Ashes of Time (The After Cilmeri Series) (2 page)

“
Dear God, Llywelyn,” Meg
said. “What have we done?”

Llywelyn laughed. “I prayed my whole life
that such a fate would be mine.” He stood to put his arm around
Meg’s shoulder, kissing her temple as they watched the
children.

Last to enter was Gwenllian, Llywelyn’s
nine-year-old daughter by his wife, Elin, who’d died giving birth
to her. Gwenllian shot Meg a rueful look as the children circled
the room, shouting. Meg was glad to see that in preparation for the
meal Gwenllian had already changed into her finery without being
asked, pulling her blonde curls back from her face in a band.
Gwenllian had spent far too much time with nannies as a small
child, but in recent years she had grown into her own person, which
sometimes meant not doing as she was told. She and David shooed the
children out the door again.

“
When’s dinner?” Llywelyn
said.

Even after all these years, Meg made a
motion to check her wrist for a watch. Of course it wasn’t there.
“Soon. I’ll see to it.”

David’s brow furrowed. “Marty hasn’t arrived
yet, has he?”

“
No.” Meg headed for the
door, tipping her head to Gwenllian to indicate that she should
come along.

“
Aren’t you looking forward
to seeing him, Mom?” Gwenllian said in perfect American
English.

Meg had been frowning, but she hastily
cleared her expression. She hadn’t been thinking about Marty at
all, but about Rhys’s and Madog’s rebellion. Meg’s son and husband
were soldiers. More than that, they were leaders of men. If Meg
allowed herself to think for too long about what could happen to
either of them, the sick feeling that formed in her stomach took a
sleepless night to conquer. They faced danger every day. Meg never
got used to it.

“
I don’t know,” Meg said to
Gwenllian, forcing herself to answer the question as if nothing at
all was the matter. That was another aspect of being the mother to
one warrior and married to another: pretending that all was well
when it wasn’t. “The last time I saw Marty, he was flying his
airplane out of sight while I cooled my heels beneath Hadrian’s
Wall.”

“
I can’t believe he
abandoned you,” Gwenllian said, stoutly supportive. Marty had
crashed the airplane in the Highlands of Scotland, so he hadn’t
fared as well as Meg. She’d forgiven him, since it was years ago
now. Cassie and Callum had reported that Marty had adjusted well to
the thirteenth century, and the weapons he’d made from the remains
of the airplane had saved them in Scotland, but Meg hadn’t
forgotten what he’d done. She didn’t know if she could really call
him a friend, or if she was truly looking forward to seeing him
after all these years.

Part of Meg had hoped that Marty might have
managed a visit sooner. But despite repeated invitations, not only
from Callum but David and Meg too, he had declined up until now,
citing the burdens of a wife and small child as his excuse. Meg
secretly thought that he was afraid to face her. And for good
reason. He’d abandoned her to her fate. It was hard to trust a man
who could do that.

“
It was a long time ago,
sweetheart.” Meg put her hand on Gwenllian’s shoulder, banishing
her unease as best she could.

Meg and Llywelyn had sat down with Gwenllian
a year ago and told her as much of the truth about Meg, David, and
Anna’s origins as they thought she could bear and understand. They
probably shouldn’t have been surprised at how calmly Gwenllian had
taken what they’d had to say. An eight-year-old child with an
active imagination could accept ideas that adults fought. When they
told her that David and Anna had been born in another world and
that Meg and Llywelyn themselves had traveled to and from it, she’d
been happy. The explanation had merely clarified what she’d
eavesdropped to hear for years.

Gwenllian and Meg found Anna and Bronwen
standing together in the castle’s second, smaller hall near the
southwestern tower, arranging the table for dinner. Known as the
queen’s hall, it had apartments above and below it and its own
kitchen. It was accessed by four doors: one at the southwestern
tower stairwell, two doors that entered through the west and south
corridors that followed the curtain wall, and an exterior door that
led down to the inner ward via external stairs.

