"Nnnooooo" I sit straight up in the bed and wail. "No,no no no no no no no..." I repeat in an effort to shake off what I think just happened, and I throw back the bed covers. "JAMIE! Nooooo, please, No," I howl in a voice that I hardly recognize as my own. I run to the door and pull on it, hard. It won't open. I can't get it open. "JAMIE," I scream. I have to find him. I need to know. "JAMIE," I scream his name again and I yank on the door harder. It won't budge. I am panicking. I need to see him. "JAMIE!" I am screeching now. I just need to touch him; I need to know that he is alive and to make sure he is real. Please don't let him be a dream, I pray. Don't let this all have been a dream. He has to be real. I hit the bloody door hard with my fist. I hear Frank call my name. "Claire," he says from the other side of the door. "Noooooo. JAMIE! PLEASE Jamie...be real," and I place my forehead against the door. "Jamie, please." I whisper and start to cry. Suddenly my prayer is answered. I hear him. His voice. It's Jamie on the other side of the door. "I'm here Claire," he says. Finally, the door opens and I am in his arms. He holds me tightly to his chest. I instantly feel better. I can hear and feel his heart pounding. I can smell him. I put my arms around him, put my hands on him. I can touch him, feel him, feel the warmth of his skin. "I am right here," he tells me. "I have you now. I will not let you go. I have you," he says and he strokes my hair to soothe me, to calm me. My warrior is real. He is not a dream. I start to breathe again.
I am in Claire's room. She is in my arms. She is trembling but has stopped screaming. My back is to the door. I hear Frank tell people to go back to their rooms. He is sorry everyone's sleep has been disturbed. Everything is fine. She's just had a bad dream. She was scared by it. Take her downstairs Frank tells me. I'll get some scotch from Millie and meet you in the library. I have Claire in my arms and I take her downstairs. Away from prying ears and eyes. And then we are in the library and I set Claire down on the settee and kneel in front of her.
"A dream, Jamie. I had a dream about you." Claire starts to tell me, frantic with fear. Her hands keep stroking my face, like she does not believe it is really me. "It was Culloden, I am sure of it, Jamie After the battle. I was there, walking the moor, looking for you. I found you," she adds, laying her still hand upon my cheek, looking at me for a moment with such fear in her eyes. "I found you, lying there, bleeding and then you died, Jamie. You died in my arms. Oh Jamie." and she wails and starts to shake. I sit next to her on the settee, pull her back into my chest and hold her while she tries to stop shaking. Tightly. I remind her to breathe, to just breathe.
"I ken, Sassenach," I tell her. "I was right there with ya, I was having the same dream. We were sharing the dream, maybe. You found me after...when the battle was over. I do not ken what ya were doing there or how you found me among all those bodies, but there ya were, my wee fierce healer. You found me in all that chaos." I hold her tightly to me for I need her as much as she needs me. I need to touch her to calm my own racing heart.
Suddenly she pulls away from me, out of my arms and grabs my face in her hands. "You're real, aren't you?" She does not ask but demands an answer. "Flesh and blood. I didn't just dream you or make you up, did I?" She sounds almost angry when she asks. She is my healer once again as she starts to frantically run her hands over my body. "You were hurt," she tells me. "Bleeding. From the head," she adds, as if she just remembers, and begins to run her fingers through my hair, feeling for wounds she cannot find. "Your hair was matted with blood, it was dripping onto my...on my...oh, I don't know what I was wearing but it was covered with your blood."
"It's me, Claire. Bone and flesh, I promise ya." I say to try and reassure her. I try to gather her back into my arms but she slaps the air to keep my arms at bay.
"You aren't a ghost like Frank saw in Inverness last year, are you Jamie? You promise you are real?" She reaches over and pinches me, hard, in the arm.
"Ouch Sassenach! Why did ya go and do that?" I ask in a voice with filled with hurt mixed with a little anger. I stand up, move away from my healer. "Cac, Claire, that hurt. Look, ya've gone and left a mark. Why in the world would ya pinch me? What did I do to make ya so mad?"
