by Kari August
“Teddie? Teddie is going to run my club?” Oh, no. Richard was going to put up a fight about this. Yes, his club had turned into something entirely different from what he had intended, but he certainly wasn’t going to give up the power and prestige he had garnered from it now, of all times, at this spectacularly crucial moment. And most definitely not to the one person who had an absolute talent for outdoing him when he least expected it. “Just what is so important to send me back?”
God blew out a breath and the fog swirled around. “I want you to go fetch your sister Margaret. She hasn’t returned from Earth the way she was supposed to. And . . . and I miss her.”
Richard staggered back a few feet. There was so much to take in that he was momentarily speechless. First off, Richard could not believe that God had allowed Margaret to visit Earth. Travelling there had only ever been permitted for Richard—it was what had given him super celebrity status in heaven. It was his special deal . . . oh, wait. Offf course.
Practically everyone knew that God and Mags were especially close. As Mags had boasted often, God liked to debate various topics with her and her especially clever mind. But could it be that God had developed feelings for his sister? Who else but a fool in love would have allowed himself to be so manipulated and let her go?
Then another thought came to mind. “Why haven’t I heard before this that she’s back on Earth?”
“It’s been kept a secret, and I expect it to remain so.”
“Why?”
“Obviously, Richard, I don’t want every Dick and Harry coming over to me, requesting to be sent back.”
Now that pleased Richard. At least he could retain some of his special fame. “But why did you permit Margaret to go?” Just admit it, God, Richard thought. You love my sister and she has you in her spell. He was going to take some amusement in this lowering of God.
But God conceded no such thing. “Look, Richard, I place you partly in blame. Would it really have been such a problem letting Margaret conduct some warfare? But I knew if I gave in to her on that I would have had a whole slew of your warriors snickering. So then when she complained that it wasn’t fair to allow you to go back to try to fix your reputation if she couldn’t repair hers . . . I gave in.”
“Wait a moment. What’s wrong with Mag’s reputation?”
“In a nutshell—she doesn’t have one. She’s kind of a nobody—definitely in the twenty-first century. She has come to realize that none of her modern friends in heaven recognize what she did, so if they don’t know, then of course, people don’t on the planet.”
“But she was the Duchess of Burgundy and—”
“Let’s not debate it ourselves. Just get her back. I want her here.”
“But couldn’t you just make it happen? I mean I got a lot going on.”
God took on an offended tone. “She should want to come back on her own, and I expect you to tell her that. I have made a nice little heaven here no matter what that Waleena Earnesteena says—”
“Who?”
“Oh, just some hoity-toity Goddess from another universe. Never mind about her. Just get your sister back. NOW.”
So, Richard guessed out of a sense of pride God wanted Mags to come back on her own accord but required some convincing from him. Lovely. Just lovely. As if his strong-minded sister listened to Richard about a damn thing. The problem with Mags was that although she had been raised by their formidable mother to be a proper lady, biddable and docile to her betters—meaning men, of course—Mags was too intelligent not to try to assert her opinion and will where she thought fit. She wasn’t some flighty wisp of a girl who could be simply commanded and told what to do—she much preferred explanations and reasoning. What an unfortunate bother.
Therefore, if Richard was going to do this—run around after Mags and potentially miss his club’s big event—he wanted to get something HUGE in return . . . that is, if possible. Richard bit his lip. Should he plead with God for what he wanted or point out why he deserved it or just demand it? Hmmm.
He went for a straight request. And to his pleasure and surprise God agreed. He couldn’t wait to tell his American cousins!
But first he was going to have a word with Teddie about delaying the battle as long as possible. The Intellectual Society of Warriors was his club, and Teddie better just keep that in mind.
Chapter Two
Estes Park
Colorado
Several Days Prior
Margaret looked up the long winding road that led to the large dwelling on the top of the mountain with a bit of trepidation. She had been so excited and proud of herself for convincing God to let her travel back to Earth. But now that the moment was actually here, and she was going to meet one of her American cousins for the first time, she was a bit scared. Perhaps she wouldn’t be welcome, though God’s assistant Herman had thought Cousin Ned was her best bet for a successful trip. Herman had prepared her as well as he could and assured her that he was not leaving anything out that he hadn’t told Dickie when her brother had first returned to Earth.
