12. New Beginnings
Sharing TWTW with test readers has been an amazingly rewarding experience. Each reader brings a unique perspective from which I have been provided a plethora of constructive suggestions of ways to improve the book.
My first round of test readers pointed out that Matilda’s reactions to adversity were over the top, unbelievable for someone with her training. I made several significant changes as a result and recent feedback hasn’t focussed on Matilda quite so much.
Before posting the story online, I had shared the story with two rounds of test readers for a total of 19 that had copies of the book. The online copies have reached a much larger audience, with over 8000 views on the chapters at some stages (I’m sure a bunch of these are bots or maybe multiple views from a single person but it’s still a couple of orders of magnitude more!).
A key piece of feedback during this latest edition has been that the Institute would be stupid to send a woman back to medieval England by herself. This key criticism occurs so early in the book and breaks people’s immersion so I felt it was necessary to address the issue and have rewritten the opening chapters with a fix that still allows for my story about a lone female protagonist.
I would love to hear people’s thoughts about the changes, either here, on Reddit or Royal Road. My audience is having an active role in shaping the book that eventually makes it to bookshelves so please let me know what you think (about this or any other aspects of the book!).
I hope you enjoy the new start!
Chapter One
10 April 2037
“This is it! Today we’ll make history. By remaking it!”
The control room burst into a flurry of crisp white lab coats and military uniforms as Institute scientists enthusiastically broke from the huddle around their dear leader and rushed to finish preparations for their historic undertaking. The air was electric, buzzing with the business‑like babble of engineers and the hum of charging capacitors.
It was all too much for David, a simple history teacher in a sea of brilliant technical minds. He extracted himself from the fray and slunk into the comfort of the background.
He was drawn to the yellow-tinted window at the front of the control room and stared down into the Time Machine’s enormous spherical cavern, watching as a crane lowered a large steel ball into position.
The final precious piece.
A pair of David’s students sat cramped within the reinforced pod. Harry and Matilda. Teaching them had been the highlight of David’s career and each was wise beyond their twenty-two years. They were the bravest people David had ever met, for they were about to leave. Forever.
They were Chronomad One and Two. Humanity’s first time-travellers.
History’s greatest scientific achievement – a technologically plausible theory of time travel – had been discovered in the ashes of its most devastating calamity.
The Long Day.
Memories of the carnage flashed through David’s mind. Brilliantly colourful auroras streaming across the sky. Blank phone screens. Empty plates. Long forgotten illnesses. Violent gangs roaming the suddenly lawless land. The death toll was catastrophic, easily orders of magnitude greater than any famine or plague.
But a decade later, civilisation was mostly restored. And if his students’ journey to the past succeeded, some parallel version of humanity would never need to experience its greatest tragedy.
David recognised a distinct voice amongst the control room chaos and turned to watch his childhood friend, the most brilliant physicist of the age, darting around to confirm that everything remained in place. The Institute’s tireless leader caught David’s gaze and angled towards the yellow window.
“The capacitors are almost charged and the vacuum is nearly ready,” Sam updated upon arrival. “Let’s see if this was all worth it.”
“You’re sure you got your calculations right?” David jibed.
Sam elbowed David in the ribs. “Of course they’re correct! The military wouldn’t fund all this if everything wasn’t up to scratch. I just wish they’d given us a little more time. Ironic really. But for the real question, are you certain these two are the right ones for my inaugural Drop?”
Sam’s playful riposte hit a nerve. David had grappled with the question for years.
Matilda and Harry were just one team from an entire cohort of budding time travellers. Chronomads as Sam had taken to calling them.
As headmaster of the Institute for Temporal Relocation, David had identified fertile periods of history – times of social or scientific growth that preceded great upheaval – and trained his students in everything they might need to journey back to their allocated period. Science and medicine. Economics and politics. Even ancient languages and music.
The Chronomads became Jacks and Jills of all trades and each was tasked with imparting their knowledge on the past to kickstart an early Renaissance in their new timeline. With technological understanding growing exponentially, the early introduction of modern scientific concepts meant that a future civilisation could be much better equipped when the Long Day’s solar storm inevitably struck.
Chronomads were initially planned to be sent into the past alone as the fledgling wormhole technology meant space was the key limitation for each mission. However, by limiting their possessions and reducing safety margins, David had eventually succeeded in postponing the departures until two-person teams could be sent.
