Borrowed Time- the Force Majeure

by E W Barnes

  “How long before supper?” she asked Miranda. Miranda glanced at the fading light out the window.

  “About 30 minutes,” she answered.

  Sharon went to the window. The view was breathtaking. The sky glowed with colors that reflected on the river against the lush green countryside.

  “It’s beautiful,” a voice said next to her. Caelen had followed her to the window. He handed her a small goblet of wine from a nearby table. She took it with her injured hand and dropped it. It clattered on the stone, spilling the wine.

  “Oh!” Sharon exclaimed as she stooped down to clean up the mess, but Caelen gently pulled her up by the arm.

  “Let me see your hand,” he said, guiding her back to the fireplace where there was better light. As Miranda cleaned up the spilled wine, Caelen examined her palm. The skin around the injury was red and swollen. It was tender, too, and she pulled away when Caelen touched the area.

  “It looks like it’s getting infected,” he said. “We didn’t bring a first aid kit, did we?” He looked at Miranda who shook her head, chagrined.

  “Then we need to get one,” Jonas said, sliding off the bed.

  “What?” Sharon was sure she’d misunderstood. Jonas pulled the remote control out of his pocket.

  “I’ll shift back, get some antibiotics, bandages, you know, and then return to right now,” he said.

  “You’ll need to use the Director’s Prerogative device,” Miranda said.

  “Wait, no! You can’t be serious,” Sharon protested.

  “If he does this, we will have used up three shifts on the device, leaving only two left,” Caelen pointed out.

  “If we are successful here, we won’t need the other two, right?” Jonas asked Miranda.

  “Really, I’ll be fine,” Sharon argued. “We should save the shifts in case we need them. The mission is too important.”

  “That infection could easily lead to blood poisoning,” Jonas said sternly. “The mission will be at risk if you become dangerously sick.”

  Caelen and Miranda were nodding with Jonas. Sharon was outvoted.

  “Ok,” Sharon said. “What do we do?”

  “You need antibiotics,” Jonas said.

  “Where are you going to get them?” Sharon asked.

  “I can get everything we need at your house in 2023, can’t I?”

  “I don’t have antibiotics.”

  “Why not? Don’t you keep some on hand?”

  “No, of course not. Do you have antibiotics in your home?”

  “Yes, of course I do. I have access to a standard range of antibiotics. Everyone does.”

  “Well, I don’t,” Sharon said.

  Jonas exhaled. “I forgot how byzantine health care was in your time.”

  “How do you get them?” Miranda asked Sharon.

  “We go to the doctor who makes out a prescription, and we pick up the medicine from a pharmacy.”

  “How long does that take?” Caelen asked.

  “It can take a few hours to a day or so,” Sharon began.

  “That would work,” Jonas said. “A few hours wouldn’t break the loop we programmed.”

  “But if it’s as bad as you think, a doctor could order me to be hospitalized. I could be there for days,” Sharon said, finally admitting to herself an infection could be serious.

  “We can’t go back to the 23rd century to get antibiotics, either,” Caelen said. “We’d risk being caught.”

  “Look, there is a first aid kit in my house. We can get that. It should help control infection until there’s time to get antibiotics,” Sharon offered.

  “Where do I find it?” Jonas asked.

  “I can show you,” Sharon said. Jonas put up his hand.

  “No. It will be faster if just one of us goes and I’m the logical choice. Caelen needs to be available to go to dinner with the Archbishop and Miranda should be here if Caelen needs any additional preparation. You need to rest, not do another 800-year shift.”

  Jonas took out the Director’s Prerogative device from his pocket and held up the remote control.

  “Where do I find the first aid kit?”

  Sharon told him where to look in her bathroom and moments later he rippled away. Sharon had time to return to the chair in front of the fire before Jonas rippled back into the room with the white plastic kit in hand. Miranda used the kit to tend Sharon’s wound as Jonas tucked the devices back into his pocket.

  “Everything go ok?” Caelen asked.

