True to the Highlander(20)

“Aye, we’ve heard rumblings of faraway lands, but we gave it no credence. Did the Norse conquer your land as William did England?” Malcolm asked.

“Hardly.” She snorted. “They were few against many, and our men are excellent warriors.” She boasted her way down the murky road of embellishment.

Malcolm’s eyes lit with interest. “Your land must lie near the edge. Have you seen it?”

“The edge?” Her brow rose in question.

“Aye, the edge of the world.”

“Um…no.”

“How is it you speak English?” William asked.

“Priests. They seem to find their way to all corners of the world.” Lord, forgive me for my sins. The more details she could give them, the more believable her story would seem. “If you have something for me to write on, I could draw you a map, a rough one anyway.”

Malcolm went across the room and returned with a rolled piece of parchment, a quill and an inkwell. He set them down before her and gathered stones to keep the parchment flat. Alethia picked the quill up uncertainly and dipped it into the ink. Her first try at drawing made a big blob of black on the parchment. The second time went better, and soon she was tracing a rough outline of the continents they would already know.

“Could you tell me the date?” She looked up from her task. “And the year?” If they thought her request odd, they gave no hint. She’d been too afraid to ask before—afraid and overwhelmed with everything that had happened.

“’Tis early autumn, in the year of our Lord 1423.”

Her mouth went dry, and the quill slipped through her fingers.

“I take it some time has passed since you visited the fair?” Malcolm asked.

She swallowed. “You could say that.”

“Continue.” William gestured toward her map.

She retrieved the quill and leaned over her drawing. “This is Scotland and Britain.” Both men leaned forward to watch with interest as she labeled each continent. “Here is Ireland, Europe, the Orient, and Africa. This island is called Iceland. This one is Greenland, and here is my continent.” She sketched North America with the Great Lakes in the center. “Here in the center we have five very large freshwater lakes. On the tip of this one is where my homeland starts. It’s called Minnesota.” She moved to the side of the parchment and drew a separate outline of her state. This is the Red River, here is the Minnesota River, this one is the Mississippi, and here’s the St. Croix.” She labeled each one.

“Our land is north of the Minnesota River and bordered by the other two.” Satisfied with her rendition, she sat back. For the first time she noticed the stunned expressions worn by father and son. “My people also have clans, though they aren’t like yours.” She continued, warming to the subject. “Our communities are made up of members of all the different clans. In my culture, clan identity has to do with one’s role in society.”

“How so?” Malcolm asked.

“Well, for instance, we have the leadership and warrior clans. There are clans for hunting, learning, medicine, and just about everything. Each village must have members from a variety of clans to be whole. Our villages are each governed by a council of elders who are led by a chieftain. All the villages are governed by a greater council led by our president.”

“A president?” William asked.

“The closest I could come to it in your culture is a king.”

“What is your clan, Alethia?” Malcolm asked.

“I am Chejauk, the Crane, which is one of the leadership clans. My father was our president until his death.”

The laird’s head came up with sudden interest. “How did he die?”

“He and my mother both perished when their, um…keep caught fire.”

Malcolm and his father exchanged another look.

“Where were you at the time, lass?” William’s voice took on a grave tone.

“I was staying with my uncle’s family. I have cousins about my age, and I often stayed with them. I’m an only child.”

“This is enough for now. You may take your leave,” William said.

She rose. “I would like to earn my keep while I’m here. I have talents you might find useful.”

“Besides the making of extraordinary music?” William smiled.

She nodded. “I’m able to commit to memory anything I study, and I can tell whether a person is lying or telling the truth.”

“It seems you are an aptly named young woman, Alethia. I shall put you to work on the morrow. ’Tis the day I hold court for our people.”

“She does no’ speak our language,” Malcolm pointed out. “And most of our villagers dinna speak English.” He turned to her. “Gàidhlig is our native language. Our crofters and villagers have no use for the Sassenach words.”