Resurrection Read online

  "You shall have to read the books to me. My lessons have only just begun, and I fear I shall not be able to make any sense of them."

  "Yeah, I get that. We'll do it as soon as we get home."

  She paused and peered up at him through red-rimmed eyes. "He seemed... kind. The physician."

  "Yes. You're happy to see him again then? Next week?"

  "Of course. He will help us."

  He'd better. "So, home?"

  "Thank you. Yes. Home."

  *****

  "So, no raw eggs, no liver, no soft cheese. And no horse riding. Cassius will have to do without his morning canters." Ged announced the restrictions following their perusal of the booklet from the clinic as well as a good couple of hours of youtube viewing

  Jane nodded, resigned to her fate. "I shall miss that, but I may still take him a treat in the mornings. The woman on the television said not to ride. But she did not say I had to avoid horses altogether."

  "True."

  "And neither did she say I must not share your bed."

  "Also true. Are you tired, Janey?"

  "Maybe. A little."

  "Come, then. The doctor recommended relaxation and plenty of rest. I can think of several excellent ways to help you to relax."

  *****

  Their next visit to the clinic in Yorkshire was uneventful. Mr. Baring-Jones reassured them that the blood test results showed nothing untoward, and his examination on this occasion required no more than weighing and checking Jane's blood pressure. Before they set out Jane had assured Ged that she would cooperate with whatever was required, but he was relieved not to be called upon to test that.

  His own online investigations into the weak cervix issue had been helpful. He now understood one possible cause for their problems back in the fifteenth century, and most reassuring of all, he knew that there was an effective treatment available to them now. A simple stitch would provide the extra support required, and if that did indeed turn out to be their difficulty the doctor would perform the procedure at about twelve weeks.

  He was not surprised when the consultant still made no mention of it. The test couldn't be carried out for a while yet and Mr. Baring-Jones was not a doctor in the habit of arriving at a diagnosis by guesswork. Ged was confident that the doctor would raise the matter when he was sure, but until then everything should proceed without undue concern. The test, if required, would involve another internal examination to inspect and measure Janey's cervix and Ged would ensure she was properly prepared for that.

  As they left the clinic for the second time, he was feeling cautiously optimistic. This might just work out okay.

  He blessed the enlightened self-interest that had driven him to invest so heavily in human medicine over the last century or so. He was without doubt reaping the benefits now as nothing else could help Janey and their unborn child.

  Even so, he would welcome an alternative opinion. As soon as Janey settled down in front of the television, he went up into his office on the pretext of catching up on some paperwork and he phoned Serena.

  *****

  "Congratulations. I think." His old friend's response sounded heartfelt if somewhat shell-shocked

  "Thank you. I think. So...?"

  "So?"

  "So, do you know of any other recorded instances of this happening?" If anyone would, it would be Serena.

  "No. Did you seriously expect I might? Christ, Ged, time travel's a rarity in itself, but for this specific set of circumstances to arise.... Jesus."

  "Right. That's encouraging. Not."

  "Ah, you were seeking encouragement? Very well. Look, you've done all you can for now by the sound of it. My best advice to you is to take good care of her, cross your fingers, and wait.”

  "I will. Even so, I was wondering..."

  "Yes?"

  "Just suppose the baby gets into some sort of trouble and seems to be in danger, what would be the merit in turning it?"

  "It?"

  "Turning her, then." He had already absorbed sufficient data from the unborn to know that the child was a girl. There had been a time that news would have come as a disappointment, but no longer. Here, now, he would be content with just bringing his daughter safely into the world. "Could I turn her, assuming of course I could devise some means to get my blood into the child?"

  "No, Ged. That should be your absolute last resort. Turning any human carries a degree of risk, but those dangers increase exponentially the younger the turnling. Right now, that baby's best hope lies with human medicine. You said you'd found a good doctor and a superb clinic, didn't you?"

  "Yes. The best. Came highly recommended. I'm just thinking this through, that's all."

  "Over-thinking it would be my guess. Look, you know as well as I that vampire and human DNA won't mix. An individual is either one or the other, there's nothing in between. If a human for whatever reason can't complete the turning, they die. It's brutal, but simple. There have been a few examples of attempts to turn pregnant human females but they have all resulted in the loss of the unborn baby. No exceptions. Our vampire genes treat the child as a parasite and rid the body of it. You weren't thinking of turning Jane, were you?"

  "No. She doesn't want that. She was adamant and I won't press her on it."

  "She may come round, at some point. Humans often do when they find themselves in a long-term relationship with one of us. And when they start getting wrinkly."

  "I'm hoping so." He groaned and leaned back in his seat to prop his feet on his desk. "For fuck's sake, I only just got her back and here I am dreading losing her again, this time to good, honest old age."

  "You care about her." It was a statement, not a question.

  "I love her." He paused to think about that for a second, tested the idea and found it perfectly acceptable. "I always did, but in the past I never showed it. I was a heartless bastard and I let her down. I was hoping not to do it again this time around."

  "Well, I suppose that's your call. You can only do your best. How does she feel about you?"

