Prince of Time (17 page)

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Authors: Sarah Woodbury

Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Historical, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Juvenile Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic, #Time Travel, #Science Fiction, #Alternative History, #Medieval, #New Adult, #Love & Romance

BOOK: Prince of Time
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If I weren’t walking across this grass, hand-in-hand with Ieuan, under sunny skies without a power line, airplane, or automobile in sight, I wouldn’t have believed it. I stopped. Ieuan, who’d been striding forward, tried to tug me with him, but I dug in my heels.

“This is just so not okay, David,” I said. “This can’t be real. I can’t be in the Middle Ages.”

He stopped too and met my eyes, and I could see something in his face that looked like pity. “We can only go forward now, Bronwen. It’s too late to turn back. Believe me when I tell you that it’s best not to think about it. When we’re safe, I’ll get you to my mother and sister who can talk you through this. Right now, I need you to walk.”

Looking down, I brushed tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. I’d thought Tillman had blown my world apart when he denied me a stipend to continue graduate school.
What a laugh. This time, I’ve blown my own world apart. I’ve nothing left—no family, no friends, no career, no possessions—beyond these two men and the clothes on my back.
Hiding my face and the tears with my hair, I walked.

 

 

Chapter Fifteen

David

 

 


T
here, my lord,” Ieuan said.

I nodded. We’d been walking for forty minutes, heading south, away from Huntington. The countryside was relatively flat, with meadows and fields to cross and copses of trees here and there. The hills of Wales rose up to our right and I was impatient to lose myself in them.

We crossed a creek, leaping from rock to rock without getting wet, and came through a stand of trees. Then Ieuan spied a small farmhouse, inhabited, as smoke rose through the center of the roof.

“Okay,” I said. “You two stay here and I’ll attempt to negotiate with whoever is at home.”

“Will they speak Welsh?” Bronwen said.

“Maybe, maybe not. And even if they did I wouldn’t risk using it in England.
Aye speeke Englisch
,” I said.

“Is that Middle English?” Bronwen said.

“Historically, we are in a time of transition.” I shrugged. “You’ll have to ask my mother if you get a chance. She knows stuff like that.”

“How are you going to pay them?” Bronwen said, hitting upon a key point.

“With this.” I pulled the small sack from my waist in which I stored my coins.

Bronwen looked at me. Her expression clearly said:
idiot!
“Why didn’t you produce that gold back at Penn State?”

“I thought the knife more valuable in your world, but the gold more valuable in mine,” I said. Bronwen opened her mouth to speak, but I forestalled her. “I knew we’d make it back and then I would need the coins.”

Ieuan tugged at her and she allowed herself to be dragged away. It was becoming a trend—Ieuan didn’t like her to question me and tried to protect her from me and me from her. I needed to let him know when I got a chance that his concern was needless. I reached the door of the hut, and knocked. A moment later, the door opened.

“What do you want?” The woman who answered said, looking at me with suspicion. She looked old, though in this era it was often hard to tell how old a person was. Living the kind of life this woman must have led, she could’ve been forty or sixty. Either way, the lines on her face were pronounced, her hair was grey, and her shoulders hunched, whether permanently, or out of fear of me, I didn’t know.

I could understand her apprehension. Her farm wasn’t exactly located in an auspicious spot. The land was beautiful, but comprised some of the most fought over territory in England, if not the world. American law, even if imperfectly applied, protected both high and low alike. That wasn’t true in the Middle Ages. The common folk were always the ones who got caught in the middle in war. At the same time, they didn’t always care who won, as long as they didn’t lose their livelihood—or their lives—in the process.

“Madam,” I said. “My horse went lame some distance from here. If you have a horse and wagon to sell me, I have gold in exchange.”

“Gold! Aren’t you fine?” Then her eyes narrowed. “Let me see it.”

I showed her one gold coin but didn’t let her touch it. It could have been the first coin she’d ever seen. In time of war, gold is the most portable and useful of goods. She weighed her options. I could have taken from her what I wanted by force and she knew it, so I wasn’t surprised when she grunted, “I’ve a cart and a horse.”

“I need also need clothes for me and my companions.”

“I have few to spare,” she said.

“Perhaps you’ve a neighbor who’d like my money instead,” I said. I took a step back from the door.

“No, no!” she stopped me. “I’ll take the coin.”

