And the Rest Is History

I felt rather ashamed and didn’t know quite what to say. ‘Please thank them and say how much I appreciate it.’

Our rooms were lower down than the commander’s office. We had the same view out over the Thames, but being on a lower floor, we could see some rather pleasant public gardens between us and the river. Matthew and I stood at the window, watching people lying on the grass, chucking frisbees for their dogs, eating sandwiches and generally relaxing. I was surprised. I never really equate the Time Police with enjoyment. As I mentioned to Captain Ellis when he came to collect me.

‘I thought the Time Police would be more comfortable with minefields and razor wire.’

‘It’s our public side,’ he said. ‘When Commander Hay took over, as part of her “The Time Police are really nice people, honestly” policy, she commissioned the gardens and opened them to the public. It was meant to be a nice gesture. We’re encouraged to go down there occasionally, to eat our lunch and smile at the children.’

‘And do you?’

‘Good God, no. Nasty, sticky little things,’ he said, grinning at Matthew who grinned back. I sighed. He really did like men better than women. And he liked everyone better than me.



Two officers, one male, one female, came to sit with Matthew. They didn’t look much older than he was but, as I had to admit to myself, everyone was beginning to look young to me. They brought pizza and were armed with a box of goodies. I caught a glimpse of some sort of 3D jigsaw, some Harry Potter holos – both the classics and the new ones – toys full of flashing lights, and things that buzzed.

I thought he’d be thrilled and I would be able to slip away while he wasn’t looking, but it didn’t work like that. He looked at me over the box and I could see the questions in his eyes.

Normally, I’d make him speak, because it was important he communicated in words, not just grunts and gestures, but this wasn’t the time. I said, ‘Can you give us a minute, guys?’ and they tactfully went off to cut up the pizza.

I sat him down and said, ‘What’s the problem?’

He simply looked around us and then back at me.

Like every parent on the planet, I considered lying to him because that was the easy way out, and then had second thoughts. This might be an opportunity to prepare him for bad news.

I didn’t make the mistake of trying to take his hand or putting my arms around him, because he didn’t like that sort of thing. Instead I said, ‘We think Daddy might have hurt himself. We’re going to look for him.’

He nodded but still said nothing.

‘I’ve brought you here for these people to look after you while I’m gone.’

‘Auntie Lingoss?’

‘Is a little busy at the moment. You know we had a bit of an accident in Hawking and she’s working hard to fix it.’

He nodded.

‘I have to go for a minute now and talk to Captain Ellis and some other people. Will you be all right here with…’ I paused.

They looked up. ‘Trent and Parrish.’

‘With Uncle Trent and Auntie Parrish,’ I finished, which wiped the grins off their faces.

He stared at me for a moment, then nodded and began to rummage in the box of goodies.

I looked down at his dark hair, so like Leon’s, stood up and headed for the door.

Just as I was leaving, he said, ‘He’s not with the others.’

I said, ‘What did you say?’ but he was already head down in his box. He had forgotten me.



Ellis and I set off for the briefing.

Which could have gone better.

It started well. I sat with thirty or so other people while Captain Ellis outlined the situation and briefed us on conditions in Constantinople and what we were about to encounter there.

Acting on the assumption that they were as badly injured as anyone could be without actually being dead, there would be four medical teams, each of three people, supported by four teams of four security guards. With Captain Ellis and me, that made a total of thirty people. Which was a lot. But, as Ellis pointed out, this wasn’t a history-based assignment. This was a rescue mission.

I didn’t argue. This was their way, not ours. Go in heavy – do the job – get out again. When I thought about it, I didn’t have any problems with that at all.

We’d all go in their big hospital pod and I didn’t have any problems with that either.

‘We don’t know what sort of condition they’ll be in,’ said Ellis. ‘Or even whether they’re alive at all.’

No one looked at me.

‘Right then, people. Background. Constantinople in 1204 is a violent place. Everyone will be a threat to us. Invading crusaders are out for blood. Terror-stricken civilians will be desperate to escape and trampling anything in their path. There will be the elite troops, the Varangian Guard, fighting a rearguard action. There will be toppling buildings and trampling horses. A lot of the city will be on fire. We’ll be heavily armoured because on this occasion, historical accuracy is unimportant.’

Everyone looked at me. When did I get the reputation for being such a troublemaker? I’d barely been here ten minutes. For once, I agreed with them – historical accuracy was unimportant.

Unfortunately, that was as far as detente went. As usual, with the Time Police, things went tits-up fairly quickly.

Ellis had finished describing the conditions we could expect and was detailing the precautions to be taken. I had honestly intended to keep my head down and my mouth shut, but all I could hear was so much impatient, ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ from the officers around me. I didn’t think they were listening because this wasn’t something they wanted to hear. Their attitude was very much, ‘Can we stop talking and go and shoot someone now, please?’ Shifting in my seat, I could see there were very few women present. Always a sign of an unenlightened organisation.

Eventually, I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. Yes, I know but, honestly, this sea of testosterone was going to get us all killed. If Leon and the others were, by some miracle, still alive when we got there, I wasn’t going to let these idiots blow our chances of getting them out safely. I raised my hand.

‘Yes, Max?’

I did try. I tried, quietly and reasonably, to explain that shooting contemporaries, even in self-defence, would not be a good idea. I tried to explain about History. I might as well have tried to explain evolution to a creationist. I was using words they simply didn’t understand.

There was a certain amount of restless shifting in their seats and then someone said, ‘It’s going to be a slaughterhouse there. Are you saying we can’t even defend ourselves?’

‘It’s a key point in History,’ I said. ‘We have to be really careful.’

I know – I can’t believe I said that either. Two hours with the Time Police and my brain was already turning to yoghurt. I tried again. ‘It’s going to be tough enough without going in and deliberately asking for trouble.’

‘We’ve never had any trouble before.’

‘You were putting things right before. Righting wrongs. Repairing the timeline. As far as History is concerned, this will be just a bit of private enterprise. History isn’t interested in rescues and noble causes and the like, and if you start mowing people down right left and centre then it will fight back.’

‘That’s no concern of ours.’

‘It should be. There’ll be enough going on around us without having to take on History as well.’

‘Typical bloody St Mary’s. It’s a big boy’s world out there, sweetheart, and if you can’t hack it…’

‘Hey, it wasn’t St Mary’s stupidity that caused all this to blow up in the first place.’

‘It’s your bloody boyfriend we’re risking our lives for.’

‘My bloody husband kicked your arse and don’t you forget it.’