by carl ashmore
‘Lady Ann, this boy is named Joe,’ Tuck said.
‘This boy is named George,’ Lady Ann insisted, her voice frail but steady. ‘And he is our Prince. He is the late King’s son, and I would know him any place, for he is the double of the boy I raised like a mother. Oh, I am joyful to have lived long enough to see this day. Come hither, George, take my hand.’
Joe didn’t know what to do. Slowly, he leaned over and slipped his hand in hers.
‘Bless you, George,’ Lady Ann said, lips quivering. ‘I wish you to have something of mine, something I have held dear for an age. Lady Caroline … I beg ye, pass me my locket.’ She pointed at a golden object coiled on the dresser.
Lady Caroline walked over and picked up the locket. Then she approached the bed and placed it in Lady Ann’s hands.
‘This is yours now,’ Lady Ann said to Joe. Her fingers fumbled at the clasp. She opened it to reveal a portrait within. She passed it over to Joe.
Joe took the locket. Looking down at the portrait, his face dropped. Bewildered, he whispered, ‘I don’t get it.’
Becky stared at the portrait. To her astonishment, she saw an image that could easily have been Joe. Her mind spiralled into overdrive. She looked over at Uncle Percy for answers, something that would explain all that was happening, but saw nothing but deep sadness etched on his face.
‘Will?’ Joe said, his voice weak. ‘What’s going on?’
Will didn’t reply.
‘I praise the Lord to have seen this night,’ Lady Ann said. ‘George, you must leave me now. I am weary. But If I am taken in my slumber, know this … I shall watch o’er you from the heavens and protect you with my very soul...’
The group left the room in silence.
Gathering downstairs, everyone looked at each other, not one of them daring to say anything. Finally, it was Joe who spoke.
‘Is it true?’ he asked Will. ‘This picture… it’s me. I mean … it looks just like me. Is this my real father?’ His expression became grave. ‘Is this what all your freakiness has been about?’
Will’s eyes met Joe’s. He was about to reply when Uncle Percy’s voice filled the air. ‘Please, Will,’ he begged. ‘This will change –’
‘No, Percy,’ Will cut him down. ‘The truth must out now.’ He turned to face Joe. ‘Lady Ann speaks true. You are King Richard’s son, George.’
Tears gathered in Becky’s eyes. ‘I – I don’t understand.’ The moment the words left her mouth, Drake’s words flashed into her mind.
‘Lies surround you - surround both of you … a web of glorious lies, and you have no idea. You just live quite happily, content in your ignorance, blissfully unaware of the truth, unwitting pawns in someone else’s game, blindly trusting those you really shouldn’t trust…’
‘I do, Becks,’ Joe said, the strength returning to his voice. ‘It means I’m not your brother. I mean, at least not by blood. Am I, Will?’
‘No,’ Will replied. ‘You are not…’
Chapter 23
The Point of No Return
Becky watched Will lower his head. She waited in vain for a smile to confirm this was some kind of perverse joke. But it never came. Never before had mere words scorched her so deeply. Never before had so many emotions threatened to tear her apart.
Uncle Percy turned slowly to Marian, sighing heavily. ‘Marian, do you think the four of us could speak privately? Perhaps you could take Tuck upstairs and explain who we are and where we’ve come from.’
‘Aye,’ Marian replied. ‘Come hither, friar,’ she said, leading a confused Tuck back upstairs.
Uncle Percy nodded at the banquet table. ‘Perhaps we should sit down?’
For the rest of her life, Becky would never remember walking over to the table. As Joe sat beside her, she took his trembling hand in hers.
‘I’m so sorry you had to find out like this,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘And this is a very long story … one that will be difficult to tell and still more difficult to hear. It is a story of great sadness and boundless love.’
Becky’s steely gaze found Uncle Percy. She could barely stomach the sight of him. ‘How dare you,’ she hissed. ‘How dare both of you.’
‘Please, Becky,’ Uncle Percy replied desperately. ‘Listen to what we have to say. Obviously, you have every right to loathe us now, but I hope we can explain everything. Yes, life as we have known it has changed forever. But that doesn’t mean we can’t rebuild … rebuild trust and goodwill.’
