[Tempus Fugitives 01.0] Swept Away

by Susan Kiernan-Lewis

  “Get up!” she screamed. “We must leave now! Get up!”

  As Greta turned to the hall that led to the kitchen, she ran into Rowan who had his trousers on but was bare chested. He held his Glock, pointed at the ceiling, with both hands.

  “Anybody see how many?” he asked.

  “I think twenty, maybe more,” Greta said, pulling her cloak around her.

  “Shit,” he said. “All of you need to stay together and get ready to move when I tell you to.”

  The hall lit up with a fierce orange light as a fireball exploded in the dining room of the convent.

  “Have they breached us yet?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Any minute now.”

  “And Ella?” Greta said, looking behind him.

  “Don’t worry about Ella, Mother,” Rowan said. “Wait for my signal,” he said, and disappeared down the hall.

  Greta entered the room full of frightened women. “Listen to me,” she said. “You must be ready to run when the word is given.” The nuns huddled together for support and murmured “Yes, Mother.” As Greta returned to the hallway, she heard the battering ram as it splintered the front door.

  Dear Lord, is this how it all must end?

  A lithe figure darted down the hall toward her. The smoke from the fires that were burning throughout the convent made it difficult to see Ella until they stood face to face.

  “You guys okay?” Ella said. She was wearing a pair of loose pants and a shirt several sizes too large for her. The mail pouch she had brought from the future was slung over her shoulder.

  “Yes,” Greta said. “What is happening?”

  “Is there a back way out of the convent?” Ella asked. Her face was streaked with soot from the smoke she had run through. The shouts of men were closer now. They were coming from inside the convent.

  “There is an entrance to a tunnel in the garden,” Greta said. “But we will be seen.”

  The sounds of gunfire filled the air and Greta saw the controlled fear etched on Ella’s face. “That’s our cue,” Ella rasped. “Let’s go. Lead us, Greta.” She pulled out her Taser and shoved Greta toward the door ahead of the other nuns. “We need to go now!”

  Greta shouted to the women, “Follow me! Everyone run!” She ran down the hall away from the gunfire and screams. When she swung open the outside door, the sight made her stop. There were at least fifty soldiers in the courtyard and surrounding the garden. There were many bodies on the ground, some twitching, and some still. Looking back she could see that fire was slowly consuming the convent.

  Ella pushed her forcefully from behind. “Greta, go!” she urged. Greta ran to the garden and opened the gate, then ran down the path toward a metal grate hidden by the grass. The grate covered a portal leading to the city’s sewers and to the surrounding countryside. Ignoring the screams of her nuns behind her and the soldiers’ shouts, she fell to her knees and pried the grate free and moved it aside.

  “Get in!” she said to the elderly nun who was gasping for breath behind her. The woman plunged into the hole without hesitation. One by one, the group followed her. Greta looked around the garden and thanked God for the black robes which hid them so well in the night. As the last nun went down the hole, Greta strained to see Ella at the rear. But Ella was not there.

  Ella ran back down the hall of the convent. The smoke was worse now and the heat was nearly unbearable as the fire spread, eating up the ancient wood furniture and the heavy cotton window curtains. She ran to the last place she’d seen him and prayed he was there still. The fire raged on both sides of the hall.

  When she emerged from the wall of smoke, she saw that four men had their hands on Rowan. Because she hadn’t heard any more gunshots, she knew that he must be out of bullets. Axel held Rowan’s gun and brought it down hard, smashing it into his face. Rowan dropped to his knees. Ella could see the blood streaming down his chin.

  “Rowan!” she screamed.

  One of the men drew his sword. He took two steps toward her and she raised the Taser in front of her.

  “Ella, no!” Rowan shouted. “They’re only taking me. Go!”

  She hesitated and then, tucking her head, fled into the wall of smoke where she hoped they wouldn’t follow.

  She could hear Axel screaming: “After her! After her!” She kept her Taser out as she sprinted down the hall. The dense smoke made it impossible to see even inches ahead of her. She ran blindly until she burst into the garden. Immediately, she spotted Greta, crouching by the entrance to the tunnel.

