“No, I don’t think he’s on the way,” Electra said, truthfully. Emily would figure it out soon enough. “I don’t see how staying in one place is better than keeping on toward the house.”
“And if your imaginary artist erased the house?”
“Then we’ll work out our next move.”
They continued on to where Esme and Stephen’s house stood or should’ve stood. Their cottage dated back to Tudor times as did the stable and other outbuildings. They’d survived hellacious storms, German bombs, and natural decay for 500 years.
The sisters froze at the sight. None of the buildings were there, only short stone fences sectioning off various sheep pastures that occupied the land.
“Shall we try and find the farmer?” Emily asked.
“I guess.”
The small herd of sheep in the closest enclosure came trotting over The lead ewe wore a bell that jingled all the way. The familiar sound offered a moment’s relief from Electra’s fear. She sat on the stone wall to collect her thoughts and try to sort out the unexplainable. The gathering of sheep quickly lost interest in the sisters and trotted away, scattering to various parts of the field. She glanced over her shoulder as the cheerful jingle of the bell drifted away.
Emily sat next to her and pulled her phone out again.
“No service, right?” Electra asked, suspecting the answer.
Emily shook her head and a fat tear dripped onto the phone, followed by several more.
“Don’t cry. If you fall apart, then I will too, and we can’t let that happen.”
“No you won’t. You’re tough. You’ve never been a crier.”
She put her arm around her sister. “I prefer brash. I’m not given to crying, but it doesn’t mean I won’t” Given the right provocation. “Come on, wipe your tears and let’s see if we can find the farmer. He’s got to live close to his pasture.”
“Lord only knows what he’ll be like.”
“I hear you. The pastures look normal, as normal as something that shouldn’t be here to begin with can look. We’ve got those alien crop circles in Wiltshire. I’m crossing my fingers he’s of this earth and not some alien who’s messed up the environment,” Electra said, hoping to lighten the mood.
“The way our luck is going, the sheep might be the top dogs in this world and humans are dinner.”
Electra took a deep breath and stood. “I really didn’t need that thought put in my head. But we’ve no choice, get up, and let’s see if you’re right.”
“I think we should go straight and cut across the fields,” Emily said.
“Fine.”
Beyond the pastures, they crossed into a large wheat field plowed into neat rows. Along the rows were hoofprints.
“El, who uses a horse to plow nowadays?”
“No one.”
“Maybe this is an Amish farm or something,” Emily said.
“When have you ever seen an Amish person here?”
“I haven’t. I’m just putting it out there. I’ve nothing else.” Emily pointed. “Look. White smoke. It’s probably the farmer’s house.”
“Come on.” They jogged until they came to a cob cottage with a thatched roof. A woman in an old-fashioned dress whose hem dragged on the ground, tossed feed to chickens from a dirty, white apron.
Electra sighed. She perversely appreciated the consistency of the weird scene with all the other weirdness of the day.
“What’s up with her outfit? You think she’s with a re-enactment group, like those Renaissance Fair people?” Emily asked.
“No. They travel in bands and camp from fairground to fairground, gypsy-like. This is something else.”
“She could be one of the people living off the grid. I saw a show on them on BBC. They live without electricity and phones and whatnot.”
“Are you talking about Amish again?” Electra thought they’d agreed no Amish lived in the area.
“No. They’re not Amish. The folks they interviewed all wore modern clothes, tatty, homemade outfits, but modern. They said one day they just decided to drop out of society and live by their wits. A bunch of crazy buggers if you ask me. I could never live without electricity, indoor plumbing, or hot and cold running water.” Emily thought for a moment. “I might—might be able to do without electricity.”
Electra smiled and shook her head. “Oh please, you can’t even live without your cell phone. Here goes nothing. Hello,” Electra said from where she and Emily had stopped at the edge of the yard. She wasn’t certain of how their greeting would be met and thought it best to stay far enough away for a running head start if necessary.
The woman screamed, let go of her apron, and ran toward the cottage. Chickens squawked, beat their wings, and scattered but returned fast to pounce on the dropped feed. Like the curious sheep, the pigs ran to the pen fence and poked their snouts through the slats, snorting and snuffling.
“That went well,” Electra said.
The farmer’s wife peered at them from the side of an un-shuttered window.
“Shall we?” Electra gestured toward the cottage door.
“Do you have a plan?”
“Nope. You?”
“Other than find a pair of ruby slippers and click my way home? No.”
The woman continued to peer at them tipping her head out of the window to watch as Electra knocked.
“She’s not going to open the door to you. Let me try to coax her into talking to us. Your scowl would put anybody off of talking to us,” Emily said.
“I’m not scowling. This is my I seriously want to go home right now look, please tell me you know where I should go, lady.”
“Come on.” Emily gestured for Electra to follow her to the window. She leaned in almost over the sill and called to the woman, “Madame, please come out and talk with us. We’re lost and need help. We are not here to hurt you.”
“Go away witches. I’ll not have dealings with the likes of you.”
