Song for a Lost Kingdom, Book I

by Steve Moretti

But as he slowly wandered by the clubs and restaurants of the Market, still dressed in his new black shoes, dark suit and purple tie, he felt hopelessly lost. Adeena had told him she needed him, needed him to ‘really be with her.’

  And yet she had kicked him out of her apartment for the first time in their relationship, and instead of being there to help her, here he was parading around in his silly outfit, dressed up like a monkey with nowhere to go. Adeena was the woman he loved, even if he couldn’t always understand her.

  He stopped and looked back over his shoulder at the light from her 14th floor condominium window.

  ‘I need you to really be with me.’ Her words rang in his ears.

  He wondered what true love looks like in this situation. Does he go and get her help? Does he just listen? Or, does he work hard to believe what she was trying to explain, even if it was completely impossible?

  Maybe I just need to give her time and space?

  Philippe stood thinking for a moment, watching cars flash by, and couples holding hands walking down the street together, looking happy just being each other. Finally, he turned around and started back for Adeena’s condo.

  Whatever he should be doing, he knew it didn’t involve turning his back on her now.

  THE SUN WAS still blinding Adeena’s eyes with an impossible brightness. As she tried to shield her eyes, she noticed shadowy figures standing nearby, staring at her.

  “Adeena?” spoke one of the figures. “Belle?”

  The figure came closer. It was her mother.

  “Mom?” she replied. “Where am I?”

  “In the hospital, at the Civic,” her mother responded softly. She closed the blinds a bit to help shade the bright sunlight streaming into the room. “How are you feeling?”

  Adeena sat up and looked around. She was in a hospital room. One half of the wall beside her was made up of large windows looking out over Carling Avenue and the open fields of the Central Experimental Farm across the street. Her mother stood beside the bed, a nurse by her side.

  “I’m okay,” Adeena finally replied, “What happened?”

  Her mother sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hand.

  “Philippe called me last night,” she said. “He was in a bit of a panic. He told me you blacked out, so we called an ambulance and brought you to Emerge’ here. You were so groggy, we couldn’t wake you up.”

  Adeena felt strange listening to this story. It seemed less real to her than travelling back in time, though much more probable to just about everyone else. “Is Philippe here too?”

  “Yes, belle,” her mother replied. “He just went to get a coffee. He’s been here with you all night.”

  Adeena wondered what he was thinking about all this.

  Jackie put her hand on Adeena’s forehead. “I called Tara, too. She wants to come and see you.”

  Adeena closed her eyes.

  What I have done to all these people who believe in me?

  The nurse stepped forward. a sturdy looking middle-aged woman with a shock of short blonde hair and a blue butterfly tattoo on her neck. “Do you think you can stand-up for me?” she asked gently.

  Adeena wasn’t sure about that, just like everything else in her life. “I don’t know,” she replied, pulling off the sheet that covered her. She was wearing a thin hospital gown.

  The last time she had worn this outfit was in high school when she ended up in the trauma unit after an overdose. For two days she went in and out of touch with the conscious world, coming down from a mix of alcohol, LSD, cocaine and God knows what else that she had taken at the ‘After-Prom’ party.

  Her bare feet touched the cold tile floor, and though she felt a bit wobbly, the nurse was pleased that she stood up without assistance.

  “That’s good,” she said, locking her arm around Adeena’s to make sure she didn’t fall over. “Mum, she’s going to need to walk. We have to get her moving.”

  Her mother stepped forward. “Of course. I can take her.”

  “Thanks,” the nurse said, looking down at her charts. She read them over them for a few seconds. “Oh, wait, before you do, Dr. Lochiel has ordered an MRI and I need to ask Adeena a few screening questions.”

  “Oh, sure,” Adeena responded.

  “Do you weigh more than 200 kilograms?” the nurse laughed. “Forget that one! Uh, next question. Is there a possibility you may be pregnant?”

  Jackie smiled and folded her hands together and raised her eyes, as if praying for an affirmative response.

