by Paige Elwood
“This isn’t up for negotiation, Max,” his father said. “You will get up and attend the Lord’s council with me in an hour. After that you will resume your military training daily, and we will seek suitable marriage partners for you.”
Max clenched his jaw. “Do you understand me?” his father said.
“What if I don’t?” Max said.
“Son or not, I am still your king.” He eyed Max coolly. “If I have to, I will have you imprisoned for treason.” His mother gasped.
“A little extreme, don’t you think?” Max said.
His father snorted. “No. I think it might be necessary. A few weeks in jail might teach you to appreciate the luxuries you have. We’re asking you to marry a beautiful princess, not an old hag!”
Max sighed. It was clear that neither of his parents would relent. “If you lift the banishment on Sarah, then I will consider it.”
“This isn’t a negotiation,” his father said, sternly. “You will do as we ask. Come.”
His mother stood and took the kings hand. They left the room, the door closing loudly behind them.
Max took a deep breath. No amount of meditation was going to help him right now. He stood and adjusted his tunic. A rustling in the material startled him, and he pulled out a piece of paper. On it was written an address in a looping cursive. Katherine’s address! Perhaps he still had an ally that would help him after all.
Chapter 34
Agata wrapped the musty-smelling shawl around Sarah's head.
"Do I really have to wear this thing? It stinks!" she complained.
"It's better than being spotted by one of the King’s guards and having your head chopped off!" Agata said. Sarah's neck jolted to the side as Agata yanked the shawl roughly and pinned it in place.
She stepped back, surveying her handiwork. "Good," she said to herself, her hand on her chin. "It will do."
Sarah, Agata, and Leona left the brothel and took the short walk to Our Lady before Tyn, the small but pretty church was where Sarah knew that the local records were held in this time. The square was crowded as usual, and Sarah froze when she saw the two of the King’s uniformed guards walking through.
“Come on," Agata hissed. "Don’t draw attention to yourself!" She grabbed Sarah’s arm and pulled her along, as though she were helping a frail old woman.
Sarah's heart pounded in her chest and she kept her eyes on her feet, shuffling like an elderly woman as they passed the guards. Neither of the two stocky guards took any notice of her, too busy talking to each other.
She was glad when they reached the steps of the church, and she resisted the urge to race up them. Keeping in the character of a frail old woman, she climbed them slowly, and relief flooded her when she was inside. The church smelled of incense and polished wood, and there were a handful of worshippers praying at the front, kneeling on the hard wood benches.
She wanted to remove the stinky shawl, but it wasn’t safe, so she loosened it a little instead to make it more comfortable. Agata spotted a short, squat priest with full cheeks like a hamster and a rotund middle that stretched his cassock to its capacity.
Agata asked the priest where he kept the records, and Leona and Sarah stayed loitering next to a marble statue of Mary, with her arms stretched out wide. The priest glanced over to where they were standing, and Sarah tried to make out what Agata was saying to him.
Eventually, the priest nodded, and Agata waved them over. "The records are in a room upstairs," she said. "Father Thomas kindly offered to help us, but I said we could search ourselves.”
"I think it will…" the priest started, but Agata cut him off.
"We can do it ourselves. We wouldn’t want to take you away from your flock." She gestured to the kneeling worshippers.
The priest looked skeptical. "I’d rather be there to make sure that you find what you need, and to make sure the records don’t get damaged."
"We promise we'll be very careful," Leona said, her pale blue eyes wide and her voice dripping in a sugary sweet tone. The priest looked at her and sighed.
"Very well. But I must check in with you occasionally. I can’t leave the records unattended for long," he said.
"Fine," Agata said. "Hopefully we'll find what we need very quickly anyways."
Father Thomas led them up the steps at the back of the church, next to the altar and to a small, high-ceilinged room. There were large record books piled high on a wooden desk pushed against the most beautifully ornate stained-glass window Sarah had ever seen, depicting Mary surrounded by flowers, her angelic aura resplendent.
Candles lined the windowsill and sat in candlesticks on the desk, dangerously close to the books in Sarah’s opinion. She thought about the missing records when she'd tried to research her lineage in her own time. Now it made perfect sense.
"Should those candles be so close to the books?" she asked the priest, her voice clear and authoritative."
He looked at her strangely, and she realized that he had expected the frailer sound of an older woman. She bit her lip. It was too late to take it back now.
"Well?" she asked.
"I don’t see why not," he shrugged.
"They could catch fire!"
"Only if you knock the candles onto them. I suggest you don’t do that.”
"We'll be careful," Leona said, smiling at him.
The priest’s shoulders relaxed, and he returned the smile. "I'll be back in an hour or so," he said, looking over his shoulder at the three women as he left the room.
"He likes you," Agata teased Leona.
"He wouldn't if he knew what my job was," she said. "But no matter, let's start looking!"
Sarah heaved two books off the desk and passed one to Leona. "Let's start."
"What exactly am I looking for?" Leona asked.
"Just look for a family named 'Romanov,'” Sarah said. “Let me know if you see any records linked to that family name.”
"Do you know what kind of record you're looking for?”
