Prince of Time (15 page)

“Coming with us to thirteenth century Wales isn’t going to help, Bronwen. It’ll make your path clearer only because you won’t have any choices.”

“Is my life so great that there is something better here to live for? I’ve not been happy for a while—not sleeping well, not eating right. It feels like my life isn’t my own, despite what I said to Ieuan.” I stopped pacing and looked at him, my hands on my hips. “No man has ever looked at me the way Ieuan does. At
me,
as
me.
He cares about totally different things than any man I’ve ever met. He
is
a knight in shining armor. We could be friends; we could be more than friends; but if I don’t go with you, if we don’t try, then I’ll never know, will I? Everyone wants someone to love them, David. It’s intoxicating to have someone as amazing as Ieuan think he loves me.
How do I walk away from that?
”

“You’re from the twenty-first century, Bronwen,” David said. “You have no idea what Wales is like, how hard it is, what it takes to survive there.”

I sat down on the bed across from him. “And if I don’t come with you, I’ll never know that either.”

“He fell for you the first time he saw you,” David said. “He looked at you from his hospital bed, and after that, you’re all he’s seen.”

“That’s what I mean, David. You think I don’t deserve him?”

“I didn’t say that,” David said. “I think you’re a good person, and I think everything happens for a reason, including meeting you. I just want to know that you are thinking this through, okay?”

“Okay,” I said.

David stood to leave, but just as he passed through the door, he poked his head back around the doorjamb. “One other thing. You do realize that women of the Middle Ages generally obey their husbands? If you accept him, Ieuan will expect it, though I suspect,” he grinned, “that obedience has never been your strong suit.” I glared at his retreating back as he pulled the door closed.

I have never obeyed anyone in my life.
I pictured Ieuan’s eyes. Then my cell phone beeped, interrupting my thoughts to tell me it was ten o’clock. Suddenly, I knew the answer to my dilemma, epitomized by the bright light shining from the screen. David was right. I was a woman of the twenty-first century and always would be. I had a life, a career. Tomorrow I would return to Penn State and commit to it.

Still restless, even though I felt relief that I’d made a decision, I stared at myself in the mirror above the dresser.
What did Ieuan see in me?
I leaned closer. If I went to Wales, how long before I no longer recognized myself? David spoke of his role as Prince as a duty, a responsibility, but there was more than that in his voice.
He loves Wales
. I could hear it when he talked of returning.
What is it that I want for
me?
And how do I find it?

Chapter Thirteen

Ieuan

P
rince Dafydd entered the room. His clothing rustled as he removed it and slipped into his bed on the floor. I turned onto my back.

“Ieuan?”

“I’m awake, my lord,” I said.

“I was hoping you’d stay asleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

“I was asleep, but my dreams woke me.”

“What did you dream?” Dafydd said.

I sighed. “The same as you.”

“Oh.” He knew what I meant. Each man learned to live with battle, with killing, in his own way, but our dreams wouldn’t let us forget what we put aside during the day.

“That raid last year haunts me,” Dafydd said.

I heard the rustle of the sheets as he rubbed the scar that marked his leg where the English soldier had struck him.

“I see the man shift, knowing that I am too late to counter him. In my dreams, Bevyn isn’t there to save me and I fall from my horse.”

“You dream he kills you?” I said. That was an omen every knight feared.

“No,” he said.

I relaxed.

“I wake before I hit the ground.”

“I’ve been falling in my dreams,” I said. “A black abyss opens beneath my feet.”

“I know what that dream is,” Dafydd said.

“You’ve had it too?” I said.

“No,” he said. “I’ve seen it awake—twice. It’s the abyss we crossed when we came from Wales to this world.”

“And you hope to see it again tomorrow.”

“Yes,” he said. Silence fell between us. Then David spoke again. “I talked to Bronwen. Perhaps I shouldn’t have. Your love life is none of my business, but I couldn’t help myself.”

“What did you talk with her about?” I said.

“About marrying you.”

“I didn’t speak with you before I asked her to marry me. That is my lapse, not yours,” I said. “I apologize for assuming you would accept my choice.”

