“Afraid not,” a voice replied from the shadows.
Garrett looked in the direction of the voice, his eyes wide.
Alexandra leaned forward, unable to believe what she was seeing, or hearing. It was him. Alexandra could feel him, sense him, smell his scent as if he was even now holding her close.
’Twas the Black Knight. And ’twas Sir Joe. One and the same. Goose bumps covered her flesh and her heart soared to think he’d come for her after all.
“Who goes there?” George bellowed.
“’Tis the Black Knight,” Alexandra stated proudly.
Garrett looked at Alexandra as if she’d gone mad. She smiled at him and nodded assuredly.
Alexandra saw only fear on George and Udolf's face. George staggered toward the shadowed man as if he’d been drinking. “It c-cannot be the B-Black Knight. He doesn’t exist...only a figment of the serf's imaginations.”
Sir Joe came forward. Verily he hardly resembled the man she met in Central Park. Instead of hurried and stressed, he looked fit and overbearingly confident. He stopped only a few feet short of reaching the king’s men. With unyielding jaw and sword at his side, he looked utterly venomous.
Instead of using his sword, Sir Joe pulled a dagger from beneath his cape, then jerked his wrists from side to side, startling both men as he arrogantly played with the deadly knife as if it were naught but a harmless stick. Verily he twirled the knife, weaving the blade between his fingers. “Now you see it,” he said, slapping his hands together. The knife disappeared completely. “And now you don’t,&rdquo.
George lunged for his own sword tucked at his side.
“Ah-ah-ah,” Sir Joe warned him. “Before I give myself up, for surely you don’t think me arrogant enough to believe I could best two such loyal servants of His Majesty, I have one more trick up my sleeve.”
George held loosely to the hilt at his side, straightening and then stumbling slightly.
Sir Joe took his pendant from around his neck, held it outward and let it dangle from his fingers, swaying to and fro.
George rocked in rhythm to the pendant’s movement. And then, as quickly as if an arrow had sorely struck him, he fell into a heap upon the ground.
“Is he dead?” Udolf asked.
“Judging by his shallow breathing and the greenish tint to his face,” Sir Joe said with a shrug, “my guess is that he suffers from a new plague devouring the people within these hills.”
Udolf’s face paled as he took backward steps, unable to pull his sword from its sheath.
“It’s contagious,” Joe warned. “If you have an ounce of intelligence you will run like the wind. And don’t ever stop because I will find you. And when I do, I won’t let you off so easily a second time.”
Without any care as to his horse or his things, Udolf ran, stumbling as he went. Sir Joe stepped over George to get to Garrett. He used his knife, the same knife he’d made disappear, to cut the ropes from Garrett’s hands and the ties that gagged his mouth.
Alexandra had many questions for Sir Joe, but no words came. Seeing him this way, made her see she knew naught about Sir Joe. She watched with pride and wonder as he aided her brother, concern on his face as he helped Garrett from the horse and led him to Udolf's jug of water left on the ground.
Her brother drank eagerly before he rubbed at his arms where the ropes had been.
Sir Joe came to her aid next. Strange, she thought, that he no longer resembled the soft, tender knight she’d come to know. The man with the saintly manners had withdrawn for the time being, his eyes dark and emotionless behind his mask as he came toward her with drawn knife and swiftly sliced the bindings from her arms and legs.
His touch gave away his inner gentleness as he soothed the red welts on her wrists. She pulled her hands away and placed them tenderly on both sides of his jaw, then reaching behind his head to remove his mask. “You came for me,” she said, her voice a whisper.
“Of course I came for you.” He took her by the waist, pulling her from the horse. Her legs felt as stiff and awkward as a newborn colt, leaving her with no choice but to let him hold her weight until her legs recovered. Pulling her close, he held her tight. His heart beat fast.
Sir Joe was about to say something, for she could feel the movement of his mouth, but any words he meant to say were cut off by her scream as she pushed away from him.
