Nothing to Lose: The Pocket Watch Chronicles

by Ceci Giltenan

  As they sailed across the lagoon, Ben reissued all of the warnings he had given her since agreeing to the trip. “Stay in the area near San Marco. From the Arsenale, just walk along the water. If you get lost when you are in town, make your way west until you can see the cathedral tower or you reach water. From the water, you should be able to see the cathedral tower and work your way back to the square. Be careful. Avoid making eye contact with anyone. I’m going to give you a few soldi just in case you need it.”

  “You’ve already told me all of this, Ben.”

  “I know. I’m just praying that you listened and remember.”

  “I’ll be fine. Stop worrying. What time shall I return to the Arsenale?”

  “Don’t return there. I’ll move the boat closer to San Marco and meet you at the base of the tower. If anyone asks, your name is Sal. If they push, your parents are dead and you’ve just come here from Padua to live with an aunt. If they push more, she lives on Burano and makes lace.”

  “Why not just say she lives on the Lido? I’m at least familiar with that island.”

  “You may be, but you’ve never been to the village. Also, because so few people do live there, if the person questioning you knows anything at all about the Lido, they’ll destroy that story in moments. More people live on Burano. It will be harder for them to disprove your story. But hopefully you can avoid any questions if you don’t—”

  “I know, if I don’t make eye contact with anyone. Ben, I’ll be fine.”

  So just after sunup, Sara found herself walking through Venice alone. San Marco square was quiet. She remembered reading about the Erbaria, a place near the Rialto Bridge where vendors set up stalls to sell fresh herbs, fruits, and vegetables.

  She saw more people as she drew closer to the Grand Canal. But she had to stifle the odd giggle. Nearly all of these people were doing what in her time she’d have called the walk of shame. They all looked as if they’d been out all night and were just dragging home, still wearing their evening finery.

  She crossed the Grand Canal at the Rialto Bridge and continued on to the Erbaria. She spent at least an hour wandering around the area, just soaking in the sights and smells, wanting to remember every detail. Once she’d absorbed her fill, she walked back to the Rialto until she found herself in the spot where, in her time, she had met Gertrude. It was absolutely mind-boggling that she had been here in this exact spot less than two weeks ago, two-hundred and forty-eight years from now.

  She thought back to the events of that afternoon and realized that the little enclosed alley she had decided would act as her time portal was just down a little way on the other side of the canal. She had to see if it was there yet. Her whole story might be ruined if it wasn’t. She crossed the bridge and began searching for the entrance. She didn’t have the benefit of the little tourist gift shop with its stands full of postcards out front as her landmark. But eventually she did find it.

  Oh. My. God. I can’t believe it. She started to walk through it, then hesitated. What if it really was a time portal and she ended up in modern Venice again? She gave a little laugh. Don’t be silly. There is no such thing as a time portal. She walked into the passage, but before she reached the opening onto the little square, the light at the end was blocked by a man entering it.

  She kept going with her head down and avoiding eye contact as she’d promised Ben she would. But he stopped in front of her. Filling the small space.

  “Well, what have we here?”

  Sara wasn’t sure what to say, so she said nothing, still keeping her head down.

  “You’re in my way, boy.”

  “Sorry, sir.” She turned to go back the way she’d come, but he grabbed her arm, stopping her.

  He grabbed her chin with his other hand, jerking her head upward. “I like pretty boys like you. Come with me. You can pay for blocking my way and if you are very good, I may find a soldi or two to give you.”

  What the hell had she been thinking when she accepted that watch? She’d done this for a romance novel and now was about to be molested. You could have just used Google, Sara. “N-n-no, sir,” she stammered. “I—”

  “Sal, lad, what’s keeping ye?” came a familiar voice from behind the man.

  The man let go of Sara. “You’re really a boy? Go on to your granny.” He pushed past Sara and continued down the passage.

  Sara hurried toward the cloaked figure that stood in the little square. “Gertrude?”

