In Time for You

by Chris Karlsen

  “Ah, Your Highness...will I be in a guest chamber as well?” Oliver asked.

  Oliver now had Edward’s full attention. “An Englishman traveling with a Frenchman, while we are at war with each other. Where do you think I should put you?”

  Roger jumped in, “Your Highness, he’s an old man who I forced to assist me as I searched for Electra. He’s not a traitor.”

  “You wouldn’t tell me if he was, would you?”

  “Probably not, but the fact is, Oliver isn’t a traitor, or a spy, or any type of enemy to England. Look at him. He’s a harmless old bumbler.” Roger gestured for the Prince to see the obvious. “What are you, fifty or so?” Roger asked Oliver.

  “See here, I don’t agree to being described as a bumbler and I’m only forty-nine.”

  “There you have it,” Roger said. “How dangerous can a forty-nine-year-old be?”

  Edward cocked a brow. “My father is forty-five and I’d say the French continue to find him a fierce foe.”

  “Your father was raised to be a warrior, as you were. Oliver can barely manage an eating dagger.”

  “Hello...I can hear you,” Oliver said.

  “Until I am satisfied he presents no danger, he will remain in one of the cells below. I will see that he is kept in decent food and water and he can take the coverlet with him.” He screwed up his nose in disgust. “I’ve no use for it now.”

  The Prince went to the door and stepped into the corridor. “Guards.” The sound of running feet echoed off the stone wall of the passage.

  “Sire.”

  “Take the Comte to the guest quarters at the end of the hall. See that a servant prepares him a bath and good meal. Take the old one to a cell. He needs a good meal as well.”

  “Is it possible for me to have a bath too?” Oliver asked, rubbing a corner of the coverlet over his wet hair.

  “Not tonight.”

  The guards split up. One gestured for Roger to follow him and the other two stood one in front and one in the rear and led Oliver the opposite direction.

  Roger couldn’t leave without knowing Electra’s fate. For all he knew, based on the prince’s reaction to Oliver, she was destined for a cell. “What about Electra, Your Highness?”

  “She will serve us our morning meal as usual. In spite of the fact that her sympathies lie with our enemy, I doubt she will attempt anything untoward. After all, she cannot risk harming you, now can she?”

  “She wouldn’t harm you or your people no matter my presence. She’s had many chances already and nothing happened.”

  “Perhaps because she could not escape. With your arrival, she has opportunity, or so she might believe.”

  “I understand your caution. But I swear on my honor as a knight and nobleman, she is not your enemy.”

  “Well then, you’ve nothing to worry about.” The Prince still kept that inscrutable expression. “’Til morning, Comte.”

  **** **** ****

  Electra wasn’t allowed to join them at the table but the Prince did give her and Roger several minutes alone before the joust. He also allowed her to watch the event while Oliver remained incarcerated.

  “Let Edward win,” Electra whispered to Roger. “Princes like that.”

  “Not this Prince. His devotion to honor is renowned. If he thought for a moment that I didn’t participate to the best of my ability, he’d see it as a great insult. There’d be no favor granted us afterward.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Had our countries not been at war, from what I knew of him, he is a man I’d like to call friend.”

  “I trust your judgement. Promise you’ll be careful.” She took his face in her two hands and kissed him like she’d never kissed him before. And, she’d kissed him well and good many times. She slipped her arms around his neck and he held her tightly to him. The watching gathering of knights stomped and clapped their approval.

  Electra broke the kiss and sucked in a gulp of air. She turned to the group, winked, and laid another powerful kiss on him. As was the custom of the time, she tied a hair ribbon around Roger’s armored arm. Edward had called upon one of his knights who was the approximate size to lend his armor to Roger.

  “My lady’s favor,” Roger said as she fluffed out the bow.

  “Just like the painting.”

  “Better.” She kissed him again.

