Did his death mean history would change? Since he’d died here in the past, how would she meet him in her future? Her head hurt trying to figure out how time travel worked. Finally, Lucy decided time wasn’t linear. It had to be made up of many threads. Maybe there was another version of her living her life? Or a version where she died and her thread ended instead of falling through time.
Would scientists one day learn the secrets of time travel? Perhaps future generations would book a ticket much like we do today to fly to an exotic destination, except they would choose the when and where in the past. Or even the future. Lucy snorted thinking about how people might want to tinker with or change history. Talk about a hot mess. Enough trying to figure out how time travel worked.
The sun was shining, and she decided to walk outside the walls and then work her way back to the castle. The portcullis had lethal-looking spikes, and she cringed thinking what it would feel like if they came down on her head. Good heavens, the tunnel itself must be fifteen or twenty feet long. From looking at the walls, she could tell they were thick.
It would be the perfect place to ride out a zombie apocalypse. Talk about being a little paranoid. What kind of enemies were they worried about around here? The map she’d had during the drive to Blackford showed the Scottish border being a little over two hundred and fifty miles away. Did he have enemies closer to home?
The masons were hard at work on the garrison. They mostly kept to themselves, but smiled as she passed by. Looked like they were almost finished. The knights would be happy to have it complete. The salty sea air tickled her nose as she inhaled. Where was the path down to the beach?
She’d love to dip her toes in the water. As she walked around the bailey, she could see what she would only describe as hovels near the far wall to her right. They weren’t much better than some of the homeless shanties she’d seen in the city.
For a medieval courtyard, it was a bit lacking, from what her imagination supplied. She expected more activity, more people coming and going. And buildings in better condition. Not for the first time, she wondered why she hadn’t paid more attention during history class.
She came to the garden. There were still an awful lot of weeds surrounded by a half-falling-down fence. That was one thing she could do to be useful: she would work in the garden. Over the years she’d learned the hard way that it was always better to have a backup plan. What better way than to make herself useful to the lord of the castle?
The masons said the stables would be finished next. Though from looking at them, she suspected the horses lived in nicer accommodations than the people in the shacks. What did that say about William? Did he care more about his horses than his people? Was he like Simon in that respect? So far she had only seen him treat the serving boys with kindness, but she worried when she wasn’t around he was mean to them like Simon.
The grassy field in front of her held an assortment of men. The ring of steel filled the air as she watched the men fight. Some fought with swords, and a couple were shooting arrows. She snickered. Every time one of them let loose an arrow, she wanted to step closer, to see if any of them looked like her favorite crossbow-wielding hottie on The Walking Dead.
William stumbled over a rock, swearing fluently as his opponent’s sword flashed down next to his ear. A bit closer and he would be looking at his ear on the ground. He’d slept fitfully, visions of a certain beautiful but perplexing wench filling his thoughts. The story she concocted—he knew she believed in what she told him. He believed her not. People could not fly like the birds in the sky. He scoffed. They most certainly would never walk on the moon. Why would she tell him such stories? Stories that would mean her death by burning?
Was it possible she came to him from the future? Her garments were fashioned out of materials new to him. The dress made a ripping sound when he pulled a piece of metal, and then it opened in two. He’d only jumped because he wasn’t expecting such a sound, not because it startled him as if he were a small child.
He’d worked up a sweat in the lists all morning and now stood still, looking around for the next person upon whom he might vent his ill humor.
There she was. Lucy Merriweather wore the ill-fitting dress Albin had procured for her from the village. It was too short, and fit tightly around the bosom, showing off her…well, parts of her he didn’t want other men drooling over.
“Good morrow to you, lady.”
Lucy smiled, and it was as if the sun came out and warmed his skin. “Do you do this every morning?” She waved a hand around the general vicinity of the lists.
One of the knights looked at her like she was addled before crossing himself and scurrying away.
“What’s his problem?”
William chuckled. “He is unused to seeing a woman at Blackford.”
She gazed up at him, a question in her eyes. Then she turned and looked around, taking in the inhabitants.
“Why aren’t there any women here?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not some kind of Templar knights who think women are evil, are you?”
“We are not Templars.” Not bloody likely he would tell her his reasoning for not allowing women. Instead, he said, “Women are a distraction. The men need to train. Prepare to face any enemy. I am no monk. The men may visit the village to tend to their needs. But I will have no women here.”
Then he saw her face and chuckled. “It appears I have made an exception, my lady.”
“It’s Lucy, remember?”
He made her a small bow. “As you wish, Lucy.”
William decided to show her what swordplay was all about. Not that he was showing off; rather he would demonstrate his skill so she could appreciate a fine bit of swordplay.
“Would you care to watch?”
“Oh yes, I’ve never seen a real sword fight before.”
He paused. Had she been so secluded that she had never seen men fight with swords? Her story of the future came back to him. Talking to Lucy filled him with more questions than answers.
William offered her his arm, leading her over to a bench against the wall. Seeing her settled, he nodded to Albin. “Watch over the lady.”
Albin stood straight and tall. “Aye, my lord. I’ll watch over and protect her.”
