Knight of Runes (10 page)

“Marcus, I’ll meet you on the practice field.” Arik ran up the steps to the terrace. His hand on the estate room door, he hesitated, glancing at the nearby library. His face morphed into a scowl. How much longer would the woman avoid him? He stepped to the library and burst in through the door. Sheets of foolscap fluttered to the floor in disarray. He stood in the entrance, in full scowl, primed for battle, and scanned the room.

Surprised to find the room empty, he took advantage of her absence and peered at the books and papers scattered on the large table and stacked on the floor. Odd notes in her elegant yet strong precise hand were in a neat pile on the table. He glanced at the materials, seeing the almanacs and tomes he left for her as well as…the Manor floor plans. Why was she reading those? What was she searching for? A weakness?

As he picked up the drawing, he caught a glimpse of worn brown leather. His blood turned cold, the muscles on his face tightened and his mouth went dry. The document in his hand dropped back onto the table forgotten. What did she want with the family history? The leather bound book lay open, the ancient runes clearly visible.
Jamie sent her. What does he want? What is he up to?

He had no more time to think. The muffled sounds of someone approaching from the hallway reached his ears, and the scent of lavender and rose announced her arrival. He didn’t want her to know she’d been found out. He slipped the book in his shirt and left the way he entered.

“Rebeka, how goes it?” Doward approached her as she opened the door and followed her into the room. “Jeannie tells me you’ve been in the library for a fortnight, leaving only to eat and sleep.”

“Yes, reading, but I haven’t found anything. I’ve only been successful in avoiding Katherine and Arik.”

He picked up a book from the table.
“Ruralia commoda.”
Rebeka watched as curiosity filled his eyes. He turned to her, his head tilted and brows wrinkled.

“That book is a classic. Well it will be a classic, an authority on agriculture, husbandry and horticulture for the next five hundred years. Somebody studied the first chapter very thoroughly.”

“The first chapter?”

“Yes. The first chapter discusses the best location and arrangement for a manor. I found the plans tucked into the book. Using the drawings, I was searching for geological elements, like an underground stream to explain what was happening to the land but I didn’t find any.”

Doward moved closer, casually peeking over her shoulder. “You won’t be able to avoid them for much longer.” He didn’t give her time to react but moved on to the next subject. “There may be information in the estate books. The family has been on this land for many generations.”

She ignored his mention of Katherine and Arik. “I haven’t found any estate books.”

She looked for the brown leather book. She could have sworn it was on the table.
I don’t remember putting any back in the bookcase.
No matter, she had copied the relevant pages. She gathered up some papers and stacked them on top of her notes, appearing to straighten out the jumble on the table. She didn’t want him to know she searched the family history. What would she tell him? How would she explain her sudden interest in the family history? She’d look for the book later.

“You plan to read the estate books?”

“Yes, I thought perhaps something similar happened to the land in the past. Someone may have noted an oddity. It’s simply a guess.” She surveyed the books and papers on the table, irritated she had no blessed idea where to turn. “Actually, I don’t know what I’m looking for.” Her anger piqued, she tossed the papers she was holding on the table and slouched in her chair. “There’s no clue about time travel and nothing out of the ordinary about the land or weather. This is getting me nowhere.”

“The way the land is dying and not recovering would surely be documented in books by people in future generations. In your studies have you found any such mention?”

She sat up straight and stared at him. “No.” Her voice was barely a whisper. Deep in thought, she stared unseeing at the table while her mind raced. She concentrated on recalling the history of the area she read on her flight to England. Her hand stroked the nearest book while she puzzled things out. She picked up her head, surprise written all over her face. “This is a very prosperous area, even Oak Meadow.”

Doward softly patted her hand. “Ah, a good sign. That means we find the remedy before it’s too late.” He paused for a moment.

He stared past her into the cold hearth, a distant look in his eyes. “Maybe there’s magic at the root of this.” He swept his hand over the stacks of books. “We’ll not find magic in any of these books.” He returned his attention to her.

