"I appreciate the explanation,” Shakira said. “Back on topic, what might cause the time portal to open?"
"Again, this is conjecture, a best guess for a fictional story. I’d use the lightning you described, suggest some scientific anomaly occurred. A number of scientists are currently investigating what they refer to as, ‘Super Lightning.’” Perhaps an electrical charge from the power surge of the lightning triggered a change in a nearby magnetic field. Since we’re speaking of theory only, maybe this outcropping is the source of such a field."
"The lightning never touched the ground, although we felt some of the effects and--"
Gordon’s brows lifted a notch. "We?"
"Pardon?"
"You said ‘we’."
"Did I?" She faked a silly me smile. "I meant they of course. You know how it is with writers. Their characters become real after awhile."
"If you say so, please, go on."
"The bolts never struck the outcropping either,” Shakira clarified. The magnetic field idea held promise, remote as the chance might be. She'd love to cling to the ray of hope, but she had to make clear the circumstances so Gordon based his speculation on accurate details.
He waved away her comment. "Doesn’t matter, the power spike is atmospheric."
"You’re saying if weather conditions are right the portal might open again?"
"Why not? I must say, your enthusiasm over a hypothetical amuses me, Miss Constantine. If only all of my students were so inclined."
"Dr. Gordon, you will never find a more interested pupil, trust me. We won’t take anymore of your time." Everyone stood, including Gordon. Shakira extended her hand. "Thank you. You’ve been an enormous help."
"My pleasure. Time travel is one of the more enjoyable subjects on which my colleagues and I like to offer endless opinions."
"Oh, Miss Constantine..." Gordon said as she started out of his office.
"Yes?"
"Your hero is the one stuck back in time isn't he?"
"You mean in my story. Yes, yes he is."
"I'd love to interview him."
"Pardon?"
"I'd like to talk to him."
"Talk to him?"
"Do you think you might have a theoretical physicist, like me, interview him after he returns? I’d love the opportunity and could lend a spot of color to the story. I’d be a great source for technical advice for the scene."
"I'll certainly consider it."
Interview Alex? Fat chance.
Chapter Fifty
"Hi," Shakira called out.
"Hi," Miranda closed the door and came into the kitchen. "Why aren't you at work?"
"I asked for the week off, but I might take two. I have a plan and I want to be available, in case Alex returns."
Miranda glanced at the stack of brass colored tubes lying on the table. "What’s all this?"
"I'm sending Alex a message, several actually, in these cigar holders. They're the perfect size and they’re metal, obviously, I can't use plastic.
"I got this idea the day we left Dr. Gordon’s office. I drove all over London and bought the bits and bobs I needed and a couple of dozen of these." Shakira picked up one of the tubes. "I'm ready to put the plan into action."
"And, your plan is--"
"Damn good--if I say so myself. I wrote the weather theory on individual sheets of parchment from an antiquarian paper shop, should someone other than Alex finds a cylinder. Hopefully, he’ll be the one to discover them. I signed the messages Rocky, that way he'd know they’re legitimately from me and put a copy in each holder. I’m securing them with red sealing wax." She pointed to the oval impression of an SCG. "I used my initials on the outside so if he found one he’d open it right away."
"I imagine he'd do that out of curiosity with or without the initials and who's Rocky?" Miranda took the case from Shakira and examined it.
"Me. It was Alex’s affectionate term for me."
"How are you going to get these to him?"
"Today's sunny, no clouds, no chance of lightning. I also double-checked with the National Weather Service. I'm going to place these at the base of the outcropping."
Miranda’s jaw dropped open. “You’re doing what? Are you mad? You’re going to fiddle around near that portal? You’re insane.”
“Do give me some credit. I’m not getting that close. Before the shift occurred, I saw Stephen out of the corner of my eye. The portal didn’t take him. I figure I’ll stand by the shrubbery where he was and toss the cylinders from there.”
