Legacy

A fine morning to you Lass’s and  Lad’s, my name is Robert McDougal. I’m the tenth generation of the McDougal’s in America.  We McDougal’s came here from Scotland.  I say that in case you couldn’t guess it. This is the beginning of an unbelievable tale, and Hoot Mon, may my kilt fall off and my purse be lost if it isn’t true.

Six months ago I got a registered letter postmarked Edinburgh, Scotland.  I thought how odd, it had been at least two decades since any of us had heard from even a distant relative in the old country.  I opened it more out of curiosity than anticipation.  And did I ever get a surprise.

It seems I was now the sole heir to McDougal Castle in a semi remote part of Northern Scotland with in eye sight of the coast. The Castle came equipped with a Keep I was told.  Not being to sure of what a Keep was I did some research.

Come to find out it’s a fortified tower attached to the Castle.  Apparently if an attack came, the Laird of the Castle and his household, plus a few men, would retreat to the Tower to defend by shooting arrows tossing stones, and sometimes boiling oil down on any attacker.  In this particular location, attack from other Lairds was infrequent even though it was a feudal territorial system at those times.  The main concern was raiding Vikings, and a watchman usually kept watch toward the sea from the Tower.

Well I informed my wife of my inheritance.  She did not share my instant joy.  I ask her why she wasn’t thrilled.  She said in no uncertain terms “I got news for you Robert dear, read the fine print at the bottom, which says, inheritance and back taxes are in the amount of  four thousand English Pounds.  That comes to around sixteen thousand US Dollars.  Also note this communication is not from an attorney, its an official English Government notice.  It also tell you where to present this notice along with payment of taxes.  Do you get it?”

I replied that I got it, that I realized the English Government was quite anxious for an heir to take responsibility, but it’s a castle; our very own castle.  I went on to extol the virtues of a Scottish Castle.  I said I’d read where they are so big they make fine homes and provide a great source of  revenue from tourists wanting a great Bed and Breakfast experience.  She wasn’t very convinced of it being a windfall.  She kept using nasty words like “Money Pit”

Well it took much cajoling and convincing, but she finally gave in, reluctantly though and she made that obvious.  Well I sent off a reply and said we would arrive sometime during the spring after we liquidated things here.  Which we did and that got us enough revenue to afford the trip, pay the taxes, and have a few thousand to live on while getting things up and running at the castle.

Well we were off and running, it took about two weeks by steamship to get to England and two more days by train and bus to get to Edinburgh.  There we were warmly greeted, given the official papers of ownership and a map showing us how to get to McDougal Castle.  I could hardly wait to see it.  I was pleasantly surprised to find out that the castle sat on almost two thousand acres of land that were part of my new holdings.  Much of which I’m told was tillable and being farmed by Sharecroppers who also had Sheep Herds.  That was good news because that pretty well insured we would have an income that we could survive on.

We bought a used Motor Car and set forth on the journey to the castle which would be some two hundred miles to go.  English cars and opposite side roads lanes were not easy to get used to, almost had a couple of head on collisions , and got a few fists shook at me as if I were a dummy, well I was as far as driving in England goes, but I knew I’d eventually learn. It was a beautiful drive through the Scottish countryside, the Heather was everywhere and in bloom, its fragrance filled the air.

We got to within sight of the castle and the first thing we could see was that tall Keep.  Impressive, I started to think of myself as a bit of a King.  Then we got a lot closer.  A mule kick to my head wouldn’t have stunned me more; it was a ruin. Historic maybe, but a ruin. Built in 1567 by Angus McDougal; but still a ruin. Historic value like a museum piece, yes, but that don’t put money in one’s pocket.

Well needless to say the atmosphere in the car got very, very glum.  My wife gave me the worst I told you so kind of stink eye anyone ever got. I was sad and she was mad.  I felt like committing suicide, but since I cashed in my life insurance to pay for the trip, I couldn’t.

As we got right upon the ruin we saw a large sign just leaning against it that said “Welcome McDougal’s, Cottage this way, with an arrow pointing. We followed the arrow about a half a mile and came to a medium size well maintained cottage.  It was charming and even had great curb appeal, even though there were no curbs.

Standing outside was a group of about fifteen Sharecroppers and their family’s.  They gave us a most gracious welcome.  Apparently the Cottage was ours. After about an hour of handshaking and getting acquainted it was getting towards dusk.  So they left and we went into our cottage hoping to find a bed to sleep in.  Our jaws about bounced off the floor.  It was well furnished, freshly cleaned.  It was even stocked with fresh food and vegetables.  We had been expected.  My wife rustled around the kitchen and whipped up a supper.  As we sat down at the dinning table to eat, we noticed a box and a note.  The note said here are the earnings owed by us, your Sharecroppers to the estate which is now yours.  It was a sizable sum.  Enough to feed us for a year at least.

Well our countenance was changing upward and we decided that maybe we had been blessed after all.  We laughed as we agreed it had been one surprising roller coaster of a day. Well this will now be our home and we will make the best of it and thrive as the new Lairds of the land.

After a few days I decided to explore the ruin.  You could still tell it had been a castle and the Keep was pretty intact.  The base of the Keep was pretty far across.  I’d guess about eighty feet.  It would have been like the great hall for entertaining large numbers of guests.  Over to the side was a still solid winding set of stone stairs spiraling upward through a opening in the wooden ceiling.  I figured that must be how one gets to the top of the tower.

