47. Chapter 47 - Ash

Iwas going to escape today, but it was just past dawn and I wasn't out of bed yet, when I was startled by the sound of horses, weird, lots of horses, enough for an army. The rumble of them was terrifying, something I had never heard before, but I knew in my bones. Horses. Probably a lot of men riding them.

I was going to escape, had I missed my chance?

I scrambled from the bed and stood at the far wall from the door with the iron spike in my hand.

It was a very tense ten minutes or so when my ears pounded. There were shouts of men outside, then my door shoved open and a large shadow appeared in the frame.

I held the iron spike up like a sword.

A strange man walked in and stood there, not looking at me, but peeling off his gloves. He was wearing a fur around his shoulders, a long dress-like outfit that went down to boots. He had belts around his waist, long hair, a thick mustache, tiny, menacing eyes, a weird-ass gold band around his forehead as if he was the dude at the Ren Faire who pretended to be a king.

He chillingly said, "I see ye hae made yerself at home."

"Who in the ever-burning hot fires of Hades are you?"

"I am goin' tae be yer husband, here tae introduce m'self."

"You get the hell away from me." My arms were shaking — I tried to hold them still, but the iron spike had grown heavy and I was weak with fear. I had been holding it up in front of me for a long time with my adrenaline pumping.

"Ooooh, frightening. The lady thinks she can scare me."

I thought, I could charge at him, just fight him, get it over with, but then what? My guess was there were at least twenty men out there now, that's what the horses had sounded like, and the village was already full of people, they didn't seem to wish me animosity, mostly they just bowed their heads when I walked by, but still... what would they do if I survived assaulting this stranger dressed in medieval garb?

Who was I kidding, he was big, I wouldn't survive it.

I leveled my eyes. "Tell me where I am."

"Ye are in my home."

"It's a crap home, you ought to have better furnishings, centralized heat and air. This is a hovel in the middle of nowhere. Is this some kind of cult? You the leader? I'm not joining your Kool-Aid cult, I'm a service member in the United States Army, I demand you let me go."

His brow raised. "Ye are delightful — I canna decide whether tae smack ye across the face or laugh."

"You come near me and I'm going to drive this spike through your vampire-heart. Then I'll feed you to the dragons outside. Where the hell are we?"

He turned the chair from the table and sat down in it, wriggled a bit to make himself comfortable, then crossed one leg over the other knee, leaning back as if he had not a care in the world. He smacked the gloves against the table and looked off out the window.

"Do ye smoke, Ash?"

"Smoke? What are you talking about?"

"Smoke cigarettes, I hae a habit of them..."

"I don't understand... no. I don't smoke."

"Not havin' cigarettes makes me irritable."

My eyes went wide. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I want ye tae marry me, I will make ye verra comfortable?—"

"Bullshit. Where are we? Once I murder you and escape, and trust me, I know how to do it, I have a route planned. The worst part is choosing how to kill you: I know at least half a dozen ways just using this spike."

He smiled. "I see ye are verra overly confident. Some might find this a good quality in a queen, I find it tae be vexing. Find a way tae be more humble or I am going tae put a stop tae yer mouth."

I was so freaking scared I couldn't think of a word to say.

He glared at me, his eyes intense, his mouth smiling a menacing, terrifying smile.

"You are not going to lay a hand on me, I promise you that."

"Daena be so insufferable, I daena want tae touch ye, ye are not my type. Ye and I are going tae make an alliance, so I can get out of here and go to a reasonable place where I can buy a pack of cigarettes and smoke them freely." He pulled a paper from a leather pouch on his belt and spread it out on the table. He placed a pen on top.

"Sign here, and I will stay away for the most part."

"Will you let me go home?"

"In time. Ye will be my guest, first, then ye can return home."

"Not good enough. I want to go home now, I have people who miss me, who are looking for me. This is not okay."

"How will they ever find ye, Queen Ash?"

"Why the hell are you calling me that?"

