Song of a Highlander (Arch Through Time, #11)

by Baker, Katy

  “Stargazing,” Jess said suddenly.

  Blair turned to her, startled. “My lady?”

  “You said he spends his time stargazing?”

  “Aye. What of it?”

  Jess had a strange look on her face. “It’s an observatory,” she muttered almost to herself. She turned to gaze at the manor house, her expression thoughtful. “A way to see the inner world.”

  “Jess?” Ramsay asked. “What is it?”

  But she didn’t answer.

  “Where would we resupply without the MacSual?” Ross asked Blair, with the strained patience of someone who’d had this conversation too many times. “And how would we sustain a campaign with nowhere to retreat to?”

  Blair scowled and the two began arguing. Ramsay sighed. This was going to become a long night.

  JESS LAY IN THE TENT, staring up at the ceiling. She didn’t know what time it was, but the camp had grown quiet and she’d lain awake for hours. She’d pleaded tiredness and retired to her tent whilst the others were still discussing Blair’s news. In truth, she needed some space to think.

  Something was bothering her, and it was more than her argument with Ramsay. The more time she spent in this valley, the stronger the feeling became.

  She tossed and turned in the blankets until eventually she gave up, threw back the covers, climbed to her feet and went outside. It was a clear, cold night and Jess could see her breath misting in the air. Stars blazed in the sky, so bright it seemed as though the heavens had been dusted with sugar.

  The camp was dark and silent although if she concentrated enough, she could just make out the line of guards that kept watch in a perimeter around the site. Where was Ramsay? If felt strange to not have him near.

  She turned to stare up at the manor house. All was dark but for a single light burning in the tower window. Laird MacSual was still up, even at this late hour. Jess stared at that flickering light. It burned like a beacon against the darkness, beckoning to her, calling...

  She began walking, weaving her way through the tents until she came out onto the road that led through the village and up to the manor house. She passed through the village as silently as a ghost. A cat hissed at her then slunk away and an owl hooted in the woods. Other than that, all was still.

  She reached the gates and was stopped by two guards who were huddled around a brazier to keep out the chill.

  “Stop! Who goes there?”

  One of them approached her holding a drawn sword.

  Jess held up her hands. “My name is Jessica Maxwell. I’m with Ross MacAuley’s people. I mean no harm. I’ve come to speak to Laird MacSual.”

  “At this time of night?” the guard snapped. “I dinna think so. Go back to yer bed, lass. Come back in the morning.”

  “Laird MacSual isn’t in bed,” Jess replied, nodding to the light burning in the tower. “I need to speak to him. Please, this is important.” And suddenly it was important. She must speak to Laird MacSual, she knew it in her very bones although she could not say why.

  She stared at the guard, unblinking. He frowned but she could see that he was considering her request. Then he sighed.

  “This way. Although I’ll probably get my arse roasted for this.”

  She followed the guard into the courtyard. Steps led up to the manor house which had had its entrance on the first floor but he ignored this structure and instead crossed to the base of the tower, opened the door and led her inside. The tower was narrow, with nothing but a staircase winding around the inside. She followed the guard as he began to climb. Pitch-soaked torches gave off some light and there was a banister affixed to the wall for which Jess was extremely grateful.

  She began counting the steps but lost count somewhere around a hundred as her concentration was fractured by the burning in her lungs and the screaming of her muscles. By the time the stairs ended at a narrow landing she was gasping like bellows. She doubled over, hands on her knees, trying to calm her breathing.

  The guard—who barely seemed out of breath—raised an enquiring eyebrow.

  “I’m all right,” she said. “I’ll be fine in a minute. Not as fit as I thought I was.”

  The guard knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for an answer. Jess followed him into a circular room at the very top of the tower. Inside, the wooden floor was covered with rugs and a fire blazing in the hearth made it warm and cheery. Just as Blair had said, shelves and star charts covered the walls from floor to ceiling. Above the fireplace hung a painting covered by a large cloth.

