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  When she was dressed, she looked at herself in the mirror. The result was better than she had hoped. She was a little too pale to really pass as a working boy, but it would do. She pinned her hair under a cap.

  Matthew was grooming a horse in the stables when she went to meet him. “It fits well,” he said, a blush rising to his cheeks as he took in the sight of her wearing his clothes.

  “Yes, it does. Shall we go?” Katherine found herself fidgeting nervously. She was suddenly very aware of how revealing the trousers were.

  They walked to the town square, where a meeting about the uprising was to take place. Matthew collapsed onto the steps that led up to the large cross in the centre of the square. He yawned into his palm. Katherine sat beside him. She reached down to arrange her skirts without thinking. She smiled and stroked her hands down the trouser legs instead. She could get used to this. Her initial self-consciousness was gone.

  People were starting to stream into the square – a few elderly men who formed the castle’s garrison and the volunteer militia, which was made up of younger local men. The latter was more of a social club than a military force, and they strolled up in a dense gang, talking loudly to each other and catcalling at a passing maid.

  Then the colonel arrived. He was in the middle of an intense monologue and surrounded by members of the city council, who were listening raptly to his words. He was old – over sixty. Katherine couldn’t remember seeing anyone of his age in the army before, but it might not be a bad thing, especially if it meant that he had a lot of experience. In his smart uniform and shiny boots, he was in stark contrast to the rumpled, hungover men of the militia.

  The soldiers, young and old, fell silent, watching his approach. Katherine climbed onto the higher steps so she could see him over the crowds. Matthew scrambled up beside her to get a better view of the spectacle.

  The colonel regarded the group of men dispassionately. Eventually he cleared his throat. “My name is Colonel Durand. I’ve come from London to help prepare the defences of Carlisle. I’ve looked at the current situation, and there’s a lot to be done, but I’m confident that Carlisle will soon be able to withstand any attacks.

  “However, I will need people to restore the cannons, dig ditches, and clear the farmland so there’s a clear line of sight. The most important job is to improve the strength of the castle walls, which are in poor condition. The mortar is at least two centuries old.

  “We’re also going to be collecting provisions of food to store in the castle in case we have to face a siege. I hope the citizens and militia of Carlisle will help their city in its hour of need, and by the time we next meet I believe we will have more confidence in the state of the preparations.” He gave a short bow and there was a smattering of applause from the militia. Katherine was almost certain it was ironic.

  Katherine, however, was immensely satisfied with the meeting. Colonel Durand seemed so confident and experienced. She felt sure his strategies were sound. It was a little concerning that he had outlined in such detail how bad the defences were, though. He had made Carlisle seem like an easy target. They would have to work hard to make sure the city could stand up to any attack. She looked over at Matthew to see how he had reacted to the news of the weak defences, but he was staring out across the square, his expression impossible to read.

  CHAPTER 6

  Folios/v7/Time-landscape-2019/MS-147

  Near Greece, Mediterranean Sea, 1854

  Katy was celebrating a poker victory against a sulking Matthew when a bugle sounded. A sailor then explained briskly that there was an opportunity to bathe if they wished. Katy was delighted. After a fortnight of hot weather and confined conditions, she felt really grimy.

  It was only when the soldiers’ wives went below deck to wash in private that she realized what it meant. The men started undressing on the deck without a care in the world.

  Katy tried to look away, but she was surrounded by naked men of all shapes and sizes, cleaning themselves with warm water and soap. Then Matthew stood up, unbuttoning his waistcoat.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, panicked.

  He shot her a strange look. “I’m going to wash, Kit. I suggest you do the same. We might not get another chance for a while. We are not due to disembark for another week.”

  Katy felt like she was going to explode from embarrassment. She watched in open-mouthed horror as Matthew pulled his shirt over his head.

  “Can’t I go somewhere private?” she asked.

  Matthew tipped a bucket of water over his head as she desperately tried to keep her eyes above waist level. Everywhere she looked there were … men’s parts.

  “Why would you want to do that? There are no women here, Kit. Everyone’s the same. Just get on with it.”

  She began by slowly washing her hair – something she could do fully dressed while only risking looking a bit strange. Most of the men had finished washing by now, and were standing around talking. They were still naked. She reached under her shirt and quickly cleaned her armpits, neck and shoulders as best she could, which wasn’t very well at all.

  “Kit! What are you doing?” Matthew asked. “Don’t be ridiculous – just take off your clothes. Does it look like anybody cares?”

  She didn’t know what to do. She grasped for a plausible explanation. “I can’t,” she whispered.

  “What? Why?”

  “I – I can’t… Matthew, please. Don’t make me!” She gasped. She couldn’t breathe. What was he going to do when he found out?

  Up until then he had been baffled, but now he stepped towards her, looking worried. “Kit, what’s wrong?”

  She couldn’t get out of this. She was going to have to tell him. He was going to work it out for himself at this rate. She stepped closer and made sure no one was within hearing distance.

  “Matthew…” She exhaled, took a breath.

  And then she turned and ran.