‘I don’t want to rebuild anything,’ Becky said. ‘As far as I’m concerned you can both go to –’
‘Becks,’ Joe interrupted, squeezing her hand. ‘Let them say what they’ve gotta say.’ He glanced at Will. ‘So this is why you never wanted me in Medieval England? This is the reason you freaked whenever I mentioned it?’
‘Aye,’ Will replied. ‘The risk of discovering that which you now know was too great.’
Joe gave an impassive nod. ‘Fair enough. So come on then … who am I?’
‘You were born George Plantagenet, son of King Richard, in St. Céré, France,’ Will replied. ‘Mercifully, the Crusades were at an end, and he had returned to Europe to start anew. Sadly, your mother, Helene, passed away of pneumonia a short time after you were born. Her passing devastated your father. And more darkness was to surround him. Prince John had grown powerful in the King’s absence and wanted him dead, and any other with a claim to that throne - and that meant you. Prince John’s agents were all around, and the King knew not whom to trust. Fearing deeply for your life, the King requested I take you back to England and raise you away from court, away from prominence, until he could return and restore his influence. Sadly, the King died shortly after. But the word about you spread like wildfire. Prince John had treated his subjects with such disdain, they were eager for you to be Richard’s successor. This enraged Prince John, and he sent his emissaries across England to hunt you down.’
‘We know all of this,’ Joe replied. ‘Little John told Becky everything. He said that King Richard asked you to take George – ‘ He hesitated. ‘- I mean me to church every week and it was on one of those trips that George was killed by the Sheriff’s men.’
‘Aye, to this day that is what John believes,’ Will replied. ‘But that is not the truth of it. On the day of note, I did indeed escort you to a church in Edwinstowe, accompanied by a young maiden, Adela Fernyhough. Fair Adela took you to the service, whilst I waited in the forest for your return. But return she did not. Fearful, I rode into Edwinstowe and found her slain body on the village green. I learnt from the villagers the Sheriff’s men had assailed her and taken you with them. I tracked them down, and found you alive. Knowing I had no time to gather assistance, I attempted to ambush them alone, but their numbers were too great, more than thirty. I was captured.’ He flashed Uncle Percy a weak smile. ‘That is when your uncle appeared in the time machine, Bertha, and saved my life.’
‘What were you doing there?’ Joe asked Uncle Percy.
‘It was just coincidence,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Malcolm Everidge was showing me the delights of Sherwood Forest, when we came across the Sheriff’s men. We saw them brutalise Will, using you as part of their torture.’
‘What do you mean ‘me’?’ Joe asked.
‘They held a knife to your throat and you can imagine the rest,’ Uncle Percy said gravely. ‘You were just a baby, Joe. There was no way I could stand by and watch that, regardless of the consequences. I felt compelled to intervene.’
Will looked at Joe. ‘And we both live today because of your uncle’s deeds. Then we fled to the future, to Bowen Hall…’
‘And what happened then?’ Joe asked.
‘Will explained to me who you were,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘The dangers you were in. We both knew you would be found and killed if I’d have left you in your time, so Will asked if I could give you a home, away from the violence that would surely follow you. I said I would. Anyway, I gave him a choice: He could live with us in the twenty
first century or stay in his time.’
‘I returned to Sherwood Forest to consider his offer,’ Will said. ‘I remained there for days, but my understanding of the world had altered evermore. I had no wish to stay. I wanted my home to be close to you, lest you needed my aid. Your uncle had given me a pagidizor and stated if I desired to live in the future, I use it. And so it was … I left my time and forged a new home at Bowen Hall. The rest you know…’
‘So how did I end up with my mum and dad? I mean … the Mellor’s.’
‘They’re still your mum and dad, Joe,’ Uncle Percy insisted. ‘Never doubt that for a second. They love you as if you were their own flesh and blood.’
‘I know,’ Joe replied quietly. ‘But how did I end up with them?’
Uncle Percy’s brow furrowed. ‘What I’m about to tell you is very painful.’ He inhaled deeply. ‘Just after all of this happened, your mother lost a baby. She’d been seven months pregnant.’