The Institute’s military sponsors hadn’t been happy with the delay – some unnamed bogeyman state was perpetually ‘just about to catch up’ – but they begrudgingly agreed when David pointed out that pairs of Chronomads would provide redundancy and greatly increase the chance of success.
The Chronomad candidates were hastily reorganised into pairs that best matched in period and region. Matilda and Harry established an amicable partnership and appeared to have avoided the…romantic entanglements that had plagued other pairs. But while Harry remained the Chronomad program’s posterchild, equal parts charismatic and knowledgeable, Matilda’s brilliance had paled in comparison and she wilted in his shadow.
Even so, they were David’s leading pair and the Institute scientists had lobbied for Matilda and Harry to be Chronomads One and Two, arguing that the relative spatial and temporal proximity of their planned destination – medieval England – would be the simplest to tune with their fledgling Time Machine.
The machine was still in development and could only open a small portal. For a split second. Just long enough to send Matilda and Harry back to the past. And without another enormous Time Machine and its accompanying nuclear reactor waiting for them in the past, there could be no contact when the portal close. Return was impossible.
David had performed the ethical gymnastics required to justify exiling someone from existence but still had his reservations. He had campaigned to postpone again, until Sam’s wormhole technology matured enough to send larger teams to the same location, but a Headmaster’s authority wasn’t enough. His concerns had been overruled and the scientists got their way.
“They’ll do just fine,” David eventually replied to Sam, also reassuring himself. “Harry’s my most accomplished student and they’ve both beaten all of our tests. Matilda’s brilliant, in her own way. Provided she’s got her textbook.”
Sam shrugged. “Give me nuts and bolts any day. There’s a right and wrong answer with this technical stuff. It’s black and white. There are just too many shades of grey when you throw in the human element. It’s impossible to predict. You can keep that.”
The control room’s productive atmosphere shattered as the door burst open and the Institute’s flamboyant spokesman entered, inanely nattering away. Harry’s gruff father and Matilda’s distraught family trailed behind him, fresh from their final farewell. Matilda’s mother clasped her young son’s hand, her eyes red and puffy.
“This man is an utter idiot,” David hissed to Sam as he left to intercept the spokesman. “No tact at all. These people are about to lose their children!”
David marched over to the families and gave a consoling smile. “Welcome, everyone. I trust that Harry and Matilda appreciated your company as they loaded the pod?”
Harry’s father grunted and Matilda’s mother wiped her eyes. David had longed to say his own final farewell but respected the need for privacy in those precious final minutes.
He brusquely dismissed the spokesman, noting the families’ visible relief as the man left to prepare for the post‑Drop press conference.
An engineer announced that the capacitors were fully charged.
Not long now.
David withdrew an analogue radio from his pocket, a rare piece of technology since the Long Day. “We’ve got enough time for one final farewell.”
Phone conversations always felt impersonal, never as good as the real thing, but Matilda’s mother beamed with unbridled excitement as David switched on the radio.
“Hello? Are you there? It’s David. Can you hear us?”
The line went to static before the first distorted words crackled through the speaker.
“David?” came Matilda’s distorted voice. “Can you hear me?”
“We sure can,” David replied with a grin as Matilda’s family lit up with joy. “I’ve got your families here and they’d love to speak with you both. Who wants to go first?”
There was a brief silence before Harry’s voice chimed. “This isn’t really a time for ladies first, is it? Dad and I should go first so Til can have the last goodbye.”
“So chivalrous,” Matilda said with a choked laugh. “Looks like you’re ready for medieval life. Sounds good.”
Harry’s father took the radio from David and slouched over to a private corner, leaving Matilda’s family looking forlorn.
Hoping to provide a distraction, David crouched to the level of Matilda’s younger brother.
“Hi Richie. Have they shown you how this all works?”
The boy nodded.
“Tell me,” David nudged, gesturing at the giant machine.
The boy led David to the viewing pane and pointed out the Time Machine’s key features, leaving Matilda’s parents to their mournful embrace.
“Tilly’s going back to help the King,” Richie said matter-of-factly, “to teach him medicine. And science. Those lasers in the walls will make a door to the past, right there in the middle. But after it closes, it can’t open again.”
Richie continued, impressing David with the level of technical detail he understood about the process. Only eight or nine, he was well advanced for his age. Just like his sister.
“And that ball just above the centre is…where Tilly is,” Richie said finally with an involuntary sob.
David gave the boy’s shoulder a consoling pat and returned him to his mother.
Harry was just finishing up. “…love you Faj.”
“Love you too son. I never said it enough. Your mum was always better at that, bless her. You take care now.”
