Keeper of the Black Stones

by P. T. McHugh

  Of course she didn’t plan to let it get that far. She hadn’t decided what she was going to do, but she was working on it.

  When she looked up again, the Bishop was still smiling. Gloating, this time. He thought he had her in his grasp. She glared at him, which only seemed to make him happier.

  “Everything you had is gone. You have no choice but to follow us and beg admittance to the abbey,” he smirked.

  Katherine swallowed heavily, weighing her options. She was only fifteen, but had already endured more than most people her age. Her mother had died in childbirth, leaving her with only one parent. She and her father had done well enough–he as both farmer and local healer, she as midwife and housekeeper. Now, however, he was gone, hanged by the local lord, and she was an orphan. Having been born a girl instead of a boy, her options outside of wedlock were limited. The Bishop had come to her home with what he considered a charitable offer. For her own good and safety, he’d said. She snorted through her tears. A charitable offer indeed. If she agreed to sign herself into the hands of the church, as he demanded, her freedom and estate, which she had received just hours before, would be lost forever.

  Suddenly the Bishop’s boot struck her again, taking her unawares and sinking into her vulnerable stomach. Katherine wheezed in pain, shocked, and then turned on him with a snarl of her own.

  “I will not sign papers that allow you and the church to take what is rightfully mine,” she ground out, realizing that she could well be signing her own death warrant with the words. “If you want my things, man of the church, you will have to kill me for them.” She got to her feet at that, meeting his eyes.

  He paused for only a moment at her pointed mention of his religion. Then his mouth turned up in a cruel smile. “That can be arranged, girl.”

  He took the jeweled dagger from his belt and lifted it above her, savoring the moment of the kill. Katherine lifted her chin and watched his movements, waiting for the second that he began his strike. At that point, she knew, he would be off balance, and set on his path. He wouldn’t be able to alter the blow.

  And he wouldn’t be able to stop her when she darted to the side, to get around him and out the door.

  Before he could strike, though, a man’s figure appeared behind him, and all hell broke loose.

  I had sprung to my feet, shocked at the fat man’s violence toward the girl. I’d never seen anyone hit a woman–much less a girl my own age–and my blood was burning with outrage. I knew that women had been suppressed and even abused during this time period. That didn’t mean I had to stand around and watch it happen, though, and I had no intention of doing so.

  I felt rather than saw Tatiana appear at my side, growling in anger. Before we could rush to the girl’s aid, Reis had moved past us and into the light of the barn. He slid into place behind one of the robed men, wrapped his left arm around the man’s neck, and jammed his right thumb into the flesh between the man’s neck and collarbone. The man dropped to the ground, unconscious. The second man heard his companion’s collapse and turned, his hand going to the dagger at his belt. Reis took one quick step forward and pivoted gracefully, swinging his foot toward the man’s face. This man went down beside his companion, blood gushing from his broken nose.

  The short, round man–obviously the leader of the group–turned, his mouth opening and closing in shock. He took in his fallen companions and then faced Reis, his expression dark and arrogantly angry. I glanced quickly at Reis, wondering if he had a plan, and gasped at his expression. He had been hard and professional up to this point–the ultimate cold-blooded assassin. Now he was angry. His face was a mask of barely contained rage, and he was breathing heavily.

  The fat man evidently didn’t notice the danger. “This girl is with me. You have no right to interfere. I am a messenger of God, and the Bishop of Fairhaven!”

  Reis took one step toward the self-proclaimed Bishop and planted a quick jab into the man’s nose, snapping cartilage and flattening his face. A gush of blood hit the hay below the Bishop, and he cried out in pain and shock. Reis threw one more punch and the man went down, out cold.

  No one moved or said a word for several seconds, until Paul broke the silence.

  “Holy crap,” he whispered.

  Reis had followed the fat man to the ground, and was now pulling a small roll of duct tape from his pocket. He moved quickly and efficiently, taping the three men together and then to one of the support columns of the barn. Tatiana and Paul moved toward him on silent feet, bending to help.

