Guardians of Time

by Sarah Woodbury

  Then Lili gave a low moan and shifted in her chair, a spasm of pain crossing her face.

  Bronwen saw it too and was at her side in an instant. “Are you okay?” she said in Welsh.

  Bridget’s Welsh was poor, but the ‘okay’ was unmistakable so she could guess the rest.

  Lili gripped Bronwen’s hand and nodded. “Just tired of sitting.”

  Goronwy was already at Lili’s other side, and together he and Bronwen helped her to her feet.

  Bridget herself shifted, tired of standing and sensing it was a good time to leave. She nudged Peter with a finger to the small of his back.

  He nodded imperceptibly before putting his heels together and bowing to Lili and then to Geoffrey. “If you think of anything—anything at all—that might help me in identifying those responsible, please don’t hesitate to say so.”

  “Of course,” Geoffrey said.

  Peter moved towards the door, lifting his eyebrows to Bridget as he passed her. She curtseyed and turned on her heel to follow him out the door. They crossed the great hall at a rapid walk, making for the door that would take them into the courtyard. The hall was nearly deserted, even at this hour on Christmas Eve. Was it just last night that it had been full to bursting with friends?

  It was only now that it hit Bridget that in allowing the bus to go to Avalon without her, she was not only turning down her last chance to see her parents ever again, but she would also never see any of the bus passengers again. Some of them, like Darla, had been unpleasant, but many had been kind, and she had liked knowing that others in this world shared her experiences.

  Once outside, Peter headed for the multi-storied guest hall. Unlike the keep, the guest hall was built in wood, though with a stone fireplace that ran up the back wall where the building met the inside of the curtain wall. It was as warm and comfortable as a medieval house could get, especially because it had a semi-modern chimney, which was properly vented so the sitting room didn’t fill with smoke. The ground floor had ten small guest rooms, with more on a second level reached by a narrow flight of stairs. Most of the time travelers had been housed last night in Llangollen, but as Callum’s employees, Peter and she had stayed at the castle: Peter with Darren, and Bridget with Rachel.

  Peter paused at the bottom of the stairs. “I know time is pressing, but we have to change out of these clothes before we go any further.”

  Hardly able to believe that he wasn’t telling her to stay behind, Bridget went up the stairs and pushed open the door to her room. She and Rachel had shared a narrow bed, and the room was so small there was only a foot between the bed and the walls on either side. Bridget had been happy to share, though she missed the loft where she slept above her shop in Shrewsbury. The town had grown in population in recent years as prosperity had come to England under David’s rule, and it was full to bursting inside its walls. Callum had set her up in the middle of a winding street, sandwiched between a baker and a wool merchant.

  Moving quickly because Peter would be waiting and she didn’t want him to change his mind and leave the castle without her, Bridget stripped off her modern clothing and dressed again in her medieval garb. Almost all clothing in England and Wales at this time was made of wool—cotton being hard to come by and not very warm—though Bridget herself could afford expensive linen undergarments.

  Once dressed, she looked longingly at her insulated, waterproof down parka—really the only piece of modern clothing she preferred over the medieval version—before throwing her wool cloak around her shoulders. Among her belongings she had a down coat, which she’d made herself. But even boiled wool, which was remarkably waterproof with its natural lanolin, couldn’t keep a heavy rain from soaking through eventually. At that point, instead of a nice warm insulating parka, she’d just have wet feathers.

  She and Peter returned to the stable so quickly after their arrival at Dinas Bran that the long-suffering stable boys had hardly had time to brush their horses. Still, one of them lifted Bridget’s saddle from its rest and placed it on the back of her horse. Bridget stood patiently waiting until he finished strapping it to the beast’s back, and then, once both horses were ready, mounted with a boost up from Peter.

  She held her tongue until they had actually passed underneath the gatehouse before asking the obvious question. “Why are you letting me come with you?”

  Peter glanced at her. “I need a partner, someone I can bounce ideas off. You do realize, except for Bronwen, that we’re the only twenty-firsters left in the Middle Ages?”

