would want to have you as a lady in waiting after the events that you have described.”
“I thought that at first but then I realised that she enjoyed having the daughter of a defeated enemy as her servant. But my choice was not a choice at all Charlie. I had to do what she wanted; otherwise I would have been destitute. Matilda confiscated our house and lands and our possessions were taken into her private purse. My only hope of survival was to become hers.”
“I expect that you hate her.”
“Charlie, you do not understand hate until you have seen into my heart. One day I will triumph over her and I will take the revenge that my father’s death deserves. When the battle was nearing an end only my father and three of his knights were left standing. To save their lives he yielded his force but they were cut down on Matilda’s orders. Those are not the actions of a compassionate woman but of someone whose heart is black and who knows nothing but evil.”
Gwendolyn was quiet for a few minutes, then said, “The morning I snapped the comb in her hair, I did it on purpose. It was the only way to stop myself striking her and it calmed my raging heart. Of course it earned me a place in her prison at Richmond but if I had followed my instincts I would have been swinging from a rope right now with crows pulling the eyes from my lifeless corpse.”
Charlie shivered at the thought and said, “Well, it is a good thing that you behaved the way that you did and managed to control your actions. At least you are free and survive to fight another day.”
“But what is the price of my freedom, Charlie?”
“I do not understand your question.”
“I have my freedom but what good it does me? When we reach Sherebrook, you will resume your work as a squire for Sir Geoffrey and I will be as destitute as I feared. I have no trade and will find it difficult to find work around the castle. I will have no home, I will have no money. All I have is the clothes I stand in.”
Charlie pondered on this a moment and realised that Gwendolyn was telling the truth. These were not the times for a girl, a young woman really, to be in that position.
“When we reach the castle,” he began, “after I have delivered the message that I need to, I will ask Sir Geoffrey for advice and I am sure
that he will be able to suggest something that will suit you. He has many friends. I would imagine that the king will be very grateful for your part in helping me to escape and may be disposed towards helping you.”
“The king?” she said. “What do you know of the king?”
Charlie saw no harm in sharing his mission with Gwendolyn as she had more than proved that she was on his side and was no spy in the service of Sir Robert of Gloucester.
“I know the king and I have enjoyed conversation with him. He is at the castle, as we speak, preparing to meet Matilda so that the two of them can discuss a truce in the civil war and sue for peace. But I know that the visit is just a cover for a plan to kidnap him and smuggle him from the castle. I found out that her brother, Sir Robert, is helping her and he captured me and had me put into the same jail as you. Now I must get back to Sherebrook to warn the king before they have a chance to see their plan through. The meeting is tomorrow and that is when they will strike so that is why I was trying to get you to drive the horse faster.”
Once again Gwendolyn was silent for a few minutes as she considered what Charlie had told her and then said, “Charlie, you are indeed to be reckoned with. You are acquainted with a king; you can read and write, you are cunning, clever and can escape from jails! There appears to be no end to your talents. My father was truly loyal to Stephen which is why he died supporting him and I know that he would have encouraged you in this quest. I too will help you; we must make as much speed as we can!”
“How far do you think we have to go?”
“I think we have travelled about fifteen miles which leaves…” she thought for a second as she worked out the numbers in her head.
“Another ten to travel and we will be there this evening, as I said before. That leaves you plenty of time to warn the king of Matilda’s plan.”
She kicked her heels into the horse’s sides and it broke from its walk into a trot and Charlie placed his hands around Gwendolyn’s waist again-just to steady himself.
TWENTY-NINE
Gramps normal resolve was beginning to desert him; he had been looking for Charlie for nearly three weeks and not one comment from anybody that he had spoken to had given him a clue as to Charlie’s whereabouts. When he had first set out on his rescue mission he was convinced that he would be able to track Charlie down quite easily. After all, a twenty-first century boy in twenty-first century clothes and with a twenty-first century manner would surely draw attention. There was not, however, as much as a glimmer of hope that could pierce the dark cloud of discouragement that had moved into his mind.
He was starting to worry that Charlie had met with harm. That would break his heart, he was a Guardian, this much was true, but first and foremost he was a grandfather and Charlie was his only grandson and he loved him dearly. If Charlie had fallen foul of some despicable deed he would never be able to forgive himself, ever.
He had great faith in Charlie’s intellect and practical nature. He assumed that Charlie would have understood what had happened to him no matter how impossible it would have seemed and that he would probably work out that it was best to stay put. He hoped that Charlie would realise that he knew about the portal and that he would come looking for him. Gramps also knew that, even if the calculations he had used to track Charlie’s arrival time had been flawed, the boy would certainly now in the medieval period and probably had been here for some time. Gramps had been using the time honoured method of a decreasing circumference search pattern that would eventually lead him to a centre point before he retraced his spiral route back out to the edges of the search area again. He had purchased a horse and saddle and had covered an immense amount of ground, stopping at every town, village, tavern, farm and monastery
that he passed. It never occurred to him to check jails. As he rode past Richmond jail he didn’t give it a second look.
