Shades of Time kobo

by Sarah Woodbury

  Math moved immediately for the door, but Hywel put up a hand to stop him before he reached him. “Pardon me, my lords, I spoke with Mair, and she told me Scots are involved.”

  “May be involved,” Ieuan amended.

  Hywel made a noncommittal motion with his head. “If I may be so bold to suggest such a thing, we were here fifteen months ago. We know already who these men are. We need to look only as far as Fulk FitzWarin at Whittington Castle on one hand and Red Comyn on the other to find her.”

  “I appreciate what you’re saying, Hywel,” Math said, “but we can’t assume just because Scots rode among the company that they were from Whittington or would have returned there.”

  “Fulk FitzWarin allowed himself to be used before,” Ieuan said, “but he is not so much of a fool as to involve himself a second time in a plot against Dafydd when he knows his castle would be the first place we’d look.”

  Hywel’s expression remained skeptical. “Perhaps Lady Cassie could send someone from Shrewsbury to take a look.”

  For the first time since Mair had returned to Dinas Bran, Math allowed himself a full breath. Here was something concrete to arrange and he nodded. “I will ask her.”

  Then Hywel continued. “May I also suggest we send word immediately to Sir Cadwallon? He was among the searchers for James Stewart last time and knows this area as well as any man. More so now, actually, than before.”

  Cadwallon had been among the youngest soldiers in Dafydd’s retinue when he’d become the Prince of Wales. Subsequently, he had nearly died at the hands of Humphrey de Bohun but had eventually recovered, to be named captain of King Llywelyn’s guard. He’d been left behind from the Ireland trip, not because he’d lost his lord’s confidence but because his wife was due to give birth to their first child at any moment.

  In the old Wales, a father’s presence at his child’s birth would have been something of little importance, but in the new Wales, where warfare was no longer a way of life, there were enough men Llywelyn trusted that he could leave this one behind. Besides, Dafydd had ordered that each lord bring only twenty men to Ireland, which meant they had capable men to spare.

  Thus, Cadwallon was staying just on the other side of the border with England in Overton, a town guarding one of the few bridges across the Dee and one with a forest of yew trees renowned throughout Wales. Back when Wales and England had been perpetually at war, the town had sat at a vital and precarious position on the border. Though Cadwallon had been somewhat taken aback when Llywelyn had told him to stay behind, he’d accepted his fate. Dafydd had shown foresight in not taking every man of worth with him to Avalon fifteen months ago—and as usual he’d been right.

  In the current crisis, Cadwallon’s presence on the border was a godsend. Although being present at the birth of his children was one of the greatest honors of Math’s life, immediately upon the arrival of the child, a father was surplus to requirements. Whatever misadventure Math had facing him, no matter how dangerous, Cadwallon would want to assist. It helped that he’d married an English girl and spoke the language as well as any of them.

  So Math nodded. “We have enough men within ten miles of Dinas Bran to throw out a wide net.”

  “Give me any of your men who speak English and French, Math. I will ride northeast with them, collecting Cadwallon on the way.” Ieuan himself was fluent in those languages, having been a close adviser to Dafydd since long before he’d become king. The bond had only become closer since Dafydd’s marriage to Lili, Ieuan’s sister.

  “If you do that, Bevyn and I will ride southwest and retrace Anna’s steps, after which I will know if I have to ride farther afield.” Math grimaced. “I wish I had more information.”

  Ieuan gave a tsk. “We will make do with what we have.”

  “As we do.” Math was glad Ieuan hadn’t tried to persuade him to stay behind. If Anna did return, he wouldn’t know, but there was no possible way Math was going back to bed, and what he needed more than anything else right now was to move.

  “I’m not such a fool as to tell you everything’s going to be okay,” Ieuan said as they left Math’s office together, “but I truly believe it will be.”

  “Even if a band of Scotsmen have her, they won’t harm her,” Bevyn said from just behind them.

