Page 21 of Highlander’s Ancient Vengeance

“Of course I will keep it to myself, Craig,” Father John said firmly. “It was told to me under the seal of confession. Have no fear, young man. Your secret is safe with me.”

“I will come back the day after tomorrow and try to be patient till then.” Craig sighed. “Thank you Father.”

“God bless you, Craig,” the old man answered, thinking how wonderful it felt to be the bearer of such good news.

Malle struggled downstairs to receive Father John in the parlor. When he handed Malle the folded and sealed piece of parchment she looked puzzled for a moment. Then, as she slit it open, her face became suffused with joy. She read it once, then again, then for a third time, while Father John watched the happiness spread over her features.

“Good news?” he asked, smiling.

“Oh yes, Father,” she replied. “The best!” She began to pen a letter back to him.

My dearest Craig,

Please be reassured that apart from a few cuts and scrapes I am well, but I am glad you cannot see me, for my bruises are every color of the rainbow. Thank you for helping me and for caring about me, and I hope we can be together soon.

All my love,

Malle

She sealed the parchment, kissed it, and gave it to the old priest. He stood up and looked at her fondly. “I wish you good health, Malle. Look after yourself and God bless you.”

“Thank you, Father,” she replied as she watched him leave. She hugged herself, then went to look out of the window. It was raining again, but nothing could depress her today. She decided to go back to the secret room which she had made more comfortable by putting a padded chair, a table, and a candelabra in it. She even had a special blanket for cold days, so she could spend hours in it if she wanted.

It was particularly cold on that day, even though it was approaching summer, so she wrapped her blanket around her and settled down for a few hours of digging through the last three hundred years’ worth of letters and diaries, and soon she was immersed in reading through one of Isobell’s. This one was quite close to their wedding day, and as Malle read through it and Isobell expressed her hopes and fears for the future, Malle began to imagine that she was Isobell and she felt that the same things were happening to her.

Some of the pages were happy and lighthearted:

It snowed today and piled up as deep as our ankles. Donnan fell down in the snow and we had a great laugh! When we came in we warmed up with chicken stew and spiced ale, then sat by the fire until we both dozed off to sleep. What a glorious day it was!

Malle read on, and the tone of the letters changed from day to day according to Isobell’s mood, and Malle almost felt that she was looking over Isobell’s shoulder as she was writing. As she read on, she also realized that she was beginning to be happy when Isobell was happy, and sad or angry when Isobel felt the same way. It seemed as though she was reaching back through the past to hold Isobell’s hand, and the thought made her uneasy, since it seemed as if Isobell was taking over her life completely.

Eventually she became restless and wandered to the window to look outside, but it was still raining relentlessly. She took out Craig’s letter and read it again, then again, and soon she knew it by heart. However, she could not spend her day rereading the same letter ad infinitum, so she stowed it away safely where no one could find it.

For want of something else to do she went back to start reading the diaries again. She expected to be bored because she had read so many pages already, and so many of them dealt with the minutiae of Isobell’s everyday life. But instead she was fascinated, even though every injured part of her body was beginning to ache and sting again. She was thinking about going back to bed with a cup of Valerian tea when she found the entry that made all the difference.

14

The Ambush

I had to tell Mungo that I could not keep the pledge I had made to him when we were twelve years old and I could not marry him. I will never forget the look on his face—he was so hurt, and I could practically see his heart break. I had to tell him that I had met someone else and I loved him with all my heart, and I had to follow where love led me. I am so desperately sorry for Mungo, but I cannot help it. He wished me good luck and I told him to go with God’s blessing, then I watched him ride away. May God forgive me for doing such a terrible thing to such a worthy man, and I hope Mungo will forgive me too, and find someone much more deserving of his love than I am.

After that the narrative became rather strange, and Malle began to feel shivers running down her back. She read the diary entry for the next day and found it strangely unsettling.

I was riding in the forest today and I had a very strange feeling. I felt as though something was touching the middle of my back between my shoulder blades. I have seen men practicing archery by shooting arrows into circles drawn on trees and I felt as if I had a circle on my back. I heard strange rustlings in the woods behind me, but nothing happened. I urged Danny into a canter and I rode home at once. It was likely my vivid imagination, as Donnan suggested, but I do not think so. I think someone was following me. Since then he has never allowed me to go out on my own.

Malle opened the diary at another page, and this one was dated two days after the wedding. The tone of the writing had changed again. Isobell was obviously beside herself with excitement and happiness, and it seemed to leap off the page as she wrote with long quick strokes of the quill.

I am so joyful that my heart is bursting with it. It seems that every flower in the world is blooming just for me. My Donnan is the most handsome, the most tender, and the most loving man in the world, and I do not know what I have done to deserve such happiness.

Malle smiled. She could practically hear Isobell’s laughter coming off the page, and she felt a sense of well-being flooding over her. Isobell was in love, as she was, and there was no better feeling in the world.

There were a few pages that related to their intimate relations, and Malle felt herself blush while she was reading them. This was not a subject to which she had given much thought until she had met Craig, but she was receiving good instruction in it now!

Then everything changed. Malle saw a different hand, a firm masculine script, the letters almost graven into the paper. The words were grim and threatening, and suddenly the air in the room seemed to darken and thicken; the candles guttered and blew and her hair lifted as though a wind had blown through it. Malle looked around herself fearfully but there was no sign of anything or anyone in the room, and a few moments later she had put it down to her fertile imagination.

She unfolded the letter and read it.

My Dear Isobell,