"Not altogether the way our ancestors did it, I hope!" Nigel said.

"Very much in the manner our grandfathers would recognize. Things have worked out quite nicely since. The capital's still in Winchester, the Icelanders and Faeroese are settling in and marrying out, their grandchildren will be English to the bone-"

His son grinned and made a gesture towards his own chest; his mother's name was Dagmar, and she'd come from Torshavn along with a flood of others from the northern isles in the earliest Change Years.

"-and we've resettled Britain-thinly-as far as the Midlands, and made a good start on the Continent."

"That's quick work!" Nigel said.

"Well, you can't move for tripping over the next generation, that's true; everyone's breeding like damned rabbits. And we've been getting a steady trickle of immigrants from the east Baltic, and from Ireland, too-easier since we're all bloody beadsqueezers again. No offense," he said hastily to Juniper.

"None taken," she said, laughing. "I was raised Catholic myself, of course, but"-she waved a hand around-"you might say it didn't entirely take."

"There's understatement of positively English proportions," Nigel said.

"You've corrupted me with your Sassenach ways, my love. Sure, and I can feel my upper lip stiffening the now."

Knolles went on: "And we've agreed to divide things with the Norlanders along the old German border, and with the Umbrian League along the old Italian one… that's a trifle theoretical, when all we've got is a few out posts along the coasts and rivers. It'll be centuries before we're back to even the medieval era's numbers."

Nigel nodded. He'd helped develop the initial ap praisal and plans, and had led expeditions to feel out that vast eerie wilderness.

"That's where the 'King of Greater Britain' and 'Emperor of the West' come in?"

"The imperial title was the late Pope Benedict's idea," Knolles said. "He and the archbishop sprang it on William at the coronation, after the Moorish War, in 2010."

"Rather the way his predecessor did with Charlemagne?" Nigel mused.

"Precisely. Benedict was there for the Church reunion talks, you see. They both preached a Crusade…"

"And the coronation was with your connivance, Father," Robert Knolles said.

Knolles senior harrumphed and poked his fork at a slice of roast beef, cut a piece, administered horserad ish and took a bite. He coughed slightly after that-the sauce was nuclear strength. Then he continued:

"Ah… well, that brings us to the reason for the visit, Nigel. We didn't know your situation here in any detail, you see, except that you and Alleyne had landed on your feet as might be expected of Lorings, and His Majesty is deeply grateful for your saving his life-"

"Several times," Robert Knolles put in, unabashed when his father gave him a quelling glance. " And setting up the contacts that put him on the throne instead of his late unlamented stepmother when the time came."

" Late unlamented?" Loring asked, with an arched brow.

The elder Knolles continued: "She shuffled off eight months ago, from the effects of house arrest, idleness, curdled venom and lashings of strong drink. And His Majesty has asked me to inform you that it pleases him to offer you… well, he's made you an earl, you see. Earl of Bristol. With the estates appertaining thereunto, as well as your family land at Tilford, of course."

Nigel felt his jaw drop, and closed it with an effort of will. "Good God."

"He'd like you to return; earnestly requests it, in fact, and sent a ship we really can't spare all the way here to fetch you. Confidentially, he'd also like you to have min isterial rank with a roving commission, and both Houses concur."

"Father is one of the top nobs of the Tories, these days," Robert added. "And note that His Majesty hasn't given you a continental title, godfather, nor the proverbial 'estate in France.' Good English farms, fully tenanted."

At Nigel's raised brow, the young man amplified: "In England 'an estate in France' is a synonym for 'dubious gift,' or 'white elephant,' these days, sir-land that gives you a position in society and then prevents you from keeping it up. Father repented and came over to the side of the righteous, but rather late."

Knolles snorted. "Nonsense. The land at Azay is first rate; better climate than anywhere in England proper, and there are the vineyards-"

"Bushy, overgrown vineyards, half-dead…"

"-and the chateau-"

"The ruins of the chateau."

"Ruins? Nonsense; it never really caught on fire… not completely… and half the roof was still intact. It just… well, it needed a spot of work."

"And still does, I rather think, Father… work for my grandchildren."

"Silence, whelp. In any case, Nigel, I've got a belt, a sword and an ermine cloak for you, and a bally great parchment to go with it. Thing's festooned with enough seals and ribbons for a publican's license, too."

Nigel began to laugh, quietly at first, then wholeheartedly. Mopping at an eye with his napkin, he replied, "I'm truly sorry to disappoint King William, and you, Tony, but my life is here now. Not to mention my wife, and my daughters; and my son, and his children-a grand son and two granddaughters, so far. This is where we'll leave our bones. Give His Majesty my regrets and my best wishes for a long and prosperous reign. I thought the lad would turn out well."

He turned his head to meet Juniper's bright green eyes for an instant; they crinkled in the face that loved his line for line, and their hands linked fingers beneath the covering tablecloth.

"Not tempted by the prospect of being Countess Juniper, my dear?"

"Chief's bad enough. I'd scandalize your William's court, that's beyond doubting."

Knolles sighed. "I thought that was the reply I'd get, as soon as I walked in. Your stepson warned me; we met outside the gates. Remarkable young fellow, even on brief acquaintance. Usually one feels an impulse to kick a man with good looks of that order, but I didn't this time."

"Remarkable young scamp," Juniper said. "He didn't warn us you were here, the creature."

Knolles hesitated. "There is one thing more, Nigel. And Lady Juniper. You haven't had much contact with the Atlantic coast of North America, have you?"

"None at all; we know more about East Asia, or even the Indian Ocean countries," Juniper said. "Scarcely even rumors from east of the Mississippi." She winced slightly. "Just enough to know that it was. .. very bad there. As bad as California, or what Nigel tells of Europe, or mainland Britain."

Knolles nodded somberly. Nobody who had lived through the Change as an adult would ever be quite free of those memories. It had been worst of all in the hyper-developed zones.

"On the American mainland, yes, it was very bad. But some islands did much better. Prince Edward Island best of all; rather as the Isle of Wight or Orkney did in relation to Britain. After the, ah, after King William came to the throne, they established close ties with the old coun try-in fact, they've MPs in Parliament at Winchester now, and seats in the Lords."

"William isn't repeating George the Third's mistakes, eh?" Nigel said, savoring the joke.

Though it wasn't like Anthony Knolles to waffle around a subject. The other Englishman cleared his throat.

"Among the places they've landed… or tried to… is Nantucket."

He shot a glance at them from under shaggy brows to see if the name of the island off southern New England meant anything to them. They both looked back soberly.

"Then the rumors were true?" Juniper asked softly. "I've talked to those who were listening or watching the news services, right at the time of the Change. To some who were listening while they flew a plane over moun tains, sure! The reports were of something extraordinary going on there on Nantucket, just before…"