Warden of Time (The After Cilmeri Series Book 8) (18 page)

Cassie didn’t respond right away, and I added, “You saw right through him, didn’t you?”

She scoffed. “Hardly. It was Lili who was paying the most attention. She didn’t say anything because she was afraid her worry came from jealousy, because he was from Avalon and she wasn’t. She feared that because of it, she couldn’t understand what you needed—and that you needed something more than she could give you.”

I groaned. It was clear I had some patching up to do with my wife, and I wished she were right in front of me so I could make a start. “She wasn’t jealous. She was smart. Unlike me.”

“Like I said, I don’t think you should take this personally,” Cassie said. “Lee is one man, and while he did a lot of damage, you have bigger fish to fry. This thing with the pope, for starters.”

“This thing with the pope, as you say, may be tied to this thing with Lee.” I shook my head. “I need to do something other than running back to London to hide. If I do that, it feels like I’ve ceded the whole country to him.”

Cassie wrinkled her nose at me.

“What?”

“You do realize that some of us—I’m not talking about me—have experience investigating terrorism, right?” she said. “That was Callum’s
job
back in Avalon.”

I made a gurgling sound in the back of my throat. It wasn’t like I’d forgotten. We’d talked about it while standing under the trees near the chapel. I started to wonder if my decision to stay in Canterbury had been the right one, even if it had felt right in the heat of the moment. I’d probably just get in Callum’s way.

“I haven’t thanked you and Callum yet, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For siccing the Order of the Pendragon on Lee,” I said.

Cassie shook her head ruefully. “It was too little too late.”

“Without you, I might have lost more than a castle,” I said.

“The people will take it as a sign that God is still with you.”

I didn’t voice the disparaging comment that formed on my tongue. It was an honor to be the King of England, and the people deserved something more than cynicism for having placed their trust in me.

“Sire!” William de Bohun was back. He swung around the frame of the door, holding onto it with one hand to stop himself from hurtling too far into the room. “News has come from Dover!”

I caught William by the arms. “Slow down.”

“The queen sends word from Dover that two French spies were caught trying to leave the beach under cover of darkness!” The boy could hardly breathe in his excitement.

I couldn’t make sense of what he was saying, seeing as how I’d gotten stuck on “the queen sends word” and “Dover”. Before I could ask for more information, Ieuan appeared behind William in the doorway. “The boy speaks the truth. Word has just come from Dover Castle that two Frenchmen were apprehended as they tried to sail from Dover without passing inspection first.”

“William said
the queen
,” I said. “What does he mean by that?”

Ieuan grunted. “For some reason, Lili didn’t go to Chilham. She went to Dover.”

“Where two French spies were caught trying to flee England.” I put both hands up to the sides of my head and squeezed. Four hours of sleep clearly hadn’t been enough. “Your sister—”

“She’s your wife, my friend,” Ieuan said. “I had some idea when you married her that you’d rein her in, but it was never more than a faint hope.”

The two of us looked at each other, shaking our heads and smiling. Dover Castle was possibly the largest and most well-defended castle in England. I could hardly complain about her safety now, even if getting there might have been riskier than going to Chilham.

“David, you and Ieuan should head to Dover,” Cassie said. “Leave Lee to the rest of us.”

“I hate to part with any of you, but events seem to be conspiring to make me accept that you’re right.” My thinking from the start had been that it would be best if modern people were at the forefront of the pursuit. My departure would leave only modern people in the party, since I would take Justin, Ieuan, and William with me.

“They will be more than up to the task,” Ieuan said.

“I hate to think what kind of damage Lee can do with a sack full of C-4,” I said, “but I concede that this can’t be about my personal issues with Lee. I need to speak to these Frenchmen.” I looked at Ieuan. “Any word from Clare?”

“No, my lord,” Ieuan said, “though with the dawn, word of the destruction of Canterbury Castle will be spreading far and wide.”

“Lee will know, if he doesn’t already, that he failed to kill me,” I said.

Ieuan chewed on his lower lip. “Will he try again?”

“Unless Canterbury has some intrinsic value I don’t know about, and its destruction, not my death, was the point, he may well believe he has to,” I said.

