She then spoke quickly to the Italian. “We’re safe now, Lauro, but keep your eyes closed. You’re going to hear voices speaking English. These are my friends. Do not open your eyes until I tell you to, all right?”
He shook his head, but his eyes remained closed. “I have died,” he began muttering. “Guerrini killed me and it’s all been a dream of death. I have died and this is heaven…or hell.”
“You’re not dead. Promise me you’ll keep your eyes closed, now. Promise me!”
“Prometto,” he said weakly, “I promise.”
The next several minutes were a swirl of activity as the team of people waiting for them lifted Jake and rushed him to the hospital. Cassandra sat on the floor of the chamber and clutched Lauro’s hand.
“Do you have sleep tonic here?” she quietly asked Professor Carver.
“Yes.” He hurried to retrieve it.
“You’re going to feel something cool on your wrists,” she said to Lauro. “Don’t worry, it will help to soothe you.”
The professor returned with a bottle of the liquid, and Cassandra extracted the wand and applied it to Lauro’s wrists. He jumped at the sensation and opened his eyes. He screamed at the dark-skinned man peering concernedly into his face, but a moment later, he collapsed into sleep. Cassandra gently positioned his head in her lap.
The portal lab was a welcome and familiar sight, with one difference: a large holographic note hung in the air, impossible to miss. It said: CASSANDRA AND JAKE WENT TO SIENA OF 1509 TO KEEP FRANCESCO MARINO FROM DYING SO HE COULD COMPLETE THE PORTRAIT OF GIULIANA. THEY WILL BE RETURNING CLOSE TO JULY SECOND. ASK CASSANDRA’S COMPUTER FOR MORE DETAIL.
“You must have done it,” Professor Carver said.
“Done it?”
“Kept Francesco Marino from dying, at least long enough to finish the portrait. About an hour ago, we all completely forgot why we were in a portal lab in Siena. Fortunately, the sensor I injected into your arm just before you left alerted us to a shift in the space-time continuum.”
“What…are you talking about?”
“I only thought of it a couple of hours before you left and just had time to arrange it all, but not to explain it to you. I figured it would just distract you anyway, but here’s the short explanation: if you kept Francesco Marino alive long enough to finish the portrait of Giuliana, those of us still in the future would return to the original reality, the original space-time continuum, not aware there ever was a collective dream, and therefore wouldn’t remember why you and Jake went back. And that’s exactly what happened. About an hour ago, we forgot why we were in Siena with a portal lab.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I designed the sensor in your arm to detect a shift in the time-line. When Francesco didn’t die in the alternate reality, the shift occurred, and the sensor beamed a message to the portal exit which transmitted it to us. It simply alerted us a shift had been made, but not specifically what it was. Then, this message, which I created on your computer, automatically popped up, so I checked for your notes about Marino, the portrait, the collective dream, and all that.”
“Right. Because anything biologically connected with me or Jake, like my computer and my notes—even the lab, since it’s connected to my computer—would not have changed since we’re the ones who went back in time. Since you and the rest of the team aren’t biologically connected to us, you would rejoin the original continuum. Pretty ingenious, Elton, though I don’t really appreciate being implanted with a device against my knowledge. Anyway, I guess we accomplished the mission. Francesco lived and must have finished the portrait.”
“It hangs in the Louvre. Always has,” James remarked. “I guess being your son isn’t the same kind of biological connection your computer has with you, because I forgot too.”
It was an amusing thought, but panic immediately replaced Cassandra’s sense of mirth. “Wait, Francesco didn’t die, but Giuliana’s husband did. And Lauro killed him!” Her heart leapt into her throat. “Do we know how Jake is doing?”
“Shannon and Yoshi went with him to the hospital,” Professor Carver assured her. “Shannon did a quick examination and said she thinks he’ll be okay. They have good facilities here in Siena.”