  A man was standing by the window holding a brass device of interlocking dials which he was holding up to the sky, moving the dials around, then peering at it with interest before noting something down on a piece of parchment. He glanced up as the door opened.

  “Ah! William, it works! Just like Stoffler’s book said it would! See, there’s Jupiter rising above the horizon right where it should be.”

  “An astrolabe!” Jess exclaimed before she could stop herself. “Made to Johannes Stoffler’s design unless I’m mistaken.”

  The man turned abruptly, a surprised expression on his face. Easily into his seventies, the man had wispy white hair that hung around his head like a cloud and wrinkles nestled under his eyes like cracks. But for all that, the bright blue gaze he turned on Jess was sharp and shrewd, alive with intelligence.

  “And who the devil might ye be?”

  The guard cleared his throat. “My laird, forgive the interruption, but the lady asked to see ye. She said it was important.”

  “Important is it? Well, I suppose it must be for her to come traipsing up here in the middle of the night.” He peered at Jess. “Who are ye, girl? And how do ye come to know about astronomy?”

  “My name is Jessica Maxwell. My grandmother loved astronomy. She taught me many things about the heavens when I was a kid. I went on to study sciences at college and studied astrophysics for a semester. I’ve always found it fascinating.”

  “Have ye now?” Laird MacSual asked. “Well ye and I are in the minority then. Seems all most people are interested in these days is war.” He studied her, his expression thoughtful. “Ye have a strange accent. Tell me, where does a woman who studied astronomy come from? And why does she come to see me at this hour?”

  For a horrifying moment Jess had the almost unbearable urge to tell him everything. The words crowded onto her tongue and she had to swallow to stop herself saying them. There was something about this man that put her at her ease. It felt like she knew him.

  “I’ve come from the MacAuley camp,” she said. “To persuade you to aid us against the MacGregor.”

  “Oh dear. And it started out so it promising. I gave my answer to Blair MacAuley earlier.”

  “I hope to change your mind.”

  “Shall I escort her back to the camp?” the guard asked.

  “No, William,” Laird MacSual replied. “She intrigues me. Ye may return to yer post.”

  After William had left Laird MacSual regarded Jess shrewdly. “Have we met before?”

  “No, my laird.”

  “Strange.”

  “What is?”

  He scratched his beard. “Ye remind me of someone I once knew. No matter.” He waved for her to approach and turned back to the window. “So,” he said. “Ye claim to be an astronomer. Tell me, what is yer view on the makeup of the cosmos? Do ye hold to the Aristotelian view of cosmology?”

  He was testing her, Jess realized. She wracked her brains to try to remember what had been discovered during this time and what hadn’t. “That everything orbits the Earth?” she replied. “Copernicus has already disproved that theory.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Copernicus’ treatise on the nature of the cosmos is causing quite the stir especially amongst the church.”

  “No doubt, since he suggests that the Earth isn’t the center of the cosmos and that the Earth and other planets orbit the sun and not the other way around.”

  “Aye,” he said, looking impressed. “
And completely disproving the Aristotelian premise that’s been accepted since ancient days. Good Lord, ye really are an astronomer. Where did ye study? Bologna? Padua? I didnae realize the universities accepted women.”

  She bit her lip to stifle a caustic reply. She had to remember these times were very different and women’s roles even more so. “I studied in Pittsburgh.”

  “Never heard of it. Is it in Italy?”

  Jess laughed. “Yes. It’s in Italy.”

  He cocked his head at her. “Ye remind me of my dear wife. She had an interest in the heavens too. It was she, in fact, who sparked my interest.” He glanced out of the window at the night outside. “We used to stand here together and chart the movements of the stars.”

  He spoke in the past tense, Jess noticed, and his voice was full of sorrow.

  “She’s gone?”

