The Chronicles of the Tempus

by K. A. S. Quinn

  Katie was wearing her school uniform: grey pleated skirt rolled up at the waist to minimum shortness, long green knee socks, and a decidedly soiled white blouse. With her thin legs and large bony knees, it was not a good look. And compared to the layers and layers of clothing worn by the girl next to her, she did appear practically naked. ‘No, no,’ she reassured the girl, ‘my clothes are OK. It’s what we wear. It’s a uniform.’

  ‘Well, now we have twice the reason for no one to see you. You’d be arrested for exposing your limbs in public. Quick, come along.’

  Leaving the splendid corridor by a side door, they entered a long low passage. Going upstairs and downstairs, turning corner after corner, and darting past a smoky room filled with soldiers, they finally arrived in a simple suite of attic rooms, prettily papered in blue and cream flowers.

  ‘We’ll be safe here,’ the girl whispered. ‘I’ve had my supper and because I’m being punished I won’t be called down to the drawing room tonight. Leopold is next door, but he’s bedridden, poor dear.’

  Katie sat down on the edge of the bed. Dreams were usually not this long. And she couldn’t remember ever being so tired. She looked at the girl with the grey eyes. ‘Who are you?’ she asked.

  ‘I am the Princess Alice.’ Despite her modest demean-our, the girl could not resist a toss of her head.

  This information made Katie go cold. She stared hard at the girl. ‘I’ve, like, seen you before,’ she said in a low, strained voice.

  ‘It’s those engravings in the Illustrated News,’ said Alice. ‘I wish they wouldn’t. Why should everyone in the land have the right to gawp at me? But Mother and Father say it is part of our national duty, to be seen by the people.’

  ‘Your mother,’ Katie added in a daze, ‘is Queen Victoria. Your father is Prince Albert.’

  Alice looked at her intently. ‘Everyone knows that, at least everyone in England. Have you just arrived from a foreign land? Are you running a fever? You really do look queer. Perhaps you are a bit insane. I’d call Dr O’Reilly to look at you, but he’s not to be trusted.’

  Katie’s heart beat quickly and she began to sway. ‘You know, I don’t feel too good… I’ve got to lie down… to go back to sleep now.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s wise to call for bedding. They’d wonder why I wanted it, and besides, it takes hours to get anything here. I’ll share mine with you. I’m afraid you’ll have to sleep under the bed as a precaution…’ Alice took a blanket from her bed, and a fluffy toy sheep fell to the floor, uttering a plaintive ‘Baa’. ‘It’s Woolie Baa Lamb,’ the princess explained, giving the toy a quick hug. ‘I know I’m too old for him, but I get so lonely. My older sister Vicky used to sleep with me, but she’s been moved to another floor – promoted out of the nursery. Louise and Lenchen sleep down the hall, and Leopold is next door. I don’t like sleeping alone.’

  A flash of sympathy swept through Katie, as she thought of a certain doll secreted under a pillow on her own bed. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be OK under the bed,’ she assured Alice. ‘I’ve spent a lot of time there over the years.’ She looked at Alice, busily settling blankets and pillows. ‘Don’t you want to know why I’m here?’

  ‘Of course I do, but your health comes first, so explanations can wait until tomorrow. You’re fatigued, and so am I. They’ve forgotten to send someone up to undress me again. That’s a small favour.’

  The bed springs squeaked as Alice climbed into the bed and Katie crawled underneath.

  ‘Why am I here?’ thought Katie. ‘Here’s the girl I’ve been seeing in those visions, and it turns out she’s Princess Alice, who I know from that book – the letters I was just reading. But then she’s saying things and doing things that aren’t in the book. So it’s kind of familiar, but kind of strange too. And frightening. Really frightening.’

  Katie’s heart contracted as a new thought occurred to her – maybe she’d tipped over the edge, gone insane, and this wasn’t a dream, but another vision – a hallucination that might never end. She lay under the bed and tried to think of practical things: the multiplication tables up to 1,000, how many subway stops to her Dad’s apartment, how many calories in a cheeseburger… Eventually, though, fear gave way to exhaustion, and sleep weighed down upon her.