  Bridget stared at him for a second. She’d just been thinking about the bus passengers, of course, but— “I hadn’t thought that far. What with Lili and Ieuan—”

  “I know they both can speak American, and Ieuan’s been to Avalon, but when it comes to it we’re the only ones who are really in this together. When David said he was taking everybody back, he meant it.”

  Bridget’s gaze went to her gloved hands, which were clenching the reins tighter than necessary. She couldn’t say that she’d loved every minute she’d spent in the Middle Ages, but she’d stayed because what she had here was better than what she’d left in the twenty-first century. Like Peter, before she’d stepped off the bus, she’d had to ask one of the other passengers to let her mum and dad know she was okay. It wasn’t that she never wanted to see them again. She was concerned about them and knew they’d care that she was missing.

  But she hadn’t ever been convinced that they loved her all that much. She’d been born long after a much older brother and sister, both of whom had children of their own before Bridget herself had come along as a surprise to her mum, who by then was already past forty. Another child—perhaps pretty or less prone to dreaming—might have been doted on, but Bridget had always felt like her mother did nothing but sigh over the inconvenience Bridget had brought into her life. And her dad spent every evening after dinner (which was eaten in front of the telly) down at the pub. Growing up, Bridget had been put to bed most nights before he came home, or put herself to bed when her mother couldn’t be bothered.

  From the moment David had explained his plan to her, Bridget had entertained two opposing fantasies about what would happen when she showed up on her parents’ doorstep on Christmas Eve. In one, her family cried tears of joy to see her, asked about her adventures, and sat riveted through her tale of life in the Middle Ages. In the other, after a perfunctory hug from her mother, her father told her not to make up stories and went back to watching his programme.

  Maybe it was a failure of imagination on her part, but she had little doubt which of the two scenarios was genuinely more likely.

  Chapter Seven

  Math

  Though darkness had fallen, hiding the world outside from his immediate view, Math was still recovering from the crash that wasn’t. In his mind’s eye, he could see the bus hit the cliff wall, which he knew, as surely as he knew his own name, would kill the woman he loved most in the world, only to have it vanish as if it had no more substance than a puff of smoke.

  As Jane directed the bus down the road, having left the other bus passengers to their own devices, Anna sat with her hand in his. “You okay?”

  “Ach. I’m fine,” he lied boldly. “It’s you I’m concerned about. You’re still shaking.”

  “It’s one thing to time travel by mistake,” Anna said. “It’s quite another when we do it deliberately. I’ve actually never done it on purpose before.”

  “Your brother has, however, and is a madman,” Math said, more calmly than he actually felt.

  “I heard that,” Dafydd said, though he didn’t turn around. He was bent over beside Jane at the front of the bus, peering out the windshield. Snow fell in fat flakes, which the wipers flicked away.

  “What about the time it doesn’t work?” Anna said.

  “O ye of little faith,” Dafydd said.

  “We will cross that bridge when we come to it,” Meg said, glancing at Dafydd and then back to Anna. “Let’s not borrow trouble.”<
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  Dafydd spun on his heel to look at his mother. “You need to call Aunt Elisa.”

  “I do, but I kind of wanted to know a bit more about what we’re doing first.” She gestured to the others, most of whom were focused intently on the screens on their phones.

  “Give us another minute.” Callum craned his neck to look at something on Cassie’s screen.

  Math had glanced at Anna’s phone, but nothing about it made any sense to him. If, for some reason, they had to stay here longer than Dafydd intended, he’d learn how to use one. But until that day, he’d rather focus on his surroundings.

  He’d grown familiar with the bus over the last year, such that it had ceased to be more than a curiosity, but its low growl as it moved along the road had him rethinking his complacency. When he’d ordered the road to the cliff built to Dafydd’s specifications, he’d been unable to picture exactly how Dafydd’s plan was supposed to work. Now that he was here, Math could understand why it was necessary to make the road as smooth as possible. They were moving faster than Math had ever moved in his life, and yet he was sitting still, holding his wife’s hand. The bus hardly rocked.