Cassandra shook her head to clear it. Yes, they were still in Siena, six hundred and fifteen years in the future from where they’d just come. “Let’s get him to the couch.”
The two men and the young, Turkish scientist lifted Lauro and carried him to the sofa in the lounge area of the lab.
“Who is he?” asked James.
She took her son’s hand and squeezed it, its warmth so reassuring. “He’s Lauro Sampieri.”
“The artist and inventor,” exclaimed Carver.
“Yes. God, I didn’t want to bring him, but my only choice was to leave him at the portal exit, where he would have met his death at the hands of his enemies.”
“Oh, boy,” Carver breathed.
“What are we going to do with him?” asked Suhan. She looked at Lauro’s face. “He’s handsome.”
Cassandra sank into a nearby chair.
“You must be exhausted,” said Carver. “But we don’t have sleep facilities for you here. We have to move him somewhere more familiar looking, so he’s not so shocked when he wakes up.”
“Well, there’s the hotel where the team is staying over by the Campo,” suggested James. “It’s old, but too modernized, I think. It will only be slightly better than here.”
“Wait a minute.” Suhan called up an ancient map of Siena from her computer and it materialized in hologram form before them. She then called up a modern map and laid the old one over the new. “In the city center, many of the buildings and even some of the homes are the same.”
Cassandra studied the overlapping maps. There was the Campo; she traced the streets from that point. The road where Sampieri’s studio was located still existed, as did most of the old streets and buildings. She followed the roads north and pinpointed Lauro’s villa beyond the ancient city gates. On the old map, it was outside the city limits of Siena. On the modern one, it had been engulfed by the city’s expansion. By running her finger over it, a label appeared. “Villa Girasole,” it was called. Sunflower Villa. “This is Lauro’s house. I bet it’s an inn or a rental.”
Suhan was already researching the place. “Yes, they do rent it.” She had the owner on her link in seconds, rapidly communicating using an automatic translator. By the time she ended the call with a flick of her wrist, she had agreed to pay them double what the people were paying who had it booked the next day.
“Good job, Suhan,” said the professor. “Now let’s get him moved. Cassandra, we’ll arrange to have the luggage you stored at the hotel moved to Villa Girasole. As a matter of fact, we’ll all transfer there. Sounds like there’s enough room for the whole team.”
James was arranging for a vehicle big enough to move them all and the sleeping Lauro. Soon, they were on their way.
Cassandra, still wearing the yellow gown stained with Jake’s blood, stared out the van’s window at the city at sunset. The stand of cypress trees was gone. It had been replaced by a business, one of many along the busy commercial street. The MIT C c hronology D d epartment had paid the owners well to let them use the place for the few months needed to build the portal and while the travelers were gone. There were no signs of old Siena in this part of the city, for that was now simply the historic center of a much bigger, bustling town.
James instructed the van’s computer to avoid the city center, and so it drove them along the silent, grooved outer highway and onto a side road that led to Villa Girasole. Cassandra had expected it to be outside of town as it had been in the past, but its land was swallowed up by buildings now, only the garden and a front yard remaining from the original property.
However, there was something was familiar about the woman who met them at the door. Sure enough, she introduced herself as Rosa Schiatti, obviously a descendant of Ottavia’s family.
“Thank you for allowing us to impose ourselves on your previous reservation. We’ll arrange to find them other lodgings,” Cassandra said to her. “We have a man with us here who needs to be put to bed. I know my assistant has paid you in advance. Can you show me the master bedroom before we move him in?”
Rosa looked her over doubtfully, and Cassandra pulled the jacket Professor Carver had given her to cover Jake’s blood more tightly over her gown.
“Right this way,” the woman finally said.
Cassandra followed her through the familiar house, dazed. How could she have been in this same place that very morning, over six hundred years in the past? The modern furnishings made it very different superficially, but otherwise, little else about the building had changed—except for how bright it was. Ah yes, electricity! What a difference it made.
