Crossroads in Time (The After Cilmeri Series)

by Sarah Woodbury

  One of the fisherman looked up. “He’ll live, my lord.”

  The bottom of the boat scraped the dune.

  “Is he conscious?” Math helped David lift Dad out of the boat.

  “He is,” Dad said.

  David had never been so glad to hear his father’s voice. “When I saw you go under the water, Dad—”

  “Stupid.” Dad coughed. Water mixed with blood dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. Other willing hands reached for him, half-carrying him away from the boat.

  The rain continued to drive into them. David glanced at Math, who grasped David’s arm to help him out of the dingy, the worry in his eyes ratcheting up again. “I’m glad to see you, brother,” Math said. “You arrived just in time.”

  “Rode like hell to get here,” David said. “We left Painscastle as soon as we could after the messenger arrived. It didn’t feel like we were in time.”

  “Painscastle?” Math said. “What were you doing there?”

  “Long story,” David said. He had quite a few stories to tell Math, in point of fact, some more interesting than others.

  “When I saw you jump in,” Math said, “and the king go under again … it occurred to me that it would be better not to return at all than face your mother and Anna if you both had died.”

  David shook his head. “You would have done what you had to do: protected Cadell and ruled for him until he could claim his birthright.” Every time David and his father risked their lives, they threatened the security of Wales. This was a different time than the one in which he’d grown up. You couldn’t lead from the rear.

  David and Math helped Dad hobble off the dune, all the while surrounded by an honor guard. The rain was so heavy now that when each individual raindrop plopped in the sand at their feet, it created a mini-crater. David had seen similar rain during thunderstorms in the summer in Pennsylvania when he’d visited his aunt’s house. It rained a lot in Wales, but the country had few thunderstorms as he knew them. Something about the heat index, or lack thereof.

  They reached a cart drawn by two horses, and David sat his father in the back of the bed. With his feet dangling almost to the ground, Dad hung his head as the rain dripped off his nose onto his breeches.

  “Let me help you, my lord.” Lili swung herself over the side of the cart and crouched beside the king. She threw a blanket around his shoulders and head. He lifted his chin to look at her. She gazed gravely back, her blue eyes turned as gray as the storm.

  David stepped towards Lili. Her position on the cart put her head on a level with David’s. They’d barely spoken during the long, dark ride from Painscastle, but she’d kept close to him, and stood near him on their few breaks to rest the horses. It was almost as if they didn’t need to talk.

  Now, without asking permission or thinking too hard about it, lest he lose his nerve, he threaded the fingers of one hand through the hair at the back of her head, leaned in, and kissed her. It was for the first time. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tightening her hold on him as he deepened the kiss. Then Dad cleared his throat.

  David put his lips to Lili’s forehead, breathing her in, oblivious to the rain and the crowd that had formed around them. Lili patted his chest. “I’ll stay with the king, Dafydd. No matter what happens.”

  David nodded and released her.

  “My dear.” Dad patted her knee. “Welcome to the family.”

  “Dad,” David said. “I’ve got to—”

  “Go.” He put a hand on David’s shoulder. “As always, your timing was excellent.”

  The cart pulled away and Math clapped David on the shoulder, bringing him back to the present. For that single minute, David had forgotten about the English altogether.

  David lifted a hand to Lili, who blew him a kiss. Then he turned to Math. “So. How about you and I—and Ieuan if he’s around—see what we can do about cleaning up this mess?”

  * * * * *

  Two days later, the rain still fell. The sun had come out for those few minutes on the morning of the storm, and they hadn’t seen it since. All the rivers within fifty miles—and maybe all across Wales—were in flood, making them difficult, if not impossible, to cross. At least the wind no longer blew at hurricane force, rattling the shutters in every window.

  David took a deep breath before stepping through the doorway that led from the upstairs bedrooms and into the hall of Caldicot Castle. He, his father, and the Norman lords had talked long into the night. Dad might not be well enough to get out of bed quite yet, but he could always think. This war, while unlooked for, was going to give them an unprecedented opportunity to create a stronger Wales, one based on a confederation of mutual respect.

