The Empire and the Wolf King (Kaitlyn and the Highlander #21)

40. Chapter 40 - Lady Mairead

CHAPTER 40 - LADY MAIREAD

THE KINGDOM OF RIAGHALBANE - 2391

A s we came tae my office I ordered a bottle of champagne tae celebrate and sent everyone else away. I collapsed in my chair behind my desk, placing the scrap of cloth that declared Asgall’s death on the blotter in front of me. Reading it once more I said, “Och, twas verra emotional.”

I put the bundle of devices tae the side. I wasna ready tae go through it yet. I wanted tae enjoy the moment afore I counted my spoils.

He said, “Yes, it was.”

I said, simply, “Thank ye.”

“For what?”

“Your arm, in the moment, and your suit now.”

“You are welcome, Mairead.”

I asked him tae pull up a chair in front of my desk and we had the bottle of champagne between us, a bowl of my favorite exquisite chocolates each wrapped in gold paper, and a platter of cheese from my meeting earlier. I shoved the platter farther away, and told Wilfrey, “The general has eaten from it and I suspect he daena wash as much as he ought.”

“Fair warned.” He unwrapped a chocolate and popped it in his mouth. “So now we have seen the dead body, we are celebrating?”

“Aye! Tis our moment of glory! We hae won.” I sat back in the chair. “If ye werna here I would be celebrating alone.”

“I am here, so…” He picked up the bottle and began pulling out the cork. “Mairead, this is all related to time travel?”

“Aye, the body was sent tae me by my grandson.”

“Prince Archibald?”

“Aye.”

He stopped working on the cork tae say, “He killed that man on the roof?”

“Aye, he has killed the most villainous monstrous horrible evil arse-gall man — open the bottle!”

“I thought Prince Archibald was… isn’t he eight years old?” The cork loudly popped and flew across the room and nearly hit one of Pablo’s paintings.

I said, “Och nae, Wilfrey, that is worth a great deal.”

“My apologies, Mairead, I know, it’s a Picasso.”

“Ye ken Picasso’s work?”

“Yes, ever since you spoke of him — remember at the movie opening? I have been studying his artworks.”

I tilted my head. “Ye studied the art I told ye about? What other art do ye—? Never mind, daena answer, ye are attempting tae woo me and I need tae concentrate on the matter at hand. We hae won, tis time tae crow and brag.”

“Seriously, Mairead, I was certain the prince was eight years old.”

“Nae, Wilfrey, he is eighteen from the time where he has been living in a medieval age. That Archibald has killed the villain, a man who fashioned himself an emperor. That Archibald has saved us all.”

He filled two champagne flutes and we raised them to each other.

I said, “Tae the horrible brutal aching deaths of my enemies, slàinte!”

He said, “Mairead, hearing you speak like this sends a chill down my spine! It is exciting, slàinte!”

I drank and then asked the room, “Tell me all ye ken about the death of Asgall. Where did he die?”

The computer went silent for a moment and then returned with: “There is no place of death for Asgall, except for a note written in an older book and the date on the dead man’s shirt today. Both records do not list his place of death.”

I thought for a moment, eating a piece of chocolate, then asked the room, “Can ye list all the deaths that took place on or around June 18, 1775 in Staunton, Virginia and the surrounding areas?”

The computer listed a death a few days before, but twas an unknown man murdered on the three notch’d road.

“Can ye include all the deaths in all of Virginia on this date that might hae involved a discrepancy?”

The room returned with: “I have a discrepancy found on June 18, 1775, it involves the Duke of Awe.”

I said, “Out with it!”

“In Charlottesville, Virginia, on June 18, 1775, there was a brutal slaying of three highwaymen in an attack on the Duke and Duchess of Awe. This attack occurred at the Oakhurst Inn on Main Street. The highwaymen were all killed, the Duchess was injured in the assault.”

My eyes went wide. “Did the Duke and Duchess survive?”

“Yes.”

Wilfrey teased, “I have no idea what is happening, who is the Duke of Awe?”

“Magnus. When he is in the past he sometimes uses his earlier title of Duke.”

I began tae pace. “…Archibald wasna able tae kill Asgall at the brothel as we discussed — show me a map of colonial Virginia!” A map was projected showing Staunton, Virginia. “Mark the brothel.” The location was marked. “Show me the walking route tae Charlottesville!”

It appeared on a road called the Three Notch’d Road. I paced. “…therefore he must have followed Asgall tae Charlottesville and killed him there.”

The dates were a few days apart, this all made sense.

