Dreams of Stardust

by Lynn Kurland

  At the moment, he was humming, smiling, and rocking back and forth between heel and toe with his hands behind his back, looking for all the world as if he'd just hopped out of bed and was waiting for his valet to fix him eggs Benedict on cold toast.

  It made Jake want to go take a nap.

  He had no trouble admitting that he was nowhere near Robin's league when it came to swordfighting. He could definitely keep up with the twins now and keeping Miles at bay was possible—for a brief time, at least. Robin hadn't pulled out any of the stops yet, and already Jake knew he was in deep trouble. He could have practiced with Robin for a year and still not been his equal.

  Then again, he suspected, based on one small bit of sparring in the lists, that Nicholas wasn't Robin's equal either, though he doubted either man discussed that very often.

  Nicholas had been incognito for the better part of the past two weeks. He appeared for meals, watched Jake with a quiet, deadly sort of scrutiny, then headed for parts unknown while Jake headed back to the lists with Robin.

  Amanda had spent her time either praying for him in the chapel or sitting on that bench against the wall as if her life depended on her keeping good watch.

  He wondered sometimes if it did.

  He took another swig of his wine, then looked at Robin. "Does anyone win against you?" he asked.

  "Not a soul," he said modestly. "My father, perhaps, when he's feeling spry."

  Amanda snorted. "He can still thrash you when it pleases him. He fears to injure your enormous ego, so he doesn't please very often." She looked at Jake. "Robin is famous for the hours he has spent in the lists the whole of his life. You cannot compare yourself to him."

  "I never would," Jake said, with feeling.

  "You'll manage well enough," Robin said, setting down his cup. "You have a knack for this business. With enough training, you'll see to my sister well enough."

  Jake looked at him seriously. "Will it be enough?"

  "It had better be, hadn't it?" Robin said pleasantly. "Let's be about our work. We've much left to do this day."

  Jake put his cup down, gave Amanda his most gung-ho smile, and tried to match Robin's bounce back out onto the field. When that took too much energy, he simply walked and left the bouncing for another day.

  And then he had no more time for the analyzing of his stride because Robin was again about the business of making him over into a medieval knight and Jake wasn't about to waste any time on distractions that could be examined later—say in a year or so when he'd recovered from Robin's school of sword mastery and torture.

  But the thought came to him, at some point during that very long afternoon, that he should try to go home.

  Soon.

  The feeling didn't leave him that afternoon, or the next day, or the next. He put it on the back burner until a week later when he couldn't ignore it any longer.

  He and Robin were having a breather in the middle of the field when Jake broached the subject.

  "I should leave," he said.

  Robin looked at him in faint surprise. "Now?"

  Jake wondered how much he could tell Robin, how much he should tell Robin, given that he'd told Amanda nothing of his background. He considered for a minute or two, then decided that honesty was the best policy. In the past three weeks, he'd grown to have an enormous amount of respect for Amanda's eldest brother, not only for his skill as a warrior, but for his level-headedness. Amanda thought he was dense, but Jake suspected that was a sham Robin perpetrated for his sister's benefit. Robin de Piaget was far shrewder than he let on. Jake thought that if Robin could get past the shock of Jake's birth date, he might have no trouble believing quite a few more things.

  "I need to go now," Jake said.

  Robin resheathed his sword and studied Jake. "I think there are many things you haven't told me."

  "There are."

  "Are you going to tell them to me now, or after you have returned from your journey to London?"

  "Some now, others later," Jake said.

  Robin nodded. "Fair enough. Have you shared these things with Amanda?"

  "No, I haven't. And I think it would be best if she didn't know anything until I returned." If I return was his next thought, but he didn't entertain it long. He would come back if he had to move heaven and hell to do it.

  "When will you go?"

  "This afternoon." The words were out of his mouth before he gave them thought, but when he heard them, he knew they were the right ones. He would have to go. He almost felt as if even the elements were set to converge for the express purpose of executing a bit of time-travel with him as the traveler.

  "I hesitate to interrupt your training," Robin said slowly, "but I can see you are determined."

  "The time is right," Jake said. "But I would like it if you would come with me, at least into the countryside. I'll explain on the way."

  Robin studied him for several moments in silence. "Montgomery thinks," he said very seriously, "that you are a fairy."

  "I'm not a fairy."

  "Then how does a man find himself three miles from Artane, without clothing, without sword skill, without horse skill, without a knowledge of the local tongues, and with no better explanation than that he was robbed?"

  "I have a good answer for that."

  "Do you? I'm anxious to hear it." Robin paused and frowned. "You know my sister will be grieved."

  "I can't marry her until I have a way to," Jake said. "Your father isn't going to give her to a merchant, is he?"

  "Nay, he will not." Robin sighed. "I see there is nothing else to be done. But you leave me, my friend, to listen to her weeping for hours on end until you return."

  "Keep her in the lists. She won't be crying if she thinks she can cut you to shreds."

  Robin laughed. "Aye, you have that aright. Nothing would please her more." He paused, then smiled. "She had a sword made for you, you know. It was finished last night."

  Jake blinked. "Did she?"

