Christopher and Elen hadn’t changed out of their boots to eat, but Christopher’s parents wore dress shoes, which weren’t as good in the snow. Thus, Christopher took his sister’s hand and stumped through the snow with her, leading their parents away from the inn. Unfortunately, they had all left their coats in their rooms, so they were shivering by the time they entered the store.
Once inside, Christopher’s dad pulled out his phone to call Aunt Meg again. “We’re safe.”
Aunt Meg’s “thank God” came through loud and clear. “David’s not here yet but he’s coming. Where are you?”
“In a shop outside the inn,” his dad said. “Fish and chips slash Chinese. Maybe we ought to order something?”
“Honestly, that would be great,” Aunt Meg said. “None of us have eaten since we left the Middle Ages.”
“You got it. Call us when you get to Caernarfon.”
Christopher peered through the front door, which was made of glass. Several more black SUVs rumbled past, though they couldn’t get to the inn down this street because it was closed to through traffic. His father, who was still two inches taller than Christopher, peered over his shoulder at the scene too.
“I really, really want to see David, but I never thought asking to visit Wales for Christmas would get us into trouble, Dad.”
His father’s hand came down on his shoulder again. “Don’t apologize, Christopher. Even your mom wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
Chapter Fifteen
Bronwen
“Where is Lord Ieuan?” Geoffrey said in French, looking around the room with something like dismay.
“Given the urgency of the current crisis, both he and Lord Goronwy felt that they should be among the men to ride into Llangollen, to question the villagers at the tavern and students at the university,” Bronwen replied in the same language. “Most would have been at the feast for much of the day, but if any of the bandits passed through after the attack, hopefully someone will have seen them.”
Geoffrey had come a long way in the few months he’d been working for David, but he still wasn’t comfortable with having a woman in charge. Maybe he thought it should be him. Bronwen didn’t necessarily think it should be her, but with Lili unwell and Ieaun and Goronwy gone to the village, she wasn’t going to leave this to anyone else. She’d spent these last eight years during which she’d lived in the Middle Ages rising to whatever occasion presented itself, so she wasn’t going to let the Norman baron intimidate her out of doing it again.
Besides, if graduate school in archaeology had prepared her for anything, it was for dealing with older men with large egos who had axes to grind. If a woman in her early twenties was to survive the cutthroat world of academia, she had to learn how to stand up for herself and her ideas and not allow anyone to shout her down.
Thus, Bronwen stood in the center of Math’s receiving room with a circle of men around her, among them Samuel, who’d arrived moments before with his men, having ridden many miles in search of the bandits; Cadwallon; and Justin, all standing, all impatient and frustrated. In contrast, the hall they’d just left was full of jovial post-dinner conversation.
The idea that Math and Anna had gone to Avalon with King David was far less disturbing to Math’s people than Bronwen thought it should be—though their acceptance was convenient too because it meant that she could focus on the crisis with France rather than on appeasing distressed medieval minds. The people who were the most upset at the bus’s departure were those who’d become friends with some of the bus passengers, like Jane and Carl. Rachel, at least, would be returning, so the hospital and medical college wouldn’t be bereft for more than a few days.
Convenient also was the fact that it was David’s miraculous absence that was the topic of conversation in the hall rather than the real danger of imminent war between France, England, and Scotland if the emissary died or James Stewart wasn’t found alive.
“How is the emissary?” Samuel said, now in English, which was the most comfortable language for him.
“I’ve been sitting with him,” Geoffrey said, seemingly fluent in English as well, for all that Norman lords didn’t always speak it. “Your healers have cared for him, and he is as comfortable as I can imagine him being, though he remains asleep.”
“Breathing, though,” Bronwen said to Samuel.
Samuel growled. “We can ride no further tonight, but with your permission, we’ll leave at first light for Chirk on Peter’s trail.”
“Tell him when you find him to proceed very carefully,” Geoffrey said. “James’s welfare is all.”
