The Briton and the Dane: Timeline Page 2

  Gwyneth was almost at the main gate when dark lightning exploded across the sky, discharging a thunderous cloud directly above the citadel. The noise was deafening, reminding her of an erupting volcano. The ground moved beneath her, the earth quaking from the magnitude, the wind stirred by the blast. She was no longer in control as the tempest tossed her into the air, swirling her about as if she were a rag doll. Gwyneth became lightheaded when the forceful gusts flung her above the main gate. She was blinded by dust particles, and her breathing was labored as she was carried higher and higher into the darkness that cloaked the massive fortress.

  Dark lightning discharged quickly, splitting the threatening storm cloud. Within seconds, the gale force winds abated, and Gwyneth was thrown to the ground inside the massive stronghold. Nature’s fury dissipated, the dense fog lifting as silvery moonbeams filtered through feathery clouds and stars sparkled in the evening sky.

  Gwyneth laid on the ground, moving her limbs carefully, fearing broken bones.

  “You survived unscathed,” she thought as she thanked God for her deliverance.

  There were men speaking directly above as the warriors patrolled the wall-walk. Gwyneth could hear them as she stood up and rubbed the dust from her eyes. She looked at her clothing, expecting to see tattered remnants of her lovely night dress, and was amazed that everything was intact. Not even her hair was disheveled, and her anxiety heightened. Someone, or something, had protected her, and a cold shiver ran up her spine. She suppressed the uneasiness, believing in Divine Intervention. She may not understand what was happening, but she would not be afraid because the forces controlling her fate were not evil.

  Gwyneth finally glanced at the fog-veiled Keep, her disappointment evident at not being able to see him. He had to be there. She had seen his silhouette. It was him, she knew it in her heart.

  “My lady,” the tower guard said. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, I am fine,” Gwyneth replied, somewhat surprised by her casual response. “I thought Erik might be here.”

  “I believe he awaits you in the chapel.”

  “It must be the wine.”

  “My lady?” The tower guard asked, somewhat perplexed. “I would be pleased to escort you if you are unwell.”

  “You are too kind, but it is not necessary. It is just that...” Gwyneth stammered.

  “I understand,” the tower guard interrupted. “My wife was also flustered on the day we wed.”

  “Thank you, Wynstan. It is Wynstan, is it not?”

  “My lady, I am honored you remember my name.”

  “And your child?”

  “A lovely lass, born yesterday.”

  “Tell your wife I shall visit. I cannot wait to see your daughter.”

  “Edlynn will be so pleased, my lady,” Wynstan told her.

  “Thank you, again,” Gwyneth said as she left the friendly tower guard.

  Gwyneth walked through the deserted courtyard while thinking of her conversation with Wynstan. How did she know his name? She had never seen him before, at least she did not think so, but he had seen her, that much was evident. It was another déjà vu encounter, which made her flesh crawl. She felt like someone recovering from amnesia, when past events are suddenly made clear, and two memories merge into one.

  And did she not know the story? She had dreamed it so many times before. The marriage, the child, the battle. But whatever was happening was real, and she was terrified, but only momentarily, because she did not lack courage. Besides, what was the worst thing that could happen - death?

  Gwyneth glanced at the Keep periodically as the fog lifted. She loved the solitude and the view, having spent many a summer’s night atop the tower. How could she forget that exquisite scenery? The sea and the surrounding woodland, so beautiful, and mesmerizing. She was fascinated by God’s handiwork, which is why she remained for hours on end on those balmy nights, lost to her thoughts as she remembered Lord Richard and his children living within these very walls.

  “There you are,” Father Gerard said. “Where have you been? Erik is worried as am I.”

  “Forgive me, Father. I was...”

  “Atop the Keep,” Father Gerard interrupted.

  “I did not realize it was so late,” Gwyneth lied, “and Erik was in council.”

  “It is of no importance ... you are here now,” Father Gerard said as he led her into the chapel where Erik waited.

  Gwyneth stepped through the door, her eyes sparkling as she gazed upon Erik who had been praying before the altar. She wanted to run into his arms, but controlled her impetuous nature. She had dreamed of being married, but now, it was actually happening. She was flesh and blood as was everyone else, and these images were not figments of the imagination. She was almost upon him when he arose and faced her.

  “I thought that you were not coming, that you had changed your mind,” Erik whispered while taking her hand and kissing the tip of her fingers.

  “I am at fault,” Gwyneth said, “and I beg your forgiveness. I am honored you would have me as your wife.”

  “It is I who am honored.”

  “Yes, you are both honored,” Father Gerard interjected playfully. “Let us begin the ceremony before Brother Godfried and Brother Damian fall asleep where they sit.”

  Gwyneth took hold of Erik’s hand as they stood before Father Gerard. She squeezed his fingers, needing to feel his touch to prove he was alive. She was real, and she knew she was Dr. Gwyneth Franger, but did Erik already share this knowledge?

  “This is not the time,” Gwyneth thought, chiding herself for ruining the moment she had visualized so often. The words floated in the air as the lovers professed their vows. At the conclusion of the ceremony, Father Gerard repeated the familiar words she knew so well.

