They made a quick exit, by Derek’s plan. It was definitely time to check out that coin.
Preferably elsewhere.
*
There was a little room in the sailing vessel that Niall had not been privileged to see the previous day. Ingenious slatted doors along one wall below the deck hid a desk that had been built right into the wall. A swiveling chair was tucked beneath, the desktop pulled out to make its surface larger. Derek gestured to the gleaming boxes reposing in the hidden space.
“Fax, laptop, laser printer - all the conveniences of home.” One slim box had a hinged lid, which Niall noted when Derek opened it. The bottom of the box was covered with buttons, each labeled with a letter, the top was a big square. Derek pressed a button and Niall jumped at the note that the box sang, his eyes widening in astonishment as the top box lit up with color.
“Yeah, it’s one of the new Mac PowerBooks,” Derek said with a nod more fitting of a proud papa. “Impresses the hell out of me every time I boot it up. Beautiful display.” He recounted what were evidently statistics but his words fell on deaf ears.
For Niall was marveling at the little pictures. Derek steered a little arrow around somehow, his hands moving so fast that Niall had a hard time seeing precisely what did what. In a moment, there was a white box displayed and Derek was hitting the little buttons in succession.
And words appeared in the white box. Niall watched closely and realized that each button Derek struck put the matching character on the white box.
’Twas a marvel, but a machine all the same.
Derek laughed beneath his breath. “Old hunt and peck school, that’s me. You’d think after all these years, I’d learn, but I never have. Drives Paula crazy.” He winked. “Maybe that’s why I haven’t - this way, she does the lion’s share of my typing.”
Niall smiled fleetingly at the older man’s jest, his interest fixed by the words appearing on the screen. ’Twas a letter, as any fool could see. Derek was writing to one Horace Thorogood, asking after his interest in gold coins. This made good sense to Niall, though he acknowledged that ’twould be inconvenient to be without coin until this Horace replied and any transaction could be made.
It could take weeks, even if the Hospitaliers transferred the funds.
But to Niall’s astonishment, when Derek finished the letter, he pointed the tiny arrow at a little box labeled “send”. The cabin filled with a series of tones that made Niall jump and look around.
Derek laughed at his reaction. “Hey, this is my ship! All the bells and whistles and modcons. Paula’s comments notwithstanding, I can’t be unconnected for weeks at a time. There’s two phone lines here -” he looked up and Niall was sure he looked suitably impressed “- and a sweet little dish on the mast to get me onto the ’net.” He gestured at the box, which displayed a dizzying array of messages. “Look, there it goes.”
Niall looked.
Message sent. Waiting for Reply.
Niall leaned closer, peeking around the back of the box and finding naught but a few cables. Certainly no boy had scooped up the missive and run with it, for there was no means by which that could have been done without Niall seeing it. “I do not understand how this message was dispatched.”
“Don’t you use e-mail?”
Niall shook his head.
“Ah, well, you see, it’s pretty simple stuff. Uses phone lines to relay messages, but a lot quicker than actually talking on the phone.” Derek turned the little box around, pointed to a variety of cables and quickly explained matters, even taking Niall up on deck.
Niall did not follow all of the explanation, though he understood that the little disk on the mast beamed the message into the sky, from which another disk far way snatched it up and passed it on, eventually to this Horace.
’Twas a marvel.
And the work of man. Not magic, but sophisticated machinery.
Not Avalon, but some place of man. Niall looked around the harbor and wondered once more precisely where they were.
Fortunately he had a good idea where an answer might be found.
“Have you a map of this place?” Niall asked, trying to keep the anticipation out of his voice. “You must have need of one to guide this vessel through these islands.”
“Oh, yeah, regular mare’s nest around here.” Derek led him back below and unrolled a map across the top of a table. ’Twas intricately detailed, more elaborate than any Niall had ever seen, with sweeping blue lines all across it. Indeed, ’twas a thing of beauty, and as fascinating as the one map Niall had seen before.
“See here’s the prevailing current.” Derek traced a line with his fingertip, explaining the course he charted here in such detail that Niall was almost immediately lost.
Niall’s ears pricked up only when he heard the word ‘home.’
“You do not live here?”
“No, no. Most of the year, we’re down in the condo in Seattle. The sailboat is a summer thing.”
“Seattle?”
Derek tapped a town marked at the bottom of this map, one that Niall hadn’t noticed before. “It’s a bit of a haul, gotta cling to the coast a bit because I’m not the most experienced sea captain going. I’d like to change that though, take some time when we retire and really doing some sailing.” He looked at Niall. “Course, I can’t retire until I find someone to take on the business.”
“Ah. An apprentice.”
“Right. A real numbers guy.”
Derek paused and Niall realized that his question had not been answered as yet. “Could you sail this craft to England?”
“England! Whoa - do you have any idea how far that is?”
Niall shook his head, his pulse leaping that the information he desired could be so close.
“Need the other map for that.” Derek rummaged and pulled out another, unfurling it on top of the first and weighing down the corners. Niall leaned over it, astonished by the amount of land shown. It had been quite a while since he had seen a map of the known world and it had been only the barest glimpse of a precious treasure held by the archbishop, but he was certain Christendom had not been shaped like this.