Rosa led them into what had once been Lauro’s bedroom. Amazingly, the huge wooden bed frame that had belonged to him was still being used. How very Italian to keep and treasure beautiful old things. “Perfect,” she said to Rosa. “However, we will need to make some changes, and quickly.”
“Changes?”
The keen eyes and determined set of the mouth that had belonged to Ottavia had certainly been passed down over the centuries. “Yes,” Cassandra replied. “My assistants will help and we will pay you double what we already paid if you can comply.”
Rosa’s expression relaxed. “All right.”
“I will need everything modern removed from this room with the exception of the lights. Basically, anything that couldn’t have existed before the fifteen-hundreds has to go. So, though the chairs, tables, rugs, and things have changed style and materials, they’re basically okay. But we have to get rid of the music port, the holo—”
“Are you part of that time - travel group from the United States?” Rosa asked, her eyes sparkling.
“Yes, we are—”
Rosa went on. “I’ve read about what you do…wait a minute!” She wagged her finger in Cassandra’s direction. “You’re Cassandra Reilly! I recognize your picture! I read your book about your journey to Regency England!”
“Oh, how nice! But we can talk about all that later. If you will help us quickly now, I will explain everything. My people will assist you.”
No problem,” she said with a smile.
Ottavia had probably once been as handsome as Rosa was now.
The hostess began gathering up the various modern conveniences she provided for her usual guests. Cassandra went back out to the van and asked Suhan and James to go in and help while Professor Carver stayed with Lauro. Once the room was technology-free, the four of them helped the professor carry the artist through the house and into the bedroom.
Rosa stared at him as they went past. “Is he drunk?”
“No,” Cassandra gasped, supporting him under one shoulder. “He’s asleep.”
They got him to the bedroom, took off his shoes, and placed him in the bed. The five people stared at him.
His Renaissance clothing looked strange against the modern sheets.
“He’s going to freak out, no matter what we do,” James said.
“You have to stay with him until he wakes, Cassie,” Professor Carver remarked.
“Yes, of course. Signora Schiatti….” Cassandra began.
“Signorina,” the woman said, with a glance toward Professor Carver.
“I’m sorry. Signorina,” Cassandra continued. “Could you bring us something to eat?”
“Who is he?” the woman whispered.
“Lauro Sampieri.”
“Sampieri! The name of the beautiful woman in the picture.”
“The picture?”
“Here. In the dining room. There is an old portrait of a woman and the name underneath says Teresa Martinelli Sampieri.”
“That was his wife,” Cassandra said with surge of tenderness.
“Do you mean…you brought him back with you from the past?”
Cassandra turned to her. “Yes. But do not tell anyone. Do you understand? If people come around to gawk, it will make him very agitated, at the least. As it is, we don’t know how he’ll react when he wakes up. We have to ease him gradually into the idea that he has traveled into the future or he could, well, he could lose his mind. Literally. Can we count on your discretion?”
“Absolutely. I understand,” Rosa said evenly. “So, if his wife’s portrait is here, does that mean he once lived here?”
“It was his house.”
“Oh! I’m going to look through some old papers and things my great-grandmother preserved. I think there may be some documents related to the Sampieri family, now that I think of it.”
“That would be very interesting. For now, I’m going to rest here, but could you please set up a room for me upstairs and one for each of my colleagues?”
“In the morning, we’ll transfer our things from the hotel,” Professor Carver added.
“Good. But initially, it will be best that Lauro see only me when he wakes up.”
“I agree. So we’ll leave you for now,” said her boss.
“And please let me know what you hear about Jake.”
“Oh, I’ve already had a link from Yoshi at the hospital,” said Suhan. “Jake is in stable condition. He’s going to be okay.”
“Thank God!” Cassandra hugged her companions in turn.
“Come,” said Rosa. “I will get you all something to eat in the kitchen and I will bring you something right away, Dottoressa Reilly.”
It had been a long time since anyone had called her ‘doctor’, especially in Italian. “Cassandra.”
