Chapter 11
Zachary decided that there were some things in life that were just better left alone. Prickly medieval knights who were very protective of their cousins. Riding for hours after not having spent any time on horseback over the winter. Swearing off certain things and actually formulating those forbidden items into some sort of list.
It was bad karma, apparently.
He traced his current situation back to that fateful day, which couldn’t have been more than a week ago, when Michael Smythe-Gordon and his lovely pugilist sister, Beatrice, had helped him down their equally lovely Regency-era stairs. If he’d just dusted himself off and driven through their front gates without any resolutions, he probably wouldn’t have found himself in Fate’s sights. But no, he’d had to go and make a damned list. Change jobs. Change girlfriends—and avoid any with titles. Change weekend and holiday habits. And as a result, where was he?
Masquerading as a blacksmith in medieval England after time traveling to a keep where the lord’s daughter just happened to be the most gorgeous, fascinating, courageous woman he’d ever had the pleasure of not being able to fall in love with. One he’d promised to try to get out of a potential marriage to the biggest jerk this side of the English Channel. One who deserved a man who would appreciate her passionate nature and untempered mouth.
Where was that nice, safe, unremarkable life?
Not within reach, apparently. He dismounted in front of the stables with the little traveling company and wondered which made more sense: pulling Mary behind his back so Robin didn’t kill her, or hiding behind Mary so Robin didn’t kill him.
The good lord of Artane looked capable of either, or both, but he wasn’t a coward and neither was Mary. He walked with her, wondering if he could put in a good word for her before Jackson opened his big mouth and told Robin things that would only add fuel to the fire. He ignored that little nagging voice—Jamie’s, probably—that told him he should just keep his own big mouth shut.
He ignored that voice because Mary was counting on him to at least make the effort of helping her. Besides, it was entirely possible that she might have convinced her father of Styrr’s character herself even if he hadn’t found himself loitering in 1258. He was only strengthening the slightest bit an event in history that would have taken place anyway.
Surely.
He stopped a few paces away from Robin. The lord of Artane was absolutely stony-faced. Jackson, however, was not only willing to let his emotions show on his face, he was happy to have them show in his voice.
“We found them dancing together at Wyckham.”
Zachary was actually quite glad at that moment that he’d mastered Jamie’s look of ... well, nothing. He looked at Robin with what he was certain was a look as inscrutable as the one Robin was favoring him with. Robin stared at him in silence for another protracted minute, then turned back to Jackson.
“And?”
Jackson was practically spluttering with fury. “There were ruffians littering the road and musicians at Wyckham, Uncle. Musicians playing music!”
“My brother has more patience for all that screeching than I do,” Robin said, “which is why he keeps all those lads about who are infinitely inferior to his wife in the art. But what about the ruffians?”
“Five of them,” Parsival put in helpfully. “A pair of them were actually still alive. Jackson did them the favor of wringing confessions from them before he put them to the sword. Apparently our good smith here defended Mary quite well. They were convinced he was a demon.”
“I’m not sure I don’t believe the same thing,” Jackson growled.
Robin shot him a look, then turned back to Parsival. “And then?”
“We had a decent supper at Wyckham, sent Mary to bed, then gathered her up and brought her back this morning. Nothing else of interest.”
Zachary watched Robin consider for a bit longer. He looked at the lads, then turned to look at Mary.
“Go upstairs to your mother’s solar.”
“Father—”
“And remain there until I give you leave to come below again,” he said briskly. “And if you even so much as go near the outer gates, mistress, I’ll lock you in your bedchamber. You’re dismissed.”
Mary stared at her father for a moment or two in silence, then walked away, her back ramrod straight. Zachary watched her go, but said nothing. He saw her pause as she stood on the top step leading into the great hall. She made no move, she simply looked at him over her shoulder, then turned away and went inside.
“I think this smith—”
“Jackson, go inside and find something to eat,” Robin said shortly.
“But—”
“Then meet me in the lists,” Robin said sharply. “And if you say another word, I will keep you there for the next fortnight without pause. If you think I cannot, think again.”
Connor and Thaddeus slunk off without hesitation, apparently before the same invitation was extended to them. Jackson made his uncle a stiff bow, then walked away.