  The trumpet calling the start of the challenge sounded. Roger broke off the kiss this time. “Had I known my knight’s regalia would bring such passion, I’d have donned some long ago and let you peel it off me little by little ‘til only eager flesh remained.” He wiggled his brows and put on his helm. He flipped down the visor. “Time to be a knight again.”

  “When was the last time you jousted?” Electra asked as he mounted a fine horse Edward provided.

  “I did jousting exhibitions when I worked for that French reenactment company last year, but serious competition, riding against the likes of Henry Capet? Six years.” Roger leaned down and said low, “But I was very, very, good.” A squire approached and handed him his lance and Roger took his place at the end of the tilt.

  “If it pleases the Prince to let you share my chamber tonight, I shall hold you to the knightly striptease offer.” She grabbed his hand, turned it over, frowned, and dropped it. “I was going to give you a love bite, but I can’t find a spot you’re not all wrapped in metal and leather.”

  “I’ve a spot you can nibble later, my lusty wench.”

  “Comte, are you ready?” the Prince called out.

  “Ready.”

  Electra hurried over to a hastily erected spectator stand.

  The attendant dropped the tournament flag and Roger and Edward charged. Roger’s horse was narrower in the barrel than Conquerant and had a shorter gait. It took Roger several strides to adjust. He did just as the Prince made a direct hit to the body for a point. They were playing for best two out of three matches with each match comprising three challenges.

  On the second pass, Roger scored a hit to the left rib area of Edward for a point. The third pass caught the Prince directly in center chest. Edward rocked back and waivered in the saddle. Roger worried he’d unhorsed him. That’s all he needed...to knock the heir to the throne to the ground where he might be trampled or grievously injured. Don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall, was all he could think when he rode past.

  The next two challenges went fast. The worst hit Roger took was to his helm. The Prince hadn’t held back and it was all Roger could do to stay in the saddle. Roger wound up taking two of the three challenges but not by much. The Prince was one of the best opponents Roger had ever faced. He expected no less from Edward.

  They dismounted. “Well met,” Edward said, handing his reins to a stable hand. “Thank you.”

  “Your Highness?”

  “For presenting me with a fair challenge.”

  “Your reputation precedes you. I knew you’d accept nothing less.”

  “After you’ve refreshed yourself, come to my chamber and we will talk, you too, Electra,” Edward ordered.

  ****

  A guard knocked on Roger’s door and escorted him to Edward’s chamber. Electra and Oliver arrived immediately after. Two additional chairs had been set in front of the Prince’s desk alongside the one the clerk sat in the night before. A table with a platter of bread, cheese, and fruit sat nearby. A servant girl poured wine for everyone and set the flagon on the desk.

  “You may go,” Edward told her. “Please.” He gestured toward the table. “Help yourself.”

  Oliver stood. “Thank you for letting me have a bath, Your Highness.”

  “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for me. I’d rather my chamber not smell like the bottom of a fishmonger’s cart.”

  “Of course,” Oliver said and filled a pewter plate with a little of everything offered.

  Edward directed his comments to Roger, the only one close to his equal in the room. They both understood it was the only reason they were having
the conversation at all. “Time for us to talk about you, the Lady Electra, and your greybeard minion.”

  “What would you like to know?” Roger kept his tone neutral but a sense of grim misgiving of what was to come crept up his spine.

  “I find it interesting that Electra, who claims her homeland speaks English as their native tongue, found her way to France before coming here. From where she describes her country to be located, it seems France would be out of the way.”

  What country could she have picked? It had to be west of England if France was beyond. Anyplace in Ireland would’ve been too easy for Edward to check. It had to be Iceland, Greenland or America. But which? Guessing was too big a risk. “I don’t see why the order of places she wanted to see matters.”

  “It matters when the two she visited are at war. Let’s move on. Have you ever been to her country?”

  Roger had to use caution in any answers involving her homeland. He hadn’t had a chance to discuss her time with the Prince and what background information she’d given. “No.”

  Electra scooted forward in her chair and looked about to speak.

