Epilogue

T hey spent the night in Gretna and arrived in the village of Pinner twelve days later. Stopping at the Bull’s Head Tavern, Col entered the taproom, trailed by Aihan and his sons to find a big dark-haired man behind the bar, polishing tankards.

“Good afternoon, d’ye have two rooms we can hire?”

“I do,” the man rumbled. “How long will you be staying?”

“I’m nae sure, at least a week,” said Col. “Can ye tell me where yer Doctor resides?”

“Dr Thornton’s surgery is in the main street, ten doors down from the vicarage. I hope none of your party are ill?”

“Nae. He’s my brother, we’ve come for a visit.”

The publican broke out in a wide grin and held his hand out, “Pleased to meet you, Mr Thornton. Sebastian Rooke at your service, and welcome to Pinner.”

Col shook his hand, and the man turned towards the curtained doorway behind him and poked his head through. “Beth, I’ve got Merlow’s brother and his family here.”

He turned back as a diminutive blonde woman appeared, wiping her hands on her apron. “How wonderful!”

Col offered his hand to Mrs Rooke and introduced Aihan and the boys.

Mrs Rooke promised them food and took them upstairs to show them their rooms.

“I’ll send Betty up with hot water for you to wash the dust off. We are so delighted to meet you. Merlow is somewhat of a local hero, you know,” said Mrs Rooke. “And of course he is married to Seb’s sister Hetty, so he’s family to us, which makes you family too!”

“Aye, I’ve met Hetty; Merlow brought her to up to stay with us a few months back.”

“Yes, that is right, I remember them going!” She looked around. “Now, do you have everything you need? Soap, towels . . . ” She counted things off on her fingers. She turned to Aihan and said with a sunny smile, “Please let me know if there is anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, we are so delighted to have you here!”

Aihan smiled back and gave her a little Chinese bow with her hands between her breasts. “We are honoured to stay with you, thank you.”

Mrs Rooke took this with a slight blink and another smile. “You are very welcome.”

By the time they had washed and returned downstairs for the promised meal, it seemed the village network had sent news of their arrival, for the taproom contained a number of additional people, and into their midst burst Merlow at a trot with Hetty in his wake.

“Col!” he said, his face creasing in a smile as he clapped his brother on the back in a hug. “Why did ye not tell us ye were coming?”

“It was a spur of the moment decision. Let me introduce my wife, Aihan.” He put an arm round her waist and brought her forward for Merlow’s inspection.

Merlow smiled at her and bowed Chinese fashion, addressing her in her own language.

Aihan bowed in response and felt tears sting her eyes as she heard her own language spoken for the first time in so long. It brought a wave of homesickness and grief in its wake.

“Huānyíng lái dào píng nà. Wǒ duì nǐ dìdì de qùshì biǎoshì zuì chéngzh de āidào.” His welcome and condolences hit her hard.

She bowed again. “Xièxiè.” Thank you.

A tall blonde-haired woman stepped forward then and enveloped her in a hug. “I am so delighted to meet you and so sorry for your loss,” she murmured softly in Aihan’s ear.

She concluded this was Hetty, Merlow’s wife, and the hulking publican’s sister. She could see no resemblance between the two of them, but then she and Liang had not shared any striking resemblance either. These people were so welcoming it was almost overwhelming.

More introductions were made, but Aihan had trouble keeping up with them. She was still tired from her ordeal of twelve days ago, and travelling had not allowed her much respite to recover.

They were herded to a table, joined by Merlow and Hetty, where Mrs Rooke served them an excellent meal. Aihan made a note of the dishes and which ones the boys seemed to like the most. She would ask Mrs Rooke for the receipts.

After the meal, they were urged to come to the vicarage, whatever that was, and meet Hetty and Mr Rooke’s father, who was, it seemed, some kind of religious leader for the village. A priest in the strange religion of Christianity . She had caught fleeting references to it in Col’s household, but since he didn’t seem to attend Church —the word for temple, she gathered—there had not been a lot of discussion around it.

Things were clearly different here. The vicarage, it turned out, was Hetty’s father’s home, and so called because his title was that of vicar, a type of priest. Hetty’s resemblance to her father was strong, and he was as welcoming as everyone else had been, ushering them all into his small parlour and offering drinks of some sweet liquor in small glasses. Aihan took one, sniffed and sipped. It was alcoholic and very sweet.

After that, they were escorted down the street a bit to Merlow’s residence, which contained also his place of medical practice. Aihan was nodding in her chair when Col nudged her awake gently. “Come, lass, ye’re tired, we will continue this tomorrow when ye’re rested.”

Two days later, Col watched his wife conversing with his brother in her native tongue. She took every opportunity to do so, and Merlow was glad to humour her; as he said, he needed the practice. It was obvious to Col that it gave her great pleasure, and his heart contracted at the notion that she might regret her decision not to go home. She was sacrificing so much to stay with him.

He was so grateful to have her. She had saved him from eternal misery. He wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve two such wonderful women as Cat and Aihan. Distinctly different, yet so precious to him.

As he watched, Merlow rose and left the room. In a few moments he returned with two objects: a book and a sword. Ah! Col approached to listen as Merlow laid both in Aihan’s lap. The sword was encased in a lacquered scabbard. She put it aside for the moment. “For practice later?” she said to Merlow, who nodded.

She and Merlow had trained together with the boys that morning, much to the lads’ delight. The boys were not here at the moment, which was probably a good thing. That sword would be too much temptation for Rory, he was sure. They were off with some of the village lads, fishing from the bridge over the river Pin.

She sat a moment looking at the leather-bound book in her lap before she opened it and began to scan the pages with a finger. After a few minutes, she looked up at Merlow and wiped her eyes. Col caught her brother’s name among the sounds she made. Her language was still completely impenetrable to him. Merlow nodded and said something in return, then he laid a hand over hers and said something else that made her jerk her head up.

A quick conversation back and forth ensued, and Col was about to ask what they were talking about, because the suspense was killing him, when Merlow turned to him and said quietly, “I have offered the text to Aihan, to care for. It seems more fitting that she have it than I.”

Col looked at her. “Aihan? Is this what ye want?”

She nodded, wiping her eyes. “It was Liang’s life goal to find the Neidan. He believed in it utterly.”

Merlow nodded and smiled, slightly sadly. “I thought Liang and his men were sent by the Qing Government, but that wasn’t the case. Liang’s quest was personal. Five men died in pursuit of this text; it seems only right that the only survivor of their ill-fated journey be gifted with the prize.”

“Five?” queried Col.

“Aye,” said Aihan. “My brother’s student Caishen was lost overboard in a storm the night before I came ashore. One of my objectives was to try to find his body, but I never found it. He was six years younger than me, but Liang raised us together. He was also like a brother to me.”

“Ah, lass. I’m so sorry!” Col put an arm round her. “I didnae know that. No wonder ye were so distraught when we first met. I dinnae know how ye can have forgiven me for trapping ye so when ye had such pressing need to return to the ship.”

She smiled sadly at him and shook her head. “I’m glad ye did, or I’d never be here with ye now.”

Merlow discreetly left the room at this point, and Col pulled her close to kiss her. She put the text carefully on the table and came into his arms. Several kisses later, he murmured, “Have I told ye how much I love ye?”

“A few times, but I never tire of hearing it,” she said. “Tell me in Gaelic again?”

“Tha gaol agam ort le m’ uile chridhe, mo ghràidh,” he obliged. I love ye with all my heart, dearest.

“Wǒ ài nǐ dào yǒngyuǎn wǒ qīn’ài de,” she said softly. I love ye to eternity, my darling.