{"id":1093,"date":"2009-02-18T10:14:44","date_gmt":"2009-02-18T15:14:44","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/\/?p=1093"},"modified":"2009-02-18T10:14:44","modified_gmt":"2009-02-18T15:14:44","slug":"out-of-time-by-paul-mccusker","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=1093","title":{"rendered":"Out of Time by Paul McCusker"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/a>It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a><\/span><\/strong> book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em><\/font><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Today’s Wild Card author is: <\/strong><\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Paul McCusker <\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

and the book:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Out of Time (Time Thriller Series #2) <\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Zondervan (February 1, 2009) <\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

\"\"id=\"BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302184746662564002\"<\/a>Paul McCusker is the author of The Mill House, Epiphany, The Faded Flower and several Adventures in Odyssey programs. Winner of the Peabody Award for his radio drama on the life of Dietrich Bonhoeffer for Focus on the Family, he lives in Colorado Springs with his wife and two children. <\/p>\n

Visit the author’s website<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Product Details:<\/p>\n

List Price: $9.99
Reading level: Young Adult
Paperback: 240 pages
Publisher: Zondervan (February 1, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0310714370
ISBN-13: 978-0310714378 <\/p>\n

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span> <\/strong>
<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"id=\"BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302183579516427394\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cQuid est ergo tempus? si nemo ex me quaerat, scio; si quaerenti explicare velim, nescio.\u201d<\/p>\n

[Translation: \u201cWhat, then, is time? If no one asks me, I know; if I want to explain it to someone who does ask me, I do not know.\u201d]<\/p>\n

-St. Augustine<\/p>\n

Prologue<\/p>\n

A tall gray old man stepped to the pinnacle of Glastonbury Tor, an unusual cone-like hill with a tower named after a saint. In the wet English twilight, the wind whipped the old man\u2019s long gray hair and beard and the ragged brown monk\u2019s robe he wore like a flag in a gale. The dark clouds above moved and gathered around him. Chalice and Wearyall Hills sat nearby, their shoulders hunched. A battered Abbey beyond listened in silence.<\/p>\n

The old man cast a sad eye to the green landscape, spread like a quilt, adorned with small houses and shops. He prayed silently for a moment, then pulled an ancient curved horn from under his habit. He placed it to his lips and blew once, then twice, then a final time. The three muted blasts were caught by the wind and carried away.<\/p>\n

It was a summons.<\/p>\n

PART ONE: The Stranger<\/p>\n

Chapter 1
Chapter 2<\/p>\n

\u201cLook at that,\u201d Ben Hearn said to his wife Kathryn. \u201cIt\u2019s crazy, I tell you. Crazy.\u201d<\/p>\n

They were in Ben\u2019s pick-up truck rattling for the Fawlt Line High School to help chaperone the sophomore class end-of-the-year school dance. Mr. and Mrs. Hearn weren\u2019t keen on dances themselves, at least not the modern kind, but their daughter Chelsea would be there for her first real dance in her formal dress and flowers and carefully permed hair. She was escorted by Tommy Daughtry who showed up tonight at their front door in an ill-fitting tuxedo and an awkward blush on his cheeks. Kathryn thought they were an adorable couple, and said so again and again with every photograph she insisted on taking next to the fireplace and on the patio and by Tommy\u2019s dad\u2019s car. Kathryn even took a picture as they drove away.<\/p>\n

\u201cKathryn, are you listening to me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s crazy, Ben?\u201d Kathryn suddenly asked, peering through the unusual fog.<\/p>\n

\u201cDidn\u2019t you see the sign for Malcolm Dubb\u2019s village?\u201d<\/p>\n

Kathryn hadn\u2019t. But since they were on one of the roads bordering Malcolm Dubb\u2019s vast estate, she remembered what sign her husband was talking about. It was the one that announced the construction of Malcolm Dubb\u2019s Historical Village.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know what the town council was thinking when they agreed to it,\u201d Ben said. Malcolm was the wealthiest citizen of their little town of Fawlt Line. In fact, his family had been there for close to two centuries. Malcolm, a history buff, had designated a large portion of his property for the village.<\/p>\n

