by Amy Jarecki
A lovely blush enlivened her cheeks as she glanced down at the burgundy gown he’d purchased for her in Renfrew. “You’ve seen me wear this once before.”
“Aye, and ye looked like a queen then as well.” He tugged on her hand. “Come. Let us stroll along Stirling’s wall-walk and watch the sunset.”
“Don’t you want to talk with the nobles? I’ve never seen such a gathering of dignitaries in all their finery.” She lowered her voice. “And they’ve all come to see you.”
“There will be plenty of talk on the morrow and for the next sennight to come. But presently, I want to enjoy a moment holding the bonniest woman in all of Scotland in my arms.” He let out a rumbling chuckle. “During the entire feast, I wanted nothing more than to take ye away to a place of solace.”
“Since you put it so eloquently, there’s no way on earth I could refuse.” Eva’s smile radiated more brightly than the candelabra on the table. When she stood, she inclined her lips to his ear. “I’m proud of you, William.” By the stars, the woman could make butter melt in a snow storm.
Wallace’s chest swelled as he led his woman out to the courtyard and up the winding steps in the stairwell. Up they climbed as he crouched to avoid hitting his head. Glancing back, Eva had to crouch a bit too. Lord, she was tall for a woman. Once atop the walk, a brisk breeze tousled his hair and he took in a reviving breath. Built high upon a rocky cliff, the castle was as great a fortress as he’d ever seen. Verdant pastoral lands and forest stretched until it met with the mountainous Highlands.
He smoothed his hand up her back and rested his fingers on her shoulder. “’Tis as if we’re standing above all of Christendom.”
She fearlessly leaned through a crenel notch. “Almost like being at the top of the Empire State Building.”
“What?” William pulled her back by the arm before she fell. Goodness, Eva could say the damnedest things.
“Sorry. You must think I’m an idiot.” She shook her head. “I should have said we are at the top of the gateway to the Highlands. Anyone who controls Stirling controls Scotland.”
“I agree there.” Wallace had no doubt that she spoke true about the building of the Empire. He still couldn’t imagine her world or the things she’d described, but he no longer feared them. He offered her his elbow. “Let us stroll to the western walk.”
She smiled. It wasn’t the innocent smile of a maid, but a knowing smile of woman who knew what she wanted. “Do lead on.”
The western sky turned pink and orange as they ambled toward it, their feet lightly tapping the stone. After they’d passed over the main gatehouse, Eva released her grip and leaned against the wall. “The River Forth looks so different from this vantage point.”
“Aye, as does Abbey Craig.” Pride swelled in his chest as he gazed across the Carse of Stirling to the hill where he and his men had lain in wait.
With a sigh, she straightened and rested her head against his shoulder.
William closed his eyes and allowed himself to drink in her sweet fragrance. Together they stood as contented lovers until brilliant hues of sunset faded.
“May I remove your snood, m’lady?” He slid his hand atop her crown.
She glanced over each shoulder with a playful grin. “Won’t someone balk about my short hair?”
“If they do, they’ll answer to me. Besides, ’tis growing and I want to watch your tresses shimmer in the moonlight.”
She bowed her head forward and allowed him to remove it. When she looked up, her hands flew to her temples. “Is my hair smooshed?”
He ran his fingers through the silken copper tresses. Such a simple gesture, but it calmed the ferocious beast in his soul. Aye, he would fight for his country, but after every battle, he yearned for peace—yearned for Eva to soothe him as her lithe fingers had done last eve. William smiled and gazed into her fathomless green eyes. “Your tresses are bonny. ’Tis a shame ye have to cover them.”
“I like letting my hair loose in the wind.” She stepped closer, sliding her hand around his waist. “But more so, I like what you’re doing right now. Your touch makes me feel wanted.”
He pressed his lips against her temple. “Never for a moment should ye think I dunna want ye, Eva.”
“Honestly?” she whispered. “Even though I’m from a different time?”
“Even though. Besides, I dunna think there’s so much time between us, ye and I. We are two drifting souls. In such a short time, we’ve come to share so many things—come to mean so much to each other.”
She rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to hear you say that. We are soul mates.”