  A terrible cry awoke Katie in the night. It ran up the scale, from moan to shriek, piercing the darkness around her. A high-pitched, thin, young cry. The cry of a child frightened and in pain. Katie started from her hiding place, but the sound of running feet held her back. Doors slammed and candles flickered quickly through the room. Alice’s silky hair dangled over the side of the bed. ‘It’s Leopold, my brother,’ she said in an agitated whisper. ‘He suffers from the bleeding disease. He’s had an attack. I do hope it’s not a bad one. Dear Leo…’

  Katie was pulled in two directions: she wanted to go to the suffering child but she also wanted to hide under her blankets and cover her ears. It was Alice who solved the dilemma. ‘Stay where you are,’ she ordered Katie, pushing her firmly back under the bed. ‘I’d run to help myself, but they’ll say I’m in the way and send me back to bed. Oh, but where is Dr O’Reilly?’

  As if to answer her call, an authoritative male voice came from the next room. ‘Quick, some water and ice – the bleeding is internal. We must tighten the veins.’ The doctor had arrived.

  ‘Mummy!’ whimpered Prince Leopold, ‘Mummy!’

  ‘It is not necessary to wake the Queen at this point,’ the doctor admonished. ‘Though painful, this is a mild attack – a slight internal bleeding in the groin and upper thigh. Fill the bath with ice – the cold will contract the veins. And we’ll need bandages – cambric soaked in perchloride of iron.’ Raising his voice, he called to someone across the room. ‘James, you will find cambric wrap in the adjoining nursery’s wardrobe. Hurry!’

  The door to the nursery was flung open and a boy moved softly and quickly through the room, stopping at a wardrobe just opposite Alice’s bed. Katie held her breath as he opened one drawer after the other, searching for the cambric bandages. Alice turned slightly in the bed above her. ‘Baaaa,’ came the low growl, as Woolie Baa Lamb rolled to the floor. Katie reached out to grab the toy and ended up clutching a cold hand about the same size as her own. She froze, as did the boy, as they stared, stunned, at one another. ‘Now I’m done for,’ thought Katie, her heart turning over.

  ‘James – the cambric!’ the doctor called.

  The boy hurriedly reached into a lower drawer and found the bandages. ‘You stay there,’ he hissed at Katie. ‘One move against the princess and I’ll shoot you myself. I have a pistol.’

  Katie slid back under the bed, her nerves a-jangle. She was pretty sure he wasn’t armed but one couldn’t be too certain when it came to a gun.

  Alice’s upside-down head appeared again.

  ‘It’s Jamie O’Reilly. He’s the doctor’s son, and he certainly does sound angry.’

  The cries in the next room changed from pain to protest as Leopold was lifted into an ice bath. ‘No!’ he cried repeatedly, until he couldn’t speak through the chattering of his teeth.

  ‘Do stop thrashing about,’ the doctor ordered. ‘You will only damage yourself further.’ Leopold’s complaints gradually petered out to incoherent mutterings as his lower torso and legs were wrapped in wet, foul-smelling bandages. But the worst was yet to come. ‘Purge him with sulphate of magnesia,’ the doctor prescribed to renewed protests, followed by gagging and vomiting. It was a lot for a small child to take; even Dr O’Reilly seemed to see that. ‘A purge is never a nice thing,’ he said more gently, ‘but it must be done to bring out the humours. And now for a tincture of opium, three drops, every five hours.’

  ‘Please, no,’ Leopold appealed, still trying to catch his breath from the vicious purge. ‘The opium makes me see things, frightening things that aren’t really there. And then I sleep and sleep and feel terrible for days.’ The strong dose of opium was administered nonetheless, and Leopold fell into a drugged slumber.


  ‘Opium,’ thought Katie. ‘I understand that they don’t know any better, but it is a kind of child abuse. The treatment might kill him before the disease does…’

  She was angry at her inability to help Prince Leopold and very worried about her encounter with James O’Reilly. Gradually the rain began to soothe her and lull her into an uneasy stupor. She was finally dozing off when she found herself being pulled across the floor by one arm.

  ‘Explain yourself,’ said James O’Reilly grimly. ‘And remember, I have a pistol.’

  ‘You have no such thing,’ said a surprisingly regal voice as Alice jumped out of the bed, ‘and stop pulling Katie around the room by the arm. That is not a gentlemanly way to behave towards a girl.’

  ‘Baa,’ said Woolie Baa Lamb, as he rolled on to the floor again.

