ISLE OF MULL, SCOTLAND, 1515

Isobella floated in a painless world, thinking she was dead
and expecting her first peek of Heaven. Until she caught a
glimpse of Elisabeth. Isobella frowned, feeling a bit
fuzzyheaded and not certain about anything other than the
fact that she did not appear to be dead. Well, that was
something positive, at least. After enduring Elisabeth’s
fierce glare for a few seconds, Isobella did manage a weak,
"What?"

Elisabeth’s green eyes were full of fire. "What happened?
I feel like I’ve been thrown out of a rocket traveling a
million miles an hour." With a bewildered expression, she
paused to look around. "

"Are we in hell?" Isobella asked.

"Try again," Elisabeth said.

Isobella looked around. "I’d say we’re in the middle of
nowhere."

"Good guess, but we might get a better answer from that
specter of malevolence hovering over there."

Isobella turned her head and saw a vaporous glowing light
taking solid shape. She recognized him immediately. "Did
you send us through a vacuum that sucked us up and dropped
us here?" she asked angrily, though still a little awed that
she was talking to the greatest warrior in Scottish history.
Are we still in Scotland and if so, where?"

"Aye, ye are in Scotland, on the Isle of Mull."

"And you brought us here for a reason?"

"Aye," he said with a nod. "As bidden."

"But we didn’t." Bidden? A nice, Middle English word, she
thought, but not often used in the present time. "Ah, you
mean because I cried back at St. Bride’s when we visited
your crypt?"

"Aye, yer tears reached out across the centuries to summon
me. I might have been a mighty knight in the service of my
king, but a woman’s tears were ere my undoing."

Isobella could well believe that, but she didn’t get to
think upon it further, due to Elisabeth’s persistent rib
jabbing, which she ignored. How could she explain this was
truly the archaeological opportunity of a lifetime? Instead
of digging through ruins for answers, she had her own
personal history book in the flesh, so to speak. There he
stood, a real, bona fide knight-errant, right out of
Medieval Scotland’s romantic past, wearing the clothes of
his knighthood; chausses and a mail tunic called a hauberk,
and a light blue tunic, belted low about the hips. He was a
handsome man, not overly tall by twenty-first century
standards, but tall for the fourteenth century male, slender
with well-developed muscles, dark blue eyes and hair of the
blackest black. The legendary Black Douglas was a medieval
heartbreaker if she ever saw one.

It was all so terribly romantic, at least to Isobella, and
she thought it divine good fortune that she was here. For a
moment, her mind wandered off to think about what her
contemporaries would give for an opportunity like this. Her
sister, on the other hand, could not be charmed if Jude Law
and Orlando Bloom were standing in front of them, with
Patrick Dempsey and Johnny Depp as backup.

Elisabeth suddenly found her voice. "Are you really Black
Douglas? No, never mind. Don’t answer that. It isn’t
possible, she said, her tone one of pure disbelief. "You
cannot be a ghost because ghosts don’t exist." She put her
hand to her forehead and looked around, as if searching for
help. "I don’t believe this is happening. It’s impossible.
When people die, they stay dead."

"And yet I am here. Do ye have a better explanation?"

"All right, if you are a ghost, then undo this mischief.
Take us back to our car."

Isobella took a deep breath and glanced tentatively around
the narrow glen. It was a level stretch of ground, rising
to a slope at one end, rocky and choked with boulders,
dropping away to a ravine or gorge, or whatever they called
it in these parts, for she could see the dark brown ridge of
a mountain rising some distance beyond it. The rest of the
glen was lined with a thin stand of larch trees and a thick
tangle of briars that gradually thinned behind them to
reveal an open moor. "Thank you for this little excursion
to Mull, but we really need to go now. We must find a town
to rent another car. We are flying home in a few days and
have many places to see, but Mull isn’t one of them."

"We have no cars, buses or airplanes."

