by P. T. McHugh
“You owe the church, as well as our king, a wergild,” the Archbishop of Canterbury said suddenly, sneering and breaking the silence that loomed inside the tent. The Earl snorted. Evidently the church wasn’t adhering to protocol today.
He looked at the future King of England and bowed slightly before turning his attention to the Archbishop. “I have forfeited much of my fortune already to ensure that our future king gains the crown. I don’t have to remind your Grace of the sacrifices my men have made to guarantee success in your quest,” he said quietly.
“Your sacrificed good men to take a town that was not worthy of the taking!” the Archbishop shouted.
“Don’t lecture me about sacrifice, Archbishop!” the Earl snapped. He slammed his fist down on the wooden table, spilling two glasses of wine, and glared at the man. “I have given everything I own to the cause, and I’ll be damned if I am to be lectured by you about not having given enough!” he barked. He paused and drew a deep breath. “Do I need to remind you what will become of this campaign should you lose me? Should you lose my men?”
For a moment, no one spoke. Seven pairs of eyes looked away from both the Earl and Archbishop. The Earl knew that he was treading on thin ice here. The Archbishop–and possibly Henry himself–had expected him to give in gracefully to this demand for a monetary fine. They hadn’t expected him to flex his own muscle. This was necessary, and yet it was a gamble, for he needed Henry to claim the crown as much as anyone else in the room. And without him, Henry would surely lose. He waited breathlessly, wondering if he’d gone too far.
“It’s our mission to bring order to this country,” he said finally, when no one else spoke. “To bring its people a king they can believe in.” He paused, his tone coming down a notch. “And I did not enter that town needlessly. Dresden’s men had invaded the town, and were slaughtering its inhabitants. As king, I assumed that Henry would demand retribution. Protection for his people.” The Earl let the statement linger for a moment.
“You ask for a wergild … money and land for my act of disobedience.” He reached into his cloak and pulled out several small silver coins, throwing them on the table in front of the Archbishop. “Put that in your confessional box and buy yourself more henchmen. I grow tired of this conversation. We have too much work to do to quibble over such matters.”
Henry took a deep breath, then nodded abruptly in agreement. The man was young and inexperienced, but he was not as stupid as the church believed, nor was he easily manipulated. He wasn’t going to bend to this church official’s need for attention.
The Earl sighed in relief and took a quick step back from the table. “With your permission, your Grace, I’d like to show you something.”
Henry nodded again, his eyebrows quirked in curiosity.
“Trigva!” the Earl shouted.
The two guards posted outside the entrance flew to the side and the large Dane made his way immediately into the tent. Henry and his advisors drew back from the massive man, holding their breath.
“Unroll the map and place it here,” the Earl said. He swept the wine goblets from the table, sending them clattering to the floor, and spread the map with his hands.
“The battle for England, your Grace, will not take place outside the gates of London as we thought,” he said dramatically, jamming his forefinger down next to the town of Bosworth. “The battle for the crown will take place in the village of Leicester, in less than four days time!”
22
“Can’t this horse move any faster?” Reis muttered, frustrated. “We could walk quicker than this on our own.”
He was right. Katherine had thrown several things into a bag for herself and hitched an ancient–and emaciated–horse to a cart for the trip. Reis had argued with her at first, then given in, admitting that a horse and cart might come in handy.
Now we were all questioning the logic. My instincts were screaming for speed and secrecy, yet here we were, rattling along the road with a shocking lack of speed, behind a horse that looked like she might drop dead at any moment.
“We have to get as much distance between us and that town as possible,” Reis continued, moving up to sit next to Katherine on the bench. “And we need to get to Bosworth. Four days. We have four days.”
Suddenly he grabbed the reins from Katherine’s hands.
“What are you doing?” she asked, surprised.
“Driving,” he answered grimly. He adjusted the reins awkwardly in his hands, pulling experimentally on them and trying to get a feel for the leather.
Katherine grinned cheekily, amused at this change in positions, but Paul gasped.
