Ashes of Time (The After Cilmeri Series) (32 page)

William nodded, not at all deflated, and
David looked back to the bus, wondering if they’d be so lucky as to
have a real doctor on board.

“
My lord,” Math said, his
tone under control and back to being an advisor and brother, “none
of us are physicians, and we have a more pressing task. We must see
to Rhys’s wayward offspring.”

As one, the companions turned outward,
looking away from the bus for a sign of the two brothers.

“
Did they fall with Madog
under the bus?” William said. From the way he said ‘bus’, David had
a feeling it was going to be a staple of his vocabulary from now
on.

“
I know the brothers by
sight,” Carew said, “and I didn’t see them when Madog fought King
David. I don’t see them now.”

“
Deciding the battle was
lost, would they have run?” David said.

Among the Welsh, this wouldn’t have been a
strike against them but purely a practical matter of staying free
to fight another day.

“
They still hold Carndochen
and Cymer,” Math said. “If nothing else, one of those castles could
provide a temporary refuge until they flee south to their
father.”

“
If Lord Rhys is as smart
as I think he is, he’ll pretend he knew nothing of Madog’s plans,”
Carew said. “Mark my words.”

David nodded. That was
medieval-speak for
I called it!
Rhys wouldn’t be the first father to hang his sons
out to dry when a king tasked him with treason. Gruffydd ap
Gwenwynwyn, whose son, Owain, had plotted with Dad’s brother,
Dafydd, had seen the error of his ways in a similar fashion. Oddly,
David found that he missed the gruff old soldier, who’d died a few
years ago of old age and without an heir. He would have had a few
choice words to say about today’s events.

Good Norman that he was, Justin was looking
offended at the notion that the brothers would have abandoned their
men if they thought the battle was lost. David put a hand on his
shoulder. “I didn’t say that Rhys and his sons wouldn’t be called
to account for their sins, only that Carew was right about the
manner by which Rhys would try to weasel out of punishment. My
father will see to him. You’ll see.”

William was horrified too. “Madog is dead
and what might Rhys lose? A castle? A few acres of land?”

“
Politics.” Justin shook
his head.

Math laughed. “Son, it is the blood in every
nobleman’s veins.”

Chapter Twenty

November 1291

Meg

M
eg
wanted to laugh and cry and shriek all at the same time. When that
corner of the courthouse had come flying towards the bus, Meg
barely registered what she was seeing before it hit. Death, really,
because it would have rocketed right through the bus. And here she
was, held tightly in Llywelyn’s arms where she belonged. It was as
if she’d been holding her breath for two days and hadn’t known it.
And all of a sudden, between one instant and the next, all was
right with the world again.

“
Cariad
.” Llywelyn kissed her temple.

Meg wanted to fall to the ground with him
and never stop kissing him, but she couldn’t in front of all these
people.

Llywelyn smiled into her eyes, reading her
mind easily. “You brought back more than a few visitors, my
love.”

“
Believe me, it wasn’t our
intent.”

“
I wouldn’t have chosen for
you to fall into the middle of our war either,” he said. “You could
have been killed.”

Meg didn’t want to hear that, but it seemed
obvious that he and David had gotten themselves into a dangerous
situation—a life-threatening situation. When David had come to the
Middle Ages at fourteen, he hadn’t been a soldier, but his father
had turned him into one as quickly as he could. It had literally
been a matter of life or death. While David’s dream was to create a
new country—a united Britain—and fighting this so-called ‘little
war’ might be the first step towards the fulfillment of that dream,
Meg’s wish for her son and husband was that they might no longer
need to go to war at all.

Llywelyn pulled a bit away from Meg so he
could see her face better. The movement made him wince and lean
slightly to his left, as if he was protecting his side.

“
What is it?” Meg framed
his face with her hands, not hiding her sudden rush of fear for
him—as well as the tears that were forming at the corners of her
eyes against her will.

Llywelyn brushed the tears
away with his thumbs. “I am well,
cariad
. David too.”

“
Then what’s wrong?” Meg
put her hand down at his side.

