Warden of Time (The After Cilmeri Series Book 8)

by Sarah Woodbury

  “Even then, it was only because I couldn’t sleep that I ran into George in the first place, and he showed me the light in the toilet,” I said. “Lee meant to kill us all.”

  “All right,” Cassie said. “Just checking.”

  I turned to look at her, surprised at her easy acquiescence, but Rachel said, “I get it. She’s playing the tenth man, though there are only nine of us here.”

  “What’s that?” I said.

  “If everyone agrees about something, it’s the duty of the tenth person to disagree as a matter of course,” Rachel said. “Isn’t that right, Cassie?”

  Cassie nodded. “We’ve condemned the man, all of us. I’m trying to get inside his head.”

  “I don’t know that you want to spend any time inside Lee’s head,” I said, “but the idea of the tenth man sounds useful, and I’ll keep it in mind. I am well aware that it’s very easy for everyone to agree with me all the time.”

  “David,” Cassie said under her breath. “You do realize Callum talked to the Order about Lee for the same reason. He’d expressed his worries—”

  “And I dismissed them,” I said. “Believe me, I know, and I’m grateful, even if it’s after the fact.”

  “Lee was very charming when he wanted to be.” Cassie looked at her left hand, hissing at the new blister on her palm before passing another bucket to me with her right hand.

  Seeing Justin approach, I made a slashing motion with my hand to stop the conversation and stepped out of line. I turned the gesture into a welcoming one to him, while saying to my friends, “We’ll consider this later.”

  “My lord.” Justin hadn’t been helping with the fire because he’d been inspecting what defenses remained, talking to the guards at the gates, and patrolling among the survivors. He didn’t believe the threat was over. The moment we arrived, he’d climbed onto the walls—those that were still standing that is—to supervise the men and women watching from them.

  “Are we being attacked?” I said.

  “Not at the moment, sire.”

  I put a hand on his shoulder, knowing it was unfair to mock him. “I’m sorry. I’m tired.”

  “You need sleep, sire,” he said.

  “We all do.”

  “Sire.” Sir Thomas had followed closely behind Justin, and he bowed before me.

  “You have your work cut out for you,” I said. “Are you up to the task?”

  “It depends upon what you want done, sire.” Thomas indicated the destruction behind me. “As soon as the fire is put out, I can start the salvage work. If you want the castle rebuilt, that will take considerable time and money.”

  “Salvage what you can for now. No doubt the interior is a total loss. We’ll confer later about where we go from here, though—” I rubbed the end of my nose in thought, “—I think we need to rebuild this castle.”

  “I can’t disagree, my lord,” Thomas said.

  Justin had stepped briefly into my place in the bucket line while I spoke with Thomas, but now he pointed with his chin towards the town gate. “Archbishop Peckham has arrived, my lord.”

  I looked where he’d indicated. Sure enough, a small party had entered the bailey. One of Peckham’s servants helped the Archbishop out of his carriage, and then he stood in the dirt of the bailey, one hand to his mouth and a second clutching the hand of the man who’d helped him. Archbishop Romeyn alighted beside him. Both men appeared to have dressed hastily, as we all had, though Peckham was wrapped in a thick cloak and wore a woven hat pulled down close over his ears to keep out the cold.

  “I’d better see to them,” I said.

  Acquasparta had not come, a fact for which he could be forgiven, given the hour and his illness. Peckham shouldn’t have been here either, which I said to him when I reached him.

  “I had to come. Some said you—” He broke off, unable to finish his sentence.

  “I am not dead, as you can see.”

  Peckham transferred his clutching hand to my arm. “I am so glad, my dear boy.” He took a breath, as if hesitating to speak, and then said, “You don’t think this has anything to do with … with …”

  “The incident yesterday?” I said. “I can’t say as yet. Do you have some reason to think the two events might be linked?”

  Peckham’s eyes were fixed on the ruined keep. “How did this happen?” He took a few steps past me to where Sir Thomas stood. The castellan bowed and took the Archbishop’s other arm to assist him.