  “I unite you in marriage, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”

  Chapter Two

  Sunbeams filtered through the window as songbirds chirped in the nearby trees. The sound of soft waves rippling against the rocky cliff was soothing as husband and wife lay satiated in each other’s arms. Muffled voices could be heard through the door as the servants went about their tasks, taking care not to disturb the newly married couple.

  “I fear we must rise,” Erik whispered. “I am expected in council after the morning meal, or have you forgotten?”

  “Indeed, I have, but the fault lies with you, my lord,” Gwyneth said teasingly. “My head still spins from your advances, which I look forward to again, later this evening.”

  “You are playful,” Erik said, laughing. “I am delighted I am desired.”

  Gwyneth smiled, remaining in bed and watching Erik as he washed his face and chewed on a sprig of mint. He dressed swiftly, but his thoughts were elsewhere as he searched the room for his rucksack. She noticed his apparent relief when he found the canvas bag, which had been hidden by the massive cupboard, the doors having been left open.

  “I will send Rheda to you,” Erik said, more to himself than to Gwyneth as he rushed out the door.

  Gwyneth was more amused than irritated by Erik’s behavior, which reminded her of the world she lived in, a world her husband would never know. She donned her embroidered robe, walked to the window and watched Erik rushing towards a cluster of buildings, which housed the warriors garrisoned within the citadel.

  “So much has been lost through the centuries,” Gwyneth thought as she scrutinized every aspect of the fortification in its glory, a formidable structure that would be almost impossible to breach, a deterrent to invading forces.

  Warriors patrolled the wall-walk and young men trained on the training field. Gwyneth could not see the kitchens from where she stood, but she could smell the aroma of baking bread, and she was surprisingly hungry. Rather than ponder on her empty stomach, she tried to come up with an explanation as to how she ended up in another century, married to the man she had been obsessed with for most of her life.

  Somehow, the storm had generated a time warp. That anomaly
she understood, and she would worry about returning to her own century later, much later. What was particularly puzzling was Erik’s knowledge of her existence, as if she had been living at the citadel the entire time. And it was bizarre to be recognized by other people, but déjà vu was no longer a viable explanation.

  “You will go mad if you try to figure out how and why,” Gwyneth mumbled to herself.

  The voices outside Erik’s chambers had stopped talking, which led Gwyneth to believe she was alone. She opened the door and was relieved to find the room empty. She was drawn to the scribe’s desk, sitting beneath the window bathed in sunlight. Unfortunately, there were not any letters or any other documentation that might shed light on the date. She needed to know how much time she had with Erik, she needed to know the year.

  “My lady, I trust you have not been waiting long,” Rheda said as she entered the room, carrying a basket filled with food and a change of clothing over her arm.

  “Your timing is perfect,” Gwyneth replied, “and I am hungry.”

  Rheda tidied the bedchamber while Gwyneth ate.

  “I have sent for your belongings,” Rheda told her, “and Brother Damian is also aware that you would probably not tend to the sick for a few days, what with your being a new bride, and just arriving, and with the upcoming talks.”

  “What talks?”

  “The Earl of Mercia arrives in two days’ time. Lord Erik was praying for your timely arrival. He wanted to present you as his wife and to...”

  “Oh, Rheda, you must think I am dimwitted. Of course, Earl Elfgar’s visit.”

  “No, my lady, it is Earl Edwin, his son.”

  “Yes, you are right, I do not know how I could have forgotten.”

  “Quite easily, since Earl Edwin has only recently succeeded his father. And arrangements have already been made with the kitchen servants, and the great hall will be festively decorated.”

  “Thank you for understanding, Rheda. Now, go do whatever you wish. I have all that I need and will be fine.”

  “You are most kind,” Rheda replied before taking her leave.

  Gwyneth did the math once she was alone. She remembered that Elfgar was Earl of Mercia until 1062 and because Earl Edwin’s succession was recent, the year had to be 1062! Since the actual date of Erik’s death was not recorded, their time together had to be spent wisely.

  Gwyneth put on her dress and was amazed that it fit perfectly, but why should it not be the right size? Whatever forces orchestrating the events were in control, and she would play her part. She had to, until she figured out how to return home. She left Erik’s quarters before her belongings arrived. She would deal with that tomorrow after she came to terms with all that had happened. After all, it was not even twenty-four hours. She wondered if Mrs. Harris would miss her. Probably not, since she was rarely seen at her lodgings during the summer months. No one would be concerned because everyone knew she could be found at the archeological site. The time of day was insignificant ... Dr. Franger was more than likely at the ruins. It was also rumored that she had slept there on many a night, much to Dr. Knýtlinga’s mortification. No, she would not be readily missed until the day she was due to leave. Then, and only then, would the alarm be raised. But Gwyneth could not worry about what was happening in 2066, not just yet.

