by Simon Hawke
"True enough," said John, somewhat mollified. "Still, I dislike these tournaments. They are a waste of manpower. This one has cost me Front-de-Boeuf."
"True again, Sire," said Fitzurse, "but this, too, can be turned to your advantage. The fief of Ivanhoe, which you had reassigned to Front-de-Boeuf, is now once again available to be assigned to a deserving knight. Might I suggest Maurice De Bracy? He and his Free Companions would serve you better if his interests were aligned with yours."
John smiled. "You are worth your weight in gold to me, Fitzurse. An excellent suggestion. I feel much better now. Well, then, since this nameless knight has opened up the way for me to award a fiefdom to De Bracy, thereby strengthening our bond, it would be well to honor him at Ashby. See to it that he comes. I am curious to see his face. Oh, and see to it that those Saxon churls, Cedric and Athelstane, attend as well, since they seem to love him. Perhaps we'll have some sport with them, and at the same time enjoy the fair Rowena's company."
* * * *
Lucas accepted Prince John's invitation. It would have been inadvisable to turn him down. He was tired and sore, but he had already missed one royal banquet; to miss this one would constitute an insult to the prince. Besides, it was a good time to establish himself in his new identity. The Castle of Ashby was the domain of Roger de Quincy, the Earl of Winchester. While de Quincy was crusading, John had taken Ashby over for his own purposes. When the absent crusaders returned to their possessions, they would find them confiscated by the king's brother, who had strengthened his own position considerably. It would be interesting to see what effect his arrival at the banquet would have.
He had known that Ivanhoe's lands had been granted to Front-de-Boeuf. Now John obviously intended to turn the fiefdom over to another of his toadies. What would he do when Ivanhoe showed up to claim his own? More to the point, what was Ivanhoe supposed to do? Lucas realized that his own position was becoming somewhat precarious. Ashby was the key. Whatever happened next, he was certain that it would occur at Ashby.
Hooker was not in sight as he approached his tent. With any luck, thought Lucas, he's gone to get something to eat. He was starved. Tired and hungry, Lucas entered the pavilion.
Hooker was lying face down on the ground. The black knight sat helmetless upon the wooden cot. He smiled.
"King takes pawn, Mr. Priest," he said. "It's your move."
As Lucas clawed for his sword, the black knight chuckled and disappeared into thin air.
* * * *
Lucas was bending over to examine Hooker's body when he heard the sound of someone entering the pavilion, followed by a sharp intake of breath. Cursing himself for being caught off guard, he spun around, expecting to be attacked. Instead, he saw Finn Delaney and Bobby Johnson. And Corporal Hooker.
"Hooker!"
It was Hooker who had gasped. He stood looking down at his own dead body with a glassy-eyed stare. He had been garroted with a monofilament wire that had cut very deeply into his throat.
"Christ," whispered Delaney.
After the initial shock had worn off, Lucas understood. Somehow, something had gone wrong up ahead. Irving had discovered who they were. Maybe he had known from the very beginning, wherever in time the beginning was. Now he was playing with them and it was a grisly game. Somewhere in the not too distant future, Irving had killed Hooker and he had brought his body back into the past—their present—to tease them with the knowledge that he knew and that they were doomed to certain failure.
Hooker doubled over and clutched his stomach. He vomited. Delaney grabbed him, holding him and steadying him until the shaking and the heaves abated.
"Well, I guess that tears it," Bobby said, as soon as Lucas told him what had happened. "We've lost before we even had a chance to get started."
"Maybe," Delaney said. "And then again, maybe not."
"You mean maybe that's not me lying there?" said Hooker. He was trying not to look at the dead body, but his eyes kept straying back to it, as though the corpse exerted some sort of magnetism upon him. He was badly shaken and Lucas could hardly blame him. He could not imagine what his own reaction would be if he were confronted with his own corpse.
"Oh, that's you, all right," said Finn. "And I'll admit that you don't look too healthy, but that's not necessarily the way it's got to be."
