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“If they are as good as the pickled eggs then aye, I will look forward to it.”

“What about pineapple, have you had… oh man, mango? Avocado? What about strawberries?” He shook his head with every one on the list.

“I hae picked a strawberry.” His fingers were very close, like small blueberry size.

“The strawberries I am going to show you are this big and so juicy it pours down your chin.”

Torin licked his lips. “Och nae, we need tae stop talking on it.”

“I know.” I dramatically sighed. “Where are we going next? And can we walk? My butt does not want to get back on the horse.”

“We can walk.”

Dude leapt from the fence.

Torin said, “Daena go far, cat, we are goin’ up the path tae the kirk.”

“Why are we going to the kirk?”

“Because whenever I arrive in town I must go tae the kirk and there tis, the same kirk from my time. That seems important.”

“That it does.” We walked up the path leading the horses to the stone church, already moss-covered and ancient-looking.

“The same church, how old does that make it from here to your time?”

“Almost three hundred years auld, perhaps more, I think.” He arched back to look up at the dark timber roof, taking in the thick walls, and a door that looked too small for the weight of the building around it. “Tis astonishin’ that it could stand for this long, tis verra auld. Twas rumored tae hae been built in the 12th century on land that had been considered sacred for a hundred years before. And now that I am here, it looks as if it has already been standin’ for at least a century.”

He tied the horses to a post, while I looked at how its stone matched the gray sky. It was not beautiful in the way I wanted churches to be, it didn’t have soaring windows with colored sparkling glass, and no statues of Jesus or the Saints watching us walk up the path, but still its quaintness was disarming.

Dude sauntered up.

“You found us!”

He marched on his little cat paws right up to the front door of the church and disappeared into the shadowy interior.

Torin pulled the bag with the casket and our coins from Cathbarr’s saddle and slung it on his shoulder. “I guess we ought tae follow our cat.”

34

ALEXANDRIA

1308 - THE KIRKYARD

The kirkyard was a rough slope of grass and mud. We passed through it on the way to the door, walking past the graves, but not the kind I was used to. These didn’t have headstones and rows of names, instead they were low mounds and a few worn slabs set flat in the ground.

This graveyard already seemed ancient, dear God, how long had these people been buried? Time suddenly felt really long and it felt tragic that we were so far in the past, lost, but here were people who had passed away, longer ago still.

It was enough to give me melancholy, the kind that back home would make me go to my crafting room to work on scrap books for days.

I wished I could read the dates, learn who was here.

But instead the graveyard was silent.

A big raven lifted off the roof with a caw-caw, piercing the quiet.

The hills around us echoed it back.

Even though the hum of activity down the road at the market could still be faintly heard, it was ominously still here amongst the graves.