graves. I’ll see to it Blair kens he has a funeral mass to chant.”
Clenching every muscle in his body, he strode away to the woeful laments of two people he had grown to love. In a heartbeat, William would give his life for either Robbie or Eva. They both had such generous souls. If only he could give his life to bring back that young lad lying in the grass.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Completely numb, eyes swollen with tears, Eva stood beside William and listened to John Blair’s bass voice chant the Latin funeral mass.
I’m a fool.
She’d run away from the tragedy of death only to find it tenfold. No wonder Lachlan wasn’t mentioned in the history books. The child hadn’t even lived to see adulthood.
Eva held out her trembling palms and stared at her fingers. Only hours ago, Lachlan was alive. And what would have happened if she’d been able to save him? Would she have been sent back to her time, never to return? It didn’t matter. If she’d been with the archers, Eva would have tried to save him no matter what.
She clenched her fists and squeezed her eyes shut as tears dribbled down each cheek. What am I doing here?
When William placed his hand in the small of her back, Eva tensed. She stepped forward enough to relieve the pressure of his fingers. She didn’t want his comfort right now.
Too many conflicting emotions warred inside her. If she continued to stay with William, she would see death—much more unconscionable death. If she chose to leave, she would walk away from the most fascinating experience of her life. But how could she bear to lose people—children she cared for? Life was not supposed to be about misery and struggles and death. Life was supposed to be about love, achievement and reward for hard work.
To her left, Robbie sniffed. The lad was hurting even more than Eva. And he had no opportunity to leave this century and travel to a gentler period in time.
She stepped beside him and pulled the boy into her embrace. The lad’s body trembled as he drew in a stuttering inhale.
“You’re a brave young man, Robbie Boyd. Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently,” she whispered against his temple. “When you weep for a friend, it shows you have a heart, and as you become a man, you will need compassion—something that is very lacking in these times.”
Wallace caught her eye and frowned, his eyes rimmed red as well. Yes, he’d shown compassion and heart, but he could ill afford to mourn his losses—not with the victory won this day. And Eva resented him for it.
After the mass ended, William tugged her hand, but she pulled away and shook her head. “Leave me alone.”
He hesitated and stepped toward her, but when Eva crossed her arms and shook her head, he backed away.
She stood by the grave until the crowd of mourners dwindled. Her eyes blurred with tears, she knelt, running her hand over the moist earth. “You have no kin to say goodbye. No one to write your epitaph. But I give you my promise that one day the world will hear about the brave young archer who gave his life at Scone. You will be remembered, Lachlan. I swear it.”
Eva scooped a handful of dirt and watched it stream through her fingers. “I couldn’t tell you, but I’m not from this time. I live in a world where all children in Scotland go to school and find engaging work, and raise families with no worries about invasion from England or elsewhere.”
She wiped her face in the crux of her arm and cleared her throat. “I must admit my world is not entirely safe. My husband was murdered in a subway in New York City.” She sucked in a long, shuddering breath. Looking up to the tops of the trees, tears again streamed from her eyes. It took her a minute to find her voice again. “In this century neither New York nor America has been discovered. That won’t happen for about another two hundred years.”
Eva sighed as a weight lifted from her shoulders. It was as if telling Lachlan’s spirit about her secrets lessened the heavy sorrow of losing him. She scooped another handful of dirt and watched it stream through her fingers while she gently sang a verse of Oh Danny Boy. As the words, Oh Danny boy, Oh Danny boy I loved you so faded with the breeze, a footstep moved behind her.
With a quick inhale, she glanced over her shoulder.
“Ye were married?” William’s deep voice was but a whisper.
When Eva blinked, a tear dribbled down her cheek. Oh God, she thought he’d gone with the others. “Yes.”
“Why did ye not tell me?”
Still looking down, she shook her head. “I never talk about it.” And since she’d arrived, she hadn’t thought as much about it either.
He moved closer. “What is this America ye spoke of?”
She dabbed her eyes with her sleeve. “Were you listening to me the whole time?”
“Aye, for the most part, I’d reckon.” William’s weapons jostled as he knelt beside her. How had he kept them quiet while sneaking up behind her?
Eva smoothed her hand over the dirt she’d mussed.
He covered her fingers with his enormous palm. “I want to hear your story, no matter how farfetched.”
“But you won’t believe me.” She met his intense blue-eyed stare. “And I cannot risk losing you.”
