Personally, I love the idea of getting a first-hand tour of the grounds and rooms of Westminster Palace, but Ethan reaches out and takes my hand, pulling me to his side. ‘If you don’t mind, Sire, Lady Madeline has a remarkably astute mind, especially for a woman.’
I kick his shin from behind.
‘Ouch! A-and she would …’ Quickly he tries to regain his equilibrium as my kick was harder than I originally meant. ‘… dearly love to observe the meeting this evening, with your permission of course.’
King Richard peers at me closely. ‘As I have witnessed her surprising talents once already, it would be a pleasure to have your company this evening, my lady. Please join us. There is ample room at the table.’
With this the three of us follow Richard up a winding stairwell and down a long hallway to a set of carved wooden doors. Inside, the room is warm but smoky, with a large oval table at its centre, twelve high-backed chairs surrounding it. In five of these chairs men of various ages sit having a discussion, until they notice the king and jump to their feet. The doors close behind us and the man with the big beard, standing just slightly away from the table, bows low to the king. King Richard introduces him as Lord Whitby, and makes Ethan and me known to the rest of his council. The men bow slightly, then all ten of us sit down, the sound of scraping chairs on polished floors loud in the high-ceilinged room.
The conversation starts with the matter foremost on Richard’s mind: is now an appropriate time to go to Ireland? Most of the lords at the table are in agreement with Lord Whitby: it really isn’t a good time to leave England. The points they raise make a lot of sense. But then Shaun reminds the king why he wanted to go in the first place, and how important it has become that the king re-establish his English authority in Ireland.
Lord Whitby responds, reminding the king of his cousin Henry’s ambitions. Shaun remains calm but firm in his opposing arguments. The conversation becomes heated, and Lord Whitby grows visibly agitated. King Richard shakes his head and thumps his fist down hard on the table. ‘Enough!’ Then, surprising everyone, he looks straight at me. ‘I want to hear from the lovely Lady Madeline, who has been sitting among this rabble quietly examining the situation. She saved my life once so I know she has only my best interests at heart.’
His words astonish me into speechlessness. Everyone’s eyes bear down on me, most of them wide with surprise, as they would be, considering the king is asking for a lady’s opinion. A lady they only just met a few minutes ago. And of course I realise what a responsibility has suddenly been thrust upon me. If Richard goes to Ireland at this time, John of Gaunt’s son Henry will return to London from exile, something he can’t do while Richard is still here. And what happens next is in the history books: Henry will gather support, and while Richard is in Ireland, he will have him deposed and thrown into jail, where Richard will be left to die of starvation.
And as much as I don’t personally want to be the cause of Richard’s death, I still have to do the right thing according to history. That’s what I’m here for. Otherwise there’ll be consequences.
Ethan peers at me with narrow eyes, as if he too is just working out what will happen to Richard if our mission is successful. And by the sudden look of horror on his face, it’s only now dawning on him that this mission is meant to make sure Richard is deposed and murdered, so Henry IV can be crowned king.
Ethan looks as if he’s about to stop me from speaking. I get a sudden image of what he’s going to do just moments before his mouth opens. I throw my hand up, halting him before he utters one word, and quickly give the king my full attention. ‘You honour me, Sire.’ I bow my head, then look up and lock eyes with His Royal Highness. ‘I do believe you should follow what’s in your heart, trust in yourself and your original plan for a military expedition. Don’t let these men of wisdom sway you from what you know is best. Do what you feel here.’ I place a hand over the centre of my chest.
The king sits back and heaves a sigh that could only be regarded as intense relief. He nods. ‘I most certainly will, Lady Madeline. My deepest thanks for making my decision so clear to me.’
Lord Whitby jumps out of his chair, his hands raised in anger. ‘This is an outrage! Your Majesty, how can you take the word of a mere woman?’
