The Golden City

by Paige Elwood

  Finally, the overhead speakers announced boarding for her flight, and she drained the last of her mocha and stashed her travel guides in her flight bag. For a moment when she stood, she felt as though she’d left something behind, but then she realized it was her suitcase that she’d checked in earlier.

  The additional coffee probably wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had, because by the time she reached the boarding gate and had to get on the plane she was desperate for the restroom and completely buzzed from all of the caffeine and the excitement of finally getting to go on the trip she had been waiting months and months for.

  She took her seat on the plane and crossed her legs, hoping they would take off soon and she would be able to get out of her seat and use the bathroom. A very portly gentleman took the seat beside her, and Sarah smiled politely as he sat down. It seemed to take forever for the plane to fill up with people, but eventually, the doors shut, and the cabin crew began their safety demonstrations.

  By the time the plane took off, Sarah’s bladder was complaining unbearably, but the man beside her was fast asleep, snoring softly. She groaned, not wanting to have to wake him, but the cramped space made it impossible to get past him without climbing over him. She poked his arm gently. He didn’t stir. She cleared her throat. “Excuse me.” No luck. A little louder, “Excuse me?”

  On the third time the man’s eyes jolted open, and he glared at her. “I just need to use the bathroom,” she said. He reluctantly got up and let her out, and she was pleased to see he hadn’t fallen back asleep when she returned so that she was able to climb into her own seat.

  He snored most of the journey, and she hoped that her seat companion on the next leg of her flight would be more pleasant to sit with. She could barely concentrate on the travel guide she was trying to read with the sound of his snores blaring at her. By the time the plane landed at O’Hare she had a headache and couldn’t get off the plane fast enough.

  She found a quiet corner of the airport to continue reading the travel guide. By the time her second plane was ready to board she’d read it cover-to-cover twice and was feeling even more excited about visiting Prague.

  This time on the plane she had the aisle seat, which would make bathroom trips much easier. Her new seat neighbor was a young, dark-haired man with glasses who was clutching a dog-eared paperback called The Chosen on his lap. He glanced up at her as she sat down.

  “Hello,” he said with a friendly smile. “Visiting Stockholm?”

  “Prague,” she said, returning his smile. “My connecting flight is in Stockholm.”

  “Ahh, yes. I hear it’s a wonderful city,” the man said.

  “Me too, they call it The Golden City!” Sarah said. “In fact, I was just reading about the astronomical clock tower in the town square…”

  Sarah’s excitement fueled her non-stop talking for almost the entire plane journey. When she’d exhausted the tourist attractions, she moved on to general history. Who wouldn’t want to know all about medieval torture devices? It wasn’t until the plane finally landed and her seatmate bolted off faster than an Olympic runner down the aisle that she realized that she must have bored the poor guy to tears.

  Thinking about it, the man had been holding a book that he hadn’t cracked open the whole flight because she’d been talking non-stop to him. In fact, perhaps she’d mistaken some of his sarcasm for genuine interest. He’s interjected a couple of times with, “How very fascinating,” and, “Is there anything you don’t know about medieval torture?”

  She blushed at the thought that she’d missed the signs and felt a little guilty having ruined his plans of catching up on some reading as he flew, but it was pretty hard to not be excited about the trip.

  She had a shorter wait for her next flight and resolved not to talk the ears off of her next seatmate. As it happened, this flight wasn’t full, and she had both seats to herself. She spent the whole flight checking over her itinerary and making sure that she had printed off maps for each day with the best route plotted out for her. She had backed up the itinerary on her phone too, but there was just something so satisfying about seeing her plans written down on actual paper.

  By the time she got off her final plane, she was sick of the sight of airports. She collected her case and made her way through security, pulling her bag behind her. Once she got through to the arrivals lounge, she scanned the area for the transport that the university had arranged in advance. She almost squealed with excitement when she saw a large man holding the card with her name on it. He showed her to his car and helped her put her case in the trunk.

  The drive was short and took her through residential areas with abundant green spaces as well as pretty orange-roofed houses. As they approached the Old Town, Sarah admired the mix of old and new architecture that made up the landscape.

  When the car pulled up outside the hotel, she was ecstatic. It was every bit as gorgeous as it looked in the brochure, and it still retained a number of the original architectural features, including a beautiful spire. Sarah absolutely could not wait to take her phone out and take some pictures to send back to her colleague Simon, who had a very particular interest in medieval European architecture.

  At check-in, she asked the polite man behind the desk where would be a good place to go for a run that evening. He took one of the maps from the display beside the desk and drew her a running route that took her from the hotel, down to the Vltava, and along the riverside before looping around and back to the hotel.

  “Thank you!” she said, tucking it into the front of her bag alongside her travel guides and itinerary.

  “My pleasure,” he said, sliding her room key across the counter. She picked it up and headed for the elevator, suddenly very tired and ready to unpack and settle in. Her room was airy and modern, with a large oak desk and a compact lounge area with a television. It was beautiful, she thought, admiring the pristine white and maroon color scheme. The bathroom was your typical white and chrome hotel bathroom, with complimentary toiletries.