He unsheathed his sword and plunged into the fray, taking on two men at once.
Lucy leaned against the cool wall and pulled the cloak around her. He was a sight to behold. The man fought with grace and a ruthlessness that made her glad she wasn’t on his bad side. The blade was an extension of his arm.
Sheesh, he must live, breathe and sleep with his sword. Hmmm, I wouldn’t mind being his sword for a night, curled up to him to sleep, although I don’t think there’d be much actual sleeping going on.
Stop it this instant, Lucy Merriweather! You have terrible judgment when it comes to men. You are now a widow. Doesn’t matter if you were tricked into marriage. I would suggest you better seek some serious counseling before you even consider dating again.
She frowned. Her conscience was right. Might as well enjoy the show.
Clement sat down next to her and didn’t even cross himself. Perhaps they were making progress. “Lady, how fare you?” He looked so much like Simon. No, Simon looked like Clement.
“Enjoying this lovely day,” she forced out.
“You do not mourn for your dead companion?”
He wore a sly smile on his face. It took everything she had not to smack him.
She decided to ignore the question. He only wanted to get a rise out of her. She pasted on her brightest fake smile. “Don’t you train with the men?” Wimpy loser.
He curled his lip. “I am in charge of the castle. I do not have time to play with swords.”
Sheesh, talk about touchy. He didn’t have any of Simon’s charm. This guy was Mr. Nasty.
He leaned in close, eyes blazing. “How did you come to be on the battlements? In truth, are you a witch? Was the man your sacrifice to the devil?” He shot her a calculating
look. “There is a great deal of coin to be made from powerful potions.”
“Sorry, I’m no witch.” He was rude and totally crazy.
Clement grasped her arm. “How do you know my sire? I would have remembered meeting a wench such as yourself.”
“I was mistaken. You look a lot like someone I know.”
“You called me Simon before you struck me. My sire is Simon Grey. The dead man you also called Simon.” Clement looked thoughtful. “With most of his face eaten away, ’twas hard to tell what he looked like.”
“You’re horrible.” A warning flashed through her, making Lucy scoot to the edge of the bench. She looked around, seeking out William, and was surprised to see him watching her while he fought. Feeling better, she pulled her arm away.
“Simon is a common name. Nothing more than a coincidence.” There was something in his eyes that made her think she was speaking to Simon. The urge to flee was so strong she was standing before she realized it. The earth needed to stop spinning and go back to normal. Cars, people, phones ringing, power lines. Sweet tea and her sisters. Not this whole medieval thing. It was as if she were watching herself onscreen. Talk about surreal.
Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy watched as William re-sheathed his sword, strode over to her and cocked a brow.
“Were you impressed, my lady?”
Grateful for his presence, she handed him a bottle of ale. He accepted the drink with a smile then dragged a sleeve across his face.
“I am most impressed by your skill, my lord.”
He looked at her as if he wasn’t sure if she were joking or not. Lucy kept her face blank.
Clement sniffed. “When do you depart?”
What? He couldn’t leave her here alone with Clement. Something about the man made her skin crawl. The panic she felt must have shown on her face.
“Are you unwell, Lucy?” William took her hand in his.
She shook her head. “I didn’t know you were leaving.”
“There is a matter requiring my attention. I will not be gone longer than a se’nnight.” He tucked a lock of hair that had come loose from her braid behind her ear.
“Take it.” He reached into the pouch at his waist and handed her a bag. It was heavy and clinked in her palm. “Gold.”
She looked at him blankly.
William smiled. “Pay the seamstress for new gowns and anything else you require.”
Clement sputtered. “I will take care of the gold, my lady.”
She started to hand him the bag when William stopped her with a hand on her arm. “The lady may see to her own needs.”
Nice. She thought Clement was warming up to her, then this. He looked at her like she was the slop trough and he was a big, hungry pig.
William’s hand lingered on hers. “Albin will not leave your side.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “He’s young but good with a blade. I will leave Thomas behind to guard you as well, worry not.”
Easier said than done, she thought.
“Hurry, my lady,” Albin implored her as he scampered up the stairs and out onto the battlements. Lucy followed him, smiling at his enthusiasm while Thomas trailed behind her, looking very serious about his guard duties.
The guard on duty nodded to them as they lined up to wave goodbye to William and his men. The door opened again. Lucy turned and barely kept from cringing. It was Clement the pig, as she’d begun to call him.
Thomas moved closer to her so Clement was forced to stand next to Albin.
“Look, lady, there he is.” The excitement on Albin’s face was contagious.
William turned to look up at them and waved. Albin waved back frantically while Thomas stood looking serious and Lucy smiled and waved, hoping he’d return quickly. She dreaded being left alone with Clement, who would be in charge with William gone. Why couldn’t the man see his friend was a jerk?
The odious man in question leaned close to her ear. “I will be watching you, witch. You will not ensnare another man for your foul deeds.” His stinky breath made her take shallow breaths through her mouth as he spoke again. “What does a girl know of spending gold? Give me the coin. I will pay the seamstress and provide whatever womanly frippery you may require.”