"I was making sure you were real. That this isn't still a dream." She says and looks down at her hands. "I'm sorry but I had to know."
"It's alright Sassenach. I still love ya," I tell her and I sit back down beside her rubbing my arm where she pinched it. I reach over and pull her back into my embrace.
"In the dream there was a man lying on top of you, Jamie. He looked just like Frank. Was that Black Jack?" She asks with caution in her voice.
"Aye, Claire. That was Frank's ancestor Jonathan Wolverton Randall." I say and shake my head.
"He was dead, Jamie. I pulled him off you. I did not want him touching you, not anywhere near you. He was there to kill you, wasn't he?" She asks.
"Aye, he tried." I responded.
"There was another man. You were holding him in your arms. You were crying for him, weren't you?" she inquires gently. "Who was he?"
"My godfather," I reply. "Murtagh Fraser. I guess he did'na go to France after all. He stayed and fought beside me. Protecting my right. Took Randall's blade that was meant for me. He gave his life for me, Sassenach. So that I might live. And then that British soldier, with his bayonet; one swift motion and I was done for." I said with sadness in my voice.
"It was a terrible gash in your leg the bayonet left you. I tried to stop the bleeding but I couldn't. You had a nasty gash on your forehead that was bleeding pretty badly as well. There was nothing I could do, Jamie. Nothing." She starts to cry. "I cradled you in my lap and could only watch in horror as you died, Jamie," and my Sassenach crawls into my lap, places her arms around my neck, buries her face in my hair and let her tears flow. "Oh Jamie," she sobs.
"I was look'n up at the heavens when ya found me, Sassenach. I was searching for Orion so I could be with ya in the end. And then there ya were, right there, holding me, telling me ya loved me." I tell her.
"Orion," Claire repeats in a whisper. "So we would be connected in the end..." and it felt like a gentle rain down my back.
"Ssshhhush, Sassenach. Do na cry. It was only a dream. Hush now. Sssshhhhush," and I gently rock her and whisper my heart to her in Gaidhlig.
I look up when I hear Randall clear his throat.
"I brought your tartan, thought you might want to put something... 'em... to cover your back. You know, in case someone comes in...I don't think you want to, 'um, have to 'um...to explain your back..."
I look at him, questioning...?
"Upstairs while you were trying to calm Claire. Your back was to me. I could not help but see," Randall explains.
"Then I thank you for your kindness, Frank. If I lean forward can you place it around my shoulders, like a woman's shawl? Then I can wrap it around Claire so she does not become cold." Randall does as I ask. When I wrap my plaid around us, my Sassenach pulls her knees up and feet in and burrows into my chest and sighs.
"Millie said it would be alright to throw a couple of logs on the fire, if we want," Randall says as he sets the bottle of scotch down on the table in front of me. I will go outside and get a few and we'll stoke this fire. Be right back, I'll pour us all a drink and you two can tell me what the hell just happened up there," and Randall left the room.
"You are awfully quiet Sassenach." I say to the motionless form cocooned in my arms.
"I suppose. My heart is still pounding. But I am better now that you are holding me. I missed you tonight. I had a hard time falling asleep, without you near, to hold me. I missed your scent. Is that silly?" She asks me.
"I do'na ken if it is silly or no, but, I missed you the same. I was laying in bed just staring at the ceiling. Trying to stop thinking about you, so I could sleep. Sooner I slept the sooner day would come and I would see ya again." I say to the top of her head.
"Did you try counting sheep?" Claire asks.
"Counting sheep? Why would I count sheep in the middle of the night Sassenach? And just where would I be find'n sheep, in all of Edinburgh, to be count'n anyway? You say the most daft things sometimes," and I kiss the top of her head. "But I love ya all the more for it," and I laugh softly and lay my cheek on the top of her head and breathe the scent of her. I sigh. I would die a content man right now.
