The Time Portal 5: The Nazi

by Joe Corso

  CHAPTER 2

  12TH CENTURY ENGLAND

  MERLIN . . .

  When Princess Krystina’s father, Good King William, was told how the wizard saved his daughter from being tortured and possibly killed by the inquisition priests, he realized that their love was true, and so he gave his approval for Krystina and the wizard to be wed. The fact that the princess had a baby was explained by the populace as an immaculate conception. He was, after all, King Robert’s wizard, and a god in his own right.

  Royalty came from all over the kingdom to attend the wedding. Most had only heard of the wizard, and they were anxious to see him. A great feast was prepared with fish, poultry, and whole steers, which were skewed and cooked. Eunuchs turned large rotating handles to make sure the meat cooked uniformly. The king was seated at a raised table in front of the fireplace and under an expensive and very luxurious baldaquin while several servants attended him. One of the servants was a skilled carver whose job was to carve uniform slices of meat for all of the guests. On the table to the left of the king was a large-lidded golden saltcellar in the shape of a castle.

  When all the guests were seated and the food was served, Lucky shocked everyone by cutting his own meat and eating his food with a golden fork, which he had instructed the armorer to make for him and Krystina. Lucky noticed the shocked expressions on all of the faces. He smiled and nodded first to the servant on his right standing by the wall, who was holding a covered tray made of gold, and then he turned to a servant on his left who was holding a similar tray. They immediately walked along the great table and passed out golden forks to everyone. Even though forks wouldn’t be introduced to society till the 14th Century, Lucky was giving evolution a head start. Well, at least in England.

  At first, everyone was shocked and were hesitant to pick up their forks. Lucky stood and raised his hands to quiet the guests. When they finally quieted down enough to where he could speak, he smiled warmly as he glanced at all those seated before him. “The object you were just handed will, in the near future, become the means people will use to pick up their food in order to eat. Besides, think of it as a memento of this auspicious occasion. It is made of gold, which by itself has value and, when you pick it up to use, or to look at, you will be reminded of the wedding you attended, the day the princess and I were married.”

  “But what is it for. How do you use it?” one guest asked.

  Lucky had demonstrated during the week how to use a fork to the royal families. At first, they balked at using it, but not wanting to insult the wizard, they decided to humor him, so they did as he suggested and made a clumsy attempt to pick up food with this object that he called a fork. After a few failed attempts, they found that using the fork was much better than picking the food off of the table with their fingers.

  “Look at the royal families. See how easily they eat with the fork. Try it for yourselves and, if you don’t like it, then don’t use it. If you find that you do like it, then by all means, continue eating with the fork.”

  After the banquet was over, most of the guests took the strange gold wedding favor home with them and it was placed in a prominent place in their dwellings where everyone would see it. But instead of it being a functional eating tool, it became a conversation piece and the prime topic of discussion whenever friends or guests visited them.

  Now that Krystina and Lucky were married, they spent much of their time traveling. Lucky was not the type to remain sedentary. Krystina knew that he was a man who craved action, so she used her feminine wiles to convince him that they should spend time traveling. Her logic was simple. As a princess of the realm, she had obligations to the crown. They both decided that they would visit her father, King William. She argued cogently that there were many settlements on the route to her father’s castle that she, as a princess, should visit. Krystina asked that they not use Lucky’s ability to travel to any location in any time period instantly. Instead, she told him that she looked forward to taking this trip, saying it would be like the belated honeymoon they never had.

  Because these were superstitious times, Lucky’s reputation grew exponentially. The only means of communicating news in the 12th Century was by word of mouth, from one person telling another and, in this manner, the stories were passed from town to town until everyone in the realm, and beyond, heard of the wizard’s legendary feats. Of course, as the stories passed from one person to another, they became vastly embellished, causing the wizard’s reputation to grow into mythic proportions. Adding to his legend was the fact that whenever he left the castle, he always wore his black delta suit, which made him instantly recognizable to everyone as the king’s wizard. His black outfit became his trademark.