  "She did. 'Tis a plain one, of course, but markings can be added later. When you have secured the king's favor."

  Jake was stunned. "I don't know what to say."

  "Say, 'You have excellent taste in blades for a wench,' kiss her, then be on your way before she takes your sword and clouts you over the head with it."

  "Good advice," Jake said with a smile. He looked at Robin. "Thank you. You have been a good friend and a peerless teacher."

  "I haven't finished with you yet."

  "I'm honored by that as well. I will be back to continue."

  "Do," Robin said simply. "Else you leave me with that irascible woman's complaints for the rest of my days."

  Jake walked with him back to the great hall, wondering how in the world he was going to tell Amanda what he was up to. He didn't see her in the hall, so he went upstairs to the boys' room to get what little stuff he had together. He left the mail shirt lying on the bed. He would use it again when he got back, but it certainly wasn't anything he would need in the future. Out of necessity, he kept the clothes Amanda had found for him. The pound coin in his boot felt oddly out of place, but it might serve him later. At least he could use it in a phone.

  He stood for a moment, looking at the bed that was too small, and smiling at the sight. It was hard to believe that he had slept on that blasted thing for almost two months.

  Harder still to believe that he had found his heart's desire eight hundred years in the past.

  He steadfastly refused to entertain the thought that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't the one she was supposed to marry. No, he would tidy up his affairs in the future, make preparations for his life in the past, then get on with it.

  He sighed, then turned to head for the door. He almost jumped at the sight of Amanda standing there, silent and watchful.

  She had a sword in her hands, sheathed, point resting on the floor.

  "I didn't know you were there," he said with a smile.

  She wasn't smiling in return. "You're leaving today," she sa
id quietly.

  "Robin told you?"

  She shook her head. "I knew."

  "I will return."

  "Aye." She took a deep breath. "This is yours."

  He crossed the room and put his hands over hers as she held the sword.

  "I don't know how to thank you," he began.

  "Do not," she said sharply. "Do not thank me. That makes it sound as if I'm giving you a gift of parting, which I am not."

  "I will return," he said softly.

  Tears began to roll down her cheeks. She dragged her sleeve across her face. "Damnation, but I am a blubbering fool. I do not care if you come back."

  "Liar," he said with a smile. "You'd better plan on some chapel time tomorrow."

  She looked up at him, her cheeks tear-stained. "I do not care," she said desperately. "I tell you, this thing between us is mad—"

  He kissed her. He really hadn't intended to, not until he'd managed to get himself, by medieval standards, in a position to ask her to marry him. But he just couldn't help himself.

  And once he started kissing her, he found that he just couldn't stop.

  If he hadn't been lost before, he was now.

  When the sword boring into his ribs finally became uncomfortable enough that he couldn't ignore it any longer, he lifted his head and took a few deep breaths. Then he looked down at her.

  "It isn't madness," he said. "I will come back."

  Her eyes swam with tears. "I hardly dare hope."

  "I will come back. I will wrest a title from the king and I will satisfy your father's demands."

  She gave him one last searching look, then put her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

  "Hurry," was all she said before she released him and ran down the hallway for points unknown.

  Jake suspected she had headed for the roof. He didn't dare follow her because if he did, he would never dare leave.

  He looked at the sword she had shoved into his hands. It was beautiful, with a place for a gem to be set into the hilt. That place was empty. He suspected he might have something in his vault at work that might fit there.

  He took his sword in his hands and made his way down to the great hall. Miles was waiting for him.

  "Ready?"

  "Yes," he said.

  "Robin's at the stables." Miles looked at him serenely. "You'll hurry about your business."

  "I'll do my best."

  "Amanda will be impossible to live with until you return."

  "Poor you."

  "Exactly," Miles said with a small smile.

  Jake found Montgomery and John waiting with Robin outside the stables. Montgomery gave him an impulsive hug and John clasped hands with him in a manly fashion.

  "Soon," Montgomery said. "We'll see you soon."

  "If the fairies let me go," Jake said dryly.

  Montgomery's eyes widened and his mouth hung open. Jake reached over and ruffled his hair.

  "I was joking, Montgomery," he said. "I'll be back soon."

  Montgomery nodded, but Jake suspected he would be digesting the fairy thing for quite some time to come.

  He mounted, with surprising ease if anyone cared, and followed Robin down the cobblestone path, through the gates, and through the village. It was only after they had left the village behind that Robin reined in and looked at him.

  "Very well, we have reached the countryside. I am ready for whatever it is you have to tell me."

  Jake handed him the pound coin he'd taken out of his boot before he mounted. Robin took it, studied it, then looked at Jake.

  "Interesting."

  "Look at the date. Those numbers there."

  Robin studied it, then looked at Jake. "2005?"

  "The Year of Our Lord 2005."

  Robin shook his head. "I don't understand."

  "You're going to have to take some of this on faith," Jake said. "Think about it after I'm gone." Assuming I go, he added to himself. "Before I found myself outside Artane's gates, I was living in the year 2005. That's where the coin came from. When it came from."

  Robin was silent. He merely looked at Jake and waited patiently.