King Richard takes offence on my behalf. ‘I most certainly can. And as I am the king I’ll ask you to leave the room, Lord Whitby, if you can’t mind your manners and stop insulting my guest. I’ve had enough of your chattering and false claims these past weeks. I think you mean to sway me. Be careful or you’ll find yourself in exile with Bolingbroke and Thomas Mowbray.’
Lord Whitby realises his mission is failing. He starts to panic. Surprising everyone around the table, he draws his sword. The others at the table, including Shaun, jump back and raise their swords in defence of the king.
But Lord Whitby, undeterred, points his sword in my direction. ‘I know who you are,’ he hisses, and for a moment wonder whether he really does. ‘You’re a trickster. You should be tried for witchcraft!’ To the king he says, ‘Your Majesty, I beg of you, do not be swayed by the temptations of a charming and beautiful woman.’
He doesn’t realise it of course, but he’s just given me an amazing compliment, as if I could tempt a king with my … What did he say? I shake my head.
Lord Whitby tries again to sway the king. ‘Your Majesty, have you heard nothing of my counsel? The charm of a woman will be your downfall. Is that how you want to be written up in history?’
‘You insolent knave!’ King Richard exclaims. ‘How dare you suggest—’
‘It will mean your death!’ Lord Whitby screams out.
King Richard raises his hand. ‘Everyone, put away your swords. You especially, Lord Whitby. No one here means me harm.’ He looks directly at Lord Whitby and says, ‘I will go to Ireland with my armies as planned. It is what I desire.’ He waves his hand at the rest of us. ‘Now, all of you, leave me.’
The lords all stand and two of them urge Lord Whitby to put away his sword or they’ll run him through with their own, reminding him how outnumbered he is.
Lord Whitby, utterly distressed now that his mission appears doomed to failure, returns his sword to its scabbard and storms from the room.
‘Should we go after him?’ I whisper to Ethan.
He swallows, seemingly in a daze. ‘We just persuaded King Richard on a course destined to end in his death.’
‘That is what we came for! Think of the alternative,’ I coax him.
The room empties as the king calls for his manservants to help him prepare for his journey to Ireland, announcing that he plans to leave immediately. Shaun explains to Jimmy, who waits outside, how well the meeting went, and my part in it. Jimmy pats my shoulder. ‘Well done, my lady! And now we must hurry and return to prepare ourselves for our meeting with Marduke.’
‘What about Lord Whitby, or whoever he really was?’ I ask. ‘He sure was one unhappy little warrior when he stormed out of that room.’
‘He’s gone.’
‘Are you sure?’ Shaun asks Jimmy.
‘Oh yes, I followed him. He summoned the maid and together they jumped out that window.’ He points to the opening at the far end of the hallway. We go up to the window and look down at a three-storey drop. ‘They disappeared before they were even halfway down.’
Shaun gathers us into an empty room. As no one is about, we’re free to call Arkarian, who will return us to the Citadel in a second. But before Shaun opens his mouth to call his name, Ethan starts backing towards the door. ‘You lot go ahead, I have something I want to check on.’
His action, his weird manner, has everyone’s curiosity instantly aroused. ‘What for exactly?’ I ask, growing more worried by the second. Ethan’s eyes are far too rounded for comfort, like he’s in shock, or about to do something really stupid.
‘I … I just want to make sure the king leaves, that’s all. Then I’ll follow. I’ll try not to be too long.’
‘But the man wh
o was Lord Whitby, or his assistant, the poisoner, won’t stop him now. Those two are gone,’ I explain, then add, even though he knows this fact already, ‘You know they can’t come back to the same time. The king is leaving tonight, you can hear the armies gathering outside right now. There’s nothing that can go wrong at this stage. And remember, we have an appointment with Marduke.’
‘I know all this. Do you think Marduke’s not on my mind?’
‘He should be on your agenda.’
Shaun walks up to him. ‘Haven’t you been trained not to form attachments?’
Ethan scoffs at his father. ‘I’m not attached to king Richard. I’m just doing my job, following it through. That’s all.’
