Ashes of Time (The After Cilmeri Series) (3 page)

“
The Church wants David to
let them prosecute heretics. But other than that, the separation of
Church and State in England might be easier to accomplish now than
after the Reformation,” Meg said. “Peckham has stood by our
acceptance of the Jews.”

“
That’s only because we’ve
become the banking capital of the world,” Anna said. “It’s hard to
argue with success.”

“
That may be,” David said,
“but Aaron is keeping his ear to the ground nonetheless. He’s heard
frightening whispers among his kin in recent months.”

Aaron, a Jewish physician, had befriended
Meg when she’d come to the Middle Ages the second time and had
helped her to return to Llywelyn. Through his contacts among his
co-religionists, Wales—and now England—had become a haven for Jews
wishing to practice their religion in peace.

“
I would have said my
biggest problems today—not necessarily in order,” David said, “—are
the ongoing unrest in Ireland, for which my Norman barons are much
to blame; the barons themselves, who own the vast majority of land
and resources in England; and the inquisition.”

Anna nodded. “The Church,
like I said.
Heretics and Jews aren’t
welcome here
.”

“
Well,” David said, coming
to a halt and facing Anna, “both are welcome
here
.”

“
Which is going to cause
you more problems than you already have if your enemies use
prejudice to incite unrest,” Meg said. “Look at
Germany.”

In 1287, a wave of anti-Semitism had swept
across Germany, resulting in the murders of hundreds of Jews in a
hundred and fifty different towns. In that other world where David
wasn’t the King of England, King Edward had expelled the Jews from
England in the year 1290. David was hoping that because that
expulsion hadn’t happened, other European countries wouldn’t expel
their Jewish people either. David was particularly worried about
France where the medieval inquisition had its strongest hold.

This inquisition, however, wasn’t so much
about Jews as about heretics—people who didn’t abide by the
doctrines of the Church. David and Llywelyn had welcomed people of
all religions and beliefs into Wales and England, and it was
driving the Pope crazy that David refused to allow his minions to
arrest them.

“
Give us your tired, your
poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,” Bronwen said.
The Americans around the table nodded. They lived and breathed that
quote. Even if America had yet to be colonized, and somehow it
might be their descendants rather than their ancestors who would do
it, they could never allow themselves to forget where they’d come
from.

Though not as economically and
technologically advanced as nineteenth century America,
England—with a population of only three million—had room to spare
if people were willing to work. And people could work here as well
as in France, Spain, or Germany. Recent immigration under David’s
benevolent eye had made London a sprawling capital of freewheeling
mercantile expansionism.

Llywelyn lifted a hand. “It may be, then,
that this rebellion we’re facing is a blessing in disguise.”

“
How might that be?” Meg
didn’t see how war could ever be a blessing.

David answered for his father, “If my dream
is to create a peaceful, united Britain, then fighting a little war
now—putting down a small rebellion now, maybe even before it has a
chance to gain a real foothold—could send a clear message to every
other baron who might be entertaining the idea of fostering a
similar revolt.”

Llywelyn nodded. “You made an example of
Valence. We may have to make one of Rhys and Madog too.”

Before anyone could add to his comment—or in
Meg’s case, protest the very idea of a ‘little war’—a knock came at
the door to the inner ward. Since Anna was already standing, having
risen to retrieve Bran and plop him back into his place on the
bench, she went to open the door. Meg craned her neck to see who
was asking to be admitted, but she couldn’t see around Anna. Her
daughter stood in the doorway for a second, one hand on the frame
and the other on the edge of the door, not moving.

“
Who-who are you?” The
panic in Anna’s voice had every adult at the table rising to his or
her feet.

“
An old friend.” The voice
came clearly from beyond Anna. She stepped back, holding out her
hands in front of her, her posture stiff. Something wasn’t right.
Meg still couldn’t see past Anna to whatever was the problem, but
she moved with everyone else to find out.