  Laird MacSual nodded. “I lost her.” He met Jess’s gaze. “Just as I lost my children. Three sons to war and the child my wife was carrying when she disappeared. So ye will forgive me if I wish to avoid bringing that heartache to my people. The MacGregor is strong, and the MacSual is weak. We’ve been ailing for years, with only the income from our mines keeping us from ruin. None of my line remain, and when I die the vultures will descend to pick over the corpse of my clan. How can I ask my people to fight the MacGregor?”

  “MacGregor must be stopped. If he isn’t, there’s no telling what damage he could do to the Highlands.”

  “Benneit MacGregor is a firebrand. He will bluster and throw his weight around for a while but then he will burn out. We must weather the storm.”

  “It’s not as simple as that!” Jess cried, taking a step forward. “There are things he’s involved in, dangerous things, and he’s made alliances—ones that should worry us all.”

  Laird MacSual’s eyes narrowed. “What are ye talking about? What dangerous things? What alliances?”

  Jess snapped her mouth shut. How much should she tell him? She glanced at the astrolabe then at the books lying open on the table. She saw a copy of Copernicus’s De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelstium alongside Laird MacSual’s meticulous recordings of the positions of the stars. If nothing else, Laird MacSual seemed to have an open mind.

  “Benneit MacGregor is mixed up in forces that could tear the Highlands apart. You have read Copernicus’s book. You must realize that accepted knowledge is not always correct? You must accept that there are things in this world that go beyond our understanding?”

  He stared at her suspiciously. “Aye. I suppose. What of it?”

  “Then please believe me when I say that what is happening in the Highlands right now goes beyond any of our understanding.”

  “Ye sound like my wife,” he snorted. “She used to speak like that. She always seemed to know what would happen before it did. And she was usually right. Lord, sometimes I swear that woman could see the future.” He shook his head. “I should have listened to her.”

  A shiver passed through Jess. Involuntarily her hand reached up to clasp her locket. “You said your wife disappeared,” she said. “How?”

  Laird MacSual’s expression tightened. An old pain shone in his eyes. “I dinna wish to talk about that. It is late. I canna under all conscience send ye back to the camp at this late hour, and I must admit, ye have intrigued me. I offer ye the hospitality of my hall tonight, my lady. In the morning I will send for the commanders of the Woodsmen and see if we canna thrash something out. Does that satisfy ye?”

  She nodded. “It does. Thank you.”

  He crossed to the wall and pulled a bell pull. Footsteps rang on the steps outside and a servant pushed the door open.

  “My lord?”

  “Escort this young lady to a guest room, Eric. See that she is well cared for.”

  The man, Eric, bowed and indicated for Jess to follow him. With a nod to Laird MacSual she followed him out the door and down the long spiraling staircase to the bailey. Eric produced a set of keys, led her up the steps to the manor house and unlocked the door. Inside the manor house, all was still and Jess wondered if Laird MacSual lived here alone but for a handful of servants. Eric lit a candle and led her upstairs to a lavish bedroom. He closed the curtains, built a fire with the practiced ease of somebody who did it all the time, then bowed.

  “Is there aught else ye need, my lady?” he asked. “Should I wake one of the maids to help ye undress?”

  “No,” Jess said quickly. “That’s fine. Thank you.”

  “If ye need aught, just call.” With that, he left.

  Jess looked around the chamber. It was grander than anything she’d experienced so far. The bed was a four-poster with scarlet brocade covers and thick pillows. Rugs covered the floorboards and leaded windows kept out the chill.

  She undressed down to her shift, sank into bed gratefully, and blew out the candle. She was exhausted but her thoughts would not let her sleep. She didn’t know if she’ done the right thing in coming here but at least she’d convinced Laird MacSual to meet with Ramsay and Ross again. That was good, right? And what of Laird MacSual himself? That tickle was there again, that itch at the back of her mind like a memory that she couldn’t quite shake free.

  She closed her eyes. Her thoughts strayed to Ramsay and a pang of longing went through her so strongly that she gasped. Where was he right now? Was he thinking about her as she was thinking about him? Or was he sleeping soundly?