"Because I am a king, and ye are my chosen queen."

"King of what...? You're a mental case, I am not interested in a dude in a dress with delusions of grandeur — you need a therapist."

"King of Scotland."

I blinked, my arms were so sore from holding the spike up in the air, my arms trembling, I was totally overwhelmed. "Scotland? How did I get to Scotland?"

I thought, Does this involve Lochie?

He tapped the paper."I am not leaving this room until ye sign this contract. If ye winna sign on yer own, I will force ye tae. I daena see any reason why ye would want tae endure the pain, but I am a king and I am not used tae this much insolence; tis testing my already verra thin patience."

"I don't understand at all, this is Scotland? Do you know Lochie?"

He smiled knowingly, but he asked, "Who is Lochie?"

"Lochinvar, he's someone... I..." I wasn't sure what to say. I didn't know enough about him to be able to describe him. "He lives on Amelia Island."

"Aye, I ken of Lochinvar." He glared at me, long.

Then he tapped the paper again.

I said, "So what exactly does this contract say?"

"It says ye will become a queen. It means that ye will stay here for a bit longer, and then ye can go home. In the meantime ye will be clothed well, fed as ye wish, and ye will hae all ye need."

"I need a great deal more than this, this is like living in the dark ages."

He chuckled. "This is not a negotiation, ye will sign it." He exhaled. "I will make certain ye hae better food."

"Better bedding too."

He nodded.

Then he tapped the paper.

I let go of the spike with one hand and shook it out, then traded hands, shaking out the other. "You're being very vague about how long I will need to stay here."

He raised his brow. "I am being secretive because I daena need tae tell ye. Ye need tae ken, Queen Ashley, ye will either sign this and survive, with the deal I am offering, or ye winna survive. This is up tae ye."

I could see the shadows of other men outside the room. Waiting, guarding. My arms were screaming. I wanted the pain to stop. I was so scared. I wanted more than anything to get this evil dude out of my room.

And one thing was in my mind, my training: survive the encounter.

He hadn't hurt me, but I could see it in his eyes that he could, without a moment's hesitation.

And I had somehow been moved to Scotland without realizing it. How?

What had happened to me?

If I signed it I might survive.

It ran through my mind, This contract will never stand up in a court of law. I was signing under extreme duress, I could just do it. Just sign.

Also, maybe the contract would have some information on it: a date, an address, this guy's name, something I could tell the police as soon as I got away.

"You must have drugged me to get me to Scotland — what else did you do to me?"

He shrugged. "Nothin', we hae plenty of time tae get tae know each other."

"You disgust me, you better not have done anything to me."

I shook out my arms again, then said, "I'm not walking over there to sign while you're sitting there. You need to move away."

He said, "Of course." He got up and walked over to the door and stood there with his back to it. He was only about ten feet away. I knew it was dangerous, but I couldn't think of what else to do.

I went up to the contract, holding the spike in my left hand and looked down on the paper.

It said at the top in decorative script:

Marriage Agreement

and under it:

I, Queen Ash,

wife of Asgall I, King of Scotland, agree to his terms.

"I can't sign this, it doesn't say anything. What am I agreeing to?"

"You are agreeing to live here for a time, tae be the Queen of Scotland. Then you get to go home. I already explained this."

"This is nonsense, you want me to live in this hovel pretending to be a queen? Is this some kind of Ren Faire? Wait, is this a reality show? Are you filming this? I am not giving permission to be filmed, under no circumstances. Is this porn? Is this an Only Fans? I will not be filmed. Period."

"I am not filming ye. Sign." The way he said it. Short and clipped, like a command, set a chill up my spine. I picked up the pen, pushed the button on the back to expose the point. "How do you want me to sign this bull-hockey, with my full name, or this made up cockamamie ‘Queen Ash' BS?"

"Sign it Queen Ash — ye hae high thoughts on yerself for someone named after the ash in a fireplace."