We sit quietly. At peace in each others arms. It is enough. Randall returns with a couple of split logs and Smokey. While Randall works at rebuilding the fire, Smokey comes to investigate Claire and I. He is gentle and places his head on the arm of the settee rather that placing it on Claire's inert form. I think Claire wants Randall to think she is sleeping. Her heart beat has slowed and her breath is steady, repetitive and warm on my neck. Her body feels relaxed in my arms. But her fingers are stroking my chest under my plaid, out of Randall's sight. I scratch Smokey behind his ear and then he walks away. He is curious as to what Randall is doing.
When Randall is done, with a nice blaze going, he walks over, pours three stout whiskeys and walks over with two.
"Claire's asleep." I say to him but I'll have one and I take it from his hand. Not a particularly good whiskey, but I need a drink just the same. The dream scared me but Claire's screams are why I need the drink. It might take more than one to settle my thoughts.
"Does speaking Gaelic work on everybody like that or just Claire?
"I don't ken everybody. Only Claire. But talking to her in Gaidhlig seems to calm her, soothe her. Relaxes her enough that she can sleep." I tell Randall."
"I did not think that Claire understands Gaelic." Randall states as if he knows it for a fact but he is trying to find out if I ken.
"No. No Claire does not understand any Gaidhlig that I can tell. It is more the tone and inflection of my voice that soothed her. Gaidhlig has it's own rhythm when spoken aloud. I use it when I break horses, as well. It calms them, makes a spooked or nervous horse relax and feel they can trust me." I speak using the same reflective tones on Randall. I notice it does'na work so well on him. I smile. If I had na had such a bad experience with his relation, I might actually like this man.
"She was certainly terrified and your voice was all it took to calm her." Randall said as he watched me from a chair next to the fire. "Sorry, I could not help but overhear some of what you and Claire said to each other. I was not trying to eavesdrop." He said with an apologetic tone. "I heard you tell Claire the dream was about the battle at Culloden."
"Yes, Claire and I both agree, it was the battle on Culloden Moor. I understand why I would dream about it, it worries me that Claire did. She can'na save me from my own fate and in the dream, she tries." I say to Randall.
"You know perfectly well why she tried. She loves you. Any idiot can see it every time she looks at you. I don't know why, or how, she has only known you, what 3 days? You know I've known Claire since she was 12, that's 26 years. She was traveling the world with her Uncle Lambert when I first met her. Fiercely independent, even then, and headstrong. She was ordering the lackeys around like a Corporal. Lighting her uncle's cigarettes, making sure he had proper meals and got enough sleep. Helped him catalog and ship artifacts. I never saw her need, or want, anyone, for that matter. That is until now, until you came along." Randall is speaking from his heart. He is trying to tell me, in a loon sort of way, that he will always love her but that he understands she had chosen me and he is na happy about it. He looks at me with a combination of confusion and jealousy.
"I have to try and go back if I can, Randall. You ken that. That is why you agreed to this trip, aye? So I would go back because I now have information that might make a difference. Not because Claire offered ya a supper of your own choosing, although I am sure ya can'na wait for that either. I can'na ignore the information you have given me. I owe it to my family, to my clan, to try and change this history. I can do no less. Understand that I have made a vow to Claire, I will try and return to her when my work is done. I have never met another woman like her. She is a wee fierce, fiery thing and when we touched, that first time, we both ken, there was no one else for either of us. Fate has brought us together but our faith in each other will keep us joined. Even though we may be separated in body, through time, the dream shows the connection is in our souls. I believe we will always find a way back to each other. She was made for me, as I was made for her. She is my match." I stop and give Randall a chance to understand what I have just said and then I add, "I ken you will be there for her after I am gone, and in the chance I can'na return to her, I know she will have you to look after her. I just want you to ken how verra grateful I am for that and how I hate you to my bones for it as well. It will make my heart easier when I go, it must be said. I could not leave my Sassenach with just anyone. I thank ya for that Randall, I truly do."
