by K. C. Dyer
“Got it!” Darrell pulled the rope off and rubbed Kate’s ankles briskly, trying to push down the panic that was threatening to overtake her. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Katie. You didn’t have a chance with two men attacking you like that.” She helped Kate to her feet and noticed a red mark on her neck where the skin was bruised and torn. “What’s that?”
The tears welled in Kate’s eyes again. “He bit me,” she said quietly. “He told the old man he’d caught himself a nice little chicken and he wanted to take me with him. His breath was so gross, Darrell, and I thought I was going to be sick, but I knew I’d choke to death with the rag in my mouth, so I just closed my eyes and hoped he’d go away. The old guy yelled at him to leave me because he’d made his quota — whatever that meant — and they had to go collect their gold at the marketplace. It must have made him mad, because he bit me and then threw me down in the straw.”
“Oh, Kate, I’m so sorry.” Darrell hugged her friend tightly. “We’d better get out of here fast.” She jumped up. “I’m going to need a crutch or some kind of walking stick or I’ll never be able to walk with any speed at all.”
“You can hang on to me. We don’t have time to look for a crutch.” Kate looked around. “Where’s Delaney?”
“He followed the cart. They were heading down the lane. If we can find Delaney, I bet we can find Brodie and Conrad.”
They hurried out of the stable, and Darrell looked around frantically. She noticed for the first time that Verrocchio’s old house was tightly boarded. The kitchen garden was a mass of dead weeds, and the plaster surface of the building was cracked and stained. There was no sign of the cart.
“It’s hard to believe no one lives there anymore,” she said as they hurried along the road.
“Did you get the book back to Leonardo?” said Kate.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
Darrell stared at the ground. “He doesn’t have any more information on time machines than I do,” she said quietly. “And he’s grown very old now. I think I’m back to square one.”
Kate gave her arm a sympathetic squeeze as they hurried off. The road widened and began to fill with more passers-by. The surface changed from dirt to cobbles and then to brick, becoming progressively easier for Darrell to walk upon. They stepped out into the square and stopped in shock.
The entire Piazza del Duomo was filled with stalls. Merchants of every description were selling their wares to shoppers who strolled along the streets.
“None of this was here the last time,” breathed Darrell. “It must be market day.”
“Just like our Renaissance fair,” said Kate. “But it’s jammed with people. How’re we ever going to find the guys?”
“We need to find Delaney. He’ll know we’re looking for him.” Darrell looked critically at the nearest stall. “We sure got the details wrong,” she muttered. “This doesn’t looks like our fair at all.”
Most of the stalls were little more than a stack of wooden crates, some tilting perilously. There wasn’t a single colourful tent in sight, and the air was ripe with the smell of animals alive and dead. In one stall, a woman had erected an enormous loom and was weaving a coarse cloth as her daughters sold squares of fabric. At the next spot, a woman sold brightly tinted yarns while another sat behind, spinning greasy sheep’s wool into long, grey strands.
Dogs ran untended through the market, chasing cats and stealing food, but there was no sign of Delaney.
Stalls with live chickens for sale stood next to those selling pigeons, ducks, and other fowl already roasted and ready for eating. There were spiced wines, mead, and sweet waters. Darrell and Kate dodged through the shoppers and the shopkeepers as best they could.
A few men in uniform sat around low tables drinking ale near a barn with a bugle nailed over the door. Beside the makeshift pub a man thrust a small dagger into Kate’s hand. “Try this blade, signorina. It’ll keep ye safe on a dark night.” Kate hurriedly dropped the knife back onto the crude countertop the man had created with an irregular slice of canvas laid across a board. Darrell shook her head firmly at a second man brandishing a large shield. “Your family crest can be painted on the front,” he called to their retreating backs.
Some children ran and played in the marketplace, but most seemed to be working in the stalls with their parents. Darrell watched one child milking a goat tied to the corner of the family’s stall. He poured half of the creamy contents into an earthen jar for his mother and then drank the rest right out of the small pail.