She looked down at the clothes she had chosen to wear. She had decided on God’s and her favorite outfit—following all the fashion tips from her heavenly hippie girlfriends. Her orange long-sleeved turtleneck clung to her figure while the purple belt kept her hip-hugging hot pink miniskirt in place. She loved her fishnet stockings and stylish boots. Apparently, the twenty-first century appreciated “retro” clothes. She hoped her cousin did, too. Of course, she had also packed a couple luxuriant gowns from her Burgundian times, though she hoped they weren’t too wrinkled in the bag she was carrying.
She took a deep breath and hiked to the entrance of the . . . cabin. Yes, cabin—that’s what Herman had called it. She stepped onto the porch and knocked on the front door. A moment later, an amiable, though serious appearing, tall man about her current age opened the door. Though Margaret had lived to age fifty-seven, she, like many heavenmates, went around in her favorite age—thirty-one-years old—not too innocent and not an old hag.
She held out her hand just as Herman had shown. “Ned? I’m Margaret of Burgundy—Dickie’s sister. But you can call me Mags.” She tried not to stare, but it was true what Dickie had once told her. Their American cousin Ned had a striking resemblance to their older brother Eddie.
Ned shook her hand but lost all color and just stood there gaping. Well, she guessed that could be expected. She continued. “I’ve come down from heaven for a little visit and was told that you could be of most help. I hope I’m not intruding.” She smiled.
Ned started shaking his head. “This can’t be. What do you mean Dickie’s sister?”
She puckered her brow slightly. “Richard Plantagenet, the former Duke of Gloucester who became King Richard III, better known as Dickie York here, is my brother. Aren’t you Ned York, our American cousin related in some distant way?”
He turned around into the cabin. “Linds, you better get over here.”
An attractive, slim woman appeared at the door.
Ned explained, “She says she’s Dickie’s sister, Margaret of Burgundy, come for a visit from, um . . . you know, up there.”
“OH. MY. GOD.” The woman bent over laughing, then turned back to Ned. “She looks just like her portraits, and she’s nearly six feet tall with fair coloring and grey eyes—just like they say she was.”
She then held out her hand to Mags. “Hi, Margaret. I’m Lindsey, Ned’s wife. Won’t you come in?”
Finally, some manners. Margaret entered and looked around as Ned told Lindsey that she preferred to be called Mags.
Lindsey kept talking. “You know, when Dickie first arrived here, I thought Ned was nuts for the longest time because he insisted Dickie was actually Richard III. I am not going to make that mistake again.” She smiled pleasantly.
Mags looked over at Ned. He still wasn’t completely convinced. He frowned. “But Dickie had always said that he was the only one who was ever permitted to travel back.”
“Well, God and I are especially close, and he allowed me to come, also.”
“But why?”
Mags gave the official answer, though she knew she also had her own personal reasons. “To fix my reputation—so that people from your century come to appreciate all I did for Burgundy and womenkind as much as my own century did.”
“Oh, she gave a good answer, Ned.” Lindsey nodded eagerly. “Bravo, Mags. Well said.”
But Ned started to grill her. “Who was your husband?”
“Duke Charles the Bold of Burgundy.”
“Who were you supposed to be betrothed to first?”
“Pedro of Aragon, but he passed away before we could get married. How do you know all this minute history?”
Lindsey answered, “I have a bachelors in history, but Ned is just a buff, especially about his own relatives. Let me take your bag. Have a seat. Would you like something to drink? Some lemonade?” She went into the kitchen.
“Yes, thank you.” Mags sat down in the nearest chair.
Ned had taken a seat in front of a—oh, that must be that thing to access the Internet that Herman had told her about. Yes, Mags was sure of it. He looked over at her again. “Where is your crown?”
