“Why don’t you get yourself a coffee?” Dr. Jamison, who’d followed the detective out of Anna’s line of sight, returned and spoke to the police officer left behind.
“I’m supposed to keep watch,” he said stiffly.
“Only patients and staff are allowed in imaging. She’ll be getting an MRI and won’t be going anywhere on her own. Let us give her the medical attention she needs.” Dr. Jamison smiled over at Anna.
Maybe he meant to be reassuring, but the cop gave Anna a startled look—even a frightened one. Anna blinked, wondering if in this world medical attention had become synonymous for something far more dastardly. The trend within governments and nations towards more authoritarianism and rule by fear had begun with 9/11, which Anna barely remembered. But by her experience so far, things hadn’t improved in the years she’d been gone.
And why would they have? She herself had witnessed bombings both times she’d been in Avalon before today, and odds were, those weren’t the only instances. In a way, she was lucky the instinct of the police officers back at Westminster Hall was to prevent the public from knowing about her. They could have called in an anti-terrorism unit, which might have hauled her off to MI-5 directly instead of the hospital. Then she would have been close to Mark, but he might not have been able to help her.
The cop continued to look dubious, but in the face of Dr. Jamison’s evident authority, he gave way, though he did wait to leave until Anna and the orderly, who wheeled her stretcher to the elevator, were inside and the doors had closed.
Dr. Jamison had come as well, and he nodded at the orderly, a young woman approximately Anna’s age wearing blue scrubs, similar to the man who’d set Anna’s wrist. “Take care of her.”
“I will, doctor.”
Dr. Jamison departed one floor before Anna’s. The orderly wheeled Anna around the corner and down a long, brightly lit hallway towards MRI imaging. But as they arrived at the doors, the woman frowned and came to a halt while still in the hall.
Anna craned her neck to look behind her. “What’s wrong?”
“Dr. Jamison was told it was free.” Still frowning, she pushed at one of the swinging doors, poked her head inside, and spoke to someone. Then she drew back to say to Anna, “I’ll be just a tick.” She disappeared into the imaging area, leaving Anna alone in the hallway.
It was the chance Anna had been waiting for, even if she felt bad about getting the orderly into trouble. Once she disappeared through the door, Anna swung her legs off the stretcher and headed at a quick walk for the stairwell.
She was inappropriately dressed to say the least, since she still wore the riding dress, boots, and cloak she’d had on when she’d arrived at Westminster. Because she had been attending a birth, she’d worn a work-day dress, which consisted of a long-sleeved brown underdress topped by a green overtunic belted at the waist, both in fine wool, as befitted her station as a princess. None of the police, doctors, or nurses had quite known what to make of what she was wearing, but they hadn’t made her change out of it either just to address her broken wrist or sore head. They had cut off the tight sleeve on her left arm at the elbow, however, so her dress was looking a little strange, even to her.
No doubt she stuck out like a sore thumb, but as she passed a nurse hurrying in the opposite direction, she put up her hand in a little wave. The nurse glanced at Anna, her eyes going to her black sling and purple cast, and she smiled. She had no reason to think Anna wasn’t where she was supposed to be, since in a hospital the cast was the next best thing to an ID. It helped that even though it had to be four in the morning by now, the nurses appeared to be run off their feet. Nobody had any interest in questioning someone who didn’t cause trouble.
Anna made it to the stairwell door but decided, as she hesitated on the top step of the stairs, that walking straight out of the hospital might be a great way to get caught. If she’d had more time to think, she would have ducked into an office and acquired a doctor’s white coat. In her haste to be out of sight by the time the orderly returned, she hadn’t thought of it when she’d been on the floor.
Her next hope was to find a back way out through a side door or a basement parking garage. But she didn’t know, with all the security, if the hospital even had a side door, and this close to the Thames, it might not have been possible to dig a basement either. She would just have to take her chances.
She ran down the stairs, making it two floors before a door below her banged open. She froze halfway down a flight of stairs, marshaling her courage to brazen out yet another encounter—or worse, figure out how to evade the cop who had to be coming up to meet her. But then Mark Jones trotted up the stairs towards her.
Anna had ducked behind a supporting column, so he hadn’t noticed her at first, but when she realized it was he, she bent over the railing to speak to him. “Mark.”
His head came up, and he gaped at her in a most satisfying way. “Anna!”
He hesitated, one foot a step higher than the other, and then he bounded up the remaining steps. He wasn’t looking as fit as he’d been when she’d last seen him, indicating he’d gone back to his old habit of living at his desk. The lights in the hospital stairwell were yellow-white, which gave his skin something of an unhealthy pallor. His suit was rumpled, his tie was undone, and he had a scruffy beard and mustache that didn’t suit him. But it was four in the morning, and Anna couldn’t look much better.
Once he reached her, he actually went to hug her in a most un-English-like fashion, but at the sight of her cast, he arrested the movement. “Are you okay?”
“I have a broken wrist and maybe a broken head, though I didn’t stick around long enough to find that out. We need to go before the police discover I’m gone.”
“Is it just you?” Mark spun on his heel and started down the stairs, his hand under Anna’s right elbow to steady her. Since her left arm was in a sling, she had to hold her skirt in that same hand to keep from tripping on the hem on the way down.