  David had no interest in ruling lands beyond his borders, but if an alliance with these Marcher barons could give them some breathing room, and a buffer zone between Wales and England that was of benefit to Wales instead of England, David would do everything in his power to make it happen.

  As David entered the room, the men at the high table rose as one to their feet: Gilbert de Clare, Humphrey de Bohun, William, Nicholas de Carew, and Math. Math would have ridden north yesterday to look for Anna and Cadell if David hadn’t stopped him. David was worried about her too, but Math wasn’t going to find her by riding across Wales by himself in the pouring rain.

  Ieuan and Tudur, however, had gone back to Chepstow. They would remain on alert, guarding the border, though the threat from England seemed to have abated for now. While Valence had surprised them with the power and force of his assault, they weren’t going to be surprised again.

  Clare took a step towards David. “How is the king?”

  “Improving.” David wasn’t prepared to say more than that just yet. In his time, his father had survived far worse than a dunking in the Severn Estuary, but he’d been younger then. His mother, who’d arrived at Caldicot Castle before the storm hit (against Dad’s direct orders, but that was Mom for you), feared the water in his lungs could lead to infection.

  More than anything, Dad was tired. He’d slept after the battle, and then through the night and all the next day. He’d insisted on conferring with David and his advisors last night, despite his weakness, and then slept again. David had left his mother by the bedside, holding Dad’s hand and urging him to eat some breakfast. So far he’d just nibbled at it, but David felt more comfortable leaving his side than at any time since the battle.

  David’s attention fell on Carew, who must have arrived very recently since he still wore his travel-stained cloak and boots, with his breeches soaked to mid-thigh. Carew raised a biscuit-filled hand. “My lord! It’s a great victory!”

  David couldn’t blame Carew for his enthusiasm, although David didn’t feel the same way himself. He walked towards the table and pulled out the chair at the end. “Of a sort, Carew, and only because we were aided by the weather.”

  “Who can say that God is against us now?” Carew really was on a high. “The entire English fleet is vanquished.”

  “What of the dead, Math?” David sat heavily next to his brother-in-law. He hadn’t slept more than a few hours since the battle, what with the messages flying back and forth among all the lords of Wales. Rumor had come to his ears an hour ago that Valence had also lost a fleet near Anglesey, but David needed additional confirmation before he could believe it.

  “It will be days, still, before a full accounting, my lord,” Math said, using David’s title as he usually did when others were present. “Roger Bigod, at least, is dead. He commanded one of the boats.”

  “What about Valence, Mortimer, and this cousin of mine?” David said.

  “No word,” Math said.

  “Cousin, my lord?” Carew said. “What cousin?”

  Clare pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Valence has brought forth the son of Owain Goch, King Llywelyn’s brother. A man named Hywel.”

  “My God!” The news choked off Carew’s exhilaration.

  “Some will say that he should have lan
ds equal to my father’s, and be considered an heir in equal in stature to me,” David said, “though apparently he was raised in England and speaks no Welsh.”

  “Valence would have considered that a minor failing, if it was one at all,” Humphrey said. “It’s not like he would ever have allowed Hywel to actually rule.”

  “Such was my assumption,” David said. “And now …”

  “Now that Valence’s force is defeated, we all must begin anew, as we discussed,” Humphrey said.

  David had shaken hands on an agreement last night to create an alliance with these men, even to the point of putting certain Welsh estates back into the custody of Bohun and Clare. The caveat would be that this time, they would tithe to the Welsh crown. It was an offer Carew had accepted in 1284. Now it seemed Bohun and Clare would accept it too. If they abided by the agreement, it gave David and his father powerful Norman allies.

  Clare had remained standing. “My lord, if I may speak.”

  David nodded.