  And so it was, on the third day of their journey, when shortly before noon they approached Abbots Crossing, a small settlement on the road north. Sir Geoffrey, the sergeant at arms, trotted up to a goat herder and asked him for information on where they might find lodging for the night. The boy pointed to the town and said something to Sir Geoffrey that the others couldn’t hear.

  “What did the boy say?” Lucky asked when he pulled alongside of him.

  “He said there was an inn up ahead.”

  “Good. Have someone ride ahead and reserve rooms for us.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Sir Geoffrey ordered one of the knights to ride into town, find the inn, and secure rooms for the royal couple and the ladies-in-waiting.

  As the royal entourage approached, the village people began gathering along the road, as word that the princess and the king’s wizard were going to stop in their village. As the small procession made its way slowly closer to the village, everyone’s gaze searched first for their beautiful princess, and seeing how lovely she was, they began to throw flowers at the carriage as it passed by slowly. Then their eyes turned to the man mounted on a large black destrier, dressed head to toe in a black outfit, but now with the addition of a black cape, more in keeping with the time. They noticed that the clothing he wore was made of a strange material, and his shiny black boots were unlike any they had ever seen, which added to his mystique. His black outfit had become his trademark.

  It was still early, not quite noon yet, and the princess decided that while her quarters were being made ready by her ladies-in-waiting, she would walk among the people, and visit the small shops in this quaint little village. Sir Geoffrey, the knight appointed by the king to protect the princess and lead the procession of twenty knights, advised her against such foolishness. But the princess just smiled and said, “Do not worry so, dear Geoffrey. After all, I have you and my dear husband to protect me. Come now, and let us have no more such talk. Instead, we will walk among the people, so they will know that their princess does not look down on them, but instead, loves and respects them as loyal subjects of the realm. Come now; no more such foolish talk. Let us go out into the fresh air and begin our walk.”

  CHAPTER 3

  The sharp knocking on the door woke Lucky from a deep sleep. He sat up quickly and he rolled to his side, while at the same time reaching for his gun, which was cradled on the corner of the backboard of his bed. Old habits died hard and, for a moment, Lucky forgot he was still in the 12th Century. He holstered the gun and looked at the time on his black-faced platinum Rolex Yacht Master. 6:30? Must be something god-awful important to be woken up this early, he thought to himself as he quickly put on his clothes. He opened the door to find Sir Geoffrey standing patiently by the door. “Yes? What is it, Sir Geoffrey?”

  “A cleric, sir. He waits by the inn’s gate. He says that he must speak with you.”

  Lucky shook his head, then he looked at his watch and murmured to himself, At 6:30 in the morning? Is this man crazy? “Do you have any idea what he wants to talk to me about?”

  “No, sir. But I don’t like the idea of you going out to speak to him. Not when he has a guard of six men with him.”

  “Six men?”

  “Yes, sir. Do you want me to get rid of him?”

&n
bsp; Lucky’s curiosity was aroused. “No. Now that I’m up, I’ll go see what he wants to talk to me about.”

  Sir Geoffrey nodded. “My men and I will be close. I don’t trust priests, especially one who looks as sinister as this one.” Lucky smiled. He liked Sir Geoffrey. “Well, then, let’s not keep the priest waiting.”

  Lucky walked across the yard to the gate. When he stepped out, he saw a man dressed in a cleric’s garb, wearing a black cloak, standing by the gate with six knights sitting on their horses, waiting for him. Lucky sensed something, something dangerous, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was unfortunate because he should have listened to his instincts.

  “I understand that you wanted to speak to me?”

  “Yes. I have a message for you.”

  Lucky rubbed his chin, wondering what this was all about. “What is your name sir? What are you called?”

