Alice Through The Multiverse

by Brian Trenchard-Smith

  James was shocked. “Has God given you a vision?”

  “You are fighting… Winning… Sir Giles spills wine behind you and makes you slip… I saw you die.”

  A chill ran through him. Alice’s mood was strange. Had she become bewitched? Nay, she’s just a little touched from the beating she took. Or had she indeed been vouchsafed a true vision? The moment between them was broken by the clanking of keys opening the door to their cell.

  “Trust me,” urged Alice.

  “Say nothing, Alice,” said a worried James. “I pray you. Nothing.”

  Three guards stepped in, one carrying a basin and a ewer of water. He placed the basin between them and filled it.

  “Clean yourselves,” barked the guard at the door.

  Jane looked at her reflection in the rippling water. This was the first time she could see the face of Alice Craddock, whose adventures she had experienced through Alice’s eyes, but those eyes had never alighted on a mirror. Jane studied her features. Despite Alice’s long flaxen locks and Jane’s neatly cropped hair, they resembled one another uncannily. What was the connection between them? Jane felt her resolve strengthening.

  CHAPTER 53

  At Sword Point

  The guards led them down a long corridor lit by torches mounted on the wall. Jane turned to James and whispered quickly: “When I call your name, step to the side, left or right. Do not step back...” James stared at her. Before she could say more, a guard poked her roughly with his club.

  “Silence, witch!”

  A door opened to a sumptuous hall decorated with tapestries celebrating the reign of the late King Henry. Men-at-arms stood by the doorway and at the corners. Courtiers, nobles, knights, and servants were milling about conducting the court’s business. A waft of body odor spiked with perfume, but rank nonetheless, emanated from the hall. Jane’s nostrils twitched. Others were oblivious. At the far end of the hall was a dais where the Queen sat on her throne attended by ladies-in-waiting. A clerk took a parchment from her that she had just signed.

  The hall gradually fell silent as the two prisoners were led in. Courtiers stared at them while pretending not to. They halted some distance from the throne. Jane discreetly studied the small sad Queen. Poor Bloody Mary. She burned 300 Protestants, while her father executed 57,000. History could be so unfair.

  A booming voice intoned: “Bring forth James De Fries!”

  The lovers exchanged glances. Perhaps their last.

  “Beware Sir Giles behind you,” Jane whispered as James was hustled forward, leaving her guarded by three men with halberds an easy thrust away. Jane hoped that she had instilled just enough detail into her warnings. But not too much. She had to be delicate, to minimize her interference with the flow of today’s event, up until that crucial moment.

  Jane watched from afar as James arrived at the foot of the dais and bowed low to the Queen. A conversation she could not hear unfolded. After a while she saw the Queen’s expression change. An official called for guards to bring Alice Craddock forward. This was where it could go badly wrong, Jane knew, if she did not play her part well.

  Once in the royal presence she dropped to her knees in obeisance just as Alice had. Jane ceded control of Alice’s body and persona back to their owner and let events play out. As before, Alice offered herself as a sacrifice, then watched James refuse to give her up. He named her his betrothed and demanded the pardon ordained by God should he prevail in trial by combat. Again Jane felt Alice’s deep love surging within her. Must be a pretty amazing man, this James De Fries.

  The trial by combat was announced. The Queen left the dais, followed by her ladies-in-waiting.

  “When I shout, step aside,” Jane cautioned. She saw uncertainty in James’ eyes. A guard pulled him away.

  ***

  “Greetings, nephew. And outlaw. And plaything of the Devil’s whore. Your new titles become you. I accept your challenge. My choice of weapons will be sword and buckler,” said Sir Giles, confronting James in braggadocio tones.

  From James’ perspective, his uncle’s subsequent announcement of Cedric of Winchester as his champion supported Alice’s apparent foreknowledge, be it demonically or divinely inspired. James’ derisive reply accusing his uncle of cowardice before the entire court further sharpened Sir Giles’ thirst for revenge.

  “This whelp will die and the witch will burn,” he growled to Cordoba as they walked away.

