Wildewood Revenge (43 page)

“My suspicion regards your relationship with Miles and your reluctance to tell him you’re his father. What other secrets are you keeping?”

Hugh narrowed his eyes at her sharp tone. “We share more than an interest in Miles, Grace, and I think deep down you know that. You have simply been reluctant to face the truth.”

“And just what truth do you allude to now, Hugh?” she clutched the covers to her, suddenly unwilling to confront what she’d suspected for some time.

Hugh glanced at the door. “We have little time, Miles will soon return and I fancy you are reluctant to share your account, so we must make haste. Listen well, Grace and I shall tell you my story.”

The candle light flickered as he drew up a stool by the side of the bed. He gazed for a moment distracted by the patterns it created as he pulled his thoughts together and began his tale.

“I did not begin this life as a knight, Grace. My life began much as yours, many years, and many miles from here. I trained as a surgeon at a London hospital. At the height of the Great War I volunteered my skills to the defence of the country and was sent to France an idealistic
young man.”

“The Great War?”
Grace’s eyes grew wide. It was one thing to suspect, quite another to accept another’s unbelievable tale. She shivered with excitement and apprehension.

Hugh continued. “If you think life here is brutal, that there is poor regard for the life of the common man, I would ask that you consider the trenches and the massacre of men within them. Cannon fodder is an oft used expression and unfortunately all too accurate. I did what I could to patch up men horribly injured. I amputated limbs that could have been saved under other circumstances, and grew a shield of indifference to the horror.” He glanced quickly at her as if suddenly realising his need to be succinct, that time was of the essence. “I don’t recall the exact moment the shell hit the trench all I do remember is waking some time later on a battle field just as bloody, and being carried to safety by strong and capable hands. Those hands
belonged to Gerard de
Frouville
the E
lder and the year was
1245.”

Grace gasped, pain forgotten, all attention now on Hugh and his gripping tale. Hugh took her hand and smiled.

“I’m sure you can imagine how I felt, to suddenly find myself in the midst of a raging medieval battle field. In truth it was not so very different from the one I’d left behind. The noise and the fear of men are timeless. I thought at first it was a dream, that perhaps I was suffering shellshock or some form of madness, but that was not the case. By some fluke I had travelled and found myself marooned far from home with no hope of return.”

He rose from the stool, crossing to the fire where he cast a log into the flames amid a shower of sparks. Resting his arm against the mantle he turned and considered her.

“We are alike you and I. I realised it the moment we met and that is why I must step in now whether you want me to or not. I do not wish the torment of my life upon anyone, particularly you.”

“But I’m not tormented. I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

“And if I told you that your life is in danger and that you hold Miles’ safety in the palm of your hand, what then?”

Grace’s hand strayed to her hair. “I don’t understand.”

“Grace, you may be seriously ill, at the very least your unborn child might be at risk. Despite my skill, I cannot undertake an operation or treat a difficult pregnancy. The mortality rate is high and there are no modern drugs. You risk your own life and that of your unborn baby by staying. You must save yourself, Grace, go home and your baby will also be saved.”

“Women have been having babies since time began. Katherine delivered Miles without complication why should I encounter problems. You’re just trying to scare me.”

Hugh’s face darkened. “Grace, Katherine had no choice and she was lucky. You are a mere slip of a girl not used to the reality of medieval life. You cry with pain now, imagine the pain as your belly is slit open to save the child at the expense of your life. Believe me, Grace. That is what will happen if a choice has to be made.”

Her hand strayed protectively to her abdomen. “I can’t go home - not without, Miles.” She cast about worriedly. This was madness. “I’ll explain everything to him. Miles will know what to do.”

“Miles must not be told.”

“What do you mean?”

Hugh paced the room sweeping his gaze across her many paintings. “Did you paint the king without his crown?”

“No. I painted exactly as I had the copy. I had no need to change the past, to save my career. If it weren’t for the forgery business I would never have come home to Kirk
Knowe
, nor walked that day in the wood. I would never have found my way here to Miles.”

Hugh smiled. “I did wonder whether you would work it out for yourself.”

“How did you even know about the painting in the first place?”

Hugh tapped his nose conspiratorially.

“I have a way of finding out things, which are of importance.”

“You’re a witch?”

He smiled.

“No, I had an interesting conversation with Edmund. He recalled a nightmare of yours that he witnessed, in which you’d recounted a strange tale of portraits.

“But you advised me to change the painting, why would you do that?”

“If you had, the circumstances that brought you here would have been irrevocably changed and I hoped that you would be returned to your former life unharmed. When you returned from
Alnwick
with Miles I knew that you’d not taken my advice and history was set.”

“I don’t want to return - not now.”

“Grace, let me finish my tale and then you must make your decision.” He settled himself back on the stool and took her hand again.

“I spent some months with Gerard senior, keeping my own council. I tried to come to terms with what had occurred and used my skills to assist his men. At the end of the campaign he brought me back here to Northumberland. I witnessed his marriage to Maud, the birth of his son Gerard the younger and I met Katherine, Gerard’s niece. She was a
wonderful young woman, beautiful sweet-natured and of course I was attracted. It was mutual and, yes, you are correct, Miles is my son, but I did not know of him until after Katherine’s death. I unwittingly left her shamed and with child while I spent the next ten years scouring every battlefield in Normandy in a vain attempt to find the way home.”