Emily glanced over to Electra. “Witches?” She leaned over the sill again. “Madame—” Emily repeated. “Please—”
Electra crossed from her side of the window and grabbed Emily’s arm and tugged her away from the window. “For God’s sake, Emily, don’t get so close. What if she tries to stab you in the eye or something?”
“Why would she do that?”
“She takes us for witches. For all you know, she might believe she gets some kind of reward for stabbing witches in the eye. Her husband’s probably around here somewhere. They might think they’ll get a gold star from the local priest for capturing witches for the village to burn.”
“We have to talk to someone and get this figured out.” Emily went to the window but not as close as the last time. “Madame, we aren’t witches. I swear on my very soul we are normal women who are lost.”
The woman popped her head out. “What do you want?” She looked them up and down. “Where are you from? You look like no women I’ve ever seen,” she asked before ducking out of sight once more.
“What should I tell her?” Emily whispered.
“Tell her we’re from a country far away.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know...Greenland.” The woman might have a good working knowledge of Europe and America and likely much of the Middle East from television.
“What if she asks us questions about Greenland? I don’t know anything about it. Do you?”
“It’s big, cold, and west of here.”
“And what if she knows way more than that? That wouldn’t be hard, by the way.”
“Emily, look at the woman. Do you really believe she has deep knowledge about Greenland? Other than a Greenlander, who does?”
“We’re from Greenland,” Emily called to her.
Something sharp jabbed Electra in the back. “Put your hands up,” a man’s voice ordered.
Electra did as instructed. Emily turned. Big-eyed, she raised her hands as well.
The sharp object was taken away. “Turn around, witch
.”
Electra did. A short man held a pitchfork inches from her abdomen. She’d never seen anyone dressed like him except in books...history books. His boots were ankle length and soft leather, not made well at all from the battered look. His trousers, using the term loosely, were short, just hitting him mid-calf, with ragged hems. The sweat-stained shirt was a oversize blousy thing with baggy sleeves and body. A leather thong tied the collar shut.
The woman came out and joined the man, standing close.
“Let’s clear this witch business up right away,” Electra said, “We’re not witches.” She started to lower her hands.
“Hands up, I said.” The man gave a quick jab with the pitchfork. “I don’t expect the devil’s minions to tell the truth, but if not witches, what are you? French spies, I think from your strange clothes.” The man said, “You see, Martha. Those Frenchies aren’t like us. See how shamefully they let their women dress.”
“We’re not French or spies either. Can we put our hands down? My arms are getting tired,” Electra said.
“You may. Fair warning, keep your mitts by your sides or you’ll feel the wrong end of my fork.” He looked past Electra to Emily who stood behind her. “You.” He lifted his chin toward Emily. “Come stand here, next to your lady spy friend.”
Emily did what he asked.
“Martha, take that black thing from her waist.”
It took the woman several tries to get the cell phone from the holster. “What is this?” the man asked when the woman brought it back.
“A cell phone,” Emily said.
“A cell phone,” he said, slowly. “More nonsense words. French code words, I’ll wager.”
“It’s not French. We’re not French and if we were, why would that make us spies?” Electra asked.
“El, don’t push them. They’re clearly nut bars,” Emily whispered.
The woman pressed the “on” button and brought up Emily’s screen saver, a roaring tiger with no service across the bottom.
The woman gave a small scream. The man grabbed the phone, threw it hard to the ground and stomped on it.
“I wasn’t eligible for an upgrade for another year,” Emily said, staring at the ruined phone.
The man waved the pitchfork back and forth. “You two, sit on the ground. Martha, ride to the castle and tell them we’ve caught French spies. We need a few of their knights to take them prisoner.”
Electra kept her elbow tight to her side, hoping he wouldn’t decide to search her and destroy her phone. It was their only source of communication, if they got the chance to get away from these crazies. She also resisted the temptation to sneak a peek at her watch. She didn’t want the man to find a reason to take it.
“It’s as though we stepped back in time,” Emily said low. “You don’t think—”
Electra met her sister’s curious look with a fierce one of her own. This wasn’t the time for Emily’s flights of fancy. “No. I. Don’t.”
After what she guessed was an hour with the man holding the pitchfork on them the entire time, Martha returned with three men dressed like knights.
“I’m hating this day more and more,” Emily said as the group approached.
“I hear you. I’m hungry. I’m thirsty. I am out of patience and about to tear my hair out, or someone else’s, if this charade doesn’t end soon.”
A barrel-chested, ginger-haired and bearded bear masquerading as a man dismounted first. His right leg was missing below the knee but his stance remained balanced while he removed a crutch from a ring on his saddle.
“Crops look good, Wildon. You should have a fine harvest this season,” he said as he hobbled to where the farmer stood.
“Sir Simon, good to see you. Yes, if the weather co-operates we’ll bring in ample wheat.”
The other two knights joined the farmer and the first knight.
“Martha tells us you have spies,” the one called Simon asked as he eyed Electra and Emily.
“We do, French ones.”
“This is absurd. We are neither French, nor spies. We’re English through and through. Even if we were French, why would we be spies? We’re not at war with each other.” Electra scrambled to her feet.