  I looked beyond him to Romeyn, whose face was very grave. I’d never seen a churchman in breeches and shirt, but that’s what Romeyn wore, his brown cloak frayed at the edges and his boots scuffed and unpolished from much use.

  “I am glad to see you before me, sire.”

  “It was a near thing,” I said.

  “Is it safe for you to be here?”

  “Is anywhere safe after this?” I said.

  Romeyn looked at me carefully, his eyes narrowing. “I’m guessing you wouldn’t be here if you thought there was real danger. Do you know who did this, sire?”

  “I know who brought the castle down,” I said. “I am still in the dark as to why or with whom he might be working. Perhaps you have a thought?”

  Romeyn blanched. “I’m sure I couldn’t say.”

  I just looked at him.

  “Sire—Acquasparta could have nothing to do with this,” Romeyn said, replying to the conclusion I’d drawn but hadn’t articulated. “He couldn’t.”

  “He incited a riot to catch a heretic,” I said. “Why would the destruction of a castle be beyond him?”

  “I know what he did, but surely—” Romeyn stopped, pressing his lips together tightly. Then he bowed. “If the events are linked, if Acquasparta has had any hand in the destruction before us, I would urge you to find out.”

  I canted my head. “I intend to.”

  Peckham was back. His hand shook as he put it on my forearm but his voice no longer wavered. “What could have caused this destruction?”

  “The castle was brought down by an explosive force more powerful than black powder,” I said bluntly.

  Peckham let go of my arm at my vehemence. Then he gave me a rueful smile, showing that he was gaining control of his shock. “If there is anything I can do for you, my dear boy, anything, please let me know.”

  “Actually, if you had a spare bed,” I said, “for me and my companions, I would be grateful.”

  Dawn was nearly upon us, but being twenty-three didn’t mean I could get by on no sleep at all, not if I was going to be capable of decision-making anytime soon. And I needed to be.

  “Of course! Of course! It would be my honor.” Peckham’s eyes strayed to the keep again.

  “My people and I will arrive shortly.”

  He nodded and moved towards his carriage, but then he turned back. “Will your party include the queen and Prince Arthur?” He gazed around the bailey. “I don’t see them.”

  “They are well. I have sent them elsewhere for their own safety.”

  “Good. Good.”

  I gestured to where Cassie and Rachel were still passing buckets in the line. “Two women will be among us.”

  “I will make the necessary arrangements.” Peckham reentered the carriage.

  Romeyn waited until Peckham was seated before entering himself.

  I put a hand on the window frame. “Be careful. There is much here that we don’t yet understand.”

  Romeyn bowed his head. “Sire.”

  Ieuan came up beside me to watch the archbishops leave.

  “I neglected to ask you earlier if Bronwen objected to leaving with Lili,” I said.

  “You’ve had a lot on your mind,” Ieuan said. “And of course she didn’t. Bronwen was shaken up like we all are, but she’s sensible.” He leaned in. “I know they don’t like it, and they think it’s sexist of you, but you were right to send them away, if only for the sake of the children.”

  I blinked. “I can’t believe you know that word.”

>   He raised his eyebrows. “In my household? How could I not know it?”

  Callum approached. “Have you seen enough, sire?”

  I lifted a hand and then dropped it in a helpless gesture. In truth, there wasn’t much of anything I could do here. It had been important to come back. The people needed to see me, to know that I hadn’t died and that I cared enough about them not to leave them to their own devices. Perhaps nobody would have blamed me for leaving for Chilham with Lili since we weren’t going to rebuild this castle tonight. But I wouldn’t have it said, especially after yesterday’s riot, that I’d turned tail and run. If I had enemies in England who were working secretly with Lee, I wouldn’t give them that ammunition to use against me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  We left the castle. The fire was almost out, and the people were dispersing throughout Canterbury. Morning would bring enough work to keep everyone occupied for many days and weeks to come. I left a small guard—the bulk of the normal castle garrison—to watch over what remained. With the barracks still intact, along with the gatehouse where Sir Thomas’s quarters were, they had a place to lay their heads if they took it in shifts. The bodies of Mike and Noah still lay in their room in the barracks. Sir Thomas said he’d speak to the priest at St. Mildred’s about a burial.