She picked up another cigar tube and dripped a dollop of wax on it. “Alex has to return to the outcropping. After reading my message, sooner or later, a storm is bound to roll through and he’ll know what to do."
"What if this time doorway opens while you're lobbing your little message cartridges? Because this fickle portal didn’t take Stephen doesn’t mean where he stood is safe."
"It won't open. I told you, the weather isn't conducive to the portal's opening."
Miranda didn't appear at all convinced. "Right. And I'm here...because?"
"Moral support. You’re my best friend and best friends give each other moral support." A sour, just sucked a lemon grimace spread across Miranda's face. "What's wrong?"
"I'm wondering what Ian will do if he finds out I went with you to this possible magnetic field, slash, transport spot."
"Ian's a worry wart. It's not like I'm asking you to go back in time with me."
"He's not alone in the worry department. I'm not certain this portal is triggered by meteorological activity alone."
"Fine, then I'll go by myself."
"I didn't say I wouldn't go. But I'm not getting anywhere near that rock. I'll hang way back from you and watch. Someone needs to be a witness if you vaporize to the middle ages."
She stood and gave Miranda a big hug. "I knew you'd come. It'll be our secret. Ian will never know." Shakira let go and asked, “Speaking of Ian, why didn’t you tell me about your—history, your life with him—going way back?”
“History?”
“Don’t be coy. You know what I mean.”
“Ian asked me not to. Other than us two, only Alex knew, obviously. Would you’ve believed me if I had?”
“Awhile ago, no,” Shakira admitted. “I’m curious. Ian was Basil, who were you?”
“Her name was Elinor, but my memory of myself as her is vague, sort of dreamlike. I didn’t consciously recall my time as Elinor until I met Ian.”
“I have another question since the past is in the open now. Alex has a recurring nightmare about a real event. When he was Guy, and a ghost, he tried to warn a woman of danger, but she couldn’t see or hear him. I don’t understand how Basil was able to be seen and heard by Elinor but Guy wasn’t.”
“Ian told me after a long time, centuries, they discovered they had the ability to manifest themselves for short spaces of time. My guess is, whenever this event happened, it predated the timeframe they learned to interact with mortals. You should ask Ian for a better explanation.”
“A pity they didn’t find out sooner. The event tortures Alex although he hasn’t had the dream since we married,” Shakira said, perking up.
She gathered the tubes and put them into a bag careful not to damage the seals.
***
“What are you doing?” Shakira asked as Miranda huddled thirty feet away behind an ancient oak tree.
“Your granite time machine seems to prefer people and horses, not trees. I’m staying here.”
“Fine.” Shakira stood on the spot she estimated she last saw Stephen and began tossing the cylinders toward the outcropping.
The first two she threw overhand. Pitching wasn’t her forte. Neither landed anywhere near the outcropping. She had no idea where they wound up. She tried the next two underhand. Both struck the rock hard and bounced off into the foliage bordering the far path. The last two she threw with less force. They hit the rock too and ricocheted in different directions.
/> “Damn,” she sighed and joined Miranda.
“Well?”
“They all went wildly off into the bushes and shrubs. But, I think a couple landed close enough for Alex to still find one. I'm excited. When he does, he'll know I'm safe, and I'm doing everything I can to get him home."
"Well, he'll know you're safe. As to the rest—" Miranda shrugged. "For your sake, I hope he believes that. Alex being Alex, I'm not sure that's how he'll see things."
"Why not? Ian would believe you if our situations were reversed."
"Yes, but as much as Ian and Alex are very similar in some ways, they're also very different in others. Ian learned a few hard lessons, especially where the two of us are concerned. Now, at least he tries not to jump to conclusions. Alex has a sharper edge to his personality, not to mention a quick fire temper. He might assume the worst. He might doubt the sincerity of your intentions after you ran off and disappeared."
"I made my reasons clear in the letter to him."
"Clear to you, but perception is unique to the individual observer. Look, I'm not saying this to depress you. I hope I'm wrong. I just think you need to prepare yourself for the unexpected.”