“Doward.” She couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Surely you know magic isn’t real. It’s nothing but illusion. The magician distracts you. He has you concentrate on one hand while he does something with the other. Common sense should tell you it’s only a game.”

“Before you take offense, you may want to reconsider.” He looked at her like a teacher would an unenlightened child. “What does your common sense tell you about your traveling through time? Was that an illusion?”

She thought about his words. “You’re saying I should suspend my disbelief.”

“I’m saying I don’t think your answers will be so easily found in these books. You need to see the problem a different way or else you’ll keep coming to the same conclusion.” He sat down next to her.

“So I’m lost before I even begin.” She put her elbows on the table and rested her forehead in her hands.

“Rebeka, I don’t think you’re here by accident. I think you’re here for a purpose, to use your knowledge and stop what’s happening. Once you complete your quest you’ll be able to go back.”

Her mind rebelled.
It’s not logical!
She stopped the thought from taking hold. Doward was right. Logic had no place here. If it did, she would be fighting with George Hughes over Helen’s scones.

A burst of understanding jolted her and excitement ran up her spine. “Estate books and journals. George Hughes was having them delivered.” She looked at Doward. “Secrets. He said the books were filled with secrets.” Her voice was a whisper. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

“What’s filled with secrets?” Doward stood and bent over her, his face inches from hers. “What secrets?”

She put her hand up, stalling him while she thought.
He said they were three to four hundred years old. The year would be somewhere around 1500 to 1600. The timing’s right. I’ve read the estate books and found nothing but I haven’t seen any journals. Where would someone keep a personal journal?
She scanned the room and began to section it off in her mind.
I’ll search every piece of paper if I have to.

“These books can’t help.” He looked startled by her outburst and quickly stepped back. “Journals with personal thoughts and observations are what we need.”

Doward nodded his agreement and gently placed his hand on hers. “You can use these books to confirm what you discover once you know what information you seek.”

“Villagers don’t keep journals but someone did. Who? I thought I saw some personal papers on one of the shelves.” She turned and looked high on the wall, trying to remember where she saw the papers.

“It’s a good place to start.” Doward straightened up. He started for the door but stopped and turned, his hand stroking his chin. “The villagers may not write in a journal but they too exchange thoughts on events—only in a very different way.”

“Oral history!” A new avenue of exploration opened for her. “Of course, you take the stories from village to village.”

He smiled at her.

“Let me start with you.” She knew she was on the right track. The thought of documenting historical information firsthand was an opportunity she couldn’t let slip by.

Rebeka spent the next several hours listening to Doward tell her what he knew about the land and documented everything he said.

“Rebeka, are you hungry?” Aubrey rapped on the door and poked her head in.

“I certainly am,” said Doward. “Come, Rebeka, we could use some sustenance. Besides, my throat is parched. I need some ale. Telling stories makes me thirsty.”

“You go on without me. I want to finish this while it’s still fresh in my mind.”

“As you wish.” Doward turned to Aubrey. “Did I ever tell you about the time I met the giant?” Doward put his arm around the girl and left for the Great Hall.

Rebeka shook her head. He mesmerized the child like a pied piper. She edited her notes and quickly lost track of time.

“M’lady, I’ve brought you something to eat.”

“Thank you, Jeannie,” she said, her head buried in the papers. “I’ll come in a minute.”

“Everyone’s finished and gone on their way. You’ve missed the meal, again. I’m here to see about the stitches.”

Rebeka raised her head, giving Jeannie only part of her attention, and smiled. “Thank you. I’ll take care of it.”

Jeannie stood over her, stared and waited.

“Jeannie, you can leave the salve. I’ll take care of it.” Her head was still bent down. She wrote furiously.

“As you said you would be in for the midday meal. No, I’ll wait.”

With a heavy sigh, Rebeka relented. Missing a meal was nothing new for her when she was into a project. More times than she wished to remember, the librarian unknowingly locked her in the building and she had to call security to get out.