  > Progress in time-landscape 1854 may be affected by the actions of subject allocation “KATY”

  UNIVERSITY OF NOTTINGHAM CAMPUS, ENGLAND, 2039

  “How did you find out about Katherine and Matthew Galloway?” Kate asked Matt as they walked to her grandparents’ house.

  “My brother. A while back he found an article online about our uncle, saying he was a terrorist. He confronted our dad about it and Dad admitted it was true. He’d always told us that his brother had died in a lab accident. After that we just started investigating. My brother’s good online. He’s … um” – Matt lowered his voice – “kind of a hacker.”

  Kate spun round to face him. “That is so cool. You mean he’s, like, an actual political activist?”

  “It’s kind of stressful, actually. He’s pretty famous, in all the wrong ways. On forums and stuff. I’m always worried he’s going to get caught.”

  “Wait, is he famous-famous? Would I have heard of him? What’s his name?”

  “Well, he’s called Tom, but online he’s known as Spartacus.”

  “What?” Kate stopped in her tracks, and Matt turned back in surprise. “Your brother is Spartacus?”

  It was her guilty secret, but she was obsessed with conspiracy theories. Any hint of a hidden agenda made her instantly suspicious. She always felt that there was something shady going on. Spartacus was one of the best-known hackers. He was dedicated to trying to reveal the conspiracies of the government. Kate followed all of his posts almost fanatically.

  “… Yes?” Matt said, hesitantly.

  “No way.” She bounced a little on her toes. “I don’t believe it!”

  “Urgh.” Matt sighed. “You know who he is. I should have known you were into this stuff too. The hair – it’s a dead giveaway.”

  “He’s only been my idol for the last three years or so! He’s amazing!” Kate gushed, choosing to ignore the hair comment. Suddenly this drama seemed a lot more fun. “Can I meet him? Please? Please?”

  “I’m not sure. Kate, do you have a crush on my brother?”


  She blushed pink, and avoided his gaze. “What? Of course not.”

  Matt raised his eyebrows at her.

  “OK, maybe a little,” she admitted, going even redder. “I used to, anyway.” She started babbling, embarrassed. “He’s really famous on the Internet! His blog is amazing. He’s made people start really thinking about what the government tells us. He’s a huge part of history. Plus, he’s really funny.”

  Kate looked at Matt, hopefully, but he just shook his head like he was ashamed to know her, and carried on walking. She had to jog to catch up.

  Carlisle, England, 1745

  Katherine was balancing on her tiptoes so she could peer out of the mottled glass window of the castle’s supply room and watch the militia dig out the moat far below. The soldiers were thigh deep in muddy water as they steepened the sides of the river banks. It had started raining and they resembled miserable drowned rats. Considering how arrogant they had been at the meeting that morning, Katherine couldn’t say she felt sorry for them.

  The garrison had been stationed in the castle for years, and working there was not easy. The castle was on the northernmost side of the city, facing Scotland. It was set into the high stone wall that surrounded Carlisle. As the colonel had observed, the ancient buildings were in bad repair, and they were cold; the roughly hewn stone walls were stained with dripping water. Cannons had stood on the battlements for decades, ready to fire at any attacking enemies through the narrow slits in the parapet. Now they were rusting and broken, and Katherine and Matthew had been assigned the task of renovating them.

  They had been given a better job than the men below, though, Katherine decided, contented. She knelt down on the stone floor beside Matthew, who was diligently rubbing off the endless layers of rust on the first in a long series of ancient cannons. She poked the metal. A bolt fell off in a gust of orange dust.

  “I presume this is not as glamorous as you were expecting, My Lady?” he teased.

  “I preferred you when you were half asleep. You were much nicer.” After a pause, she added more seriously, “It is exactly what I was expecting. I didn’t think the Rebels would be firing at us immediately. The most vital things are often the dullest.”

  She meant what she said. She didn’t mind the work. She had known that it was going to take a while to find out if Matthew was planning anything and this was a good opportunity. He probably wouldn’t do anything while she was around, but if she kept a close eye on him, he might give something away anyway. Matthew continued rubbing rhythmically at the metal. She tried not to watch the movement of his shoulder, the tight play of muscles under his shirt.

  “At least this is something you can help with,” Matthew added, “which is fortunate. If we had been given duties digging out that moat, you would have struggled.”

  “I’ll have you know I am an expert at trench digging,” she said. “It’s an important skill for a young lady. I would struggle to find a husband without it.”

  He grinned. “I should hope so. I would be wary of a wife who was unable to dig a perfect tunnel.”

  “My point exactly, Matthew, thank you. If even you require such a talent, imagine the demands of a man who actually has standards.” It was so nice, talking to him while dressed as a boy, without having to worry about what anyone would think if they saw them.

  “You think you are a lot funnier than you are, you know,” he replied, not looking away from the cannon.

  “I am extremely amusing! I don’t think you are listening properly.” Matthew was struggling with a stubborn patch of rust, and she leant closer. “You have to rub it harder, or nothing will happen,” she offered.

