“Please take care of Robbie, Mama. He mustn’t know where I’m at, but let him know that I will return. He thinks we go to hide at Ballygowan.” Merry nodded, glancing at the door to see Robbie dashing in, his sword at the ready.
“Merry,” he shouted, “Where is Albert?”
“I’m right here, Robbie,” Albert came from a corner of the library, stuffing papers in his small pack, readying himself to take leave of the castle. He wrapped his arms around Merry and held her tightly, sorrow filling his heart at yet another leave taking. He whispered into her ear, ”Merry, my love, you must come with us. Not today, but when I return you will return with me. We must be whole and complete and I tire of leaving you. I love you, Merry.” He kissed her fiercely and Stella’s eyes nearly popped from her head to see her father in such an impassioned embrace. Merry whispered in his ears and he nodded, grabbed Stella by the arm and headed toward Robbie who still stood at the door.
Robbie did not like the look of terror and sadness that had found its place on Stella’s face. He wanted to erase all cares from her life and provide her with safety and comfort, but all he could do right now was hide her and he would bow to Albert’s insistence that the best hiding place was at Ballygowan. He beckoned to her and she ran to him, wrapping herself in her embrace, telling herself that this parting would not be forever, but a short time. He could hear the shouts from the bailey and his own fears heightened.
“Let us go, Albert,” Taking Stella’s arm he pushed her along the hall to the kitchen, Albert following closely behind. Moving quickly through the kitchen, then the holding pens, they were soon outside the castle walls where their mounts waited, Grey and Arwen and Albert’s black gelding at the ready. Four of Robbie’s warriors would be riding with them to ensure their protection and they all mounted quickly and headed south, riding swiftly to Ballygowan.
“How much further to Ballygowan, Robbie?” Albert, exhausted by the pace they had kept was ready to end this journey. It had turned sour and he did not like his daughter being subject to this kind of danger.
“We are almost at Kilmartin and Ballygowan is perhaps a league south. We should be there in less than an hour if we keep this pace.” They had stopped to water and rest their horses and Robbie had circled his warriors to make sure that Stella was enclosed within their watch. He watched her drinking at the stream. She was holding up well, but had spoken very little, and he could see the lines of weariness around her eyes, her shoulders slouched with the burden of her flight.
He desperately wanted to hold her, comfort her, reassure her that he would deliver her safely. She smiled at him and wanly held out her hand to him. He crossed to her and held her tightly.
“Stella, my heart, my love, I dinna want to be parted from ye for even a moment’s time. It pains me to leave ye at Ballygowan.” He cupped the back of her head with his large hands and brought her lips to his. All the longing, all the love, the tenderness and devotion he held for her was delivered in that kiss and Stella drank in the Robbie that had come for her in the studio. The circle had been completed, they were together, to be parted for a time, but she would make sure that it was only for a short while. Albert would see to it, she was sure.
“Robbie you asked me how I knew your name and I told you I didn’t know but now I do, Robbie. The small child you were betrothed to, the one that died, that was me, Robbie. We have always been promised, always connected even when separated by time and space. We will always be a union, Robbie. Soon, Robbie, we will be together again, when it is safe for me to return.”
Stella could see comprehension, like the rising sun, bursting upon Robbie, his heart filling with love’s enlightenment.
“Stella…” was all he could say, so stunned was he by news that he himself should have guessed. He gently touched her hair and gazed into her golden eyes wishing he could kill Malcolm a hundred times over for causing this parting.
“I will stay with ye at Ballygowan until I am assured of yer safety and then shall avenge ye of the mob. I will make it safe fer ye, Stella.” Robbie kissed her again and looked up at the sound of an approaching rider.
He recognized one of his warriors, Jamie, riding as if pursued by demons. Robbie was immediately on alert, pushing Stella behind him.
Jamie skidded to a stop close to Robbie and jumped off his lathered horse.