Dafydd sighed. “It’s not that I don’t accept your choice, Ieuan. All things being equal, she is a great choice—if she weren’t a twenty-first century woman who we’re asking to come with us to the thirteenth century.”

“You think she will say ‘no’; that she will leave me and return to her university?”

“I told her to say ‘no’,” he said. “I told her I had the power to deny you the right to her.”

I felt like he’d punched me in the gut. “My lord.” The words came out strangled in my effort not to shout them. “What...what...why?” I threw off the covers and got to my feet, my hands and teeth clenched. “How could you?”

David’s voice came out of the darkness. “Because I don’t want to take her to Wales only for her to find that loving you can’t make up for what she misses here. I don’t want her to suffer as my sister and mother have suffered. They didn’t have a choice about coming to Wales, and she does. Bronwen has no idea what it’s going to be like for her.

“You don’t know how it is, Ieuan. We grew up as Bronwen has—not as well-traveled, but sheltered and safe. We were free then, as she is now. Soft.”

David had sat up. An outside light shone through the window, illuminating his face. He hugged his knees and rested his head on them, his hands tugging at his hair as if he would tear it out. “Anna cried the first time she sent me away to battle. She didn’t think I saw her tears, but I did. My mother tries to hide her fears—for me, for my father, and for Anna, but I’ve heard her in the night. Here, in this world, anything Bronwen wants to do or be is hers for the taking. All she has to do is reach out and grasp it. In Wales, she becomes your wife—nothing less than that, but nothing more either. She’ll live in fear—for you, for herself, for your children.”

Suddenly, I felt sorry for him.
He honestly thinks that people in his world don’t live in fear?
I’d spent the afternoon watching his television. Program after program showed his people, running from their lives, drowning their fears in alcohol and sex, instead of acknowledging death and embracing the truth of it—and living as free people.

“It’s not your place to make that choice for her, Dafydd,” I said. I squatted down beside him and on impulse, wrapped my arm around his shoulder. “Nor for me. I knew when I asked her to marry me that the chances of her accepting were slim.
I
accepted that. Her choices, though, are hers alone. We can’t ever have all the information we need, or want, in life. God hasn’t given us that kind of control. In your world, you think you have it, but you don’t, anymore than we do in Wales.”

 Dafydd put his face into my shoulder. “God, I’m so sorry, Ieuan. I’m a sixteen-year old idiot and I was wrong to talk to her. You have every right to be angry with me. Please forgive me.”

“You carry the future of your entire country on your back, my lord. But this—this burden is only for Bronwen and me.”

* * * * *

I didn’t feel as forgiving the next morning, however, when Bronwen didn’t put in an appearance at breakfast and her car was gone.

“She left?” I said to Dafydd. “Without even saying goodbye?”

“I’m sorry, Ieuan,” my lord said. “I can only say it again, even though I know it doesn’t make it better.”

Further recriminations were useless, so I gathered my belongings—including my root beer—and tossed them into the backseat of Aunt Elisa’s car. Discarded items—old clothes, single gloves, empty bottles—had littered the floor and seat, but Dafydd had gathered the refuse in a large white sack and left it in the garage.

Dafydd kissed Elisa goodbye and said something that I didn’t catch, as it was in English. She hugged him, and then pushed him toward the car. Before I opened the door, I bowed. She raised her hand. We settled ourselves in the front seats.

“Give me a second. I need to figure out the stick shift.” Dafydd started the car.

I watched as he pressed the ‘clutch’ and shifted through the gears.

“Ready?” he said.

I nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

He hesitated. “You called me ‘Dafydd’ last night. The first time, I think.”

“And the last, perhaps,” I said, “though if we stay in this world, I can’t go around calling you ‘my lord’ in front of others. Every time I’ve said it in Bronwen’s presence, a smile forms around her mouth.” I fell silent at the thought. Dafydd eyed me, and then shifted into first gear.
Not a happy topic.

Slowly, Dafydd raised the clutch and pressed the gas peddle. Knowing I was interested, Bronwen had explained how the gears and clutch worked during the drive to Bryn Mawr, and I peered under the steering wheel to watch Dafydd’s attempts. The engine revved, Dafydd released the clutch, the car jerked forward twice, and then died. I sat back in my seat.