“Yes, my lord.” Samuel put his feet together and bowed. “I was once captive with James Stewart and know his worth.”
Currently the Sheriff of Shrewsbury in Callum’s absence, Samuel was the authority in Shropshire. Bronwen had watched the friendship and trust among this core group of time travelers living in Shrewsbury, consisting of Callum and Cassie, Darren, Mark, Peter, and Bridget. She was happy to know that everyone who’d gone would be coming back from David’s jaunt to the twenty-first century. If not for Peter and Bridget staying behind, she would have been the only twenty-firster, as Bridget insisted on calling them, in the whole of the Middle Ages, though to be so wouldn’t have been particularly daunting to Bronwen. She’d chosen this life and wasn’t afraid to live it.
Even though he wasn’t a time traveler, Bronwen always included Samuel in the group in part because Callum trusted him completely but also because he too was a man out of place, if not time. Samuel was Aaron’s son and thus Jewish, even if he’d spent many years before David’s arrival hiding his ethnicity in order to serve as a man-at-arms for the Earl of Chester, King Edward’s brother. Back when David was sixteen, Samuel had rescued him and his men from the remains of King Edward’s camp—and found himself included in the Welsh retinue at a level he would never have dared to dream of. David tended to do that to people.
Once Samuel didn’t need to hide who he was anymore, he’d found his way back to his father and his religion, even if his lack of strict adherence to the law was disturbing to some of his co-religionists. He’d married his Elspet, a Gentile, after all. He and Rachel had hit it off in that regard, and Samuel had encouraged her to accept the love Darren was offering. Bronwen wasn’t quite sure why Darren and Rachel weren’t married yet, but she hadn’t asked. Prying into her friends’ private lives wasn’t her habit.
She was glad, however, having heard her husband’s first-hand account of their kiss, that Bridget and Peter might finally stop dancing around each other and get serious.
Bronwen understood the difficulty with committing to a relationship in a foreign place when you didn’t know if you were in love with the place, with him, or just so desperate and lonely that having someone was better than being alone. Anna had asked the same questions before she’d married Math. Maybe it was that way for everyone, no matter in what universe one lived. Commitment was hard.
Samuel departed to see to the welfare of his men, and Geoffrey cleared his throat. “May I ask what was the business that had King David and King Llywelyn traveling to Avalon today of all days?”
Bronwen pressed her lips together. She should have known this question would come from someone, and it wasn’t really a surprise to hear it from Geoffrey. “I could tell you it was a private matter, but that would hardly assuage your concern.”
“No,” Geoffrey said. “It wouldn’t.”
“Queen Meg is ill,” Bronwen said, and then called yet again upon the myth of King Arthur to explain the unexplainable. “David brought his mother to the isle of Avalon to be healed.”
Understanding crossed Geoffrey’s face. “But when will he return?”
“Within a day or two at most,” Bronwen said. “He promised.”
“Not all who ask to enter Avalon are admitted,” Geoffrey said. “Not all who ask to leave are allowed to go.”
“They all were admitted,” Bronwen said. “Ieuan saw it with his own eye
s. And we cannot doubt that David will be allowed to return.”
Geoffrey kept his gaze fixed on Bronwen’s face. “You’re very sure.”
“Of David?” Bronwen nodded. “Whether in Avalon or here, you can never go wrong believing he’ll do what he tells you he will.”
Geoffrey made no attempt to argue with that.
When Bronwen pushed open the door and entered the royal bedchamber, Lili was sitting up in bed with pillows stacked behind her, reading a book to Arthur. Bronwen had made it a personal campaign to have children’s books, a few of which Bronwen herself had written in her spare time, be a large part of what was being produced by David’s new printing presses. If they were to change the world, the best avenue to do so was through the education of children. Growing up in far flung places, she’d seen with her own eyes how villagers often viewed their school as their greatest asset.