Harry’s father handed the radio to David and briskly left the room.
Making a mental note to send someone to collect him before the Drop, David handed the radio to Matilda’s mother and showed her how to use the archaic device.
“Tilly? Tilly? How are you doing in there? How are you feeling?”
Static.
“I’m alright Mum. I didn’t know if David’s surprise would work.”
Matilda’s mother fought to hold back tears and savoured her daughter’s final words.
Sensing her mother’s mood, Matilda continued. “It’s so surreal. I’m torn between excitement at doing the thing we’ve worked so hard for and the impossible sadness of saying goodbye to all of you. It feels like only yesterday that I was bouncing around home in my Institute uniform, begging to leave for the new school.”
Matilda’s mother nodded furiously but silently broke down and handed the receiver to her husband.
“Always the excited one, Til. I’ve never seen a twelve‑year‑old so eager for homework. Channel that enthusiasm when you reach the other side. You’ve put in a decade of hard work and we’re all so proud. Words can’t describe how much we’ll all miss you but it’s reassuring to know you’ll be out there saving the world. I’m still hoping your colleagues might work some of their sciencey magic to find you again.”
Matilda started to reply but gave a sob, followed by a long static. David sometimes forgot, with all Matilda’s brilliance, that she was still just a young girl forced to say farewell to her family forever.
“Thanks Dad,” she eventually croaked. “I love you all so much! And hey, the Institute has some really clever people so who knows? Perhaps Richie could figure it out, he’s smarter than me by far.”
Little Richie’s chest swelled at his sister’s words and he snatched the radio from his father. “I’ll do it for you Tilly! Maybe if I can get the photoms to travel faster..?”
Static, as Richie dropped the receiver in his excitement.
Matilda’s strained laugh carried through the radio. “Faster photons would definitely do it. We’ll be talking again in no time.”
Short static.
“Hey Richie?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you promise to look after Mum and Dad for me? You’re the only fun one still at home so make sure they don’t get too boring. And try to eat all your vegetables. But mostly just look after Mum and Dad.”
“I promise Tilly,” Richie replied solemnly. “Even the mushrooms.”
An engineer at the back of the room announced that ideal vacuum had been achieved. It was time.
“Sorry,” David interjected as gently as possible. “We need to start the final stage of the process. Can you please say your goodbyes?”
David stepped away to give the family some semblance of privacy for their final moments, holding back until Sam shot a particularly stern look. He moved in to take the receiver offered by Matilda’s grateful but distraught father.
“Hey, Matilda? Harry? It’s David.”
“Hi David,” they replied in unison, understandably flat.
“I know you’re both tired of hearing it but we really are so proud of you. You’re doing something truly amazing today. You’ll be in every history book and spoken of in every household. I promise.”
“I’ll totally hold you to that,” Matilda replied sarcastically, prompting an amused scoff from Harry.
Static.
“You both go and change the world,” David said. “We’ll all be thinking of you.”
Static.
“David?” Matilda added. “I know it’s not your job. But. Could you please look after my family for me? You know, just check in on them every now and then?”
David smiled. “That was always a given Matilda. You have my word.”
“Thanks, so much,” Matilda choked. “For everything. You’ve been so much more than a teacher. For all of us.”
“It’s been an honour.” David paused. “Matilda, we really have to say goodbye now. The vein on Sam’s head is about to burst.”
“Ok. Thanks again David.”
“Goodbye Matilda. Good luck.”
There was a final click as David turned off the radio. He gave the all clear but Sam was already barking orders. There was a final flurry of activity and then, all of a sudden, the room was silent. Tense.
David heard his heartbeat in his ears.
An engineer started the countdown. “Portal in 30.”
David ran outside to collect Harry’s father before hurrying back towards the yellow‑tinted viewing pane.
“Ten.”
A red light began to flash in the control room.
“Nine.”
Matilda’s mother wept silently into her husband’s shoulder.
“Eight.”
The cavern lights went out. A single spotlight illuminated the Chronomads’ pod.
“Seven.”
Sam joined David by the window.
“Six.”
David looked out at the pod, hoping that Matilda and Harry could see them all watching.
“Five.”
A photographer’s camera let off a flash, recording the historic moment.
“Four.”
Richie’s head bumped against the glass.
“Three.”
David’s stomach churned.
“Two. Avert gaze!”
Everyone looked away from the centre of the chamber.
“One.”
The room froze.
Suddenly, there was a brilliant flash of light.
