Ashes of Time (The After Cilmeri Series) (23 page)

“
Running from the law isn’t
as much fun in the living as the telling, is it?” Mom elbowed Anna
in the ribs. “When I told you about our flight across Wales three
years ago I made it sound less bad than it was.”

“
You managed to make it
sound funny, but I knew it was scary.” Anna had thought that and
more besides. She and Math had talked about Mom’s trip at length.
Talking about it made it easier to think about something like that
happening to the two of them. And it could have, if Marty had
chosen his target a little differently.

Anna glanced at Mom. Math was one of the
most competent men she knew, and he wouldn’t have begrudged Anna
her superior knowledge of the modern world, but it would have
grated on him to be so helpless. On the whole, it was better that
it was Mom and Anna who had come here. “How does driving in the
dark across the Elan Valley compare to this?”

Mom’s eyes got a distant look. “Your father
was ill, so that added to the worry, and he and Goronwy were
relying on me to get them through it. I can’t say this is better,
though.” She leaned forward and put a hand briefly on Callum’s
shoulder. “I didn’t know then as much as I do now about who was
chasing us. I would have preferred to keep my innocence, quite
frankly.”

“
Hopefully today will be a
little less adventurous than that day.” George glanced at Mom in
the rearview mirror. “I have the same security clearance as Jones
does.”

“
How do you know Jones?”
Callum said. “Not that I want to appear ungrateful for the assist
from the consulate.”

“
We’re cousins.” George was
silent for a minute as he navigated between cars that were going
more slowly than he wanted. Once away from the Six Flags’ exit, the
traffic thinned considerably. “He’s filled me in on the salient
points.”

“
Do we have a plane?”
Cassie said.

“
The British government
have requested that Director Callum return to Cardiff immediately,”
George said. “Getting you a plane wasn’t a problem.”

“
And the rest of us?” Anna
said.

George dipped his head slightly. “The plane
is going. Like I said, it’s a small matter to take on a few more
passengers.” George reached into his breast pocket and removed two
red passports, which he handed to Callum. “Your guests are
diplomatic couriers, traveling at the behest of our
government.”

“
Thank you.” Callum passed
the passports back to Mom and Anna. “I can’t thank you enough. I
owe you a favor.”

George gave a laugh. “One you may regret. As
it is, my son thanks you for his surprise trip to Six Flags with
two friends.” He shot Callum a look Anna couldn’t interpret. “It
might cause an international incident when the American government
discover you flew out of Oakland with a fugitive.”

Anna stared at the elaborate golden seal on
the front of the passport. Opening it, her name was revealed to be
Anna Llywelyn. Sudden tears pricked the corners of her eyes.
Blinking them away, she leaned in to look at Mom’s passport. It
said Marged Llywelyn.

“
It’s Black Friday, as
we’ve been reminded repeatedly this morning,” Callum said.
“Everything is working a touch more slowly than it might be
otherwise.”

“
Let’s hope it continues—”
George stopped as the SUV buzzed at him. He pressed a button on the
dashboard. “Hello?”

“
Good morning, Mr.
Spencer.” A woman’s voice came on the line.

George cleared his throat. “Good morning
Consul-General. How may I help you?”

“
An agent from Homeland
Security for California stands before me,” she said. “He has
informed me that the imminent threat level for San Francisco,
specifically the airport, is now at red.”

“
How unfortunate,” George
said.

“
He has apologized for
whatever inconvenience this might cause us.”

Everyone else in the vehicle remained
absolutely silent.

“
He has also informed me
that all bridges in and out of San Francisco are being monitored,
and all cars searched.”

“
I imagine that is going to
cause many people some difficulties,” George said. “Do we know the
specifics of the threat?”

“
No,” she said, and Anna
could almost hear her eyeing the agent in her office. “But he
expresses his condolences for our losses at GCHQ.”