Joe turned about in time to see Garrett stumble backwards, away from George, who was deeply drugged but no less dangerous, for he had been awake enough to get to her brother and plunder a knife into Garrett’s side. Garrett dropped to the ground in a sitting position, holding both hands to his side to stop the flow of blood.
Everything moved in slow motion. Alexandra was shouting, but her voice sounded miles away.
Joe shook his head, tried to regain focus. The man who had done this to Garrett came into view first; his face flush with satisfaction at seeing the boy suffer. Blood rushed to Joe’s head. He hadn’t felt this helpless since he was a little boy, after his mother died and his father left him with a neighbor. The woman would force Joe to put his hands behind his back while she smacked him, one hand, then the other. For his own good, of course. He couldn’t remember how many times he’d cowered under her stern words and biting hand. He’d always hoped his father would return and take him away, but he never did. Not even after Joe wrote him a long, painful letter, begging him to come home.
Joe’s blood surged as he shook off the stale memories and took long, purposeful strides toward George. Joe felt nothing but deep fury as he kicked the knife from George’s hand, then grabbed a handful of his tunic and dragged George to the nearest tree, ignoring his insistent whimpering as he pleaded for his worthless life. Joe silenced the idiot with one thump of the man’s head into the solid trunk of the tree. As the bastard slunk to the ground, Joe turned to see Alexandra holding her brother in the same way she’d held her grandfather in what seemed a lifetime ago. Only this time Alexandra was covered with blood, and her face was etched with a pain he could hardly fathom.
Garrett had lost a lot of blood, his face pale. Turning back to George, Joe ripped the tunic from his body, tearing the cloth into strips. He moved swiftly to Udolf's horse, grabbed a sheepskin and put it to the ground. Next, he moved Alexandra and Garrett, making sure Garrett was warm while he examined the boy’s wound. The dagger had left a wide enough gap, but the knife hadn’t hit any major organs. The cut wasn't as deep as he feared. It could have been worse. Much worse.
Alexandra tore cloth from her outer garment, using it to stanch the flow of blood while Joe ran back to the trees where he’d tied the horses he’d brought with him. He threw saddlebags and blankets to the ground, searching, until he found his briefcase. He clicked it open and rifled through its contents until he found the hotel sewing kit Shelley had tossed in for good measure.
“I’m going to sew him up,” he said once he reached Alexandra’s side. “Put some cloth between his teeth so he has something to bite down on.”
She wasted no time doing as he said. “Don’t you dare die on me, Garrett.”
Joe threaded the needle, his hands fairly steady as he made the first stitch. It wasn’t easy. The skin was tough, and he didn’t want to break the needle. He didn’t have another. Garrett’s cries were muffled in the cloth. His body rigid, clamped tightly between Joe’s legs and Alexandra’s arms.
“You have been but a thorn in my side,” Alexandra went on in an attempt to keep the boy’s mind off of the pain. “I am going to throttle you good when you are well. It will be weeks before you can walk again after I get through with you.”
Joe pinched the edges of the wound together as he went, the blood making it hard for him to see. Despite the cool air, perspiration gathered on Joe’s forehead as he made one stitch and then another.
Alexandra cleaned the blood as best she could as Joe worked. She never stopped talking, reminding Garrett of all the times she’d nearly washed her hands of him. Then, after Joe tied the last
knot and put the needle away, she broke down completely, her body wracked with sobs as she put her brother’s cold limp hand to her cheek.
Every muscle in Joe’s body stiffened, for he wanted nothing more than to hold her, but there was still much to do. He needed to get the boy warm, out of the night air. After instructing her to cover the wound with the strips of cloth he’d left there, he ran back to the horses to gather every blanket Susan had packed for him, so he could make a bed for Garrett.
Within minutes, Joe knelt beside Alexandra and looked Garrett over, making sure his side was well bandaged. “You did a good job,” he told her. “Now we need to get him warm and comfortable.”
She nodded as he swept Garrett into his arms and carried him to the blankets. When he was done with that he gathered enough stones and dry wood to get a fire going.
