A Druid Stone

by Kim Allred

  Once back in her room, she crawled into bed and turned on her side to watch the fire. She didn't know how Sebastian would get her on a ship, but she had to be ready at a moment's notice. But should she leave? She'd been in France for almost a full day, and she'd hoped Finn and Ethan would have arrived by now. Where were they? Still at Westcliffe? Maybe they jumped to a different time.

  She pushed down her rising panic. The one thing she wouldn't do was become as paralyzed as she'd been the first time Finn had brought her back in time. She had a mission. Find Maire. If she could get to England, she could get to the earl in Hereford. She had money, all she needed was transportation. And above all else, she required protection. She already had several ideas on how to hide her dagger, but another thought occurred to her. The man in the next room. As much as she loathed and distrusted him, they bore a mutual objective—to discover what was happening at Waverly. What would she do about him?

  AJ had tossed all night, waking to turbulent thoughts she couldn't quell. Beckworth dragging her out of Westcliffe, the jump, finding herself back at the inn without Finn. Where was he? Sebastian was the only person capable of holding her together when doubts crept in. Unwilling to relive the last twenty-four hours one more time, she dragged herself from bed, added wood to the fire, and curled up on the couch, a thin blanket covering her. She'd concocted a skeleton of a plan the night before. As she stared into the fire, she reworked her idea as Finn did, walking through various scenarios and creating alternatives for the sketchier areas. She eventually dozed until she heard the tapping at the door.

  She opened it cautiously, pleased to see Sebastian. Now that she had a working plan, she was anxious to get to the next step.

  The monk glanced at her makeshift bed on the sofa and the messed bed. "Are you packed?"

  AJ lifted the backpack, where she'd stuffed her jeans and shirt along with Beckworth's original items. She gave the room one last swift glance before following Sebastian to the next room. Two young men stood by the door.

  "This is Tomas and Jules. They'll help with your friend. I've already been in to check on him, and he's still quite groggy." Sebastian opened the door, peered in, then waved for the men to follow.

  AJ moved in behind them and walked straight to the window. She opened it and let the chilled winter air wash over her. The rain had left a clean earthen scent behind, and she sucked it in. She was ready. She could do this.

  By the time she turned back to the room, the men were already moving Beckworth out, one carrying his feet, the other his shoulders, Beckworth's head bent toward his chest, tipped to one side. If he was faking, he was doing a good job of it. Sebastian followed close behind while AJ did a final sweep of the room before shutting the door behind her.

  The smell of Henri's fresh bread made her sorry she hadn't eaten more the night before when she had the chance. The main room was quiet, but a large fire blazed in the hearth. The men carried Beckworth toward the main door, but AJ veered for the kitchen.

  "Henri, are you there?" She stepped hesitantly through the door, not wanting to intrude.

  The squat man appeared from behind another door, probably the pantry, and smiled. "I see you had early visitors."

  AJ stared at the floor, not sure how much this man knew. She also didn't want him getting into trouble with the French troops.

  "Don't worry, Miss AJ. You have safe harbor here. We are a close community, even with the uncouth men that come through our doors. We think the world of Sebastian. And you and Captain Murphy have always been kind."

  "Thank you, Henri. I don't want to be a burden."

  "If you want to see a burden, that French major is all the further you need to go," Sofi responded for her husband, stepping out from the pantry, carrying two flour sacks. "We'd all like to see him gone, but then we might get someone worse." She set the sacks down and crossed herself. "Is your guest gone?"

  "Yes. Sebastian just had him carried out." She smiled at the couple, who continued their chores as they spoke with her.

  Henri pulled a tray of fresh bread from the oven while Sofi stirred a pot of porridge. A slab of bacon sat on the counter, ready for cooking. AJ could almost smell the cooked bacon while her stomach grumbled. The back door creaked open as Marcel ran in with a basket of eggs, nodded at AJ, and rushed through to the main room.