There were several stalls featuring clay mugs and dishes and many with beads and other tiny decorations for sewing onto clothes and hats. A shoemaker fitted leather around a lady’s foot in preparation for making slippers, and one tiny girl stood watch over a table laden with small wooden flutes.
Darrell stopped in front of a stall holding pieces of finely wrought jewellery. She unclipped the silver brooch from her shawl. “Will you buy this?”
The woman behind the counter looked her over carefully. “Did you steal it?” she asked brusquely.
Darrell shook her head. “I’ve — I’ve had a bit of a family emergency and I have to sell it.”
The woman raised an eyebrow skeptically. “It is a lovely piece...” She hesitated a moment and then slid a few coins across the rough wooden counter. Darrell scooped up the copper pieces and handed a couple to Kate.
“I’m going to keep looking around here. Can you go buy some water and maybe a bit of bread? We may need some food before this is over.”
Kate nodded. “I’ll meet you over at that bench. This will only take a minute, then we can keep looking.”
While Kate bought the bread and water, Darrell walked over and sat on a small stone bench near the cathedral. By her reckoning, they had made a complete circle of the marketplace. Where else could they look?
Kate ran up and handed Darrell the bread. She had a water skin slung around one shoulder. “They don’t seem to have any plain water,” she said, panting a little. “I bought this sweet water — I think it has honey in it.” She made a face. “They took all the money, Darrell. I hope it’s okay.”
“Don’t worry about it, I’ve still got a coin left. I hope we can find the guys and get out of here soon.” She reached down and rubbed her right knee. “I’m sorry, Kate. My leg is so sore, I just have to rest for a minute.”
Kate’s face was pale with worry. “This is a huge city, Darrell. If they’re not near this marketplace, we may never find them.”
Darrell’s stomach was clenched in a tight knot. “We have to watch for Delaney. He’s our only hope.” Kate sat down and Darrell clutched her sleeve. “Can you remember anything else the man said?”
“Just that he could collect his gold at the market. Why would he get gold for Brodie and Conrad? They didn’t have slaves during the Renaissance, did they?”
“I don’t know! I don’t remember reading about slaves, but why else would you be able to sell...” She paused. Understanding washed over her and she stood up and hurried back the way they had come.
“What is it, Darrell?” Kate caught up and took Darrell’s arm to help her negotiate a rough section of cobbles.
“It’s got to be the soldiers, Kate. When I did my research, I read about the war between France and Italy during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.” She stopped speaking as she spotted the soldiers still seated outside the barn and began to work her way between two stalls nearby. A woman with a tray of pewter buttons eyed her warily as Darrell smiled apologetically and squeezed past, towing Kate by the arm. A dark lane ran behind the stalls, and filthy brown water trickled along a ditch. The smell of drains and farm animals seemed even worse, and the lane was almost deserted apart from a dirty brown dog curled against the side of a barn. At the sight of them, the dog leaped up.
“Delaney!” A smudge of muddy brown shot toward them, and Darrell almost cried with relief as he pushed his head into her hands. She scurried across the cobbles to peek t
hrough a broken board in the barn.
“Can you see them?” whispered Kate.
“I can’t tell — it’s too dark. But they’ve got to be in there, ’cause Delaney’s here.” She leaned against the wall of the barn. “I’m going in,” she said.
“Are you crazy? You are not going in! We’ve got to find another way.”
Darrell put her hands on Kate’s arms. “Listen. We need to find Brodie and Conrad before the soldiers take them away for good. I have to see if they’re inside. You have two good legs, Kate. If they catch me, you can run and get Leonardo and Giovanni.”
“Darrell, you told me yourself they are old men now. They don’t even know me. How can they help us?”
Darrell took a deep breath. “Let’s hope we don’t need them, then.” She crept around the corner and saw a small opening that may have once been a window. She beckoned to Kate. “Give me a lift, here!”
Darrell grabbed the sill with both hands and boosted herself by stepping on Kate’s bent knee. She slipped and tumbled through the opening, rolling to a mercifully soft landing against a bale of hay.