Kathryn squinted at the fog ahead. \u201cDon\u2019t you think you should slow down?\u201d<\/p>\n

The truck engine whined as Ben heeded his wife. \u201cYou know what he\u2019s doing with the village, right? He\u2019s shipping in buildings, Kathryn. Brick by brick and stone by stone from all over the world. Have you ever heard of such a thing? A museum with a few trinkets and artifacts I could understand, but buildings?\u201d<\/p>\n

Kathryn smiled. \u201cMalcolm always was obsessed with history. I remember when we were in school together\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben wasn\u2019t listening. \u201cDo you know what they\u2019ve been working on for the past few weeks? Some kind of a ruin from England. A monastery or castle or cathedral or something.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFrom England?\u201d Kathryn asked. \u201cDid he ship in this fog too?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben grunted, \u201cI just don\u2019t understand Malcolm\u2019s fascination with something that\u2019s ruined. What\u2019s the point?\u201d<\/p>\n

Kathryn was about to answer\u2014and would have\u2014if a man on horseback hadn\u2019t suddenly appeared on the road in front of them. The fog cleared just in time for Ben to see him. He swore out loud as he hit the brakes and jerked the steering wheel to the right. The horse reared wildly. The man flew backwards to the ground. Kathryn cried out as the truck skidded into a ditch on the side of the road and came to a gravel-spraying stop.<\/p>\n

Ben and Kathryn looked at each other shakily.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou all right?\u201d Ben asked.<\/p>\n

Kathryn nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf all the stupid things to do\u2014\u201d Ben growled and angrily pushed his door open. \u201cStay here,\u201d he said before the door slammed shut again.<\/p>\n

Kathryn reached over and turned on the emergency flashers.<\/p>\n

Ben made his way cautiously down the road. \u201cFool,\u201d Ben muttered to himself, then called out. \u201cHello? Are you all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

The fog parted like a curtain, as if to present the man lying on the side of the road to Ben.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh no,\u201d Ben said, rushing forward. He crouched down next to the figure, a very large man. Whoever it was seemed to be wrapped in a dark blanket. The man was perfectly still and his face was hidden in the fog and shadows.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey,\u201d Ben said, hoping the man would stir. He didn\u2019t. Ben looked him over for any sign of blood. Nothing was obvious around his head. But what could he expect to see in that fog? \u201cKathryn! Call 911 on the mobile phone. And bring me the flashlight from the glove compartment!\u201d he called out.<\/p>\n

He peered closely at the shadowed form of the man as he heard Kathryn open her door. She was already talking into the phone, gasping instructions to an emergency operator. The shaft of light from the flashlight bounced around eerily in the ever-moving fog. \u201cBen?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHere,\u201d Ben said.<\/p>\n

Kathryn joined him. \u201cAmbulance is on its way. But they\u2019re on the line and want to know his condition.\u201d<\/p>\n

He took the flashlight from her and got his first full look at the stranger. He had long dark salt-and-peppery hair, beard, and moustache and a rugged, outdoorsy kind of face. Ben couldn\u2019t guess an age for the man. Anywhere from 40 to 60, he figured. He wore a peaceful expression. He could\u2019ve been sleeping. \u201cI can\u2019t tell. There\u2019s no blood.\u201d<\/p>\n

Kathryn reported Ben\u2019s findings to the emergency operator, then asked Ben, \u201cHe\u2019s not dead is he?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think so.\u201d Ben reached down, separating the blanket to check the man\u2019s vital signs. The feel of the cloth told him it wasn\u2019t a blanket at all. And as he pushed the fabric aside, he realized that it was a cape made of a thick course material, clasped at the neck by a dragon brooch. \u201cWhat in the world\u2014?\u201d<\/p>\n