Becky gasped.
‘And there were complications,’ Uncle Percy continued. ‘She was a very sick lady and in a coma for quite some time.’ His eyes turned to Joe. ‘Anyway, upon hearing about you, John rushed to Bowen Hall. He fell in love with you at first sight. He pleaded with us to let him raise you as his own.’
‘And I consented,’ Will said. ‘It was right you had a family. A true family. And I am eternally thankful that John and Catherine gave you the home I never could. They are your parents. And finer parents could not be wished for…’
‘But what about Mum?’ Joe said. ‘You can’t just turn up with a baby from nowhere.’
Uncle Percy swallowed. ‘Your mother doesn’t know you’re not hers….’
The words shattered the air like an explosion.
‘B - but that’s impossible,’ Becky panted. ‘She must know.’
‘Your father made the decision to memorase the last few months of her life. And I agreed with him. All the pain she had suffered, the terrible memories vanished in an instant. All she knew was that she had a beautiful baby boy. She didn’t question anything.’ He turned to Joe. ‘You were the light of her life. And you still are…’
Joe didn’t say a word.
‘You may be enraged at our actions,’ Will added. ‘But our rulings were made out of love and a yearning for your welfare and protection…’
Joe was shaking now. ‘Is there any more I should know?’
‘No,’ Will replied. ‘That is your tale.’
Suddenly, Joe stood up with a jolt. ‘I can’t get my head around this...’ He raced across the floor, through the door and into the night.
‘I should go and see him,’ Uncle Percy said, rising from his chair.
‘No,’ Becky snapped. ‘You’ve done enough damage. I’ll go.’ She leapt from her chair and raced outside. Hurriedly, she scanned the area. She saw Joe disappear behind the house. ‘Joe… Wait!’ she shouted, charging after him. Trailing him, she saw he had stopped, his back facing her. ‘Joe?’ she said softly, approaching him.
Joe swivelled round. ‘I’m not Joe!’ he yelled at her, tears flowing down his face. ‘Call me George!’
Desperately trying to suppress her own tears, Becky didn’t respond. Instead, she marched over and threw her arms around him. Heaving him close, she forced his head into her shoulders and held him like she had never held anyone before. ‘Listen to me,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘You are Joe. You just are. And you’re my brother. I don’t care whether we’re blood related or not. We’re closer than that. I love you more than anything or anyone on this planet. Do you understand me?’
Joe didn’t reply.
‘I said do you understand me?’ Becky repeated, more forcefully this time.
‘Y-yeah.’
‘Good,’ Becky replied. ‘And besides, you must be my brother because I hate you with all of the appropriate hatred a sister should have for a brother.’
Through the tears, Joe forced a smile. ‘I hate you, too.’
Becky smiled back at him. ‘Now that’s better.’
Joe mopped his eyes. ‘But Becks, this changes everything…’
‘It changes nothing,’ Becky replied. ‘Mum and Dad love you. Nothing changes.’
‘I don’t mean that,’ Joe replied. ‘I mean that Drake knows about all of this.’
‘Maybe he did. Maybe he arranged to get us here because he knew it could wreck our family, that’s the kind of scumbag he is, but we’re not gonna let that happen … are we?’
‘No,’ Joe replied. ‘But that’s not what I mean. Think back to what Tuck said: MacDougal had a prophecy that - ’
‘Oh, come on, let’s not start believing in daft prophecies now.’
‘Just listen to me,’ Joe pushed. ‘MacDougal’s prophecy was that a Prince was to find Excalibur and use it to rid the world of a great evil. Well, that’s me, Becks … I’m the son of a King … I’m a Prince. But if Drake knows the future, and let’s face it, we’re only here because of him, then maybe the prophecy’s wrong. Maybe I don’t rid the world of evil at all. Maybe I make things a whole lot worse…’
Chapter 24
The King’s Speech
‘That’s a hell of a lot of ‘maybes’, Joe,’ Becky said. ‘And who cares? We haven’t a clue what Drake knows or doesn’t know. And you know how brain mashing this time travel thing is - whatever he thinks he knows could change anyway.’ She sighed. ‘Let’s just deal with what we do know. And that’s we’ve just had our heads done in by a pretty big revelation. The question is, how’re we going to deal with it?’