“Robbie, the English are behind me. They seek a horse thief among the MacDougalls and are nay in a mood to ask questions first.” Jamie led his horse to the stream and bent to quench his own thirst. Robbie, knowing this to be more of Malcolm’s mischief, cursed the English and the very bad timing of their arrival. He ordered all to mount. He knew it was no good to deal with the English because they had Arwen in their possession and there could be no denying the theft. Their only recourse was to get to Ballygowan and hope that Albert’s idea, whatever it was, would work.
“Stella, Albert, quickly, we must ride hard. Albert, I hope ye know what ye are about. Do ye know exactly where we go?”
Albert looked at Robbie, his face filled with anguish for all the trials he and his daughter had brought upon his friends.
“Trust me, Robbie, this is the only way to keep Stella safe. I know what I’m about, lad. Let’s go.”
The party took off pushing the horses hard, Robbie leading with Albert and Stella right behind him, followed by his four warriors.
Within minutes of their goal the thunder of a dozen horses could be heard closing in on them. Robbie signaled Stella to ride forward to the front so that he might put more distance between the soldiers and her. Riding harder they climbed a small rise and Albert raised his arm pointing.
The stones of Ballygowan stood like mystical giants atop a small rise, etched with the concentric markings of ancient hands, their powerful magic humming as Stella approached them. She heard them from where she sat her horse and she knew that this was where her adventure ended.
“There they are, we’re here!” Albert brought his mount to a skidding stop, as did Stella, Robbie and the warriors. Robbie began shouting orders to his men to blockade Albert and Stella and he moved forward to meet the English as they came.
“No, Robbie!” Stella screamed. She panicked as she saw him move toward the approaching soldiers, knowing that he put himself in the worst kind of danger.
“Run, Stella, run and touch the middle stone,” shouted Albert. “If you hesitate we’ll all be killed!” Stella jumped from Arwen and ran toward the stone, looking back and watching Robbie and his warriors engage the English with swords. Filled with fright she stopped and turned, wanting to run back to Robbie.
“Don’t stop, Stella, run, touch the middle stone. Don’t, no you can’t help him, run, dammit, you’ll make it harder for him. Run!” Albert pushed her toward the circle and making sure that she did as he directed he turned back to Robbie, his sword in his hand.
Stella, fearing for her life, but fearing for Robbie’s and her father’s even more, she reluctantly did as Albert told her, running across the rough ground, tripping on small stones, righting herself and moving passed the circle of stones. As she neared the middle stone, she turned back to see Robbie fighting two English soldiers, his blade already wet with their blood. Her father spearing one of them and turning to run toward Stella.
“Now, Stella, Now!”
Stella, terrified, swallowed her fear and reaching out to the middle stone touched it with her palm feeling the humming of the rock fly up her arm and then the blackness took her.
Chapter Twenty
Stella woke, lying on her stomach, her mouth full of dust, the scorching sun beating on her back. She had a headache pounding time to her accelerated heartbeat, still running from the soldiers. She slowly pushed herself up stumbling on her skirts. She reached to her back and sighed in relief, she had her backpack. She looked around her and saw her hat sitting crown-up just a few yards from her. Her boots were on, the only thing missing were her jeans and shirt and she was hoping that they would be there at the castle when
she returned. And she would return.
She looked around to see if her father had come through, but there was nothing. She knew exactly where she was, a ridge overlooking the Pedernales where she had ridden Arwen many times before. She wondered where Arwen was right now. If she got back to the barn would Arwen still be there or was she somewhere in Scotland, being led away by English soldiers.
Stella was probably about forty five minutes from home…by car. She wasn’t sure if she should wait or start the walk back home. If Albert came through he would know where he was, but she remembered what her father had said – the traveling couldn’t be controlled. She trembled thinking of her last glimpse of Robbie swinging a sword as the English attacked he and his men. Always a pacifist she had never been close to fighting of any sort and to see the swords flying in all directions, slicing through flesh leaving red stains like flowers in the landscape, caused her to shutter and she knew that she would have nightmares filled with the clanging of blades, the screams of pain and the arrival of death. She was glad that Robbie had his warriors with him, that he had not fought them alone, but she cried for him, wanting desperately to see him again, to know he was safe.