He had ridden three miles past the jail, towards Richmond village, and was allowing his horse, a beautiful black mare that he had purchased in Stockton, to walk at an easy pace. He had given the horse a name, Searcher, in acknowledgement of their task. He had been riding Searcher hard between each primary location and the horse’s black coat was continually flecked with white foamy sweat. Richmond would more or less mark the end of his first pass through the search area as it represented the nominal centre of the geographical zone that Charlie would have arrived in. Once he had fully investigated the village of Richmond he would turn around and trace his path back to the start. Gramps thoughts were wandering, as they always did, to Charlie and his predicament.
How much easier it would be if the portal would allow an individual to travel back within one’s own lifetime, he could then have used the portal to travel back and stop Charlie entering. This would all have been avoided. Time Portals, however, have a series of properties or rules that have been learned over a period of time by their discoverers and that govern their use. No individual can travel back to a time in his or her own span of existence. It is impossible to have two versions of the same person in existence at the same time. There is also no forward time travel; you cannot travel to a time that has not yet happened. There were various other rules but none to say that a time traveller could not get killed. It was this that weighed most heavily upon Gramp’s thoughts.
Suddenly, Searcher shied from something at the side of the dusty road and Gramps had to rein her in quickly or risk losing control. She let out a small nervous neigh and shook her head up and down vigorously. Gramps looked to the spot she had shied from and at first could see nothing. The side of the road led directly into brambles and undergrowth as far as he could see. He scanned the area as ke
enly as he could, suspecting that an outlaw may well be watching him. Then he spotted something and peered harder into the undergrowth. It looked like a bundle of rags but he quickly saw that it was a body of a man and he looked dead.
Gramps dismounted and tethered his horse to a low hanging branch and then cautiously moved toward the undergrowth keeping his right hand on the hilt of his sword. He knew these times well; it was a common trick of outlaw gangs for one of their number to play dead or injured
by the side of the road whilst the other waited hidden nearby. When a charitable traveller stopped to offer assistance he would be set upon by the others and robbed or possibly murdered. Gramps was reasonably relaxed because he could see no hiding places anywhere close by. He turned and checked on Searcher who was casually chomping on some rough grass at the roadside and who had calmed from her earlier skittish frame of mind. Suddenly, the stricken man that Gramps was approaching gave a low moan and rolled onto his back and Gramps could see that he was clearly in a great deal of pain. He let his caution go and walked into the undergrowth, sheathing his sword and crouching down low, so that he could reach and grab the man and pull him out onto the road.
He put his hands under the man’s shoulders and, with a little effort, he managed to drag the man out. The man cried out in pain and was now fully conscious. Gramps could see by his dress that he was a man at arms but he had no weapons and he had evidently been the victim of an attack of some ferocity. Gramps was a compassionate man and intended to offer what help he could but he could not determine, from just looking, what injuries the man had.
“Can you hear me?” asked Gramps when he had the man in the road and was able to attend to him more comfortably. “Where are you hurt?”
“I… I… my back. I have been flogged,” answered the stricken man with some effort.
Gramps realised immediately what the problem was and helped the man to sit up. He removed the man’s tunic and his grey coloured under vest; it was soaked in blood. He then saw the appalling injuries to the man’s back, injuries caused by a leather whip. It had bitten deep into the flesh, leaving hideous red weals. The blood was trying to clot and close over the wounds but they tore apart again whenever the man moved.
“My, my,” whispered Gramps.
“Someone took out a great deal of anger on you, didn’t they? Let me help you into the shade and I may be able to help.”
The man protested at the agony of being moved but with Gramps’ help he managed to get into the shade of the same tree to which Searcher was tethered. Gramps made him lie face down and then removed the saddlebags from Searcher’s back. He fished around inside, removing a roll of nylon sheeting which was secured with a Velcro strap.
He unrolled the sheet and laid it out on the grass revealing a range of inside pockets which contained modern first aid items. Gramps habitually carried items of this kind when he returned in time to a period where medical care was all but non-existent. This was prudent because even the smallest scratch could mean an infection and that could lead to an infection, fever and ultimately death. Medicine, of just about any kind, was more likely to do more harm than good right up until the twentieth century.
He selected a plastic bottle of liquid antiseptic and dribbled it all over the man’s injuries. The man cried out but Gramps assured him and told him that the pain would not last long. The whipped man would have passed out again if Gramps had not made him talk whilst he worked. After the antiseptic he closed some of the more serious wounds using an instrument that looked like a small gun but, rather than bullets, it delivered small sterile steel staples into the flesh to close up large wounds. Finally, he took some large sterile dressings, peeled off the backings and arranged them so that they covered the wounds.
“I need to get you somewhere where you will be cared for until you have had a chance to heal. I know of a monastery about three miles from here where they will give you some shelter,” said Gramps.
The man was now groggy but conscious.