Lifting Eva’s hand, he laced his fingers through hers. “Ye dunna ken how much your words bring joy to my heart, for I cannot fathom losing ye. But tell me true. I promise I’ll not judge ye. Not this day.”
She took in a deep breath. He needs to know, even if he turns away. “My father is a knight—knighted by Queen Elizabeth for outstanding service to his country. But he bears no arms—civilians have no need of them in my time.” Eva’s voice strained and she again wiped her face in the crux of her arm. “Dad’s full name is Sir David Archibald MacKay, and as of the year of our Lord two thousand and fifteen, he has been the U.K. Ambassador to the United States of Am
erica for twelve years.”
“U.K.?” William asked.
The warmth of the medallion against her chest warned her to tread carefully. And right now she couldn’t handle being ripped away from William and landing in Walter Tennant’s tent. “Let’s just say he’s Scotland’s Ambassador to the US.”
A line formed between William’s brows. “But what does U.K. stand for?”
She should have known he’d be persistent. “Ah…It’s an alliance of nations, sort of like Scotland, Ireland and the Orkneys.” Lord help her, she couldn’t tell him that eventually England and Scotland would live in harmony. From the increasing heat of the medallion, Eva would be gone before the words formed on her lips.
He nodded his understanding with an arch to his brow.
A relieved breath whistled through Eva’s lips. Thank heavens he didn’t ask me to explain more. “My accent is strange to you, because aside from the seven hundred years between us, I attended school in the United States, or America as my countrymen call it. There I studied at university and became a historical journalist, or chronicler as you would say.”
“’Tis an unusual profession for a woman, but not surprising to me, given all the writing ye do.” He glanced down and drew crosses in the dirt. “Tell me about your husband.”
I’ve been wrung out like a dishrag today. May as well get it all out. “I…I met Steve while I was studying. He was an attorney—a lawman with a promising career. We dated—”
William gave her a questioning look.
She patted her chest and changed her tack. “He courted me until I graduated from university, and then we were married at my parents’ church in a city the size of London, called Washington D.C.”
His fingers snuck over and smoothed around Eva’s knee. “It sounds so strange.”
Reassured by his touch, she continued, “What’s even stranger is that in my time, the United States is the most powerful country in the world—and in your time it doesn’t even exist yet—at least not as a country.”
“Ye say in the world, but I say in Christendom. ’Tis another difference between us.”
“True.” She closed her eyes and willed herself to hold it together. How could she explain a subway? “We have many different methods of transportation—and there’s no longer a need for horses.”
He snapped his hand away. “No horses?”
“Horses are only used for pleasure and sport. You could have no idea of the technological advances that will occur in the next seven hundred years.” He opened his mouth, but Eva held up her hand. “Let me try to explain…In big cities there are trains that transport people for miles very quickly. You can live in Glasgow, for example, and work in Edinburgh and if a person takes the train, he or she can arrive at work less than an hour.”
“Fascinating.”
“It is, and in New York the underground train is called the subway.” She swallowed—she’d already told William what a phone was used for. “Steve called me on the telephone right before he left his office—uh, his place of work—and told me he was taking the subway home. I asked him to take a taxi, which would be safer, but he chuckled and said the train would be faster at that time of night.” Eva shook her head and buried her face in her palms.
“God dammit. I should have insisted he take the taxi.” With a groan she swiped her hands down her face. “I wish I would have known it was the last time I would ever hear his voice.”
William moved closer so their arms touched. “Ye dunna have to tell me what happened if it hurts too much.”
“No. You need to hear the rest.” And I need to say it. Eva tried to think of words William would understand. “He was attacked by outlaws and stabbed in the kidney. By the time the paramedics—sorry—the healers arrived, my husband had bled to death.” She pressed her hands against her cheeks and cringed, trying not to cry. “He would have lived if they’d been faster.”
William slid his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” she squeaked, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve. “After that, I was completely numb for months—lost in my own home. I stayed in my luxury apartment for a year until I couldn’t take it anymore. You know? Everywhere I looked something reminded me of him.”
“I think I ken what that’s like.” His hand rubbed her shoulder, offering a world of comfort. “Ye must have loved him verra much.”
“Yes. But I had to say goodbye.” Eva drew in a stuttered breath. “So, I returned to Scotland and joined an archaeological dig for the summer.”
“An archol-olol what?” His quirked expression was priceless.
She let out a laugh—at least it was better than crying. “That must be another recent word. It’s where a group of historians get together and dig up ancient artifacts.”
