Prince of Time (7 page)

A nurse came over to us. “We’re moving him upstairs now. You may follow us to his room,” she said.

“Thank you,” Bronwen and I said together and stood up.

Ieuan lay unmoving on his gurney. “Is he going to be all right?” I asked the nurse, before she turned away.

“We believe so. He has two broken ribs and the wound where the object entered, but we’ve bandaged it and are giving him IV antibiotics. We’ll keep him overnight, but by tomorrow or the next day he should be well enough to go home.”

“Thank you,” I said again. I turned to Bronwen. “You should go home. I can come find you tomorrow, after you’ve slept.”

“That’s okay. I’ll come with you,” she said. “As it’s tomorrow already, I might as well see this through. I would like to see for myself that your friend is okay.”

She walked forward to follow the nurse and I gaped at her retreating back. My statement hadn’t been a question or a suggestion at all—if I’d spoken that way in Wales, everyone would have known that it was an order. I shook my head. I’d clearly lived in the Middle Ages too long. I expected people—and especially women—to do exactly what I said, when I said it, and not ask questions. How Anna and my mother must confuse the men around them.

Bronwen signaled to me from the elevator. “
Come on!
” She mouthed.

I obeyed her.
How cool is that?

Chapter Five

Ieuan

I
awoke on my back in a bed under white coverings with a soft pillow beneath my head, in an unfamiliar room.
And what a room!
I stared at the ceiling. It was composed of white, gridded squares, with tiny holes speckled all through them. They occupied my attention for a time, and then I started hearing sounds: one was rhythmic and high pitched, but unlike any bird call I’d ever heard; another went ‘wump, WUMP; wump, WUMP, also rhythmically. The sounds were coming from some—
I don’t even know what to call those things
—to my right. Little lights went on and off in the boxes and a wavy line skittered up and down on the face of the—
thing
.

A third sound penetrated. Voices talked softly beside me.
English voices.
I turned my head, and there was Prince Dafydd, smiling at me, with a beautiful girl beside him.

Trust him to find a beautiful girl!Some men have all the luck.

She and the Prince were seated in front of an enormous window, so clear it was almost as if it wasn’t there. The window coverings had been pulled back and bright lights shone from the tops of long posts. Further along, chains of lights moved in rhythm, some white and some red. There were even lights high in the sky. They weren’t stars, or at least looked like no star I’d ever seen or imagined.

The girl had dark brown hair, blue eyes, a short stubby nose, and a wide, full mouth that was made for laughter.
Or kissing
. She was laughing now at something Dafydd had said. I found myself staring at her and couldn’t stop.

Dafydd noticed. “May I introduce you to Bronwen ferch Llywelyn, Ieuan,” Prince Dafydd said. “She helped us find someone to treat your wound.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Ieuan ap Cynan,” she said with a smile. Her Welsh was accented strangely, but had a lilt I liked.

“It is my honor, my lady,” I said.

Bronwen laughed. “I’m no lady! Don’t even think it. I’m glad you’re awake.”

Dafydd had been staring at her during our exchange, and now found his voice. “You speak Welsh! How is it that you speak Welsh!”

 “As you pointed out earlier, my last name is Llywelyn. I’m Welsh, though I haven’t lived in Wales for many years.”

“We’re...not in Wales, my lord?” I said.

“What do you remember?” Dafydd said.

“I remember being chased by English soldiers, and being hit by an arrow, and falling from my horse. You picked me up...and then you jumped! You jumped off the cliff!” I tried to sit up in my excitement, and pain shot through my back. I moaned, and Dafydd and Bronwen scrambled to their feet to settle me down again.

I looked up at Dafydd. “I saw the cliff rushing by, and then a blackness came over me. I remember nothing after that. How did I get here?”

“English soldiers?” Bronwen said. “He thinks English soldiers shot at him?”

“They did,” David said. “It’s a long story which you aren’t going to believe.”

Bronwen’s features stiffened. “We’ll see about that,” she said, and crossed her arms across her chest. I wanted to warn her that it wasn’t her place to become angry with the Prince of Wales.

“You really want to know?” Dafydd said.