Kathryn gasped.<\/p>\n

They expected to see a shirt or a sweater or a coat of some sort. Instead he wore a long vest with the symbol of a dragon stitched on to the front, a gold belt, brown leggings, and soft leather footwear that looked more like slippers than shoes. The whole outfit reminded Ben of the kind of costume he\u2019d seen in a Robin Hood movie. At his side was a sword in a sheath.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs it Halloween?\u201d Kathryn asked.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

At the high school, the sophomore dance was just getting under way. The Starliners, a rock and jazz band from nearby Hancock, warmed up for their first number as the sound engineer tried to get the volume just right.<\/p>\n

Jeff Dubbs, dressed in a tux and looking all the more uncomfortable for it, stepped into the converted gymnasium and looked around. Streamers and balloons blew gently in the rafters above. A banner wishing the class a good summer rustled over the scoreboard.<\/p>\n

A couple of dozen kids mingled in the middle of the dance floor and along the walls. Jeff tugged at his collar and wished he was somewhere else. Anywhere else.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth Forde, Jeff\u2019s girlfriend, slipped her hand into the crook of Jeff\u2019s arm. She kissed him on the cheek. \u201cTell me you like it. We were here all afternoon getting the room decorated.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s nice,\u201d Jeff said. You\u2019re nicer, he thought as he looked Elizabeth over for the umpteenth time. She was wearing a stunning pink gown with lots of lacy things around the neck and sleeves. The white corsage he had bought for her was pinned to the strap. She looked out over the gathering students and he took in her profile: the delicate nose, large brown eyes and full lips, all framed by the long brown hair that she\u2019d taken extra care with earlier that evening. He had to admit it, she was beautiful.<\/p>\n

She glanced at him and caught him looking at her. He blushed.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d she asked self-consciously.<\/p>\n

A loud metallic crash behind them saved Jeff from answering. Elizabeth\u2019s father, Alan Forde, an eccentric man at the best of times, had dropped a tray of paper cups filled with drinks. Elizabeth\u2019s mother rolled her eyes. \u201cI told you to be careful,\u201d she lectured.<\/p>\n

\u201cToo many cups to one side,\u201d he answered quickly as he knelt to clean up the mess. \u201cI misjudged the balance.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Daddy,\u201d said Elizabeth bemused, and went to his side to help.<\/p>\n

Jeff grinned. There was a time when Elizabeth would have raced from the room in embarrassment over her father. Not any more. Not since she\u2019d had an adventure that, in part, made her realize how much she loved her parents, quirks and all.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello, Jeff,\u201d Malcolm Dubbs said. Malcolm was an English relative who\u2019d become Jeff\u2019s guardian\u2014and the head of the Dubbs family\u2019s vast American estate\u2014after Jeff\u2019s parents had died in a car accident.<\/p>\n

\u201cHi, Malcolm,\u201d Jeff said. \u201cNice suit.\u201d<\/p>\n

Malcolm tugged at bottom of his jacket. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t smell musty, does it?\u201d<\/p>\n

Jeff sniffed the air. \u201cNope.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood.\u201d<\/p>\n

The lead singer for the band stepped up to the microphone. \u201cHow\u2019re you doing?\u201d We\u2019re the Starliners and we hope you\u2019re ready to dance!\u201d The three-piece brass section started an up-tempo song with the rest of the band joining in a few bars later. A handful of dancers wiggled their way onto the floor. Again, Jeff wished he was somewhere else. He didn\u2019t like to dance.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth left her father and mother to finish cleaning up the spilled drinks and rejoined Jeff.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou look exquisite, Elizabeth,\u201d Malcolm said.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth curtseyed. \u201cThank you, Malcolm. You look pretty nice yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

He smiled at her, then at Jeff. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you two dance?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMalcolm,\u201d Jeff said through clenched teeth. Malcolm knew full well that Jeff didn\u2019t like to dance.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth feigned a melodramatic tone, \u201cI\u2019ve resigned myself to an evening as a wallflower.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWill you dance with me?\u201d Malcolm asked, with a slight bow.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d love to,\u201d she said and offered him her hand.<\/p>\n