David managed to look back just in time to glimpse a small sphere of bright blue sky in the centre of the cavern and the shiny pod falling into it. The sphere of sunlight vanished, leaving the Time Machine a dark and empty shell once more.
It worked!
David was struck by a conflicting mix of elation and loss.
The tense silence of the control room evaporated and there was a frenzy of activity as scientists and engineers ran their various diagnostics. Machines emitted alarms and scientists yelled out numbers.
Matilda’s poor family crouched by the window in a tight huddle. An island of grief, weeping at the loss of their child and sister. Harry’s father was already gone.
The cries of the scientists continued.
“O2 and atmosphere normal.”
“Capacitor temperature well within safe margins.”
“Unexpected debris on the cavern floor!”
“Wormhole stability greater than anticipated.”
And then Sam called out.
“Lat-long confirmed! Quantock forest. Somerset, England. Elevation two hundred and twenty-four meters.”
There was a cheer from the control room.
Silence descended again before another scientist bellowed out the information they were all waiting for.
“Pulsar triangulation complete. Date confirmed. September 24, 1123.”
Chapter Two
24 September 1123
“Goodbye Matilda. Good luck.”
Matilda switched off the radio as the finality of David’s words echoed around the pod. Ever the gentleman, Harry gave a consoling smile and patted her knee. He looked ridiculous with his tall frame crammed into their tiny spherical pod, his head at an awkward angle against one of the pod’s curved struts. Wiping away tears, Matilda forced a return smile and tightened her seat’s harness before staring through the pod’s porthole to savour the view of her family’s silhouettes. One last time.
A light started to flash in the distant control room, signalling their imminent departure. Already thundering, Matilda’s heart leapt into overdrive. Her sweaty palms clutched the radio to her chest. Stilling herself, she took a deep breath and waited.
Suddenly, there was a brilliant flash of light.
And then they were falling.
There was a strange feeling of being squeezed all over and a slight change in trajectory as the pod dropped through the wormhole but within several rapid heartbeats the dark interior of the time machine swapped to a sunny blue sky. Matilda looked through the porthole and glimpsed a pristine vista of golden fields and verdant mountains.
She jolted as the pod’s automatic parachute deployed.
An instant later, Matilda watched in dismay as it tangled up and flailed uselessly behind the pod.
Harry looked out the porthole then caught Matilda’s eye with a panicked look. “Too fast! Come on secondary!”
The earth loomed closer as the pod continued to plummet but it finally lurched once more as the backup parachute took hold. The floor surged upwards as the pod finally started to slow.
Matilda’s stomach had only just settled back into place when the crashes started, small at first but quickly growing in intensity as the pod pinballed through the branches of a large tree. The Chronomads and their carefully packed belongings were flung around within the cramped metallic ball. Matilda heard something snap.
The pod glanced off the tree’s roots with a final jarring impact, sending a searing flash of pain from Matilda’s left ankle. The pod rolled a short distance down a hill before coming to a surprisingly gentle stop. Matilda felt jostled and disoriented, hanging upside down at an awkward angle. Even through the pain of her ankle, the strange feeling of compression from the wormhole lingered.
Matilda clutched at her boot but took a moment to just hang in place in sheer disbelief as her heart-rate finally settled.
“We did it Harry! We did it!”
Harry didn’t reply. He never would again.
Unblinking eyes stared up at Matilda from a head bent at an impossible angle.
A wave of icy terror washed over Matilda and settled in the pit of her stomach.
“Harry!?” Matilda screeched.
She clawed at her harness and pried her way free, dropping amongst their jumbled belongings and rushing towards her partner.
Harry’s unfocussed eyes stared unmoving up at the roof of the pod. She checked his pulse. There was no sign of life.
“No,” Matilda muttered in disbelief. “No way!”
She clambered over to the pod door, inconveniently angled towards the ground, and wrestled it open.
Matilda emerged from the pod with all the grace of a new-born bird, a tangle of long limbs and curly red hair. She crawled awkwardly from the obstructed opening and out into Twelfth Century England, scrambling on her stomach through the mess of parachute cords.
Not wasting a second, she fought the pod into a more workable position before diving inside to clear space around Harry. Ignoring the flashes of pain from her ankle, Matilda tossed their precious possessions out onto the leafy forest floor.
When the pod was mostly empty, she leapt back inside and performed a proper medical examination.
C vertebrae fracture, probable severed phrenic nerve. He was gone.
Matilda sobbed as she closed his lifeless eyes. A thought struck her a heartbeat later.
