Legend of the Crown and Thistle

by Janie Brians

  Once she was on the train heading for Edinburgh, she relaxed enough to let her mind retrace everything. Step by step she reviewed the whole weekend, from the time she had arrived at McFallen House, the pleasant visit with Maddy, and then all the activities of th morning. She couldn’t help feeling that she was overlooking something. Something important.

  The headache was returning.

  "I've got to call mom and dad," she told herself, "Just hearing their voices will help Pushing the other thoughts away, because she wasn't ready to deal with the feelings that were attached to them, she willed herself to concentrate on the beautiful countryside speeding passed her window.

  She arrived at the hotel in Edinburgh a few hours later. Once in the room, she ran a hot bath and soaked in it for a long while. Afterwards, she put on her nightgown and climbed into bed beneath the covers. She propped herself up with the pillows and watched the evening news half expecting to hear a report on Maddy's robbery, but nothing was said about it.

  A knock on her door made her jump. She hoped it wasn't Liam.

  "Lizzie, it's Malcolm. Let me in, dearie," he called from the other side of the door. Lizzie ran over to it after putting on her robe. Opening the door, she threw her arms around him and without a will to stop herself, she wept miserably.

  "There, there lass. What's happened?" he asked walking her back into the room. Neither one of them noticed the figure standing in the shadows down the long corridor.

  "Oh, Uncle! I just had to get away from him!" she said through her tears.

  "Why? Did he try something while I was out? I shouldn'a left you alone there, eh?"

  "No...no...I'd almost prefer it if it were as simple as that but...it's...it's a thousand times worse!" and she told him all her fears about seeing Chris Dean in Crief and that the last time she saw him he was walking away from some secret meeting with Liam at McFallen House.

  Malcolm gave her his handkerchief and said, "Well, I'd hate to think it of the boy, but it does seem very suspicious, I'll grant you. That Dean boy is an unsavory character, to be sure." Then he hugged her and said, "Don't ya worry, my lass. Uncle Malcolm won't let either of those fellows around you. Before ya know it, you'll be back with yer folks and this'll be an unpleasant memory...nothing more. Now, I'll bet you haven't had a bite to eat since...since earlier, am I right?"

  "I'm not very hungry," she said, wiping her nose.

  "Still, ya need some food. How about some soup?" he asked as he dialed the number for room service. After ordering for them both, he then called the airport reservation desk.

  "What are you doing that for?" Lizzie asked him.

  "Well, wouldn't ya like to get home tomorrow instead of waiting around till Tuesday?"

  "Oh....sure...that's a good idea," she answered sadly.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SITTING AT THE counter in her mother's kitchen, Anne listened while her mom peeled potatoes and brought her up to date on all the latest island gossip. She was always glad to be with her folks. No matter how she or Lizzie's lives had changed, they had always remained close to their parents. As adults, they had become more like friends.

  "So, what do you say, Annie? Will you at least meet him?" Darlene was asking her daughter.

  "What...sorry, guess I wasn't paying attention to that last bit. What did you say?"

  "I said...would you at least meet him? He's a really nice young man, Annie. Maybe you could show him some of the sights around the island."

  Her mother was referring to a man that was staying at the B'n'B with his older parents. Not long after Anne had arrived that morning, Darlene had begun extolling the virtues of this unknown Canadian visitor and his parents.

  "Mother, you know how I hate it when you try this kind of thing."

  “What kind of thing?" Darlene attempted an expression of innocence.

  "You know exactly what I mean. I don't want to be set up with some guy. I'm only twenty-six years old, not quite ready to fall into the desperate category yet."

  "You don't have to be desperate to want to meet a good man," her mother countered.

  "Well, that's good because I'm not desperate and I don't want to meet this...whoever he is. NOT with both sets of parents watching our every move."

  "We wouldn't be doing that!" Darlene said reprovingly.

  "Well maybe not you and dad, but the other two might. It's too uncomfortable, especially at some special dinner with all of them there too. I'll pass, thank-you very much."

  "Oh Annie! Sometimes you're impossible!"

