Chapter 2

“So, who’s this, me bairn?” I heard a rather gravelly voice pose the query.

Rising from the bed, whereupon I lay with Derwa, his daughter, I looked up to see a man who already had crouch in his back, probably due to malnourishment and long hours of smelting weapons and tools in the forge. It had to be Kenal, father of Derwa, and sure enough, it was. Given that I was naked, I could nearly have been any man to him, but my cleanliness raised obvious questions from the man. I had a shaved head and face, and the only clothes nearby consisted of that rough woolen cloak from that very same morning. Putting two and two together, any medieval peasant with half a brain would conclude only one thing: I was a man of the cloth.

“This ... is Brother Aedan, Father. He’s ... a friar,” Derwa told Kenal, making her father nod.

“Not keeping your vows well, are ye, Brother Aedan? Not that any o’ ye do that well, nor do barons keep faith with de king, do they? I heard of that nasty murder o’ de lord bishop, too, ye ken? Ha’e ye? Be ‘at as may, ye be a friar, so ye be guest here, a’right? Me daughter’s guest. This be hers, this house. Me own house be a wee bit off from ‘ere, you see? Though I come and go from time to time.

“I’d be madder that you’re diddlin’ me daughter, but that’s more than her useless man be doin’ for her. He’s a damn fool, that one. Wed me daughter not long past, hasn’t ‘ardly touch’d ‘er, seems to me. Methinks he be a bugger, perhaps. I see how he look at ‘er br’ther when he don’t think me watchin’. An’ he go off and fight his own king, th’ damn fool! The king’s a right fool, too, but he’s still king, ain’t he? Though he’s a coward and fled, or so they say.

“The fookin’ wit’ me daughter, well, that’s ‘tween God and ye, I ‘spose, ain’t it? Have half a mind to try and ‘nul the damn thing, ‘cept I think that he fuck’d her at least the one or two times, maybe more. Not much since. He either don’t like ‘er much or he don’t go for lassies. I think he likes th’ lads more. He a bugger, an’ he dun ran off to that Mort’mer’s army.

“Mind ye, I fuck’d me own wife and other men’s wives besides, but men do ‘at, and as long we go home to our own wives and fuck ‘em, it’s a sin, but it’s a common sin, not as bad as ye priests say. Else why God not kill ‘at King Dafyd when he take Ur’ah’s wife, eh? Yer not be turnin’ me in for sayin’ ‘at, are you, friar? An’way, Corentyn, ‘at’s the fool’s name, he’s touch’d, not wantin’ me daughter if he go and marry ‘er, eh? ‘An den run off like that, damn fool!” Kenal ranted a bit, until I cleared my throat.

“Now, listen closely, Kenal, father of Derwa, widower of Wenna. Corentyn, as you say, has no use for your daughter. Other than a wife to give him children, though how many times he thinks it necessary to sleep with a woman to knock her up, I don’t know. It seems to me that he greatly underestimates that, or else he just can’t keep up the pretense like he thought. I don’t know. Maybe he counted on other men to do the job for him, so he could go bugger her brother and none would be the wiser, at least from his family. Doesn’t matter.

“I’m taking your daughter as a lover. I’m also taking your son Guaedret and your son Resmen’s widow Mellyn as lovers. There is no discussion about this. It’s happening. I’m going to be very much a part of your family, and you will accept that fact. I already know your reputation. And I know how you feel about buggery. It doesn’t matter. You and I will work together, only you’ll be doing as you’re told. Is that clear, Kenal? You seem a likeable fellow and I don’t have an issue with you, unless you have one with me.

“My real name is not Aedan. This is a name that I have to use for now. I’m actually defrocked, but I was a friar until I incurred the wrath of Adam Orleton, Bishop of Hereford, for denouncing Roger Mortimer and accusing him of rapine. He didn’t much care for that, nor did Orleton, nor did my prior, Brother Samuel, I can tell you that much.

“Anyway, for now, at least, that’s the situation. Derwa will host me for the present and I will expect you to do my bidding ahead of that of others. My true name is Robert Bouchard, and I hail from Hereford, as I said before. My father was, well, somewhat noble, and my mother was a Jewess. Hence my taking holy orders. It seemed the best way up for me,” I informed Kenal in a tone that made it plain that I was in command and he was to obey.

It worked like a charm, of course. Once again, the power of the amulet seemed to add to my other advantages, such as not being born and bred with a peasant’s expected and abject humility, in making me exude authority over my fellow man. In this case, it was my lover’s father, and he seemed quite submissive to me now, at the very least. All of which brought home the point of long-term plans, which had been vague as I had concerned myself first with survival in this medieval Cornish village or town.

For all I knew, this was a permanent situation and required a permanent solution. Hiding out in a Cornish country hamlet was hardly the path to long-term survival or success, even with the poaching (especially if one got caught). That wasn’t counting the likely chance of bad hygiene or malnourishment, both of which could wreck my health, particularly when added to diseases more common to this era, but less familiar to me. No, I had to rise to even live out the decade, I strongly suspected. Besides, with the amulet, I would be able to do so quite well.

I thought for a moment on why I had been so focused on the short-term and survival, not making larger plans per se, and then it hit me. On some subconscious level, I had held onto the traditional belief that one when traveling through time could not ethically alter the past or the timeline. Some of that sci-fi theme about not interfering too much with history stuck with me, but now I thought, “fuck it.” I had already altered things by moving into this nameless village somewhere in Cornwall. If it were down to my survival or the preservation of history as I knew it, it wasn’t worth dying to keep history intact. What was so special about the existing timeline, anyway?

Bearing that in mind, I made up my mind. I would fulfill my destiny, the one set forth by the amulet. I would conquer the world. I would prevent a lot of the darkness of the Middle Ages, even if I had to immerse myself up to the neck in it first. My sword would cut across frontiers, nations, kingdoms, empires, churches, and everything else in its path. My spear would shake up the social order and bring about my own. In the process, I would also quash the major religions and their power over the hearts and minds of man. I would trample clergy and barons underfoot with the hooves of my war horses. My armies would ravage and burn, sack and pillage, until my name was carved into monuments around the world. I would conquer the whole planet, however long it took.