  “No. I am pretty sure I’m not. But. . .” Adeena hesitated.

  “But what?” her mother interfected.

  “Well. I haven’t had a period, since, uh,” Adeena looked at her wrist as if she was wearing a watch. “I guess technically I just missed one, but it feels like it’s been a long time for some reason. And I’ve had some really wicked cramps lately.”

  The nurse made a note on her chart. “Really? I’ll let the doctor know. We’re doing some blood work first and we’ll find out for sure, one way or the other.”

  WILLIAM HAD SPENT most of the morning taking the tour of the ornamental gardens at Drummond Castle near Perth.

  He was amazed at the complexity and design of the gardens, but his real interest lay inside. He was disappointed to learn that the castle was not open to the public. However, he found out from the guide giving the tour, that Drummond Castle was an important landmark in the Scottish Lowlands, and that James Drummond, Third Duke of Perth, was a prominent character in its long, illustrious history.

  After the tour, William approached the guide, a wise-cracking retired teacher who had taught both history and geography in secondary schools in Scotland. The man, Daniel, had thick bushy eyebrows and an even thicker moustache set on his long stern face. He wore a bonnet that topped his ceremonial kilt and jacket. At six and a half feet tall, he made an imposing impression.

  The two men hit it off at once, with their shared passion for history and interest in understanding the origins of the things around them – little details most just took for granted.

  “During the 1745 rising,” William asked him, “who was in charge here?”

  “The castle, ye mean?” Daniel asked.

  “Yes. I know that James Drummond fought in the war, and was a Lieutenant General with Bonnie Prince Charles, as was his brother John,” William said. “Their mother, Lady Jean, did she manage the castle during the rising?”

  Daniel looked at William closely for a second. “Impressive, laddie. Yoove nae missed a thing, have ye?”

  “I’ve just started doing some reading. I’m interested in the Jacobite risings and I’ve been looking for a new research project for my graduate students,” William explained, thinking that this was going to be his focus for some time to come.

  “Then ye know that Lady Jean was sent to Edinburgh and locked up for a lang time, and that she outlived both ‘er sons.”

  William hadn’t had time to fully research James Drummond yet. “Oh, interesting. And, when did the Duke of Perth die?”

  “James was a brave lad. He was greatly influenced by those around him. He was brilliant, naturally gifted - and would have changed the world had he not died after Culloden,” Daniel mused. “Tried to hold up the family honour, be a good Catholic, please his mother, and all his relations. Pleased everyone it seems, except himself, perhaps.”

  “How did he die?”

  “At sea, in the channel, on a French frigate, maybe a few weeks after the slaughter on the moors of Culloden House,” Daniel explained. “He was wounded in battle, leading his men till the end. They had nay a hope in hell, and he probably knew it too. Still, he was at the front of the charge, commanding the left wing against the Redcoats”

  William was silent. He had heard about the Battle of Culloden, but it had never seemed so personal before. Daniel pointed to a statue. “He was buried at sea, but there’s plaque o’r there, if you want to see for yourself.”

  William stared at the inscription on
the large sword that served as a tribute to the man.

  James Drummond, 3rd Duke of Perth,

  b. 11, May, 1713 / d. 13, May, 1746

  ‘Poor as I am, I would rather than a thousand pounds that my colours are safe’

  He looked over at Daniel, who stood watching him. “He never married?”

  “No sir, not our poor James,” Daniel replied. “I’m afraid duty and honour were his mistress. His mother made sure o’ that.”

  “And so, he died without issue. No children?” William said, still staring at the sword.

  “Indeed. That line of Drummond ended with him,” Daniel replied, shaking his head.

  19

  ADEENA LISTENED CAREFULLY to the muffled voices outside her hospital room door.

  It was quite a gathering she thought - a clinical psychiatrist, an investigative reporter and a suspicious administrator - all sharing clues. Only thing missing was Colonel Mustard. Hard as she tried, the only word she could make out was ‘Adeena.’

  A minute later Tara and Philippe walked in. He looked tired while she seemed possessed with enough energy to power the whole neurology ward.

