The ladies sat in companionable silence as the logs in the hearth sputtered in their final attempts to emit some warmth. “You must go.” Queen Mary broke the silence. She stood up slowly, a creak sounding from her knee joints, the result of hours spent in prayerful meditation on her knees. Mary Elizabeth and her grandmother stood as well. “I must prepare myself to meet my Creator, and you must be far enough away when the sword falls that no one can imprison you for life as they did to me.” The queen took her daughter into her arms, embracing her warmly. “Oh! How I have missed doing this over the years. Missed watching you grow into the beautiful and powerful woman that you are now. Go! Before it is too late.” Turning to Gran, she hugged her mother. “You, too, must go. You still have work to do, helping my daughter, your granddaughter, be the leader she was meant to be and to save our country, our Scotland, from total English domination and brutality.”
“I would stay,” Gran tried to argue, but the queen shook her head intently. Gran nodded in understanding. Mary Elizabeth pulled the carry strap over her head and across her shoulder, tucking the queen’s bag with its treasured casket under her arm as she forced herself to walk away from a mother whom she’d only just met.
Lady Jane led the two women out of the queen’s chambers. Mary Elizabeth glanced back one last time before exiting the room. The queen was already on her knees again, making her supplications to her God.
Chapter Fourteen
Lady Jane closed the door, careful to avoid any unnecessary creaks and groans. The three women started to turn in the direction of the stairs they had climbed earlier. They heard footsteps coming their way. Someone was in a hurry.
“This way.” A man stepped out of the shadows at the far end of the hall. “Come quickly. They have been alerted of your presence, Princess. They know who you are and that you are here.”
The women didn’t argue. The footsteps were getting closer and voices could be heard calling out commands.
“The queen’s chambers.”
“We cannot let her escape.”
There was a decided urgency in the commands. The ladies didn’t stop to ponder their options, choosing as one to follow the mysterious man from the shadows. They shuffled past the staircase. It was a risk, they all realised, but the alternative wasn’t much better. As they drew close enough to see the man’s face, Mary Elizabeth gasped.
“Jamie? I thought…” She wasn’t allowed to finish. Jamie waved his hand to shush her.
“In here.” He opened a door at the end of the hall and all but shoved them inside. He pulled the door shut just as the footsteps reached their level. “Put this on,” he instructed Mary Elizabeth as he handed her the cloak he had draped over his arm. “Mrs. Dickson insisted I bring this for you. Who knows where we shall end up and what the weather will be like?”
Understanding dawned as Mary Elizabeth grasped the hidden association of Jamie’s statement. It was obvious when one thought of the predicament they were in. The only escape was to jump through time.
Lady Jane took the cloak from Jamie and draped it over the princess’s shoulders. Gran still had her cloak on, ready for anything. “What about Lady Jane?” Mary Elizabeth asked, glancing between Jamie and her mother’s maid.
“She will stay here,” Jamie spoke quietly, motioning once again for silence.
“Check the queen’s quarters.”
A door opened roughly, creaking in protest on its hinges.
“No one here but the queen and one of her ladies.” The door was pulled shut with such force that it rattled the rafters and the floorboards from one end of the hall to the other.
“Check every room on this level. We will search the castle from top to bottom until we find them. They could not have gone far.”
Jamie leaned against the door. “They will be here in a minute.” He motioned toward the far corner. “Over there.”
It was dark in the room, but some light made its way through the tiny window on the outside wall. Morning was making its presence known. Lady Jane remained standing by the door, shuddering noticeably. Jamie pushed the other two women into the far corner. He faced the lady by the door and said, “As soon as you can, find Mrs. Dickson and get her to the safe house. We shall meet her there.”
Lady Jane nodded as Jamie pulled down hard on the sconce holder positioned near the corner where they huddled. Everything went black just as the door that separated them from their would-be captors crashed open. Lady Jane’s scream penetrated the void as did the voices of angry men.
All of those sounds were quickly obliterated as an engine roared and blinding lights made the group run for cover. “Where are we?” Mary Elizabeth asked.
“Sometime in the twenty-first century,” Jamie answered. “And in the middle of the A605, by the looks of it.”
“What is that?” Mary Elizabeth asked.
“I think you North Americans call it a two-lane highway,” Jamie explained. “It’s a fairly significant highway that leads into Peterborough, a large city in Cambridgeshire.”
“But I thought Fotheringay Castle was in Northamptonshire.” Mary Elizabeth had studied English geography extensively at university. It went well with her studies in history and English literature.
“It is, but Peterborough is in Cambridgeshire, which borders Northamptonshire.” He motioned for the women to follow him as he started to walk along the narrow gravel shoulder of the A605. A large lorry raced by, blaring its horn at the troop as its headlights caught their presence on the sidelines.
“What now?” Gran voiced her concern. “And what about Mrs. Dickson? We left her in the castle.”