"He won’t," Shakira argued, "he can't."
Chapter Fifty-One
Alex tossed the dented brass tube on the mantel. The cylinder rolled into the shelf’s crevice with a soft clink. Simon had found it while their party hunted boar. The cylinder glinted from beneath the leaves a few yards from the outcropping.
Simon took it from the mantel. He ran a finger over the chipped wax, then held it to his ear and gently shook the tube.
There was a soft tap from the movement. “Don’t you think you should see what’s inside? Sounds like a note.”
"I couldn't give a damn what's inside," Alex said dully and filled a goblet with wine. Other than the clergy, few people in the area were literate. "It’s probably a missive to one of the brothers at the abbey, dropped by the messenger. What do I care for their religious ramblings?"
The knight persisted. "You can’t be sure until you open it." Simon continued to muse over the cylinders, oblivious to his lord's black mood, a chronic state since Shakira's disappearance. "The insignia in the wax seal, I showed it to Richard. He said the letters are difficult to determine but it looks like OG but refused to break the seal. He said if you wished it examined, you’d do so."
"Christ, can you not leave me in peace?" The goblet hit the table with a heavy thud. "If you're so bloody interested, take it, read it, throw it into the garderobe, piss on it for all I give a damn."
"I meant no offense," Simon said. "You know I do not know my letters.” He looked from the cylinder to Alex. “Strange these tokens appeared mysteriously so close to where your lady disappeared as mysteriously."
Alex said nothing. He'd heard the quiet mutterings in the corridors when people thought he was out of earshot. Men she'd done no harm to whispered of witchery. At first, he considered forbidding their superstitious preoccupation. What was the point? What could he tell them, the truth?
What they say, what they suspect, didn’t matter. In a day he'd leave, ride off to live in hiding. The secret of the time portal his sole focus.
"I have no wife. I married a woman who needed my protection but does no longer. Which is fine, I never needed a wife."
Alex grabbed the cylinder from Simon and rubbed a finger across the seal as he examined the holder. The length and width reminded him of expensive modern cigar holders. How he’d love to have a brandy and good cigar, right now. For a fleeting moment, he saw himself sitting in his cottage with Shakira, the two of them sipping a Courvoisier and chatting. His expression softened and he allowed himself to relax and think of her without bitterness. Shakira--smart as a whip barrister, sexy rock and roller, the only woman I gave my heart to. The woman I miss every minute of every day.
A vision of her drifted into his thoughts and he wondered what she was doing. It's midday, here at Elysian Fields, are you at lunch there in London? Or, are you at your desk working? Do you ever wonder what I'm doing? Have you gone back to your maiden name? Or do you still think of yourself as a Guiscard? The initials blurred under his hard scrutiny. Harsh resentment returned and he handed the cylinder back to Simon.
“I’d like to be alone now,” Alex said and went to the window. He unhooked the iron latch, pushed the window open and breathed in the crisp air. He tried not to think of Shakira as she looked the last time he saw her in the same spot, her hair tousled by the breeze as she waved goodbye.
Simon mumbled something about the strange cylinder as he closed the door behind him.
The bailey bustled. A puff of steam hung in the air and dissipated almost immediately as the cooper’s wife blew on her hands. Tradesmen labored to prepare the garrison for the upcoming campaign. Their activities added to the usual routine. Most of his knights and archers and a large number of able bodied men from the area readied themselves. A small contingent of soldiers would remain behind to protect the holding and the village with two serving as captains of the guard.
Alex had discovered an abandoned hut near the shire's western border. The thatched roof leaked and served as home to a dozen new and old bird nests. The earthen floor was uneven and water from rain runoff gathered in the corners. But the tiny hearth was sufficient for cooking and keeping the one room heated.
