Children of Time (The After Cilmeri Series Book Four) (29 page)

The crowd in the nave was in an uproar. Over the commotion, I could hear Bohun shouting, ordering his men to seal the cathedral, find the archer, and secure William and Joan. I gathered my wits and put a hand on Lili’s shoulder. “Can you help me up?”

“My lord, you should lie still!” Gravesend was aflutter with concern and reminded me very much of Eleanor when Alfonso had choked last night.

“Why?” I said as Lili pulled me upright, but then I wavered on my feet. Lili pulled my cloak aside and then showed me her hand, which came away bloody from my thigh. “The arrow hit you before it went into the chair.”

I looked down. Sure enough, the arrow had scored my flesh just below my hip. Now that I knew what had happened, the pain I’d been feeling became focused. I swallowed hard, tasting bile.

“Thank goodness it was a bodkin arrow and not a barbed one,” Lili said.

I tried to nod my agreement, but ended up gazing down at my feet instead, trying to get a handle on the pain. “Get the arrow, would you Lili?” I said, in Welsh.

“What? Why?” she said, but at the look on my face passed me off to Carew, who tugged my arm over his shoulder and put his arm around my waist.

“I’ve got you, my lord,” he said. Within a minute, a circle of friends had surrounded me, including Edmund, Clare, Bevyn, and Evan. The latter two hadn’t been invited to the wedding officially, but had formed part of the security detail for the church, joining men from the corteges of the dozens of other noblemen who’d come to see William and Joan married this morning.

Meanwhile, the audience had turned into a raucous mob. Half the crowd seemed to be clambering for the exits, fighting Bohun’s men in the process, while the other half had surged forward, encircling Gravesend, William, Joan, and me. I lost sight of Lili, which was all to the good if it meant she was going to dig the arrowhead out of the chair and spirit it away.

Then a hand came down on my shoulder and I turned. All of a sudden, I didn’t care about the wedding or my wound. The weight of the world lifted from my shoulders as my father gave me a twisted grin. “Good to see you, Son. Just as we feared, England has turned out to be a treacherous place.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

20 November 1288

Meg

“
T
his way! This way, my lord!” The Bishop of London himself herded us from the nave into the sacristy, where he and the priests who served the cathedral changed into their robes and kept the items sacred to the Church.

Gravesend gestured David towards a chair with thick arms and back, and David didn’t protest when Carew and Llywelyn guided him into it. David’s eyes had narrowed over the pain and his breeches were soaked with his own blood. I studied his profile in quick glances as I ripped the fabric from hip to knee. I hadn’t even gotten a chance to hug him yet. I glanced around for Lili, surprised that she wasn’t hovering over her husband (though she was hardly the hovering type), but didn’t see her.

Then David smiled down at me and the lines around his eyes and on his forehead smoothed, revealing a face more akin to the twenty-year-old he was. “I am so glad to see you.”

He leaned forward and pulled me into his arms. We held on, and then I released him so I could get back to tending his wound and he could hug Llywelyn. They gripped each other tightly, both men fighting tears.

“You’re okay?” David said. “Huw said you looked tired last night.”

“I am well, Son,” Llywelyn said. “Your mother fixed me right up.”

“How about you, Goronwy?” David grasped Goronwy’s hand. “I suppose you’ve had quite an adventure. Did you try the coffee?”

“I surely did, my lord. Ieuan and I will have much to discuss.” Goronwy’s mouth twitched beneath his mustache.

David rested his head against the back of his chair. “I
am
glad you’re all safe,” he said, softly.

I glanced into his face and then back to my work. “We’re good. We have a lot to tell you.” I turned to Gravesend, who still hovered in the doorway and was the only one not of David’s entourage to enter the sacristy. “I need clean cloths, hot water, and white alcohol.”

Even in his distress, David smirked at the way I gave the order, with no regard for Gravesend’s station. He was lucky I hadn’t said,
RUN!

It wasn’t like I’d forgotten where I was living after a few days in the twenty-first century, but David was my son, and I had no time or patience for formality as long as he was hurting. To Gravesend’s credit, he tipped his head to me and turned away, giving orders as he left the room to those who waited outside. At worst, someone could find what I needed at Clare’s Castle Baynard.

