by Hall, Ian
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living, dead or undead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 Ian Hall. Hallanish Publishing, at Smashwords Inc.
ISBN; 9781301426485
All rights reserved, and the authors reserve the right to re-produce this book, or parts thereof, in any way whatsoever.
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A Connecticut Vampire in Queen Mary’s Court
By Ian Hall
Chapter 1 The Realization
Chapter 2 The Preparation
Chapter 3 The Final Training
Chapter 4 Date Unknown
Chapter 5 The Bloodless Coup
Chapter 6 To The North
Chapter 7 London Embraces a Queen
Chapter 8 The Spanish Inquisition
Chapter 9 To Exeter
Chapter 10 The Long way Back to London
Chapter 11 To the Tower
Chapter 12 Renard’s Mission
Chapter 13 Etienne Quiclet
Chapter 14 Once a Knight is Enough
Chapter 15 Watching the Anthill
Chapter 16 In Hiding
Chapter 17 In the Depths of Conspiracy
Chapter 18 The Long Road to London
Chapter 19 DEEP in Disguise
Chapter 20 Watching over a Princess
Chapter 21 Renard the Fox
Chapter 22 Hook, Line and Sinker
Chapter 23 Groundhog Day
Chapter 24 Edinburgh’s Delights
Chapter 25 Of Rhys and Abigail
Chapter 26 An Ally in the Field
Chapter 27 Consolidation, and Future Plans
Chapter 28 The Great Gold Robbery
Chapter 29 Up, Up and Away
Chapter 30 Back to Old Clothes
Chapter 31 A New Vampire Awakes
Chapter 32 The Beginning of the End… Again
Chapter 33 A Tragic Comedy
Chapter 1
Present Day
The Realization
Upon arriving home and turning on the television, it turned out I’d been gone for less than a single day; now that felt kinda hard to get my head around. I’d been in Tudor England for eleven months, and lived the life there; almost got used to it. I’d made a life for myself, fell completely in love, well, as far in love as a vampire can get.
Then I’d been unceremoniously kicked back to my own time, the image of Baron Exeter murdering my dearest Lady Jane burnt into my retinae.
At last I’d hit a shimmer too large to ignore, and the resultant repercussions in the timeline had knocked me back to Hartford, Connecticut; like I’d stretched my own elastic ties too far.
Damn the gods of time.
I sat in front of the 42-inch screen, letting Fox News drift over me, revenge burning in my mind, and trying really hard to cloud all my judgment.
With frustration and despair flooding over me in waves, I even got irritated that I’d found my house exactly as I’d left it; nothing upset, no accumulated dust, not even a buildup in mail.
But I knew with some gathering determination, I had to get back. I had my revenge to wreak, and I had a princess to save from the ravages of a foreign land.
So I took my nervous energy and I tried to channel it. My major flaw in being in 1501 had been my lack of knowledge about the time period. With determination I vowed it would never happen again.
Leaving the muted television in the living room, I ran to my bedroom computer and went on Wikipedia immediately, finding all I could about Prince Arthur’s death, but the dates only confirmed what I already knew; died 2nd April, 1502. Seemed I hadn’t changed history one iota.
Maybe I couldn’t. Maybe that’s what the shimmer had been; time reasserting itself, making good the bad I’d done. But then, I didn’t know it for a fact. I hadn’t been a student of history before, so perhaps I had changed history, I just didn’t know it.
I got back to Tudor research.
When he came of age, young Prince Henry married Catherine, as I’d thought. Online there were lots of stuff about that time period, but no mention of the Lady Jane.
I scanned the eBook shelves and found two definitive versions of Princess Catherine’s early days in England, one dry and daunting, one half true, half drama. I devoured each, only rising to feed from an unsuspecting local Connecticut neck.
I felt comfortable, safe. I knew the haunts; I felt in tune with the tempo of the action in my own time. I fed easily and quickly, discarding the husks without thought or consideration, no shimmer here.
Then back to the screen, determined to be the most learned person of those dates.
I soaked in every detail and pored over each page, taking notes as I went.
I ordered two more print books from Amazon, and one rare copy on eBay, of all places. I downloaded every episode of the Tudors from Netflix, and although I shook my head most of the time, some of the political machinations proved interesting.
Each book I ordered would contain much more detail than the eBooks, but I knew weeks would pass before they would arrive here in my hands.
A germ of a plan began to grow in my head, coalescing into something resembling concrete. I would duplicate the circumstances of my last time-travel, and go back again. With my new-found knowledge, I’d clean up the bad guys, execute my revenge, and save the world from the ravages of a tyrant of a King.
I felt Catherine of Aragon to be in my charge, under my care. If I couldn’t stop her disastrous marriage to King Henry, then perhaps I could be a comfort to her years between Arthur and Henry.
I had a plan.
Then the time came to ‘phone a friend’; an ally in getting back in time, a fellow vampire to help me spin fast enough.
