Redneck Rich

He led me around the house to meet up with Fiona. She was wearing black leggings, sturdy hiking boots, and a thick cable knit sweater that dropped below what had to be an outstanding rump. She smiled and took my hand, and with Ian ranging in front of us led me across the moors to the cliffs above the sea.

She stopped and looked into my eyes. "I want to show you something. Before I do, you have to promise on all you hold dear to never write or talk about it. It's a secret born here that needs to stay here. It's sacred to the locals and some would be very upset I let an outsider see it. Promise me, Miles."

I thought about it for a minute. "I promise. I promise on my affection of you and your son, on the deep respect I have for your grandfather, and most of all, on my personal honor."

She gave me a hard stare before nodding. Then she smiled. "Ian, prepare the rope."

I wondered what he had in his pack and now I knew. He attached the rope to a windswept tree and tossed it over the edge. He grinned at me. "Relax, there's a trail, but it's very steep and you can't afford a misstep. Just hold the rope as we descend and you'll be fine."

Fiona went first, and it was indeed rough going. I followed as best I could and Ian brought up the rear. We descended about eighty feet before stopping on a ledge, probably ten feet above the sea. It wasn't a tranquil bay, but high waves crashing over jagged rocks. Fiona walked to the edge of the ledge and just seemed to disappear. I walked over and discovered an opening just large enough to walk through, the shape of the rock making it almost invisible. When Ian was inside, she lit two torches and grinned.

"We could use electric torches (flashlights) but it seems sacrilege. Follow me."

We walked about thirty feet before the passage opened into an enormous cavern. I could hear water falling in the background. Fiona lifted the torch above her head and it lit it up a little before disappearing into inky darkness. "Here we are, the last refuge of Garioch. We're across from the town proper, and this land has been in my family for centuries. No one knows who discovered it, but it became quite handy when Viking raiders appeared. The men would bundle the women and children down the cliff and they would shelter here. Then the men would fight enough of a skirmish to get their attention and disappear into the interior. The raiders usually looted everything worth taking and would fire the village before leaving. Look to your left."

There was writing on the wall, layer upon layer of names and dates carved into the rock. The oldest I saw was 1103, some were written in languages I couldn't understand. Fiona looked on grimly. "This is a tradition going back, well, you saw the dates. It's the name of every woman and child who lived because they could hide here. There's a spring in the back, a good supply of clean, sweet water, and they would keep enough supplies cached to last for a month. They wouldn't leave until the supplies were gone or the men called them out of hiding. Look here."

She led me to another portion of wall. again, covered by names and dates. "These are the men and women who died defending their families. Come along."

She led me to a back corner and I marveled over how big the cavern was. There was a stone couch there, and lying on it were the skeletal remains of a woman, her bones calcified into her resting place. "This is Agnes of Garioch. She died leading the defense of this place the only time the Vikings discovered it. They always kept sentries and they heard them coming. You saw how narrow the entrance is and they kept them fended off with bows for five days before they ran out of arrows. Then they fought their way in, to be met with women and children from 12 on up, armed with claymores, daggers, and spears. Forty-three women and nineteen children fought Viking warriors to a standstill. The men had returned from leading off a portion of the raiding party, came down the cliffs, and attacked them from behind. Not one raider made it out of Scotland. The village seized their two ships and the treasure they had plundered before they came here. They took the ships out into the ocean and burned them, and the people threw all the bodies into the bay in front of the cave. If you were to dive it, you could probably find an artifact or two, but the sea is so treacherous you'd be risking life and limb to do so.

Agnes was the last to die, taking two raiders with her. They built this chair, and placed necklaces and rings claimed from their enemies to decorate it. The local legend is she watches over us now. The treasure is still intact, under the sediment that settled on it. No one would risk her wrath to steal it."

"When did this occur?"

"As near as we can tell, around 1096. It still has uses, when the Luftwaffe bombed nearby air bases and towns, many sheltered here. Look at this."