‘It’s not for ‘we’ to deal with,’ Joe replied bluntly. ‘I’ll just have to handle it. And I will … in time. I say we forget about it for now. Let’s concentrate on finding this sword, and then figure out some way to get back home. Nowt else matters…’
‘Fine,’ Becky said. ‘So are you okay?’
‘Course I’m not,’ Joe replied. ‘But what can I do? It is what it is.’
Becky nodded. ‘It is,’ she said softly. ‘Do you want to go back inside?’
‘In a bit,’ Joe replied. ‘Just give me a minute to clear my head.’
Becky wrapped her hands around his face. Softly, she whispered, ‘I do love you, bro.’ Then she leaned in and kissed his cheek. Not waiting for a reply, she turned and went back to the house. Entering, she saw Will and Uncle Percy standing anxiously by the fire.
‘Did you find him?’ Uncle Percy asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Then where is he?’
‘He just needs a moment on his own.’
‘Is he okay?’
‘What do you think? You’ve just torn his life apart. But yeah, all things considered, I think he’s coping pretty well.’
‘And how about you?’
‘It doesn’t matter about me.’
‘It really does, Becky.’
Becky took a moment to respond. ‘If Joe’s got the strength to be fine with it, then I can find it, too. Besides, if you hadn’t done what you’d done he’d have been killed and I never would have met him. And despite the irrelevant matter of a bit of blood, he’s my brother, and I can’t imagine life without him. So I suppose I should feel thankful … and, given time, I probably will...’
‘And that’s what makes you the special person you are,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘I am truly sorry about everything, but there was no way of making this public without crushing a lot of hearts.’
‘I don’t s’pose there was,’ Becky replied honestly. ‘But Mum must never find out. It would destroy her.’
Uncle Percy shook his head. ‘She won’t.’
Just then, Joe entered the entrance hall. ‘Okay, that’s it,’ he announced in a loud, resolute voice that filled the room. ‘I’ve had my little blartin’ session. And it won’t happen again.’ He looked over at Uncle Percy and Will. ‘I don’t blame you. And I’m not angry … it’s just – well, it’s a lot to take in and I might need some time to get my head around it…’
‘We understand,’ Will rep
lied.
‘Of course, Joe,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Take as long as you need.’
‘Then let’s forget about it.’
‘Tis forgotten,’ Will said. ‘But if there is any you wish to hear of your real father then – ’
‘I have a real father,’ Joe replied steadily. ‘His name’s John Mellor and he’s been banged up somewhere in history by Emerson Drake. And one day I’m gonna get him back. But for now, all I care about is finding Excalibur. I’ll cope with everything else in my own time and in my own way, but for now it’s all about that sword …’
Becky had never felt prouder of Joe in her life.
*
Tuck and Marian returned a short while later. Ashen-faced and quivering, Tuck was so overawed by all Marian had told him, that he surveyed the group as if they were beings from another planet. Then he disappeared into an adjacent room, only to return with a barrel of honey mead under his arm and a silver goblet. In quick succession, he downed three full goblets of mead, before his face burned as bright as a small sun and he finally found his voice. From then on, question upon question tumbled from his mouth. Uncle Percy and Will did their best to keep up, answering honestly, whilst still retaining a definite air of caution and restraint. By the time Tuck had finished his interrogation everyone was in good spirits, the novelty of their situation having faded, replaced by the jovial chatter of old and trusted friends.
Midnight had long passed when an unsteady Tuck escorted Becky and Joe to an upstairs bedchamber. Illuminated by tallow candles, the room was damp and cool, with a heavy wooden bed large enough for three people, enclosed by linen hangings of mint green. Becky climbed onto the bed.
‘I never knew King Richard beyond his station as my sovereign,’ Tuck slurred at Joe, his mead-fumed breath capable of stripping paint. ‘But from what reached my ears, from paupers to peers, he held as virtuous a character as any man in this world or the next...’