‘Your job is over. Now we have to fight Marduke.’
‘Yes,’ Jimmy adds. ‘Marduke and five of his warriors. No doubt Lord Whitby and the servant will be two of them, eager for revenge. Why else would they be in such a rush? We need you there to make up our numbers.’
Ethan nods. ‘I’ll be there. I promise.’
Backing away, he leaves without saying another word. I don’t need my sixth sense to know that Ethan has something planned which is going to land him in a whole heap of trouble.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Ethan
I call Arkarian, who meets me in the Citadel in a room of bare walls painted black. ‘You can’t do this, Ethan.’
I drag my eyes away from the severity of the walls. ‘I can and I must.’
He grabs my upper arms tightly and I feel his incredible strength. If I’m still in this body tomorrow, I’ll have bruises for sure. ‘It’s an outright breach. You’ll jeopardise everything you’ve worked for.’
He doesn’t only mean my wings, but my position as well. I could be thrown out of the Guard, all memory of it erased. I don’t want that to happen. But I can’t allow a king to be demoralised and destroyed when I have the means to change things.
‘Why, Ethan? Is he really worth the risk?’
I yank my arms from Arkarian’s grasp and take a step back from him, giving my arms a shake to restore their circulation. ‘I don’t know, OK? I don’t know why I’m doing this, but I have this inner compulsion to set things right for this king.’
‘I’ve taught you not to get attached to your missions.’
‘It’s not that!’
‘Then what?’
I look to the ceiling, also black, but there’s nothing there to enlighten my mind. ‘I can’t explain it. I just know it’s the right thing.’
He groans, shaking his head, and starts pacing the small unfurnished room. He gets to one end, turns on his heels and comes back, giving me a lengthy troubled look, then starts pacing again, his hands bunching into fists by his side. He turns once more, his hands now clasped so tightly that the skin has turned white at the knuckles. He comes right up to my face, his violet eyes piercing me, pleading, ‘Ethan, this is one time you must think your actions right through to their possible – and probable – consequences.’
His obvious concern is touching, but not even his unusual show of emotions can sway me from this course.
He realises this and hisses through teeth tightly clenched, ‘And you want me to help you?’
‘I can’t do it without you, Arkarian. You have to put me there, in the room where they’re holding him, before he starves to death. I’ll take full responsibility. I’ll make sure you don’t get repri—’
He holds his hands up in front of my face sharply. ‘Stop! Do you really think I’m worried about that?’
‘I’m sorry.’
He looks me in the eyes. ‘Do you know what caused the dispute between your father and Marduke?’
While I know of the dispute, which saw my father slice off half of Marduke’s face, I have no idea of the reason for it. ‘Tell me.’
‘They were a team with a difficult mission. A young woman by the name of Eleanor was to die during the Black Death that hit France in the year 1348, but not before she saved the lives of her two younger brothers, soon to be orphaned. She was to make a journey with her siblings to family friends through the deep forest of Ardennes, into what is now Belgium. Once safely delivered, she was to return to her village to look after her remaining relatives – a dying father, an uncle and aunt and other loved ones. Eventually, she too would contract the disease and die.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Both your father and Marduke had a difficult time seeing where the danger came from. An assassin was attempting to infect Eleanor with the disease before she saved her brothers. Your father and Marduke spent sixteen days in her presence, carefully screening everyone and everything that came in contact with her, making sure she remained free of the illness until the time in history when she was to finally succumb.’
‘I gather one of her brothers went on to accomplish something special?’
‘Both did, actually, through their genes and various descendants. But that isn’t even the point, Ethan.’
‘I know. So what happened to cause my father and Marduke’s quarrel?’
‘Your father became attached to her.’
‘No way!’
Arkarian looks at me intently. ‘He wanted her to live, because, as he saw it, she deserved to. He was playing God, Ethan. And we can’t do that. It’s as bad as creating chaos. It makes us the same as them.’
‘So what happened? Wouldn’t Marduke let him?’