At Bronwen’s approach, Lili glanced up and smiled but continued reading. Bronwen waited until Lili finished the book, at which point she tipped her head to Arthur’s nanny, asking her silently if she could take the boy away. The nanny obliged, though not before Bronwen got a kiss from Arthur on his way out the door. She didn’t, in principle, like relying on nannies and servants as much as they all had learned to. By any definition, parenting standards in the Middle Ages were low. Children were alternately spoiled and neglected, and then thrown into the adult world—often from the age of seven—and expected to make their own way. Under the current circumstances, however, the more adults Arthur knew he could rely on, the better.
Bronwen sat on the edge of Lili’s bed. “What’s going on? Are you having contractions?”
Lili let out a puff of air. “Yes.”
“This is way too early.”
Lili didn’t answer, just stared down at the blankets covering her legs.
This was like pulling teeth—and unlike Lili. “What does Branwen say?” Hired right after her marriage to David, Branwen was Lili’s maid and much loved and trusted by Lili.
“She worries too. And nags.”
“As she should.” Bronwen leaned forward. “You and I both know that there’s no way out of this birth. Only through it. The baby is going to come, whether you want it to or not. We’re here for you, for whatever you need. You have to believe that everything’s going to be okay.”
“Rachel’s gone,” Lili said. “We will have to do this without her.”
“Why would we have to? Everyone gets contractions every now and then. Do you think the baby is really coming?”
Lili rubbed the end of her nose. “It may be that my dates are wrong.”
Ice settled in the pit of Bronwen’s stomach.
Then Lili added, “There’s no may be. My dates are wrong.”
Bronwen closed her eyes, willing herself to remain calm. “Last I heard, you were seven-ish months pregnant. Are you telling me that isn’t right?”
Lili bent her knees so they made a mountain in the middle of the bed and tucked the covers around herself, all without looking directly at Bronwen. “Yes.”
Bronwen tried to think of what to say that wouldn’t mean leaping the distance between them and shaking Lili for keeping the truth from her—and from David. “We’ve all thought you’ve been looking big, and you’re already waddling.”
Lili smirked. “Thanks.”
“You know what I mean.” Bronwen met Lili’s gaze. “David doesn’t even suspect, does he?”
“He wouldn’t have gone to Avalon if he had,” Lili said.
“And you wanted him to go.”
“Of course I didn’t want him to go!” Lili spit the words out. “But he needed to go.” Lili looked away. “My mother died in childbirth, Bronwen.”
“I know.”
Lili shook her head. “It’s a burden we all carry. I can see the fear weighing Dadfydd down. I don’t want to add to his troubles, but in the dark, in the middle of the night, I want to scream sometimes. I can’t let the fear go.” And then she finally told Bronwen the truth. “I wish I weren’t having this baby.”
Bronwen’s throat was thick with emotion. She swallowed hard, searching for the words that would make this better for Lili, though she knew finding surety and letting go of the fear was something Lili could only do for herself. “We’ve had this conversation before, remember? That time, you and I were the ones consoling Anna.”
“I remember. I was so confident then. I want that surety back. Instead, I’ve been reduced to a quivering mess by this child. I’ve spend months lying to my husband on the way to lying to myself.” Lili made a helpless gesture with one hand. “Sometimes I look at him, and I just want to wrap my arms around him and protect him from the world. An entire country depends on him, and all these bus passengers only added to his worries. I hated them for that and wanted nothing more than for them all to go home. When he decided that he needed to take them himself, I was relieved.”
“But you still didn’t tell him about the baby.”
“They had to go back, and he needed to take them,” Lili said. “When Shane got sick, Dafydd felt such guilt. How could I make him feel more by asking him to value me over Shane, or by speculating about the baby when there was no way to know the truth?”
Bronwen reached for Lili’s hand. “Admittedly, it’s too late now.”
Lili squeezed back. “There’s still a chance I could be wrong.”
“Did Catriona check you liked I asked her to?” Bronwen said.
Catriona was the chief midwife at the hospital, now completely in charge since Rachel was in the modern world.
“Yes,” Lili said.
