Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
A fter leaving the armory, Catherine had returned to her room to pack a bag since they were going to be gone for a few days. Eamon had said he would have a horse ready for her and they would await her down at the stables. She was folding up her nightdress when there was a knock on the door.
Catherine crossed the room and opened the door to reveal Sally standing there with a warm grin as she stepped into the room, a bundle of items cradled in her arms.
"Good morning, Miss Catherine. I've brought you a few things for your journey."
Catherine's heart swelled with gratitude for Sally's thoughtfulness. “That’s so sweet, what did you bring me?”
“I ken you didnae have a cloak and it does get a wee bit chilly, so I’ve brought you one, and I had Mira make up a bundle of food for you to bring as well, in case you get hungry on your journey.”
“Thank you, Sally. You don’t know how much I appreciate you and how kind you’ve been to me all these weeks. I honestly don’t know what I would do without you now.” Catherine smiled.
Sally's eyes sparkled with warmth and understanding. "It tis a pleasure, Catherine.” She smiled again. “You be safe on your journey.”
“I will, thanks again for this.” Catherine hugged her.
It was still well before the noon hour as Catherine made her way down the stairs and out to the courtyard. She could see Eamon and his men gathered, horses ready as they prepared to leave. Eamon saw her approaching and moved to take the bag and bundle from her. “What tis all this?” he asked, lifting the bundle.
“Sally had Mira pack some food. Is there room for it in one of the saddle bags? Along with my bag as well?”
“Of course, you’ve your own saddle bags, I’ll tuck these away in Goldy’s bags. That’s your horse’s name.” He led her over to a light tan horse with a reddish blonde mane. “She’s pretty friendly and reliable, so you shouldnae have any trouble with her.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Catherine smiled and held her hand out to the horse. “Hello, Goldy.” She stroked the horse’s nose.
“Let me help you to mount.”
He put his hands on her waist and lifted as Catherine slid her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself up. Riding in a skirt was going to be different, but she’d actually slid her jeans on underneath the skirt, so that she would be better protected on the ride, not to mention stay warm. She arranged her skirts to cover as much as possible, but Eamon noticed the denim.
“Nae a bad idea, lass. It t’will get chilly on the ride in the evenings. Have you a cloak? I should have thought to ask.”
“Sally was kind enough to provide me with one. It’s in my bag.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Let me speak to everyone and then we’ll be on our way.” He smiled and patted her leg, then turned and mounted his own horse.
Once he was seated, Eamon's voice cut through the air, firm and commanding. The murmurs among his men ceased as they turned their attention to their leader. Eamon's eyes swept over the group, his voice resonating with authority as he outlined their mission and the role each would play.
Catherine listened intently, not wanting to miss anything important. Not once did any of the men make her feel unwelcome, which was rather surprising, considering the era, but then they’d been learning fighting techniques from Jen, so she supposed they were used to unconventional women here at Fort Donald.
The journey ahead stretched out like a winding thread through the rugged hills and moors of the island. The riders moved in a determined line, their horses' hooves pounding a steady rhythm against the earth beneath them. The air was crisp with the scent of heather and damp earth, and the wind whispered secrets through the tall grasses that flanked the path.
As they rode, the landscape shifted around them, revealing dense woods. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the ground with patches of gold. The riders navigated through this natural labyrinth, their eyes sharp and senses attuned to the slightest changes in the environment.
Each small village they encountered bore its own distinct character, which fascinated Catherine. The thatched roofs and stone walls seemed to have been standing for centuries, weathered by time and history. The villagers watched with curious eyes as she and the guardsmen passed through the small village. Occasionally, one of the villagers would approach with some food or a greeting, which was always welcomed.
In these villages, Eamon and his men would gather information, asking questions and listening to the locals explain when they’d last seen anyone suspicious. When they stopped for meals, the villagers entertained them with snippets of folklore and stories of the area.
With each new encounter, Catherine found the island's history seemed to unveil itself in fragments to her. The rhythm of life here was slow and steady, steeped in tradition and shaped by the unpredictable dance of nature and she loved every second of it. This whole experience, being in this time and place was like a dream come true for her and she didn’t want to ever wake up.
As they rode from village to village, Catherine couldn't help but marvel at the way Eamon navigated the social landscape. His ability to make everyone feel seen and valued was a testament to his leadership skills and his inherent kindness. Catherine found herself drawn to his warmth, finding solace in his presence even in the midst of the uncertainty that surrounded their mission.
One evening, as they set up camp, Eamon and Catherine found themselves engaged in a spirited exchange. The fire crackled nearby, casting dancing shadows on their faces as they sat on makeshift seats of fallen logs.