“Are you okay, Darrell?” whispered Kate.
“Shhh! I’m fine.” Darrell struggled to right herself in the grey light of the barn. She could see the last light of evening streaming in from a window high above, and realized she had fallen into a stall in the back corner. She turned to find a large, black cow chewing a mouthful of the very hay she had landed on. Darrell looked down to see she had narrowly avoided covering her dress in the remains of the hay — after the cow had processed it. A large brown puddle congealed behind the cow.
“Oh — yuck!” She hurriedly stepped over to the edge of the stall.
“Who’s that?” A voice came from just outside the stall. Darrell peeked out to see Conrad, trussed like a Christmas turkey, leaning awkwardly against a bale of hay. On one side of him was a young man in a blue cloak and on the other side Brodie lay crumpled in the straw.
“Shhh. It’s me, Conrad. I’m trying to get you guys out of here, so be quiet, okay?”
Conrad nodded, for once not frowning at the very sight of her. The young man beside him looked on with interest. Darrell crept out of the stall over to Brodie.
He was curled on the floor near one wall of the barn. He, too, had been bound tightly with coarse ropes, and she could see where his shirt had been torn. Blood oozed from his lower lip, and his eyes, only half-open, were dazed.
“Brodie — Brodie. Wake up.” Darrell hissed in his ear and shook him, but his head lolled to one side. “Oh — oh, please, Brodie, please wake up.”
Brodie blinked at Darrell. “Just need a little more sleep...” he mumbled. “Be better in the morning...”
“His eyes opened.” Conrad’s whisper carried across from where he was sitting. “Try some water.”
“I can’t pour water down his throat. He’s unconscious; I might drown him!”
“Not down his throat, you idiot. There’s a barrel of water over there by the door. Wet a rag and wipe his face.”
Darrell glanced at Conrad. “Okay, okay, I get it.”
Staying in the shadows, she crept around the walls to the water barrel near the door. It was clearly used for watering the animals and had a great deal of straw floating on top. She didn’t want to guess what else might be found in the murky depths. Wetting a stiff scrap of cloth that hung on a nail, she returned to her spot beside Brodie.
He opened his eyes as she wrung the excess water out of the filthy rag.
“Don’t put that repulsive thing near my face,” he croaked.
“Brodie!” Darrell’s heart lifted.
He winced. “Shhh,” he muttered weakly. “I’m happy to see you, too, but could you keep it down? My head is killing me.”
Darrell lifted his head so his neck was supported by a balled-up piece of sacking. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered. “Just wait a minute.” She hurried back into the tiny stall to see Kate’s worried face peering through the old window.
“I’ve found them. Can you pass me the water?”
Kate beamed and hurled the skin through the window. Her face disappeared and Darrell could hear her praising Delaney. Darrell gave the broad back of the cow a quick rub and crept out of the stall.
“Here, try a sip of this. It’s probably warm, but at least it’s clean.”
Brodie managed to take a sip through cracked lips, then lay back once more on the sacking.
“Oh, man, I feel really crummy,” he muttered. Darrell nodded sympathetically.
“Try some more water. And then take one of these.” She gave him a peppermint from her pocket.
Brodie grinned a little. “Well, I’d rather have a Tylenol, but this will have to do.” Darrell smiled, relieved, and went to work on the ropes binding his hands.
“Hey, get over here and untie me,” Conrad hissed.
“Wait a minute, Conrad. I’ve got to make sure Brodie is okay.” Darrell struggled to untie the knots cutting deeply into Brodie’s wrists.
“He’s talking, isn’t he? The guy kicked me in the head, too, y’know.”
“Ssst!” The young man in the blue cloak jerked his head towards the stall at the back. “Get back into the byre! Someone is coming.”
Darrell grabbed the water skin and the rag and scurried back to the stall. Inside, the cow lowed gently in greeting. Darrell rubbed the broad back absently and slid into the darkest corner.
