Page 92 of Edge of Yesterday

Chapter Sixteen

Cailean forgot about dripping faucets when the path took a sharp curve and before them a humpbacked stone bridge crossed a rushing, white-water stream. It was the sort of bridge he’d more likely see in the English Cotswolds than here in the wilds of his beloved Highlands.

“The monastery is near?” he asked.

“Aye.” Julianna beamed. “That is Reay burn and its bridge. The monks built it because the water often busts its banks when we have a particularly wet spring.”

“The burn also feeds into the abbey’s fishpond,” Lennox added as they clattered over the bridge, “and runs their mill.”

Cailean looked around, excited despite himself. A medieval abbey, for Christ’s sake. He wasn’t sure he could disguise his eagerness. Especially now, with the tall monastic walls becoming visible through the trees despite the rising mist. Nearly as stout and imposing as any castle’s curtain walls, this outermost boundary of the monastery even boasted a huge, well-barred gate, that stood open in welcome.

Beyond the gate, thick-walled stone buildings stood visible. All were large, low-slung structures with fine slate roofs, sturdy chimneys, white-washed walls, and arch-topped windows with shutters open to the afternoon air. Cailean’s pulse quickened. Likely there were also a brewhouse, workshops and lodgings for the gardening-monks, herbalists, and physicians, along with an infirmary. The place to heal the sick and injured would be near the medicinal herb and kitchen gardens.

Sure enough, the moment they’d passed through the gate, the muddied path gave way to several broad pebbled pathways, each carefully raked. Lennox led them through a garden into the enormous orchard. They rode past row upon row of apple, pear, and plum trees. He would guess the monastery covered at least two hundred acres. At last, the fruit trees thinned and they entered a huge walled garden. Cailean stared in awe at the expanse of raised flower and herb beds. At the far end of the garden, the raked pebble path encircled a picturesque well bounded by low stone benches.

As they neared the well, Cailean caught sight of a stout standing stone located on the left, probably a relic of more ancient times here on this hallowed ground. Runic markings and other symbols he couldn’t make out due to the thickening fog were chiseled into the pillar of stone. A carving near the top, just above the gathering mist, came into view. Cailean started, uncertain for an instant if he was seeing right. But staring at a carving of the crow’s talon Val Ross wore was no stranger than him being in fourteenth century Scotland. At least he now understood where the talon originated. Val Ross probably knew of the design and had incorporated it into the Gathering celebration.

“‘Tis their sanctuary stone.” Lennox’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Anyone able to reach it is guaranteed protection from their pursuing foe,” he said.

Cailean’s attention drifted to the garden wall and lit on a protrusion of lighter colored stone. The object was half-hidden by vines and he squinted in an effort to discern the odd, misshapen stone. Cailean almost choked.

It was a sheela-na-gig!

He cleared his throat to hide a laugh. He’d only seen a few such beauties for they were rare, usually hidden in corners and walls of chapel ruins throughout Ireland and Scotland. But this crudely carved image of a naked woman gripping her thighs, legs wide for all to see her most private parts, looked new. With her oversized head and bulbous eyes, she reminded him of an ‘alien,’ or perhaps Gollum from Lord of the Rings. The Sheela-na-gigs he’d seen in the twenty-first century had been barely discernible carved statuettes, their purpose unknown. The detail of the visible portion was astonishing. What would Julianna do if he halted his horse and went over for a closer look? He fought a smile. No wonder priests were so debauched.

“There is Father Andrew,” Julianna called out.

Cailean yanked his gaze from the Sheela and looked along Julianna’s pointing hand to a small group of cowl-robed men standing before a large herb bed. They directed several kilted lads who pricked seed holes in the newly turned earth.

The largest of the men had his back to them. His dark robe strained across impossibly broad shoulders. The broadsword he wore looked so at home strapped to his side that Cailean had to resist an urge to lay his hand on his own sword hilt. Something about the monk prompted a vague memory. The monk then turned in profile and Cailean drew a sharp breath.

Julianna’s head snapped in his direction. “What is it?”

Cailean couldn’t tear his eyes from the man. The monk was a twin to Val’s companion, Lord Rathais, and, like Crowe was to Val, he was at least twenty years younger than Rathais.

“Cailean,” Julianna’s voice penetrated his stupor.

Cailean forced his mind to focus. “I…He looks like someone I know.”

“Who?” Lennox demanded.

Cailean shook his head. “Someone I met in passing years ago. I didnae know him well.”

Lennox’s gaze sharpened. “Then why are ye so startled?”

“The likeness is uncanny.” Cailean leaned slightly forward and squinted as if to get a better look at Rathais’ doppelganger.

“Maybe ye met Father Andrew before he became a priest,” Julianna said. “He was a warrior for many years before he became a man of God.”

“He’s Father Andrew?” Cailean demanded.

Julianna nodded, her brow furrowed in worry.

Father Andrew looked up and his face lit with pleasure. He said something to the men with him, then strode toward them. Cailean decided the man was just as imposing a priest as he was a pretend warlord. Even the eight inch pectoral wood cross that bounced off his massive chest added to his dangerous look.

They reached each other and Cailean noted two other chains around his neck, one silver and the other gold. How many medieval priests owned gold? Weren’t priests supposed to cast off all earthly valuables?

Lennox dismounted and Cailean followed suit. Lennox reached his sister’s horse before Cailean, but she was already stepping onto the ground.