“And what would you do, lass, if you found yourself facing off against bandits in your own time?” Eamon asked.
Catherine laughed. “We don’t have these kinds of bandits in my time.” She shook her head as she tried to figure out how to explain how things like this worked in her time.
“Your world is crime free then, is it?” He gave her a skeptical look.
“Not at all. Probably we have more crime than you do here and now, however, we have skilled police forces and law men that go after these criminals. But they don’t have to do what we’re doing, camping in the wilds every night, or searching every town. Do you remember me telling you about being able to speak to people thousands of miles away?”
“Aye, magic if you ask me.” Eamon nodded.
There was a murmur among the other men about that as well, which told Catherine they had heard from Jen or maybe Mae about them before too.
“Well, those same things can let police watch people from a distance. They can search using those and not even leave their office until they know for sure where the criminals are,” Catherine tried to explain in terms he and his men would understand, but she wasn’t sure she could. “And each village has their own police, so they don’t have to travel far to apprehend the bad guys.”
“And why would these bandits continue on their paths of crime if there are so many law officers there to capture them?” one of the men asked, sounding distrustful.
Catherine shrugged. “Some people still do bad things. They still steal and rob and kill others; sometimes just because they like doing those things, others because they’re jealous and want that thing for themselves, or because they’re poor and starving. It’s not perfect, but as far as policing goes, they try to be efficient and keep the public safe.”
“And what do they do with them once they are captured? Are they executed? Banished?”
“They’re put in jail,” Catherine said. “They go before a judge and if they are found guilty, they spend whatever amount of time they are sentenced to, in prison.”
“There’s your problem. If they were executed or banished, you might deter other bandits from murdering and stealing from people.”
“Yes well, for the most part, we don’t execute people much anymore. Not unless the crime is extremely heinous, like for a serial killer. Someone who murders a lot of people.” Catherine explained, but she wasn’t even sure how accurate that was when she was talking about the entire world, not just the US.
“So what would you do then, lass, if you came across a bandit like the one we are after? Call on these lawmen of yours?” Eamon asked, sounding curious. “You would nae fight them yourself?”
“That would depend. If I could safely get away and call for the police, then I’d do that. If I couldn’t, I definitely would fight with whatever weapon I had available,” Catherine answered. “I certainly wouldn’t hide and hope they left me alone.”
Eamon gave her a look of admiration. “You’ve got a warrior’s spirit, lass.”
His words warmed Catherine, and she felt herself blushing. “Thank you, Eamon.”
Shortly after that, they each bedded down in their bedrolls around the fire to stay warm and went to sleep while two of the men kept watch. Sometime during the nighttime hours, there would be a change of guard, but Catherine didn’t have to worry about that because she wasn’t in the rotation.
The next day, as they set off, Eamon explained that the town they were heading to was larger than the ones they’d visited before. Catherine was anxious to see what might be different about it. As they approached the town, she noticed the houses were a little bigger, and better kept than in some of the smaller villages they’d been to. There were more people on the roads as well, carts and horses traveling in the opposite direction, but they were all friendly.
Once they entered the town, Catherine couldn’t help but shift her curious gaze from one building to the next. This was a proper bustling town, and was every bit as thrilling to see as it was when she’d visited New York City as a girl.
Ahead she could just make out the Hound Inn, its timber-framed exterior weathered by time stood in the near center of town. The inn's wooden sign creaked softly in the breeze, depicting a fierce hound in mid-stride. Its windows glowed with warm light, casting inviting shadows on the grass below. The scent of hearty stew wafted from within, mingling with the crisp evening air.
This was a place straight out of history, a portal to a bygone era in her mind, but she knew for everyone here, it was just normal. That didn’t deter her amazement of it all. Every detail, from the thatched roofs to the flickering lanterns in the windows drew her soul. It was as if she belonged here in this time and place.
The inn's stables were a bustling hub of activity, with its constant flow of travelers seeking shelter and rest. Wooden beams creaked under the weight of thatch, creating a shelter for the weary horses that lined the stalls. The air was filled with the soothing scent of hay and the gentle sound of horses' contented munching.
Catherine dismounted her horse with a sense of excitement. The day's journey had been long, but the prospect of staying at this rustic inn added a touch of enchantment to her fatigue. She watched as Eamon expertly guided his horse into a stall, admiring the way he moved.
With the horses securely settled, Eamon turned to her with a reassuring smile. "We'll spend the night here," he informed her. "Come, let us go inside and secure rooms for ourselves."
As they made their way from the stables to the inn's entrance, Catherine couldn't help but marvel at the life that teemed around her. This trip was becoming one to remember.