“I gave it to the Cathedral of Aachen. Smart move on my part, I’d say, since the French continually tried to plunder Burgundy’s treasures.”
He looked over at his wife. “Hey, Linds. Did you know that it is one of only a couple surviving medieval English crowns? Apparently, it was part of a recent special exhibition.”
Lindsey raised her thumb and smiled. “Good move, Mags. And see? You’re not entirely unknown.” She walked over and gave Mags her drink.
Ned wasn’t done with his questioning though. So, Mags proceeded to explain in detail such things as how her father, the Duke of York, who had a legitimate claim to the English throne, had lost his life, rebelling against the crazy—literally—Lancastrian King of England, Henry VI, while Mags, only a frightened teenaged girl at the time and her mother, Cecily Neville, had stayed at Baynard Castle in London, and her brothers George and Richard had fled to Flanders for safety. Luckily, her older brother then succeeded in his rebellion and became King Edward IV and life took a good turn again. When he had married, Mags had taken her place as part of his wife’s ladies at court, and eventually she had been used to make a favorable alliance for England—namely becoming betrothed to the Duke of Burgundy and marrying in 1468. There was so much more to her story, but by then Lindsey had had enough.
“Ned, stop. She’s legit. I have a question, though. Who else realizes you’re here?”
“You are the first people I have met. God’s assistant Herman told me that you are the only ones on Earth who were informed of Dickie’s true identity as King Richard III—everyone else just thought he was their relative from England who came for a visit.”
Lindsey nodded. “That’s true.”
“And I have been forced into an agreement with God that if I try to divulge my true identity to anyone else other than you that I will be whisked away back to heaven without any further chance of remaining here.”
“Well, that sounds like a good idea to me.” Ned shook his head. “We don’t want to be known as the loony bin over here. Imagine what it would do to our kids.”
Mags looked around. “Where are they? I would love to meet them. I seem to have a special rapport with children though I never had any of my own.”
Lindsey sat down across from her. “Maggie and Richie are with my parents for the summer in England—a kind of special summer vacation. In fact, their cousin Georgie, Clarence’s son—Clarence is one of your other American cousins—has joined them. They’re all staying at my parent’s house where I grew up, though Georgie is not visiting as long and flying back sooner.”
Mags glanced into the kitchen area again. “Oh, is one of those machines a washing machine. I recently heard all about that wonderful invention.”
Lindsey got up with Mags and started showing her the various appliances. A dish washing machine, an oven, and a stove. Mags touched all of them, pushed buttons and turned knobs. “What a wonder. Though I had servants who did all the cooking, I can still appreciate the usefulness of these.” She glanced around again. “But none of these is a clothes washing machine?”
“It’s on the floor below. I can show that to you later.”
“Have you ever used it yourself, Lindsey?”
Lindsey scoffed, “Too much. It’s still the women of the household who do most of the cleaning, cooking and raising of the kids.”
Ned objected. “Hey! I try to do my part.”
Lindsey turned to him. “And just when did you do a load of the kids’ laundry last?”
“Well . . . let me see . . . there was once that day when—”
Lindsey turned back to Mags. “See? What did I tell you?”
Mags puckered her brow. “So, let me get this straight. Even after all the effort from modern women for equality, the work load is still unfair.”
Lindsey nodded. “If anything, things might even be worse for women than in some days prior. And scarcely any women are major political figures, even today.”
“Then building my reputation in the twenty-first century is even more important than I realized. Why, I could be a role model for these women. For them to see what is possible to accomplish and to show the way for little girls.”
Lindsey nodded eagerly.
Ned then spoke again, frowning. “While I am sure Lindsey and you would like nothing better than to discuss this at further length, I should warn you, Mags, about something. We actually live in Denver and just came for the weekend because my aunt Elle wanted to come for a visit to the family cabin here in Estes Park. See Estes Park is adjacent to Rocky Mountain National Park and everyone loves to get away here to relax—”
Just then there was a knock and the door pushed open. “Aunt Elle!” Ned gaped again.