  “Of course,” Jonas said with a slight roll of his eyes. “It’s a good thing Sharon programmed Mrs. Bower to accept my arrival. Things could have gotten sticky if she’d gone into security mode.”

  Sharon eyed Jonas. He looked suspiciously like he’d taken the time to clean up while he was in the 21st century. His hair seemed shinier and slightly damp.

  “There. That should take care of things for now. Keep it covered,” Miranda said as she finished.

  Sharon tore more material from her under tunic and wrapped it around her hand to hide the 21st century bandaging. She downed some painkillers with a swallow of wine.

  “Are you feeling better?” Caelen asked moving to Sharon’s side as Miranda handed the first aid kit back to Jonas.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she answered with a smile though it was not the truth. She felt very weak. This was the longest shift she had experienced, longer even than the two days she’d spent in London in 1940—another timeline, another world. She would be glad when this mission to 1215 was over.

  There was a knock. Caelen strode across the room and opened the door.

  “Lord de Winters, Archbishop Langton invites you to join him at table,” a young man said.

  “And my retinue? Where shall they dine?”

  “There are places set for them in the kitchens, milord. I'll be happy to show them the way after I escort you to the hall.”

  “Thank you,” Caelen said as the young man led the way with Jonas, Sharon, and Miranda trailing behind.

  ◆◆◆

  They followed the young man down two flights of stairs until they reached the entrance to a large hall. Sharon got a glimpse of iron chandeliers, brightly colored heraldry on the walls, and a long wooden table set next to a fireplace that was as big as her bed. The young man escorted Caelen into the hall after instructing Jonas, Sharon, and Miranda to stay out of sight.

  “My lord Archbishop, may I present Caelen de Winters of Winterburn.”

  A moment later, the young man returned and wordlessly led them to supper with the servants. The kitchen was brightly lit by candles and a huge fire in another enormous fireplace. There was a large rough table running down the center of the room. Most of the servants were already seated, and they greeted the newcomers, making room and offering wooden trenchers for their meals. The young man who guided them joined friends at the other end from where Miranda, Jonas, and Sharon were seated.

  Someone poured them ale, but Miranda shook her head. They drank water instead, fresh from the Medway someone told them.

  Sharon found it difficult to eat. The success or failure of the mission came down to this evening. If Caelen failed, would they have to do this shift again?

  Sharon was not the only one who was nervous. After he finished eating, Jonas nudged Miranda. “How soon before we can leave?”

  “If you’re ready, we can leave now,” she said. Both Jonas and Sharon nodded, and Miranda tapped the shoulder of Gillian who was sitting near them.

  “Would you show us to our rooms?”

  Gillian was reluctant to leave the warm company of her boisterous friends. A drinking song had started at the far end of the table, and she had just raised her mug to join in. She set it down, brusquely cautioning her table mates— “Don’t touch my ale!” — and walked them to their rooms as fast as she could.

  “Pleasant evening,” Gillian said with a curtsy before hurrying away. Jonas closed his door without wishing them goodnight.

  In their windowless room, it was ha
rd for Sharon and Miranda to tell how far into the evening it was. Sharon paced for what felt like hours, as Miranda sat up in bed staring at the ceiling. When she was too tired to pace, Miranda took over walking the line back and forth at the foot of the bed. Sharon’s eyes slid shut, and she dozed while Miranda continued pacing.

  Sharon woke to a knock on the door. Miranda was asleep on top of the covers next to her.

  “We have been summoned to his lordship’s chambers,” Jonas said in a mock sing-song voice.

  “Any hints?” Sharon asked, but Jonas shook his head. They'd have to wait to learn if Caelen had been successful.

  ◆◆◆

  Caelen opened the door to his room with a flourish. He looked well-rested and exhilarated, in stark contrast to his companions none of whom looked as though they’d slept well in days which, in truth, they hadn’t.

  “How did it go?” Miranda asked.

