Lost Souls

THE BARKING DOG

The first thing I remember is the rain.
Thunder broke through the thick, dark skies on the day that I will never forget. I stood there, in the middle of the small road leading to Inverness Castle with my bag, wellies and my bright yellow umbrella where the taxi driver had let me out.
I had contacted a local historian back when I was still home in London to ask if he would be willing to play my tour guide over the days I stayed in Scotland, to show me places of importance and help me out with facts when I didn't know where to go from there. Eventually he agreed and told me over the phone that he would arrange a place for me to sleep and pick me up at half past three when I arrived, right where I stood.
I looked around, trying to see and remember everything. I took a deep breath and looked up at the sky, littlest droplets of cool water brushing over my face to run down the length of it.
This moment. It felt like my life had led to this.
I stepped onto the sidewalk when I heard a car approaching me. Trying to squint through the foggy mist that the rain, thunder and lightning brought with them, I assumed that that was the man I waited for. An older man with a tweed flat cap, raincoat and shiny brown leather brogues stepped out of the old car, opened his umbrella and stomped towards me hurriedly.
"Professor Gillies? Of the University of the Highlands and Islands?"  I shouted at him, still only seeing half of him coming closer to me.
"Aye, yes, that's me." He announced over the loud sound of the heavy rain when he arrived in ear shot of me.
I stretched out my hand to greet him and he eagerly grabbed it and shook me ferociously.
He was quite an enthusiastic specimen, a little strange to the point that one could start thinking he was obsessed with anything that had to do with history and certain supernatural 'occurrences'.
"So you are the young, annoying missy who called me nigh on ev'ry day for the past eight weeks to beg me to help her out with her degree?" I blushed at the way he put it. I knew that I was persistent, but it never came upon me to think that I was annoying in any way...
"Yes, that would be me..." I mumbled, pushing at the wet asphalt with my boot, feeling my face heat with every passing word.
He started laughing then. A deep, rumbling belly laugh that made me feel like I talked to Santa Claus. "Oh, no, no dear. Never be ashamed of wanting something too much. That is the mark of a true achiever. Many people lack this and therefore always end up accepting things because they think they cannot change them. But there is always a way."
He gently laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it affirmatively. I nodded my agreement, while the rain continued to drum onto my umbrella, staying in tune with the sound of the fat drops falling onto the ground and forming into yet more puddles. "I guess there's not much we can do until the thunderstorm has quieted down a bit. Perhaps we should go in and have a look around for you to start with your first steps into the material..." He added that he had a few books with him, which he wanted to give to me after he found out on the phone that I had barely any sources I could rely on besides the Internet. It shook the Professor to the core hearing this and so he had promised me that I could borrow several of his priced books.
He led me into the building, past a grand statue of Flora MacDonald in front of the majestic red sandstone structure.
As we entered, the interior hit me. I stared at the most gorgeous flight of stairs I have ever seen in my life.
"In the early Eighteenth Century, this castle had been reinforced to accommodate British Government Troops, having been renamed Fort George for that purpose. In early February 1746, some three-thousand Jacobites stormed the Fort and seized it for themselves. It was a remarkable victory by Charles Stuart's men." I listened observantly to every word he said, making mental notes to scribble them down later when I settled into my hotel room.
Professor Gillies had something about himself that made me cling to everything he uttered, a quiet fascination for the past, honouring the men who had fought and died at the hands of the English. My hand brushed over the centuries old bannister, the smooth cold wood telling stories of who had passed by it over time. I couldn't rip my gaze from the high ceilings and furniture, looking at paintings and ornate carvings.
"This was the last real victory for the Jacobite army, wasn't it?" I stopped in my tracks, waiting for him to do the same. When he halted, he turned around, his hands clasped behind his back, looking at me with pride. "Indeed. Many Highlanders went back home after Falkirk Muir. Only the most passionate and faithful returned to Inverness to gather their strengths and reform their groups. Which - in retrospect - they shouldn't have done."
An odd sensation ran like a cold shiver down my spine as we walked past a great room. I sneaked a peek, opening the door and sticking my head in. It was a room with a lengthy table and several chairs around it. The dark wood panels along the walls housed tall paintings of people and hunting scenes.
"This is where the Jacobites reassembled to discuss the further actions they would be taking against the British troops. It's been said that many of their wives who wouldn't let their husbands go alone were present and participated in the planning of their next moves."
Facts like these were immensely important for the whole sound and body of my work, if it was to be as touching and first-hand as I had it all planned out in my mind. The whole paper was to be an account of the lives of these people, and emancipation and partaking of the wives of the soldiers was at the very least as important as the stories of the men who fought for their freedom.
We went into a grand room, which Professor Gillies told me the Jacobites used frequently as a sort of war room, where they discussed their further notions against the English.
A strong storm knocked the wind from my lungs. My head started spinning and a strange feeling overcame me. The wind, of course, came from the rustic windows that hadn't had a proper overhaul in the long run, but this feeling...this feeling was of utmost uncertainty. I felt like I had been here before, which - naturally - couldn't have happened. But something drew me to a wooden panel covered wall, next to a huge painting of the former inhabitants of this grand building.
I touched the old structure and felt my way to the left, closer to the impressive fireplace, that probably hadn't seen a proper fire in centuries. The wood changed into hard, cold rocks and I suddenly felt like stopping.
My fingers probed the dusty stone, when a bit of mortar crumbled to the floor, leaving a thin layer of dirt on the red carpet.
Prying the stone from the wall, taking a considerable effort to my disdain, it finally loosened and came out almost immediately. I was about to alarm Professor Gillies about my destruction, but decided against it, worrying he would not help me any longer because I destroyed Heritage property. I laid down the stone onto the floor and slipped my hand into the opening. I touched something and promptly snatched it when I heard Professor Gillies' voice calling for me to come out again. I stuffed it into my satchel and ran after the sound.
"Where have you been?" He smiled when I was back at his side.
"Uh...just letting the history flow through me." He smiled again and motioned me to continue walking with him.