Free Children of Time (The After Cilmeri Series Book Four) by Sarah Woodbury Page A

for less.”
    “Are we really talking civil war?” I said. Dad had said as much earlier in the day. “Has it gotten that bad?”
    “We fear it,” Bevyn said. “War in England can be good for Wales, but much depends upon who wins.”
    “So we’re back to Valence again?” I said. “Or is it Vere or Bigod’s heir who most concerns you?”
    Bevyn growled. “All of them.”
    “Roger Mortimer has been freed from the Tower,” Huw said.
    That wasn’t good news. “Edmund Mortimer remains in London, doesn’t he?” I said. “He is still our ally, along with Clare?”
    “Yes,” Aeddan said. “That is true as far as we know. We’ve not heard differently.”
    I eyed the shepherd-turned-trader, finally taking note of Aeddan’s continual use of the word ‘we’.In the three years since Wales had declared itself independent from England, Math, my father, and I had cultivated circles of informants—spies—to help us make sense of what was happening in England as well as in our own country, listening to anyone high and low who had news to give us. We wanted to know of a threat to Wales before it happened. The survival of Wales was a problem my father and I faced every day. It was immediate, constant, and distracted us from more important things—like improving the daily lives of our people—or a working telegraph, for that matter.
    And yet what kind of life would they have if we failed and Wales fell under the Norman boot?
    Despite our efforts, we’d failed to hear of the gathering of Bigod’s forces at Bristol in preparation for his attack on our southern coast last August. That we’d learned of it first from Humphrey de Bohun still galled me.
    Even with that failure, Tudur, in particular, had become skilled in weighing one bit of information against another. His seat at Chepstow was a gathering place for information from the whole of south and mid-Wales, and the March. Aaron’s Jewish connections had given us another network of information, Math’s connections with the Welsh in England provided yet a third. I looked from Aeddan to Huw to Bevyn. Was this a fourth source I hadn’t known about?
    “Who do you mean by we ?” I said.
    The three men looked down at their feet. Their instinctive and unintentional sign of uncertainty let me know that this was something I didn’t know, that they didn’t necessarily want to talk about it, and that Aeddan’s ‘we’ included Bevyn.
    Bevyn cleared his throat. “The Order of the Pendragon.”
    I licked my lips. I was already sure I wasn’t going to like this. “Why have I never heard of it?”
    “You weren’t meant to,” Bevyn said.
    “Am I to understand that the Order of the Pendragon is a … a secret society?”
    “I’m not sure what you mean by that, exactly,” Bevyn said, “but if you are asking if we are a group of like-minded men who seek to protect you in any way we can—who are willing to give our lives for you, then yes. That is the Order of the Pendragon.”
    I found myself torn between anger, awe, and laughter, and was tempted to check my forehead for a lightening-shaped scar. “How many of you are there?”
    “Nearly one hundred, at present,” Bevyn said.
    One hundred! Sweet Jesus. “How long has this been going on?”
    “Since your father acknowledged you as his heir,” Bevyn said.
    “Six years, you mean? You’ve been part of this group for six years?” I couldn’t have been more stunned if he’d hit me on the head with a cast iron pan. “Who are they? Where do they come from?”
    “From all walks of life,” Bevyn said, “and from all over Wales and England, the better to serve and protect you.”
    I let the silence drag out as I considered the implications and the planning required to pull something like this off. “You trust every man in the Order?”
    “Yes,” Bevyn said.
    “That means you know each and every one of them?” I said.
    “Yes, my lord,” Bevyn said. “Every man was either personally recruited by me or by