The Magic Ring of Brodgar

4. Heather

When Megan awoke, she didn’t immediately realize where she was. In all certainty, she was lying in bed. The girl turned her head. The mantel clock showed 7:40. The sun was shining through the windows. Reconstructing the events from the previous night in her mind, she reached the moment when she heard the sound of the bagpipes and went outside. It took her breath away. Could everything that followed really be true? Or was it a dream? Just a terrible nightmare? Sitting up in bed, she took a careful look at herself. She was wearing the same clothes as the previous day. In the evening, she had put on white trousers, which were now completely soiled. Her beige and-white blouse was covered in mud, she had no shoes on her feet, and on the side of the bed lay her beige stole, all crumpled and wet.

“My God! It wasn’t a dream! How did I end up here? Who brought me back to my room?” Megan whispered in horror. Gregor? Warren? What happened to the man who tried to kill me? Could she have ever imagined that the trip to her ancestral home would turn out to be so dangerous?! After all, she hadn't even left the castle grounds.

Slowly getting out of bed, Megan went to the bathroom to clean herself up before meeting her relatives. Moreover, she was eager to see Gregor and find out what had happened after she lost consciousness.

* * *

Megan put on a formal black suit and low-heeled shoes, pulled her thick chestnut-brown hair into a bun, and finished off with a few light and subtle touches of makeup. She descended the wide staircase into the hall. Terrifying memories crowded in again, scenes of what she had experienced flashed through her mind like a movie. There she was, walking to the front door, mesmerized by the music, leaving the castle…

I wonder, what role the highlander with the bagpipes had to play in all this? From his vantage point on the hill, he must have had a clear view of what was happening on the riverbank. But he didn't come to help. Perhaps he was in league with the attacker?

Megan looked around. The castle was dead silent as if she were completely alone. Suddenly, the estate manager appeared, as if from nowhere.

“Oh, Gregor, I was looking for you,” she said anxiously.

“Good morning, Miss. What can I do for you? Are you comfortable in your room?”

“Yes, quite. I left the castle last night. I heard the bagpipes and wanted to find out who was playing…” she paused, waiting for a reaction to her words.

“The bagpipes?” Gregor asked, surprised. “I didn't hear anything like that.”

“You didn’t leave the castle at all yesterday evening?”

“No, Miss, I didn’t. After I left your room, I worked for several hours on the reports for our gathering today.”

“I see. Thank you,” the girl took a brief pause. “Where is the kitchen? I’d like to have breakfast before meeting my relatives.”

“The assembly hall is to the right of the stairs, and the kitchen is opposite it.”

“Thank you.”

“See you later, Miss.”

Megan was frantically pondering who had brought her to the bedroom after the night's incident, if not Gregor. Could he be the one in the black cloak? He hadn't heard the bagpipes nor responded to her scream. Could there be a conspiracy against her? Or was it truly a maniac who didn't care whom he killed?

Utmost caution is necessary; trusting anyone is now out of the question. Anybody could be the enemy. Yet, what reason would Gregor have to kill me? What would he gain from it? My relatives could be involved, considering their potential interest in the inheritance.

Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, ideas buzzing like a swarm of bees. The question of who had brought her into the castle at night haunted the girl. This person somehow knew which bedroom she was staying in. Lost in deep thought, she entered the kitchen. At the head of the table, was a man not much older than Megan, with hair the same color as hers, well-built and quite attractive. His face looked a bit tired. To his right sat a woman who appeared to be near Megan in age. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and she was wearing practically no makeup, yet her face was open and pleasant enough. They sat in silence, drinking tea, and seemed quite contemplative.

These were Warren and his wife. Her grandfather had mentioned that the cousins were a couple of years older than her, but Megan couldn't recall their exact age. Seeing her, the man quickly put his cup down and stood up with a polite smile.

“Hello, I’m Warren, and this is my wife, Glenn. Malcolm spoke a lot about you, always in good terms,” he said.

“Good morning. It’s nice to meet you,” replied Megan, with a slightly strained smile.

“Please, have a seat,” offered Glenn, pushing warm croissants towards her and pouring a cup of hot tea. Megan felt that the woman seemed slightly embarrassed when their eyes met.