“Well, the castle no longer exists.” Jamie was quite blunt. “All that remains is a huge mound where the castle once stood and a few markers to indicate its historical significance. Such is the fate of most of the castles in both England and Scotland. Mrs. Dickson has already made her escape, puddle jumping as you call it. And we will return to the sixteenth century to meet up with her. Now come along ladies. No time for idle chit chat as they like to say in the twenty-first century. We must make tracks and talk later once we know we are safe.” He raised his hand to stop further questions. “I know you have questions. So do I. But now is not the time.” And with that, he picked up his pace, marching with great conviction.
“I hope you know where you are going,” Mary Elizabeth muttered. “You certainly did not seem to know our destination when we poofed out of the castle.”
“I heard that,” Jamie called back softly over his shoulder. “And we did not exactly poof, as you say.”
“Whatever,” Mary Elizabeth grumbled.
“Another twenty-first century colloquialism. You will have to lose those, my princess, and the sooner the better.” They trudged along, following Jamie in resigned silence.
“Ouch!” Mary Elizabeth stumbled and almost toppled into the ditch beside the highway. She frantically grabbed the bag that carried her mother’s treasured box. She had managed to keep it safely strapped across her shoulder with the bag itself tucked under her arm, but this stumble almost sent it careening into the ditch and her with it. Gran caught her arm, saving her downward plight. Once Mary Elizabeth regained her balance, she tucked the bag more firmly under her arm and all but glared at Jamie. “Can we slow down, please?” she begged. “These slippers were not meant for hasty outdoor jaunts in the wild.”
Jamie pivoted slightly so he could glance down at Mary Elizabeth’s feet. The sun was poking its nose above the horizon and the light had improved. He raised an eyebrow at the delicate adornments, for that’s about all they were, that stretched over Mary Elizabeth’s feet. “Why are you wearing those?” he asked. “What happened to those sturdy boots that I have seen you wear since our first meeting in Kinross?”
“Lady Jane insisted the princess wear them.” Gran huffed as she continued to hold onto her granddaughter, as much to keep the young woman from falling into the ditch as to keep herself steady on her feet. Gran was showing her age, easily winded by
the exertion. “She was going to meet her mother, the queen, and Lady Jane wanted her to look the part of the princess that she is. The boots just did not work with the dress and the overall look.”
Jamie snorted, but another lorry slowing down close to their position prevented him from making further comment. A head poked out the window and a scrawny excuse of a man yelled, “Off to a costume party are ye?” And then with a chortle and a slap on the wheel, he rolled up the window and stepped hard on the gas, sending sprays of loose gravel at the startled group standing by the side of the highway.
“We had best move off the highway and into the woods.” Jamie motioned toward a grove of trees just up ahead. “The light is making us too visible and the next lorry may be full of Queen Elizabeth’s men.”
“You mean the first Queen Elizabeth,” Mary Elizabeth challenged.
“Quiet!” Jamie growled, keeping his voice barely subdued. “No time for questions. No time for discussion. Come. The footing will be softer for those ridiculous slippers once we are off this rough gravel shoulder.”
The women did as they were told. They were too tired to argue and too tired to consider running from, or worse standing and fighting, an opponent. They made it to the trees without incident and Mary Elizabeth sighed with relief as the footing did indeed offer her feet some relief.
“Beyond the trees is a pasture full of horses.” Jamie broke the silence, allowing them to pause briefly, well hidden from the highway. “We will need those horses for our escape. Mrs. Dickson is waiting for us at a rendezvous not far away.”
“In this time or the past?” Mary Elizabeth asked. “I am so dizzy from all this puddle jumping through time. How do you know when and where and how to jump?”
“It is not an exact science,” Gran explained simply. “And not everyone is capable of time travel. That is why we left Lady Jane behind. She is not a time traveller.”
“But she believes in it?” Gran merely nodded in response. Mary Elizabeth was surprised that both her mother and one of her ladies, women of the sixteenth century, actually believed in time travel. It was something even people of the twenty-first century had difficulty grasping, let alone accepting as a possible reality.
A vehicle skidded to a sudden stop on the gravel shoulder behind them, the tires gurgling the loose gravel noisily out of their way. The unsettling sound alerted the group. As they glanced back, they noticed several dark suited men climbing out of a long, sleek, black car. They were carrying weapons and one of them waved toward the grove of trees where the group was only marginally hidden.
“We must go. Now.” No one argued. They followed Jamie at a jog, Mary Elizabeth wincing each time her feet made contact with the ground. Knowing full well that the alternative would be far worse, she soldiered on.
They broke through the far end of a small forest and noticed the pasture full of horses, as Jamie had promised. “Come.” He pulled himself over the small fenced enclosure and stopped to help the ladies. “The white one is for the princess. Her name is Queenie. A fitting horse for a princess with a purpose.” He peered at the ladies. “I presume you can all ride?”
Not waiting for an answer, he put two fingers in his mouth and let out a whistle. The horses tossed their heads and several trotted expectantly toward Jamie. One at a time, he fondly patted a horse’s muzzle and offered it a treat, then he quickly helped each lady mount before turning his attention to the next horse. “Sorry you have to ride bareback and there is no bridle. No time to make other arrangements.”
A crackling of branches could be heard approaching their location and a shout, “Over there,” alerted them that they had been discovered.