  “Lord Bohun and I should ride to Canterbury now,” Clare said. “On the other side of Offa’s Dyke at Gloucester, I have many men loyal to me. My chief captain may have betrayed me, but I understand that his body has been found with Bigod’s. My men thought they were following me when they obeyed him. They will flock to my banner when I call.”

  David eyed him. “We don’t actually want to descend on Canterbury with an army, but with a delegation.”

  During this exchange, Carew had lifted his head from his breakfast and now gazed at Clare. “I see you have been busy. Is it Archbishop Peckham you plan to see?”

  “Yes,” Clare said. “The throne of England is in doubt. With the child King Edward dead, and with the conspirators having lost a considerable number of men, we’ve clipped Valence’s wings. But he still has a subtle tongue.”

  “Every day we allow Valence to court the Archbishop unchallenged is a day too long,” Humphrey said.

  David met Math’s eyes. Last night, they’d discussed the possibility of Math traveling to England with these Norman lords, as it still wasn’t safe for either David or his father to leave Wales, even with an escort. Math had agreed to go in their stead.

  Math nodded. “My men are ready. Give my love to Anna when you see her.”

  Carew stood and looked to David. “I would go too, my lord.”

  “I hoped for it.” David gestured with one hand. “You all know my father’s position. I trust you to represent it.”

  The four men bowed. Carew spoke for all of them: “As you say, my l—”

  The door to the hall banged open and Bevyn strode across the floor with a man whom David didn’t know. Their clothes were as travel-stained and soaked as Carew’s, but their eyes were bright.

  “Edmund!” Humphrey stepped off the dais to greet his cousin while the rest of the men in the room stared at Bevyn and Edmund in stunned silence.

  David got to his feet and went to his old captain. Bevyn bowed low and when David raised him up, clasped his forearm in greeting. “Welcome, Bevyn,” David said. “I hope you have good news for me.” He eyed Bevyn’s companion, who could only be Edmund Mortimer. “Even as you bring a surprise guest.”

  “An English force tried to take Anglesey and was blown back to the Orme.” Bevyn canted his head towards Edmund. “That we were prepared for their attack is thanks in no small part to the assistance of Mortimer, here, who was the one who warned us they were coming. I take no credit for their defeat, though I was among those who retook Aber from the English.”

  David gaped at Bevyn. That was a lot of information to present so casually in a few sentences.

  “It was your sister, Anna, who deserves the most thanks,” Edmund said.

  “Anna?” David and Math spoke in unison.

  “She is well,” Bevyn said. “She remains at Aber since I refused to allow her to ride all night and day to get here … she has quite a story to tell you when you see her next.”

  “And Cadell?” Math stepped closer.

  Bevyn’s expression softened. “He is well too. He has a new friend and a new puppy, and is a hero in his own right.”

  At Math’s astonished look, Bevyn laughed. “I told Anna I had to ride south with Mortimer, just so I could see your face when I told you of what she’d done. I am well rewarded.”

  David clapped Bevyn on the shoulder. “It is good to see you, my friend.”

  “I have heard something of your ridiculous adventures since you cut me loose,” Bevyn said. “You have a lot of explaining to do, young man.”

  David laughed. “I do. I surely do.”

  Epilogue

  November, 1288

  Rhuddlan Castle

  Lili

  “So you’re going to go?” Lili sat on a stool, sorting through her arrow shafts, separating the straightest and best from those she would use only for practice.

  “We’re going to go,” her husband said. “Anna and Math too, provided Anna feels well enough.”

  “She’s two months further along than I and past the danger point,” Lili said. “She won’t turn down the opportunity to see England.”

  Dafydd reached for Lili’s hand and pulled her up from her stool. Lili wound her arms around his neck. “It might be dangerous,” he said. “More so than when you and I went with William.”

  “Then it’s appropriate that we’re going to go for William, yet again.” Lili’s brow furrowed. “He’s all of thirteen and getting married to a girl he barely knows.”

