Come Back to Me by Jody Hedlund

~ 23 ~

MARIANWAITEDFOR WILL to respond, and when he didn’t, she repeated herself. “I’m from a different time and place.”

“Yes, you’re from the Low Countries.”

“No. I’m from America. It’s a place vastly different from this.”

“America?” He seemed to test the word. “I have never heard of this region.”

Of course not, since over a hundred years still needed to pass before Christopher Columbus would discover it.

“You wouldn’t know of it.” She drew in a breath to fortify herself for what she must say next. “Nor would you know of my time, a time yet to come.”

“Yet to come? As in the future?”

“Yes.” What more could she tell him to clarify? Probably not much. Her muscles tensed in expectation of his reaction—frustration, disbelief, ridicule.

But he surprised her by stroking her hair again. “So you are an angel of some kind?”

Of course Will would seek to spiritualize what she was saying rather than attributing it to science, especially since angels and saints played a prominent role in the traditions and lore of the Middle Ages. “No, I’m not an angel. But I suppose you could liken it to that.”

He continued to gently caress her hair. “I cannot deny what you say is unusual. Yet, I find everything about you out of the ordinary. Including the visions I had of you ere your arrival.”

So her first few crossings to the past had occurred in 1381. She wasn’t sure what had drawn her to that year even before she knew anything about Will. But somehow she was inextricably intertwined with it. Was it possible providential forces had guided her to Will at this point in time so she could help him heal?

Whatever the case, she knew now Thomas’s death had been the source of his nightmares and restlessness during those instances she met him.

“’Twould seem God has destined us to be together,” he whispered.

She couldn’t respond—couldn’t tell him that she was leaving and would never see him again.

“Is America where your kin live?”

She shook her head. How could she explain that her dad was a world-renowned pharmaceutical scientist in Canterbury but had just recently died—or would die after the earthquake of 1382. And how could she explain that Ellen was a pediatric missionary nurse to orphans in Haiti, especially because Haiti didn’t exist yet either. “My family is scattered in different places.”

“Thus, you are estranged from them?”

“In some ways I am. But I do love them. Very much. And I want my sister Ellen to get better more than anything else.”

As though sensing she felt as deeply for Ellen as he had for Thomas, his arms tightened around her. “So you are not escaping an unhappy betrothal?”

Her thoughts turned to Jasper. “There was a man who would have liked more—”

“And you would have had him in return?” An edge crept into Will’s voice.

“Do I detect jealousy?”

“Did you care for him?”

She couldn’t keep from smiling and teasing him. “He’s very handsome.”

“You do not desire him as you desire me.” His voice was stubborn, and she was tempted to banter a little bit longer . . . until his fingers skimmed up her backbone.

In the growing dawn, she could see his face more clearly. His blue eyes were expectant and beautiful, waiting for her answer, and wouldn’t be satisfied until she spoke the truth about how she felt.

She lifted a hand to his cheek, brushing the scratchy stubble. She had no idea what the upcoming day would bring or how much longer she would be a part of Will’s world. But she suspected that today would be her last in 1381, that the past few hours with him must be her good-bye. Somehow, Ellen and Harrison hadn’t been able to get inside the crypt yet. But surely they would soon. And once they retrieved the ampullae, they would waste no time in giving her the holy water.

Yes, this was her good-bye to Will, the special time with him that she’d hoped for. “William Durham.” She studied his face, the scar above his eyebrow, the permanent sad crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “I have never loved a man. Until you.”

It was true, down to the depths of her being. She’d fallen madly and passionately in love with Will in a way she never had with anyone else. And she doubted she’d ever love anyone else as much ever again.

At her declaration, his lips began to curve into a rare smile. But before she could see it fully realized, Thad stood above them, his expression urgent. “Sire, they’re back.”

Will pulled away from her and was on his feet before she could make sense of what was happening. He began speaking with Thad in low tones while his squire assisted him with his plate armor.

As she sat up, she wrapped his cloak tighter, suddenly cold. She noticed then that the boys were sitting up also, watching their father, taking in everything he said and did.

If only she and Will could go on forever in their private world where it was just the two of them whispering and kissing. Where she was the center of his world and he had nothing to do but lavish her with his attention. But that could never happen, no matter how much she might long for it.