  "I was wondering if I could ask for another small favor. I have some items I need, but it's too early for the shops. I don't know when I'll be able to get back here. I don't have transportation from the monastery."

  Sofi wiped her hands. "Tell me what you need."

  AJ handed her a list that she'd scratched out before Sebastian arrived.

  Sofi studied the page. "I can send Ella to the mercantile when it opens. Then Marcel can bring it with the other supplies we send to the monastery. Will mid-morning be soon enough?"

  "More than enough. Thank you so much, Sofi." She hugged the woman and kissed her cheek. While Sofi was hugging her back, AJ tucked a small package in the woman's pocket. Sofi would never have accepted the silver necklace if AJ just handed it to her. The necklace would fetch a good price and more than pay for her requested items. The extra money would make a nice addition to what she knew Sebastian must have paid Henri. They'd both done so much for her, not just in the last day, but when she'd been here a year ago. And she was fairly certain this would be the last time she'd ever see them.

  4

  They traveled an hour west of town to reach the monastery. Sebastian pulled the wagon into the side courtyard. This was the same courtyard where Finn had killed the duke in his own ornate carriage, or so AJ was told. The two lads removed Beckworth from the cart and hustled him inside. Sebastian shuttled AJ through a side door that led to a hall. They took a right, walked through a busy kitchen where inquisitive eyes lowered when she passed, then down a short hall to a door that led to the subbasements.

  The monastery had been built on the edge of a rocky cliff that overlooked the Celtic Sea. The main structure was two stories, but under the monastery, three additional floors had been carved into the stone. The main basement held several small rooms that had been used by the novitiates—those in training before taking their vows—back in the early days of the monastery, before its decline during the Revolution. Anyone who found their way to this floor would assume it to be the lowest floor in the building.

  The lowest two floors were only accessible through secret passages and doorways. While these floors had been widely known three hundred years ago when the monastery had first been built, time and changes in political powers had erased the knowledge of this part of the monastery to only a small handful. Not even the duke had been aware of the passages until one of his men had stumbled upon a hidden door by sheer luck. With the duke and his men dead or returned to England, the passages were once again safely concealed.

  Sebastian settled AJ into a familiar room. She'd only been in it once, for about two seconds. The monk had led Maire and AJ through it the first time he'd popped his head out from behind a bookcase in an upstairs sitting room, taking them down a dark staircase leading to this room. The passageway on this side was also hidden behind a bookcase, although simpler in design and make. The room provided AJ an avenue for either hiding in the staircase or escaping through the upper-level room if she was unable to make her way into the subbasement passages.

  The room held few amenities—a single bed, a table with two chairs, and the bookcase. As soon as Sebastian left to gather more lanterns and linen, she collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep. When she woke, a lantern shone from its perch on the table next to two wrapped packages.

  Being in a room with no window, she had no idea what time it was. She didn't think she'd slept the day away, and since she'd barely eaten the day before, her growling stomach didn't tell her much. After quickly unwrapping the packages to see what Ella had bought for her, she retraced her earlier steps back to the kitchen. She slipped silently through the halls, unsure who she'd run into. When she entered the kitch
en, a stout woman, with thick arms and gray hair sticking out of her loose bun, dropped a kettle on the table and smiled.

  "Ah, Miss AJ, Sebastian asked me to keep a tray ready for you."

  Jeanne, the cook who had been hired during the duke's tenure in the monastery, was a no-nonsense woman who seemed to have a strong loyalty to Sebastian. If she thought it strange that Sebastian was keeping a woman and an unconscious man in the basement, she kept it to herself. AJ scanned the tray as she returned to her room. A large pot of tea and food that would last throughout the day. At least she wouldn't starve. She had a busy day planned.

  She began by sorting out Ella's purchases, first laying out one muddy-brown dress and one the color of dark jade. They weren't fine enough to wear to Waverly, but they were more than a servant would wear. The rest of the items included a pair of pants sized for a young man, a small shirt, an overcoat, a hat, shoes and underclothes, a small bolt of fabric, and a sewing kit. The last item was a canvas bag for traveling.