“Thank you. We didn’t have a chance to meet yesterday; did you come back late?” Megan asked, hoping that her relatives could shed some light on the evening's events.

“Yes, we got back well after midnight,” Warren responded. “There was a tragedy in Glenn's family, and we had to go to Inverness. My apologies we were unable to meet you.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Douglas and Gregor helped me.”

“Megan, Malcolm felt very lonely before he passed, and asked us to stay with him. I think it would be proper for Glenn and me to return to Castle Raven after today's meeting,” the cousin seemed to justify his presence in the castle.

“As you wish, but if you decide to stay a bit longer, I'd be glad. It would give us a chance to get to know each other better.” The thought of staying alone in this large, cold castle, aside from Gregor, terrified her.

“Alright,” Warren smiled more warmly this time, “we'll stay a few more days and help you get accustomed to the place.”

“Great, thank you,” said Megan. She thought to herself: First of all, it wasn’t Warren who brought me in last night. Most likely it was the Highlander with the bagpipes. But why would he do this, and how did he know which bedroom was mine? Time will sort things out. But it would be best to wrap up the business here as quickly as possible and head back to London.

Having finished their tea, they all went to the assembly hall together. Its stone walls were adorned with deer antlers and other hunting trophies. A massive mahogany table was placed in the center. Lancet windows along the long wall made the hall very bright, offering a beautiful view of the river and hills.

Mr. Douglas, Gregor, and two men unknown to Megan, were already seated at the table. The eldest of them stood up when she entered.

“Hello Megan. It’s my pleasure to welcome you to your historic homeland. My brother had been dreaming of your arrival for years, and now that day has finally come. I am Alaric McKenzie, your late grandfather’s brother.”

His words made the girl feel guilty, as they sounded like a reproach, but she kept her emotions in check and calmly replied that the pleasure was mutual.

“Hi, I’m Duncan,” said the other man, grinning broadly and gazing at her admiringly. “What a pity that we’re related by blood; otherwise, I’d have already started courting you.” The cousin not only shook her hand but also kissed her on both cheeks as if they were old friends who hadn’t seen one another in years.

Duncan was a bit taller than Warren. A good-looking figure, playful eyes – everything about him suggested that he was a very confident young man and had no shortage of women. When he smiled, his handsome face radiated incredible magnetism. If Warren gave the impression of a very serious and modest person, Duncan was the complete opposite: cheerful, lively, uninhibited, he immediately became the center of attention. It seemed that energy was bursting out of him like a fountain.

Megan was pleasantly surprised to find all her relatives – dressed in traditional style. Each wore a woolen kilt in clan colors, still an integral part of the Scottish national costume. The men's skirts with large pleats at the back; a tartan plaid thrown over the left shoulder, secured with a brooch. A white shirt, handkerchief tie, black waistcoat, and black jacket – all perfectly fit the members of the McKenzie family. High woolen socks up to the knees, and over the belt hung a sporran – a leather pouch on a chain that fastened around the waist. It featured three small, rabbit tail-like attachments.

Carefully observing all this magnificence, the girl thought that the male members of the McKenzie family were very distinguished by their tall stature and good physiques. Aloud, she remarked, “I’ve seen many Scots in national dress in England, including Grandfather, but never paid attention to the details. It's truly very beautiful and extraordinarily elegant, especially when men know how to handle all the accompanying accessories, which, I think, many people these days neglect. All three of you look gorgeous – like Scottish national fashion models.”

“You are absolutely correct. A properly assembled costume is our history, which started here in these mountains, and we are proud of our traditions. In the big towns, few people nowadays wear kilts; they mostly prefer trousers. But the northern Scots will never abandon their customs.”

Having delivered his speech on national attire, Alaric took his place at the head of the table. His grandsons, Duncan and Warren, sat beside him. Megan noted how much Alaric and her grandfather resembled each other. A robust, gray-haired man, shorter than his grandsons, with a serious expression on his face. The eyes, nose, authoritative chin, were all so reminiscent of Malcolm… It felt as if they were of the same age. This resemblance poignantly touched her soul. The whole family was here, but he was not…

She couldn't remember who was actually older, Alaric or Malcolm. Presumably, it was Grandfather since he had inherited Castle Mal, the ancestral home of the clan.

“Mr. Douglas, you may begin,” Warren said.