Slack-jawed, the twins stared at each other, then at him.
Elisabeth threw up her arms in exasperation. "So, send us
to Beloyn so we can get our car."

"I canna do that today," Douglas said.

"You mean we have to wait until tomorrow?" Isobella asked.

Douglas shrugged. "’Twill be no different tomorrow."

"Then when can we go back?" Elisabeth asked.

"Who knows? Mayhap never. Mayhap when the spirit moves
me."

"What kind of answer is that?"

"Never mind that," Elisabeth said turning back to Black
Douglas. "I did not ask to come here. Why did you bring
me? Isobella put her hand on your effigy, not I! You had
no right to drag me along."

‘Tis no fault of mine that ye managed to stick like a leech
to yer sister, and now ye are here."

"Stick like a . . . listen, you vacuous vapor, I had
nothing to do with this. I only came on this trip to keep
her company. It seems to me you are the one at fault here.
So, tell us how we get out of here."

He looked around. "Weel, you could go that way," he said
pointing to his right. "Or you might try that way," he
said, pointing to his left. "Or mayhap ye should go both
ways," he said, crossing his arm over his chest and pointing
in both directions.

Elisabeth threw up her hands. "I would like a straight
answer for a change. One that makes sense."

"Let’s back up for a minute," Isobella said. "Where can we
rent a car, or catch a bus?"

"Ye willna find those things here," he said.

"Why not?" Isobella asked.

His expression was rather mischievous. Isobella thought,
finally they were getting somewhere. Then he said, "Ye are
in sixteenth century Scotland, and we havena cars or buses."

Isobella gasped. "You mean the sixteenth century? The
Early Renaissance period? Oh, Lord! What are we going to
do?" She turned to Elisabeth. "Do you realize what this
means? We have traveled back six hundred years to the
beginning of the Renaissance."

"All I am thinking right now is how much I would love to
punch you, flat out."

Isobella ignored her and turned back to Douglas. "Is Henry
VIII King of England?"

"Aye."

"I knew it! Isobella, fairly jumping around, was thrilled
and dumbfounded at the same time. One rational thought
managed to slip through and she smiled. "I guess that’s one
way to get rid of Jackson. He hasn’t even been born yet."

Elisabeth was not looking very happy and obviously didn’t
give a flip whether Jackson had been born or not. "You’re
jesting, right? This really isn’t the sixteenth century, is
it?"

"Aye, ‘tis the year 1515."

"Who is the king of Scotland?" Elisabeth asked, her brows
knit with serious intensity. Isobella gave her an
astonished look. Elisabeth wouldn’t know the correct answer
if it was written down on a piece of paper and given to her.
Isobella had to think hard for a moment before deciding
that was when King James V, was just a babe.

"‘Tis the infant King James," he replied.

"Why did you bring us to Mull?" Isobella asked.

"Ye are here because ye asked to be."

Isobella shook her head. "I never asked to come here. Why
would you say that?"

She saw a spark of amusement in the blue depth of his eyes.
"Ye will understand when the time is ripe."

They were interrupted by the animated sounds of rolling
chaos that suddenly filled the air around them. They
listened to the clamor of clanging swords and shouts of
warring men. "I think we better stop talking and start
praying," Isobella said, looking over Elisabeth’s shoulder
to stare at the warring knights.

"I hope they are friends of yours," Elisabeth said, turning
toward Black Douglas, "Could they be English?"

"English!" Isobella almost spat the words out. "You can’t
leave us to the mercy of those English bastards!"

A smile curved across the fine mouth of Black Douglas.
"That’s a lass!"

"We need more than compliments," Isobella said. "This isn’t
looking so good for any of us. Well, not you perhaps, since
they can’t run you through, but it‘s something we need to
worry about."

Elisabeth agreed. "You’re already dead. They can’t hurt
you. But, our predicament is a bit different. Are you
going to take us back or just hand us over to the enemy?"

They had only a brief glimpse of his broad smile before his
image began to lighten and grow dim, before it faded
completely away.