They approached the livery, seeing that there were several horses tied up there, like autos in the lot of a contemporary auto shop, probably waiting to be shoed. Maeve gave them a careful inspection, before approaching the smith and pointing.
She spoke, haltingly at first, but Robert could pick up a little of the Latin she used. The word ‘equus’ was obvious, and she pointed to a grey mare tied up behind the main livery. The Smith gave her an odd look, glancing at Paul and Robert from time to time.
Paul stood up straight, trying to look somewhat haughty, though the only costuming the men could put together on such short notice had been a pair of long monk’s cassocks. They reasoned that churchmen held as much power as landed gentry at the time, and thought that Maeve might present herself as a nun in similar garb. Nordhausen went bare headed, having long since lost most of his hair. Paul balked at shaving his head, but the hood on his cassock provided enough cover. He had to swap out his eyeglasses for a pair of contact lenses, but other than the fact that they were a little too clean shaven, they could blend in easily enough, posing as missionaries from the holy see of St. Hubert, on the road to spread the gospel. It was also hoped that their affiliation with the church would afford them some protection and a measure of consideration.
In time Maeve seemed to reach an accommodation with the smith, and went over to Robert to retrieve a small nugget of gold.
“We are poor, but the church has given us at least this to offer in payment,” she said in Latin.
The man, tall and dark, with a swarthy look and round odor, squinted at the nugget she offered, hefting it in the palm of his hand to assess its weight, then giving it a bite before nodding his agreement. He handed her the tether and she bowed, graciously, leading the horse away.
“That went rather well,” she said softly as she returned to Paul and Robert. “Here, you lead the horse, Robert. I’ll get on if you could give me a boost up for good show, Paul. I told him I was weary and that we had many hours travel ahead of us.”
A moment later they were beating a hasty retreat, back down the road and away from the town. The smith had watched them go, but simply shook his head and returned to his work. The sound of his hammer was comforting, slowly receding as they distanced themselves. They were elated that the first part of their plan had worked out without a hitch.
“A proverbial old gray mare,” said Paul.
“Yes,” said Maeve. “And let’s hope she has a few miles in her. I’ll need the rest of the gold, Robert.”
“What? Oh yes, of course.” He handed her a small felt bag that they had used to carry the few chunks of gold they had managed to separate off with a rock hammer.
“I make it nigh on to 5:00 in the afternoon,” said Maeve. “So I had best get a move on.”
“Right,” said Paul. “Kelly should be pulling Robert and me out in an hour or so. We’ll leave the road and work our way back to the entry point to make his work a little easier.”
They had set up the shift to give the two men about three hours time. Maeve’s shift pattern would be sustained in the new milieu for much longer, but was also timed to expire at midnight. At that point they would use a good portion of the quantum fuel to initiate an area search and locate her mass signature. The Arch was keeping a hold on her, tenuous as it was, and they hoped they would not have any complications. It was a new program Kelly had written and it was about to get its first real test. Hopefully it would allow the Arch to maintain a micro-tunnel in Time between the lab complex and Maeve’s pattern signature. Failing that she would try to be at the entry point by midnight, and they would sweep that area for her signature to hopefully bring her home.
The two men couldn’t keep up with her, and so could afford her no further protection. While they could probably walk the sixteen miles to the villa in six to eight hours, considering rest time, there was no point in putting them both at risk. That would put them near the villa near the decisive hour of midnight, probably exhausted and hungry as well. So it was decided to pull them home and shift back in if, and only if, they determined Maeve had failed. Until then, she was on her own. And the two men wished her well with a hearty wave before turning and heading off the road to remain as inconspicuous as possible while they returned to the breaching point.
Maeve sighed, then leaned down to stroke the neck and mane of her newfound companion. “It’s just you and me now, old girl,” she whispered.
She shifted into position, loosening her garb to allow her to better use her legs to control the horse. There were no stirrups, but being a very experienced rider, she eased the horse on down the road with a light nudge of her heel. It wasn’t long before she had the feel of the animal, and the mare seemed to sense that she knew what she was about, perceiving the confidence she clearly had in her ability. In due course she had the mare up in a nice even trot, and had vanished down the long, stony byway.
Nordhausen, paused near a hewn tree stump by the old Roman road watching her go.
“Brave lady,” he said.
“Not to be trifled with,” said Paul. But there was a note of sadness in their voices, and they were both very tired. They had been awake all night, with just a few hours rest while the Arion system crunched the numbers they needed for the difficult retraction scheme that recovered Kelly.
“Do you think you could do it?” Paul asked as they walked.
“What? Ride the damn horse? Not me,” said Robert.
“No, I mean Lambert. If Maeve fails for any reason in this intervention…”
“Nordhausen pursed his lips. “Kill him? I must say the notion has been somewhat unnerving these last hours. What would we do?”
“Kelly could probably put us within a few meters of the villa. That’s where the cathedral ended up being built in Liège, and the GPS coordinates are easy to find. But that said… How would we do it?”
Nordhausen cleared his throat, trying to sound like he was just reasoning out a history problem, but it was clear that he was uncomfortable. “I suppose we’d have to bring some kind of a weapon,” he said. “Or else find one here.”
“Maeve would have a fit if we brought a modern weapon through with us. Can you imagine the impact if we were to bring in a Glock pistol and lose the damn thing here?”
“It’s an engineered weapon, and they would probably discover how to use it the hard way—by pulling the trigger. You mean to say you have a Glock?”
“Of course not. But I do have a .22 Caliber hunting rifle in the storage closet of the garage. I stowed it there after that trip to Alaska last year, and haven’t thought of it since.”
“A .22, eh? My God, you’d need to hit something vital right off with that. Otherwise you’d have to pepper the poor man to death with it.”
“A sword then?”
“You have a sword?”
“No, we’d have to find one after we shifted back in—a sword or a javelin, or something similar.”
“Are you aware of the circumstances surrounding Lambert’s death?” Robert gave him a stern look.
“Something tells me I’m about to be made aware,” said Paul.
“Well, you ought to know. Some sources claim Lambert had simply taken action to punish two rogues, Gallus and Rivaldus, for pilfering church property. That account has it that associates of the bishop had these men killed, and that they were kinsmen of Dodo, a highly appointed officer in Pippin’s court at the palace. In this light Dodo was just avenging the murder of his relatives. The story about Alpaida’s appeal to avenge her honor came later, perhaps many decades later. Some think the church put a little spin on the event to suit the coronation of Lambert as a saint, who was martyred because of his defense of marital fidelity. In any case, Lambert will have family there, two nephews and other domestics. Four men came to the villa in the middle of the night. Hearing the intruders entering his home, Lambert first reached for his sword, then decided not to oppose his assailants and accept martyrdom instead.”