“All the members of the McKenzie family are gathered here today for the reading of the will of the late Malcolm McKenzie,” Mr. Douglas began. “Allow me to state his will: ‘I hereby bequeath Castle Mal and the Mal Scotch Production whisky distillery, as well as all the funds remaining in my bank accounts, to my only granddaughter, Megan McKenzie.’ Miss McKenzie, there is one more amendment you should be aware of. In the event of your death, if there are no legitimate children-heirs, your mother cannot inherit what your grandfather left you. The entire estate will pass to Alaric and his grandsons, as was the deceased's wish,” concluded Mr. Douglas.

Following these words, Megan was frantically thinking. It must be one of them trying to kill me, now it all makes sense. If I'm gone, they are the lawful heirs. This means another attempt on my life is imminent. Oh, what a nightmare! What should I do? There's no point in offering the family to buy the estate now. Why would they spend the money if they can get it all for free?

After several seconds of complete silence, Alaric asked her a question, “Megan, how are you going to manage the distillery and the castle? Are you going to stay in Scotland, or would you like to manage things from London?”

“This is precisely why I came here – to see the distillery first-hand and get acquainted with its management specifics. Based on this, I will make my decision. Perhaps you have some thoughts on this matter?”

“We can offer our assistance if you find it challenging. I believe Warren wouldn't mind looking after the castle, and along with Gregor, managing the production. Duncan is involved with our other factory with its woolen products. Warren is more available time-wise. As for the terms of your cooperation, I believe you are capable of negotiating them if you're interested in such an arrangement.”

“Thank you, Alaric. I will certainly consider your offer,” trying to speak very calmly and without unnecessary emotions, Megan continued, “but… there’s something I’d like to discuss. Last night, near the castle, I was attacked by a man with a knife. He tried to kill me. I don't want to accuse anyone of what happened, but just in case, I'm informing you that due to the inheritance order that has been revealed to me, I will definitely, right after the meeting, call my lawyer in London and ask him to prepare a document. If something happens to me, a thorough investigation will be conducted based on the information about a possible direct interest in inheritance matters.”

The meeting room fell into complete silence, surprised looks turned into offended ones. Duncan was the first to recover and find a voice to speak.

“Megan, what are you saying! You just arrived here, you’re meeting us for the first time, you’ve got no idea what kind of people we are, and you start threatening us? I can’t speak for my grandfather and brother, but personally, I’m offended to the core,” his cheerfulness and friendliness were abruptly replaced by a kind of aggression. His cousin's statement seriously angered him.

“I had no intention of offending or insulting anyone here. But since an attempt was made on my life yesterday, I think it’s quite reasonable that I bring this up – since I obviously have good reason to fear.”

“I'm terribly sorry that this happened to you, but it's hard to imagine. Could it have been some drunkard attacking you with the intention of robbery? It might just be a coincidence,” said Alaric in bewilderment.

“This man was following me and attacked me with a knife, but…” Megan hesitated for a moment, reluctant to mention the raven, knowing it would sound ridiculous, “but I swiftly dodged him. He slipped on some rocks near the riverbank and fell. That saved me, and I managed to escape.”

Everyone in the assembly hall exchanged puzzled looks. Who could it be? Why and for what reason? No one had answers to these questions, and it seemed unlikely that the girl had made up this story.

The awkward silence was broken by Gregor, “Miss McKenzie, I’ve prepared all the accounting reports for you; they’re in this folder. You can review them whenever you deem necessary. I am ready to answer any questions you may have.”

“Thank you, Gregor. I’ll start on them today,” she replied.

“Since Megan does not yet have any ideas regarding the future of Castle Mal and the distillery, we should schedule another meeting in the near future. What do you say, Megan? How much time do you need? A week, two?” asked Alaric.

“I think we should discuss everything in about ten days. I need to study the documents carefully and make an informed decision,” she answered.

“Despite the unfortunate situation we find ourselves in today, on behalf of our family, I still invite you to join us for dinner this Friday at Castle Raven. I believe we all need to get to know each other better. We are still one family, after all. Maybe you will stop fearing and suspecting us,” said Alaric more warmly, but still a bit stiffly.

“We’ll be glad to have you as our guest,” added Duncan, now composed, with a restrained, polite smile.