  A long oval was cleared in the center of the hall and roped off. As James prepared for combat, stretching his sinews, hefting the rapier in each of the guard positions, getting a sense of its weight, he studied the room, the faces of the courtiers, and particularly the movements of his enemy. He observed Sir Giles conferring with his champion. A giant of a man, thought James, the biggest opponent he had ever faced. Worse, he was a left hander. James would have to profile his stance more, and strategize accordingly.

  Then he saw his uncle signal for a servant bearing a tray of wine goblets to approach. Sir Giles took one, but did not drink from it. The weight of Alice’s words increased.

  Sir Giles carried his goblet of wine past the Duke of Norfolk, with barely a nod of deference to the most senior of the Queen’s advisors.

  Impudent Winchester goose, thought Norfolk, who personally had no stomach for refreshment when shortly one of two men, possibly both, would die in his presence. Norfolk did not care for Sir Giles, who was of the gentry, unlike Norfolk’s own proud aristocratic lineage. He was unimpressed by Sir Giles’ ambition, irritated by his overweening sense of entitlement, and disturbed by his reputation for cruelty, the latest example of which had just come to Norfolk’s ears. Sir Giles had ordered that the accused witch be placed under guard at the front row of the spectators, to distract her beloved and force her to watch him die. Sir Giles lacked honour. Why the Queen showed him such favour, Norfolk could not understand. But it was prudent to hold his tongue.

  Jane had been about to break away from her guards to get closer to the oval, as Alice had done, when the guards took hold of her under each arm and led her forward to the very place she would have chosen, midway along the oval, with a view of the duel in profile. She had arrived in the same place as before, but by different means. Jane realized that her intrusion into Alice and James’ lives had already caused subtle changes to the details of the original event. Little ripples were spreading and each ripple might trigger another ripple, and so on. She willed it all to play out as before, until the wine was spilled. Sir Giles took his position nearby. Knowing that James and Alice were watching, he mockingly raised his goblet to them both. But he did not drink.

  “En garde,” the Duke of Norfolk announced. James and Cedric assumed the position in sixte.

  “Allez.”

  ***

  Queen Mary had been waiting in an antechamber close by. She listened to the clash of steel and occasional gasps from the crowd. Skilled combatants were evidently in play. The poor naive boy would die with honour and respect, but she had no wish to watch. Then she heard a quickening in the exchange of blades—thrust, parry, circlage, counter parry, counter circlage and on—climaxing in a universal gasp of reaction, followed by a a hubbub of shouting.

  Lord Norfolk entered, his face serious as she expected. “Majesty, in trial by combat James De Fries has prevailed.”

  The Queen was stunned. Her judgement had been faulty. God had given victory to the smaller, less experienced swordsman, because his claim was righteous and Sir Giles’ false. False, too, Cordoba’s accusation of witchcraft against the peasant girl. God would not give victory to the consort of a witch. Evidently, the Inquisitor and Sir Giles were in collusion for some reason. Probably gold. Common at court. Mary sighed. She had no time for priests who abuse their power.

  The Queen got up unsteadily from her chair, wincing from a new pain in her back from yesterday’s horse riding.

  “Was the fight f
air?”

  “On that matter I wish a private word, Your Majesty.”

  The Duke recounted what had happened. Each combatant had inflicted superficial wounds but neither was gaining the upper hand. Then he had noticed an exchange of looks between Sir Giles and his champion. It had seemed a signal of some kind. Cedric of Winchester had begun driving young De Fries back towards Sir Giles with a furious onslaught. The Duke saw Sir Giles extend the arm that held his goblet of wine, hesitating. He was about to tip it over, when James had suddenly halted his retreat.

  “When I saw Sir Giles withdraw the goblet, his intention became clear. He was waiting for the right moment to wet the flagstones beneath his opponent’s approaching feet.”

  “By the Rood…” Queen Mary muttered.

  Norfolk told the Queen how Cedric had redoubled his efforts and succeeded in moving James De Fries back towards his uncle. Norfolk saw Sir Giles extend his arm and brazenly spill the wine, uncaring whether he was observed.