“Yes,” she said.

“If I tell you, you can’t overreact,” he said. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Bronwen opened her mouth, closed it, and then sat back in her chair and crossed her knees. “Fine. I’m all ears.”

But then Dafydd hesitated, and instead of telling her anything, asked her a question. “Look at me and tell me what you see.”

Bronwen shifted, uncomfortable under Dafydd’s scrutiny. “I see a young man of sixteen, dressed in what appears to be medieval-authentic linen shirt, brown leather armor, tunic, trews, leather boots, and a cloak. You look like you need a bath. Your teeth are straight. You have blue eyes and light brown hair and are a couple of inches over six feet.”

 “How about our weapons?” he said.

“I didn’t get to examine them closely, but what I saw indicated that they were beautifully worked and . . .” she paused, her brow furrowed. “They’re of a very old design. Are they antiques?”

“What if I told you that all of our clothes, including our boots, are handmade? That the weapons were handmade too and are over seven hundred years old? What would that say to you?”

“That you are very rich, obsessive members of the SCA who refuse to carry ID or money?”

“What’s the SCA?” I said.

“Society for Creative Anachronism,” Bronwen said, “but from your ignorance maybe that isn’t the case either.”

Society for Creative Anachronism
. I had no idea what any of those words meant, separately or together.

“Do you know about old weapons?” Dafydd said, following his own train of thought.

“I’m a graduate student in archaeology,” Bronwen said.

Another word I didn’t know. “What’s ‘archaeology’?”

Bronwen gave me a look, and then returned her attention to Dafydd. “Why doesn’t he know?”

“Because where he comes from, there’s no such thing,” Dafydd said. He sat beside her then and put his head in his hands.

“Would you mind leaving us for a time?” Dafydd said. “You’ve been up all night. Perhaps now you could go home to sleep?”

“You haven’t answered any of my questions,” she said.

“I can’t answer them,” Dafydd said. “Not right now.”

Bronwen grimaced. “I don’t get this, but that’s fine. You don’t have to tell me. I don’t know you at all. Goodbye.”

She headed for the door.

Dafydd stood and held out a hand to stop her. “I’m sorry. I want to explain, just not here, with Ieuan ill. Where can I find you again, to give you the explanation you deserve, and to get our weapons back?”

Bronwen jerked the door to the room open. “At the archaeology department,” she said. “Right where I found you.” The door slammed shut behind her. Dafydd contemplated the space where she’d been, his hands on his hips.

“That’s hardly the way to win a girl, my lord,” I said.

“Win a girl?” Dafydd laughed. “She’s at least five years older than I am. She would never be interested in me.”

Really?
“You’re the Prince of Wales, my lord. Every girl is interested in you.”

“Trust me, Ieuan. Not this one,” Dafydd said. He grabbed the back of a chair and pulled it close to my bed.

“Why did you send her away?” I said.

“Because I had to tell you where we are, before I could tell her where we came from,” he said.

“I don’t understand, my lord. Where are we?”

“We’re in the land of Madoc.”

I grinned and pumped my fist. “I knew it! I knew it!” I stopped. “How is that possible?”

“Because the land of Madoc is not only far away across the sea from where you were born, but hundreds of years ahead in time.”

I gaped at him. “What are you saying?”

“Ieuan,” Prince Dafydd said. “Look around you. Does anything look familiar?”

“Of course not! The land of Madoc is full of wonders, as you yourself said.”

“I know I said that,” Dafydd replied, “but the reason it’s full of wonders is not because I am descended from Madoc, but because when I jumped off the cliff with you, I not only brought you to another land, but I brought you forward nearly seven hundred and fifty years in time, to my world.”

“Your world, sire?” Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.

“I have taken you into the future, Ieuan. A future where machines are in every room and used for every conceivable purpose; a future where everyone is literate and educated; a future into which I was born, but neither you nor I belong.” He gazed down at his feet. I stared at the top of his head.
Has my Prince gone mad?

He looked up. “You see my problem, Ieuan. How do I explain to you that you’re in the future without you thinking I’ve lost my mind; while at the same time explain to Bronwen that we are from the past, without her thinking the very same thing?”