I handed it to her and she brought me inside. The hut was as I expected, furnished with a table and two stools, with a cooking pot centered over the fire in the middle of the room. It was hot and stuffy, as she had no windows. She went to an alcove in one corner of the room and dragged a wooden box from the end of the sleeping pallet. Opening it, she removed a small stack of clothes and gave them to me.

“The dress was my daughter’s,” she said, with a sniff. “She died last year. The others belong to my husband. He won’t miss them either.”

The woman threw some food in a sack, even though I hadn’t asked for it, and gave me a blanket as well. She did have a horse, surprising really, given her poverty, but he was a sad fellow who couldn’t be ridden. He came with saddle bags, though no saddle, and was capable of pulling the cart. I thanked the woman, placed the sack in the cart, and clip clopped my way back to where I’d left Ieuan and Bronwen.

Bronwen wrinkled her nose at the clothes and I opted not to tell her that the previous owner had died. “Leave on your t-shirt and jeans,” I said. “They’re cleaner than these and you might want them for warmth tonight. Put the dress over the top.”

Bronwen did and transformed herself into a medieval woman, except for her shoes.

I turned to Ieuan. “She should be barefoot.”

“She can’t,” he said. “She’d never make it.”

Bronwen lifted the hem of her dress and all three of us inspected her feet. She wore brown leather slides and matching socks. Anna would have swooned over them.

“All right,” I said. Bronwen let go of her hem. “If we see anyone, keep your feet under your skirt and we should be okay.”

I shared Bronwen’s aversion to the smell of the clothes. We wrapped our weapons and my backpack in the blankets, rolled the fine clothes into a ball, and piled everything in the back of the cart. I rummaged in the pack of food the woman had given me and pulled out a small loaf of bread. Medieval food didn’t have preservatives in it and we should eat it before the chips from Aunt Elisa. Ieuan and Bronwen climbed to the seat and I broke the bread and handed Bronwen two-thirds of it. I would walk beside the horse. It was little matter to me, but social strata in England was rigid. Nobody would suspect that I was more than I claimed to be.

 

* * * * *

 

We followed a trail south, hoping all the while to find a track leading west into Wales. I wanted to put Huntington Castle behind us as quickly as possible, but the Dyke was a formidable obstacle in this area of Herefordshire, and we couldn’t take the cart across it unless there was a road that cut through it. We could have easily walked along the top, but that might call too much attention to us.

My intent was to head directly for Aberedw, my father’s castle south of Buellt. He’d held it for many years and Ieuan’s holdings were close by.
The road rose steadily ahead of us and for a mile was free from soldiers. That didn’t last long, however. Our track intersected a larger one, coming southwest from Huntington, just short of the Dyke.

“You there!”

Ieuan stopped the horse and allowed the English soldiers to overtake us. I didn’t have to tell Ieuan what to do. His bright eyes watched me for a moment before he looked down in feigned submission. I followed suit, waiting for the soldiers to canter up to us.

“You there!” the lead soldier of four said again. “Out of the way!”

Ieuan obeyed. He twitched the reins and encouraged the horse to pull the cart as far off the road as it could. We held still after that, heads bowed. I kept mine down until the soldier poked me with his lance.

“What say you?” he said. “Don’t you know trouble’s coming?”

“My mum is sick,” I said. “We’re for Hay-on-Wye.”

The soldier grunted. “Mind the river, then. If you cross it, you may find yourself on the wrong side of a good fight!” Then he laughed and spurred his horse forward, with the rest of the troop of twenty men following.

“Those were Hereford’s men,” Ieuan said, as the last of the riders passed us.

“Yup,” I said. “They were pretty cheerful about the possibility of war, too. What does that tell us?”

Ieuan shrugged. “Nothing good. But nothing we didn’t already know.”

 

 

Chapter Sixteen

Bronwen

 

I
exhaled a held breath, my shoulders sagging. I’d never been so scared in my life as when that soldier spoke to David. My heart had thumped so loudly I was afraid everyone could hear it. Ieuan had placed a hand on my thigh, trying to make sure I knew to be quiet. He needn’t have worried. I understood only one word in three that the man had said, but was too scared to talk anyway.

“Never fear,
cariad
,” Ieuan said as the soldiers rode away. “Prince Dafydd and I kept our knives close. We wouldn’t have let them harm you.”

