[Tempus Fugitives 01.0] Swept Away

by Susan Kiernan-Lewis

  As the day dragged on, her fears grew. The other nuns and novices were nervous and alternately prayed loudly or wept in despair. Ella watched them go through the motions of their daily chores, their heavy coarse habits dragging in the dirt behind them as they moved. What will I do if she’s gone? she thought. There’s no one in this time who understands me.

  Just after dinner, when Ella and another novice had washed and dried the last plate, Greta returned. The three older nuns scurried around her, helping her off with her cloak, then led her to a seat by the stone fireplace in the main dining room. Ella sat in the shadows and listened as Greta spoke calmly to the nuns. But Ella understood not a word. Once, Greta caught her eye and such pain and weariness was in her face that it took Ella’s breath away. As Greta spoke, the nuns reacted in varying ways. One of the older nuns—usually a veritable rock of confidence and ability—broke down in front of the Mother Superior and sobbed beyond all care. That scared Ella most of all. She knew the woman had been close to Sister Therese. Ella could only assume this meant the worst. She looked at Greta who had a gentle hand on the old woman’s shoulder. She was murmuring to her in the medieval German that Ella found so hard to understand.

  The news, when it finally came her time to hear it, was as tragic as the reactions suggested. Therese’s body had lain in the square until after the men had ridden away to Axel’s castle with the novice.

  “I have a hope that Sister Therese is alive,” Greta said. “They told me she was eventually taken to the Hexenturm.” Ella knew this was what the villagers called the Witches Tower, built in 1392 and used as a prison for women and witches.

  “I pray it means she lives still,” Greta said as she accepted a cup of tea from one of the trembling novices.

  “And Anna?”

  A tear traced down Greta’s cheek as she looked at Ella. “Poor Ella,” she said. “You will never escape the memory of this day. Anna?” Greta shrugged with what looked like supreme exhaustion. Ella thought she saw her friend weaken. “And what of Hannah before her?” Greta said. “And Margo, and Liza, and all the others? What indeed?”

  Later that night as the convent slept and wept, Ella crept along the cold stone passageway to Greta’s bedchamber. She opened the bedroom door without knocking and found the nun kneeling in prayer by her bed.

  “It’s time, Greta,” she said, moving into the bedroom and shutting the door behind her. “It’s time for us to deal with this bastard. I need to go back.”

  10

  The sun would be another hour before it came up. The street outside the abbey was black and glistening with the rain that had only just stopped. Ella and Greta stood together in the kitchen by the door that led to the little garden.

  “You’re sure about this?” Ella asked, patting the pockets of her leather jacket in a nervous habit as if checking for her car keys. “And you think I’ll be able to come back to this specific time again?”

  Greta shrugged. “If not, it won’t matter,” she said. “As soon as you return to your own time, I and everyone you have met here will be long dead and dust.”

  “Really great pep talk, Greta. Might want to work on the whole dead and dust thing, though.”

  “When you came to us that night, you were very emotional, yes?”

  “Hysterical.”

  “And you were thinking of your mother?”

  “I was,” she said.

  Greta nodded. “Great emotion seems to be the push that makes it happen.”

  “Well, I was certainly emotional when it happened,” Ella said. “And you’re sure I can do this without a storm?”

  Greta held both of Ella’s hands in hers. “Hold your mother’s necklace in your hand when you’re ready,” she said. “Close your eyes and think of her. Think of her looking down on you, loving you. Ask her to help you.”

  Ella leaned over and kissed her friend on the cheek.

  “I pray you return to us,” Greta said simply.

  “Well, God’s been favoring your prayers pretty good lately,” Ella said as she turned to open the door to the garden. The pre-dawn morning was moonless and cold. “I’ll be back. Don’t you worry,” she said. “I just hope it’s not ten years from now.”

  Ella slipped out of the door, blending into the dark and grateful for her black clothes. She stole down the garden path. They had decided she should go to the spot where she had been found. It turned out that Greta had also come to this time from that very spot. Trying to watch where she put her feet on the uneven cobblestones of the garden path, Ella crept quietly to the end of the garden wall and climbed over it.

  When she eased herself to the ground, she looked around to make sure she was alone. Before she even touched the opal around her neck, she could feel something happening, a vibration in her head and fingers. Her jacket was inadequate against the cold but she didn’t feel the chill as she dug into the neck of her shirt and brought out her mother’s opal. When she held it, she felt a door opening in front of her. She couldn’t see it but she could sense it. She closed her eyes and gripped the necklace tightly.

  “Mother,” she whispered. “Help me help these people. Help me do now what you always did when you were alive. Please be with me. I forgive you.” As she spoke, she felt her legs give way and she sank slowly to her knees. Her head began to spin and when she opened her eyes, she saw nothing—not the wall, not even the black branches of the almond trees in the distance. Terrified for a moment that she was caught in some kind of limbo, she forgot herself and cried out: “Mother? Can you hear me?” Suddenly she heard something she had not heard in nearly four weeks: the sound of traffic. Her vision cleared as if in slow motion and she lurched to her feet. The garden wall was no longer there but the cobblestones were the same beneath her feet.