“Do you even know how to do that?” he asked. His eyes flew from the horse to Reis and back again, quickly judging the safety of the situation. “Don’t you think you should leave the driving to the, er, expert?”
Reis snorted and threw a glance over his shoulder at Paul. “Kid, right now we’re bumping along a road in the middle of the night, drawing all sorts of attention to ourselves and making virtually no progress.” He turned his attention back to the horse and the road ahead. “As long as we’re going to make this kind of ruckus, we may as well take advantage of the tools at hand. Everyone hold onto something.”
He took a firmer hold on the reins and brought them sharply down on the horse’s rump. Surprised, the horse jumped and shot forward into the darkness, pulling the cart bouncing after her.
I half stepped, half fell into the bed of the wagon. I’d been sitting with Reis as he drove, watching the dark landscape slide by, and keeping an eye out for danger. Reis had even given me his assault rifle, showing me how to use the scope to scan the land around us. The day and night had taken its toll on me, though, and I’d finally admitted that I couldn’t keep my eyes open much longer. I’d nearly dropped the rifle three times before Reis sent me to the back to go to sleep.
I hadn’t argued with him when he suggested it, which is how I now found myself on my hands and knees in the bed of the racing cart. I reached out to pull my sleeping bag from its casing, and glanced around at the others. It was the middle of summer, but it was also the middle of the night, and the air around us was freezing. Paul was deep inside his sleeping bag, snoring, and Katherine was tucked snugly into a spare blanket next to him.
Tatiana lay on the other side of the cart, inside her sleeping bag but still wide awake. She was listening to music on her iPhone and watching the landscape fly by, lost in her own thoughts. I sighed, then swallowed heavily and made my way to her side of the cart. I knew I owed her an apology. I wasn’t looking forward to it, but I also didn’t want to sit by myself and stew on it.
“See anything out there?” she asked as I sat down next to her. She pulled her ear buds out and looked at me.
Well that seemed friendly enough, I thought. I shook my head and unrolled my sleeping bag, climbing into the woolly protection. “I don’t know if I’d see it, even if there was anything out there. I’m exhausted. And kind of freaked out.”
She grunted in agreement, but didn’t answer.
I braced myself against the jolting of the cart, which seemed to be hitting every stone and hole in the road, and wondered how exactly Paul and Katherine were sleeping through this ride. Finally I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. I didn’t mean it.”
Tatiana turned to me expectantly, her eyes guarded, and I rushed forward. “It’s just that I barely know you, and you’re there shouting at me about wanting to bring the girl along. With Reis and Paul, at least I know where I stand. With you–”
“You don’t know why exactly I’m here,” she finished quietly.
I shrugged. That sounded close, at least. “Or whether you’re our friend, I guess. Whether we can trust you,” I added.
“You’re worried about my connection to my father?”
“Is that so hard to believe?” I asked.
Tatiana shook her head. “No. But we both know that no matter what I tell you, you’ll still wonder where my allegiance is.”
Now it was my turn to stay silent. She was right, though I hadn’t thought of it before. I’d known her for less than twenty-four hours, and she had basically blackmailed her way onto our trip. Now we were depending on her as part of our team, and I didn’t know if she was on our side. Not for sure.
She sighed, resting her gaze on Paul and Katherine, then on Reis. Finally she turned back to me. “I loved my mother very much, Jason. Nicholas Fleming abused her physically and emotionally, and pushed her away. Then he left us and she killed herself. Because of him.”
I gulped. “I’m sorry, that’s terrible. Really. It doesn’t exactly explain why you’re here, though.”
“I’ve heard the conversations between my grandfather and yours. My grandfather is wrong. Nicholas Fleming–Lord Dresden–is evil, pure and simple. I’ve seen him in action, and I know what he’s capable of. If your grandfather thinks that Dresden is trying to hijack history for his own reasons, I believe him.”
“And?”
“And I want to be there when he fails. He destroyed my mother, and tried to destroy me. Now I want to be the one that stops him. I want him to know that I’ve stopped him. I want to be the last face he sees before he dies.” Her voice was cold and controlled, but broke on the last word, and I glanced quickly at her. She had clenched her jaw shut and closed her eyes. A single tear ran down her cheek.