Then a man’s voice came on the line, clearly
American. “Your Consul-General informs me that a top agent in the
Security Service was to be flying home to England today.”

George didn’t answer immediately, and Anna
could hear rustling in the background. Then George said, “Was that
a question?”

“
No,” the Consul-General
said. “Please come straight to my office once you reach the
consulate.”

“
Given what you’ve told me
about the bridges, I may be very much delayed,” George
said.

“
As I would expect, Mr.
Spencer.” The Consul-General ended the call.

Mom leaned forward. “So, that means—”

“
We proceed as planned,”
George said.

“
But the airport—” Mom
said.

“
We’re going to Oakland,”
Anna said. “That’s what you said earlier, right?”

For the first time since they’d started
driving, the lines of tension around George’s mouth eased, and his
expression lightened.

“
The Consul-General knows
that too, doesn’t she?” Callum said.

“
She does,” George said.
“But for some reason, Homeland Security doesn’t know that we
charter private planes out of Oakland as well as San
Francisco.”

“
Since when?” Cassie said,
laughter in her voice.

George looked at his watch. “Since the call
came in from the Home Office last night. But again, it’s Black
Friday. It may be the paperwork hasn’t sifted through the proper
channels yet. In fact, I’m certain that the office we’re supposed
to notify is closed today.”

The four passengers relaxed into their
seats. For the first time since they’d entered Art’s truck nearly
twelve hours ago, Anna found her breath coming easily. She hadn’t
realized how tightly she’d been holding herself. “How long until
the airport?”

“
Ah. Funny you should ask.”
And now George actually grinned. “It’s coming up on our right just
now.”

Anna looked where George pointed to a sign
that said, “Private Departures.”

“
Thank God,” Mom breathed
from beside Anna.

Half an hour later, as the airplane’s
engines roared to life and the jet headed down the runway, Anna
cracked the lid on her bottle of water. They had an eleven-hour
flight to Cardiff. She’d never been very good at time zone math,
but Callum said they’d arrive around six in the morning tomorrow.
They wouldn’t have made it to the Middle Ages, but at least they’d
be in Wales. It was a start.

Chapter
Fourteen

November 1291

David

A
nna and Mom had been gone for a day and a half. David was
really glad that he’d slept at Aber, because nobody was going to be
getting any sleep tonight. It was past midnight and they’d been
riding or walking, with only a brief rest at Dolbadarn, since
they’d left Bangor nearly twelve hours earlier.

To David’s huge relief, the word that had
gone out from Aber had borne fruit. Men had begun to trickle into
the ranks since midnight, swelling their army from the four hundred
foot soldiers who’d gathered by the time they’d reached Dolbadarn,
to eight hundred, and since they’d come down the road off Mt.
Snowdon, the numbers had reached a thousand. Northern Welshmen were
known for their spears, but every man knew how to use a bow if he
had to. Before the sun rose, they might have the opportunity to use
both.

By the time they set up camp between two
little lakes to the east of Beddgelert, they had a much better idea
of what Madog intended. Beddgelert sat at the head of a narrow gap
between two hills that ran for a mile from Beddgelert to
Aberglaslyn. Madog had arrayed his forces on the bottom slope of
the Nantmor, facing northwest and guarding the entrance to the
Aberglaslyn valley.

Madog’s intent, as far as they could tell,
was to launch his attack as soon as Dad’s force exited the gap.
When they’d speculated about where Madog might set his trap, Dad
had assumed that he would descend from the sharp peaks rising up on
either side of the gap, fall upon Dad’s small force, and create a
very effective killing zone at the river bottom. It was what every
Welshman worth his salt would have planned, but that didn’t seem to
be what Madog intended.

Admittedly, the terrain was steep and
difficult, and the swiftly flowing river that split the valley
meant that Madog’s men could attack only from the eastern ridge.
Still, bowmen placed upon the west side of the river could have
mowed down Dad’s cavalry at six arrows a minute. Even in the dark,
it would have been an uneven fight, which Dad likely would have
lost.

