Warden of Time (The After Cilmeri Series Book 8)
Read Warden of Time (The After Cilmeri Series Book 8) Online
Authors: Sarah Woodbury
Warden of Time
A novel from the
After Cilmeri
series
Warden of Time
by
Sarah Woodbury
Copyright © 2014 by Sarah Woodbury
Cover image by Christine DeMaio-Rice at Flip City Books
Warden of Time
Warden of Time
continues the story of time travel, romance, and adventure begun with
Daughter of Time
…
As both modern man and medieval king, David is committed to transforming medieval England into his own version of Avalon. But not everyone supports his ideals, and having offended the pope by welcoming Jews and heretics into England, David is summoned to Canterbury to explain himself.
When information comes to light that reveals the accusations against him have less to do with religion than with power and wealth, David finds himself on familiar ground—and at the center of a conspiracy that stretches from Ireland to Italy. Facing excommunication, a fickle populace, and rebellion even by his fellow time travelers, he must decide what his throne is worth, and what he’s willing to sacrifice to keep it.
Warden of Time
is the eighth novel in the
After Cilmeri
series.
To Deb, Tom, and Jon
… who’ve been in this with me
from the start
Books in the After Cilmeri Series:
Daughter of Time
(prequel)
Footsteps in Time
(Book One)
Winds of Time
Prince of Time
(Book Two)
Crossroads in Time
(Book Three)
Children of Time
(Book Four)
Exiles in Time
Castaways in Time
Ashes of Time
Warden of Time
The Gareth and Gwen Medieval Mysteries:
The Bard’s Daughter
The Good Knight
The Uninvited Guest
The Fourth Horseman
The Fallen Princess
The Unlikely Spy
The Lost Brother
Other books by Sarah Woodbury:
Cold My Heart: A Novel of King Arthur
The Last Pendragon
The Pendragon’s Quest
Cast of Characters
David (Dafydd)—Time-traveler, King of England
Lili—Queen of England, Ieuan’s sister
Callum—Time-traveler, Earl of Shrewsbury
Cassie—Time-traveler, Callum’s wife
Ieuan—Welsh knight, one of David’s men
Bronwen—Time-traveler, married to Ieuan
Arthur—son of David and Lili (born June 1289)
Catrin—daughter of Ieuan and Bronwen (born Nov. 1288)
Nicholas de Carew—Norman/Welsh lord
William de Bohun—David’s squire
Justin—David’s captain
Bevyn—David’s adviser
Huw—Member of the Order of the Pendragon
Darren Jeffries—time traveler (bus passenger)
Peter Cobb—time traveler (bus passenger)
Rachel Wolff—time traveler (bus passenger)
Chapter One
September 1292
Canterbury Castle
David
T
he courtyard of Canterbury Castle was full of men and horses when Carew and I entered it. I was already late for my meeting with the emissary from the pope at the Archbishop’s palace, and my guard had been gathering in preparation for accompanying me.
It was true that the King of England came and went as he pleased, and even a papal legate couldn’t complain if I blew him off, but it might get our meeting off on the wrong foot. I didn’t want the legate to read anything untoward into my lateness or think me petty, but it probably couldn’t be helped that he would. It wasn’t as if I was going to explain what had held me up.
Looking for Callum, I put one foot in the stirrup and boosted myself to a standing position so I could look over the heads of everyone else, but I didn’t see him. He and Carew were supposed to be coming with me. I was about to drop to the ground again when Peter Cobb, lately of Avalon, led his horse underneath the gatehouse. He stopped to speak to the guard at the gate before continuing through it. As I watched, the guard pointed towards the castle steps. Peter looked in that direction, his brow furrowing, and I waved a hand to draw his attention. His expression cleared, and he hurried toward me.
“What’s up?” I said, settling into my saddle as he reached me.
“Callum asked that I report to you,” Peter said, speaking in a variation of medieval English so Carew could understand him. “We’ve found Noah and Mike.”
“Where?” Carew stood nearby, about to mount his horse.
“In an alley outside an inn,” Peter said.
I looked at Peter warily, thinking this could not be the good news it seemed at first. Lee, Mike, and Noah, my three most discontented time traveling bus passengers, had been missing since earlier that morning. At first I’d thought nothing of it—they’d been carousing and womanizing since they’d arrived in the Middle Ages ten months ago—but then my old captain, Bevyn, had arrived in Canterbury, having traveled all the way from Wales, to tell me the bad news.
These three weren’t just discontented. They were traitors. And it was dealing with the consequences of their treachery that had made me late for my meeting.
Peter sighed. “They’re both dead. Noah was stabbed and Mike’s throat was cut.”
“Oh, wow.” The exclamation came out before I could modify it to something more appropriate to the moment.
“That means murder,” Carew said. “Did you return just to tell us that or does Callum want King David to come to him?”
“Please, sire.” Peter took in a breath. “Lee left a message Callum thinks you ought to see.”
“You’d better lead the way,” I said.
Peter mounted and headed back towards the gate.