  I shook myself into action and strode past them all, uninterested in the men on the ground, and came to a stop in front of the girl. She was standing more firmly now, and attempting to put her dress and hair back in order. She looked up at me when I stopped, then looked past me to the men on the ground. Her eyes moved back to mine, and she opened her mouth to say something. Before she could utter a word, her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell to the ground.

  Katherine hadn’t actually fainted, but she badly needed a moment to figure things out, and from where she stood, pretending to faint was her only option. It had worked wonders for her in the past, and gave her at least a couple minutes of peace. Now she pressed her back against the ground and focused on deep, regular breathing, trying not to let her eyes or eyelids move. The secret to a fake fainting spell was to look like you were actually unconscious–she’d learned that one the hard way once, when her father had caught her faking it. She gave herself a couple of seconds to get her body under control, then turned to the important thing. Namely, the situation at hand.

  What on earth had just happened? A moment ago, her situation had been … well, difficult, really. She’d been facing a choice: join the church and lose everything, or embrace death and join her parents in heaven. Neither had been appealing. Now, things seemed to have changed. A man, obviously very powerful, had appeared out of nowhere. He had with him a girl and two young men, similar in age to her own. They were strangers to this area; Katherine had never seen their faces before, and she knew everyone in Doncaster and the surrounding villages. So who were they?

  She slit one eye open to take in the scene before her, then shut it again. One of the boys had moved even closer to her, his face full of concern, and was now kneeling at her side. While that was sweet of him, it was also inconvenient, as it blocked her view of the others. What were they doing? Why had they saved her? What did they want?

  Her mind darted from one possibility to the next. They certainly weren’t from this area, as she’d never seen them, so she didn’t think they were here for the land or property. Were they mercenaries? Kidnappers? Slave traders? Don’t be silly, Katherine, she lectured herself. They were too far inland for slave traders. Those people needed ships. Still…

  Sighing, she came to the crux of the matter. Regardless of who they were, they had saved her from the Bishop. Come to her rescue when no one else had. And if they were willing to rescue her once…

  What option did she have, really? She couldn’t stay here, not after this, and she had no place else to go. Her life in Doncaster had ended, just as surely as her father’s. She needed a fresh start, and these people might provide her with one, whether they meant to or not.

  Katherine fluttered her eyelids and pretended to wake up. “Where … where am I? Who are you?” she asked, sitting up and holding a hand to her forehead. She’d found that men expected this sort of behavior when a woman was waking up from a ‘fainting spell.’ Personally she found it ridiculous, but as long as she was putting on a performance, she needed to do it right.

  She glanced through her eyelashes at the thin boy with the kind eyes, giving him a weak smile. Something about him suggested a trustworthy kindness, and her smile grew involuntarily larger. His mouth turned up in response, and something in her heart relaxed. Perhaps these people were friends after all.

  Then the girl she’d seen stepped out from behind the older man. She had beautiful black hair, smooth skin, and deep, penetrating eyes.
She was also frowning in disapproval, her eyes roving along Katherine’s clothing and general state of feminine distress. Her mouth turned down in deep disappointment, and Katherine narrowed her eyes. The men might be friendly. The girl, on the other hand…

  She pulled herself to her feet and turned from the angry girl toward the boy, who seemed to be a leader of some sort.

  “My name’s Jason,” he said in a soft, gentle voice. “These are my friends, Paul, Reis, and Tatiana. Are you okay? Can you walk?”

  Katherine nodded and took the boy’s offered hand, allowing him to pull her into the light. His hand was as soft as a young child’s, and she wondered fleetingly who he was. Who they were, she corrected. They certainly weren’t Danes or mercenaries. Or slave traders, she thought, her mouth quirking to the side. Were they nobility? She was certain that they’d never done hard labor, given the state of their skin. Their dress was odd, too … not the standard traveling clothing of members of the nobility. This boy obviously traveled with a guard, though, and had no fear of the church. Their assault on the Bishop had told her that much. If he was nobility, then what–who–were the boy and girl who traveled with him?