Now, vampires don’t really have friends, per se. We have a hierarchy and live kind of in open communes. Luckily, my mafia boss always let me a little slack, and I needed it right now.
“Boss?”
“Yea, Dickey?” He always called me ‘Dickey’.
“Eh, I need a couple of weeks off, I’ve got a real good looker across in Providence, might take a couple of weeks to get it right.”
“Okay, Dickey. Whatever you think.”
Now for the big favor. “Can I borrow Frank?”
“Eh, sure, just don’t keep him too long.”
“I won’t.”
“I need him back for next month’s drive.”
“Gotcha. Thanks, Boss.”
I flipped the phone closed, then open again and dialed. “Frank?”
“That’s my name.” He seemed preoccupied.
“Eh, can we meet for a drink? Or you come over or something?”
Well, we met at Swingers; seems Frank had his eye on a margarita or six.
It took about an hour to convince him I wasn’t just shooting him a line, but eventually, he started to believe me. Yes, Frank, I’d been back in time to 1501.
“So what you want me to do about it?” he asked, his delivery all New York hard-man.
“Well, once I’ve done my research, I want you to spin with me like Fallon did
, and send me back again.”
“And revenge for this broad’s worth it?”
“And more.”
“Damn.” And blow me down with a feather if he didn’t look jealous.
“So what happens to me?”
Ah. He had to ask the difficult question. “Well, you end up back in time, too. That’s why I picked you.”
He immediately shook his head. “Sorry, Buddy. You’re up a gum tree on this one. I’m not giving up my life here for your fantasy. I don’t care if you go all Edgar Rice Burroughs on me.”
I looked at him askance. “Tarzan?”
“No, you ass; John Carter. Oh, what the fuck, do you know nothing? The answer is still no.”
And I sat back in the restaurant booth, the wind kicked out of me. Like Obi Wan Kenobi, he’d been my only hope.
So we shared the rest of the pitcher of margaritas, and he went on his way.
No chance of time-travel, no buddy to help get me there, and no real plan.
Damn if I didn’t feel totally shit out of luck; SOL big time.
But, of course, after getting home, and thinking the whole ‘plan’ over again, I had asked a lot of Frank… come back in time with me, help me kill a few bad guys, then sit around for five hundred years to read tomorrow’s newspapers.
The history books came ten days later, and I devoured them in hours. I felt the absolute world champion in my specialist subject; the early life of Catherine of Aragon. And blow me down if I didn’t actually find a mention or two of Lady Jane Winterbrooke; ‘Lady in waiting to Princess Catherine in her early years’. It felt like looking back on old friends. Sir Gruffydd Rhys got mentioned, although his family didn’t do well under the new King Henry. Old Thomas Linacre, the Prince’s main tutor, well he never got a single mention after Arthur’s death, not one.
Then, in the middle of researching early Tudor England, the solution hit me.
If I couldn’t find a friendly vampire to help me, then I’d find a person who’d help, who I could turn into a vampire.
I felt inspired.
I paced around the house in awe of my genius.
But where would I find a person who’d throw his life away to go back in time to the Renaissance?
The answer proved easier than anything.
Renfest; Renaissance Festivals.
Since there seemed to be no local fairs on that weekend, I spent a day and a half on Facebook, befriending Rennies until I thought my head would burst. Then I started up conversations with everyone who would reply to me.
After just one day, I’d narrowed it down to three.
Three worthless idiots who’d admitted on more than one occasion that they’d give ‘anything’ to go back to the ‘old days’.
Little did Steven from Danbury, just down the road, realize I’d be on his doorstep the next morning.
Steven Fraser looked like a cross between a bar bouncer and a blacksmith. Short-cropped black hair, kind of chubby features, and six-foot-three in his socks. Perfect if he ever hooked up with me in 1502, as he’d be a great servant/bodyguard. He’d done most of the self-defense classes, and called himself a dyed-in-the-wool renaissance nutcase.
He’d also been done bad by his last wife, who’d gone all Godzilla on his ass and left him pretty much broke, almost homeless, and in a bad state emotionally.
It didn’t take any persuasion from me to get him to want to leave this life behind for a new start. He almost begged me.
We sat in his untidy one-room apartment, and slowly I got around to the plan.
That’s kinda where he lost his self-composure and laughed a little.
“So you say you’ve been back in time?” He grinned.
“Yes.” I decided to keep my answers short, play him like a fish.
“To 1501?”
“And 1502. I didn’t leave until May the next year.”
He sat for a moment, leaning back in his old, grubby recliner. “So you’ve got a machine?”
“Well, actually, no,” I said, leaning forward, hands clasped, trying to look as normal as a time-travelling vampire could be.
“So how’d you travel back?” He looked inquisitive; at least he hadn’t dismissed me out of hand.
“Well, you see, you’ll have to give me a bit of rope here, ‘cause I’m going out on a limb.”
He laughed, his shoulders pumping in rhythm. “You’re telling me you’re a time traveler, and you’re obviously looking for a companion, and now you’re looking for more rope?”
