Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Father Clarke dragged her back to the St Martin's Cross at Iona. The monastery came into view as they came up the hill from the port. Smaller and newer, the building seemed similar yet different.

Nuns walked around the building and stopped when they spotted them.

The priest drew up short, quickly turned, and cut her bindings. "Damn, I didn't think anyone would occupy the place. You will do what I tell you, or I will cut you."

Marie smirked at his bent head. He became stupider by the minute. How could he think nuns wouldn't inhabit a nun's priory. What an idiot. His mistake became her good fortune. She would somehow signal the nuns, get free, find a boat, sail back to Dunstaffnage, the chapel with the portal, and back to John. Far-fetched but possible if she only put her mind to it. One step at a time. Signal nuns and get free.

Father Clarke grabbed her hand and approached the two nuns. "My fair clergy, how fortunate we are to come to this holy place."

Marie pulled back and glared at the nuns.

Father Clarke dragged her beside him. "My wife and I are on a pilgrimage and wish to pray before the great cross, St Martin's cross."

Marie tripped when he yanked her forward. When her head came up, she caught the eye of one nun and slightly shook her head. Surely, they would recognize a distressed woman, one taken against her will. Marie needed help.

The nuns exchanged a look, and the taller of the two stepped forward. "Any pilgrim wishing to find solace with the lord is welcomed at Iona Abbey. The cross is in the main yard on the other side of the monastery." As she walked on, she waved with her hand for them to follow.

Father Clarke grabbed her arm hard.

Marie jolted as they stepped forward.

The second nun followed behind as the group progressed through the property. "So nice that a married couple comes to pray together. Yers must be a love match."

Marie turned and shook her head, but Father Clarke yanked on her arm, forcing her to face forward. "Yes, my wife and I truly love one another. We must pray before St. Martin's cross for our new beginning, a match made in heaven and blessed by God."

They rounded the corner, and the cross came into view. New in this time, it shone brightly in the afternoon sun. Drawing closer, Marie needed to take advantage of the nuns' presence before she lost her opportunity to escape.

She twisted back to the nun again. "Sister, would it be possible to freshen up in the monastery? I am dry and dirty from our travels. Maybe I may find sanctuary with the walls while my husband prays."

The priest wiped her around to face him and raised his eyebrow as he spoke through clenched teeth. "Now, wife, you know we are on a mission from God. He has spoken, and we must follow his command. The stone, remember the stone and what not finding it threatens."

Both nuns stopped and glared.

The first nun stepped forward and placed her hand on Marie's arm. "Kind woman, ye must heed yer husband's good advice. A pilgrimage is a trip taken for the lord. Ye give sacrifices as God sacrificed himself on the cross for our sins." She patted her arm before she turned to continue to the cross. "A dutiful wife obeys her husband in all."

Father Clarke twisted his hand on her arm, the sting bringing tears to her eyes. "Yes, wife, be dutiful and obey your husband."

Marie couldn't believe her ears. Be dutiful. What had the world come to? But then again, they were in the fifteenth century, and this was all a woman's value was back then. A shell of a woman defined by what man wanted her to be. As they neared the cross, Marie thanked God she lived in the future.

Father Clarke stopped them before the cross and stared with an open mouth.

The first nun bowed. "I shall leave ye both in peace and prayer. Come to the monastery for a meal before ye leave."

He waved without taking his eyes from the cross. "It will not be necessary. We will pray and leave to catch our ship back to the mainland."

Both nuns bowed, and Marie stepped forward only to be dragged to the ground scraping her hands on the bottom of the cross.

When the nuns cleared the corner and were out of view, he hissed in her ear, "The stone, get me the stone, you bitch."

She ignored him and studied St. Martin's Cross instead. It was a beautiful cross, complete and unharmed in this time. The front resembled the Irish high crosses, with biblical scenes on the shaft, and the cross's very center design represented the Virgin and Child. She sat there as she took in the completed cross. In her time, the cross sat broken and lacking.

He shoved her shoulder. "Concentrate. Get the stone."

Marie righted herself and closed her eyes. She concentrated on what he commanded but not on what he wanted. No, Marie prayed with all her might. Please, God, hear me. I must get back to John and the future. I love him and all I want is to be back in the future. I serve you well and am devoted to my beliefs. Please hear me. All I've ever wanted is to remodel a holy building.

****

The day John took her to see the priory ruin, Ardchattan Priory came to her clear and bright as the cross before her.

