Mark had filled the closets with clothing, and Anna had chosen clothes she remembered her mother wearing when she traveled: tan slacks, white button-up shirt, and red sweater. While Anna wore tight-fitting pants all the time to keep warm, it was extremely odd not to be wearing a dress over them. She’d left her medieval clothing folded neatly on a chair in her bedroom, and while Ted arranged for a car, she headed down the hall to get it.
“Anna, what are you doing—” Mark swung around the doorframe of the bedroom to see her with her arms full of clothing. “Right.” He turned Anna around so he could get to her pack, pulled open the top, and stuffed her clothing on top of whatever else was in there. “Can’t forget that.”
Anna could still hear Ted talking by the door, so she took a moment to whisper to Mark. “Are we good?”
“I hope so. I have more reason to believe he might have been followed than I’ve told you so far.”
Anna swallowed hard, wanting to know more but acknowledging that this moment wasn’t the time. “Can we trust this Treadman guy?”
“A year ago I wouldn’t have said so, but since he bought CMI, he’s pulled a Tony Stark and divested his company of all its military and mercenary operations. It’s purely a tech company now. Maybe Ted had something to do with that.”
“Okay,” Anna said, “but let’s hope he’s not a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
Mark put a hand on her arm. “Ted would never turn you over to a wolf, you know that.”
“He can be naive.”
“We were all naive once.” He shrugged. “Whatever happens, I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
Anna’s breath hitched. “Will you, Mark?”
His face took on a determined look. “It isn’t fair for you to ask this of me.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” And Anna was, though not so much for asking as for the genuine need. “I won’t mention it again.”
Ted had hung up and was peering at them from fifteen feet away, but Mark remained in the darkened hallway, and Anna waited beside him, though without knowing what was keeping him.
Then Mark let out a long breath. “I can hardly deny what I myself experienced, and Ted isn’t wrong that what you have in that world is special. It’s worth sacrificing for, as you and your family have done time and again. I can’t live there—or at least I don’t want to—but I can do my best to ensure your ability to do so.”
Anna bowed her head, as she might have done had they still been in her hall at Dinas Bran. “Thank you.”
“What happens to you is magic.” He gave her a rueful smile. “It’s like touching God, and I say that even though I don’t believe.” He paused again. “But I do believe in this.”
Chapter Fourteen
19 March 2022
Bevyn
Math and Bevyn didn’t part right away, since it seemed important to gather all the information they could on the troop they were chasing, and to do that, they needed to retrieve the dead man. With the help of ropes and a number of men pulling, they managed to get him all the way up the bank and ultimately laid him out in the field. The horse was a different story. To remove it from its watery grave, the best option was to build a raft and float the corpse downstream. Bevyn was pleased to leave that to those who knew what they were doing.
It was gruesome to have the man lying in the grass in the spring sunshine, which was rare enough to be celebrated. The dead man had been of average height and wore full armor but no tunic. He could have been asleep. As it was, his face was white with death, and he hadn’t drowned but appeared to have broken his neck in the fall.
“We also retrieved his saddle bag, my lord.” One of Math’s men laid the leather pack on the ground beside the body. Bevyn crouched to go through it, believing the detail work of the investigation should fall to him rather than to Math. At first, he didn’t seen anything unusual: a few provisions, a spare cloak, and a money bag with five small coins. The dead man hadn’t been wealthy, but to possess any coins at all put a man a cut above most of his peers. Nor was Bevyn surprised the man had brought the purse on a raid. Most men-at-arms took all their wealth with them wherever they went.
The last item in the bag was a wad of cloth tucked at the bottom of the pack. With a feeling of grim satisfaction, Bevyn shook out a warrior’s tunic and held it up to Math and the small group of men who surrounded them. They’d been right to wait to leave, because this told them what they needed to know.
