“This entry has a McGregor, but it is for a Catherine Campbell McGregor and not a Thomas.” She pointed to the entry so Mathias and Sam could see it too.
Ronald nodded in agreement, shrugged and said, “So it is—”
“That’s it. Catherine Campbell is Thomas’s wife,” Mathias whispered. “Perhaps the land is part of her inheritance or something along those lines.”
Jo looked up at Ronald and said, “Yes, but that’s the name of Thomas McGregor’s wife.” She found it a little difficult to talk to a ghost and a mortal person at the same time. “I believe this information is exactly what we—what I’m looking for.”
“Och, that’s guid news,” Ronald replied, his satisfaction obvious. “Alloo me, if you wull—”
Jo waited, as he looked the document over and then pointed to the barely legible name at the bottom.
“Thomas McGregor sauld this laund, so noted here, to Archibald Campbell oan th’ twenty-ninth day of August in th’ year 1775, an’ fur whit, they considered in those days, a guidly sum. Ah shuid think this property wis either a portion o’ her inheritance or given as part o’ her dowry. Then Ah wuid theorize, she an’ her huisband sauld it back, to a brither perhaps, or some other relative who may huv been feelin’ a wee bit generoos. Lit me make you a copy o’ this transaction fur yer records, Miss Michaelsson. A’ll be richt back.”
“Well, that solves that part of the puzzle,” Sam said with a satisfied expression on his face.
“And introduces another,” Mathias said. “What did he do with the proceeds from the sale? The probate record made no mention of such a sum.”
Jo could only shrug in response as Mr. Murray once again approached her table.
“Ah hud anither thooght if ye’r interested,” Ronald said as he handed her the copy of the record. “Mony times oor eighteenth or nineteenth century colonial visitors purchased things while they wur here. Och, they wuid buy pieces o’ furniture, linens, dinnerware, gowns, an’ th’ like. A ship’s manifest micht reveal if yer Thomas McGregor purchased somethin’ nice fur his wife or family. These things flesh oot a family history an’ add mair than jist names an’ dates. Shall Ah tak’ a look an’ see whit Ah can fin’ fur you?”
One hour later, Jo and the boys exited the building. They remained quiet as they got inside the car and during most of the return drive to the cottage. The day supplied them with an answer they had sought for months and the knowledge of their discovery thrilled them no end. But it also managed to open up a completely new set of questions.
“Tell me, Mathias,” Samuel finally said as he fixed his gaze out the window. “What in the blazes would your cousin want with seven tons of iron castings, smelted in county Argyll?”
Chapter 24
They discussed the mystery over the next several days. E-mails flew back and forth across the continents so everyone could share their ideas. But then again, Jo’s rehearsal schedule precluded them from doing much of anything else. One thing remained certain: Thomas couldn’t have transported actual cannon or gun parts. No captain would allow such cargo on board their ship, even though many Scottish sympathizers to the American cause would’ve looked the other way. However, at that particular time in history, no one wanted to risk the wrath of the English Crown, least of all the Scots.
“We may never know for sure why Thomas shipped so much iron to the Colonies, Sam,” Mathias said when it seemed they discussed every conceivable notion at least half a dozen times already. “But I think we can conclude whatever its purpose, he intended to use it toward the war effort, and for now, that’s enough.”
“We are agreed on that issue,” Sam said. “Still, you have to admit that seven tons of iron could be melted down and recast into—”
“Just about anything,” Jo finished as she adjusted the mirror inside the car. “Come on, guys. Let’s put the iron on the backburner, and just enjoy the day. Lest you forgot, this is one of the few days we have to spend in its entirety and do as we please.”
Mathias bowed his apologies. “You’re right, of course, and I promise we won’t mention the subject again today. So, where are we going first?”
