“That’s how I wound up a ghost,” Guy added. “Basil was destined to die that day, not me,
but my fate became entwined with his.”
“Why did you not leave this earth?” Stephen asked Basil.
“That’s a bit of a story. Leave it for another day.”
“I must know, how can you be alive?”
“Five plus years ago we were given another chance at life,” Guy said.
“This name you go by, Alex Lancaster is your second chance.”
“Yes.”
“And, Ian Cherlein is yours?”
“Yes.”
“This is why you’ve different voices?”
“Yes,” Alex said.
Stephen believed and disbelieved many things during his life. One belief he never thought
carried an ounce of truth was the existence of miracles, having never seen anything close to one.
That’s not to say he hadn’t seen some very unusual occurrences. He’d never forget the day the
stone outcropping took Guy’s wife, Shakira. The sight of her disappearing was forever marked in his memory but he didn’t believe it a miracle. At the time, he had suspected witchery.
Guy and Basil given second lives was a miracle. How might that bode for him?
“You live. You breathe here as new men in a new world. In this world that grants you so
much, can I regain my sight?”
“We’ll consult the best experts, of course, but a cure might not be possible. It’s unlikely,”
Guy told him.
Stephen sagged against the cushioned corner. Living miracles surrounded him, yet none
bringing the miracle of sight touched him.
Chapter Nine
At the airport Alex offered Stephen a hand to help him from the iron carriage. “No thank
you,” Stephen said and climbed out, clumsily but without a problem.
They passed through a structure with automatic doors like at the hospital and outside to an
area where Alex said a private jet awaited .
Stephen sensed the openness of the area around them. “This is the tarmac you mentioned,
yes? The curious whirring and deep-throated rumble are the other planes?”
“Yes,” Alex said.
On the journey from the hospital, Alex warned him he’d hear what might sound like the
roar of a huge beast. He said not to worry. Stephen was fine with that. A reprieve from troubling thoughts, however small, was welcome. The last few days, he’d filled long hours worrying over
his future.
They walked slow while he searched a clear path with his cane.
“This next part will be a joy to explain,” Ian said to Alex, Stephen assumed, in a tone he’d
often heard Basil use when mocking the men he thought buffoons.
“You do realize I can still hear?”
“Sorry.”
“Trust me, it is no joy to hear the accounts you’ve given me. France no longer has a
monarch and we are now allies. We have a queen instead of a king.” A questionable turn of
events. “A woman on the throne...but you say she has limited power. ‘Tis best.”
He had to admit much of what they told him was good. “I like two of your wonders. The
roads you call paved that you claim are commonplace for smooth travel. Most pleasant. And, the carriage we rode in which moves at a speed I cannot begin to fathom. I always favored a speedy
mount.”
“The carriage is called a car,” Ian said.
Stephen didn’t think the difference important. He stopped, knelt on one knee and ran his
hand over the tarmac. “The ground is so even, I suspected we walked on paving,” he said and
stood. “Why is it warm?”
“Paving is made of different material. This is asphalt, which warms on sunny days,” Alex
said as they continued to the private jet.
“Basil, care to broach the subject that will be a ‘joy to explain’? You pricked my
curiosity.” Stephen’s cane struck a solid object in front of him. He tapped up and down and side to side. “Steps. High ones by the feel of the rise.”
“Yes, but there aren’t many. By the way, it’s best to call me Ian. At the top of the stairs, a
woman will assist you to your seat.”
“Is this assistance for me alone or does she assist you also?” Stephen started up.
Alex climbed the stairs behind him. “She’s called a flight attendant and is there to serve all
of us in a variety of ways. She brings drinks, or food, or to help with other requests.”
“To serve us in a variety of ways with requests-” He twisted and over his shoulder
wiggled his brows. “She sounds delightful.”
“I imagine she is but not in the way you hope.”
“Pity.”
“Good day, gentlemen.” With a light palm to his forearm, the flight attendant led Stephen
to a seat. He bumped a wall with his elbow and then felt along the surface wondering about the
material. Smooth and cool to the touch, it wasn’t like the walls in the hospital.
“Please let me know if you require anything before we take-off.”
“Madam—or is it mademoiselle, I’m told you can bring food and drink. I’d love some of
both,” Stephen said and smiled up in the direction of her voice.
“It’s Karen. What would you like? I have an excellent ploughman’s lunch tray, or I can
make you an omelet, or a juicy cheeseburger. Would you like coffee, tea, beer, soda? I also have an excellent selection of liquors, if you prefer.”
Stephen turned to Alex who’d taken the seat beside him. “I don’t know what tea or soda
is. They gave me coffee in the hospital. Bitter stuff at first, but it got better by the third day, or I got used to it, not sure which.” He tipped his head toward where he believed Karen stood waiting.
“I’ll have a beer, milady. I am certain of its taste.”