  When she opened the bag, AJ discovered a package of bread, cheese, dried meat, sweet treats, and a skin of wine. Sofi's way of saying she'd found the gift AJ had left her. She laughed. They all seemed to be fattening her up. She placed the food back in the canvas bag. It would store well in the basement's cool temperature. Hopefully, she wouldn't find herself hiding in the dank hidden staircase with nothing but her bag of food and wine to keep her company while French troops scoured the basement.

  Returning to the clothes, she tried on the shoes. They fit reasonably well and were functional. Next, she reviewed all the underclothes, deemed them satisfactory, and set them all aside with the shoes except for the chemise, which she laid on the bed. She tried on the shirt. The shoulders hung an inch beyond her own, and the sleeves were too long but could be rolled up. She folded the shirt and placed it with the undergarments.

  The pants were loose but manageable and would hide the fact she was a woman. They were laid next to the chemise on the bed. The dresses didn't fit any better than the one she wore. The bodice fit well enough, but the sleeves were too short and the hem too high. There wasn't anything she could do about that, and it wasn't as if she were going to any parties. They only needed to be passable. If necessary, she could find some boots that might distract from the short hemline.

  Once the main table was cleared, she laid out the bolt of muslin. Using shears that Jeanne had lent her, she began cutting the fabric. For the next few hours, she sewed the fabric into six pouches of various sizes. After careful consideration, she stripped ribbon from one of the dresses to use as a drawstring for each pouch. By the time she'd finished the pouches, her neck ached, her eyes were crossed from staring at stitches in the dim light, and her fingers smarted from where she kept poking them. Sewing didn't run in the family, but as she munched on her leftover breakfast and washed it down with cold tea, she reviewed her handiwork. The edges looked horrible, but they were strong enough for their purpose.

  Sebastian brought a fresh pot of tea in the afternoon. When he advised her that Beckworth was resting comfortably, she'd been so busy fussing with her mediocre sewing that she'd simply snorted at the monk's news. She barely noticed him close the door quietly behind him.

  Her afternoon was spent tacking the pouches into the clothing so they were strong enough to hold but easy enough to cut or rip out in an emergency. The larger pouches would hide her dagger and were sewn behind the pockets of the pants and dresses. She slit a small hole in each pocket so she could reach the pouches without too much hand movement. The smaller pouches were sewn into the chemise and dresses. She touched the necklace around her neck. Before she left the monastery, she would tuck the necklace, strung with the Heart Stone and her wedding ring, into one of the small pouches. She would move the necklace whenever she changed clothing. The dagger and necklace would never leave her person. Not willingly.

  At the end of the day, Sebastian returned.

  "Dare I ask what all the sewing was about?" He'd brought a tray of roasted pork, potatoes with onions and herbs, cabbage, and fresh bread. He laid out the plates and cups while AJ poured wine from a jug.

  "I made secret pouches for some valuables I don't want to lose. I don't know if they'll work, but it was the only thing I could think of." AJ savored a slice of pork, then licked the juice from her fingers. She'd barely touched the food from her morning tray and was starving.

  Sebastian shook his head. "Very smart indeed." He chewed a bite of bread and studied her thoughtfully. "I think one more evening of a sleeping potion, and then Beckworth needs to get on his feet."

  AJ picked at the cabbage. "Is he well enough?"

  He nodded. "The shoulder will hurt for several days, but it's healed enough. There's no sign of infection." He hesitated as she pondered his statement.

  When she looked up, her brow rose. "What else?"

  "We should untie him. He'll stay locked in the room. I have two men who would be happy to guard his door. He needs to regain his strength."

  AJ sighed and finished a few bites before glancing up at Sebastian. "He's dangerous."

  The monk nodded. "And he wants to get to England."

  "About that. What are your thoughts? I imagine it won't be easy getting two English people past the blockade."

