Chapter 9
MAGNUS
Twas afternoon, the summer light still slanting high through the narrow windows as we passed the open doors of the Great Hall.
Inside I heard Sean barkin’ orders at the guards, and down a far corridor I glimpsed Liam stalking up the steps.
We dinna pass Lizbeth, but twas fine, we would see her at the evenin’ meal.
The corridors grew quieter, the stone walls damp from the warmth of the day.
I led her past the kitchens — where we paused tae inhale the scent of baking oatcakes and simmering broth.
Kaitlyn said, “Yum, even though Zach is the better chef, by far, it triggers such a strong memory to smell the kitchens at Balloch.”
“Aye. When I was a lad I had a hunger that sat here under m’ribs and I could barely wait for the next meal.
I would sit there, in the shadows,” I pointed in the corner, “and wait for the food tae be served so I could try tae be near the front of the line.” I chuckled.
“It rarely worked, the maids would find me and shoo me away. I would end up in the back when the food was near gone and foul and cold.”
“Still you would try to wait?”
“Aye, though twas futile, I couldna refrain because the hunger would override m’sense.”
We climbed up a short flight of worn steps tae the small private chapel tucked against the eastern wall.
Twas one of the oldest parts of the castle, built when m’Campbell ancestors first claimed these lands.
I pushed the heavy oak door open, groanin’ on its iron hinges.
Inside, the air was still and thick with old incense and wax.
A few candles guttered on the altar. The chapel was low-ceilinged, dim, with my uncle’s stained-glass window, his prized possession, catchin’ the last bits of sun.
Light shimmered across the benches and the stone floor.
The chapel was small enough that three strides took us from door tae chancel rail.
Kaitlyn lifted her eyes tae the window. “I always love this window, it’s so beautiful.”
“Aye, when the Earl commissioned it he must hae had a heart filled with hope for his family’s future and the glory of God. Tis difficult tae square it with a man who has spent his life double-dealin’ friends and foes.”
The stained glass glowed in bits of deep crimson against vibrant blues and lush greens: St. Columba blessing the waters of Loch Tay, his hand raised in benediction over a kneeling Campbell knight.
Below the saint’s feet, the Breadalbane arms were quartered in lead and color: red lion rampant, gold border.
I admired the blue at the top and the green at the bottom, and had oft stared in awe at the glow of it during the sermons. Twas blue above green, the landscape of Scotland, inspiring the colors of m’royal banner.
I said, “He paid a fortune for it. Had the glass brought from Flanders, said twould remind God and neighbors alike, who truly held these shores.”
Kaitlyn tilted her head. “I don’t know if I’ve ever noticed this before, but he looks a little like you. Around the jaw. But I guess it’s a Campbell trait, right? So you’re definitely one, through and through.”
I laughed. “Aye, we are a long line of men, ancestors spreadin’ behind me, brothers beside me, sons comin’ on the regular, we all hae a look and are of a mind.”
“By sons ‘coming on the regular’ you mean…?”
“We arna talking on it, ye daena agree, so I am waitin’ tae prove m’self right. Tis the Campbell way.”
She chuckled. “Very funny, I’m not pregnant.”
We stood in silence for a moment, then I turned my focus tae the altar — a plain oak slab covered with a linen cloth and the open leather-bound register.
The book lay open to the middle, its pages yellowed and ink-faded, entries stretching back generations: baptisms, burials, marriages scrawled in a careful hand.
Kaitlyn asked, “Remember when we married here?”
“Aye, tis why we hae come.” I flipped back a few leaves, stopping at a date. There, in my own hand was the record:
Magnus Archibald Caelhin Campbell
On the line below it:
Kaitlyn Maude Sheffield Campbell
Then:
Married on this day, anno 1705
And under it:
Archibald Colin Campbell, of the age three, son of Magnus
And:
Isla Peace Barbara Campbell, newly born, Daughter of Magnus and Kaitlyn Campbell.
She nodded, “That was a beautiful moment, and then when we added Jack…” Her voice trembled, “I think every time I stand here beside you I’m weeping.”
“Aye, tis true. Dost ye remember what ye said that day, yer plight and troth?”
“I said that I love you, and wanted to spend the very rest of my life with you. And you said you loved me and wanted to spend the rest of your life with me. And then Archie said, so sweetly, he loved me too. I will never forget it.”
“I winna either, I remember tellin’ ye twas a verra complicated life tae tie yers tae mine, as I was a time-traveler and a king, and that I was grateful ye did. I promised tae love ye forever, till all m’days were ended, and onward tae eternity, forever and ever.”
“And then you kissed me.”
I leaned forward and kissed her.
She said, “Just like that. I’ll never forget it.”
I ran my hand along the page. “Twill be a loss tae not see this anymore.”
“Yeah.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “But we can buy a book, record it just like this, and put it in a chapel in the kingdom.”
I nodded. “Aye, we can.”
“I suppose it’s not really the same, but it will be good.”
I said, “This is partly why we hae come, mo reul-iuil. I am thinking on memories and how we hae lost the wooden heart I had carved for ye, ye remember the one ye had over our bed at Kilchurn?”
“I never knew what happened to it. I’m sorry I lost it.”
“On the morrow we’ll ride our horses out tae the King’s forest and I will cut a branch tae carve ye a new one.”
“Oh, you will? That’s… you’re making me cry.”
“I ken, I daena mean tae, I am tryin’ tae be romantic. Tis our fifth anniversary, according to this book, as the crow flies, tis the wooden one.”
Tears welled up in her eyes.
I smiled. “Ye always cry in front of the book.”
“Why do you have to be so romantic?”
I chuckled.
“So that’s why we’re here, to get the wood?”
“Tae bring the chests, tae get the wood, I think tis important tae carve it from the forest we are growin’, the trees are here and also in our kingdom, tis a symbol.”
“It’s a great symbol, I love it so much, perfect. Is this the secret?”
I said, “What secret?”
“Never mind, I’ll just let it all unfold.”
“Good.”
I covered her hand with mine. “Ye are as lovely, weepin’ there at the altar as ye were five years ago weepin’ at the altar.”
“I do seem to weep a lot, you’re always so calm.”
“Nae, not calm. While ye weep I tremble with fear; twas difficult tae keep m’hands steady when we married at the church in Amelia Island. I shook like a lad, twas embarrassin’.”
She laughed under her breath. “Well, you did learn about time-traveling, found out you were going to be a king, discovered the modern world, and agreed to marry a disgraced Youtuber, basically at the same time. There was plenty to fear.”
“Tis true, yet without all of that, I would hae still trembled at the sight of ye.”
Kaitlyn leaned into my side, her head restin’ against my shoulder. “Thank you. I love you.” Then she asked, “Do you think the chapel will remember us when we’re gone? When Sean and Lizbeth are in the kingdom and we don’t come here anymore?”
I was quiet, considerin’. “I think, the book will remember our story, the stones will remember our vows, and if our family is like a tree, this castle is our roots, the roots canna forget the tree.”
She looked up in my eyes.
I squeezed her hand. “We will carry a piece of it with us. Always.”
She nodded quietly and we left the chapel.