Journey in Time (Knights in Time)

by Karlsen, Chris

  "What's this about, Rocky? What's wrong?" Alex tipped her chin and made her look him in the eye. "Don't say ‘nothing.’ Don't say you love me and then lie to me."

  "There's nothing to tell you. It’s important you know how I feel. I wish I told you sooner."

  "Rocky...we'll talk when I get back."

  He bent her in a passionate embrace. The intent meant to reassure her even if he didn't have the words right now. Shakira stood the assault only for a minute before returning his kiss, harder and deeper, until he ran out of breath. He'd never been the first to run out of breath. Never.

  "A few days, that's all. We have a lot to discuss when I return." He pulled up the protective mail head cover. "The time will fly," he said and adjusted the links where his hair caught.

  "I'm sure it will." A wan smile touched her lips.

  Alex kissed her one more time. Uneasy, but pressed for time, he left. He made it to the great hall before he remembered his new gauntlets and hurried back for the forgotten gloves.

  Shakira sat shivering, curled up on the bench under the window overlooking the bailey. Tears streamed down her face and dripped off her chin.

  Alex groaned and rushed over. "Damn it. I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong."

  "Nothing, I'm being silly. Now go, please. I’ll be fine. Just concentrate on staying safe."

  Frustrated, Alex stood, arms extended out in exasperation. "I don't have the time to coax this out of you. I hate going with you upset like this, but I have to. I'm sorry."

  "I know. Really, I'm fine. Now go."

  He grabbed his gloves and shot one last look at her stricken face.

  Jared had Thor saddled for him in the courtyard. Alex double checked his equipment and supplies and signaled to Simon and Stephen he wanted a word with them.

  "Keep an especially watchful eye over Lady Shakira. She's never to be out of the sight of one or both of you when she's not in the Keep." He stared at each in turn and waited for the order to be acknowledged, which they did with a single nod.

  Mounting, he glanced up to their window and bade her farewell with a touch of his fingers to his lips and a wave.

  How fragile and wraithlike she looked, standing in the embrasure of the tall window. Wind ruffled her hair so it billowed outward like an inky mist around her face and shoulders. She wrapped herself in a plush, blood red robe. At this angle, the voluminous material seemed to dwarf his statuesque wife.

  Maybe it would've cheered her to know he'd sent a messenger to London to purchase several bolts of wool and quality linen. The raw material was easier to transport than the bulky dresses. She’d travel with two gowns only, one to wear and one packed. Hopefully, they’d settle in his Portmeirion holding, and she'd have cloth for nice clothes.

  The fine wire circlet he ordered from the goldsmith in Gloucester would be ready too. The strands twisted to mimic branches with leaves made from tiny drops of white seed pearls. A surprise gift he’d give her when he declared his love.

  She was his wife in more than words. Whether they returned to their own time or remained here, she belonged to him. Only death could break their bond. If in this life, fate chose to torment him with the heartache of losing a beloved wife, or at the end of his days, played another cruel trick that made him endure more centuries of painful memories, he’d take the risk for her.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Can the hours of a day pass at the speed of light, or faster? "Yes, they can go by in a nanosecond," Shakira whispered. That's what her last days at Elysian Fields felt like, days she filled with as many mundane tasks as possible, anything to keep her tears at bay. Nights were a different problem altogether. Lonely, despairing and adrift emotionally, she slept little.

  The morning of the seventh day after his departure, bundled in a grey cloak, she stole off. Eclipse waited, saddled and readied. The stable boy was thrilled with the groat she gave him to secure his oath of secrecy. No task ever earned him four pennies before.

  Through the foggy haze, Shakira shot a glance at the Keep before she entered the empty bailey. The knights were in the hall, eating, including her shadows, Simon and Stephen, when she checked. The guards at the gate wouldn’t ask any questions. They'd assume she was headed for the village. She’d made it a point to go every day the past week, establishing a pattern of behavior.

