Sassenach

Chapter 2

"What's the name of this place again?" Will asked as he circled around the hall, eyeing the old tapestries and long forgotten paintings.

"Castle Leoch," I responded. "During the 18th century it was home of the Mackenzie Clan, up until the Battle of Culloden."

"How do you know all that?" he chuckled.

"I'm a historian, remember?"

"Yeah, alright," he huffed, before pulling me into his arms.

"What else can you remember?" his mother asked as she and his father joined us in the Great Hall.

"Some of the clan remained neutral during the war, but after the laird died, his brother seized control for a short period of time and enlisted many of the men to fight. Unfortunately, the highlanders lost. Clan Mackenzie was one of few that dispersed across the country, and many of them, including their young chief, sailed off to the New World and settled in Nova Scotia. Their entire culture was swept under the rug for many, many years. It was illegal for Highlanders to possess weapons such as firearms, and they weren't allowed to wear their tartans either. Many of them were imprisoned, and/or executed. For those who survived, well...it was never the same for them again."

"How dreadful," his father, Peter, whispered.

We explored in silence for a few minutes, before I turned to the group and proclaimed that I was going to go further down into the castle, while the rest of them made their way upstairs. I found the steps that led down towards the cellars and began making my way down. Once I reached the bottom, I found myself in a series of halls, with so many twists and turns it was easy to get lost. Following one of the side halls, it ended in a single door, which opened to a small set of stairs, leading down to what I assumed might have once been a cellar of some sort. There were a few wooden tables, covered in old papers, and wire baskets. A few chairs had fallen to the floor, and some ceramic pots were broken and strewn about. The large fireplace on the other side of the room was filled with ash and soot, and an old, metal pot hung above it.

Some light streamed through the small windows at ground level, but not enough for me to see. I pulled out my phone and turned the flashlight on in order to get a better look. The tables and chairs were covered in dust, layers upon layers of it. Dead leaves were strewn across the floor, having been blown in over the years through a couple of the windows that had been broken. Vines had climbed through the same windows and were growing along the walls. I walked up to one of the tables, and found some old empty vials, the labels long since worn off.

A sudden noise came from the corner, and I whirled around, the light from my phone falling on a mouse scurrying across the floor.

As I watched the mouse find a hiding place, I noticed what the sound had come from. In its panic to get away, it had knocked loose a stone from the fireplace, revealing a secret hiding hole. I approached it and shone the light inside. Hidden deep within, was an old journal. Reluctantly, I reached my hand in, through some old cobwebs, and fished it out. It too, like everything else in the room, was layered in dust. I flipped through it, seeing that nearly every page was covered in writing. The pages had turned yellow from time, and stains from some unknown liquids made some words here or there illegible. But at least the dates were legible. Every page was dated sometime in 1743.

I heard a sound to my right and turned to see Will and his parents entering the room.

"It's a wonder that this entire castle is still in such a good condition after so much time has passed," Mary proclaimed.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Will agreed as he approached me, his eyes darting to the journal in my hands. "What's that?"

I shrugged. "Some old journal. I found hidden behind a rock in the fireplace. It's dated 1743."

"Interesting," he took the journal from me and scanned a few pages.

He stopped at one of the pages and began reading from it.

"I've been here for a few days now, and still I haven't managed to find my way back to the stones. No one here trusts me, and I'm followed day and night. The only time I have any peace is when I'm down here, or in bed sleeping. I don't mind that much, except that it makes it hard to find a way to get out of here.

Colum has enlisted my help, turning me into their healer to replace the one they lost. I must confess I don't know much about medicine, or how to heal people, but I'm learning as I go, and apparently I'm quite adept at it. I knew some things that I had learned over time, enough to get me by while I traveled, but I still had much more to learn. At least I haven't killed anyone yet...

Most of my days are spent here in the cellar, walking the gardens, looking for herbs, visiting Geillis in the village, or with Jamie. At least he trusts me. He's one of the few. I don't know why, we know very little about each other, and as it is, we've only known each other for a few days.

I'm almost sad to leave him behind. But I can't stay here. I don't care how long it takes me, or what I have to do, I will get back. I refuse to be held captive here, and I know that I can't stay here anyways. This isn't my time."

We were silent for a few minutes after he finished reading.

"I wonder that meant," I asked. "Her time?"

"How do you know this person is a she?" Peter asked.

"Because she's hanging out with a woman on a regular basis. Not that I'm saying men and women can't be friends, not at all, but given the wording she must be a woman. Besides she mentions a man named Jamie. From the context I gather that the relationship isn't man to man, but rather man to woman."

"Well what do you think of this part where she says she refuses to be held captive?" Mary asked.

"I'm not sure. I don't recall anything about Clan Mackenzie holding a woman hostage, but maybe I just don't remember."

Will glanced out the window and noticed the sun going down.

"We'd better be heading back. It's getting late."

We filed for the door, the others making their way back up the stairs. I paused at the foot of them, and turned to take one last look around the room, then glancing down at the journal I held. I didn't know why, but for some reason the handwriting seemed very familiar.