She was alone.
A fresh wave of terror hit and Matilda threw up.
She was alone. Stuck in the past with no way to get back.
Matilda tried to gather herself but hopelessness eroded her resolve. Harry and Matilda had trained together for years, like partners in a buddy cop movie. Him the charming lead, her the scrappy problem solver. They’d prepared for scenarios where they got separated or hurt. Even situations where one of them died.
But never so soon.
Matilda allowed herself a moment to grieve, crying into Harry’s chest.
It wasn’t fair. He never got to experience the world they’d fought so hard to visit. He didn’t even get to leave the pod.
The world outside the pod didn’t exist. Inside, with Harry, Matilda was safe. She lay with her dead partner in mournful silence, curled up amongst their possessions until her universe seemed to stop spinning. One final farewell embrace.
Wiping her eyes, Matilda backed out of the pod and, as gently as possible, began to extract Harry’s limp corpse. His muscular frame was heavy, easily double her weight. Each heave felt disrespectful. Excessively rough.
Harry’s head lulled freely as Matilda lay him down upon a bed of decaying leaves. She stepped back and looked down at his peaceful form, almost expecting him to wake up, rub his eyes and crack some clever joke.
Matilda felt a tide of hopelessness rising once again so quickly set about keeping busy. In a daze, she set off in search for the shovel amongst the scattered possessions. But with her first solid step, a jolt of pain flared up from her busted ankle.
Matilda screamed out in frustration and hobbled away. From Harry’s lifeless body. From the pod. From everything.
The dense forest quickly obscured the landing site and Matilda dropped to the ground. Her mind raced with implications and anxieties but it was sheer pain that eventually cut through her mental turmoil. With difficulty, she carefully removed her boot and examined the ankle with an expert eye. It didn’t appear to be broken but was definitely sprained.
Her loud expletive prompted several nearby birds to flee from their perches.
A solitary tear of pain and frustration rolled down Matilda’s cheek as she calculated the consequences.
Harry was gone, there was nothing she could do to change that. Her ankle was injured. But their mission could still succeed.
She’d worked with the Institute planners to craft a meticulous schedule for the journey to see King Henry in London and had included a little extra time for potential setbacks. But Matilda couldn’t travel to London with a busted ankle. It would be dangerous embarking out into the strange new world without the most basic means of escape. Without her partner. Yet the time needed for recovery would consume her entire buffer.
Matilda’s mind was lost amid a fog of despair and she was absentmindedly brushing herself off when suddenly, she heard it.
Nothing. Absolute silence. Complete stillness.
There had always been some form of commotion in Matilda’s busy life. Her mother crashing around the kitchen, a roommate snoring, engineers arguing or teachers droning. Construction works on the T-Mach – Sam’s precious Time Machine.
But now there was just silence.
Matilda strained her ears and slowly started to make out the sounds of birds and other creatures rustling in the undergrowth. The forest teemed with life.
Despite everything, Matilda took in a deep breath of the fresh forest air and soaked in the unspoilt Twelfth Century landscape around her. Undulating hills sloped down to a riverbed and the trees were yellowing in the autumn sun, a tapestry of yellows, reds and greens. Dappled morning sunlight filtered through the canopy and a slight breeze made the scene shimmer.
It was beautiful.
Matilda wiped her eyes and set her resolve. The Institute’s psychologists had warned that the transition would be the most emotionally charged period of her journey – little had they known – but they’d prepared her for it.
Time to save the world…
The Chronomad picked herself up and hobbled back towards the pod. She needed a shovel.
Coming up to her waist, the giant metallic sphere was much easier to move once mostly empty. A scent of bile emanated from within.
Matilda reached inside and removed the final contents, carefully inspecting each item before arraying them on the forest floor for a final inventory. Her ankle flared with each step but she soldiered on, carefully retrieving the belongings she had tossed outside and adding them to the collection.
Harry’s motionless frame loomed in the corner of her vision but the purposeful task calmed her mind.
When she was finished, Matilda’s entire eclectic collection of worldly possessions was sprawled out before her. The last remnants of a now-lost world.
There was a jumble of cooking equipment, a tent, a comprehensive first aid kit, the radio, her bow and some arrows. The shovel. A change of clothes, a flint, a box of plant seeds, a hatchet. A pair of magnets, Harry’s spare knife and torch, a telescope, some warm blankets, a small pack of rations, winter cloaks and a case of bottled chemicals. A cracked bottle of acetone leaked an acrid chemical scent but Matilda was relieved to find that the spill was mostly contained within the case and fortunately hadn’t mingled with any of the more reactive reagents.