  Math took comfort in his companions’ certainty. He wanted with every part of his being to believe their words, but he was careening wildly between optimism and utter despair. Few ballads except those written about Dafydd ended well, and it was in every Welshman’s soul to assume the worst—because up until very recently, the worst always came, usually at the end of a Saxon sword. Math clenched his hands into fists. But not tonight. By God, not tonight.

  It wouldn’t be light for another hour, but the night was typical for March, cool and wet, though not raining. The damp seeped into everything, however, and Math took his leather jacket and double-thick wool cloak from the hooks in the anteroom. His gear was nearly as waterproof as the modern jackets they’d acquired at Abraham’s house in Avalon.

  And again, as he thought of those few days, Math’s stomach clenched. Anna was a woman of his world now, and though she wouldn’t be as lost as he would have been, she was still entirely on her own.

  Then, as Math prepared to mount his horse, Lili and Bronwen appeared on the top step to the keep, wrapped in blankets with their long night braids trailing down one shoulder. Even though they were still in their nightdresses, they both wore boots. They had their arms wrapped around each other too, which told him they already knew the bad news. He tossed his horse’s reins to a stable boy and walked over to them. “I apologize for not waking you myself.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Lili said.

  “I couldn’t bear to.”

  Math’s words revealed the full extent of his pain, and Lili heard it. “I’m so sorry, Math. Something like this happening to me or the boys is Dafydd’s worst nightmare, just as his disappearances are mine.”

  Bronwen put out a hand to him too. “We are here for you, whatever you need.”

  “Keep an ear out for Cadell and Bran?” Math had always admired Bronwen’s approach to everything, which was straightforward and no nonsense.

  “Of course. Don’t worry about anything to do with them. Where’s Hywel?”

  “He’s waking the kitchen staff. We’re going to have people to feed.”

  “We’ll be waiting when you return, come what may,” Lili said. “I can send word to Holyhead, to see if the radio is up and running in Dublin yet.”

  Math took in a breath. The pair of them were far more experienced with crises than he’d like them to be. Meg had left her twins here while she went to Ireland because she trusted nobody more. If decisions had to be made, Lili and Bronwen would make them, and they would be the right ones.

  “Hywel said you spoke to Cassie,” Bronwen said. “Who else?”

  “Edmund Mortimer. If you could listen for any further messages on the radio, I’d be grateful. Anyone who calls knows to trust your voice.”

  Once Edmund’s stewards had woken him and sleep had cleared from his mind, he’d promised to prepare his forces for a possible move north. His seat of Montgomery lay thirty miles to the south of Llangollen, and Math had asked him to relay what had transpired to Humphrey de Bohun at Hereford, thirty miles beyond that. Edmund had been cold to the suggestion, confirming the rumor Math had heard of the falling out between the former close friends. He’d mentioned his concerns to Dafydd, who’d dismissed the news out of hand as Bohun’s midlife crisis. As Dafydd had spoken, however, Math had seen a shadow in his eyes, but other topics had been more pressing, and they’d never returned to the issue.

  Neither Mortimer nor Bohun had ever been to Avalon, but its existence was common knowledge throughout Britain now, and Edmund had taken the news that Anna may have ended up there with equanimity. Math could have told him just about the possible abduction, but he wanted Edmund to be prepared if Anna returned unexpectedly. Last time it had been Chr
istopher arriving in a car in the middle of Westminster Palace’s courtyard. Before that, Math himself had returned with everyone on the Cardiff bus. It was best, if such a thing was going to happen again, to make sure his allies were aware of the possibilities.

  Avalon itself had been spoken of with awe and wonder long before Dafydd’s arrival in Wales, since stories of King Arthur were common throughout Christendom. Dafydd had hardly spent six months in Math’s world before whispers that he was King Arthur returned had begun to follow him around. There was no denying it now, and to Dafydd’s credit, he no longer tried.

  Bronwen put her hand on Math’s arm. “Anna is smart and capable. Wherever she is, she will keep her head and do her best to get back to you and the boys.”

  “I know.” He took in a breath. “I have to believe that.”

  Math moved to mount his horse, and Ieuan took his place in order to kiss his wife goodbye. Then the door to the keep opened, and a woman dressed like a warrior came out.

