Charles was very wary of going back into the Maze that morning. After all, being landed in the middle of a major wartime operation was no small matter, and the effect still lay with him now. Even a crow scarer in the fields was enough to get him diving for the floor, and Sandra wondered if it had not unsettled him permanently.
So it took some courage to stand beside the woman as they prepared to go back to 1745 and visit the Reverend Fanshaw.
Once again there was the nauseating feeling of dizziness, followed by the fainting spell, but on opening their eyes, the couple found things had changed.
"Listen," said Sandra with a smile.
"What to?" asked Charles, on edge.
"That's just it! The sound of silence. There are no machines and no crowds of loud people. Your age is a lot different to this one Charlie. Now for the Reverend Fanshaw."
Sure enough, the man knew they were coming and waited outside the Maze door. He was pleased to see Sandra, who had to explain she had changed her name and was introduced to Charles.
"You will have to forgive him Master Fanshaw, for he knows nothing of our ways, and comes from a more ignorant age." She smiled at Charles to see if he took the joke and they all went into the house.
"Do you possess knowledge of time travel through any other time Master Charles?" Fanshaw looked at the boy as they sat at the dining table.
"Yes Sir, but the last time I travelled and saw this house, it was occupied by American soldiers." Charles looked around at the elaborate wall hangings.
"America, is that not but a colony?" Fanshaw looked at Sandra for help in understanding this matter.
"They were Sir, but now find themselves so powerful, they have come back to help the Motherland in the war." Sandra poured some wine and was pleased it tasted as good as she remembered it.
"Which war is this Mistress?" Fanshaw was clearly confused.
"A terrible war sir, between the forces of light and darkness itself. You might be interested to know, that Gremalgin has gone off to join them. Her sort of people. Although I managed to retrieve the Cleopatra ring. With a little help from Charles here." Sandra held up the ring for the Reverend to inspect.
"I thought we would never see that ring again. For it was given to your Sacred Mother, to hand down to you. Treasure it for it holds great Magic." The Reverend Fanshaw bent across the table to examine it.
"You speak of my Mother as if she is still alive Sir? Surely by our own rules, her time will have past out of mine?" Sandra wondered if the question would anger the man, as she knew he hated these time-travel puzzles.
"Not at all. For if you so wish, you may travel and speak to her. Although you may find the experience distressing, so think carefully."
"I have considered that sir, and I have to weigh my feeling against a greater good. For in our time we face a great threat. One of the Roundhead officers who took part in the sacking of Ampstwyll is a very important man in our age. He is evil and corrupt, although that is a character not out of place in such a time. But he is to do much harm against this village, with the building of a great road. We have to stop him."
"Sandra, I think going back to the Civil War is a great mistake." Charles placed his hand upon her's and wondered if he could make her change her mind. "Surely there is some other way, you could change the course of history, without confronting him?"
"Sadly my boy such is not the case. For you have to be there in that time to effect anything of consequence. Mistress Sarah, I have to gravely agree with you that such a journey has to be made. I will make the arrangements myself and prepare the ground."
With that, they retired. Charles spent the next few days finding out what the village of Amptswyll was really like two hundred years in the past. It was a lot scruffier than he had expected, but the people did not seem to mind. A lot of the cottages looked as if they would fall down in a strong wind, but people just patched them up and got on with life. He soon realised that it was only in his time, that these quaint rural scenes were dressed up like postcard images. Here they had to be functional and no one seemed to mind.
The farming techniques left a lot to be desired, but they only grew enough for themselves and paid no attention to the wasted land. In time Charles wondered if he might not be happier here in this time than back in his own, but had to face the fact that he did not belong here and Sandra had asked him to travel in order to do a job.
When they finally made the jump to 1645, the noise was the first thing which marked it as different. The sound of battle could be heard all around the village and Charles had flash-backs of the Normandy beach-head. But this was very different, for amongst the explosions came the screams of women and children, something which chilled him to the bone.
The sight of horses charging around was something else he found strange. Charles had to wake up quickly as the Roundhead Dragoon broke through the barricades and charged before him. The sword flashed in the air as he rode up the street and saw Charles. With new vigour, he took a swing at the boy, who leapt into the hedge.
He was saved when a shot rang out, and after the smoke had cleared, saw the Dragoon being dragged along by his horse. A man with a huge fire-arm came over to him with a smile.
"Best to be alert friend, for Cromwell will not spare this day." The young man lifted his gun to begin the lengthy process of re-arming.
"Thanks," said Charles, as he tried to find Sandra.