"I am not, I am named after the Ash tree, the Tree of Life, Yggdrasil."

He shrugged. "Sign."

"Where is this place? Usually when signing a contract, one signs the date and place."

"This is my brewery."

"The name?"

"It daena hae a name, tis a brewery."

"That's stupid, you are a king, you have a brewery and you haven't named it? What am I supposed to write for the place — The cruel king's stupid brewery in Scotland?"

"I daena care what ye name it, name it whatever ye want."

"Fine, as the queen I will name it the Tree of Life Brewery. In the divorce I will take all the proceeds."

I signed my name:

Ash

The Tree of Life Brewery, Scotland

I asked, ready to calculate how many days since I had been taken, "What is the date?"

He said, "May twenty-second, the year of Our Lord, twelve hundred ninety six."

I was leaned over the page, my hand poised, blinking. I stammered, "Wha— what did you say?"

"May twenty-second, the year of Our Lord, twelve hundred ninety six."

My hands shook as I wrote it, under the place.

May 22, 1296

I asked, "Are you claiming this is some kind of time travel?"

"Yes, it's time travel." He put out a hand for the contract.

"Right. You're a king, I'm a queen, we've time traveled to the year 1296. Got it."

He said, "Tis true."

I yanked it from the table and held it away. "If this is time travel, how will I get home?"

"Give me the contract."

His voice, cold and commanding, frightened me. I held it out, then thought better of being so close. I dropped it to the table and stepped back to the wall. I raised the spike again and glared.

He grabbed the contract and looked it over. He put it on the table, bent over it, and used the pen to scratch out the place and date I had written so it was indecipherable. "Why are you doing that?"

"So nae one will ken where or when ye are livin'. Ye canna be too careful." He folded the contract up and inserted it in his pouch. "Thank ye, ye were verra obligin'. Now I need tae return tae a reasonable age, a place with cigarettes and proper mixed drinks, where tis possible for a man tae enjoy himself. Ye will stay here." He looked around. "Enjoyin' my hospitality, verra far back in the past."

"I hate you."

He shrugged. "As ye might surmise, providin' what ye need for comfort in the middle ages is difficult. I am verra cautious about moving objects from one time tae another, I rarely chance it, so there is a degree of suffering ye will feel. I will do my best tae see ye fed and clothed well, considerin' the limitations of the place, but ye must keep yer origins hidden. The villagers grow frightened by strangers. This is why, up until now ye hae been guarded by men of this time, but after meetin' ye I see ye are determined tae cause trouble, I will be putting armed guards on the walls. Ye winna escape again." He smiled watching the color drain from my face. "And I would behave, if I were ye. If the locals think ye unusual they might declare ye a witch. I winna hae any power tae stop it, even if I were here. And I won't be."

"You said you were the king, doesn't that mean you'll be here...?"

"Nae, I daena like this time enough tae actually live here."

I shook my head. "I truly don't understand. This isn't real."

"Tis verra real."

"I can't speak the language."

"Ye will learn, ye will be here for quite some time."

"What do you mean?—?"

He pulled open the door and left without answering.

I stood staring at the door, my heart racing, then I ran toward it and yanked it open, as I saw villagers with their heads bowed and the man I had been speaking to mounting his horse.

I couldn't let him leave, he was the only one who spoke English, who had answers, who could explain this, but he was also cold and cruel and I could tell he didn't care if I lived or died. I couldn't believe I had survived our encounter.

I ought to have been quiet, but instead I yelled, "Wait!"

He pulled his horse around, looked down his nose, coldly. "Aye?"

"Um, what am I supposed to do? What is the point?"

He chuckled. "The queen wants tae ken her point?"

"Yes."

"Yer point is tae give me a son for m'kingdom, the same as all queens."

I opened and closed my mouth as he directed five men dressed like mercenaries and armed with rifles up to join the other guards on the walls.

Then, without glancing back, he rode from the compound surrounded by men.