“Sorry,” he said, shifting into neutral and starting the car again. “I’ll get the hang of this eventually. I saw my mom do it often enough.”

Again he revved the engine and released the clutch. The car jolted forward but this time it caught. We eased forward, at not more than five miles an hour. Elisa had a long driveway and Dafydd was about to shift into second gear when a car appeared in front of us. Dafydd slammed the brake, stalling the car.

Bronwen.

Bronwen had braked hard too, skidding into the dirt beside the driveway in order to stop in time. She shoved at her door and leaped out of the car. Her door slammed behind her. “What are you doing?” she demanded, her hands on her hips and her chin pointed at the pair of us.

Dafydd had his hands up in the air, defensively. “We thought you’d gone!”

“You thought I’d gone,” she said. “You think so little of me that you assumed I would leave without saying goodbye!”

“There was no note!” Dafydd tried again.

“And you!” Bronwen turned on me, coming around to my side of the car and poking her finger at my chest through the open window. “What did you think?”

“You hadn’t given me an answer,” I said. “I didn’t know what to think, but when my lord said that he’d spoken with you last night . . .”

Bronwen interrupted me. “Your lord,” and the way she said it was not complementary, “tried to convince me not to come with you. That I didn’t love you. Well—” She put her hands on either side of my face, ducked her head into the car, and kissed me hard. “So there,” she said. I put my hands on her shoulders and pulled her closer. David cleared his throat. We released each other, and we all laughed.

“Where did you go?” Dafydd said.

“Elisa was out of coffee. If you can bring all those papers with you, I can bring coffee.” She stalked back to her car, bent in through the open door and brought out a cup and a small brown sack. “See.”

“We almost left without you,” Dafydd said.

“I got lost.” Bronwen put the coffee back in her car. “These roads are confusing.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” David said, under his breath. He looked at me. “Are you ready for this?”

“Is Bronwen going to drive?” I said.

“You!” Bronwen stood impatiently by Dafydd’s door. She pointed at him. “Out!”

“Yes, madam,” my lord said, and opened his door.

She climbed into his seat and worked the gear shift, much more agilely than Dafydd had. Satisfied, she started the car, looked at me, grinning, and backed the car down the driveway to Aunt Elisa’s door.

“Get your stuff.” She reached for the door handle. “I want to put my stash of coffee in the backpack.”

“Wait.” I reached for her, catching the back of her neck and pulling her to me for another kiss. I could have sat like that all day, but Dafydd opened the door to the rear seat.

“Let’s go, love-birds,” he said. “Aunt Elisa filled her tank for the drive, Bronwen. How about yours?”

“Just now.” She tugged away from me. “You, sir, look entirely too pleased with yourself.”

I hadn’t let go of her and now pulled on her thick braid that fell half-way down her back. “That would be because I am.”

Chapter Fourteen

Bronwen

A
s I climbed into the front seat of my car, my stomach had that unsettled, excited-sick feeling that I often got before a test or, when I was younger, before the airplane taking us to another country took off.
This is impulsive. This is crazy. This is absolutely right.
And yet, I hadn’t been impulsive as all that—I’d left letters for Elisa to mail to my family and friends if we didn’t come back, though not ones, of course, that told the whole truth.

David had trudged back and forth from Aunt Elisa’s car to mine with their things, before plopping himself into the front seat. Ieuan was in the back. David looked over at me. “Shoot.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t prepared for you to come with us. You’re not dressed right.”

I inspected my clothes. I wore jeans, a t-shirt, and a cardigan; the very same clothes I’d worn the day before, as a matter of fact.

David turned to Ieuan who’d already popped the top of a bottle of one of those fancy brands of root beer that Aunt Elisa had given him, and was taking a sip. “We’re going to have to find her a dress.”

Ieuan swallowed. “I like her the way she is.”

“Ieuan,” David said. “Be reasonable.”

Ieuan laughed. “We’ve been here long enough for you to forget who you are? She’s no different in this from your sister and your mother. After witnessing their arrival, is anyone going to think ill of my beloved?”