  The rest of us rode along the same street that led to the Archbishop’s Palace on which I’d traveled yesterday. The circumstances were so dramatically different, it was hard to believe the town itself remained unchanged, barring the dust from the castle that had settled on everything.

  As we passed under the gatehouse at the town gate, onlookers made way for us. Despite the early hour, townspeople were lining up to cross the drawbridge going the other way, to get a look at the fallen castle and to help put out the flames. As I passed, people pressed in around my horse, patting my leg and the horse’s withers, expressing their relief that I lived. After the incident with the heretic, I hadn’t been entirely sure what my standing might be with them, but there was nothing like a crisis to bring people together in support of their leader. Wars had always been good for that. And, apparently, so were exploded castles.

  Justin edged up on my right while Ieuan buttressed me on the left, both uncomfortable with the people getting so close. If I hadn’t been so tired, I might have protested, but I also knew that the threat against me was real. My companions were only trying to keep me alive. Still, with more enthusiasm than I’d shown yesterday, I raised a hand to people hanging out of upper story windows.

  “Perfect.” Cassie spoke from behind me, and I turned to look at her, my expression questioning. She pointed towards the sky. “It’s starting to rain.”

  I let out a laugh, more in relief than genuine humor. It was perfect. We needed the rain. Still, I was grateful it didn’t start in earnest until we were within a few yards of the Archbishop’s palace. This time, the gate was already open when we reached it, and we rode straight under the gatehouse and across the cobbles to the front door. I slid off Cadfan, and took a moment to rest my forehead against his withers.

  “This way, David.” Callum nudged my elbow.

  “Coming.” But I didn’t move. In the time it had taken to dismount, the events of the day had overwhelmed me. My heart was pounding out of my ears, and my breath was suddenly coming so fast it wasn’t doing my lungs any good. I shut my eyes, trying to get a grip on myself. I was clenching my fists so tightly my fingernails were cutting into the palms of my hands.

  Callum’s hand gripped my shoulder, and he gently guided me away, though I didn’t know where he was taking me because I kept my gaze fixed on my boots. I was grateful for the rain yet again, because with my hood up and the darkness in the courtyard, my inability to function hadn’t caught the general attention of my men.

  We ended up near a corner of the porch by the door, just out of the weather and the torchlight. Folding his arms across his chest, Callum leaned his shoulder against the wall, shielding me from the gaze of anyone whose eyes might stray in my direction. “You can talk to me,” he said after a minute had passed and I still hadn’t looked up. “This is me, remember? The man who washes his hands ten times a day.”

  “Still?”

  His calm words had cut through the static in my head, and I managed to meet his eyes. My heart twisted at the pity and understanding I saw in them.

  “Still,” he said.

  I shivered and sweated at the same time. My hands, once I managed to unfist them, shook. “We could have died, Callum.”

  My friend took in a breath and let it out in a long, slow sigh. As he did so, I could feel the tension ease out of him. After a second, I realized he’d done it on purpose, because my body had involuntarily mimicked his, and oxygen was finally flowing to my brain.

  “I know,” he said.

  My mouth felt dry, and I licked my lips. “How can I do this to my family? It is one thing for Lee to come after me, but … if something were to happen to them, it would be all my fault.”

  “Again, it would not be,” Callum said. “It is, however, the price you pay for being king.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “I know,” Callum said.

  “I can’t walk away, though.” I put my free hand to my forehead, rubbing hard with my thumb and forefinger. I didn’t feel like I was going to pass out anymore, but I found myself growing angry. “What is that about? I’m willing to risk the lives of my family and everyone I love so I can—” I stopped again, frustrated with myself, and this world, and Lee, and everything else. I glared at Callum, who looked back at me calmly, absorbing my anger without returning it.