He winced again. “It’s nothing. The time for
worrying is past.”

She didn’t believe him. Something was wrong
with him, though none of the blood on him was his. Adrenaline could
mask a lot of ills, however. It would soon be wearing off—for him
and for every other man here. She made a mental note to make
Llywelyn address whatever was hurting him the moment she managed to
leave this bus.

Llywelyn kissed Meg’s forehead one more
time, looking in her eyes to let her know he wanted to do a lot
more than that, and then disappeared back outside. They’d been
apart for two days, which had been a lifetime for both of them, but
compared to their previous partings, it was nothing. Meg knew that
he would find them a quiet moment before the end of the day to hold
each other properly and talk, but it couldn’t happen in front of
all these out of place and terrified people.

Then Anna tugged on her sleeve. “I’d say we
have a lot worry about at the moment.”

Meg turned to look at the crowd that had
gathered around them. Llywelyn had meant his words to be for Meg
alone, but Anna wasn’t wrong. Meg raised her hand above her head
and waved it, but when that didn’t catch the attention of more than
one or two people, she cupped her hands around her mouth.
“Hey!”

The talking stopped, and everyone looked at
her. Those who’d traveled on the upper level of the bus had come
down, the last stragglers sitting on the steps of the stairs.
Cassie had gotten the obnoxious American under control by
whispering urgent words in his ear that had caused his face to
pale. When she returned to Meg’s side, she didn’t tell Meg what
she’d said, and Meg didn’t ask.

Meg began: “I can’t tell you how or why this
has happened, only that you have fallen into the middle of a
medieval battlefield. That should be obvious to you by now given
the carnage outside these windows. Now, Callum—” Meg put a hand on
Callum’s arm, “—hasn’t been letting you off the bus because the
battle was ongoing and you’d only get in the way. I still need most
of you to remain on the bus so we can figure out who you are and
where we go from here, but for now I need a show of hands of anyone
who has medical training or experience.”

“
Who are you?” The
questioner was a well-dressed man in his mid-fifties, with
distinguished graying hair and a thickness to him that spoke of too
many restaurant meals.

Callum made a dismissive motion with his
hand, but Meg said, “I am the Queen of Wales.”

Several people blinked, but the response was
something less than Meg might have hoped. Shock was still the order
of the day. The overweight businessman sputtered and was joined by
the obnoxious American, a much larger man with broad shoulders and
a thick chest.

“
I got this, Mom.” Anna
stepped towards the two men. “What are your names?”

They didn’t know to whom she was speaking,
which may well have been Anna’s intent. Each shot the other an
uncertain glance, and then the taller man stuck out his chin.
“Mike.”

“
I’m Gordon Hardin,” the
older man said, clearly with the expectation that it should mean
something to his listeners. Success in business had obviously made
him think he was smarter than everyone else and deserved adulation.
Several people on the bus murmured, but Meg didn’t catch their
words and his name didn’t mean anything to her.

Anna plowed on. “Okay, Mike and Gordon.
Here’s the deal. You have time traveled—well, if you want to get
technical, you’ve world-shifted—to the Middle Ages. And at least
for now, you’re stuck here with us.”

A woman of about forty, who was sitting near
Anna, raised her hand like she was in school. “How do you know
this?”

Meg appreciated her
restraint since at least she was polite. But even as the woman
spoke, her eyes tracked to the scene outside the bus. Meg might
have asked her,
how could you not know
this
, but since both Meg and Anna had spent
their initial hours in the Middle Ages uncertain about where they
were—and then not wanting to admit where they were—Anna was
understanding and answered her civilly.

“
I’ve lived here for the
last nine years. We were visiting your world when that building
exploded and sent us back here.” Anna held up her hand again. “Yes,
to get this out of the way, if it’s anyone’s fault you’re here,
it’s mine. Sorry. I can’t help when the time traveling happens, and
this time I took all of you with me.”

Meg couldn’t believe Anna was saying
that—taking the heat for Meg and for all of them. She wanted to
protest. She would have if it wasn’t already too late and would
have complicated matters even more.