She raised her torch again and I saw it. Agnes Wallace, Jane Wallace, and Harold Wallace, 1944. "My grandmother, mother, and brother."

I stood amazed, trying to let the history of the place seep into my bones. If these walls could talk. Then I realized they did, through the names and dates. Ian was standing there, enjoying the look on my face. "Look here."

"Ian, don't..." was she got out before he held his torch up. It was a wall of names, a woman's followed by a man's.

"What is this?"

"When a woman of the area wants to marry or declare her intentions, she write her name and the name of her interest on this wall. The other women would see it and know a man was claimed. I can show you Great-grandmothers going back three hundred years, all the way down to my grandmother."

Fiona looked a little embarrassed when I asked where her name was. "It's not on there. Maybe that tells me I knew what we had wasn't going to last. If I ever write my name on the wall with the name of my intended, it may as well be written in blood, because it will be for life."

I marveled at the place for a few more minutes before we left. When we got back to the top she asked for my assurance once again that I would keep her secret. "You don't know me all that well, Fiona, but I never betray a confidence or share a secret. If people ever find out about this place, it won't be from me."

She looked into my eyes. "Good enough. Just so you know, the cavern is strictly a woman's place. Men of our area usually only get to see it once. They respect the custom and the cavern is held in reverence for the brave men and women over the centuries, many who died keeping the secret."

I grinned. "I'll honor my word, but you know it's going to kill me, thinking of all the books I could write about this place and the times it's seen."

.........................................................................................

Ian ranged ahead of us, stopping now and then when something caught his interest. We talked about him, about how proud she was of him, how she hoped to get him into a prestigious boarding school. She saw my frown and asked. I shrugged. "Different cultures, I guess. In my country boarding schools are few and far between and mostly military academies. If I ever have children, I'll be wanting them as close to me as possible while they grow."

She looked thoughtful for a minute before she changed the subject. "I'm worried about my grandfather."

"So am I. But we need to face facts here. He's almost eighty and his dream took a lot out of him. Still, it was the completion of a lifelong dream. How many can say they actually sailed through the Northwest Passage? When we get back, there are some things I'd like to show you. I'll make the same request you did of me and ask you to keep it confidential. I think you'll enjoy what you see."

That night, after everyone was settled down, she knocked on my door. I already had my laptop set up and sat her in front of it. It wasn't long before she was sniffling, and when the clip ended, she was weeping, huge tears. She settled into my arms and had what can only be described as a 'good cry', before snuggling down and becoming quiet.

I'd shown her some of the footage from the voyage. Some of the images were very powerful. One in particular set her off. It was her grandfather, at the helm, during a gale, singing "The Northwest Passage" as the rain and snow lashed him and the winds rattled the sails.

The voyage was done in a sailing ship patterned after the ones in use at the time. Beside sails, it had an engine, but then so did Franklin's ships, even if theirs was steam and this was diesel. Global warming had melted the ice to the point that the voyage was now possible, and many had already taken advantage of the passage. It still took ten weeks for the voyage to be complete. There were stops along the route to visit historic sites, including the island Franklin was supposed to be buried on, though no one knew exactly where. Historically the failure of the voyage had been covered many times, countless expeditions launched to determine the fate of the crew, so the producers touched on it very lightly, just enough to set the stage.

I spent another three weeks before I had to leave. The Commodore was almost bed bound by then and we had many, many talks, most of which I recorded. Fiona and I drew closer though we never crossed the line. It was very hard for me to leave, and I was surprised at the intensity of the hug I got from Ian. He had become my 'ramble' buddy, and we took many long trecks across the cliffs and moors. He and Fiona accompanied me on a few short trips for research and I reveled in his wonder at the things he saw, in the museums as well as in the field.

Fiona seemed to cling to me a little longer than normal. I made them promise faithfully to come see me during the summer and they made me promise in return to come back often as possible.

I went home, but I would often find myself looking over the lake from my office window, watching the boats, especially the sailboats.

