Champions of Time

by Sarah Woodbury

  Chapter Five

  1 April 1294

  Sophie

  Once Ieuan returned to the corridor, Callum said, “We have to know what we’re dealing with here. Was the bowman a lone assassin, or do we have a much larger problem within our ranks?”

  “Though I want to say it can hardly get worse, once you march out, the only people left inside the castle should be those personally known to Lili or me,” Bronwen said. “That will eliminate a good portion of our fears that this wasn’t a lone assassin.”

  Ieuan put his arm around Bronwen again. “I hate to leave you.”

  “You have no choice,” Bronwen said. “With David gone, you and Callum must lead the army. Bevyn and his men will protect us here.”

  Callum looked hard at Sophie. “Your idea to lie about David’s whereabouts is mad, really, but I like it, and we should do it. And furthermore, I would say we need to move to plan C for the taking of Beeston.”

  Sophie almost laughed. “What happened to A and B?”

  “The assassin just blew both to hell,” Callum said. “We can’t do them without David.”

  “Can you and the others do what needs to be done?” Bronwen asked.

  Sophie took a breath. “I’ll have to see the lay of the land before I can say for certain, but ... I’ve been to Beeston in Avalon. If it hasn’t changed irretrievably in seven hundred years, the answer is yes. We can do it.”

  “Good.” Callum put a hand on her shoulder, like she was one of his men, which she supposed she was. “Go check your gear.”

  Sophie left for the room in the outer bailey that had been commandeered to hold all of the modern equipment and weapons, painstakingly carted to Chester from Dinas Bran. These included guns, computer equipment, and a rocket launcher, though George had explained it was technically a MAAWS, the latest multi-role, anti-armor, anti-personnel weapon system. Sophie didn’t think it mattered what they called it, only what it did.

  The plane remained in the field where Andre had first parked it. George and Andre had taken to sleeping with the gear rather than in the keep, so they hadn’t heard the news of David’s sudden departure.

  Ten days ago, Sophie would have laughed with a combination of joy and incredulity to think that she would ever find herself standing in the bailey of a fully functional medieval castle as a companion to a family of time-traveling twenty-firsters. Sophie had loved the idea of time travel her whole life, read every time travel novel out there, and she and her friends had joked about walking through a ruined archway and finding themselves in another world. It didn’t matter that the very idea of time travel was absurd. The only time traveling anyone was ever going to do was straight ahead, one second at a time, into the future. She was with David—and Chad—that it couldn’t be possible.

  World shifting and alternate universes, however, were another thing entirely. That was science fiction, which, with the way things were going in Avalon these days, was just a hop, skip, and a jump from science fact. The science part of it, in fact, was why she’d read engineering at Cambridge instead of history, which, as she’d known before her father had told her flat-out she couldn’t study it, was useless in career terms. If she took a degree in history, he wouldn’t pay for it. A different daughter might have rebelled, but Sophie knew she needed a degree to get to where she was going, and she was willing to go along with something she liked rather than loved if it meant keeping the peace. Besides, if she was going to build a machine that could travel between universes, she would need knowledge of engineering to do it.

  So in the end, she found herself of the same mind as her father, was content with her studies, and put aside her love of history as a nice hobby—until her employment with Chad suddenly allowed her to do both.

  And boy did it. And not just her.

  George stood with his hands clasped on top of his hand. “He’s gone? He’s really gone?”

  “I saw it with my own eyes.”

  “Bloody hell.” George was a thirty-five-year-old American, but he’d lived in England long enough to curse like a native. He kicked at a loose stone that had been tracked inside the room from the bailey.

  “We knew it was possible.” Andre stood with his arms folded across his chest, much more subdued, as was his nature. In the last two weeks, Sophie had come to appreciate the way he wasn’t fazed by anything. Maybe that was because he was fifty instead of thirty or the result of a lifetime of training. Probably both.

  George spun around. “But so soon!”

  “Would you have wanted to return with him?” Sophie asked.