  “I’m Bishop Pranley,” he said with a malevolent smile. “And I’ve come from the office of the inquisition in Spain.” When he said those words, the hair on Lucky’s neck stood straight up and, instead of being cautious, he got angry. That may have been Pranley’s intention because Lucky became so incensed when Pranley mentioned the inquisition that he wasn’t paying attention to his instincts, which were screaming Danger - Danger- Danger. But Lucky was too mad to pay attention. He turned to the Bishop and was about to say something when he felt a thud slam against his chest and another slam into his right shoulder. The impact sent him flying backwards into the inn’s iron gate. Lucky cursed himself for being so foolish as to let anger be the cause of his death.

  Sir Geoffrey immediately gave orders for his men to find the assassins and bring them to him. Lucky looked up at the priest, who smiled venomously back at him. “Your time on this earth is now just a few heartbeats away, wizard. Did you think the inquisition would just let your transgressions pass unpunished? No. I’m glad that you will live a few seconds longer so that you understand that it is I, Bishop Pranley, who has killed the great wizard.”

  Lucky felt his life quickly ebbing away. He was bleeding out, and he knew he had only moments left to live, but he looked up at the priest and smiled at him and, with the little strength he had left, still smiling, he waved his forefinger at him as if to say “this isn’t over yet.” He pulled Sir Geoffrey, who was leaning over him, closer and whispered in his ear. The knight nodded and lifted Lucky so that he was standing, then he let him fall forward, where he disappeared from sight. This disappearing act frightened the priest. He was told stories by one of the inquisition priests of being taken to another time and place and of being in a prison, but Pranley didn’t believe the old wives’ tales the priests of the inquisition told him. How could anyone disappear? he said to himself, assuring himself it wasn’t possible. So he convinced himself that it was the figment of a frightened priest’s imagination, caused by the illusions that the wizard created - just like any street magician. But now? Now he began to wonder if he had actually killed the wizard.

  Lucky languished in the portal, hovering between life and death, watching the scene that was taking place before him. He watched Princess Krystina, who having heard what happened to her husband from the innkeeper’s wife, come racing out of the inn. “Where is he?” she screamed, directing her fury at Sir Geoffrey.

  “I’m sorry, princess. But the wizard, Sir Lucky, was mortally wounded. I’ve seen wounds like his on the battlefield, and I knew he had only moments to live.”

  Krystina, tears flooding down her face, cried out, “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  “Well, Highness, his dying wish was for me to lift him to his feet, and then allow him to fall forward, which I did.”

  “Yes. Yes. Then what happened?”

  “Why, he just disappeared - right in front of all of us.”

  Krystina paused a moment. Then, a ghost of a smile appeared on her face. If Lucky asked to be lifted to his feet, and then he disappeared, she knew that he must have had his wits about him and created a portal to fall into.

  Lucky’s condition in the portal didn’t get better, but it didn’t get any worse. He had created a portal that took him to the exact spot where the arrows struck him, but five minutes earlier. He lingered in the portal for a few minutes before stepping out because he wanted to see exactly where the assassins were positioned. He looked across the road toward the stable and studied it for a moment. He could see nothing, but then, he noticed movement in the hayloft. There! There is one of them. That’s one of them. Now where is the other? When he stepped into the portal, the arrows disappeared from his body. They wouldn’t be hitting him for another few minutes. He thought back to how the arrow in his shoulder had struck him. Then he realized it was a left to right angle, so he looked over to his left toward a copse of trees. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out movement. Then he saw a man - no . . . a priest - hang from a low branch, and drop to the ground. Lucky materialized five minutes before the incident was to happen with his gun hidden by his side.

  “I understand that you wanted to speak to me?”

  “Yes. I have a message for you.” Lucky rubbed his chin, wondering what this was all about, but he noticed a confused look on the bishop’s face. “What is your name, sir? What are you called?”

  “I’m Bishop Pranley,” he said with a malevolent smile. “I’ve come from the office of the inquisition in Spain.” As soon as the priest said those words, Lucky turned, dropped to the ground and fired once, hitting the man in the hayloft, then he spun around and fired three shots into the copse of trees, hoping to hit the man he knew was positioned on one of the higher branches. A minute passed, causing him to think that he might have missed, but then he watched as a man fell out of the tree.

