Guardians of Time (18 page)

As they trotted up the narrow staircase to
the second floor, his dad said, “The inn is so old, this wing was
probably added on after the original part was built, and they
wanted a way for servants to come and go easily.”

Christopher glanced at his father,
completely unsurprised that he would take the time to comment on
the architecture of the inn while running for his life.

“Our rooms are this way, aren’t they—”
Christopher cut himself off, turning on a dime and shoving his
family back down the stairs they’d just come up.

“What are you doing?” his mom said. “We need
the car keys.”

“Two men in suits just went into your room,”
Christopher said.

His father didn’t object anymore to
Christopher preventing him from going up the stairs, but he stopped
on the landing and ran his hand through his hair. “What do we do,
Elisa?”

“I need to see Meg,” she said.

“There’s a fire door down there.” Elen
tugged on her mother’s hand and pointed to the end of the
hallway.

“Let’s hope we don’t set off the alarm when
we go through it,” his father said.

“I honestly don’t care if we do,”
Christopher’s mother said. “We’ll be outside, and that’s what’s
important.”

“No car, though,” his dad said.

“Meg said she’d come to us,” his mother
said.

“What are we going to do in Caernarfon in
the dark on Christmas Eve?” his dad said.

“I know where we could go,” Christopher
said. “There’s a fish and chips slash Chinese restaurant slash
grocery store down the block. I saw it when we came past the castle
earlier.”

“You just ate,” his mom said.

“I didn’t mean that we should eat there, but
it might be open,” Christopher said. “As Dad said, where else are
we going to go at this hour?”

“Good idea, son,” his father said. “Let’s do
it.”

As it turned out, the alarm did not go off
as they pushed through the door, and the snow was still falling,
maybe even heavier than before. Christopher was from Pennsylvania,
so he knew snow, and this wasn’t even enough to cancel school. It
was pretty, though, and made Caernarfon look like a postcard of
Christmas in Wales. White, green, and red Christmas lights were
strung across the cobbled streets and around the windows of the
stores, though all but the grocery store he’d seen were closed at
nine o’clock on Christmas Eve.

Christopher and Elen hadn’t changed out of
their boots to eat, but Christopher’s parents wore dress shoes,
which weren’t as good in the snow. Thus, Christopher took his
sister’s hand and stumped through the snow with her, leading their
parents away from the inn. Unfortunately, they had all left their
coats in their rooms, so they were shivering by the time they
entered the store.

Once inside, Christopher’s dad pulled out
his phone to call Aunt Meg again. “We’re safe.”

Aunt Meg’s “thank God” came through loud and
clear. “David’s not here yet but he’s coming. Where are you?”

“In a shop outside the inn,” his dad said.
“Fish and chips slash Chinese. Maybe we ought to order
something?”

“Honestly, that would be great,” Aunt Meg
said. “None of us have eaten since we left the Middle Ages.”

“You got it. Call us when you get to
Caernarfon.”

Christopher peered through the front door,
which was made of glass. Several more black SUVs rumbled past,
though they couldn’t get to the inn down this street because it was
closed to through traffic. His father, who was still two inches
taller than Christopher, peered over his shoulder at the scene
too.

“I really, really want to see David, but I
never thought asking to visit Wales for Christmas would get us into
trouble, Dad.”

His father’s hand came down on his shoulder
again. “Don’t apologize, Christopher. Even your mom wouldn’t have
missed this for the world.”

Bronwen

“W
here is Lord
Ieuan?” Geoffrey said in French, looking around the room with
something like dismay.

“Given the urgency of the current crisis,
both he and Lord Goronwy felt that they should be among the men to
ride into Llangollen, to question the villagers at the tavern and
students at the university,” Bronwen replied in the same language.
“Most would have been at the feast for much of the day, but if any
of the bandits passed through after the attack, hopefully someone
will have seen them.”

Geoffrey had come a long way in the few
months he’d been working for David, but he still wasn’t comfortable
with having a woman in charge. Maybe he thought it should be him.
Bronwen didn’t necessarily think it should be her, but with Lili
unwell and Ieaun and Goronwy gone to the village, she wasn’t going
to leave this to anyone else. She’d spent these last eight years
during which she’d lived in the Middle Ages rising to whatever
occasion presented itself, so she wasn’t going to let the Norman
baron intimidate her out of doing it again.

