An Unexpected Destiny (Completed)

Though It May be Insane

I am not sure what I expected. Not Buckingham Palace, surely. But something a little more refined. Not that Dunbroch Castle was ugly or dilapidated--far from it-- but it was much more earthy and less fairytale than any whole castle I have ever seen. The outside had moss growing on it and some of the gray stones were turning dark gray or black from age and ivy crawled up on all the six towers that were posted at the four corners of the castle walls and between the corners. The castle walls were easily seventy feet tall and four feet thick.  Like the Great Wall of China.

We enter the gates under an enormous archway. The horses' hooves clip-clop on the stone roads as the thick wooden gate is closed behind us. The clan of Dunbroch stretches on all sides of us. A whole new world within stone walls. It looks so vast I am certain I would become lost if I wandered off on my own.

The town is busy with shops in business, people scurrying about for errands, and children chasing one another down the streets and in between vendors set up outside the shops. There are small houses scattered throughout in every direction, most with the windows cracked and doors wide open. I shiver. Isn't a little cold for that?  Perhaps they were used to it. The horses walk down a street that has businesses and houses on both sides. Most of the shops are larger than the small wooden houses, but the shops are not as cozy looking.

My eyes could not get enough. Judging from the clothing the men and women wore, I suspected I was in the Middle Ages. The women wore dresses that were plain but clean with an apron and wore their hair in braids or buns. I see a group of of girls that seemed about my age that wore their hair down, long and flowing. The men did not wear trousers, which made me very confused for a few minutes until a man with spiky orange hair sharpening an axe stood up. My eyes go wide as they see he is wearing a plaid skirt and long black socks so only his knees show. I glance around and notice other men milling about are wearing the same thing, but at times in solid black, brown, or tan. Not skirts, but kilts. In Soctland.

Duh.

I have seen pictures of men in kilts; however, in reality the shock the sight has on my twenty-first century American brain is enough to cause a headache. Not only that, but also the smell of raw meat and old fish, and other things I was not sure of. And the noise. New York City was probably louder, but not by much. Women laughed while washing clothes in tubs and men argued while tanning hides. Vendors yelled at each other and customers in friendly banter and children shrieked as their mothers scolded them. Horses stomped and cows moaned and wheels creaked and doors slammed. As a modern teen, I was surrounded by noise all day everyday, but at least that noise I could control to a degree by turning the volume on the radio down. No one could control this.

Feeling slightly nauseous, my senses in overdrive, I press my face into Young Roy's back and close my eyes. If anyone notices me, I am sure I look pathetic. I don't care. This was all so real. I wasn't accustomed to hearing things so clearly and seeing such detailed things. Modern technology must have dulled the senses because nothing seemed, smelled, nor felt so poignant and fresh until I had arrived here in ancient Scotland. If I was really here at all. I still wasn't quite certain.

"Are you feeling ill, Lady Agnes?" The scout who had asked me about magic earlier asks. I snap my eyes open and slowly pick up my head to look at him. His face is contorted with concern.

"Nay, I am fine, just a wee bit fatigued." Had I just said "wee"?

"Of course you are. Do not fret, we shall be at the castle shortly."

"I thought we were already in the castle."

"He means the main castle, where the royal family lives and attends to ruling." Young Roy says, nodding ahead. I sit up straighter, loosening my grip around his waist. Over his shoulder, I see the tallest tower straight ahead. It is much like the other towers, except squarer, wider, and longer, the wall going from one corner tower to the opposite one on the other side. Situated at the back of the town, banners fall down its walls in gray-blue and black and tall, narrow glass windows sit between each. Each banner has a circle with a hilt up sword on it. The Dunbroch symbol.