Escape from the Past (26 page)

Bero bowed and grabbed a hold of my arm. This time, I didn’t argue. I dragged myself upstairs to my bedroom. “I’ll be back in the morn,” Bero said as I crawled under the covers. I was too cold and tired to take off my clothes and was asleep before Bero closed the door.

I woke early, my clothes damp with sweat. In my dream I’d been running through my house, digging around my closet and the drawers of my desk. But no matter how I searched I couldn’t remember where it was. Worse, I couldn’t remember what I was looking for.

I climbed out of bed in search of water. Maybe I could wipe myself down and get back into bed. As I opened the door into a hallway, a maid rushed past.

“Juliana?” Max said. The girl turned. “Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

The maid giggled and knocked on one of the doors.

“My Lady, your morning drink,” she whispered. I decided to hang out and wait. I had to find out behind which door Juliana lived.

A few seconds later the maid reappeared with a chamber pot.

“I thought Juliana is attending Lady Clara,” I said.

The girl nodded. “Why?”

I was confused. “Didn’t you just go into the Lady’s room?”

The chambermaid shook her head as she walked past. “It’s Lady Catherine, the Lord’s wife. Juliana is upstairs.”

I stood thunderstruck. What was going on here? I’d never even seen Werner’s wife. Hadn’t thought of it, either, I had to admit. One of the squires was Werner’s son. What was his name again? Christian. I had completely forgotten that Werner had a family and kids.

“Wait,” I called after the girl, but she’d disappeared through another door. Probably wanted to rid herself of the smelly pot. I returned to my room. I still didn’t have water, but maybe I’d ask Juliana to organize a bucket.

The stone stairwell was gloomy. A freezing wind nipped at me legs as I climbed to the third floor. Through a narrow opening in
the seven-foot deep stone wall, I caught a glimpse of the valley below, toy-sized and unreal. My former life had become a dream, the game was real.

What was happening to me?

I was a pawn on a chessboard, pushed around by unknown forces. Game had become life. I couldn’t allow myself to think about it. Not now, when I was worn out. I knocked and after hearing nothing, entered a sort of waiting room. Hadn’t I been up here before? But no, there was no fireplace and the place was freezing. I passed through into another corridor.

“Hello?” I called. Then louder, “Anyone?”

A door at the far end opened. “Max?” Juliana was fastening her cap. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for water…and you.”

“Quiet. My Lady is still sleeping. What do you need water for?”

“Washing. If you have a bucket, I’ll get it myself.”

Juliana stepped closer, her eyes worried. Her expression reminded me of my mother and I felt a pang of sadness. “What is it?” she said.

“Nothing.”

“I’m going to the kitchen. Then I have to do the fires. I’ll bring you water when I return.

She passed by me and I sniffed. Roses. I inhaled again and grasped her forearm. “Wait.”

She giggled and pressed herself against my chest. “What?” Her doe eyes were mocking me. I was powerless. Reduced to the heat rising in my body, every cell on fire, every fiber of my being quivering, I searched for her mouth.

I lost track kissing, her lips soft on mine. My body ached and pounded, my heart thumped. Her body felt amazing against mine, all warm and sweet. I wanted it to go on forever.

To my disappointment she pulled away. “I have to go, Max.

“One more minute,” I begged.

She didn’t answer but offered me her lips. Time stopped.

“Now I really have to go. My Lady will be displeased if her chamber is cold.” At the door, she stopped. “Go and wait in your room.”

I crawled back into bed, reliving the encounter with Juliana. Feeling warm and relaxed I soon fell asleep. I awoke to a door slamming.

“Sleeping like a prince, waste another day,” Bero shouted as he yanked aside the bed curtains.

I rubbed my eyes. “What time is it?”

Bero shrugged. “Late enough for sows to eat their second meal.”

“Talking about sows,” I said, sitting up. “Do you remember anything new about the attack and the pig slaughter?”

Bero slowly shook his head. His mouth quivered and I thought he might cry.

“I know you loved them.” Better get Bero to think of something else. “I feel great.”

“You look much better.” Bero sighed, obviously glad for the change in subject. “Ready for a sword fight? I’ve been practicing with Enders. He’s a master.” He danced around the room waving an imaginary sword.