Marie and John walked down the dock toward the marina and pub as they left Brielle and Colin for their day of sailing on Loch Etive.

John stopped at the end of the pier. "So, today's a day off from the chapel work. Care to spend a day taking in some scenery of the glen?"

Marie blushed. "Well, I haven't planned how to spend my day off, so I am free. What did ye have in mind?"

John took Marie's hand in his. "Well, there's a priory, Ardchattan Priory, close to here." Marie's pulse sped at the mention of the old priory ruins. She meant to take a day off and explore them, and this was the perfect chance.

"Ardchattan Priory. I'd love to see it. But we'll need to grab lunch. It's far from here, and I'll want to examine the layout and buildings. Oh, and I'll need to take notes. I've got my cell for pictures. We'll need to go back to the castle…"

John kissed her hand. "No need. I've prepared for this day just as we prepared Brielle and Colin's day."

Marie blinked. "Ye did?"

John nodded and kissed her hand again. "I knew the best way to convince ye to join me was to promise ye a trip to see some old rocks."

Marie pulled her hands from his. "They are more than just some old rocks."

John took both her hands back into his. "I know. I was teasing. The church is what's important to ye, so it's important to me. Who knows, I may learn something new today."

Marie didn't spend the day alone. John always came to her rescue. He smiled as she peered into his eyes.

He turned and escorted her to the car. "Why can't minerals lie?"

Marie shrugged as John laughed. "Because they're in their pure form."

Marie danced like a child as they approached Ardchattan Priory from the parking lot. The grounds lay in an idyllic location that overlooked Loch Etive.

Marie researched the property before she arrived at Dunstaffnage. Years had passed since the modernization. Her eyes roamed the building, and she noted the updated sections held an aged look. The old abbey remained her lifelong dream—to remodel a historic religious structure. Between Ardchattan Priory and the chapel, this one was in sore need.

She frowned as she examined the chapel ruins near the priory. The chapel here was in even worse condition than the one she and Bree worked on at Dunstaffnage. This one had lost three walls, yet portions of the altar remained.

John led her around the property. The rear area opened into the garden with a picturesque view of Loch Etive. Beyond the loch, the shadows of the Ben Cruachan mountain range stretched for eons. Layers of green highlands lapped over one another, slipped into the loch, and reflected like a mirror in the tranquil waters.

She sighed, and John took her hand then kissed the back of it. "I knew ye'd like this."

"Aye, I thought I might spend my day off working alone in the chapel, but when ye suggested exploring the priory ruin…"

John's hand caressed her face and stopped her speech as he smiled. "I know."

They continued along the garden paths, which honored the site's monastic origins, with names such as Monk's Walk and Priory's Walk. The main house patch included a rock garden and extensive herbaceous and rose borders, all with excellent views of Loch Etive. To the west of the house sat rows of shrub borders surrounded by a wild garden of roses and floral displays. Marie stopped to take in the scenery, and John held her hand between his. His constant touch became a welcome reminder that she wasn't alone.

She led them farther along the path until they encountered a display marker. Marie read the text aloud. "Duncan MacDougall, Lord of Lorn and builder of Dunstaffnage Castle near Oban founded the priory dedicated to St Modan in 1231. Kings of Scotland and Norway fought to control Argyll and the Inner Hebrides. Robert the Bruce held a parliament here in 1309."

Marie shifted to read the rest. "The MacDougalls dominated the priory throughout most of its existence. Indeed, by the end of the fifteenth century, the family monopolized the prior position."

She looked at John. "So, the MacDougalls built and developed the property."

He tapped the marker. "Aye, they founded this entire area of Scotland with my family alongside."

John squeezed her hand as he led her away. "I knew ye'd want a closer look at the chapel here."

Marie squeezed his hand back and smiled.

Like her first trip to the ruins at the Chapel in the Woods of Dunstaffnage, Marie examined the area as John followed behind.

She traced her finger over the small piscina near the altar where three bowl-like stone carvings sat. She sensed the people who made the old stone as she touched it, felt closer to the monks who worked here centuries ago. She gazed around her and took in the ambiance while she read each marker. She revealed what each represented—the impact each person had on the property, on history.

Marie crossed to areas of the chapel yard, where they crammed tombs into burial rows. She kept her feet perfectly parallel as she walked between the graves. Some were so close, she couldn't step between them, but she bent over and studied them to read each grave marker as she noted each person entombed for all time.

John stood by patiently and allowed her the time to examine each part of the ruin.

