The Inscription (3 page)

“I was in China.”

Since her father’s death at the hand of Subedei, his mother had become less connected with the present, although her mind vividly recalled the past. The events she spoke of had occurred over sixty years ago.

She sighed. “I think his name was Ford. Yes, that was it. That was the name we found attached to his :eyes. Ford.”

Amber reentered the bathing room and looked around. Una was sitting in a chair facing the fire, reading a book that was bound in leather and etched with gold and red designs.

“A good soaking in the tub will set you to feeling as night as the sun on a clear day in June. There are linens and soap Lady Marcail brought with her from ‘ranee. I shall be leaving you. The laird and his men Have appetites large enough to empty the biggest pantry, not that they will taste a thing, but I need to make sure there is food, and plenty of it.” Una laughed as she stood. She patted Amber on the cheek and handed her the book.

“Take care with it, the laid brought it back with him from one of his travels. He said that I would enjoy the ale of the ‘Wife of Bath.’” She winked. “I cannot understand what the lad is talking about I have had my three husbands. The woman in the story had herself a fine time with five.”

Amber smiled and opened the book as Una shuffled >out the door. It was
The Canterbury Tales
written in the >original Old English style on pages that resembled parchment. She turned to the “Knight’s Tale.” The condition of the book was remarkable. Her aunt had one similar to this that she kept under a glass case.

The pages of her aunt’s book were brittle and cracked with age, and there was an inscription on the inside cover. She imagined this was how her aunt’s must have looked when it was hot off the press or, rather, fresh from the copier’s hands.

She rubbed her fingers over the hand-tooled leather cover with its gold leaf embedded in the design. Carved in the bottom right-hand corner were the initials “L.M.” An uneasiness crept over her. The same initials were carved in the cover of her aunt’s book as well. It had to be a coincidence. Probably the work of the bookbinder, or the man who did the intricate designs.

Amber set the book down on the table. The water in the tub was inviting. She pulled the linen gown off, threw it over the chair, and climbed in. She leaned back and closed her eyes. It wasn’t as hot as she liked, but still it soothed her aching muscles. Water sloshed against the sides of the tub and the wood crackled in the fireplace.

She wished she could remember how she got here, but there were only pieces to the puzzle, not a complete picture. She’d been thrown from her VW when it hit the water and was caught in a fast-moving current. And she remembered his eyes. She looked into the flames. Maybe she should stay for a couple more days. It would certainly please her aunt. Her thoughts did a fast-forward and she reviewed the goals she’d set for herself. She didn’t have time for any type of relationship. It was all she could handle just keeping up with teaching and studying to get her administration credentials. Her head began to throb again.

A breeze rippled across the bathwater. Amber shuddered and sat up. She was alive. That was all the sense she needed to make of this situation. Reaching for the soap, she began rubbing it between her hands until there were thick foamy bubbles between her fingers. The scent of jasmine drifted through the air. She breathed in the rich fragrance deeply before washing her hair.

She dosed her eyes and sank back into the warm water. Just a few more minutes and she’d get dressed and find a phone; then her life would be back to normal.

Amber awoke with a start. Someone had touched her shoulder. Cold water sloshed over the top of the tub as she sat up. She shivered. How long had she been asleep? A very pregnant young woman, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, stood beside the tub. Her skin was pale and there were shadows under her eyes. She’d been crying. Despite the pregnancy, the young woman was skin and bones. Amber had seen this look before at the high school where she taught. She felt sorry for her and smothered the impulse to ask what she could do to help.

“I am Molly, milady, and ‘tis sorry I am to awake you. You were so still I thought…” Her voice lowered. “I thought you dead.”

“Not yet, but I might be if I stay in this tub. I’m freezing.” Amber reached for a linen towel and ignored the impulse to ask Molly about the pregnancy. She stepped out of the tub and dried off.

“My name is Amber.”

The fire burned down to glowing coals in die hearth. She hadn’t seen any electric lights or outlets so there was a good chance this part of the castle hadn’t been wired for electricity. Well, she’d never minded camping, and this was pretty close. It wasn’t as if she was going to be here very long. Molly seemed rooted to the floor.

“Is anything wrong?”

Molly nodded and then quickly shook her head. “I am to help you dress.”

“Okay, I’ve seen the clothes and I’ll welcome the help. But you’re looking at me as if I’ve sprouted a second head.”

“Una says I should get used to the strange ways people speak.” Molly- lowered her voice. “ ‘Tis not an easy task.”

Amber smiled and wrapped the towel around her. She’d never thought of herself as having an accent, but Aunt Dora would say that she always spoke as if she was in a hurry. “I’ve been told I talk too fast. So, if you need me to repeat myself, just ask.”

Molly hesitated. “The others all have pinched faces and sour expressions. You are different.”

“I’ve been told that before. Now let’s see about getting me dressed. All of a sudden I’m starving.”

Amber walked through the entrance that separated the two rooms. Clothes were heaped on the bed. She took a deep breath. It wasn’t going to take hours to get dressed. It would take days. She walked over to the bed.

“Well, Molly, where do we start?”