I said to myself, I bet the view is spectacular, especially as one looks toward the sea.  So up I went up and through the opening in the ceiling.  That’s where the stairs ended.  I thought this is a long way from the top.  Confusing to me it was.

The room was however, picturesque.  After I found some wall mounted torches, I lit them and they gave much better light than the flame of my pipe lighter.  It was an interesting visage, like a little museum almost.  Every few feet there was a very well carved life size statue of one of the various Lairds who had been Laird of the castle.  They were well painted and well preserved.  I though some collector would pay a fortune for them.  There was also a carved motto hanging on the wall. It said  “A courageous Heart Will Prevail”, nice motto I thought.  As I went around the room I noticed that each statue had the name of the Laird it represented on the base.

I finally came to old Angus himself, founder and builder.  Impressive looking fellow.  Then I noticed that unlike the other statues he had extra ornamentation. To be specific, what looked like a good size solid gold heart hung from a solid gold chain around his neck.

I said to myself, that must be the courageous heart referred to in the motto.  I was just being funny.  I then reached over to run my fingers under the heart to gauge its heft.  After all gold is very valuable.  What I didn’t know was that it was attached to a thin rod that ran from the back of it through the statue to something.

Anyway has I pulled it forward to fondle it, there was a click and a door swung open and outward. The door front was a thin stone façade, but it had blended seamlessly with the wall.  I stuck my torch in to see and there were more stairs.  Aha! I thought, now that’s how one can actually get to the Towers top.

Well needless to say I went upward.  Indeed it took me to the top.  The view toward the ocean was as spectacular as I thought it would be.  Then I noticed in the middle of the top which was about thirty feet across, something resembling a stone altar.  It wasn’t, but it had something unusual sitting in the middle of it.  It also had an iron rod, a bit rusted but intact, cradled on a hook at its side.

Now back to the interesting object in its center.  It was like a glass bubble magnifier.  I peered into it and it was like I was looking at some of the earth from ten thousand feet up from an airplane.  Little rivers, forests, teensy building and towns.  Weird but really piqued my interest

Then I noticed writing besides the bubble.  It was in ancient Druid  Runes.  By the wildest coincidence  I’d studied about the Druids in an Ancient History Class in College where I’d also learned to decipher them.  They said roughly   “To go beyond, take the rod and insert in hole and press down.”

Being on the gamey side I was usually willing to try anything, so I followed the instructions. The last things I remembered was a loud humming and a cloud of pinkish gas coming from around that stone pedestal.

The next thing I knew was when I woke up in a quaint bed inside an unusual looking room.  Leaning over me with a captivating smile was a most beautiful girl.  The second thing I noticed is she had gossamer  like wings.  The upper ones larger and the lower ones smaller. They came from a central point on her back.

I was spooked but good.  I said who, what are you?  She said “Do not fear, I’m a friendly Pixie.”  I replied, I do see the wings, but you can’t be a Pixie, you are as big as I am, and I always thought Pixies to be wee creatures if they even existed.  She said “We exist alright in a parallel  dimension to earth on a much smaller scale.  And by the way, I’m not as big as you; you are as small as me.

I said whoa! That’s hard to digest.  She explained that when I engaged the call device for transport, that the gas was to render me unconscious so the trip wouldn’t be frightening. And that in the process of transport to her world my size had been reduced to fit.

I said Call Device? I had no idea.  She said he name was Muriel, and she asked if I was a McDougal.  I said I was and she said I was the first McDougal to engage the Call Device in two centuries.

Well with things having progressed to this point, Muriel gave me a bit of a cook’s tour and introduced me to a number of other Pixies including some Pixie Elders.  They filled me in on a whole lot of history, both theirs and the McDougal’s.  After about what seemed to be four days it was decided it was time for me to go back.  I said I wonder if I’ve been missed.  Muriel said, you won’t have been because time here is very different from time in your world.  When you arrive back it will be only a minute or two after you left.  That worked for me.

Then Muriel said one more thing before I got the pink gas again.  “When you get back to the room of statues, find the one that says Reginald McDougal, grab the sword handle and pull towards you.  That is the message we were asked to give the next McDougal who visited us.

Well I was back and after regaining consciousness I went back down to the room of statues and followed instructions. Bingo, another click. This time a small door about two feet long and one foot high swung open.  Inside was a very old chest, centuries old I thought.  I pulled it out and about sprained my back in the process.  It had to be about one hundred pounds and I couldn’t sit it down quick enough.

I opened it up and it was full of ancient gold coins of various type and size.  Minus the chests weight of about fifteen pounds it left over eighty pounds of gold.  Now weight alone was a big fortune, but adding age and historical collector value, a virtual King’s ransom.

Needless to say, I was thrilled my wife was thrilled.  We notified our daughter who had remained behind to finish college to  forget school and come immediately.

Being responsible Lairds of the land and filthy rich to boot, we  gave most all of the land to the Sharecroppers, except for about one hundred of the two thousand acres.  That we kept to encompass the castle ruin, our cottage which we turned into a Bed and Breakfast,  to give us plenty of elbow room, and last but not least the room for the very fine  ten bedroom house we built. It’s not as big as the ruin, but it’s a castle to us.