David walked to my right foot and looked up at me. “It takes you by surprise, doesn’t it? The fear, I mean.”

“Yes.” I pulled my cloak closer around me. The rush of the adrenaline was fading, leaving me exhausted. “And this was nothing.”

“Not nothing, Bronwen,” David said. “The danger was real. The soldiers could have killed us and taken you for the fun of it with no repercussions.”

“That violence is always under the surface, isn’t it?” I looked from David to Ieuan.

Ieuan put an arm around my shoulder.

“I see it in you two,” I said. “You take it on and off like a cloak.”

“It’s one of those things you learn to live with,” David said. And then to Ieuan he added, “Let’s move on, before they come back. I say we cross the Dyke right here and not wait for the road to turn across it. Other soldiers at the crossroads will be watching.”

“Peasants would stay on the road,” Ieuan said. “They’ll expect it.”

“Can you see us withstanding a thorough search? You’re Welsh, and for all intents and purposes, so is Bronwen. They might just run you through once you open your mouth, rather than bother with questions. I don’t want to risk it.”

Ieuan examined the country through which we were traveling. We were alone, all sane people who were not soldiers having already hidden themselves in their crofts or retreated to a safer spot. It was very quiet.

“Right,” Ieuan said. “I’ve not been here for many years, but my uncle’s lands—my lands—are ten miles from here as the crow flies.”

“Can you lead us there?” David said.

“Yes,” Ieuan said. “But not with the cart.”

“We’ll turn this beast around and send him back the way we came,” David said. “He helped convince the soldiers we were common folk, but he’ll only hinder us from here on.”

“We shouldn’t, my lord,” Ieuan said. “If soldiers see an abandoned cart and horse they’ll wonder why.”

“Then what do we do?” David said.

“We hide the cart, as we did Bronwen’s car, and bring the horse with us. He can carry our belongings and should have no more trouble walking than we do.”

David nodded. “You’re right, Ieuan. Let’s do it.”

I turned on the bench and climbed into the back. I couldn’t wait to cross into Wales. “Here.” I handed Ieuan his sword and quiver. “What shall we do with the clothes?”

David had climbed into the back with me, and tied a blanket to disguise his backpack. “The horse will carry it all. We’ll leave nothing in the cart for anyone to find.” Then he grinned wickedly at me. “Your fiancé is a smart man, even if he’s a Welsh barbarian.”

“Wha—?” I managed, before Ieuan laughed. He put his hands at my waist and lifted me from the cart. I handed him his bow, which I clutched in my hand.

“Should she have a weapon?” David said.

Ieuan stiffened, but then looked down at me and nodded. “I would there was no need, but if anything happens to us, I’d prefer she could defend herself.” He took a knife from his belt and showed it to me, before tucking it at my waist.

“Show me how you grasp it,” he said.

I pulled it from its sheath and held it out like it was a very short sword.

“Not that way,” David said. “Reversed. If someone comes at you, hold the knife in your right fist as if to stab, but don’t raise it high. You want it down at your side, right arm bent, a little behind you. Keep your left hand out in front, holding your opponent at bay, and then swing the knife up and across to slash him. Your fist should end up to the left of your head. Then you can bring the knife down and to the right to stab him again. You’re much stronger that way.”

I practiced the motion a few times.

“I wouldn’t have thought to teach her thus, my lord,” Ieuan said, watching, his brows furrowed.

“Karate again,” David said. “In general, a woman is at a disadvantage even with a knife, but this will give her a chance, especially if she can surprise him.”

Ieuan took my chin in his hand. “If you have to use the knife, you use it. Don’t hesitate, don’t think. You use it and run. Do you understand?”

“Ieuan—” David said.

I slipped the knife back into its sheath. “It’s okay, David. I can take it. It isn’t as if he isn’t right.”

“You’ll need to have a talk with Math, Ieuan,” David said, working on the ties that held the horse to the cart.

“Anna seems biddable enough,” Ieuan said.

David rolled his eyes. “Not likely. That’s just an act for the benefit of guests. She has opinions about everything and she tells him what they are.”

“And he doesn’t object?” Ieuan held one of the handles to the cart that had stuck out to one side of the horse. David handed the horse’s lead to me and took the other cart handle. They rolled it forward into a copse of trees to the left of the road.

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