Falling For Henry (25 page)

Kate slipped down from the saddle, tripping in her skirts and falling into a great brown patch on the thick grass. Blood. She quickly got up and stumbled away from it, tearing off the heavy cloak.

While Henry was occupied with the ropes holding the deer, Kate looked desperately for any landmarks she might recognize. She strode further and further away from the animal, noting a marshy area that she thought she remembered seeing before. As she approached, the pungent smell of mint filled her nostrils. Yes, this was the place!

“Why have you taken off your cloak?” called Henry. “You cannot be too hot?”

“Yes, I'm very warm, actually,” Kate called, and saw even at this distance a look of tension pass across his face.

“Perhaps you are not well?” he answered.

“Perhaps not,” she responded. It would be good to keep him from getting too close.

Henry moved from one foot to the other, seeming to consider his options. Finally, when he spoke, his tone was serious.

“I cannot chance the sweating sickness,” he exclaimed. “And so, after we are finished here, I will let MacQueen accompany you back while I ride on ahead. No air must pass between us.”

Kate glanced at the little man who leered joylessly in her direction, rubbing his hands together. As he and Henry finished their work with the deer, Kate promised herself that she would never let herself be alone with MacQueen, not in a million years! She must escape and it was now or never!

She had only just hidden herself behind an oak when she heard Henry calling. After a moment or two, he gave a great cry and she saw him flash past on the stallion, his face a mask of fury. She automatically moved around the trunk so that she remained hidden to him, and then crouched down as MacQueen thundered by, yelling a number of words that Kate guessed were foul.

“Show yourself!” Kate heard Henry yelling urgently. “Show yourself.” An arrow flew a few meters away from her, and then another, further from the mark. Blind shots, both of them, but still a stern and dangerous warning.

Suddenly she saw a streak of gray and, at the same time, heard Henry calling her name. Then MacQueen was calling, too, in his scratchy voice. She scrambled around the other side of the tree and then made a break across the clearing, the young wolf suddenly beside her, two desperate victims of the chase.

The wolf steered her through branches and brambles, and then Kate saw the shadow in the grass that signaled the tunnel's entrance, if you could really call it an entrance, filmy and luminous as it was. She made for it as fast as she could with the wolf pressing close at her side. She could feel its desperation, the thickness of its panic, and suddenly she knew what had carved the tunnel in the first place. She saw them in her mind's eye, a heaving mass of frenzied fur and flesh, driving themselves forward, away from MacQueen and into the future, clawing their way through the fabric that separated one world from another.

She didn't blame the wolves for tunneling to get out of this time. She herself would do anything to get away. She heard thundering hoofbeats and crackling brush in their wake and believed the riders were close—and she knew, to the center of her being, that this would be her last chance at escape. If she failed, determined as he was to get his own way, Henry would find a method to secure her forever in this place.

Kate stumbled, and at that moment the wolf cub turned back toward those who pursued them, screening Kate with its body. She took a step into the dim circle and as she did so, she heard the elastic thrum of an arrow and then a cry—a high, nocturnal scream of pain. Then she was whirled into motion, the breath locked in her chest, relieved that she was going home, but heavy with sadness at what she had left behind.

25
The future

KATE PUSHED HER way out of the tunnel as the roaring grew louder, and then a sudden force flung her past the entrance, shapes and shadows racing along beside her, sand and grit stinging her face. She found herself on the ground, unsure if she were alive or dead, her senses dull. A pair of leather slippers lay nearby, and when she got up enough strength, she reached out to pull one toward herself. Familiar. Very familiar, she thought, and then lapsed into unconsciousness.

After what seemed like an eternity, she began to recover. Dazedly, she brushed at her eyes, trying to get her bearings. She was sitting on the grass. On the hill, she could see the Royal Observatory and, from here, she could also just make out the top of the Naval College. She remembered it now, remembered coming here with her class yesterday. Or was it today? She couldn't be sure. Had she been asleep? Had she been dreaming? If so, what a dream! She brushed at her forehead and something on one hand rubbed against her skin. It was a ring.