“Yes.” She paused. “Well me and a horse, though it’s dead.”
Mark shot her something of a wide-eyed look but only said, “I want to hear everything, but now isn’t the time.” He nodded towards the camera in the corner of the ceiling. “Once I knew you’d gone upstairs, I shut down surveillance in here, but the camera will reboot within five minutes. We have very little time.”
Probably there were listening devices too, which hadn’t occurred to Anna until now, and she found herself going over everything she’d said since she arrived, trying to remember if any of it was in any way incriminating. She would have thought doctor/patient confidentiality would have precluded surveillance at a hospital, but this was England in 2022, a place she didn’t know anything about—a fact that was becoming more clear with every minute that passed.
“You should know I was arrested. There’s an Inspector Smithem who wants to question me.”
“I’m sure a whole flock of inspectors are going to want to question you, which is why we have to get you out of here. How did you get away?”
“I took the first chance I got.”
“Well it was a good thing you did. I didn’t have to flash my badge.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“We went to Westminster first, and I pretended to be a reporter. I have another badge for that.” He grinned as they came out of the stairwell onto the main floor, which was precisely what Anna had felt she couldn’t do alone.
They were near the emergency room, which was a hive of activity. Nothing could have been better for their purposes, and they walked purposefully for the exit, out the door, and turned left, heading down the sidewalk to a black SUV—the obligatory color and vehicle of MI-5. A young woman was waiting inside the car, and she got out as they approached.
Mark gestured to her. “This is Livia. She knows pretty much everything.”
Livia lifted a hand in greeting. “Hello.”
“Hi.” Anna looked her up and down, instantly feeling fru
mpy and outmatched. Even having apparently not slept all night, Livia remained put together, with her blonde hair done up in an elegant chignon, a dark blue suit jacket and skirt, and heels. Anna’s hair had come loose hours ago. She’d managed to pick out most of the hairpins between getting her brace and waiting to be wheeled up for the MRI, but she definitely felt disheveled in comparison.
Still, it was best to ignore what she couldn’t change, since the only person whose opinion she really cared about was her husband’s, and he wasn’t here.
“Do you trust Livia?” Anna said in a low voice to Mark as he ushered her into the back seat of the car. She really needed his help now, since whatever painkillers the doctor had given her had started to kick in, and she was feeling woozy and disembodied. The upside was that her wrist hurt less.
“She discovered who I was—and who you are—on her own. I could shut her out, but what would be the point?”
Livia gestured to Mark. “The sooner we get moving, the sooner we can address the fact that you were here at all.”
“That might not be so easy,” Anna said.
Having shut Anna’s door and gotten in the front passenger seat, Mark hesitated in the act of closing his own door, his expression questioning.
“Didn’t you hear about it while you were pretending to be a reporter?” Anna felt a moment of hope that the sergeant’s news blackout might actually have worked. “Remember that dead horse I mentioned? It was killed by a policeman in the middle of Westminster Hall.”
Chapter Six
19 March 1294
Math
Math wanted to thunder at Mair, but the poor girl’s crime had merely been to ride with Anna tonight, so he reined in his temper, which was driven primarily by fear anyway. Mair had escaped the ambush, which was remarkable in and of itself, and she deserved to be commended, rather than condemned, for her quick thinking and action. Anna had ordered Mair to ride to him, and Mair had obeyed her mistress, which was absolutely the best thing she could have done.
“What was Anna doing when you saw her last, Mair?” Math said.
“She was riding away.” Mair had been crying earlier, and now she wiped at the tears on her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“Anything you saw or remember could be of help.” Bevyn spoke more gently than Math had ever heard him. “Think.”
Cadi cowered, her eyes on Bevyn, whom she seemed to be more afraid of than Math, despite Bevyn’s gentle voice. As most everyone, even Dafydd, cowered at times before Bevyn, Math couldn’t blame her. It was just Bevyn’s luck—good or bad, they would soon see—that he’d ridden to Dinas Bran to confer with Math for their first meeting since Christmas. On his way to Dinas Bran, Bevyn had also stopped at Aber Castle where Goronwy, King Llywelyn’s oldest friend, resided. Goronwy didn’t travel at all anymore—too much riding and fighting and sleeping on the ground in his youth. Math would feel himself blessed if such a fate one day became his.
Which it wouldn’t if Math didn’t find Anna and bring her home safely—since he would never rest until he found her.
“I don’t know anything more. It all happened so fast. Because of the fog, they came upon us suddenly, and after that, all I could think of was escape.”
Mair was twenty-five and one of Rachel’s most promising students, needing to attend only two more births before she would be ready to deliver babies on her own, which was why she’d gone with Anna in the first place. Over the years, Anna herself had delivered or been party to the delivery of more than fifty babies, and between the advice of traditional midwives and schooling by Rachel and Rachel’s father, Abraham, she’d learned everything that could be done to aid a newborn and his mother in this time.
Math put out a hand to the young woman. “It’s all right. We’re not blaming you.” He shot a quelling look at Bevyn, whose mustache quivered for a moment, but then he looked down at his feet, freeing Mair from his glare.