I looked around at the walls, men guarding me from leaving, then at the gathered people as they raised their heads, casting furtive glances my way. I looked down at the spike, still in my hand. People bowed then returned to work.

It looked like the Middle Ages, sounded like it, smelled like how I would imagine it would smell. Was this what losing your mind felt like?

Was I in a padded room somewhere with this story playing in my mind?

It was the only reasonable supposition, because time travel didn't exist.

He wanted me to have his son? Was he going to force himself on me?

Over my dead body. I was going to run.

I had my food, my bag.

This creep would never see me again.

I changed the spike to my other hand. It had been a good-enough weapon until the new guards showed up. I would need to get my hands on one of their rifles to get away — How was this real?It had to be a dream, right? I reached out and touched the low hanging thatch on the roof. Then I felt the white walls. It all felt real. There was a sprig of lavender on the window sill. I picked it up and smelled it. It smelled woodsy and floral as it should.

The young women approached carrying baskets, bringing me a meal, the scent of bread wafting by as they took it inside to my table. Their heads bobbed as they passed.

I followed them in and watched them unpack the meal.

Then I noticed my sack on the crate at the end of my bed. It had a hole chewed in the side. I opened the top of it, the bread I had collected was gone. Some beast had eaten my escape food.

I would have to collect bread again and steal another sack before I could escape. If I could escape.

What did he mean by you're going to have my son?

I turned to the two women and said, pressing my hand to my heart. "I am Ash." I repeated it, "I am Ash, Ash. Ash, Ash."

The two women said, "Ash."

I nodded. "Ash."

Then I pointed, "What is your name?" I repeated myself a few times, but they giggled, bowed their heads, averted their eyes, and kept saying, "Ash."

I tried more, "Ash," pat my chest, "what is your name?"

They said, "Ash."

And I gave up. I pulled out the chair, slammed the spike onto the table, and exhaled.

The young women began bustling around the room, building my fire, taking away my piss pot, while I chewed a piece of bread, staring at the wall. There was some cheese, a bit of fruit preserves, the bread was good and warm. My mug had some milk in it, warm, odd, not to my liking, but the bread was sticking in a lump in my throat, I needed the milk to wash it down.

The lump was threatening a long cry.

I pushed the food away, pulled up the spike and went over to the bed, placing it beside my pillow. I climbed into the old bed and pulled the fur and wool and heavy linen blankets over me. Fully dressed, I lay on my side, focused on my hands.

The young women left the room quietly.

It was mid morning and I was done with this, all done.

What was I going to do?

I needed to gather my thoughts, come up with a plan… but first I needed to figure this out. Did time travel exist?

He said I had time traveled. I didn't know how, but let's just say I had.

This dude, the king, Asgall… absolute stupid name… had seemed to know Lochie.

Lochinvar.

Was he a time traveler?

…

…

…

That would explain a lot, actually.

Lochie's description of his life in Scotland had seemed kind of suspect.

His brothers all sounded like this king-dude.

Lochie's uniform had a sword, he said he regularly fought, he wouldn't say if he killed anyone… if I thought about his conversation from this perspective, a time traveler, his answers, his inability to answer, his mannerisms, oh my goodness, I remembered the poem. He had recited a poem for the whole bar.

I hadn't been able to put my finger on the novelty of it, but that was… odd. It was the move of a guy who ‘didn't grow up around here' as my uncle used to say.

Around here.

So if I was in the past, in the year 1296, holy cheese and crackers, how would I get home?

Was I just waiting for king creep to impregnate me, bear him a son, and then he would let me go? What a nightmare.

Or was Lochie going to come rescue me?

His sister-in-law had said, "…call if anything weird…"

I had called — maybe she knew. This for sure had been what she meant, right?

‘Weird' was equal to time travel...

They weren't in the mob, they were time-traveling.

And I was seriously delusional, had read too many dystopian stories, had lost my mind.

Or this was all true.