Chapter Five

Wednesday, September 2, 1590 (O.S.)
6:00 A.M. GMT
Clayton, West Sussex, England

They used the stagecoach time machine that Sam and Doc had swiped from an alternate timeline where Doc was a slave owner. Marty, who was piloting, set the time machine down on a bluff overlooking the town.

Marty was the first to emerge from the time machine. He was dressed in period garb, wearing a red linen shirt with a large ruffled collar, with matching ruffs on the sleeves, a doublet jacket with long sleeves, hose, and a codpiece. Topping it all off was a hat resembling a bowler.

"I hate this codpiece," Marty said.

"You'll have to put up with it," Doc said, following. Doc was dressed similarly, but with a wider ruff and in black, with a large cross pendant.

"It could be worse," Door said, dressed similarly, "These outfits could be neon green with stiletto heels!"

"I'd like to see when anyone would dress like that!" Marty remarked as he closed the time machine's door behind Door.

"Then travel to 2030!" Doc joked.

Marty shook his head and chuckled as Doc led the group into town.

"That's the church over there," Doc said, pointing. "Game faces on."

For such an early hour, a surprising number of people were about. Marty pointed this out to Doc.

Doc shrugged, "Without alarm clocks, people would awake at dawn, which was," he went to check one of his watches, and then realized he took them off to complete the costume. They were stashed in a tool belt hidden under his shirt, where he kept emergency supplies. "About an hour ago. They had chores to do."

The three entered the church. An elderly man greeted them at the door.

"I am Pastor Thomas Marlowe," he said, "Who are you?"

"I am Pastor Emmett Brown," Doc said, "This is Pastor James Door and our manservant, Martin."

"Ah, yes, Pastor Brown. I have been expecting thou." He pronounced "thou", Marty noticed, so that it rhymed with "you."

"Follow me," Marlowe said.

After cleansing themselves with holy water, the three followed Marlowe into the back of the church.

"What does he mean 'I have been expecting thou'?" Marty whispered.

"I've been time traveling. I sent a letter from London asking permission using the archives."

"Ah."

"Here are our archives," Marlowe said, "I trust you not to harm anything. If you need anything, your manservant can ask me."

He bowed and left.

"And 'manservant'?" Marty exclaimed, "When were you gonna tell me I was your manservant?"

"Marty, please," Doc said as Door excitedly opened the first box of records.

Marlowe poked his head in every once in a while to ask if he could be of any assistance. If he noticed any of the advanced technology Door was using, such as a scanner, he didn't indicate it. Marty, meanwhile, had questions, for example why Marlowe alternated between "thou" and "you" ("One's singular, the other plural," Doc had said).

"Thou must hath a truly awesome task ahead of you!" Marlowe noted when he saw all the boxes Door was going through.

"'Tis no other way to do it, sir," Door said.

Accepting that, Marlowe left.

"I'm done here," Door said as he replaced the last box, "It's been wonderful! I've traced the Claytons back an additional eight generations!"

"Congratulations!" Doc said, patting him on the back.

"Uh, Jim," Marty asked, "Were they called the 'Claytons' back then…er, now? I mean, it's the name of the whole town."

"No," Door said, "They were the Barons of Clayton; their surname was originally Montfort."

As they left, they found Marlowe blocking the door. Two soldiers were flanking him.

"Is something wrong, sir?" Doc asked.

"Indeed," Marlowe said, "Wouldst thou care to repeat thy name and thy purpose for being here?"

Suspicious, Doc said, "We are Pastors Emmett Brown and James Door, researching a land deal being transacted in London."

Marlowe sighed, "In that case, you are under arrest."

Soldiers surrounded them.

Stunned, it was Marty who first spoke, "What for?"

"For impersonating men of God to access private records," the lead soldier said, tying ropes around Doc's hands.

"We're not impersonating anyone!" Doc said.

"The Bishop in London wrote to me," Marlowe said, "That there are no men of the names Emmett Brown or James Door in his bishopric!"

Doc gulped, audibly.

"What are you going to do to us?" Marty asked.

A soldier gave him a funny look—perhaps related to his accent, "Thou'rt to be held in the local jail pending further questioning. Follow me."