Down the Rabbit Hole

By the time the sun was high overhead, a line of horse carts had filed across the meadow, where, under the care of Mistress MacKay, a tent was erected, and tables groaned beneath the platters of fresh salmon and mutton, and even a whole roasted piglet. There were baskets of bread and sweetmeats, and flagons of ale and mead.

The women, who had remained at the lodge to be pampered and bathed, arrived in a wagon, their gowns fluttering in the breeze like pretty wildflowers.

Once there, old Maura took charge of their comfort, offering them cushioned chairs beneath the cover of a tent.

A tall, regal woman in a gown of rich, royal purple separated herself from the others. From a distance, she was every inch a queen. Even her hair, in a coronet of braids, was topped by a circle of diamonds and precious stones that caught and reflected the sunlight.

As she drew near, Beth could see her face. Though her skin was unlined and her features perfect, instead of beautiful, she was frightening to behold. Her eyes were without light. Dead eyes, Beth realized. When she opened her mouth, her teeth resembled fangs.

“So, this is our unwelcome guest.” Her voice was the hiss of a snake. “You are the talk of the household. ’Tis said you are either mad or dangerous, and that you insinuated yourself into the laird’s fortress by feigning illness.”

Despite the woman’s obvious attempt to be insulting, Beth decided to deflect her temper with a smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Beth Campbell.”

The woman arched a brow. “So I have heard. A lie, of course. I am a Campbell, and I am familiar with every member of our clan.”

“Not all your clan, or you would know me. You must be Edwina, the laird’s stepsister.”

“I know who I am.” Edwina fixed her with a dark stare. “But I also know this. You are no Campbell.”

Beth saw the women’s heads turning as they easily overheard all that was being said. While she watched in amazement, before her very eyes the women turned into a flock of geese, their wings flapping, their beaks moving as though trying to speak, though no words came out.

By now she was accustomed to seeing these changes in the people here. But she couldn’t help wondering if she was imagining these dreadful changes, or if it was something about this place. Was it magical, mystical, or purely evil?

Beth was grateful when Colin’s horse stopped beside them and the laird slid from the saddle. Did he see geese as well? she wondered. Or was she the only one who saw these people as birds and other animals?

While Jamie took the reins, Colin smiled at Edwina, apparently unaware, or uncaring, of the transformation of the women. “I see you’ve met my guest.”

“Guest? And wearing the precious clothes old Maura hoards as though they are rare treasures? I’ve never known the old crone to let anyone even touch the lady Catherine’s gowns, let alone wear them.”

“And that troubles you, Edwina?”

At Colin’s question, her dead eyes narrowed. “Though this woman claims to be of our clan, I know her not. You’d be wise to send out riders to see who she really is, brother. Perhaps one of the neighboring crofters has misplaced an addled wife.”

“I thank you for your concern for my guest.” Colin made a slight bow before offering his arm to Beth. “Let us enjoy the food Mistress MacKay has prepared. The hunt always sharpens my appetite.”

As they turned away, Beth caught sight of the anger flaring in Edwina’s eyes as the silly geese surrounded her, heads bobbing, tails wriggling nervously, beaks flapping.

Beth was reminded again of her dream. There had been no geese. Only a man and a woman. The voices had been mere whispers. It wasn’t possible to recognize them among these guests. And yet the obvious fury in Edwina’s eyes could not be masked, making her suspect.