The Way of the Warrior-Wizard

Duncan and Jack waited patiently for Hamish to pick them up at Aunt Luanne’s house. The two young men had spent an entire afternoon browsing the books and deciding which ones to borrow. Duncan had finally settled on just ten, five dealing with the Underground Railroad and the passage to Nova Scotia and five of them dealing with the Second Anglo-Boer war. He was satisfied that these ten would start him off quite nicely on his research project.

Jack had already read and had recommended the ten books that Duncan was borrowing. He had found new ones and had an entire suitcase with him in order to carry them.

“Just don’t forget to bring them back, Jack!” Aunt Luanne reminded him, “You kept the last ones for months. I don’t mind if you’re taking the time to read them, but if all they’re doing is collecting dust, then bring them back for someone else to read!”

“I promise I will, Auntie Lu,” Jack told her fondly.

“I intend to read these within a week,” Duncan added, “and will return them promptly.”

“Yes, I can believe that you’ll have them read and back in no time,” Luanne replied to Duncan, pouring him another cup of Earl Grey Tea.

Before long, Hamish was at the door. He had brought his wife Kyra and two of his children, Sage and, Fiona, with him. Duncan had also asked Donaldson if Jack could come with them, as he knew they would be going to Aunt Luanne’s library today. He had invited Luanne as well, but she had graciously declined the invitation to go to the place Jack referred to as “Donaldson’s Lair”. Duncan was hoping to create a bit of peace between Jack and Donaldson, as he knew that they had been at odds lately over Jack’s thesis.

Luanne invited them all in for a quick cup of tea before they left to go to Donaldson’s.

“I must thank you, Luanne, for introducing Hamish and I to Yvonne,” Kyra said to the older lady, having given in to her request to be addressed by her first name rather than as “Mrs. Kingston”.

“I hope it helped,” Luanne replied, pouring from a fresh pot of tea into Kyra’s cup, this time Scottish Breakfast Tea.

“It did, Madam, indeed,” Hamish reported, “I felt as though a great weight had been lifted off my heart after Ms. Jericho brought me for a wee visit to my past...we even visited one of my past lives in India. Now I know that the Hindu people of India are correct...reincarnation does indeed occur! My experience of it was as real as my own life in the present, and it was quite the shock for an old War-Bird like myself, I can tell you!”

“Hamish was amazed,” Kyra added, “and he wants to properly thank Yvonne by paying her for the treatment.”

“No, I’m sorry, but no!” Luanne declared firmly, “Yvonne does not accept money for what she does. It’s not an accepted therapy, for one thing; and for another she believes in offering her gifts as a Divine Service rather than for profit. She has an office job in order to pay her bills. She has to go to work tomorrow, and so she’s gone back to Nova Scotia.”

“Please convey to her our gratitude,” Kyra said, “Hamish finally had a restful night’s sleep last night! Let’s hope that continues.”

“If you have any more problems, I can always arrange for Yvonne to come for another visit,” Luanne reassured them.

After they had visited and drank their tea, the group piled into Hamish’s van and proceeded to the prestigious home of Professors Jerome Donaldson and Leslie Harris. They were greeted by Professor Harris, who insisted that they call her “Leslie” and Donaldson “Jerry” while they were visiting.

They sat down in the living room, one which was beautifully decorated with paintings of many historical battles. Duncan noticed in particular a painting of the Battle of Culloden in 1746, entitled “Blàr Chùil Lodair”, the Gaelic name for the battle.

“Ahh, Bonnie Prince Charlie and the Jacobites,” Hamish said, looking in the direction of the painting.

“Yes,” Donaldson replied, “He led them to ruin...a very ill-conceived campaign, I must say. Charles Stuart and his small army, if I recall, were beaten soundly by the Duke of Cumberland and his much bigger army.”

Hamish grunted, not wanting to concede the point to the younger man.

“They fought bravely,” he murmured, “against the Sassenach. Aye, they did.”

“All right, Hamish,” Kyra cautioned him, “Let’s not be name-calling.”

“Yes, the Sassenach—the English, I believe you mean,” Donaldson took up the challenge, “although didn’t the word originally refer to the Lowland Scots?”

Hamish glared at Donaldson.

“Yes, Professor Donaldson,” Duncan interjected, “it meant ‘Saxon’ and it was originally used by Gaelic-speaking people to refer to the non-Gaelic speaking Scots. My father was brought up in the Gaelic-speaking Highlands, but he spent a great deal of his life in the Lowlands as an army officer.”

“I see,” Donaldson replied. He looked as though he were about to add something else to the conversation, but thought better of it when his wife Leslie gestured to him in the negative.

Duncan breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing they wanted to do was to re-enact The Battle of Culloden in Donaldson’s living room!

Thankfully, Leslie herded them all into the large, elegant dining room, where everyone took their places around an ornate wooden dining table.

Duncan’s brother and sister, Sage and Fiona, were as silent now as they had been since arriving at the Professors’ home. Duncan supposed that was why his father, or more probably his mother Kyra, had chosen them to come along as opposed to Cara or Glenlachlan. They would have attempted to argue with Donaldson, but Sage and Fiona were far more reserved than that and tended to be guided more by reason than by the emotionalism of argumentativeness. He was thankful for their presence, for they added a silent, sober element of decorum to the proceedings without ever saying a word.