Most prized of all was Matilda’s satchel, a simple leather bag stuffed with her most valuable items. Precious metals and spices, but also a handful of sentimental personal objects. A small bottle of champagne from David. One of Richie’s poorly painted toy soldiers. Her grandmother’s engagement ring and a family photo.
It also contained her most priceless possession, a well-worn copy of the Institute’s standard‑issue Chronomad textbook. Rebound with her own embossed leather cover and filled with a decade of notes and annotations, Matilda called it her bible. The Chronomads had been required to learn its contents by heart but its physical presence evoked a strong feeling of safety. It was rarely out of her sight.
Matilda had worked with the Institute planners for months to plan and procure everything she and Harry might need for their mission and yet she remained baffled at how much could fit within the compact metallic sphere.
Notably absent among their possessions was a firearm. The Institute planners had wanted them to bring one for self-defence but Harry had strongly declined, insisting that he and Matilda hoped to create a timeline that skipped combustible technologies wherever possible. It was only after Harry highlighted the difficulties of producing additional ammunition and Matilda demonstrated her proficiency with a bow that their Institute supervisors had finally surrendered.
Matilda smiled at the memory. David had often joked about what a wilful young woman she had grown to be, so different to the meek twelve-year-old who had arrived at the Institute a decade earlier. He’d asked, only semi‑rhetorically, where his teachings had gone wrong.
Matilda also had the clothes on her back. Each piece had been expertly crafted, from the warm fur‑lined cloak down to her wonderfully supple calf-length leather boots. Amidst Japanese kimonos and Roman tunics, the Institute’s seamstress had tried her best to match Matilda’s descriptions of Twelfth Century historical fashions. Matilda thought the high‑quality materials would broadcast her wealth, something she hoped to use to her advantage when she reached London, but she worried that it could attract unwanted attention while journeying across the countryside.
Her fancy clothes hid an additional treasure, one that even the King would lust after. The Institute’s final parting gift was a vest of titanium chainmail, 3D printed to her exact dimensions using a remarkably fine mesh. Sam promised that it was sufficiently strong to stop an arrow while still remaining light enough to wear every day. It was an extra security in an unfamiliar world and Matilda had no intention of ever taking it off.
The thought jerked her back to the present and reminded her of the morbid task yet to be done.
Delicately shuffling amongst her possessions, Matilda collected the small shovel and pondered where she should bury her companion. The enormous oak that had broken their fall was majestic but burying Harry beneath the tree that killed him would be a cruel irony.
Matilda instead spied a thicket of blackberries nestled amongst a distinctive outcrop of mossy rocks. She hobbled over to it, found an appropriate gravesite and sunk her shovel into the decaying forest floor.
Matilda worked tirelessly, focussed solely upon the need to create a suitable resting place for Harry. Her ankle throbbed and sweat dripped from her brow despite the frigid autumn morning. Each thrust of her shovel was an act of prayer for the partner she had lost. Her companion and confidant. Never anything more.
Hours later, the sun started to fall in the clear afternoon sky but Matilda pushed on through rocks and roots, refusing to stop until she had carved out a hole almost as deep as she was high. She hauled herself from the earthy trench and solemnly approached Harry’s corpse.
The body had its own strange gravity, bending the dappled light of the landing site such that it was the only object in focus. Matilda savoured the view of Harry’s peaceful form one last time. Then, with a sigh, she bent down to move him.
Matilda dragged the body as reverently as possible, lowering it down the narrow steps she had carved into the grave. She held back tears as she arranged the corpse into its final resting pose. Even amongst the bare earth, Harry looked as mighty as ever. Externally unscathed.
A fog of grief hung over Matilda as she clambered back up to the landing site to gather several items to adorn Harry’s burial site. She placed the radio in his hands and, in lieu of a coffin, used his winter cloak as a shroud. Without electricity, the radio was practically useless for her mission but would forever show that Harry was not of this time. That he’d had things to say and people to talk to.
Matilda climbed back out and looked down into her partner’s grave.
“You didn’t deserve this,” she choked. “You were always the best of us. Stronger, more diplomatic. But I won’t fail you. I will make our sacrifices worth it. Our mission will succeed. I promise.”
Matilda couldn’t watch as she threw the first shovels of soil into the grave but she sang Harry’s favourite song as she worked. The hole gradually filled up, each shovelful smothering the reality of Harry’s demise.
