53. Chapter 53 - Lady Mairead

CHAPTER 53 - LADY MAIREAD

THE KINGDOM OF RIAGHALBANE - 24TH CENTURY

I went tae my room and collapsed on my settee. The voice in the room greeted me and asked if I needed anything. I requested a nightcap and then asked the room tae show me a soothing video of aerial footage of the Scottish Highlands. I watched the familiar and calming video and tried tae relax in front of the fire, but I was unsettled — it seemed as if time were changing again and I needed tae discover the reason.

But I was at a loss.

Nae one had informed me of trouble brewing. Was I simply imagining it?

I had an entire system set tae warn me of historical discrepancies, it was a system that usually worked. Yet somehow this time I hadna been given a warning.

It had been a surprise tae find my vessel not working, tae find the Darner missing. I dinna like surprises on principle.

I was loathe tae ask the system tae investigate though, because I dinna want tae become unsettled.

I sighed. I dinna want tae investigate — what might I find?

And why was it up tae me tae look for historical discrepancies, the system should find them. The system should warn me. The system should be better than this.

And ultimately I had learned, nothing good came from looking for historical discrepancies right before I went tae bed.

I needed my sleep.

I couldna put my mind tae rest whenever I wanted, not anymore, too many people relied upon me.

I sipped from my drink and watched the video landscape, the camera soaring over the bens — but maybe I ought tae look, something might be... something was likely going on…

My deliberation was interrupted by the computers voice:

Your Highness, we have discovered a discrepancy.

I muttered, “Och nae,” sipped from my glass, and put it down on the table in front of me. I smoothed down my skirts and turned on the lamp beside me. “Of course ye hae discovered a discrepancy at the last possible moment when I hae already been inconvenienced and just on the verge of asking for the information. Now ye tell me.”

The voice said:

My apologies, Your Highness.

Apologies from a computer were never verra satisfying. It dinna grovel quite like it ought.

I said, “Tell me what ye found.”

There were flashes and lines of text, scrolling down the wall.

The voice said:

We have found historical discrepancies in three distinct time periods, in four historical figures, and in two people who are related to Your Highness. Would you like the list first or the summary?

“Related to me? Who?”

Magnus the First and Sean Campbell.

My stomach dropped. “Start with the summary, begin with Magnus, then tell me about Sean — wait, I daena ken…” I took a deep breath, having a distinct sense of foreboding. “Tell me what happened tae Sean.”

The computer said:

The date of his death has been added into the historical record.

I blinked. “What did ye say...?”

The computer:

Sean Campbell died during the English assault on the King of Scotland’s men during a negotiation on the Field of Kippen, on June 20 in the year 1291.

I blinked again, my breath quickening. “I daena understand... it canna possibly be true... who killed him?”

The computer:

He was killed under the orders of Edward the First of England. Mag Mòr, the King of Scotland, was meeting with King Edward at Kippen to negotiate a treaty. King Edward’s men attacked Mag Mòr’s men. Sean Campbell was killed in battle.

“Nae. It canna be true... Magnus would never allow for it.”

There was a date on the wall that I couldna bear tae look at so I stood and paced across the room. Thinking tae myself, Why am I alone? Why is nae one here tae assist me?

I felt shame for thinking on myself, but couldna get past the fact that I had been alone for a long time while my son had died and I hadna even been given the news. Magnus ought tae hae come directly tae tell me.

But instead I was here and there was nothing I could do — I couldna control it, and I was receiving the news while I was desperately lonely.

I then sank in the chair again. And focused on the date: June 20, 1291. Grief overwhelmed me — Sean is gone.

Nae, tis nae fair.

Sean is gone. Fionn’s son. Gone. He is nae more…

I dabbed at my tears with a tissue. “Where is he buried?”

A pause, then the computer said:

That record does not exist, Your Highness. His body was not recovered from the battleground.

I gulped down my tears. “That is outrageous.”

The computer said:

It is common with historical records from medieval times.

I scowled. “Daena back-talk the Queen Mother.”

I thought of Sean’s wife, Maggie, and his bairns.

And how he had wanted tae time travel with his brother, Magnus, and now he was gone.