"I will continue to do, what I have always done in the past and that is to be there for Claire, to offer help, watch over her and to hope that someday she will want me in return. I make no bones about it" Randall makes me that promise, or threat, and then clears his throat. He has something else on his mind, I can tell. "I heard Claire talk to you about a dead body she pulled off you. That he looked just like me. You said it was Jonathan Wolverton Randall. You realize we are related. He is my 7 times removed great grandfather" he states calmly.
"Aye, if only from the fact that ya look just like him. Close enough that ya might pass for him except your mannerisms are different. Ya ken that's why I attacked you that first night. I was protecting Claire from Black Jack Randall." I state. "Your kin is not a kindly man," and I give Randall a look that is worth a thousand words. "Black Jack Randall, Captain of his Majesty's 8th Dragoons, was indeed a man with a dark, haunted soul. He is responsible for the marks on my back. Flogged at Fort Williams when I was just 18; 100 lashes with a cat-o-nine tails and then as soon as the Fort's surgeon allowed it, 100 more. Laid down with such furry, all because I spurred his advances. Damn near killed me. It killed my father to watch it. I now have a price on my head, for a murder which I did not commit, all because of your kin. I am wanted for murder because I said NO to being buggered by Black Jack Randall. Your written history does'na tell you any of that, does it?" and I look at him to see if he believes me or not.
The look on Randall's face tells me all I need to ken. He is horrified. But he believes me. Frank Randall had served in the same World War as Claire. She said he did not fight in battle, that he worked for 'MI6', espionage Claire say it was. That is a totally different kind of battle; not swords, eye to eye, hand to hand combat, meeting your enemy on a field and fighting for your cause. Espionage is like a game of chess; mind games – moves and counter moves. Anticipating your opponents thoughts and maneuvering your men. Intercepting messages and solving the riddle of them, 'decoding' Claire had called it. Important work, aye, but not honorable. Ya can'na ever talk to anyone about it, it is all so secret. Espionage is filled with horrible things. Ya never ken who ya friends really are.
I can see Randall feels badly about what has been done to me but he is not sorry. I think his training has taught him to only tell partial truths and so that is how he behaves. We both drain our glassed and he pour us each another.
We speak briefly about tomorrow's schedule and the Randall stands. "Do you need my help with Claire? Getting her upstairs to bed?" he asks.
"I think we will just stay here until she wakes on her own. My poor wee Sassenach had quite a scare. I will let her sleep a little longer. Can you leave the scotch, please? Where do I place Smokey when we go upstairs?" I ask. I am eager for Randall to leave me to my thoughts.
"The dog sleeps in the kitchen. Just put him in there and close the door. Can you bank the fire?" Randall is stalling. Why?
"Aye, I have banked a few fires in my day," and I look up at him. "It's the electric candles that confuse me," and I smile.
Randall looks surprised and then gets my wee joke. He kicks at the carpet in an attempt to stall leaving. He hand me the glass of scotch and raise his to me. "To Claire" I say and down my drink in one swallow. I look back at him and place the glass, rim down on the table. I'm done I am telling him. Go to bed.
Randall raises his glass to me in response to my toast, takes a small sip, sets the glass down and leaves. Finally.
"I thought Frank would never leave." a voice whispers from inside my plaid. "Do we have to go upstairs?"
I laugh. "Did ya sleep at all or was it all just a wee trick?" I ask her.
"I never fell asleep. Pretty good, 'eh? I used to fool Lamb all the time and after he fell asleep, I'd sneak out of my tent and do all kinds of things my uncle would never let me do, if he ever knew." she said as she crawled off my lap.
I rolled my head and neck, stand up and shake out my legs to relieve the cramps. "I love ya Sassenach, and that lovely round arse of yours, but ya are heavy, aye?" And a pillow from the couch hits me in the head. I turn and see the merriment in those beautiful whiskey eyes. "Do ya want a drink?" I ask as Smokey comes over and places his head in Claire's lap.
"Yes, please. A rather large one would be nice. Oh, someone wants his ears scratched, I think." She says and begins scratching behind the dogs ears in earnest. The look on the animal's face says it all. Heaven.
I pour us both a drink and I say, "here's to the most beautiful woman my eyes have ever beheld. Slante." I take a long sip.