He had no idea what the food dishes she spoke of were, but he was hungry. “I don’t know
any of these foodstuffs she mentioned. What do you suggest?” he whispered to Alex.
“Omelet is French for eggs with bits of this and that tossed inside and folded over. You’ve
eaten eggs like that a hundred times. Try the cheeseburger. It’s minced beef meat with cheese
piled on top. They’re pretty tasty if done right.”
“Milady Karen, I’ll have the burger. If it’s all right, don’t be sparing with the cheese. And,
I’ll have the largest tankard of beer you have.”
“What kind?”
“Kind?”
“Brand. What brand do you prefer?”
“Bring him a Guinness,” Ian injected. “I’d like a Johnnie Walker Blue on the rocks.”
“Make that two,” Alex said.
“I’ll bring your drinks right away. The cheeseburger I’ll prepare after we’re in flight.”
“I’ll take the beer and my food now, if you please, milady.”
When he heard her step away, Stephen turned to Alex. “What does she mean ‘after
we’re in flight?’”
“First, there are rules that require her to be strapped into a seat when we take-off. She
can’t be in the galley cooking.”
“I still get the beer though?”
“Yes. As to what she means by ‘in flight,’ we’re traveling in a plane. Picture a huge, steel
bird the size of the barracks that flies at a speed a hundred times faster than the car we rode in here.”
“Wonders seem to abound here.”
“That they do,” Alex confirmed.
“Like Karen, the three of us need to be belted to our seats. You’ll find the receiver and
locking piece on each side of you,” Ian added.
Stephen
found the two belt pieces and linked them with ease. “Do we ride in the belly of
this bird?”
Alex chuckled. “More like the butt of the beast. Don’t be frightened or worried. We’ll be
fine.”
Afraid? Since leaving the hospital, only the thought of existing as a ghost had alarmed him.
“I’m not the least afraid. I’m baffled that men have created such marvels since my time...our
time.”
“The vast majority of them have come to us in the last two-hundred years.”
“Your drinks,” Karen said.
A gentle rustle from her clothing and a hint of floral perfume drifted over to Stephen as
she leaned in and set the drinks onto the table. The combination tempted him to reach out and run his hand along her arm. He imagined her with fair hair, sun kissed to the palest of yellows, and large blue eyes, blue as the morning glories that grew wild in the shire. His Karen had a blush to her cheeks, full lips and a dimple in her chin. Plump as ripe pears, her breasts fit perfect in his palm. In the vision, she wore red silk, the fiery color bright against her pale body.
The slide of silk on a woman’s skin always made his blood rush. He’d often brought a
length of silk to a lady he favored just to watch her toy with it, dragging and draping it across her naked flesh. The lusty memory sent his blood rushing this time too. He shifted to a more
comfortable position and turned his attention to his newly arrived drink.
Something clinked inside Alex and Ian’s glasses when she placed them onto the table. Ian
and Alex both asked for their drinks on the rocks. Surely they didn’t require real rocks, or did they? To what purpose?
“Are there truly rocks in your drink?” he asked and carefully patted the table feeling for
his beer.
“No. When you ask for a drink on the rocks it means with only ice,” Alex said.
The day was warm and the air around them comfortable. How did Karen manage to
preserve chips of ice?
Then the plane roared to life and they began rolling forward. They bounced as they
traveled on this paving.
“Here,” Alex touched the cold beer to his fingers.
Stephen wrapped his hand around a tall, smooth cup. Glass. He’d never drank beer from a
glass cup, only tin and pewter. He clasped the glass and cradled it protectively to his chest so it couldn’t dance off the table and spill.
He brought the cup to his lips. The beer smelled different than the ales and beers he’d
drank in the past. In the past. Words he was yet unused to.
He took a swallow. The froth on the top was denser than the foam on the beer he was
familiar with. The Guinness tasted on the bitter side but not as much as coffee.
“Ah, it’s been an age since I enjoyed a beer.” He took another swallow. The liquid felt
thick on his tongue and had a sweet scent similar to caramel. He’d only had caramel once, in
London. As he recalled, it had a quality that left an after taste like the Guinness. No matter.
Nothing much here smelled or tasted the same.
Before he could take another swallow, the Hand of God pressed him to the back of the
seat. The plane no longer bounced or bumped, but soared. He knew without asking they were in
the air.
“Do you ride this metal bird often?”
“Not often, a few times a year when Shakira and I want to get away.”
“Shakira—your lady wife is returned to you?”
“Yes.”
Her unexpected presence here, in this time, gave him second thoughts, serious misgivings
about how he judged her. Where he’d once thought she practiced the black arts, with what he
learned from Alex and Ian, he had to reconsider. Perhaps he was wrong.
“When Simon and I saw her disappear...did what happen to me, happen to her? Was she
torn through time that day at the outcropping like I was at Poitiers?”
“Yes, we both were. I was happily leading my life in this time when she and I were caught
in some kind of time portal. I can’t tell you more because I don’t know myself how the portal
worked.”