As Anna took another step backwards, her hip
hit the door, opening it wider and enabling Meg to see beyond her
to Rhuddlan’s steward, Alan, who had fallen to his knees on the
landing. Meg’s breath caught in her throat as a second man—the
tardy Marty—grabbed Alan by the cloak, tugged him to his feet, and
shoved him so that he stumbled through the doorway past Anna and
into the room. Alan collapsed against the wall a few feet from Meg,
bleeding from a gash in his belly.

And then, the bloodstained blade flashing in
his hand, Marty grabbed Anna, dragged her with him into the room,
and kicked the door shut behind him.

Chapter Two

November 1291

Anna

A
nna’s family stared at her, and she stared back at them, each
individual a dark silhouette against a brilliant background because
she was hyperventilating. Mom had been sitting at the near end of
the table and was already on her feet by the time Marty—it had to
be Marty because who else could be ‘an old friend’?—had spun Anna
around and put the knife to her throat. She was the only one who
had been close enough to see him stab Alan. The poor steward—a
thin, balding man in his mid-forties who hadn’t been prepared to be
assaulted with a knife—clutched his hand to his side, bleeding out
while everyone stood frozen in shock at the scene and out of fear
for Anna.

David had already been on his feet, since
he’d been talking and walking, but he was yards away from where
Anna now stood. Although six inches taller, twenty years younger,
and far stronger than the somewhat tubby Marty, David couldn’t
subdue him from there. Ieuan, his jaw set, put his foot on his
seat, prepared to climb over the table to get to Anna. Papa pushed
back his chair and stood up, while Gwenllian slipped her hand into
Lili’s. Anna wished Lili had her bow because she would have trusted
her to put an arrow through Marty’s eye without blinking.

Anna’s vision narrowed as she looked at each
person, and then her gaze lingered on her husband. Math’s face
mirrored the horror Anna was feeling. He’d risen to his feet, but
as Elisa had crawled into his lap earlier and was now clutching him
around the neck, he was frozen too.

Then Bronwen hurried around the table to
crouch in front of the steward. Marty didn’t stop her, but he did
edge Anna farther into the room, along the wall away from them.
Anna couldn’t move her head enough to see either of them clearly
and hoped Alan wasn’t already dead. In the Middle Ages, a knife
wound to the gut was rarely anything less than a death
sentence.

Marty looked at Meg and said in American
English. “Hello Meg. Long time no see.”

“
Marty, don’t do anything
more stupid than you’ve already done.” David advanced slowly, his
hands out.

“
Don’t anybody move!” Marty
squeezed Anna tighter against him.

David stopped. Anna’s tongue had stuck to
the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t say anything and wouldn’t have
known what to say if she could speak. She ran through possible
escape moves she could make. But as her sensei had told her so many
years ago, when a knife was involved, somebody was going to get
cut. And with the blade at her throat, that person was going to be
Anna. In addition, after nine years and three pregnancies, she was
really out of practice with karate.

She tried not to look anywhere but at Math.
He’d schooled his expression after his initial reaction, and Anna
felt her breathing slow to a manageable level in response to his
calm face.

Marty took the knife away from Anna’s throat
for two seconds, pointing it at her family before putting it back
to her neck. She was forced to raise her chin since the knife was
now in a worse place than before, right at the bend where her
jawline met her neck. Marty was only a few inches taller than Anna,
which meant that if she could move her head forward without cutting
her neck on the knife, she could bang the back of her head into his
nose. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been prepared when he’d moved the
knife from her throat the first time and hadn’t taken advantage of
the opportunity he’d given her.

Mom put out a hand to David to stop him from
coming any closer and took a step forward herself instead. She was
less of a threat than David—physically, anyway. Otherwise, she was
way tougher than she looked.

“
What do you want Marty?”
Mom said.

“
What do I want?” Marty let
out a laugh. It ended in a gasp that sounded like it had its source
in pain—or grief. “I want to go home.”

Nobody pretended to misunderstand.

