Exiles in Time (The After Cilmeri Series) (5 page)

Now, Bronwen came over to hug Callum.
“I see you have a job. I’m glad.”

“
You may note that it
appears to be the worst one David could think of.” But Callum
smiled as he said it.

“
I’m standing right here,”
David said. “I speak American too.” The three time travelers stood
in a little circle. It was as if they’d created their own cone of
silence in the center of the bailey while the activity of the
castle went on around them.

Bronwen laughed and elbowed David.
“Those jobs are the ones he gives to people he trusts the most.
Besides, Scotland is a mess and getting more dangerous by the day.
You could hardly do worse than King Edward did in the old
world.”

“
King Edward chose John
Balliol to be king because he thought Balliol was weaker than
Robert Bruce and could be manipulated,” David said. “Having never
met either man, I can’t say which I prefer. Callum will just have
to figure it out when he gets there.”

“
I can’t believe I’m going
to have to deal with
three
Robert Bruces,” Callum said. “How am I to keep
them straight, much less keep track of everyone else who claims the
throne?”

“
Easy,” Bronwen said. “The
one who’s claiming the throne now is Grampa Bruce, his son is Daddy
Bruce, and the boy, the one who becomes
the
Robert the Bruce a few decades
from now, is Baby Bruce.”

“
Given that he’s fourteen
years old,” David said, “I suspect he wouldn’t take kindly to that
nickname. I believe they call him
Robbie
.”

“
Whatever.” Bronwen patted
Callum’s hand. “Just be grateful they’re not all named something
unpronounceable like they would be if they were Welsh.”

David laughed. “More than anything,
I’d like to avoid war. In the old world, King Edward died of
dysentery while campaigning in Scotland. That isn’t going to be my
fate. We’re going to figure this out without bloodshed.”

Bronwen bit her lip. “You’re more
worried about this than I expected, David. Do you think it’s going
to be dangerous for Callum?”

“
I hope not,” David
said.

“
We’re talking about
Scotland, right? We have no idea what’s going to happen,” Callum
said. “And honestly, that’s a good thing. If it comes to a fight, I
can handle myself.”

Bronwen turned on him. “What’s with
you guys? You come to the Middle Ages and within six months,
swinging a sword at an enemy’s head is the most fun you can think
of.”

“
Bronwen,” David said,
“Callum didn’t mean anything—”

“
Didn’t he?” Bronwen glared
at David. She was one of three or four people on the planet who
could get away with it.

“
It’s okay, Bronwen.”
Callum touched her arm with one finger and then moved it up to
allow Catrin to wrap her whole hand around it. “I know soldiering.
I asked for this job.”

“
Callum has even learned to
curse like a medieval man,” David said. “‘By St. Gwendolyn’s ear’,
and ‘St. Kentigern’s bones’ are his new favorites. I’ve heard him
myself.”

Bronwen tsked under her breath. “We
haven’t lost any of us yet and I don’t want to start with you. Meg
feels guilty enough as it is.” She abruptly kissed Callum’s cheek,
and then David’s, and left, though not before Callum saw the tears
in her eyes.

David looked after her for a long
moment and then back at Callum. “Callum—”

“
I spoke the truth,” Callum
said. “When I first arrived here, your mother told me that I had
come to the Middle Ages for a reason. I don’t know if this is it,
or even what she meant, but as long as I’m here, I mean to make
something of my life. I think I can make a difference—to you and to
the people here.”

“
I knew I was right to
choose you.” David stepped closer. “You don’t know my father well,
but when I first came to Wales, he spoke to me of what it meant to
be a man, to lead, and to rule. He talked to me of
honor.”

Callum gazed into David’s eyes,
thinking that this king knew far too much about too many things for
a boy his age, and that despite Callum’s best efforts to see him
with clear eyes, David had pulled him under his spell as he had
everyone else.

“
As did my father,” Callum
said. “Honor is an easy word to throw around without a true
understanding of its meaning.”

“
And what does it mean to
you?” David said.

“
To do what is right,
regardless of the personal cost,” Callum said.

“
Most people live only for
themselves and thus have no honor,” David said. “When a man thinks
about feeding his physical wants and not his heart for too long,
one day he wakes up with his soul as hollow as his stomach and a
lot harder to fill. That’s not been your problem,
however.”

“
Do I have a problem?”
Callum said, his palms sweating at how close David was to the truth
of what was inside him.

“
I wasn’t there—I don’t
know what you went through—but my wish for you is that you can find
something here, or someone, that can help you fill that hollow
space your war carved out of you.”

“
And you think I might find
that in Scotland?” Callum said.

“
I don’t know,” David said,
“but it’s a place to start.”

As Callum watched King David join his
wife and family in the hall, it occurred to him that he wasn’t the
only one who’d come a long way since Chepstow.

Chapter Two

Callum

I
t
had taken days longer than Callum had hoped it might to reach the
north of England. Edinburgh, located on the east coast of Scotland,
was over four hundred miles by road from London. They weren’t there
yet and wouldn’t be for a few more days. They had been forced to
ride at a leisurely pace thanks to Kirby, who was a poor horseman
and had insisted on riding in a carriage instead of on horseback.
It felt to Callum as if they’d plodded their way across England,
journeying for ten hours each day just to travel the allotted
thirty miles.

Callum’s meager consolation was that
he was sleeping better than he had at Kings Langley and the weather
was pleasant.