  The lights and trees beyond the bus flashed past. Math felt a little queasy, in fact, looking at them, and he bent forward to look out the front window instead. Red lights from vehicles in front of the bus shone in the darkness. He sat back, shaking his head. “I am a stranger in a strange land.”

  “Funny you should say that,” Meg said. “It’s the title of a book about a human raised on Mars who comes to earth.”

  Math smiled. “I was quoting Exodus.”

  Meg laughed. “Of course you were.” She tipped her head to Dafydd. “Do you know where we’re going, kiddo?”

  “The hospital first,” Dafydd said. “It’s nearer to Bangor than Caernarfon and on the way to Rachel’s dad’s clinic.”

  “I can’t believe we’re finally home,” Jane said from the driver’s seat. “It’s like a dream come true.” She glanced at Dafydd. “Thank you.”

  Dafydd bent his head in silent acknowledgement.

  “I would agree that it is like a dream,” Math said. “I keep waiting for the moment when I wake up back in my own bed in Dinas Bran.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t turn very quickly into a nightmare,” Anna said.

  Meg pulled out her own phone from the bag at her feet—a backpack Anna called it, for good reason as it had big wide straps that fit snugly over the wearer’s shoulders. It was the same bag Dafydd had retrieved years ago from where Meg had left it near Hadrian’s Wall. She took out a ‘phone jack’, which Math knew about from a primer Anna had given him as she’d packed her own phone into her pack, and plugged it into the side of the bus.

  Then she looked at Dafydd. “Are you sure our phones are untraceable?”

  He raised both shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “You’re asking me? I wasn’t here last time. You bought them in Oregon a year ago, barely used them, and then disappeared. If the US government wants us, and they are willing to put effort into tracking us through those phones—and leaving a trace on them that could be picked up a year later—then more power to them. We’ll see who’s awake on Christmas Eve.”

  “MI-5 may be aware of us too,” Callum said, somewhat absently as he was still reading on his phone. “We’re going to have to bin these and get different ones.”

  “That’ll be a trick on Christmas Eve,” Meg said.

  “Tesco’s open,” Cassie said. “A sign on the front of the store said they’re open for a few hours tomorrow too.”

  “Damn American influence,” Callum said with a smile directed at his wife, who was, of course, an American. “They ruin everything.”

  “What about identification?” Dafydd said. “I don’t have any.”

  “It’s only you, Math, and Papa who don’t,” Anna said. “I brought my driver’s license. Even though it has expired, I thought it might do in a pinch.”

  “In England, the authorities aren’t allowed to ask for identification unless you’re suspected of a crime,” Mark said with the same absent tone Callum had used. He was focused on his laptop, which he’d hooked up to his phone by a long cord. Math knew that Mark had kept his laptop charged thanks to the electric power available in the bus barn, just so he could use it the minute they arrived in Avalon. “Checking for weapons is different.”

  Dafydd spread his hands wide. “If they stop the bus, they’ll find my many weapons, but I’m just a student who forgot his ID at home.”

  Anna coughed and laughed at the same time. “Anyone who believes that is an idiot.”

  “It’s how I’ve been treated whenever I’m here,” Dafydd said. “I can’t see why it’ll be any different this time.”

  “Ideally, you won’t get separated from us this time,” Callum said, “so it won’t be an issue.”

  Jane exited the motorway and, a few moments later, stopped the bus near a well-lit complex of buildings with the words ‘Ysbyty Gwynedd’ emblazoned on a large sign at the entrance. Ysbyty was a word Math hadn’t known until Rachel had introduced the concept of a hospital and suggested he build one in Llangollen. His hospital was called ‘Ysbyty Gwynedd’ too.

  Anna patted his knee. “Why are you smiling?”

  He pointed with his chin to the sign. “I like the continuity of it.”