Or been so extensive.
Derek poked a finger at a markedly small island, its shape heartwrenchingly familiar. Niall could even make out the name of the town of Carlisle, not so far from all he knew.
“There’s merry olde England right there. And we’re over here. But it’s even worse than it looks, because you have to go around the continents. Now, once upon a time, you had to go all the way down here, by Tierra del Fuego, but since the Panama Canal opened in 1914 - a little marvel of modern engineering - you can zip through here…”
But Niall wasn’t watching the course of Derek’s finger any more. He was staring at his companion in shock. “In 1914? This was the year of its opening?”
The older man didn’t even look up, despite the tightness of Niall’s voice. “Yeah, it’s heard to believe it’s only been there for eighty-five years or so, we’ve gotten so reliant upon it…”
The year 1914 was eighty-five years past? Niall’s head nearly spun at the implication of that. He must have misunderstood. “What is the date this day?” he asked hoarsely.
“Um, well, it would be the twenty-seventh of September, come to think of it.”
“And the year?”
Now, Derek glanced at Niall. He grinned crookedly. “Been on the island long enough to lose track of time, huh? Or were you really getting into your historical re-enactment?” He snapped his fingers in sudden recollection. “Look, your chain mail is in a hockey bag there, don’t forget to take it along with you. Hope you don’t mind but I had a look - it’s really great stuff. Looks like the real thing. You probably ought to hang out that cape to dry before it wrinkles all to hell.” He cleared his throat. “Where do you buy stuff like that, anyway? If for example, I was interested…?”
“At an armorer.”
“Right. Gotta go to the medieval faire.”
“The y
ear,” Niall said through gritted teeth. “What is the year?”
“Easy, cowboy! It’s 1999, of course. Everyone knows that.”
Niall sat back in astonishment, for he had not known any such thing. Where they were had not surprised him overmuch, for he had guessed they must be at a distance from Cantlecroft. Perhaps not this far, but still.
’Twas when they were that shook him to the core.
Because Niall could not imagine how any mechanism of man could hurl them across six centuries on the power of a wish alone. He thought of Viviane’s moonstone and his innards curdled. Could that talisman be magic after all?
Or was it some cleverness of the men of this time, that only seemed magical to Niall in his ignorance of its mechanism?
Six centuries! ’Twas a long time.
Suddenly Niall realized the import of hurtling so far into the future. All he knew were wormfood, and wormfood long forgotten. Majella had not only had her child, but they were all long dead, babes and she.
Niall sat down heavily. The archbishop was no more, indeed Cantlecroft might not even stand any longer. The bile rose in his throat at the thought. Every soul to whom he had made a pledge was dead.
What had they thought of him, as they lived out their days, awaiting him to keep his word? Had his only sister thought him faithless? Had his patron thought him trapped in some netherworld? Or dead by some horrific fate? But a day since Niall had tousled his nephew’s hair and they were lost to him forever.
’Twas enough to sicken him.
“You all right?” Derek’s concern interrupted Niall’s thoughts. “You look a bit pale. It is a bit choppy today.”
“I am well enough,” Niall insisted stoically, his fingers gripping the table so tightly that his knuckles were white. He glanced down at them and saw the inscription in the corner of the map.
Based on survey data from 1989 A.D.
Niall’s stomach rolled. This made no sense! ’Twas impossible, it defied belief.
Yet he was here.
And it was 1999. Mathematics came to his rescue, his mind tabulating the difference by habit. Six hundred and four years, gone missing in the blink of an eye.
With nary a reasonable explanation in sight. Niall tightened his grip on the table, uncertain whether ’twas the vessel swaying or him.
“Yeah, well, you don’t look so good. As soon as we hear back…” The little machine sang out once more, distracting Derek. “Ha! There’s a message from Horace.”
Niall pushed to his feet and leaned over the man’s shoulder to read along. Now that he thought to look, he noticed the dateline, complete with its damning year. Niall deliberately took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, the numbers wavering slightly before his disbelieving gaze.
There had to be a rational explanation, he merely had to find it. Indeed, six hundred years of clever men could well explain all the marvels surrounding him. If naught else, he knew now that they were not magic.
And that this was not Avalon. Nay, ’twas Salt Spring Island, according to the map.
The missive revealed that Horace was very excited about the coin. With Niall’s permission, Derek dropped it on what he called a scanner, which apparently dispatched an image of the coin to Horace.
Moments later, Horace professed himself delighted, listed a sum that made Niall blink and offered to transfer half in good faith, the remainder on receipt of the coin. ’Twas only reasonable that he would confirm of its authenticity - Niall had been known himself to bite a gold coin with his own teeth to ascertain that ’twas real.
“Suit you?” Derek asked.
Niall rolled the numbers through his head and had no qualms whatsoever. Surely by the time his four coins were sold and all the resulting coin spent, he’d know how to return to Cantlecroft, his task completed?
Niall could only hope.
“The agreement seems one of good sense,” he agreed, appreciating anew that this man had vouched for him. He was, however, skeptical that Horace would truly pay such a sum in the local currency for a single gold coin.