  James looked as if he would die of embarrassment. He wasn’t that comfortable with girls to start with. And now he was stuck in a room with a haughty princess in a nightdress and a half naked intruder – both girls. He thought about bolting, but the safety of the Royal Family came first. He bowed to Princess Alice but, still looking at Katie, repeated stubbornly, ‘Explain yourself.’

  Katie stood up and James looked at the floor. He could see her legs, way up past the knee. James had helped his father many a time, cleaning a patient who had died under his care. But this was worse than preparing the dead for burial. At least the dead weren’t moving.

  ‘I don’t know how to explain, it’s kind of hard.’ Katie took a deep breath and, picking up Woolie Baa Lamb, reassured herself with a cuddle. ‘If this is a dream, who knows how you’ll react. If it’s not a dream, I know you won’t believe me. I’m not sure I believe myself. But here goes…’

  There was stunned and total silence in the room, as the other two tried to absorb Katie’s story. James’s face was full of scepticism. Alice sat on the edge of the bed and bit the nail on her index finger, deep in thought. She shook herself as if to wake. ‘Katie,’ she said, ‘can you think of any way to prove that your story is true? That you come from another time?’

  ‘There is no way to prove it,’ James cut across Alice. ‘These are the ravings of a lunatic. I’d best call my father back, or the household guard.’

  The Princess stood up. ‘Funny,’ Katie thought, ‘how a short person can make themself look tall.’

  ‘Jamie O’Reilly, you will not call your father,’ Alice commanded, ‘and you will certainly not call the household guard. This is my guest. I am a member of the Royal Family. You will obey my instructions.’ She pointed to a footstool near the wardrobe. ‘Now sit here, and give me time to think.’ Turning to Katie, Alice gave her an encouraging smile. ‘You simply must try to find a way to validate your story.’

  Katie thought for a moment. Would her knowledge of the future be proof enough? She could talk to them about cars, airplanes and rocket ships – of radio, television and computers – fantastic inventions yet to come. But it could all be taken for fantasy. She had no proof. She couldn’t exactly rustle up a computer out of thin air. And while computers and TV were great, some of the things in the future – well, they weren’t that great. Conflict. And poverty. And pollution. Why should Katie be the person to tell them about these terrible things? She even knew bits and pieces of their own futures. Wars, looming in the decades to come, and diseases they couldn’t cure, and death. Katie was discovering that it was pretty uncomfortable, knowing the future. Perhaps she should start with what she’d seen here, that night. Katie’s nerdy interest in disease might just help.

  ‘Do any of you understand what’s wrong with Prince Leopold?’ she asked.

  ‘We know he has the bleeding disease, haemophilia, and that Dr O’Reilly is trying to find ways to strengthen his blood vessels.’

  ‘It has nothing to do with his blood vessels,’ Katie explained. ‘It’s the blood itself. It doesn’t clot.’ Alice looked confused, so Katie tried to explain in simpler terms. ‘When you cut yourself and bleed, the blood quickly changes from liquid to solid. The platelets in your blood bunch together around the wound to form a kind of plug to stop the bleeding. Prince Leopold’s blood doesn’t do this. If he lived in my time, we could give him injections of the bits he needs to make clots in his blood, but I don’t think you can do even the simplest blood transfusions in your time, I don’t think you can…’

  ‘Will we find the cure?’ Alice asked, looking earnestly into Katie’s face. ‘Can we learn from you, and save him?’

  Katie looked down at her green wool socks. She didn’t like what she had to say.

  ‘I don’t know enough,’ she replied finally. ‘And you don’t learn enough in time… the cure doesn’t come in time…’

  Alice’s eyes filled with tears, but James’s eyes showed only distrust and anger. ‘Your diagnosis and analysis of the case are sheer foolishness,’ he protested, ‘made up words and total fiction. Like that book by that ridiculous woman, Mary Shelley – Frankenstein – it’s all a lie. Dry your tears Princess Alice, it’s a hoax. She is a foreigner, bent on badness. I really do insist…’

  They were interrupted by a cooing cry followed by the soft slap of bare feet, as a very round-limbed toddler padded around the corner, laughing at the sight of James O’Reilly. ‘Blast,’ said James, ‘the nursemaid must have dozed off again.’

  ‘He obviously knows you,’ said Katie, as the small child wrapped himself around James’s legs.