He took it and winked at Jeff as he lead her onto the dance floor. Jeff leaned against the door post, his arms folded. Upstaged by his cousin once again. But he didn\u2019t mind at all.<\/p>\n

A tap on the shoulder took his gaze from the dance floor and into the round boyish face of Sheriff Richard Hounslow. The Sheriff was in his uniform\u2014Fawlt Line Police Department\u2019s traditional beige shirt and trousers. The shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. He didn\u2019t wear a gun unless he had to. His only official equipment was his badge and a walkie-talkie strapped to his belt. \u201cIs your cousin here?\u201d<\/p>\n

Jeff tipped his head towards the dance floor. \u201cOut there with Elizabeth. Is something wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKinda.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou want me to go get him?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hounslow shook his head. \u201cNah, I\u2019ll wait until the song\u2019s over.\u201d<\/p>\n

They stood silently for a moment and watched Malcolm and Elizabeth play Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers amidst the wild gyrations of the dancers around them.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s not bad,\u201d Hounslow said.<\/p>\n

The song ended. Malcolm and Elizabeth, pleasantly breathless, returned to Jeff.<\/p>\n

\u201cUh oh,\u201d Malcolm said when he saw Hounslow. \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hounslow straightened up. \u201cI need you to come to the hospital. Apparently one of the workers from your so-called historical village was knocked down by Ben Hearn\u2019s truck.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOne of my workers?\u201d Malcolm said, surprised. \u201cBut they\u2019re off for the weekend. Are you certain he\u2019s from my village?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hounslow shrugged. \u201cHe came racing off of your property on a horse\u2014right in front of Ben. Worse, he doesn\u2019t speak a word of English, just some gibberish. That\u2019s why I need you to come.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs he seriously hurt?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. But Doc McConnell wants to keep him in overnight for observation.\u201d Hounslow gestured to the dance. \u201cSorry to take you away from all your fun.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHmm.\u201d Malcolm turned to Jeff. \u201cMy dear boy, I leave Elizabeth in your capable hands. Dance with her.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jeff hung his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou heard your cousin,\u201d Elizabeth said, and dragged Jeff onto the dance floor.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

The stranger had caused such a ruckus at the hospital\u2014shouting, trying to get away\u2014that the doctor had had to sedate him and strap him into the bed. He lay sleeping as Malcolm, Sheriff Hounslow, and Dr. McConnell approached the bed.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe had to give him three times the normal dose because of his size,\u201d Dr. McConnell said softly, as if he was afraid of waking the man.<\/p>\n

Malcolm looked closely at the unconscious figure. He was big, all right, stretching the length of the bed. \u201cI\u2019ve never seen him before,\u201d Malcolm said.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe was riding one of your horses,\u201d Hounslow stated.<\/p>\n

Malcolm cocked an eyebrow. \u201cI\u2019ll have to talk to Mr. Farrar, my groundskeeper. He lives in the cottage next to the stables.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAlready done,\u201d Hounslow said. \u201cHe was watching television. Didn\u2019t hear a thing. He was surprised that one of your horses was gone. So, if nothing else, you could press charges against the man for horse-thievery.\u201d<\/p>\n

Malcolm shook his head. \u201cI\u2019d like to find out more about him first.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, good luck. We couldn\u2019t get anything out of him. He kept yakking away in some gibberish. Kept pounding his chest and calling himself Rex or Regis or something like that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dr. McConnell interjected. \u201cIt\u2019s strange, but he spoke words and phrases that reminded me of the Latin I picked up in medical school.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLatin?\u201d Malcolm asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cCould\u2019ve been,\u201d Dr. McConnell said. \u201cBut I\u2019m no expert.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hounslow pulled at his belt. \u201cI called the asylum in Grantsville to see if they\u2019ve had any escapes. None.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust because he speaks Latin doesn\u2019t mean he\u2019s mentally disturbed,\u201d Malcolm said.<\/p>\n