The inhabitants of Rhuddlan would eat well
tonight—as truly they always did—but the family’s meal would be for
them alone, more reminiscent of an eighteenth century dinner in a
manor house than the typical raucous medieval meal in the hall.
Here in the queen’s hall, they would be isolated from the rest of
the castle and win an hour’s peace from the pressures of their
positions. David had managed to leave the bulk of his
court—counselors, ministers, and hangers-on—at Chester, though he’d
still brought many of his men and attendants with him. As had
Llywelyn.

They were celebrating a combined anniversary
dinner for Meg and Llywelyn and a birthday party for David, though
not on the right day for either. Whether or not the medieval people
they lived with appreciated their need for privacy, Meg had made
sure that today was just for the family.

Anna was counting chairs. “I’m going to
separate the kids to try to cut down on the chaos.”

Bronwen smirked. “Good luck with that.
They’ll sit quietly if Cadell or Gwenllian tell them to. I don’t
know what’s come over Catrin. She listens to me at home but somehow
not here.”

“
She’s three,” Anna said.
“You have to expect a few tantrums. I’d like to keep Bran’s to a
minimum, but I make no promises.”

It was odd being a grandmother to children
older than Meg’s own, but that was the Middle Ages for you. “Elisa
and Padrig can sit with Arthur,” Meg said. “He doesn’t talk, and
they talk only to each other, so they’ll get along fine.”

“
That puts Cadell, Bran,
and Catrin together,” Bronwen said.

“
Gwenllian, can I put you
and Catrin between the boys?” Anna said. “That ought to cut down on
the fighting. I swear, they pick at each other all day
long—Cadell’s fault, mostly.”

“
When you and David fought,
I charged you a dollar for every incident,” Meg said.

Anna’s face lit. “I remember that! David and
I would sometimes hit each other anyway and then swear to each
other not to tell you.”

Meg laughed. “I’m glad I didn’t know, though
I can’t say I’m sorry to hear it. Better united in crime than not
united at all.” She pursed her lips. “Bran’s a little young for
that, though, and it isn’t like you give your children gold for
their allowance.”

“
Cadell and I need to have
a sit-down,” Anna said. “I’ll have to think about what to threaten
him with.”

“
Here they come,” Bronwen
said as the sound of children shouting echoed outside in the
corridor. The troop stormed into the room.

Anna put up a hand to Cadell. “Stop!”

Cadell pulled up short and instantly all the
other children stopped too.

Anna bent down, her hands on her knees, to
look her son in the eye. “You will sit quietly for this meal, or I
will take away that sword and you won’t have it back until we leave
Rhuddlan. Is that clear?”

Cadell nodded, for once subdued, maybe less
by his mother’s authority than by the decorated room. The girls had
gone all out and the hall looked more like Christmas than a
birthday party, with evergreen boughs and candles everywhere. But
everyone would be together and that was the most important
thing.

And within the hour, they were together, the
table was laden with food, and the doors closed. Everyone sat
quietly while Llywelyn said a prayer. Tears came to Meg’s eyes
before he was halfway through it as love for all of them filled
her.

Bronwen, Ieuan, and Catrin; David, Lili, and
Arthur; Anna, Math, Cadell, and Bran; Llywelyn, Gwenllian, Elisa,
Padrig, and Meg. Only Cassie and Callum, who should have been with
them, were absent. As Llywelyn’s prayer finished, Meg looked at
David, who’d been gazing around the table as she had. He leaned
across the three little ones on the bench between them and said,
“We’ll get them back.”

“
I hardly knew them, and
yet I miss them too,” Meg said, not surprised that he’d read her
mind. Meg knew that Callum, in particular, was often in David’s
thoughts. During Callum’s absence David had personally overseen his
earldom of Shrewsbury. “I can’t believe it’s already been two years
since you had to leave them there. I hope we see them again one
day, though I can’t say I want to be the one who goes to get
them.”

“
Cassie and Callum are both
survivors,” David said.

Then he paused. Everyone started spooning
food onto trenchers, but David raised his cup and looked down the
table to where his father sat. Llywelyn responded with a silent
toast, and then David rose to his feet. “I have something to talk
to you all about.” He gestured with one hand. “Feel free to keep
eating.”