“Thank you for your kindness, Sir Knight. I am afraid I cannot pay you for what you have done but I am very grateful, the pain has eased considerably. Perhaps I will be able to make the walk to Richmond on my own now.”
“You need time to heal and that means resting in a bed. I will help you to the Richmond monastery and I will ask the monks there to attend to you. It is only two miles further down this road.”
“They will only give me shelter for two nights and then I will be back on the road,” said the man disconsolately.
“They will give you longer, trust me, I will persuade them,” assured Gramps.
Gramps helped the man to his feet and supported him as he walked unsteadily to Searcher; he placed the man’s hands on the saddle of the horse and then knelt in front of him.
“Here,” he said. “Use my back as a step and get into the saddle.”
With some effort the man managed it and then Gramps gathered up any sign that he had been there. He took Searcher’s reins and set off toward the monastery of Martinsfield, which he had visited in the past.
“I am Sir Henry Grosvenor. What is your name?” Gramps asked the man in the saddle.
“I am Simon Beauvoir. I was a guard at the Richmond jail,” replied the man.
“Are you no longer a guard there?”
Simon managed to give a weak laugh as he slumped forward in the saddle.
“No-I am no longer a guard there. You can see from my condition that they dismissed me from my position and the head jailer took personal delight in delivering my punishment.”
“What did you do to deserve such punishment and the loss of your position?”
“I was accused of letting two prisoners escape last night. I suppose in a way that I did, but they were past me before I knew anything about it. One of them managed to trick the jailer into entering his cell and then locked him in and released another prisoner. They made their escape together. I raised the alarm and we found the fat turnkey locked in the cell and he was sorely angry. One of the prisoners, a disgraced lady in waiting, was at the pleasure of my Lady Matilda and the other was the prisoner of my Lord Gloucester. The jailer wanted to lay the blame at the feet of someone else and I think that turned out to be me. I was tied to a post this morning, flogged and sent out onto the road. I didn’t very get far, as you can see.”
“It would take a wily one to make a jailer lock himself in his own jail!” Gramps mused.
“Especially a small boy,” added Simon. “I think that is what really upset him. A small strange little boy.”
“Describe the boy to me immediately,” snapped Gramps with his casual air now completely gone.
“Well, now let me see, quite small, brown hair, brown tunic with some blue leggings…oh and small round pieces of glass on his face, one of them broken.”
“Charlie!” exclaimed Gramps and brought Searcher to an unceremonious halt. He turned and fixed his gaze on the man in the saddle. “Tell me all you know about this boy-now.”
Simon was fearful of the change in Gramps’ demeanour and told him all he knew, which, in truth, was not very much.
“The boy was brought in a day and a half ago by two men at arms in the service of Sir Robert of Gloucester. The jailer was told to hold him at Sir Robert’s pleasure. He escaped last night and took the lady in waiting with him.”
“Do you know where they fled to?”
“No Sir, I am sorry, I do not. But if it is of any help the boy was brought from Sherebrook castle. I heard as much from one of the men that held him captive.”
“How do you feel?” asked Gramps.
“I feel a lot better for having met with you Sir Henry.”
“Good-get off the horse.”
“Sir?”
“Please. I will help you down.”
Gramps held up his hand and helped the injured man do
wn from the horse. He fished around in one of the saddlebags and brought out a green plastic drinking bottle which was full of water and a clear plastic bag full of high energy sugar sweets. He handed them to Simon and then took out the Citadel and switched it on. He checked the glowing screen to see if giving these modern materials to Simon had set off a chain of events that would damage the Causal Line. The screen registered nothing.
Simon was almost too intrigued by the items that he had been given to even notice what Gramps was saying to him.
“Drink as much as you need from the bottle and eat as many of these as you want.” He gestured to the sweets.
“They will help sustain you until you reach the monastery. Walk down this road for two miles and you will come to a fork, take the left-hand fork and then follow that road. Turn left again at a track between two very big oak trees and you will soon come to Richmond monastery. I am sorry that I can no longer take you but I must take my leave immediately. Here, take this also.”
Gramps put his hand into the leather purse hanging from his belt and pulled out two gold coins and handed them to Simon. His face lit up as
if he had never held two gold coins in his life before. In fact he had never held one. Or indeed, even seen one.
“The money will help you. Ask for Prior David when you arrive. Give one coin to the monks at the monastery and tell Prior David that Sir Henry Grosvenor is your patron and would like you to stay as long as you need. Keep the other coin safe and it will help you to get what you will need to start a new life when you are well.”
Simon looked at Gramps and tears welled in his eyes.
“I can never repay this kindness, Sir.”
“You already have,” said Gramps. “Now go.”
Simon took one of Gramps’ hands into both of his own and raised it to his lips and he kissed it.
“God go with you, Sir Henry.” He then turned and started to walk in the direction that Gramps had pointed him in. Suddenly, Gramps called out to him and he turned, “Sir Henry?” he enquired.
Charlie Watts and the Rip in Time Page 17