Math grunted, immediately recognizing, as Bevyn had, the red chevrons and stripes on yellow background as the FitzWalter crest. “FitzWalter’s first wife was niece to John Balliol, the King of Scots.”
“That’s our Scottish connection,” Bevyn said. “I must point out, however, that his second wife is the niece of Humphrey de Bohun. I’ve never trusted the man.”
“Are you genuinely suggesting Humphrey has turned traitor after all this time—after what happened to Gilbert de Clare?”
“Something’s going on with him.”
“I pressed Dafydd on the matter before he left, but he refused to tell me anything, though he did me the courtesy of not lying.” Math grimaced. “I can say too that Edmund is not much pleased with his friend—or perhaps former friend by now.”
“I’ve even heard that Bohun has been seen several times this year in the company of Roger Mortimer,” Bevyn said.
One of the soldiers nearby looked horrified. “Not at court, surely?”
“If it were at King Dafydd’s court, I’d be less concerned than if they are meeting privately.” Math took in a breath. “And yet, for all that my first instinct is never to trust a Marcher lord, Bohun’s son is with Dafydd. The Bohun family hitched its cart to Dafydd’s horse long ago, and they have never wavered in their loyalty and allegiance, even when given every opportunity to do so. Humphrey de Bohun is not Gilbert de Clare.”
“But FitzWalter might be,” Bevyn said.
Robert FitzWalter had acquired Beeston Castle as part of a deal worked out when John Balliol took the throne of Scotland. To appease the Bruces, who felt themselves much the injured party, Balliol had given them land in Scotland. In turn, so Balliol could feel good about doing anything nice for his sworn enemies, Dafydd had granted Beeston to Balliol’s niece, who happened to be FitzWalter’s wife, now deceased.
“I met FitzWalter when he came to offer his fealty to Dafydd. Even had I been disposed to like him, I couldn’t miss his sharp beak of a nose and flinty eyes,” Bevyn said. “Nicholas de Carew spoke of him as though they were not friends.”
“Carew is a Lord of the March and the Earl of Pembroke and Oxford. Before his marriage, FitzWalter was a mere knight. Likely, Carew hardly knew the man existed before Dafydd made his deal.”
“Well he knows it now.” Bevyn said. “FitzWalter is nothing if not a climber.”
“With this, he has gone far beyond mere climbing. Abduction and rebellion.” Math’s eyes were narrowed slits. “He won’t be working alone either. If, God forbid, it is Humphrey behind FitzWalter’s actions, we will stop him.”
An anger that matched Math’s stirred within Bevyn. He loved Anna like she was his own blood, but he would have felt the same had it been Lili missing. Or Gwenllian. His only consolation was that if Anna had fallen into FitzWalter’s hands, he’d find himself with more than he bargained for. Welsh women were not known for their acceptance of being caged, and Anna less than most.
“FitzWalter’s men chose a narrow place in the road for their ambush,” said Rhys, who’d remained close by. “There are water courses and ravines all along this route which gave less chance for Princess Anna to escape another way. Too bad for them they didn’t believe the legends.”
The men around them nodded, revealing how far they’d come in the last ten years that the men of this land would not only accept that Anna and her family had the ability to travel to another world, but be glad of it.
Math nudged the body with the toe of his boot. “He shouldn’t have brought the tunic.”
“On the contrary, they’re probably wearing them even now while riding through England,” Bevyn said. “There would have been no reason not to and very good reasons to do so. A company of men showing the colors of their lord is something to remark upon but not something to fear. If all you’d done was hear of twenty of FitzWalter’s men riding through England it would have been far less alarming than men showing no colors at all.”
“Had they stayed in England, I wouldn’t have marshalled men to investigate,” Math said, “which is why they waited until dark to enter Wales. We do not countenance masterless men here.”
“Nor in Dafydd’s England,” Bevyn said.
Rhys put up a hand, wanting to speak again. Like Dafydd, and Bevyn himself these days, Math valued men who thought for themselves, so he didn’t discourage Rhys. “Could it be he brought the tunic as a means to deceive us into accusing an innocent lord?”
