as?” She shot another glance toward Williams in the corner.
“Such as learning everything I can about this flaming sword that was seen at Culloden.”
“You don’t think it’s real?” Aunt Leah’s blue eyes narrowed slightly as her brow creased with confusion. “I know you like stories, but it’s absurd.”
“No, I don’t think it’s real.” Probably. “But it’s reminiscent of one of the Thirteen Treasures of Britain.” Which were also likely not real. This flaming sword sounded like the one Roy Williams had told her about—Lann Dhearg. What did he think of these stories and rumors flying around the common room? “You know I can’t turn my back on a story. It doesn’t have to be true.”
Aunt Leah smiled warmly. “Sounds like you have work to do.” She glanced around. “Should we invite someone to join us?”
“Perhaps. But first…” Elspeth turned to the two men seated at the table next to theirs. “Excuse me, might I trouble you to tell me what you specifically heard about this flaming sword at Culloden? I record oral stories, and this sounds like an amazing tale.”
The blond man eyed the soldiers apprehensively, then scooted his chair closer to Elspeth’s. “My cousin was there. He told me all about it. Ye want to write it down?”
“I would. What can you tell me? Starting with your name, so I can give you credit for the information.”
The man flicked another guarded glance toward the soldiers. He spoke in a low voice. “I don’t think I want to give ye my name. But ye could just call me…George.” That he used the name of the king wasn’t lost on Elspeth. “My cousin fought for the Jacobites. He was injured in the battle, but he saw a man wielding a sword that lit with an orange flame.”
Elspeth leaned toward the man. “Was it a fellow Jacobite?” She understood their cause and felt sorry for their devastating loss, but her father had been careful not to align himself with them. Even so, he’d helped more than a few wounded Jacobites as they’d passed through Dunkeld—secretly, of course.
George sent another furtive look toward the soldiers. “Yes.” The word was barely audible.
A Jacobite had wielded Lann Dhearg. Elspeth couldn’t help but look briefly toward Williams. “Do you know what happened to the man with the sword?”
He shook his head. “As far as I know, no one has seen it since the battle.”
It would be easy to think George’s cousin had seen something that wasn’t real in the heat of battle. But that other man’s brother had seen it too. Elspeth looked toward the table where the other pair of men had been sitting, but they were gone. Had they left?
She frowned, wishing she’d had the chance to talk to the brother. As it was, this was barely a story. That didn’t mean she couldn’t investigate further.
“Thank you.” She smiled at George. “If you hear of anything else, I do hope you’ll let me know. I’d love to record the story. I’ve been writing down many recollections from Culloden. I’ll add this one.”
The man inclined his head toward her. “That’s well done of ye, miss.”
Elspeth gave him a single nod, then returned her attention to her aunt. “Well, now I have something to research.”
“So it would seem. What a fantastical tale.” Aunt Leah blinked at her. “You still don’t think it’s real, do you?”
“No. The myth likely started with one person fabricating the tale.” That was the way stories originated. Someone exaggerated or made something up outright, such as with the thirteen treasures or with King Arthur, who was often tied to them. Arthur probably existed, or someone like him. Had he pulled a sword from a stone? That hardly seemed possible. Tracing those stories to a single source was impossible, especially after more than a thousand years since Arthur had purportedly lived in the sixth century.
Aunt Leah picked up her cup. “Can you find that person? That seems unlikely.” She sipped her tea.
“It is, but since the event happened recently, I may get lucky.” She waggled her brows at Aunt Leah, who laughed softly.
“If anyone can find the source, it’s you.”
Unless it really was multiple sources. So far, two different parties had attested to the same rumor. The story either came from that single source exaggerating or outright fabricating the sword, or those multiple parties really had seen a flaming sword. Or something that looked like a flaming sword. What could that be?
Elspeth’s mind worked as they finished their tea. She nearly forgot about