“The museum that houses the works of James Watt. We talked about that before leaving home as you might recall. I think we’ll go there first and then head off to some of the castles on our list. I really don’t know how many of them we’ll have time to see today, because I don’t know how long each of them will take to explore. From my own experiences, one can spend anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours depending upon what’s available and open to the public.”
In a little less than an hour, they arrived at the museum and as advertised, they displayed many of James Watt’s marvelous accomplishments and inventions. Among other things, the exhibit included the improvements he made to various musical instruments. This portion of the exhibit, especially intrigued Jo and she pointed out the differences between the versions. Several of Watts’s early conceptual drawings, as well as his plans for the steam engine pump sat near the display of the famous Boulton-Watt steam engine. All of these things, along with his portrait, surrounded a life-sized statue of the man.
“I can see why your cousin spoke so highly of James Watt,” Jo whispered as she gazed at the statue, which appeared to stare right back. “I wonder if during any of their scholarly conversations, Thomas ever suspected James would become so famous and so well loved among the Scottish people, especially given his troubled beginnings.”
“Probably not,” Mathias replied. “In all likelihood Thomas considered himself in the company of a kindred soul as they exchanged knowledge and ideas.”
“Well, it’s a shame James didn’t live long enough to see some of his ideas come to full fruition,” she said. “Perhaps some of the things he and Thomas talked about are right here on display.”
Just as she made the comment, they arrived at the end of the exhibit. “Is there anything else you want to see before we leave?” she asked.
“No, I think we’ve seen just about everything the museum has to offer,” Mathias said. “So, we’re ready to go whenever you are.”
Once inside the car, Jo looked at the long list of castles. In all reality, they couldn’t see them all on this trip and she wanted to make sure they made the best of all possible choices. She should call Agnes Galbraith. The woman spent her entire life in this region, and could give the best advice.
“Just a minute,” Jo said as she retrieved her cell phone. “I’m going to call Agnes and see which of these castles, she’d recommend first.”
When at last she ended the call, Mathias turned toward her and said, “We were privy to a lot of uh-huhs and okays accompanied by a very long pause during your conversation. Did dear old Agnes have trouble advising us as to which castle held the greatest interest?”
“No, not really.” Jolena picked up the notepad and studied the directions Agnes supplied her with and then turned left at the next intersection. “If you had taken the time to listen to everything we said, instead of prattling on about the iron, you would know we’re going to see a castle that isn’t listed on any of the castle touring guides.”
“We’re not?” asked Sam.
“Nope.” Jo paused and flashed a smile. “We’re not.”
Mathias gazed pointedly in her direction, waiting for her to reveal the remainder of her conversation. When she didn’t, he finally said, “Are you going to share the destination with us, or are you not?”
Jo laughed and turned to meet his gaze. “No surprises for you, huh? Well then, if you must know, Agnes told me about a privately owned castle off the beaten path. She put me on hold for a few minutes and called Laird MacNaughton, the man who owns it. He’s a very good friend of hers and is a great fan of the orchestra as well. That always helps get one into places they otherwise can’t go.
“Anyway, he gave us his permission to explore the place on our own and told me where to find the keys to his kingdom. A caretaker lives on the property, but he said he’d give him
a call and alert him to our arrival. He’s going to tell him not to bother me unless I seek him out. Agnes said it would take us at least a half an hour to get there. So relax, and enjoy the beautiful scenery.”
It took more like forty minutes but as Jo got out of the car, retrieved the keys, and opened the gates, she marveled over the structure. This castle rivaled, and even exceeded, any castle in any country she’d seen to date. Some of the stones on the turrets and towers were missing as one might expect, and the laird told her to proceed with caution once she entered the structure. He said portions of the upper level flooring had become a bit unstable.
Still, as Jo nudged through the weathered doors and entered the great hall, she envisioned what the thirteenth-century castle looked like, right after its completion. She expected to find the inside empty. Instead, remnants of furnishings met her gaze. Long medieval-style tables and benches sat perpendicular to the door. Antique chests in varying shapes and sizes sat abandoned on the left side of the room, and a few tattered tapestries still hung forlornly on some of the walls.