\u201cAgreed,\u201d Hounslow answered, \u201cbut how about that.\u201d He pointed to the stranger\u2019s clothes, now draped across a visitor\u2019s chair.<\/p>\n

Malcolm walked to the chair. \u201cThis is what he had on?\u201d he asked, surprised.<\/p>\n

Hounslow nodded. \u201cThat\u2019s another reason we figured he was from your village. You haven\u2019t started hiring character actors, have you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe construction workers are still building,\u201d Malcolm said. \u201cI haven\u2019t hired any staff yet.\u201d He fingered the fabric of the robe and tunic, making a mental note of the dragon insignias. He picked up the soft leather shoes and looked them over. \u201cAmazing. The outfit looks so authentic. And I don\u2019t mean authentic like a well-done replica, I mean it looks worn like they\u2019re real clothes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe he\u2019s one of those homeless fruitcakes who just happened to wander into town,\u201d Hounslow offered.<\/p>\n

Dr. McConnell folded his arms, \u201cIt\u2019s hard to imagine this guy being homeless and just wandering anywhere with that sword.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSword?\u201d asked Malcolm.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere,\u201d Hounslow said and opened the door to the large wardrobe in the corner. With both hands he pulled out a long sword encased in an ornate golden scabbard. He cradled it in his arms for Malcolm to inspect.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood grief,\u201d Malcolm gasped, running his hand along the golden scabbard. \u201cIs that real gold?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLooks like it,\u201d Hounslow said.<\/p>\n

Malcolm examined the handle of the sword, also golden, with a row of unfamiliar jewels imbedded along the length of the stem. Even in the washed-out fluorescent light of the room, it sparkled as if it reflected the sun. \u201cCan I take it out?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d Hounslow said, \u201cbut be careful. It\u2019s heavy and sharp.\u201d<\/p>\n

Malcolm grabbed the handle with both hands and withdrew the sword from the scabbard. It was heavy, as Hounslow said, and Malcolm imagined it would take a man the size of the stranger to weald it with any effect. It was a strain to hold it up. The blade was made of thick, shiny steel with an elaborate engraving of what looked like thin vines and blossoms along the edges. \u201cIt must be worth a fortune,\u201d Malcolm said as he slid the sword back into the sheath.<\/p>\n

Dr. McConnell agreed. \u201cSo what\u2019s a derelict doing with a Latin vocabulary and a valuable sword?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what I\u2019d like to find out when he wakes up,\u201d Malcolm answered.<\/p>\n

Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Within two hours the stranger was awake and pulling at the restraining straps on the bed. He shouted at the nurse, Dr. McConnell, Sheriff Hounslow and Malcolm in a tone that was unmistakably belligerent. When he realized it didn\u2019t help, he resigned himself to watch the flashing lights and electronic graphs on the medical equipment around him.<\/p>\n

After hearing a few of the phrases he yelled\u2014like rex, regis, libertas, stultus\u2014Malcolm was certain about the Latin and phoned a friend of his from the University at Frostburg to come. Dr. Camilla Ashe was so intrigued by Malcolm\u2019s description that she decided not to wait until morning and drove the forty-five minutes to Fawlt Line that night. She arrived a little after ten. By that time the group in the room included Jerry Anderson, editor of Fawlt Line\u2019s Daily Gazette. He had heard the news about the mystery man on his police scanner.<\/p>\n

Dr. Ashe, a prim scholarly woman dressed from head to toe in tweed, approached the side of the bed warily. The stranger was once again transfixed by the lights on the equipment and only seemed to realize she was there when she cleared her throat. He looked at her with an expression of impatience. She spoke to him in Latin and he gawked at her. Then, realizing he finally had someone who understood him, he bombarded her with words. She tried to interject, but the stranger kept talking. His voice rose to a shout and she seemed to lose patience and responded in kind.<\/p>\n

Malcolm watched them, astounded that they seemed to be arguing and wished he had taken the time to learn Latin in college. Jeff and Elizabeth quietly slipped into the room, still dressed in their clothes from the dance, and leaned against the far wall to stay out of the way.<\/p>\n