“But you found your way back. Do you think I can return to my time?”
“I don’t know. If it’s possible, why would you want to? Think what awaits you on the
battlefield.”
Nothing good. “I imagine a battlefield scavenger would steal my helm, and in doing so,
embed the bone and metal splinters too far for me to survive.” Mentally, he revisited the notion that death might’ve been a greater kindness than facing an unknown future in a dark world.
He refused to dwell on what no one could change. “And you Ian, do you ride like this
often?” Stephen asked.
“Miranda and I fly to America regularly. Our work requires us to meet with show’s
producers,” Ian said. “You needn’t be concerned if the sensation bothers you.”
“Concerned? I’m not in the least. I’m having a merry time. I’m flying, how can I not be
merry? The only other times I’ve taken flight were downward, when I’ve fallen from my horse.”
He gulped down several more swallows of beer. “Ian, you said you fly to America with Miranda,
who I assume is your wife. Where or what is this America?”
“It’s a very powerful country and part of the New World.”
“There’s a newer world than this?”
“You’ll learn about it soon. Shakira called before we reached the hospital. She and
Miranda hired a tutor for you.”
“That was fast,” Ian said.
“Miranda knew her. She interned as a research assistant at the station,” Alex explained.
“Tutor? What is she to do?” Stephen asked.
“She’ll teach you about major events and changes the world has gone through since
Poitiers.”
Talk of the tutor sobered his merriment and reminded him of all he didn’t know. He may
be ignorant, but he refused to be a burden.
“Guy...sorry...Alex, I understand I need to learn in order to function. I appreciate your
generosity in hiring a tutor. Obviously, I cannot serve you the way I once did. But, I will repay you.”
“Stephen, the tutor isn’t charity.
There was nothing else to call it. “Yes, it is.”
Chapter Ten
“Are we in Gloucestershire yet?” Stephen asked, enjoying the wind on his face. At his
request, Alex had rolled the car window down for him from the driver’s side. He called this car a Range Rover. It rode higher than the French limo but just as nice.
“Yes, we’re not far from my place.”
“I thought as much. It’s the air. It’s crisper, fresher and sweet from all the orchards.”
Home. He pictured the countryside in his mind and thought of things he loved about fall in
Gloucestershire: the leafy trees dotting the green hills with their first hint of autumn orange, the trickling streams, and the wild roses that climbed the stone walls and spilled over fences.
“We’re here,” Alex said as the car came to a stop.
This time neither Alex, nor Ian, offered to help Stephen out. There was still a bit of
clumsiness on his part but he did fine. He allowed Alex to guide him by the elbow around the car and towards the entry door.
Alex released his arm and moved to his right. “We’ll be on either side of you, if you need a
hand.”
After ten paces, Stephen worked his cane in a wider arc expecting to strike the castle
stairs.
“Am I close to the steps?”
“There’s only one short step two strides ahead,” Alex said.
&nb
sp; “I don’t understand. Where’s the large staircase?”
“This isn’t Elysian Fields. It’s just my country cottage. Shakira and I also have place in
London.”
“Why don’t you live in the castle?”
“It no longer stands.”
The formidable Guiscard holding had been around since the time of William the
Conqueror. “What happened?”
“Elysian Fields is but a ruin, destroyed during the Civil War.”
Stephen turned to his left where Ian walked next to him. “And Ashenwyck, does it still
stand?”
“Also destroyed during the Civil War.”
Elysian Fields gone. The only home he knew. He remembered little of his own family’s
humble holding. “What war are you speaking of? When was this Civil War?”
“The tutor will tell you about it,” Alex said.
They reached the front step and he heard the door open.
“Stephen, I missed you. It’s so great to see you again,” Shakira said and gave him a big
hug.
Hearing her voice brought the pleasant memory of the night she arranged a birthday
surprise for Guy. Alex now, he reminded himself. He’d sung the two songs she chose. How clear
the memory was of the day she first sang them to him. She’d wanted to give him an idea how the
words and melody went. Together they brought the music to life for all to enjoy.
“Lady Shakira, you have no idea how happy I am to be in England again. I feared I’d
never return from France. Then, when we arrived here, Alex and Ian had a devil of a time
convincing the queen’s men to allow me entry. I understand much is changed. But what sort of
Parliament rules whether an Englishman by birth may or may not enter his homeland?”
“It’s not personal. It’s all about papers. Parliament loves paperwork as do the men who
watch our border,” Shakira replied.
“What did you tell immigration?” asked a woman whose voice Stephen never heard
before.
“You must be Miranda,” he said.
“I am. Shakira’s told me such nice stories about you.”
She surprised him with a hug. Bold for a woman unacquainted with him. He waited for Ian
to chastise her. Ian said nothing and Miranda repeated her question. “What happened with
immigration?”
“We explained Stephen had no identification. Needless to say, they were highly suspicious
Chris Karlsen - Knights in Time Page 7