I joined in his mirth for a second, then gave him a serious face. “I’m also a vampire.”
Now, I expected, “Oh, and I’m Iron Man” or something, but give Steve Fraser his due, he just looked at me kinda queer, his eyebrows clouding over his eyes. “Prove it.”
“Hmm, okay.” So I shot from my chair, vampire fast, and stopped an eyelash away from his face, flashed him a very sharp-toothed vampire grin, and flashed back to my chair.
It achieved the desired response. He looked fucking terrified.
“Prove it again,” he said slowly.
So I ran out into his bathroom and back, so technically, to him, I’d just vanished for about five seconds.
“Shit.” He hadn’t moved a muscle. I watched as he swallowed slowly. “So you’re a vampire.”
I nodded. “Yup.”
“Fangs?” he asked. I nodded, flashing my extended canines, the sharp tips snapping into place. “Eternal life?” I nodded. “Neck biting, blood drinking?” I nodded.
He sat very quietly for a moment.
“You gonna kill me?”
I grinned, hopefully in a nonthreatening way. “Nope, I’m not going to kill you.”
He didn’t relax any. “So why are you here?”
“Okay, hear me out,” I began. “Last time I travelled back in time, the only time, I had a vampire assistant. Well, to be honest, we were actually fighting each other. And we got to spinning, and I’m talking about spinning real fast, really fucking unbelievably fast. The spin got us back in time, I’m pretty certain.”
“You both went back?”
“Yup. As far as I know he’s still there.”
“That’s awesome!” Then he seemed to step back a little. “And a little gross, too. You know, the vampire drinking blood thing.”
I nodded. “You get used to it. The benefits of the package outweigh the blood drinking bit. And to be honest, even the blood drinking bit is fantastic if you’re having sex at the same time.”
He wrinkled his nose up. “You’re not, you know, gay or something?”
“No!” I laughed. “In fact, the main reason I’m going back is to kill the guy who killed my girl back there.”
“Ah, revenge, huh?”
“We were enemies here, in Connecticut, and turned out he still held a grudge five hundred years ago, too. Bastard.”
He seemed to sit further back in his recliner. “So to recap, if I get on board with this, you’ll make me a vampire, and we’ll try to go back in time to the days of King Henry the Eighth?”
“Technically, Henry the Seventh. Young Prince Henry’s only ten years old right now.”
I had to wonder at his sense of reason. Considering what I’d just told him, most guys would have been running for the hills by now. Mentally I patted my back for my first choice of companion.
“So what’s the plan?”
Wow, that had been quick. “Okay, Steve. First I’m asking if you’re in?”
He seemed to take a big swallow, then leant forward in his rocking chair, holding his hand out. The living room proved so small we could shake hands without even getting up out of our chairs. “I’m in.”
We both leant back again, his eyes never leaving mine. “So what’s the plan?”
“Okay.” Shit, I’d not really gotten this far. “First I need to turn you, and that’ll take a day or so. Then you’ve got to be trained, this vampire stuff takes a wee bit of getting used to, and if you’ve got the right guy to help, it’s a lot eas
ier.”
“Did you travel naked? You know, like Terminator?” Steve asked.
“No, I arrived there in the clothes I had on. I only came back naked because I’d been tied up that way.”
“So we need renaissance kit before we start,” he said. “The whole kit and caboodle. Weapons, the best of stuff. Not Renfest stuff. We need proper fighting gear.” He pointed to a couple of swords in the corner. “The stuff I have right now is just for decoration.”
“You know where to get this?” I felt good knowing he could think outside the box; that would prove helpful later on, or earlier in time… oh, forget it.
“Oh, you get it at Renfests, but you have to know the right booths. It’s also pretty costly.”
“Money’s no object,” I said. “One of the perks of being vampire; you can be as rich as you want to be.”
“Oh, fuck. I can’t wait.”
I looked at my new partner. “What else do we need?”
“When do you plan to try this?”
“Your training will take a week or so, I’m thinking two weeks until we go.”
“So we need to read all the stuff we can. Renaissance history, time travel books, maybe even learn Latin.”
“Learn Latin?” I stood, flabbergasted.
“Yeah, you know, Rosetta Stone or something.”
Well, he did have a point. “How about Spanish? That way we could talk to the Princess. Get on her team. I mean, she’ll be Queen one day.”
“Yeah,” Steve said. “And Queen for a while too, she reigned for twenty-odd years.”
“Yes, she did.” I nodded, pleased in his general knowledge.
“Not that she seems to have been a good looker…” then he stopped. “You saw her! What did she look like as a teenager?”
I grinned. “She actually isn’t bad looking.”
Well, my expression must have given something away, because his brows knit together, frowning slightly. “You had sex with her!” And of course, unprepared for his keen insight, I probably reddened up a bit. “You had sex with Catherine of Aragon!” He shot to his feet, his eyes burning with excitement. “Oh fuck, I am so in on this!”