Besides, if graduate school in archaeology
had prepared her for anything, it was for dealing with older men
with large egos who had axes to grind. If a woman in her early
twenties was to survive the cutthroat world of academia, she had to
learn how to stand up for herself and her ideas and not allow
anyone to shout her down.

Thus, Bronwen stood in the center of Math’s
receiving room with a circle of men around her, among them Samuel,
who’d arrived moments before with his men, having ridden many miles
in search of the bandits; Cadwallon; and Justin, all standing, all
impatient and frustrated. In contrast, the hall they’d just left
was full of jovial post-dinner conversation.

The idea that Math and Anna had gone to
Avalon with King David was far less disturbing to Math’s people
than Bronwen thought it should be—though their acceptance was
convenient too because it meant that she could focus on the crisis
with France rather than on appeasing distressed medieval minds. The
people who were the most upset at the bus’s departure were those
who’d become friends with some of the bus passengers, like Jane and
Carl. Rachel, at least, would be returning, so the hospital and
medical college wouldn’t be bereft for more than a few days.

Convenient also was the fact that it was
David’s miraculous absence that was the topic of conversation in
the hall rather than the real danger of imminent war between
France, England, and Scotland if the emissary died or James Stewart
wasn’t found alive.

“How is the emissary?” Samuel said, now in
English, which was the most comfortable language for him.

“I’ve been sitting with him,” Geoffrey said,
seemingly fluent in English as well, for all that Norman lords
didn’t always speak it. “Your healers have cared for him, and he is
as comfortable as I can imagine him being, though he remains
asleep.”

“Breathing, though,” Bronwen said to
Samuel.

Samuel growled. “We can ride no further
tonight, but with your permission, we’ll leave at first light for
Chirk on Peter’s trail.”

“Tell him when you find him to proceed very
carefully,” Geoffrey said. “James’s welfare is all.”

“Yes, my lord.” Samuel put his feet together
and bowed. “I was once captive with James Stewart and know his
worth.”

Currently the Sheriff of Shrewsbury in
Callum’s absence, Samuel was
the
authority in Shropshire.
Bronwen had watched the friendship and trust among this core group
of time travelers living in Shrewsbury, consisting of Callum and
Cassie, Darren, Mark, Peter, and Bridget. She was happy to know
that everyone who’d gone would be coming back from David’s jaunt to
the twenty-first century. If not for Peter and Bridget staying
behind, she would have been the only twenty-firster, as Bridget
insisted on calling them, in the whole of the Middle Ages, though
to be so wouldn’t have been particularly daunting to Bronwen. She’d
chosen this life and wasn’t afraid to live it.

Even though he wasn’t a time traveler,
Bronwen always included Samuel in the group in part because Callum
trusted him completely but also because he too was a man out of
place, if not time. Samuel was Aaron’s son and thus Jewish, even if
he’d spent many years before David’s arrival hiding his ethnicity
in order to serve as a man-at-arms for the Earl of Chester, King
Edward’s brother. Back when David was sixteen, Samuel had rescued
him and his men from the remains of King Edward’s camp—and found
himself included in the Welsh retinue at a level he would never
have dared to dream of. David tended to do that to people.

Once Samuel didn’t need to hide who he was
anymore, he’d found his way back to his father and his religion,
even if his lack of strict adherence to the law was disturbing to
some of his co-religionists. He’d married his Elspet, a Gentile,
after all. He and Rachel had hit it off in that regard, and Samuel
had encouraged her to accept the love Darren was offering. Bronwen
wasn’t quite sure why Darren and Rachel weren’t married yet, but
she hadn’t asked. Prying into her friends’ private lives wasn’t her
habit.

She was glad, however, having heard her
husband’s first-hand account of their kiss, that Bridget and Peter
might finally stop dancing around each other and get serious.