  Sir Geoffrey pointed to the priest’s guards. “Stay where you are, men, or you’ll wind up like Bishop Pranley’s two friends.”

  The color drained from the Bishop’s face. “Why, why they’re . . . they’re no friends of mine,” he blustered.

  Lucky looked at him with contempt. “Do you take me for a fool? Did you not see me struck with two arrows and do you remember the words you said to me just before I was to die? Let me remind you. This is what you told me as I was dying.” The words were so fresh in Lucky’s mind that the words the priest said just flowed from his lips. “‘Your time on this earth is now a few heartbeats away, wizard. Did you think the inquisition would just let your transgressions go unpunished? No. I’m glad that you will live for a few more seconds so that you will die knowing that it is I, Bishop Pranley who has killed you, the great wizard.’” Both Lucky and the Bishop were silent for a moment. Then Lucky said softly, “There are two emotions that can transcend death. Love - and hate. Because of her love for me, Krystina remembered what really happened.” Lucky’s eyes bored in on Pranley as he whispered to him menacingly, “And you know exactly what you said to me, you demented bastard. You remember because of your hate for me. Don’t you, priest?”

  Pranley looked around at the others who had congregated by the gate after hearing of his attempt to kill the wizard. Pranley nodded, then he turned to break away from Lucky’s penetrating gaze and he looked down, staring dispiritedly at nothing, and then he seemed to recover and spoke in a low questioning voice. “Yes. I remember. But how is this possible? How could you be killed and now appear before me alive and without wounds? Is it true? Are you really the great wizard spoken of in ancient texts? Are you MERLIN?” Everyone within hearing heard the magic word “MERLIN” and they started jabbering to one another, pointing and nodding their heads excitedly in Lucky’s direction.

  Lucky didn’t have time to think of a horrendous place to take the priest. The thought of Devils Island crossed his mind, but he reasoned just as quickly that a guard might take note that this man didn’t belong there and release him. So, in front of everyone, Lucky just grabbed him by the front of his frock and together, they disappeared. This confirmed everyone’s suspicions that Lucky was a great wizard because they just witnessed him p
erform a miracle, which caused the crowd to drop to their knees, making the sign of the cross.

  Lucky and the Bishop materialized in Vlad the Impaler’s dank, damp, cold, dirty, dingy, rat infested cell. The same cell that the mad billionaire Koros, who coerced Lucky into taking him to visit his ancestor Vlad the Impaler had placed Lucky in. By imprisoning Lucky in this cell, Koros actually did him a favor, because Lucky had no choice but to try what he had been thinking about for quite some time … and that was to attempt to create a portal by using only his mind. Up until this time, Lucky was forced to travel through the portals he had to search for. This was no longer the case. Because of the experience in Vlad’s cell, Lucky could now create a portal to take him anywhere in the past or the present. Lucky grabbed the priest by his frail arm with a strong grip. “I’ve taken you to the mid-1400s, priest. This is your future. This is where you’ll spend the rest of your miserable life. I hope you enjoy it.”

  “Wait. Please. You can’t leave me here. I didn’t know the things I know now. I didn’t know that you were the great Merlin. I promise you, I will never think of harming you again.”

  “It’s too late for that now. No. This is where you belong.” With that, Lucky vanished from sight, causing everyone in the crowded cell to drop to their knees in prayer.

  CHAPTER 4

  The small caravan traveled along the rutted dirt road, to the settlement known as Miller’s Landing. The residents of the little settlement lined the street, hoping to see the princess and the wizard. Word traveled fast and the villagers knew what had occurred in Abbotts Crossing, and they were looking forward to seeing King Robert’s legendary wizard. As the ornate carriage carrying the princess and the young prince passed, pulled by six of the finest matched white horses in King Robert’s stable, all eyes fell on the man in black riding beside the gold gilded carriage on the large black horse.