  James picked him up and hugged him tightly. ‘This is my brother, Riordan O’Reilly.’

  ‘That’s a funny name,’ said Katie, forgetting briefly that her own name was Berger-Jones-Burg.

  ‘It’s an Irish name,’ said James. ‘My mother chose it. It is a family name. Riordan Donnolly, that’s her father’s name. There’s been a Riordan Donnolly in her family for over one hundred years. My father would have preferred a Charles or a William – something more English, less Irish – but he gave in on this.’ James looked down and absently nuzzled his baby brother’s curly top. ‘It was the last thing he could do for my mother. She died soon after Riordan was born.’

  Riordan laughed and wriggled in his brother’s arms. Everyone else in the room was silent. James held his little brother tight to his chest and turned his face away from the girls. No one knew what to say. James’s anger and distrust, Alice’s hauteur and Katie’s fear evaporated. They seemed petty and silly in the face of death. James O’Reilly might not be likeable, but Katie felt deeply sorry for this stiff, dour, motherless boy.

  Alice broke the uncomfortable pause. ‘First things first,’ she said gently. ‘Baby Riordan simply must be returned to his cot. It’s very cold, and he’s only wearing a nightshirt. Then Jamie, you must leave too.’ She put up her hand as he tried to protest. ‘We will all think more clearly in the morning. Katie and I shall meet you tomorrow. If her story is true, and I believe it to be so, then we must try to send her back to her own time as soon as possible. Your family must be frightfully worried.’

  Katie thought of Mimi, drinking margaritas in her honeymoon suite in Acapulco. She didn’t see the need to share this picture with the other two.

  James bowed again to Princess Alice. ‘I will settle Riordan, and then, should you need me, I will be in the corridor, directly outside your door. All night. One call and I will be at your side.’

  Alice sighed. This wasn’t how subjects behaved towards her mother. ‘Fine,’ she replied curtly, ‘if you wish to spend the whole night in a chilly corridor that’s up to you.’

  Giving Katie one final, furious look, James shouldered his little brother and left the room. Alice turned to Katie. ‘Now to bed,’ she ordered, running her eyes over her new friend as if she were trying to remember every detail. ‘And if you are a dream, as you say you might be, then let me tell you this before you disappear. This day has been the greatest adventure of my entire life.’ And with that the Princess climbed into bed and fell fast asleep.

  Chapter Three

  Bernardo DuQuelle

 
; Katie awoke the next morning flooded with relief. It had been a great dream, what with princesses and palaces, danger and mystery in the dead of night. But it was good to be home. Katie was no Victorian and she never would be. She wanted Diet Coke and central heating and Chinese takeaway and TV. But it had been fun to imagine. Best get it in her diary before she forgot. She looked around for her rucksack, but instead came face-to-face with Woolie Baa Lamb. Panic shot through her. It just had to be a dream.

  ‘Good morning,’ said Alice, kneeling down beside Katie, ‘or should I say good afternoon. You’ve certainly had a long sleep. Travelling through time must be tiring. They came to dress me hours ago. I was terrified you would wake up and pop out from under the bed just as they were putting my stockings on. What a fright that would have given Fräulein Bauer.’ Seeing Katie’s fuzzy bewilderment, she patted her hand. ‘We’re both still here, so it’s obviously not a dream. But don’t look so worried, I promise to help you return to your family.’

  Katie felt another pang at the word ‘family’: did Dolores even know she was gone? She probably hadn’t looked up from the soaps on TV. ‘Are we still under guard?’ she asked.

  ‘By Jamie O’Reilly? No, he’s long gone,’ Alice replied. ‘His father found him slumped outside the nursery door and sent him off to treat one of the palace maid’s toothaches.’

  ‘He really doesn’t believe me,’ Katie said glumly. ‘He thinks I’m a fraud, and a dangerous fraud at that. He might be calling the guards right now.’

  ‘He wouldn’t dare,’ Alice replied. ‘Jamie O’Reilly might be a grump, but he’s as loyal a servant to the Crown as there is. Since his mother died, the Palace has been his only home. He’s a fierce boy, but a fine one. With a bit of coaxing he’ll do as I tell him. He’s to meet us in the nursery after everyone’s asleep to help send you back to your own time. He says there are a thousand questions you’ll be able to answer if you really do come from the future. And he has some quite unique ideas about how to transport you. He’s very interested in science.’