Well, after Zachary found himself the recipient of a look full of the promise of retribution. Zachary only smiled faintly and nodded, acknowledging the inevitability of unpleasant things to come.
Parsival made Robin a very low bow, then straightened. “I haven’t said anything, you know.”
Robin nodded with a jerk over his shoulder toward his hall. “Continue on with that sort of restraint and you’ll find yourself remaining in my good graces.”
Parsival left without comment.
Zachary clasped his hands behind his back, hoping he wasn’t making an enormous mistake in leaving himself open for any stray daggers to be flung into his chest. He returned Robin’s look steadily. There was nothing else to do. Robin would either do him in, or he wouldn’t. He supposed there wasn’t much middle ground with Mary’s father.
Robin studied him for several moments in silence, then he pursed his lips. “You’re here again. Inside my gates.”
“I had to bring your daughter back.”
“I’m assuming you didn’t take her in the first place.”
“Nay, my lord, I didn’t.”
Robin chewed on something for an extended period of time, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to spew it out. Zachary watched the man’s mask slip briefly and saw just what Mary’s leaving had cost him.
“I will admit,” Robin said finally, “that I wondered if you had taken her with you.”
Zachary shook his head slowly. “Nay, my lord. I wouldn’t have repaid your generosity that way.”
“Good sense did prevail eventually,” Robin continued, as if he hadn’t heard Zachary. “My wife’s good sense, I’ll concede. Once we realized Mary had gone, I suspected she would catch you eventually and you would make for Wyckham.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You could have let the lads return with her.”
Zachary nodded slowly. “I could have, my lord, but that wouldn’t have allowed me to do what I promised to do.”
“And what, pray tell, is that?” Robin asked with a snort. “Talk me to death like that damned Jackson Kilchurn? Startle me like those bloody little imps, Theophilus and Samuel? I vow if I find them hiding in another untoward place, I will throw them in the dungeon.”
Zachary smiled. “I wouldn’t blame you. But nay, my lord, I have a more specific purpose in mind. I promised your daughter I would speak to you.”
Robin looked at him for a moment in silence, then his mouth fell open. “About what? Something to do with you?”
“Well, nay,” Zachary said, slightly taken aback. That hadn’t been his intention, of course, though he was slightly surprised to find he wished it had been. “Nay, my lord,” he said, dragging himself back to the matter at hand, “I wanted to tell you of her unease about Styrr.”
Robin pursed his lips. “I know all about it.”
Zachary imagined that Robin had been down this path more than once with Mary already. There was no sense in traveling it again when the destination was what he needed to reach as quickly as possible. He would just have to get to the point before Robin lost all patience.
“My lord, she fears—”
“Being wed, aye, I know,” Robin interrupted. “Do you know that she actually tried to convince me to hire her as a stable lad rather than resign herself to being a bride? It required almost three days in the lists to rid myself of all the shouting I wanted to do at the mere thought.”
Zachary wasn’t at all surprised, given that he’d had about the same reaction. He considered, then chose his words carefully. “Being willing to reduce herself to stable lad says something, does it not?”
“It says she’s bloody stubborn and I never should have let her up on a horse.”
“It’s more than that, my lord—”
“By the saints,” Robin said with a snort, “do you champion all disobedient lords’ daughters by bludgeoning their fathers with endless chatter, or do you simply go about rescuing maids who seem to need it?”
Zachary winced in spite of himself. He’d certainly champi oned a girl or two in the past, but he couldn’t say it had turned out very well. This was different. It was different because he was doing the bare minimum necessary to simply nudge along what likely would have happened anyway. No more.
No matter how much more he would have liked to do.
“Nay, my lord,” Zachary said faintly, “though it seems to me that your daughter is worth championing at any cost. Especially given that she fears for her life.”
“Proof?” Robin demanded.
“I just have a feeling—”
“What a womanly load of tripe,” Robin grumbled. “I’ve known Geoffrey of Styrr for years now and found him to be, as I said, a fool. He’s nothing more than he appears to be: enamored of himself and easily intimidated. I will terrorize him regularly and she will have a good life.”
“If she’s allowed to live to enjoy that life.”
