Chapter Five

Although she was a decent rider, the journey to Kenilworth was indeed arduous for Meg. 100 miles on horseback? She wasn't sure her thighs would ever meet again. If that was not enough indignity, once at the castle she then had to endure a rowboat ride across the mere, to get to his retreat, named the Plesance on the Marsh. Here he had total privacy, he told her, for while it was a banqueting house, the difficulty in reaching it ensured solitude from all those but the expressly invited.

It was a two storey, four sided, wattle and daub building, with a central garden, and she loved it on sight.

Hal had readied a work room for her and as promised, it was furnished with apothecary apparatus which she could use to conduct experiments and manufacture drugs, for while she was not a chemist, she was sure she could learn to make a few helpful things. One of the first things she did was to begin growing cultures of penicillin. After two weeks, the mould could be filtered out and the liquid suspension that the mould had grown on could be dried into a powder.

She was also trying to produce gunpowder, which was ridiculously easy to make, requiring only sulphur, charcoal, and saltpetre. It could then be fashioned into grenades or petards, which might be useful in his war with France. She also recalled Greek fire, which was some kind of oily gunpower made with pitch (she thought) and useful for burning villages to the ground since it clung to whatever structures it hit and being an oil fire, couldn't be put out with water. She was sure that with enough time, she could fashion something similar, and for the hundredth time since she arrived here, she wished she'd studied chemistry rather than biology.

Considering that Hal could no longer use marriage to Catherine to make a treaty with France, she felt that helping him in some small way, was the least she could do.

She did worry that her intervention might change things though. Luckily, she could remember few details of his battles to be able to tell him anything which might alter his actions on the day, but everyone knew of his victory at the Battle of Agincourt. Was it possible that in trying to help, she could do something that might negate that victory?

She would vow not to tell him of the gun powder until after he returned from his first foray into France, so that she could be sure he would be successful.

Then the next moment she would argue herself out of that resolve, since his victory might be even easier with grenades, and what if just by knowing him, she had already somehow changed how he might behave on the battlefield?

She left her lab, as she called it (although it paled in comparison to her old university laboratory) in the afternoons to meet with Hal and today they walked in the grounds for a while.

"How dost thou like Pleasance?" he asked as they strolled arm in arm around one of the diamond moats. Given how remote this place was, Hal felt free to be open in his affection with her, so they didn't have to hide their relationship for while there were servants here, he knew they could be trusted.

"It's beautiful," she said and in the warm June sun, it was one of the prettiest places she had ever seen.

"And thy homesickness?"

"Is easing," she assured him, resting her head on his shoulder. "As much as I miss my time, everything there was so rushed. I had literally every labour saving device you could ask for, from a dishwasher, to a phone, email, a car, yet I was always rushing, never enough time in the day to get everything done. Here, as much as the difficulties frustrate me sometimes, I've had to learn to relax, and I think I like it."

"I'm glad." He smiled. "Thou hast seemed happier since we arrived here."

"I think the lab had something to do with it," she admitted. "It's nice to be able to do something useful."

"How goes the penny-cillen?"

She smiled at his pronunciation. "Well. The first batch is finished and for the second, the cultures have been growing for 13 days, tomorrow I'll filter the liquid, then evaporate the water off and turn it into a powder."

When she looked at him, he was smiling at her.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing, simply the look on thy face when you discuss your experiments. It makes thou appear even more fair, if that were possible."

She blushed.

"I still marvel that given your loose ways, I can still make thee blush."

She frowned. "Are you calling me easy?"

"Oh no, not I. I well remember the first time I impugned thy virtue." He rubbed the cheek she had struck.

She laughed. He made a few comments like that but she hoped it was just because he was Roman Catholic, which was a somewhat prudish religion even in her time, and not because he truly didn't respect her.

"York is in residence at the castle and will join us for supper this evening," he told her. "I hope thou hast no objections."

"No, I like him."

"He is good company."

"Sometimes I think he suspects that I'm more than your cousin."

"I do not believe tis so but he will likely realise one day soon, for York is no fool. Rest assured however, he will not question me on this."

"No?"

"No. He is too good a friend to reproach me."

"That's good, I suppose."

"Indeed."

