When Fate Dictates

by Elizabeth Marshall

  “The phone, Corran, that thing that I just had to my ear. It’s called a telephone and people use it to talk to one another. See, if I push these numbers in the right order then a lady downstairs hears a ringing and picks up her phone. I called a few minutes ago but the kitchen was not open yet, so the lady said she would get someone to call me back when they opened.”

  I shook my head. “I have no idea what you are on about, Simon, and I don’t really care. I want to go home and I want us to discuss how we are going to do that now,” I shouted, becoming slightly hysterical.

  “Yes, I thought you might and I have given it some thought.”

  “What, you mean you managed to do something other than play with these infernal toys?”

  “Fine, if you want to be like that, we won’t discuss it,” he said, turning his attention back to the television.

  I grabbed for my dress and headed into the room with the tub, downing the last of the wine left in mug from last night as I did.

  I heard a knock on the door and assumed it was the food Simon had ordered but was in no rush to leave the room I was in. With the door closed on the world, I found myself mindlessly playing with the pipes that filled the tub with water. It was a very strange world, and although it was nice to bathe in the large warm tub last night, I could see little else that pleased me.

  A knock on the door shook me from my thoughts. “Your breakfast, Corran,” Simon called through the locked door. I supposed it was time to face him again and slowly moved back into the room with the bed and television.

  “Do you want some?” he asked, holding a knife with a sausage speared on the end of it up.

  I shook my head. “No, I had enough food last night to last me a week.”

  “Your loss,” he said, reaching over to the other plate and scraping its contents onto his own.

  “Please, Simon, can we talk about getting home?” I asked, sitting on the end of the bed and staring blankly into the large looking glass in front of me.

  “Aye, if you have a mind to be civil,” he replied, taking a massive bite of the sausage.

  “Do you ever stop eating?” I asked.

  “The food is very good here, Corran, you should try some.”

  “Perhaps,” I whispered.

  “Now I reckon us being here has something to do with this crystal,” he said, moving his hand to his pocket.

  “No!” I screamed, “Leave it where it is, Simon.”

  He froze, staring bewildered at me, “Why?”

  “Because your mother told us to leave it alone until we knew how to use it. You didn’t listen to her then and look what happened? Please, let’s just try and figure out how we got here and how to get home before we do anything else we might regret.”

  “Aye, you might be right.”

  I sighed with relief as he moved his hand back to the knife and continued to shovel chunks of thin bacon and sausage into his mouth.

  “Do you think it could have had anything to do with the light of the candle reflecting off the crystal?” I asked.

  “I don’t know Corran, but it could have. I did think I saw a thin silver thread connect the crystal and the flame, just before the room started to spin and we ended up here.”

  “Aye, I saw that as well. But what made it bring us here and how can we make it take us home?” I asked.

  “That is what we are going to have to work out.”

  “And if we can’t?” I whispered.

  ******

  CHAPTER 33

  The morning had broken, gray and dull and even the sound of birdsong was missing from the air as we made our way across the river and into the city. The big, magic carts whirled past us, leaving a smell so heavy and distinct that its taste lingered in the back of my throat. I coughed, as if I had inhaled the fumes from fire.

  “Are you alright, Corran?” he asked, holding tightly onto my hand.

  “Do you think this city has a strange smell about it?” I replied.

  “Aye, I suppose it does but it is cleaner than it used to be.”

  “What sort of magic do you suppose makes those carts move so fast?” I asked, watching as another one sped by us.

  “I don’t think it’s magic, Corran, but clever ideas by man. They’re called cars not carts.”

  “Where have you found this out?” I asked, casting him a suspicious look.

  “The television, it is a very useful object. We can use it to find our way in this world.”

  “Oh, the television, I should have guessed,” I scoffed, sarcastically.

  “Don’t mock it, Corran. It can teach us everything we need to know.”

  “Mmm...” I replied, unconvinced, “But can it tell us how to get home?”

  He stopped walking and turned to face me.

  “Look, Corran, you seem to think that I have no interest in getting us home. That is not true. Yes, I find this new place exciting and I would be lying if I said I were not intrigued with it but, like you, I am frightened and, like you, I am worried about Duncan and Eilidh. If I knew how to take us home, I would, but I simply don’t and until I figure out how to take us home, we need to survive where we are.”

  My eyes filled with tears of fear and sadness. “I hate it here, Simon. What if we never find out how to get home?”

  “I will work it out, lass. But at least in this world there is no Angus.”

  I smiled, despite my pain. “Aye, at least there is that.”

  “Come on, we have a job to go to,” he said, taking my hand and leading me back onto the street.

  A calm silence filled the air of the yard as we turned off Stonegate and headed toward Barley Hall. Had it not been for the structural differences, it would almost have been possible to believe that we were back in our own time. I closed my eyes as we stopped in front of the great door of the Hall, recalling the life we had once lived in this place. But then the magic was broken and the voice of Rose drew me from the dream.

  “Good morning,” she beamed. It had not been necessary to see her face to know that it held an enormous cheery grin. “Simon, I gather from your accent that you are from the Highlands?”

  “Aye, why do you ask?” Simon replied.