“What were the men wearing? Was there anything remarkable or unusual about them at all?” Ieuan was the other person Math had woken after Hywel had come to him with the news that Mair had returned home without Anna. He hadn’t even woken Bronwen and Lili. They would want to help and hated to be left out of any important discussion, but neither would be riding out of the castle to search for Anna or her abductors. They could sleep a little longer, since after Math woke them, there wouldn’t be any more sleep for anyone for the rest of the night.
Hywel, however, was a different story. He was the stable boy who’d aided Anna and Heledd’s escape from Castell y Bere that winter of 1283. In the years since, he’d risen to steward of Dinas Bran and was married with several children himself. Math had never before thought about the fact that both Heledd and Hywel, despite their lives’ diverging paths, had stayed close to Anna, but tonight he drew comfort from it. She had many protectors, not just Math and Bevyn. God and all of Wales were also on her side. Nobody had yet speculated that she was dead, and Math refused to consider it. Those men had been sent to capture her, not kill her.
She was out there, somewhere. They just had to find her.
“Some of them were speaking with a thick accent, and others spoke in another language entirely that wasn’t English or Welsh.”
“Could they have been Irish?” Math asked.
Cadi lifted one shoulder in half-shrug. “I don’t know any Irishmen, but now that I think about it, I’ve heard accents like those before. That ambassador, James Stewart, spoke the same way.”
“Scots,” Bevyn said gravely, his eyes going to Math, undoubtedly to see how he was taking this revelation. The answer was not well.
“But not all of them,” Mair hastened to add. “Many were English.”
Ieuan dismissed Mair with a gesture and a word of thanks and then began to pace before the fire. His head was down, and he was thinking as he walked. “As I see it, three things could have happened here.”
Math glanced over at him. Despite his fear and anger, he found a spark of levity to say, “Only three?”
Ieuan gave him a wry look, but otherwise ignored the comment, instead ticking off the items on his fingers, like Dafydd might have done had he been here instead of in Ireland. “The first possibility is that Anna was, in fact, captured. It’s the most likely option, Math, and you need to be prepared for it. According to Mair, all of the men you sent with her are dead, so she was completely on her own.”
Math nodded, accepting Ieuan’s words as truth. “If so, we will pursue them to the ends of the earth.”
Ieuan gave Math a tight-lipped nod and continued, “Second, she escaped and will soon find her way back to us, but if so, she is alone in the middle of the night and might not know where she is.”
Math pinched the bridge of his nose. “We must find her if she is here to be found. We also have a band of marauders, at least some of whom are Scottish, roaming the countryside. If they do have her, they won’t be in Wales any longer. We have to find them before they get too far away and can’t be tracked.”
Bevyn grunted. “Whatever has happened, you have to believe Anna survived. She is brave, that girl.”
Ieuan took in a breath. “Third, she has gone to Avalon.” Having traveled there himself, Ieuan knew as well as Math the danger and the miracle involved. “I know you’ve already considered the possibility.”
Math nodded, because he had thought of it, and had been trying not to think of it. It was both the worst and the best case scenario. They’d cultivated the legend that Avalon was a safe place, even a haven, but Math had been there and understood it for the threat it was. He would much rather find Anna amidst a company of men riding to a nearby castle, even if that castle was held by a rebel. He could help her then. He knew what to do then.
It was far more terrifying to think about her entirely on her own in that strange world, with its enormous machines, its powerful weapons, and its complete disregard for the souls of men. He was glad both Dafydd and Meg remained in Ireland. Mair might have feared telling him Anna was gone or ta
ken captive, but that had nothing on what Dafydd’s response would be if he returned before Math got her back.
“I can’t say which is more terrifying,” Math said. “That she did go or that she didn’t.”
“She may have thought it was the only course available to her.” Bevyn helped himself to a cup of mead and a slice of warm bread Hywel had brought from the kitchen. Between bites, he added, “The danger to Anna aside—” here he made a gesture with the cup, “—not that I’m putting it aside, but what I want to say is I don’t understand the move these men have made. Why Anna?”
“It must be for leverage,” Ieuan said. “She is the king’s sister.”
Math gave a disgusted grunt, again acknowledging the truth of Ieuan’s words. “Lili and the boys are too well protected.” He looked away. “I should have protected Anna better.”
“Maybe you should have.” Bevyn put a hand on Math’s shoulder. “But what’s happened to Anna is not your fault. The blame lies entirely on the one who ordered this, whoever he may be.”
Ieuan was still thinking out loud. “Only a madman would seek an all-out war with Dafydd or Llywelyn, and whoever has done this has brought that upon himself. How can that be his intent?”
Math had no answer. In the aftermath of Gilbert de Clare’s treachery last year, the what-ifs and if-onlys had gnawed at Dafydd. But the truth was Gilbert de Clare had always cared most for his own advancement; he had fooled them all into thinking he’d settled for being a high ranking baron—if not the highest ranking baron—in Dafydd’s kingdom, when all the while he’d intended to reach for the throne.
A knock came at the door, and Hywel poked in his head. “The men are marshalling in the courtyard, my lords.”
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