  “Right,” Dafydd said. “This is where you guys get off.”

  Math peered at the hospital entrance. A man in green was standing several paces away down the sidewalk, a white stick that smoked and glowed orange between his fingers. He was watching the bus with interest, smoke pouring from his nostrils as he breathed out. Math stared at him, confused as to what modern devilry this could be. Then, with a flick of his fingers, the man shot the stick into the snow and strode back towards the glass doors at the front of the hospital.

  Jane stood up. Carl had taken Shane in his arms for this part of the trip, and he stood too. But even though the bus had stopped and the hospital was only a stone’s throw away, he hesitated.

  Dafydd canted his head. “What else do you need from me? Just name it.”

  “Nothing.” Carl shifted Shane more to his left shoulder so he could stick out his right hand to Dafydd. “You’ve done more than we ever—” he stopped, his voice choked with emotion.

  Dafydd clasped his hand. “It is the least we could do.”

  Carl looked around the bus. “I want to say this to all of you. The others may not be grateful. They may think they deserve more than you’ve given them, but every one of you risked your lives for Shane, and I want you to know that we will remember you forever. I’m only sorry we may never see you again.”

  “You never know.” Meg stood up and hugged him, kissed Shane’s cheek, and then hugged Jane.

  “If you find yourselves in trouble, call us,” Jane said as she held Meg’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. “We might be able to help.”

  “Thank you.”

  The other women hugged her, and then the men shook hands all around. Math eyed the hand Carl offered him before accepting it for what it was. He didn’t understand how the custom of shaking hands instead of clasping forearms had started. The whole point was to know if an enemy—or a friend—had a weapon up his sleeve, not whether or not he could break the bones in your hand if he squeezed hard enough.

  When Carl reached Llywelyn, he surprised Math—and maybe even himself—by giving him a real bow. None of the bus passengers had ever been very good at bowing, worse even than the Americans, who found obeisance amusing more than anything else.

  “Sire,” Carl said. “Good luck. Seven hundred years on, everyone here in Gwynedd would be rooting for you if they knew what you were trying to do.”

  “Thank you,” Llywelyn said.

  They left. Dafydd followed them down the steps and stood in the doorway until they had crossed the parking lot and entered through the front doors of the hospital. Then he came back up the steps.

  “All right.” Dafydd clappe
d his hands together once. “How we doing? Dad?”

  Llywelyn waved a hand at his son. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “Math?”

  “Other than being nearly killed, all I’ve seen so far of Avalon is the inside of a bus where everyone speaks a language I understand,” Math said. “Ask me later.”

  Anna nudged Math and said in an undertone. “The King of England is back, and he’s running a meeting.”

  Math suppressed a smile.

  “Callum?” David said.

  Callum had looked up at Dafydd’s initial query to Llywelyn and now answered him. “You might be interested to know that three days after the new year both Wales and Scotland are voting on independence from England.”

  Rachel’s mouth fell open. “Really? How did that happen? They weren’t even talking about it a year ago.”

  “In the aftermath of the bombings and, apparently, riots this last year, the movement has gained momentum,” Callum said.

  Llywelyn smirked. “The people of Wales have finally had enough, have they?”

  “Took them long enough,” Math said.

  Dafydd shot an amused look at both Math and his father before turning to Mark. “What have you found?”

  Mark’s fingers had been flying all over the letters on his laptop from the moment he opened it. “Working on it.”

  Math didn’t ask what he was working on and neither did Dafydd.

  “Moving on, we need to figure out what we’re doing first. Now that we’re here, do we split up or stick together? I just don’t know how much time we have before we’ll be tracked down.”

  “We need new phones,” Darren said, “especially since I left mine in the vehicle Callum and I abandoned in Cardiff a year ago.”

  “I agree,” Callum said. “We should buy some spares too.”

  “What we shouldn’t be doing is riding around Gwynedd in a Cardiff bus,” Rachel said. “We stand out.”

  “Thus, the aforementioned international incident,” Dafydd said.