After the Storm (4 page)

Libby welcomed the chance to talk about her work. She would like to think that it was as important as coming to the past to recover her lost memories. That wasn't true, of course, but concentrating on doing something useful helped keep her fear that she'd never remember those lost years at bay.

"About my research," she said rather than expose her demons. "I'm here to study outlaws."

Marj looked puzzled. "Can't you do that at home? As I recall, the crime rate in—"

"No, no, not criminals. Outlaws. The legends and popular, fanciful concepts, the whole Robin Hood schtick, that's what interests me. I want to know how it all got started. Everyone loves the steely eyed loner, the man outside the law," she went on. "Western culture's romanticized criminal behavior for hundreds of years. I came back here, to the place where the outlaw legends originated, to try to figure out why. Outlaw, wolfshead, brigand, bandit, those words are glamorous to us. I want to figure out what it is about Robin Hood that's translated into the popular outlook."

"Those men who attacked us weren't Robin Hood."

"Actually, Mom says Robin Hood lived up in Lincolnshire a couple of generations ago. But Blean's always been full of brigands and I have to work with what I've got right here."

"Oh, yeah?"

Libby nodded. "There's one that never got caught, Sikes. He's been operating in Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

this forest for at least twenty years. I want to find out about him. I don't know if those were his men who attacked us, but I want to observe them as much as possible."

"Before they get hanged," Marj added bluntly.

Libby did not like being reminded of the brutal realities of this world. "Cold in here, isn't it?" she observed to change the subject.

It was cold, despite the fact that it was a nice spring night. She shivered despite all the layers of clothing she wore. The thick stones of the walls kept in the chill and damp, and there was a mustiness in the air. It didn't help that the smoke from the tallow candles lighting the room gave off the aroma of animal fat. She didn't even want to think about climbing onto the straw-filled mattress. She knew that it would be damp, and the blankets full of vermin. She hadn't minded the inconveniences of the days spent camping out as they crossed the countryside, but now that she was inside she was too aware of the discomforts of the time.

"Do you think there's mice?" she asked as she peered into the shadows near the walls.

"Of course there's mice," Marj answered blithely. "Rats, too, I imagine."

"Thanks."

Before she could suggest that they sneak off to sleep outside in a tent the door opened and Lady Sibelle entered. She was accompanied by the girl who'd been sitting at the far end of the high table during dinner. A pair of large dogs followed the women into the room.

The girl was Matilda, Libby remembered, Henry's betrothed. Matilda looked like she'd been crying. Libby thought that if she were betrothed to Henry she might be tempted to cry too. She wanted to smile at the girl and say something sympathetic, but remembered that she wasn't supposed to interact with any more Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

people than necessary. So she focused her attention on Lady Sibelle as the dogs jumped up on the bed. Matilda hung back near the door. Her godmother carried a silver goblet full of some steaming liquid.

"I've brought you a posset, my dear," Sibelle said as Libby rose to meet her. "To calm you and help you sleep."

Eating dinner had been trial enough, Libby didn't think she could stomach taking any local medicine. "Thank you, my lady," she told her hostess, "but after all those lovely jellied eels I don't think I could manage to swallow another thing."

"Nonsense," Sibelle said as she took a relentless step forward. "You scarce touched your meal. Mothers notice such things, you know. And a godmother's care should be as loving and concerned as a mother's. Here." The silver cup was thrust firmly into Libby's hands. "Now, drink up and then we'll talk a bit while the potion relaxes you." Sibelle took a seat on the chest, folded her hands in her lap, and waited.

Libby looked desperately toward Marj, but all she got from the historian was an amused look. "Thanks a lot," she grumbled under her breath. She took a sniff of the potion. She smelled sage. "What's in it?"

"Wine, some herbs, egg yolk and barley water." That didn't sound so bad, Libby decided. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and swallowed the liquid in three long gulps, just as Lady Sibelle added, "And poppy, of course."

It was too late to spit the stuff out, so all Libby could do was stare at Sibelle in horror. "Poppy?"

"It will help you sleep."

Of course it would. "Opium's real good for that." Lady Sibelle smiled and nodded. Oh, great, her godmother was a drug dealer.