Claire holds her glass up as her face turns red at my toast. "I love you too" she says in reply and takes a drink. "Did you really mean everything you said...I mean about us being connected and that the connection might travel through time? Do you really think that I might dream what you are experiencing when you leave?"
"I don't ken. Maybe. If we shared one, we might share more. Mrs. Graham might know, but I don't think even she has experienced the kind of connection we seem to have Claire. I think what we have is verra unique. Different. We will just have to trust and believe in each other and get through this, aye? I will come back to you. Trust and believe, if I can, I will. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I must go. The dream we had, it changes nothing. I know it scares ya. It scares me also. But leave I must, if I can." I look her in the face as I say the words I ken she would rather not hear.
"So we continue our journey. If you are going to go back, you will have every piece of knowledge Frank can give you. You will go back armed." and she stands, walks to me and kisses me on the lips. We are done drinking and we are done talking.
Morning finds the three of us on the floor, in front of the fire. Only two of us wrapped in my plaid. Silently, I ask myself why was Claire in my dream? Was she there to bring me peace in the end? Or was I in her dream and then why was Claire at Culloden?
We are back on the road by 9am. We head to Falkirk, a memorial, which is a rather large grave marker with a 'plaque'. Randall says the cannons are what need to be stopped; stop the cannons, stop the battle basically. We discuss the lay of the land, Jacobite strategies and new, possible advantages.
We are back in the car, jolt'n down the road in less than an hour's time. Next stop Wentworth. Still in surprisingly good shape, considering it's age. Frank leads us on a full tour. Fort Williams was for local disputes, skirmishes. Wentworth is a Prison. I have never been inside any Prison before. I can safely say, I hope I never do. Cold and dark. The chains on display look real enough. A shutter runs through me. Randall gives me a basic tour. He kens I'll never remember everything but I have a basic floor plan in my head when we leave. He says this will be where most of the captured outlaws are sent that are to be hanged, prior to Culloden. Since I have a price on my head, if I am caught, this is where they will bring me. Claire's hand grips mine tightly as we complete the tour.
We stop for a late lunch at a tavern in Dumfries then continue North, passed Glasgow, through the Trossachs National Park and on to Fort Williams. This fort I ken. It looks like I remember it, complete with the Flogging Platform and Post. I climb the steps slowly and touch the ring that held my chains and looked down to see if any of my blood still stains the wood. It is silly; that wood has long ago rotted and been replaced. I still remember the cell I was held in and Randall's office though the furnishings are not the same. I've had enough of this place. I want to leave and we do.
We make Beauly by nightfall and find a tavern with two rooms. We have dinner downstairs, and although my stomach speaks it is hungry, I do not feel much like eating. Oyster stew and fresh bread. Claire and Frank banter back and forth a bit, and leave me to my thoughts. Claire places a hand on my thigh in quiet support. When the meal is done, I tell Randall that I think I will stay down in the bar for awhile, have another ale before I come up. Claire says she will stay but I send her upstairs, to her room; tell her to soak in a bath, that I will be alright. I will stop by her room before I go to sleep. She kisses me on the lips before she turns to leave. Two lads at another table yell to Claire to come give them a kiss before she goes as well. I turn and look at them. They both hold their hands in the air and say, "Jesus man, we were just kidding." Frank offers to keep me company, but that is exactly what I do'na want. I do, however, ask him for the coins he has in his breeks pocket. He gives me a look of confusion and then hands me the coins. When Claire is up the stairs and out of sight, I walk over to the two lads that howled at her and ask if they have a deck of cards.
Two am the tavern closes. The barkeep gives me a glass of scotch to take back up with me to the room. He leans over the bar and thanks me for teaching the lads a lesson and shakes my hand.
Claire opens her door as I pause in front of it before I continue the walk down to the room Frank and I are in. I smile at her. "Are you alright, Jamie?" she asks. "I know today was really hard on you, especially Fort Williams. Do you want to come in and talk? I will be happy to listen."
