A Chill in the Air, Chapter 2/12

Chapter Two

Amanda pedaled steadily as Hannah’s mountain bike climbed the tree-lined access road that ran along the Cawdor Burn.  The bike was sturdy, able to carry Hannah and all her supplies; it bore Amanda’s petite frame quite easily.  She stood on the pedals as the incline increased, long legs pumping rhythmically.  She biked periodically for pleasure, and her legs showed it.  Though none of her muscles stood out, her lower limbs were well-toned.  They carried not an ounce of superfluous fat; her tight jeans couldn’t have lied about that if they’d wanted to.

As the tree screen thinned, Amanda watched Cawdor Castle gradually reveal its looming presence.  A single four-storey tower of grey stone rose out of a small crowd of lesser buildings, many topped with small conical bartizans.  The small drawbridge led to an iron gate, which stood open and inviting.  As one concession to modernity, broad rectangular windows had replaced any earlier arrow slits, but barring this the façade was remarkably well-preserved.  Amanda had toured a number of castle sites during her summer backpacking trip with Hannah and Kat, but many of those had been glorified ruins.  Cawdor almost looked as though a medieval laird might emerge and spur his charger across the drawbridge at any moment.

Amanda coasted to a stop, nimbly dismounting while the bike was still in motion and jogging beside it for the last few yards.  Securing the bike to a convenient fencepost, she surveyed the parking area.  Only a few other bikes and cars were scattered about.  It did not look like a busy day at the castle.  The vehicles might belong to staff; she could be the lone visitor on this wintry day.  No sounds broke the stillness of the morning.  With a slight thrill she crossed the drawbridge, looking up to admire a colorful heraldic panel bearing the family motto: “Be Mindful.”  She passed through the gate.

A sign in the courtyard directed visitors to a nearby door, which she entered.  In the receiving area a lanky, sallow-faced young man sat behind a wooden desk.  His head was bent low over some reading material.  A name tag pinned to his shirt read “Colin.”

The warmth of the interior washed over Amanda, and she unzipped her parka and the top of her sweater once again.  She strode over to the man, who looked up in annoyance at being disturbed.  His expression quickly changed to one of interest as he took in the curvaceous figure before him.  His thin lips parted cloyingly, revealing yellow teeth beneath.  “Welcome to Cawdor Castle, ancestral home of the Earl of Cawdor.  I’m Colin.  May I help you?”

Amanda smiled winningly.  “Hi, I’d like to see about a tour.”

Colin’s voice oozed a reply.  “Certainly.  But the Earl would be pleased if you’d first sign the guestbook, over in the corner there.”

“All right.”  Amanda walked over to the podium on which the book rested.  As she did so, her sharp eyes picked up another modern concession mounted in the corner of the ceiling.  A closed-circuit video camera was trained on the spot.  Somewhat self-consciously, she leaned forward to write her name and nationality.

Behind the desk, Colin awakened his computer and quickly called up the video feed.  Fingering his mouse, he scrolled the zoom feature as he drank in a deep plunging view of Amanda’s bosom, a sizable amount of which was visible through her unzipped sweater.  He clicked the screenshot button several times.  The Earl really didn’t care if visitors signed the guestbook, but it pleased Colin when certain ones did.

Amanda returned to the front desk, where the clerk had become engrossed in his computer screen.  “So…when’s the next tour?”

He glanced up, still leering slightly.  “Whenever you like, miss.  I’d like to take you” – he swallowed – “but I have to man the front.  Donnell can show you around the exterior grounds.”  Colin pressed an intercom button on his desk, and called out sharply “Donnell!”

“Oh – well, I was hoping for a full tour, at least as much as possible.  I’d love to see all of your exhibits.”

Annoyed at being challenged, Colin’s voice hardened a bit.  “It is as much as possible.  Most of the exhibit rooms are closed for renovations and cleaning.  The artifacts aren’t even there.  These facts were posted on the website six months ago.  You should really prepare better before you plan a visit.”

Amanda’s face fell slightly with disappointment, and her eyebrows knit with some irritation at his rude tone.  She rallied her politeness.  “I suppose so.  Whatever Mr. Donnell can show me would be wonderful.  How much for the tour?”

“Ten pounds.”

A little steep for a tour of just the outside of the buildings.  Amanda dug out her wallet and paid him.

Just then a portly Scot of late middle age, who possessed an elaborate moustache, entered from a side door.  His deep voice caused an echo, even in the small anteroom.  “Visitors, Colin?”

“Took you long enough.  Just the one, Donnell,” the attendant responded.  “Miss…?”

“Jones.  Amanda Jones.”

Colin flashed his yellow teeth again.  “Miss Jones.  Take her ‘round the outside tour.”

