“You were the one who hired murderers,” Katherine said scornfully. “How many people have you had killed?”
“A king must show strength,” Richard pleaded. “I know it must seem strange to a heavenly being like yourself, but that’s how these things are done on earth.”
“But to want to kill boys,” Katherine said. “Boys. Innocent children.”
Tears began streaming down Richard’s face.
“If I could, I would atone for that,” he said. “I know that is why my son died—a child for a child, a son for a son. That is no more than I deserved, but much worse than my son deserved. And yet … and yet …” He raised his tearstained face toward Katherine, toward heaven. “I swear to you, upon my dead son’s soul, if my nephew Edward could be resurrected, I would put the crown upon his head myself. I would give everything back.”
Jonah tugged on his sister’s arm.
“Katherine!” he whispered. “We’re not trying to get the Crown back for Chip. We’re trying to get him out of here!”
“I know!” Katherine whispered. “But—just look at that face!”
Richard’s countenance was twisted now, drowning in anguish and grief and guilt.
“Oh, please,” he cried. “Pray do not fall silent now!”
“Uh,” Jonah said. “Uh … I’m sure, if you are sincere, there is a way for your sins to be forgiven.”
“And what is that way?” Richard asked eagerly. “Tell me!”
Jonah tried to think about what he’d heard in church. Then he tried to think about whether what he’d heard in church would be the right thing to say in 1485, or if it’d ruin time forever. Was this maybe why “theological arguments” was one of the choices on the Elucidator? Was this maybe why they should have begged to bring the Elucidator with them, no matter what?
“We can’t tell you everything,” Katherine finally said. “Some things you have to figure out for yourself.”
Richard nodded slowly.
“I see,” he whispered. “I will think. I will pray. I am sincere. …”
Jonah pulled Katherine away. He noticed for the first time that the flap of the tent was pulled back, open to the outdoors.
“This way,” he whispered in his sister’s ear.
They wove their way out the door, past the king’s guards, past knights and soldiers sleeping on the ground. And then, under a bright, starry sky, Jonah collapsed against the thick trunk of a widespread tree.
Katherine collapsed at his feet.
“Oh. My. Gosh,” she moaned.
Jonah peered down at her.
“What did we just do?” he asked.
THIRTY
“Maybe it doesn’t matter,” Katherine said.
Jonah frowned at his sister.
“Katherine, I think, from what JB said, Richard’s probably going to die tomorrow. What if we just changed whether or not he goes to heaven?”
“Well, what if we did?” Katherine asked fiercely, glaring up at him. “Wouldn’t it be a good thing if Richard got to see his wife and son again?”
Jonah didn’t answer. He tilted his head back, leaning it against the tree trunk so he could stare up at the stars. He thought about saying, But maybe that’s not what is supposed to happen. Maybe that’s not what happened the first time around. But that seemed heartless, almost, much too cruel. And what did he know? He wasn’t used to worrying about who was going to get into heaven and who wasn’t. At his church back home there was a lot more talk about who was going to collect for the food pantry, who was going to volunteer to help out with games at Bible School.
“What if Richard does something different tomorrow before he dies?” Jonah finally said. “What if he acts so differently, because of talking to us, that he doesn’t die at all?”
“You want me to feel bad for trying to help?” Katherine demanded. “What were we supposed to do—just let him keep crying?”
Jonah looked back down at his sister. The moonlight shone through her. For the first time in his life Jonah could see how she could be mistaken for an angel.
Jonah swallowed hard.
“What if what we said changes things so much that we can’t rescue Chip and Alex?” he asked.
“JB would have yanked us out of time,” Katherine said confidently. “He wouldn’t have let us talk to Richard if it was going to ruin everything. Remember? All the projections show us saving Chip and Alex.”
Jonah decided not to remind her what else JB had said: that sometimes the projections were wrong.
Katherine rolled over.
“Hey, what’s this?” she muttered, feeling around on the ground. She scooped something up, holding it toward the dim moonlight. “Look—pears! This is a pear tree!”
“Food!” Jonah said, remembering his empty stomach.
It wasn’t pizza, but at least it was something to eat. He began pulling down pears from the lowest branches.
“See, this could change time too,” Katherine said as they sat together chewing on the fruit, which was a little hard but still good. “What if this seed right here was supposed to drop to the ground right over there and then grow up to be a huge tree? And then someone built a road that curved, to go around the tree? And then, five hundred years from now, someone important misses the curve and crashes into the tree and dies? Only, none of that will happen now because I’m dropping the seed … right … here.” She made a dramatic show of lifting the seed high, then releasing it and letting it fall into the grass. “Or what if it’s the change that leads to people dying? What if the tree grows here, and here’s where the road curves, and then—”
“Katherine?” Jonah said. “Quit talking about people dying.”
He didn’t want to tell her yet, but he could see a thin line of pink on the western horizon. It was almost dawn, almost time for the battle. Their tree—and Richard’s tent—was on a bit of a hill, so as the sky brightened, he could see the whole landscape laid out before him. Were those banners off in the distance, announcing an army’s approach? That twang he just heard—was that the first bow sending the first arrow arcing through the sky?