‘Do you know Catherine?’
‘Of course, our families have been friends for many years,’ started Frederick. I noticed a Germanic accent, something that had passed me by at the farmhouse. ‘In fact, it is because of her that I was at the farm that night...’
Walter leaned in conspiratorially. ‘Best to whisper it, mate, this place is still crawling with coppers and soldiers.’
‘Yes, Catherine’s father mentioned you,’ I said.
‘Ya, ya, she is very beautiful, no?’ He smiled, raising his glass. ‘And big— ’
‘Blue eyes!’ Mac finished his sentence for him.
We all bashed our glasses together.
‘She’s a bit plain for my tastes, headstrong too—better you than me, mate,’ said Arthur, after which followed another uncomfortable silence. Was this a pointed comment, designed to assure me that at least he, had no designs on her? We all knew how rude Arthur could be, there was little point in taking offence. Frederick glugged down his pint and smacked it firmly on the table.
‘So what did her father say about me then?’
‘You tell me first how you got to be at the...at the you know where.’
‘Ah, I had been lodging in a room on Alcester Road, with Catherine’s uncle, only he came in and caught us together. He lost his temper, escorted her home, and threw me out.’ He chuckled. ‘Until you boys arrived I was very cold.’
‘So caught as in, you were kissing?’ enquired Mac.
‘Kissing, ya, and naked and “making love”, I think you call it?’ He gestured with his hands, as if he was squeezing. ‘Great boobies!’
I could not believe what I was hearing. Why would her father ever want her to marry such an oaf? If Frederick had been out with any of the other lads, apart from Evan, I could imagine that they might put him up to this. They had teased me before about her, always making snide remarks. But he’d been out with Evan and as far as I could tell, this was as much news to them as it was to me. The fact that it could be true was upsetting, but showing off about it was like a red rag to a bull.
I downed the rest of my pint and placed the empty glass carefully back on the table. I knew that any moment now, I was about to lose it. I wished, yet again, that I knew how to fight. I needed to correct this and soon. Perhaps Adwoliu could teach me a few moves. Unarmed fighting should be the same, whatever the era.
Frederick was across the other side of our tiny table and I needed to get to him, so I forced my palms under the rim of our small table and yanked it over to the side. Beer flew into the air and glasses smashed as the lads jumped up and away, crying out. I cried out too as the weight of the table twisted my lower back, sending a sharp pain through my spine. Despite this I leapt on to him, pushing him backwards off his stool. I laid two punches on his jaw, before he got his hands round my throat. Struggling for breath, I pulled at his arms, but they were locked on me like a vice. Mac yanked one arm, Walter the other, and they heaved me back as Arthur got his foot on Frederick’s chest, keeping him pinned down as my friends pulled me away.
I heard shouts from the bar. The landlord stood with some black piping in his hand and even a couple of the soldiers were rolling their sleeves up, readying to get into the fray, just for the fun of it.
Stoic Arthur held his hands up, palms facing outward. ‘Stay calm, we’re all leaving,’ he shouted, then reached down and helped Frederick up.
I think I tried to pull myself free, but it was hard to focus after so much beer and the red mist that had set in. Ultimately I was forcibly dragged out. Frederick was ‘helped’ in much the same way, by Arthur. I knew we wouldn’t be welcome in that pub for a while and cursed myself, as my father would surely come to hear of it. Evan disappeared with Frederick into the night and I walked for a bit with Mac, Arthur, and Walter.
‘It could have been him you know,’ I said.
‘What d’you mean?’ asked Arthur.
‘Well, he could have killed the doctor. Maybe he confronted him after hearing what happened with Catherine.’ I stroked my neck, still sore from Frederick’s grip.
‘From what I heard the doc seemed pretty keen on that Frederick chap,’ Walter replied. ‘It was Mac and Evan he was moanin’ ’bout to you.’
‘Well yes, and I think he was warning me off too!’
‘Undoubtedly.’ Walter belched loudly.
Mac stayed quiet, despite what he had heard. I supposed he was quite used to fathers moaning about him when it came to their daughters.