  Why had they interfered with the Bishop?

  And most importantly, could they save her again?

  I stood back as best I could, given the fact that she wouldn’t let go of my hand, and watched her carefully. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Her straw-colored hair was matted, dirty, and tangled, her face and neck bloody and smeared with mud. When she looked up at me, though, her bright green eyes were clear and lucid. And calculating. She was the exact opposite of Tatiana in every way–slight where the other girl was strong, bright where the other girl was dark. But there was something about her eyes that reminded me of my traveling companion. That cool, direct gaze, as though she could see right through me…

  Suddenly I gasped, my memory flooding back. I had seen this girl before. I did know that gaze. That was why it was so familiar.

  I’d seen them both on the trip through the stone. This girl’s image had made the trip with me, her eyes meeting mine whenever they could. For reasons I couldn’t comprehend, the stone had shown me this girl’s image during my jump. Again and again. And then we’d found our way to her farm, to save her from scoundrels doing God-knew what. We’d been brought together for a reason, I could feel it in my bones and through my blood.

  Of course, I had no idea what that reason actually was.

  At my gasp, her eyes grew unfocused and soft, as though she’d realized that she was staring. She smiled vaguely and turned away to look at the others.

  “My name is Katherine,” she said in little more than a whisper. She brushed a lock of hair quickly away from her face, looking around with both curiosity and caution.

  Reis grunted and gestured angrily at the men on the ground. “And what are you doing here on your own, Katherine, being beaten by this so-called Bishop? Where are your parents? Who’s meant to be looking out for you?” he asked.

  The girl watched him, frowning at his anger, then glanced down at the fat man. “He’s the Bishop of Fairhaven,” she said, her voice cold and full of hatred. “And he’s a pig!” She stepped toward the three men and spit on the ground to emphasize her point, and Paul snorted.

  “We noticed,” he muttered. “And your parents?”

  Katherine turned toward Paul, her expression softening somewhat. “The Bishop came because he knew I would be alone and at his mercy. My father was put to death today.” She paused, swallowing heavily. “He came here to force me into an abbey and take possession of my estate. Failing that, he would have killed me.”

  “Your father was put to death?” I gasped, the unfamiliar words sticking on my tongue. “Who would do that? Why?”

  Katherine’s face dissolved into tears, and my heart ached for her. “My father was a good man. He helped others who were in pain. He tried to–” she choked on a sob, then swallowed and continued. “He tried to cure the lord’s pain.” She ducked her head, her shoulders shaking, and I squeezed her hand. My parents hadn’t been put to death, but I knew what it was like to lose a father.

  “The Bishop’s pain?” Paul asked.

  Katherine shook her head. “No … Lord Dresden!” she hissed, suddenly coming alive again. She looked up, her green eyes flashing with hatred at the name.

  I shook my head in confusion and looked over at Tatiana, expecting to see the same expression. Her face, though, showed no emotion at Katherine’s declaration.

  “Dresden killed my father!” Katherine muttered. “Because of a toothache!” She swiped at the tears on her face and threw them away from her.

  Before she could say anything else, Tatiana spoke. “Well, this is all very interesting, and quite coincidental, I’m sure, but I think we need to be going. We do, after all, have someplace to be.” She looked pointedly at me, and my mouth dropped open.

  “You’re right, and she’s coming with us,” I said, surprising myself. I hadn’t talked it through with myself yet, and certainly hadn’t meant to say anything, but I couldn’t take the words back now that that they were said. As silence descended, I realized that I was right. She did need to come with us, though I couldn’t understand why. The stones had led me to her, and they must have had a reason. Beyond that, she was an orphan, and probably in trouble for the attack on the Bishop. The romantic in me–bolstered by the pressure of the stones–was screaming at me to protect her. If she didn’t come with us, where would she go?