  Chapter 13

  RAMSAY MARCHED TOWARDS the manor house with jaw clenched and his hand resting on his sword hilt. His brother, Ross, walked to one side, his cousin, Blair, the other. They reached the gates and the guards sensibly scuttled out of their way. It was just as well. Ramsay was in no mood for delay.

  He’d slept badly, tossing and turning most of the night and had woken this morning with a headache strong enough to crack his skull. Then, to compound the issue, when he’d gone to find Jess he found her tent empty. Only the fact that the sentries had seen her going into the manor house had stopped him tearing the camp apart searching for her.

  It was fortunate that word had come down that Laird MacSual wanted to meet with them this morning because if it hadn’t, Ramsay would have marched up there anyway and not taken no for an answer until he’d seen that Jess was safe and well.

  He took the steps up to the manor house two at a time and barged inside. A startled servant carrying a tray looked up in surprise as the door banged open.

  “My...my lord,” he stammered. “What—”

  “We’re here to see Laird MacSual,” Ramsay snapped. “He’s expecting us.”

  The serving man swallowed and turned on his heel. “This way.”

  They followed him to a door at the end of the corridor. The man knocked then pushed it open a crack and stuck his head inside. “The MacAuley are here to see ye, my lord. Shall I send—”

  Ramsay pushed the door open and strode past him into the room.

  “Where is she?” he demanded. “Where is Jess?”

  Laird MacSual was sitting at his writing desk with a piece of parchment laid out in front of him. He slowly put down his quill, placed his hands flat on the desk, and glared up at Ramsay.

  “Is storming into a man’s private study the MacAuley’s normal way to open negotiation for alliance?” Laird MacSual may be old, with wispy hair and failing eyes but his voice still snapped with command.

  “Where is she?” Ramsay repeated.

  MacSual sighed. “I assume ye are referring to Jessica Maxwell? She is safe.”

  “I want to see her.”

  “Do ye now? Maybe she doesnae want to see ye. She is a guest in this house and will remain so until she decides to leave of her own free will. Now are ye going to sit down or do I need to call my guards?”

  Ramsay began to reply but Ross laid a restraining hand on his arm. “Easy, brother. Remember why we’re here.”

  MacSual nodded to three chairs in front of his desk. “Right then, gentleman,” he said, indicating for them to sit. “Shall we begin?”<
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  JESS STARED DOWN AT the pages before her but didn’t see the words. Copernicus’s treatise was written in Latin anyway and she doubted that the smattering she’d learned at school would help her to make head or tail of it. But in truth, even if she could read it, she doubted she’d be able to concentrate.

  She’d watched from the tower window as Ramsay, accompanied by his brother and cousin, had strode up to the manor house. Even from that distance, she could see the tension written through his body in the way he marched purposefully up to the gates. Lord, how had she gotten to know him so well?

  She’d lain awake most of the night thinking about him. Thinking about everything he’d told her, everything he hadn’t told her. When she’d seen him this morning her heart had lurched, and she wanted nothing more than to go running down to him. Which, was precisely why she’d stayed away from the meeting. She couldn’t afford to let her emotions get the better of her. She needed a clear head to think of a way out of this mess.

  She flipped the book closed with a thump. What were they discussing down there? Would Laird MacSual support Ramsay and Ross? Had she done enough to convince him?

  She wandered around the room, examining the scientific apparatus lying on the shelves and leafing through the odd book here and there. One whole shelf was filled with leather-bound journals. She took one down and opened it. It was filled with meticulously neat script that seemed to be observations of the heavens and other natural phenomena. There were carefully labeled diagrams with explanations written underneath. The writing wasn’t Laird MacSual’s. Thumbing through to the front she read, Observations on the Nature of Things, Lady MacSual, Winter, 1545.

  Ah, so this was written by Laird MacSual’s wife.