"Are you telling me," said Hooker, "that that's not real?" He pointed to the body.
"It's real," said Finn. "It's a real possibility. Or, to put it another way, it's a potential reality."
"What the fuck are you talking about? I'm standing here and looking at the way I'm going to die!"
Hooker was on the edge of total hysteria. He was just barely keeping himself under control. Delaney took him by the shoulders and sat him down.
"All right. Take it easy. Take a couple of deep breaths. I mean now, boy, do it! Come on."
Hooker inhaled and exhaled heavily several times while Delaney stood over him.
"That's right, don't be afraid to look at it," Finn said. "Don't let it rattle you. He wants you to be rattled. That's why he did it."
"But I'm going to—"
"Don't talk, just keep taking those deep breaths. Again. Again."
After a few more breaths, Hooker relaxed a bit and nodded.
"You all right now?" Lucas said.
Hooker managed a very weak smile. "I'm not all right," he said, "but I think I can handle it."
"There's only one way we're ever going to make it through this thing," Delaney said, "and that's to act as though nothing is real as far as the future is concerned. Nothing. And that includes that." He jerked his head toward Hooker's corpse.
"Sure looks real enough to me," said Bobby.
"Yeah, and it was real," said Delaney. "It was real when it died. But the minute our friend Goldblum clocked back with it, it ceased to be real and it became only potentially real." He glanced at Hooker. "Maybe you're going to buy it this way, kid. And then again, maybe you won't. Because by bringing this corpse back here, Irving has created a time paradox. What's more, he knows it. Think about this, now. He can't possibly know everything. He can't possibly have this whole mission knocked, because if he did, then why are we standing here and talking about it right now? If he knew it all, he could take care of us at any time."
"Well, suppose he can," said Bobby. "He just might be playing with us. With that damn chronoplate in his possession, he can damn well do anything he wants to. He can take us out any time he wants to."
"So why doesn't he?" said Finn. "Why hasn't he?"
"Maybe he will," Bobby said. "Shit, maybe he already has. Maybe he's going back into the past even as we're standing here. Maybe he's going to arrive at some point prior to right now and do us in."
"Then what will happen to us?" Hooker said. "If he pops back in an hour ago and kills us, what will happen to us now? How could we even be here now if he killed us in the past?"
"Hold it right there," said Finn. "Don't start getting bent all out of shape. That's exactly what he wants. Let's talk theory for a moment. Here's how we stand right now: assuming Irving travels back into the past, our past relative to where we are right this very moment, then he might succeed in killing us. If he does that, then the timeline will have been disrupted and there will be a skip in it. There had to be a past for us not to be killed in, otherwise we wouldn't be standing here right now. In the same manner, there has to be a potential future in which Irving can come back to this time to mess things up. From the perspective of the future that we came from, history has not been changed. At least, it hadn't been changed up to the moment that we departed for this time period. We've got to preserve the status quo from which we came. As it stands right now, the timeline from here on is in potential flux. Irving has confronted us with a potential future in which Hooker has been killed. We know that there is no absolute future. There is only an infinite number of possible futures. There has to be a potential future in which Hooker did not know that he was going to die. We have been confro
nted with that very real possibility. By confronting us with it, Irving has managed to rattle us, which is precisely what he intended. He has also managed to warn us."
"You mean it might still happen," Hooker said.
"It might," said Finn. "What we don't know is this: when this Hooker died," he indicated the corpse, "he might not have known that he was going to die. Meaning, this Hooker might not ever have had the opportunity to see his own corpse."
"On the other hand, maybe he did," said Hooker. "Maybe I did."
"That's right," said Finn. "But we don't know for sure. So you've got a choice to make right now, son. You can either resign yourself to this fate," he pointed at the nearly severed head of the corpse, "or you can determine that you're going to do everything in your power to prevent this from ever happening. And that means you're going to have to watch your back."