  Her eyes burned and she cursed Greta for not leaving with the others and thanked God she hadn’t. She brushed by her and jumped down the hole. As she scrambled down the tunnel, she could hear Greta putting back the grate behind her.

  They moved silently down the tunnel for a half an hour, the scent of damp earth and death surrounding them, until Ella smelled fresh air. The other nuns had already emerged from the tunnel and were standing about in the faint predawn light. Ella pulled herself out of the tunnel and looked around. They were in an open field in the countryside. Once out of the tunnel, Ella threw down her mailbag and Taser. Behind them, in the distance, she could see the bright orange blaze of the Kloster St. Josef as it burned to the ground.

  She sank to her knees and stared at the fire on the horizon. Then she put her head in her hands and wept.

  Later that morning, Greta and Ella sat alone in the interior of a large cave carved into the side of the hill. Everyone had escaped the attack without harm.

  Everyone but Rowan.

  One of the novices who had been saved by Rowan from the goat abduction approached Greta.

  “A word, Mother,” she said meekly.

  Greta nodded, her face a mask of exhaustion.

  “I request permission to go to the monastery.”

  Greta shook her head. “You are too young,” she said. “It would not be proper.”

  The girl looked at Ella. “Will he die?” she asked. “Will Herr Marshal die in the castle?”

  Ella wanted so badly to say Hell, no! but she just looked at the young girl and felt the tears welling up in her eyes. “I pray not,” she said.

  “I am not afraid,” the girl said. “I will go to the monastery. I will find where they are keeping him. I will bring the monk you need to deliver your messages.”

  “I am grateful for your help,” Ella said, “But we have nothing to deliver. Everything was destroyed in the fire.”

  “Not everything,” Greta said.

  Ella looked at her. “The birth certificate?”

  “Yes,” Greta admitted. “That was lost, but the letter to Herr Schwartz, the Protestant Magistrate accusing Axel of witchcraft…”

  “You have it here?” Ella looked around the camp.

  “I sent it. Yesterday. Although clearly it had no effect. That was my task, was it not?”

  “Yes, yes. I’d forgotten. That’s good, Greta.”

  Ella saw the young girl’s hands were bandaged. This was the one who was grabbed, she thought. “What is your name?” Ella said.

  “Alice.”

  “Okay, Alice. Go to the monastery and bring back the monk…”

  “Brother Albert,” Greta said to Alice. “No one else.”

  Alice nodded.

  “And, Alice,” Ella said. “Thank you.”

  “He saved us all,” Alice said, and left the cave.

  “She’s right,” Ella said, staring at the barely visible skyline of the town. “We can’t give up. We have to go on without him.” Just saying the words made her want to throw up. She reminded herself that he was alive and that was all that mattered. He wouldn’t stay that way long, she knew. Things would have to come together quickly if she was to write the end to this story in a way that didn’t have her in therapy for a very long time. That is, if she even lived to go into therapy.

  Greta put her hand on Ella’s knee. “You have done your best, my friend,” she said. “And we are alive.”

  “For now,�
� Ella said.

  “Yes,” Greta said, smiling sadly. “For now.”

  The dungeon was a cavernous, windowless pit in the basement of the castle. The door to the cell had a small window criss-crossed with a grille of iron in the center of it. From the cold stone floor on which he lay, Rowan could see shadows flit past the grille in the hallway outside, but the window was too high up on the door to afford a glimpse of anyone walking by.

  Axel stood over him.

  “Ach, sie sind nicht ein Gärtner,” Axel said. He squatted next to Rowan so that they were eye to eye.

  Rowan’s hands were tied behind him. He was pretty sure his ribs were broken from the rough handling during transport to the castle, and he could feel a loose molar from where this asshole had hit him with his own gun. Rowan was surprised by how little fear he was feeling. What he did feel was a rage at the power of this one man to hurt innocent people and kill without consequences.

  Rowan glared at Axel, hoping the bastard would come just a little closer.

  “Wer schlafen Sie mit?” Axel said, his face smiling and relaxed. The two men flanking Axel laughed. “Ficken Sie die Nonne?”

