“I’ve ridden with Fulke. He travels light and fast. He’ll bring extra mounts so he can change horses and limit his rest time,” Alex said. “We’ll need every minute of a week’s start to stay ahead of him.”
“I understand. I just didn’t anticipate all this happening so quickly.”
Shakira tried to act calm and unruffled but he saw the fear in her eyes.
"Don’t think about the timeframe right now. Let's go over what we remember about the day we were caught in the time warp or portal, whatever."
“Again?”
“Yes, something triggered the portal. We’ve missed a clue.”
"Maybe," she said.
"There's the outcropping, though I can't imagine what properties the rock contains that sent us here." Alex tried to think of some means a slab of granite might be the source. Nothing came to him. It had to be something else. "The weather was sunny by us except for the brief lightning storm."
"Don't forget the charge in the air," she reminded him.
"Okay, so we've got rock, static electricity, flashes of lightning, but otherwise sun."
"And the bizarre red sky."
"I don’t recall the color of the sky."
"I pointed out the weirdness, but you didn’t pay attention," she said.
"I was preoccupied as I recall."
"It’s probably a non issue anyway. The color returned to blue after a few minutes."
They drank in silence for awhile.
He gave a heavy sigh. "I’m at a complete loss. After you’re dressed we’ll go there. Maybe something will come to us, one viable theory.”
If nothing changed, he had a lot to get done within the next few weeks to prepare for the worst. He needed to check out an old family holding in Wales, near Portmeirion, a gift from Edward the First to his grandfather. Well situated, close to the Irish Sea, his father saw the property years ago and pronounced it a good piece of land--workable. That's what they’d do, work the land and raise sheep. He’d hide his family from the English court. My family. He smiled, liking the sound of it. Once, the idea held no appeal. When had things changed?
He gazed over at his wife. My wife. She sipped her wine and stared up at him, doe eyed. He should tell her about his contingency plan. Those long legs crossed and exposed flesh all the way to the dark patch between them. Later.
***
Disheartened by another failed attempt, Alex enjoyed a moment’s reprieve from the disappointment. He relaxed in the saddle admiring Shakira. The hood of her cloak thrown back she continued to surround the granite adversary. Late morning fog clung to the ground, resistant to the sun's attempt to dispel it. The bluish-white mist swirled around the bottom of her skirts. He didn't believe in faeries, or witches, or goddesses come to earth. He did believe the woman in front of him was the closest he'd ever get to an ethereal being.
"I swear if I circle this boulder one more time, I'll turn to butter," she said.
With a mighty growl, she threw her hands up and shook her fists. She cursed, beating the rock with flat palms, time and time again.
"I give up."
He dismounted and joined her. "The answer's here, Rocky--has to be." Alex stood motionless as a statue. Hands clasped behind his back, he faced the stone as if willing it to open up like a fortune cookie. "I hate this. I hate being in the dark, stymied. Why couldn't I have been a scientist, instead of a music producer?"
Shakira removed her leather gloves and rubbed his shoulders, pressing deep with her thumbs. "Stop. This isn’t your fault. I don't know if scientists are any better informed than we are. If they knew how time portals worked, this spot would’ve been sealed off years ago. This is probably some weird convection of elements."
He dropped his chin so she could massage the stiffness from his neck.
"I’m still not convinced the weather didn’t play a role. You said lightning storms didn’t hit this area," Shakira said.
"I said lightning storms are rare, not that they never occur. Nor have I ever heard of folks disappearing after one."
"The fact you never heard of it happening doesn’t mean it hasn’t. Strangers might’ve gone missing a bunch of times without you knowing. Others stuck like us, people from the future even."
"Sure, and maybe Merlin wasn’t really a wizard. Maybe he was an astronaut. When he couldn’t find the passage home either, he painted himself blue and thought he’d go with the flow."
"You’re a medieval laugh factory. If we ever get back, perhaps you should look into a stand-up routine."