Shields, gleaming armor, and weapons lined the walls of the Chamber of Knowledge. Lachlan walked over to where a line of square holes were cut into the stone. Rolls of parchment in varying sizes were stacked in each slot. He welcomed the diversion. Only a day had passed since he had rescued the woman from Loch Ness. Already she had unsettled the orderly life in which he lived. He pulled out one of the maps and spread it hastily on the long table. It depicted Urquhart and the surrounding highlands. Angus approached as Lachlan studied the map. The man was almost equal to him in size and strength. He was a trusted friend. There was no other he would wish by his side in battle.

Flames from the candles flickered as Angus pointed to the area where Loch Ness bordered the castle.

“Subedei will bring his forces by water again and attempt to overpower us with his numbers. If our information is correct, he has both the resources and the mercenaries to level Urquhart.”

“Revenge runs hot through his blood, but he will not come by water.”

Angus nodded. “Aye. ‘Tis true. I forget the beastie of Loch Ness has proven to be our greatest ally.”

The dampness that permeated the underground chamber chilled him. “I should have been here when Subedei attacked the castle. I was the one he sought.”

Angus leaned against the table. “Nay, it is the Council of Seven he vows to destroy for what they did to him. You but saw that the decree was carried out. He knew the price for his actions.”

His sworn enemy haunted his thoughts like a specter in the dark corners of a deserted castle. “He raped my sister and left her naked and battered on the streets of Naples.”

“Subedei was castrated, according to our laws.”

“ ‘Tis not enough. Were it not for my mother’s wishes I would have preferred to cut out his black heart.”

“You may yet have the chance. It is said he seeks vengeance for all who had a hand in his punishment.

Zarie, the man who carried out the order, was found hacked to pieces. Subedei’s attempts to take Urquhart foiled when all his ships and crew sank- into the depths of Loch Ness.“

Lachlan gripped the hilt of the blade strapped in his belt. He had been in Egypt, fighting as a mercenary, when Subedei stormed Urquhart. Too late he had learned of the fate of his brothers and sisters. Upon his return, his mother had stared at him with the vacant expression of one who had seen her children slaughtered and her husband die in her arms. She had not put the blame on his head, but he could not wash away the guilt. Grief had not taken him. His only emotion had been his vow of revenge. Subedei’s message was clear. The Mongol warrior would return to level Urquhart and murder all responsible for what was done to him. This time Lachlan would be here, waiting. Vengeance was sweeter if taken slowly.

Angus’ voice echoed through the chamber and brought Lachlan back from his dark thoughts.

“With you as leader, Subedei’s forces will be no match for your Highland clans. A fierce lot. Their ancestors drove the Roman legions from their shores. A madman, such as Subedei, will be an easy victory.”

Lachlan folded his arms across his chest. Angus had lived five hundred and fifty years longer than he, and fought in battles where the feats of valor had been exaggerated until legends had replaced the harsh truths. It had dulled his friend’s ability to judge another’s strength. Lachlan’s own thirst for battle had pulled him from his responsibilities. His people had paid for his carelessness with their lives. He leaned over the map and studied the terrain until the images blurred before his eyes. His thinking must be clear, if he was to anticipate Subedei’s battle plan.

He looked at Angus. “The villages under our protection will be Subedei’s first objective. Once he believes our forces are divided, he will attack. Failing, he will use the ploy of retreat to draw us from the castle. Our clans will be slaughtered.”

Angus scratched his beard. “You give the man much credit. Maybe too much.”

“Subedei trained under Genghis Khan.”

The older man shrugged. “We drove the Mongols from our borders when they sought to conquer all of Europe. This time will be no different.”

Lachlan stepped closer to the table. “What minstrel’s tale have you been listening to that you have the facts so twisted? Europe did not defeat die Mongols. They left because Genghis died, and their princes returned to vie for control of the empire their leader had created. That is what saved Europe.”

Angus’ brows drew together. “Had I realized, when I sent you to study their culture, that you would return idolizing them, I would have reconsidered.”

“I do not honor or praise a man beyond his ability.”

“There is such a thing as too much caution, it will alarm your people needlessly. We must seek out our enemy and destroy him before he lays to waste everything that crosses his path.”

Lachlan looked at Angus, the men who had led him into his first battle when he was barely strong enough to wield a claymore. Angus was a warrior of unlimited courage. Lachlan shared his friend’s recklessness in the heat of war, but if they were to defeat the great Mongol warrior, they must use cunning.

“You have fought with armies whose rules were governed by lines, maneuvers, and chivalry; generals who believed in wearing down an enemy by battering them head-on. I have fought with the Mongols. They swept through China with the ease your horse tramples the meadow grass under its hooves.“ He clenched his fists at his sides. ”If it is an unwillingness to change that holds you back, say now, and another can take your place. We must be on guard that the battle be not more important than the reason for it.“

Angus’ voice was defensive. “Our methods have served us well in past wars. I see no reason to change.”