I finished the novel, and gave a lot of credit to the Commodore in my foreword for his historical insights. The book went on to be my most successful so far, and the video rights fight almost made my agent swoon, to use the old-fashioned term. Fiona and Ian gave me a very nice phone call, especially over the dedication. It was to them and read: "This book is dedicated to Fiona and Ian Wallace (I used his mother's name; she had taken it back after the divorce) for their input and support. Fiona could well have been the mother of modern corsairs, and Ian would have been a sailor of note in another time. The tradition lives on."

................................................................

Winter was just breaking when I got another call from Fiona. She was crying so hard she couldn't talk, and Ian took over. "Grandfather's passed. We need you to come home."

I didn't note it at the time, but reflected on the plane his words "come home." We talked at least twice a week and he became a minor celebrity when the book came out and the dedication became common knowledge.

They met me at the plane, hugging me like their lives depended on it. We went back to the estate, and I began the calls to honor his final wish.

He wanted to be buried at sea, with full naval honors. He also wanted the traditional burial, his unembalmed corpse sewn into a shroud with weights and consigned to the depths. The morgue had frozen his body per his instructions, awaiting instructions.

The Commodore was actually a Captain and the Admiralty did a stellar job. He was taken to sea on a small naval vessel, with an honor guard, a few old veterans that had served with him, and his family. There were no reporters, no film crews, just sailors and family, and he went to the deep in his dress uniform, complete with the medals he'd been awarded, sewn into a deep blue shroud with yellow stars. Three symbolic cannonballs weighed the shroud down.

After the chaplain concluded the ceremony with the traditional 'we now commend your soul to the deep', the board he was on slowly tilted, and he slid to his final resting place. Fiona and Ian tossed a wreath into the water as the 'cannons' of the ship fired, the traditional salute to a sailor.

He was buried in the bay of his home, and if you looked up you could see his estate from the water. The whole town and many from the countryside lined the streets as the procession wove it's way to the harbor, and the boats were so thick you could almost walk across them to the shore. The Commodore was well liked and considered a national hero.

When his will was read, he'd left everything to Fiona and Ian, the house, his holdings, and his money, which was a lot more than was expected. He left Ian all his naval memorabilia, except for one thing. A naval saber that had belonged to his great-grandfather, an officer in the mid 1800's, which was worn into many famous sea battles. He left it to me. He left me a little note. "I never had a son, but if I had I'd like to think he would be a man like you, so take it with my gratitude. I would request that on your passing if you don't have any sons that Ian get it. It should stay in the family."

I protested but it fell on deaf ears. "Keep it. It meant a lot to him for you to have it, and I'm sure it will stay in the family."

They seemed at loose ends, so after arrangements were made to take care of his holdings, I took them home with me.

....................................................................

A few days turned into weeks. Something had to be done about Ian's schooling, so I put him into a private academy that was very highly regarded. It took him a while but he acclimated to the point that I seemed to have a lot of boys, and quite a few girls underfoot on the weekends. Even at thirteen, his flaming red hair, natural good looks, and instinctive charm had all the girls following him around like lovestruck puppies. It was very amusing at times, exasperating at others.

Fiona moped for a bit, but having all the kids underfoot brought her out of it. She soon made friends with the mothers and became involved in school activities. I was writing something new, something that was going to require a little travel, but it could wait until summer.

We settled into semi-domestic bliss and meshed as a family. I was required to attend all of Ian's school functions, and when one of the mothers seemed to get a bit too close Fiona would lock my hand in hers, sending a message. A month after I brought them home, we were sitting by the fire, watching the frozen lake. Ian was off to the movies with friends and was spending the night, so we had the house to ourself.

Fiona fidgeted around for a minute before speaking. "Miles, I have to know, do you have any feelings for me? Feelings a man has for a woman? Because I find myself falling in love with you, something I never thought I'd experience again. But you've given me no sign, so if you don't I think Ian and I will go back home."

"Where are your passports?"

"What?"

"Where are your passports?"

"They're in my room, in a dresser drawer."

"Would you get them, please."

All kinds of things must have been running through her head but she fetched them.