Meals with the King were far better than those the tavern had served. Tonight was chicken in ale broth with strawberry pudding for desert. Hal had explained that for a banquet, the meals would be far grander, sometimes consisting of 12 courses but Hal had simple tastes, especially when here, at his retreat.

York was also an unpretentious man and seemed happy with this simple fare.

They were disturbed in the middle of dinner by a messenger with a letter for Hal, who took it and returned to the table.

"It's from our emissary in France," Hal said as he read. "Sent the night he arrived at Louvre Palace and presented our demands to the King."

"They will have answered already," York noted.

"Indeed and if luck is with us, we shall hear their reply soon, although I have grave doubts that they have replied in our favour."

York nodded in agreement. "But they may yet agree to your primary demand, betrothal to Princess Catherine."

Meg felt her blood run cold. Marriage to Catherine? He still planned that?

"Our spies tells us that the Dauphin is not the Kings true son and most likely, is the bastard son of the King's brother-in-law, the Duke of Orléans," York continued, "so marriage to Catherine, his true heir, could make thy claim to the throne stronger."

Meg's food turned to ash in her mouth and she gulped her wine in an attempt to swallow it down.

"This is hardly a fit discussion for the dinner table," Hal said, with a note of warning in his voice. "We shall discuss the implications when we have an answer."

Meg wanted to hit him again, to scratch his face and scream at him. Her pride wouldn't allow that though, she couldn't let York see how hurt she was, it was too humiliating.

She didn't participate much in the conversation after that, although she saw Hal looking at her frequently.

He knew she'd heard, and he must know that she was fuming. Well, he was about to learn that 21st century women didn't put up with the crap that 15th century women did.

She drank perhaps a little more wine that was good for her but she was so hurt that it was almost painful to breathe, and the wine eased that sharp and bitter pain a little.

She sat politely until York left, luckily not too late as he had to row back to the castle, and she sat there waiting for Hal to speak first.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" she asked.

"That you had to hear that."

Not that he had done it, she noticed. She got up from the table and left the room, her temper a hair's breadth from exploding.

"Meg, come hither, let me explain," he said, following her as she made her way to her bedroom.

"Explain what?" she demanded. "You convinced me to stay here, to go against my own reason and judgement, to leave behind my family, my job, my whole life for this… frankly barbaric place, and all the time you were planning to marry someone else?"

"Thou told me morals were loser where thou art from, I thought you would understand."

"Clearly you didn't intend for me to understand, or you would have told me this yourself! Besides, I didn't tell you we were polygamists, did I, Hal? No, we're still monogamous and adultery is still wrong."

"I would have told of it, Meg, but the timing wasn't right."

"You sent those emissaries to France weeks ago, exactly how long were you planning to wait for the 'right time'. More likely you were hoping I didn't find out until it was too late!"

"Meg, prithee hear me, this is not about love, this is a strategic move, to solidify our hold on France! With my marriage to Catherine, England's rule in France will unquestionable when our son is king."

"Well too bad for you that your son with that woman is a Stephen Fry look-alike who not only goes bonkers, he loses you France and the English throne too! So fuck off, Hal and leave me the hell alone!"

"Meg? What do you mean he loses France and England?"

"Just that." Once she reached her room she opened the door and turned to face him, with traitorous tears escaping her eyes. "You will die two years after you marry her and your allegiance with Catherine will mean the end of the House of Lancaster on the English Throne."

She slammed the door in his face and locked it.

"Even if I wanted to, I couldn't marry thee, Meg, you aren't Roman Catholic!"

The 'even if I wanted to' stung and she already knew the religion problems.

"I would have converted for you, you giant wanker!" she cried but she had no idea if her words were coherent.

"Meg! Let me in, Meg!"

He pounded on the door but Meg curled up on the bed and ignored him.

"I am the king of England and you are my subject and will do as I say! Open this door right now or so help me, Meg, I will break it down and have thee dragged out!"

He continued banging and so with a heavy heart, she returned and opened the door, just wide enough to see him.

