Italian Time Travel 02 - Time Enough for Love

by Morgan O'Neill

  Otto walked inside with Alberto. His eyes adjusted slowly as he searched the church, desperate. Where was she?

  Dignitaries and officials, their names blurring to insignificance, greeted him, slowing his advance until at last the throng gave way and grew silent.

  He sucked in his breath. Standing at the foot of the altar, bathed in light pouring through stained glass, was Adelaide. His Adelaide.

  She was dressed in a crimson gown, her head covered with a veil of golden silk. This sight of her was so unlike the first time he’d seen her, for she had been a shy maiden then, with unbound hair. Yet now, as she looked at him directly, smiling, her gaze unwavering, his heart leapt. She was an exquisite woman, a beauty!

  How many times had he wished for, imagined this reunion? It was all he could do not to rush to her and take her in his arms. Her looks were striking, even greater than before, if that were possible, but the glow emanating from her, the soft light in her eyes, was just as he remembered, as though he had last seen them only yesterday.

  He slowly exhaled and moved forward, grasping his calm like an object, forcing composure. His gaze locked on hers, so close at last.

  “My lord, King Otto of Germany,” Adelaide said. “Welcome back.”

  Words stuck in his throat as Otto drew out his sword, knelt before her, and offered her the hilt. “My Lady Queen,” he finally managed.

  He felt the touch of her hand on his, soft, warm, trembling, urging him to stand. When he did, their eyes locked again, and neither spoke with words, until someone coughed discreetly, and Adelaide’s gaze flickered toward the sound.

  She cleared her throat and resumed her welcome. “I and the people of the kingdom of Northern Italy thank you for coming to our aid and succor, for brandishing this blade on our behalf. We are forever indebted…”

  When his gaze dropped to her lips, her voice faltered, and he had to fight his desire to kiss her then and there.

  “We would ask only that you stay longer this time, than you did the last.” She lowered her gaze and whispered, “You promised me a dance once long ago, but did not stay to see it through.”

  “And I have regretted that decision with every breath I’ve drawn since,” Otto replied earnestly.

  This time, it was Adelaide’s gaze that fixed on his lips. She closed her eyes and her body swayed. Otto reached out to steady her, his hand on her elbow, burning at the touch of her.

  “As have I,” she said, smiling. “Mayhap we shall mend that mischance this evening, for a celebratory banquet is in preparation, and you are our very special guest of honor.”

  Otto returned her smile and spoke as quietly as he could. “This time, I shall save every dance for you, ma petite. Every one.”

  Her gaze flicked again to his lips. In a voice barely audible, even to him, she said, “And mayhap that kiss, so long denied. I yearn for your embrace.”

  *

  Gwen stood in the bedchamber she shared with Adelaide, her heart beating wildly. She knew what was coming, knew by Alberto’s earlier expression, by the message he had entrusted to the queen. He was going to propose to her again, without the rush and blinding passion of the first attempt. She saw him once more, on his knees in the glen, asking for her hand, not understanding why she held back.

  All of Gwen’s earlier excuses were now unusable. She had only the millstone of her previous life, her birth century, hanging around her neck. She would not marry under a cloud, the web of lies she’d concocted about her past, or be dishonest with Alberto anymore. He might never trust her again, but she needed to come clean for her own sake, for her sense of honor. It was the only way she could ever fully honor him.

  Gwen gulped back her fear. This was a huge step, but she had to share her truth with the man she loved. It would change his whole world. Would he accept it as fact based solely on her word? Alberto, can you do that? Can you believe what I’m going to tell you? You have to, you have to.

  She took a deep breath, then approached Adelaide, who looked up from her dressing table. A serving woman was busy with final touches to the shimmering, silver dress and matching veil the queen would wear to the evening’s banquet.

  “You look radiant,” Gwen said, caught in the moment.

  “You are beautiful, too, Gwendolyn,” the queen said encouragingly. “How that gown of blue brings out the color of your eyes. But, dearest friend, you are showing nerves, for I can see the tremor in your hands. You and his lordship love each other. Say yes. The moment will be one you will cherish forever.”

