by E W Barnes
“What’s in the box?” Jonas asked.
“Something precious,” Miranda smiled. She opened the box and Sharon caught a scent she would have described as a spicy pine. Wrapped in dark cloth appeared to be small pieces of amber colored plastic or quartz.
“What is it?” Sharon craned her neck.
“It’s frankincense,” Caelen said. “They built the city of Petra on a frankincense empire. I saw a lot of it when I visited, and I’ve never forgotten that perfume.”
“Yes,” Miranda nodded. “Frankincense was precious in Medieval Europe. We should be able to trade for almost all we need with this, but I suggest we trade the other items first and hold the frankincense until we need it.”
“Did you bring these items back when you shifted to 1215 before?” Jonas asked.
“Yes,” Miranda said as she carefully re-wrapped the items and stowed them in her pack.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to bring material goods back when you time traveled,” Sharon said.
“Not for personal use,” Miranda answered. "I provided them to TPC chrono-historians for study. Director Veta's message told me retrieve them. At the time I didn't understand why....”
“Do we need to bring anything else?” Caelen asked.
“I don’t think so,” Miranda said. “Everything else we need we can get after we make the shift.”
“Then we need to work on the plan,” Sharon moved to a new sheet of paper. “When and where do we shift in, what do we do after that, and how do we position ourselves to influence the writing of the Magna Carta?”
“I think we should focus on the last question first,” Miranda said. “Once we finalize the plan for changing the Magna Carta, the where and when will fall in place.”
“Who wrote the Magna Carta?” Caelen asked.
“King John and Stephen Langton, the Archbishop of Canterbury, though the terms were demanded by the nobility—barons who objected to how the king ruled.”
“Wait, wasn’t King John the one who taxed his subjects into starvation? The one who Robin Hood struggled against?” Sharon asked.
“The same. He was Prince John at the time of the Robin Hood legend, holding the throne while his brother King Richard fought in the Crusades. When Richard died without an heir, John became king.”
“And continued his appalling behavior after he was made king, apparently,” Caelen said.
“Unfortunately, he did,” Miranda said. “We can go into details about his bad acts some other time, but let’s say he was only ever focused on himself, not his kingdom, doing whatever he thought was necessary to gain and maintain power, and ignoring principles of justice and decency. He lied when it suited his purposes, made promises and then did nothing, and rarely acknowledged his own errors or wrongdoing. He was a vivid example of a terrible leader.”
“I think we should avoid him,” Jonas said. “He sounds dangerous.”
“I agree. I suggest we focus on Stephen Langton and Peter FitzHerbert, Lord of Brecknock in Wales.”
“I don’t understand how we can get close to either of those people,” Jonas said. “It’s not like we can waltz in and join their inner circles and give legal advice. We’ll be strangers to them and to the time.” He threw up his hands. “This isn't going to work,” he said for the tenth time.
“Jonas…” Caelen started in an exasperated voice.
“No, he’s right,” Sharon interrupted. “He’s anticipated what we need to talk about next. We know the who, now we need to figure out the how.”
“The how may be easier than you think, Jonas,” Miranda said with a smile. “When I was in 1215, I made friends with a man named Eustace de Whitney, a minor nobleman from a small holding near the English border with Wales. Eustace’s family was allied with Lord FitzHerbert. Lord FitzHerbert was a signatory on the Magna Carta and a friend of Archbishop Langton.”
“And through them you think we can get this Lord FitzHerbert to change the terms we need?” Jonas looked skeptical.
“Perhaps. Or we might get an audience with Archbishop Langton through Lord FitzHerbert. It’s worth a try. And it’s the only in we have.”
“Ok, you find your friend Eustace, he introduces you to his friend Peter, and Peter gets Stephen to make the change,” Sharon said.
“No.”
“No?”
“I find my friend Eustace and introduce Caelen, who will be introduced to the Lord of Brecknock, who will then introduce him or our idea to Stephen Langton.”