I reached out to take her hand, unthinking. “We’ll stop him,” I murmured. “I promise.”
A corner of her mouth turned up in answer, and she put her ear buds back in. I turned from her, my head reeling at what I’d just promised, and watched the darkness beyond the road for signs of life. As I glanced toward the horizon, I saw that the blackness was growing lighter there; dawn was near.
Which meant we were going to need a new plan soon.
I woke up several hours later. The sun was just above the horizon, sending its bright morning light shooting across the landscape and providing at least a little bit of warmth. Reis was still on the bench of the wagon, driving the horse at a shocking pace. I wondered how the old horse was still moving that fast, then glanced at Reis’s face and understood. He looked like he was ready to murder someone. Possibly several someones.
The ride hadn’t improved. We hit a particularly large pothole at that point, and half the contents of the wagon bed flew into the air. I took that as a sign that it was time to get up. Everyone else was somehow still sleeping, so I crawled toward the bench alone, struggling to take a seat without flying out of the cart.
After what felt like a year of working at it, I finally landed on the bench next to Reis. There, I took a firm grip on the edge of the cart and looked around. Traffic, or what passed for it, was light to say the least. We passed a large family, who appeared to be moving their entire household with one mule and a cart, and several men on horseback. The riders gave us curt nods of respect, then pressed on. The family just got out of our way. I couldn’t blame them, really. Reis was driving like a man possessed. I wondered privately if he actually had any control over the horse, or if she was running away with us attached. Our bouncy and haphazard progress was very disorganized, and had the feel of a runaway train rather than orderly retreat.
We hit another deep rut then, and my focus changed to staying in said cart, rather than trying to figure out whether Reis was in control of it.
“Sheesh, Reis, you think you could hit more potholes?” Paul grumbled from the bed of the cart. His face appeared suddenly between Reis and I, exhibiting puffy, bloodshot eyes and hair that stuck out in every direction.
“We’re in a hurry, geek,” Tatiana snapped, emerging as well. “Potholes are incidental. Deal with it.”
Paul’s mouth snapped shut, and his face turned dark. I grimaced–I knew that look. He hated being called “geek.” It was what his brother called him. I also knew his reaction–he was about to say something really stupid and hurtful in response, and get himself into even more trouble. I cut in before he could open his mouth.
“Hurry, yes. But where exactly are we going?” I glanced at Reis, who sat hunched over the reins, his mouth a grim line. “Reis? Plans?”
The body guard shook himself at my words, and glanced quickly at me. “Get to shelter,” he muttered. “We’re drawing way too much attention to ourselves in this contraption, and who knows who’s looking for us at this point. The sooner we’re under cover, the happier I’ll be.”
I nodded. It made sense, though I didn’t see how we were going to hide and find Doc at the same time.
“And then?” Tatiana asked, mirroring my thoughts. Her face was creased into a frown of impatience–she wanted to get to the end of this journey as badly as I did, I thought.
The corner of Reis’ mouth turned up at that, and he shrugged. “Then, girl, we find Doc, vanquish the bad guy, save the world, and try to get home to the future,” he replied, slightly exasperated. “A more reasonable way of getting around wouldn’t hurt, either.”
Paul sat back thoughtfully, pulling several chocolate coins from his pocket, and the rest of us fell quiet.
“Oh my God, you actually eat those?” Tatiana said, glancing at him and grimacing. “What else, those disgusting marshmallow ducks they pass out at Easter? Do you think now is really the time to sit around having a picnic?”
Paul grinned at her, his teeth full of chocolate, and casually passed a coin to Katherine. She looked at the candy as if it were made out of magical fairy dust, then looked at Paul and me questioningly.
“It’s candy,” I told her quietly. “You eat it.”
The girl carefully unwrapped the candy, reexamined the golden wrapper, and took a small bite. Her face lit up in surprise as the chocolate melted in her mouth.