  Gwen could only nod as a knock sounded on the door. She knew it was her escort.

  In moments, she was shown entry into Alberto’s formal offices. He stood by a large table of polished wood, looking out the window, his hands clasped behind his back. She noticed a pair of elaborate silver goblets on the table. For a celebratory toast? When the door closed, he turned and attempted a smile, but Gwen could tell from his gaze he was as nervous as she.

  He came forward, taking her hands. “You are always so beautiful, Gwendolyn, I truly know not whom I prefer – the bewitching she-monk, or the queen’s lady.”

  Gwen attempted to smile, the seconds ticking down as he forged on. “I asked you to come here this eve, before the banquet, for I,” he touched her cheek, “I wish to have you here, in my home, with my daughter, filling this barren castle with light and laughter and love, and mayhap more children one day.”

  At his words, a delicious heat coursed through her body, but not the heat of lust. This was different, deeper… love. What had she expected him to say? Nothing so wonderful and caring. But would he be so caring once she revealed her truth?

  With a gentle squeeze of his hands, he continued, “I realize your home is far away in Britannia, and you must have family praying for your safe return. I will send word to them, or bring them to live here if you wish.” Alberto drew her closer. “I asked you before, you’ll recall, and you were correct to rebuff me. The timing was ill considered. Now, as promised, I would ask you again.” He sank to one knee, still holding her hands. “I love you. For my daughter, for my home, but mostly for the wholeness of my heart, for my very life, my Gwendolyn, please accept my proposal of marriage.”

  She gently pulled on his hands, coaxing him up. He looks so optimistic, she thought anxiously. He has no idea.

  “Alberto, I love you more than I ever thought it possible to love.” She tried again to smile, but her facial muscles only twitched with the effort. She stopped trying when Alberto’s brows knit together. “I will consent,” she went on, seeing his smile return, “but first I must tell you something about myself, the thing which worried me so before, and, and Britannia has nothing to do with it, I’m afraid. Afterward, if you wish to withdraw your offer, I will be heartbroken, but––”

  “Gwendolyn, I would never!”

  “Don’t.” Gwen stopped his protest with a raised hand. “Please, let me speak. I – I have something I must show you.” She pulled back the sleeve of her gown, revealing two watches, Stefano’s and her own. Alberto moved to take a closer look, but Gwen stepped aside. “Please, let me explain.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said. “What is that image on the smaller wristlet?”

  “It’s a mouse.”

  He looked at her quizzically. “A mouse?”

  “I know this seems weird. These are not wristlets – they are called watches, timepieces that help us keep track of the hours and minutes in each day – precisely.”

  His eyes suddenly held a spark, a mounting interest.

  “Alberto, you have sundials. Where I come from––”

  “You bear the image of a rodent on your timepiece. Does that signify something?”

  “It’s a drawing from a cartoon, a harmless childhood fable. He’s on a boat, er, at the wheel of a boat powered by steam.” She studied Alberto’s look of confusion. You’re blowing this, Gwen! She was going off subject, and he wasn’t getting it, wasn’t seeing the significance. “My father gave this to me as
a gift.”

  “He prizes a rat at the helm of a ship?” Alberto asked. “In Italy we prefer to keep them at a distance, inevitable though they are.” Then his mouth fell open. “Did you say steam power?”

  Gwen took a long, shaky breath and plunged in. “Yes, steam. I come from a place that would seem very strange to you, Alberto. Please, listen to everything I have to say, right to the end, please.”

  His brow furrowed, but he folded his arms and leaned against the edge of the table. “I’m listening.”

  “I arrived not far from where you first found me, unwillingly and unexpectedly, from… a different time, a different century. I arrived from the future, over a thousand years from now.”

  Gwen stopped to let her words sink in, but sincere as she’d tried to sound, it seemed to have little effect on him – except for his expression, which was now stony, unreadable.