  "Really? I have no idea. Most of the time she's just plain scared, of me, of this century, of the bizarre set of events that brought her here. She feels out of her depth, helpless."

  "My, my, you have been a busy little telepath. Or did she tell you all of that?"

  "She told me none of it, and that's the problem. She doesn't know yet that she can trust me. She isn't used to being able to confide in me or rely on me."

  "Maybe, when she does feel sure of you, she might be ready to accept the turn. Until then..."

  "I know that. I have a lot to prove."

  "I'm not that sure you do. You and I have both lived long enough to know that the people we were in our youth may bear no resemblance at all to the vampires we are now, and we should judge ourselves by the standards of the age we're in, not some time in the distant past. It's now that matters, not then." She paused, then, "Will you let me know how things go? With the baby, and Jane?"

  "Of course."

  "If there's anything I can do to help, or James, just give us a shout. Okay?"

  "Will do. And Serena..."

  "What?"

  "Thank you."

  "Idiot, " she breathed, and hung up.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jane settled in the corner of the sofa. She reached for the remote control and pointed it at the screen mounted on the wall in front of her. Much of the technology surrounding her she found both baffling and unnerving, but she liked the television. In fact, she mused, she might even prefer it to twenty-first century plumbing, which was quite some accolade. She amused herself by flicking through channels, seeking something of interest to watch, which could be more or less anything as far as she was concerned. Everything about this century was fascinating, especially when viewed from the relative safety of Ged's comfortable lounge.

  Her husband was upstairs, ensconced in his office. Jane knew that he had work to do, things he had been putting off in order to devote his time to her. She
appreciated the gesture though she still found it somewhat incongruous. She had no wish to disturb him or keep him from his duty. This was an attitude ingrained for most of her life, that she should remain in the background, supportive, obedient, but out of sight. Ged seemed no longer to expect this of her, but Jane could not quite throw off the habit of a lifetime. He had been concerned about abandoning her for most of the day but she had assured him she could amuse herself for the next few hours. Given the snow storm swirling outside, an afternoon in front of the television seemed the best way of accomplishing that.

  It was only February. Jane sighed, and she longed for the spring.

  Suddenly she froze. A familiar face scowled back at her from the screen. The likeness was not especially good, but she would know him anywhere.

  Richard. Her dear friend, mentor and protector. King Richard was here, in this place, this time. On the television.

  She turned up the volume and listened intently as the news announcer explained that the remains of a male discovered in Leicester had been proven to be those of Richard III, the last of the Yorkist kings who had perished at the Battle of Bosworth Field in 1485. The body had lain there in an unmarked grave for over five hundred years.

  There was more. Jane heard mention of historical research and DNA testing and recalled the explanation Ged had given her. She understood him to say that every person or creature was unique, yet similar to others of the same type.

  She was incredulous, could not believe what she was seeing, hearing. Surely, after all this time... how could this be? These people on the television appeared so triumphant, so certain, but it was impossible. It must be. Richard had been dead for so long, he would be just bones by now. How could they possibly identify him? It could not be true.

  She leapt from the sofa and rushed to find Ged, to tell him, to seek his opinion. She was halfway up the stairs when she was struck by the irony. This was not the first time she had dashed up to his room with news of their beleaguered sovereign.

  She knocked on the door and waited. He called out for her to enter.

  "Janey, you don't need to knock. I told you that."

  "Am I disturbing you?" She pressed her palm to her chest, breathless.

  "Yes, and I'm glad of it. Come in, sit down." He stopped, peered at her. "Something's wrong. What is it? The baby—?"

  "No. No, I am well. Or at least..." She entered the room. "I am well but I think I should like to take a seat even so."

  Ged pulled out the second chair he usually kept tucked beside his desk and shoved it in her direction. "Sit, and tell me what's happened. You're pale. Would you like a drink?"

  "No, no. Please, I am... I am..." She hesitated, as her stomach roiled and clenched. Had she completely misunderstood what she saw, what she heard? She had been here for several weeks now, but everything in this century was still so new, so strange. Would her husband think her a total fool?

  "Janey?" Ged took her hand, his features expressing his concern. "Tell me."

  "I was watching the television, and I saw... I believe I saw Richard—the King. A body has been found, and ... they say that it is him."

  "Ah. Ah, right. I see."

  "You...knew about this?"

  He nodded slowly. "I knew of the possibility."

  "But, you said nothing. Why did you not tell me of this?"

  "To be honest, it never occurred to me. I should have, and I apologise. The remains were discovered about a year ago, but no one knew for sure that it was Richard. In fact, I believed it highly unlikely, after all these years."

  "They say that it is he. The woman on the television said that they had proof."

  "Proof? Okay. Let's see what's going on then." He turned back to face the screen on his desk. This device was not a television and as a rule Jane found it far less interesting. Her lessons had commenced and she was improving in her letters, but could not comprehend the odd words which sprang up all over the screen on this laptop computer device. She preferred the spoken word to the written form, at least for now. Still, she knew that her husband set great store by this particular gadget so she was determined to master it.

  His fingers flew over the flat surface before him and a few moments later Richard's face appeared on the screen, the image both blessedly familiar yet eerily unknown.