  George instantly tamped down what had appeared to be genuine dismay, anger, and disbelief. He let out a sharp burst of air and even managed a laugh. “No. I’m not ready at all. But it’s awful quick. They’ve gone years without traveling, and now both Anna and David have done it within a few weeks.”

  “They go when their lives are in danger,” Andre said, “and they’re in the midst of a war.”

  “I suppose.” With the toe of his boot, George nudged the leg of a chair so it angled away from the table and sat in it. “Nothing here is like we imagined it would be, is it?”

  This was a conversation they’d had before—a hundred times in the last two weeks—and Sophie couldn’t agree more. Everything was different: from the taste of food, to the quality of the light in the sky, to the way the air smelled. She had always known that she had a sensitive nose and was a bit picky about cleanliness, but she was finding the lack of modern soap and deodorant borderline unbearable. Initially, if David hadn’t arranged for the installation of a toilet and shower at Dinas Bran for Anna, Sophie thought she might have gone over the edge. But even then, sitting on top of a mountain as the castle did, water for the shower had to be hauled and heated—by servants—and Sophie didn’t feel right about asking for the shower very often. Here at Chester, she’d bathed in a tub with water hauled from the Dee instead and suffered the cold.

  The one major concession Sophie hadn’t had to make was in regards to her dress. When she’d climbed the steps up to the wall-walk earlier, she hadn’t had to hike her skirts like Bronwen. During the first few days of her sojourn in Earth Two, she had balked entirely at conforming to the medieval female dress code, but as the days had gone by, she’d agreed that the stares she kept getting were making her and everyone around her uncomfortable. Change was happening in regards to the status and role of women, but this wasn’t Avalon, and she’d decided it wasn’t fair to ask it to be just yet.

  Eventually, with the help of Anna and Lili—who’d been known to wear men’s clothing herself—she’d settled upon a modified dress that she wore over breeches. Slightly shorter than was currently fashionable, the skirt had multiple slits in it from hem to waist, something already done occasionally so a woman could ride a horse astride. The alteration gave her legs room to run and move. And when she was still, the fabric settled into a more conventional shape. Lili liked the style so much, in fact, that she’d had several made for herself.

  Andre unlocked a black case, this one containing a high-powered rifle, and took it out. “We, each of us, have to face the fact that we’re not going home any time soon and shouldn’t want to.”

  George nodded. “Oh, I got that.”

  “Would you not have come had you known what it was really like?” This was the first time Sophie had asked George that question outright. Like Chad, George was an American, and as such, she knew everything about his family down to his fourth cousins once removed because he never stopped talking. But what went on in his heart of hearts remained closed to her. She held her breath as she waited for him to answer, wondering if he would tell her the truth.

  He let out another burst of air. “I would have. You know I would have. Maybe I’m just tired.”

  “We’re all tired,” Andre said. “We come from a place where the three of us are on the top of our game, and here, we can hardly communicate, we have few of the necessary skills for survival, and nothing is familiar. If we hadn’t
instantly been named as companions to the King of England we might be dead already.”

  “We could have survived,” Sophie said, a bit of pride rearing up.

  Andre laughed at her. “How would we have eaten? Poaching? Begging? Do you see yourself as a serving girl in a tavern? Some of us stick out like a sore thumb more than others. Perhaps I could have earned a few coins by displaying myself on a village green.”

  “Andre—” Hearing the underlying anger in his voice, Sophie spread her hands wide. “I’m sorry. That’s a fair point, but thankfully not our concern today because we are companions of the King of England, even if he isn’t here. I came to tell you that Plan C is on.”

  “Really,” George said, his tone deadpan in a way Americans did very well. “Who decided that?”

  “Callum.”

  “Why?”

  “David’s gone,” Sophie said. “Callum doesn’t feel like any other approach will do what he wants as well, which is return the hostages to us alive with minimal casualties on both sides. He feels it’s time to show the whole of Britain what we—and by that he means David—are really capable of. Callum also doesn’t want to take up so much time laying siege to Beeston that the men are hard-pressed to deal with Balliol.”