He chuckled. “I love your twists of phrase.”
She rested her head on his chest. “I love your honor and honesty, and the deep burr that rolls across your tongue.”
He took his left hand and held out her right, placing his other in the small of her back. “Shall we waltz?”
She looked up with wide eyes. “Up here?”
“Aye.” A warm chuckle rumbled through his chest. “The walls are high enough, I doubt we’ll fall to our deaths should I stumble over my feet.”
Her feline eyes crinkled at the corners with a delightful giggle. “You are ever so reassuring, sir knight.”
His shoulders tensed a bit. “I am no one’s knight.”
“You are mine,” she whispered.
“Verra well. I’ll give ye that. I am yours.” He glanced down at their feet. “Now how does it go? One, two three?”
She picked up the steps. “Aye, down, up, up. One, two three.”
Her lovely voice hummed an enchanting tune as they danced in place. William hadn’t a mind to be anywhere else. In his arms he held the only woman he’d ever met who’d suited him in every way. And oh, could her voice lull the savage beast within his heart.
He pulled her close and filled his senses with the intoxicating bouquet of her wild tresses. “Ye are so fine to me, Eva MacKay.”
“As you are to me, William Wallace.”
Author’s Note
Thank you for joining me for Rise of a Legend. I have always been fascinated by William Wallace’s tale, and got the idea for this story when I visited Scotland in 2013. Interestingly, there are many unknowns in this stage of history. The poet, Blind Harry, wrote an epic poem about William’s life in the sixteenth century, 150 years after Wallace. It is not clear where he sourced his information, but as history has unfolded, it is clear many of Harry’s musings were conjecture. One of my greatest sources for accuracy was William Wallace by Andrew Fisher. Throughout this series, I referred to Fisher’s work for key benchmarks relating to William’s life. I also referred to On the Trail of William Wallace by David R. Ross for landmarks. Ross’s attempt to piece together the reality of Wallace’s life, is well done, though does not strictly adhere to the facts as Fisher does.
After I was about three-quarters through writing the Rise of a Legend manuscript, I watched the movie Braveheart. I hadn’t seen it in years, and after my research, I wanted to give it another go. Though Braveheart is a wonderfully entertaining film, it lacks in historical accuracy. I do not want to downplay the riveting story of Braveheart, but just say that I attempted to seek more accuracy in Rise of a Legend and its sequel, In the Kingdom’s Name.
Once I’d finished the first draft of Rise of a Legend, I again traveled to Scotland to stand in the places about which I had written. One of the craziest experiences of this trip was when I went to Fail. I wanted to see the monastery foundations, but wasn’t allowed on the property by the owner. He was quite upset that I had arrived with camera in hand, and at first thought I was a police officer or government official. Once I convinced him I was merely an author, he made me leave my camera in the car while he answered a few of my questions. He did tell me that the foundation was still visible, though the wall that I referred to in this book was removed in the 1950’s. He remembered the wall as a child, and said it was as tall as an enormous ash tr
ee to which he pointed.
It was pouring rain when I visited Loudoun Hill. Though most of the surrounding land has been cleared for grazing, I tried to picture the scene forested. As a major pass to the north, in Wallace’s day it would have been thick with trees which made it ideal for an ambush.
The picture on the first cover (which has now been replaced) was of a statue of William Wallace that can be found in Stirling on the corner of King and Spittal Streets in front of the Athenaeum building. It was forged in sandstone by Handyside Richie in the 1800’s and funded by William Drummond. The statue is in Grecian style depicting Wallace’s great sword on his back, a ram’s horn in his left hand and his psalter in his right. If you ever go to Stirling, I highly suggest seeking out this statue. It is awe inspiring.
Interestingly, nearly all of the castles existing in Wallace’s day have either been completely ruined, partially ruined, or improved so much over the centuries they are hardly recognizable. Nonetheless, if you are a Scottish history zealot like me, I urge you to follow the path of William Wallace. He rose from the common ranks and led a nation when it was embroiled in a time of crisis and tyranny.
Indeed, William Wallace is a man and legend who must never be forgotten.
