Page 179 of Feathers in the Wind
‘Ah yes, I’ve been to Italy and I recall eating something similar in Naples. My uncle was not fond of what he called foreign food but I… ’ He looked around the table and smiled. ‘I like to learn new things.’
* * *
The pain killer,a couple of glasses of wine and the effect of what appeared to be a trying day, told on my visitor and after eating, he excused himself. I showed him to the spare bedroom. He collapsed fully clothed into the bed and appeared to be asleep before I closed the door.
Like a pair of spies from MI5, Alan and I went through his clothing but found nothing that gave any indication of his identity, either in this century or the seventeenth. The only hint was the finely wrought initials NP in the guard of his sword.
‘NP, Nathaniel Preston,’ Alan said with a shrug.
I gave my brother a narrow eyed glance. ‘So, he has a sword with initials that match the name he gave us. That doesn’t prove anything.’ I traced the intricate fretwork on the hilt of the sword with my finger. ‘What do you know about the seventeenth century Nathaniel Preston?’
‘He’s dead,’ Alan replied with a wry smile. I pulled a face at him and Alan shrugged. ‘At the start of the war he formed his own local regiment and declared for the king. He fought at Edgehill but spent most of the rest of the war in local defense of this area. A few days before Naseby, he was instrumental in deflecting the parliamentary advance at the battle of Chesham Bridge.’
‘When was the battle of Naseby?’ I asked.
‘The fourteenth of June 1645, just two days after Chesham Bridge.’
‘That’s in a couple of weeks.’
All humour drained from Alan’s face. ‘I am not sure going to Heatherhill Hall is such a great idea.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he may not like what he finds out.’ Alan looked into the depths of his coffee mug.
‘Like what? That he’s dead? I think even he may have worked that out.’
Alan looked up at me. ‘That he died at the battle of Chesham Bridge.’
‘Oh.’ A cold shiver ran down my spine. What it would be like to know the exact date of your death?
I busied myself loading the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. The domestic action gave me time to think. The date of the battle of Chesham Bridge was engraved in the stone of the very bridge itself —Twelfth of June, 1645. Its anniversary would be in nine days time and Alan’s re-enactors would be out in force.
‘I can’t believe you give his story any credence,’ I said, slamming the dishwasher shut.
‘Sorry, Jess, you may think me mad but I am absolutely convinced he is who he says,’ Alan said.
I turned and, seeing the deadly serious look on his face, laughed and rolled my eyes. ‘Alan!’
‘You don’t understand, Jessie. Listen to me and just keep an open mind. If the improbable has happened, and there is some slip in time that has sent Nathaniel Preston from 1645 to 1995, we are going to have to be careful to make sure we don’t change history.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Imagine if he goes back to his time, knowing all about the Battle of Naseby and convinces the king not to take the field.’ He shook his head. ‘The whole course of the English Civil War could change. Just think what would have happened if the king had not lost Naseby?’
‘Umm...he would have just gone on to lose some other battle?’ I suggested.
‘Maybe, but maybe not. What if Charles wins the English Civil War all because we meddled with history? There will be no commonwealth and we could still be ruled by a monarch who believes in the divine right of kings.’
‘Now, you’re being ridiculous,’ I said. ‘I just think we have someone in the grip of some sort of delusion.’ I paused. ‘A very convincing delusion... I’m going to bed. You can bunk down in here.’
I left Alan sitting at the table no doubt ruminating on how the course of history could be changed. As far as I was concerned, we were in the realms of speculative fiction, but I lay awake for a long time staring at the beams of my precious old cottage and thinking about the man who slept in the room next to mine.
Chapter 2 - CONFRONTING THE PAST
My name is Nathaniel Preston. I am the owner of Heatherhill Hall and the commander of a company of infantry, mostly my own tenants, for His Majesty, King Charles.
My name is Nathaniel Preston...