Caelen’s eyes grew wide. “Why not you? You’re the legal expert. It should be you who guides the changing of the terms.”
Miranda shook her head. “I would not be as effective as you. You they will assume to be a nobleman as they are noblemen and as such, they will listen to you more readily. I might convince them of my skills eventually, but it would take too much time and with each passing hour the chances of our accidentally damaging the timeline will increase. With you, our chances of quick success are greater.”
“But I don’t know anything about the law. I'd have no idea what to suggest or what to tell them.”
“I know what to suggest and we’ll be there with you.”
Caelen leaned back in his chair. He did not appear convinced. Neither did Jonas, though he was obviously relieved that the responsibility of this stage of the mission had fallen on Caelen and Miranda, and not on him.
“What do you see Jonas and I doing to help?” Sharon asked, hoping to shore up Jonas’ faltering confidence in the plan.
“Caelen’s status will be stronger if he is introduced with a retinue. We will be his escort, those who help and support him. Jonas will be his manservant, and you will be my lady’s servant. I’ll answer to and assist Caelen, like a steward.”
“So, I just follow Caelen around and do what he tells me to do?” Jonas asked.
“In essence,” Miranda answered.
Jonas crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair as Caelen had.
“I can do that.”
◆◆◆
They planned for three days, each noon shifting back to the previous morning to avoid the upload of Mrs. Bower’s analysis. While Miranda once visited the time frame, she wasn’t an expert on the 13th century. She did her best to inform them of everything she knew and remembered but admitted that there were gaps in her knowledge.
They discussed the culture and history of the time, what society looked like, and what they could expect. They engaged in online research on Sharon’s laptop as needed, though it was clear Jonas, Caelen, and Miranda viewed the veracity of information on the internet with deep suspicion.
Caelen and Sharon left early one morning to buy the costumes they would need from a store Sharon found. The costumes were going to be expensive, and they would have to drive 25 miles into Los Angeles to get them.
Sharon insisted they leave at 6:00 a.m., saying she would rather sit outside the store waiting for it to open than sit bumper-to-bumper on the 710 freeway. Caelen was disappointed. He'd never been in bumper-to-bumper traffic in the 21st century and had looked forward to the experience.
They returned just before 11:00 a.m. loaded down with huge bags. Sharon was haggard and Caelen was exhilarated. There was a “SigAlert” he explained, resulting in traffic coming to a complete halt for an hour while authorities cleaned up a shipment of tennis balls from a small truck that had overturned.
“There were no injuries,” he assured them. Miranda looked appalled and Jonas looked delighted. Jonas followed Caelen into the kitchen asking about the traffic jam, while Miranda helped Sharon with the bags of clothes. Sharon hooked the hangers on the library door frame so Miranda could examine the costumes.
There were long brown skirts with off-white long-sleeved shirts and lighter brown tunics for Miranda and Sharon. Each had a wide belt to be worn low on their hips. The men had brown leather leggings and longer tunics in two different shades of blue and made of finer material than the women’s shirts. There was a dazzling blue brocade
over-tunic that Sharon had been delighted to find.
“Will these do?” Sharon asked.
“Definitely. Until we can purchase local clothing, these will do fine. The shoes are especially good.”
While the stitching of the clothes was obviously made by a machine, the simple leather ankle-high shoes with leather laces looked handmade and of good quality. Sharon and Caelen had also found a leather bag designed to be worn from a belt.
“Are we ready then?” Sharon said.
“I think so,” answered Miranda.
“I suggest we plan our shift for tomorrow morning. Let’s confirm where and when we should arrive,” Caelen said coming in from the kitchen, Jonas trailing behind.
“The king sealed the Magna Carta on June 15, 1215," Miranda pulled out her tablet and moved her fingers across it.