  Andre looked at George, his anger gone in favor of a dry wit. “Our approach does have the advantage of being risky.”

  George laughed. That was something Sophie had grown to appreciate about him—he was never down for long. “I’m not complaining, actually. Who’s on the team?”

  “The three of us, plus five others, including Ieuan, who insisted on coming along,” Sophie said. “You’ll have guns, they’ll have swords and bows. We want this to be quick and light.”

  Andre returned the gun to the case. “It seems I get to make use of this far sooner than I thought.”

  Chapter Six

  1 April 2022

  David

  With the bleeding miraculously stopped, William was able to lift his head, and then he made a move to sit up. At first Michael tried to stop him, but William pushed his hand away and persisted, so Michael gave way. David positioned himself to allow William to lean back against him.

  Once William was sitting upright, Michael took advantage of that fact to add additional tape to the gauze that covered the holes in William’s body. While Michael worked, David held William still, with his head leaned into David’s shoulder.

  “Don’t pass out on me,” David said. “You’re heavier than you look.”

  “I won’t,” William said. “I promise.”

  At long last, an ambulance siren sounded in the distance. Among the crowd that had gathered and watched Michael’s ministrations with interest, David saw relief in many faces that mirrored his own.

  With more help on the way—though Michael really was going to be the man who had saved William—David looked at the woman who’d called the ambulance. She still held her phone in her hand. “May I use your mobile? It would be really great if I could call someone.”

  “Sure.” She swiped at the phone to light up the screen and navigated to a phone setting.

  Last week, Mark Jones had given David a tutorial on the smartphone, what Mark called a mobile, which was why David had used the word. Cell phone would have been understood in Wales, but it was what Americans said. In any case, thanks to Mark, David knew how to dial Chad’s number, and he pressed the keys with feigned confidence.

  He actually had Chad’s card with him, slipped into a pocket of his pants, but he didn’t need to take it out. David had memorized both phone numbers on the plane from Ireland, and since then, Bronwen had turned them into a nursery rhyme for Arthur and the other children to memorize. David had found it useful too.

  A woman picked up after one ring. “Hello?”

  Sophie had told him that the phone number was a dedicated line. While it would go to a general operator, she would be able to tell which number had been dialed and escalate the call immediately. So all he said was, “I need to speak to Chad Treadman. This is David.”

  Michael was crouched beside William, having finished his taping, and his head jerked as David spoke, conveying sudden interest. David shrugged and raised his eyebrows as if to say, it is what it is.

  The extra beat of silence on the other end of the line wasn’t far off from Michael’s reaction, but the woman recovered professionally and said, “Are you safe?”

  “It appears so for the moment.”

  “Please hold the line, your majesty.”

  “Okay.” David was bemused by the honorific. Technically, she should have used it the first time she spoke, when she’d said, Are you safe? As promised, Chad was trying hard.

  Ten seconds passed, by which time the ambulance, its sirens wailing, turned into the parking lot. The field onto which David and William had fallen was situated on the east side of Beaumaris Castle, a place David had never been. There was a reason for that: in Earth Two, Beaumaris had never been built. If David continued to have a say in the matter, it never would be. With the establishment of this castle, the contrast between the history of Avalon and the trajectory of Earth Two couldn’t be more stark.

  In Earth Two, Beaumaris Castle not only didn’t exist, but the town it had replaced was called something else entirely. Since Celtic times, the village of Llanfaes had been on one end of the pathway across the Lavan Sands and a waypoint on the ancient road that ran from Holyhead on the tip of Anglesey, to Llanfaes, across the Menai Strait during low tide, past Aber Castle, through the pass at Bwlch y Ddeufaen and its ancient standing stones, to the ford across the Conwy River at Caerhun, and all the way east to Chester.