  Axel barked out a quick order over his shoulder without breaking eye contact with Rowan. He placed his hands on Rowan’s bare chest. Rowan flinched at his touch. Axel let his gaze crawl the length of Rowan stretched out on the filthy dungeon floor.

  Rowan felt the heat from a stove he hadn’t realized was there when one of the men standing behind Axel shifted position. He caught a glimpse of the red, violent flames as the oven door opened and closed. When he looked at Axel again, he could see he wanted him to know what was coming. He watched as Axel’s man held the glowing white hot poker up and away. Waiting.

  “Haltet ihn!” Axel ordered. Someone grabbed Rowan by both arms and started to haul him to his feet. Before he was fully steady, Rowan smashed his head into the man’s chin and lashed out with his foot toward Axel. But his reflexes were slow. His foot met only air. Another man materialized from nowhere holding a large wooden bat. He swung at Rowan. Rowan dodged it but not completely. In the back of his mind, he could hear Axel shouting, and then the lights in his brain went out in a dizzyingly sickening swirl of pain and darkness. Before he could sink to the floor, hands grabbed him and slammed him face first into the rock wall of the dungeon.

  “Wechet ihn auf!” Axel was screaming. “Wechet ihn auf!”

  Within seconds someone threw water in Rowan’s face. He woke up and realized his nose was broken. He was pressed firmly against the wall. Axel stood beside him and looked into his face. He was smiling, and in his hand, held so that Rowan could see, was the fiery branding iron.

  “Oh gut, sie leben noch,” he said. “Meine Frage ist: Wo sind die Nonnen?”

  Rowan licked his lips. He was pretty sure he didn’t have enough saliva left to spit in the face of this bastard.

  “Ja?” Axel said. “Ich Weiss dass Sie können mich verstehen. Wo sind die Nonnen?”

  “It may not be the answer you’re hoping for,” Rowan said, his voice just a whisper.

  Axel frowned and brought his face nose to nose with Rowan’s. “Was?”

  “But, go fuck yourself.” As soon as he saw the confusion on Axel’s face at the unfamiliar language, Rowan smashed his head into Axel’s mouth. Axel dropped the hot poker and put both hands to his face. Blood immediately spouted between his fingers.

  “Verbrennet ihn!” he screamed.

  All three men grabbed Rowan and pinned him again with his face to the wall. He saw one of them pick up the fiery poker.

  He closed his eyes. I love you, Ella, he thought fervently. I love you, girl.

  When the brand touched his left shoulder, he smelled burning flesh before he registered the pain. Then the agony in his shoulder exploded in a vortex of intense sensation that emanated in all directions at once. So invasive and complete was the severity of the pain that it screamed through every part of his body. With Ella’s name still on his lips and in his mind, Rowan fainted.

  18

  Ella was the first to see Alice return. The novice was young and strong and was striding yards ahead of the elderly monk who struggled to climb the steep hill to the cave. Greta broke away to help him the last few steps to the clearing where they all sat outside the cave. The weather was cold and the nuns—many of whom were barefoot and dressed only in nightdresses—sat huddled together against the unmerciful wind.

  Alice carried a basket containing fresh bread, cheese, wine and two cups. The nuns swarmed her and began dividing up the food.

  Greta led Brother Albert to a large round stone on which he sat. Greta and Ella sat down beside him. One of the novices brought him a cup of wine.

  “All of Heidelberg looks for you this day,” he said, wheezing slightly and accepting the wine with a nod of thanks.

  “We expected as much,” Greta said. “The convent?”

  “Gone,” he said. “Destroyed in the fire.”

  “And the man they took?” Ella asked. “What news of him do you have?”

  The monk looked at Greta as if needing assurance that this strange woman could be trusted.

  “Please, Brother,” Greta said. “What have you heard?”

  The monk sighed and downed all of the wine from the cup before handing it to the novice for a refill.

  “Christof has survived his wounds. His brother is not to be held responsible.”

  “That explains a lot,” Ella said with disgust.