“I believe it. Give me five and I’ll come and join you.” I reached for a mug near the bed. A bucket of water stood on the floor.

“Five what?”

I rolled my eyes. “Can you wait a few minutes? Outside?”

Bero shrugged. “What’s the water for?”

“Washing.”

“But your clothes are new. Never worn. Lady Clara had them sewn in the village…by our
friend,
the dressmaker.”

I sighed. Bero was the nosiest guy I’d ever met. “Washing my body.”

Bero shook his head. “Wasteful.”

“Girls like it better. You should try it,” I said at Bero’s back. The door slammed shut in response.

I climbed out of bed and inspected the bucket. Next to it Juliana had placed a towel, a rag and an earthen bowl with a whitish mass strewn with lavender blossoms. I sniffed. This had to be medieval soap. I smiled, smearing a bit of the mixture on my palm. Not bad. I quickly stripped and washed. If anyone opened the door I’d scream a warning. But nobody came. Maybe Bero was standing watch outside.

By the time, I finished, the water looked gray. I was a new man. Strange that I’d never paid attention to how wonderful a clean body felt. I’d discovered welts in my armpits and crotch. Probably fleas. The lavender would help keep them at bay.

I whistled as I dressed and left the room. Drizzle greeted me in the courtyard where life was going on as usual. I thought of the make-belief scenes during the medieval festivals in the Hanstein ruins. This was way cooler.

Farmers and peasants were delivering carts filled with fall crops of leeks, wheat, rutabagas, onions and carrots. They carried buckets with apples and cages with chickens. They stopped in front of man dressed in black wool and a felt hat who sat at a makeshift table, Hanstein’s castellan. He was filling out tiny strips of parchment and stuck them in a book.

I stared. I’d learned about this custom of the lords in history class, their accountants keeping track of harvests and each peasant’s payment of goods.

A stream of servants carried the deliveries to the cellars and the life stock to the stalls in the bailey. A wine merchant was dropping off kegs. I stopped to study the burned imprint: imported French wine. The Lord von Hanstein was doing well. Hans, Werner’s lame brother, was inspecting a wagon loaded with sheep’s wool. He squinted at me, his eyes full of suspicion.

“My dear brother, Lame Hans, thinks you’re spy, too.” Knight Werner laughed. He was selecting horse harnesses from a leather
salesman and carried several looped around his neck. “Since Bero’s father, the tanner, died, we have to order leatherwork from
Geismar.
At least it’s one of our villages. I told Hans you’re just a lad on adventure to seek your fortune.”

As Lame Hans turned he threw a glance at me, muttering under his breath, something sounding like sirrah and Satan’s work. He wobbled across the flagstone, carefully avoiding a pile of horse dung and disappeared into one of the cellars. I remembered my visits to the ruins when I’d played hide and seek with my two cousins. The basement vaults of Hanstein were open to tourists and perfect for scaring people. I’d always been amazed how cold they were, even during summer weather. That had been a long time ago, in another life. I sighed.

“Is something troubling you?” Werner’s blue eyes showed concern. “I trust you’re recovering.

I bowed. “Yes, My Lord. I thank you for your help and providing a place for me and my friends.”

Werner nodded and he turned to the leather salesman. “Oh, I did have one more thing to ask you,” he said, spinning back around.

I stopped in my tracks. I’d noticed Bero down the bailey, watching a handful of squires practice sword-fighting and hand-to-hand combat.

“Of course, My Lord, anything I can do.”

“You still haven’t told me what brought you to Hanstein. Why did you choose to visit us, lords of little importance?” Werner said as his eyes were drawn toward the stables. He waved in greeting to one of his men leading a horse.

“Good morn, My Lord,” the knight said.

I stood waiting. I didn’t want to lie. Without Werner’s help I’d be dead. But how could I explain that I’d come from a different time almost six hundred years in the future. Werner would declare me insane.

The two knights were talking quietly. I admired the visitor’s
outfit, the chainmail and leather vest, topped by armored breast-plates. His chestnut horse scraped its hooves across the flagstones causing sparks. I tried to eavesdrop, but the men spoke too softly, Knight Werner listening and nodding. At last, the man mounted his horse and disappeared through the gate.

“My Lord, I’ll try to explain,” I started. Maybe it was best to get it over with.

