There was no answer.
Wallace began to sob. He was still crying when guards appeared in the doorway shortly afterward. They took one look at him and then at the corpse beside him.
They began to laugh. “Looks like we got ourselves a new prisoner,” the hook nosed one said,taking a step far enough into the dungeon to kick Jock’s prone body.
“Did you not ken about the curse?” the squat one added.
“Poor snot nose doesn’t ken anything about anything. Look at him crying.”
“Help him,” Wallace begged. “Please.”
The squat guard kicked the body. “It’s your fault he’s dead, you ken that, don’t you? Only the last of the line can shift them chains and only onto himself.”
“Dinnae worry, lad,” added the hook-nosed guard. “We’ll leave him there for company. Father and son, happily together at last.”
“The MacCallisters always win. Didn’t you know that?”
“I curse the MacCallisters,” Wallace spat, his tears drying up, anger consuming him like a fire. “I curse all MacCallisters.”
“Curse us as much as you like. You’ll still be trapped in our dungeon and bound in our chains.”
They turned and walked away, laughing as they went.
Wallace yelled after them. “I curse the MacCallister line. My soul will not rest until the last of the MacCallister line takes my place in these wretchedchains. Then I shall laugh, and your clan shall die. This I vow in the name of my father, Jock MacGregor. I will get my revenge on the last of the MacCallisters.”
“Course you will,” a voice echoed back. “Once you find a way out of those chains and find a sword and a swordmaster to train you and find the way past the guards to the clan laird.”
“And an army to back you up,” a second voice added. “Best of luck with that.”
The mocking laughter faded away.
Wallace was left alone. The candle beside him spluttered and then died.
In the darkness he saw nothing. He swore the oath once again, this time to himself. His soul would not rest until he made the last of the MacCallisters pay for what the clan had done to his father.
Seven hundred years later, the last of the MacCallister line shuddered despite the warmth of the sun streaming through her bedroom window.
She had a sudden strange feeling that, as she looked at MacCallister Castle, the castle was looking back at her.
Not just looking, glaring with a furious rage fierce enough to make her stomach turn over. Shefound herself unable to move, unable to think, unable to do anything but stand there.
She had no idea how long it lasted but the feeling only ended when she heard someone shouting from downstairs.
“Natalie. Better get a move on. You’re going to be late.”
2
Natalie broke into a run as she headed for the open door. She was hoping she could sneak straight through the visitor center and out into the abbey grounds. Do that and she might not get told off yet again for-
“Natalie,” a man’s voice said loudly from behind the counter. “If this was Back to the Future, what would I be giving you right now?”
“A tardy slip,” she replied, turning to face her boss as he used the old joke yet again. “I’m sorry John but the weirdest thing happened this morning.”
“We will discuss it later. Cleo’s here.”
Natalie knew what that meant. The area manager was prowling the grounds looking forthings to complain about. Everything had to be perfect. That meant she better be quick at getting into costume.
Pushing open the door to the staff room she squeezed into the tiny bathroom beyond, double checking the door was locked behind her. Then she undressed, slipping into the medieval washer-woman costume that hung from a hook on the back of the toilet door.