Within an hour's riding distance, he could sneak to the outcropping daily plus have a fairly warm place to hide at night. Had he not stumbled onto the dwelling, the alternative was sleeping on icy ground and hoping he didn't catch pneumonia. Or, find a drafty cave to sleep in and still hope he didn't catch pneumonia.
Without Shakira, he felt no need to flee to the safety of Wales. He’d remain hidden at the hut. From there, he’d keep a watchful eye out for the king’s men, while he continued his effort to return to the modern world.
Unexpected, the full effect that after tomorrow he'd never see any of these people again settled over him. In his previous life, he hadn't known the outcome. Fool that he was he assumed he'd survive to return home. The parting hadn't ached so much.
Worse--tomorrow he'd take one last look into the faces of friends and see their fate, for some their deaths. Stephen's deep laugh carried up to the window from the stable where he and Simon chatted with the smithy. In nine months, Stephen would bleed to death at Poitiers, felled by a knight with a black panther on an orange field emblazoned on his tunic. Simon would lose a leg to an ax blow from an enemy unseen by Alex.
Armed with foreknowledge, Alex arranged for any of the men who served under him, able bodied or crippled, to return and live at Elysian Fields if they wished. He weighed the possible repercussions of altering their futures and decided the risk was worth taking.
His previous departure for war he’d procrastinated and put off a visit to his mother. He didn’t understand her withdrawal from the world, and at the time, resented her inability to cope with widowhood.
Filled with nostalgia, this time he tried to see her. He’d ridden to the abbey to say he loved her and to kiss her once more. She refused to meet him. He watched from a distance as she went to prayer, tempted to intercept her, to tell her he wouldn’t be coming back, ever. Instead, he whispered his goodbye as she disappeared from view.
As for Madeline, time was too short to ride to Somerset and say farewell, just like the first time.
His awareness of future events forced difficult and gut wrenching choices on him. Elysian Fields was the hardest decision. Since his arrival, he debated strengthening the holding to alter the outcome of Cromwell's attack and its destruction. Ultimately, he made the agonizing decision to do nothing different. He’d only risk a disruption in the course of events so much. Giving the men a place to return to where their bellies would be full and where they'd have a roof over their heads was substantially different than fixing Elysian Fields. The future of his men's lives weren’t absolutely transformed by the opportunity. They didn’t have to accept.
Alex
closed the shutters and drew a heavy drape across the window, shutting out the noise from below. He had to get rid of many things before he packed his saddlebags. He unlocked the chest and removed the modern clothing he and Rocky wore on that fateful ride. Rocky. He lifted her shirt out first. The faintest scent of Intuition, her perfume, filled the air. There and gone swiftly. Rocky. He sniffed the place where it was strongest again, the banded part where the collar buttoned. The morning of their ride, she’d come from the bathroom wearing the shirt with the perfume in her hand. He watched her over a cup of coffee, listening to her talk about music, while she’d dabbed the base of her throat.
He started to smile and stopped. He almost slipped, almost allowed a good memory of her to invade. He balled the shirt up and piece by piece, burned their clothes.
Finished, he started to lock the chest again when a gleam of metal caught his eye. There at the bottom lay the ornate wedding chalices. How Shakira loved the heirlooms. Alex picked up one of the heavy goblets and sat back on his heels. The cups were his to take or leave. But why take them? It wasn't as if she'd be around to appreciate the gesture. He chastised himself for being a fool as he wrapped both in the banner she’d made for his birthday and tucked them in the bottom of the saddlebag.
***
Alex picked at his dinner. The spirited conversations of the men sharing the table with him did little to dispel his melancholy mood. When he could bear no more, he rose and left the hall. On the staircase, Stephen flirted with a serving girl. He grinned over her shoulder as Alex passed. Alex returned the smile and continued toward his chamber. He climbed several steps then stopped.
“Stephen,” he called back and waved the knight up.
A whispered word sent the girl off with a giggle.
“Yes Guy,” Stephen said, joining Alex. “What did you need?”
Journey in Time (Knights in Time) Page 26