Hooker took a deep breath and gritted his teeth. "Yeah," he said. "But when?"
"I don't have all the answers, Corporal."
"Thanks."
"Sarge," he said to Bobby, "why don't you take the boy outside and let him walk around a bit? He doesn't look too steady. Go on, get him out of here."
"Come on, Hooker," Bobby said. "Let's go out and get some air. It's getting a little close in here."
He led Hooker out of the pavilion. Finn stood at the entrance, watching them.
"They can't hear us now, can they?" Lucas said, softly.
Finn turned around and shook his head.
"You know what I'm about to say, don't you?" Lucas said.
"You mean about the paradox?" said Finn.
"What paradox?"
Finn nodded, glumly.
"That corpse doesn't represent a paradox," said Lucas. "At least, not yet. You smoked the kid, Finn."
"I had to. I had no choice. Surely you can see that."
Lucas took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Jesus. What a mess. You know, something sounded wrong while you were talking to him, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I'm still not sure I can follow it through completely, but then I'm just a simple dog soldier. So are you, for that matter. Or are you? You seem pretty well versed in temporal mechanics, even for a veteran with your experience."
"I'm not a mission plant, if that's what you're getting at," said Finn. "What you see is what you get. I'm a lifer, son. I've served a lot of time. I've gone up and down in rank like a yo-yo, mainly because I don't always play it by the rules, but..."
"But?"
"Yes, well, there is a 'but,' Sergeant Major. I volunteered for the Corps. I didn't really have to. I finished in the top three percent of the Service Aptitude batteries. I chose the army anyway and I put in my time."
"Which qualified you for Referee Corps School," said Lucas.
Finn nodded. "I got halfway through before I washed out," he said. "I couldn't handle Econo-political Management and Arbitration. Way over my head. Well, maybe not over my head, but beyond my inclination. I did get through Temporal Physics and Trans-historical Adjustment and Maintenance, though."
"Which should have qualified you for the observers."
"It did," said Finn, nodding. "Only I didn't want it. You may think I'm crazy, but I missed this. Observing's not the same as participating, even though it pays better."
Lucas nodded. "I understand. I can't say I would have done the same thing in your position, but that's beside the point. The point is, you bluffed him. You made him think that we can still do something to get through this thing alive. Only we can't, can we?"
"Not necessarily," said Finn. "We still have a chance. We do. Hooker, I'm afraid, has no chance at all."
"I don't quite follow."
"Okay, I'll make it quick, they might come back at any minute. Time is fluid. The only thing that isn't is our subjective relationship to time. Time is like a river in that respect. Now you can take a boulder, let's say, and drop it in that river. It will create some eddies, but those eddies will have dissipated say, two hundred yards downstream. In order to significantly change the course of the river, or split the timeline, you're going to have to introduce a much more significant factor. Say, divert the river at one point and split it.
Now think of yourself as a molecule of water. Your relationship to that river is totally subjective, depending upon where you are in relation to its flow. If you move with the water to a point beyond which the river has been diverted, before it has been diverted, then that won't affect you. However, if I was to draw a cupful of water from that river, containing your little molecule, and pour you back in at a point upstream of the diversion, then that diversion could affect you."
"So we can't be attacked in our absolute past," said Lucas. "Irving can't kill me yesterday and expect that action to destroy me here today."
