Footsteps in Time (16 page)

“
He can’t,” Math said.
“His men will never obey. They know those woods are full of
Welshmen. He’ll commandeer boats at Degannwy and pray we haven’t
taken Rhuddlan.”

“
But we
have,”
David
said.
“Uncle Dafydd was true to his word.”

“
For
once.” That was Bevyn on
David’s
other side, murmuring under his
breath.

“
Edward will have to sail
all the way to Chester,” Math said. “He has no choice.”

“
This will cost Edward
plenty,” Bevyn added. “In both gold and men. His barons are not
going to be as supportive next time.”

“
If there is a next time,”
Math said.

“
Whose
flag flies there?”
David
pointed to a red cross on a yellow
background.”

“
Mortimer,” Math said. “The
same ones who betrayed your father.”

Bevyn spat on the ground.
“Too bad they weren’t on the hill that day when you and your sister
drove your chariot into their men.”

“
Speaking of your sister,
my lord,” Math said, and then paused.

David
glanced at him, but he was looking at
Bevyn.

Math canted his head and Bevyn gave
him a grin, before retreating a few steps away.

“
What?”
David
said.

Math turned back to David,
a look of concentration on his face. “I would like your permission
to court her.”

Standing on the
ridge, with Edward and his men retreating before him,
David
was overcome by the
outrageousness of it all. He couldn’t help himself. He
laughed.

Part Two

Eighteen months
later…

Timeline: 1196-1284

1196-1240: Llywelyn
ap Iorwerth (the Great) rules as Prince of Gwynedd and later most
of Wales.

1215: English barons force King John
to sign the Magna Carta.

Circa 1228: Llywelyn ap Gruffydd born
to Gruffydd ap Llywelyn, eldest (illegitimate) son of Llywelyn ap
Iowerth.

1240: Llywelyn ap Iorwerth dies.
Succeeded by his legitimate but younger son, Dafydd ap
Llywelyn.

1244: Gruffydd ap Llywelyn dies when a makeshift rope breaks
as he attempts to escape from
the Tower of London.

1246: Dafydd
ap Llywelyn dies unexpectedly, without an heir. Llywelyn ap
Gruffydd stands in his stead.

1255: Battle
of Bryn Derwin. Llywelyn ap Gruffydd defeats his brothers, Owain
and Dafydd, becoming sole ruler of Gwynedd. Imprisons both
brothers.

1256: Llywelyn
releases his brother, Dafydd, from prison.

1258: Llywelyn accepts allegiance of Princes of Deheubarth,
styles himself
Prince of Wales
.

1263: Dafydd,
Llywelyn’s brother, defects to English.

1267: Treaty of
Montgomery signed by Henry III, ratifying Llywelyn ap Gruffydd's
claim to the title
Prince of
Wales
. Dafydd ap Gruffydd restored to
Llywelyn’s favor as part of the treaty.

1268 (January): Marged and Anna come
to Wales.

1268 (November): David ap Llywelyn
born to Marged and Llywelyn.

1272: King Henry III dies.

1274: Dafydd ap Gruffydd, Gruffydd ap
Gwenwynwyn, and Gruffydd’s son, Owain, plot to take Llywelyn’s
life. Plot is foiled by a snowstorm, but Owain confesses to the
Bishop of St. Asaph’s. Dafydd and Gruffydd flee to England. Sensing
blood, Edward I demands Llywelyn ap Gruffydd pay homage to him
before he recognizes him as Prince of Wales. Llywelyn
refuses.

1276: Edward I declares Llywelyn a
rebel.

1277: Edward gathers
an enormous army and invades Wales. Llywelyn forced to sue for
peace, resulting in
the Treaty of Aberconwy, which restricts Llywelyn to his lands
in Gwynedd and restores Llywelyn’s brother, Dafydd, and Gruffydd ap
Gwenwynwyn to their lands in Wales (Dafydd in Gwynedd near Conwy,
Gruffydd in Powys).

