Apparently, at Thorn’s subsequent summonings, he’d never bothered to read any history books to find out the outcome of those battles. And she really didn’t feel like getting into an in-depth history lesson just now. She still hadn’t gotten Thorn to move off her, and now that her panic had subsided with the realization that nothing had been done yet that couldn’t be undone by having a little chat with William before morning, she was becoming too aware again of the weight of his naked body, which was settled so comfortably on her.
So she told him, briefly, “Yes, Hardrada attacked and lost. But Harold Godwineson exhausted his army in racing up north to deal with the Norwegian king, and some say that only half of those men he summoned when he learned of the Normans’ landing had arrived back in London when he rushed south to deal with William, so he wasn’t at full strength. And the host he did have with him was certainly weary from that hurried dash south, while William’s army, though it might have been smaller, was in better shape to fight. However, that all happened many weeks from now. As long as William doesn’t sail tomorrow—”
“I still ask you, why would he not?”
“Because we’re going to tell him that that spy lied, that King Harold is still guarding the southern coast of England with far superior numbers than William has available.”
“And what proof do we offer?”
Roseleen groaned. Informing William of the trap had seemed so simple, but she hadn’t considered how it would sound to him. If she tried to claim she knew the future, his future in particular, William of Normandy would undoubtedly label her a witch and toss her in the nearest dungeon to await burning by the Church. That certainly wouldn’t stop the Norman fleet from sailing off to England tomorrow morning.
“All right, so we stay out of it,” she corrected. “Telling someone here what’s going to happen to them in advance of its happening is tampering with history, anyway, and we don’t dare do that. But something is going to happen to keep this war on its proper timetable. We’ll just have to wait and see what it is, I suppose.”
“And if naught—?”
“Don’t even think it,” she cut in. “History has not changed here, it just failed to document this unexpected development, and undoubtedly because nothing came of it. Now would you please get off me? I’d like to get dressed and meet the great man. That is why we’re here, remember?”
He still made no effort to move, merely replied, “Meeting Lord William will have to wait, Roseleen. This day he will be much too busy with preparations for the departure.”
She didn’t try to hide her disappointment. “And tomorrow I suppose he’ll be too busy canceling all those preparations.”
“If he does not sail instead.”
He said that with a grin, which she found most annoying. Of course, any change in history wouldn’t affect him, so why wouldn’t he find this amusing? He didn’t live in her world on a regular basis, merely for a few years here and there whenever he happened to be summoned.
He’d been born before this time. But she hadn’t. A change in the history of the eleventh century could affect her and everything she knew. She might even cease to exist, and that would free Thorn to return to Valhalla, wouldn’t it? No wonder he was grinning. He was probably hoping the Normans would sail tomorrow.
If they did sail—no, she didn’t even want to think about it. They wouldn’t, and on the bright side, that spy, and whatever was going to happen to keep the Normans from acting on his confession, was going to make great material for her book. But having to wait to find out what happened was going to drive her up a wall. She liked a good mystery, but not when she was personally involved in it.
“Since we have the rest of the day to kill, how about showing me around the docks?” she suggested. “I’d love to see the Mora, the ship that William’s wife gave him for this campaign.”
“First, you needs tell me how it is possible to kill a day.”
“That’s just a figure of—never mind,” she said. “I merely meant that since we have time to waste today, with nothing better to do—”
“You will have time enough to view the docks, Roseleen. I have something better in mind that will keep you busy for the rest of this day.”
Since he was already in a position to demonstrate what he had in mind, it didn’t take her any time at all to find out what was going to keep her busy. He was, and he did.
25
Roseleen found it difficult to be angry with Thorn. A man who inexhaustibly doled out pleasure all day and all night was a treasure to be hoarded. She had been in seventh heaven, having Thorn’s magnificent body accessible, even eager, for a full exploration. And she’d lost count of the climaxes he’d brought her to. She barely remembered being fed at some point during the evening.
It had been quite an experience, one she’d certainly never forget. This morning, she didn’t even feel overused or exhausted, despite their excesses. He’d been too gentle with her for anything but pleasant memories to prevail.
But she ought to be angry with him. She suspected that he’d made love to her all day and night to take her mind off what was going to happen this morning—or what wasn’t going to happen. She should have spent the time analyzing the situation and coming up with all possible outcomes, instead of wallowing in sensual indulgences.
And now, with dawn less than an hour away, and with her having had only a few brief snatches of sleep to enable her mind to function, it finally became apparent that the camp was breaking, and probably had been all night. A quick glance outside the tent confirmed it. There was barely anyone left in the area. William’s army had marched to the ships. They were going to sail.
She didn’t panic—yet. But she did rush Thorn out of the tent. Guy had the unpleasant task of taking it down and packing all of Thorn’s possessions in a baggage wain he’d obtained, though he’d hired several peasants to help. He’d be following behind them, already appraised of which ship they were to sail on.