Marie strode from the grave area. John stretched his hand out and helped her. When she stepped up, she stumbled and fell into his arms.

He steadied her against his chest. "I got ye, Marie." They stood there momentarily, gazed into each other's eyes, and John brushed a hair from her face. He took her hand and guided them to the other side of the ruins. In this area, old grave markers sat upright so visitors got a closer look.

John cleared his throat and read from the display. "Among the many fine grave markers and carved stones on display, the greatest is the MacDougall Cross. Commissioned by Prior Eugenius MacDougall in 1400 and carved by John ó Brolchán, a stone carver from Iona. This is one of the few examples of West Highland carving and a fine example of detailed work."

Next to the display sat the large cross with portions of the design cracked off. Marie strode around the cross as she looked closer. On one side, the cross bore a crucifixion scene. On the other, an image of the Virgin and Child sat incomplete.

She sighed, "Cromwell's Clearances is probably responsible for the damage. Damn shame, the clearances ruined so many Christian monuments."

John glanced at the marker again and gasped. "This is something I didn't know. The ghost of a nun haunts the priory ruins. It says she was the lover of a monk and hid beneath the floor of his room so that she visited her lover at night. But the prior found her and, as punishment for her sins, buried her alive."

A chill shot up Marie's spine. She shivered and rubbed her arms.

John's hands took her shoulders and rubbed them. She shivered again, and he hugged her in his arms. His warmth and his care chased away her chill.

He kissed her forehead. "Hungry yet?"

Marie nodded, ready for a distraction.

John led her to the grassy area near the loch, a place the priory reserved for picnicking. He touched her face. "Ye wait here. I'll get the picnic basket. Mrs. A. packed it, insisting we enjoy ourselves."

Marie stood there as she waited for John to return.

Every so often, a sailboat passed by, and she wondered if Bree's day became as lovely as hers. She smirked. Bree deserved a nice day sailing on the loch with Colin. She and John set up the MacDougall hunting cabin with candles and flowers and included a cooked dinner from Mrs. A. for them both and an overnight bag for Bree. Bree certainly had a better day but was due for an even better night.

She giggled, then laughed out loud.

John approached from behind her. "What's so funny?"

She turned, and he held a large basket in both hands. The wind ruffled his hair as a smile rose on his face. A fluttering grew in her chest as she took a breath. He was such a handsome man.

Marie grinned and kissed him quickly. "Nothing."

John set the basket down and spread a blanket. He shifted the fabric once as he ensured they overlooked both Loch Etive and the priory.

Marie sat and dug into the basket. "Look, Mrs. A. sent sandwiches and fresh fruit with wine. Merlot, my favorite."

John sat next to her, and her face heated in a blush as they set out the food and lounged side by side in comfortable silence as they ate.

Her gaze roamed the priory building. Taking note of the structure's dilapidated state she wished someone would restore the building like she and Bree had worked on Dunstaffnage's Chapel in the Woods. She sighed at the idea of what an enormous undertaking this type of project took.

John nudged her shoulder with his. "What's wrong?"

Marie glanced at him, then back at the priory. "Oh, nothing."

He picked up his wine glass, swirled it. "Really? That was an awful big sigh for nothing."

Her gaze returned to the building. "The priory, it's such a beautiful place. Someone should take better care of it, fix it up."

John sipped his wine and waved his glass at the building. "Tell me, what would ye do with this place?"

Marie sipped her wine as she studied the grounds. Her gaze roamed the buildings and took stock of what she wanted repaired first if this were hers to renovate. After the Jacobite rising and the fall of Scotland, almost all historic buildings were destroyed or abandoned. Hope spread in her, a renovation project of a historical worship house in Scotland.

She shook her head. "Aw, this would take too much money to fix this place up right, do the dwelling justice. No one would put that kind of money into it. It's why so many Scottish buildings sit in disrepair. Too expensive."

John sat up. He rested his arm on his knee, the wine glass dangling from his fingers. "Suppose ye got a grant from the Historical Society, maybe added private funds. Found someone who was willing to put money into this place. What would ye do?"

Her gaze roamed the priory. "Frist, the foundation likely needs a lift. Then repair the cracks in the walls, double-check them for rot." Her eyes roamed to an area in the wall with significant water damage. "Most of the walls must be torn down and redone. That will be expensive as I would want them built historically accurate, stone wall and hand mixed plaster inside, not the synthetic crap people use today." She shook her head. "The cost would be astronomical, an amount impossible to gain any return on from mere tourists." When her eyes shifted to the roof, she shook her head and glanced back at John. "The roof and the archways need replacing as well."