  But could she tell Erik the truth? What if she said something or did something that would alter the timeline. She had read her share of science fiction and seen the classic films. What was the worst thing that could happen? Defeating Duke William at Senlac Hill and ending the Norman conquest, that is what could happen. The small hairs on her arms stood upright as she thought of the domino effect. The chain reaction over a thousand years of history was unimaginable. But Gwyneth was a historian, taking pride in remembering the events that had shaped her world. She would be on her guard, taking care not to use her knowledge to change the outcome, lest she found herself never having been born.

  “What if Erik already knows the truth? Think, Gwyneth,” she said to herself. “Remember what he had said, that he feared I was not coming. He already knows!”

  ***

  Gwyneth left Erik’s quarters and headed for the Keep. She was anxious to see the land and the sea from the top of the tower, never tiring of nature’s beauty. As she passed the training field, she came upon a group of young men talking. She nodded her head, expecting recognition, even though she did not know their identities, but much to her surprise, they dismissed her greeting.

  “They would never offend Lord Erik’s wife, so they truly do not know me. Logistically, it is impossible to be known to everyone,” Gwyneth thought as she kept on walking.

  “But you should not be known to anyone,” she answered herself. “Time travelers had to introduce themselves whenever they were in another time period. What was the name of that film?”

  “This is not a film, and since there has been no scientific documentation...”

  “Stop with the science already! Just admit that you do not have an explanation and leave it at that.”

  “What if this is not my first visit? That would explain it.”

  “Are you daft? You think I can travel through time whenever the mood suits me?”

  Gwyneth continued to argue with herself as she climbed the tower steps, having been oblivious to the occasional stares from passing onlookers. She walked towards the wall overlooking the coastline as gently breaking waves lapped the shoreline. The sea air was exhilarating as she breathed deeply, closing her eyes and welcoming the salty spray upon her face.

  It was not a problem accepting what had happened as Gwyneth first thought, once she admitted there were forces in the universe she could not explain. Even though she was in another century, she was still herself and not a reincarnation of some ancestor. Yet somehow, Erik had known she would be joining him.

  “You are trying to make sense of everything, are you not,” Erik whispered in her ear as he put his arms around her.

  “I did not hear you,” Gwyneth replied, “but you did read my mind.”

  “I cannot explain any of this, nor how you are known to a select few. What I do believe is that we are kindred spirits, but we were born in different centuries.”

  “Divine Intervention,” Gwyneth murmured. “There is no other explanation.”

  “Whatever time we have, I shall cherish,” Erik told her, “but remember, no one must know that you are from another time.”

  “We must not share confidences until loyalties are proven.”

  “I know, my love.”

  “Oh, Erik, there is so much to discuss, I do not know where to begin.”

  “From the beginning, but not now,” he grinned. “What is more pressing is introducing my wife to everyone living within these walls.”

  Gwyneth seized Erik’s hand as he led her to the stairwell. She could not believe her eyes when she noticed the horseshoe ring. Joyful tears flowed down her face as she realized she was finally home.

  Chapter Three

  The citadel was heavily garrisoned because of the festering political climate. Gwynedd ap Llywelyn, ruler of Wales, sought to extend his kingdom, encroaching on King Edward’s soil. Tostig Godwinson, Earl of Northumbria, was unpopular with the ruling class of mixed Danish and Anglo-Saxon descent. Tostig governed with a heavy hand. His harsh treatment and repression of the populace coupled with poor leadership skills contributed to the volatility of the region. On the other side of the channel was William, Duke of Normandy, a contender to the throne of the childless King Edward. It was said that the king had promised his cousin the crown despite his illicit lineage.

  Gwyneth wondered why Earl Edwin wished to meet with Erik since both men were loyal to the crown. There had been no mention in the history annals that the earl had established an alliance with Erik. Of course, the accuracy of recorded events for the time period was questionable at best.

  “Earl Edwin is probably seeking an ally,” Gwyneth thought as she looked at the books lining the shelves in Eri
k’s outer chamber. “Especially since the fortress housed a standing army, which could be deployed quickly.”

  While the titles were impressive, ranging from works by Aristotle to a Greco-Roman treatise on herbal medicine, there were no contemporary books, which might have shed light on events lost to time.

  “Are you searching for a specific topic?” Rheda asked upon entering the room. “The abbey library has 200 volumes if you cannot find what you are looking for.”

  “I would love to visit the library,” Gwyneth replied.

  Rheda, with the rest of the inhabitants, had been told that Lord Erik’s wife was due to arrive before the next full moon. It was said that the nuptials had been held at the king’s court, but Gwyneth had become fevered, which was the reason she had been delayed.

  How Erik had known to disclose such a tale was beyond Gwyneth’s understanding. Erik had made her sudden appearance acceptable, especially since she arrived at night, when most people were asleep. But why Wynstan and Father Gerard? Gwyneth deferred to Divine Intervention, once again. That was the only plausible explanation as she justified the recent events.

  “I would be pleased to make the arrangements,” Rheda said as Gwyneth placed a book upon the shelf.

  “Thank you. Once Earl Edwin is in council with my husband, we might spend a day at the library. I do have a question if I may ask.”

  “I pray I am knowledgeable with an answer,” Rheda replied, thrilled by the unexpected honor.

  “Earl Edwin’s grandmother was Lady Godiva, is that not so?”