  She was back.

  Praying that the year was 2012 and not a few decades earlier when the Nazis were rounding up everyone, Ella moved down the dark alley from which she had first disappeared. Above the shops in the alley, she could see apartments with window boxes full of salvia and geraniums. She had no idea what year it was.

  She moved quickly toward the Altstadt. Her apartment was on the other side of it. As soon as she saw the marketplace square, she had to stop and gasp. It was inconceivable that this happy, bustling tourist attraction was the same street of terror and death she had just left.

  The cafés were still open and busy. Even though it was early November, the street was full of students, tourists, and office workers. She was tempted to grab a bratwurst at the outdoor stand and eat it on the way to her apartment. Or a Coke! But she was in too much of a hurry to stop. Too many people were depending on her to collect what she needed and get back as soon as possible. That asshole Axel could be gathering his forces to attack at any minute.

  Ella darted into the shadows and jogged the half mile down residential streets to the street of her apartment. She knew she had paid the rent up to the end of the month. She walked across the street and pulled open the heavy door to her building.

  As soon as she moved into the hallway, the lights flickered on and she had the unshakable feeling that she was being watched. Ignoring the ancient lift, she took the stairs two at a time to the third floor. When she saw her apartment door, she hesitated but shook off her reluctance as irrational.

  The first thing she did when she entered her apartment was to go to the large wooden chest of drawers against the wall in the living room. She pulled open a drawer and took out her iPhone charger and a cloth mail pouch that she sometimes used to carry to the office. She plugged her phone in and waited for it to reactivate. She knew it had to be some time in 2012 because all her things were still in the apartment. That meant it hadn’t been rented in her absence. The screen on her phone buzzed and when she looked at the date, her shoulders sagged with relief. It showed the date as November 2, 2012, only four weeks from the day she had crossed over to 1620.

  She left the phone to charge and looked around the living room before taking the bag down the hall
way. It looked different. It looked lived in. Shaking herself out of the thought that someone was living in her apartment, she took the bag into the bathroom, where a sudden longing for a hot shower nearly put an end to any possible resolution to the nunnery’s warlord problem. She saw a razor on the sink and a toothbrush that wasn’t hers.

  Someone was living here. That meant someone would be coming back. Hurriedly, Ella flung open the linen closet door and grabbed two bars of soap. A horn honked outside the window and suddenly she was seized with disbelief that she had lived the last four weeks in another century.

  How it it possible? Was it all a dream? Did I really go back to 1620 Heidelberg? Instead of raiding her apartment, should she just go to the nearest med center and get a CAT scan?

  The sense that someone was watching intensified. The thought of getting caught, and leaving Greta to die at the hands of that monster Axel, fueled Ella with added urgency. She had a list of things she would need but grabbed a few other things as she discovered them: a jar of Nutella, a bottle of instant coffee, six tampons, and a washcloth. It’s the little things, she found herself thinking, as she stuffed the washcloth into the bag. Just being able to properly wash her face would make such a difference. She froze as she stood in her dining room, listening to the sounds of traffic outside and straining to hear if there was anything else.

  She was sure she had heard something. She held her breath and listened. Except for the cars and trucks outside her window, all was quiet.

  The urge to stay in 2012—where it was warm and dry, where you didn’t have to pick the bugs out of your breakfast, where people understood you when you spoke—was nearly irresistible. Ella shook off the temptation and returned to the living room, moving quickly to her desk. She could tell instantly that someone had gone through it. Notepads were upside down instead of stacked neatly as she always had them. A picture of her father was sitting at an angle making it not visible from where she sat at the computer terminal.

  She was tempted to turn on her computer, but resisted. She opened the lower drawer of her desk and pulled out the false bottom. From its contents she took the block of C4, six blasting caps and two more Taser shotgun shells. She filled the mail pouch with these. She would have to dig up the Taser in the convent garden and hope it still worked, but a weapon was a weapon. She heard a sudden voice in her head dictating a letter to the manufacturer: “Dear Sirs: I’m writing to report that your product, the Taser XREP, functioned remarkably well when attacking a 17th century German castle even after being clogged with dirt for nearly a month.”

  She scanned her apartment bookshelves. There was nothing there she needed. She moved into the kitchen and took a few items from the cupboard. She couldn’t resist opening the refrigerator to see if there was anything still edible in there.

  A six pack of beer. Not her brand.

  She was beginning to feel off-kilter and edgy. As she turned to leave, she noticed the framed photograph of Rowan next to the television set. When she saw it, she felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. Just the sight of his crinkly, confident blue eyes and his I’ve-got-all-the-answers grin made her want to sit down and cry. She reached to take the photo but immediately realized it was too big. And she was in a hurry. She disconnected her phone from the charger and, without bothering to close the apartment door behind her, turned and ran down the three flights of stairs to the street.

  Rowan stared at Ella’s open apartment door.

  Son of a bitch! The first time I take five minutes to grab a damn espresso and someone breaks into the apartment?