“Bene,” Rosa replied with a nod. She left with her guests and Cassandra went into the bathroom and took off the outer robe of her dress and chemise. Both were stained. She washed the blood out in the sink with cold water and soap, but the garments were too heavy for more than a spot cleaning. She then took off her shoes, stockings, and bloomers and stepped into the shower. Instantly, a stream of warm water sprayed over her. She gasped at the wonderful sensation she’d missed so much. She only enjoyed it briefly, however. Best not to take the risk that Lauro would wake when she wasn’t there. She pressed a button and a mild lather flowed over her hair and skin. She washed thoroughly, then pressed the button for a rinse, and finally was blasted with warm air which dried her skin and hair instantly. She brought the chemise and dress into the stall and dried them also. She hand-washed and dried her bloomers, and put them and the chemise back on, but not the dress. It was wonderful to be rid of the heavy garment, and to be so much cleaner than she had been in weeks.
Rosa returned with a light supper and wine, which Cassandra ate and drank gratefully at a table and chair placed near an open window, the smell of jasmine flowers drifting through. When she finished, she sat on the bed next to Lauro. What a dear face his had come to be. She turned off the lights and lay down next to him. Maybe just for a few minutes.
“Contessa?” Lauro’s voice trembled near her ear.
Cassandra opened her eyes. Sunlight streamed in the window. She jumped off the bed.
“Please tell me what is happening. Am I dead? Did you die too? Are you an angel?”
“Lauro, lie still for a moment and listen to me.”
“What is this material on my bed? What are these strange fabrics?” He flailed at the sheets and pillows.
“Lauro, Lauro.” She gently took his hands in hers. “You have traveled into the future with me, yet this is your room, in the house that belonged to you six hundred and fifteen years ago.”
He stared at her, eyes wild. She plunged ahead. “We are still in Tuscany, still in Siena, but everything has changed. Everything. And it is going to take you a long time to get used to it.”
“Six hundred and fifteen….”
She sat tentatively on the edge of the bed. “Remember the conversation we had that night when we looked at the moon and planets? About how I could see into the past and the future? It’s because I am a scientist, like you,
but I study time and how to move through it. Lauro,”—she leaned toward him—“if I had tried to bring anyone else with me into the future, they would have gone insane, but because you have a rational mind, I thought you could understand. This is going to be very difficult for you and we are going to take it slowly. But you are not dead, nor am I. Nor is Jacopo. My friends have taken him to a doctor. But Giuliana, Francesco, Ottavia, all those people have been dead for hundreds of years. The year is 2124.”
He looked at her and blinked slowly. “I’m trying to understand what you’re saying.”
“Look around this room, at the linens on your bed, the curtains at the window, the rugs on the floor. The fabrics, some of these materials, did not exist in your time. You can see how strange, almost magical they are, yes?”
“Yes….”
“It’s not magic, it’s progress. The progress of man inventing new things, discovering new things all the time. Mankind has come so far in these six hundred years it’s as if…it’s as if we have become gods.”
He slowly shook his head, frowning, obviously not convinced.
“Lauro, do you remember that da Vinci was working on a flying machine?”
“I had heard something about it.”
“Well, we have perfected that flying machine. Now, hundreds of people can get inside one and fly across the oceans, just like people sail in ships on the water, only much, much faster.”
“I see….” He gazed around the room, glassy-eyed. “I, um, I suppose I am indeed not dead, because I need to use the comoda.”
“Oh, of course. I am going to take you into a room built just for that purpose, like the ones you added onto your house that fertilized your garden. And remember how you were trying to bring water into the house? Well, in this room, called a bathroom, that is exactly what happens. Water comes into the house for bathing and goes out to take away our waste. Come, I’ll show you.” She stood and reached out to him.
Lauro stared at her for a moment, and then looked away with a blush.
The Time Contessa (The Time Mistress Book 3) Page 15