  “Of course. What are ye doing here? And dressed as a boy no less?”

  “I have so much to tell you. I didn’t drown.”

  The old woman cocked her head and grinned. “Evidently.”

  Sara laughed. “I mean, I was able to swim to the Lido. A man, Benedict MacIan, found me there and is letting me stay with him.”

  “I know all about Benedict MacIan. But that brings me back to my first question. Why are you here alone, dressed as a boy?”

  “I told him about the watch and about how I want to learn all I can about eighteenth century Venice for my next book. He can only come with me on days when he isn’t working and I don’t have much time. I convinced him that this would be a way I could just sample life here.”

  Gertrude tsked and shook her head. “It doesn’t surprise me that you’d think of that or that he wouldn’t know why that’s an awful idea. But you almost had a sample of life here that you wouldn’t have liked. Come, we’ll go have coffee and a bit of a chat.”

  “I only have a few soldi. I can’t afford coffee. I thought Starbucks was pricey.”

  “I’ll pay for our coffee. Caffè Florian won’t be crowded this early in the morning.”

  “That’s where I went with Ben. Maybe a café that’s not right on San Marco Square will be more economical.”

  “Perhaps, but Florian’s is the only café that allows women.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I don’t kid.”

  Sara fell in step beside Gertrude and they walked toward San Marco. As they passed a theatre called, Teatro San Luca, Sara paused and looked up at it. “This looks like the theatre that was right around the corner from my hotel in the twenty-first century.”

  “It is that theatre. It’s called the Teatro Goldani now. As a matter of fact, Carlo Goldani is writing Gl'innamorati, The Lovers, not far from here, even as we speak.”

  Gertrude pointed out several sights as they walked, but didn’t begin her “chat” until they were seated at Florian’s and had been served. If the people at Florians disapproved of what appeared to be a street urchin in their midst, they didn’t react.

  “Ye needn’t be worried about yer appearance, lass. When ye’re with me, they only see and hear what I want them to see and hear. We can speak freely for now.”

  “How did you know…never mind.”

  Gertrude chuckled. “Learning, are ye? Good. So now back to the situation at hand. You are in La Serenissima, the Most Serene Republic of Venice, in the eighteenth century and there are a few things you need to know. This city is the most scandalous city in the world at the moment. It abounds with all sorts of vices. Political corruption, gambling, debauchery, and overall moral decay. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not here to judge, but you must understand things to remain safe.”

  “Well, I knew courtesans were common, but…”

  “My dear, courtesans are but one part of the entire culture. Frankly, the sexual revolution abounding in this city would rival that of the nineteen sixties in America. For example, many noblewomen have what they call a cavalier servente. A man with the same social standing as themselves who acts like a husband, at least a modern one. He dotes on her and escorts her to parties or the opera. And most of the time, he is her lover too.”

  “And their husbands are okay with this?”

  “Their husbands are relieved by this. They have courtesans or perhaps are a cavalier servente to another noblewoman. You’ve written some historical romances. You know that noble marriages are arranged to form alliances,
increase familial power and wealth, or any number of political reasons. Love is not part of the equation. Thus, all parties seek affection and romance outside of their marriage. It works for them.”

  “I see.”

  “As to courtesans, they are a uniquely liberated class of women. Many are highly educated, talented, poised, beautiful women who also are sexually adept and less restrained than noblewomen. And there are as many different kinds of courtesans as there are masculine appetites. Some men like lush, voluptuous curves, others older women with proven skills. Some men seek very slender women with boy-like figures. Thus, there are some courtesans who dress like boys. The man in that alley knew you were not a boy and assumed you were a courtesan or more likely, given the state of your attire, a prostitute.”

  Sara’s mouth gaped in shock. “But that’s why I dressed as a boy. Both Ben and I thought it would be safer.”

  “I can understand that. But Benedict has led a shockingly sheltered life for a man living in the Serene Republic. His parents were not Venetian and held different values. Because they lived apart, he wasn’t exposed to some of the ordinary and perhaps seedier aspects of life here.”

