Outpost in Time by Sarah Woodbury

Author:Sarah Woodbury
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: wales, ireland, middle ages, war, time travel, alternate history, medieval, sword, prince of wales, norman
Publisher: Sarah Woodbury

Chapter Eighteen

Bective Abbey

David

It was a standing joke among David’s companions that he loved maps. He collected them, good and bad, accurate and hopelessly wrong. They covered the walls of any castle where he spent any time. Upon entering the office of the abbot of Bective Abbey, David was therefore pleased to discover that the abbot appeared to feel the same way. Maps didn’t adorn the walls, but Abbot John had an entire table devoted to map after map—not only of Ireland but of the known world.

With a flourish, John spread the map he’d chosen in front of him on his desk and held down the corners with a diverse series of paperweights. “If the Irish are rising, we might look to retreating into the Pale.”

“That’s just it, Father,” David said, “it isn’t only the Irish rising. It’s an alliance of Irish and English—and Scottish, for that matter.”

Abbot John froze in the act of adjusting his ink jar on one corner of the map and stared at David, seemingly not having understood the full scope of the plot until that moment. “How—how is that possible?”

“That’s what we all want to know,” Callum said. “We don’t know how. Only that it’s happening.”

“But-but-but—” Father John was literally stuttering in front of them. He was of middle age, as was usual for a monk who’d reached his station, a little on the plump side, perhaps as came naturally to someone who ate plenty of good food and didn’t exercise enough. “Is anyone trustworthy?”

“We can begin with Gilla O’Reilly,” James said, “and anyone else who had a family member die today.”

“The Butlers, the Burghs, the Fitzgeralds, and the Verduns, to name a few,” Llywelyn said.

“They’re all dead?” Abbot John said.

“Callum and I saw them fall,” Llywelyn confirmed.

“What about among the Irish?” Abbot John said. “You said Irish were slain too.”

“Turlough O’Brien is dead, along with the chief of the O’Neill clan,” Llywelyn said.

“The O’Neills are at odds with the Burghs,” Abbot John said. “Why would they both be dead?”

“The one who killed him was a cousin, who is presumably hoping to take his place,” Callum said matter-of-factly. “As we said, it isn’t just war between English and Irish this time. It’s carnage among the clans.”

Abbot John tipped back his head to stare up at the ceiling as he tried to encompass the magnitude of the plot. Then he brought his head down to look at David. “You must work quickly to confirm the heirs in their holdings, my lord. This is a disaster for the families. First born sons aside, not everyone has a viable heir, and among the Irish, many of those seats will be challenged by brothers and cousins, since sons don’t necessarily directly inherit.”

David bobbed his head in a nod, having figured that out for himself already. “For now, we will work with whoever is willing to work with us and worry about the consequences later.”

Callum put heavy hands on the table and leaned on them to look at the map the abbot had brought out.

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