The Hands of Time (4 page)

Chapter
4

Betty brought up a tray around 7pm, setting it on the small table in front of the window.   A covered dish seemed to contain some sort of stew
,
and there was a heel of bread, pewter mug of ale and some stewed fruit for dessert.  I could see that Betty was dying to talk, so I decided to find out as much as I could about my surroundings.

“Are there a lot of people living at the castle, Betty?”  I asked hoping this would invite her to chat.

“Not so many as before, Miss,” she answered sadly.  “There is Mr. Alec and Mr. Finn, Cook, m
e
self and m
e
brother Robbie, who is the groom
,
and Nell, the other maid.  Sh
e helps Cook in the kitchen
and does whatever is needed
, but she doesn’
a
live
‘
ere.  She lives at the farm down the road that supplies us with milk and eggs.  Nell’s father manages it, but it belongs to the Whitfields.”  She suddenly stopped, as if she said too much
,
and I
saw
her backing toward the door.  This was my chance to ask the question that had been burning in my mind since I came to in the meadow
, so
I took a deep breath
and blurted it
out.

“Betty?  What year is this?”

             
Betty looked at me as if a third eye suddenly opened up in my forehead and winked at her flirtatiously, but she quickly composed herself and answered my question.

“Why, it’s 1605
, Miss
.” 

With that
,
she bolted out the door and I sat down heavily on the chair, my legs refusing to hold me up any longer.  I picked up the mug of ale, my hands shaking so badly that I nearly spilled it on my borrowed dress, and took a sip.  
If Betty was correct, and I had no doubt that she was, I had traveled back more th
a
n four hundred years. 
How?  Why?  Why this specific year?  I tried to re-enact everything I
’
d
done
before waking up in the meadow.  I
’d
walked around the shop and picked up a few things for a closer look and put them back.  I
’d
looked at the
shepherdess
and then took the cupid
ormolu
clock off the shelf.  It had been set to 8:10 and I
’d
opened the glass panel adjusting the time to 4:05.  That’s when I
’d
beg
u
n to feel queer.  The last thing I could remember was hastily putting the clock back on the shelf before everything went black. 

Suddenly
,
I understood.  It had
to have
been the clock.  8:10 could also be read as 20:10, which was the year I
’
d been in when I entered the shop
,
and I turned the hands to 4:05, which could be read as 16:05.  But how could that be?  This wasn’t
Alice in Wonderland
.  This was real life
,
and time travel devices didn’t just innocently sit on
the
shelves in English shops posing as hideous clocks.  Who put it there and why?  Had anyone else ever vanished
,
or was I the only fool crazy enough to open the clock and move the hands to the proper time?  How could I possibly hope to go back if the clock was nowhere to be found?  For all I knew
,
it hadn’t even been made yet
,
and if it had, it could be anywhere in the world
;
but it certainly wasn’t
where
I
’
d found it
,
because the shop hadn’t even been built yet.  Th
e
building had been from the late 1700’s and
,
here I was in 1605. 

I tried to remember what I could of early
seventeenth century
England, but my mind was blank.  I
’d
seen plenty of movies about the Tudors, but I couldn’t recall what happened after Elizabeth I died.  Was she already dead?  Who sat
on
the throne of England in 1605?  All I knew for sure was that
somewhere
out there William Shakespeare was alive and well, writing the works that
would
still be famous in my time.  Everything else was a mystery. 

I was distracted from my thoughts by the sound of
hoofbeats
approaching the castle
,
as t
wo riders
came
galloping down the road, their horses
’
hooves raising a cloud of dust as they pounded the dry earth. 
A
teenage boy opened up the wooden
gates
to admit them
,
and the riders burst into the yard coming to a stop in f
ront of the stables.  I couldn’t
make out their features
on account of their wide
-
brimmed hats pulled low over the faces, but I could see that they both wore swords at their sides
,
and pistols were tucked into the
ir
belts, giving them a dangerous appearance.  The men exchanged a few words with the boy, who led the horses away, presumably to be fed and watered, and walked into the castle talking amiably.  The boy didn
’
t seem
intimidated
by the men’s
appearance
, so I assumed that they were expected
,
and would not be holding the Master at gunpoint. 
 
They must be the guests he was expecting for supper. 