Excerpt from Amy’s next novel:
Follow along as William and Eva’s saga continues with the next Guardian of Scotland volume: IN THE KINGDOM’S NAME. Here’s a wee peek:
Chapter One
Selkirk, Scotland, late September, 1297
Holding her breath, Eva MacKay shot a glance over her left shoulder then her right. Alone at the rear of the nave, she stood behind a gathering of the most influential nobles in Scotland. Temptation made her fingers twitch. This might be her only chance. Gingerly, she slid her hand into the pouch hanging from her belt and palmed her smartphone. She’d be a total fool not to snap a photo of such a momentous occasion.
But if caught…
With a shudder, Eva looked again to ensure no one watched.
She pushed the “on” button and drew the phone out. With a quick swipe of her finger, familiar icons illuminated. After selecting the camera, she turned off the flash and held it up, snapping two quick pictures. Before Eva dared look at them, she slipped the shiny black rectangle back into her pocket—more like a purse, really, fashioned from the same material as her thirteenth-century gown.
The sound of a man clearing his throat came from Eva’s left. Jolting, her stomach somersaulted with a queasy leap. John Comyn, Lord of Badenoch, stepped from behind an enormous stone pillar. He stood for a moment and squinted at her with suspicion etched across his hard, pinched features. Eva folded her arms, raised her chin and tiptoed to resume her place beside Lady Christina while watching the snake out of the corner of her eye. In the short time she’d come to know Scotland’s nobles, she trusted Comyn the least, with the Earl of March a close second.
As the Lord of Badenoch brushed past her and joined his wife, Eva exhaled and turned her attention to the front of the Kirk of the Forest. Lord John Stewart, the High Steward of Scotland, presided over the ceremony, flanked by Canon Lamberton. “Kneel,” he instructed William Wallace and Sir Andrew Murray.
They complied as commanded, wearing full battle armor of hauberks and mail coifs, adorned with surcoats emblazoned with the St. Andrew’s Cross. Lord Stewart placed his palms upon their heads. “By the power invested in me granted by the Privy Council of this great nation, I hereby declare Mr. Wallace and Sir Murray joint Guardians of the Kingdom of Scotland. As witnessed by your gallant bravery and cunning defeat of the English at Stirling Bridge, ye shall not only preside over matters of state, ye shall be Commanders of the Army of Scotland and the community of the same Kingdom.”
The High Steward paused for a moment and panned his gaze across the gathering of Scotland’s highest ranking nobles. “Do ye swear to uphold all laws and decrees of the Kingdom of Scotland?”
“I so swear,” each man said in unison.
“Do ye swear in the presence of all in attendance to defend this great nation against Scotland’s enemies?”
“I so swear.”
“Do ye promise to safeguard the rights of the crown until Scotland once again sees our monarch returned the throne?”
The two men regarded each other with a solemn nod. “I so promise.”
Then Lord Stewart stood back and raised his palms. “Go forth and act to uphold the interests and decrees of Scotland. From this day henceforth, all subjects shall honor ye as the undisputed Guardians of this blessed Kingdom.”
Eva pressed her palms together and touched her fingers to her lips while tears blurred her vision. Unwilling to miss a single moment, she blinked in rapid succession. Indeed, this day was the most uplifting in the five months since she’d been hurled into the thirteenth century.
Together William and Andrew stood, bowed, then turned and strode down the aisle. Though at six-foot, Sir Andrew Murray was inordinately tall for a man of this era, Wallace towered over him by more than a head. Of all the nobles in attendance, William was the only commoner, but by far, the most impressive warrior. Chestnut curls peeked from beneath his coif, framing a handsomely chiseled face made fierce by his cropped auburn beard. Even though he wore thick mail armor, anyone who saw him would be impressed with his well-toned, iron-muscled frame. Wrapped in tight chausses, William’s powerful legs stretched against his thigh-length hauberk with every stride.
When he caught Eva’s eye, a slight smile turned up one corner of his mouth, his crystal blue eyes sparkling with the flicker of the aisle candles nested in their tall, iron stands. In truth, William Wallace could make Eva melt merely with a look and today was no different. She clapped a hand over her heart to stifle its rapid pounding.