“I met Eustace in Canterbury just days before the signing in Runnymede, which is west of London. He and his father, Sir Robert de Whitney, traveled from Herefordshire to London with Lord FitzHerbert in May, and then spent time in Canterbury and with Archbishop Langton before traveling to Runnymede. I suggest we make the shift to Canterbury and meet Eustace while he’s there.”
“Where will we stay?” Jonas asked.
“I can trade the knife for rooms at an inn close to the cathedral,” Miranda said. “If we need lodgings in London, we may need to break out the frankincense. However, I’m hoping we’ll be successful before we reach London.”
“I don’t enjoy leaving so many things undecided,” Jonas muttered.
“Neither do I,” Sharon said. “But I don’t see any other
way, do you?”
Jonas shook his head unhappily.
“Ok, we’ll plan the shift for tomorrow morning. Meet in the library at 8:00 a.m., already dressed and ready to go. Mrs. Bower will you be ready?” Sharon turned to the hologram.
Mrs. Bower, still standing in the dining room next to the door to the kitchen, was the most confident of the group.
“All will be ready.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Eight o’clock the next morning arrived too quickly for Sharon. While Miranda appeared calm and prepared, Jonas looked as nervous as Sharon felt. As did Caelen, though he was the most convincing-looking in the blue brocade tunic.
When Sharon first met Caelen, he was an inexperienced TPC agent on what was supposed to be a routine assignment that went very wrong. He was not the confident trainer he had become in the time that had passed since their adventure into the past together. Now he was pale and nervous, reminding her of that long ago Caelen. On impulse she squeezed his hand.
“You’ll be great. We'll all be great,” she added to everyone.
Caelen handed Miranda the Director’s Prerogative program insert, which she placed into a slot in the temporal amplifier control panel and programmed the time and location coordinates. Then she gave the program insert to Jonas.
“I have programed the portable interface unit to bring us back to yesterday morning upon activation only. The system will not return us without our activating the unit.”
“Will we still be in the loop?” Sharon asked.
“Yes,” Caelen answered. “When we shift to other timeframes, the loop is frozen until we return. It will be in place until we cancel it.”
Miranda handed the remote control to Jonas.
“As Caelen’s manservant, one of your responsibilities is to carry things for him. It makes sense for you to carry this, too,” she said with a smile.
Jonas did not smile as he tucked the remote control and the program insert into an inside pocket in his leather leggings. Miranda had explained the pocket was a modern addition for “fair goers.” Jonas hoisted over his shoulder the empty leather bag they had purchased.
“I think it goes on your hip not your shoulder,” Sharon said, showing him how to secure the bag around his waist.
“Thank you,” he said, relaxing a little as she helped him.
“If there is nothing else for us to do…” Miranda enquired. When no one objected, she activated the temporal amplifier.
There was a flash of dark red as the room rippled and danced before their eyes. Sharon’s skin tingled more than she had ever experienced during a shift. The tingle rose to the level of an itch, but she couldn’t raise her hand to scratch. Panic rose within her and then she was gasping for breath under a lone tree on a misty morning, birds chirping as the sun was rising.
The shift deposited them on a small hill outside Canterbury, England. From their vantage point a great Gothic cathedral drew the eyes first, spires reaching to the heavens. The town was encircled by a stone wall with many buildings densely packed inside, including a large stone castle. Several buildings clustered outside the wall near what Sharon assumed were gates into the town. In the distance were tilled fields mixed with pockets of forested land.
Miranda took a slow turn, satisfied they had arrived where they’d intended.
“Caelen should take the lead and I’ll walk with him. You two follow close behind us,” she said to Sharon and Jonas.
As they walked down the short hill, Miranda shared a few more words of advice with Caelen.
“Remember, you are a minor nobleman and you carry yourself with confidence. We’re your servants - treat us as such.”
Jonas looked at Sharon and rolled his eyes. She coughed to hide her laugh.