Justin, the captain of my guard, had been talking to several other soldiers. At the sight of me following Peter to the gate, he quickly organized a phalanx of knights and men-at-arms to accompany me. I wouldn’t have left the castle with just Peter and Carew—I knew better than to do that—but a small, evil, and unworthy part of me had been amused to see Justin sweat about it. It was better than thinking about what faced me in that alley.
I wasn’t squeamish. I’d killed men myself too many times. It wasn’t something I was proud of, but it was a fact of my life, going back to that first fight against King Edward’s forces at the Conwy River when I was fourteen. Murder, however, was different from battles, even if it made no material sense that it should be. It was a crime not only against the people who died, but against their families and the state as well.
“Where are we going, sire?” Justin said as he pulled up beside me.
“Callum has found Mike and Noah,” I said. “Dead.”
Justin’s mouth formed a silent ‘O’, and then he waved a hand to his men to form a tighter grouping around me. Two guards rode in front, with Peter ahead of them leading the way. The main street of Canterbury was wide enough for four men to ride abreast, and we ended up in something of a diamond formation, with Carew and me in the middle.
The people of Canterbury were out in force since it was barely noon, and they scurried to get out of the way, gawking and bowing as we passed.
Peter didn’t take us far—we could have walked, though I generally didn’t walk anywhere. It was a matter of a few turnings among progressively narrower streets until he arrived in an alleyway between an inn and a row of two-story houses built one against the other. The alley had been blocked off by a wooden sawhorse, and a crowd of people six or seven deep pressed against the barrier.
Peter elbowed his way through them, and Justin got his men to clear a path for me. I dismounted just outside the alleyway and handed my reins to an eight-year-old boy who stood watching. I hoped he hadn’t seen the dead men, but this being the Middle Ages, he probably had. “Take care of my horse for me, will you, son?”
His eyes widened when he realized who I was, and he ducked his head and bowed. “Yes, sire.”
Carew and the others followed me as I sidled between the barrier and the wall. Several guardsmen stood facing outward, shielding the dead men on the ground from the onlookers’ view. Each bent his head to me as I moved through them, and then I stopped short as soon as I saw what lay beyond their circle: Noah and Mike, just as Peter had said.
Blood soaked the front of Mike’s gray tunic, having flowed from a terrible wound in his throat. It looked as if Noah had been harder to kill—perhaps having come through the doorway of the inn into the alley with more wariness than Mike. He’d been stabbed in the midsection, and from the amount of blood coating his shirt, he’d bled out after having been settled against the wall. More blood pooled underneath both men.
Dr. Rachel Wolff, another bus passenger, crouched before Noah’s body. She took notes on a piece of paper, her eyes flicking from the bodies to her medieval version of a clipboard. She looked over at me and grimaced but then went back to her work. I was glad I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. I didn’t think I would have lost the contents of my stomach on the ground, but my meal would have sat like a rock in my clenched belly.
Callum stood with one arm folded across his chest and his fist to his chin. He acknowledged me with a nod of his head as I came to stand beside him. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course.” I consciously steadied my breathing. It wasn’t that I was feeling light-headed exactly, but it was best to pre-empt any possibility that I might. “What do we know?”
Callum gestured towards Mike and Noah. “They’re dead, as you can see. I have men questioning the neighbors and the owner of the inn to see if anyone saw or heard anything. Jeffries is heading up that task as he has the most experience. It seems Mike and Noah trusted Lee when they shouldn’t have.” Then Callum pointed to the alley wall.
Up until that point, I’d had eyes only for the bodies, but now I allowed my gaze to roam upward. An image of a fist had been painted in the middle of the wall, in what I thought (sickeningly) might be blood. I really hoped it wasn’t. Below the drawing were the words:
Tiocfaidh ár lá
.
“I’m not sure what I’m looking at,” I said.
Callum glanced at me in surprise, and then he dropped his arms and turned to look at me more fully. “I apologize, my lord. I forgot where you grew up. It means, ‘our day will come’, in Irish Gaelic. That’s a slogan of the Irish resistance to English rule.”
“Lee did this?” I said.
“Who else could have drawn that fist?” Callum said. “It isn’t as if we might possibly entertain the idea that Noah and Mike were jumped by street thieves.”
“I suppose not.”
I rubbed my chin, more befuddled than I could articulate by this turn of events. While I dithered beside Callum, two of my men covered both bodies with cloths so they were no longer exposed to sight. Rachel had straightened to talk to Peter, and Callum gestured that they should come closer. “Do you know the time of death?” he said.
“The bodies are warm, but they’re stiffening,” she said.
“So, they’ve been dead a few hours,” Callum said.
“More than three, but fewer than twelve. I don’t have the equipment to say better than that,” she said. “The alley is used to store refuse, and the killer scattered straw over the bodies, so they weren’t found immediately. But you’re right, it couldn’t have been long.”
“Mike and Noah were seen in the castle shortly after dawn,” I said, “but not since then.”
Rachel checked the sky with a quick glance. “It’s noon now? So, that puts time of death within six hours.” She nodded. “That makes sense.”