“
What about your wife?” Mom
said.

“
She’s dead, along with our
babe,” Marty said.

He didn’t have to elaborate. Everyone here,
whether born medieval or modern, had lost someone important to them
in the last nine years. Anna had lost a child. It seemed Marty had
too and wanted no more of the grief that followed.

“
Let Anna go, and we’ll see
about getting you home,” David said.

“
Just like that?” Marty
laughed again, though his voice was strangely high and, again, the
laughter showed more pain than amusement. “You’d take me back if I
asked nicely?” Anna sensed him shake his head. “I don’t think
so.”

“
How is hurting Anna going
to get you home?” Mom said.

“
Oh, I’m not going to hurt
Anna unless you make me,” Marty said. “No, what the three of us are
going to do is go to those stairs over there and take them up to
the tower. You, me, and Anna. Everyone else will stay where they
are, or this knife might slip.”

The children had seen the steward’s wound,
so they’d figured out by now that something wasn’t right, even if
the rapid exchange of American English had passed the littlest ones
by. Though his face was very white, Cadell stood on his bench
beside Math and Elisa, his sword out as if he was going to launch
himself across the table. Bran had started to cry, so Lili bent to
put her arm around him. Anna ached to go to her boys and for this
not to be happening.

“
Come with me, Meg.” Marty
sidled along the wall towards the stairs.

Marty wanted the battlement, two stories
above. If the family had dined in the great hall today, there would
have been guards everywhere, but they’d deliberately sent everyone
away so they could speak freely with one another for once without
the possibility of being overheard. A terrible mistake.

“
Mom, don’t let him have
what he wants.” Anna felt the blade on her neck. She would have
given anything for it not to be there. “Without me, he has no
leverage. He knows if he kills me, he’ll be dead a second
later.”

“
What if I told you I
didn’t care?” Marty said.

The look on Mom’s face told Anna that she
believed Marty. Anna did too, and she really didn’t want to die
today.

“
It’s okay, Anna.” Mom put
out both hands. “Please don’t hurt her, Marty.” Mom was begging.
Anna didn’t know enough about the psychology of abduction to know
if that was good or bad: if it would embolden him, calm him, make
him angry, or make him feel more in control.

Regardless, Marty kept edging Anna towards
the stairs, and Mom followed. Before she passed David, she put a
hand on his shoulder and spoke to him in rapid Welsh, which Marty
couldn’t understand. Her voice was low enough that Anna couldn’t
hear what she was saying. David nodded.

Fifteen seconds later—far too soon—they
reached the stairs. Marty turned Anna around so they both faced the
room and Mom. Anna prayed for a stray soldier to come down from the
tower, but she doubted any would. David had been very clear in his
orders: short of a declaration of war, they weren’t to be
disturbed. Nobody disobeyed David.

Marty started backwards up the stairs. He
was holding Anna with her arms wrenched behind her back. It was all
she could do to fumble at the side of her dress with the fingers of
both hands, trying to lift the hem of her long skirt so she
wouldn’t trip as Marty pulled her up the stairs with him. Anna was
wearing her nicest dress, a dark red with embroidery at the bodice
and on the sleeves, with a train that made her feel like a
princess. Or it had until five minutes ago.

Anna managed not to step on the hem on the
first step, but the second step had her coming to a complete stop
with the fabric caught underneath her left shoe. She froze,
suspended, unable to take a step forward because of Marty’s grip
and the knife, and unable to step back without ripping out the back
of her dress, though Anna’s seamstress was accomplished enough that
it would take more than a few tugs to rip it.

More likely, it would hold, she would fall
backwards into Marty, and find her neck sliced open. He would be
dead or captured a few seconds later, but that wouldn’t be of much
comfort to Anna. She didn’t want to die for her own sake, but more
than that, she needed to live for her boys. Sadly, Marty was doing
what he was doing because he felt absolutely the same: he had lost
his wife and child and had nothing left to live for.