“That is an interesting line of thinking, but if true, he would have been wearing it openly,” Bevyn said.
“We will keep that alternative in mind, but I think we should continue with the idea he was FitzWalter’s man and not read more into this than needful. Not unless we acquire evidence that causes doubt.” Math turned to another one of the men. “Pedr, do you have your paper and charcoal?”
“Yes, my lord.” The young man in question had been standing a few paces back from the body, awaiting orders. He wasn’t even twenty, but his eyes were thoughtful, and he knew how to represent a man’s likeness on paper.
“Draw his likeness.” As Pedr set to work, Math handed the tunic to Rhys. “Keep this for me until we have cause to bring it out.”
“We ride to Beeston, my lord?” Rhys asked.
“We do.” Math’s face was set in grim lines. “I’d say FitzWalter owes me an explanation.”
Chapter Fifteen
19 March 2022
Anna
They came down the stairs, but instead of crossing the beautifully appointed lobby and leaving by the main door, Mark led them to the back of the building. He poked his head out of the rear entrance, which opened into an alley between Callum’s building and an adjacent one. As this was about as upscale a neighborhood—posh, as Mark would say—as it was possible to find, the alley was free of debris.
“Aren’t you worried we’ll be spotted?” Anna asked from behind him.
“There are easily a dozen embassies in this neighborhood, many of them for Middle Eastern countries. Because they don’t like CCTV cameras, there are none in this alley.”
Ted smirked. “Money and politics are the lifeblood of London.”
That was as cynical a statement as Anna had ever heard from Ted, and she reconsidered her assumption that he was naive. It could be he assumed the best in people even though he knew they didn’t actually deserve it.
“It’s the lifeblood of everywhere. That’s our problem.” Mark entered the alley just as a bus pulled up to a bus stop on the other side of the main street to which the alley connected. “Run!”
Anna took off after Mark, the backpack slapping awkwardly on her back. The sight of the three of them hurtling from the alleyway was enough to stop people on the sidewalk. Anna had to slow down to edge between the parked cars and then dashed across the street. Mark swung around the front door of the bus and ran up the steps. London buses no longer took cash, apparently, but Mark was ready with a card, which he swiped three times, once each for him, Anna, and Ted.
“You didn’t have to pay for me,” Ted said a little stiffly. “I have my own.”
“Which you probably bought with a credit card,” Mark said over his shoulder as he squeezed past commuters in the aisle heading towards the back of the bus.
“Yes, I did.” Ted let out a heavy breath. “If someone was watching, they’re following now.”
“I do this for a living, Ted. Let me do my job.”
They found space to stand at the back. Mark had spoken sharply to Ted twice, but he didn’t appear offended and instead asked, “What do I do?”
“Call your people.” Mark ducked his head to look out the rear window. Traffic was backed up behind the bus, which had stopped twice more since they’d gotten on.
“And tell them what?”
“To meet us outside the Natural History Museum on Cromwell Road.”
They rode for a few minutes with several more stops. Then the bus stopped again. “Get off now.” Mark grabbed Anna’s arm and drew her out the back door, Ted on their heels. Their feet hit the sidewalk and a second later they were running along a narrow road between buildings, and then under them, as walkways passed above their heads.
“Where are we?” Anna was nearly gasping. The pack was heavy and slowing her steps, even as it made her heart and lungs work harder.
“Imperial College, London.” Mark pulled out another key card, which he held in his hand until he was able to swipe it on a device next to a door. It unlocked, and Mark herded her and Ted inside the building.
“Why do you have a keycard for here?” Anna said between breaths.
Mark gave her a sidelong look. “MI-5, remember?” Then he pointed at the phone Ted still held in his hand. “That’s the burner I gave you, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Mark snapped his fingers. “Give it here.”