“Let us make haste!” Jamie quickly mounted his horse, having seen to the ladies and their mounts. He urged him into a full gallop, using his legs to direct and control his mount. The others followed easily, their horses, eager to keep up with the one in the lead. They thundered across the field, putting distance between them and their pursuers.
A voice called out. “Stop! Horse thief! Those are my horses! Stop!”
Jamie tightened his grip with his knees and pulled up short, turning back to assess the situation. A farmer stood at one end of the field, waving frantically. Near the woods where they had emerged moments before, the men in black clambered over the fence and chased after the horses, hoping to catch one to facilitate their pursuit.
As Mary Elizabeth paused to look, she noticed the sun had risen higher in the sky. “What time is it?” she asked no one in particular.
“Almost eight o’clock, I believe,” Gran answered.
Mary Elizabeth choked back a sob. She knew that she stood in a time over three hundred years later, but she had only just met her mother in the past and now the hour of her death in her time period was quickly approaching.
“Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen.” The voice was little more than a whisper, the familiar Latin words washing over the princess as she listened intently to the prayers recited by rote in her head. “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen."
A man’s voice interceded. “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”
A shadow crossed Mary Elizabeth’s eyes as a hand made the sign of the cross.
“Pater Noster,” the Latin continued, the voices of a man and a woman mingled together. “Who art in Heaven. Hallowed be thy name…” The familiar words of the Lord’s Prayer, spoken in many languages around the world by many different branches of the Christian faith, found their way into Mary Elizabeth’s head and she mouthed the words, as familiar in Latin for her as they were in English. “Amen.”
The man’s voice started to fade. “Through this Holy anointing may the Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit. May the Lord who frees you from sin save you and raise you up. By this sign thou are anointed with the Grace of the Atonement of Jesus Christ and though art absolved of all past error and freed to take your place in the world He had prepared for us.”
A silence ensued and then the voice Mary Elizabeth had heard only hours before. “I hope you will spare me and make it quick.”
A swoosh.
“Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum…” The voice was halted mid-prayer with a noticeable snap.
“No!” Mary Elizabeth shrieked.
“Princess.” Jamie reached across to where Mary Elizabeth sat on her horse, stunned. He gave her a gentle shake.
“She is gone.” She startled out of her thoughts. “I heard her last prayers. She begged her executioner to make it quick.” Tears cascaded down her cheeks unchecked.
“I know, but we must be gone from this place and this time. Look.” Jamie pointed across the field. Some of the men had mounted and were making their way toward them. “We must go now.” Jamie gave his horse an urgent nudge and the group followed his direction, charging across the fields. He led them in a sharp turn and then everything changed. Slowing his horse to a trot, he shifted in his seat to face the others. “We are not safe yet, but we are almost there.”
“Where and when are we?” Mary Elizabeth studied her surroundings, trying to recognise something familiar.
“1587 and just outside Fotheringay.” And Jamie nudged his horse into a canter.
Chapter Fifteen
The group maintained their course for about an hour. The sun rose up fully and glistened on the ice crystal that covered the hard packed, frozen ground.
Jamie slowed his horse to a walk and patted its neck fondly. He pointed ahead. “There’s a cottage just over the hill. We shall stop there. Mrs. Dickson should be there waiting for us. Then we must depart immediately. We must stay ahead of our pursuers.”
“No!” Mary Elizabeth
surprised everyone, even herself, with her exclamation. “We will not keep running. The horses are spent and we cannot run forever. There are only four or five of them. That is, if they all made it through the vortex.”
“Oh, you can be assured that they all made it through and are in hot pursuit of our trail at this moment.” Jamie pulled his horse up and faced Mary Elizabeth. “And what makes you think we can fight? They are trained fighters and they probably have the most advanced weapons from the twenty-first century to do their worst.”
“I know how to fight,” Mary Elizabeth insisted. “You trained me well, Grandmother. I am an expert archer and swordswoman. Gran trained along with me and I assume you know a few tricks about fighting. I am not sure about Mrs. Dickson and Lady Jane, but I am sure they could do something to help. We shall think of something,” Mary Elizabeth continued, quite confident that she was in the right. “We must fight. We cannot waste our time always running away. It is time we took a stand and fought back.”
“I agree with my granddaughter.” Gran nodded to Mary Elizabeth. “We know the art of warfare. After all, we had the privilege of studying centuries of battle techniques. I think it would be best to choose our location and make a stand to fight back.”
Jamie paced his horse back and forth, looking first at the women, then at the rise of land over which they would soon trod to meet with Mrs. Dickson. “I understand your determination and your intent to fight. I feel the same way. But your safety is more important. At least for the moment. We have a predetermined meeting place. It is just a cottage, but it is a safe place. However, the small hill over there would give us a better vantage point, a better place of defense.”
It was the princess who broke the silence. She nudged her horse closer to Jamie’s. When the horses stood neck to neck, she studied her guide and asked, “What makes you so sure that they are right behind us?”
“Because they are time travellers like us and they are intent on capturing us. They have the weapons to take us down with ease and they took the horses, just as we did, so they can make a hasty pursuit once they determine our location.” Jamie’s look was so intense she had to believe him. At least, to a point.
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