Escape from the Past (35 page)

“See,” I said to Jimmy. And to Jimmy’s father, “So what are some of these missions?”

“Finding food, saving lives, engaging in combat and mastering strategic goals, of course. All serious. By the way who else did you meet…any peasants?”

I thought of Juliana and Bero, my friends. I remembered the strange man in the woods who lost his middle finger to Schwarzburg’s henchmen, the funny look on the injured man’s face when he’d seen me, expressing something like recognition. Which of course was impossible.

“Max?” Jimmy stared at me.

“Em, yes, a bunch of peasants, good people,” I said, my voice barely audible. “And the knights made me squire right before I returned.”

“Did you…” Dr. Stuler’s eyes were glued to my face as if he wanted to extract knowledge with his stare. “Impossible.”

For such a smart man, he sure said
impossible
a lot. To my surprise Stuler turned the color of the whitish leather couch behind him.

“I did. Anyway, the reason I asked for the meeting is that I have questions. How does the game determine what missions I’ve completed? Does my visit change history? What determines when I can go home? And will they know me if I go back into the game?”

“You want to try again?”

Confronted with the question, I wasn’t so sure. I shrugged. “Maybe.”

Stuler stood up, suddenly impatient. “I’ve got an urgent meeting, but I wouldn’t mind hearing about what you did.” He produced a business card. “Call to make an appointment.”

“But you didn’t say what happens,” I said to his back. “Can you at least tell me if I’ll return as a new player each time?”

Stuler stopped at the door and shook his head. “Not if you used the same IP address. At least that’s what we intended.” He shrugged. “Who knows? The game recognizes if you’ve played before. It still needs work. But when it’s done it will be the greatest computer game ever invented, a true historical experience. Every gamer, researcher and adventurer will want a copy. Just the US market alone…” The strange smile was back. “We can charge what we want.” He walked out without another word.

Jimmy and me stared after him. I wondered why Dr. Stuler needed more money. He already lived in a mansion and drove a huge Mercedes.

“I’ve never seen him this way,” Jimmy whispered. “Wonder what he meant with greatest game.”

“Wonder.” Somehow I thought I was missing something in Dr. Stuler’s explanation. But I couldn’t quite think of it. With a sigh, I peeled myself off the expensive couch. “I better go.”

That evening, my cell phone blinked with a new message.

Still got the one copy in my desk. Do you want it back?

High on the mountain on the border between Germany’s states of Thuringia and Hessen perch the ruins of Castle Hanstein. First mentioned in 1070, Heinrich and Lippold von Hanstein took over the
Burg
in 1308. In the late 15th century, Knight Werner and his brother, Lame Hans von Hanstein lived here with their families. They indeed had a feud with Duke Heinrich von Schwarzburg. And the primary reason for this eight-year quarrel was a beautiful woman. Her maiden name was von Wildungen—I named her Lady Clara.

Empowered by Archbishop Adolf von Nassau, Schwarzburg assumed several influential positions, including the administrative leadership of the area called Eichsfeld (oak field) where Castle Hanstein is located, principal of Castle Rusteberg and tax collector. Though Clara was married to blind knight Hans von Hain (Hagen) and despite the fact that Schwarzburg was a sub-deacon and supposed to be celibate, he proceeded to kidnap and take Clara to Rusteberg. How Werner accomplished a rescue is unknown and though it is not clearly expressed in the Hanstein annals, some historians think they were lovers. Other say, Knight Werner merely fulfilled his knightly duties to help a lady in distress.

The Hanstein brothers also had a longtime feud with Hans von Dörnberg, the court master of Landgrave Wilhelm the III of Hessen. It is said that Dörnberg attacked Hans von Hanstein and caused a permanent knee injury, thus the name Lame Hans. While Dörnberg knew how to extol great wealth through his political dealings, he is only marginally involved in this story. That he had a bastard son named Ott is pure fiction.

Below the Hanstein ruins sit the villages of Rimbach and Bornhagen. In 1471, Bornhagen did not exist as a town though we might assume there were some dwellings and potentially the
beginnings of a village. The Klausenhof inn which I moved into existence a bit earlier was actually built in 1489. It is still a popular tourist attraction today.

No matter the true elements of this story and how real it may feel, this book is a work of fiction.

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