Ted obeyed, and at the next junction of two hallways, Mark stopped, took out the battery, and dropped the pieces of the phone into the garbage. “Yours too, Anna.”
Anna gave up her phone, which she’d barely looked at anyway. Mark had been working constantly on his various devices, all with a touch of a finger, but she hadn’t yet figured out where the keyboard was on hers. Regardless, her phone was followed into the trashcan by Mark’s. It seemed a painful waste, but she accepted that it was necessary. Then, from his satchel, which Mark carried in addition to the giant backpack, he pulled out three more phones, tossing one each to Ted and Anna. “Call your people back, Ted. Have them track that phone so they’ll be ready when we come out of the museum.”
A far doorway banged, and feet pounded in the corridor. Stowing her phone without turning it on—which she hadn’t yet figured out how to do either—she did the one thing she appeared to be good at: fleeing. “Come on!”
At that moment, as it was a school day, a bell rang, and the hall filled with people.
“Good.” Mark hustled after her towards another doorway that took them outside again. “More students. We can blend in better.”
“Did you see anyone following us?”
“An unmarked van was behind us as we got on the bus. We moved quickly into the college, but I would have preferred a shopping mall.” Mark took a right, entered another building, left it, then crossed a street to enter another building, which he again led them through. Finally, he looked up. “Ah. The museum.”
They went inside and immediately a young man with blonde spiked-up hair stopped them, wanting to check their bags. Mark flashed his MI-5 badge, but so quickly that it would have been next to impossible for the man to actually read his name. “Security Service. We were never here.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Let us in the back, will you?”
“Of course, sir.” The man had what Anna thought might be a cockney accent. He opened an employees’ only door, which led to a maze of corridors that ultimately dumped them back out onto a sidewalk.
And the second they appeared, an SUV with dark tinted windows slid next to the curb on their side of the road. Anna couldn’t see the driver because of the tint, and she felt Mark hesitate beside her. But Ted was already holding the rear door open for Anna, and because they were trying to be quick and not seen, she threw caution to the winds and got in.
Mark still hesitated. “You’re sure about this, Ted?”
Ted pulled open the front passenger door. “I’m sure, Mark. It’s okay. And we have no better option right now. We have to get off the street!”
Another car pulled up and parked on the curb behind the one Anna was in. A man in a tai
lored dark suit got out and approached Mark. “George Hanson, Mr. Treadman’s deputy.” He spoke with a flat American accent exactly like Anna’s own.
Mark shook the man’s hand. “Thanks for picking us up.”
“No problem.” He bent to look into the SUV at Anna. “It is a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
Anna almost laughed at being called ma’am by someone so close in age to her. His brown hair was cut close to his head, so she had an inkling he might be former military. That caused her stomach to twist, since The Dunland Group turned CMI turned Treadman Global had been a mercenary outfit.
George gestured to the seat beside Anna. “If you’ll just get in, sir, we’ll be on our way. The cameras won’t be down on this block for long.” He looked around, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he did so. Anna saw the flash of a holster on his right hip, and then he was urging Mark into the vehicle. George closed the door, the driver of Anna’s vehicle waited a beat for George to return to his car, and then he pulled smoothly out into traffic.
Once they were on their way, Ted turned around to look at them. “Isn’t this great?”
Anna shook her head at her uncle. “I don’t know, Uncle Ted. Is it? It feels an awful lot like I’m being taken to a black site.”
“Oh no! Don’t think that.” Ted was twisted around in his seat, and he made a move to put a hand on her arm, but then he adjusted his motion because of her broken left wrist. “This is all going to work out just fine. You’ll see.”
The driver, who up until now had said nothing, looked at Anna in his rearview mirror. He was a black man with distinguished gray hair, likely older than any of them. He also had George’s same military bearing, though when he opened his mouth, he proved to be English. “We’re going to take good care of you, miss. Our mandate is to keep you safe.”
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