“I see yer awake, feiglio de cagne.” Darrell could hear heels click on the floor of the barn. “It’s not long now before the wagon arrives. You’ll be at the front in three days and have a chance to show yerselves as men and not the dogs ye seem to be, and I’ll have a few more pieces of gold in my pocket.”
Darrell winced at the sound of a boot meeting flesh. From the stream of vitriolic Italian, she guessed the young man in the blue cloak had been the target.
The tormentor laughed. “Yer tongue’s working, anyway. Primo! Draw me another mug of your best ale. These three will keep for an hour more.” The light dimmed as he swung the door shut, and Darrell heard the board that barred the door clunk into place. She counted to twenty before creeping back into the barn.
“Untie me first,” ordered Conrad, “then I’ll help you undo Brodie.” Darrell glared at him and turned again to the ropes binding Brodie’s wrists.
“Signorina.” The young man in the blue cloak smiled at Darrell, though she could see a fresh line of blood running around his lips. “I have a dagger in my right boot,” he whispered. “My greatest shame is I did not have time to draw it to save myself from these porco diablo thieves of men.”
Darrell crawled over through the straw and found the small blade at once.
The young man gestured with his head. “Cut your friend free first. You will see, unlike the feigli de cagne who brought us here, I am an honourable man.”
With the sharp knife, Darrell had Brodie free in seconds. As he rubbed his sore wrists and ankles, Darrell turned her attention to the young man.
“What’s your name?” she whispered, as she sawed through the rope around his wrists.
“My name is Remo Giancarli, and I owe you my life.” The ropes fell away, and before Darrell could react, he grabbed her face and planted a kiss on each cheek.
“You’re welcome,” she said, startled.
“Now, once we free your other friend, I will take you to a place of sanctuary where we may hide safely until we can send word to your family.” Grimacing as he got to his feet, he hobbled over to help Brodie up.
“Thank you. That would be wonderful!” Darrell began cutting the rope off Conrad’s ankles.
“It’s about time. And make sure you’re careful with that thing!” Conrad’s words showed traces of his usual bluster, but his face was drawn with anxiety. Darrell remembered her own shock and fear during her initial journey through time, and for a moment she felt something akin to pity for him. She paused.
“Conrad, I don’t have time to explain any
thing right now. Promise me you’ll do what you’re told until we can get you back to the lighthouse.”
“Listen — I don’t even want to know. I’m speaking a different language, I’m wearing some kinda fruitcake clothes, a jerk put a bag over my head and kidnapped me — man, this is like my worst nightmare.”
Darrell was unconvinced. “Just do what we tell you and it should be okay.” Conrad nodded. She cut the final bonds at his wrist and handed the knife back to Remo.
Kate was positively beaming with relief as she helped them through the window. All three boys staggered a little as they hurried away from the back of the barn. Delaney capered joyfully around Brodie, but Darrell noticed he kept carefully clear of Conrad.
The sun had fallen low in the sky and the cold deepened, wrapping itself around the corners of the buildings, filling the shade and creeping under collars and into sleeves. After the warmth of the cow barn, the wind bit deeply. Without a word, Remo beckoned, and they followed him as he moved through the growing shadows of the dusk. They wove their way along lanes and around buildings, avoiding the marketplace entirely. Darrell looked through the waning light to see the dome of the cathedral emerging into the sky above the narrow street.
“The Duomo?”
Remo nodded. “My uncle is one of the priests. But we must go the back way — there is a secret door.”
Darrell’s leg throbbed as she limped along beside Kate. Brodie was also looking a little unsteady on his feet, so it was several more long moments before Remo knocked on a wall at the back of the cathedral. Tiny cracks appeared in the wall along the lines of the ornate fretwork, and it opened as though on hinges. A hooded figure stood in the shadows.
Remo whispered a few words then turned and nodded. The figure stepped aside and they all filed through the tiny secret door, Delaney following at the rear.
Darrell looked around in the cramped entry, lit by a single candle that flickered and danced in a sconce on the wall above. The monk removed his hood and his tonsured head gleamed in the candlelight.