After the Storm (12 page)

lecture. "Who's our visitor?"

Joe took the horse's reins and they began to walk toward the gate. "You're assuming there's only one?"

"Lady Sibelle, and Matilda?" Joe nodded. She sighed. "Of course. I should have known I wasn't going to get out of baby-sitting Matilda that easily. Damn. We didn't come here to socialize with the neighbors."

"Yeah, but the neighbors don't know that."

"Time Search needs to do something to cut down on all this interacting. Maybe Mom should pass out copies of the rule book to the locals."

Joe chuckled. "That might work. We could get some monks to do it up with fancy calligraphy and illumination. Too bad hardly anybody back here can read."

"Yeah." Libby ran her gaze across the top of the wall as they neared the gate.

"There's not a cloud in the sky, right?"

"Right." Joe looked up. "You're imagining seeing moving shadows on the wall, right? Castle guards?"

"Yeah. How do you know?"

"I've been standing in the woods for hours watching the same men-shaped shadows playing hide and seek in the merlons and crenelations. I think we're hallucinating."

Libby gave him a skeptical look. "The same hallucination? Do we get group rates on it?"

He shrugged. "We've got the same memories even if we don't know what they are. I think our eyes are trying to see what we remember being there."

"Ed's holographic guard images?"

"Those were the only guards the castle had. I remember looking up from the Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

edge of the woods and watching them patrolling, and thinking that they looked as real as life. That was when we went on that pic-"

"—nic," Libby finished. She stopped in her tracks, heart pounding excitedly.

Vivid images came as she spoke. "It was fall, late fall but warm. The leaves were gold and brown and red. There was champagne—we drank it out of wooden goblets. Blankets. On the ground right here. Red and blue and green plaid blankets, those scratchy, wool, handwoven things. We sat on them and wrapped ourselves in them when the day turned a little cold. It wasn't a picnic, it—"

"It was Thanksgiving. Back in the future it was Thanksgiving."

"Right. And we had a party. For—I don't remember what it was for. Not just Thanksgiving. We had a party." She looked at Joe. His eyes were as full of excitement as hers must have been. "I remember the party, but I don't remember you being there."

"I don't remember you, either. But I remember there was a party."

"And we—all five of us—spent a lot of time looking up at the marching holographic images and giving them names and histories and—" She closed her eyes and felt the bracing autumn wind on her cheeks and heard a rich, masculine laugh and her mouth was filled with the heat of a kiss that tasted like champagne.

As the princess said to the…

Pain lanced through her temples, driving the jumbled almost-memory into nightmare terror. Her eyes snapped open, and she took in deep gulps of warm, spring air to fight the threatening dizziness. The pain faded within seconds.

As it did she looked up into foe Lario's dark, worried gaze. "Was it you?"

"What?"

"That kis—" Libby turned away. She shook her head. She didn't want to know.

She didn't know what she didn't want to know, but she knew she didn't want to Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

know it yet. She suddenly found herself in front of a doorway she didn't want to open. She was afraid there was something behind it she couldn't handle. It had to do with being kissed. "Why don't I go talk to Lady Sibelle," she said and walked hurriedly toward a meeting with her godmother to avoid thinking about a romantic entanglement she was terrified to consider.

It was worse inside the castle than she'd anticipated. At least twenty people stopped what they were doing to look at her when she walked into the inner bailey. She had no idea who all these strangers were. Nor did she care who they were when she caught sight of Marj standing firmly before the entrance of the main tower, blocking Lady Sibelle from going inside.

"Oh, dear." She hurried forward.

Lady Sibelle held out her hands to Libby as she approached. "My dear, you rushed off in such a hurry yesterday I was worried. Not that I blame you, of course." She shook her head sadly. "After Henry caused such a scene you did the only thing you could. I am so sorry for that boy's foolish words. So my lord and I decided that the loan of some of Passfair's serfs to you was the only possible way to make amends," she went on before Libby could get a word in. "As many as we could spare, to help rebuild and to get a garden started though it's late. Also a few maidservants for the hall and some fowls and sheep and people to look after them, of course. And a cook. You can't do without a cook, my dear."