“Thank you, I will come. Is it far from here?”

“A ten-minute walk up the hill behind Castle Mal. Glenn and I will escort you,” Warren replied.

“I would greatly appreciate that. Alaric, Duncan, it was nice meeting you. I'll go study the materials now,” saying this, the girl quickly left.

What a foolish situation. They offered help, seemed friendly, and here I am with accusations, threats… Such absurdity. But on the other hand, they could be pretending. It might be a cunningly planned game. Time will tell. I shouldn't torment myself with guilt over what I said there. At least, now everyone knows about the attempt on my life. She thought while walking through the castle's corridor.

Megan really wanted to visit the family crypt where her grandfather now rested. Before the meeting started, she had planned to ask her relatives to accompany her there since she was afraid to go alone. But given how things turned, she felt it was improper to ask any of them now. Before delving into the documents, she decided to take a short walk, familiarize herself with the surroundings, and organize her thoughts. The weather was splendid, with the temperature reaching twenty degrees Celsius, quite warm for the north of Scotland.

Walking toward the shore, she relished the warm summer sun caressing her face. Just to be safe, she looked around carefully to make sure no one was following her. There was nobody in sight. It took her about ten or fifteen minutes to reach the beach through the green-pink meadows.

Gazing at the horizon and admiring the sea, she didn't immediately understand what had startled her so abruptly. Megan looked around again – nobody was there. Then she realized it was a bird. A large black raven had flown over her head two or three times with a cry. She feared it was the same one from her nightmare, worried it might attack her face as it had done with the assailant. But the bird flew off towards a cliff. Perching on an outcrop, it continued to watch the girl unblinkingly. She too could not take her eyes off it for several minutes, then shifted her gaze back to the water. Megan didn't know how long she had spent walking along the beach in contemplation. An hour, two? The raven remained on the same spot, watching her intently. Soon, she stopped paying it any attention and headed back to the castle.

So much heather around, covering all the hills, fields, mountains, just as grandfather described. Now I understand those who say the most picturesque part of Scotland is the north. Could it be that my mother never wished to come back here again? To once more enjoy the beauty so generously bestowed upon this land by nature.

Megan's contemplations were abruptly interrupted by a voice, “In the North of Scotland, heather is considered a flower of happiness and good luck.”

Startled, the girl almost jumped on the spot, fearfully placing her hand over her mouth to suppress a slight scream. She had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed the old lady who had stopped beside her, holding a straw basket filled with heather. She held out one of the flowering sprigs to Megan.

“Oh God, you scared me,” said Megan.

The woman appeared to be about 85 years old. Short in stature, slightly stooped as if weighed down by the years she had lived, her snow-white hair was neatly tied back. Wrinkles furrowed her forehead, around her eyes, and lips, betraying her advanced age, while her bluish-grey eyes radiated wisdom and kindness.

“Take a flower, my dear; it brings luck. Who knows, maybe you will find the happiness left behind in the distant past…”

“Thank you,” the girl replied, accepting the flower.

She didn't understand what kind of lost happiness the woman was talking about. Maybe it was about her mother leaving the family home while pregnant. Or perhaps the old lady had just lost her mind…

“What’s your name?”

“Innes Wallace, and you’re Megan McKenzie, the late Malcolm’s granddaughter. It’s good that you’ve come back. The time has come. He has been waiting for you for so long, it's time, it's time, he has waited… May the pink heather stand in your room every day. You will see how you will regain your lost happiness. You’ll see; you’ll see. Love overcomes all, even centuries cannot diminish its power…”

With these words, Innes moved further away. Meanwhile, she continued to mutter to herself, seemingly forgetting about the existence of the girl watching her in astonishment.

“What was that?” Megan whispered quietly.

Concluding that the woman was out of her mind and didn't understand what she was talking about, Megan decided to take the flower to her bedroom. Let it stay, maybe it really will bring good luck. I need it now more than ever!

The rest of the day, the girl spent exploring the castle from the inside, and only in the evening did she start reviewing the reports given by Gregor. Tomorrow, she intended to visit the distillery and acquaint herself with the production processes.