‘If that Freddy is ruthless enough to kill a man over something like this, wouldn’t he do away with the uncle?’ Arthur reasoned.
‘Good point,’ said Walter.
Mac broke his silence. ‘Only if it was premeditated. He could have a mean temper on him for all we know.’
‘If that’s the case, you better watch out, Charlie—you might be next mate!’ Arthur laughed.
I stopped by the roadside to throw up. First last night as Vicky and now this, my very next night as Charlie. With all my years, I should be more sensible than this. The stars looked like they were spinning and I felt myself stumble. I think my pals walked off shouting something, but I just dozed, kneeling, with my head in my hands.
Sometime later the pungent odour of aniseed and rotten eggs brought me round. The smell reminded me of the unseen soldier who had stabbed me in the back in my Richard life and it was unnerving enough to rouse me. I looked all around, but the street seemed empty. All the same I headed on towards home, rubbing my sore back and longing for the warmth of my bed.
The Blacksmith, 1168
I wanted to kill him. He was meant to be protecting me, but so far all I had experienced on our journey was a man who seemed driven to exhaust both this poor cheval and me to death. We were due to arrive at Harfleur: our gateway to England. I had only been allowed to see the edge of it briefly, before Adwoliu led us towards some sheltering woods.
I did not want to go to England. The people there were renowned for their savagery, especially in the Midlands and the North. Its weather was bleak; grey days interspersed with rain. I knew my mother loathed the place, and even my father said that my great-great grandfather, William the Conqueror, had only taken it to recruit and build an army to take France.
Adwoliu broke his silence. ‘Patience has done well; she has earned her rest. Wait here and I’ll get you a new horse and find her a home.’
I was so tired that all I could do was mumble a response and slide off the mare. Watching Adwoliu ride off, I realised I had not seen the sunset, but the lessening light hinted at dusk. I remembered this morning’s sunrise though, and recollected the sunset and dusk before it as I dozed. Had we really not slept since then? Patience roused me, making strange noises. She kept lifting her feet, as if in some dance. I patted and calmed her, and lifted one of her hooves, clearing some of the muck and foliage that clung to it. It was bleeding. This poor girl had been made to trek over fields and through woods. Our rests had been short and our paths treacherous.
‘There, there, girl—I know they’re sore.’ I rubbed her soft nose, leaning my head on hers. I nearly dropped off, leaning against her, but came to with a start. To sleep now would mean I would be gone for days, even if it was only minutes in this life.
Taking a few paces back, I looked over the white cheval. She was not well and I did not trust Adwoliu to not sell her to the knackers. ‘Come, girl.’
I would not ride her with hooves like that, so I led her by her reins out of the woods and along the road into Harfleur. Adwoliu treated me like a child, but he forgot that I had already travelled with my mother from one end of our kingdom to another. She was proud to know her people, and we had friends amongst everyone, not just the lords and their knights. I knew a blacksmith that could fix Patience with some new horseshoes and I hoped he might provide a bed for me. A bed would be so good.
An hour later I was sipping honey mead at a table. A table in a house, with walls and a roof, and with the company of a man and his wife. Most assu
redly their company was welcome, as they were not Adwoliu. Eamon was a smith who had been brought up looking after the royal cavalry—I remembered that he had been kind to me, allowing me to hide in his stables from one of my former tutors, when we passed through here last.
In hindsight, it was no wonder that my mother had given up on finding new tutors for me. The problem was that I had learnt so much more at my boarding school in my Vicky life. In my Richard life I had learnt to read and write in Latin and Greek, and I did enjoy classical history, but apart from that, most of my lessons had been designed to keep me out of everyone else’s way.
‘This mead is very sweet,’ I said.
‘Do you not like it, Master Richard?’ he asked.
‘Oh, I do, very much—where do you get it?’
‘From England. London brewers, Sussex honey.’
‘Oh!’
‘Do you not like England?’
‘Is it that obvious?’
‘Though you look exhausted, you’ve been wearing a grin ever since you arrived. That is, until I mentioned England!’
‘I’m tired,’ I said, too tired to say any more.