Donnell seemed unruffled by Colin’s disdain.  “Certainly, my dear.  It’ll be a pleasure.”  He held out an arm to Amanda in a grandfatherly fashion, which she gladly took.  As they exited, she discreetly looked over her shoulder at Colin.  He was still staring after her.  Jeez – I think I’ll be warmer outside.


* * *


Amanda quite enjoyed the outside tour of the castle, intrigued by Donnell’s knowledge of the place.  He seemed to exert a comfortable patriarchal influence over the rest of the staff.  Each time they passed a gardener going to and fro with an armful of tools, or a maid bustling past with a pile of bedding, the other employees stopped to give the older man a hearty greeting, which was returned in full.  None of them seemed to feel the disdain which had dripped from Colin’s tone.

As they walked Donnell interspersed the architectural descriptions with tales of the various lords and ladies who had passed through the castle gates.  Though he must have run through these explanations a thousand times before, his evident fascination with the stronghold lent freshness to every word.  He described the highlights of Cawdor’s famous garden, for the most part dormant during the winter.  He supplemented with stories of odd visitors who had taken the tour, and of the times he just might have seen a ghost while making his rounds as night watchman.  Amanda held up her end of the conversation too, asking pointed questions and making perceptive comparisons to the other castles she’d visited.

In addition to ancient details and modern comforts, she picked out the security features folded into the place.  As the tour came to a close back in the central courtyard, she commented on her observations.  “Is there much concern about intruders?  I mean, you’ve got CCTV, motion sensors, silent alarms…that’s a lot of modern defenses for an old fortress!”

Donnell chortled.  “You’ve got keen eyes, lass.  We’ve got a lot of automated security here.  But you’re right, it’s not like anyone’s going to walk off with the castle!  No, the fuss is all about the exhibits, the artifacts.  Worth a small fortune, they are – mebbe not so small, with the latest additions.  You haven’t even seen the security features for the exhibit rooms – not that there’s anything there anyway.”

Amanda frowned.  “I still wish I could have seen those artifacts.  My friend said it was a great collection.”

“Oh, it is.  Tell you what, miss…” the husky Scot lowered his voice, though they were currently alone in the courtyard.  “If you want to come back tomorrow, I’ll take you and your friend down to the cellars to see it all.  Even some of the things that don’t normally go out on display, like the Watt Stone.”  Amanda’s mouth dropped open in awe, but Donnell took no notice and continued speaking.  “I’d take you today, but Colin’d report me, little prick.  The desk man scheduled for tomorrow is more reasonable, and none of the other staff would raise a fuss.  Colin’s just the bad apple for this particular barrel.”

Amanda regained her composure.  “I’d love to…I’ll have to see what my friend thinks of the idea.  But all the artifacts are still on-site?”

“Yes, safe below ground.”  He detected her puzzlement.  “The fancy exhibit room security may not be guarding anything, but the perimeter security will still protect the lot.  If anyone came through the doors, through the windows, climbed over the walls, or parachuted into the courtyard, it’d set off the alarms.  Not like it used to be.  I remember way back before all the automated systems, when it was just me, a flashlight, and a good set of locks.  I was quite a few pounds lighter then, and I recall one particular night…”

As Donnell rambled on, out of the corner of her eye Amanda noticed two powerfully-built men cross the drawbridge and approach the visitors’ anteroom.  One, the more broad-shouldered of the two, strode confidently across the paving stones; the other scuttled across, casting his eyes about furtively, his head canting with periodic neck spasms.  Colin met them in the doorway, where they spoke in low tones.  Amanda couldn’t hear them, but saw the broad-shouldered one pass Colin a black leather carrying case.  Colin opened the flap to inspect the contents; Amanda could see glass tubes inside, and the glinting points of what looked like needles.  Then he closed the flap again.

Donnell had paused in his circumlocutions.  Amanda nodded subtly in the direction of the group across the courtyard.  “Who are they?”

Squinting, Donnell replied, “Richard and Melvin Grier.  Cousins.  They contracted with the Earl to lease a plot of land in the woods down by the Burn, about 6 months back.  Use it to run some sort of quad bike park for daredevils – I guess Americans would call them All Terrain Vehicles.  Damn fool pastime, you ask me.  Like as anything to break your neck.”  The portly man scoffed.  “The Griers are a disagreeable lot.  I have heard some folk call them Rich and Twitch, though – had to laugh at that one.”

When Amanda expressed concern about what she’d seen in the black package, Donnell waved it off.  “Probably drugs.  With the Griers I wouldn’t be surprised, and it wouldn’t be the first time for Colin there either.  If he lets well enough alone, I don’t care if he shoots himself up till he’s high as a kite.  Maybe then he might get some actual work done ‘round the place.”

Amanda nodded uncertainly; after another couple of minutes of conversation, she bade farewell to the friendly Scotsman.  She got a vague sense of unease as Colin and the Griers followed her with their gaze while she re-crossed the courtyard.  She quickened her pace over the drawbridge.