Preparing for bed, Megan heard again the heart-wrenching sounds of the bagpipes. It was 10.45 p.m. on the mantel clock. Pain and sweetness filled her soul at the same time. The melody was enticing, mesmerizing, but the girl was afraid to leave her room. If it was a trap, she could be attacked again… She opened the window and saw the mysterious stranger. The moonlight illuminated him well. He stood on the same hill as the night before. The man raised his head so he could look at her, without stopping the musical instrument. Megan’s breath was taken away, and a thought flashed through her mind, It’s him. Tears welled up in her eyes. Her hands and legs trembled so much that she was afraid to fall. Not understanding what was happening to her, the girl whispered, "Who is he?" An inner voice answered, "It's him." But who «he» was remained unclear.

Emotions swept over her one after another: sadness, pain, love, despair, joy. Megan couldn’t make out the stranger’s features, but she knew for sure that his face was the most beautiful in the world, that the scent of his skin, his body, was the most desirable to her in the world. The highlander kept playing the bagpipes without taking his eyes off the girl. It seemed to Megan that he saw right through her, reading her thoughts and feelings. With an incredible effort of will, she forced herself to close the window, shivering as if from cold, although the room was warm.

“My God! What's happening to me? What kind of obsession is this?”

Without turning back to the view of the hills, the girl went to bed, but for a long time she could still hear the sad melody of the Scottish bagpipes, and she was unable to calm the feverish excitement that flooded her soul.

When Megan looked at the clock for the last time, it was already four in the morning. Falling into a restless sleep, she saw the highlander next to her bedside, whispering to her, “I’ve been waiting for you, Megan.” He kissed her tenderly and then disappeared, jumping outside, into the darkness.

She woke up late, a bit after 10 a.m. There was a fresh scent in the room – the smell of grass and nature.

“Nature! Grass!” Megan jumped up in bed, realizing that the window, through which the stranger disappeared in her dream, was wide open. The girl tried to recall closing it the night before but couldn’t; she’d been too excited.

“I simply forgot to close it yesterday,” she convinced herself to calm down. “It's just a coincidence. My nerves are frayed from stress. My God, what’s been happening to me these past few days? Complete madness!”

5. Scotch Whisky

When Megan descended the staircase, she saw that Warren and Gregor were already waiting for her in the hall.

“Good morning,” greeted the girl.

“Good morning,” the men said in unison.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” her cousin inquired.

“No, I was just about to have a cup of coffee now. I didn't think you'd be ready before the appointed time.”

“It’s all right, Megan, no need to rush. We’ve got plenty of time.”

She quickly went to the kitchen. In two minutes, she managed to drink coffee and eat a small piece of shortbread. Megan didn’t like being late and felt uncomfortable if she kept someone waiting. Punctuality and perfectionism were in her blood. Brushing the biscuit crumbs off her fingers, she hurried back to the hall.

After leaving the castle, they got into Warren’s car and Megan asked how far it was to the distillery.

“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” he replied.

“Warren, would you be able to take me to the family crypt afterwards? I’d like to pay my final respects to Grandfather, but I don’t dare go there alone. It’s a bit creepy.” She felt very awkward asking for anything after the unpleasant situation the day before, which she herself had created. But there was no choice; she had to establish a rapport between them.

“Yes, of course, as soon as we return, we’ll go there.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Megan, if there's anything I can do for you, don't hesitate to ask. I'm always ready to help.”

The girl nodded in appreciation and said, “Tell me, are there any other inhabited castles around here besides Castle Raven and Castle Mal?”

“In the nearest thirty miles, definitely not. However, there are some abandoned ones that hold historical value for tourists. There are many such places throughout Scotland.”

“Don't you find it boring living here all the time?”

“Not at all. We’re used to a measured way of life. I don't know anyone who could get bored with a such beautiful place. We don't stay locked up at home for weeks. We work, have fun, hunt. There are a lot of deer, wild boars, and hares in the local forests. It's a true pleasure. We, Highlanders, really love our local, traditional festivals, and they happen quite often. I hope you get to attend such an event. The next one is in four days. It's called the Witch's Night, or Fern Night. According to Celtic beliefs, it's the only night of the year when you can see the fern flower bloom. It lasts only a moment. It's very difficult to pick the flower, especially since evil forces do everything to prevent it, sometimes even driving people to madness.”