  "I was living in the year 2005," Jake continued. "I was traveling in a… a horseless cart, at great speed, when I slid off the road. I remember spinning, then the next thing I knew, I was waking up in your father's solar and the year was 1227."

  Robin looked down at the coin, then fingered it for a bit. Then he looked back at Jake. "Go on."

  "That's why I didn't know your language, or how to ride, or how to wield a sword. In my time, I am a gem merchant, but in my day that isn't a business for a peasant. I have studied many years to learn my craft and I have made a great deal of money in that business. It is a very skilled profession and I have made pieces of jewelry for royalty. I have traveled the world to find things that others simply could not."

  "Do you live in London?"

  "Yes, the London of 2005."

  Robin considered, then smiled faintly. "Is it still crowded, noisy, and filthy?"

  "Yes," Jake said. "And bigger than you can imagine."

  Robin looked up at the sky for several moments in silence, then back at Jake. "This coin is a mystery I will have to think on." He paused. "I could dismiss this as the rantings of one who is mad—and I likely should—but I have watched you for the past three se'nnights."

  Jake waited.

  "And I daresay you aren't mad. But," he added seriously, "this is very hard for me to believe." He held up the pound coin. "Even this."

  "I understand."

  "I assume any other proof you might have had was conveniently stolen."

  Jake nodded. "Or inconveniently, it might be argued."

  Robin looked at the coin again, then put it into a bag at his belt. "I will keep this safe for your use when you return. I will endeavor to keep my sister from killing herself in the lists. And I will think on what you've said." He rubbed his hand over his face, then took a deep breath. "And how will you return to London? Your London?"

  "I think there is a gate where I was found. A gate through time."

  "In the grass?"

  "Where else?"

  Robin pursed his lips. "It sounds suspiciously like one of the tales my father's healer used to tell to the lads when they were small."

  "Those tales had to come from somewhere."

  Robin grunted. "I daresay. Well, let us be off to your gate and see what it has in store for you. I daresay I've seen odder things than this."

  Jake sincerely hoped so. He rode with Robin to the place where he had found the pound coin, where Lord Ledenham had tried to ambush them, where Berengaria told him he might find a portal.

  He dismounted, took his sword off the saddle, and handed the reins to Robin.

  "Thank you, my lord," he said formally. "For the training. And for the friendship."

  Robin reached down and clasped his hand. "Come back," he said simply.

  Jake nodded, took his sword in his hand and walked away. He felt nothing, and wondered if he might look like the biggest jackass in history—and he had a lot of history to compete with. He stopped for a minute, wondering how he could possibly explain to Robin that the gates weren't working without sounding like a complete madman, then gave up. Maybe he was going to be stuck in the Middle Ages, without money, without means of making money, without means of asking Amanda's father for her hand in marriage. He wasn't a defeatist by nature, but he was looking at some pretty impressive odds stacked against him.

  Damn it anyway.

  He took a deep breath, sighed, and turned around, fully intending to tell Robin—

  But Robin was gone.

  Jake looked around him. The trees were different. There was a stone fence not fifty feet from him that hadn't been there a minute before.

  He could hardly believe it. He'd made it.

  But was it 2005?

  He was tempted to indulge in a little panic over the possibility that it might not be. It was also tempting to stand there for an endle
ss moment and wonder about the complexity that was Amanda of Artane. Would she wait? Would he return to the proper time—if he returned at all? Would Rhys give her to him or tell him to take a hike?

  He shook aside his thoughts. What he had to do now was find a phone and get on with his future. He would—hopefully—have all the time in the world to think about it while he was standing again in Rhys de Piaget's study trying to convince the man to give away his daughter.

  He took a moment to get his bearings, then struck out for the east. It took him little time to run into a cluster of cottages.

  Modern cottages.

  Jake jogged toward them, trying to come up with a good story as to why he was carrying around a medieval broadsword. Re-enactment society seemed the most logical choice. Maybe he had fallen asleep on his sword and been left behind by his mates. That made perfect sense.

  He stopped at the first likely house. An elderly man came to the door, looking quite unsurprised by Jake's outfit.

  "You silly re-enactment buggers," he said, opening the door. "No pockets for your mobile?"

  Jake laughed. "Exactly. Mind if I use your phone?"

  The old man shook his head. "Don't mind at all. Don't suppose you have any coins to pay for the call in those nonexistent pockets of yours, do you?"

  "Have a Good Samaritan moment," Jake suggested.

  "Bugger that," the man said cheerfully, and went back in to whatever he was watching on the telly.

  Jake made a mental note to send him something nice for his wife who was commiserating with him about the odd things that happened when a body was unfortunate enough to live so close to Scotland.

  When Jake heard that, he supposed he could have just hoofed it to present-day Artane, but he just couldn't bring himself to land on the modern earl's doorstep in hose and a tunic. Maybe he had lived in England too long. He was beginning to suffer from a decidedly British sense of propriety.

  He stood in front of the phone for a minute or two. It was a thirty-year-old phone, but was it a thirty-year-old phone or brand new? The faint noise from the telly gave him no clues. He took a deep breath and took the plunge. He picked up the phone and called his office. His assistant probably wouldn't still be there this late, even if the year was right, but—