Part 31 (2/2)
”What is it?”
”Nothing...well, there weren't cobwebs before, and I had no idea there was a light switch.”
”We've had lights down here since the nineteen thirties,” he told her with a trace of amus.e.m.e.nt. There weren't, however, terribly powerful bulbs lighting up the place, and the medieval arches led to a natural state for shadows.
Moving slowly, they walked by shelves and effigies, until they reached the end of the hallway where the man history had recalled as the ”great” MacNiall had been laid.
”You know what actually happened to him,” Bruce said. ”He met what they called the 'traitor's end.' But his execution was carried out by a mock court right out in the forest. When Charles II returned to claim his throne, he ordered that Bruce MacNiall's body be recovered from the forest and that a tomb be made. The king even paid for the marble and the artist's work.”
Toni stood pensively for a moment, staring at the tomb.
”It's you,” she whispered.
”I beg to differ. It's not me. I'm right here,” he told her.
She flushed, glancing at him. ”But it is uncanny. There are hundreds of years between you, and yet.. .the resemblance is so great.”
He shrugged. ”Maybe we see more than there is.”
”I don't think so,” she said.
”Genetics can be very strange.”
”True,” she murmured. ”And yet, does it ever make you feel...?”
”Uneasy?” he asked, slipping an arm around her shoulders. ”Never, since I grew up here. And I used to love to bring friends down. We'd tell ghost stories ourselves and run up the stairs screaming, and my da would get mad. We were typical kids. But the great MacNiall isn't still with us, Toni. He lived out his life. He lived hard, pa.s.sionately, and he arrived here, as all men will. I like the history. I like the fact that the family he served with such ardent loyalty returned that favor in the person of Charles II, restoring him to his home. It's legend, Toni, history and myth, nothing more.”
She smiled, inching just a bit closer to him, still staring at the grave and the marble effigy of his ancestor.
”Bruce, there's a second sarcophagus behind the first.”
”I suppose they believed that one day they would find the bones of his beloved.”
”They've been found now.”
”Aye. But who knows when the forces that be will release the remains, eh?”
She turned to him, solemn, deeply concerned.
”Bruce, she needs to be given a proper burial, here, with her laird.”
”Well, la.s.s, I'm sure that she will be. In time.”
Toni shook her head vehemently. ”They may try to keep her. The levels of preservation were rather bizarre. Someone may want her in a museum. Bruce, you can't let it happen!”
He looked down at her, smiling a little. ”Ah, Toni, so you think my ancestor comes back, hauntin' your dreams at night, to have his lady buried at his side? They'll want a bit of my blood, you know. To verify that the lady was my great, great--whatever!--grandmother. And then she'll come home. When it's proved she is my ancestor, I'll bring her home.”
”I'd really like it if we could rush them as much as possible,” she said.
His smile deepened. ”All right, but...”
”But?” she queried.
”I've a bit of problem with it all, you see. I haven't always been the most religious of men, but I do have a rather deep-set belief that there is a greater power G.o.d. And perhaps, because like all men, I don't want to consider myself merely mortal, I do believe in an afterlife. But I also like to believe that beneath it all, we're something finer than the weakness of flesh and bone. And that being the case.. .well, Bruce MacNiall did not want his bones to lie here for him to be legend, to find his peace in death, or whatever. And though, certainly, I'd not want the remains of an ancestor treated with anything less than respect, I cannot believe that an ancestor of mine would haunt you, tease or torment you, over earthly remains.”
”Maybe he doesn't think he's tormenting me,” Toni said. ”He just wants to make sure that the remains of what was once the living, breathing woman he loved are treated with the due respect to which you refer.”
He swept his arms around her tightly, caught, even here, in the realm of the dead, by the sapphire sincerity within her somewhat anguished gaze.
”We'll see to it, eh?” he said softly. ”Now...if you don't mind, it has been a b.i.t.c.h of a day. Shall we?”
She nodded, smiling, and led the way out of the crypts. But at the base of the winding stairway, she paused.
”What now, Miss Fraser?”
She flashed him a smile, and shook her head. ”I...nothing.”
”What?”
”No, nothing, really. Just a sense of...”
He sighed. ”Toni!”
She exhaled. ”Just a sense that someone was behind us!”
”Shall we walk back?” he asked.
She shook her head. ”No.”
They proceeded up the stairs. He followed her, watching the way the cotton clung to her curves. At the top, she stopped again, looking back at him.
”What?” she asked, perplexed.
”Keep going,” he said.
Outside the door, he paused to close and lock the door. It creaked loudly.
”I did know what it looked like, exactly!” she whispered. ”I told you, right? And I knew that the tomb would be there, knew that the old Bruce and you were spitting images of one another.”
”Aye,” he said.
”Well?”
”Well, what?”
”I don't know...exactly. Aren't you going to admit there's something a bit weird about it?” she queried.
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