“Don’t mention that to Callum unless he brings it up himself,” Cassie said. “He won’t want to let you out of his sight.”

“He will have to accept that neither of us can be in two places at once, just like I have to.” I turned to William. “Where’s your father?”

“Hereford, I think,” he said.

“Too far. I need his men now, not in two weeks,” I said.

“Why do you need his men?” William said.

“To defend the coast, of course,” I said.

“Who do you think is planning to invade?” Ieuan said. “Philip?”

“How can I not think it?” I said. “Too many threads are coming together before our eyes. They point to a conspiracy that somehow involves Acquasparta, Philip, and Lee, though how each of them fits into it I don’t know. I can’t imagine how they all got together. I never would have wanted to see Canterbury in a pile of rubble. I certainly don’t want to fight a war with the King of France, even if I threatened Acquasparta with it yesterday. But Lee met with Frenchmen, and we’ve captured two French spies. Pope Boniface supports Philip’s claim to Aquitaine over mine. If Philip has plans for me, we need to be prepared.”

“I will send a rider to Dover to inform Lili and Sir Stephen that you will be arriving later today.” Ieuan bowed and departed, taking William with him.

“You can’t defend the coast with two hundred archers and fifty men-at-arms,” Cassie said.

“Since when have you been such a defeatist?” I said. “Anyway—” I waved a hand. “—I walked away from a destroyed castle with no casualties. You were right to say that my people will believe God is still with me. They will come when I call. As it turns out, Lee might have done me a favor by destroying my castle. It will rally the people around me.”

The definition of a great king in the Middle Ages was one who won battles. Back in Avalon, King Edward was almost universally lauded for his strength, though he’d won the accolade at the expense of Wales, Scotland, Ireland, and France. The English—and the historians who wrote about Edward—didn’t consider the cost in their evaluation.

Similarly, Richard the Lionheart had spent all of six months in England during his ten-year reign but was remembered as a good king. Nobody seemed to care, then or since, that ransoming him when he was captured by an Austrian duke on his way home from the Crusades had bankrupted the country.

I wasn’t much concerned about my legacy, but I did want the power to do what I thought England needed while I was king. And for that to happen, keeping the overall goodwill of the people was essential.

Acquasparta himself appeared in the corridor as I left Romeyn’s room, and I halted when I reached him, fighting down the feeling of animosity that rose within me at the sight of him. “Your color is better than yesterday, your eminence,” I said.

He had a handkerchief clutched in his right hand, and he dabbed the sweat from his forehead with it. “The fever has broken again.”

“You shouldn’t be upright at all,” I said. “You’ll bring on another relapse.”

“I needed to speak to you before you left,” he said, and at the beginnings of another protest on my part, he raised one shoulder in a classic Italian shrug. “I assure you, King David, that I never intended for the arrest of that heretic to result in a riot. Canterbury is known for its holiness and peaceful acceptance of pilgrims.”

I just managed not to laugh. “Thirty years ago, the people of Canterbury slaughtered the Jews in this town. Surely you were aware of that?”

“The Jews killed Christ. What happened to them in Canterbury is another matter entirely,” he said.

I contemplated him a moment, suppressing my disgust—and disconcerted that he’d actually brought up the issue of blood libel, which Pope Innocent had called baseless as recently as 1247. I was also shocked by Acquasparta’s complete disregard for the actual reason the populace had been incited to riot then—and why they had rioted yesterday. Again, it wasn’t because the Jews killed Christ or because heretics believed something different from what the Church taught.

The people had followed where a powerful and charismatic man had led.

Thirty years ago, that man had been Gilbert de Clare at Simon de Montfort’s request. Yesterday, it was on behalf of Acquasparta and the Church. “We will have to agree to differ on the cause of that atrocity. Popes have asked that kings such as I protect the Jewish communities in the lands we rule, but it is heretics, not Jews, who brought you to England.”

“Indeed. I am grateful to you for defusing the situation, but that does not detract from the underlying issue at hand. The Church must be allowed to prosecute those who deviate from the true Faith.” He paused briefly, and when I didn’t reply, he added, “It is my duty to warn you that this might not be the only such incident if you continue on the path you have chosen.”

