sequel to 2001's Knight Errant, Lady Robyn continues the story of Robyn Stafford—minor Hollywood actress, former Miss Montana Rodeo, and budding witch—who enjoys the mixed blessing of being marooned back in late-medieval England in the year 1460. Having captured the undying affections of Edward of the Marches, a lusty young warrior-nobleman, and endured the rigors of civil war, Robyn is sitting cushy as the new novel opens. Her marriage to Edward is imminent, the kingdom of England is temporarily at peace, Robyn's major enemies have been executed, and Robyn is increasing her skills in the underground coven she belongs to. Her life, bolstered by a few provisions from the 21st century, is a simple round of holy days and jousts, as well as the exercise of some nobless oblige. It is this last-mentioned sense of duty which precipitates her current adventures.
On her way to a joust on the perimeter of London, Robyn and her Irish maid, Deirdre, encounter a young girl being led to the stake for burning, as punishment for the supposed murder of her stepfather. Convinced of the innocence of this girl, named Mary, Robyn and Deirdre defiantly rescue her from the legitimate authorities and deliver her to the sanctuary of a nearby church. This act will resonate throughout the plot, as Mary proves to be not the simple peasant she appeared, but rather an emissary of the pagan gods—Hecate, Persephone and others—whom Robyn and her fellow witches worship.
Politics soon rears its treacherous head, however, rendering such minor events seemingly trivial. The weakness of the current king, Mad Henry, has inspired other contenders to the throne, one of whom is Edward's father, who styles himself Richard the Third. (Robyn's rescue of King Henry at one point inspires the mad monarch to dub her Lady of Pontefract, a title that holds its own rewards and responsibilities.) Soon the nation is again at war, with Robyn a pawn manipulated by several factions. There's Queen Margaret and her witchly aide, Duchess Wydville. There are dukes and lords from Somerset to Neville, from Salisbury to FitzHolland, who covet Robyn for her influence on Edward—or simply wish to see her dead. And there's her future father-in-law himself, perhaps the most dangerous.
As Robyn and Deirdre and Robyn's master of horses, Matt Davye, fly about the countryside from one imbroglio to another, falling in and out of the hands of various captors, and as the new civil war increases in violent intensity, Robyn discovers that there's more to being a witch—more to being a medieval noblewoman—than she ever imagined.
A time-travel tale that breaks stereotypes
R. Garcia y Robertson is known within the science-fiction world for his planetary romances, which deliver a great deal of colorful action in vivid settings, embodied by likable, believable characters. It's a pleasure to find that he carries over all these virtues into into the second volume of his timeslip romance. Although one wishes now and again for a little more speculative content.
The amount of research Garcia y Robertson has poured into this series is palpable. His portrait of the late Middle Ages is a slightly revisionist one, showing us a world that defies common stereotypes. Coffee-brewing alchemists are the least of his surprises, yet he manages to maintain a high level of historical verisimilitude. His medieval citizens are both more modern than generally portrayed and surprisingly alien in their beliefs and ways. The 15th-century inhabitants with whom Robyn must consort are never mere animatronic puppets in some Disney Medieval World display, but always fully fleshed creations who continue to surprise both Robyn and the reader. The speech patterns of these distant ancestors of ours is a blend between truly archaic and somewhat modernized. Unlike Harry Turtledove in his Ruled Britannia, Garcia y Robertson does not indulge in high-flown Shakespearean rhetoric.
Robyn, who is never offstage for one page, continues to endear herself to the reader. Plucky, brave, resourceful, romantic, she seems both accepting of her strange fate and enchanted by it. I was a little unclear over why she's so dead set against being queen, should Prince Edward ever assume the throne, but was willing to accept this as a personal crotchet. With her reliance on her few staples of technology, Robyn at times seems to be living a Crusoe-like existence among savages, but the trend toward her ultimately fitting in is there.
The book's depiction of the tangled politics is engrossing, as are the eventual titanic battle scenes. But keeping all the intertwining loyalties of the royals straight takes a little concentration. However, what's missing from this book is any real speculative heft, the kind of paradox-hunting or uchronia-building so beloved of SF authors. Robyn carries around a pocket history of England, but refuses to consult it to get advance notice on upcoming events (except for one time, when her situation is dire). We don't know if she's altering our future or not, and there's certainly no A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (1889) flavor to this book, no meddling with events in the manner of deCamp's Lest Darkness Fall (1941). Robyn seems overly content just to ride history's currents without any thought as to where they're taking her.
Finally, mention must be made of the supernatural elements of this book. With his evocation of the hidden religion of witchcraft and the miracles it can work—one such coming at a crucial time to save Edward and Robyn when lost in the snowy forests of Nottingham—the author shows a keen sense of how much more closely the Middle Ages were bound to the mysteries of the universe. It's one of the aspects of the past that make Robyn's 21st-century home look so unappealing, despite all the rigors and dangers of the past.