She tried to tell the boy not to bother, that they’d be back, just as everyone else would, but Thorn cut off her, reminding her only after they were galloping toward the coast that they needed to play this out as if they weren’t aware of other possible outcomes. At least he said something to that effect. She missed a few words because they were traveling so fast, but he was right.
Once again she’d forgotten to stick to their plan of action, but she had an excuse this time: Her mind was sluggish due to lack of sleep. She reminded herself though that no excuses of any kind could be tolerated because time traveling was serious business. One little mistake on their parts could alter millions of lives, and a major mistake could obliterate millions more—herself included.
The sun still hadn’t quite made it over the horizon when they reached the still-crowded docks. Roseleen hoped that the hundreds of ships out in the mouth of the river were waiting to come in and load, but it was a slim hope. If anything, all the ships presently berthed were probably the last to be loaded with men and horses, the other vessels simply waiting for the tide to send them on their way.
Obviously, nothing had happened yet to end this premature departure of William’s army. And if they actually sailed…
No, there were still a number of possibilities that could occur to send the army back to their campground. A sudden storm at sea would do it. Another fateful wind could blow down from the north. Or maybe one of the duke’s spies would show up at the last minute with the real facts about the position of King Harold’s army.
But nothing did occur, at least not before the last ship departed. That Roseleen happened to be on that ship was due to the stubbornness of her Viking. Thorn had refused to stay behind with a battle in the offing, even though she’d assured him—she was still positive that something would yet occur—that there wouldn’t be a battle for another month.
Roseleen had never sailed on a modern ship, much less an ancient vessel like the one she was on. Seasickness didn’t bother her, but then it wasn’t one of her worries. S
he kept watching the sky for some dark clouds, and the sails to determine which way the wind blew. Unfortunately, they couldn’t have asked for a nicer day for sailing. And the winds continued at a steady pace in the wrong direction—wrong in her opinion.
She didn’t give up hope, however, which was why she almost fell into a state of shock when they sighted the shores of England. Simultaneously, English ships swooped down from the north to attack their flanks, ships that wouldn’t have been there if history had been following its correct course. But it wasn’t, and as soon as they had landed, the Normans would find out that the English, at full strength, would be too formidable to defeat.
Maybe not. Maybe some miracle would still occur. Maybe only the timetable had been altered, not the final results. But Roseleen had no intention of being there to find out firsthand. She had been taken unawares into one battle with Thorn. She would pass on this one, thank you, especially since she only had to open a history book to find out the results of it. But she had to get to that history book first.
So she turned to Thorn, who’d never been far from her side during the crossing, and told him, “Take me home.”
She supposed it was natural for him to look back in the direction they’d sailed from. When his eyes came back to her with a frown, she added, “Not to Normandy. To my home, in my time.”
“You wouldst leave before the battle?”
“Most definitely,” she assured him, despite his amazed tone, then quickly said, “Look, I’m sorry. I know you’d love to be in on this battle, but we can’t. History is changing even as we speak. There was never a sea battle here, yet those ships yonder are engaged. And Duke William really doesn’t stand a chance of winning at this point in time. Circumstances helped to give him an advantage next month. Right now, King Harold has all the advantages.”
“If one thing has changed, could not other things have changed also?”
Roseleen knew he was right. Anything was possible now, with history rewriting itself.
So she said, “Yes, and we’ll know in a few minutes, as soon as I get to my research books. With them, I can find out what went wrong here, what changed things. So take me back now, Thorn.”
He stared now at the English shore in front of them, as if he were actually undecided, as if the choice were his to make whether they left or stayed for the battle. She reminded him that it wasn’t.
“You promised, Thorn, that you’d return us when I ask. So let’s go, and pronto.”
“What does this ‘pronto’ mean, that you keep—”
“It means now,” she fairly snapped, no patience left. “As in yesterday, as in…just do it.”
He did. With a sigh to let her know how much he objected, he drew his sword. The next moment, they were both back in modern-day England, but not in her bedroom in Cavenaugh Cottage, or any other room in the lovely old home that had been bequeathed to her.
They stood in open country, with a high wind blowing. There were only a few trees to break the monotony of the dismal landscape. Not a house or a barn was in sight, or any roads, or utility poles. No signs of life at all. Dark gray clouds moved swiftly overhead, threatening rain at any moment.
In horror, Roseleen whispered, “Where have you brought us, Thorn? And please tell me it’s a mistake.”
But he said exactly what she didn’t want to hear. “I have returned us to your house, in your time, as I did before—yet it is not here.”
26
Thorn had put it rather simply, for such an alarming statement. No, Cavenaugh Cottage certainly wasn’t there. But why wasn’t it? Roseleen wondered. Had it been destroyed somehow, or had it never been built in the first place? And this was only one change, she realized. How many other things would be different now?