The confrontation ahead might easily wipe out a third of their numbers and more still if Subedei’s skill as a warrior were underestimated. Lachlan needed to know what each man would risk to preserve his people. Lachlan felt his temper boil to the surface and knew it was fueled by the need to have his friend realize the strength of their enemy. But Angus would have to choose. Their race’s continuance depended upon it. He took a knife out of his belt and drove it into the table. The blade quivered between them and marked the invisible line Angus must cross. The metal seemed to glow white hot in the candlelight.

“Take care, friend, that your confidence does not override your wisdom. It will be as I have said.”

Angus stared back at him, a look of resolve on his face. His jaw slackened as he bowed his head. “You inherited the role of leader of the Council when your father was killed, but you earned our loyalty by placing our wishes before your own. It will be as you command.”

There was no animosity in Angus’ voice, no condescending tone, only obedience. They had started in life as mentor and child, but Lachlan was born into the ruling family. When his father died, their roles had changed forever. Lachlan pried the blade from the table. The council looked to him as the leader who would take them into the next century. His first loyalty was to the good of all. At times he wished he and Angus were ordinary solders who fought side by side for a king or queen, or equal terms and for equal goals. But it was not to be. “Come, ‘tis time for us to join our men.”

In the Great Hall, Lachlan leaned against the whitewashed stone wall near the window drinking his ale. Soon his men would gather for the evening meal, but for now he could enjoy the quiet. Amber’s presence in Urquhart was already known and her position as his betrothed made clear. All that remained was to tell her. He swirled the ale in his tankard and took a drink. It was warm and bitter. He knew not how she would react to the proposal of handfasting. The words of the legend echoed through his mind like the haunting notes of a bagpipe. She could be the woman in the legend. He drained the ale from his tankard.

The light of the torches glowed on the walls and kept the evening shadows away. Large oak panel squares, with the crests of the Highland clans painted in each, covered the ceiling. The idea belonged to his sister, Elaenor. He had encouraged her interest in the task, hoping the research would distract her from her solitary thoughts. However, the project had failed. While the ceiling was magnificent, Elaenor still suffered. What Subedei had done to her older sister, Beatrice, had shaken young Elaenor to the core.

A half dozen men, clad in the MacAlpin plaid, saluted him as they entered the Great Hall. He nodded and watched as they sat down at one of the long trestle tables by the fire. These were good men, loyal and able warriors. Their laughter filled the corners of the room. Angus entered. His friend was trailed by barking wolfhounds.

Servants filed into the room carrying foaming pitchers of ale, trays of steaming salmon, wedges of cheese, and brown bread. The sound of voices and the clatter of earthenware blurred together until none could be distinguished from the other. Lachlan had the sudden impulse to retreat to the solitude of his chamber. The vision of the woman who occupied those quarters halted his thoughts. Amber. She was well named. Her hair shone like the blaze of a fire, and her eyes… their warmth stirred his blood. He reached for his tankard. It was empty.

A shout rose above the din. He looked in the direction of the sound. Angus was likely winning another wager. He saw his red-bearded friend take ale from a serving maid before approaching him. Angus’ smile spread wide over his face as he filled both their tankards and set the pitcher on the table. He slapped Lachlan on the shoulder.

“If given a chance, your men would wager their pay on the number of eggs to be found in an eagle’s nest.”

“Aye, and glad for the diversion.”

One of the wolfhounds growled and fought another for a meaty bone. The men in the room turned their attention toward the dogs, laughing and making wagers as to the outcome. Lachlan watched the struggle. The warmth of the room closed in. He and Angus were not unlike these beasts. They were tied to this world, living within the rules that governed it, yet they were separate. The two worlds could coexist, but never join in a permanent union. It was one of the laws of his race. He accepted his fate, but lately had begun to question the reasoning behind it. The price of long life left a measure of his kind insane, and alone.

The larger of the wolfhounds let out a howl that vibrated through the Great Hall. It sank its teeth into the neck of the other animal. Blood gathered on the dark fur. The cheers of the men increased in volume until the room was filled with the sound. Abruptly the large dog released its hold and allowed the other to slip away.

A hush fell over the room. Lachlan understood why the beast had not killed its opponent. Death would have been pointless, the animal had won. But he admired the wolfhound, nonetheless. In the heat of battle reason was often overlooked. He wondered if he would always have the strength of will this animal possessed. Of late, he had begun to doubt.

Muffled conversations resumed and the sound of metal coins clinking together, as wagers were settled, filled the room.

Angus wiped his hand on his plaid and took another drink. “What think you of our new guest?”

Lachlan tightened his hold on the tankard, feeling the smooth, cold metal. He had thought of little else. “She is well enough.”

“Well enough?” Angus laughed and slapped Lachlan on the back. “Those words are as stuffed with meaning as one of Una’s meat pies. “ Twould be my wager that the lass is bonnie, indeed. Mayhaps I should introduce myself to the lady.”

Lachlan was surprised at the jealous tone of his voice, but could not stop the words. “The lady is not for you.”

“Ease down, lad. ‘Twas only a jest. But perhaps this lady will succeed where others have failed.”

Lachlan smiled. Angus knew him too well.

His friend shrugged. “Marcail tells me the two of you are betrothed. What thinks the lass of the arrangement?” Angus winked. “A year and a day; much mischief can be made.”