1278: Llywelyn
marries Elinor, daughter of Simon de Montfort.

1282: Dafydd
ap Gruffydd grows dissatisfied with subservience to Edward and
rebels against him. Dafydd is joined by other Welsh lords who are
discontented with Edward’s rule. Llywelyn, as Prince of Wales,
sanctions the revolt and unites much of Wales under his
banner.

1282 (June):
Elinor, wife of Llywelyn, dies in childbirth. Their daughter,
Gwenllian, lives.

1282
(December): Ambush of Llywelyn by Mortimers thwarted by David and
Anna.

1283
(January): Edward gathers a second huge army to attack Wales. Is
soundly defeated by the resurgent Welsh.

1284 (April): Edward II born.

Chapter One

Anna

D
avid pushed open the door to the great hall and stood on the
threshold. Beyond the entranceway, rain poured down in sheets and
made muddy puddles in the courtyard. The water in the air and on
the ground reflected the flickering light of the torches that lit
the gatehouse of Rhuddlan Castle. “Hey, David,” Anna said. “Are you
all right?”

“
Fine,” he said. “Why are
you up?” He pulled off his cloak and shook it out, soaking the rush
mats spread around him on the floor. He checked for his sword on
his left hip. Ever since Papa had knighted him last year, he was
never without it, not even in his own hall in the middle of the
night.

“
I couldn’t sleep and
didn’t want to wake Math,” Anna said. “What are you doing out in
this?”

“
Taranis spooks during
thunderstorms,” David said. “I wanted to make sure he was all
right.”

“
How was Dyfi?” Anna
said.

“
Asleep,” David said. “That
horse is so placid, sometimes I wonder if she doesn’t sleep even
when you ride her.”

Anna laughed and turned from him, glad
to see him well. She was tired enough now to return to her room.
Lately, her sleep had been troubled and perhaps the storm was
affecting her too, because within moments of laying her head on her
pillow, Anna dreamt as her mother for the first time in many
months:

I
wrap my arms around my waist and lean forward, trying to
control my nausea as the plane shudders and jerks. The pilot puts
out a hand as if to steady me, and then quickly moves it back to
the controls.

“
My God, Meg!” he exclaims.
“What happened? We should be dead on that mountain! Now, there’s
nothing but static on the radio and I’m flying by the seat of my
pants here. The electronics are good, but what I can see of the
terrain looks totally wrong. I don’t understand it!”

“
Just put her down if you
can, Marty,” I say. “We can figure out what’s going on when we
land.”

“
Put her down!” Marty
shouts. “Where!” And then he screeches. The sound echoes throughout
the small cabin. The trees we’ve been flying over give way to a
heavy sea, rolling beneath us.

“
Jesus Christ!” Marty says
as he circles the plane back toward land.

I say nothing, just look
out the window at the country below, my chin in my hand. The fog
isn’t as thick now, but it limits visibility to a quarter-mile. No
houses or towns are in sight and the land is rocky all the way down
to the shoreline.

“
Where in the hell are we?”
Marty demands.

As we are supposed to be
flying from Pasco, Washington to Boise, Idaho, I can understand his
bewilderment. The land looks familiar to me, however. I suspect
this fact will not comfort Marty in the slightest.

“
Fly south, Marty,” I say,
after he circles the plane for a third time.

We can just make out the
sun, trying to shine through the fog. It’s very high in the sky. It
makes me think that, temporally, we are in the same late-summer we
left in Washington. Wild-eyed, Marty does as I ask. We fly on,
unspeaking. The land rolls away beneath us. The rocky coastline
gives way to a hilly, grass-covered terrain, interspersed with
stands of trees. Everything is green. The patches of ground we can
see don’t include a city.

“
We’re going to run out of
fuel soon,” Marty says softly. “What do you suggest we
do?”

I sigh. “Just put her down.
Find a field. Hopefully people live among these trees, though I
don’t see any smoke.”

