Chapter Six

Cassie

 

 

“That’s not possible.” Cassie eased away from Callum, a wariness filling her that she hadn’t felt up until now. It was as if he’d become the lunatic the Scots had thought her to be.

“I know it sounds crazy,” Callum said, “but it’s true. I came here six months ago, on the coattails of the King of Wales and his wife, Meg. Meg was born in Pennsylvania and our new King of England is their son, David.”

“You are out of your mind,” Cassie said, trying to stave off the hysterical laughter that was brewing in her chest. She’d been taught to swallow down her emotions, but she couldn’t swallow this. “You have to be.”

“Meg has traveled back and forth to this world three times,” Callum said. “The first time was in 1268 when she met and married Llywelyn. She returned to our world later that year before David’s birth. The second time was in August of 1284 when she was flying in a commuter plane from Pasco, Washington to Boise, Idaho.” Callum paused.

Cassie’s mocking laughter dissipated in an instant. Her breath caught in her throat, and she could barely speak around it. “What?”

“The pilot lost control of his plane in a storm that shorted out his instruments. Instead of crashing into a mountain, he brought Meg to the Middle Ages. They came through somewhere on the west coast of Scotland, though they didn’t land there. The pilot, Marty, immediately flew south. He dumped Meg off at Hadrian’s Wall and then came north, never to be heard from again.”

Cassie had both hands to her mouth, trying to calm her breathing which was coming in quick bursts. “So … so you’re saying … can you really be saying that he brought me?”

“To be fair, it wasn’t the pilot who had the ability to travel between worlds, but Meg. She has no real control of it. It isn’t conscious but seems to happen when world shifting will save her life.”

“And the third time?” Cassie said.

Callum’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Six months ago. That was my turn.”

In Cassie’s family, white Englishmen didn’t engender a lot of sympathy, no matter how difficult their struggles, but her heart stirred for Callum now. “How did that come about?”

“I was trying to stop her from coming back,” Callum said. “It’s my own fault I’m here.”

Cassie eased back from him, realizing that as they’d been speaking, she’d moved so close to him that their faces were only a foot apart. “Then Meg could take us back, Callum. Back home. Couldn’t she?”

Callum had been leaning forward too, but now he straightened. “Who’s to say?”

His tone struck Cassie as off. As if they’d been revealing truths to each other, and now he was hiding something. “But she’s done it three times. Why couldn’t she again?”

Callum let out a sharp breath. “The problem is the way she does it. I’ve spent far too much time considering the possibilities myself, believe me. What’s she supposed to do to help us? Fly an airplane into a mountain? Deliberately cause a car crash? Jump off a cliff?”

Cassie pursed her lips as she studied him. “I didn’t really catch it the first time, but you meant that her traveling happens only when she’s in danger, is that right?”

“When we fell through time most recently, when I came here with her, she jumped off the balcony at Chepstow Castle. It’s a four-story drop into the Wye River.”

Cassie sat back on her heels, her enthusiasm quashed. She felt reality condensing around her again. “Oh. That’s a problem.” Then she got to her feet and turned towards the fire, so Callum couldn’t see her face as she composed herself.

“Just because you can’t get back to our world doesn’t mean you have to stay here, in this place,” Callum said.

Cassie stopped in the act of stirring the pot over the fire, the spoon suspended over the porridge. “What do you mean?” she said without turning around.

“David is the King of England,” Callum said. “He grew up in Oregon, like you, until he was fourteen. He would welcome you to London or to any of his castles in Wales, any time you wanted to come. You don’t have to live alone anymore.”

Cassie held very still. Callum’s words had frozen her feet to the floor. Not live here? One hand went to her long braid. Cassie caught the end in her fist and tugged on it. “Let’s—let’s leave that for another day.” She tossed the braid over her shoulder and turned to look at Callum. “We have more important things to worry about right now.”

“Like getting word to King David about what has happened?” Callum said.

Cassie laughed. “Not hardly. That can wait. Aren’t you concerned about what the MacDougalls have done with the rest of the men in your party?”

Callum’s mouth dropped open. Cassie had surprised him. “You mean there were survivors?”

“About a dozen,” Cassie said. “The MacDougalls gathered them up and marched them away, heading west.”

“Do you know where they took them?”