I had kept Fionn in my heart by looking upon our son… he had resembled his father and the alikeness had given me solace. His voice had taken the same cadence, his personality had been so similar, it had given me comfort through the years. Looking on Sean, I felt that somehow Fionn was still in the world.

Tae lose him was tae be reminded of how much I had lost.

Maggie would be inconsolable. His sons were tae grow up without a father… och nae.

But I couldna mourn. I couldna collapse intae a heap and bemoan the loss.

I dried my eyes. I was alone receiving news that my first born son was dead and I had nae time tae cry. There was nae one tae console me. I had tae straighten my back and raise my chin. I couldna lament that our family had yet more fatherless sons — twas a curse upon us, brought upon us by my brother, the Earl.

I blamed him.

For all of it.

Why was I alone? Because my brother had widowed me, imprisoned me, married me off against my will, and brought upon our family a curse that meant my sons would be fatherless. My grandsons too?—

Och nae. I dinna want tae ask, but I had tae — I clamped my eyes shut and asked, “What is the discrepancy involving Magnus?”

The computer spoke:

On the same day, after the death of Sean Campbell, Mag Mòr and his son, Prince Archibald, fled the meeting with the English King. They were ? —

“How old was the Prince at this time?”

The computer answered:

Eight years old.

I huffed, irritated that Archibald’s life had been risked in that way.

I rolled my hand. “Go on.”

The computer reported:

The record shows that Mag Mòr and his son, Prince Archibald, fled to Stirling Castle ? —

“They arrived safely?”

The computer said:

Yes, but the King of England attacked in what is now called the Siege of Stirling Castle, 1291 ? —

My eyes went wide. “What do ye mean, attacked? He laid siege ? With Magnus and Kaitlyn and their bairns inside the castle? Did they survive?”

The computer answered:

According to the record, Stirling Castle sustained heavy damage, the princes and princess survived the onslaught, Mag Mòr surrendered to King Edward. He and Queen Kaitlyn were captured ? —

“What? This is unbelievable!”

I stood, picked up my glass and drank the rest of my wine, slamming the glass back down on the coffee table. “What dost ye mean , he ‘surrendered’? How can this be?” I began pacing again. “Magnus is a time traveler! He has all the weapons in the world and kens modern warfare! How could he possibly surrender tae the Medieval English King?”

The computer said:

This is one of the discrepancies, Your Highness, the historical record is inconsistent. The bombardment of Stirling Castle went beyond contemporaneous thirteenth-century warfare. The destruction of Stirling Castle was near total. The medieval historian, John of Fordun, described Edward’s weapons as being ‘a glistening trebuchet of racket and roar’ and a ‘mighty bird direct from the heavens who captured the Scottish King and took him away.’

“Those must be modern weapons.”

The computer said:

The historical account seems consistent with modern weapons. That was one of the flags for this report.

I said, “So, Magnus has surrendered tae the English King. Where was he taken?”

The computer said:

That is inconclusive.

“Nae one has bothered tae rescue him?”

The computer answered:

We have no reports on ? —

“Daena answer that, I ken how this works — of course nae one has rescued him because I am just now hearing about this.” I huffed. Why hadn’t I been told about any of this when I could have solved it? It had all happened so quickly, behind the scenes, like a takeover in secret. King Edward wasn’t capable of this villainy.

Who had introduced him tae modern weaponry?

Then I thought, this must involve Asgall .

I returned tae my chair. Why hadna Colonel Quentin solved this? Magnus was surrounded by good men who would lay down their lives for him. Modern men who knew how tae fight and were capable of providing him with security and firepower. How had they allowed him tae be captured?

I exhaled. I was certain that if Colonel Quentin dinna protect Magnus he either wasna there, or… Had something dire happened tae him?

Something dire had happened tae my son, Sean…

I shook my head tae keep the grief from settling there.

How could Magnus and his men have allowed this tae happen? Usually I would ken first thing. This was the trouble of them being so far back in the past. Twas not natural. News from the thirteenth century making it tae the twenty-fourth century took time.