The stranger continued his assault with words. Finally, Dr. Ashe put her hands on her hips and spoke in a tone that was withering in any language. The stranger turned his head away from her as if to say that the conversation was over. He didn\u2019t look at her again. She spun around to the expectant group, growled loudly and stormed out of the room.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat was that all about?\u201d Malcolm asked her in the hall.<\/p>\n

Her hands trembled as she unwrapped a piece of gum and tossed it into her mouth. \u201cI\u2019ve given up smoking, but I\u2019d love to have a cigarette now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry,\u201d Malcolm said, then waited politely for her to compose herself.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe said he didn\u2019t want to talk to a woman,\u201d she said. \u201cHe resented a woman being sent to him by his captors.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCaptors!\u201d<\/p>\n

Dr. Ashe chewed her gum forcefully. \u201cI don\u2019t mind saying that that man should be certified. He\u2019s not sane.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy? What did he say?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe said that, as a king, he should be treated with more respect. He wants to speak with whichever baron or duke is holding him captive. He wants to know where he\u2019s being held and if there\u2019s a ransom. He demands to be told how he got here and where his knights are. And, finally, he wants someone to tell him about the magic boxes with the flashing lights.\u201d Dr. Ashe groaned.<\/p>\n

\u201cI told you he\u2019s a fruitcake,\u201d Sheriff Hounslow said from behind Malcolm.<\/p>\n

\u201cOr it\u2019s a very tiresome joke,\u201d Dr. Ashe added and wagged a finger at Malcolm. \u201cYou wouldn\u2019t be pulling a prank on me, would you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Malcolm said simply.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen you should get him some psychiatric help,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI still don\u2019t understand,\u201d Malcolm said. \u201cHe said he\u2019s a king. But King who\u2014and king of what\u201d<\/p>\n

Dr. Ashe grinned irritably. \u201cHe says he\u2019s King Arthur.\u201d<\/p>\n

Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Dr. Ashe left. She wanted nothing more to do with the Latin-speaking lunatic.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you going to do now?\u201d Jerry Anderson asked Malcolm.<\/p>\n

Before Malcolm could answer, Hounslow jumped in. \u201cLet\u2019s get something straight. Doc McConnell and I are making the decisions here. Not Malcolm.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry,\u201d Jerry said. \u201cWhat are you going to do now, Sheriff Hounslow?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hounslow shrugged, \u201cI don\u2019t know yet.\u201d<\/p>\n

Malcolm smiled politely. \u201cIn my humble opinion, we should find someone else who knows enough Latin to communicate with him. A man this time.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth raised her hand and wiggled her fingers. \u201cI know someone.\u201d<\/p>\n

All eyes fell to her.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy Dad,\u201d she said. \u201cHe studied Latin when he was in college and sometimes uses it for his research.\u201d Elizabeth\u2019s father was a teacher at the middle school, though some said he should have been teaching at a major university.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course,\u201d Malcolm said and went to the phone.<\/p>\n

Alan Forde was quite tall himself and his size, combined with his knowledge of Latin, obviously impressed the stranger. The stranger seemed more patient and spoke in calmer tones. Alan pulled up a chair next to the bed. After a brief spurt of conversation, he turned to Dr. McConnell. \u201cCan we free his hands please?\u201d<\/p>\n

Dr. McConnell looked skeptically at Alan and the stranger. \u201cYou\u2019re kidding.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe promises not to resort to physical violence or even to attempt an escape. But it\u2019s offensive to his honor to be tied up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell … \u201c Dr. McConnell began, then looked to Sheriff Hounslow and Malcolm for help.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think you should do it,\u201d Malcolm suggested.<\/p>\n

Sheriff Hounslow unclipped the walkie-talkie from his belt and called to one of his officers on the other end. \u201cBring me my gun,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d Dr. McConnell said. He undid the restraining straps.<\/p>\n