I realized that I was hungry despite
everything
that happened
,
and experimentally opened the crock containing the stew.  It smelled very appetizing and I took a
spoonful.  Betty said something about mutton, so it must be lamb.  It was surprisingly good
,
with large, tender chunks of lamb and vegetables in
a
savory
gravy.  I broke off a piece of bread and dipped it into the rich sauce.  At least I wouldn’t die of hunger, I thought sarcastically
,
as I took a long swallow of ale.  It was bitter, but cool and refreshing
,
and I hoped it would sooth
e
my frayed nerves a little.  I finished my dinner and rose from the table.  What could I do now? 

There was nothing in the room to occupy myself with
,
and I desperately needed
something
to take my mind off my predicament.  The more I thought about it, the more confused I became
,
my panic rising with the approach of the night.  Maybe I
would
go down to the library and borrow a book.  There
’d
been many volumes along the shelves
behind Mr. Whitfield when he received me there earlier
.  Surely, he wouldn’t mind.  There was still at least an hour of daylight left to read by
,
and I would take advantage of it.  I hoped that Betty would come
to
light the candle for me once it got dark
,
since I had no idea what to do with the flint and tinderbox lying on the mant
e
l. 

I left the room quietly and retraced the way back to the library.  It was easy enough to find
,
and I was about to go in
,
when I heard voices from the room across the hall.  It must be the dining room where the men were having their supper. 

“Have you heard that he has ordered all the priests to leave England?  This is intolerable. 
He is worse th
a
n Bess ever was.” 
The man speaking seemed furious
.
I waited
for
a moment to hear what the others said.  I wanted to know who they were talking about.

“He is afraid for his own skin and doesn’t want to anger the Protestants.  He is already at odds with Parliament
,
and seeming to favor Catholics will not win him any fans in the
House
of Lords.  He is shrewd and calculating
,
and will not give us any liberties if it means endangering his own position.  His mother would die all over again if she could see the coward her son is.”

“
Gentlemen, he has only been on the throne for two years
,
and he is trying to solidify his position before making good on his promises.  The people are still wary of him.
  They remember all too well what happened when Mary was on the throne
,
and they are justifiably afraid.
”

“Don’t be naïve, Alec.  The man is out to benefit himself and no one else. 
Bess had
good reason to fear the Catholics, but what is his excuse?  He is supposed to be one of us.
  Unless he starts burning heretics by the thousands, the Protestants have nothing to fear.  All we ask is for the liberty to worship openly without persecution.
”

“Finn, I
do not
disagree with you, but you are talking treason
,
and I will not be a part of it.  We are far enough removed from London
,
and the Court
,
to be able to live our lives as we choose.  There is no need to put our heads on the block.  Let
us
bide our time and see what happens when Parliament is back in session in November.”

“Alec is right, Finlay.  Let
us
bide for now.  Now
,
pour me some more of that excellent claret and let’s hear
about this wench
who
turned up on your doorstep today.  Robbie said she was quit
e
a looker.
  Why don’t we have a
p
eek
?  As pretty as the two of you are, I
would not
say no to a willing wench tonight, or an unwilling one come to that.
”  The man
cackled
,
and I felt a shiver of unease until I heard
Alexander
Whitfield’s voice.

“The lady seems to have been accosted on the road
and cannot recall the details.  S
he is under my protection
,
and no one will be troubling her tonight or any other night
.  Is that clear?”  His voice sounded calm, but full of authority
,
and I felt sure that no one would try to harm me while Alec Whitfield was on my side. 

I slipped into the library and closed the door behind me
,
not wanting
to hear any more of their conversation.  I was anxious enough as it was. 
I walked along the shelves looking at the titles
in the fading light of the summer evening
.  I saw some volumes in Greek, Latin and French
,
and several books on astronomy and navigation.  There weren’t too many books geared toward women
,
and I looked around for a long while until
finally
finding a p
lay by Ben Johnson
.  I pulled out the slim volume
, then
went back to my room to read.  It wasn’t a very good play, but it was better th
a
n nothing
,
and eventually I began to relax a little and get drawn into the plot. 

I must have do
z
ed off
,
because when I woke up it was fully dark.  The house around me was quiet, only the sounds of settling wood
,
and mice scurrying somewhere behind the walls
disturbing
the
all
-
encompassing
silence.  I got up and walked to the window, opening it to let
in
some fresh air.  The June
breeze
was cool and refreshing
,
and I stood
at the window looking out over the distant woods.  Never in my life had I seen such darkness.  Even when Lou and I went camping with ou
r
d
ad in the Adirondacks
,
there was always a glimmer of distant lights visible from our
campsite
,
and snatches of conversation and songs of the other campers floating toward us on the wind
.