An absolutely stunning woman walked in. “Hi, everyone. Weren’t you expecting me, Ned? You look surprised.” She walked over and gave Lindsey a hug and Ned a kiss. Just as Dickie had also said—this Aunt Elle had a striking resemblance to their great-something aunt, Eleanor of Aquitaine, Richard the Lion’s mother.
She then turned around. “Oh. I see you have a visitor.”
Ned found his voice. “Aunt Elle? This is Mags York, Dickie’s sister, who’s come for a visit. Uh, from England.”
Aunt Elle grinned. “Oh, how lovely. How is Dickie doing? We always miss him when he’s not around.”
Mags smiled. “Dickie’s doing well. Currently he’s been playing a lot of war games with some of his friends.”
“He is? I hope not with Henry Tudor.” Ned looked concerned.
Mags laughed. “Oh, surely not. Dickie won’t let him join in the fun.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.” Ned gave Lindsey a knowing look. Aunt Elle merely appeared puzzled.
Lindsey took over then. “So, Aunt Elle? Mags? Let’s get you both settled in rooms. Then why don’t we all go out for a bite to eat?”
“Oh, I really don’t think that’s a good idea, Linds.” Ned was giving her another concerned look.
Aunt Elle patted him on the back. “You know, Ned, I’m so glad your auntie Elle came for a visit just now. Would you like me to make some of your favorite shortbread cookies? You seem a little high strung—like when Dickie first came to stay. You shouldn’t worry so much about entertaining your guests. We’ll be just fine. But when was your last real vacation, Ned? Perhaps you could use a break from all that lawyering you’ve been doing.”
Ned just shook his head woefully again.
A couple days later, Lindsey and Ned had to depart for Denver due to work obligations—Lindsey’s clothing design company was apparently demanding, and Ned said he was taking on a big-name polluter. They could not convince Mags to come with them.
She was getting along famously with Aunt Elle. They both were active, smart, stylish women who actually had a l
ot in common. Both knew what it was like to have husbands who were never around due to their work, both had never had children of their own, but had made relatives feel like their own kids—Aunt Elle was especially close with her nephews, Clarence and Ned, and Margaret had raised her stepdaughter Marie and then her step-grandchildren. But also, as Aunt Elle had pointed out—what was Mags supposed to do all day in Denver with Lindsey and Ned working? Better she have some fun with Aunt Elle who had more time to devote currently to Mags and her vacation.
But before Lindsey and Ned had departed, Mags had asked if they could all go to church. They had taken her to the nearest Catholic services. What Mags found was certainly not what she had expected. The priest was performing the mass in an extremely blasphemous fashion—not even in Latin.
Yes, she had promoted reform—popes should not be fathering children! —but this was something else. The bible was in English and persons in the congregation were reading from the scriptures. She had quickly determined she would not attend such a heretical service again and had walked out indignantly.
Lindsey and Ned had smiled apologetically, even though it was not their fault. They had then promised they would be back the following weekend and to call for problems.
Lindsey, and especially Ned, were obviously uneasy about leaving her. But Mags could not imagine what was troubling them so—other than the incident at the house of worship, she was doing amazingly well, if she did say so herself.
She was luxuriating, actually, in all the modern comforts of living. Castles had been cold, cramped, dark affairs with scarcely any privacy. True, their cabin was small, but it was airy and light.
Windows in castles had been covered with painted glass or oiled paper and had been built narrow and small for defensive purposes, though they had been widened somewhat by her late medieval time. Ventilation could be poor. And even in the summer, the thick rock walls had let in little extra heat besides that provided by their fireplaces.
Oh, and the furniture in this cabin was so soft. Her furniture had been made of thick pieces of timber such as elm or oak, put together with iron nails and pegs. Yes, it had been decorated with carvings, gilding or paint and then expensive fabrics such as brocades or leather applied with an adhesive-like glue, but still . . . there was almost a decadence to the sumptuousness of these furnishings. And there were so many types of pieces to look at in just one room—not just her usual poster bed, trestle tables or built-in window seats.