"Not exactly, but I’ll know it when I see it," she said. Leona looked at her sideways, but shrugged and opened the book she held to the first page.
"What shall I do?" Agata said.
"Keep watch at the door," Sarah said. "I need to take this ridiculous shawl off!"
Agata nodded and stationed herself at the door. Sarah yanked the shawl down, sucking in fresher air, and settled into the chair to read through the book in front of her.
The records were disorganized. Every event was listed, but they were all intermingled with each other, and it was impossible to look for just births, or marriages, or anything specific. They would have to trawl through every single book. Some years had two or more books! This could take forever, Sarah thought with a sinking heart.
She didn’t know how much time she had, but she was certain it wouldn't be long before Max was forced into another betrothal, and possibly even rushed into a full marriage contract. She needed answers before that happened. She scanned through every page of the book in front of her and found no mention at all of the Romanov family.
She glanced across at Leona, who had only gotten through half a book in the same amount of time. Frustration gripped her, but she swallowed it down. It wasn’t fair to expect Leona to research as fast as she could. Even if she only got through half the information Sarah did, it was still faster than Sarah working on her own.
Sarah pulled another book off the great pile, almost toppling a candle in the process. Exasperated, she blew out the candles on the table. There was no way her conscience would let her leave open flames next to these records!
She settled down and made it through a couple of pages, before Agata hissed, "Priest!"
She looked up, startled, and Agata made gestures at her head. Sarah wrinkle her nose in confusion, at Agata's flapping hands. What did she mean? Leona scooted over and pulled the shawl back over Sarah's head. The musty smell clogged her nostrils.
Agata slipped into the room and pretended to leaf through a book. The priest
entered a moment later, his chubby cheeks glowing pink from the exertion of taking the stairs.
"Have you ladies found what you were looking for?" he panted.
Sarah suppressed a giggle. She was technically an outlaw in the city, accompanied by a 'lady of the night.’ Only Agata was remotely respectable in their strange group. And here they were in a church, talking to a priest! She bit the corner of her lip, glad that the shawl obscured her face.
"Not yet," Leona sighed.
"What is it that you’re looking for? Maybe I can be of assistance?" The priest asked.
"We're looking for records about the Romanov family," Leona said. “But there are a lot of records to get through.”
The priest scratched his chin. "The name rings a bell, but I'm not sure why." He shrugged. "I need to give Mass now, perhaps you ladies would join the congregation?"
"Sadly, we have a prior appointment," Leona said smoothly.
"Could we come back tomorrow?" Agata asked.
"I don’t see why not."
"Thank you," Agata said, "We'll see you tomorrow afternoon."
They rushed Sarah through the town square, but this time there were no guards in sight. The moment she stepped through the townhouse door, she ripped the shawl off her head. "I'm going to need a new shawl. Where did you get that? It smells horrible. "
"It was my grandmother's," Agata said.
"Sorry," Sarah said, feeling incredibly awkward.
"She did smell a bit funny," Leona laughed.
Agata left to go to the castle. She’d had a friend covering for her, but she needed to get back before her absence was noticed. "Let me know if there are any rumors about Max!" Sarah said, and Agata nodded.
Leona led Sarah to the large kitchen to get some food. There was a large pot of stew bubbling away over the fire, and Leona ladled two bowls out for them. Sarah spooned some into her mouth. It was tasty, but not as good as the castle food.
Leona ate hers quickly. “I have to work now,” she explained to Sarah. She felt bad — Leona had given most of her day to help Sarah and now she was going to have to work for Edita too.
Alone in the kitchen, Sarah couldn’t stop thinking about Max. It was harder now that her mind wasn’t occupied with research, and since she wasn’t doing anything to try and solve the situation she felt tense and restless. Perhaps a meditation session would help. She finished her food and retired to her room.
She settled onto the bed, focusing on her breathing. After what felt like a lifetime, she gave up. She was too anxious to relax. Perhaps distraction would work? She had nothing to read, and the house had no gardens to walk in. She didn’t want to risk going outside in case the guards saw her, and she certainly wasn’t putting that shawl around her head again!
There wasn’t much else to do other than to go downstairs and mingle with the girls. She paused at the door. What if a 'customer' thought she worked here? Or they got too lecherous? Her hand dropped from the door handle to her side.
She clenched her fist at her side. So what would she do? Her room was too small to spend any length of time in. Perhaps the house had a library that she could look at. She was still a bit too jittery to really enjoy reading, but the feel of a book in her hand might calm her a little. It was worth a try.
She got up and opened the door this time.
She descended the stairs slowly, listening to the chatter coming from the parlor filled with Edita's 'girls' and their customers. As she walked past Edita's office, the door was open, and a voice called out to her, "Sarah!"
She entered the office and saw Edita sitting behind her desk, quill in hand like yesterday. "How have you settled in?"
"Very well, thank you. Hopefully I won’t impose on your hospitality for much longer," she said.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Edita asked.
"Not yet, but I think we are getting close."
"I can’t spare Leona beyond the end of this week," she said. "She's one of the customers’ favorites."
"Thank you. I can perhaps pay you for her time?" She pulled out the green pouch filled with money.