“
We weren’t going to stop,”
Ieuan said to general laughter around the table.

Meg looked up at David and realized that
he’d grown serious. After a moment, the other adults realized it
too. David glanced at Lili, who nodded her encouragement for
whatever he was about to say.

David cleared his throat.
“It’s weird to say
I have a
dream
, but I do. For a while now, I’ve been
thinking about what we’re here for and what we’re doing all this
for.”

He paused again. He had everyone’s full
attention, even the children. Arthur, his little wooden horse
clutched in his fat fist, crawled onto his mother’s lap and stared
up at his father.

“
Please don’t laugh, but
I’d like to talk to you about—” David took in a deep breath,
“—about working towards a United States of Britain.”

“
Thank God!” Bronwen set
down her cup. “It’s about time.”

“
I was wondering when you
were going to get to that,” Anna said.

Bronwen held up her hand, palm out, and Anna
half-stood to reach across the table and slap it before dropping
back into her seat.

David gaped at them both. “But—”

“
I didn’t say anything
earlier because I knew you had enough on your plate,” Anna said.
“The whole women’s rights thing has been difficult enough without
me bugging you about a bill of rights for everyone.”

“
Well.” David sank back
into his chair. “I was afraid to talk about it because I thought it
sounded romantic and foolish, even to me, but I guess
not.”

Bronwen leaned forward, her face intent.
“It’s off in the future, I get that, but just to say it and to have
it as our ultimate goal is important.”

Anna laughed. “I thought his ultimate goal
was world domination?”

Bronwen grinned at Anna but then waved her
hand, dismissing the joke and gesturing around the table. “None of
us are in this just to survive. This isn’t about us. Not anymore,
if it ever was.”

Anna nodded. “It’s about changing the
world.”

“
You’ve already started by
creating the pillars that can support true democracy: universal
education, economic independence—” Bronwen ticked off the items on
her fingers, “and an impartial government, which includes a system
of courts and laws. In England and Wales, all three are in place,
if nascent.”

Ieuan elbowed Math, who was sitting next to
him, and said in an undertone, “That’s my wife.”

Llywelyn had been gazing at
David as the women had been speaking, his expression
disconcertingly noncommittal, but now he nodded. “You’ve talked of
this before to me, son. A constitution and this—” he waved one hand
as Bronwen had done, “
bill of
rights.
We already have something like it
in Wales and have had since the time of Rhodri Mawr.”

“
And in England too.” David
rose to his feet again, leaving the table to pace before the fire,
as was his habit. Ever since he’d learned to walk at nine months
old, his brain had worked in conjunction with his feet. “Though
what England has is very rudimentary—and like the initial ideas
produced by the American founding fathers—doesn’t include women or
men who don’t own land.”

Meg, of course, had been on board with his
idea before he’d finished his first sentence but now said, “Before
we get ahead of ourselves, what do you mean by a United States of
Britain?”

David hesitated in his pacing. “A
confederation of states, probably a loose one initially, founded on
democratic principles. Probably more along the lines of a
parliamentary democracy than the tripartite division of the United
States government. I’m not even proposing the elimination of the
kingship, though that should be on the table too.”

“
What’s the biggest
challenge we face in creating it?” Anna said, ever the practical
one.

David mouthed the word ‘we’ and shook his
head. “I was an idiot not to have talked to you all earlier.”

“
You’re not in this alone,”
Anna said. “You never have been.”

David cleared his throat. “I see that
now.”

“
One of the barriers has to
be the Church,” Bronwen said, getting the discussion back on track.
“David is fighting a rearguard action, trying not to undermine the
Church’s authority but not being much swayed by it either. As long
as Peckham is the Archbishop of Canterbury, he’s in good shape, but
if David didn’t have the personal authority he does, he’d have been
excommunicated by now. You know he would have. Imagine if they knew
he’d never been baptized in the Catholic Church? His only saving
grace is that England is flourishing economically and that means
income for taxes is higher, for him and for the pope.”