“See, I’m not the only one who likes them!” Paul laughed.
Suddenly Reis sat up and yanked on the reins, putting an end to the conversation. The horse skidded to a quick halt, her sides heaving, and the four of us went sprawling across the cart. I looked at Reis, confused, then glanced at the road in front of us. It was pitted and badly maintained, but it was empty. No reason for him to have stopped.
“What is it?” I asked quietly. Had he seen something? Heard someone?
“Sounds ahead,” he answered. “Listen. People shouting, some sort of livestock moving around. Chickens. We’re going to have company soon.”
Katherine’s face cleared and she smiled, pushing her way forward to take a seat by Reis’s side. “The town of Blythe,” she chirped. “We used to have family there.” She frowned at Reis’ expression. “It is not a dangerous place.”
Reis lowered his eyebrows at her and gestured for her to keep her voice down. “I’ll be the judge of what’s safe and what’s not, thank you.”
He took the map out of his pocket and spread it out over the seat beside him, moving his compass quickly over the paper. Katherine leaned forward and looked at the object in utter amazement. Then she noticed Tatiana’s iPhone, which was sticking out of her shirt pocket.
“What is that?” she asked in wonder. She reached toward Tatiana’s pocket, her fingers twitching for the iPhone.
Tatiana shoved the girl’s hand away, scowling. “None of your business, missy,” she snapped.
Katherine frowned, but pulled back thoughtfully. She shot a quick glance in my direction and grinned wryly at Tatiana’s reaction, lifting her eyebrows in amusement.
Without thinking, I grinned back. She was right–Tatiana could be difficult sometimes.
Reis cleared his throat loudly to get our attention. “Looks to me like our best bet is to stay on this road. Keep heading south. We can’t very well take this heap into the fields around the town, and we don’t have any other means of getting there. Yet.”
“So what’s the plan?” I asked quietly. We had discussed this earlier, and agreed to avoid human contact as much as possible. Interacting with the locals would just make things … complicated. We had to assume that everyone and their brother was against us, and would try to stop
us, throw us in jail, or worse. Besides, we weren’t here to talk to the people of this time. We were here to save Doc.
Now it looked like Reis was changing things around on me, which made me very uncomfortable.
The man in question looked up at Katherine before glancing back at the three of us. “You three lay low in the back of the cart. You stick out like sore thumbs, and we can’t afford to draw much attention. I’ll sit beside Katherine up front.” He took a deep breath. “We’ll just have to make our way through the village, quick as we can. And you guys keep quiet. No one says anything. Right, Paul?” He turned his gaze to Paul, his eyes both commanding and pleading.
Paul gave him a quick thumbs up. “Right-oh, Captain,” he muttered.
Shaking my head, I climbed into the back of the cart with Paul and Tatiana. We covered ourselves with the blankets and bags of flour Katherine had insisted on bringing along, and did our best to look hidden. The wagon lurched back into action, at a slower pace now, and we moved toward the town.
Beside me, I heard Tatiana take a deep, strained breath. Her hand found mine and squeezed it, sending along a silent message–everything would be fine. We’d be through the town and back on the road in no time.
I hoped with every ounce of my body that she was right.
23
BLYTHE, ENGLAND
Unfortunately, fate had other plans. At first, it seemed like Reis’ idea might work. After all, we had a girl from the right time period–practically a local–driving her horse and cart through a town she used to visit all the time. Perhaps no one would notice, or care, and we’d be able to pass through and get on with our mission. Just another girl, out for a drive to market or some such thing, with a cart full of various goods.
What could possibly go wrong? Aside from the four strangers she brought with her, hailing from the twenty-first century.
I couldn’t see when we actually entered the town, of course, but I could certainly hear it. We passed through an atmosphere thick with the sounds of dogs barking, chickens clucking, horses calling to each other, and what sounded like a herd of five hundred angry pigs. Under it all was the deep, low hum of the people speaking to each other in English, French, and even Spanish. The accents were thick, and made the language sound more like music than our monotonous American English.