  The Prince gave Electra a stern look of warning. “Do not speak.” He spoke softly, warmly even, but turned hard eyes on Roger. “I forget the name of her land. What is it again?”

  Merde! “I’m ashamed to say I forget it myself. We only spoke of it a few times and that was some time ago.”

  “The woman you love travels from a country that feels no qualms about two women taking the journey alone. She speaks our language but by some twist of fate lands on your shores first. You are together long enough to fall in love but you cannot recall the name of the place her family lives, or how to send word of your impending marriage.” He turned to Electra. “You were planning to wed, were you not? Just nod.”

  She nodded yes.

  “She’d notify her family.”

  Edward drew back. “You did not intend to speak to her father? You are a Comte. Yet, you had no interest in her station, or her dowry, or if she was free to marry? This baffles me.”

  The Prince was quiet for several minutes, drinking his wine. “I don’t suppose you can enlighten us in any way,” he asked Oliver.

  “Sorry. No.”

  “Why am I not surprised? Where did you first see Lady Electra” Edward asked Roger.

  “At the harbor of Honfleur. I thought her lovely and started a conversation.”

  “The harbor, you say. What was the name of the ship she disembarked from? Surely, you’d notice one with an English name, as it would be most unusual for an enemy ship to dock in Honfleur.”

  “My eyes were only for her. I was smitten from the first moment. I did not notice the vessel.”

  “Again, this baffles me. You fought bravely at Poitiers, I assume. From your age, I believe you fought at Crecy as well.”

  Roger nodded. “I did.”

  “The harbor is near your holding?”

  “Yes.”

  “You, who have fought great battles and are war hardened, paid no attention to the ships in your harbor? Your lady is lovely, yes, but not so beautiful as to make you blind to strange ships, anchoring at your shores. I find it hard to believe you so remiss.”

  There was no logical way out of the corner Roger had painted himself in. Nothing could explain his answers or lack of information. This had no good ending.

  “Do you have anything you’d like to tell me that might clarify my doubts?” the Prince asked.

  “Not really.”

  The Prince rose and went to the door. “I will leave the three of you alone to discuss this matter. I find this lover’s tale lacking. When I return, I hope you will choose the truth. It is the only possible way out of your predicament.”

  Electra jumped up. Roger knew the defiant look on her face. Whatever she intended, it couldn’t bode well.

  The Prince stepped into the doorway. Go. Now. Roger willed him to pick up his thoughts as he took hold of Electra’s elbow and urged her to sit. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  She pulled from his grasp. “Your Highness. This is exactly why I didn’t tell you Roger was French. I suspected this would be your reaction.”

  The heavy oak door banged closed with a violent thud.

  Roger stood and slid a protective arm around Electra. Edward was known for his chivalry but even he had limits to his temper.

  He returned. His cheeks flushed red, he stopped in front of Electra. “I am a Prince of the Realm. You forget to whom you speak.”

  Thankfully, she bowed her head and apologized. “I apologize. I meant no disrespect. Forgive me, Your Highness.”

  “Ready your answer for when I return.” Then, he left.

  ****

  “I thought after the jousting tournament, that we were out of the danger zone,” Electra said. “Edward was so genial and pleasant. Then out of nowhere he becomes another man, Hyde to the jousting Jekyll.”

  “It never pays to get too comfortable around princes and kings. They walk a fine line between pride and paranoia,” Roger said, thinking on his past encounters with King John and the arrogance of the young dauphin.

  “So it appears,” Electra said with disgust.

  “Any ideas what we should tell him?” Roger asked.

  “Time for the truth,” Oliver said.

  “What truth?”

  “Yes, what truth?” Electra asked. “Of the three of us, you’re the one most at risk, the one who looks a traitor. He doesn’t believe Roger compelled you to help him.”

  “We tell him the truth. Good, bad, or indifferent, I say we take our chances with it. As you’ve pointed out, I’m the one most likely to hang,” Oliver said in a remarkably calm tone.