Kate's memory swung sharply into focus and she got unsteadily to her feet, staring down at the ring Henry had given her.

“How now, what have we here?” came a familiar voice, a voice that had for months been speaking inside Kate's head but was now somehow released.

Kate whirled around. The ground seemed to tilt under her feet with the weight of things. Princess Katherine stood before her.

“Are you ill?” cried the princess, reaching out her arms. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Yes,” said Kate, regaining her balance. “I mean, no.” She gingerly rubbed an ankle. “You and I have a lot to discuss.”

“I must go back,” said the princess. “I seem to have learned much and yet I have learned nothing. I do not know what sorcery has surrounded us but I want nothing more to do with it. Anon.” She stepped into the tunnel.

“No!” Kate said, lurching toward her. “You mustn't go back there. It will end badly for you. Stay with me!”

“I will be a Queen and the mother of a Queen,” called Katherine, her voice fading as if a great distance were already between them. “And that is all that matters.”

“No!” cried Kate, the world shifting again until it was level, all things being equal, with Kate on one side of the axis and Katherine on the other. “Wait!” The tunnel began to slip and shimmer before her eyes, all at once extending into the distance like a gray asphalt highway, and then, in the next instant, turning upside down like another expanse of sky. She stood, uncertain of her place in the universe, until finally, stunned and bewildered, she found herself standing in front of what looked like a plain old animal's den.
Wolves
, she thought, turning as a sound in the underbrush caught her attention. Emerging from the bushes were two of them, one larger than the other. Mother and son. They stared at her with unwavering focus and then wheeled around and disappeared among the trees by the river. One, the smaller of the two, she recognized. The cub! It had made it through! Thank goodness, it's safe, she thought gratefully, although its flank dripped a thin ooze of blood. Nothing more serious than a scratch, thought Kate with relief. Then a more poignant thought surfaced. Who says families can't be reunited?

With a heaviness that anchored her heart as well as her body, Kate trudged along the path, numbly trying to retrace her steps. Soon she passed the
Cutty Sark
, the figurehead registering its old stern expression, and made her way across the wet grass, instinctively following a set of footprints until she found herself beside the Royal Naval College. On the ground lay her navy jacket. She picked it up with clumsy fingers and put it on, reaching into the pocket but coming out empty-handed. Her watch was missing.

It must be Friday,
mused Kate
—Friday, October 13, the day of the school trip, or else how could I have stumbled back into my own tracks or found my jacket?
These thoughts were calm and logical, yet her mind was buzzing with questions. Had Katherine been in this time long enough to discover some of her own history? She seemed sure that she would be the mother of a Queen. How had she figured that out?

Kate knew that her class might be leaving the museum at any moment but she couldn't decide which direction to take. Two passers-by stared at her odd clothes and she slipped on the jacket, planning to make a run for it. She could offer some sort of explanation on Monday to her teacher. And the dress—no longer unfinished and covered in stains—she'd have to figure out something to tell Willow. Or maybe by leaving the flat unlocked tonight, that would offer the opportunity to say it had been stolen.
Stranger things have happened
, she thought.

She suddenly caught sight of the whole troop of them filing between the stone arches and hastily hid behind one of the outer walls of the museum. She'd stay out of their way until the coast was clear and then duck into the building. She'd just wait there until there was no chance of being seen. She wondered what would happen to her date with Hal if she lingered here for too long, and then, all at once, she realized she didn't care. Knowing what she knew about him, it was better to let that one go. History really can affect the present, she thought.

When she decided it was safe to do so, Kate slipped into the museum and strolled among the display cases. She dazedly looked at boats of different sizes and shapes, some on the ground, and some suspended from the ceiling, and then wandered upstairs, drawn by a crowd of people heading to the second floor. She was strolling along the exhibits when a glass shelf in the middle of the hall caught her eye. Trying to appear nonchalant, she headed over to examine its contents. What she saw there made her catch her breath. It was Henry's astrolabe.