Callum had made it his business to
find out as much as he could about his traveling companions, most
of whom were purely military men, knights with small estates or
men-at-arms rather than diplomats. Their job was to protect Kirby,
who from his passing comments neither trusted nor liked the Scots.
Callum hadn’t been an earl long enough to acquire a personal guard
himself. Before Callum left Kings Langley, David had promised that
when he returned from Scotland, Callum had leave to travel to
Shrewsbury and figure out what it meant to be its lord.

Samuel, doing his duty, had made
friends with most of the men, including Liam, Kirby’s cousin.
Liam’s mother had married a Scotsman (against the wishes of her
family, naturally). While the mother had remained the black sheep
of the family, Kirby had brought Liam back into the fold and had
included him on this journey because he spoke Gaelic. Samuel, Liam,
and Callum had found that the first few evenings of their journey
passed more pleasantly in each other’s company, even if an earl
wouldn’t normally be seen hobnobbing with underlings such as they.
That was one of the benefits of being an earl, Callum had found. He
could do whatever he damn well pleased, not that he wouldn’t have
anyway.

Four days out of London, they stopped
at the royal castle of Skipton. Waiting for them at the castle was
twenty-eight-year-old James Stewart, Guardian of Scotland and its
Lord High Steward, a title he’d inherited from his father. With him
came a company of twenty men and Baby Bruce, otherwise known as
Robbie, his fourteen-year-old squire. James had come to greet King
David, still thinking he was the leader of the company. He stayed
despite the king’s absence. He’d been relieved by it, in fact, just
as David had hoped.

As they made their way further north,
heading for Carlisle, Callum tried to get at James’s purpose in
joining his little band with theirs, whether to influence the
outcome of the mediation (possibly in Grampa Bruce’s favor) or
merely to scope out the tenor of the delegation. Either way, Kirby
welcomed James cordially and took Robbie under his wing. Their
conversations tended to be one-sided, however, with Kirby
pontificating in French and Robbie listening. From the bits Callum
had overheard, Kirby talked mostly about the glories of his recent
trip to France—particularly the fine wine he’d had the opportunity
to drink—and lectured Robbie on how to be a better
squire.

If Kirby was aware of the danger of
favoring one claimant to the Scottish throne over another, he
didn’t show it. He appeared to be so prejudiced against all Scots
that he might soon offend them all. Callum wished David had chosen
almost anyone else to lead the delegation. Perhaps King David had
misread the tenor of Kirby’s distrust of the Scots, or the
churchman had hidden it better back in London. Callum wondered what
Kirby really thought of David, a barbaric Welshman, even if he was
England’s king.

Then again, maybe David did know
exactly who and what Kirby was, and that was why he had included
Callum in the company.

Their last stop before entering
Scotland was at Carlisle. Taking up nearly ten acres, the castle
sat on rising ground at the northern end of the city. David had
given Callum the rundown on the castle as part of his briefing,
with the added remark—mentioned at the end of their conversation
and with amusement—to remember him to Sir John de Falkes, the
castellan. A couple of years ago, the man had locked up David and
Ieuan. They’d escaped with the help of Falkes’s nephew, Thomas.
Falkes’s soldiers had subsequently chased David and Ieuan to the
coast and they’d gotten away only by time traveling to the modern
world.

Although Callum was going to do as the
king asked, he was pretty sure that David was far more amused by
this potential conversation than Falkes would be.

Robbie, riding alongside Callum, waved
his hand in the direction of Carlisle, indicating it and the
countryside around it. “Our people have raided these lands for
centuries. They should be ours.” Carlisle had once been a Roman
city, standing as one of the last bastions of ‘civilization’ before
the wilds of Scotland. Hadrian’s Wall stretched seventy miles east
from the city.

Callum glanced at the boy, uncertain
if he was boasting or merely stating what he believed to be fact.
He opted to respond to Robbie’s words as if they were the latter,
though the fire in the young Scot’s eyes gave Callum pause. “War
has been a way of life in these lands since before the Romans
came.”

Robbie clenched both fists around the
reins. “My grandfather would like to avoid war this
time.”

“
But not you?” Callum said.
“You would fight?”

James made a calming motion with his
hand, but at a nod from Callum, he arrested his movement. Callum
wanted to know what Robbie thought. The boy was fourteen, the same
age David had been when he’d come to Wales in 1282, and therefore
Robbie had reached manhood with the right to a man’s opinions.
Besides, if history played out here like it had in Callum’s old
world, Robbie would be King of Scotland someday.

“
Of course!” Robbie
said.

“
King David would like to
avoid bloodshed too,” Callum said.

“
If King David chooses
Balliol for the crown, he will be making a mistake,” Robbie said.
“It might be necessary to show him the error of his
ways.”

James couldn’t keep silent any longer.
“Robert.”

“
My grandfather would make
a good king, better than that sop Balliol. He is an old man,”
Robbie said.

“
And you are too hotheaded
for your own good.” James tipped his head at Callum. “Pardon my
squire, my lord. He sees only what is in front of him.”

That might be true, but Robbie’s
outspokenness only made Callum more interested in hearing what he
had to say. “What is it about Balliol that you don’t like, other
than his age?” The fourteen-year-old’s perception of age had little
to do with reality, since at forty Balliol wasn’t exactly decrepit,
even for the Middle Ages.