Robin shot him a look of warning. “Whilst I appreciate your enthusiasm, Master Smith, I think I’ve heard enough.”
Zachary let out his breath slowly, then nodded. He couldn’t force Mary’s father to believe what he didn’t care to, and he couldn’t stay to be Mary’s bodyguard indefinitely.
Even if he could have brought himself to watch her marry a man who didn’t love her.
He made Robin a small bow, then straightened and attempted a smile. “Of course, my lord. I appreciate the time and the ear.”
“I imagine you do.” He frowned. “Now, what are your plans? Is there yet another concession you will seek before you go?”
Zachary shook his head. “I simply returned to see Mary safely home. I’ll be on my way now.”
“No horse?”
“My feet will serve me well enough.”
Robin stared at him for a very long handful of minutes in silence, then nodded. “And you’ll return home this time?”
“With any luck.”
Robin glanced toward the lists, then back at him. “I have business with my nephew, else I would at least see you fed.”
“I’ll be fine without, my lord.”
Robin hesitated, then held out his hand. “A safe journey to you then, lad.”
Zachary shook Artane’s hand, then made him another low bow. “Thank you, my lord, for all your aid.”
Robin looked at him with another thoughtful frown, then lifted his eyebrows briefly and walked off toward his lists.
Zachary glanced up at the keep one last time, then turned and walked down toward the barbican. He had done what he’d said he would do. All that was left was to get himself back to where he belonged. He considered his potential destination and decided that perhaps a change of direction might be useful. He would walk up the coast and look for a particular clutch of rocks he knew could provide him with a quick trip back to the twenty-first century. Much closer than Falconberg and perhaps even free of highwaymen looking for goods he couldn’t provide.
He walked out of the gates without looking back.
Not because he wanted to, but because he had no other choice.
 
 
He walked back in those gates the next morning just after sunrise, hungry, exhausted, and very discouraged. He was truly doing everything in his power to leave Artane behind. Despite those efforts, though, Artane was where he seemed to find himself more often than not.
He didn’t want to know why.
He had spent the better part of the day and night running along Artane’s coast, looking for that damned cluster of rocks he’d been told about. He’d found them, based on a description that he’d had from one of Jamie’s relatives-in-law, Thomas McKinnon. Thomas had used those rocks to get himself and his future wife back home from medieval England, so the gate was definitely verified. He had found the rocks where Thomas had said they would be, but they were nothing but rocks. He had tried several things, ranging from sneaking up on the spot to simply sitting there in a lotus position and meditating for an extended period of time.
It had been frustratingly useless.
It had occurred to him, as he’d resigned himself to the necessity of returning to Artane for sleep and food, that the rocks weren’t the only gate in the area. Thomas McKinnon’s grand-mother had wandered into a farmer’s field and subsequently found herself in Elizabethan England. Jamie had done his own investigations of that particular patch of ground and found it mostly responsive to his desires. If worse came to worst, he could check out a Shakespearean play or two before he made his way home. He could hang out with the bard and give him something to use as a tragedy, say the story of a man who went back in time and, despite his best efforts, fell hard for a lord’s daughter who would end up marrying someone else while the modern guy couldn’t do a damned thing about it besides stand there and watch.
His life was, as his father would have readily agreed, very strange indeed.
All of which left him returning to Artane when he hadn’t intended to and hoping Robin wouldn’t bar the gates against him. He would try again the next day. There really wasn’t anything else to do.
The guards only yawned at his approach and waved him on, fortunately. He found himself hailed by several on his trip up the way. He nodded to Godric, then stopped when he realized that Robin himself was standing in the middle of his courtyard, staring up at the sky. Zachary stopped several paces away and waited for the lord of Artane to acknowledge him.
“Lose your way again, lad?” Robin said, turning away from his contemplation of the heavens.
Zachary smiled, though he felt anything but cheerful. He wondered how long it might take him to work off the purchase price of one of Robin’s poorest nags so he could get to new and exciting locales on something besides his own two feet.
Probably until Mary’s wedding, which he most certainly didn’t want to witness.
He dragged his hand through his hair. “I did,” he admitted. “I was hoping I might stay for another day and work off the price of a meal or two.”
Robin studied him for a moment or two. “You said you were a mason. What sorts of things do you build?”