Jack, on the other hand, had thrown Duncan a number of sardonic glances whenever Donaldson expressed an opinion on something. He knew that Jack did not particularly care for Donaldson, but he hoped that would not be apparent to their hosts.

“So,” Donaldson said after they had finished their salad, “I understand that Jack has been investigating ghosts at your house, Duncan.”

Duncan coughed on his ginger ale.

“Uh...” he began, unsure as to how to answer the question.

“Yes, I have, Professor,” Jack interjected assertively, “and we’ve discovered that Mr. MacGregor’s spirit goes wandering at night...the family has a living ghost in the home. My Aunt made that determination when she went in to make contact with the spirit.”

“I see,” Donaldson replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “I didn’t know that ghosts could go a-wandering if their physical bodies were still alive.”

“Now, then, Jerome,” Hamish cautioned the man, “don’t you be challenging Jack’s Aunt Luanne. She’s a formidable woman, and so is her cousin, Ms. Yvonne Jericho. She has helped me considerably in my night wanderings.”

“Hmmm,” Donaldson replied, looking at Duncan.

Duncan turned red. He hoped that his father would not get into the “past lives” aspect of Ms. Jericho’s work.

“Father visited a past life in India,” Fiona interjected, having for some reason decided to break her silence, “and now he believes in reincarnation, and so do we, Professors.”

“Hmmm,” Donaldson reiterated, “Hamish, I don’t mean to be impolite, but you seem to be taking very intelligent children and turning them into superstitious morons. I can’t really intervene on behalf of your own kids, but Jack is my grad student, and I feel I need to say something about this insanity. I mean, come on, Hamish! Reincarnation—fine. I guess it’s part of a religious belief, but ghosts? Especially ones that leave live bodies to wander about at night? That is the most ridiculous thing that I have ever heard!”

“Jerry, stop it,” Leslie Harris scolded him, “Shame on you. We invited Duncan and his family over in order to bury the hatchet, and here you are digging it up again!”

“Well, dear,” Donaldson sniffed, as unrepentant as ever, “archaeology is one of my hobbies.”

Duncan felt sorry for Leslie—he could tell that she wanted to strangle her husband, but was attempting for propriety’s sake not to get into a row.

She went out to the kitchen hastily in order to serve the dinner, while Donaldson sat across from Hamish staring at him in what appeared to be a smug fashion. They ate the delicious meal of duck à la orange in silence.

“Professor Donaldson,” Jack finally broke the silence frostily, “I wanted to wait until after the meal to say so, but you had no right to say what you did to Hamish. I mean, come on, Professor! Your opinion on The Battle of Culloden—fine. That was centuries ago...but bullying an old man just because he believes in ghosts? That is the most ridiculous thing that I have ever heard! And by the way, I may be your grad student, but I don’t need your paternalism. I think I’m old enough to figure out what I do and do not believe!”

“Hey, Jack,” Donaldson retorted, “You may not realize it, but I’m on your side. I want you to succeed, just like I want all my students to succeed. And you won’t do it by hanging on to silly, superstitious beliefs like the ones Hamish MacGregor feeds to his kids.”

“Ahem,” Leslie interjected, “anyone for dessert? I have a great strawberry mousse on hand.”

“Here, I’ll help you, Leslie,” Kyra replied, putting her hand on the harried woman’s shoulder, “Guys, be nice, okay?”

While Leslie and Kyra escaped to the kitchen to secure the mousse, Hamish held up his hand.

“I thank you for your defense of me, Jack,” he said to the young man, “but, like you, I do not need protection. I am old, it is true; and in my day, people believed certain things that are not believed today. Even back then, people would say that Hamish MacGregor and his family were “awa’ wi’ the faeries”—in other words, that we were daft. I can, however, withstand Professor Donaldson’s criticism like an adult. Is that not what you are arguing, Professor? That superstitious gillies like myself and Jack are too ignorant and child-like to know the truth about life?”

“Well, you said it,” Donaldson muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Professor?” Jack argued, “I’ll have you know that my Aunt Luanne and our cousin Yvonne are both life-long students of African-North-American history, and they are very well-read. Duncan and I just came from my Aunt Luanne’s library, and I think you would learn some things if you looked at the books there! You think I’m wrong to compare the Roman Empire with the North American Empire of today in my thesis, but that’s because you’re a traditionalist and an intellectual snob. And, if you got to know Hamish, Luanne, and Yvonne a bit better, you’d know you were wrong to call them superstitious country bumpkins!”

Duncan stared at Jack, startled. He knew that Jack and Donaldson disagreed on this element of his thesis, but he had no idea that it had become such a strong point of contention between Jack and the eminent Jerome Donaldson.

“I didn’t call them that, Jack!” Donaldson defended himself, “I didn’t say anything about your Aunt and cousin—I’ve never met them in my life, and I would never pass judgment on them if I did. You were the one who called Hamish and your two relatives bumpkins, not me.”

“You implied it, Professor!” Jack shouted, jumping to his feet just as Kyra brought in a strawberry mousse.

As he did so, he inadvertently knocked the mousse out of Kyra’s hand. It flew through the air and flipped upside down, landing squarely on Donaldson’s head.