"I’ll take the suggestion under consideration,” he said. “Humor and previous victims aside, there has to be another part of the equation we haven't figured out."
A groan of ecstasy left his lips as she rolled the pad of a thumb over the golf-ball sized tension knot at the base of his skull. "Right there, God that feels good."
The breeze kicked up a mini tornado of red and orange leaves. October's weather hadn't been bad, a couple of weeks with blustery days, that carried the hint of a chill in the air. November, on the other hand, roared in with a biting wind, a precursor to the nasty winter ahead. The last winter of his old life. The thought flared and quickly extinguished. He'd no desire to dwell on the ancient memory.
“Let’s leave some small item.” Shakira stopped massaging and trudged to a spot by the stone. “Here, where we kissed. If it disappears, we know the portal still opens. I mean, this is a horrible possibility, but what if it can’t be opened for decades or more. For all we know, the phenomena may only occur every few hundred years, like eclipses or comets.”
"Cheerful thought," Alex said, mourning the loss of her ministrations.
A search of his saddlebag turned up nothing useful to leave. The item couldn’t be too valuable or it might get stolen, or anything perishable, or so lightweight it would blow away.
One of his gauntlets slid from under his baldric onto the ground. Meticulous about equipment, his gear never came loose or undone. Alex took the errant glove as a sign.
"I'll leave my gauntlet. Only the one, though."
"One? Oh, I see. If someone stumbles onto the rock, they won't bother with a single glove, but would steal a pair."
"There aren't many travelers on this road during the winter. No point in taking a chance though, besides only one glove fell from my belt. I think it’s an omen."
"Ah, the real reason comes out, you’re superstitious. I’d never have guessed."
"I'm not superstitious-superstitious, you know, black cats, spilled salt, that nonsense," he clarified. "But with what’s happened to us, I'm inclined to think it's not all woo-woo."
Alex nestled the leather and metal glove down into the crevice between the rock and the ground. "The silver color will blend with the stone."
Shadows were already lengthening and the temperature fell. Dusk came early now. They mounted and started back to the holding at a comfortable pace.
"I'm going to Wales at the end of the month. Important business demands my attention." He dropped the bomb of information and braced. "I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fight me on this. I wouldn’t go unless absolutely necessary."
"I won’t argue. There’s no point, I know it won’t make a difference. But do you have to leave so soon?" She pulled the hood of her cloak up and gave the top an extra tug obscuring her face in the dark recesses of the wool wrap.
"Yes, if I want to beat the snow. Parts of the country I'll travel to get their first winter storms early."
"So little time left."
"Pardon?"
"I just said we have so little daylight left."
"We’ve enough time to make a detour and go back by way of the village with a stop at the apothecary."
Every day they remained stuck in time, their disappointment became more entrenched. Today was no exception. Alex figured the detour might cheer Shakira.
"If you don’t mind, I'd rather go straight home."
How unlike her. She’d always enjoyed the diversion the boring hamle
t offered and never passed on an opportunity to visit. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Want to stop at the tavern for ale?"
"No."
"Rocky, is something wrong? Is it my trip to Wales?"
"No."
"What, then?"
"Nothing's wrong, I just don't need anything from the village," she said softly, brushing imaginary dirt from her cloak.
Whatever troubled her, she clearly didn’t want to discuss it. Against his better judgment, he dropped the subject.
Chapter Forty-One
“Again,” Shakira said.
Alex’s warm lips trailed along the nape of her neck a second time. "You smell of lavender," he said and smoothed her hair over the places he kissed.
"One of the bars of soap Madeline gave me for a wedding gift has lavender."
He peered over her shoulder. "What are you working on?"
"Stephen wants to sing a couple of songs from my homeland at your birthday banquet."
Alex stared down at the list she compiled and snorted. "What a coincidence. A few years back, some English lads had a popular song called I Want to Hold Your Hand. It was especially big in Liverpool. I understand it made a hit in the New World too, or what will be the New World. Who’d have thought medieval Lapland, had a song by the same title?" His shoulders shook with laughter as he mocked her.
