Rise of a Legend (Guardian of Scotland Book 1) (31 page)

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Authors: Amy Jarecki

Tags: #Romance, #Historical, #Scottish, #Time Travel, #Literature & Fiction, #Historical Fiction, #Historical Romance, #Ancient World

BOOK: Rise of a Legend (Guardian of Scotland Book 1)
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He pulled her close and filled his senses with the intoxicating bouquet of her wild tresses. “Ye are so fine to me, Eva MacKay.”

“As you are to me, William Wallace.”

Author’s Note

 

 

Thank you for joining me for
Rise of a Legend
. I have always been fascinated by William Wallace’s tale, and got the idea for this story when I visited Scotland in 2013. Interestingly, there are many unknowns in this stage of history. The poet, Blind Harry, wrote an epic poem about William’s life in the sixteenth century, 150 years after Wallace. It is not clear where he sourced his information, but as history has unfolded, it is clear many of Harry’s musings were conjecture. One of my greatest sources for accuracy was
William Wallace
by Andrew Fisher. Throughout this series, I referred to Fisher’s work for key benchmarks relating to William’s life. I also referred to
On the Trail of William Wallace
by David R. Ross for landmarks. Ross’s attempt to piece together the reality of Wallace’s life, is well done, though does not strictly adhere to the facts as Fisher does.

After I was about three-quarters through writing the
Rise of a Legend
manuscript, I watched the movie
Braveheart
. I hadn’t seen it in years, and after my research, I wanted to give it another go. Though Braveheart is a wonderfully entertaining film, it lacks in historical accuracy. I do not want to downplay the riveting story of
Braveheart
, but just say that I attempted to seek more accuracy in
Rise of a Legend
and its sequel,
In the
Kingdom’s Name
.

Once I’d finished the first draft of Rise of a Legend, I again traveled to Scotland to stand in the places about which I had written. One of the craziest experiences of this trip was when I went to Fail. I wanted to see the monastery foundations, but wasn’t allowed on the property by the owner. He was quite upset that I had arrived with camera in hand, and at first thought I was a police officer or government official. Once I convinced him I was merely an author, he made me leave my camera in the car while he answered a few of my questions. He did tell me that the foundation was still visible, though the wall that I referred to in this book was removed in the 1950’s. He remembered the wall as a child, and said it was as tall as an enormous ash tree to which he pointed.

It was pouring rain when I visited Loudoun Hill. Though most of the surrounding land has been cleared for grazing, I tried to picture the scene forested. As a major pass to the north, in Wallace’s day it would have been thick with trees which made it ideal for an ambush.

The picture on the first cover (which has now been replaced) was of a statue of William Wallace that can be found in Stirling on the corner of King and Spittal Streets in front of the Athenaeum building. It was forged in sandstone by Handyside Richie in the 1800’s and funded by William Drummond. The statue is in Grecian style depicting Wallace’s great sword on his back, a ram’s horn in his left hand and his psalter in his right. If you ever go to Stirling, I highly suggest seeking out this statue. It is awe inspiring.

Interestingly, nearly all of the castles existing in Wallace’s day have either been completely ruined, partially ruined, or improved so much over the centuries they are hardly recognizable. Nonetheless, if you are a Scottish history zealot like me, I urge you to follow the path of William Wallace. He rose from the common ranks and led a nation when it was embroiled in a time of crisis and tyranny.

Indeed, William Wallace is a man and legend who must never be forgotten.

Excerpt from Amy’s next novel:

 

Follow along as William and Eva’s saga continues with the next
Guardian of Scotland
volume:
IN THE KINGDOM’S NAME
. Here’s a wee peek:

 

Chapter One

 

Selkirk, Scotland, late September, 1297

Holding her breath, Eva MacKay shot a glance over her left shoulder then her right. Alone at the rear of the nave, she stood behind a gathering of the most influential nobles in Scotland. Temptation made her fingers twitch. This might be her only chance. Gingerly, she slid her hand into the pouch hanging from her belt and palmed her smartphone. She’d be a total fool not to snap a photo of such a momentous occasion.

But if caught…

With a shudder, Eva looked again to ensure no one watched.

She pushed the “on” button and drew the phone out. With a quick swipe of her finger, familiar icons illuminated. After selecting the camera, she turned off the flash and held it up, snapping two quick pictures. Before Eva dared look at them, she slipped the shiny black rectangle back into her pocket—more like a purse, really, fashioned from the same material as her thirteenth-century gown.