  "I've been considering your options." He tapped his fingers on the table in between tiny sips of wine. "After dinner, I want to show you something. Then you can make up your mind how quickly you need to get to England."

  She wasn't sure she liked the sound of his cryptic statement. He knew she had to return to England. It wasn't until after he'd left to finish some monastery business that she began to worry. The last thing she needed was Sebastian trying to talk her out of her plans.

  Beckworth raised his head, waited for his vision to clear, then scanned the room. He was still tied down. He'd tested his range of freedom when he'd woken earlier, still groggy and weak, but had been unable to keep his eyes open. His mind was clearer now, enough to notice that his accommodations had changed. The bed was harder than the last one, there were no windows, and it smelled of mildew. None were good signs.

  He wasn't at the inn anymore.

  Except it was still the monk who fed him and forced him to drink the drugged tea. The tea must have been a sleeping potion. It was the only thing that made sense with his inability to keep track of time. Yet, he grudgingly admitted he felt better than he had since arriving in the fog. His shoulder still ached, but it was more a dull throb. And though he hated to admit it, even if he hadn't been tied down, he didn't have the strength to roll over.

  He took a deep breath and caught the slightest hint of salt in the dampness. They were close to the sea. If he had to guess, he'd bet they'd brought him to the monastery.

  He closed his eyes when the door opened. He peered at his guest through slitted eyes and recognized the monk. He carried a tray that probably held another bowl of soup and a mug of tea. But as the tray grew closer, he swore he could smell savory meat. The tray was placed on the table next to his bed, and Sebastian pulled a chair over.

  "You can open your eyes. I know you're awake." Sebastian placed a napkin across Beckworth's chest. "I have some stew for you. I think it's time to eat something more substantial to gain strength."

  Beckworth chuckled as he struggled with his restraints to a more upright position. He grimaced at the stab of pain in his shoulder. "I thought you wanted me weak." His voice came out gravelly, and he coughed to clear the phlegm. "I'll be less trouble."

  The monk laughed, which surprised Beckworth. All the time he'd been in the monastery with the duke, Beckworth hadn't seen much of the quiet monk.

  "We need you healed as quickly as possible, and you required rest. From what AJ tells me, the transport through the fog takes the strength out of the healthiest of people." Sebastian shrugged as he stirred the bowl of stew and handed it to Beckworth. "That knife wound took quite a bit out of you."

  Beckworth set the bowl in his lap, and with a shaky hand, slurped th
e first spoonful, surprised at how good it tasted. The simple effort drained what little strength he had, and he rested his head against the wall. "The woman keeps stabbing me."

  Sebastian raised a brow while he poured a cup of tea from a small teapot. "I admit, I haven't heard your side of the story, but have you considered that your actions may have warranted some reprisal?"

  He snickered as he worked another spoonful of stew in his mouth, sloshing meaty juice onto the napkin. "I try not to analyze my actions. What's done is done."

  "There you have it. Without proper reflection on past actions, it's impossible to recognize the correct path forward." He handed the mug to Beckworth.

  When he didn't take it, Sebastian set it down and waited for him to take another few swallows of stew. Then, with some pitiful resistance, took the bowl away.

  "I wasn't finished."

  "Let that settle. It's been a couple of days since you've had solid food. You can have more after you drink some tea."

  "With more sleeping potion? I don't think so."

  The monk pulled his chair closer to the bed. "Let's consider your situation. You're an Englishman in France. France is at war with England."

  Beckworth opened and closed his mouth, then nodded.

  "The year is 1804. The month is February. You've been injured and can barely move. Do you understand?"

  "I've been gone almost two years." He'd ignored everything Murphy and Hughes had mentioned about the timeline. He hadn't cared; his only focus had been on getting home. He was weak as a drowned rat and without a schilling. His gaze flickered around the room. "I had a pack with me."

  The monk smiled. "That must be the pack AJ keeps with her."