Shakira tried to give him her iciest stare but couldn't maintain a serious face. She turned back to her work. "You’re not helping at all, go away," she said, crossing a few more songs from her list.
"There are a million tunes to choose from. Why is your list so short?"
She welcomed a brief respite from her task and put the quill down. When Stephen first suggested singing a Lapland tune, she quickly agreed, thinking, piece of cake. She knew a ton of contemporary songs. Wrong. The songs she thought she knew the lyrics to weren’t so many after all. To her frustration, she found she knew some lyrics to lots of songs but all the lyrics to only a few songs. Her vexation didn’t end there. Most of the songs she recalled all the words to spoke of people, places, or things which would probably get her burned at the stake, or clapped in irons, or both.
"Ugh. I can think of a bazillion songs, but I'm limited to ones that don’t mention planes, trains, cars, radios, TV’s, heaven, hell, God, the Devil, angels, magic, especially magic, kings, queens, princes, or plastic. That eliminates a boatload, and I only have a few days to choose and rehearse."
Alex sat on the edge of the desk and read the titles over. "Are there any you’re leaning toward?"
Shakira tapped her finger to a song name on the vellum. “Tusk, the old Fleetwood Mac song."
"Tusk?"
"It’s a wonderful choice for the limited instruments at my disposal. There’s a huge drum section. I got drums. There’s a big brass section. I got those long, here comes the king trumpets. Instead of guitars, I can substitute lutes and a couple of harps. Granted, the lutes don’t have the depth or range of guitars, but they’ll do."
"I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings darling, but Tusk lyrics include the words phone and throne."
"I know, but those are the only two words that need changing, which is an easy fix."
"What’s your second song?"
"I haven’t decided. Stephen wants something romantic."
"He would." Alex bent and kissed her forehead. "I’ll leave you to it."
***
Stephan’s request for a song from Lapland had inadvertently given Shakira the special gift she wanted for Alex’s birthday. She’d racked her brain trying to come up with something that would always remind him of her. The musical celebration was the answer, the means to make this birthday unique. If they wound up separated, and she slipped from his thoughts over time, she owned this night in his memory. From now on, whenever his birthday rolled around he’d think of her again. She wanted to believe some tiny part of her would be with him because he would never be far from her mind.
In the center of the hall, Shakira raised a featherless arrow shaft-cum-baton and smiled at Alex over her shoulder. When he hushed the knights sitting at the main table, the other tables quieted also. The crowd turned their attention to the modest orchestra.
In the middle of the semi-circle of musicians, Shakira bounced on the balls of her feet and pointed to the different sections. "Ready?"
She opened with Tusk. She let the song build, first with one drum, then a harp, a second drum joined the first and then Stephen broke in with his strong voice. The opening lyrics were the bottom of his range, but he managed. As he started the chorus, another harp and the lutes added their richness. The drummers stepped forward for a short solo followed by the incredible long trumpets. The trumpeters continued while the other drums came to the front and the two groups had a piece of the song to themselves.
All week the ensemble had rehearsed in a vacant, ramshackle wooden barn. Now, the brass and percussion reverberated off the stone walls, the sound of each section made bigger, grander. The magnified strength of their timbre transformed the hall into an immense echo chamber. The Handel’s Queen of Sheba’s trumpet announcement into Jerusalem had nothing on this band. Caught up in the music, Shakira swayed, and hummed along, and almost forgot she was maestro.
Stephen closed his eyes, his head bobbed to the beat and the lyrics flowed. Line-by-line, he captivated the listeners. Shakira pointed, cymbals crashed, and his eyes flew open. "Tusk!" The word exploded from Stephen and the drummers.
The cymbals eased. Stephen gentled his voice mastering the mild vibrato of the last couple of stanzas, just like in the original version.