  “Oh Dee!” Tara gushed clutching a bouquet of flowers. “Up to your old tricks!”

  Adeena brightened. “Your life’s too boring when I play by the rules.”

  “You play by the rules? That’s my fantasy.”

  “Really? Then you need to get an actual life, Tar.”

  Philippe sat down on the edge of the bed looking lost. Tara bent over and gave Adeena a hug. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. You had me worried, and that doesn’t help my beauty rest.” She paused a moment and then asked softly. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine,” Adeena replied, glancing at Philippe, then at Tara and finally over at her mother, who had stepped into the room. “I’m just so sorry to have put you all through this.”

  Her mother moved closer. “I just had a word with Dr. Lochiel before he got called into surgery.”

  Adeena pulled herself up higher on the bed. “Really? What did he say?”

  “He thinks you might be having ‘ocular’ migraines.”

  “Ocular?” Philippe asked, “as in eyes?”

  “Oui,” Jackie replied. “It’s sometimes called a ‘silent migraine’ because usually there is no pain. But, there can be intense aura with them.”

  “Aura?” Adeena repeated. “Like seeing things?”

  Her mother nodded. “Kind of. It’s usually just bright spots and flashing lights, but it can go further. Hallucinations, intense sensory distortion and . . .” she paused for a moment, pursing her lips as if trying to contain the rest of her thoughts.

  Adeena sat frozen listening to her mother. “What mom? Is there something else?”

  “Well, it seems you’ve also got symptoms of a hemiplegic migraine. It’s actually a neurological disease with prolonged aura and blackouts. It’s usually genetic.”

  The room went quiet. Tara reached for Adeena’s hand. But it was Philippe who spoke first.

  “So, the doctor’s not sure which kind this is?” he started. “They both include auras or visions? And people blackout with the hemi… What did you call it?”

  “Hemiplegic migraine. It’s rare, but intense. Patients report visual and sensory aura,” Jackie replied. “Dr. Lochiel isn’t sure himself. He’s in touch with a specialist in Toronto apparently, who is doing research on migraines. There are some new theories and an experimental procedure they’ve been testing.”

  Adeena couldn’t process all of this. Too many medical terms. Everyone trying to explain something that was not meant to be understood. And did her mother say genetic?

  “The doctor wants you to get some rest, take it easy Adeena, for a while at least. I thought we could go up the lake afterwards,” her mother said in a gentle tone.

  Adeena nodded her head. “Sure, as long as I can practice.”

  “Sure,” Jackie said. “We’ll bring your cello up with us.”

  The “c” word jolted the room into silence. A dark look passed between Tara, Adeena and Philippe. No one said a word as the rhythmic beeping of a medical monitor set an eerie mood.

  Jackie broke the tension. “Oh, and they’re doing a complete physical too, Adeena.”

  The hanging silence seemed to spook her mother. “You know what?” she announced. “You guys don’t need me hanging around.” She hugged Adeena and gave her a kiss on each cheek. “Take care, ma belle. See you in the morning.”

  AFTER HER MOTHER left it was obvious that Tara’s mood had changed.

  “Adeena, there’s something we do need to discuss,” Tara started.

  Oh shit, here it comes. Adeena pushed her hair back, and squarely faced her accuser, girding for what came next. Tara rarely called her anything but Dee.

  Philippe looked horrified sitting on the edge of the bed. He suddenly bounced up in front of Tara. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “Adeena, did they bring your morning pills, the ones you’re supposed to take for your blood pressure?”

  Adeena looked at him strangely. What was he up to? He winked slyly as Tara glanced down at her cell phone. “Oh, I forgot about those,” she said, discreetly pushing the nurse’s call button. “Tar, did you see them?”

  Tara looked around the room, confused.

  Adeena suddenly let out a shriek. “Shit!” She held her forehead, trying to grimace as convincingly as she could. “Ouch! Oh fuck that hurts!” She closed her eyes and let her head drop onto her chest dramatically.