  “At that moment there was a scream from someone in the crowd. James De Fries sprang to his left in a crouch then delivered a fatal upward lunge from this unexpected position. So died Cedric of Winchester.”

  “I heard a great commotion,” said the Queen. “In fact, I still hear much disputation.”

  “Yes, Majesty. Sir Giles would not accept God’s verdict. He became enraged, He drew his dagger and rushed at the village girl. James De Fries barred his way, then advanced on him, at sword point. Sir Giles took fright and seized a young page, a boy barely twelve years old, to use him as a shield. A more disgraceful moment I have never witnessed at court, Your Highness.”

  Mary was equally appalled. Norfolk went on.

  “Yet young De Fries dropped his sword, forsook revenge and turned away, admired by all. Sir Giles no longer has friends at court,” Norfolk added pointedly, knowing his Queen.

  The Queen brightened. “It is an unexpected outcome, in which I clearly see the hand of God.”

  ***

  A trumpet sounded.

  Jane turned from aiding apothecaries dress gashes to James’ arms, ribs and right thigh. Queen Mary entered the Great Hall. Everyone bowed. She approached briskly. The walk was easing the pain in her back. Ahead of her lay Cedric of Winchester face down, blood pooling, transfixed through the throat. His parry to James’ upward lunge had been too little too late. It had merely lifted the tip of the incoming blade to his throat, severing an artery on the way out. Growing up as she had, the sight of blood did not disconcert Queen Mary. A few feet in front of the body she observed a crimson puddle darker than blood. Wine.

  The Queen looked across to where James De Fries sat on a bench, stripped to the waist. Apothecaries were applying poultices to his wounds and sewing up the one deep gash on his thigh. Mary studied him. Lean, muscular, in the prime of manhood. She switched her gaze to Alice Craddock, the peasant girl he intended to marry, daughter of a well-regarded executioner apparently, humble yet with the glow of pride about her. The girl is comely, Mary admitted, without that tinge of jealousy she had felt at first sight. And loyal. She was ready to die for him. A little education and fine clothing, and the girl would soon pass as a gentlewoman. It may well be a good match. The Queen decided that a bold decision was necessary. It was time to curb the faction at court that had aligned with Sir Giles De Fries. She would knight young James De Fries and give him a new estate along the Scottish border. She needed a strong man like him to keep those cursed reivers in check.

  “Apothecaries, give him good care,” Queen Mary called out as she approached.

  “Your Majesty,” said Sir Giles stepping forward in her path, bowing low. The Inquisitor Córdoba hovered a step behind. They had conferred to determine the religious argument that might be used to reverse the verdict. Before either could speak, the Queen raised her hand.

  “Sir Giles, you dared attempt interference with God’s choice in this trial by combat. Lord Norfolk has apprized me of the enormity of your folly. But God sees all, and has revealed your deceit and cowardice for all to see.”

  She raised her voice for the court to hear. “By authority vested in me by God, I issue a writ of attainder for Sir Giles De Fries. You are hereby banished, and your estates forfeit to the Crown. If by week’s end you are found within England’s shores, your head shall be struck from your body.”

  Sir Giles looked around. Stern disapproving gazes everywhere. So unexpected was this massive reversal of fortune, Sir Giles found he was unable to form words properly, merely an incoherent stammer. The Inquisitor stepped forward.

  “Your Majesty, the combat was tainted by witchcraft.” He pointed at Alice. “By that creature, the Devil’s whore.”

  Jane crossed herself and clasped her hands in prayer, an astute response, noted by all.

  “Monsignor,” said the Queen dryly, “are you suggesting that this humble girl is more powerful than God?”

  “By no means, Majesty, not at all. In Scripture…”

  She cut him off. Loudly.

  “Be silent! I shall communicate with King Philip on this matter.”

  The prospect that he might lose his position at the court of Spain—or worse, given Philip’s temper—chilled Córdoba to the marrow.

  “You are no longer welcome at court,” the Queen continued. “It is time you returned to Spain. Be gone by week’s end.”

  The Queen flicked her fingers as if brushing away a fly. The Captain of the Guards stepped forward, and with a sweeping bow to Sir Giles that contained more than a hint of mockery, pointed to the door with his outstretched hand. Two guards with halberds approached as escort.