When they finished, everyone cheered, servants, knights, maids, wives, and most of all Alex.
"You guys rock," Shakira said, forgetting time and place.
Stephen looked puzzled. "Rocks? I doubt they will throw anything. I believe the crowd liked us, milady."
"Pardon?" she asked before she made the connection and added, laughing at herself, "You’re right, of course." She turned to the others. "That was wonderful. You all were wonderful."
Smiles replaced their confused expressions. Shakira lifted her arrow. "Ready for the next?"
No long trumpets for Stephen’s love song. The soft strings of the lutes gentled the richness of the harps. A single flutist added a haunting undertone. Stephen worked the room. No fool, he started with the table where the most unmarried ladies sat. His song choice, The Way You Look Tonight. He touched a pink cheek here and there. He brought dainty fingers to his lips as he sang about a cold world and the glow he’d feel thinking of them and the way they looked tonight. The ladies at each table, fat, thin, married, and unmarried, pressed forward when he approached.
Shakira chose Unchained Melody as his final solo song. She and Alex exchanged private smiles as the song started, both remembering the night they danced to it.
When Stephen sang opening bars about hungering for his darling’s touch, the ladies didn’t press forward, they surged. When he sang “wait for me,” they reached for him, wanting to touch him, like modern girls do rock stars. He needed more hands and more lyrics.
She closed with a rousing version of the Queen song, We Will Rock You. She’d seen the effect on a crowd while visiting Chicago. Friends had taken her to a Bears game. The stadium played the song when the team scored. The fans loved it. They stomped, clapped, raised fists to the air and sang along. It was great. And—this crowd was no different.
Chapter Forty-Two
Alex shut the door to their chamber.
"Happy birthday." A still exhilarated Shakira clutched something behind her back.
"What, no birthday kiss?" Alex made a fast grab for her, but she danced out of his reach.
"Not yet, although I'm sure that-" she winked and ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, "-and more will be forthcoming."
In the beginning, all it took was the right encouragement from Alex to break through her reserved exterior. Below the surface lay an earthy, bold creature
whose vocabulary was now peppered with steamy, evocative words. Every carnal bead of sweat, every hungry whimper, and every breathy cry of release belonged to him.
His gaze lingered on her mouth. "Lick your lips like that again and things will be forthcoming faster than you plan."
"What an interesting threat. Now, I'm in a quandary." She tipped her head side-to-side. "Gift or challenge? What to do? What to do? Gift I guess."
She brought the hidden present from behind her and draped the hanging of his family’s heraldic symbol across her forearms. "I sewed it myself. Well, most of it. The silk swan plagued me so the seamstress helped."
Alex took the vermilion velvet square from her and held it up. On the plush side, she'd appliquéd a swan and stuffed it with batting. The reverse side was plain grey silk. Knots of silver cord formed loops across the top for a rod.
"I’ll understand if you don't like it. I’ve never sewn before." The disclaimer came out in a rush of words. "I didn't know what you’d want that was in my power to give. Since you hesitate to bring anything from this time back, I thought you might take this. The hanging’s loss has no affect here."
"Rocky--"
"Of course, you're not obligated to, I--I thought you might want some kind of reminder of...well...a reminder."
He couldn't swear to it, but he had the feeling she was trying not to cry.
He laid the piece on the table. Above the swan, Fortiter et Fideliter was embroidered in the same grey as the reverse side. The stitches weren't the straightest and few were uniform. His mother would've made Madeline yank them out and start over. None of that mattered.
"Rocky." He drew her into his arms and held her tight around the waist. "It's extraordinary. There isn't anything I'd rather have other than the obvious trip home for us.”
He kissed her and then unlocked the trunk with their modern clothes, his wallet, and their watches. "You know, after the first few days I no longer missed most of this," he said, examining the contents.
"I miss some conveniences of course, but not as many as I expected,” Shakira said. “What about you? What do you miss?"
Journey in Time (Knights in Time) Page 21