"Follow me."

I took her to my bedroom and put them into my safe. "There. Now you can't leave, at least until you go through the process of getting new ones. I'm holding you and Ian hostage."

It took her a second but the grin spread over her face. Then she tackled me to the bed. Didn't see that coming. Didn't see her clothes coming off in record time either. Fiona was a Nordic goddess, standing an inch taller than I did, and I was six feet even. We were going to one of Ian's school functions, one that required a suit and dress, and she shocked me with how good she looked. I took her in and then frowned.

"Where are your heels? A dress like that requires heels."

"I didn't want to..."

She trailed off. "Didn't want to what? Be taller than me? That ship's sailed, honey. Now go get your highest pair and let's impress the shit out of some people."

Her heels were only three inches, but it made her stand head and shoulders, pun intended, above the rest of the women there. A few of the men tried to impress her, but she'd just smile down at them until they got nervous and left. If a woman got close to me her expression should have had them thinking of Valkyries.

All that flashed through my mind when we hit the bed. I'd gotten a pretty sharp smack on the back of my head when she expressed her concerns and I grinned. "Believe me, honey, they're all wondering how tall you'd be if you were horizontal."

I realized as she was on top of me, kissing and yanking on clothes, that we were exactly the same height. We mated like she was a Viking shield maiden and I was a pagan she was trying to best in combat. When we were done, we were both bruised, tired, and I was pretty sure the scratches were going to require medical attention. Once she was sated though, she turned into the biggest kitten on the planet, purring with happiness as her fingers traced designs over whatever skin she happened to touch. We passed out wrapped in each other's arms.

We woke at the same time and proceeded to reaffirm we were sexually compatible, to the point we were still at it when we heard the door open. Ian had come home early. Fiona came off the bed like it was on fire, scrambling for her clothes. I slipped into jogging pants and a tee shirt and met him in the hallway.

"You're home early."

"Yeah, Brady got sick and his mom thought it might be a good idea to bring me home. She said she called, but you guys never answered."

"Probably still on the charger. So, is it contagious?" Brady was the younger brother of Mike, the friend he had spent the night with.

"She didn't think so, but she thought it better to be safe than sorry. Where's Mum?"

I waved my hand in the air. "Oh, she's out and about somewhere. Why don't you go see if she's on the deck?"

His eyes got wide and he grinned. "The deck. Yeah, I'll do that." I turned to see Fiona standing there, looking horrified. She preferred dresses, and hers hung dangerously low and even if she hadn't been holding her bra it would have been obvious, she wasn't wearing one. I walked up as she started stuttering and gave her a kiss and a swat on her well-toned ass.

"Go take a shower and get dressed. I'll talk to him."

"What would you say?"

"I'd say you're thirteen now and I'm pretty sure you know how things work. I'd also tell him that I hold you in the highest regard and won't tolerate any disrespect. He'll either accept it or he won't, but you saw the grin. I think he's onboard."

She disappeared into her room while I walked out on deck. Ian was sitting there watching the boats and he turned and grinned. "So, you and Mum..."

"Yes. Me and your Mum. Will that be a problem for you?"

He couldn't keep the grin off his face. "Not if it works out the way I think it will. It'll cost you, though. Mum and I want a sailboat."

They had been talking about it in general terms. I think part of it was a way to gauge how badly I wanted them to stay. "We'll have lunch at the Club and I'll put out some feelers."

He whooped and broke out into the Hornpipe, something the Commodore had taught him. What Ian didn't know was he'd also taught me. We were right in the middle of doing the high kicks, arms on our hips, and as we twirled there was Fiona, filming the dance on her phone. We didn't miss a beat, snapping to attention at the end and saluting smartly.

She was laughing and crying in equal measure as she held her arms wide, and we hugged her as tightly as we could. When we let each other go and collapsed into the outdoor furniture Ian burst out. "Mum! Da... Miles is going to buy us a sailboat!"

"I said we'd look at sailboats. We'll see." I corrected gently. Fiona's face lit up with pleasure.