  Anne slid off the stool and picking up a piece of raw potato to eat, she kissed her mother on the cheek and said, "I take after my mother."

  Darlene just shook her head in exasperation, but as Anne left the kitchen she saw her mother smile despite herself. Her dad was outside and up on the roof working on his observatory. Astronomy had been a hobby of his for years. Now he was building this observatory to hold the telescope he had recently finished. He enjoyed his hobby and thought that perhaps some guests would enjoy having a look at the stars too, from time to time.

  "How's it going up there?" Anne asked as she climbed partway up the ladder.

  "Pretty good, babe. It's hot work though. No clouds around to give me some relief."

  "Well it's time you stop for the day. Mom said to tell you to start thinking about coming down and getting cleaned up for dinner."

  "Okay, just want to finish this one part. Dinner's not till seven, right?"

  “Yeah and it’s six now.”

  “Alright. What about you? Getting hungry?"

  “Mom already tried, dad. I told her to give it up."

  “But has she?" Ed asked with a laugh.

  “For now, but you know, mom, tomorrow is another day." Anne joked.

  “So you're going to have dinner elsewhere I take it."

  “I thought I'd take a walk down the beach, maybe get a bite at the Blue Dolphin."

  “Okay. It'll probably be safe to come back here by eight or nine o'clock," he said.

  “Thanks, dad. See you later," and she climbed down the ladder, pulled off her I walked toward the beach.

  By six-thirty the beach crowd near the hotels had thinned out. It was dinner-time for most of the tourists, but there were still a few die-hards out. Those poor souls looked like they had been baked pretty thoroughly. She didn't envy how they were going to feel in the morning with that tender sunburnt skin.

  The Blue Dolphin was a popular restaurant in Nassau. It was right on the beach and it served seafood cooked the Bahamian way. The main building was in-door, but there was a small counter, like a diner, that was open to those who preferred it more casual. As she walked up to the counter, Anne noticed a few stools were still vacant. The bright and white awning that hung over the counter provided shade from the sun and the ocean breeze kept everyone comfortable, no air-conditioning needed. Anne sat on the stool and took the menu from the friendly Nassuvian waitress. Everything on the menu soundeded delicious but she finally decided on the Grouper Fingers and Peas'n Rice. She received her first Bahama Mama of the evening and sat sipping it while she watched the kaleidescope of colors sweep across the cobalt-blue of the evening sky.

  Her delicious meal was accompanied by the songs of a nearby calypso band mingled with the relaxing sound of little waves gently lapping on the beach. As she ate, she thought about the conversation she had had the night before with Lizzie. She had seemed so happy. Liam McFallen sounded like a pretty great guy and Anne hoped to meet him if the relationship continued. And that information about Mary Queen of Scots had also captured Anne's curiosity. What was it about her that always seemed so fascinating? Ever since they had studied history in school, both she and Lizzie had become so curious about the mysteries that always surrounded the rulers of Great Britain. Now, Anne couldn't help but wonder about those twins. What had really happened to them? What had their lives been like? Had they lived and died in Denmark?

  "There could be someone walking around today without the slight
est idea that they're descended from the Scottish royal family," she thought as she finished the last few bites of her meal.

  She paid the bill and headed back down the beach toward her parents' home. It was nearly dark by that time and, as her dad had teased, it was probably 'safe' to return. She couldn't help but smile when she thought of her mother's relentless efforts to help her and Lizzie find good husbands. Anne really understood her mother's thinking. Darlene was happily married to the 'man of her dreams', as she liked to call him, and so she just wanted the same for her daughters. In 1983, though, the word marriage didn't seem to mean much to most people. And certainly the concept of two people falling in love and marrying with the idea of building a life together and sticking it out through the good and bad, was considered downright old-fashioned. Still, Anne knew there were a few 'hopeless romantics' around. Although a number of families she'd grown up around had separated, there were those couples, like her parents and Pauly's folks, who were examples of what marriage was meant to be - two people working together and bound by a tie much stronger than the piece of paper that bound them. A man and woman enjoying a mutual respect and deep love for one another, that was what Anne and Lizzie had been raised to believe about marriage and they had seen it with their own young eyes over the years. Anne knew that, however passé the idea may seem to the majority of people, it was a relationship that mind of working hard to make marriage a success, Anne felt less inclined to rush into it as some of her schoolmates had done and later regretted.