  “I was visiting a small town, Santa Lucia, and there was a terrible earthquake,” Gwen persisted. She explained, reliving the confusion of that day – regaining consciousness in the church garden with Stefano nowhere to be found, the building showing no signs of earthquake damage, and being forced to wear a cowl to cover her modern clothing – but Alberto only watched her, saying nothing.

  When Gwen finally got to the point when Alberto had rescued her, she stopped, drew a long breath, then waited for him to say something, anything.

  “Santa Lucia?” he asked, his voice deadly calm. “I do not know of such a place, although the village of Emilia is not far from the spot where we first encountered you and those brigands, but, I may assure you, there has been no earthquake within the borders of my land in long memory.”

  “It will occur, though, because it happens in the future.”

  His gaze dropped to his boots and he stared without moving for a long moment. Then, slowly, he looked up. “I cannot understand why you would invent such stories. Why are you avoiding an answer to my proposal? If you do not love me, do not want anything I offer you,” his voice rose gradually, his eyes steely, “including the unbounded love my daughter bears for you, you need only refuse me as you did the first time! Why do you make a mockery of this? Of me? Jesus God, do you think me so witless as to accept such tales? What is your aim?”

  Frightened by his angry misinterpretation, Gwen reiterated, “Alberto, I am not refusing you, and I am not lying. I would never hurt you, or Gilda, for anything in the world, but I cannot marry you without telling you the whole truth, the entire truth,” she raised her right hand, “so help me God.”

  She took another deep breath, then exhaled, steadying herself. “I’m not from England, er, Great Britain, which is the name for Britannia in my day, over one thousand years from now. I’m from a country founded in the year 1776, the United States of America. It exists on a continent on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. European explorers haven’t found the continent yet, but they will. First, the Vikings, in about fifty years, then an Italian sailing for Spain in 1492.”

  Gwen yanked off her veil and saw him flinch at the movement. “I come from the twenty-first century, and women wear their hair any way they want. I like mine short.”

  “This is ludicrous,” he said.

  He started to turn away, but Gwen grabbed the front of his tunic. “Alberto, it’s true, I swear.”

  Towering over her, he knocked her hands aside. “Leave me.”

  “No, just listen. I attended university and was working toward a master’s degree on poetry in archaic Italian languages – yours is considered archaic, dead by my time. And, and I had a car – it’s like a wagon – but it propelled itself by burning gas, er, oil, and it went much faster than the fastest horse. In my car, I could’ve traveled from Canossa to Reggio in less than an hour.”

  He glowered. “Nonsensical tripe!”

  “Alberto, please,” she said, refusing to give up, “I know this sounds unbelievable, but you need to understand. I flew through the skies, from my home to Italy, inside something called a jet… like a mechanical bird. It took a long time to get here by our standards – most of a day – but I traveled halfway around the world!”

  He bunched his fists, his lips pursed in a hard line, and she was suddenly aware of how badly she was shaking.

  “I, I used to have a cell phone, and I was going to call my parents,” Gwen felt a tear escape and swiped it away, “on the other side of the world, on the night of the earthquake, to speak with them, and reassure them everything was fine. But now, they think I’m dead and, in fact, to them I am – I’m dead!” She choked back a sob. “I’ve lost both my parents, my entire family, but they will never, ever get over the pain of losing me, will never be able to bury me, or even say goodbye, because I’m here… with you.”

  Feeling dizzy, Gwen stopped talking and silently pleaded with Alberto through her tears, willing him to believe.

  She held out her arm and clumsily unbuckled Stefano’s more elaborate watch. “Here,” she handed it to him, “look at it. The dial glows in the dark. I know you’ve never seen anything like this. It belonged to Stefano.”

  “Stefano again?” His tone was low, baleful.

  “Yes, he traveled through time, too. We were next to each other when it happened, but right away we got separated––”

  “Enough!” Alberto yelled, shaking his fist at her. “By God, I will hear no more of this blasphemy. I can make no sense of your continual lies, and the devilry of these… these trinkets. Never again will I touch such poison, either you or your possessions.” He threw the watch onto the table and then, with a broad swipe of his arm, sent the goblets crashing against the wall, wine spraying in every direction. “Is this why Berengar had Stefano executed? Was this friend of yours also practicing witchcraft?”