She turned her most severe look on him, the one she used on her sisters when she was annoyed. “William left me the gold. I will manage it myself.” She smiled at him sweetly. “But I thank you for your kind concern. Run along now before I ensnare you too.”
Clement’s eyes filled with horror. The pig crossed himself, practically running away from her. She didn’t laugh. Though she wanted to, very much.
With a final look at William’s departing back, Lucy patted Albin on the shoulder. “Let’s go find some supper. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
The boy grinned at her, scampering ahead while Thomas trailed behind them. She was happy to have him at her back. A feeling of dread swept over her, and Lucy hoped Clement would ignore her for the next week. She’d made an enemy of him. The man was up to something devious. But what?
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning as Lucy pulled the ill-fitting gown over her head, a knock sounded at the door.
Albin popped his head in. “Are you ready, my lady? The seamstress is here.” He wriggled with excitement, reminding her of an overgrown puppy.
“Coming.” She wished for a mirror then decided it was better not to know. Who knew how dreadful her hair looked without modern-day shampoo and conditioner? Likely a terrible case of bedhead. She braided her hair, tying the end with a scrap of fabric, and followed her constant companion down the stairs.
Thomas pushed off from the wall where he’d been standing watch. “Good morrow, lady.”
They stopped in the kitchens, where Thomas sat down to break his fast. Albin grabbed a loaf of bread still hot from the ovens.
“A bowl of porridge, my lady?” Bertram held a wooden bowl in his hand.
Lucy wrinkled her nose. “No thank you.” She spied cherries in a ceramic bowl and put a handful on a platter along with cheese and bread. The cook handed her a mug of chilled wine.
She’d never drunk so much wine in all her life. The water from the well was cool and refreshing, though it wasn’t served with meals. She made a mental note to have Albin fill a pitcher for her later. Let them think her weird; it was the least of her worries.
“Thank you, Bertram.”
The cook beamed.
Lucy turned. “Before I forget, could we talk later?” She paused, thinking how to say it without offending him. “You have a firm hand with the men. They listen to you. Might you be willing to tell them to clean the castle?”
He started to bristle, so she stopped him with a smile and kept talking. “I know how cooking for everyone takes up all your time, but if you could deal with the men, I would be happy to cook for everyone while the castle is being cleaned.”
“My lord said nothing to me.”
“It’s a surprise. One of the boys slipped on the floor last night and chipped a tooth. I’d hate for the state of the castle to reflect badly on our lord, wouldn’t you?”
Bertram thought then straightened up, pointing a wooden spoon at her. “Can you cook?”
She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I can. You would be doing me a kindness to help me not feel useless.” There. Appeal to his vanity.
“The hall needs a good cleaning.” He nodded. “The boys here can help you. You must be up early to have the morning meal prepared.”
“I will. Thank you. You know the men wouldn’t listen to a mere woman asking them to clean.”
“You can start in the morn.” Bertram scratched his nose. And smartly refrained from saying anything about her sex, though he looked like he wanted to with the grin on his face.
Lucy hugged him and followed Albin down the corridor. He led her to a room she hadn’t seen yet. It was very masculine inside, with a huge desk, some books on a shelf and a large window overlooking the ruined garden. A fire blazed in
the hearth. Even though it was warm outside, it was always chilly inside the castle.
There was a beautiful oriental rug on the stone floor and a tapestry with his crest of the dog…hellhound on it. This must be William’s solar. Clement had claimed it for his own while William was away fighting. Looked like the lord had retaken the room.
She rolled her eyes. Poor Clement the pig. Not. Guess you shouldn’t have spent so much money drinking, eating and whoring. It was interesting how he and Simon looked so much alike. She could see some of the same personality traits, but by the time Simon was born, the gene pool had made him much more refined. A snort escaped. Then again, he had tried to kill her. The polish of manners and civilization simply hid his true nature. Did William hide a bad side too?
Three women stood by the desk. A plump, middle-aged woman, who smiled and immediately reminded Lucy of her next-door neighbor who was always out working in the yard. A pang of longing swept over her. Instead of giving in to sorrow, she shook her head and focused on the fabrics laid out in an orderly line. Two girls around fourteen or so looked her over with faces full of curiosity.
“Good morrow to you, my lady,” the seamstress said. “Come see if any of the fabrics please you.”
The fabrics were lovely. Everything from wool and linen to silk and velvet. Lucy fingered the velvet and silk, but with a sigh decided she needed to be practical. Linen and wool.
“Two dresses should be plenty.”
The woman looked her up and down. “Lord Blackford said you are to have a wardrobe befitting a lady, my lady.”
“Please, call me Lucy.”
The seamstress smiled. “Mistress. You can call me Jeanne.” She clapped her hands and the girls jumped. She turned her eye on Albin. “Off with ye.”
He looked at Lucy, who nodded, then scampered out the door, calling over his shoulder, “I will stand guard while Thomas breaks his fast, my lady.”
A Knight to Remember: Merriweather Sisters Time Travel (Merriweather Sisters Time Travel Romance Book 1) Page 11