The stranger rubbed his wrists then sat up in the bed. He spoke to Alan.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d Alan translated, then added: \u201cI think he\u2019ll be more agreeable to talk now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDoes he really think he\u2019s King Arthur?\u201d Hounslow asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen what\u2019s he doing here?\u201d Malcolm asked. \u201cWhat was he doing on my property? Why did he take my horse?\u201d<\/p>\n

Alan posed the questions to the stranger.<\/p>\n

Through Alan, the stranger explained, \u201cMy nephew Sir Mordred, that traitorous and wicked knight, attempted to usurp my throne whilst I was pursuing Sir Lancelot north to his castle at Joyous Gard. Verily, I loved Lancelot as my own, even whilst he coveted my queen and betrayed me. While I was gone, Mordred enticed many weak-willed nobles to join his army to overthrow my rule. My army met and routed his forces on Barham Down, but my nephew fled to other parts. We made chase but did not battle them again, choosing instead to negotiate a peace. I desired not the terrible bloodshed that would ensue if we were to engage in combat. And so it is that we have come here to this plain to meet and discuss terms.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s this got to do with anything?\u201d Hounslow growled.<\/p>\n

Malcolm ignored him. \u201cSo tonight is the eve of your meeting with Mordred to make a truce,\u201d he said to Alan while looking at the stranger. \u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n

The stranger answered through Alan, \u201cAs I lay upon my bed in my pavilion, I dreamed an incredible dream. I sat upon a chair which was fastened to a wheel in the sky. I was adorned in a garment of finest woven gold. Far below me I saw deep black water wherein was contained all manner of serpents and worms and the most foul and horrible wild beasts. Suddenly, it was as if the wheel turned upside-down and I fell among the serpents and wild beasts and they pounced upon me. I cried out in a loud voice and awoke upon a cold slab of stone in the midst of a vast field. Troubled by this vision, I rose, determined to find my knights. I espied glowing torches in the distance and approached them. I found there not my army but a stable of horses. I mounted one and made haste in the direction of my knights. I spurred the horse ever-faster and faster until I was attacked by the armored cart that was drawn by neither man nor beast. Frightened, my horse reared and I fell to the ground.\u201d He turned to Malcolm, \u201cNow, speak knave, am I a prisoner or is a dream?\u201d<\/p>\n

Malcolm tugged gently at his ear and said to the others, \u201cHe woke up on one of the stone slabs in my historical village. Probably in the church ruins I bought from England. Very interesting.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t believe any of this nonsense, do you?\u201d Hounslow asked.<\/p>\n

Malcolm answered in a guarded tone, \u201cFor the moment, I believe that he\u2019s confused and found himself on my property.\u201d<\/p>\n

The stranger folded his arms and muttered the same phrase over and over.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe says Merlin is responsible,\u201d Alan said. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t know how, but he\u2019s sure it is some trickery of Merlin\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s it,\u201d Hounslow said. \u201cEverybody out. It\u2019s now past midnight and I\u2019ve had enough of this. We\u2019re going to transfer this nutcase to the Hancock Sanitarium. Let them decide what to do with him.\u201d With that said, he marched out of the room.<\/p>\n

Dr. McConnell looked at Malcolm apologetically. \u201cWhat else can I do with him?\u201d<\/p>\n

Malcolm didn\u2019t know. \u201cI wish I could take him back to my cottage.\u201d<\/p>\n

The stranger spoke again and Alan translated, \u201cAnswer me! Am I to be ransomed or is this a dream?\u201d<\/p>\n

Malcolm spoke as soothingly as he could. \u201cTell him that we are not his captors and, if it\u2019ll help, to consider this a bizarre dream.\u201d As an afterthought, he added, \u201cAlso ask him if he\u2019ll give us his word as King not to try to escape tonight. Otherwise, the doctor will have to strap his arms again.\u201d<\/p>\n

The stranger gave his word.<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1093","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1093"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1093"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1093\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1107,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1093\/revisions\/1107"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1093"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1093"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1093"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}