“
Of course, we’d probably
be dead if we hadn’t come with you,” Cassie said.

Anna shot her a grateful look. “True.”

While Gordon muttered something Meg didn’t
catch, Mike elbowed the two people standing between him and Anna
out of his way and stalked down the aisle towards her. “How do we
get home?”

“
We don’t.” Meg moved to
stand beside Anna. “And let me say this once: if you speak to my
daughter in that tone of voice again, I will see you in
chains.”

Mike clenched his fist and waved it in Meg’s
face. “Don’t you threaten—”

Two seconds later he was face down on the
floor, taken down so quickly Meg hadn’t seen who’d done it. Not
Anna; it was a total stranger, who’d been sitting next to Mark and
Darren. Callum edged his way past Anna and Meg to where the man
knelt with his knee in Mike’s back. Darren had risen too. His hand
rested under his jacket at the small of his back. Meg recognized
the stance. It meant he had a gun back there. Meg was glad he
hadn’t drawn it.

Callum nudged Mike with the toe of his shoe.
“We’d appreciate it if you’d stop being such an ass.”

The man twisted his neck to look up at
Callum and gaped at him—who wouldn’t if those words had been spoken
to him in Callum’s fabulous upper crust accent—but then he started
sputtering again.

Ignoring Mike, Callum held out his hand to
the stranger. The man wore fatigues and had a crew cut, so it
didn’t take a genius to realize he was military. “I am Lord Callum,
Earl of Shrewsbury, lately of MI-5. Who are you?”

“
Peter Cobb, sir.” He shook
Callum’s hand.

“
Thanks for your help.”
Callum tipped his head to Darren, who moved forward to help Peter
manhandle Mike to his feet, his arms twisted up behind his
back.

Mike started shouting obscenities at the
treatment, but Darren and Peter held him tightly and headed him out
of the bus, to the shocked silence of everyone else on it. Even
Gordon had stopped his protests and was staring at Anna and Meg
with wide eyes. Before Callum exited, he turned back to look at
Mark. “Help Meg and Cassie take inventory, will you? We need names,
histories, skills. We’ve got to figure out who these people are,
and what we’re going to do with them.”

Mark gaped at him for a second, and then his
expression cleared. He stood, opened his backpack, and took out a
notebook and pen. Then he held out the backpack to Meg. “What’s in
there is for David.”

She didn’t take the backpack. “Keep it and
give it to him yourself when you get a chance.”

He took another step towards her. “The first
time Callum talked about coming here, for about five seconds I
thought about asking to come with him. But I’m not a soldier! Did
you see that bloke who took down Mike? That’s who David needs.”

Cassie shook her head. “You heard Callum.
He’s already given you a job, one he trusts you to do better than
anyone else on this bus. More even than me.”

Mark snorted. “Not more than you.” He turned
to Meg. “Or you.”

“
I’m the Queen of Wales,
Mark,” Meg said, “and Cassie is the Countess of Shrewsbury. Callum
should have phrased it better when he spoke to you. He should have
asked us to help
you
.”

Anna put her hand up and waved it at the
muttering crowd one more time. “Medical people? Do we have
any?”

Three people raised their hands.

“
Yay,” said Anna in an
undertone. And then louder. “Do any of you speak Welsh?”

Two of them nodded. That was a good start,
though medieval Welsh was going to take some getting used to and
initially would be incomprehensible to them. At least they would
know some of the mechanics and how the language was structured.

Meg nodded at Anna. “Go ahead. That’s your
thing. I bet there’s a first aid kit by the driver’s seat. We have
men out there who need help.”

The people who’d raised their hands seemed
eager to get off the bus, until they reached the bottom step and
stood on it, temporarily frozen at the sight of what lay before
them. Anna gestured them forward.

Meg turned back to Mark, content to leave
the medical situation to her daughter, and sure that she should.
All of the time travelers had struggled at one time or another with
how to occupy themselves intellectually in the Middle Ages—a time
when the vast majority of women weren’t educated at all, and the
range of professions for women was sharply limited. While caring
for her two-year-olds was a full time job currently, so was being
the Queen of Wales.