Genuinely appalled at where this was going, I moved closer to him and lowered my voice. “You will not arrange for the arrest of any more men in my country, whether or not you believe them to be heretics. You will not incite my people to riot.”

“The arrest was at the command of His Holiness, the Vicar of Christ,” Acquasparta said defiantly, though it didn’t come off as he might have hoped, since he was swaying on his feet from his illness. “I do not answer to you.”

“As long as you are in England, you do.”

Acquasparta gazed at me, his shoulders stiff. I longed to shake him, or to see him shaken, but he was unbending. “I have heard your words and will convey them to the pontiff. I cannot promise what his response will be.”

“I have no desire to dispute with the pope, but you can tell him that I do not fear his wrath. Regardless of the action he takes, I can promise him that my answer will remain the same.” It was a hard line to take, openly and at this stage of the game, but I had almost been blown up a few hours ago, and I wasn’t feeling conciliatory. I also didn’t like the fact that Acquasparta was treating me like a boy who could be bullied into conformity. If he thought I would bend, he had sorely misjudged my resolve.

We were also speaking before several witnesses. Cassie was standing silently at my side, though Acquasparta so far hadn’t even deigned to look at her. She was hard to miss, too, with her deep black hair and high cheekbones—not to mention masculine breeches. Romeyn hovered a few paces away, listening closely beside Acquasparta’s secretary. I didn’t mind who heard me, but down the road, Acquasparta might regret having threatened me before so many witnesses.

“Pope Boniface does not see these events as you do,” Acquasparta said.

“That is not my problem,” I said, “though I am happy to explain my position to you—and to him—as many times as I need to.”

“I do not think it would help,” Acquasparta said. “I fear the supreme pontiff might need to take extreme measures in the coming months if an agreement cannot be reached.” He didn’t seem to realize how much better off he’d be if he chose to quit while he was ahead—or at least before he pushed me into saying something even more radical than I already had.

Too late.

“You speak of placing England under interdict,” I said, “and perhaps even excommunication?”

Acquasparta’s gaze was steady on mine. “As you say.”

In the past, such censor—or the threat of it—had almost always brought rulers into line eventually. It just wasn’t going to work this time. Not on me. Acquasparta could threaten all he wanted. I was even willing to accept that Acquasparta, the pope, and all these other Churchmen were sincere. They thought it was their God-given responsibility to keep the populace thinking straight. But that I disagreed was going to be to their loss, not mine.

 “He should do what he feels he must,” I said. “The responsibility for what follows will be his.”

“Do you actually … threaten His Holiness?” Acquasparta said, puzzlement in his voice.

That was rich, considering that he’d just threatened me. “It wasn’t a threat,” I said. “Again, I simply state the facts as I see them.”

Acquasparta bowed. “I will convey your response.”

I turned away, though not before I saw something change in Acquasparta’s eyes—a flash of annoyance, perhaps, or calculation.

I nodded to Romeyn, who was looking at me with consternation. We didn’t speak—I wasn’t sure I could without shouting—and Cassie and I paced towards the exit doors side by side.

“I really have stuck my neck out now, haven’t I?” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “You have.”

Chapter Seventeen

T
he memory of my earlier panic haunted me. It had left a bitter residue on my tongue. The cold light of morning didn’t alleviate any of my troubles either. I still had two dead time travelers, a terrorist on the run, and was no closer to resolving my conflict with the pope. I did have Romeyn as an unexpected ally, and I considered sending him to Italy on the first boat. It had occurred to me by now that not only did I need better spies in Rome, I had sorely underestimated my need for a permanent ambassador there.

Actually, if I were to send Romeyn, he wouldn’t be going to Rome, but to a place called Orvieto. A few centuries ago, the popes had started moving around Italy like medieval kings, and a bunch of them in the last century had preferred Orvieto to Rome as their home base. Since, like kings, they brought their stuff with them when they moved, it wasn’t as big a deal now as it would be in modern Avalon to move the papal seat.