‘Your horse is being looked after; her hooves will heal with a few days’ rest. My wife can prepare our cot for you.’
‘I’m afraid to sleep...’ My head almost fell with a smack onto the table. I felt a woman’s light touch on my shoulders.
‘He’s caked in mud,’ said a timid voice from behind me. ‘Why would he be sleeping so roughly?’
‘I do not know...’ Eamon replied simply. Although resolved to stay awake, I allowed my eyelids to rest a little. Eyelids were good and I enjoyed having them. I would never take them for granted, so it was good for them to relax even if I could not. ‘...but it concerns me greatly. Make him a brew to wake him. Do you have nutmeg?’
‘You used it all last week. There is catmint for the horses, but that may make him ill.’
‘It will have to do. I don’t want to make him ill, but he said he’s afraid and a son of our queen is a son of ours.’
I heard rustling and water pouring, before firmer, masculine hands were rubbed and pushed a little into my shoulders and back.
‘Wake, Prince, drink some of this.’
I sat up, rather I think Eamon pushed me up. He held the warm cup to my lips. Another potion, although this one tasted far better than the last one my mother made. I doubted though that it would have any effect. All I wanted now was sleep.
Despite having swigged down all the tea, I drifted into a dreamlike state, and felt myself stand up. Although I knew I was standing in this small kitchen in Normandy; I was surrounded by thousands of floating beings. I started my speech, a little annoyed that some had not settled themselves to listen yet.
‘This new life has an endless capacity for love. Yes, there is horror within its nature, and occasional cruelty, but it is focused around food, replication and long-term survival. It is a hugely complex symbiosis, so it recognises that to attack this is to attack itself. Thought can overcome this, but what is startling is how rarely it does. Look into the eyes of a child, still grateful to be born, or into the eyes of the nearly departed, so grateful to have lived, and you will witness the above principles in their purest form. This is why death is built in. It’s a fundamental part of the design.’
‘You did give him less than you would give a horse, didn’t you dear?’ Eamon said, from a great distance. I frowned at him, so rude to interrupt, and continued. My audience had not travelled millions of light years into the edge of the supermassive black hole in the centre of our galaxy, with no hope of escape—light can’t escape—only to be interrupted by a creature handler admonishing his wife!
‘Do not despair: this is not the end; it is the beginning. Release your own inner nature, claim that as your own, and let go the shackles of your mind. Trust your big, loving heart and allow the New Sentience to break through and shine.’
I expected more but everyone vanished, leaving me standing embarrassed in the kitchen, now very much awake. I had smoked weed in my Vicky life, and had heard of other substances, so suspected I knew what had happened.
‘Wow, that was quite a hit—trippy!’ I said, sounding like Vicky.
This wasn’t good. I was Richard. I am Richard. I looked at them, wide-eyed and afraid to speak, knowing that it was hard to make my words sound plausible.
Eamon’s wife sank to her knees. ‘I’m so sorry, we needed to wake you,’ she sobbed. ‘I added a tiny speck of Seer’s Sage, but I had no idea—’
‘Get up!’ I commanded, meaning to sound kind, but failing. ‘You did the right thing. I have travelled here in disguise and you must never tell anyone I was here.’
She got up and put the chair behind me, before I collapsed back onto it with a thud. I went to rub my back, worried that I might have aggravated it, and was surprised again at the lack of bandages. No, the bandages were wrapped around me in my Charlie life. Injured here, but feeling the pain there. It made no sense. And what had I just been saying?
‘It was mighty strange you arriving here like you have, my Lord, but I understand that it needs to remain secret,’ said Eamon. ‘As a younger man I travelled with your mother on the crusade to the holy land. My duty still binds us. Did you travel alone?’
‘No, but that is what I am most afraid of.’ I paused. ‘I travelled with another, but he is duty-bound like you.’
‘We should get word to him that you are safe.’
‘No! He’ll kill you.’ They deserved the truth.
Eamon’s wife looked understandably fearful and I could tell that he was angry that I had arrived at all. People were normally angry with me or fearful of me in this life, purely by virtue of my position. I do not know if it was the drug that made me more sensitive to their perceptions of me, but I believed he was right to feel as he did.