The sound of a man clearing his throat came from Eva’s left. Jolting, her stomach somersaulted with a queasy leap. John Comyn, Lord of Badenoch, stepped from behind an enormous stone pillar. He stood for a moment and squinted at her with suspicion etched across his hard, pinched features. Eva folded her arms, raised her chin and tiptoed to resume her place beside Lady Christina while watching the snake out of the corner of her eye. In the short time she’d come to know Scotland’s nobles, she trusted Comyn the least, with the Earl of March a close second.

As the Lord of Badenoch brushed past her and joined his wife, Eva exhaled and turned her attention to the front of the Kirk of the Forest. Lord John Stewart, the High Steward of Scotland, presided over the ceremony, flanked by Canon Lamberton. “Kneel,” he instructed William Wallace and Sir Andrew Murray.

They complied as commanded, wearing full battle armor of hauberks and mail coifs, adorned with surcoats emblazoned with the St. Andrew’s Cross. Lord Stewart placed his palms upon their heads. “By the power invested in me granted by the Privy Council of this great nation, I hereby declare Mr. Wallace and Sir Murray joint Guardians of the Kingdom of Scotland. As witnessed by your gallant bravery and cunning defeat of the English at Stirling Bridge, ye shall not only preside over matters of state, ye shall be Commanders of the Army of Scotland and the community of the same Kingdom.”

The High Steward paused for a moment and panned his gaze across the gathering of Scotland’s highest ranking nobles. “Do ye swear to uphold all laws and decrees of the Kingdom of Scotland?”

“I so swear,” each man said in unison.

“Do ye swear in the presence of all in attendance to defend this great nation against Scotland’s enemies?”

“I so swear.”

“Do ye promise to safeguard the rights of the crown until Scotland once again sees our monarch returned the throne?”

The two men regarded each other with a solemn nod. “I so promise.”

Then Lord Stewart stood back and raised his palms. “Go forth and act to uphold the interests and decrees of Scotland. From this day henceforth, all subjects shall honor ye as the undisputed Guardians of this blessed Kingdom.”

Eva pressed her palms together and touched her fingers to her lips while tears blurred her vision. Unwilling to miss a single moment, she blinked in rapid succession. Indeed, this day was the most uplifting in the five months since she’d been hurled into the thirteenth century.

Together William and Andrew stood, bowed, then turned and strode down the aisle. Though at six-foot, Sir Andrew Murray was inordinately tall for a man of this era, Wallace towered over him by more than a head. Of all the nobles in attendance, William was the only commoner, but by far, the most impressive warrior. Chestnut curls peeked from beneath his coif, framing a handsomely chiseled face made fierce by his cropped auburn beard. Even though he wore thick mail armor, anyone who saw him would be impressed with his well-toned, iron-muscled frame. Wrapped in tight chausses, William’s powerful legs stretched against his thigh-length hauberk with every stride.

When he caught Eva’s eye, a slight smile turned up one corner of his mouth, his crystal blue eyes sparkling with the flicker of the aisle candles nested in their tall, iron stands. In truth, William Wallace could make Eva melt merely with a look and today was no different. She clapped a hand over her heart to stifle its rapid pounding.

No one knew why the mystic powers behind the ancient medallion chose her, pulling Eva from the twenty-first century ruins of Fail Monastery through some sort of time warp where Wallace rescued her from nearly being murdered by the sharp blade of an English sword. Since arriving in the midst of a battle between the English and the Scots, three things had guided her decisions. First: as a historical journalist, she religiously chronicled all of the events she witnessed. The second: she could not change past events. If she did anything to materially change the past, her time in William’s arms would come to an abrupt end. And finally, Eva refused to lie to William, which always seemed to land her in more sticky situations than she ever would have thought possible.

But none of that mattered right now. The only man in the thirteenth century, or the twenty-first for that matter, who could rock her world just strode past and gave her a sexy wink.

“Goodness, Andrew grows paler by the day,” said Lady Murray from behind.

Eva’s elation immediately ebbed when she turned and regarded her friend’s worried mien. Sir Andrew had been injured during the Battle of Stirling Bridge and had suffered since. Worse, the bairn in his wife’s pregnant belly had begun to show. If only Eva could do something to help him—help the pair of them. She patted Christina’s arm. “Today is momentous for him.”

“Aye, I am ever so proud.”

“As you should be.” Eva stepped into the aisle and grasped Christina’s hand. “Come, let’s join them.”

At five-foot eleven, Eva could see over most heads, and she pulled the petite woman through the throng. Once they squeezed out the thick double doors of the church, she spotted William surrounded by men dressed in more velvet than it would take to stitch together a set of curtains for a theater. She led Christina off to the side, away from the stream of foot traffic. “Perhaps we should wait here.”