  It was Córdoba who recovered first from the shock of dismissal. It seemed that Rome was now a safer destination than Cadiz. He had no respect for Sir Giles, whose usefulness to Spain over. But he would still need a witness whom he could control in his intended audience with the Holy Father. He was not done with this heretic nation yet.

  He nudged Sir Giles forward. As they withdrew from the Queen, Cordoba took control of the devastated man.

  “There is a Papal vessel at Cheapside. We will sail together to Rome on the morning tide.”

  Queen Mary watched them depart, amused that their path to the doorway led them past the two people they had conspired to destroy. The Inquisitor locked eyes with the witch, giving her a look of implacable hatred.

  “You will die in a fire,” said Jane as her persecutors passed by. It just sprang out of her. She had no idea why she said that. She felt such certainty in her words, yet how could she possibly know their fate?

  As it happened, the Papal ship bearing Córdoba and Sir Giles to Rome, despite being well armed, was attacked by French privateers as the vessel entered the Bay of Biscay. The Papal insignia were not always a deterrent to pirates. It promised gold to those men with no fear of the fires of Hell. A lucky shot from the privateer ignited the powder magazine, and the ship was soon in flames. Sir Giles and the Inquisitor recalled the witch’s parting words as a fireball engulfed them, and they suffered the agonizing fate they had planned for her. Horribly burned, they clung to floating wreckage till the sharks came for them.

  James also heard her words as he watched his defeated enemies pass.

  “Are you indeed a witch?” he whispered to Alice.

  “Only to your enemies, my love,” replied Jane with Alice’s winsome smile.

  James embraced her.

  ***

  Alice would soon be her old self. Jane needed to allay James’ fears, to smooth the path for Alice’s future with James once she was gone. Assuming, of course, that she had a future. It turned out to be much greater than Jane imagined.

  The Queen ordered an apartment in the Tower be made available to them during the period of preparation for the knighthood ceremony, where James and five other newly minted knights would be dubbed by the Royal sword and progress up the social ladder. At
the same time James would be instructed in the politics of the border region to help him integrate with the local clans.

  Jane was feeling very tired. She knew she would sleep soon, then to wake in the twenty first century, satisfied she had righted a wrong, and never to return. But there was one part of Alice’s future life she longed to experience. Lovemaking with James. And she knew Alice longed for that as well. James, being the man of principle he was, would probably wait at least until the bans were announced. But Jane sensed that little time was left to her. She considered the moral paradoxes. She would be cheating on Paul, with whom, it would seem, she was destined to hook up, even though their relationship had barely started. At the same time she would be voyeuring on Alice, by sharing her pleasure even though she and James would be ignorant of her intrusion.

  So she desisted. Then, to Jane’s astonishment, it was Alice who approached James and initiated an insistent embrace. Thus, Alice and Jane together gave their virginity to James De Fries. It was everything Jane had hoped for and beyond. Jane was just beginning to drift off, when she felt his hand running up Alice’s thigh. James pulled her to him, and took her once more. All three climaxed together with such intensity that Jane blacked out.

  CHAPTER 54

  Jane through the Multiverse

  With a jolt Jane woke up. She was not lying in the hospital bed, but was seated and in motion—somewhere indoors. Everything was a blur at first. Then her vision cleared. She was in the window seat of a monorail carriage. And it was FAST. What seemed to be the Manhattan skyline was speeding past her window. What was she doing in New York? And the buildings were subtly different. Then she saw the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center. Still standing… Oh my God!

  It all flooded into her consciousness: the life she had lived before she had intervened in the fates of Alice and James, and the life she had lived because she had intervened. She had full memories of both lives extending back to her earliest childhood. Jane almost passed out. Birthdays and homework and dinners, with and without her family, streamed through her mind in two rivers of consciousness, or dimensional tapestries of events. Had the threads of time been rewoven by the changes she had made, or had her violation of space/time caromed her onto another fold of the multiverse? And what about Alice and James and Paul—and everyone else, for that matter?