I surmised that Archibald met with Magnus and Kaitlyn. “Ye said this information was also in a note in a book?”

There appeared upon the wall an image of the book, Gulliver’s Travels From Jonathan Swift. Twas the book I had given tae Archibald, I was certain. “Where was it found?”

“In an antique bookshop, Todd & Sootheran in London, in 1852. No one can determine the origins of handwritten notes on two of the interior pages.”

My heart sped up. “This was not seen before?”

“Therein is the discrepancy.”

“Show me the page.”

The image showed a video of the three dimensional book, standing up, then lying on its side and opening at the ribbon place-holder and then flipping three pages tae the half page at the end of the chapter and then centering on the page, and there twas, Archibald’s note, a repeat of the one he had scrawled on the shirt.

Archibald

Killed

Asgall

June 18, 1775

I asked, “Who has the book now?”

The voice in the room said: “It is held at the Armagh Robinson Library.”

“Find me a contact there, in the twentieth century, I’d like tae purchase it.”

I admired the note, but there was a confusing drawing underneath it. A drawing of a jar, labeled with the word, Mandrake, with an arrow that said, ‘here’ and the name Doctor Everett. “What does that mean, I wonder?”

Wilfred said, “I do not understand a bit of it.”

I turned tae him and said, “I would hae preferred a verra small ‘A’ with the date, but here he has written this instead, big and glorious. ‘Archibald Killed Asgall.’ I am not angry at all. I am verra proud of him. Tis well done, well done indeed. Daena ye think?”

He raised his glass. “To Prince Archibald not following your will and preferences.”

“Hear hear!” I drank and put the glass down on the desk and leaned against it.

“He is like his father in that respect, and his handwriting looks much like his father’s as well. I daena understand the meaning of the drawing, but I am certain the meaning will come tae me.” I asked the voice in the room, “Ye said there was more than one note?”

The image flipped pages in the book and then centered on a large drawing of a man with a sword, it was drawn with a firm confident hand, and underneath it said:

Mag Mòr. King of Scots. 1291.

Then tae the side it said:

May 15, 2025 is a verra good day

Wilfrey asked, “Did the older Archibald also draw the man here?”

“Nae, that was the work of his father.” I huffed at how he had taken up so much of the page.

He said, “King Magnus?”

“Aye, King Magnus is also Mag Mòr, King of Scots, in 1291. He was crowned on November 21, 1290 at Scone, Scotland on Moot Hill.”

He chuckled, eating another chocolate, “King Magnus, Mag Mòr, Duke of Awe, same guy, it all makes perfect sense. I just learned about time travel last night, now I’m drinking to the death of your enemies.”

I said, ignoring him, tapping my chin. “And somehow this book managed tae get lost through the years tae become a message for me.”

He said, “It is an astonishing turn of events.”

“Are ye just saying that?”

“Yes, I have no idea what is happening.” He raised his glass and we clinked ours together.

I said, “Tae the death of Asgall. Finally. But how I ended up seeing this book is a mystery. I wish I could hae been a witness tae the murder… I do enjoy a bloodbath as long as I am on the winnin’ side.”

The corner of my mouth went up and though I looked straight ahead I could see him admiring me.

I asked, “Hae ye ever watched one of the arena battles?”

He said, “Of course, whenever I can get tickets.”

“Next time I will give ye a box?—”

The voice in the room interrupted, “Yer Highness, there is another discrepancy…”

“Another one? Tis odd, out with it.”

“In Thomas Jefferson’s library historians found a modern ballpoint pen that also houses a flashlight and screwdriver. It was kept in his desk with other prized possessions, but disassembled as if Jefferson were trying to figure out how it worked. Each part was kept in a small box with a note describing the contents and there were diagrams for reassembling it. It is empty of ink and the battery is dead.”

I sighed. “Only Magnus would give Thomas Jefferson a modern pen. He will ruin history just tae show off.”

Wilfrey said, “Perhaps he gave the pen to Jefferson as part of the message so you could find him.”

I raised my chin. “Perhaps, but that would be giving my son the benefit of the doubt. Wilfrey, in our relationship ye must take my side, not many do, though I am always correct.”

He chuckled. “Then I amend my answer to, how can Magnus do something so foolhardy?”

I said, “And now I changed my mind, I am usually correct. I was wrong here, ye canna speak poorly of our king. Ye hae tae take my side without going against King Magnus.”

He chuckled again. “I am surprised at how much you must deal with, Mairead, it must be very trying for you.”

I smiled. “That is perfect.”