  Sarah eyed the shower but decided that she should get out for a run despite feeling tired. She was probably just lethargic from the traveling and getting her blood pumping would help combat that. She flipped open her suitcase and located her Lululemon running gear, which consisted of a set of very comfortable gray yoga pants and a gray tank. She changed quickly and examined the map the receptionist had laid out. She snapped a quick picture of it on her phone, which she then placed in her sports armband. She was ready.

  The air was pleasant outside, and it was warm, but not unbearably so. Sarah set off at a jog through the cobbled streets. She went slowly at. First, the cobbles making her wary of losing her balance, but as she got used to them, she picked up the pace a little. She passed restaurants where people were eating alfresco, laughing and conversing in a multitude of languages.

  She passed the Gothic synagogue, which she’d already placed on her itinerary, and the Convent of St Agnes, before reaching the banks of the Vltava. The river was still, but the banks bustled with tourists strolling and the occasional runner like herself. Sarah concentrated on keeping up her pace without barreling into any of the people walking.

  By the time she arrived back at the hotel she was out of breath and covered with a thin sheen of perspiration. The sun was setting and her earlier fatigue was gone, replaced for the moment with the pleasant buzz of the exercise endorphins. She made her way back to her room and climbed into the shower.

  She was looking forward to a quiet evening reading her Jane Austin novel. She ordered room service, pulled on her most comfortable pajamas and her trusty slipper socks, and settled down on the bed to read. By the time room service arrived she was almost too tired to eat it but she managed to finish all of the delicious pasta before crashing out for the night.

  Chapter 8

  Sarah awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and ready to get started on her packed itinerary. First stop was the old medieval castle of Vysehrad. She grabbed a couple of past
ries from the breakfast buffet and set off on her way, occasionally pausing to check the map she’d printed.

  The castle dominated the skyline as she approached, and it was incredible. She had visited Europe before but had never actually been in a place with a real castle that was open to the public to visit. She had been meant to visit one as part of her history major, but unfortunately had come down with the flu just before the European trip and missed it. Instead of having the chance to see it in real life, she had to rely on videos from her fellow students. So, she was in complete awe when she stepped inside a real castle for the very first time.

  This would hopefully be just the beginning of her career traveling the world and completing historical research. The atmosphere in the castle was incredible, and the building had been maintained particularly well with most of the original features surviving the centuries. The whole place was in much better condition than she had expected, which made it all the more exciting.

  The stone walls seemed to almost vibrate with the rich history they contained, and Sarah wished that they could tell her the story of the things that they must have seen. She made her way methodically through the castle from the front entrance through each display case until she reached the back of the castle.

  The final display case was filled with artifacts that had been found during excavations in and around the castle grounds. Sarah could hardly believe her eyes when they landed on a beautiful golden ring that was almost the double of the ring she was wearing, but with a masculine twist.

  Her own ring seemed to vibrate in recognition, and she blinked rapidly, staring at her hand. No, it couldn’t be real? There was absolutely no way; this was just a coincidence, wasn’t it? Memories of her gramma’s tales popped into her head, and she recalled that her grandmother had told her of the rings having magical powers. Maybe this was just her subconscious overreacting and remembering her grandmother’s tale in response to the strange similarity between her ring and the ring now in front of her in a display case.

  Get your act together she admonished herself. You’re a grown woman and a history professor. You might believe in true love, which is perhaps a kind of magic, but you don’t believe in actual magic or fairy tales about spells and magic rings.

  She inspected the information card that was positioned next to the ring. The card said that the ring had once belonged to a price who had lived in this castle in 1422. Sarah felt chill as she read about Prince Maximillian, who had ruled at a time when the kingdom had been in great turmoil. His reign had been short and unsettled.

  There was not a lot of information on the card, so she pulled out her phone and did a quick Google scholar search on the ill-fated young Prince. She vaguely remembered having read some stories based in the area at the time, but she wanted to know more. Perhaps the custodian of the artifacts in the castle would have more information. This wasn’t linked to her research, but this could be a personal project while she was here. Something in her told her she needed to learn more about the mysterious Prince and what had happened to him during his reign. And she wanted to know how he came by the ring that was so like her own.

  There was a portrait of the Prince in the same display cabinet as the ring, and Sarah pressed her hands to the glass as she leaned in to try and get a better look at the man in the picture. She felt inexplicably drawn to him.

  The man in the portrait had dark hair that was slightly messy, but it looked all the better for it. His face was quite rugged and manly, with a strong jawline, and his shoulders looked muscular and sturdy. He looked like a Disney prince made real. Who wouldn’t want to meet a man who looked like that? A strange sense of deja-vu washed over her as she peered at the portrait. It was like looking at a picture of someone she knew, except that she didn’t know him. He didn’t resemble anybody else she knew, either. She would definitely have remembered them!

  She almost jumped out of her skin when a security guard came up behind her and cleared his throat. “No touching the glass,” he said in a local accent.

  Glancing around at numerous signs in several languages requesting that guests did not touch the display cabinet, Sarah’s cheeks heated. “Sorry,” she said, moving her hands and taking a half step back from the cabinet to try and stop herself from touching the glass again.

