He paused for breath, fuming.
“And here you sit.” He made an irritated gesture. “In your hole. Untouched by the foul misfortunes that pound this island like a hail, carving stone leaves upon stone branches. Well should you ask if the weather was fair!”
Ealdstan frowned and opened his mouth, but King John was only pausing for another breath. “Civil war, old man. That is what our land is faced with. Can you comprehend that?”
“I can.”
“I wonder. I truly wonder if you do. Dark powers in this century are rising that would threaten Christendom, my rule lies in shards at my feet, and where is Ealdstan? Ealdstan, the man in the shadows, the power behind the throne, the long-lived, the embodiment of the wisdom of Britain? Is he uniting the barons? Is he diplomat to foreign powers, to allay and align? No. He is here, hidden beneath the rocks, digging. Burrowing. Shifting sand. Behind the throne? Beneath the throne, I say.”
The bishop laughed and then choked himself silent.
Ealdstan nodded sympathetically. “When first I made myself known to you,” he said, “I was more than forthcoming that the road you would walk with me would be difficult.”
“But you gave the impression it would at least be passable,” the king whined. “And that you would walk it with me.”
“It was a road that your brother Richard was unwilling to walk. He saw the world as rightly as you saw it, and yet he chose a different path-that of facing threat full-on. He was not wholly misguided, or fruitless, and yet his victory will be fleeting. Ours will last the ages.”
“Ours? Or yours, I wonder.”
“Allow me to ask, why is it you are king? What import is it, and of what motivations are you driven?”
King John drew himself upright in his chair. “Seek not to look into my heart, wizard. You ask by what right I rule? By God’s. He has made this body.” He gave his chest a stern thump. “He has given me this crown.” He gave no less a thump to the diadem on his head. “He has given me the ability and opportunity to rule, and by the weeping eyes of His tortured Son, that is what I plan to do. Is that ‘import’ enough for you?” John eased forward, a challenging look on his face.
“I wonder at your piety sometimes,” Ealdstan mused out loud.
“And I wonder that you wonder.”
They stared intently at each other in the darkness, two players at a game of chess.
“You spoke of questions I must answer,” Ealdstan said. “Before you leave.”
“They are few,” the king replied. “Here is the first: my very deputies seek to pull my imperial body apart. What aid or resources will you give to enable me to appease them?”
“What aid can an earthworm give a lion? I am as you meet me.” He opened his palms and arms in a gesture of openness.
“Nothing, then.”
Ealdstan clasped his palms together.
John shifted his weight. “Arms, then. I want some of your warriors. Any amount, and on any terms you dictate. Even a small number of your supernaturals would be worth a large number of my own men.”
Ealdstan’s eyes dropped thoughtfully.
“Whatever you lose in human resources, I promise to return tenfold in my own best men.”
“No.” Ealdstan’s head rose. “No.”
The king’s flinty face studied Ealdstan’s. Then, with sudden speed, he rose and kicked his chair away. He snatched a torch that one of his retinue was carrying and flung it to the ground before the old wizard. It flapped and flared in the darkness.
“So, it seems that we will hardly be stopping at all,” John bellowed to his company of men. “But know now, old leech,” he said, stepping closer to Ealdstan. “You are removed from the gracious kindness of this nation’s kings!” John thrust a finger beneath Ealdstan’s bearded chin. “No more will you sap the lifeblood of this nation!” he shouted, spittle flying from his lips. “By thunder, if I could remove you bodily from this sphere, I would, had I the power. But since I have not, due to your hollow support, I hereby exile you to your hollow realms. Lift your head but an inch into the daylight and I promise by these hands, there will be swift punishment!”
And with that he turned and stormed off, his robes billowing behind him. He grabbed a lit torch from one of the servants and led his party away. They scrambled after him anxiously, with only the briefest of backward glances at the immovable and impassable Ealdstan.
The sounds of the group departing faded into nothing, and then the lights themselves disappeared. The noise of the chisels had stopped. Everyone in Ni?ergeard had paused to witness the meeting, watching from the darkness.
“Humph,” Ealdstan grunted, heading back to the Langtorr. Breca walked beside him, ready to attend his need. “That’s him dealt with. But are things really such on the continent, I wonder? No doubt a visit would be prudent. I will open the sea tunnel. Breca, ah, Breca, before I forget-send a couple of your men to follow the good king and his men out; find what path they used here. Then tell them to seal it.”
_____________________ III _____________________
Freya pushed herself up from the table, drool chilling the corner of her mouth. The notebook was beneath her. She flicked back through the pages to see all she had written. There had to be over a hundred pages of description and conversation-all different time periods and people she’d never heard of. Where was it all coming from?
“Please, I need another break. I need some food and some sleep. How-how long has it been this time?” She looked at her wristwatch; the hour hand was just a little farther on. But had two hours passed or fourteen? It felt like fourteen.
“Are you sure you can’t go again? We’re on a fairly tight schedule.”
“No, please. . how long has it been? I-” Freya tried to stand, but her legs were like rubber. She braced herself by holding on to the table and lowered herself into a crouch.
Vivienne was up and at Freya’s side. “I’m sorry. Yes, you could use some rest-we both could. It’s just-you understand the importance, don’t you?”
She helped Freya up, supporting her weight on the back of a metal chair. Then she unfurled one of the bedrolls.
“Find anything yet?” Freya asked.
Vivienne’s head jerked up. “Yes, lots, of course.”
“Anything that will help us. .?” Freya almost said destroy this place, but stopped herself in time. The visions had done nothing to assuage her distrust of Ealdstan.
“Yes, this is all very helpful. Invaluable, in fact. It gives us some context for what is going on here, at least. Whether by design or circumstance, Ealdstan has kept us in the dark.”
“Any word on Daniel? I’m worried about him.”
“I have not strayed from this spot, and Daniel has not poked his nose in here, no.”
“Are you worried about him?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Vivienne. . when are we going to talk about Gad?”
“Not right now-go ahead and rest. We’ll talk about it later. Just sleep now.”
Freya let her leaden eyes shut. And as she drifted into a thankfully dreamless sleep, she tried to think about why she felt she had been in this position before.
IV
Gretchen Baker stood on a sand dune, sniffling, sighing, and wiping back tears that the fierce, salt-laden wind did nothing to abate.
She knew she wasn’t the most attractive girl in the school. She wasn’t even in the top twenty-five (of twenty-eight), but there was no need for everyone else to continually ridicule and tease her. If they could just let her alone, she could cope and get through with no friends. Then she’d leave the highlands and go to university in Edinburgh or Glasgow, or maybe even-and it gave her a thrill just to think about it-London. Anywhere, so long as it was away; and a long way away at that.