Caelen was to introduce himself as Caelen de Winters, a pilgrim to the shrine of Saint Thomas Becket and son of Thomas de Winters, a small landholder in Winterburn in the Yorkshire dales.
“If someone asks you a question you can’t answer, ask them a question in response, and turn them from their focus on you,” Miranda kept up her quiet reminders. Sharon recognized it as one of the few signs of nervousness Miranda ever displayed.
“I know what to do,” Caelen said.
The open fields disappeared as they neared the city. Buildings now crowded on either side of the road as close to the wall as they could possibly be built.
A line of people waited at a closed gate. Sharon heard a bell in the cathedral tower chiming the time and before the last reverberations faded away, the gate swung wide pushed open by men who looked like soldiers.
Sharon worried they would have to answer questions or declare what they were carrying, like going through an airport in the 21st century. But once they unbarred the gate, the guards didn’t seem to care who was coming and going, retreating to a small covered tower built above the gate tunnel.
Caelen threw back his shoulders.
“Let us proceed,” he said to his retinue.
“Yes, milord,” Miranda murmured. A few paces behind their confident young lord, they entered Canterbury.
◆◆◆
Once through the gate, they saw that the road travelled roughly in a straight line through the town, but they could not see far beyond the leaning buildings. It was still early morning and though the sun was already warming the roofs and upper stories, it was cold and damp in the shade. There was a rank smell of unwashed bodies, decaying food, and sewage which Sharon knew would become overpowering as the air warmed up.
Nudged by Miranda, Caelen continued forward. After they crossed a river (the Stour, Miranda called it), they angled left onto a side street. The street ended at a large gate opening to the grounds surrounding the cathedral. This close, its tall towers dominated the sky.
Miranda stopped outside a two-story building on the left side of the street. There was a sign hanging above the door. It had no words, just a carved image which looked to Sharon like a man with a copious belly under a bushy beard dancing with a flute.
“This is the inn I spoke of, milord,” she said to Caelen.
“Very good,” he answered as they followed her inside.
The odor of cooked meats and roasted fats greeted them. Down a short hall from the front door there was a woman sweeping the stone floor of a large room with long tables and benches. She set her broom down, wiping her hands on a yellowed apron a
s she greeted them.
“Welcome to the Bearded Piper,” she said as she made a small curtsy to Caelen. “I am Mistress Bannon. My man is in the courtyard preparing guests’ horses. How may I help you today?”
Speaking for “Lord de Winters” Miranda lavishly sang the praises of the inn they had heard of even in far Winterburn. Mistress Bannon accepted the flattery graciously, but Miranda’s blandishments did nothing to soften her stance on how much it would cost them to stay at the inn. Mistress Bannon was a tough negotiator, verbally sparring with Miranda like fencers, but even Sharon could see the glee in her eyes when Miranda offered the knife in payment for two nights in two adjoining rooms, away from the street, and to include meals. After that, they swiftly made an agreement.
Mistress Bannon showed them to rooms on the second floor, offering Caelen and Jonas the first room - “This room is the finest in the house, milord” - and putting Sharon and Miranda in the second and much smaller room. There was a large bed set against a whitewashed wall next to a small wooden table with fresh flowers in a fired clay vase. There was a single window letting in light, and hooks mounted on the wall for their clothes. Sharon opened the window and found that it overlooked an interior courtyard. A not unpleasant smell of horse manure wafted into the room.
“I will send up fresh bread and butter to break your fast. Luncheon is at noon and supper is at 6:00 in the common room,” Mistress Bannon before returning to her sweeping downstairs.
Miranda and Sharon joined Jonas and Caelen in the first room. It also had a single bed, which Jonas was eying with distaste. This room, too, had one window, though it was set back, creating a nook which housed a small table and two chairs.
“What do we do now?” Jonas asked, but Miranda shushed him as there was a knock on the door.
“Come,” said Caelen. Mistress Bannon opened the door followed by a girl carrying a tray.