David looked past me and his brow furrowed. “Who’s that?”

I checked behind me. “Callum. He came back with us. He’s MI5.”

David raised his eyebrows. “You do have stories to tell, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“Can we trust him?” David said.

“He doesn’t speak Welsh, French, or English,” Llywelyn said. “I don’t see how he could harm us.”

David lifted his chin. “Callum? Come here.”

I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to the way David ordered men far older than he around. At the same time, given his wound, he wasn’t worrying about other men’s feelings any more than I was.

With a wary look, Callum approached. He put his heels together and bowed. “My lord.”

“Sorry about that,” David said in American English and waved a hand. “It’s who I am at present. You’ve been caught up in a mess which I can’t fix for you.”

“I know,” Callum said.

“Mom says you’re a spy,” David said, “not a historian.”

“That is correct.” Callum cleared his throat. “While my mother was Scottish, my father was an American who worked for the U.S. State Department. After my parents’ divorce, I moved with my mother back to England. My degree is in politics and international studies from Cambridge.” He flushed red, as if he thought he was boasting unnecessarily by giving David his resumé. He didn’t add, though he could have,
I’m not completely ignorant!

“He speaks Gaelic,” I said.

Callum gave me a sharp nod. “Only a little.”

David pursed his lips as he studied Callum.

“You’ve glossed over the fact that you were in the military, too,” David said.

Callum’s eyes narrowed for a second. “You can tell?”

“When and where?” David said.

“Afghanistan, for the two years before we pulled out.”

“So, you’re smart and can handle yourself. If you can bear with us, you may find that you do fine here. It’ll just take a bit of getting used to.”

Callum bowed, and this time it even seemed natural. “Thank you … my lord.”

I bent my head and thought about Marty, my pilot friend who’d flown away and left me near Hadrian’s Wall four years ago, never to be heard from again. Even with our help, this was going to be hard for Callum and I didn’t have a way to make it easier.

Then Lili entered the sacristy on the heels of the servants who brought the bandages and water. I caught her eye as she scanned the room and she trotted over. Callum moved aside.

“Hi.” She leaned down and kissed my cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Then she touched David’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“He’s going to be fine.” I swabbed at David’s wound with alcohol.

David took in a sharp breath at the pain of it and nodded, even as he reached for Lili’s hand. Ever observant, Llywelyn leaned in close. “Did you send Lili on an errand?” he said.

“I asked Lili to get that arrow.” David’s face had gone pale from my ministrations, but he answered his father steadily.

“Why would you want her to do that—?” I stopped as Lili showed him where she’d hidden it under her cloak, and then I understood.

During battle, an archer would fire any arrow that came to hand. Lords and common folk alike stockpiled arrows as a matter of course. Every castle had men who made arrows: a man who could forge the points, another to heat the wood to make it straight, and a fletcher to affix the feathers so the arrows would fly true. That said, skilled archers often fletched their own arrows when they could. I certainly didn’t recognize the fletching on the arrow that had been shot at Joan, but arrows were Welsh weapons. In the old universe, it had been only after he’d learned the importance of archery through his wars with the Welsh that King Edward had instituted a nationwide program of archery among the English populace.

“May I see that?” Edmund edged closer and took the arrow from Lili.

He stared at the fletching, and then at David. “It’s the same, my lord.”

“You’re sure?” David said.

Before I could say,
The same as what?
Edmund snapped the arrow over his knee. “You’d think I’d remember seeing a similar arrow sticking out of three of my men!” He tossed the two halves on the floor and glared at David. “I believe you know who did this.”

“I do, Edmund,” David said, “but if I tell you, you must not confront him. Not yet.”

“Who is it, my lord?” Edmund said. “You must tell me.”

“Valence,” David said, “with the full knowledge of your brother.”

Edmund’s chin jutted out. “I’ll kill him.” He spun on his heel, without indicating whether it was Roger or Valence he meant to kill.

Perhaps it didn’t matter.

Before Edmund reached the door, David said, “Edmund!”