Matilda’s arms burned and sweat rolled down her back, making her tunic cling to her chainmail. The grave was already halfway filled when she recalled Harry’s own armoured vest, eliciting another loud profanity from Matilda. The chainmail would be worth a fortune but she lacked both the physical and mental energy required to exhume her partner.
Images flashed through her mind. Carefully digging to avoid damaging his corpse. Delicately scraping the soil from his shroud before revealing a face already stiff with rigor mortis. Staring into his closed eyes as she undressed him. Pulling the mail over his broken neck.
It was all too much.
After some final soul-searching, Matilda elected to leave the chainmail with Harry. Being made of titanium, the vest was unlikely to rust so could always be extracted later if truly needed. The luxury made for a burial truly worthy of a king.
Exactly as he deserved.
Matilda resumed her toil until only a neat mound of dirt remained to give any indication of Harry’s final resting place. Matilda vowed to return to erect a headstone but with her morbid task complete, Matilda forced her mind onto her next task – finding out precisely when and where she had landed.
She couldn’t calculate the precise date until the stars emerged but knew that keeping busy would stop her mind from dwelling on the enormity of the past hours.
She looked back at the landing site and considered the safety of her belongings but laughed at the absurdity. The surrounding forest was pristine, entirely untouched by humans. Excluding the grave, the giant metal sphere and the broken branches hanging from a nearby tree, of course. Matilda judged that she was probably far from the nearest settlement and decided it was safe to leave her belongings scattered across the forest floor. It was unlikely that anyone would stumble across them in the short time she was gone and forest critters would find them an unsatisfying snack.
Away from the mournful landing site, Matilda marvelled at the sheer beauty of the forest and its lack of human contact as she struggled towards the peak of a nearby hill. Despite being almost a thousand years younger, this forest felt much older than those she’d explored during her adolescence. Thick gnarled trees stood where they had for centuries. By Matilda’s time, anything that ancient had been harvested for timber or firewood.
A particularly large oak awaited Matilda at the crest of the hill. It looked perfect for climbing but her ankle wouldn’t allow it. Still, the hill provided a decent vantage point for inspecting the surrounding landscape and Matilda circled the tree in awe. She could see for miles and marvelled at the pristine Somerset landscape that stretched out in all directions. The only indications of human occupation were a patchwork of cultivated fields and wispy pillars of smoke rising from scattered villages.
The T-Mach and its giant reactor buildings were conspicuously absent as she scanned the landscape, providing the clearest evidence that she had actually travelled back in time. Matilda’s father had been a doctor at the Hinkley nuclear reactor and Matilda had grown up nearby, allowing her to learn more about the region and its history than even her Institute teachers.
Matilda was relieved to recognise several landmarks from her own time: mountains, rivers and even a hint of coastline off in the distance. When she’d found her bearings, even the pillars of smoke corresponded with familiar villages.
Matilda suddenly longed to get moving. She needed somewhere more permanent to store her pod and bulkier belongings. The Institute had recommended burying them, hence the shovel, but Matilda’s family had explored a nearby cave during hikes back in the future which could double as a base camp for the first evenings of her new life. She plotted a mental course from the landing site and hobbled downhill to the pod, collecting wildflowers for Harry as she went.
After laying the flowers upon Harry’s grave, Matilda quickly assessed which belongings she could carry to her new camp before neatly stacking the rest back into the sphere. She struggled to conceal the giant metal pod with forest debris but, realising the futility of the activity, instead vowed to collect her remaining belongings when she returned to make Harry’s headstone.
Matilda fashioned herself a makeshift crutch and set off towards the cave, limping along animal trails and river banks while juggling the various items required to set up her initial camp. Grief prickled at the back of her mind as she walked yet she still managed to appreciate the simple joys of dipping her feet into a crystal-clear stream or stopping to watch a herd of deer grazing in a glade.
Familiar landmarks occasionally came into view, though the differences from her own time were jarring. The colony of ancient trees was boundless, rock formations showed reduced signs of weathering and wildlife was much more abundant. Matilda didn’t relish the idea of hunting her own food with a damaged ankle but the forest inhabitants seemed much more appetising than the basic rations the Institute had provided for her initial nights in the past.
The sun had already started to set when Matilda finally arrived at the entrance to a familiar gully. She stared into the depression in the landscape and saw the cave opening at its end, overgrown with ivy but undoubtedly the same cave she’d once explored with Richie. Matilda gingerly hurried inside and dumped her belongings on the ground before hurrying to gather firewood while there was still light.