  “Very well,” he answered. “I let the others do most of the talking and, as you suggested, asked about their pilgrimage experiences. I was very glad we visited the tomb while we were in Canterbury. It would have been difficult to fake talking about it.”

  “And then what happened?” Sharon asked with a yawn.

  “They talked about needing to return in a hurry, and not being able to spend enough time in prayer as they had hoped. After that it was easy. They talked about the conditions they wanted from the king, the things they had demanded, and what Archbishop Langton had already written. It was easy to ask about debtors and then present the hypothetical situation. I think they were convinced!”

  “There’s only one way to be sure,” Miranda said. “I don’t think we can get any closer to the proceedings than we already have without risking serious impact on the timeline. We must shift back to 2023 to see if we’ve successfully changed the language of the document. Unfortunately, once we know we’ve been successful, the TPC will know, too.”

  “Does that mean we can shift back right now?” Jonas asked. He was already pulling the remote control from his pocket in anticipation.

  “No, we can’t just disappear,” Miranda said. “Guests of the archbishop disappearing from Rochester Castle could upset history more than changing a term in the Magna Carta. We’ll have to wait until we reach London and go our separate ways.”

  “How long will that take?” Sharon asked.

  “If we leave this morning and if we make good time as we did yesterday, we could arrive by dusk this evening.”

  Sharon saw Jonas deflate a little, and she understood because she felt the same way.

  “We’ll be leaving today,” Caelen confirmed. “The archbishop wanted to be in London as soon as possible. I believe he’ll ride ahead as we walk.”

  Two hours later they had broken their fast, Sharon, Miranda, and Jonas once again with the servants in the kitchen, and Caelen in the dining hall. Miranda acquired fresh bread, more cheese, and cooked bacon for their lunch meal which Jonas stored in his bag. Now they stood outside the castle, the archbishop saying his farewells from atop a black horse.

  Despite her exhaustion, Sharon was eager to get on the road so they could reach London and then shift home. She grinned at the others when they started.

  Lord FitzHerbert and Sir Robert did not seem as eager, however. They both appeared preoccupied and reserved. After staying the night in London, they planned to journey to the field along the Thames where the signing of the document was to take place. They were likely ambivalent about the signing, Sharon thought. If something changed, and the king got the upper hand, they could be executed for treason. It was sobering to realize these good men could lose their heads if things went wrong.

  The day grew warm as they trudged along. Wearing two layers of shoes and tunics was uncomfortable. The air was more humid than she was accustomed to and when they stopped at a village with a large fountain placed in the center of the road, she plunged her head in before drinking her fill. Several townsfolk were amused by her, but she did not care. She felt the water drip inside her clothes and breathed a sigh of relief when a breeze cooled her.

  After a cold lunch with the bread, bacon, and cheese, they continued the journey. Sharon’s palm had stopped throbbing, though a dull ache remained. She hoped it was a sign it was healing. The sun slipped over their heads and headed toward the horizon, but there was no sign of the city of London. Sharon worried they would have to spend the night outside again.

  The road dipped into a wide gully that looked like a large dry creek bed. The fine soil was dusty and choking, sticking to her damp skin. The breeze did not make it into the gully and the air was stuffy and hot. Sharon itched all over.

  At the bottom of the gully the road swept upward again. She heard the voices of the others ahead of her but couldn’t make out what they were saying. She was dizzy. She wanted to stop and sit.

  A breeze picked up the hairs around her face. Then there was coolness flowing like water. She’d reached the top of the gully. She looked up and saw what the others had been excited about. There, in the distance, she could see the great city, a dark mass on the horizon fuzzed out by heat mirages. She laughed.

  “What’s funny?” Caelen asked.

  “Oh, nothing, milord, I’m glad to be almost at our journey’s end,” she said.

  As they continued walking, Jonas dropped back until he was next to her.

  “What was funny, really?” he asked conspiratorially.

  “I was thinking about that scene in “The Wizard of Oz” when they come dancing and singing out of the woods with the Emerald City in the distance,” she murmured.