  She made her way back to the ticket booth and asked to speak to the castle director. The bored-looking man picked up the telephone and made a brief call. Sarah didn’t understand any of the conversation since it was all in Czech. When the brief call was done, the man gestured her to one side.

  “Wait here for Iva,” he said.

  Sarah nodded and stepped to one side, plucking a leaflet from the information stand and reading it over. She could hardly take in a word of it; her mind kept going back to the portrait and the ring. She had to find out more about them.

  The click-clack of a woman’s heels on the concrete floor caught her attention, and she turned to see the tour guide crossing the castle floor with a very tall, very stern looking woman in a sharp gray pencil skirt suit. This must be Iva, she thought. The woman looked like a complete dragon, but Sarah wasn’t worried. She could hold her own with any academic, she was certain of it.

  She held out a hand as Iva approached. “Hi, I’m Sarah Portman,” she said. Iva had no choice but to reciprocate and hold out her own hand to shake.

  “I believe you wanted to speak to me?” she said, her thin, pinched mouth a straight line in her face.

  “Yes,” Sarah said. “I’m particularly interested in one portrait and the ring in the same display case. I need to know if you have any additional information about these pieces as they are linked to my current research.”

  “And you’re a... student at the university?” Iva looked her up and down with her cold gray eyes, and Sarah smiled.

  “No,” she said firmly. “I’m a professor at the university.” Surprise flickered across Iva’s face. It wasn’t the first time that Sarah had encountered this. It was, however, the most satisfying time she’d been able to correct somebody.

  “Well, there’s not much that we know about these particular items,” she said with a small shrug.

  “I’m aware there is very little information about these pieces.” Sarah said. “However, I would be interested in anything you do know that is not already listed on the display card.”

  “As I said there is very little that we know,” Iva looked at Sarah, but Sarah kept her gaze determinedly focused.

  “Perhaps I could take a closer look at them?” Sarah asked.

  “Absolutely not, it is against our policy to open the display cases in opening hours.”

  “I can come back after opening hours?”

  “It would be highly irregular, and I don’t offer private viewings. Even for visiting academics.” Iva shook her head, her arms folded across her chest.

  “Perhaps I could view the exhibit files today then?” Sarah asked. Iva looked disgruntled but didn’t immediately deny her the access. “I won’t take long,” Sarah said, seeing a gap in Iva’s defenses.

  Iva rolled her eyes. “I suppose that could be arranged.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Sarah beamed.

  Iva smiled weakly, although it seemed more like a grimace. Sarah pretended not to notice. Iva gestured for Sarah to follow her.

  Sarah followed Iva up the stairs and into an enormous office where a small portion of the castle had been converted to staff rooms. Sarah had a strange sense of déjà vu inside the room, although this was impossible. She had never been inside the castle before. The ring burned even more than it had been before. She shook the strange feeling off.

  “Would you like a drink?” Iva asked her. Sarah got the impression it was just out of politeness, and Iva would prefer if she’d say no.

  “Yes, I’d love a coffee,” Sarah said. Iva nodded and pulled out a thick file from the filing cabinet before leaving the office to get coffee. Sarah settled herself down on the chair in front of the desk and opened the fil
e.

  Most of the information was the same as what was on the display card inside the cabinet. However, there were a few sheets of notes that had some information in that looked interesting.

  “Did you find anything useful?” Iva asked as she came back into the room holding a coffee.

  “Not very much,” Sarah said, “but there are some notes here that are interesting. Would you mind if I copy them?”

  Iva looked like she wanted to say no, but she simply gave a weak hand gesture towards the photocopier.

  Sarah copied what she needed and tucked them into her bag for later. A thought occurred to her. “What about the secret passageways? Do you have information on those too?”

  “Are they also part of your research?” Iva asked.

  “I think they might be relevant,” Sarah said.

  “Yes, there is a lot of information about the passageways,” she said, reaching into the filing cabinet and retrieving a different file this time.

  This file was quite thick, and Sarah decided that she would rather read it in the comfort of her own hotel room. Despite her earlier energy, tiredness and jetlag were beginning to settle in.

  “I think I’d like to copy the whole file,” she said to Iva. She nodded.

  It took fifteen minutes to copy the entire file and arrange the copies in the way that Sarah wanted them. When it was done, Sarah was excited to get back to the hotel to read it. She would have to change her itinerary tomorrow evening, but she certainly wanted to return to the castle if possible.

  She tried to remember the name of the university head here in Prague. Denislov? She thought that was it.

  “Professor Denislov will be so upset when I tell him that we can’t inspect the artifacts a little closer,” Sarah said. “But I’m sure he will understand that it’s just your protocol.”

  Iva paled. “Professor Denislov?” she squeaked.

  “Yes, I’ll be reporting directly to him on my research. He’s got quite a keen interest in the History Department at the moment. He thinks it’s the key to the university’s success over the next five to ten years.” Sarah hoped that Iva didn’t know Denislov very well, or she could end up in hot water.