Edita waved it away. "That won’t be necessary. And you would be surprised how little time you could get even for the money in that pouch."
Sarah blushed. She hoped she hadn’t offended Edita by suggesting that she thought her girls were cheap, but Edita was still wearing the neutral expression that she generally wore.
"What are your plans this evening?" she asked her.
"I was going to see if you had a library that it could borrow a book or two from?" she said.
“We have a small library. It's not quite castle sized, but it's adequate. I teach all my girls to read, you know," She smiled proudly.
"Do you?" Sarah asked. "Why?"
"Because contrary to popular belief, the men that use our services enjoy the company of educated women. At least, a lot of them do. We have clients who pay simply to sit and spend time with beautiful women, and all the better if those women can provide stimulating conversation."
"I suppose that's as good a reason as any."
"Perhaps you should spend some time in the parlor," Edita said. "It might be an eye-opener.”
"I don’t know that I want or need my eyes opened," Sarah said. "I'm not a prude, I just have my own boundaries. I'm not judging you or your ladies."
"I should think not, you are a Prince's mistress after all."
"That's not true! His betrothal was cancelled."
"Before or after your feelings developed for each other?" The older woman quirked an eyebrow. Sarah shrank a little under her shrewd gaze.
"After," Sarah admitted. "But it's not the way you're making it sound!"
"Darling, that's what they all say. Don't get so flustered. I'm just ruffling your feathers a little. That color in your cheeks suits you." She grinned.
Sarah nodded, and spun on her heel to find the library. "Third door on the left," Edita called after her.
Chapter 35
She found the library, and it was indeed a small but cozy room. It reminded her a little of her library at home, but this room had no carpet or comfortable overstuffed armchair, just shelves of books and a chaise that appeared more decorative than functional.
She browsed the titles available and found them to be predominantly philosophical and religious texts. The irony of a brothel having a library made up of mostly religious texts amused her greatly.
She picked up a copy of Gorgias and opened it, tears pricking her eyes. She wished she could go back to those first days when she had just met the Prince and they were discussing rhetoric and the philosophy of love. She hugged the book to her chest, fat teardrops falling down her cheeks.
It was insane, the whole thing was insane. Less than a month ago, she was still in 21st century America, worrying about tenure and planning her trip to Prague. Now she was a medieval outcast, in love with a man she could never have and whose father would go to incredible lengths to stop them being together.
She had no idea how all of this would end, but everything was hanging in the balance right now, and that was a very scary thought. She flopped down on the chaise, which was more comfortable than she'd expected. She thought back to her research on her lineage back home. There must be something that would help, a detail that if she remembered it she could unlock the key to solving the problem. She refused to believe that she would be pulled back in time and find her true love, only to fail in the end. That was not how her story was going to be written. It wasn’t an option!
Her own research had ended with Peter Romanov because the records earlier than that had been destroyed in a fire. She was willing to bet the fire had been at Our Lady before Tyn, having seen how the priest there kept the records room. It was a travesty.
The only thing she knew about Peter was that he had died in 1458 and that he'd left no children behind. His wife had died ten years earlier, and he’d never remarried. But she didn’t know anything about her ancestors from before him. And it
had been a tenuous database link that added him to the mix. With his lack of heirs, he couldn’t be a direct ancestor, but he was the only possible lead and she wouldn’t give up. He had died only early last year, relative to the timeline she was currently in. She needed to find his birth records and see if his parents had any other children, or there were other branches of this tree somewhere.
She rubbed at her eyes. God, she was crazy, clinging to tenuous links. She sighed. Some of the best historical discoveries had come from tenuous links that became more concrete with proper research. Her gut was telling her this was the right path to follow, and she had nothing else to go on.
She thought about her gramma’s stories. All the stories about lovers defying the odds to be together. Princes slaying evil dragons, princesses slaying evil vultures. Perhaps those were all to prepare her for the journey ahead. How much had her gramma really known, she wondered. She knew of the legend of the rings that they supposedly held magical powers. Had she known what those powers were?
Had she known that Sarah would end up here, that she’d need those stories and that hope to cling onto? Suddenly she felt a surge of anger towards her gramma. If she’d known, then surely there would have been better ways to prepare Sarah. Simply telling her stories and telling her she was special — that’s just what grandparents did, wasn’t it? Why would she have paid extra attention to that?
Ugh. Her head was whirling, and she dug her fingers into Gorgias’s leather cover so hard there were fingernail imprints when she finally relaxed her hands. She needed more distraction. Perhaps she should brave the parlor. She slid the book back on its shelf and strode out of the library and into the parlor with a confidence to her step that she didn’t feel. She’d passed through this room on several occasions, but she had never been brave enough to really look around, to observe what was happening in any detail.
It was very sedate compared to her expectations. Tables were scattered around, with several chairs at each table. Iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Ladies sat in groups together, and some men were seated with a single lady, occasionally two. They were mostly talking, drinking wine, and playing cards. She saw the occasional touch of a leg over clothing that would have been considered improper, or a hand against a cheek, but it certainly wasn’t the terrible den of immodesty that she’d imagined it might be.