  As she got close to the house she could hear voices coming from the direction of the patio. At first she thought it was her parents, but as she got closer she realized it must be the guests from Canada. She couldn't see them because of several large sea-grape bushes that gave the patio privacy from the beach.

  "Son, lower your voice a little. I don't want them to hear you inside," said the man who was obviously the father.

  "Okay," the son replied in a loud whisper, "look, I appreciate what you're both trying to do but, don't do it. I don't want any match-ups. I can find my own girlfriends,okay?!"

  "You mean like Monique?" the mother replied with meaning.

  "Mom, I know Monique turned out to be a mistake. She is a user, I'll admit it. That's even more reason for me to want to take my time. I don't want to jump into another bad scene, especially not with a mousy librarian who probably wears coke-bottle glasses and spends all her time with her nose stuck in a book! Now, can we drop this and go for a pleasant walk on the beach like we planned?!"

  "Alright, son. We just want to see you happy," his mother replied.

  "I'd be happy if my parents would just go for a walk with me on the beach." Anne heard them chuckle and then the chairs were pushed back. They were heading her way. She ran around to the side of the house so as not run into them. She had felt a little embarrassed at first, listening in on their conversation, but that feeling had been quickly replaced by the indignation that rose in her at his description of a librarian. As she walked to the front door she fumed, "Mousy?! Coke-bottle glasses?! I don't even wear glasses! And I rarely have time to have my nose stuck in a book! What a jerk! I was right to have gotten out of meeting that loser! He's got the sensitivity of a buffalo!"

  She went inside and up to her folks' room. They were both relaxing in front of the T.V. when she entered.

  "There you are. Did you have a good dinner...all by yourself?" Darlene asked with a grimace.

  "Yes, I certainly did. I ate at the Blue Dolphin...delicious as usual."

  "Well, you timed it perfectly," her dad teased," THEY just left."

  "For good, I hope," Anne said, still fuming.

  "Annie!" her mom said scornfully. She kissed them each good-night and went up to her room.

  "Just forget it," she told herself. "You shouldn't have been eavesdropping anyway," and with a measure of defiance she flipped on the T.V. instead of taking her book to read, which she usually did before going to bed. There was a knock at her door and then her mom came in.

  "I forgot to tell you, we got a call from Lizzie after you left. She and Malcolm are returning tomorrow instead of Tuesday. She sounded rather tired and said she'd explain everything when she gets here."

  "A day early? I wonder what happened? I hope the fabulous Mr. McFallen didn't try something stupid," Anne said with concern.

  "Well, we'll find out soon enough, I suppose."

  "When do they arrive?"

  "Around noon. Malcolm's going on to Freeport. Says he's got to get back to the

  museum."

  "Want me to pick her up?'

  "Good idea. Your dad wants to go too."

  "Okay. Uh...mom..." Anne said hesitantly.

  "Yes?"

  "Am I....well...would you describe me as being...well...mousy? Now try to be objective

  and not my mother."

  Darlene laughed and then seeing her daughter's expression she stopped and said more seriously, "Mousy? What in the world put that idea into your head?!"

  "Never mind, just answer the question please."

  Darlene sat down on the edge of Anne's bed and said, "Honey, you are far from mousy. You have pretty blond hair and sparkling green eyes and usually," she teased," a very happy disposition. I'd hardly call that mousy. Now, what's up?"

  "Oh...nothing...forget it. Thanks mom. Just needed a little boost, I guess." Later, Anne lay in bed refusing to give 'the jerk' another thought. What could have happened with Lizzie? Last time she called, she had sounded so happy and excited about everything. From her description of Liam, he'd sounded almost too good to be true. Maybe he had been.