But Werner shook his head. “I must leave and tend to other matters. You can entertain us during the evening meal.”

“Father, Ludwig isn’t playing with me,” someone yelled. Christian, the small squire, I’d met during my first visit, came running and threw himself at Werner’s chest. Behind him, followed another boy, I’d seen in the stalls.

“Ludwig,” Werner said, holding his rambunctious son at bay, “get along with your brother. I want to introduce you to the Landgrave of Hessen soon. What would he say if he saw you fighting each other?”

Turning sideways, Ludwig rolled his eyes and quickly showed Christian his tongue.

“Yes, father. I’d rather study the bible than do the stupid sword fighting. Mother likes it.”

Werner grabbed the boy by the ear. “My sons will train to become proper knights
and
read the Lord’s word.”

“
I
want to use the sword,” another voice chirped. “Father, I’ll show you how I can fight.” A boy of maybe seven appeared from the keep, wielding a short wooden dagger.

A glimmer had appeared in Werner’s eye. “Thilo, you’re my bravest knight.” He scooped up the boy in his arms and threw him over his shoulder in a mock attack.

Thilo giggled and pounded his fists on his father’s leather-covered back, but Werner just laughed and set him back on the ground. “Go find Enders, he’ll show you all the tricks.”

Without another word, the boy raced toward the gate and the lower bailey. Ludwig stood watching, his mouth pinched and his
chin pushed forward in stubborn defiance. “I’m not going.” Without waiting for approval he turned and marched toward the living quarters. I thought how I’d looked just like him arguing with my mom a short while ago. Much had changed since I’d eaten fried potatoes and eggs with my mother. How I wanted to laugh like the young kid again. Just relax and live carefree with exams being the worst of it. I’d had it pretty easy.

I watched as Werner shrugged in frustration, patted Christian on the head and walked back to the tanner’s wagon.

Slowly, without obvious purpose, Christian wandered toward the open area where several mock sword fights were going on. I followed, finding Bero watching from the side of the “battle field.” Bathed in sweat, he grinned from ear to ear.

“Should’ve seen me,” he shouted. “I almost beat Enders this time. You want me to show you?”

Enders was instructing Thilo, showing him how to hold his wooden training sword, no longer than a knife. Then he gently and in slow motion swung a stick and pretended to attack while the boy jumped back and forth shouting.

I smiled and slumped next to Bero. “I’ve been thinking,” I said, my eyes on the squires, but my mind somewhere else. “We have to take care of Ott.”

Bero turned to face me. “You want to fight him? He’s probably been taking lessons for twenty years. I bet he practices every day…whereas you haven’t done anything.” Bero scanned my skinny arms and shook his head. “I don’t understand it anyway. You’re traveling through the lands, visit the Lords, and you don’t even carry a weapon. Nor are you interested in
our
sword practice.”

Despite my irritation, I suppressed a grin. Bero had been play fighting for five days and they were
his
practices. “I’m not going to fight Ott. Nor should you.”

Bero looked at me again. “Then what do you want to do? Sneak into his manor and smother him?”

“Of course not…I don’t know.” I paused, feeling suddenly irritated. “We’ll have to come up with something. Think about it and make a plan.”

Bero picked up his wooden sword and ran his forefinger along the dull blade. “Right.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“What’s kidding?”

I jumped up, frustrated about this ridiculous life where nobody understood what I was talking about. “Moron.” Bero was just too dense and refused to think about anything other than squires and food. “I’ll do it alone.” I walked up the hill toward the courtyard. How I missed the Internet, information about anything at my fingertips. I had to find a solution without any help.

No matter how I tried, nothing came to mind. My brain remained blank while Bero kept at a distance, hanging out with Enders every chance he got. He’d started helping in the stalls, learning to take care of the horses, cleaning and shoeing, fixing harnesses and saddles. I’d hoped to spend time with Juliana, but she was busy taking care of Lady Clara and sometimes the children of Werner von Hanstein.

The truth was I felt lonely.

I wanted to go home and nothing, absolutely nothing came to mind in that arena, either. With every day, I got angrier and more depressed. I was stuck in this medieval life and nothing I did made any difference. In the beginning I’d looked for clues, something I’d be able to use, see or do to return home. But no clues had shown themselves.