  “My fiancé is an antiques dealer, here in York. He is also from the Highlands.”

  I held my breath steady, realizing things were about to become difficult.

  “Oh aye, and where in the Highlands does your man come from?” Simon asked his voice as calm as if he were asking directions to the nearest tavern.

  “Err, I can’t actually remember, sorry, but it’s somewhere in the Highlands. Anyway, I wanted to show you this. He goes away a lot, on business, you know?” she said, moving toward a counter at the far end of the room, “Ah, here it is,” she muttered as her head disappeared behind the counter.

  I looked across at Simon and raised my eyebrows, he shrugged as we moved closer to the girl. Her head reappeared as she pulled herself up and placed the object in question on the top of a pile of papers. “Here you go. He said it was quite valuable and I have to agree, given the excellent condition it is in. It’s not often you come across a 17th century object that is this well preserved.”

  Instinctively I put my hand out to touch his arm. The color drained from his face and his eyes shone dangerously against his placid skin. “What did you say your fiancé’s name was?” Simon said his voice deep and menacing.

  “Oh, it’s Angus, Angus Campbell. You may have heard of him, he is very well known in York. He is an excellent antiques dealer. Not another that can match him on the quality of his stock. I really don’t know how he manages it. Everything in his shop is in such excellent condition,” she boasted.

  “Rose, where is your fiancé now?” I asked, softly.

  “Oh, he is away again, he left last night. He does that a lot, but as he says, it takes great patience and travel to acquire the objects he sells.”

  “Do you know where he has gone?” Simon asked.

  She shook her head. “No, he n
ever really says. I am a bit anxious this time though. Last time he came back, when he brought me this dirk actually, he was involved in an accident and got shot in the shoulder with an old pistol. He was in hospital for nearly a week with the injury. It’s a dangerous world, antique dealing.”

  “Aye, it sounds it,” replied Simon, “do you mind if I have a closer look at the dirk?” he asked.

  “No, of course not, I thought you might be interested, seeing as you seem to be such an expert on 17th century Scottish history.”

  “This is a very fine dirk,” he commented, running his fingers lightly over the polished mountain ash handle, “Tell me Rose, where did your fiancé say he had found it?”

  “Oh, I don’t think he mentioned it.”

  “Very convenient,” Simon growled under his breath.

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear you?” she said.

  “I said my compliments to your fiancé on his acquisition. I am sure he fought hard for its possession.”

  “Yes, he is a very resourceful man, is Angus. We are to be married you know?”

  “Aye, well, I rather guessed that when you referred to him as your fiancé.”

  “Oh, yes, sorry, silly me. We haven’t got the rings yet. Angus says he is working on acquiring the perfect one for me and that he doesn’t want to rush it.”

  “And what would the perfect ring be for a lass as fine as you?” Simon asked.

  “Well, Angus has talked of a ring he is working on buying and I think it might be the one he will give me, but don’t mention it to anyone in case I am wrong. It is from 17th century Scotland and was made from a simple band of silver with a tiny chip of gray slate from the Ballachulish mines. He said the ring was made just after the Glencoe massacre. Perhaps you have heard of it?”

  I moved my hands behind my back and slid the tiny silver band from my finger, sliding it discretely into the pocket of my skirt. A family pushed past me and hustled their way toward the counter and I tightened my fist protectively around the band in my pocket.

  “Are you alright, Corran?” Rose asked, moving the dirk off the counter as a family approached.

  “Aye, I am fine, thank you Rose. Just a bit of a headache, nothing to worry about.”

  “I have some painkillers in my bag. I’ll just serve these people and then I’ll get them for you.”

  Not having the slightest idea what she was on about, I nodded my thanks, forcing a smile onto my lips.

  “Come,” Simon whispered, taking my hand and leading me through the main entrance room and into the space that was once our home.

  “He’s here, Simon,” I said quietly.

  “I know, I heard what she said, Corran.”

  “Sorry,” I muttered, realizing that was a stupid comment. “What are we going to do?”

  His long black curls hung heavily around his face, his eyes veiled. “Well I am not running from him again. We will find out from Rose when he will be here next and while he is away I will learn all I need to know to fight him in this world.”

  “Simon, please can we just figure out how to go home?” I pleaded.

  “No, I told you Corran. I will not run from him.”

  “So we just stay here and talk nicely to people about our world, pretending that we are part of theirs.”

  “Aye, that’s a good way of putting it, Corran. We can learn as much from these people as they can from us, oh, and don’t let me forget to pick up my dirk before we leave here this afternoon.”

  I stared at him, mouth open in shock. “You can’t take it back, Simon. Rose thinks it’s hers now.”

  “Well it’s not hers. It belongs to me, always has, always will.”

  I shook my head in despair. “Why look for trouble, Simon. We are in enough of it already. If Rose finds out you have taken the dirk, then we will both lose our jobs and we will have no income and goodness knows what the law in these times will do to you. Why risk it?”

  “Because that dirk belongs to me, not Rose, and certainly not Angus. Now drop the matter and let’s get upstairs and start telling tales of our world.”