  Roger’s stomach flip-flopped at what Oliver might be suggesting. “The real truth?”

  “Yes.”

  The horror and risk of the plan had sunk in, Electra bounced up to challenge the idea. “How do we do that without all of us getting burned at the stake for witchcraft?”

  Oliver, smooth and calm, refreshed their goblets, then sat on the edge of the Prince’s desk. “We need to think of a way to prove our state as time travelers. What can we tell him of history, his history or show him that he hasn’t seen?”

  Roger turned to Electra. “You must know some historical tidbit from classes or when Esme worked as a researcher at the History Channel. Think. What did the prince do that we shouldn’t know about in 1357?”

  “Give me a minute. I do have an idea for showing him something he’s never seen. Look.” She opened her mouth wide.

  Oliver and Roger took a glimpse. “What am I supposed to see?” Roger asked.

  Electra closed her mouth to normal again. “Crowns and fillings. I have two gold crowns on my molars and a silver amalgam filling. To him, to anyone from this time, saving one’s teeth is nothing short of miraculous.”

  “It’s a start but we need something else. Something more substantial. He can always attribute the dental progress to a practice that’s not necessarily futuristic but common to your homeland. On that topic, what did you say was your native country?” Roger asked out of morbid curiosity, not that it mattered anymore.

  “Greenland.”

  “Good Lord, talk about an obscure choice.”

  “Back to the problem at hand,” Oliver prompted. “What can we tell the Prince?”

  A good stretch of time passed. Long enough for them to finish their wine and enjoy the beginnings of a third goblet. “I’ve got it,” Electra blurted.

  A superstitious nature was not part of Roger’s makeup but today he crossed his fingers. “Go on.”

  “He will marry Joan of Kent in 1360. Right now, she’s still married to Thomas Holland.”

  Roger and Oliver exchanged a satisfied smile. “That’s good,” Oliver said. “I’d be impressed.”

  “I’m not done. At some time, I can’t recall the exact date, but I remember reading the Prince’s chronicler referencing a letter sent during this summer. He was between campa
igns and sent a request to the Archbishop of Canterbury. Should he die in battle, he wished to be buried there with all the honors due him as a soldier more than those due his Princely honor.”

  “If he hasn’t sent it yet, how does this help us?” Oliver asked.

  “Doesn’t matter if he hasn’t.” Roger understood the mindset of a man of war, like the Prince. “He’ll have already thought about it by now.”

  “All right, then. Let’s fly with what we have and hope we live to see the sun rise tomorrow as free subjects,” Roger said, trying to sound upbeat. “Electra, you do the talking. This info is your bailiwick.”

  “God help us,” Oliver said.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Conwy, Wales

  Electra paced and kept an eye on the door with dread and relief in equal measure. When the Prince entered Oliver and Roger stood and all three greeted him.

  He brushed past Electra without sparing her the smallest glance.

  “Who wishes to speak first? I imagine you, Comte?” Edward asked.

  “I will defer to my lady love.”

  If you want to know the length of someone’s nose, you won’t get its true measure face to face but by having them look down it. The Prince possessed a sterling example of that long, narrow, Plantagenet feature. He looked her up and down with what she’d described as utter disdain. “You wish a woman to give your cause tongue. “’Tis odd, but I accept your choice. What have you to say?” he asked, holding her in that superior gaze.

  “I beg you to please hear the truth with an open heart and more important, an open mind.”

  “I’ll hear the story the way that best serves me and without instruction by you.”

  “Of course, Your Highness. I’ve no wish to overstep.” She moved close to him. “Please look into my mouth.” She opened wide.

  “I will not. Do you mock me?”

  “No. I am trying to show you remarkable workmanship that saved several of my teeth.”

  He pulled back. If she’d had a cobra, he couldn’t have moved faster. “Get away.” He turned to Roger. “Comte, what is the meaning of this?”