John glanced at the priory then back at her. "Ye know the MacDougalls own this place. The chapel ruins, the graveyard, and gardens are now under the care of the Historic Environment of Scotland who opens them to tourists, but the priory is a private residence."

She sipped her wine and huffed. "I'm surprised someone is living in it now. I bet rainy days make for wet nights."

John laughed. "Aye, they do. The tenant complains about putting out over a dozen pots and bowls."

Marie sat up. "Ye mean, this place is a property ye manage as well."

John sat up and faced her. "Aye, it is. And it's something I've been meaning to discuss with Colin. The place needs work."

Hope flared in her. Would Colin take on the cost and allow her to oversee it? "Oh, what I wouldn't give to restore Ardchattan Priory. It's been my all-time dream to lead the renovation of a historical religious site, but the cost."

John's hand caressed her face. "Would ye like to help me with the proposal? Maybe suggest ye oversee it?"

She set her glass down as her heart raced. She breathed out and as she tried to calm herself, her gaze returned to John. "Ye mean it?"

John nodded as Marie launched herself into his arms and spilled his wine into the grass.

She kissed him as he rolled to his back and held her against him. "If I had known asking ye about this old place would make ye jump into my arms, I would've done this the first day ye arrived." She kissed him again, and his hand wove through her hair. He tilted her head, deepening the kiss as their tongues swirled together.

She sat back and disengaged from him. "Wait, I have to get back. We have so much planning to do."

John lay still and glared at her. "That wasn't the reaction I wanted after kissing ye."

She crawled over to him, pecking a light kiss on his lips. "I promise more after we finish the proposal." Marie shoved each item into the basket as she hastily packed the food.

John sat up. "Lord, woman, that could take weeks. How about a kiss after each planning session?"

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Deal!"

****

Father Clarke shoved her again. "That's long enough. Where's my stone. God demands the stone, and I must deliver it or suffer his wrath."

She glared up at him. "It's not here. The stone wasn't in the future and it's not the past." She yelled the last word, and "past" echoed in the yard.

A nun came around the corner and stared at them. Another chance at escape!

Marie bent forward and moaned. When nothing happened, she moaned louder.

Footfalls came near. "Sir, is something wrong with her?"

Marie lifted her head and spoke, but Father Clarke grabbed her. "Nothing, just overcome with the lord's presence." He dragged her to stand and strode away as he held her arm.

Marie resisted but the priest kept a fast pace. "Try anything and I'll cut you here."

He made fast work of getting to the dock and loaded them on the ship. Marie stood at the bow and tears fell as the ship sailed. The view of Iona Abbey faded as did her hope for rescue and escape.

Later Marie stood at the ship's bow. A cold light rain started and reminded her of the night John held her during the storm, the one after the priory visit.

****

She couldn't reach the opening. The hole seemed barely large enough to turn around in. Her fingers grazed the dirt as more dropped upon her face. She clawed the walls repeatedly as the soil packed under her nails, but she didn't care. Grime landed on her head, stuck in her hair. She leaned back and tried to find fresh air, but more dirt fell. No, this could not be happening. As she tilted her head back for air, the monk's red, sweaty face appeared at the top of the pit.

She stretched toward the opening again, like a lost soul who reached for heaven, but a shout answered. "Women are the temptation placed on the earth to foul men. You shall pay the price of the priest's sin. Die, whore!"

Debris fell continuously now and covered her legs. She cried for help, but none came. The monk shuffled around at the top. The dirt fell in large clumps and piled up as it gathered around her body. Please, God, don't let my life end, not this way, not without John. Please let me see him one last time.

It covered her chest, pressed in, and she struggled for air. She couldn't stop the dirt's fall and the mound trapped her arms. She couldn't touch her face. Earth piled around and covered her. She tried to draw in a breath but couldn't. Left suspended, her lungs burned desperately as she tried to breathe.

Marie screamed. She glanced from side to side and sat in her bed. She inhaled, and it hitched. The door burst open, and John came beside her before she drew her next breath.

He pulled her into his arms and hugged her. "What is it? What has scared ye so?"

She drew in a shaky breath, released it, and then another. A tear dropped on her cheek. John sat back and wiped the tear away.

He kissed her lightly. "Ye are safe. Ye are dreaming, that's all m'eudail, my darling." John eased her back so she lay down as he helped her untangle the bedclothes. He brushed her hair aside and studied her face.