  She instructed the servants not to touch anything in the bedchamber. The last thing she needed was for one of the maids to find the note she left Alex. Not that the maids or any of the household staff other than Richard could read. Still, better not to take a chance.

  The note took all night to get right. A couple of drafts she ruined. Tear stains smeared the ink across the vellum. In the end, she kept the message succinct and hoped Alex would understand and not rip up the countryside in search of her.

  With one last look at the home she shared with the only man she'd ever love, Shakira rode away.

  Outside of the walls of the holding, in the open fields, nothing stopped the wind. The bitter cold seeped into all the places the cloak hung loose. Gusts caught the edges of the hood to form a gloomy aura in her peripheral vision. The cape wasn't her warmest, but the plainest. She suspected the abbess planned to fob off a scratchy, poor quality wrap on her under the guise of vow of poverty or some such excuse. If so, Shakira had no intention of making Turcotte a gift of her finest cloak in exchange. Shivering, fumbling to find a handkerchief for her runny nose, she wondered if the loss of the heavier cloak wouldn't have been worth it. Thankfully, her gloves were quality leather or her hands would be raw and chapped by the time she arrived.

  When she reached the abbey, she'd give the stable boys instructions to return Eclipse to Elysian Fields.

  In no hurry, she kept Eclipse at a comfortable walk. Had she ridden at the canter or gallop, she wouldn’t have heard the hoof beats behind her. Friend or foe? Better to assume the worst. She urged Eclipse into a quiet but fast walk off the road. Bent low over his neck, she hid behind a high thicket of gnarled vines and listened. Silence. She remained in her hiding spot for a few more minutes, heard nothing, and re-entered the road. Paranoia.

  Before she’d gone fifty yards, she swore she heard the sound of other horses again. How real they seemed. Dispirited, she shook her head, surprised at her mind's ability to conjure up riders. She wondered if it wasn't wishful thinking deep within her subconscious. A feeble hope someone, or something, would intervene and turn events around. On the other hand, if they were real, the riders weren't far behind.

  She paused at the mouth of the broad path and eyed the spot ahead where the secondary path met the road. Stephen said the narrow path was too treacherous to use. But, he also said the foliage shielded anyone on it from view.

  Shakira vacillated.

  Both trails carried risks. The familiar wide one offered a safer path but easy visibility to anyone on the main road. The other offered cover along with a good chance of injury. If she fell and was badly hurt, no one would know. Had the hoof beats she heard been real or imagined? If horsemen were on the road and close, they didn’t come from Elysian Fields. She considered which circumstance presented the worst threat...possible injury, or strangers? Strangers seeing a lone female might confront her. She’d chance a fall rather than chance physical attack.

  Shakira trotted to the entrance of the small trail and dismounted. Without a rider, Eclipse would fend better. She kept a loose hold on his reins and took a cautious step. She immediately slid on the soggy leaves, almost landed on her butt. If he slipped, she had just enough room to jump out of his way.

  Nervous for both of them, Shakira nattered away. She gave him whispered updates on how far they'd come and how close they were. Relieved to be safely at the bottom, she patted his neck and mumbled thanks to the air. Eclipse whinnied and then snorted a wad of chewed hay onto her shoulder to exhibit his gratitude.

  "I'm glad you're with me dear boy, although I could've done without the horse snot," she said low. He whinnied softer as she rubb
ed his cheek. "Shall we take a gander and see if the gauntlet is there? What do you think, you and me?" Shakira’s tug on his reins met with stubborn equine resistance.

  "I see, you want to know why? Just for the hell of it. No other reason. Yes, you're right, coming here doesn't make any difference. Our course is chosen, but let's do peek anyhow." Shakira led Eclipse to the glove’s hidden spot.

  Still there. A jumble of emotions followed one on top of the other at seeing it, fear, relief, and disappointment, all in varying degrees.

  Thunder rumbled. She tightened her grip on the reins and glanced in that direction. A storm brewed in the west, which was odd. Most storms swept down from the north this time of year. She had to hurry if she wanted to beat the bad weather. She turned her attention back to the metal and leather glove, Alex’s small sacrifice. Should she remove the gauntlet? What if he saw it gone and got his hopes up under false pretenses?