“Want to take a look upstairs?” she asked, turning an excited gaze toward Mathias.
He chuckled over her enthusiasm, swept a hand toward the spiral staircase, and said, “After you.”
As she ascended the narrow steps to the second floor, she turned to the right and opened the first set of thick wooden doors off the roomy hallway. She glanced over at Mathias and Sam who remained close enough to keep her in sight, but investigated other points of interest to them.
“I’ll be just in here,” she informed them, as she turned the latch and entered the room.
A gasp of delight accompanied the discovery of the small castle chapel. Behind the altar, she beheld a beautiful stained glass window, still intact. The scene depicted one of the saints, though she couldn’t tell which one. The cupboard that once held the sacramental wine now housed cobwebs, spiders, and the remains of their various dinners. A thick layer of dust covered the floors and weathered pews.
After exploring every nook and cranny of the chapel, she closed the doors behind her, and then went looking for Mathias and Sam. During her search, she peeked in each of the rooms she passed. She didn’t find much to look at. Most of the rooms lay empty, with tiny pieces of crumbling rock strewn across the floor.
Just as she entered the main hallway, Mathias appeared on the stairway leading to the next level. He held his hand out in invitation and smiled broadly.
“Come with me, Jolena, I want to share something with you,” he said. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.”
Jo remained close to his side as they ascended the winding stone stairway. The stairs led to the turret and then Mathias took her over to one of the crenels. This particular opening allowed her to see miles of countryside. She looked out over acres of grassy fields. Beyond those fields, she could see thick forests, rivers, and streams. The scene looked like something straight out of a fairy tale and oh, how she wanted to explore it.
“This view is so beautiful, Mathias,” she said as her gaze meandered over the scenic panorama. “Just imagine all of the celebrations, the tournaments, and the hunts that must’ve taken place on those grassy fields.”
Her mind conjured images of jousting knights, heralds, lords, and ladies dressed in their finery. She could even imagine one of those ladies, standing exactly where she stood right now and as she gazed out over these very same fields, she sought for the first sign of her brave knight’s return.
“Actually, several bloody battles took place out there,” Mathias said with a reverence to his tone. “You’re looking at a place where countless men lost their lives in defense of their family, their clan, and this castle.”
Jo turned away from the sight to meet his gaze. “How could you know that?”
“Because Sir Cailen just shared a brief history of this castle with us,” Mathias said. He made contact with the spirit the moment Jolena stepped inside the chapel.
The fourteenth-century knight clamored down the stairway with his sword drawn, intent on defending his home from unwanted intruders. Much like they themselves had done, many times over, minus the swords. The knight seemed somewhat surprised to discover the invaders were naught but spirits themselves, and had escorted a mortal woman from across the sea. The notion apparently intrigued him.
“She’s nae afeart o’ ye?” he had asked, seemingly mystified by the very idea of such a thing.
“Not in the least,” Sam replied. “In fact, I count her among my dearest of friends.”
The knight simply shrugged and then asked them about their country, the time from whence they originated, and about the wars in which they fought. They in turn questioned him in like manner. Shortly thereafter, Mathias sought out Jolena. He wanted to show her the countryside from the vantage point of the tower and he’d not been disappointed in her reaction.
“Sir Cailen?” Jo met Mathias’s steady gaze.
Sir Cailen, who stood just off to the side, witnessed the entire exchange between them. The moment Jolena repeated his name; the knight appeared to her view. Mathias smiled inwardly over her reaction to the unfolding spectacle.
“Mah lady,” he said as he bowed ever so slightly.
Jo just stared as he, in turn, took his time looking her over as well. Without any reservation whatsoever, she accepted the reality of ghosts. She lived with five of them. But right now, not two feet away from her, stood a very handsome knight in full shining armor. Well, maybe his armor didn’t exactly shine and he actually wore chain mail and leather. Nonetheless, she gazed at an honest-to-goodness knight who lived centuries before her time.