  Reis shook his head slowly, torn. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jason. You know our situation. Perhaps she has friend or family in another village … somewhere else she could go?”

  Katherine shook her head. “I have no one else,” she said quietly.

  “Are you both mad? She can’t come, absolutely not!” Tatiana snapped. “We don’t have time for this. This has nothing to do with why we’re here! We’ve already messed with history enough, do you want to make it worse? We have to go.”

  “You don’t get a vote in this,” I replied, shocked at my own response and tone of voice. “This isn’t only about you, Tatiana.” I heard myself saying the words, and shook my head. I wasn’t being fair to the others, but something was pushing me forward. Something that I couldn’t explain. Whatever it was, it wanted me to rescue Katherine, and I wasn’t strong enough to ignore it.

  “Jason…” Reis started.

  I didn’t let him finish. “And it’s not about you either, Reis. No offense to any of you, but this is my mission. I’m the one with the connection to the stones, here, and I’m the one who brought us into the past.” I sighed, trying to decide how to say what I needed to say without terrifying everyone.

  “I can’t tell you how I know, or why, but she’s important. I know it. We found her for a reason, I’ve just got to figure out what the reason is. I think we have to take her with us.”

  “Well that’s a pretty weak motivation,” Paul grumbled, putting his hand on my arm. “Jason, think about what you’re asking here. Take her with us today, sure, but then what? It’s not like we can take her home with us.”

  I turned to him, my face flushing with emotion. “I know this the same way I knew that Doc’s life was in danger, Paul,” I said evenly. “And if we can’t take her home with us, then I guess that gives me three days to try and figure out what I am supposed to do with her.”

  I glanced at Katherine, who lifted her head and gave Tatiana a cold look. I paused for long enough to see the look returned, and turned to Reis.

  “I’m bringing her with us, Reis. And that’s all there is.”

  Reis heaved a heavy sigh, then nodded and looked at his watch. “Well, maybe she’ll come in handy along the road. I’m not going to fight you on it. You’ve got five minutes to gather her things.”

  21

  HEREFORD, ENGLAND

  AUGUST 19, 1485

  The Earl stalked past the two heavily armed guards outside the
cream-colored awning and stormed into the tent. He had grown angrier as the ride went on, and paused for a moment now to look around him and allow his temper to cool. The air inside the tent assaulted his senses, making it difficult to breathe. The smell of human bodies, wet dog, and smoke merged with a heavy dose of rose petal cologne, giving the air a sickly sweet smell. It was gloomy inside the tent, with only three tallow candles burning in their sconces. Henry would have done better to open the drapes, the Earl thought, for natural light and valuable fresh air. Three old rugs of blue and white wool lined the dirt floor, and one large table, consisting of little more than a piece of wood over two crude sawhorses, dominated the small, cramped space. Eight chairs were arranged tightly around the makeshift table. All of them were occupied, leaving no space for the Earl to sit. His mouth firmed into a frown at that. Just one more sign of disrespect. He added it quickly to the growing list, wondering how exactly Henry planned to make amends with his richest ally.

  For his part, Henry Tudor remained seated at the head of the table. He looked directly at the Earl upon his entrance, but said nothing. His thin, frail body, combined with gaunt facial features, made him look weaker and far older than his real twenty-eight years. It was easy to see why many men, both in England and Europe, wanted Henry Tudor on the throne. He looked like he would be easy to manipulate, and everyone, including the church, planned to take advantage of that. The Earl had to smile at the thought. If they knew how ruthless both Henry and his lineage would become, they would rethink that position.

  The man in question coughed at the delay, and the Earl lowered his arms to let the two large hounds sniff his hands. After they accepted him as familiar, he took three long strides toward the table. It was European protocol to allow a country’s monarch to speak first, so despite the Earl’s seniority in years and position, he waited.