It was a disadvantage

There were a great many things that could interfere with gathering information over those many centuries. That was why Magnus never wanted kingdoms at both ends of time, twas too much like an empire, easier tae gain than tae hold.

He wasna suited tae be an emperor. He was much better at protecting his lands as a king. And though I wanted him tae amass as much power as possible, I was a realist — I wanted him tae wield power and control. Empires were difficult tae control.

Perhaps when I had been younger...

In my advanced age it all sounded like a great deal of work, lonely work.

I said tae the computer, “You mentioned more historical discrepancies — list them. I am growing tired and need sleep.”

I poured more wine in my glass and took a sip.

The computer responded:

The discrepancies in historical time periods.

One: the siege of Stirling Castle. There are conflicting dates, it is listed as taking place in the years 1291, 1292, and 1304. There is a mention of a trebuchet used called the Warwolf, but in only one record. Contemporaneous records do not call the weapon a trebuchet. In most of the records the weapon is called a War Machine.

Two: In the year 1775, at Staunton, Virginia, there is a battle that took place, that has only one ? —

I waved my hand. “All of that is unimportant, I daena want tae hear of unimportant things or we will be here all night. Only tell me of what is directly related tae Magnus and Scotland. Tell me about the discrepancies with the historical figures.”

The computer voice said:

One, The King of England, Edward the First, had an advisor by the name of Asgall. He was present at the negotiation at Kippen where Sean Campbell was slain.

I nodded. “Then there is proof. He is the one who has done it. Do we ken anything else about Asgall?”

The computer responded:

The alert you set for ‘Asgall’ has listed him as a frequenter of brothels in Staunton, Virginia.

I said, “Och nae…” I sighed. “Is this all? Hae ye told me?—”

An alert appeared, projected on the wall, warning me that I had a message on my secure channel. I answered it with my code and a letter appeared. It read:

Dear Lady Mairead,

You do not know me, I am Liam Campbell, a direct descendant of Sean Campbell, born in 1675.

I believe you and I are somehow cousins. I am the caretaker of Taymouth Castle. I found a book in the library here with two letters. There were instructions to send the letters to you, so I am including them.

I hope this helps and my apologies for the interruption.

Yours sincerely,

Liam Campbell

I opened and read the attached letters, then read all of them again — Lochinvar was stranded in 1683. Quentin and James were stranded in 1710. I was stranded in the twenty-fourth century. Magnus had surrendered in 1291. Sean was dead. Och nae.

My eyes settled on Asgall’s name in the letter from Master James Cook and Colonel Quentin.

Asgall was winning.

He was building an empire by conquering ours.

The bottom of the letter gave me a phone number tae call. Twas for Liam Campbell’s wife, Blakely.

I asked the room tae shew me their files and read through the information. Liam Campbell was my great-great-great-great-grandson through Sean. I asked for the computer tae shew me a photo of him. It came tae me, a photo of Liam in his rugby uniform, young and handsome. I marveled at the likeness, he looked much like Fionn, his great-great-great-great-great-grandfather.

I felt comforted by finding him, after discovering that Sean was dead.

It seemed like a miracle.

Then I wondered who they thought I was... did they know about time travel?

Liam was living at Balloch. I read through the titles and leases of Taymouth Castle. Then I asked the computer, “Is this true? A consortium called the Riaghalbane Royal Company bought Balloch and gave it tae Liam Campbell?”

The computer voice said:

Yes, Your Highness.

“List the name of the owners of the consortium.”

The computer said:

Yes, Your Highness, the Riaghalbane Royal Company Consortium is made up of Magnus Campbell, Fraoch MacDonald, James Cook, Zach Greene, and Quentin Peters. They met with Liam Campbell and signed the contracts at the Och Nae Pub in North Carolina. Liam Campbell and his wife, Blakely, moved to Balloch, now called Taymouth Castle, a few months later.

I exhaled long. “Tis odd, I daena remember any of this. Why was it kept from me?” This was yet another decision that my son, the king, hadna informed me about. How was I tae handle everything for him — if I dinna hae all the details?

I looked at the image of Liam Campbell again. Fionn would be proud of his descendant.

I asked the computer tae call the number.