Upon returning, Matilda hastily kindled a small fire to boil water for one of her unappetising ration packs. Her stomach rumbled and she realised that she hadn’t eaten since being loaded into the pod.
Matilda felt another wave of overwhelming loss begin to rise but pushed the feelings down once more. She decided to enjoy the remaining sunlight, hoping it might make her nutritious gruel slightly more bearable. She collected her satchel, telescope and David’s champagne before exiting the cave and hobbling to the crest of a nearby hill where she seated herself among the roots of yet another ancient tree.
A glorious pink sky signalled the end of Matilda’s first day in the past and she devoured her food while the setting sun cast long shadows across the untouched landscape. She popped David’s champagne as the stars emerged and gave a toast.
“To Harry. My family. And a momentous day.”
She took a deep swig and savoured David’s liquid gift. Coming from a world where her every minute had been accounted for by others, Matilda appreciated the chance to finally enjoy things on her own time.
She got back to work when the sun had fully set, withdrawing her telescope and expertly measuring the position of several key stars. She performed familiar calculations in her notebook, working by the light of her hand-cranked torch. After some brief consultations with her bible, she drew a square around a date.
24 September 1123.
The Institute scientists had been confident that Matilda would arrive exactly when and where they had planned but she was relieved to verify it herself.
The date had been deliberately chosen to maximise the impact of Harry and Matilda’s journey. England had been on the verge of a renaissance when King Henry’s only heir died in a tragic shipping accident in 1120. The ensuing power struggle sparked a period of civil war known as The Anarchy, briefly teasing the possibility of female empowerment through the widespread backing of Empress Maud but ultimately extinguishing the flame of progress.
Matilda’s mission was clear. She had several weeks to journey to London and meet King Henry before he departed for a year of campaigning against rebels in Normandy. She would use her knowledge and limited equipment from the future to win his trust and join his campaign, allowing her to rub shoulders with royalty and senior clergy across Europe. This would maximise the number of people exposed to the Institute’s teachings, fuelling the budding renaissance and kickstarting society’s progress to save this timeline from the calamity that awaited their future.
The Long Day.
Matilda shuddered at the memory. She was only ten when she’d witnessed a star’s sheer power, marvelling with her parents as beautiful ribbons of light danced across the night sky. Her memories had faded but fragments of the aftermath lingered. Months without electricity. Missing favourite foods and television shows. Her father tending to an elderly neighbour, savagely beaten for protecting his backyard orchard.
At only twelve, Matilda had volunteered to help the Institute undo the stellar carnage, understanding even then that it would require great personal sacrifice. She’d never really been ready to leave home and her father’s parting words of encouragement had reminded her of what she’d lost. While she cherished her Institute friendships, they were never quite family.
Matilda was pensive as she lay at the base of the ancient tree staring up at the night sky. The Milky Way was a beautiful band of shimmering stars, unobscured by light pollution and more beautiful than she’d seen since the aftermath of the Long Day.
So beautiful. So powerful. So dangerous.
Matilda’s mission was clear and she knew what needed to be done. But her ankle throbbed, a painful reminder of her own fragility. It would need weeks to recover.
Matilda rankled at the need to stay put but a part of her breathed a sigh of relief. The final weeks of preparation for her journey had been a rollercoaster of stress, anticipation and loss. As her departure loomed, she had increasingly fretted at how much she still didn’t know. She worked to the very end, struggling to cram more into either her head or jotted in the margins of her bible. Only a week earlier, her frustrated Institute classmates had even resorted to hosting her a combined farewell and birthday celebration in the Institute library.
Matilda knew she was on the verge of burnout, even before Harry’s death. Taking time for her ankle to recover meant slightly less time to influence the King, but it also gave her time to grieve. Time to plan. The resulting mental clarity could prove valuable.
Her mind instantly leapt to planning crafts and activities to fill the time. But no, she needed to relax and unwind. To ease into her new life and mourn the one she’d left behind.
Convinced that her revised approach made sense, Matilda pushed back the niggling feelings of loss and loneliness once and for all. She placed down her tools and reclined against the tree, settling in to admire the starry night. A weight lifted from her shoulders, knowing as she swigged her champagne that she could just enjoy herself for the first time since childhood.
The knowledge made it easier to process the enormity of her achievements. In a single day she had gone from a scared young woman afraid to leave her family to the most educated person on the planet.
She was Chronomad One. The first time traveller.
(C) Jay Pelchen 2023. All rights reserved.