When Simon and Emily returned, Julia, the alewife, was in the bailey making another delivery. She and Richard were deep in conversation and she laughed at something he said. She’d woven a blue ribbon through her braid and the dress she wore today fit her better than the one she had worn the first time Emily and Electra saw her. The tighter fit revealed a curvy, small-waisted-woman, what people referred to as an hourglass shape.
“She’s sweet on him, you know,” Emily said to Simon.
“I know. Richard is a man who keeps his own counsel and shy as a field mouse to boot. I’ve subtly suggested Julia would be a lady worth courting.”
Richard waved Simon over and Emily followed, thinking there might be some fun gossip being shared.
“The messengers have returned from London. King John met with them and if our prisoner is Comte Marchand, the king says his people will definitely ransom him.”
“Did he tell our men anything specific about Marchand that allows us to determine if the prisoner is indeed the wealthy comte?” Simon asked.
Richard nodded. “The true Comte defeated Henri Capet in a joust five years ago in Rouen. King John was present at the event.”
“Henri Capet,” Simon repeated, his brows notching up. “Capet is the finest jouster in all of France. If true, and the man in our dungeon is the same comte, I admit to being impressed.”
Emily wanted to explode with excitement but she didn’t dare react, not after Simon caught her talking with Roger and Oliver. If they freed Roger, he was Electra’s best hope, only hope, of going home. Once she was away from the Prince, they’d come for Emily. For the first time since Electra left, the chance of getting back to their real time seemed within reach.
“Are you going to question Marchand now?” she asked in a neutral voice.
“Yes,” Richard said.
“May I come too?”
“Emily, the dungeon is no place for a lady. I thought I made that clear,” Simon replied.
“With you and Richard there, I’m safe. Please.”
“I don’t see the harm,” Richard said.
“All right.” Simon hooked her arm through his. “You’re not to get close to the cell. Understand?”
“Yes.” Emily sent a silent thank you to the heavens. If she could learn when the ransom might arrive, she’d send Electra a private message. She’d send another when they released Roger and Oliver. If the stars aligned right, even if they couldn’t find a way out of this place and time, Roger could take Electra to France. Electra would be safe with him there, safer than with the prince. Funny how she only associated the idea of relocating to France with Electra and Roger. She’d think about the meaning of that later, if she was forced.
****
When they reached the corner of the cell, Simon had her stand against the opposite wall. “Stay here.”
Roger and Oliver both stood and approached Richard who stood at the cell door. Simon joined him. “You claim to be the Comte Marchand,” he said to Roger.
“I am.”
“You ever compete in jousting competitions?”
Roger looked puzzled but said, “I have.”
“Who are some of the most challenging knights you faced? The ones you defeated.”
Roger still looked puzzled but named several men, one of whom was Henri Capet.
Richard said nothing, letting Simon conduct the interrogation. “When did you face Henri Capet?”
“Five years ago. From your questions, I take it you inquired about me to the King. He was there the day Capet lost to me.”
Richard finally spoke. “The Baron wants one thousand ecus. How soon can your staff provide this?”
“Immediately.”
Emily wondered how much an ecu was and when had the amount been settled upon. Neither he, nor Simon, had talked price on the way to the dungeon.
Richard and Simon looked skeptical. “How is it you can pay such an amount in one day when your King cannot pay his ransom yet?” Richard asked.
“I cannot answer for how the King spends his money.”
“Five-thousand ecus,” Simon interjected.
“Do you intend on negotiating so far up that ransom is out of the question?” Roger asked.
“Can you provide five-thousand and we will quit there?” Simon countered.
“Yes.”
“We’ll send a rider at first light,” Richard said.
“What about me?” It was Oliver.
“You’re just a traitor. There’s no one to exchange ransom for you.”
Oliver shot Roger a panicked look. “I have done nothing. I beg you to release me when this man’s freedom is arranged,” he said, gesturing to Roger.
“I will ransom him as well.” Roger turned from Oliver to Richard. “How much do you want for the old man? He did nothing but obey my bidding out of fear. He can do you no harm now.”
More than anything Emily wanted to plead for Oliver’s release. If only Simon knew the real reason for Oliver’s accompanying Roger, he’d certainly relent. If he did, Richard would agree. Much as she wanted to, begging or making any suggestion or scene would only result in Simon banishing her.
