A Knight in Central Park(23)

Glancing at his watch, he decided to get back to the matter at hand. “How long do you think it’ll take Richard to find us?”

She started off again, saying over her shoulder, “Verily he and his men are at the farm at this moment, bent on destruction and mayhem, just as they were the day I left.”

He had to hand it to her. Not once had she wavered when it came to her story of being from another time. “So, what do you suggest we do?”

“We find a quiet place,” she said matter-of-factly. “And then we wait.”

Joe’s plans entailed waiting no more than an hour or two, but it was clear Alexandra had pinned her every hope on this one meeting.

It wasn’t long before they exited the fairgrounds and found a quiet spot within the park. Every few minutes, Alexandra would look about. Then she would glance up at the moon and begin twiddling her thumbs again. Clearly, she believed Richard would make an appearance.

Two hours turned to three, and three hours became four.

Most of the booths had been packed away and the crowds had thinned until there were only a few stragglers left wandering the park. Joe tried to untie the cape from around his neck, but the thick cloth was knotted tight.

They stood together beneath one of the many trees in Central Park, not too far from the safety of the fairgrounds. The moon was full and bright and the chill of the wintry night numbed his fingers and toes. While Alexandra shuffled through her bag of goods for the hundredth time, Joe questioned his sanity. The strain of the last few days had taken its toll. His eyelids felt seriously heavy.

Somebody’s dog had been barking for fifteen minutes straight, maybe longer. His temples throbbed, and he knew he couldn’t take much more of this tortuous waiting.

A cold wind whipped at Alexandra’s hair. Tree branches flailed wildly about like too many arms on a dancing puppet.

Joe picked up his briefcase, then glanced at his watch. “We’ve been out here for some time now. I don’t think Richard is coming.”

Alexandra had taken the veiled hat off long ago. Standing before him with her hair flying about, she looked small and helpless. The sadness in her eyes pulled at something deep inside of him. He reached out his free arm. Without further coaxing, she stepped close within the warmth he offered and pressed her head against his chest. He wrapped his arm about her and rubbed the cold from her back. “Everything will work out. I promise. We’ll find you a place to stay.”

She tilted her head upward. Her forehead brushed against his chin. “Please. We shan’t give up yet.” She retrieved the stones from her pocket and gazed at them, willing them to do her bidding. Joe put his hand over hers, surprised by the warmth he found there.

He felt her shiver.

Her eyes widened with excitement. “’Tis happening!”

He glanced about the park. He was suddenly alert, prepared for the worst, ready for anything.

Anything but this...

The dog stopped barking. No sirens or rustling of tree branches sounded, just an eerie, stifling silence. He blinked, tried to regain focus.

The myriad trees scattered about the park appeared suddenly as vague outlines. Alexandra’s face became obscured and indistinct.

Joe’s chest tightened. The hollow feeling inside of him deviated from anything he’d experienced before.

“Stay close,” she said. “And whatever you do, do not let go of my hand.”





Chapter Eight



Lord, what fools these mortals be.

—Shakespeare

Joe hung from the thickest branch of a tree like a broken kite, tangled and helpless. His legs swayed from the awkwardness of his landing. Grunting, he straddled the branch, grabbed a higher limb and pulled himself to an upright position.

As he took in his surroundings, his breath caught in his throat.

It was the lighter part of twilight. Moonlight reflected off a small manor, sitting amidst fields of wheat. A neglected barn with a thatched roof stood off to the side. A couple of cows grazed in the distance. He’d lived in the city for most of his life. Not once had he seen a cow grazing in Central park.

Where the hell was he?

Leaves crunched below, prompting Joe to look downward. Alexandra emerged from the dense thicket of brush, pulling twigs and leaves from her hair.

“There you are,” he called out. “What’s going on? Where are we?”

“Sir Joe!” she said when she finally spotted him through the tangle of branches. “What are you doing up there?”