"I think you'd better sit down," Marj said as she took Libby by the arm and Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

guided her to the bed.

The dogs moved aside grudgingly as she sat, then one of them immediately put its head in her lap. She began scratching it behind the ears automatically. "I've got a dog like this at home," she said. "Mother's been breeding them since—"

Maybe it was better not to bring up too much about her parents' lives in case she made some sort of disastrous slip-up. Lady Sibelle thought her old friends rarely visited because they had settled down to live in a far-off castle in Daffyd ap Bleddyn's homeland. Libby had to make sure she didn't do or say anything that made anyone suspicious of this perfectly reasonable explanation. The actual explanation was that her parents lived in Batavia, Illinois, eight centuries in the future, and were in charge of a time-travel organization. The castle in far-off Wales made a lot more sense.

"I remember her taking a brace of our deerhounds with her to Wales. These, too, are descendants of

Melisande," Sibelle told her. "Now tell me," the Lady of Passfair went on, "why are you not yet wed?"

This was the second person today who'd brought up the subject of marriage. "I

—"

"Her betrothed died this last winter," Marj hurriedly explained. Libby gave the historian a grateful look.

Sibelle nodded and reached out to pat Libby's hand sympathetically. "Then I'll include the lad in my prayers. Still," she added, "I have sons other than Henry."

The girl by the door made a sniffing sound. Sibelle cast her a brief glance, then went on, "Perhaps, your parents will look to one of my and Sir Stephan's boys for your husband."

"Husband?" The word came out a stunned squeak. "I don't—"

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

Sibelle waved the subject away. "'Tis a matter for my lord and your father to discuss, but I think it is high time you were wed. If you are to rebuild Lilydrake you will have to have a strong husband to guard it. The king will want to ensure the loyalty of a Welsh heiress by giving her an English husband. You could do worse than one of my lads. Far worse."

"Yes, ma'am," was the only answer Libby could manage. She was beginning to feel a little bit dizzy.

This conversation was very strange. And why was Lady Sibelle looking at her so intently? Libby had no defenses against the woman's searching gaze, the dose of poppy in her bedtime drink had seen to that.

"I see now what makes you heart-hungry, for it is a lost love you pine for."

"It is?" The world was getting very, very fuzzy. Hadn't Mom once said that Sibelle was the local wise-woman? "I do?"

"Aye." Gentle hands stroked hers. "You'll rest easy here with us, my dear, where we can share our troubles and cure them together."

"Right. Fine," Libby murmured. She sighed deeply as her eyes slid closed. "Rest here. I can do that." But first she was going to have to get some sleep.

Libby hadn't realized how haunted she'd been by forgotten nightmares until she woke up from a night free of them. In fact, she'd slept very well, even with the straw mattress and the dogs for company, one curled at her feet, the other stretched out along her back. In fact, sharing the bed had been so natural she wondered if maybe she missed not sleeping alone. But who was she used to sleeping with? A dog on the end of the bed, or something a little bit more human?

Something long-limbed and bony. Someone.

The thoughts jarred her completely awake. She sat up quickly and fought to shake off the lingering effects of the sleeping potion. She was twenty-eight, she Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

reminded herself as she pulled back the bedcurtains to look around the dimly lit room. It would be very surprising if she wasn't used to having somebody in her bed at one time or another. Well, she hadn't been used to it at age twenty-four—

she'd been saving herself for the right man. He'd probably come along at some point but she just didn't remember him. Yet.

She pushed a dog aside and threw back the covers. As she stood up she realized she'd slept in her clothes. Local custom was to sleep naked, but she thought getting out of bed in a cold castle without any clothes on was taking realism a little too far. Just having her bare feet sink into the rush-covered floor was uncomfortable enough.

Tripping over the person lying next to the bed was worse.

Libby swore as she fell forward onto her hands and knees. Then she whirled around to help the woman she'd fallen across to sit up. "Are you okay, Marj?"

"I'm fine," Marj said from across the room.

Libby found herself looking into the red-rimmed eyes of Matilda. "What are you doing here?"

Still wrapped in a tangled blanket, Matilda scrambled to her feet. "Lady Sibelle said I should attend you," she told Libby in a soft, hesitant voice.