  Tara called out. “Dee? What is it?” She touched Adeena’s hand. It was limp and there was no response.

  Philippe stood up. “Why does this keep happening to her? Tara, we better find a nurse.”

  THE NEXT MORNING as Adeena ate lunch she had time to think.

  She had just survived both an MRI and had a complete physical that included a PAP test. She had laid her arm out for so many needles since being in the hospital she felt like a sieve. But in a strange way, this wasn’t a bad place to sort things out.

  Philippe had been sweet to distract Tara yesterday when she seemed on the verge of interrogating her about the Duncan Cello. Adeena knew Philippe didn’t believe her time travelling story. But he seemed determined to be there for her. Knowing there was now a theory about what might be happening, ‘migraines with auras,’ he probably felt he could rationalize her stories now.

  ‘Migraines with auras.’ She turned the phrase over in her head.

  Is that all this is? That would be a tidy explanation. She closed her eyes and saw James again, riding away on Balgair. His face filled her mind, as she remembered the warmth of his arms around her. She sank into her bed, holding her arms together reliving the moment.

  “Adeena?”

  She opened her eyes. There was a bearded, middle-aged man in a white coat at the door.

  “I’m Doctor Lochiel.”

  Adeena let her arms go and sat up. “Hi. Please come in.”

  The doctor stepped forward. He was big, burly man. With his thick, reddish hair, she had the sense he could be a Viking warrior as easily as a neurologist at the Civic Hospital.

  “We’ve gone over all your tests, and I’d like to ask you a few questions,” he said, standing beside her bed scanning the various monitors hooked up to her.

  “Sure, no problem.”

  “Have you been mountain climbing, scuba diving, or perhaps, skydiving?” Dr. Lochiel began.

  Adeena chuckled. “Oh right. All three, in my spare time!”

  “So, I take it, that’s a no?”

  “Correct. I’ve been playing my cello and rehearsing with the orchestra, but I’ve laid off the whole mountain-climbing thing,” she smiled. “I don’t think I would ever go skydiving, and I’d love to learn scuba diving, but haven’t had the chance. Not this week at least.”

  The doctor was making notes on his clipboard. “There seems to be some sort of trauma happening to you, the type that we’ve seen when people are exposed to severe changes i
n temperature, atmospheric pressure, altitude – that sort of thing,” he said. “It can lead to blackouts, loss of blood pressure, migraines and . . .” he hesitated, touching her forehead and then lifting on of her eyelids slightly.

  “And what?” she asked.

  “Uh… visions, intense dreams, hallucinations,” he said, checking her other eye. “We’ve had patients who think they’ve gone to other places when they blackout. Your mind is a powerful organ, Adeena.”

  She looked at him carefully. “What are you saying?”

  He returned to writing notes. “Normally I tell patients to stop skydiving or mountain climbing, that sort of thing,” he said. “But I’m not sure telling you to stop playing the cello would make any difference!”

  Adeena stared at him.

  “Just take those pills I prescribed for now, and we’ll arrange to do some more tests. I’m also talking to another neurologist about your case. There is a specialist in Toronto who is doing some research on these kinds of cases,” he said. The doctor hesitated for a moment, then added. “There is one other thing, too.”

  Adeena sat waiting for him to continue.

  “We did a full body scan MRI, because we were doing both neurological and gynaecological foci,” he said. “You’d reported problems with your menses and pain in your pelvis?”

  “Yes, so. . .” she replied. “You found something?”

  He tugged his beard before answering. “I’m afraid there seems to be damage to your fallopian tubes. This may affect your ability to conceive, naturally at least.”

  Adeena said nothing. Tears filled her eyes and she looked out the window at the overcast sky. Little beads of rain had formed on the window. She closed her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Adeena,” the doctor said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I’ve sent the scans to gynaecology and I can have them come and talk to you. Is that okay?”

  She nodded her head without opening her eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

  Dr. Lochiel put his hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be okay, Adeena. Just get some rest now. You’ve been through a lot.”