  “You do it so you can change the world,” Callum said. “You do it to make your peoples’ lives better.”

  I fell back to earth with a thud. My anger had continued what Callum had started, normalizing my breathing and allowing me to regain control over my limbs. The panic attack faded. Its absence left me more tired than before, and I turned to put my back to the wall.

  Callum dropped his arm from my shoulder, the worry in his eyes vying with relief that I’d stopped quivering. He’d talked openly about his PTSD from his time in Afghanistan. It was pretty clear I had it too.

  And possibly, after tonight, so did everyone here.

  Cassie approached, concern on her face. She held her shoulders tightly and had the same green-around-the-gills look that I’d been feeling. “Are you okay, David?”

  “Not really,” I said.

  I spoke the truth, but the words came out normally.

  “We should get inside,” Callum said.

  I nodded. I’d never panicked like that before, not even after my first battle at fourteen. I didn’t see it as a sign of weakness—Callum would be really angry at me if I did—but if it had happened once, it could happen again. Right now I was among friends, but who was to say that the next time I would be.

  I hoped that at least Peckham, if not Romeyn, had gone back to bed so I wouldn’t have to speak to anyone before I slept.

  Peckham had, but both Romeyn and Aaron were waiting for me at the door. “Sire,” Aaron said as I reached him. He bowed so low his long beard almost touched his knees. Romeyn had exchanged his workman’s clothes for the traditional robe of an archbishop, though without the crown or chain of office. He had deep circles under his eyes, as I was sure I did too.

  “Rise, Aaron,” I said. “I’m too tired for that. You should have stayed in bed.”

  Aaron looked offended. He could no more sleep when I was in danger than Justin could. “I’m glad to see you alive, sire. I would hate to have to explain to your mother why you weren’t.”

  “You and me both,” I said, without irony. My mother had made her position clear: if she lost me because I’d taken less care of myself than I should have, she would never forgive me. I knew it was her love for me speaking. There was no greater pain than the loss of a child. Anna had lost her second son to illness, and I was coming to realize that it was a loss from which she would never recover. />
  “I wish you hadn’t come here, sire,” Aaron said.

  A little perturbed, I took a few more steps into the anteroom at the front of the palace. Romeyn and Aaron came with me. “How can you say that, Aaron?”

  His hands behind his back, Romeyn stood beside Aaron. “Hear him out, your majesty.” Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised by an alliance between these two very intelligent men.

  My men had followed me under the gatehouse into the courtyard, and Peckham’s steward was speaking with Justin about arranging for food and shelter for my men for what remained of the night. Cadfan had already been taken away to the stables.

  “I’ve been eavesdropping, as you requested, sire,” Aaron said as if my request and his acceding to it were the most natural thing in the world to speak about out loud in the presence of the Archbishop of York. “I was dozing beside the cardinal when his secretary woke him to tell him of the destruction of the castle. Acquasparta said something I think you need to know about.”

  I observed him, waiting.

  Aaron took in a breath. “The cardinal didn’t express shock or surprise, as if he’d been expecting the news. Then he said, ‘I looked, and behold, a white horse, and he who sat on it had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went out conquering and to conquer.’”

  My eyes narrowed. “That’s from Revelations.”

  “I know that, sire,” Aaron said.

  “Putting aside how you know that, what does this have to do with my coming here?” I said. “I don’t even ride a white horse.”

  “True, but King Philip does,” Romeyn said. “He is known for it.”

  Aaron put out a hand to me. “I know it sounds absurd on the surface, but I can’t think why else Acquasparta would have quoted that particular passage. It worries me.”

  I bent my head, feeling exhaustion wash over me. Philip as a stand-in for Christ himself had my stomach churning. My brain was working clearly, however, and I took in an easy breath.

  “I have to sleep for a few hours. We all do.” I turned to Callum, who’d entered the anteroom with Cassie while I’d been speaking with Romeyn and Aaron. “What do you think?”