"No. I am good. Did ya have your wee soak then?" I ask, although I notice she is still in the same clothes she has had on all day. I hand her the glass of scotch and she takes a drink. She does'na return it.
"No. I was waiting for you." she says with a smile on her face.
"Claire," I start. "Ya ken I want ya. We agreed, just the one night. Last night was in a open room and we just cuddled. And we had Smokey as a chaperon. I won't disrespect ya or soil your reputation by com'n into your bed chamber now, so late at night. So, No. I'll be go'n back to my room with Randall. I just wanted ta bid ya Good Night and give ya a sip of my scotch." and yet my feet do not move.
Claire reached out her hand, takes mine and I walk into her room; she does not even have to pull me. She closes the door and bolts it, behind me. She goes into the bathroom and runs the water. She points to the bench at the end of the bed and says, "Sit". I do as she commands. She hands me back the glass of scotch, kneels and removes my boots and socks. Then stands and removes my sweater. She steps back and says, "Now go in that loo, remove the rest of your clothes and get in that tub, do you hear me? When you are in the water, let me know and I will come in, sit on the floor and help you finish that scotch. I have put bubbles in the water so I will not see anything." She pulls me up and then pushes me toward the loo door.
I do as she tells me, and when I am safely in the tub, I tell her so. Claire does exactly as she said she would, she sits on the floor with her back to the tub and we talk. The water feels warm and relaxing, and, after awhile, I sink down so only my head is above the bubbles. I close my eyes, let my mind relax and just listen to Claire tell me about nursing school. I place my hand on the edge of the tub and start to run my finger up and down the two inches of the top part of her arm that is above the tub edge. I hear her sigh; it is one of my favorite noises that my Sassenach makes. It means she is happy and content and likes what I am doing. I sit up and slide down so that I am even with Claire only I am inside the tub and she is outside.
"Kiss me Claire." I demand, not ask. And she does. And the next thing I ken is that Claire is in my arms, in the tub, naked and I am sighing. How does she do that? I say I'm not going to kiss her and in no time at all, that is exactly what I am doing – Kissing her. 3 nights in a row. She is a witch. My wee witch and she is my hearts desire.
I pay for the rooms. I pay for breakfast. I pay for the petrol for the car. I give Randall back his stake and then a wee extra for the 'tabs' he has picked up on Claire and my behalf. It is nice to have a wee bit of coin of my own, if I do say so myself.
"Where did you get all this money, Jamie?" my Sassenach inquires.
"I won it, fair and square, in the bar last night. The two lads that spoke to you so rudely, needed to be taught a lesson. So I taught them one. The Barkeep said he was glad I did. Randall lent me the stake, though I do'na think he ken it at the time."
"I gave you the what?" Randall asked looking at me like he had done something wrong.
"Lent me my gambling stake, as I had no money of my own." I remind him.
"Claire, I promise you," Randall squirms in an effort to defend himself to Claire. "I did not give Jamie any money in which to gamble with. On my honor." Randall shot me a look that could kill.
"Ya did to, ya wee liar," and I shot him the same look right back. "I asked ya for the coin in your pocket and ya gave it to me, right before ya went up to the room."
"Claire, I promise you," Randall starts again. "I had no idea that's what he was going to do with it. He asked me for my change. I gave it to him. It could not have been but a couple of pounds. I thought he was going to buy another beer. That's all."
"Quit squealing to Claire about it, Randall. Ya got your money back, and then some. I just played cards with 'em. All perfectly proper. The barkeep was there the whole time. They were both just really bad at cards. Others came and went as well, it was'na just the two lads that lost." I smile, my first real smile since I have arrived. Claire looks, sees and can'na get mad at me. She turns sideways in her little seat, leans up against the back of mine, drapes her arm over my shoulder, down the front of my chest and gave me a hug. She lets her head rest on my shoulder and gently kisses my neck for the next minute or two or hour...I just close my eyes, lean my head back and let her.
Did ya ken cars have wee music boxes in them? Randall's does. Claire has a lovely voice, if Randall would just be quiet and not try to sing with her. He has a terrible voice; it would make dogs howl.
