The Indigo King - James A. Owen [81]
He reached for his door, and oddly, found it jammed from within. He rattled the latch, and from inside he heard a soft cursing, followed by the sound of tearing paper.
He pressed harder, and suddenly the door flew open.
The room was empty save for his small fireplace, his table, his chair, and the parchments he’d been working on. The window was locked. And there, on the floor, lay the ancient book he’d been transcribing.
Somehow the first few pages had been torn out diagonally, from the upper left to the lower right side. Only the left-hand pieces remained. There was no sign of the torn pages themselves.
Shaking his head, Geoffrey crossed himself again and closed the door. Something beyond his ken was happening here, and he hadn’t the presence of mind to deal with it. Not while it was so cold. The history of the kings of England would have to wait until later.
Still mulling over what the vision might have meant, and trying not to consider the possible ways someone could have entered his study invisibly, Geoffrey of Monmouth fell into a fitful slumber. As he did, all around him, time itself shook and trembled like a tree in a thunderstorm.…
Being declared the High King of the lands both known and unknown has its benefits, and when John and Jack made it clear that Hugo was their friend, Arthur immediately pardoned him and ordered him released.
The Lawgiver took Arthur aside to discuss matters of his new office, and the rest of the knights immediately began to start a celebration—which, Hugo decided, was practically identical to the tournament, with less of a point.
Of the companions, only Chaz had noted that not all the cheers were heartfelt, and not all the new subjects seemed to be pleased with the King, or the process by which he’d been chosen.
Hugo was mostly just relieved to see his old friends from Oxford. “I knew it!” he exclaimed happily. “I knew you’d be here to fetch me!”
“And just in time, it seems,” John noted. “It looked like you were about to be drawn and quartered.”
“All under control, I assure you,” Hugo said with a wave. “But I’m not going to complain about your timing.” He turned to Chaz and took his hand, which he began pumping frenetically. “And you, dear boy! So happy to see you, too! What happened to your face?”
Chaz pulled his arm free and tightened his collar. “Ah, I’m happy to see you well, Hugo.”
John gave Chaz a quizzical look, and Chaz took him aside, out of earshot of the others. “I didn’t want t’ give him anything t’ regret,” he said flatly. “He doesn’t know I’m not Charles, and he doesn’t need to know where I came from or,” he added with a quick glance back, “what else transpired there.”
John nodded. “I understand. You’re a good fellow, Chaz.”
“Don’t rub it in.”
They rejoined the others, who were now conversing with Hank Morgan. He showed them his watch and seemed as pleased as Hugo that they’d come.
“It still isn’t working,” he said, shaking the watch. “When you return, can you get a message to Verne?”
“I’m sure we can,” said Jack, “one way or another. What year is it, exactly?”
“It’s the year 498 AD,” said Hank, “give or take a few weeks.”
“Not quite the sixth century,” said John.
“Close enough,” said Hugo. “So,” he added, rubbing his hands in anticipation, “when do we go home?”
“That,” John said, putting his arm around his friend’s shoulders, “is something we need to discuss.”
Back at his tent, Hank prepared another stew for his hungry new guests as John, Jack, and Chaz offered an abridged version of what had happened to them.
Hugo had barely begun his reciprocal tale, starting with his trip with Pellinor, when the High King poked his head inside the tent.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Arthur said, “but Archimedes has just captured something for our dinner.”
“He’s an industrious bird,” said Chaz. “Tell him to bring it here, and we’ll add it to the stew.”
“That’s the problem,” said Arthur. “It’s talking—and insisting it’s here to rescue something called scowlers.”
John and Jack beamed and simultaneously sighed in relief. John dashed out of the tent, and Jack clapped