No one knew why the mystic powers behind the ancient medallion chose her, pulling Eva from the twenty-first century ruins of Fail Monastery through some sort of time warp where Wallace rescued her from nearly being murdered by the sharp blade of an English sword. Since arriving in the midst of a battle between the English and the Scots, three things had guided her decisions. First: as a historical journalist, she religiously chronicled all of the events she witnessed. The second: she could not change past events. If she did anything to materially change the past, her time in William’s arms would come to an abrupt end. And finally, Eva refused to lie to William, which always seemed to land her in more sticky situations than she ever would have thought possible.
But none of that mattered right now. The only man in the thirteenth century, or the twenty-first for that matter, who could rock her world just strode past and gave her a sexy wink.
“Goodness, Andrew grows paler by the day,” said Lady Murray from behind.
Eva’s elation immediately ebbed when she turned and regarded her friend’s worried mien. Sir Andrew had been injured during the Battle of Stirling Bridge and had suffered since. Worse, the bairn in his wife’s pregnant belly had begun to show. If only Eva could do something to help him—help the pair of them. She patted Christina’s arm. “Today is momentous for him.”
“Aye, I am ever so proud.”
“As you should be.” Eva stepped into the aisle and grasped Christina’s hand. “Come, let’s join them.”
At five-foot eleven, Eva could see over most heads, and she pulled the petite woman through the throng. Once they squeezed out the thick double doors of the church, she spotted William surrounded by men dressed in more velvet than it would take to stitch together a set of curtains for a theater. She led Christina off to the side, away from the stream of foot traffic. “Perhaps we should wait here.”
The lady smoothed her hands over her silk wimple and nodded. “Verra well.”
Lord Comyn stepped to Eva’s right and folded his arms. “What’s in your purse, lassie?”
“Pardon?” She feigned an exasperated expression. “I have no idea to what you are referring.”
He smirked. “Och aye, ye do. And whatever it is, I’ve every suspicion ’tisna something meant for a
house of God.”
Eva’s chin ticked up. “Are you threatening me, m’lord?”
Scoffing, he gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Heaven forbid someone threaten William Wallace’s woman.”
Narrowing her eyes, she glared at him for a moment. Even if he’d seen her take the pictures, he wouldn’t have a clue what she was up to. And she’d turned the flash off. He had absolutely no grounds on which to make any accusations. With a dismissive nod she turned her attention back to Christina.
“But—” Comyn stepped closer, making the hackles on the back of Eva’s neck stand on end. “One day that big fella will fall out of favor and then a pretty mistress such as yourself willna be so smug.”
“I beg your pardon, Lord Comyn?” Lady Murray threw her shoulders back. “Ye overinflate your station. Regardless of your noble birth, Miss Eva is the daughter of a knight and I daresay she ought not to be spoken to like a mere commoner.”
“Not to worry.” Eva flashed a wry grin. “I am very comfortable being identified as among the loyal servants of Scotland. Unlike some high-ranking gentry present whose questionable actions have proved their very hypocrisy, and their willingness to change allegiances on a whim only to protect their personal wealth.”
“Is all well here?” William’s deep voice rumbled as he climbed the steps toward them.
“Ye’d best put a leash on your barb-tongued wench.” Adjusting his collar, Lord Comyn stretched his neck and strode off.
With a gasp, Christina drew a hand to her chest. “How discourteous.”
Wrapping his fingers around the hilt of his dirk, William’s gaze shot to Eva.
She waved her palms with an apologetic cringe. “It’s nothing. I baited him, is all. Told him I’d rather mingle with the commoners than a mob of noble hypocrites.”
Tense as a lion ready to pounce, William glared at Comyn’s retreating form. As the Lord of Badenoch was swallowed by the crowd, Wallace let out a heavy exhale, relaxed his grip and regarded her. “Och, lassie, there’s never a want for a bit o’ excitement when ye’re about.” He placed his palm in the small of her back and turned his lips to her ear. “But regardless, if we werena celebrating with half of Scotland’s nobles, I’d challenge the sputtering hog to a lesson in chivalry.”