We do a quick stop by Beaufort. It is everything I have ever heard about it. We walk the grounds and the stables as well as the inside. I have no fondness for it, just curiosity because my father was born here. I have no memories of it. We are back on the road in a little over an hour.
Leoch. Castle Leoch. Home to my mother, 2 brothers and 3 other sisters. My Uncle Colum MacKenzie is Laird. His brother, my uncle Dougal MacKenzie is clan chief. My mam is dead. The only surviving Aunt is Jocasta and she lives in the Americas. The castle, their home, is in ruins. I would hardly ken it. I even check with Randall to make sure this is right. I do'na recognize any of it from the outside. The stables are gone. The well is gone. The court yard has no familiarity to it. I lead them through the corridor to the kitchens. Yes, I can see Mrs. Fitz there barking orders to the staff, but no one will ever cook there again. The Great Hall is gone. That part of the castle has collapsed. Colum's rooms were right above it. Randall starts down a corridor and down some stairs. I have never been down here. It ends with a door. Randall can'na get it open so he and I throw our shoulder into it and it opens with a 'pop'. Down another flight of stairs into almost a cave. "The Beaton's Surgery," I say as I look at the wall of shelves and small cabinets. There are still several large tables as well as a large fireplace.
"What is a Beaton?" Claire asks.
"Not a what, but a who." I reply. "Beatons are a family, well ken for their healing abilities. Since my Uncle Colum fell from his horse at age 12, his legs have always given him trouble. He always had a healer in the castle to help him manage the pain. This is where the Beaton would see other patients, when my uncle did not need him, of course."
Randall just stands there staring at me. "I know you've told me, and I have believed you. But for you to stand here and talk about this Castle like it was, the routines of it's daily life and the people that inhabited it. It's mind boggling. Jamie, you have been here, seen this castle, living and breathing. Alive in its heyday. What a opportunity for me as a historian. What a unique gift for me. Will you tell me more, later of course, when we get back to Inverness. I have so many questions."
"Aye, I'll tell ya whatever ya want to hear about." I tell him.
We are back in the car and head for Ardsmuir. "It is no longer a prison," Randall says. "The military uses it now. After Culloden, they took any survivors to Wentworth to await speedy trials and very public hangings in London. Those that fled and were found, if they were prominent traitors they also followed their predecessors to Wentworth and public hangings. But a small select few, mostly small fish, were sent to Ardsmuir. Over the years, as stragglers were captured, they were brought here to Ardsmuir as well. It was an unfinished prison when the British first started using it after Culloden. At its maximum, it probably only had 200 prisoners. There is a rock quarry not to far from here. The prisoners probably cut, carried the rocks and built some of the prison walls. They are 6 feet thick in some spots. The prisoners probably cut the peat from these bogs that was placed on the fires. The prison needed only a handful of guards. You can not tell it today but, with deep ocean water on two sides and then all this land is mostly boggy moors, a prisoner might find it easy to just walk away, but there was no where to go or to hide. They were probably re-captured right away." We were not allowed inside the prison, but seeing it ran a chill up my spine. I did not like this building, this prison.
"We will be home in 2 hours," Randall said when we left. And true to his word, we were. Exhausted. Randall dropped Claire and I off outside and we walked up and into the flat. No Lambert. Claire found a note on the kitchen table. He left dinner for us in the oven and a couple of cold beers in the fridge. He will not be back until tomorrow morning. His friend is in town. Claire and I look at each other and smile. Claire turns the oven off and takes out what Lambert calls 'Chicken Pot Pie'. Neither Claire nor I ken what that is, but it smells good. We eat and drank and laugh and touch. We forget about Culloden. We wash the dishes, put the leftovers in the fridge and wipe the table and counters down. And then hand in hand, we walk back to Claire's room, only stopping at the loo long enough to brush our teeth, take our shoes off, climb on top of the bed's covers and, with just my plaid to cover us, fall fast asleep in each others arms.