Hours later, he and Alexandra built a simple lean-to for protection against the wind and gathered enough leaves to serve as a mattress for their bed. Exhaustion had long set in by the time he grabbed the water jug and took a seat next to Alexandra and the boy.
Alexandra looked into the dark. “What did you do with him?”
He knew she was referring to the man he’d dragged into the woods. He took a drink. “Do you wish him dead?”
“Nay. Despite what he has done I do not wish him dead.”
“Hmmm. I’m not sure whether I agree, but you can relax. I didn’t kill him.”
Alexandra smoothed the hair from her brother’s forehead. After a moment, she said, “I realize Garrett can be a handful, but he would never steal.”
When he didn’t answer, she said, “I suppose you think I am foolish?”
Joe shook his head. “No. You were right. He’s innocent.”
She looked into Joe’s eyes, surprised by his words as she tried to read the expression on his face. Then she turned away with a smile curving her lips.
“As long as we keep the wound clean,” Joe said, “your brother will be all right.”
It was obvious Alexandra didn’t feel the same confidence, but still, she nodded.
“I left Susan and Rebecca at the inn. The innkeeper promised to watch over them for a few extra coins when we return.” Joe patted the pouch at his side, the pouch he’d taken from George. “This should take care of it.”
Alexandra rested her hand on his forearm. “Thank you for all you have done for me and my family.”
Joe put his arm around her shoulder, and she rested her head in the crook of his arm.
“There was a third man who ran off before you made your presence known. He plans to murder King Henry,” she said. “Do you know what that would mean?”
Joe shook his head.
“All of England would be suddenly at war. Every wretched man alive would come out of his hole to plunder and rape the lands.”
An ominous silence followed her words as they sat quietly pondering such a happening. Then Joe said softly, “King Henry will not die by that man’s hands. Although it has been argued whether King Henry VII was a great king, it is agreed by most scholars that he was a successful king. Not only did he establish a new dynasty after thirty years of struggle, he strengthened the judicial system as well as the treasury, denying all other claimants to his throne. The monarchy he left to his son was a fairly secure one. You do not need to worry.”
“But you said yourself that The Black Knight saves the king’s life. You are the Black Knight. Do you not yet see that?”
“As much as you want to believe it, it’s not true,” Joe said. “If I had come here once before, even in another life, I would have remembered.” His voice trailed off as his doubts grew. “Your brother is our first concern. As soon as he is well enough, we can set off to warn others of the danger the king may be in.”
She nodded her agreement. “For now I will pray for my brother’s well-being.”
He pulled her tighter against his chest, felt the softness of her hair as it brushed against his chin. He knew that everything she did, she did for her family. She worried about her siblings as a mother would. Swallowing a knot in his throat, Joe realized how much Alexandra had taught him. He’d never met anyone like her. She put all else before her own well being. She saw the good in everyone and in all situations. She was the bravest, most courageous woman he’d ever met. He would miss her when he was gone. So much so, just the mere thought of it made his gut ache.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The clearest way into the universe is through a forest wilderness.
—John Muir
Joe sat up, every muscle stiff. Both he and Alexandra had dozed off, and he was surprised to see that it was morning. The frogs and toads had finally finished with their nocturnal chorusing, but it was the high-pitched screech of a predawn bird that woke him. If he were home, he’d be listening to the dull drones and unsettling groans of passing vehicles instead of the songs of the tree crickets. He rubbed his head and could only imagine what he looked like. His hair felt like a bird’s nest after a storm and his whiskers had grown past the stubble stage.
Although less than three weeks had passed since he’d arrived in this century, it felt as if months had gone by. For the first time in days he thought about his other life, wondered if time didn’t hold still after all. By the time Alexandra had returned home after her visit to the future, hours had passed. He thought of his students and his life’s work and wondered if Shelly was worried about him. Mrs. Peacock, his neighbor, would be thrilled to discover he’d disappeared into thin air.