Emily did the same.
“Stay right there, ladies. I’ll allow you to stand but you’re not to move without my permission,” Simon said.
“English indeed. They told me they came from someplace called Greenland,” Martha chimed.
Electra wanted to kick herself for forgetting the lie.
“Never heard of it,” another knight said.
“I lost my leg on a French field fighting in a war you say doesn’t exist,” Simon said to Electra.
The knight beside him said, “What is your business here if you are not spies?”
“Our sister’s house was in this spot and now it isn’t. Since everyone is asking questions, we’d like to know what happened to it.”
The knights and the couple exchanged suspicious looks. Finally Simon spoke. “No home other than this has been in this spot for many years. This is Guiscard land, and this is the only cottage meant to be right here.”
“Guiscard land?” Emily said. “This is Alex Lancaster’s land. What are you trying to pull? Whatever it is, when we tell him, you’ll know trouble.”
“We know of no such person as Alex Lancaster. The late baron’s ancestor fought with the Conqueror. King William bestowed this land to Lord Guiscard in appreciation for his service.”
Simon stepped in front of Emily. His expression softened and for the span of several heartbeats he stared down at her. For an equally long moment, the anger and defensiveness was chased from Emily’s face. Then he straightened and put his finger against her chest. “Do not think to threaten me again.”
He moved in front of Electra. “Your manner of dress. I have seen it once before, two years ago. Our late lord’s lady wore such garments when she first came to the castle. She said she was from a place called Lapland. You claim to be from a Greenland. Greenland, Lapland, I suspect these a where unicorns come from.”
“Unicorns?”
“Yes, they are of questionable existence, not unlike your homes. What name do you go by in this Greenland?” Simon asked.
“Electra.”
His brows dipped and he gave her an odd look. “Baron Guy Guiscard, our lord until his death, married the lady from Lapland. She too had a similar name. Shakira. Her name was Shakira. I’d never heard it before or since.”
“If you know Shakira, then you know she’s Alex’s wife, and you obviously know this is his land. Why you’re all playing this crazy game is beyond me. But it is not funny and I insist you explain yourselves and take us to Alex’s home,” Electra said.
“Lady Shakira is no longer here. She was the baron’s wife but she was taken by the devil. Sir Stephen and I saw her disappear into the large outcropping near the Old Roman Road. The baron denied she was a witch, but I am not so sure.”
The more he said, the more Electra’s confusion grew. How was Shakira involved with these people? To Electra’s knowledge she was never married before, certainly never to a baron. Alex had to know this baron they spoke of. He had to have bought the land from him. None of that explained the medieval knights and the farmer’s medieval lifestyle.
Simon untied a pouch from his sword belt and shook out two coins into his palm. “Here.” He handed the coins to the farmer. “This is in gratitude for capturing the women. Whoever they are, they do not belong. They’ll ride with you,” he told the other two knights.
Electra had been scared but not terrified. At the words: they’ll ride with you, her heart raced at attack speed. Better to wander until they came to something familiar than to leave with these strange men.
She balled her fists so Simon wouldn’t see her hands shaking. “Please, let us go. You can see we carry no weapons. We are not spies. We’ll leave this family and not bother anyone else, if you’ll let us be on our way.” The entire situation and the people
involved made no sense. There’d be time down the road to sort the events out. As long as the men didn’t take them, they’d be safe. “Please.”
Simon listened to her plea. When she finished he said, “Help them mount,” to the other knights.
Emily shrank away from the knight who reached for her.
He clamped a gauntleted hand onto her elbow. “You may walk to my horse on your own or I shall throw you over my shoulder like a sack of flour. Your choice.”
“I’ll take her,” Simon told him and grasped his hand over her other elbow.
The knight nodded and went to his horse.
Frightened more than she’d ever been, Electra hadn’t budged. She crossed her arms, stuck her chin out, and hoped she succeeded to hide her fear. “Where are you taking us?”
“To Elysian Fields, the Guiscard family home.”
“Elysian Fields? It’s a ruin. The holding was destroyed in the Civil War centuries ago. And you know Shakira, so you know that too.”
“It stands as strong today as it always has. With every word you say, I am further convinced you are touched with madness.”
With every moment since they stopped at the farm, she was more and more convinced he was right.
Chapter Four
Gloucester
Date Unknown
Electra’s knight ignored the questions she peppered him with at the start of the journey. A short time into the ride she stopped asking him anything and the two rode in silence. Ahead of them Emily and Simon appeared to be having a civilized conversation. She figured it was civilized after she saw Emily glance up at Simon with an occasional smile.
On the way to the castle, they passed another farm. A man, woman, and three children were bent over a row of sugar beets. Another woman, younger than the one in the field, was about to load a bushel basket in the back of a horse drawn cart. When the knight Electra rode with came parallel to the woman, she shifted the basket to her hip and waved.
“Good afternoon, Harry.” Her hand flew to her lips but not in time to cover the girlish smile she gave him. She lowered her hand and said, “I mean, Sir Harold.”
In Time for You Page 3