"I'm not your subject, I never was. If anything, I'm Queen Elizabeth's subject." She spoke softly, her words having more power now that she was no longer ranting and raving. "You know, in my time, they hail you as a good king, but they forgot to mention you weren't a good man. I guess it's true what they say, power corrupts, but absolute power corrupts absolutely. You can drag me out of this room if you want to, Hal, you have that power, but you can never own my heart. That has to be given and right now, you aren't worthy of it."

She closed the door again and leaned against it, unable find the strength to move to the bed again. She suddenly felt exhausted, as if she had run a marathon, and she collapsed to the floor where she was, sobs wracking her frame.

"I'm sorry, Meg," she heard him say softly, then she heard him walk away.

Meg awoke in the morning and found herself on the floor by the door, as if she was guarding it. Her head was throbbing and her eyes felt puffy and sore. She wasn't even blessed enough to have few blissful moments of ignorance before she remembered, for last night's revelations were emblazoned on her mind forever more.

She dragged herself to her feet and set about changing her dress for the day, then she made her way to the lab and took some paracetamol powder from the little box she stored it in.

What was she doing here, tinkering with chemicals, when she came from a time when she could buy more over the counter from a pharmacy, than she could ever hope to make in an entire lifetime here? She shouldn't be here, she didn't belong.

'I am the world's biggest fool,' she thought as she locked the door.

She didn't bother checking her penicillin, evenalthough it should be ready today, she simply sat at the bench by the window and looked out.

She had no idea how long she sat there before he knocked on the door.

"Meg, don't be childish, open this door this instant!"

She didn't reply, she didn't have the strength to and thankfully, he left quickly.

She sat in the same place most of the day, missing breakfast and lunch, until she had set her resolve. She got a pen, quill and inkwell, then set about writing him a letter. She folded the letter and sealed it with wax, then she ventured out to find a servant to deliver it to Hal and returned to her room.

She undressed and got into bed, wishing that she had a tub of ice cream or chocolate or something. She should have left the moment she realised there was no chocolate here. How could anyone find happiness in a land without chocolate?

The evening found Hal brooding in the library. He had spent most of the day here, trying to reason a way out of this mess. He had to marry Catherine if he wanted to cement his hold over France, but he couldn't give Meg up either.

And her words about his son worried him too. Would the boy really lose everything Henry was working for? And would Henry truly die two years after marrying Catherine? She said she knew the future but she could have been lying to unnerve him.

Why couldn't she just understand how things were? He had a duty to his country and truth be told, it had been indulgent of him to have taken a lover, for a man could not have two mistresses and his sense of honour wasn't going to allow him to follow his heart.

He was disturbed from his reverie by a maid entering.

"A thousand pardons, my lord, but I have a note from Lady Hunter."

The maid handed it to him and bobbing a curtsey, left.

He broke the seal and with a heavy heart, read her letter.

Hal,

I feel I have been too hard on you, I should have realised that you were no more evolved than the men from my time, but I allowed my head to turned by your charm and pretty words. I believed you when you said you loved me, although now I realise that you didn't ever actually say those words.

I underestimated you and considering that I met you in a den of iniquity, filled with liars and thieves, once again, the fault is mine. I should have known that like your teacher, Falstaff, you would have an excuse and reason for everything. I should have known better.

Now that I do know better, I only want one thing from you; for you to keep the promise you made me and grant me access to the chair at the abbey.

I love you too deeply to share you with anyone and clearly, I cannot have you, so I want to go home.

Because I'm still a love sick fool, I'll tell you everything I've been working on to aid your fight in France, and all that I can remember about your future and who knows, maybe if you don't die so early, your son might amount to something.

Please make arrangements for me to go home as soon as possible, I've truly had my fill of this backwards time.

Meg

Hal sighed. He had assumed that she would stay with him, and why should he not think that? She had nothing else here but him so even without marriage, she was bound to him. Now he realised that he should have predicted this, for Meg could not be kept or caged because she was unusually self-possessed, with an independence and determination that rivalled any man. If he refused her request, he had little doubt that she would run away, find her own way to London and break into the Abbey, as she had first intended.

He must make peace with her, and then try and convince her to stay.

But not now, not while tempers ran hot. Tomorrow he would approach her once more and see if he could not broker a reconciliation.

If he could conquer France, he had no doubt that he could conquer one woman, albeit an unusually headstrong one.