Alexandra was up and tending to her brother, filling him with warm broth, one spoonful at a time. Apparently, she’d been awake for hours. The fire was well fed, sending a stream of smoke into the sky, and the horses grazed nearby.
Joe let her and Garrett be as he looked around. They were in the center of a wooded universe. Sunlight filtered through a canopy of pines and oaks. He inhaled the woodsy scent of pine and sap and listened to the trickling of a nearby stream.
Weeks ago, the thought of taking an icy cold bath in a stream would have made him cringe. Now he felt elation at the thought of it. He listened for a moment to the chorus of birds’ song. And, in that moment, he realized he’d been away from home for way too long. He came to his feet, cracking a twig and rustling dry leaves in the process.
Alexandra glanced over her shoulder. “Good morning, Sir Joe.”
“Just call me Joe,” he said as he grabbed hold of the jug of water. He took a swig and used it to rinse his mouth, spitting into the leaves behind him. He moved to Alexandra’s side and nodded at Garrett when he saw that the boy was awake. “How are you doing, kid?”
“The bastard hardly scratched me,” Garrett said through gritted teeth, doing his best to remain his old indestructible self as Alexandra helped him sit up a bit.
“He is doing well,” she said. “The bleeding has stopped, and he ate some broth besides.”
Joe nodded. “He seems to be doing fine. It would take more than a couple of ruffians with swords to take your brother down,” he added, noting the pleasure Garrett took from hearing the words. “But you should have woken me,” he said to Alexandra. “I would have gathered wood for the fire. I didn’t hear you get up.”
“’Twas just as well. I could not sleep.”
A branch snapped, the sharpness of the sound cutting into their exchange. A flock of birds fluttered from the trees.
Alexandra grabbed the dagger at her side.
Neither of them said a word.
Joe glanced over his shoulder at the sword lying near his makeshift bed. Another branch snapped. Dry leaves crunched beneath booted feet as someone approached. They all turned in the direction of the noise, watching as a shadowed figure came their way.
It was Sebastiano, and they might have felt relief at seeing him if he wasn’t holding a dagger to George’s back. Joe had tied George naked to a tree last night, but somehow the man had gotten loose. Joe noticed a woolen mask that had fallen about Sebastiano’s neck and a ragged cape swept over his
shoulders; both garments seemingly made from an old coarse blanket.
Joe frowned at seeing George untied. “I guess I’m not as handy with tying knots as I had hoped.”
The man spit at Sebastiano’s feet. “The king will have you hung for this!”
Sebastiano put a knee to the man’s gut, silencing him for the moment. “’Tis the Black Knight you are speaking to you addle-headed bastard. If you say another word, ’twill be spoken with respect.”
Alexandra pointed a finger at the man in Sebastiano’s grasp. “He and his companion have hired and paid a man to kill King Henry.”
Sebastiano squeezed the man’s neck within the crook of his elbow. “Tell me where the king is to visit next. Tell me now if you want to live.”
“I know naught of that which she speaks. ’Tis R-Radmore’s Keep where the king is expected to visit. I know n-not when though,” George answered between gasps for breath.
Alexandra looked to Sir Joe. “’Tis Richard’s keep he speaks of.”
“Run off,” Sebastiano said to the man. “Tell your ill-bred friends that it is I, the Black Prince who set you free. Tell them also that the Black Knight has returned. Now go!” He pushed him to the dirt and shooed the half-naked man away. “Spread the word! And dare not come again unless you are ready to meet your maker.”
The man was a few feet away when he stopped to glare at each one of them, hatred seething from eyes. “You will pay for this,” he said as he set off, sprinting for the woods. “Every one of you.”
Joe shrugged, then gave Sebastiano a skeptical look. “The Black Prince, huh?”
“Aye.” A wide grin spread across his face, making him look more like a swashbuckler and less like a medieval warrior. Sebastiano bowed before Alexandra, but she was busy and went back to Garrett’s side.
“What happened to the boy?” Sebastiano asked.
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