  Sara sighed. “So, I can’t spend time alone here. I’m limited to the seven Sundays I have left.”

  “What is it you want to see here, my dear?”

  “Just an ordinary slice of life. I want to capture it as accurately as possible in my book.”

  Gertrude chuckled. “Little about Venice is ordinary. But if you want to experience what it is really like, maybe you need to meet someone better able to help you do that than Benedict. Perhaps a courtesan would be just the person.”

  “Really? Do you know someone who can introduce me?”

  “My dear, I can introduce you. Shall we go now?”

  “Yes, thank you. But don’t we need to pay our bill?”

  “It’s already taken care of.”

  Once again, Sara followed Gertrude through the maze of Venice streets and alleys until she stopped in front of a door. “Here we are.” She knocked.

  A liveried servant came to the door. “Good morning. May I help you?”

  Gertrude smiled. “Yes, thank you. Please tell La Signora Peretti that Gertrude is here to see her.”

  “Certainly. Allow me to show you into the drawing room.”

  “Thank you.”

  He led Sara and Gertrude into a well-appointed drawing room before delivering the message to his mistress.

  They had barely taken their seats when they heard the clicking of rapid footsteps on the stairs and an amazingly beautiful woman with olive skin, dark hair, and dark eyes burst into the room.

  “Gertrude! My favorite angel. I can’t believe it’s you. It’s been years.”

  Gertrude stood and opened her arms to hug the woman. “Zina, my bonny lass, how are ye?”

  “I’m well, thank you. I’d ask the same, but I know you are supremely and perpetually well.”

  “Aye, that I am.”

  Zina’s curious gaze swept over Sara. “And who is this?”

  “This is Miss Sara Wells. Sara, this is Rosina Peretti, known to her friends as Zina.”

  “Lovely to meet you,” said Sara, holding out her hand.

  Zina looked amused but accepted her handshake. “Likewise. She’s an American?” Zina asked Gertrude.

  “Aye she is. But she accepted the pocket watch just a little under two weeks ago, in this very city.”

  Zina grinned. “But in what year?”

  “Before you did and that’s all I’ll say. ‘Tis probably a waste of precious time for the two of you to discuss the future. So, let’s get down to the important details. Sara is an author of romance. She accepted the watch to gain in-depth knowledge of Venice as it is now. She is staying with a friend on the Lido who isn’t really able to show her much of the legendary side of Venice.”

  “Ah, you found her wandering around Venice looking like a delicious morsel?”

  “Aye.”

  Zina turned to Sara. “That’s a fantastic plot device, but it won’t work here.”

  “So I learned. Gertrude rescued me.”

  “That’s a very good thing.” Zina turned her attention back to Gertrude. “So, you brought her to meet your favorite courtesan?”

  Gertrude chuckled. “Something like that.”

  “Sara, do you want to pose as a courtesan?” Zina asked.

  “No, I don’t think I’d be able to pull that off.”

  “Hmm. Then perhaps the best way to do this is to have you act as a maid-servant to me. You will see plenty. I can give explanations when necessary and make sure you are safe. No one will bother you if you are with me.”

  Sara frowned. She didn’t want to leave Benedict.

  Gertrude smiled. “Zina, if I’m not much mistaken, Sara is enjoying the time she’s spending with her new friend.”

  Zina grinned and arched an eyebrow. “I won’t ask. It’s better this way. But perhaps you would like to spend two or three days a week with me. You can pretend to teach me English. I’ve been pretending to learn for years, but no one has quite been successful.” Zina laughed merrily. “So people freely speak English in front of me.”

  Gertrude shook her head in mock censure. “Honesty is a virtue, pet. Aim for it.”

  Zina laughed again. “Put away my wicked ways? Perhaps someday, Gertrude. What is it you say? Only time will tell.”

  “There’s nothing wicked about ye, lass. The vast majority of wickedness lies in intent. You have a good heart and never forget that.”