Picking up her hat, dusting it off, she put it on shading her eyes from the unforgiving sun.
She looked toward the west, and figured she was about two miles from the stables. Walking in the hot Texas sun in a wool dress was not exactly the smartest thing she could do right now, but she didn’t have much choice. Once she got to the stables she would check to see if she still had a horse then call someone to pick her up.
An hour later Stella walked into the barn, sweating like a racehorse, looking to see if Arwen was in her stall. It was getting late in the day and Brandy would have brought in all the horses. Stella walked down the concrete center aisle of the barn and hesitated before she got to Arwen’s stall. She stepped up to the stall door and Arwen pushed her head over the door, nickering in greeting. Stella’s heart jumped, glad to see the animal she had come to love even more since being in Scotland.
“Hey, Stella, how’s it goin’ girl?” Stella looked up to see Brandy coming toward her carrying tack.
“Girl what are you doing in that outfit? Is that wool?”
“Reenactment, Brandy, getting ready for some Renaissance stuff. What time is it?”
Brandy looked at her phone. “It’s almost closing time, 7:45. Where’s yer truck, I didn’t see it outside.”
“Well, actually I was dropped off. Can I get a ride home?” Stella was hot, itchy and feeling on edge about Albert, worried he might be caught in some time loop or something.
“Sure, let me finish up and we’ll head out.”
“Great. Listen, Brandy, if you should see some guy out here in a Renaissance costume looking kinda confused please call me immediately, it’ll be my dad.”
Brandy rolled her eyes and looked at Stella. “Anybody in a Renaissance costume is confused. You need to stop going to the Faires, girl.”
Driving home Stella glanced at a bank sign, and watched it blinking the time and date. She had gone through the portal yesterday evening. She’d only missed one day. If Ferghus, or Casper, was still at home he would be hungry but not on the verge of collapse. Stella crossed her fingers that he was still there.
Brandy pulled up into her driveway. “Here ya go. Sure ya don’t want to go out for a pizza? My treat.” Brandy looked hopeful, but she looked at Stella, who looked dreadful, and knew that she’d be too tired.
“Thanks Brandy, but I’m exhausted, I’ve had a tough day.” With false bravado she waved and smile. “See you next week!”
Stella walked in the door and was immediately hit with forty pounds of red fur, bouncing and barking and wagging his tail. She was so relieved to see Ferghus that she sat on the living room floor and cried, hugging the dog.
“Ferghus, Ferghus. Oh baby, I’m so glad to see you.”
After greeting Ferghus, she went immediately to the studio and tentatively opened the door. The light was still on but did not shine blue, Everything was as she left it yesterday except Robbie’s portrait was gone. In its place was the original painting of Shawn. Stella was so keenly disappointed she began crying again, missing him so much and being so worried about what might have happened. They had not even had time to say goodbye. Then she remembered.
“Tis me a moment a’fore I died.”
Stella felt a cold shiver of fear run down her spin when she thought of Robbie’s words when she had first seen his portrait. He couldn’t have died. She wouldn’t believe it. Everything had changed when she went there, everything was different and together they had changed history, albeit their own history, but it had changed so many things. Surely he had been the victor and he had lived. She would not think otherwise. Her Robbie was alive and she would return to him.
Stella called her father to see if he had arrived home but there was no answer so she left a message. She felt alone again. She desperately wanted to talk with her mother, but that would have to wait until she went back. Her father would help her, she knew she would be seeing her mother again but needed her father to make that happen. She turned out the studio lights and she and Ferghus walked back to the kitchen. She fed Ferghus, cleaned up his messes and took a shower. As she got out of the tub she glanced at the roll of fluffy, white toilet paper hanging neatly and conveniently by the side of an equally convenient toilet and she knew she would trade them both to see her Robbie again. After dressing she poured herself a glass of wine and sat in her father’s La-Z-Boy. She sipped her wine, but it tasted of sadness, so she poured it out and went to bed, hoping that Albert would show up tomorrow so she would know what happened.