  He snorted, and mumbled something under his breath. She frowned, trying to work out what he’d found funny. “What?” she asked.

  He looked up with a naughty grin. “Said the actress to the bishop.”

  What actress? What was he talking about? “Oh,” she said in confusion.

  He seemed to realize his mistake, because he looked ashamed. “It’s supposed to be funny. I expect you wouldn’t have heard it before. It’s something the servants say a lot.”

  She nodded, memorizing the joke so she could try to work out why it was funny later. Then she stuck her head inside the barrel of the cannon to pull away some of the looser layers of decay. The barrel immediately began to fill with dust, and she pulled out again quickly, trying not to sneeze. Matthew quickly moved his eyes back to the cannon, focusing too carefully on the metal, and she knew that he had been laughing at her.

  Servants were strange.

  Folios/v1/Time-landscape-1745/MS-3

  CHAPTER 7

  Folios/v7/Time-landscape-2019/MS-148

  Near Greece, Mediterranean Sea, 1854

  Matthew found Katy hiding in the stairwell, crying into her handkerchief. He ducked down beside her, shirt still clasped in his fist as he’d run after her while he was dressing.

  “Kit,” he said softly. “What’s going on?”

  She looked up at him, trying to hold back a sob. His hair was still wet and water dripped down his collarbone.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He patted her shoulder. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

  She brushed away her tears. “I can’t. You’ll hate me.”

  “Surely it can’t be that bad.”

  She took a deep breath. “I can’t undress because … I’m not a boy.” His face was blank so she added, “I’m a girl.”

  She felt a moment of release, which disappeared as she watched the confused expression on his face give way to something like surprise, then horror, finally settling on anger. His face hardened and her gut twisted to see him shut her out. His hand slowly moved off her shoulder, before tightening into a fist. She grabbed his arm in desperation as he pulled away and stood up.

  “Wait, Matthew—”

  He shrugged her off, turning his back to her and beginning to slowly, carefully, dress. There was a flush of angry pink spreading down between his shoulder blades. She watched him, not knowing what to say. When he had finished buttoning his shirt, he walked away without turning back to look at her.

  For a long moment, she stared after him. There was a lump in her throat that wouldn’t go away however much she swallowed.

  > Subject allocation “KATY” in time-landscape 1854 is a potential problem

  > Subject allocation “MATTHEW”’s response to “KATY”’s lies indicates that any future revelations of her dishonesty may severely hamper desired progress

  > Too late for intervention – monitor situation carefully

  Carlisle, England, 1745

  The next morning, Katherine went to meet Matthew at the stables, excited at the prospect of another day at the castle. She hadn’t managed to catch him doing anything treacherous yet. He hadn’t shown any sign of being anything other than the kind, slightly awkward coachman he appeared to be. She had tried to bring up the topic of politics several times, but he had only ever had perfectly uncontroversial things to say, and the conversation would often drift to gentle, flirtatious exchanges despite her most dedicated efforts to remain on topic.

  Secretly she knew that her desire to expose him as a Rebel wasn’t the real reason she was eager to get to the castle. The truth was she enjoyed spending time with Matthew. Katherine had never spent so much time giggling.

  Matthew was filling a water trough when Katherine arrived. His movements were quiet and steady in the peace of the silent stables.

  She bounced up to him, delighting in disturbing his solitude. “Good morning!”

  He didn’t smile back. “Katherine.”

  “Shall we go to…?” She trailed off, taking in his expression. “Matthew, what’s wrong?”

  “Anise told me that you asked her about the rebellion. She thought you sounded suspicious.”

  “I … er—” She flushed, unsure what to say.

  “What are you doing, Katherine? I don’t know what you think you heard, but we aren’t Rebels,” Matthew said, not g
iving her a chance to explain. “You don’t need to question my – my cousin.”

  She swallowed. “You said that if the seige happens you were going to ‘change things’. You’re planning something with her.”

  “No! We aren’t. We’re—”

  “Matthew, just admit it!” Katherine exploded in a fit of frustration. “You are a Rebel! You were talking about doing something, during the siege.”

  “We only want to help.”

  “So … you do admit it? You are spying for the Rebels? I knew it!”

  “No! What?” He looked appalled. “I’m not spying on anyone.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, confused. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to be able to trust him and know that he was really the person she thought he was.

  “We want to help the English,” he explained. “I don’t want the Rebels to win. I want to defend Carlisle. I thought you knew that! I want everyone here to be safe. I would never want anyone to invade the place where people I … care about live.”

  “But you’re Scottish.”

  “The Scots aren’t some sort of barbarian race, Katherine. We have common sense. Having Charles Stuart on the throne wouldn’t necessarily be a good thing for the country. Anise thinks we can be useful. She believes that with the right knowledge, we can help.”

  “But you’re servants. What do you know that could possibly help?”

  “Oh,” he said, dully. “Right.”

  “I didn’t mean it in that—”

  He took a step away from her. “I thought you were different. I didn’t think you cared about social classes.”

  “I don’t, I…” She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t pin her flying thoughts down into any kind of order.