“
Smoke,” Marty retorts. “I
gather I’m not looking to follow the power lines?”

“
I’m afraid there won’t be
any power lines.”

“
You know where we are?”
Marty says. He glances at me. “What’s going on here!”

I turn to look at him.
Watching his face, I say as clearly as I can, “This has happened to
me before. I can’t explain it, but I’m afraid we’ve been displaced
in space and time, to a world not our own.”

“
You’re kidding me!” Marty
snorts. He looks out the windscreen. “Aren’t you kidding
me?”

I shake my head and sit on
my hands so he can’t see them trembling. I’ve prayed for this to
happen since Anna and David disappeared. I’d given up hope.
“Sixteen years ago, I lived in thirteenth century Wales for close
to a year,” I say. I look out the window again, trying to get my
bearings. “But I can’t tell from up here what century this
is.”

Marty grips the yoke so
hard his knuckles turn white. Another minute and the fog thins
enough to reveal a small lake with a clearing next to it that looks
like a possible landing site. Unspeaking still, Marty circles the
little plane, lowering it with every revolution. He lands and
brings the plane to a halt. With a twist of his wrist, he turns off
the engine, and we’re quiet.

“
I think I saw power lines
to the north, just as we landed,” he says.

“
No, Marty. You
didn’t.”

“
I did. I know
it.”

I decide not to wait for
further recriminations or questions I’m not ready to answer, and
wrench the door handle. Pushing it open, I hop out, hauling my
backpack from the seat behind me. The lake is a few yards to my
right and is as clear as any I’ve ever seen. Grasses grow almost to
the water’s edge and wildflowers cover the hills around us. I take
a deep breath and gaze up at the sky, now as clear as the air I
breathe. The fog is gone. And what does that fog represent? The fog
of confusion? The mists of time? I have no answers for
Marty.

Before we landed, I too
noticed something in the distance that looked man-made, though it
wasn’t power lines. Hoping to spot it again, I shoulder my pack and
take off at a brisk walk, following the south side of the lake.
After fifty yards or so, I angle away from the lake and head up a
small hill that forms the south side of the little valley. Another
ten minutes of hard walking brings me to the top. I stop and turn
to look back at the plane. Marty’s still seated inside. Then I gaze
in the opposite direction and my heart skips a beat.

A long wall stretches
before me. Dear God, it’s Hadrian’s wall. I sink to my knees. This
is just too much. I’ll have to cross miles of open country to reach
Llywelyn, if he still lives in this world. Is time here following
the same trajectory as at home? Is it 1284 or a different era
altogether? Even if he changed the future as I urged, Llywelyn
still may not have survived. The thought is terrifying and
hysterical laughter bubbles up in my throat. I try hard never to
think of him. Can I really return to him again?

I look down at the plane
and am astonished to see it rolling steadily across the grass. I
watch dumbly. Surely, he’s not going to take off and leave me here?
Where exactly does he think he’s going to go? To find his mythical
power lines?

I shout, though I know he
can’t hear me over the engine of the plane, and take off at a run
down the hill. I’ve walked too far, however, and I’m only half-way
down the slope when his front wheels lift off the ground. Five
seconds later, he’s fifteen feet above the ground—then thirty—then
one hundred. He circles the little white plane around the lake and
even has the gall to tilt his wings to wave at me, before heading
north to heaven knows where. I watch until he
disappears...

Anna jerked awake, startled out of
sleep by the sudden ending to the dream. She reached out under the
covers, looking for comfort, but felt instead an empty space beside
her.

“
Math?” she said. Anna
pushed up on one elbow to survey the room, which was beginning to
lighten with the rising sun.

He was at the door, already
dressed, but turned back to Anna when she called to him. “I hoped
not to wake you.”

“
Why are you up?” Anna
said.

“
Last night’s storm is
spent, but the Irish Sea is unforgiving. The results are driving
towards shore, including many dead. Your brother is hoping that
we’ll find some people alive and he asked that I come with him to
survey the damage.”