Richard tipped his head for Simon to follow him. Emily tip-toed closer and overheard their conversation in spite of their whispering. “What do you think?” Richard asked Simon.
“I am loathe to release a possible traitor. I wish I could come up with a way to prove his intent, one way or the other. If he is indeed innocent, and we have the opportunity to obtain more ransom for young Geoffrey, I’d hate to pass that up.”
They stood there quietly eyeing Oliver. Whatever was going through their minds, it was unreadable to Emily. At least they didn’t look grim, like they were considering hanging the poor man. That was something in Oliver’s favor, she hoped.
“I’ve an idea,” Simon said, and the two went back to where Oliver stood, waiting, looking like a rabbit in a cobra cage.
“In our previous meeting, you claim to be a...” Simon leaned over and whispered to Richard, who whispered something in Simon’s ear in return. “An astrophysicist, a person no Englishman other than yourself has ever claimed to be.”
“No one claims it because no one knows what the devil that is,” Richard chimed in.
“I’m a scientist. Astrophysics is my field of specialty,” Oliver explained.
“Scientist. Bah. What a load of drivel. That tells us nothing. Offer up a reason for us to trust you, other than mewling about being forced to aid the Frenchman,” Simon said.
“Tell us more about this specialty?” Richard asked.
“I have studied various theories on the time-space continuum and conducted many experiments on the subject.”
Everyone stared at Oliver. She and Roger in stunned disbelief that he’d go down a road he had no chance of explaining in any credible way. Simon and Richard looked at Oliver like he’d just taken off his human being suit and now revealed a Martian.
Simon’s blank expression morphed into the angry face of a man who believed he was being made sport of and about to thrash the perpetrator.
Groaning, Roger said with some heat, “I can’t believe that’s the answer you went with.”
Richard reached through the bars and grabbed a handful of Oliver’s shirt and pulled him close enough for the man’s nose to touch the iron. “You think we are fools.”
If anyone was going to lose his temper and physically threaten Oliver, Emily was sure it would be Simon, never the calm, cordial Richard.
“You might as well skip ahead and request a new rope for the hanging,” Roger told him, lifting his head, talking down to the older man.
“We have ample supply of rope,” Richard said, releasing Oliver.
Oliver turned to Richard and Simon. “I do not think you fools.” He said to Roger, “I didn’t know what else to say other than the truth.” He turned back to Simon. “Have you ever heard of the Greek philosophers?”
“No,” Simon said.
“I heard of a few when I was young. The priests who taught me railed against them,” Richard said. “What of them?”
“That’s akin to what I do. I think about vague possibilities and see if I can make them happen.”
Simon spit. “In other words, you’re an idler, although you look well fed for a vagabond.”
Richard stepped away and gestured for Simon to join him again. They whispered too low for Emily to hear this time. Whatever Richard suggested caused Simon to glance over at Oliver and shake his head no.
“This doesn’t look good,” Oliver said, he and Roger watching them.
“No, it doesn’t.”
Richard continued and managed to convince Simon of his plan. They stepped back to the cell. “Give us something useful and we’ll consider releasing you with Frenchy,” Richard told Oliver.
“Like what?”
“You said you do experiments. Do those until you find something we like. You have until our messenger returns from France.”
“But—”
“He accepts your offer,” Roger said.
“I’ve no materials,” Oliver sputtered.
“Tell the guard who brings your dinner what you need and we’ll send it down to you. Anything else?”
“No.”
“Good. We’re done here.” Simon took Emily’s arm in his and escorted her out with Richard right behind.
Once they were gone, a panicked Oliver began to pace the cell. “What can I make for them to use?”
“I don’t know.”
“I wonder if I could fashion a simple handgun?”
“Have you lost your mind? You can’t give these people a handgun. That would throw a major monkey wrench in how history plays out.” Roger had a vision of the topsy-turvy effect on the next seven centuries a handgun, even a simple one, might have on both their countries. “What is it with you and guns? For a man who’s never shot one, you’re obsessed.”
“American gangster movies. I grew up watching them, still do on DVD. Great dialogue: ‘I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse,’ ‘Made it ma, top of the world,’ ‘Just when I thought I was out,’ ‘they pull me back in.’” Oliver made a jerking motion imitating the Silvio Dante character imitating Al Pacino.
“Better think of something to impress those two English gangsters, or you’ll be imitating a Hang ‘Em High character.”