  The thunder grew louder. The sound didn’t come in booming claps but in a continuous rumbling wave as it rolled her way. Unable to resist a token of his, she snagged the glove.

  Sporadic lightning flashed in the cloud cover as she turned to leave. Eclipse stamped and stepped anxiously sideways, like he wanted to bolt. Shakira held firm as he continued his effort to dance away. Resistance became rebellion as he tossed his head and reared back, front hooves pawing the air. It took all her strength to bring him down to a standing position.

  She tried to calm the animal with soft words while she stroked his muzzle. Neither worked. Ears pricked, eyes like black saucers, the animal fought her. Then, multiple bursts of lightning, bright and bluish-white, lit the sky. She froze for a split second before she gave a rough jerk on Eclipse’s reins and tried to run. A second flurry of bolts cracked and a brief sense of weightlessness enveloped her. Off balance, she dropped the gauntlet and stumbled against the rock.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Stephen step from the bushes.

  “Stephen!”

  A single deafening crack sounded. Another wave of weightlessness washed over her, she thought she heard his voice faintly call her name.

  The odd sensation stopped. The gauntlet lay at her feet. Next to her, Eclipse stood quiet, his mane and tail standing on end. She had to swallow numerous times to clear the taste of metallic juiciness away. She took a hesitant step. There was a few clumsy seconds where she wind-milled, beating the air to stay upright when her foot landed lower than expected, throwing her weight forward. She tested her depth perception with the toe of her boot. After several attempts, she finally found solid ground. She’d gone through this once before. Her eyes searched the sky for a hint of red and didn’t see any. Denial came easy. None of this meant what she initially feared, not the lightning, not her physical reactions, not the rush of unseasonable warm air. This could not be a time warp. Not again, not now, not without Alex.

  “Simon? Stephen?”

  No one moved in the shrubs or trees near her. No reason to worry, she reassured herself. Overhead, a dull hum came closer and closer. She looked up. A moment later, the British Airways plane came into view. The jet was headed east toward Heathrow Airport and flew low enough for her to see the colors of the Union Jack painted on the tail section.

  "No!" she uttered in disbelief. "No!"

  She grabbed the glove and ran to the path. Her grip tight on Eclipse's reins and climbed as fast as she could. The trail had changed, grown wider, less steep. Purple and gold wildflowers grew along the border. At the top, Shakira stopped to observe everything around her. The red and orange leaves left over from fall no longer littered the ground. Bright sunlight poured through the green, leafy trees, and a mild breeze played with the edges of her hood. She mounted and kicked Eclipse into a gallop and rode back to Elysian Fields.

  In the past, the horse's speed increased when he smelled home. This time, he kept a steady pace as they approached.

  She drew him to an abrupt halt at the edge of the ruin. The curtain wall was rubble, the broken stones scattered. Nothing of the drawbridge remained, only a grassy depression where the moat had been. Shakira pressed her heels into Eclipse’s side, nudging him forward to the area that was the bailey. Gone. Everything was gone, like it never existed. Only the honey-colored foundation stones marked what was the Keep.

  She dismounted and stood on the spot the great hall occupied and the staircase to the bedchamber. A flood of images passed through her mind, memories of the first time she rode into the bailey, her fear, the smells, the people, the life she led a short time before. Her life with Alex.

  What would he do? When she didn't arrive at Hailes, the abbess would send a messenger inquiring after her absence. Alex would assume she got robbed or kidnapped, maybe murdered on the road. What else could he think? He'd imagine the worst and turn the nearby hamlets and countryside upside down.

  Valuable time wasted, she thought ruefully. What a horrible irony. Her good intentions will cost him rather than help him.