  “As opposed to you, a woman of eighteen, who is married to a man you adore.”

  Dafydd said things like this all the time, sometimes in front of others, which embarrassed Lili to no end. Her inner life had always been hers alone, and now she shared it with an entire country. She’d just gotten used to the idea of being married to Dafydd at all, and now, only two months later, ten weeks after their victory on the beach at Caldicot, she carried his child.

  At least, she had none of the symptoms so far that had plagued her friends. Meg claimed that the nausea worsened with every child. With four royal babies due within seven months of each other (Lili counted Bronwen and Ieuan as part of the royal family, along with their new daughter, born last week), Lili was taking Meg’s word for just about everything. Thankfully, King Llywelyn had recovered from his swim in the Estuary and was looking forward to the birth of his third child.

  “Why are they moving this quickly?” Lili said. “William is so young.”

  “Do you feel sorry for him?” Dafydd said.

  Lili nodded.

  Dafydd shrugged. “I do too, in point of fact. But Humphrey de Bohun wants to take advantage of the disarray among the barons who plotted against him.”

  “I thought you said Roger Mortimer and that other regent, Vere, were in the Tower of London?” Lili said.

  “They are, but Kirby continues as co-regent with Bohun, since Bohun has no evidence linking him to the plot, even if we all believe he knew of it. Even Valence is back at the royal court. He groveled before Peckham, begging forgiveness for his lack of judgment. The stain of his treachery has been laundered clean and we are to behave as if he didn’t lose over a thousand men in August trying to invade Wales.”

  “How is it possible that anyone can pretend Valence didn’t violate the Treaty?” Lili said.

  “Because Valence is powerful and charismatic, and the English court feels the absence of King Edward more strongly now than ever. Without a king—only Edward’s surviving daughters—the regents act for the eldest, Eleanor. But how long will that last, especially if her marriage to Alfonso of Aragon comes to pass? And will Humphrey really be able to put his son on the throne through Joan?”

  “And what about your cousin, Hywel?” Lili said.

  Dafydd barked a laugh that sounded less like amusement and more like disgust. It told Lili that her husband was worried about Hywel, even if he didn’t like to admit it. “Dad invited him to visit Wales, but so far he has refused to come. I assume we will meet him at Will
iam’s wedding.”

  The more Dafydd talked, the more interested Lili became in what lay on the other side of the border. She had thought, when they returned to Wales with William, that she might never set foot in England again. “We don’t know what’s going to happen, do we?”

  “No, we don’t,” Dafydd said. “But that’s the fun of it, isn’t it? There’s always more to the story.”

  And then her husband bent his head, and kissed Lili again.

  The End

  Author’s Note

  The After Cilmeri series is a work of fiction (obviously), in that time travel and/or alternate universes have not been shown to exist. At the same time, in writing the series, I have endeavored to remain as true to real history as possible, in terms of places, locations, and individuals as characters in the story.

  For that reason, I’d like to highlight the events that led up to the Norman conquest of Wales, that David and Anna averted in Footsteps in Time, and that I have used as the background for the series.

  William the Bastard (also known as William the Conqueror) was a Norman, meaning he hailed from Normandy, in what is now France. The Normans had Viking ancestry (why are we not surprised?), but had settled in France and adopted French customs and language. Even up until the 1300s, the kings and barons of England spoke French, not English, as a primary language.

  Upon the death of King Edward the Confessor in 1066, William, a second cousin to Edward, believed he was the rightful heir to the English crown. He was determined to conquer England, even though Harold Godwinson, a Saxon, had claimed the throne and been crowned King of England. William landed at Hastings in October of 1066 and defeated Godwinson’s army. Harold had force-marched his men from Stamford Bridge after defeating a nearly-simultaneous invasion by King Hardrada of Norway.

  Harold’s forces almost held, but in the end, his discipline did not and he himself died on the battlefield. http://www.middle-ages.org.uk/william-the-conqueror.htm