King Henry's Choice

by Emily-Jane Hills Orford

  Henry had come full circle and was now standing inches from Arthur, face-to-face. The once proud, and tall, imposing figure of the English lord had shrivelled to the point where he appeared to be no taller than Henry.

  “Because we can.” The lord spat in Henry’s face. The king didn’t flinch or bat an eye. The spittle trickled down his cheek. He allowed it. Ignored it. He just stared. Emboldened, the Arthur carried his thoughts further. “Because we can and we will. Scotland was meant to be ours. With your son, brought up English and married to an English princess, there will be no further opposition. Especially with you out of the way permanently. Scotland should have been ours when James succeeded Elizabeth.”

  Henry stepped back, shaking his head slowly so as not to unsettle his equilibrium in the process of demonstrating his disbelief. “It didn’t belong to you then and it doesn’t belong to you now. James had no right to attempt to force the amalgamation. Scotland didn’t want anything to do with England. Not then. Not now. Not ever. My ancestor was only interested in more power. As is my cousin. We will maintain our independence, Arthur.” He managed to keep his eyes rivetted on his prisoner. “We will succeed and we will remain independent. Scotland, strong and free. For now and forever.”

  Arthur snorted. “You think some meagre Scottish battle cry will prevent the English from taking power? The more resistance you demonstrate, the more brutality which will follow. We English don’t take resistance lightly.”

  “Don’t I know it. I’ve seen how you people brutalize others in your colonies. It’s not our way and it never will be.” He took another step back. Keeping his eyes on Arthur, he called in a booming voice, “Guards.”

  His chamber doors opened almost instantly. “Take the prisoner away.”

  Arthur held back before he was dragged from the room. “Like I said, Your Majesty,” he almost spat the last words. “You don’t know what or who you are dealing with. Rest assured, for now and forever will be your last battle cry.”

  “We shall see about that,” Henry called out to the retreating figure.

  Twenty-Nine

  Secure Facility, Holyrood House, Year of Our Lord 2445

  “Father. Help me.” It was Edward. His son. He was calling to him. He didn’t know how it was he recognized the boy’s voice. The last time he’d visited Edward, the boy was still an infant. But somehow he knew. Father’s intuition? Perhaps.

  What was Edward doing here? In this place? In this time? They weren’t implanting him, were they? Why?

  Henry forced his eyes open, forced them to focus. He was in the room again. He wasn’t alone. There was another bed. Next to his. A small figure writhed and tossed on its surface.

  “Edward?”

  “Father.”

  Henry felt the restraints as he struggled to move. All he could do was turn his head, marginally at best. He studied the boy in the bed next to him. Not the baby he had left with his great ancestors in the twenty-first century a short time ago. Or was it? Time traveling was a complication of time. Mind boggling. This lad must be about ten. Thinking back to his youth, it made sense. He was about ten when he had his first time travel adventure.

  “Edward.” He tried to sound reassuring. He knew the boy must be terrified. He had been. “It’s going to be okay. You’re safe.” At least for now, he thought to himself. “I’m here.” If only he could slip his hand out of the restraints and reach across the chasm separating the two beds. Holding his son’s hand might be reassuring for them both.

  “I can’t move, Father. What’s happening?”

  Just then the door opened and what appeared to be a doctor entered followed by a couple of male nurses. Or so he thought. Appearances could be deceiving.

  “You’re awake.” The doctor was abrupt. “I’m not taking any chances with you this time, King Henry.” He waggled a finger accusingly at Henry. “You knocked me out cold the last time you were here.”

  The memory trickled at the back of his brain. A glimpse and then it was gone, as if he had reached out to catch a moonbeam and it vanished before his fist could close around it. Other memories flashed through his head.

  Implants.

  Twenty-fifth century.

  Memory-erasing drugs.

  “Why do you keep bringing me back?” Henry asked. “If you would just give me some answers.”

  “Answers I do have, Your Majesty.” The doctor was holding a syringe, preparing the contents for injection. “But not in this time period. When we meet again, I’ll explain.”