I’d never heard that kind of authority before in David’s voice. He expected Edmund to obey him. Accordingly, Edmund stopped, his hand on the frame of the door and bowed his head, holding the position for a count of five. And then he nodded. “As you wish, my lord.”

He marched from the room.

Llywelyn bent to pick up the two halves of the arrow. “You have true knowledge that Valence is behind the attempt on Joan’s life?”

“Valence planned an ambush for me on the road to Gloucester.” David looked up at his father. “Edmund says this arrow was fletched by the same hand as those who killed his men.”

Llywelyn shook his head. “But to kill a princess—”

“I must ask you something now, Dad, even though it might make all of us uncomfortable.”

“Anything, Son,” Llywelyn said.

“Bevyn may have conceived of it first, but you called it into being. Did the Order of the Pendragon have a hand in anything that has happened this week, to clear the way for my rule of England?”

I kept my expression steady, focusing on the bandages, and didn’t look at either David or Llywelyn. I wasn’t sure exactly what David was asking, what he meant by
anything
. Llywelyn gazed at David for a long moment. “No, Son. Whatever troubles you have found in England, they are none of my doing.”

“Thank you, Dad.” David bowed his head. “I believe you.”

“What concerns me,” Lili broke in, “is how many different people have developed plots and plans that affect Dafydd. Bohun, the Order of the Pendragon, Peckham, all of you.” She gestured with one hand to the room at large.

“I’m sure we don’t know what you mean,” Carew said.

David eyed Carew, and then bit his lip as I cinched a cloth more tightly around his leg. “Duct tape.”

“What was that?” I said.

“Since you and Dad left, I’ve thought a lot about Valence,” David said, “about the fact that I could picture him running around behind the scenes, patching his elaborate plot together with duct tape whenever a hole appeared in it. What if it’s happening again?”

“Surely it’s not Valence who wants to put you on the throne,” I said.

“Not Valence,” David said, and he shot a second glance at Carew that went by so quickly I wasn’t sure I’d even seen it. Had David and Carew fallen out in some way during our absence? “But others do, while still others want to prevent it from happening, and each man ends up being far too clever for his own good. Valence, at least, seems to be able to conjure a way out whenever fate throws up a brick wall.”

Llywelyn looked from David to me. “Do you understand what Dafydd just said?”

I shook my head, and it was Lili who tsked through her teeth. “Regrettably, I do. And I think he’s right. We have multiple conspiracies, all working at the same time.”

“And at cross-purposes,” David said.

“I’ll tell you what I’m most worried about,” Lili said, speaking louder, not just to Llywelyn, David, and me. “What if Dafydd were to accept the Archbishop’s challenge and take the throne of England—and then it is discovered that the papers that put him there were forged?”

I looked around at the other men in the room, fingering their chins.
Was I crazy to think that no one wanted to meet my eyes?
I glanced at Llywelyn. He lifted one shoulder. Neither of us knew what Lili was talking about. “What do you mean by
papers
?” I said.

David directed a rueful look at me. “I forgot that you wouldn’t have heard about Peckham’s papers yet.”

“
What papers?”
Llywelyn said.

“The Archbishop has in his possession evidence that Mom is the result of a secret liaison between King Henry and a granddaughter of Alexander of Scotland.” At the look on my face, David added, with a lopsided smile, “It defies all logic, doesn’t it?”

“I can’t believe it! Who would do such a thing?” And then as I studied my son, I said, “Do you know that answer, too?”

“I won’t say here.”

“Why would someone go to such effort to put you on the throne?” I said.

“That I can answer,” Llywelyn said. “What the noblemen of England fear most is losing power. For a baron to choose Dafydd over a fellow Norman means that particular baron has no other play to make. He has reached the breaking point and is asking himself
who am I going to back? How am I to come out of this endless strife on top?”

David gave his father a brief nod.

Llywelyn put a hand on David’s shoulder and straightened. “As you said, we shouldn’t discuss the specifics here.”

I wound a final bandage around David’s leg and tied it.

“I can walk. Help me up.” David held out a hand to his father, who pulled him out of the chair. David balanced on his right leg before testing his left with his weight.