  Whether in futile hope, or pathetic desperation, Shakira called Alex's name again and again, as if her cries could penetrate time.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Arms outstretched, Alex tilted his chin to the sky and filled his chest with the frigid air. Immune to the weather’s discomforts, he closed his eyes and pictured Shakira’s face. For one brief moment, he imagined he heard her voice calling his name. He touched the leather pouch tied to his waist and smiled as he picked up the reins and spurred Thor into a gallop. The small sack contained Shakira's golden circlet.

  The guards at the gate waved as he passed. He glanced up to the empty window of their chamber where she usually stood. In the far corner of the bailey, Simon and Stephen huddled together. Both yelled to him.

  Alex jumped from the saddle and hurried towards the Keep, brushing himself off as he went. Caked mud flaked to the ground as he slapped at his mailed arms to dislodge dirt gathered in the links. It had been a long, arduous seven days. Dusty, tired, and longing to see his wife, he ignored the two knights as they rushed towards him.

  "Guy, stop! We must speak with you, 'tis urgent." Simon broke into a jog, Stephen on his heels.

  "Later.”

  "You must listen now," Simon said, pursuing Alex.

  Alex bounded up the stairs and into the chamber, slamming the door with great deliberation in the knight's face.

  She wasn’t there. Normally, if she didn't run down to greet him, she awaited him upstairs. From the look of things, she hadn't been in the room for hours. The fire had grown cold, only grey ashes were left. She knew he was due back. Where was she? He laid the pouch on the table, noticing a rolled scroll left on his bolster. The wax seal evidence of its confidential contents.

  Alex sighed as his eyes raced over the first few sentences, growing angrier with each line at her idiotic logic and foolish attempt at self-sacrifice. He started to crumple the parchment into a ball. How could she think he wouldn’t come after her or that he was better off without her? He straightened the vellum and reread it. "Where did you go?"

  Alex, I love you with all my heart and soul. I love you more than words can express. If I had to conjure up a dream man, a man of courage, wit, intellect and honor, it would be you. If I had to put a face to the handsomest man I could imagine, it would be yours. What I can't do is see that man put at risk because of me. I’ve done what I had to do. My heart and prayers are with you that you will get home safe. But if by some misfortune you remain here, the best hope you have for surviving is without me. Please do not look for me. I am in a safe place. God’s speed, my love, my only love.

  He rerolled the note and absently tapped his thigh with it. "What place other than with me, would she consider safe?"

  There weren’t many places she’d ventured to outside the castle grounds. He came to the logical conclusion without much trouble. Her sudden interest in the abbey made sense now.

  "‘An act for the benefit of the locals,’ indeed," he said, disgusted and irritated with her lie. "You remembered my mother liv
es with the holy sisters and thought you’d do the same." What is it with women? Their twisted minds could put an English maze to shame.

  He locked her note in the chest and sprinted from the chamber toward the stairs. His recalcitrant wife would be home within the hour even if he had to tie her over his saddle like a sack of flour. "Fool woman."

  Simon and Stephen stepped from an adjoining corridor in front of him. His path blocked, they forced him to listen. "I'm in a hurry. Whatever you have to say make it fast."

  "Lady Shakira has disappeared," Simon said.

  Bewilderment and fear had displaced the knight's usually somber expression. Two emotions never exhibited by Simon in Alex's memory. They fought alongside each other in numerous battles, bloody slaughters. Always Simon maintained an unperturbed façade. What could frighten the implacable man?

  Stephen stood at Simon’s side eyes fixed in a panic-stricken stare. He opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing.

  "What do you mean she's disappeared? What's happened? I told you two to watch her."

  "We did. She--just disappeared," Simon repeated. "She v-vanished—"

  "Right in front of us," Stephen broke in. "We followed her. She bent to pick something up and then...was gone...like the rock reached out and took her." Deathly pale, he added, "As though the devil himself reached up and dragged her down to his underworld." He quickly made the sign of the cross.

  “What rock?”

  "That granite outcropping where we ran into you both a couple of months ago," Simon said.

  Hearing she disappeared was like a body blow, hearing where was an iron fist to his gut.