  “What are you doing to my son?”

  The needle went into his arm and everything went black.

  Thirty

  Toronto, Summer, Year of Our Lord 2030

  “Father. You came. I knew you would come.”

  “Happy birthday, Edward,” Henry greeted his son, returning the bear hug as the boy launched himself into his arms. Holding the boy back to study him intently, Henry said, “My, you have grown.”

  “I’m twelve today, Father. Did you bring me something? A gift? Grandmother Marie has made my favorite supper and there’s cake. Chocolate. My favorite.” He identified his two ancestors, his caregivers, as grandmother with their given names to distinguish which grandmother was which.

  “Mine, too. And, yes, I have a gift.” He left the boy to retrieve the items he had brought with him, but left at the door. He picked up a long parcel and laughed as he noticed his son’s eyes pop wide open in surprised anticipation.

  “What is it?”

  “Well. Open it and see for yourself.”

  Edward didn’t wait for his grandmothers to appear. He merely crouched on the floor in the middle of the hall and tore at the paper. Opening the package, he exclaimed a simple, expressive, “Oh!” He pulled out the contents. “My very own bow and arrows and a quiver. You’ve heard how well I shoot the arrows. Grandmother Mary Elizabeth has been teaching me, using hers. But they’re old. Very old.”

  Henry laughed. “Yes, they are. But so are these. New, but also old. I’m glad you like archery and I’m pleased to hear you’re so good at it. You never know when a good arrow shot will protect you from the invading forces.”

  “Yes, Father. Thank you.”

  “Keep practising. And take good care of them.”

  “Yes, Father.” Edward ran his fingers along the back of the bow, admiring its feel. “Are you taking me with you this time?”

  Edward had been told of his heritage and the time travel history of his father and two grandmothers. Knowing his place in history, he was anxious to return to his time and stand at his father’s side. He had never met his mother. He only knew she was a traitor and she had died in prison a few years earlier. He didn’t mourn her. He couldn’t mourn someone he didn’t know, someone who had threatened his father, his family and his heritage.

  “Henry,” Grandmother Marie stood at the doorway leading to the kitchen from which tempting aromas permeated. For a many-centuries’ old queen, she appeared to be no more than sixty. For a member of royalty, pampered from the day she was born, she certainly didn’t look the part. Hair disheveled, a flour-dusted apron draped around a casual outfit of this century called jeans and a t-shirt, much like his son was wearing, she certainly didn’t look like a woman with a past.

  “Grandmother Marie.” Henry made his way over to the woman who, as far as he knew, was the first in this long line of time traveling royals. The changes they’d made, before his time and during his time, were astronomical. The history books wouldn’t record those changes. The history books were different too, altered by the time changes marked on the pages. “Where’s Grandmother Mary Elizabeth?” He was pleased to have both his many great grandmothers care for his son’s safekeeping and education. It was difficult coming to terms with what times his ancestors came from in this current future time. Grandmother Marie had tried to explain how it was during the years leading up to Queen Elizabeth’s death and the attempt to amalgamate Scotland with England. Grandmother Mary Elizabeth had hidden in the far
north of Scotland, but had spent much of her time jumping around time to spy and to help. Like here. Like now. With young Edward. His son.

  “Coming.” Her voice could be heard from deep within the kitchen.

  “She’s trying to put icing on Edward’s birthday cake. A special design.” Grandmother Marie rolled her eyes. “It’s more like she’s decorating the kitchen than the cake. There’s icing and sugar everywhere.”

  “What’s so special about this cake?”

  “It’s a superhero cake.” Edward beamed at his father. “Look Grandmother Marie. My very own bow and arrows.”

  “Yes, I see.”

  “Superhero?” Henry quirked an eyebrow. “Who or what is this superhero?”

  They were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Henry jumped. Grandmother Marie just chuckled. She understood the sounds of the twenty-first century. Henry was still acclimatizing himself, one short visit at a time.