“What sorts of things do you need built?”
“I need better accommodations for my hounds.”
Zachary smiled. “I can do that.”
“When are you leaving again?”
“Tomorrow morning, if possible.”
“Very well,” Robin said, turning for his hall. “Draw what I need for them today, then you may be off again on the morrow. I’ll have my lads do the construction whilst you’re away. You can inspect it when you return—as I’m assuming you’ll be back.”
Zachary smiled, though he supposed it hadn’t been a very good attempt. He didn’t want to say as much, but he sincerely hoped he didn’t return. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in medieval England, being judged by his lack of title, and living without any hope of anything with saturated fat.
Of course, those didn’t touch on his real reason for wanting to get away from a place where he couldn’t change events, but he supposed that was a reason better left unexamined.
He followed Robin inside the hall, where breakfast was being prepared. He didn’t see Mary, but that was for the best. If he’d laid eyes on her once more, he might have been tempted to talk to her father about other things than how many hounds he required kennels for.
Robin stopped at the mouth of the passageway that led to the kitchens. “Tell cook I said to feed you well,” he said, “then you’re welcome to my solar for the day. I’ll be interested in seeing what you can do.”
Zachary nodded wearily and turned away. Robin had been more than kind to him, something he had certainly not merited by any action of his own. He hesitated, then looked behind him to find Robin standing in the same place, watching him with an inscrutable expression.
“Might I ask you something, my lord?”
Robin lifted one eyebrow. “You might.”
Zachary smiled. “You’ve been very kind to me. I wondered why.”
Robin leaned back against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. “Irony,” he said distinctly.
Zachary blinked, then smiled uneasily. “Irony, my lord?”
Robin started to speak, then shook his head and pushed away from the wall. “You’ll understand it, Zachary, when you have children of your own. I only wish I could be there to see the look on your visage when you understand what I mean.” He shot him a look, then turned and walked off, shaking his head again.
Zachary rubbed his hands over his face, then turned and walked down the passageway. It had been a cryptic answer to a silly question and he deserved the headache that trying to unravel the meaning threatened to give him. Better that he make inroads into breakfast, then be about his work. The labor wasn’t worth what he was getting in return, but he would design Robin of Artane the most luxurious dog runs he could.
He resisted the temptation to find a cousin and see if Mary might want to come offer an opinion.
 
 
It was very late by the time he climbed the stairs to the hayloft and stretched out on the hay. He let out a deep breath, then gasped in spite of himself at the faint outline of two heads he was quite certain were covered with blond hair. He let out his breath slowly.
“Don’t you two have anything better to do?”
They shook their heads silently.
“If you sneak up on me again, I am going to commit grievous bodily harm on you both.”
They, as one, slunk back down out of sight. Zachary smiled to himself, then closed his eyes. It had been a very long day. He’d spent all of it in Robin’s solar, drawing up plans for the number of hounds Robin said he needed kennels for. He’d wished he’d had a better idea of current building codes, but since he hadn’t, he’d done the best he could.
There had been a spare sheet of parchment amongst the things he’d been given to work with. He hesitated, then set to work on something else, something that he likely shouldn’t have even attempted. Once it was finished, though, he couldn’t deny that it had been worth the effort.
Robin had approved the five sheets of plans for his kennels. He’d then looked at the final drawing and gone completely still.
Zachary hadn’t waited for an opinion. He’d thanked Robin quietly for his aid, then left the lord of Artane standing by his fire, a single sheaf of parchment in his hands.
All of which left him where he was: lying in the hay being haunted by two troublemaking teenagers and wishing that he could magically make things other than what they were.
No footprint.
He was beginning to loathe those words.
He cleared his throat. “Lads?”
“Aye?” came the chorus.
“Watch over Mary after I’m gone.”
They made firm noises of assent.
Zachary supposed he could do nothing more. He couldn’t do anything more. He’d done more than he should have, not only by dancing with her but by saying anything at all to Robin. It wasn’t his life, it wasn’t his time period, and he wasn’t supposed to interfere. He knew better.
But just the same, he was going to have quite a bit to say to Jamie about those little flaws in the fabric of time.
And how heartbreaking it was not to create just one more.