‘I should go back—I was meant to wait in the woods. I just could not let Patience suffer anymore.’
‘I’ve never met a lord who was so caring,’ said his wife. ‘You truly belong in another time, my prince.’
I belonged here as much as I belonged anywhere, but I couldn’t help but be impressed by her perception. She probably had secret Seer brews quite regularly. I mean, why keep a potion with that potency just for the horses?
Eamon sat at his table, resting his head in his hands. ‘Wife, we have stopped our lord sleeping; we can at least feed him. We are too humble for meat, but I have enough to get you fish.’
I reached into my pouch and put a coin on the table. ‘No fish. Some fruit and more honey mead, please.’
‘We have plenty of that,’ Eamon’s wife replied.
‘We certainly do—my wife and I share your sweet taste, my lord.’ He smiled and smacked her rump playfully. ‘Now your companion will be seeking you out. You came into town looking like an urchin who had stolen a horse. A white horse, with bleeding hooves.’
‘At least it was not in broad daylight!’ I smiled back. I liked him. He had looked after Patience and was looking after me. Even keeping me awake was the right thing to do.
Pity my mother had been so desperate that she selected Adwoliu, instead of a man like Eamon. I should have felt awkward when he smacked his wife’s behind, but I liked that he felt at ease enough in my company to be—well, to be at ease. It was his home, but I was his prince.
‘Indeed, but he will be seeking you out. If you stay here, my wife and I will likely wake up dead.’
‘That’s why I must leave.’
‘No. Even if you do, he could come and find us. The best thing is for me to speak to him.’
‘I do not agree. He is—’
‘Pardon me, sire, he serves the same queen as I. We share the same duty and besides if you leave, I will have to leave too. Who is to say that he won’t convince you to silence us?’
For a moment it sounded like a veiled threat, as if I were a hostage, but then his wife placed fresh fruit before me and I considered what I would do in his situation. I
nstinctively, I trusted him more than I did Adwoliu. But that was the problem. Adwoliu could never convince me to allow him to come here and harm these people. They had taken me in, in one of my most desperate moments. The trouble was, he could come without my permission and silence them anyway.
‘You can try. His name is Adwoliu, but he travels in the shadows.’
‘I will take Patience for a slow walk.’
‘And buy fish, I’m sure my protector will be hungry too!’ I shouted. As Eamon kissed his wife and set off to the stables to fetch my horse, I tucked into the best dinner I had eaten for days.
***
Adwoliu consumed the haddock so quickly, it was a wonder that it had time to perish. I knew he was livid with me. Eamon and his wife watched him closely. I wished that I had left.
‘You are happy to trade the horses as we discussed?’ asked Adwoliu, wiping his mouth.
‘Of course, you can be on your way as soon as you’re ready.’
‘I did not bring Patience here merely to trade her,’ I interjected. Adwoliu eyed me like I was some stupid young fool. I held his gaze. No more bullying, old man. I may be young and even stupid, but not nearly as young as you think and besides, I am a prince. I trusted Patience more than anyone else travelling with me. ‘We can rest for two days and take Patience with us.’
‘Sire, I’m no lord, but I know horses—she needs four days’ rest at least or she will be no good to ride again!’
‘The crossing will take two days, surely rest enough?’
Surprisingly, Adwoliu agreed. Soon we had all sent Eamon’s wife out to fetch more fish for the men, more fruit for me and more honey mead for all of us. It would be good to sleep inside; only I still could not sleep yet, as the chemical concoction still sped through my veins. We drank as Eamon’s wife fussed around us. At one point, Eamon got up to tend the horses, but Adwoliu convinced him to get his wife to fetch us more to drink, and me to part with more coins. I knew that Adwoliu was not letting this man out of his sight, but I was too drunk to care, slumped back on a chair made of wood and hay. Somehow it felt more comfortable than any leather-clad, fur-stuffed throne in any of our palaces.
Paralysis Paradox (Time Travel Through Past Lives Adventure Series Book 1) Page 11