"That's right," said Finn. "You can't shoot five feet behind a clay pigeon and expect it to burst. What's happened to us has already happened. That's an absolute. Regardless of what Irving does in the past, it won't affect us right here right now. It will affect the past at a point at which the timeline will be split. From that point on, the future will be an entirely different scenario, depending upon when the timelines eventually rejoin. Irving can only kill us in a parallel timeline if he tries to attack us in our past. The point is, our job is to keep him from creating that parallel timeline. If he does succeed in causing the split, the future will be affected. And there's the danger. That game of Russian roulette the ref was talking about. His fate is sealed in that respect. If we succeed in stopping Irving, assuming that the real Richard Plantagenet is still alive and we can find him, then we have the possibility of our being able to clock back in to Plus Time with Irving, leaving the real Richard to sit on the throne. In that case, he'll have to be conditioned to forget all about Irving's intervention in his life. Not a problem. But then we'll have to clock back in at a point just beyond Irving's having gone back, so as not to create a paradox regarding our own experience. We will have restored the status quo of our own history. However, the possibility of that is almost nonexistent. I'll bet my life on the fact that Irving has killed the real Richard, in order to improve the odds of his success. In that case, we've got to kill Irving and let our ref become Richard, acting in a manner that will preserve our timeline. He will have to die, as Richard, in order to avoid a paradox."
"So where does that leave Hooker?" Lucas said.
"Hooker's finished," Delaney said. "We've still got a chance, because at this point, Irving has not confronted us with our own fates. Yet. He knows about Hooker. He knows about you. He may or may not know about me and Johnson. But the fact that we have been confronted with Hooker's corpse means that Hooker must die, because if he survives beyond the point at which Irving has killed him, assuming that it is Irving who's done it, then that will mean that he never died to be clocked back to right now. He will never have seen his own dead body. And that will change his experience. That will constitute a paradox and we, then, will have split the timeline. We have to make sure that Hooker is garroted."
"But we don't know when that's supposed to happen," Lucas said.
"That's right, we don't. With any luck, we won't be able to prevent it."
"You call that luck?"
"Compared to the alternative, yes."
"What alternative?"
"Well, there is the possibility that in order to avoid the paradox, we're going to have to kill him ourselves. And in that case, which one of us is going to volunteer?"
Chapter 6
It was quiet and peaceful in Sherwood Forest. Finn and Bobby had walked all morning and now, at midday, they had stopped to rest by the side of the road, really little more than a narrow dirt path running through the forest, wide enough to permit two horses to travel closely side by side.
They were not on horseback, however. They traveled on foot, at a leisurely pace. For a long time, both men had walked in silence, mulling over recent developments, especially what had happened in Lucas Priest's pavilion. The atmosphere in Sherwood Forest was con
ducive to quiet contemplation. All morning, they had not run into any other travelers. It was a bucolic scene, with the silence broken only by birdsong and the occasional hectic rustling of some small animal hurtling through the brush, frightened by their presence. The tree boughs made a canopy above them, through which shafts of sunlight streamed down to dapple the ground with light and shadow.
Finn had shot a rabbit and dressed it. They had cooked it on a spit and washed it down with cheap wine that tasted far better than it was supposed to. In another time and in another place, it would have seemed a very primitive and unsatisfactory repast, but in Sherwood Forest, it made for a veritable feast.
Finn leaned back against a large oak tree and lighted a cigarette. It was strictly against regulations, but neither of them cared. There was no one there to see them, so they passed the precious cigarette back and forth between them, hiding it with their hands just in case, staying very near the fire so that the smoke would not seem too noticeable to a prying eye. Finn had managed to smuggle several of the cigarettes from their island training base and he planned to ration them out carefully. They smoked in silence, neither man speaking until they were through. Then Finn field stripped the butt, shredding it and dropping what was left into the fire, which had almost burned out. That done, he leaned back against the tree trunk once again and shut his eyes.
"Finn?" said Bobby.
"Mmmm?"
"Suppose Hooker figures it out?"
Finn sighed, "It's possible, of course, but I don't think he will."
"Don't underestimate him just because he's still pretty green," said Bobby.
"No, that wasn't what I meant. This is going to sound pretty goddamn cold, but I don't think he'll knock it because, quite simply, he wants to live. When you're already predisposed toward one condition, your mind will tend to avoid considering any possible alternatives."
"I suppose you're probably right," said Bobby. "He seized on that bit of double-talk you fed him and hung onto it for all he was worth. He kept telling me how careful he was going to be, how he was going to refine paranoia to an art. He tried to make light of it, but he's pretty scared."