Bronwen understood the difficulty with
committing to a relationship in a foreign place when you didn’t
know if you were in love with the place, with him, or just so
desperate and lonely that having someone was better than being
alone. Anna had asked the same questions before she’d married Math.
Maybe it was that way for everyone, no matter in what universe one
lived. Commitment was hard.

Samuel departed to see to the welfare of his
men, and Geoffrey cleared his throat. “May I ask what was the
business that had King David and King Llywelyn traveling to Avalon
today of all days?”

Bronwen pressed her lips together. She
should have known this question would come from someone, and it
wasn’t really a surprise to hear it from Geoffrey. “I could tell
you it was a private matter, but that would hardly assuage your
concern.”

“No,” Geoffrey said. “It wouldn’t.”

“Queen Meg is ill,” Bronwen said, and then
called yet again upon the myth of King Arthur to explain the
unexplainable. “David brought his mother to the isle of Avalon to
be healed.”

Understanding crossed Geoffrey’s face. “But
when will he return?”

“Within a day or two at most,” Bronwen said.
“He promised.”

“Not all who ask to enter Avalon are
admitted,” Geoffrey said. “Not all who ask to leave are allowed to
go.”

“They all were admitted,” Bronwen said.
“Ieuan saw it with his own eyes. And we cannot doubt that David
will be allowed to return.”

Geoffrey kept his gaze fixed on Bronwen’s
face. “You’re very sure.”

“Of David?” Bronwen nodded. “Whether in
Avalon or here, you can never go wrong believing he’ll do what he
tells you he will.”

Geoffrey made no attempt to argue with
that.

When Bronwen pushed open the door and
entered the royal bedchamber, Lili was sitting up in bed with
pillows stacked behind her, reading a book to Arthur. Bronwen had
made it a personal campaign to have children’s books, a few of
which Bronwen herself had written in her spare time, be a large
part of what was being produced by David’s new printing presses. If
they were to change the world, the best avenue to do so was through
the education of children. Growing up in far flung places, she’d
seen with her own eyes how villagers often viewed their school as
their greatest asset.

At Bronwen’s approach, Lili glanced up and
smiled but continued reading. Bronwen waited until Lili finished
the book, at which point she tipped her head to Arthur’s nanny,
asking her silently if she could take the boy away. The nanny
obliged, though not before Bronwen got a kiss from Arthur on his
way out the door. She didn’t, in principle, like relying on nannies
and servants as much as they all had learned to. By any definition,
parenting standards in the Middle Ages were low. Children were
alternately spoiled and neglected, and then thrown into the adult
world—often from the age of seven—and expected to make their own
way. Under the current circumstances, however, the more adults
Arthur knew he could rely on, the better.

Bronwen sat on the edge of Lili’s bed.
“What’s going on? Are you having contractions?”

Lili let out a puff of air. “Yes.”

“This is way too early.”

Lili didn’t answer, just stared down at the
blankets covering her legs.

This was like pulling teeth—and unlike Lili.
“What does Branwen say?” Hired right after her marriage to David,
Branwen was Lili’s maid and much loved and trusted by Lili.

“She worries too. And nags.”

“As she should.” Bronwen leaned forward.
“You and I both know that there’s no way out of this birth. Only
through it. The baby is going to come, whether you want it to or
not. We’re here for you, for whatever you need. You have to believe
that everything’s going to be okay.”

“Rachel’s gone,” Lili said. “We will have to
do this without her.”

“Why would we have to? Everyone gets
contractions every now and then. Do you think the baby is really
coming?”

Lili rubbed the end of her nose. “It may be
that my dates are wrong.”

Ice settled in the pit of Bronwen’s
stomach.

Then Lili added, “There’s no
may be
.
My dates are wrong.”

Bronwen closed her eyes, willing herself to
remain calm. “Last I heard, you were seven-ish months pregnant. Are
you telling me that isn’t right?”

Lili bent her knees so they made a mountain
in the middle of the bed and tucked the covers around herself, all
without looking directly at Bronwen. “Yes.”

Bronwen tried to think of what to say that
wouldn’t mean leaping the distance between them and shaking Lili
for keeping the truth from her—and from David. “We’ve all thought
you’ve been looking big, and you’re already waddling.”