She finally managed a slight nod of her head in return greeting, and hoped she didn’t allow too much time to pass before she did so. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and said, “Sir Cailen, I’m honored to meet you.” The statement must’ve sufficed, as just a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Relief filled her in the instant.
“Ye huv come to see th’ castle, aye?” he asked.
“Yes, but only with your permission, of course,” she held her breath as she waited his reply. The ghostly knight looked pretty fierce—
“Perhaps ye wuid lik’ me to show ye aboot then?” he asked as he stepped toward her.
“If you don’t mind, I’d love to see your castle.” She smiled at him and then, as if an everyday occurrence, Sir Cailen placed his hand under her elbow. Together they strolled down the stairway as he began the story of this castle. His ancient Scottish brogue immediately charmed her.
The tales her attractive escort spun as he took her through each room of the structure fascinated her no end. He showed her the solar where former lords and their ladies slept and described in vivid detail what those rooms once looked like. The ghostly knight took her inside the treasury room and to the great hall where the king knighted him and his men for their acts of valor. She explored the kitchen and a room he called the gallery, where musicians often played during the feasts. He even led her through hidden passageways that hadn’t seen a human foot in centuries. The last several owners, he informed her, didn’t even know they existed.
Finally, he took her outside to the bailey and then beyond the outer walls to where the garrison conducted their training exercises. Right there and right then, Jo witnessed a most spectacular and unforgettable sight. In an instant before her eyes, there appeared a very large number of medieval knights. They engaged in swordplay, and they seemed just as deadly serious about the activity as did Mathias and her boys when they conducted their own training exercises back home. The age of the knights tugged at her heart. She would say many of them never lived to see their twenty-first year. So many young lives cut down in the prime of their lives—
In awed silence, she assumed the role of spectator, until at last the brawny knights turned to face her. They acknowledged her presence with nods and bows before they slowly faded away. Her host had nothing left to show them, so she turned toward him and smiled her g
ratitude.
“Thank you so much, Sir Cailen,” she said. “You’ve given me a most memorable experience. I’m so very pleased to have made your acquaintance and learn the history of your wonderful home. I’ll never forget you or this day, not ever.”
The knight beamed as he placed an arm lightly around her shoulders. “’Twas mah pleasure, Jolena Michaelsson, an’ ye’ll fin’ a welcome shuid ye e’er wish to return.”
Mathias shook his head ever so slightly. The knight certainly didn’t need to keep touching her, nor did he need to keep looking at her the way he looked at her, either. Therefore, he extended his arm toward the knight, forcing the issue. Sir Cailen dropped his arm from around Jolena’s shoulder, took the offered hand, and shook it.
“Thank you,” Mathias said, “we found it a pleasure.”
Sir Cailen bowed in return. “Ah dinnae ken it afore, Mathias o’ Clan McGregor, but ’tis clear noo, why ye’ve fallen fur the wee lass. Shuid she become a fixture in thes castle, ’tis verra possible Ah micht fall fur her mahself.”
Mathias shrugged and said, “Well, you needn’t worry. She isn’t staying in Scotland long enough for you to get attached.”
The knight met Mathias’s comment with uproarious laughter. Jolena looked at him questioningly, for the brief conversation passed silently between them. Mathias simply winked and cocked his head toward the door.
Though she looked bewildered, Jolena thanked Sir Cailen once again as Mathias escorted her back to the outer gates. He shut and locked the gates before returning the castle keys to their hiding place. Once he entered the car, Jolena took hold of her cell phone and while placing her call, gave him a smile.
Jolena promised Laird MacNaughton she would call the minute she finished exploring, and let him know she hadn’t injured herself. The Scottish laird answered the phone on the second ring. Mathias could hear the anxiety in his tone of voice.
Spirit of the Revolution Page 24