"What is it?" She shook her head and said nothing.

John gazed at her for a moment, then tucked her in bed and kissed her softly.

He rose, but she grabbed his arm and stopped him. "Will ye stay till I fall back asleep?"

John nodded, climbed into bed, and took her into his arms and carefully wrapped himself around her in a protective cocoon.

His voice came soft as he spoke. The timbre of his voice was clear and haunting as he nearly whispered in the poem's rhythm.

The sea fairy swam fast away,

Safely over the wave and sea.

Gave her heart to her human love,

Will she ne'er come back to me.

His chest rumbled a little with his breath but the way his voice softly echoed in the room reached her.

Will ye no come back again?

Will ye no come back again?

Better loved ye canna be,

Will ye no come back again?

He paused and rubbed her back.

She tilted her head till her eyes connected with his. "Please don't stop; it's soothing. Did ye make that up?"

He smiled. "Aye, after our first dinner together."

She sighed. "Yer sea nymph."

He whispered the poem again as he brushed his fingers over her back.

The sea fairy swam fast away,

Safely over the wave and sea.

Gave her heart to her human love,

Will she ne'er come back to me.

Will ye come back to me?

Will ye come back to me?

Better loved ye canna be,

Will ye come back to me?

He kissed her head and held her. Nothing more, nothing less, and she never felt so safe before.

She lay awake deep into the night, unable to fall back asleep. A light rain started and pattered on the window. The rain trailed down the window, and the light cast rippling shadows over their embraced bodies. The rain reminded Marie of their night in the kitchen when the power cut out. She snuggled closer to John, resting her head against his chest. With the lulling sound of the rain, and the light shadow of trickling water over their bodies, Marie fell asleep to John's heartbeat.

****

Rain drops jolted Marie out of her memory. She stood on the ship's deck and gazed at the ocean. The vessel, new in this age, left Marie a little off kilter. She believed this was a galleon ship, the three sails with a main tall mast in the center. Large ropes crowded near the edge, yet she found a place and stood at the rail as she gazed out over the sea.

She remained wet and cold. But she stood and stared across the water toward Dunstaffnage. She couldn't see the castle but sensed the building's presence—home. She wanted to be home again, home in John's arms. A tear trailed down her cheek, and she wiped at it hard.

Father Clarke probably slept warmly in the small cabin. She didn't want to be anywhere near him and, for once in her life, she enjoyed being alone. Father Clarke commanded her to study his book the previous night in hopes she would provide him with directions to find an Iona Stone. But her goal remained to find a way forward in time, back home to John. She sighed. She found no way which took her back to John. She thumped her fist on the railing. There had to be something.

Marie closed her eyes and ran the book images through her mind. Something had to be there. There were chorales, drawings of various crosses across Scotland, and descriptions of the Stones of Iona, but no list of them individually or their locations. The book described how the stones held the ability to rule the world. She recalled the pages which displayed the Dunstaffnage Chapel in the Wood. The book led Father Clarke to believe she drew power from the mosaic floor she renovated.

While the volume didn't specifically reference any power, it spoke about magic from the floor, the same theory Emily MacDougall, Colin's mother, had about the chapel. A page referenced Fae portals and listed a few which included the chapel door. That must be the page where he learned the chant to open the chapel portal. From what Bree told Marie, a Fae must be present to open a portal. However, he used a simple chant.

Other biblical-type quotes were inside, and one page spoke about the consequences if a human died on the holy ground without being shriven. The book gave him only a portion of what he needed to locate any of the Iona stones, and she sure as hell wouldn't help him.

When Father Clarke asked her what she found in the book, she told him she viewed nothing more than what he had. He looked like he wanted to slap her, but he didn't. From what Marie figured, he pieced together a part of the book and filled in the rest from his demented imagination, the power of God, to power the stones. Bree mentioned human emotions powered the rocks. She used her love for Colin and powered the Stone of Love which returned him from purgatory.

She gazed out over the water and wished she existed someplace else. The next cross listed in the book led them to Islay isle. They caught the same ship that took them to Iona as it headed to Islay, the capital for the whisky trade. She smirked. She needed a drink about now. She was wet, cold, and alone, and a shot could warm her inside and ease her headache.

She stared at the ocean for lack of anything else to do. In the distance, she spied another ship, one like hers. She sighed. If only John stood on that ship as he searched for her. She wrapped herself tighter in her plaid and prayed he came for her.