‘It didn’t go the way you’re thinking.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Marduke also formed an attachment to the girl. He fell in love with her, even while the woman he lived with sat at home with his child in her arms.’
‘You’re kidding!’
‘He loved Eleanor with such passion that it blinded him. She was an exceptionally beautiful young woman and beauty impressed Marduke considerably. He too wanted to risk everything and rescue her from such an ugly and painful death. He couldn’t stand the thought of what was going to happen to her beautiful skin and flesh once the disease took hold.’
I can understand this, as the thought itself is sickening, but still … ‘What happened?’
‘Your father came to his senses.’
‘Oh.’
‘But Marduke wouldn’t listen to reason. He injected Eleanor with an antibiotic from his own time, one that was meant for him, should it be required.’
‘So they fought.’
‘In the deep forest of Ardennes. It was a hard and bitter duel, using weapons of the time – they’re both superior swordfighters. Eventually, it was your father who took the first wound, a deep slash to his thigh, but before he passed out from loss of blood, he made one fierce final attack.’
‘Slicing Marduke’s face in half?’
Arkarian nods. I wonder what happened to the beautiful young woman who was the centre of their rift, and he reads my mind.
‘She recovered from the plague, but the sight of so much ugly death scorched her soul and made her go insane. And the villagers who escaped the plague, and knew of her miraculous recovery, assumed she had been touched by the devil. They scorned her and called her a witch. She lived the rest of her life in a wooden shack buried deep in the Ardennes, alone.’
‘That’s terrible.’
Arkarian takes a deep breath. ‘Now you must understand there are always consequences.’
‘I understand what went wrong back then, and the point you’re trying to make. But listen, I’m not saving King Richard because I’ve become emotionally involved. I don’t want to play God. I wouldn’t do that! My father and Marduke’s past mistakes have nothing to do with me.’
Arkarian’s whole face shows exasperation that a student of his could be so dense. He doesn’t need to speak.
‘Look, what I’m going to do will have no effect on the future, and won’t send anyone insane.’
‘How can you be so sure? No one knows what may happen once the unpredictable element is thrown in.’
I thump my chest with a closed fist. I
believe in what I’m doing, even though I’m not really sure why. ‘There’s not going to be an unpredictable element, Arkarian, ’cause I’m not going to leave King Richard in the past as a free man. I have a plan, and a gut feeling I can’t explain.’
‘Ethan, you can never predict what might happen. And you must remember that our physical bodies can only be in one place at one time. It’s your soul that can shift through time, housed temporarily in bodies that resemble your own. If you try to transport King Richard, he will only die – slowly and unpleasantly.’
His points are valid, especially the last about our souls and one body and such. Still, Arkarian’s always telling me he doesn’t know everything, and this time I realise he’s right, ’cause something deep inside me feels sure that if I can get King Richard to Athens, and into the healing room in the palace quickly, this one time death will not result. Where King Richard is now, he’s going to die anyway. Trying to save him will be worth the risk.
‘I’ll never ask anything of you again, Arkarian. Just this once, please help me get to King Richard before it’s too late.’
Chapter Thirty-eight
Isabel
I want to go after Ethan, though I’m not sure where he’s gone, or even why, only that it has to do with King Richard. But Marduke is preparing for battle and he’s bringing five of his warriors with him, while we are five without Ethan. As we’re already short on numbers, how can I run after Ethan without making our position against Marduke even more vulnerable?
We return to the Citadel, where we change and shift back into our sleeping bodies. I wake instantly, my heart skittering away as if waking from a dream where I’m racing towards a cliff edge with no way to stop in time. Finally, it dawns on me that I’m home and safe. I clamber out of bed, throwing on some fresh clothes, not even thinking what they are – jeans of some description, an old ratty jumper that dropped off its hanger a few days ago. The plan is to get to Arkarian’s chamber as soon as we return to our bodies. There’s heaps to do before meeting Marduke and his warriors.
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