Page 17 of Her Highland Prophecy
“I’m not mad!” she spat at him, her green eyes flashing with annoyance.
“I ken that you believe ye are from the future, but I cannae see how it is possible,” he said.
“I’m not lying and I’m not mad. I’m telling you the truth. I was born in the twentieth century, two hundred and fifty years from now. I don’t know how it’s possible, but here I am, so it must be.”
He believed that she was not lying, but that did not follow that he also believed a magic medallion had brought her to the past. It was much more reasonable to assume that she was unstable and delusional. She must have read his skepticism on his face, because she continued before he could speak.
“Look I can prove it to you. You said that the year is sixteen fifty-three, which means that Charles the First was just executed and the king now is…Charles the Second? Well, Oliver Cromwell is in England, but you probably wouldn’t recognize him as a sovereign since he just attacked the Highlands.”
“Aye, though Charles is in exile in France,” he said. “And Cromwell is a bloody murderer,” he said, his voice dark as he remembered how many of the people he knew had been killed by the man who dared execute the king. “Anyone would ken that.”
“He is a rather controversial man. Many would agree with you, but there are also those who think highly of him,” she said. A feeling of rage overcame him. He was well aware that there were those in England and even some Lowlanders that believed the man had a right to rule.
“Traitors, the lot of them,” he growled.
“He won’t last long,” she said, a promise in her tone. “Charles will be back on the throne in less than ten years, and those who ordered his execution will be executed themselves, both alive and dead.”
Gordain shivered. Her words rang with prophecy, her certainty ringing true with every sentence she uttered. A moment later her words registered with him.
“How can ye execute a man that is already dead?” he asked in bewilderment.
“You can if you exhume the body just to have it beheaded,” she replied in a dry voice.
He was slightly taken aback at the matter-of-fact way she described the man’s fate.
“Ye say that as if it is nay a horrible fate. He deserves it, aye, but it is an unholy thing to disturb a grave.”
She looked at his thoughtfully.
“You’re right, of course,” she said apologetically. “You have to understand that this is all like ancient history to me; completely different than anything in my time. I suppose I look at it more like a morbid story, rather than something that actually happened to a person.”
“Do ye nae execute traitors in yer time then?” he asked, and then shook his head as he realized that he had posed his question as if she had indeed come from the future.
“We do,” she admitted. “Usually they just hang them, although in America sometimes they use electricity to do it.”
“Electricity?” he asked, his mouth fumbling with the unfamiliar word. She grinned at him in response.
“It is the most wonderful thing. We use it for almost everything nowadays.”
“How can something that is wonderful be used to kill people?” he asked.
“You could kill a man with a pillow. Does that make it less comfortable to sleep on? Electricity is wonderful, but it can also be very dangerous.”
He had to admit that she had a point.
“But what is it?”
She looked thoughtful for a moment.
“You know how you use water wheels to power the millstones when you grind wheat? The energy from the water makes the stones move?” She spoke slowly, as if trying to figure out the right words to use.
“Aye.”
“Well, imagine that instead of water, you used the same power that lightning has, only not so dangerous.”
“But how?”
She looked apologetic. “I don’t know all of the details. But they have found a way to harness that power and transfer it directly into people’s houses using metal cables. All you need to do is run those cables through the walls of the house as well and then you can use the power that runs through them for all sorts of different things.”
