Chapter 3

The Adventures of a Time Travel Watch

The craft was swift, just above the wave tops and immune to radar. However, it was NOT immune to satellite tracking ... nothing was / is ... damn satellites. The weather was bad enough that pursuit by the FED A was not completely impossible but highly unlikely.

England ... no longer Great Britain, or even the United Kingdom ... is not a part of the Federation of European States for two reasons; the English have never been joiners ... and France won't have them. So, our trip included invading the airspace of the FED E plus parts of Ireland and Wales. But we were soon in London.

Oh Joy. Going to London to see the Queen.

That's a quote ... or a sort of quote ... or ramblings from my head. Ramblings ... I prefer ramblings.

The trunk with liner but sans books was fetched and together we approached the Queen. Americans, being sovereign don't bow ... I didn't ... my escort, however, said;

"GrandMother, This is David James Austin ... of the Princessapality of North America."

"Are you in the Line?" the Queen asked.

"So my ancestors claim ... tenuous to be sure but rumor has it..."

"David?" she asked, "May I call you such?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Pleased to meet you ... have a seat." She indicated one close.

"According to all the rumors, it's only the watch holder who reigns in the Princessapality. Do you possess such a watch?"

"There was a watch in the trunk ... however, I am not cognizant of its perambulations."

Gwen ... or perhaps Princess Gwendolyn ... said, "It's in your pocket."

"Damnit, Gwen. I was hoping I wasn't going to try it."

The Queen ... England seems doomed to have more queens than kings ... the kings suffer from that Spanish disease ... Macho. The Queen summoned her Royal Communicator who summoned the Royal Librarian ... Marion ... Maid Marion.

The Maid in question appeared. The curtsying and knuckling of foreheads, bowing and scraping commenced.

Formalities concluded, a whisper conference ensued.

Marion the Librarian bowed her way out of the room and returned with a book. Thumbing through she found her place and began:

"Royal watches: Princessapality: Time Travel Watch," she read. "The watch of the ruling family of the Princessapality.

"Princessapality: Named by the first Princess, Wendolyn Too, on a whim. Quote: The Principality of Monaco has a Prince. The Island has a Princess. Seems fair. Unquote.

"The Watch: Solid gold case railroad style pocket watch. Mechanism purports to be by Patek Philippe. It is not. Works custom-made by the Watchmaker circa 22000 AD (After Disaster).

"Identifying marks: Stamped inside back, 24xx. Small dent caused by Princess Junior during monumental temper tantrum.

"Operation: The watch has a winding stem ... several levers and buttons. The winding stem is the principal time travel mechanism. One click is bare seconds to the past ... once around is three hundred years. No one knows just how far two complete winds go..."

I took the watch out of my pocket, Gwen was close by.

"I simply wind the stem?" I asked Marion.

"Yes," she affirmed.

Gwen reached out to take my hand ... I believed she was trying to relieve me of the watch. She touched, I wound.

"SHIT!" she said. "How do we get back?"

"We missed that part."

"How many clicks?"

"No idea ... you spooked me."

"Where did the castle go?" she said.

Historian that I am, I said, "In the middle ages, this was part of the lands of the Manor of Ebury, the marsh was watered by the river Tyburn and that," I pointed, "Looks like a river to me.

"Since the area was the site of many homes, i.e. Blake House, circa 1624; Goring House, 1633; Arlington House;1674, and finally Buckingham House, 1702, and I see no evidence of foundation or other works, therefore ... it is my professional opinion that the time is something prior to 1624 but post glaciation ... some seventeen thousand years.

"I would imagine, if we should stay, we ought to correctly place the time by the dress and arms of the local inhabitants ... unless they're wearing furs and carrying stone headed and wood hafted spears."

"In that case?" Gwen asked.

"Between post glaciation and 5500–4500 BC, the beginning of the Neolithic, the onset of pottery, probably closer to the newer date as the islands are isolated."

"Wordy little fucker, you are," she said.

"I must disagree ... you asked and I postulated the probabilities."

"How about a best guess?"

"I think we should be trying to find out how the watch works," I nodded over her shoulder.

Men in armor on horseback were riding over the hill behind her.