  In Earth Two, Llanfaes was a thriving town, one of the largest in Wales because of the trade through the Menai Strait. Anglesey, with its relatively flat countryside, was the breadbasket of Gwynedd. But in response to yet another Welsh rebellion ten years after David’s father’s death, King Edward had forcibly removed all the Welsh from the area, razed the town to the ground, and built his castle. Princess Joan, the wife of Llywelyn Fawr (David’s great-grandfather) had been interred at Llanfaes Abbey, and the English soldiers had used her coffin as a horse trough.

  While David waited for the ambulance workers to arrive, a woman carrying another first aid kit and wearing medieval dress edged her way through the onlookers. “What can I do?” she said to Michael.

  “Nothing here, but if you could tell the EMTs I’ve got a through and through, they’ll know what to prepare. Tell them I’ve stopped the bleeding.”

  “I can walk.” William couldn’t have understood everything that Michael had said, but he’d clearly caught the gist. He bent a knee and reached for David with his left hand.

  As David helped William to his feet, Michael shook his head. “He really is one tough bloke, isn’t he?”

  “I’ve always said so,” David said.

  While the woman ran ahead, the three men set off slowly towards the parking lot, and the crowd opened a pathway to let them through.

  If they’d been on the battlefield, William would have been in a lot worse shape, but just as much would have been required of him. David had left the cataloging of the medical supplies to others, so it wasn’t something he’d looked for, but he really hoped Chad Treadman had put some Medigel in the plane. Regardless, David resolved then and there to bring home cases of the stuff if he could.

  Finally a voice spoke tinnily from the phone, still in David’s hand, though down at his side. “David? Are you there?”

  David hastily put the phone to his ear. “Yes. Is this Chad?” It was only after he’d spoken that he wondered if it would have been more polite to say Mr. Treadman. But then, he wanted to be treated like an adult this time around, so it was best to start as he meant to go on.

  “Yes. I thought for a moment that someone among my staff was punking me. It’s April Fool’s Day, you know.”

  “I admit, that never occurred to me.”

  “By the fact that you called this number, I’m to take it
that Anna made it? My people are safe?”

  “They were an hour ago when I left.”

  Chad let out a burst of air. “First things first. Where are you?”

  “Beaumaris ... at a medieval reenactment.” David tipped down the phone to speak to Michael. “Who are you people?”

  “You don’t know?” Michael frowned, though whether because of David’s question or over William, who continued to put one foot in front of the other, David didn’t know. Now that they were crossing the field, David noticed how lumpy it was. Unless Chad had discovered gravitic reversion technology since he was last here, it would have been impossible for a stretcher to roll across the field without constantly jarring William in the process. He supposed they could have carried him on a board if they had to, like they would have done in Earth Two.

  “I know it’s weird, but please just tell me.”

  “We’re the Saethwr Cymraeg.”

  “Right. Thanks.” Now David spoke into the phone. “Did you get that?”

  “My Welsh is poor on a good day,” Chad said.

  “They call themselves the Welsh Archers.” David shrugged. “I don’t know that it matters. You need to know that I brought a friend who needs medical attention. He’s been shot.” He made a motion with his head to indicate William, even though Chad couldn’t see it. According to Mark, they could be using video as they talked, but David didn’t know how to set it up.

  Chad drew in a breath. “The last time that happened—”

  “Thankfully, it isn’t the same this time. Ieuan was gut-shot. William took a crossbow bolt through the armpit. Sort of.”

  “Jesus! Okay. I’m already organizing people your way, but it can’t be immediate. Anna took my prototype plane. The next one isn’t coming off the production line for another month, so everyone’s driving to Wales. It’s faster.”

  The ambulance had come to a halt in the last parking space in the lot adjacent to the field where the archery competition had been set up. The burly man had long since forged ahead, and he was standing in the parking lot, directing traffic. Some people liked to be involved and in charge, and David didn’t begrudge his efficiency. It was one less thing David himself needed to worry about. Of course, the man had an ulterior motive in that the competition couldn’t continue until William was off the field.