Bronwen didn’t reply, and after a few seconds Lili sighed and rolled her eyes. “I’m slightly dilated, but less than two centimeters,” she said, perfectly parroting what had to have been Catriona’s words, themselves learned from Rachel. Centimeters were a form a measurement without context in the Middle Ages, and Bronwen briefly wondered if, going forward, they would apply only to childbirth.
“Thus, you’re staying in bed until David gets back,” Bronwen said.
“So it seems,” Lili said.
Bronwen studied her sister-in-law some more. “Being strong doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help.”
“I knew that once,” Lili said. “I get lost in being Queen of England and forget how to be myself.”
A knock came at the door, and then Gwenllian, Llywelyn’s ten-year-old daughter by his wife, Elin, who’d died at Gwenllian’s birth, pushed the door open without asking for permission.
“I can help mind Arthur,” Gwenllian said.
Lili patted the bed beside her, to indicate that Gwenllian should join them. At first the girl perched on the edge of bed in a very ladylike manner, but then, after a moment, she crawled under the covers with Lili and put her head on her shoulder. Bronwen hadn’t been party to Gwenllian’s conversation with Meg and Llywelyn before they left, but she remembered being ten. Gwenllian had to be feeling abandoned.
“They had to leave us,” Bronwen said.
“I know,” Gwenllian said, speaking perfect American English, “but I wish they’d taken me with them. Other children got to go.”
“Only those who are from Avalon and are going to stay there forever,” Lili said. “The rest of us had to stay behind.”
Because she was small for her age and reserved, it was easy to forget that Gwenllian was nearing womanhood. Her heart-shaped face had thinned in the last six months, and her long blonde curls fell halfway down her back. With her blue eyes, she was the epitome of medieval female beauty, just as her mother had been.
Llywelyn and Meg were already talking about marriage for her, trying to tread a middle way between using her to make an alliance with another royal house and allowing Gwenllian the opportunity to choose her husband. The negotiations between Meg and Llywelyn had been heated, and finally David had stepped in and suggested they give Gwenllian a list of prospective suitors and allow her to make the first cut. Given her beauty and that she was a princess of W
ales, men would be falling all over themselves for the chance to win her hand when the time came.
Fortunately, they had a few more years before they needed to make a decision. Right now she was just a ten-year-old girl missing her mother.
“What if they don’t come back?” Gwenllian said. “What if Mama—” She stopped, choking off what she’d been about to say.
“I’ve traveled like they did,” Bronwen said. “It’s scary when it happens. They were all scared when they left, even if they were trying not to show it, but what does your brother always say?”
“Fear should never stop you from doing what it is right, and courage isn’t about not being afraid—it’s about acting even when you are afraid,” Gwenllian recited. “I’ve heard Callum say it too.”
“And they’re right.” Lili hugged Gwenllian to her.
“So why didn’t you tell Dafydd about the baby?” Gwenllian looked up into Lili’s face.
Lili bit her lip. “Because I was afraid, and it did stop me from doing what was right. Sometimes adults don’t live up to what they say they believe.”
“It’s called being a hypocrite,” Gwenllian said, with all the complacency of the ten-year-old girl she was. “Dafydd told me.”
Bronwen gave a small smile. “Sometimes, though, it is just being afraid.”
Lili squeezed Gwenllian again. “Cariad, I promise I will do better, if not for myself, then for you.” But as she met Bronwen’s eyes over Gwenllian’s head, she stiffened as a contraction overtook her.
Bronwen gently rubbed Gwenllian’s arm with the back of one finger to get her attention. “Run and get Catriona. Ready or not, the baby is on its way.”
Chapter Sixteen
Peter
“You’ve turned melancholy all of a sudden,” Bridget said.
They were approaching the royal manor at Chirk, needing a meal as well as the opportunity to leave another message for Samuel as to their progress, were he to decide to follow them. Peter had once visited the modern Chirk Castle, back in Avalon before the bombings in Cardiff, but it had been built by King Edward after he conquered Wales, so it didn’t exist in this world.
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