Chapter 32 #3
“Oh, I think we should,” Emma said. “Are they open at this time of year?”
“Aye, until the end of the month, I believe.”
As they approached through the woods Emma got her first glimpse of the castle. It looked like something from a fairy tale, and she half expected to see knights in armour riding out.
“Oh, it’s wonderful,” she said. “This must have been what inspired Ir—my fellow writer.”
The castle stood on a rock with the deep blue waters of a loch below it.
Beside it was a tree-covered promontory with a couple of small grey stone houses on the shoreline, but no real village or harbour.
They ascended to the castle, paid for tickets and entered a grand entrance hall lined with family portraits.
There was a dining room with a table big enough to seat thirty, many more opulent rooms, each with more portraits on the walls going back over the generations.
Imagine living in the same house for a thousand years, she thought.
She couldn’t wait to tell Iris she had seen it.
They came out and stood on the shore, looking down the loch towards the Atlantic beyond. The castle matched the description in the book, she thought, but not the location.
“Are we still at the far north of the island?” she asked.
“Northwest,” he said.
“So if someone wanted to cross to the mainland from here?”
“You’d have a pretty long boat ride,” he said, smiling. “You’d be wiser to drive down to the south and cross from Armadale.”
“Yes,” she said. “You would.” No small sailing boat would have attempted to negotiate the open water of the Atlantic from here. And the location was not as Iris described it. The hills around the castle were tree covered. There was no harbour. And it seemed much grander than the fictitious castle.
“Jock.” She turned to him. “Is this the only inhabited castle on the island? Is there one that juts out into the water on a promontory? Like an old fortress.”
“There’s Eilean Donan,” he said. “That’s the famous one. But it’s back on the mainland. The closest thing we have here is Craigard. We could go and see it although they don’t do tours. The family lives in it.”
“Is it closer to the mainland?”
“Aye, it is,” he said. “Right across from the mainland. But as I said, it’s nae anywhere as imposing as this one.”
“Could we see it on the way back?”
“Of course,” he said. “It’s a little out of the way but no matter. Let’s get going then.” He gazed out to sea. “I’m thinking the weather will be coming in soon, and this road is not one you want to tackle in a mist or a storm.”
They drove off again, through mile after mile of barren hills with just a few sheep dotted on them. Not a cottage in sight. As they went south the mountain range rose ahead of them, rocky crags jutting from the smooth grass of the slopes. Clouds raced in, covering some of the summits.
“It won’t be long before the rain now,” Jock said. “I’d wanted to show you the Fairy Pools but that can wait for another day. They’re a way off the road, and there’s walking to do, so not in the rain.”
“Fairy Pools?” Emma was interested. “Why are they called that?”
“Aye. They say the selkies come and bathe there, and the kelpies. The shape-shifters.”
Emma tried not to smile. “Shape-shifters? An old legend?”
“Call it what you want, but most folks here take it seriously. The seals that change themselves into women and the kelpies—the sea sprites who can change themselves into anything—men or horses. Ask any family here and they’ve seen one.”
“What about you, do you believe it?”
“I see no reason not to, if my grandfather, who was the wisest of men, swore he saw a horse run into the water and then swim away as a seal.”
Emma stayed silent.
“But today is not a good day to visit. You’ll likely be in the mist by the time we get there, and pretty wet, too.”
He continued driving south. They finished the loop and retraced the way they had come until they arrived back in Kyleakin.
“Do you want to stop at your hotel first?”
“I’d rather get on and see this castle before it rains,” Emma said.
“Right you are.” He swung the car to the right, up the hill.
The first drops of rain spattered onto the windscreen.
The road was nothing more than a narrow lane, wide enough for one car.
This didn’t seem to matter as they had not passed another car for hours.
Before them was no sign of habitation, just hillsides and rock and then forest closer to the coast.
“So that will be Craigard down there,” Jock said.
“Is there a village as well?” she asked. “I don’t see houses.”
“Not really a village. A few cottages along the shore. Fishermen’s houses, you know. You’ll see them when we come around the next bend.” He slowed as they came around a rocky outcrop, and there below them was the inlet with a string of white cottages, the small harbour at one end.
“And that would be the castle,” Jock said as the road swung around the next bend.
Emma leaned forward, staring. “Yes,” she said, hardly daring to breathe out the word. “This is the castle.”