A Monday night in New York, still very much alive, noisy and busy, even approaching midnight.
‘I better go check our database and see if history’s properly back,’ said Maddy.
Sal and Adam watched the night in silence for a while.
‘I kind of liked Manhattan the way it just was,’ said Adam.
‘Uh-huh,’ said Sal sadly. ‘Me too.’
CHAPTER 84
1194, Kirklees Priory, Yorkshire
It was a cool morning. For a change the clear blue sky with its relentlessly hot sun was tucked away behind a skein of combed-out clouds that looked thicker towards the west.
Cabot looked out of the stable across the priory’s parched vegetable gardens. ‘Looks like rain is coming. That is good.’
Liam admired the old man’s calming air of common sense. Amid all the things that had gone on, he was so very easily able to come back to his priory, to resume a role of quiet contemplation and address the practical matters of their small order.
‘When will ye leave?’ asked Cabot.
‘Soon,’ replied Liam. ‘Bob and Becks have a device in their heads that sort of does them in if they stay in a place for too long. Time’s nearly up, isn’t it?’
Bob nodded. ‘Remaining mission time: thirty-seven hours, forty-three minutes.’
‘A window will open just before that time runs out,’ said Liam, ‘unless we signal the field office to open one up sooner.’
‘Suggestion,’ said Becks, ‘it is not necessary to communicate again. The window in thirty-seven hours will be adequate.’
‘Agreed,’ said Bob.
Liam nodded. ‘Fine, then we’re in no hurry.’
The siege at Nottingham had ended peaceably. Although the citizens of the town had been quaking in fear at what King Richard would do to them, he had surprised them all with his unexpected leniency. There’d been some grumbling among the assembled army and their controlling barons, earls and dukes, who’d all been assuming they’d get a share of the town’s loot.
John had been sent with an escort of soldiers to London. Officially ‘pardoned’ by Richard, but perhaps not entirely trusted by him. Rumour was, John was going to be kept in the Tower for an undefined period as a punishment.
Becks had been allowed to visit him one last time before he was despatched south. She said he appeared to be relieved to still have his head on his shoulders.
‘He also appears to be exhibiting a different behavioural pattern,’ she’d reported after seeing him. Liam had asked her to describe it. ‘He no longer shakes. His at-rest heart rate is within normal parameters,’ she replied coolly. Liam had laughed at that. She’d managed to take his pulse as they’d embraced one last time.
‘I believe he’d make a good king,’ Cabot had said. ‘He may not ever be a great commander of soldiers, but he has other qualities worth speaking of. Prudence. Caution. Compassion.’
Perhaps. History was going to judge John harshly; he was destined to be known as England’s worst king. The king unable to hold on to the French territories his much ‘braver’ older brother fought so hard to keep hold of. The king who signed the Magna Carta granting legal rights to its subjects, but only because of the pressures put on him by England’s ‘valiant’ nobles.
There was a correct history, and it seemed like they’d managed to restore it. But Liam couldn’t help wondering if this ‘correct’ history, as it was recorded in history books and encyclopedias, was a
‘Liam.’ Becks’s voice cut through his musings.
‘Uh?’
‘Liam, Bob and I have one remaining mission task.’
Liam looked at her, at Bob. ‘What now?’
Bob answered. ‘The Voynich Manuscript dates from this time. It has
‘We have to write it,’ said Becks.
His jaw sagged open. ‘Hold on! Are you — you’re saying this Voynich thing was …?’
‘Was originally written by us?’ Becks nodded. ‘Yes. It was written by us to ensure we visited this time, this place.’
Liam frowned, trying to put the circular logic together. ‘But does that mean we’ve been here
‘It could mean that at some point in time one or more of us has been here before to seed the Voynich Manuscript,’ said Bob.
‘You mean one of us
‘Correct. Since we have no knowledge of it, this has yet to happen.’
‘But … but that means deliberately altering history, right? The very thing we’re supposed to be
‘Those are clues that were deliberately seeded to ensure
‘That is now no longer required,’ Becks continued. ‘The Voynich Manuscript must be written without those coded flags.’
‘Uh? But …?’
‘We no longer need to be alerted and brought to this place,’ said Bob. He turned to Becks. ‘This is also your conclusion?’
She nodded. ‘I concur. History is corrected. It is now an unacceptable historical contaminant for
‘So … what’re you going to write?’ asked Liam.
‘I have detailed visual records of the document. I can duplicate it as it was, but without the South American characters that originally flagged Adam Lewis’s attention.’
‘So that means — ’ Liam frowned as he worked the logic through — ‘he’ll have never known about us?’
‘Affirmative. And, of course, never have tracked us down to New York.’
‘Right.’ He looked across at Cabot, sitting on a wooden bucket, looking almost as bemused at the exchange as Liam felt. ‘And what about our good friend here, Mr Cabot?’
Cabot smiled. ‘Aye. I was wondering when ye would be considering me.’
Both Becks and Bob looked at him dispassionately.
‘No!’ said Liam. ‘You’re not going to kill him, so help me! We couldn’t have fixed this all up without the fella’s help. You’re not going to hurt him — and that’s an order to both of you!’
Both support units calmly nodded. ‘Termination in this instance will not be necessary,’ said Bob. ‘Cabot is required to ensure the safekeeping of the document.’
‘Agreed,’ said Becks. ‘So long as you do not speak of all the things you have seen,’ she said, looking at Cabot pointedly. Liam realized she was right. The old man had gone through with her to the twenty-first century. God knows what he must have seen. But then Liam imagined little of what he saw must have made sense, little of what