As Will tugged on his gauntlets, his squire finished fitting the sabatons over his boots. Thad held his shield as well as his bascinet containing a visor hinged in at the front. As Thad held out the bascinet, Will dropped his voice. “Vow you will sneak them away and do as I’ve instructed.”

Thad nodded gravely.

Them? Did Will mean the boys and her?

Marian rose to her knees. She tried to recall again the information she’d read about the end of the Peasants’ Revolt. But she’d only skimmed the articles, had never expected she’d be sitting here in the middle of the revolt, a prisoner of war.

What if a battle occurred on Blackheath today? Was that what Will was referring to? If so, he’d be a part of the combat.

A terrible premonition settled over her.

Will didn’t say good-bye. As he stalked toward the growing commotion, he looked over his shoulder first at his sons and then at her, almost as if he wanted one more glimpse before he marched off to his death.

When he disappeared from sight, she cupped a hand over her mouth to catch a cry of despair. She wasn’t sure what he had planned, but suddenly she knew their time together last night had been the only farewell he would give. And now she might never see him again.

* * *

With each passing hour of waiting, the tension inside Marian twined tighter. From the somberness on the boys’ faces, she suspected they realized as she did that this day would hold much heartache and pain. She tried to eat some of the fresh bread and cheese Will had brought them, but her thoughts were too anxious.

When the masses around them began to rally and move toward the River Thames, Thad encouraged them to do so as well. They hadn’t gone far before several of the peasant men who had held them captive on the ride to London appeared and forced them to move beyond the others.

Marian attempted to walk with a modicum of dignity even though her feet ached with blisters from the too-tight pointed shoes. If only she’d had a comfortable pair of sandals. And a lightweight summer dress. The heavy velvety material of the skirt and tight laces of the bodice were almost unbearable at times, especially during the heat of the summer day. Yet, none of the other women seemed uncomfortable wearing such heavy layered garments, and Marian could only guess their bodies were acclimated since that’s all they’d ever known.

On one side of her, Phillip strode with his chin angled up. Robert held her hand and trudged on the other. London loomed ahead, an endless stretch of slate and thatched rooftops along the Thames. She hadn’t expected the city to be as metropolitan and big as the modern London, but she was surprised nonetheless at the rows upon rows of tall homes packed so densely.

They stopped a short distance away from what appeared to be an abbey. “St. Bartholomew’s Priory,” Thad whispered in answer to her question. Thousands of peasants had congregated along the western end of the priory, bearing polearms, battleaxes, pikes, and swords. The king and a regiment of his men-at-arms had positioned themselves to the east.

Marian searched for Will among the peasant ranks, but amidst the confusion and throngs of people, she couldn’t spot Will’s dark, foreboding form. It wasn’t until their captors pushed them forward to the front of the crowd that Marian realized what was happening—the leaders of the rebels were meeting with the king.

A distance away in an open grassy expanse, bright blue and red hues of clothing and standards marked the presence of nobility and royalty. The knights were decked from head to foot in plate armor and were heavily armed with swords and sharp pikes that would easily decimate the peasants. Their warhorses, too, were intimidating, massive beasts that stood at least fifteen hands high, fitted with armor like the warriors astride them.

She could easily picture Will as one such warrior, her mind spinning back to the tale he’d shared of his time in France, of losing Thomas. Will was a man who loved deeply and who also felt the pain of loss deeply. Even though he hadn’t declared his love in response to hers, she’d felt his passion and knew he cared for her.

Marian glanced to the sun overhead to gauge the time. It was past noon by now. Without a cloud in the sky or a tree to offer shade, the heat had begun to bake through Marian’s gown, plastering it to her sweat-slickened skin. After walking several miles, her mouth was parched.

As though sensing her discomfort, Phillip held out the leather jug he’d slung over his shoulder, the only one with any water left.

“You and Robert drink first.” She combed damp strands from Robert’s flushed face.

“No, lady.” Phillip pushed the jug into her hands. “’Tis for you.”

Before she could argue, several riders broke away from the peasant ranks and began to make their way across the grassy knoll toward the king’s men. Her heart leapt at the sight of Will among them in his plate armor but holding his bascinet. Astride his horse, his presence was fierce and imposing, especially next to Wat Tyler, who appeared frail on a little horse. Several other armored knights accompanied the rebel leader, including Sir John from Rochester.

