“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.