Libby stood. She looked at Marj, then back at the girl. "Attend me?" Matilda nodded. "Why?"

The girl tugged on a long brown braid. "Lady Sibelle said there is much I can learn from you."

Libby knew instantly what Sibelle had in mind, but she also knew it wouldn't work. What skills did she have that she could pass on to a medieval girl? How to run an espresso machine? Program a virtual reality chamber? She wasn't like her mother who'd come to the Middle Ages with knowledge of embroidery and Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

dressmaking and how to run a castle household, and had taught all that stuff to the teenaged Sibelle. Mom had made over an ugly duckling heiress into a swan.

The last thing Libby needed was to take on a project like Matilda. The last thing she knew how to do was take on a project like Matilda. And she could tell from looking at the sad, bedraggled girl, that that was exactly what her godmother intended.

"Oh, no," she said, and went barefoot and rumpled in search of her hostess. Marj, Matilda, and the two dogs followed along behind.

Sibelle was in the great hall, lingering over her breakfast while the servants cleared away the trestle tables below the dais. She looked up with a smile when Libby approached. "Come, my dear, and welcome." She gestured toward some covered dishes on the table. "I've saved a meal for you, for I knew you would oversleep a bit." She gestured the others toward the far end of the table. "Lady Marjorie and Matilda, welcome as well. I would like to speak with Isabeau alone, please."

Libby exchanged a wry look with Marj before the historian moved past her.

Then Libby sat down and picked up a spoon. She poked it into a dish that contained something white and squishy. She supposed it would be out of character to ask just what Lady Sibelle had saved for her breakfast. "It doesn't have opium in it, does it?" she did ask.

"Cheese curds? No, the flavors wouldn't mix well at all."

Cheese curds. Edible. Not like the sort one found deep fried at state fairs, but edible. Maybe. Libby was hungry, so she gave the cheese a try. "Not bad." After she'd taken a few bites she looked up and found Father John glaring at her from across the table. "What?"

"The Welshwoman doesn't see fit to thank God for her food, I see," he Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

complained to the young man standing beside him. Henry.

Henry was looking her over with embarrassing insolence. He made her feel like she didn't have any clothes on. "I would thank God most fervently for a bite of the Welshwoman's ti—"

"Henry!" Sibelle rapped out. She pointed. "Attend to your betrothed. Father, attend to your prayers." The men glared, but they obeyed the Lady of Passfair.

Sibelle sighed once they were out of earshot and said, "My apologies for my son's unchivalrous words. It's Matilda," she went on before Libby could think of anything to say. "Oh, not Matilda herself, but the idea of marrying. Henry has some notion he wants to run off on crusade, or follow the tourney circuit, or do anything but marry Michael of Wilton's daughter. And Matilda does nothing to make him change his mind, the poor child." Sibelle's last words were said with more exasperation than sympathy.

Libby swallowed another bite of cheese, then said. "I really must go on to Lilydrake. My father charged me to rebuild the keep as quickly as possible."

"Of course you must go to Lilydrake, and soon," Sibelle agreed. "But not before Beltane, surely. Of course you'll stay for the May Day fair. It will give you a chance to hire workers and purchase new household goods from the London merchants who come for the fair."

Libby remembered the fair held at Passfair on May Day every year. Back before there had been so many rules about Time Search people not interacting with the locals the Wolfe family had spent quite a bit of time actually living at Lilydrake.

There'd been a household full of creative anachronists, scientists and historians who'd used the place for research while playing dress up. Gradually research budgets had been pared and the rules of contact had become more stringent.

The change was due to the interference of a wealthy businessman who had Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

initially approached her father about turning time travel into a public attraction and began making trouble when David Wolfe wouldn't go along with him.

Nobody in her family actually came back to the Middle Ages for the joy of living in the period anymore. It was all pure, strictly monitored research these days. Though Libby thought Elliot Hemmons's interference had brought about needed regulation for the wrong reasons, she was glad that she'd had a chance to experience time travel when people were still allowed to have fun. She remembered trips to Passfair for the May Day celebration, and discovered that she was as eager for the festival now as she had been then.