"I can't?"

Lady Sibelle patted her hands. "Of course not. In truth, my dear," she went on while Libby gaped, "I've never approved of your father taking his serfs off to Wales and then leaving only a few guards to look after his castle. Look what came of it. I can't imagine outlaws looting the place if Sir Daffyd had been in residence."

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

It occurred to Libby that she was going to have to find out just what the local residents knew and surmised about the destruction of Lilydrake. First, however, she had to get her godmother to go away. "Yes, well—"

"I'd wager the guards invited the outlaws in and ran off to live in the forest with them, since no trace was found of the treacherous wretches." Lady Sibelle took her hand from Libby's long enough to waggle a finger under her nose. "You really should have brought more people with you."

"There's a war in Wales," Marj broke in to explain. "Lord Daffyd could spare no more men, and he trusted Lady Isabeau to find people to serve her at the summer fairs here."

Libby took a dazed look around the crowded courtyard. This was a disaster of monumental proportions. These locals did not belong here. How was she going to get out of this? She looked back at her godmother. "I'm overwhelmed by your kindness, Lady Sibelle. I'm sure you mean the best for me, dear godmother, but how can I accept such generosity? Surely, you need these workers for your own fields and household. I mean, with Henry and Matilda's wedding to prepare for and—"

"Ah, Matilda." Lady Sibelle waved forward the girl standing shyly in the background. "Matilda, of course, will stay here to attend you."

"Attend me?" Libby shot a panicked look at Marj. "Lady Marjorie and I—"

"Will teach the dear girl about running her own household as she helps you set your own in order." Sibelle patted Matilda on the head. "Won't you, my dear?"

"Yes, my lady," Matilda whispered. Libby was about to continue protesting, but then the girl gave her an imploring look from under tear-damp lashes. It struck her straight to heart. "I will serve you well. Please, Lady Isabeau, say I may stay."

Oh, hell. The kid needed somebody to love her. Libby didn't know how she Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

could deny affection to someone who needed it that badly. Which was what Lady Sibelle must have counted on when she brought her future daughter-in-law here. There wasn't a Wolfe born that wasn't a sucker for lost puppies, whether the variety was human or canine.

Libby sighed. "Of course you may stay," she said to Matilda.

She looked at Marj again, and at Joe and Ed who had come up to see what she was going to do about the uninvited visitors. It was her call, she realized. She was supposedly in charge here, the Lady of Lilydrake as it were. What was she going to do? She was going to hide her comfortable air mattress and warm Thinsulated bedroll, that's what she was going to do. They were going to hide the coffee and the freeze-dried food and live on dried peas and wild game and other local fare. Yuck. And all their other modern equipment was going to have to be carefully put away—fortunately most of the things they'd brought with them were disguised to look like they belonged in the thirteenth century. The assignment could still be carried out as long as they were careful. After all, the most important reason they were here was to get their memories back. They could do that in the company of a group of locals and not change history in the process. Couldn't they? Of course they could. And surely she could manage to sneak off to study the outlaws without any of the locals observing what she was doing. This would delay rebuilding the timegate, but that couldn't be helped.

She turned to her companions. "Master Edward."

"Yes, my lady?" Ed asked after a moment's hesitation.

"Gather the appropriate materials and use as many of these men as you need to repair the buildings."

"My lady?" Marj said, her voice a high-pitched squeak.

Libby ignored her. "We have returned to Lilydrake to rebuild the castle and Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

rebuild it we will," she said decisively. "Master Joseph."

Joe was grinning. He said in English, "I guess we're not going to send out for Chinese tonight."

"Guess not," she replied in the same language. In Norman she said, "I appoint you seneschal to manage the fields and flocks and household."

He gave her a bow. "As my lady wishes." He actually seemed to like the idea.

She noticed that Marj had an appalled expression on her face. Libby started to take the suddenly pale historian aside to say something reassuring, then she glanced to where Marj's gaze was riveted. More newcomers had ridden into the courtyard.

