Chapter 1. A Trip to Scotland
In a green suburb at the edge of New York City, there lived a little boy named Winston, together with his parents, cat and pet penguin brought from a trip to the South Pole. There was nothing that Winston loved more than stories of grand deeds, magic and adventure, and nothing that he hoped for more than to prove himself equal to the valiant heroes of times bygone.
Great adventures generally require some travel, thought Winston excitedly as he sat next to his cousin Sam in the back of Mrs. MacGregor’s old Beetle car, as she was taking them all – Mommy, Daddy, Winston and Sam - on a tour across Scotland.
The two boys couldn’t have looked more different. Winston was tall and lanky for his six and a half years, with serious, ocean-green eyes, blond curly hair that always looked tousled no matter how many times his mother combed it, and a hint of freckles on his porcelain cheeks. His cousin Sam, half a year younger than him, was short and bubbly, with a bush of red hair coming all the way down to his eyebrows and an eternal grin on his face. They were the closest of friends and the cleverest of rivals, and tricksters like them New York had never seen before. Or so they thought, of course.
But now, entranced with Mrs. MacGregor’s Scottish stories of mighty warriors and exiled queens, their eyes were shining brightly as vivid images of heroic battles and feats of chivalry were unfurling in front of them, as outside the beautiful rolling hills of Southern Scotland were unfolding in gently rounded peaks and green lush valleys, with glimpses of ancient ruins, old forts, abbeys and stone bridges. The many battlegrounds were scattered all across the quiet countryside, Mrs. MacGregor was saying, witnesses of Scotland’s many wars with neighboring England.
They had already been in Scotland for four days now and had visited the city of Edinburgh and some of the surrounding areas, and their stay there was close to coming to an end.
But no trip to the ancient land of Scotland would be complete without spending a night in a medieval castle, Mom and Dad seemed quite decided on this fact, despite Winston’s and Sam’s protests on being deprived of the wonders of television and the comforts of a modern hotel.
This was the reason why their guide, Mrs. MacGregor, was driving them at neck-breaking speed down the steep road leading to the legendary castle of Redrock, her little yellow Volkwagen Beetle rocking over the uneven stones that paved the road.
“We have to make it there before 6 pm!” she announced, stepping on the gas. “Before the tide comes in!” Mom and Dad exchanged concerned looks, and Winston and his cousin merely rolled their eyes up, as kids often do when faced with inscrutable adult behavior.
Soon they understood why. The castle was linked to the mainland by one narrow strip of road, submerged underwater during nighttime when the tide was high, only to reemerge in the morning when the tide would withdraw.
“Whoa! Perfect defense!” Sam muttered admiringly.
The car screeched to a halt in front of the massive main entrance, guarded by two chipped stone lions.
“Go! Go! Go!” commandeered Mrs. MacGregor, who in spite of her smallish frame was able to single-handedly unload all three suitcases and two backpacks from the trunk of the car. Mom, Dad, Winston and cousin Sam lined up in front of the wooden gate, mouth-agape, amazed by the sheer size of the castle.
“It was built in the thirteenth century,” read Mom from her travel guide, “as a fortress against the English attacks”.
Behind them, Mrs. MacGregor revved up the engine.
“The bedrooms are on the third floor to the right”, she informed them, “the kitchen is right next to them, the pantry is full, you can make the fire in the fireplace if it feels drafty. See you tomorrow morning!”
She waved at them and they waved back.
“Oh, and good luck!” she shouted at them over the noise of the engine.
“Whatever for?” shouted Dad.
“There’s a ghost in the castle, of course,” she retorted, “this is Scotland after all!”
The little car took off at great speed, crossing back to the mainland, water lapping softly against its wheels.
A few minutes later, the road connecting the castle to the shore was completely covered by water. A few seagulls passed overhead, shrieking something in their own language.