  He pushed the apartment door wide open with the toe of his cowboy boot and peered in. Dust motes danced in a shaft of sunlight from the living room window. He listened. And then entered the apartment. Within fifteen seconds, he knew it was empty and he knew someone had been in the apartment recently. When he saw the iPhone charger dangling from the electrical socket, he knew who.

  The mailbag banged against her stomach as she ran. Images of Axel beating and cutting Greta fueled her urgency. Except for the Taser, she had no weapon, not even a knife. Idiot! Why didn’t I grab a kitchen knife?

  She saw few people as she tore down the lonely city streets. She gulped in huge breaths of air, praying she would not hyperventilate before she reached the spot. At the quiet and dark north end of the Altstadt, she ran into the first alley and tried to remember which alley contained the spot near the convent garden wall. She cursed herself for not marking it better in her head.

  As she approached the spot, she felt an indescribably intense sadness as she imagined Rowan Pierce’s face. . In fact, the closer she walked toward 1620, the greater her sadness grew. When she reached the portal, she walked right on through. She didn’t need to touch the opal to feel the door open for her, she only needed to think of what she had lost.

  She had been gone from the convent only for a few hours of the early morning, but she was still worried about what had happened while she was gone. Greta assured her, nothing had happened at all.

  It pleased Ella to see the novices’ delight at the Nutella. She teased them not to get used to it, since it was going to be hard to come by when it was gone. They were used to her not making sense and didn’t question where the treat came from or why there wouldn’t be more. She gave the instant coffee and some of the soap to Greta. The coffee made Greta break down in tears which upset Ella greatly even though she knew they were tears of delight.

  Hell, Ella thought, if we’re all going to die this week, might at least enjoy a cup of damn coffee.

  It was hard to believe she had not thought of Rowan in the four weeks that she had been away. Seeing his face so unexpectedly in the photo in her apartment brought the memory of his warmth and strength come roaring back into her consciousness. She found herself distracted and miserable with longing to see him again.

  “And you saw no one?” Greta asked her.

  “No. But it looked like someone was living in my apartment,” she said. “That was creepy.”

  “You retrieved the items you need for our problem?”

  “I think so. Worse comes to worse, I can always blow the son of a bitch up.”

  Greta frowned.

  “Kidding, Greta, kidding. One supreme act of violence isn’t going to change anything, blah blah blah. We still need a plan.”

  “What can such a plan be?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Ella said. “But I’ve got enough C4 to at least get me thinking.”

  Greta looked closely at Ella. “There is something different about you,” she said. “Are you sure nothing happened?”

  Ella sat down next to her friend. “A little something happened,” she said. “Did I ever mention that I had a sort of boyfriend?”

  Greta shook her head.

  “I know. That’s weird, isn’t it? It’s almost like he didn’t exist while I’ve been here. Only when I went back, I saw his picture and…” Her throat closed up and she felt close to tears.

  Greta reached over and took Ella’s hand. “My poor brave Ella,” she said.

  “I miss him,” Ella said, rubbing her tears away. “I miss him so bad right now I can barely see straight. How can I feel like this when a week ago I didn’t even think of him?”

  “He lives in Germany?”

  Ella wiped her eyes with her fingers. “No, he’s in America. We met before I moved here.”

  “And you are in contact with him?”

  “Well, we used to phone each other. But I’m pretty sure he’s got someone else by now.”

  “I see.”

  “I’m probably just all emotional. It’s just strange to be there and then here. Plus, I can’t tell you how worried I was that I was going to slip through the time slot and end up in prehistoric Germany or something.”

  “A realistic worry,” Greta said. She took a sip of her coffee.

  “I’m better now,” Ella said. “It just threw me to see his picture again.”

  “You did not bring it?”

&nb
sp; “I thought about it,” Ella admitted.

  “Perhaps it’s best this way.”

  11

  The next day at the convent was a somber one. Ella went through the motions of her chores, her mind whirling as she worked with plans that she created and discarded one by one. The fact that she had explosives was good but explosives would only be useful if she had a plan. A really creative, brilliant plan. As she kneaded the dough, punched it down and shaped it into loaves, she tried to remember any television plots that might help. She also ran through the plotlines of favorite movies and novels.

  When Greta asked her at lunch if she would like help in devising the plan, Ella knew Greta was just trying to pacify her. Ella thanked her but said no, a plan based on C-4 and Taser plugs would not easily be contrived by a seventeenth century nun, even if she had been born in the twentieth century.

  The rest of the convent was still in mourning for the two sisters they had lost the day before. The novices looked terrified as if at any moment they might be plucked out of their home and taken away. A very real concern, Ella thought, as she helped wash dishes after dinner. She smiled encouragingly at the younger nuns. Their fear almost radiated off them as they moved about their chores. Waiting.

  Frustrated with her inability to form a sensible plan that could save them, Ella found she couldn’t sleep that night. After hours of trying, she grabbed a wool cloak and slipped out of the nunnery and into the garden. Careful not to get too close to the place where the door swung open to her future world, she sat on a stone table in the middle of the garden under a large olive tree. I’m no good at this, she thought. I want so badly to help but I don’t have any ideas. None. Blow up the castle. Only there’s not enough C-4 to do that.