A description underneath indicated that the astrolabe was from a special Tudor collection, on loan to the museum. It had been found at Henry's bedside on the day of his death.

Kate thought how the astrolabe had been one of Henry's most prized possessions, something he'd kept by his side as protection against his overpowering fear of dying. A flood of pity washed over her as she thought of him and of how he must have railed at the end in powerless desperation.

“Look, this here's from Henry VIII,” called a portly middle-aged woman, stabbing at the glass with her umbrella and then turning to make sure her husband was listening. “He had a head for science, that one did. Always trying to invent gizmos of one sort or another.”

“Right,” grunted her husband. “They sell ice cream on this level. I'm just going to have a look.”

“And this astrolabe was found by his bedside the day of his death!” shrieked the woman. “If that doesn't beat all! A big important king, quite big, from the paintings, and rather a nasty piece of work when all is said and done, and this is the thing he keeps near him at the last!”

Tears filled Kate's eyes. She brushed them away and turned from the case, unable to look any longer at the thing that Henry had prized so dearly. The thing she—or Katherine, it really didn't matter which of them—had given him. The thing that he trusted to chart his course. She hoped that in the end, it had guided him safely home, just as William's advice had guided her.
No matter how long it lasts … the best any of us can wish for … is to fill our place.
And Kate's place, she knew, was here with her family. For better or worse. Worse if you thought of Willow's soup. Better if you thought of how important it was to be with family. With whatever family you had. As soon as she got home, Kate was going to call Gran. There was so much she wanted to ask her.

Suddenly, the tall, lanky frame of Martin Brown appeared before her, his dark hair catching the light.

“Hello there,” he said. “Are you enjoying a bit of history?”

“What?” she said, startled.

“Are you enjoying the museum?” he asked again.

“Oh. Yes. Yes, I am,” she said, hearing an unfamiliar sound in her voice and taking a deep breath. “History is more important than I used to think.” As she spoke, the words came out eggshell smooth, still in the tone that surprised her. “I'm thinking … I'm thinking about writing an article for the school paper. About wolves, actually.” As soon as she said these words, the idea took hold. It would be a good topic for an article, and focus on conservation. After all, someone had to take a stand on behalf of the wolves. She'd check with Naomi to see whether the offer of joining the school paper still held. It would be good, Kate thought, to belong to something. And maybe Amandella could be persuaded, as well. That girl looked as if she needed a friend.

“We're just here doing a little exploring,” Martin continued. “My brother's up for the weekend.”

“Your brother?” asked Kate, staring at the tall young man who now stepped out from behind Martin.

“Will, this is Kate. Will's visiting me and my sister, Ellen, for a few days. He's from Dorset, where he lives with our parents.”

“Will?” repeated Kate. “And Ellen is … is your sister?”

Will smiled, his brown eyes steady, his expression pleasant, and reached out his hand.

“Pleased to meet you, Kate,” he said.

“Oh!” she said. His voice. His height. His sandy hair. “You look … you look like someone I used to know.”

“I hope you liked him,” Will said lightly as she took the hand he was offering.

“I did,” said Kate, swallowing hard. “I did, but it was—” she stopped, searching for the right words, “it was a … a long time ago.”

“What a smashing ring,” said Will, looking at the pearl on her finger. “Is it a family heirloom?”

“It's from an … an old friend,” said Kate. “It's a complicated story. I'll have to tell you about it sometime.” The realization suddenly hit her that Henry, grown from boy to man, had been gone for hundreds of years. You can't outrun death, thought Kate. Nor can you hide from it. It isn't something anybody can control. She took a deep breath. The only thing you can really control, she thought, is life.

“I think it's time I was getting home,” she said.

“We're on our way back, if you want to come along in the car,” said Martin. Kate nodded, realizing that Will had one leg in a cast and was walking a bit gingerly with a crutch.