Madog, however, appeared to be looking for a
straight-up fight on a field of battle. Madog’s men were well
placed on the Nantmor above a field, which would put Dad’s forces
at a disadvantage because of the little warning he’d have (were he
unaware of Madog’s plans) and the small amount of room to
maneuver.

David would have said that it was an
excellent arrangement if a far better one hadn’t lain a quarter of
a mile away. Dad had spent many minutes puzzling over the
disposition of Madog’s men until he remembered that even if Madog’s
blood was Welsh, he had been trained in war by Englishmen. He
didn’t understand bows, and it seemed that Rhys’s sons, if they
were, in fact, in attendance, hadn’t been able to impress upon
Madog how he might ambush Dad more effectively.

David meandered through the ranks of men,
stopping at a group of ten who clustered together, sorting their
arrows. Fortunately, winter hadn’t closed in yet, and in American
terms David thought the temperature was roughly forty-five degrees.
With his armor and thick wool cloak, he wasn’t chilled. Nor would
the men be. Wool was as common as rain in Wales, and all of the men
were dressed for winter, in thick cloaks, tunics, and breeches. A
few didn’t wear shoes, but David thought that was by choice.
Archers often fought with only one shoe to be sure of their
footing. They were lucky it wasn’t raining because that froze the
hands and made it hard to aim an arrow.

“
Where are you from?” David
said to the men.

“
Dolwyddelan, my lord,” one
of the men said. “My name’s Cadoc.”

“
Thank you for coming,”
David said. Dolwyddelan was only seven miles as the crow flies from
Beddgelert, but because of the rough terrain, they had to have come
at least twice that distance to reach this spot. It was the same
distance Math was going to have to travel if he was going to join
the fight. David hoped Math had received the message and was even
now coming their way.

Another man growled. “I don’t like this
Madog.”

“
His father ruled these
lands before my father took them from him,” David said.

“
He never ruled here.” The
man waved a hand. “That was to the south.”

“
And even if he did,” Cadoc
said. “Madog speaks no Welsh, I hear. My sister married a man from
Meirionnydd. If Madog rules there, I fear they’ll be tithing to a
bloody Norman from England next.” He looked hastily at David. “No
offense meant, my lord.”

“
None taken,” David
said.

That seemed to please them, and with a nod,
David moved on, intending to speak to another group of men, but
then the first man, Cadoc, spoke to David’s back. “It must be hard
living among foreigners, my lord. Just as long as you don’t get too
used to them.”

David turned back, trying not to smile
because the man was serious, and he didn’t want to appear mocking.
“I am, and always will be, a Welshman. I took the throne of England
so no more Normans could plant their boots in Welsh soil. I live
among the English so you don’t have to.” The words had come out
before David had really thought them through. He hadn’t meant to be
so startlingly honest.

“
You took a Welsh wife,”
Cadoc said. “Didn’t think you were going to.”

There were nods all around. It went without
saying that discussions of David’s personal life had taken place up
and down the length of Wales since his father acknowledged him as
his son; David had a brief image of the men sitting in a tavern,
nodding over his decision to marry Lili.

None of them had any notion of the division
that decision had created in David’s family. It was still
astonishing to David how stubborn his father had been about it.
He’d actually wanted David to take Lili as his mistress. She might
have been willing, but it had been David who’d refused. He’d
figured out before he was sixteen—before his mother explained it to
him in no uncertain terms—that his station as the Prince of Wales
meant that all he had to do was crook his finger, and he could have
any woman he wanted. Which to David meant he couldn’t have any.

“
I hope your mother and
sister are well.” This comment came from a boy no older than
William.

David canted his head in silent thanks. “I
do too. It’s hard to have them gone.”

“
But they’re safe, yes?” he
said.

“
They are safe; I am
certain of it.” David rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder, nodded
again in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, and continued
on.