  “If you stay long enough,” Edward whispered to his father, “I’ll show you a superhero.”

  Henry managed a quick smile for his son before turning his attention to the front door. The voice, a man’s voice, greeted Grandmother Marie startling him. He recognized it, but he couldn’t place it. His great ancestor stepped back and allowed the man to enter. When Henry saw the figure step into the hall, he gasped.

  “You!” He pointed a finger at him accusingly. “What are you doing here? You can’t take him. You can’t.” He positioned himself in front of Edward, trying to block access to his son.

  “That’s Uncle Cecil, Father. I told you about him.” Edward slipped past his father and ran to the man at the door.

  “Uncle Cecil?” Henry shook his head in disbelief. This wasn’t any uncle or relation to either himself or his son. Or was he? The man was the doctor from the future. Was it possible he was also a descendant of his?

  Uncle Cecil caught Edward as he launched himself into a big hug. The two laughed as the older man picked up the boy and tossed him in the air. “Twelve years old. And you still like to fly.”

  “I’ll always like flying, Uncle Cecil,” Edward continued to giggle as he was placed firmly on the floor once again.

  “Well, happy birthday, young man.”

  “Look at what my father gave me.” Edward, not one to stand still for a minute, dashed back to his father, where he had left his gift lying on the floor. He took it to his uncle and showed off the fine qualities.

  Uncle Cecil demonstrated his admiration of the gift. “A fine gift for a talented archer.” He was giving it a seal of approval. As if it was needed. All it mattered was what Edward thought.

  As if sensing Henry’s discomfort with his presence, the so-called uncle patted Edward on the head and walked over to the boy’s father. “Your Majesty. We meet again.” He confirmed Henry’s suspicions. “Yes. I am Doctor Stuart of the twenty-fifth century. I am also Doctor Stuart of the twenty-first century. And I am a direct descendant of the royal Stuarts. Of you, and Marie and Mary Elizabeth. And all those in between.”

  “You can’t have him, Doctor Stuart!” It was all Henry could think to say. “You can’t implant my son. You took advantage of the rest of us. But I won’t allow you to take advantage of my son.”

  “Please call me Cecil.” The doctor let out a deep sigh. “There’s nothing I can do. He’s already had the implant inserted.”

  “What!” Henry was astounded. Angry. “How dare you! When?”

  “You were there.”

  “Gentlemen,” Grandmother Marie scolded. “Little ears.” She nodded at Edward.

  “I have big ears now, Grandmother Marie.” Edward was too smart to be placated. “What do you mean by implants? I want to know.”

  “Now look what you’ve done.” It was Grandmother Mary Elizabeth standing behind them at the end of the hall. “Upset our birthday boy. Dinner is ready. Let’s celebrate the young man’s birthday and talk about this later.”

  “But I want to know!” Edward stomped his foot. He was used to getting what he wanted.

  “And you will, son,” Henry patted the lad on the shoulder. “And hopefully we all will understand what has been hidden from us for so long.”

  Edward led the way into the dining room and took his place at the head of the table. He was, after all, the birthday boy and deserved the place of honor. He eyed his cake with eager anticipation, marveling in Grandmother Mary Elizabeth’s interpretation of a scene from one of Edward’s comic book heroes.

  “See, Father.” He leaned over the table to point at things on the cake. “There’s the hero fighting the evil menace with marvelous, high-tech weapons.”

  “So, this hero of yours is a good man?” Henry half stated, half asked, quirking an eyebrow as he concentrated on his son’s soliloquy.

  “Of course.” Edward spoke as if everyone should know about superheroes. “He fights all the bad guys and makes the world a safer place. He has all kinds of cool gadgets and weapons, too.”

  “I’m sure he does.” Henry stifled a chuckle by clearing his voice. “Now perhaps you should sit back in your seat like a gentleman so we can enjoy this wonderful feast your grandmothers have prepared for us.”