  Shortly after starting work, Rose appeared through the hole in the floor clutching a small card. “Here, Corran, I have a tablet for you. I assume you are okay with swallowing tablets?”

  I nodded, having not the slightest idea what a tablet was. “Err, yes. Thank you, Rose.”

  “Here, this should help your headache,” she said. The card crackled as she bent it, rather like a crisp autumn leaf when you stand on it, but the sound was louder. A small white disk dropped into her hand. She held it out to me as I stared at it in her palm. “Go on, Corran, these are good, really they are. I take far too many of them but for headaches they work every time.”

  “Thank you, Rose,” I said, taking the disk from her. From her conversation I gathered that it ought to be swallowed, so proceeded to lift my hand to my mouth.

  “No, wait,” she said. My hand froze in mid-air.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, confused.

  “Go down to the ladies and get some water. I don’t know about you but I find swallowing tablets dry an awful experience.”

  So I made my way down the stairs to the door marked ‘Ladies’, leaving Simon and Rose alone in the space that had been our bedroom. I knew it was foolish to be jealous and possessive but still, I could not help a slight hesitation at the thought of him being in that room with another woman, alone.

  On my return to the room, Rose had left and Simon was fully engaged in conversation with a loud and what I considered to be rather aggressive gentleman. It seemed they were having some detailed and perhaps slightly heated discussion about pistols, so I decided to avoid the conversation completely and wandered off to find someone who may be interested in discussing life in my world. It was really quite a boring experience, talking to people for hours on end about a world they could never hope to fully understand. But then I reasoned that we were getting paid to do it and without that pay we would doubtless be in even more trouble than we already were. I guessed we were actually quite lucky to have found the jobs and shuddered at the thought of what our first night in this new world would have been like had we not been paid for a day’s work yesterday.

  “You stink.” I turned around to see a child of about six or seven, staring at me.

  “Well that wasn’t very polite,” I said sternly, narrowing my eyebrows at him. “Hasn’t your mother taught you any manners?”

  “I am so sorry,” said a woman, rushing toward the boy, “Now apologize to the lady, Ethan,” she shouted, scowling down at him.

  “I won’t, because she does stink,” spat the child.

  “Please forgive my son. He has the manners of a brat,” she said, turning to me.

  I smiled across at her. “It’s alright, I’m not offended. These clothes are not as clean as yours. It’s the nature of the job, you know. People didn’t have the access to water that you do...”

  That afternoon, as we left the Hall, I decided that the time had come to join Simon in his quest to assimilate myself into the world in which we had found ourselves. Opening my crisp white pouch, which I had been told was called an envelope; I dragged Simon in search of clothing shops for the pair of us.

  “So you are going to willingly wear men’s trousers then?” Simon smirked.

  “Aye, if that is what I have to do to look like the rest of the people in this world, then yes.”

  “Well, what about these?” he said holding up a thin strip of lace.

  “What is it?” I asked, squinting to try and fathom its use.

  He pointed toward a statue of a woman in the corner of the shop. “Oh, it’s an undergarment,” I said, my cheeks reddening with embarrassment. “I have never seen undergarments worn there before.”

  The shopping trip had been as successful as one could expect, given that we had no idea what we were doing. I had bought two pairs of black men’s trousers, some undergarments, called knickers and a bra, a pale pink and blue top that had tiny white butt
ons the length of the top, and a jacket.

  Simon had also bought two pairs of dark blue trousers, made from a material called denim, two shirts, which the lady at the counter had called sweatshirts and some undergarments called boxers. He had refused to buy a jacket, saying, ‘that the air was not cold enough for it’.

  “How do your new clothes feel?” he asked as we headed back into the city.

  “If you must know, it’s uncomfortable,” I said, casting him a sideways glance.

  “Well I think you look sexy.”

  “Mmm, I feel naked. The shirt is so thin, I am sure people can see straight through it.”

  He laughed. “Aye, Corran, they can, but then you said you wanted to look like everyone else in this world and to my eyes the clothes the lasses wear leave very little to the imagination.”

  “Well it’s alright for you,” I barked. “You still get to wear trousers and shirts; I bet you would feel just as stupid as I do if you suddenly had to start wearing gowns.”

  “Aye, wee, Corran, you are not wrong there.”

  Night had fallen as we headed toward Stonegate, but the city lights shone so brightly that it would have been easy to believe the sun was still out. The noise of the streets had changed from the aggressive pushy world of people making a living to one of expectant excitement of those seeking an evening of fun. We arrived at the ‘Old Starre Inne’ and I returned to the same table as I had the day before. Simon went off in search of his ale and hopefully a glass of wine for me. We had spent heavily on the clothes. Having counted what money we had left, we decided to settle for a light meal and drink in the city, instead of the more expensive option of a meal in the place we were staying.

  “Your wine,” he said, placing the tall bulbous glass on the table in front of me.

  “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” he replied, pulling something from his pocket.

  I gasped in horror as he placed it on the table. “Oh, Simon, why?” I whispered, fearful of being over heard, “Put it away, before someone sees it.”

  He grinned across the table at me. “I have nothing to hide, lass. I have only reclaimed what was rightfully mine.”