When the peasants behind her roughly pushed her and the children further to the front of the ranks along with Sir John’s wife and children, she understood that once again they were pawns in a dangerous game. These men would slit their throats if Will and Sir John and the other captive knights failed to cooperate.

Upon reaching the king, Wat and his band of men dismounted. A dagger in hand, Wat only half bent his knee in front of the king. Then, as though equals, Wat took the king’s hand and shook it forcibly. Marian wasn’t versed in the etiquette reserved for royalty, but even she realized Wat’s familiarity with the king was disrespectful and excessive.

Although a strange hush fell over the crowd around her, they were too distant to hear the conversation going on between Wat Tyler and a distinguished gentleman that several peasants around her whispered to be Walworth, the mayor of London.

After some discourse, a flask was brought forward and handed to Wat Tyler. He drank for several moments, reminding Marian of how thirsty she was. She swayed slightly, and Phillip caught her arm.

“Please, lady.” He offered the jug to her again. When he uncorked it and pressed it to her lips, she couldn’t refuse.

The liquid was tepid and tasted of leather, but it quenched the burning in her throat. As she lowered the container and started to thank Phillip, the surrounding crowd began to clamor and draw their weapons.

Marian glanced again to where Wat Tyler stood with Will and the others in front of the king. But instead of the peaceful meeting, Wat was lunging at the mayor with his dagger, stabbing him in the stomach. The blow knocked the mayor backward.

Marian drew in a startled breath, expecting that the mayor would crumple. But he quickly recovered, throwing aside his cloak to reveal a hauberk of chainmail, apparently prepared for the attack. The other men on both sides drew their weapons, and in an instant they were engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Amidst the swinging swords, Marian sought Will, her heart thudding with fresh dread.

Instead of fighting against the king’s men, Will spun and struck Wat in the side. The peasant leader staggered. One of King Richard’s royal knights took advantage of the weakness and thrust his dirk into Wat’s chest and side with a burst of rapid jabs.

Crimson rapidly seeped through Wat’s garments. He staggered and then dropped to his knees. For a moment Marian couldn’t believe what she was witnessing, that this battle was unfolding before her.

This was no Hollywood movie or History Channel documentary. This was reality. The peasant leader was bleeding, and the men were killing one another.

The awful truth was that Will had just placed himself in mortal danger. Now that he’d taken a stand with the king, the entire peasant army would turn on him, especially once they realized he was responsible for attacking Wat first. Already the men around her were shouting, raising their weapons, and leaving her and the boys behind in their impatience to join the conflict.

A hand enclosed about her upper arm and yanked her backward. She started to struggle but then realized it was Thad. “Come quickly.” His voice was low and urgent.

Grabbing both Robert and Phillip, she followed Thad as they fought their way through the surging, angry crowd. Thankfully, no one was paying attention to them. She suspected that had been Will’s plan all along, to have Thad usher her and the boys away the moment the peasants were distracted by the fighting. Maybe he’d even designed his attack to be a diversion so she and the boys could escape undetected.

Although part of her longed to stay and discover Will’s fate, she had to do whatever she could to keep his sons safe from any vengeance the peasants might seek for his role in the fight.

Marian waited for someone to recognize her as Will’s wife and to force her back to the battle. But others were attempting to leave too, perhaps some, like them, who’d been coerced into coming and now hoped to make a getaway.

By the time they reached the edge of the crowd, she was breathing hard and shaking. She bent over at the waist to suck in deep breaths, but Thad dragged her along, forcing her to keep moving.

When they came to a secluded knoll, Thad dropped a coin into the hand of a dirty urchin who’d been holding the reins of two horses. The boy scampered toward the gathering, clearly eager to discover what was going on. Marian wanted to shout after the child to return with news, but he was gone before she could formulate the words.

Thad hoisted her into the saddle behind Phillip, and she barely had time to grab on to the boy to keep herself aloft before he kicked the horse in the ribs and raced away.

Thad followed close behind with Robert, the pounding hooves as wild as her heartbeat. They pushed the horses continually harder until they were riding at a frightening speed. All she could do was shut her eyes and pray—not only for them, but for Will.