Even a fraction would suit him well enough.
“Yeah, Horace is a bit of an oddity, but a straight shooter. Look if you like, we’ll go back into town and courier the coin to him, after we’ve checked that he’s transferred the payment.”
“This also seems of good sense to me.”
Derek stood and stretched his legs. “So does a celebratory beer.”
“Beer?”
“Ale, wine, the hard stuff, your choice.” Derek winked. “Tell you what, I’ll buy and you can tell me about your gift with numbers.”
Niall nearly fell on his new friend with relief. “An ale would be most welcome,” he said heartily and Derek chuckled.
“Yeah, I know that feeling. It’s good for what ails you.” He struck a succession of buttons once more, asked Niall for his new passbook, then sent an agreement off to Horace. When that man replied, they headed for town.
Coin and ale, in that order.
Niall had no quibbles with that.
*
Niall could not have known that his parting with that single gold coin would prompt serious repercussions. You see, the coin was not where it should have been, a fact which became of particular import when it left Niall’s fingers and lost all reasonable hope of returning to medieval Cantlecroft.
Which was, of course, where it belonged.
The coin was the first tangible thing that either Niall or Viviane parted with in their new location, and as such, its movement cast strong ripples across the surface of ensuing events.
For starters, the coin’s sudden appearance in the late twentieth century Pacific Northwest exactly doubled the world’s known supply of Cantlecroft gold coins. That rather severely affected the value of the formerly sole Cantlecroft coin, a fact which directly impacted the financial circumstances of the man who owned it.
He was the same man who bought Niall’s coin through Derek. Horace Thorogood III loved coins with a passion that had irked every one of his three ex-wives, even the last one, who had been a coin collector herself.
It is an oddity of human nature that few women take kindly to having their spouse find dirty bits of metal more fascinating than their own company, particularly at the exclusion of their own company. Horace had never cared for much of anything other than coins - though he liked women well enough - and his passion had only intensified as he grew older. By the age of fifty-three, he was thrice divorced and had reconciled himself to the reality that no woman would tolerate him.
By then, he didn’t much care. He had his coins and they filled his days and his nights with pleasure.
Derek managed Horace’s other investments, so knew exactly the man to call when the subject was coins. Horace was so excited by the possibility of there being another Cantlecroft gold coin available that he had to have it.
He probably paid too much, even given the information available at the time. He didn’t care though, once the coin - in such good condition that it appeared freshly minted - fell into his hands.
His third ex-wife, however, did.
For the sudden expense of acquiring Niall’s coin cut rather deeply into Horace’s liquid assets, making it impossible to pay that ex-wife’s monthly alimony installment on time. She did not take kindly to this omission, having rather too many credit card collectors calling her by her first name, and showed up at Horace’s bedraggled estate toting her gun.
Now, Horace was quite used to Esmeralda’s theatrics - they were, in fact, a contributing factor to that divorce as such theatrics interrupted the peaceful contemplation of coins - so he paid little attention to her show. He chose instead to enthuse over his new acquisition. If Horace thought she would be swayed by this news as a fellow coin lover, he was sorely mistaken.
Just as Esmeralda was mistaken when she thought the safety was still on. She pointed the gun at Horace and demanded her money or else, quite certain she’d only put a little fear into him when she pulled the trigge
r.
Horace had time to look up and no more.
In the ensuing unscheduled drama, the coin in question fell unnoticed from Horace’s fingers. It rolled under his desk and secreted itself in a crack in the parquet floor.
More than one Cantlecroft gold coin would not be found amongst Horace’s possessions - although the receipts for both were readily accessible. The resulting legal battle - among Horace’s various children by those terminated marriages - would outlive his three ex-wives and consume so many legal fees that in the end, there was precious little of Horace’s hard won fortune for the victorious heir.
The elusive gold coin would be found some eighty years later by a construction worker involved in demolishing the house, thereby putting him on the front page of every paper in America and convincing his recently departed wife to move right back in.
But as important as where Niall’s coin was, was the issue of where it was not.
It was not in Cantlecroft, it was not passing from Niall’s fingers to a butcher, a baker or a candlestick maker in that fair burg. Nor was it even slipping to the fingers of his sister Majella, where no coin lingered long.
And that was equally problematic.
For it is the nature of man to keep track of what he deems precious. There are tallies made of coinage minted and tables kept of the weight of silver and gold passed from one tradesman to another, and so there always have been. And when the sum was made in Cantlecroft, it was clear to the archbishop’s chancellor that the man responsible for melting the archbishop’s gold bars and transforming them to Cantlecroft coins had shipped short of the measure.
The weight of one coin and one coin exactly was missing.
The archbishop was not one to overlook this sort of thievery and Aaron Goldsmith was summoned to make an accounting. Aaron, unfortunately, could offer no decent explanation for the missing weight.
Indeed, he insisted that he had counted and delivered all of the coins. It was an obvious lie - for the numbers in the ledger did not lie. The archbishop and his chancellor knew that Jews did lie, however, for they had the example of Judas in the great book itself as a reference, and they were not inclined to be lenient with Aaron Goldsmith.
Time Travel Romances Boxed Set Page 84