  Monday morning found Anne sitting in the kitchen having breakfast while reading the Nassau Tribune. Around her, Darlene was busily preparing a hearty breakfast for the guests. Breakfast was served between eight-thirty and ten. First customers for the morning were 'the jerk' and his parents.

  "You should at least go in and introduce yourself, Annie," Darlene chided her daughter.

  "Mom...believe me... if he was the last man on earth... he WOULD be the LAST man on earth," she replied caustically.

  Darlene stopped and looked at her daughter in surprise, "How can you possibly be so prejudiced against someone you don't even know? You've never laid eyes on him yet, let alone gotten to know him."

  "Never mind, mom. Don't worry about it."

  Just then Anne's eye caught the title of an article on the second page of the newspaper.

  Ancient Volumes Behind Wall at Fort Charlotte

  Last Thursday, while in the process of restoring a portion of the south quarter of Fort Charlotte, an exciting discovery was made. After tearing down a section of crumbling wall, a tiny room was exposed. In it were several volumes that despite their age, had been remarkably preserved. It seems that the tiny air-tight room had help to keep them from deteriorating. Museum Director, Dr. Melvin Denton, told the Tribune, "These volumes seem to be records kept by wardens during most of the two-hundred and fifty years that the fort operated as a prison. It's quite an exciting look into the past. We haven't read through everything yet, but from what we've seen already, these volumes will shed much light on the history of Fort Charlotte. We are anxious to see what more we can learn from them."

  Seven volumes in all were found. They contain names and dates of hundreds of prisoners. The dates range from the sixteen-hundreds through the seventeen-hundreds and into the first fifty years of the eighteen-hundreds. Among the entries, were several names of men that were classified as pirates. During those centuries, piracy and privateering were quite prevalent. Eventually, when New Providence was settled by the British, Fort Charlotte became the prison to which many notorious criminals, including pirates who had not been sentenced to hanging, were sent. There, they wasted away in dank, dark prison cells. According to Denton, although most of the volumes simply contain names and dates of the prisoners entering and later, their subsequent deaths, one of the volumes was kept by a warden that added many personal comments throughout his recor
d keeping.

  "This is the one that we're especially interested in," Dr. Denton told the Tribune. Also among the volumes was a small leather-bound book that appears to be a personal diary, according to Denton. "It seems to be written in an old form of Danish. We have sent for an expert in the language to help with the deciphering of it."

  Although excerpts from these volumes will not be available to the public for some time yet, Dr. Denton says there is every intention of making them available as soon as possible.

  The article ended with the hours and days that the museum is open to the public for tours. To Anne, although the volumes sounded very interesting, with their accounts of pirates, it was the tiny diary that had, for some reason, sparked her imagination.

  "I'd love to see that little thing," she said under her breath, thinking of her conversation with Lizzie.

  "See what?" her mother asked her.

  Anne explained about the article and said she was going to run over to the museum and see if she could talk her way into having a peek at those things.

  "Okay, but don't forget, you've got to get back in time to pick your father up before you go to the airport."

  "No problem. I'll be back in an hour or so."

  She went upstairs, took a quick shower and put on one of her best 'librarian' suits to help her have the right attitude for trying to get in to see those books.

  Monday mornings were usually a little slow in terms of tourist attractions. After partying all week-end, most tourists were still taking it slowly or were heading back to their own countries by ship or by air. As she approached the reception desk at Fort Charlotte Museum, Anne was glad to see that there were only a few visitors at the time. She almost wished she did have a pair of glasses to put on. They might have given her that no-nonsense look she wanted to convey.

  "Good morning. May I help you?" the receptionist asked her.

  "Yes, thank-you. I've read about the volumes that were recently discovered here, was wondering if I might speak with Dr. Denton about them. My name is Anne Jones and...I represent Mr. Malcolm McAllistair who is the Chairman of the Board of Trustees of the Grand Bahama Historical Society and owner and Director of the Oceanic Antiquities Museum in Freeport," she said with all the self-confidence she could muster and hoped would work to get her in.