  Lili said to her brother, “Take Constance with you. You never know when having a woman along might come in handy.”

  Ieuan gave her a hard look, but Lili persisted. “Be thankful I’m not asking to go myself!”

  Constance was a newcomer to Dafydd’s inner circle, one of many since the devastation among the king’s ranks caused by Gilbert de Clare’s treachery. She had won the archery contest in the King’s Tournament last summer at Windsor Castle, and Dafydd had decided she would be the first woman to officially join his army. Bevyn had been the most outspoken of Dafydd’s advisers in his opposition to including women alongside fighting men—and with only slight provocation would enumerate a list of reasons why it was a bad idea.

  Dafydd had gone ahead anyway. It helped that Constance wasn’t a maiden, as she was already married to one of Dafydd’s men-at-arms, a Welshman named Cador. And since Constance was an Englishwoman, that made the pair a mixed marriage, which was another vote in her favor in Dafydd’s eyes.

  What’s more, Constance’s behavior suited her name. She was faithful, and reliable, and Math had seen her shoot. Even Morgan, the captain of Dafydd’s archers, had grudgingly admitted Constance would be an asset, provided the men she rode with could get over the fact that a woman was a better shot than they were.

  Thinking about the composition of his men was better than thinking about Anna, and in the bustle to get on the road, Math had been focusing exclusively on what needed to be done and what lay immediately before him. Math had a teulu of twenty men-at-arms of his own to call upon from Dinas Bran, and Ieuan had ridden with an equal number, many of whom were, in fact, English because they were men of Dafydd’s personal guard, whom he had not taken with him to Ireland.

  Ieuan would ride east, leaving Bevyn, whom all of the soldiers knew, if only by reputation, to support Math. Over the years Bevyn had acquired an almost mythical status among soldiers in both England and Wales. Math himself had been at Dafydd’s side in those early days at Castell y Bere, as well as after. Though Dafydd had never told him—or anyone, as far as he knew—what had precipitated the falling out between Bevyn and Dafydd at the start of Dafydd’s reign, the two men had mended the rift, and Bevyn was once again a much trusted companion.

  Then, in the last few moments before everyone was sorted, Cadell came barreling out the door from the keep. “Dad!”

  Math swung around at the sound of his elder son’s voice and was on the ground and moving to intercept him before he had come more than a few feet from the steps. He crouched and caught his son. “It’s okay, Cadell.”

  “I heard-I heard you talking.” He was breathing in big gulps. “Mom’s been take-taken. That’s what the servants are saying!”

  Math clutched his son to him, trying to calm his own breathing in hopes of soothing his son’s. “They are right that she didn’t come home last night. Her company was attacked on the road.” He leaned back to look into Cadell’s face. “I won’t pretty it up for you. It’s bad, but maybe not as bad as all that.”

  “Wh-why?”

  “Cadi got away, and it may be your mother did too.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe even to Avalon. You know how she is.”

  Cadell took in a shuddering breath and managed a nod.

  “I am leaving now to find her if she’s here to be found. I need you to stay with your aunts and look after your brother and your cousins.”

  “Are we going to be attacked here?”

  “The company comprised twenty men, more than enough to overcome the guard I sent with your mother, but not enough to hurt us here, and we have watchers on the walls and all around Llangollen. We’d know if an army was approaching.”

  “But they didn’t see these men.”

  Math pressed his lips together. Cadell wasn’t wrong. “We’ll sort out the reason for that later. Son—” he had his hands at Cadell’s waist, “—you need to be strong now, like your mother is strong.”

  Cadell’s hands clenched into fists, and Math was glad to see it. Anger would carry him for a little while, long enough for Lili or Bronwen to get him fed and find a means to distract him. Bronwen approached from behind Cadell and put a hand on his shoulder. “Your dad has to go now.”

  Math hugged Cadell again. “I’ll be fine. You know that, right?”

  Cadell nodded as Math released him, though both were blinking back tears.

  “After breakfast, I want you to take a tour of the defenses with the garrison captain. I’ll tell him to expect you.”