The world as she knew it had been altered, but the question was, how drastically? Obviously, her own ancestors had survived, because she still existed. And she assumed she looked the same, since Thorn wasn’t staring at her strangely. But had her grandparents moved to America as they’d originally done? Was she English now, or still American? Was there even an America, or was it a country by a different name now?
The possibilities and questions were endless, and pointless. She wasn’t going to get any answers until she could find a phone. She’d call David or Gail. They’d think she was crazy, when she posed the questions she was going to ask them, but she had no choice.
As for what changes had occurred in the history of the world—obviously, her research books weren’t going to be available to supply those answers. If she had lodgings anywhere around here, she had no idea where to find them. And maybe she didn’t have any research books in this different world. She might not even be a professor here, might not have attended college, might not…
She had to get to a phone. She also had to find a library. And she had to fight down her feelings of dread and her fear that there would be nothing she could do to get things back to the way they should be.
“What has occurred here, Roseleen?”
Thorn sounded merely curious, while she was approaching the red section on the panic scale. “Just what I warned you would happen. Everything’s different, because that battle wasn’t supposed to take place at that time. But it did, and the rest of history went on to reflect it, a chain reaction of changes in every century thereafter, leaving us with…I don’t know what. The people I know and work with might not even exist now—oh, God, I can’t believe this has actually happened, and just because of one little spy’s false confession.”
His arms were suddenly around her, gathering her close, and his wide chest was there for her to cry on. But she didn’t cry. His simple action had reminded her that she wasn’t alone. Without a doubt, she knew that her Viking wouldn’t let anything or anyone hurt her, and that made her feel safe and protected, tamping down those other negative feelings that had been getting out of hand.
She drew from his strength, and he had a lot to give. With a sigh, she said, “I need to get to a phone to call my brother, but it doesn’t look like we’ll find one around here. Are you sure you’ve got us back to the right century?” she added hopefully. “You couldn’t be a few hundred years off the mark, maybe?”
“Nay, as I told you, the sword will return to its own present, no matter if that present is altered.”
“Okay, so you’ve got this time-hopping thing down pat.” She sighed again. “It looks like we’ve got a long walk ahead of us, to find someone who can help or point us toward the nearest phone or library—if such things even exist.”
Before that thought could cause her further panic, another occurred to her that brightened her expression with excitement. “Wait a minute!” she said. “Maybe things have only gone drastically different in this country. You said you could travel back to anyplace you have been before, didn’t you, Thorn? And it doesn’t even matter what country you’re in when you do it, because we ended up in France on that last jump.”
“Aye.”
“Then take us back to my classroom, to the night I first summoned you. If my college still exists, they’ll have all the history books we need.”
“To take you there, Roseleen, would be to have you meet yourself,” he pointed out.
She groaned again, very loudly. “Did your Odin ever say exactly what would happen if that occurred?”
“Nay, he did merely stress that it must not occur.”
“Then could you maybe advance the time a bit, to the day after I first summoned you, but still get us to my classroom? I wasn’t there the next day, and neither were you.”
“Certainly,” he replied. “Did I not say such was possible?”
He expected her to remember every little thing he’d told her about time traveling, when they were in the middle of a crisis? But before she could say something to that effect, they were already on their way—and in for another surprise.
The classroom was there, it just wasn’t Roseleen’s classroom—or rather, it was smaller than it should be. The view out the window
s was the same though, the grounds lit up even on a Saturday night. At least, she assumed it was Saturday night, the night after she’d first met Thorn.
And there was electricity, certainly enough light from outside to see the light switch by the door, which she flipped on immediately. Thank heavens for small advancements. No Age of Invention was just one of the possibilities that could have occurred in this altered world.
“Okay, this is at least familiar ground,” she told Thorn with a great deal of relief. “Obviously, the founder of Westerley College still founded it.”
“Yet is it not the same,” he remarked.
“I noticed,” she said as she headed for what she hoped was her desk. “And thank goodness this change is only a minor technicality that was due to probably nothing more than a shortage of funds this time around, which would have cut down the size of each classroom—”
“Speak so that I may understand you, Roseleen.”
She stopped abruptly, turning back around to him. That had been pure testiness in his tone. Now he was getting upset about something? When she saw that he was staring at the walls where the medieval posters should have been, but weren’t now, she guessed what was bothering him. He even confirmed it before she could ask.
“I am beginning to realize that Lord William did not achieve his goal,” he said.
“I already told you the odds were against it if the Normans attacked at that time. You didn’t believe me?”
“We had strength in numbers.”
“Harold Godwineson had greater strength in numbers,” she reminded him.
“William’s cause was just.”
“There are those who disagree—”
“Why did this happen, Roseleen?” he demanded impatiently. “You said he became king.”
“Yes, in the proper order of things he did, but that proper order must have been changed by that premature attack we were witnessing. And since that attack was a direct result of that English spy and his false confession, I can only assume that something went wrong there.”