  "A poor likeness," she murmured. "His hair is paler. Was paler. But his eyes were that exact shade of blue."

  Ged nodded. "I don't remember him as clearly as you do, for obvious reasons. I seem to recall reading somewhere that that picture was painted after his death though, so the artist did it from memory."

  As Jane watched the words hurtled up and off the top edge of the screen. She found it odd, half expecting to peep behind the device and see them all piled up there. Ged appeared to be making sense of the writing though, his forehead furrowing as he scanned the stream of information. After a few minutes, he paused and turned to face her.

  "Right, so this is what's happened. Academics at the university in Leicester dug up a car park in the city centre. They had reason to believe there was an old church or something under there, and a burial ground. They found the remains of a man—well, several men—and one of them fitted the description they had of Richard. The bones dated from the right period, and this person had battle wounds. They thought it might be him, and they spent the next year, until now, proving it. They tested the DNA in the skeleton—do you remember I told you about DNA, Janey?" At her brief nod he continued. "Okay, so they traced that same DNA down through the generations to a woman alive today who they know to be a direct descendant of Richard's older sister."

  "His sister? Anne? That must have been Anne."

  Ged shrugged. "I don't know. Possibly. Anyway, it was a match." He peered back at the screen. "It says here that the chances of this skeleton being the remains of Richard III are 99.9999 percent. Do you know what that means?"

  She shook her head.

  "It means as near definite as doesn't matter. It is him, Janey." Ged let out a low whistle. "Who would have fucking thought it?"

  "Oh." It was the best she could manage. At last, she allowed herself to believe.

  Ged's image shimmered before her, obscured by tears. Jane had no notion where this well of emotion came from, but it assailed her as the news sank in. Richard, one of her dearest friends, was here with her now, in this time. He had somehow side stepped the passage of time to be among them again, as towering a presence as ever. She was elated, overjoyed, yet at the same time crushed by a sense of her own mortality and the manner in which she had cheated it.

  "Do... do they know what happened to him? Garrick said he fell, and—"

  "We already knew quite a lot, even before this latest discovery. Richard's army was defeated when one of his nobles changed sides. It was Lord Darnley as far as I can recall but I'd need to check—"

  "Darnley? Thomas Darnley? He was ever a worthless cur. He betrayed our liege?"

  "I believe he did, yes. He ordered his men to support Henry rather than Richard, and Richard's army was defeated. The King died on the battlefield and Henry was crowned soon after. Richard was taken from the field and buried, though no one knew exactly where. Until now, obviously."

  "Darnley was a traitor," she whispered, unable to credit such perfidy from one whom Richard had trusted.

  "Yes, I suppose he was. But Janey, it was all so long ago—"

  "Not to me. Not. To. Me." She buried her face in her hands.

  Ged wrapped his arms around her. "Hush, baby. Let it go. Let it go, love."

  Jane wept in his arms. She wept for her previous existence so suddenly swept away, and for a king betrayed, and for those she left behind with never a chance to say goodbye. At last she raised her face to look her husband in the eyes.

  "I would like to see him. Richard. Will they allow that?"

  "Janey, it's Richard, yes, but still just a skeleton."

  "It is Richard's skeleton. His last mortal remains. He should be remembered, mourned by one who k
new him. One who loved him."

  The flicker of pain was fleeting, but as she peered into her husband's face Janey saw it nevertheless. She caught the brief twitch of his cheek, the clenching of his jaw at her hasty words. At once she regretted what she had said.

  "I did not mean that, my lord. I did love him, he was very kind to me.”

  “You lived in his household for several years, I know that. But I always had the impression it was Her Grace who was your true protector.”

  “That is true, but…” Jane paused, recalling vividly an incident, a time when Richard had stepped between her and disaster. She had never dared to tell her husband of this incident, fearful of his wrath and possible retribution, though she had carried the guilt of her transgression with her since childhood.

  “Janey, what is it?” His tone was gentle, concerned. This only served to distress Jane more as she recalled her wickedness and deceit. She should have confessed her betrayal to him centuries before. Ged reached for her and tipped her chin up with his fingers. Holding her gaze he asked her again. “Jane, tell me about Richard.”

  “He…, I was very young, and… and—“

  “And what, Jane?” Ged’s tone had hardened, his expression now transformed into the familiar mask of her Dom. He expected answers, he demanded her honesty.

  “I had a… a dalliance. Whilst I lived at York with Their Graces.” There, she had said it.

  His eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing as he regarded her sternly. “A dalliance? You mean you were screwing around, Janey?”

  “No! No, I would not… I would never. I was married, to you.”

  “Indeed. And I know you were a virgin when you came to Roseworth. So, what then? What did this dalliance of yours amount to?”

  Jane gulped and willed herself to continue. “I formed an… attachment, to one of the guards in Richard’s household. His name was Arthur and he was very handsome, and… I allowed him to kiss me.” She hesitated, then, “Just once, in the solar.”

  “In the solar?”

  Jane nodded, blinking back tears. “One of Anne’s ladies saw us and she told Her Grace.”

  “Ah.” Was that a twitch of a smile playing about his handsome mouth. It could not be. Could it? “Go on.”