Two weeks passed with no word from her father. Stella began to spiral into a chasm of sadness and worry that seemed bottomless. She ate very little, slept fitfully and cried at the least provocation.
She spent her days finishing Shawn’s portrait, finding it to be painful. The oil was still wet, not dry like Robbie’s portrait had been, and every detail of her original work was still there. Shawn’s sketches lay untouched, scattered on the floor where she had left them. She hated the portrait, hated having to finish it, hated that Robbie’s portrait was gone. She so desperately wanted it back. But practicality told her she had to finish the commission and have it ready for Kyla as soon as possible. Her world might have changed radically in the last couple of weeks, but she still needed the money from this commission.
She committed her days to completing Shawn’s portrait, but in the evenings she drew the images that were burned in her brain now. Her sketch book was filled with her days in Oban, the cairns, the woods, the farmer’s croft, Gregor, the castle. She tore out a sketch of Robbie, one she had done in his uncle’s library. She had drawn him in profile standing at the window looking out at the bailey. She liked this particular drawing because he looked so noble, so strong, so much like a champion.
She put the picture in a frame along with his signature page from her sketchbook and set it by her bed so that she might see him the first thing every morning and the last thing every night.
On the fourteenth evening Stella sat in her father’s La-Z-Boy sketching, trying to remember exactly how Elinor’s nose curved into her lips, when Ferghus started barking and padded down to her studio. Hearing a noise in the studio Stella rushed in, flipped on the light and found Albert sprawled on the floor.
“Daddy!” Stella kneeled at his side and helped him sit up. He seemed disoriented and exhausted, his kilt and shirt both covered in blood. Stella panicked, looking for an open wound.
“Daddy, are you alright?” Albert shook his head and looked around him, gripping Stella’s hand.
“When did you get back, Stella? What is today’s date?” Albert was breathing heavily from the battle with the English guards and the fast run up the hill to the rocks.
“I got here two weeks ago. Today is the 29th. Robbie, what happened to Robbie?” Stella helped Albert stand and moved him slowly toward Ferghus’s armc
hair. Albert fell into the chair and brought his hands to his head.
“Daddy, why are you covered in blood. What happened, Daddy?” Panic seized Stella and her breathing accelerated until she became light headed. Terror gripped her heart and she fell into the abyss of hysteria.
“Daddy, Daddy, please tell me what happened!”
Albert took a deep breath and looked at Stella, his eyes filled with regret and sadness.
“He’s dead, Stella. The soldiers killed him.”
Somewhere in the depths of her brain she heard someone’s scream of pain, of loss. She heard the wailing of a heart broken, a soul cut loose from its moorings, sent adrift desolate on a black sea of pain. For many years afterward the smell and sight of blood would cause her a terrifying sense of loss. She felt a sword slice into her heart and spill out the joy that had so recently been there, now like a spilled bottle of ink it left a stain on her world.
Twenty One
1 year later – Texas
Stella got up before the alarm, having slept the whole night through for the first time in almost a year, but still feeling the tiredness that she carried with her like a Herculean weight, always pressing on her heart, pulling at her shoulders, bending her back, robbing her of her smile. Her moments of joy were conditional now, only when she looked into grey-blue grey eyes or heard Robbie’s laughter, then her heart would swell and a bittersweet sadness would sweep over her. Her inestimable loss was a heavy weight and she held tight to the burden because sadness was all she had left of him.
Ferghus uncurled himself from her bed and leapt to the floor headed to the back door. She shuffled when she walked now, no longer gliding like a ballerina, dance-walking with grace. She let him out and prepared herself for the day, wishing that it would get easier, wishing she could have shown him what their love had done, how it had changed her life. How it would have changed his.
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