  “Krüger has decreed that you are all to be found and killed,” he said. “There is a bounty.”

  Greta sucked in a breath. Although it wasn’t a surprise, hearing it said out loud shook her.

  “The man they captured has been taken to the castle,” Brother Albert said.

  “He is still alive?” Ella asked. She clenched her fists in anguish.

  “He is,” the monk said. “But scheduled to die by fire in the square.”

  “They think he is a warlock?” Greta asked.

  The monk nodded.

  “When?” Ella asked. “When is he to die?”

  “Tomorrow at noon.”

  Ella fought against the feeling of futility and fear that threatened to overwhelm her.

  Greta took the man’s cup and beckoned to one of the novices to refill it. “Alright, Brother,” she said. “We need your help.”

  Brother Albert looked around the cave and the surrounding countryside. “Anything, Mother. You have but to ask.”

  The rest of the day was spent with Greta translating for Ella to the monk and explaining what they needed him to do. Greta reminded him that helping them would endanger himself and the other brothers. But she also stressed that he was their only hope. Midway into the day, it became clear that other monks would be needed if the plan was to succeed. Brother Albert penned a note outlining the men and materials he would need for Alice to take to the monastery.

  “Three letters, Brother,” Ella said, ticking them off on her fingers. “One from Axel to that guy Burkmeister he does business with rejoicing in his depraved activities with the Devil. We’ll send it to the magistrate again. Maybe he just needs a little encouragement.”

  The monk looked at Greta with confusion. “I cannot forge Axel’s writing,” he said. “I know not how the man writes.”

  “Don’t worry, Brother,” Ella said. “We got that covered. Where was I? Two.” She held up her fingers. “An anonymous letter to Krüger from ‘a concerned friend,’ suggesting he contact the midwife about the widely held belief of Axel’s illegitimacy.”

  “And finally,” Ella said, ignoring Brother Albert’s surprised expression, “we’ll need a letter also in Axel’s hand to the Sheriff of Heidelberg, revealing Krüger’s plot to kill Eric Reicher.”

  The monk looked from Greta to Ella and back again.

  “I will need more wine,” he said.

  Before dinnertime, Brother Albert had dispatched four brother monks dressed as peasants to visit as many public houses as possible. T
heir assignment was to drink and talk openly about the rumored plot to kill Reicher. If questioned, they were instructed to say they heard the rumor bandied about in the streets and that everybody in Heidelberg knew about the plot.

  After these monks left, another sat inside the cave with a makeshift wooden desk and carefully wrote the letters Greta and Ella dictated to him. Ella could tell that, unlike Brother Albert, this man didn’t trust her nor did he understand why he was being instructed to create fictitious letters. When it came time to create Axel’s letter, Ella powered up her iPhone from the mail pouch and showed the seated man an enlarged depiction of the photograph she had taken of Axel’s writing.

  “You can see how he loops his ‘L’s really distinctively.” she said, showing the monk the screen. “What a narcissistic jerk. See?” She took her fingers to pinch the cellphone screen to enlarge the type.

  The man gaped in horror, first at the phone and then at her. “You…what is that? How are you able to—?”

  “Brother,” Ella said as patiently as she could, the vision of Rowan being manhandled in the front room of the burning nunnery clear in her memory. “You have Mother Superior’s word that I am on the side of the angels. This is just a gadget created in the Far East where they are much cleverer about these sorts of things than Europe is right now. No offense. I’m not creating magic, I’m just using a tool like you’d use a pen or a hammer or—”

  “I could not do such things with a pen!”

  “Okay, try not to be so literal, okay? Imagine what the cavemen with their sticks and stones would’ve said a thousand years ago if they could see you write on parchment today. Now, are you going to freak out about how or are you going to get busy and do it?”

  The monk gave Ella’s iPhone one more distrustful look and then picked up his pen.

  After it was dark, Greta brought Ella a pan of fried potatoes. Ella was surprised at how hungry she was. She wolfed the food down but looked worriedly over Greta’s shoulder at the open pasture.

  “Should you have a fire?” she said. “The brothers all agree that Axel’s men are looking for us everywhere.”