Chapter 15
The little kirk was a bare stone box with an altar.
The windows were small and deeply arched and it smelled of cold air and damp rock.
There was nothing of ecclesiastical architectural note about it, it was just a place with a cross above the door and two dogs fighting inside.
It reminded me of my school dinner hall.
George was there already when I arrived, kneeling on the flagstones in front of the altar with his head bowed.
I hesitated, but Cellar Dog marched in ahead of me, ignoring his quarrelling pack members, and shoved his nose in the back of George’s neck.
Prayers were interrupted by a shout of alarm and George leaped to his feet.
I expect that seeing me didn’t brighten his day either.
‘Oh, it’s my wee demon.’ I didn’t like the slightly patronising tone he assumed. ‘Come to take my secrets. Tell me, demon, do you have a name?’
I so wanted to say something ridiculous but demonic, like Lucifer or Beelzebub but I didn’t. Instead I muttered, a touch rebelliously, ‘My name is Perdita. But everyone calls me Pax.’
‘Pax. A good name for an angelic demon.’
I didn’t say anything. I could see his hands still shaking as he propped himself up on the wall and realised that he was having as much difficulty adjusting to the situation as I was.
The breezy, take-everything-in-my-stride attitude was probably very useful when you were leading men into battle, but it came over a bit hollow when facing someone that nobody else could see.
George sighed. ‘Are you alone, or are the other demons with you?’
As the ‘other demons’ were shoving one another in the doorway while Lachlan leaned against the door jamb, I didn’t answer that either.
George ploughed on. ‘I’ve been a God-fearing man all my life, I’ve tried to do what’s right by my people and my men, so I’ve no fear of judgement. Whoever you are and whyever you’re here, I am not afraid.’
He raised his voice slightly for the last sentence.
For all he knew I’d got a host of demonic entities at my back, and I thought it was a good job he couldn’t see that all I really did have was Mal and David, who were quietly squabbling over some pork ribs, Lachlan looking louche and unconcerned, and Kaylinn, who was sitting in one of the stone seats carved into the wall with her chin on her hand and an expression of mild lust on her face.
They did not look like all the forces of hell, but then they didn’t look as if they’d be much use to anyone, let alone Satan.
‘I’m here,’ I said quietly, ‘to find out what your plans are. Because we think they might affect whether we can go home or not.’
‘And home is where?’ George, with an admirable attempt at looking as though this were an everyday occurrence, had begun stroking Cellar Dog, who was sitting between us with an expression of interested stupidity.
‘It’s hard to explain. But basically it’s about three hundred years in the future.’
George shook his head slowly. ‘But a demon with evil intent would try to mislead me, would it not?’
‘Kenna told you we weren’t evil,’ I pointed out. ‘And we’re not. We’re just a bunch of lost travellers who want to go back to our own time and we think you can help.’
His attention went from the dog now and he looked into my face.
His gaze was direct and those brown eyes had lost the twinkle.
In fact they looked tired and worried. ‘Aye, well. If you’re spies then you’ve got the best disguise I’ve ever seen.
’ He sighed again. ‘I’m here to prepare to fight for our king,’ he said, his voice quiet but echoing off the stone.
‘King George,’ I said. ‘The first George?’
Now I got a smile. ‘He’s the only one we have.’ Then the steady gaze resumed. ‘So far. But no. Not George. Our King is James.’ Now he lowered his voice even more so that he was almost whispering, a tone that slithered off the cold pillars to sound menacing. ‘The rightful king. James Stuart.’
I glanced over at Lachlan, who was conferring with David in hushed voices. He made a rotary ‘keep him talking’ movement with one hand.
But I didn’t need to try to keep George talking because it seemed that he’d got a considerable amount to say.
‘Our James has the rightful claim to the throne, and the clans are behind him. The standard has been raised and we await the signal to march to Stirling.’ He stopped.
‘And from your face, this is not going to be our finest hour?’
I might not remember much history, but I’d been well briefed on this by David during our desperate attempt to work out what to say to George. This must be the first Jacobite uprising. ‘You lose. James never becomes king,’ I said.
There totally failed to be any kind of anti-matter implosion, the world did not end, so I was clearly safe enough to tell him that much of the future. But, to my surprise, George laughed.
‘Aye, well. A demon sent to put us off would say that.’
‘No, it’s true!’ I glanced over at the others and David was nodding furiously. ‘You can’t win.’
Now Earl George stepped closer to me. There was a squeak of alarm as he trod on Cellar Dog, who had obviously become too used to people being able to walk through him, and he scuttled out of the way as George stood very, very close to me, those dark intelligent eyes scanning my face.
‘That’s as maybe,’ he said, his words holding deep meaning. ‘But we have to try.’
Helplessly I turned to the others. They were now all standing in a line like the front row of a very critical audience, and applause did not look as though it was about to burst out.
‘Is this why your family lose everything?’ Mal said. ‘You picked the wrong side in the Jacobite uprising, is this it?’ He gave Lachlan a hopeful glance and then aimed a weak grin my way.
‘Tell him he’ll lose the family lands if he fights,’ Lachlan said, sounding a little bit breathless. ‘This must be it, Pax. You need to stop him riding out.’
I kept my eyes on George’s. ‘But if you lose…’ I tried to keep my voice steady ‘…then the family lose. The McKells will lose all this.’ I waved a hand, trying to indicate the entire castle. ‘Everything.’
George blinked but his gaze didn’t waver. ‘Then so be it,’ he said. ‘We fight for what we believe to be right. We fight for our principles.’
Then without saying anything further he walked, straight-backed and straight through me, out of the kirk.
‘That went well,’ Mal said into the resulting silence.