“My guess is Mugdock Castle, or close to it,” Cassie said. “I’m surprised that Lord Patrick is openly involved, but even if your friends aren’t there, he’ll know where they went. This is his land. The MacDougalls are his allies, and they wouldn’t have marched across it without telling him they were coming, even if they didn’t tell him why.”

“Where’s the MacDougall stronghold?” Callum said.

“Dunstaffnage. Fifty miles from here.” Cassie had been there. The castle had been built on a prominent rock and was surrounded on three sides by the sea. Meg and Marty, admittedly unbeknownst to them, had dumped Cassie in a forest a mile to the east of the castle when they’d shifted worlds.

“Too far.” Callum’s chin was set as he thought.

It looked like Callum was starting to think like a soldier again. Just as long as he didn’t think he could act like one too soon. That concussion was going to give him trouble for at least a week.

“There’s too much daylight between here and there,” Callum said.

“I think you’re right,” Cassie said. “They had wounded of their own and would have had to go to ground closer than Dunstaffnage, at least for what was left of the night.”

Callum looked hard at Cassie. “Do you really think they hoped to capture—or kill—King David? How could they possibly have thought that would end well for them?”

Cassie shrugged. She’d heard about the Battle in the Severn Estuary nearly a year ago. The traitor, William de Valence, was famous up here too, though more because his daughter had just married a Scotsman than because of his plot to kill King David. Perhaps Alexander MacDougall thought he was a better man than Valence. Until now, the ins and outs of Scottish politics had concerned her only when they threatened her survival.

“I can’t tell you,” Cassie said, “except that the MacDougalls have never been known for their timidity.”

“Did you see what happened to the prisoners?” Callum said. “Did you see who they were?”

Cassie shook her head. “I don’t know faces. It’s not like the rulers here traipse around to charity auctions and get their picture taken. I saw twelve bedraggled, blood-spattered, defeated men.”

“What were you doing there in the first place?” Callum said.

He had finally asked the question Cassie had been waiting for since he woke up, before they got side-tracked by the time travel thing. “I told you about warning the clan chief about marauders on his land?” Cassie said.

Callum nodded.

“Lord Patrick and I have an understanding: I let him know if I see something that might concern him and he makes sure that nobody bothers me.”

“So you spotted the MacDougalls—when?”

“I trailed them all afternoon,” Cassie said. “Since the MacDougalls are allied with the Grahams, I would’ve let them go once I found out who they were, but then they went to ground at the ambush site and didn’t advertise themselves in the way that they sometimes do. I decided I’d better stay and see what they were up to—for my own protection if for no other reason.”

“You saved my life,” Callum said.

“Maybe,” Cassie said. “You would have woken on your own. What would have been bad is if you’d looked for help from the wrong people and blurted out what happened without knowing who their friends were. My guess is that once the MacDougalls realized that King David wasn’t leading the company, they got out of there as quickly as they could. Do you remember a man shouting for everyone to stop?”

Callum nodded.

“That was Alexander MacDougall himself.”

“If they’re smart, they’ll keep the prisoners until they can trade them for immunity from prosecution,” Callum said.

“Good luck with that,” Cassie said. “Scots aren’t known for their forgiveness.”

“At least Robbie got away,” Callum said.

“Who?” Cassie said.

“Robbie Bruce is James Stewart’s squire,” Callum said. “It was his horse that bolted right before the MacDougalls attacked.”

“I saw that,” Cassie said. “I’m glad. He looked awfully young.”

“So … Lord Patrick,” Callum said, switching topics without warning. “He never objected to your way of life or your clothing?”

“He objects, but he doesn’t stop me,” Cassie said. “You have to understand that up here, everyone who isn’t a lord lives in remote hamlets or isolated huts. People are vulnerable to raiding parties. My information saved him a herd of cattle. He repays me by ignoring me.”

Callum made a gesture that took in the whole of the room. “And by the loan of some tools?”

“That too.”

“He’s not going to like it that this time you’re coming in on the other side,” Callum said.

Cassie gave him a long look. “Is that what I’m doing? Has King David already decided in favor of Bruce?”

“He hadn’t when I left,” Callum said.

“Then I’m on the side of peace,” Cassie said. “The MacDougalls killed a bishop. They captured your friends. It may be that Lord Graham doesn’t know what really happened.”

“And if he does and condones what the MacDougalls have done?” Callum said.

“Then we’ll see,” Cassie said.