Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
T he village at the bottom of the hill was bustling with activity and Catherine’s head was on swivel as she noticed the men and women in medieval Scottish attire going about tasks that seemed straight out of one of her history books. They each looked back at her, curiosity and suspicion upon their faces as they took in her jeans and sweater. As though they’d never seen anyone dressed as she was. She suddenly felt extremely out of place and slightly embarrassed, but then lifted her chin and straightened her back. She wasn’t going to be intimidated by anyone.
Eamon and the others had slowed the horses to a walk as they passed through the tiny town. Some of the men came up to them, offering them things, but the men all declined with a nod of thanks and a few words of gratitude. Once past them and headed up the hill, Eamon said, “We don’t take from them what will be provided to us at the Keep.”
“Were they asking you to buy it?” Catherine asked. The accents had been much thicker than she was accustomed to at the university, and she hadn’t understood everything that had been said between the people in the little village and the men around them on horseback.
“Nay, they offer it because we protect them, but our Chief would rather we only accept when we are in desperate need, which we are not at the moment.”
“Chief?”
“Aye, our Chief, Cam MacDonald. He is the head of Clan Donald.”
“So the Laird?”
“Sadly, nay. We no longer own the land here, but that is a story for another time.”
Catherine’s breath caught in her throat as the wooden gates began to open onto a spacious courtyard full of activity. She could see the massive fort in the center, the stone and timber in near perfect condition as though it had been built just a few years prior.
The clang of metal against metal caught her ear and she turned her gaze from the building to the activity around them, the sound of sheep bleating, the people moving about the area, rushing to get tasks completed was an overwhelming sight that had her feeling lightheaded.
"This can't be real," she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of her disbelief.
"Aye, it tis," Eamon said, his words matter-of-fact.
“How is this even possible?” she questioned, her gaze following one person only to be captured by another trailing off in the opposite direction. “Braedon, run and fetch Niall and Mae, would you, lad?” Eamon said as he dismounted, then helped Catherine down.
Catherine's curiosity swelled like a tide as she wondered what would happen next.
"Who are Niall and Mae?" Catherine ventured; her gaze fixed on Eamon.
“Niall MacDonald, he isn’t the chief, but he may be better equipped to answer your questions than I. As for Mae… well, I suspect you and she come from a similar place. She is Niall’s wife.”
Catherine wasn’t sure what he meant by that. A similar place. Did he mean she was American? Or did he mean she was from the future as he claimed that she was? As she contemplated those thoughts, the doors to the fort opened and a statuesque, redhead with bright green eyes stepped out into the morning sun. The sun made her auburn hair look like burnished brass. It was rich and thick, braided, and hung over her shoulder, down her chest. She wore a dress made of the same tartan as Eamon and the other men wore.
Next to her stood an even taller man with a lean build. He had short, curly reddish gold hair and pale blue eyes. As soon as he saw Eamon and Catherine, he made a comment to the woman and she grinned, her whole face lighting up as she lifted the skirt of her dress and practically ran straight toward Catherine and Eamon. She came to a stumbling halt in front of them as the man who followed a few steps behind her chuckled.
"No way, another one?" the woman’s voice held amazement.
Catherine's lips curved into a smile as she detected the familiar cadence of her American accent. “Oh good, you’re American too,” Catherine murmured, feeling a bit of relief. Perhaps now she’d learn what was really going on.
"Niall, Mae, this is Catherine, we found her wandering the woods in the middle of the night," he said, the gravity of his statement underscoring the remarkable nature of their circumstances.
“You must be so confused, I know I was,” Mae said, a genuine smile on her lips. “And I’m going to bet hungry and tired too.”
“That’s an understatement. What is going on? What is this place? I know Eamon said it’s a fort of some kind, but none of this makes any sense to me.”
“I’ll try to explain, but it’s going to be a strange and long story. First let’s get you inside.”
“That’s a good idea, love. It tis a pleasure to meet you, Catherine, but would you mind very much if I speak with Eamon while my wife sees to your needs? It tis a matter of urgency, I am afraid.”
“Of course,” Catherine replied.
“We’ll be in the dining hall,” Mae said and looped her arm through Catherine’s.
As Catherine gave Eamon and last glance and started toward the doors of the building with Mae, she overheard Niall speaking.
"Eamon, we’ve had word that an exile is said to still be hiding in the area. From what I’m told, he’s dangerous enough that the Chief wants you to investigate. You’re one of our best trackers, so we're hoping you can find the troublemaker," Niall's voice held a note of urgency.
"Aye, I will gather supplies and some of the guard to head back out,” Eamon replied as Catherine and Mae moved up the steps.
Led by Mae's guiding presence, Catherine stepped across the threshold of the castle, an indelible sense of awe sweeping over her like a whispered secret from centuries past. The little bit of sunlight that made it through the doors cast a flickering dance of shadows upon the gray stone walls, each step echoing with the resonance of history itself. It was as though she’d stepped into one of her own history books.
"Oh my God," Catherine whispered.
"I had the same reaction," Mae laughed.
Catherine’s gaze moved over the walls in the corridor which was adorned with ornate tapestries, their vibrant colors bright looked almost new. Each scene depicted on them seemed to come alive before her eyes with various images of the Highlands.
They entered another set of massive doors to a large room filled with wooden tables. “You’ve arrived just in time for breakfast, lucky you,” Mae said, grinning. “Everything will still be warm. Do come sit.” She directed Catherine toward a table. “After we eat, I’ll show you to your bedchamber.”
“My…bedchamber?”
Mae laughed. “Sorry, living here, it’s so different. The fort has plenty of extra rooms, while we eat, I’ll get Sally to make up a room just for you. It’s yours for as long as you like.” She raised her hand and waved it at a woman in a brown dress with a white apron over it.
The woman rushed over. “Good morning, Mae, what do you need?” Her gaze drifted to Catherine, but she didn’t say anything.
“Sally, this is Catherine. She’s like me and Jen. Would you be able to fix her up a room? Perhaps find her a gown and…” Mae glanced at Catherine and then back to Sally, “perhaps a bath as well?”
“I’ll see it done.” She gave a nod and smiled at Catherine. “Welcome to Fort Donald, Miss Catherine.”
“Thank you,” Catherine replied.
“Now, we’ve got porridge, which is like oatmeal, but a little thicker, add some honey and it’s chef’s kiss. And homemade bread, and,” she lifted the lid on a platter, “oh eggs and ham, today. Help yourself to whatever you’d like. We’ve also got water and ale, and don’t worry, the water’s safe. Jen made sure to get that sorted when she got here.” Catherine’s head was reeling again. Suddenly everything was overwhelming, and she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. What she was hearing. It was all too much, and she burst into tears.