The lady smoothed her hands over her silk wimple and nodded. “Verra well.”

Lord Comyn stepped to Eva’s right and folded his arms. “What’s in your purse, lassie?”

“Pardon?” She feigned an exasperated expression. “I have no idea to what you are referring.”

He smirked. “Och aye, ye do. And whatever it is, I’ve every suspicion ’tisna something meant for a house of God.”

Eva’s chin ticked up. “Are you threatening me, m’lord?”

Scoffing, he gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Heaven forbid someone threaten William Wallace’s woman.”

Narrowing her eyes, she glared at him for a moment. Even if he’d seen her take the pictures, he wouldn’t have a clue what she was up to. And she’d turned the flash off. He had absolutely no grounds on which to make any accusations. With a dismissive nod she turned her attention back to Christina.

“But—” Comyn stepped closer, making the hackles on the back of Eva’s neck stand on end. “One day that big fella will fall out of favor and then a pretty mistress such as yourself willna be so smug.”

“I beg your pardon, Lord Comyn?” Lady Murray threw her shoulders back. “Ye overinflate your station. Regardless of your noble birth, Miss Eva is the daughter of a knight and I daresay she ought not to be spoken to like a mere commoner.”

“Not to worry.” Eva flashed a wry grin. “I am very comfortable being identified as among the loyal servants of Scotland. Unlike some high-ranking gentry present whose questionable actions have proved their very hypocrisy,
and
their willingness to change allegiances on a whim only to protect their personal wealth.”

“Is all well here?” William’s deep voice rumbled as he climbed the steps toward them.

“Ye’d best put a leash on your barb-tongued wench.” Adjusting his collar, Lord Comyn stretched his neck and strode off.

With a gasp, Christina drew a hand to her chest. “How discourteous.”

Wrapping his fingers around the hilt of his dirk, William’s gaze shot to Eva.

She waved her palms with an apologetic cringe. “It’s nothing. I baited him, is all. Told him I’d rather mingle with the commoners than a mob of noble hypocrites.”

Tense as a lion ready to pounce, William glared at Comyn’s retreating form. As the Lord of Badenoch was swallowed by the crowd, Wallace let out a heavy exhale, relaxed his grip and regarded her. “Och, lassie, there’s never a want for a bit o’ excitement when ye’re about.” He placed his palm in the small of her back and turned his lips to her ear. “But regardless, if we werena celebrating with half of Scotland’s nobles, I’d challenge the sputtering hog to a lesson in chivalry.”

With a grin, Eva leaned into him as they proceeded toward the path to Selkirk Castle. “Aye?” she teased. “A man as reed-thin as Lord Comyn would give you no sport whatsoever.” Her twists of Auld Scots phrases became stronger by the day.

Sir Andrew joined them. “Trouble with the Lord of Badenoch?”

“That man is full of self-importance,” said Lady Christina, placing her palm atop her husband’s offered elbow—the one not in a sling.

Sir Andrew sighed. “Agreed, but so are over half the gentry in our company.”

“Well, he’s not worth a second thought.” With a sideways glance, Eva grinned at William. “Besides this is a momentous occasion, too important to be filled with misgivings about jealous nobility. Tell me, what has Lord Scott ordered for your celebratory dinner?”

“Anything but swan,” said William with a chuckle. “As I recall, ’tis not your favorite.”

“Yuck.” Eva made a sour face. “It tastes like fishy mutton.”

“That it does, though ye use the oddest words, Eva.
Yuck?
” Lady Christina peeked around her husband. “Wherever do ye come up with them?”

William grasped Eva’s hand and squeezed. He was the only person in this century who knew the truth about her past and even the fearless warrior still had trouble believing it. He needn’t worry, because she had no intension of revealing her secrets to anyone else. Momentarily, she strolled along the wooded path with her friends as if she belonged. “I traveled a great deal with my father. In my experience, I’d say sailors use the most colorful language.”

William cringed. “Och, dunna tell me ye’ll soon be teaching Lady Murray to talk like a pirate.”

The lady shook her finger. “Oh no. Miss Eva must spend a month or two with me and I’ll set her to rights.”

As they moved toward Selkirk Castle, Eva rather liked the idea of spending time with Christina Murray and learning how to be a proper thirteenth-century lady…until her gut squeezed.
Damn
. Thoughts of the future always had a way of dampening her enthusiasm.

 

End of Excerpt from
IN THE KINGDOM’S NAME

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