  Finally, Cadell managed a deep breath, and when he let it out, it wasn’t trembling. “Yes, Dad.”

  Math nodded and stood. His eyes met Bronwen’s as she took Cadell’s hand. “Go,” she said. “We’re okay here.”

  “I know it.”

  But as the company descended the road down from the castle to the village below, Math couldn’t shake the memory of his son’s face—despairing and determined at the same time. He was too young to look that way.

  Bevyn had watched the whole scene, of course, and he put out a hand to Math. “Your son is going to grow up more than you like today; he will learn, as we all have had to, how to be brave. He has a good head on his shoulders.”

  “He and Anna were abducted when Cadell was only three. He was too young then to know to be truly afraid. He knows it now.”

  “He has his family to get him through it,” Ieuan said from the other side. “He isn’t alone.”

  Math found a Bevyn-like growl forming in his chest. “Anna is.”

  And then they were in Llangollen. While Math got a handle on his anger, Ieuan woke the mayor, who instantly sounded the alarm to roust the rest of the town. Within fifteen minutes, Math’s company swelled to nearly a hundred strong.

  Llangollen was closer to a small city these days than the sleepy village it had been ten years earlier when Math and Anna had arrived to rebuild the castle. With the adjacent university, the town stretched along the River Dee and held the status of a Welsh market town. Like its English counterparts, it had the right to govern itself, though that wasn’t to say that Math, as the ruler of eastern Gwynedd, didn’t have sway, and Llywelyn remained king.

  “I’m off, then.” Ieuan had already delineated the ten men (and Constance) he would take with him to immediately ride east on a quest to pick up the trail of Anna’s abductors. Only a few roads in and out of Wales were capable of accommodating the large company Mair described, particularly one needing to move fast. By contrast, Ieuan was keeping his numbers small. His intent was to track the interlopers, not to start a war. Not yet anyway. “If the Scots took Anna east, I will discover where they’ve hidden her.”

  Bevyn lifted a hand. “Godspeed.”

  Math would have said the same, but his throat closed over the words.

  Perceptive as always, Bevyn didn’t press him and set about organizing their volunteers, dividing them into small groups, the members of which could spread out around Llangollen. Many would ride the less well trodden paths, and some would run farther afield. If a few
more enemy men skulked in the hills around them or, God forbid, an army, Math needed to know of it. He didn’t expect some of the searchers to come back for several days. He even sent six men towards Scotland. It was a long way, but Math needed to know if more men had crossed Hadrian’s Wall.

  If the Scots were clever—and since they’d come this far without being detected, Math was disinclined to underestimate them—this operation was well-planned. It pissed Math off (to use words bequeathed to him by the twenty-firsters) to have been caught on the hop, and he took shelter within the anger. Rage was better than fear—and far better than the cold pit of despair that twisted his belly and closed his throat whenever he allowed himself to imagine what might have become of his wife.

  He had let her down, but by God, he would get her back, even if he had to voyage to Avalon himself to do so.

  Chapter Seven

  19 March 2022

  Anna

  Mark sucked on his upper teeth. “One problem at a time. Let’s get you safe before we worry about a dead horse.” Then he laughed. “I can’t believe I actually said that.”

  His laughter was good to hear. At this point, it was either laugh or cry.

  “If I told the detective who I really was, what would he have done?”

  Livia, who was driving, pulled off the curb and out into the road. She was sitting on the right side of the car and driving on the left side of the road, which Anna had known to expect, but as always, it was taking a bit of getting used to.

  “After he finished laughing and deciding you were mad, you mean?” Mark said. “It would have been one way to get the attention of Five without you asking for me outright, I’ll give you that. But you know the Time Travel Initiative has been dead since before we saw you last?”

  “I know,” Anna said. “I was hoping with what happened at Caernarfon, things had improved.”

  “They have not, especially with what happened at Caernarfon.” From the front passenger seat, Mark looked over his shoulder, not at Anna, but beyond her to the back window. She presumed it was to make sure they weren’t being followed.