  Zina smiled. “Thank you, Gertrude.”

  “Now, darlings, I am going to urge you to continue to not to exercise your natural curiosity concerning each other’s pasts in the future. If you return, Sara, Zina will be somewhere in your time. It would be a tremendous temptation to find her, but you mustn’t. And Zina, you might inadvertently say something that reveals some future event to Sara. That could have severe consequences. Live in the present.”

  Both women nodded.

  Sara said, “I understand.”

  “I am desperately curious, but I’ll hold my tongue,” said Zina.

  “Good. Well then, it’s time for me to go.” She opened her arms to Sara. “Give me a hug lass.”

  She stepped into the old woman’s embrace and was immediately filled with the kind of warmth and confidence that she’d experienced the day she met Gertrude. “Thank you. Thank you for everything, Gertrude.”

  “You’re very welcome.” When she released Sara, she turned to Zina, “You too, lass. Give me a hug.”

  Zina melted into Gertrude’s arms. “It’s always so good to see you. Will you come again?”

  “Only time will tell, lass. Only time will tell.”

  As Zina stepped out of the embrace, she swiped a tear from her cheek. “Well, I won’t say goodbye anyway. Farewell.”

  “Farewell, lassies.” And with that she vanished.

  Sara looked at Zina. “Wait a minute, did you call her an angel?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, she’s an angel? A real angel?”

  Zina shrugged. “She says she’s called lots of things. None of them encompass her true being, but the word ‘angel’ works as well as any other.”

  Chapter 12

  Benedict had been on edge all day, so the relief he felt when he saw her waiting for him by the tower was profound.

  When she saw him, she practically skipped to him. “Ben, I have so much to tell you.”

  He wanted to wrap his arms around her and not let go, but he couldn’t. “I can’t wait to hear all about it, but perhaps you should wait until we are on our way.”

  She nodded. “That’s probably best.”

  But the instant they were into the lagoon and out of earshot, she launched into her tale.

  “Holy mother of God. A man accosted you? Even disguised as a boy? Thank God Gertrude was there to save you.”

  He shouldn’t have been shocked by her explanation. He knew Venice had
an underbelly that didn’t match its outer beauty. “Well, that does it. You aren’t going into Venice alone again.”

  “There’s more to the story, Ben.”

  She went on to tell him about the courtesan named Zina who Gertrude introduced her to.

  “She says the best way for me to get a real understanding of Venice is to spend some time with her.”

  “Gertrude thinks that’s a good idea?”

  “Yes. Zina suggested I pose as a servant or English tutor a few days a week.”

  Benedict frowned.

  “I spent the day with her. Honestly, she knows so much about Venetian culture, I couldn’t possibly find a better source for the information I need.”

  After much discussion, and once again against his better judgement, Benedict agreed that she could spend two days a week with Zina, the courtesan.

  Sara wheedled three.

  ~ * ~

  By Sunday night, Benedict was convinced he had entered one of the circles of hell. He’d nearly rather have the punishment the gods gave Sisyphus, perpetually rolling a boulder uphill only for it to roll back down. The frustration he felt being so near Sara, finding her so desirable on every level, and knowing she couldn’t be his, might just kill him. Still, he’d rather have this time with her than none at all.

  They didn’t go into Venice that day. Since she would have the opportunity to spend so much time there over the next few weeks, she said she wanted to stay on the Lido and give him a taste of her culture.

  “I want to take you on a picnic in the afternoon.”

  He wasn’t sure what a picnic was, but he agreed and while he worked on Saturday, she prepared.

  He went to Mass in the village. She would have liked to accompany him, but they both felt it better to keep her presence on the Lido as quiet as possible.

  “I’ll finish getting everything ready while you’re gone,” she promised. And true to her word, after he returned she was ready to go. She had a basket packed with fried chicken, tomato and cucumber salad, fresh bread and cherry crumble. On top of it all was a tablecloth and napkins. He wasn’t sure where she thought the table would be, but he didn’t comment.