William formed an “O” with his lips, as if putting the pieces together. “Where ye dug up my seal—at least the lump of rust ye showed me in your shiny black box…uh…telephone.”
“Yes. You remember? I thought you’d blocked the pictures from your mind.”
“I tried, but I canna forget.” He brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “Ye see me as an ancient?”
“No.” She cupped his face with her palm. “I see you as the most amazing man I’ve ever met.”
With a stuttered inhale, he held her gaze for a moment, then rested his forehead against hers. “Ye dunna hate me after what happened this day?”
“I wanted to, but I can’t.” She blinked back tears. “You have great goodness in your heart, and a vision from which you cannot turn away, no matter what.”
“And ye are a mystery to me.”
“Do you believe my story?”
William looked to the grave while his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I dunna think ’tis a case of belief. ’Tis just difficult to accept or understand.” He met her gaze. “There are those who would condemn ye to burn if they kent your secrets.”
The idea of burning made sweat spring across Eva’s skin with an unwelcome shiver. “That may be what I fear most.”
His lashes lowered as he leaned forward and nuzzled against her cheek. “Ye have my sword, m’lady. On that there shall nay be any question.”
Eva’s heart swelled as he brushed his lips across hers. She slipped her hand to the back of his neck and slowly joined with his mouth. Ever so warm and inviting after a day of victory and devastating sorrow, Eva closed her eyes and allowed him to melt her pain away. Two souls joined together against impossible odds. God, this was the most heartrending experience of her entire existence.
Holding on for dear life, they shared a moment of intimate peacefulness.
“Do you ever wonder why you were chosen to be Scotland’s rebel?” Eva asked.
“Nay. Besides the job didna choose me so much as I chose it.” William splayed his fingers and looked at his palms. “God made me strong for a reason. ’Tis written that ’tis a sin to ignore your gifts. I would be no kind of man if I didna stand and fight.”
Eva reached in and threaded her fingers through his. “Aye, but you run into adversity where most others choose to flee.”
“I make a stand where it needs to be made.” His shoulders slumped. “Only…”
Releasing her grasp, she ran massaging fingers over his back. “Is something troubling you?”
“I look at this young lad’s grave and it makes me doubt everything I’ve done.”
Moving behind him, she kneaded the solid knots between his shoulders. “This was both a great and terrible day. But while we honor the dead, you must also build upon your success.”
William shook his head. “It seems when I take a step forward, I’m always met with a step back in this miserable rebellion. I think I’m doing the right things and then something happens to quell my progress.”
“But you’ve come so far, even since I arrived.” She kneaded harder. “News of the uprising has spread and people are flocking to you.”
“Aye, but if I had the gentry behind
me, we would be all the more strong. I ken in my heart we would send Edward back to England never to return. If only all of Scotland could stand together.”
“But the nobles are all watching out for themselves. And there are those who want English rule. This is why you alone have been chosen.”
“Unfortunately ye are right.” He stretched his spine. “With great clans like Bruce and Comyn—even the Stewart with lands on the English side of the border, alliances are oft misplaced, and their armies follow their leaders which leaves my rebels lacking in talent.”
“Have you thought to seek help from the north?” Though she knew the answer, the decision had to come from William. “What about Sir Andrew Murray?”
“I must write to him.”
“He’s proved he’s committed to ridding Scotland of Edward’s tyranny. And his father is a member of the gentry. Joining with him will only bring credence to your cause.”
“And more skilled men.” William sat taller.
“That, too.”
Eva pulled out the medallion and looked at it in her palm. The metal cooled in her hand, as if pleased. She doubted she’d see Walter Tennant’s tent any time soon.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
In London, King Edward Plantagenet sat at the head of the board with his advisors. “I fully intend to attack France before the leaves of autumn begin to turn. Philip is at his weakest. If we wait a moment longer it will give him time to lick his wounds.”
“With three ships in refit, I must advise you to wait,” said the Earl of Norfolk.
Edward was not a patient man. He narrowed his gaze. “You have a month, and those vessels had best be ready to set sail, else your title and lands will be forfeit to the crown.”
The Earl of Norfolk’s countenance took on a shade of green. “We shall be ready, Your Grace.”
John de Warenne, the Earl of Surrey, drew a noisy breath through his large nostrils. “I’d like to sail with more infantry as well. Since our last crusade, there are fewer in Ireland and Wales fit to draw upon.”