Jeannie stood waiting. There was no use arguing, and a burst of warmth washed over her. It had been many years since someone had been there to look after her. She let Jeannie check the stitches and put on the salve while she ate her lunch and finished her notes.

“The stitches should come out, tonight after the meal.” She gently dabbed the salve on the wound. “You need to get up and walk around more. You don’t want the scar to draw too tightly or you’ll have a limp.”

“Where should she go?” said Aubrey, coming into the library.

“Anywhere she likes. She has to use her leg,” Jeannie said, still applying the salve. “I’m almost finished.” She stood, pulling down Rebeka’s skirt before turning to Aubrey. “I’m glad you’re here. I want to send some herbs and baby clothes over to Mary. Her baby will be coming soon and your cousin Katherine will be helping her when her time comes. There’s a basket on the terrace. Take them over to the mill for me please.”

“Yes, Jeannie.” Aubrey turned to Rebeka. “Would you like to come with me? If you stay here Jeannie will only keep after you until she gets her way.”

Rebeka put down the papers. Putting an arm around the girl’s shoulder, she squeezed her gently. “A walk would be good.”

With a word of thanks to Jeannie, Rebeka grabbed a piece of cheese and her walking staff. She and Aubrey left through the terrace doors and walked down to the stone gate.

“Aubrey, there are no herbs in the garden. Where do these grow?” She brought the basket to her nose and took a deep breath, reveling in the fresh tangy fragrance and noting the healthy leaves and blooms.

“Some grow in back of the old cottage, some by the lake, and others in Oak Meadow.”

“The lake? I didn’t know there was a lake close by.”

“The only time we go there anymore is for the harvest festival. We have the wrestling and tug-of-war games there. I can’t wait for the festival. Everyone gets dressed up in their best clothes.” The more Aubrey told her about the festival, the more excited she got. “Arik wears his clothes from court. He’s so handsome. The women all make food, there is singing and dancing. It’s wonderful.”

Rebeka smiled at her enthusiasm. “When’s the festival?”

“It’s in August. I can’t wait. I know you will love it.”

Rebeka smiled. She didn’t have the heart to tell the child she wouldn’t be going. She hoped she’d be gone by then. “Here’s the path to the lake. It’s beyond those trees.” They stood on the road to the village. A wide path to the right passed in front of an old well-cared-for cottage. An old woman sat sleeping under the tree.

“Aubrey, you go on. I’d like to examine the plants. I’ll see you later.”

The path to the lake wound its way through a stand of tall trees. The large full branches of the maples were a cool green canopy over the wide trail. A gentle breeze played through the leaves, making them dance ever so gracefully in the sun. The bright light fell in broad shafts through the trees. It landed on the ground, bathing it in great golden pools. The fragrance of wildflowers and herbs filled the warm air with a delicate perfume. Day bugs flittered around lazily.

After a few minutes, the trees gave way to a serene lake. The compact flat trail continued circling the lake, creating a closed loop. Rebeka scanned the area to get a perspective of where she was. Only the Manor tower peeked over the tree tops. It was a secluded area.

She stretched to loosen up, beginning with neck rotations and ending with flexing her feet. She did several
katas,
choreographed martial arts forms, and concentrated on her mind-body connection. The
katas
were a holdover from her martial arts training and helped her work out any pent-up energy. She found the familiar movements soothing. When she bowed at the end of the final
kata,
the music started in her head, Eric Clapton’s
After Midnight,
her jogging music.

Trying to keep to her routine, she did exercises every morning in her room but she longed to run. She bounced on her feet, setting her mind, letting the music take over. She jogged slowly down the trail and circled the lake, enjoying the solitude. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine herself back in upstate New York.
This is the perfect place to run. I should be able to work up to five laps pretty quickly. Follow with a swim in the lake. It’s better than the gym in New York. They don’t have a pool. I could harvest the herbs for Jeannie. This is getting better. I even have my jogging clothes. I can wash them in the lake. No one will see me here. I could be back at the Manor in time to break the morning fast, no one the wiser. Perfect! I’ll start tomorrow.