“Why would you want to go home when you had found love here?”

Hugh sighed.

“Because my dear, Grace, I had left a wife and child behind in London and I was beset with longing for them and grief at their loss. I am ashamed to say for a short while Katherine assuaged my grief, but at the heart of me I still believed that I could return and my darling wife and daughter would be waiting.”

Grace reached out her hand and laid it gently on his arm.

“Did you find your way?”

Hugh shook his head. “No. When I realised the futility, I accepted the loss and turned my attention to my life here.” He gave a sad smile. “There are advantages to having knowledge of the future and as an avid historian I have been advantageous to those around me. I have developed a reputation as a tactician. The king is benevolent to those who are useful to him. I settled in France and although I have travelled extensively on behalf of more than one king, I know now that I will never find my way home. I’ve been here almost thirty years. It’s too late for me, but it’s not too late for you.”

“When did you realise that Miles was your son?”

“The first time I laid eyes on him, the day he landed in France, fleeing from Gerard the younger. The opportunity to spend time with him, to help mould him into the man he is, was a precious gift. I began to believe that my life once again had purpose. When he suffered Guy’s
attack I thanked God I had the skills to save him.” He gave a bewildered shrug. “Do you not see the irony, Grace, if it were not for the fact that I have twentieth century skills he would have died. And yet if I had not travelled he would not have been born.” He ran a hand through his hair and refocused. “It is a subtle balance, Grace, even after all my time here I have no real answer. I can only act upon the facts that are known to me and my own conscience. If my actions have influenced the future, then I justify it with the belief that they are not changes, but
are
meant to be.”

“And yet you’ve not revealed your relationship. Miles thinks he is the bastard child of a family he despises, why would you have him believe a lie when he holds you in such high regard?”

“For that very reason.
His regard for me would cease to exist if he knew I had abandoned him and his mother for no good reason.”

“Tell him the truth, he would understand.”

“I cannot tell him the truth, and neither can you, Grace. Remember where we are, when we are, this is a time of great suspicion, you yourself have been accused of witchcraft. Miles would not understand, no one would understand. We exist in this life simply because we do not reveal the truth. I know you are tormented with the intrigue, how you dance around the deceit, how close you are to revealing your origin, but I would caution you against it.”

“Why?”

“Because unlike me, you are able to return, your gateway is marked. And as I have already said it is imperative that you do so to safeguard you and your baby.”

“But that doesn’t explain why I can’t tell Miles, he is not like the Gerard’s of this world. He wouldn’t bay for my blood or demand the building of a stake. He’s not stupid, Hugh, he is your son. Surely you
can see that he shares your reasoning and intellect. He would understand.”

“Perhaps you’re right but we shall never know because he must never be told. If he knew the truth he would certainly accept the reason why you cannot stay. He holds you above his own life. He would rather die himself than endanger you or his child, and he would not be parted from you. He would not let you go alone.

I have no knowledge of how this strange phenomenon works. You are the first of our kind that I have come across and have no idea whether one may pass freely between times if a doorway remains open. If Miles was able to travel with you he may be unable to return. The future of
Wildewood
depends upon him being here. If he is not here to lead against what is to come then unspeakable hurt will befall all who reside here. You must understand, Grace, as I tried to explain to Miles many months ago. He has a role to play which is vital and far greater than any individual need. I know this because of my knowledge of the future. It may not be what you want to hear, but it is the truth, Grace.”

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth? That you’re not some madman in league with Gerard plotting to get rid of both me and Miles?”

Hugh cocked his head, there were footsteps approaching, he dropped his voice to a harsh whisper. “Grace, think about it. In your time did you know of
Wildewood
? Had you heard of this estate?”

“No.”

“Yet you had heard of the de
Frouville’s
and the castle at
Ahlborett
?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you see, simply by being here you have changed the course of history. When you go back everyone will have heard of
Wildewood
. That will be your legacy, your gift to Miles. Because of you the legend
of the
Wildewood
Horde was created. They will soon be as much a part of local history and lore as the dragon that rests upon the great stone or the creature in the lake.”

“But what will Miles think if I suddenly disappear? He’ll think I don’t love him, that I’ve taken his child from him.”

“Does he know of the child?”

She thought of the way he held her, his tenderness, his patience in waiting for her to admit what she was sure he already knew. “He suspects.”

“If you remain there will be no child or no mother...”

“If I do as you say and go back, could I return later after the child is born?” Perhaps there was a way to salvage this terrible situation.

“I have no experience of this, Grace. But to have any chance at all, the doorway must remain intact. My own was destroyed when the WW1 trenches were filled. Yours may still remain open simply because of the ancient woodland in which it lies. If tree felling were to infringe upon the wood where you fell then we must assume that the portal would close forever.”

Grace’s heart sank. If she were to wait until nearer the birth of her child, then she may lose the only way back to the greed of the timber merchants.

“What choice do I have?” she asked desperately as she heard the low timbre of Miles’ voice outside the door.

“If you go back you may well break Miles’ heart but you ensure his safety along with yours, your child’s and the future of
Wildewood
. If you stay I cannot guarantee the outcome.

“What do you really know about Miles’ role? How do you know that his future here is so important? The king hinted that Miles was
important to his plans, but Miles was adamant that he didn't want to be drawn back into a life he’d turned his back on.”