  He grinned, the happiest he’d looked in days. “I was too,” he said.

  Twilight colored the sky deep blue by the time they reached the outskirts of the city. Eustace, Sir Robert, and Lord FitzHerbert would travel around the southwest edge of the city for another hour, so they made their goodbyes when they were within a mile of the city limits. There were many clasped arms and bows, including to Miranda and Sharon, who curtsied in return. Then they departed, their dark silhouettes soon disappearing in the dusk as stars popped out above them.

  “Can we go now?” Jonas asked.

  Miranda nodded. Finding a secluded area away from the road, Jonas pulled out the remote control. Sharon said goodbye to 1215, welcoming the familiar tingling on her skin and blue before her eyes. They rippled away as a breeze sighed through the grass.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The library had never looked so welcoming to Sharon. Appearing into morning light after another painfully long shift, she staggered to the couch across from the bookcases, falling onto it with her eyes closed. From the sounds of it, she was not the only one who collapsed onto the chair and the divan under the windows, but she did not want to open her eyes to confirm it.

  “Welcome back, Sharon.”

  Sharon slowly lifted her head. Mrs. Bower was standing next to the bookcases looking both proud and worried.

  “Hello, Mrs. Bower,” Sharon croaked. “It’s good to be back.”

  “I am guessing you would like confirmation that your mission was a success?”

  It took Sharon a moment to remember that they didn’t yet know if Caelen’s conversation with the Archbishop had been convincing. As usual, Miranda’s mind was working faster.

  “Yes, Mrs. Bower, that would be helpful.”

  “I am accessing the mainframe and it appears no change in history has occurred related to the terms of the Magna Carta.”

  “We failed?” Jonas asked disbelieving.

  Miranda looked at Caelen who was crestfallen.

  “It wasn’t your fault. You did the best you could. We knew it would be a difficult proposition when we started.”

  “All that walking for nothing,” Jonas flopped back in the chair, closing his eyes in disgust.

  “Unfortunately, there is more bad news,” Mrs. Bower said. “I can also confirm that the Temporal Protection Corps knows of the shift to 1215 and are rigorously investigating it.”

 
“How could they find out? We used the Director’s Prerogative device, there should be no way for them to know,” Sharon said.

  “A change of some kind occurred in the timeline. Agents have been dispatched to determine how and, if possible, return history to its original course.”

  “What was the change?” Caelen asked.

  “That information has been classified,” Mrs. Bower answered.

  “What could we have changed?” Sharon asked. Miranda shook her head.

  “Everything proceeded almost the same way as when I first visited the time frame. What changes we caused by being there were minimal, I’m certain of it. We did nothing to change the timeline other than our attempt to change terms of the Magna Carta.”

  “What then? Did we step on a butterfly and change the future?” Sharon asked, exasperated.

  “No, it doesn’t work like that. It would have to be something big to impact the timeline. A major change, like accidentally causing someone’s death, taking something we shouldn’t, or leaving something behind…” Jonas started and then went white. He grabbed his bag and rummaged through the stale heels of bread and crumbling cheese rinds. He looked up at them in a panic.

  “The first aid kit. I can’t find it. Do one of you have it?”

  “I don’t have it,” Caelen said as Sharon shook her head, eyes wide.

  “Oh no,” Miranda whispered.

  “What are we going to do?” Sharon asked.

  “We can use the Director’s Prerogative device and go back to 1215 and get it,” Jonas said, standing.

  “No, we can’t,” Caelen said.

  “We have to!” Jonas shouted, horrified by his error. “It’s a violation of TPC policy to leave an anachronism behind. We … I have to get it back.”

  “We can’t use one of the remaining shifts,” Caelen said. “Our mission to 1215 failed which means we need at least one, maybe both, to complete the mission now.”

  “Then we shift to 1215 and try again and get the first aid kit back,” Jonas said.

  “We can’t,” Miranda answered. “The TPC are there. There’s no way we can go back without being caught.”