  “Yes Father.” Edward sat back in his seat with obvious reluctance. “That’s a great cake, Grandmother Mary Elizabeth. Thank you.”

  Grandmother Mary Elizabeth was obviously pleased with the praise. Henry beamed at his son’s fine display of good manners. He would make a fine king one day. He should make a visit to the future and see for himself.

  They enjoyed the good food and festivities, allowing the conversation to skirt around the topic of time travel and implants. Edward talked about his friends at school and what he was learning.

  “I read about the war with the English, Father.” He had blown out his birthday candles and, with Grandmother Marie’s help, he was cutting into the cake, giving everyone ample portions of the sweet concoction. “Good bye superhero’s City. Until next year.” He bemoaned as the cake and the mythic city took the brunt of Edward’s knife.

  “And what did you learn?” Henry asked, anxious to know the history he had yet to experience.

  “It was a long war and you almost lost.” Edward took a mouthful of his cake. “Mmm! This is good, Grandmother Mary Elizabeth. The best cake you’ve made yet.”

  “Thank you, Edward.” Grandmother Mary Elizabeth took a mouthful and nodded in agreement. “I have to agree with you. It is rather good.”

  Compliments scattered around the table as the family members present took one bit after another.

  “How long was the war?” Henry returned the conversation to Edward’s discussion about the war with the English.

  “Six years.” Edward spoke with his mouth full.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Edward,” Grandmother Marie scolded.

  He swallowed deeply before answering. “Yes, Grandmother Marie.”

  “Six years! Why so long? And how did we almost lose?”

  So many questions. Cecil interrupted. “Perhaps it’s best if you don’t know too much. You may change history for the worse.”

  “Or I may change history for the better as Grandmother Mary Elizabeth did,” Henry argued. “We all make choices in life and then we have to live with our choices.”

  “And what would your choice be?” Cecil glanced across the table at the king.

  Thirty-One

  Kirkwall Castle, Orkney Islands, Northern Scotland, Winter, Year of Our Lord 1877

  Henry paced before the frost crusted window. It had been over a year since the first battle at Stirling. He had used his navy well to cut off trade and commerce to and from England, but it hadn’t been enough. The English were resourceful if nothing else. Their vessels managed to make it around the outer perimeter of Ireland and up the coast to Scotland’s far northern ports. Not an easy route, especially in the unseasonable weather which plagued the winter months specifically, but also most of the year. They had tried to get a foothold of the country from the north, bu
t Henry had been forewarned. He was always prepared for the worse case scenario.

  Here he was at Kirkwall Castle on the Orkeny Islands, in the middle of a blizzard, no less. His great ancestor, Queen Mary Elizabeth, had hidden well in this castle until the death of her cousin, Queen Elizabeth I, in 1603. Is this what he was doing now? Hiding?

  “Father.” The voice of his son startled him.

  He stopped his pacing and faced the sound of the voice. “Edward. What are you doing here? How did you…” He didn’t finish his question. He saw the shadow of another person standing behind his son. The two moved closer, standing next to the fire blazing in the hearth, the light of the flames illuminating their presence with deep shadows. “Cecil?”

  The man held up his hand to ward off further questions. “I couldn’t let him come alone, Your Majesty. He’s still fairly new to this time traveling gig, but he was determined to make this jump. To warn you. Something he read in his history book, about this ongoing war of yours.”

  “But, I don’t understand.” Henry moved from the window and came to stand next to his son. “You told me it wasn’t wise to know too much from the future as it could drastically change things.”

  “And so it can.” Cecil took a seat, not waiting for formal protocol to allow him the privilege. He crossed his legs and made himself comfortable. “This battle you’re fighting with the English is not just with the enemy of your time. There are English forces from the future, from my time, from the twenty-fifth century. They are aiding the English forces of your time. Haven’t you wondered at some of the victories? The battle at Stirling, your first battle. How did they breach the wall so easily? And the warriors that climbed over the barricade first weren’t from your time. The weapon used to shoot you, was more powerful than any bulletproof vest of your era could protect.”