Then he smiled. And barked a laugh. “I don’t have to explain anything, do I? I’ll just let you two convince each other.” He clapped his hands.

Has my Prince gone mad? Have I?

* * * * *

I slept, woke at midday to eat, and slept again. Judging from the light outside, it was mid-afternoon by the time I became fully awake. I was alone in the room. My arse was sore from lying down. I’d never spent so long in bed in my life. Loath to give in to more sleep, I carefully swung my legs, one at a time, over the side of the bed.

I was tall enough that I could get my left foot on the ground from the prone position, and used the railings on either side of the bed to muscle myself upright with my arms. My ribs
hurt
but I ignored them.

Once seated, I noted that the floor was made of a white rock, but as smooth as sanded wood. I lifted my feet, one at a time and inspected the fuzzy socks that covered them. They were an appealing blue color, but I hoped I wouldn’t slip in them when I stood. With my left hand on the railing, also made of a smooth material, though gray, I pushed up to my feet. It made me dizzy and I was tempted to sit down again, but I took a deep breath and released it, and my vision cleared.

An open door lay on the far side of the room: the garderobe, Prince Dafydd had explained. I really needed it now, so I grasped the metal pole from which tubes ran from a clear bottle to my arm, and shuffled across the floor, pulling the contraption with me. By the time, I reached the stone basin that Dafydd said was a ‘toilet’, I was exhausted. It was too interesting to pass up, however, and I was determined to try it out.

I wore nothing but a thin shirt, open in the back. I managed to relieve myself, but when I stepped back from the toilet, a loud whooshing sound reverberated and the water in the basin disappeared, to be replaced by new water that ran down the inside of the bowl like a waterfall.
Hmmm
.

I stepped forward again, waited through a few heartbeats, and stepped back.

“
Whoosh
!”

More curious implements adorned the room, but I was tired, so I shuffled out of the toilet room and found a chair to sit in right outside. I drifted around in my own mind for a while, trying to get up the strength to try the other door, the one through which Bronwen had marched after her conversation with my lord. I smiled to think of it.
Such spirit!
I was sure that Prince Dafydd had never encountered anyone like her, except maybe his own sister. Of course, he hadn’t met my sister yet, either.

Fortunately, all the furniture was constructed with conveniently placed railings, so I pushed to my feet again and shuffled off, my pole in my hand. It was an awkward thing, with wheels on the bottom, and the tubes coming from it that led ultimately to a needle in my arm. The needle was held to my skin with a sticky cloth and Prince Dafydd had encouraged me not to touch it. It itched, though, and I just wanted to rip it out. I didn’t.

Instead, I pulled at the handle on the surprisingly heavy door and poked my head into the hall. There was no one in sight. Tugging my pole after me, I exited the room, feeling stronger with each step. The hall matched the room, and I wondered why white was such a favorite color in this land. My home was filled with tapestries woven in beautiful jewel tones of red, blue, and green. Here, the walls and floors were white, along with the clothing of all the people. It was dull to look at. Given the wondrous machines they had, it surprised me that they had leeched their world of color.

I passed other rooms like mine, picking up the pace as I went. In each, a person was in the bed, some with family and friends beside them. It appeared that sick people were comforted the same here as in Wales. The occupant of the room three doors down from mine was a Moor, his skin almost black. I stood in the doorway for a longer look, but when he spoke to me, he spoke English. I tipped my head at him, not understanding his words but not wanting to be rude, and continued walking.

Further on was another door that opened into a small room, perhaps as wide as I was tall and half as deep. A large, brown metal box rested on a red counter, and beside it were a stack of cups (also white!), strange looking sticks, small square packages made of parchment with writing on them, and a pot into which dripped a dark liquid. I studied how everything was set up and then chose a cup. The stack separated easily and I found that the cups were soft and squishy. I squeezed one of them and then patted it back into shape.

The liquid stopped dripping with a final, loud, spitting sound. I picked up the pot. Heat rose off it. I poured the liquid into the cup. It steamed and bubbled. I put the pot back and lifted the cup to my nose. The liquid smelled...bitter.