  “No! No, it was Willa!” Gwen protested. “She told me she called Stefano to her. She used – I don’t know – black magic or something… I have no idea. I wasn’t supposed to be here at all—”

  “You speak of your time,” he interrupted, glaring at her. “Well, in my time, all who dabble in witchcraft must burn!”

  “What? No!”

  “Get you gone!” he raged.

  Could he really stand by and watch her burn? A sob tore through her chest. Weeping, she blindly stumbled back, trying to get away from him, her hand behind her, fumbling, feeling for the door.

  “Get you gone!” he shouted again. “The love I once bore you prevents me from acting against you, else you would perish at the stake!” He took a ragged breath, then another. “I will not tell anyone of this, but you shall not have contact with me or my daughter ever again.”

  Through her tears, Gwen saw him turn his back on her and resume his stance at the window. What had she done? She had to find a way to undo this horror – but no, his terrible anger told her she could never erase what she’d revealed.

  She wheeled about and opened the door, lurching through. The sound of the latch falling into place echoed in the empty hallway, resounding in her shattered heart.

  Chapter 13

  The great hall danced with light, candles blazing everywhere. Otto sat beside Adelaide at the head table, striving to look formal and dignified, yet his eyes strayed often to the hand she placed beside him. Several times he covered hers with his own, and the blinding rush of passion nearly drove him mad.

  Somehow, though, he managed to participate in the conversations flowing between Adelaide, Father Warinus, Brother Felix, Liutprand, and himself, all the while wondering why his companion-in-arms, Lord Alberto, seemed so glum. He had contributed nothing to the evening, sitting there in brooding silence. This only got worse when Otto asked the whereabouts of Lady Gwendolyn. Adelaide had immediately intervened, explaining she had received a note from Gwen, pleading head pains. Alberto had simply glowered and looked away.

  Had he made an inappropriate advance and been rebuffed? Poor devil, Otto thought.

  At last, musicians took their places. As sweet strains of music filled the hall and hushed the audience, Alberto abru
ptly excused himself, saying his leg hurt and he needed rest.

  After he left, Otto exchanged a glance with Father Warinus, then turned to Adelaide. “My lady, would you deign to dance at last with a foreign-born barbarian?”

  She looked up at him and smiled, tiny dimples at the corners of her mouth. “I would like nothing more, good sir.”

  He rose and led her onto the dance floor, reveling in the touch of her hand, then in the nearness of her body as they moved together in courtly rhythm.

  “My lady, Queen of my Heart, I love you,” Otto said.

  “And I, you. From the very moment.”

  “Yes. From the very moment.” Otto leaned in, whispering into her hair. “And my heart has been yours ever since. Please, Adelaide, say you will be my wife. Say that I will never again have to live without you.”

  “Yes, Otto.” Adelaide smiled through her tears. “Yes, I will be your wife. Please, kiss me now, here, in front of everyone. I would not wait another minute for that which I have held in my heart for so long. Kiss me, please.”

  Otto took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Most Gracious Queen, if you would, I have another request. Will you join me in the church right now? Father Warinus has agreed to lead us in our carnal vows. I see no reason why we cannot go before God this night. We can set the date for formal vows another time. Adelaide, we’ve waited long enough.”

  “This… this eve?” The queen stared, astounded.

  “Yes, tonight, ma petite. Do you agree?”

  “Oh, yes, yes.” Adelaide blushed deeply. “Tonight. I must get Gwen. She will stand with me. We shall meet you there.”

  Exultant, Otto bowed. “I shall await you.”

  *

  How bright the candlelight suddenly seemed! How sweet the music!

  Adelaide hardly noticed the great burst of conversation the moment she hurried away. Heart pounding, she raced down corridors until she came to her rooms.