"Oh, dear."

"Greetings, ladies," Reynard of Elansted called as he swung off his horse.

Marj sidled over to Libby. "What's he doing here?" she whispered without taking her eyes off the sheriff.

Libby would have shrugged, but a heavy, gloved hand landed on her shoulder before she could make the gesture. As Sir Reynard swung her around, he said,

"How fair you look, Lady Isabeau." His gaze was on Marj as he spoke. "All you ladies are lovely today." He smelled of horse and leather and he wore a smirk beneath his luxuriant mustache. "I've come to stay for a few days," he told Libby. He waved back toward the four soldiers who'd ridden in with him. "I and my men."

Libby looked around frantically. "But—," she asked, "why?"

"After yesterday I grew worried for your safety. So I've come to protect you from the outlaws, of course." he answered cheerfully. "I'm sure your father would want me to take care of you. It's my duty."

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

There was a firm set to his jaw that belied the gently amused sparkle in his eyes.

She could tell he wasn't about to be talked out of camping with everyone else in the ruins of Lilydrake. Libby just barely repressed a sigh. "How—chivalrous.

And neighborly," she added with a helpless look toward Lady Sibelle.

How aggravating, she thought.

He didn't know if he wanted the nightmares or not, though they were the closest thing to memories he had. He did know he didn't want the skull-splitting pain that waking from the nightmares always brought. Bastien groaned and flung an arm over his eyes. His hand came down on the jug Warin had left behind. Wine, perhaps, more than dreaming, had brought on this morning's agony. He remembered that he and Warin had talked deep into the night, but he had no idea what they'd discussed. It was often that way with Warin. Sikes's man brought strong wine raided from French merchants as they traveled along the port roads.

The potent drink always tasted foul, but it brought forgetfulness to Bastien. He didn't know why he was grateful for the wine's effect, since he'd forgotten enough for a lifetime already, but he always welcomed Warin into his hut.

Until the morning came tromping heavily on his head.

"There's a price to be paid for peace," he said, and was surprised that he had the strength to croak out even those words.

"Well, you look like you've paid enough for now," Cynric said from nearby.

Bastien was glad the old man was in the hut. "Is Warin gone?" he asked through the pain. The price for leadership was ignoring any hurt to body or soul.

Especially hurt he'd been fool enough to inflict on himself.

"Warin left before the first light," Cynric answered. "I set Odda to follow him.

He came back an hour ago."

Attention to details was another key to leadership. Bastien had been trying to Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

find Sikes's camp for some time. It bothered him that the elusive old fox knew his band's whereabouts but kept his own hiding hole secret.

Bastien made himself sit up as he asked, "And?"

"And Odda lost Warin's trail near Lilydrake."

"Damn." Bastien scrubbed his hands across his face, scraping the palms on beard stubble. His mouth felt like something furry had used it for a den. When he looked up, Cynric's gaze was riveted worriedly on him. "Yes?"

"Did you dream, Bas?"

Shadow figures skittered and faded across his mind. No image stayed long enough to be securely caught. "I dreamed."

"Thought so." Cynric paused, then added, "You called out a woman's name."

Excitement rushed through Bastien's blood. He lifted his head eagerly. "A name?

Who?"

Cynric cleared his throat, then he licked his lips while Bastien waited impatiently. Finally, he said, "Isabeau."

"Isabeau?" Bastien repeated the word, but it made no sense. He didn't know anyone named Isa—. "Oh, her."

He got up and walked from the hut. Cynric followed him out. The day was mercifully overcast, the breeze cool against his throbbing temples.

"Odda brought news."

Bastien turned his head at Cynric's words. "Of Sikes? You said he lost Warin."

"That he did. Near Lilydrake."

Bastien was tired of hearing the name. "What is Lilydrake to me?"
The place
where my heart's buried
, he mourned silently. His heart and his sanity. The saints knew how he would have survived if Cynric hadn't found him as he Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

wandered mad and feverish away from that cursed castle. He could remember being at the gate with a woman—his wife—though he could not conjure the image of a face and form he knew he loved.