The Tea Machine

by Gill McKnight

  “Hey,” Sangfroid yelled again, but the old boy was not for stopping. Goats scattered before him as he disappeared into the groves below.

  “He looked very alarmed,” Millicent said.

  “Yeah. Guess we look weird.” Gallo looked down at her clothes. She and Sangfroid were in the tattered uniforms they refused to set aside. Millicent still wore her tunic and sandals.

  “I’m not so sure,” she said. “That old man had a tunic not unlike like mine. He was clearly not happy with us. I wonder what worried him so much.”

  “We shouldn’t be here, and he knows it. I wonder who he’s run off to inform,” Sangfroid said. “We might have a meet and greet up ahead.” She shared a knowing look with Gallo. Millicent sighed. They had come to find a friend. Couldn’t it be nice, just this once?

  They pressed on down the hill, following the track the old man had taken and keeping an eye open for any other valley inhabitants. The olive terraces flattened out quickly and soon they were walking through olive groves on the valley floor. What had looked like dirt tracks from above turned out to be irrigation ditches dusty with drought and choked up with straggly undergrowth. Cicadas filled the air with cheerful chirrups as Sangfroid led her party deeper into the groves in search of tree shade.

  The first stone hit Gallo on the shoulder. With a grunt, she turned and immediately crashed off in the direction it had come from. More stones thudded on the ground around them. One struck Millicent on the thigh and the sting of it stopped her in her tracks. Sangfroid pushed her behind a tree for shelter.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yes. It just stung a little,” she said, looking anxiously after Gallo. She had disappeared towards the nearest irrigation ditch.

  “Stay there,” Sangfroid ordered and bounded off after Gallo. She had taken barely five paces away when the bushes rattled madly, and Gallo surged forward holding a small boy by the scruff of his neck.

  “His friends scattered like rats in a barn blaze,” she said and gave the boy a shake. The youngster looked about the size of a barn rat in her grip. A miserable barn rat. He was sheet white, and his legs trembled so hard Gallo’s grip seemed to be the only thing holding him up.

  “Never go into battle with a pack of weasels for back up.” She shook him again. “You’re only as good as the soldier standing next to you.” She shook him some more to emphasis his stupidity. “Remember that.”

  “Where do you live, boy?” Sangfroid used her growly voice. The boy grew paler, and Millicent felt sorry for him despite the bruise rising on her thigh. He had to crane his head right back to look wide-eyed between Gallo and Sangfroid on either side of him.

  “A…Are you giants?” he asked.

  “Yes. And we eat our enemies.” Sangfroid scowled. Gallo picked up the cue.

  “So what are you?” she demanded. “Friend, foe, or dinner?”

  “Friend!” The boy responded quickly. “I didn’t mean it. Honest.”

  “What do you think,” Sangfroid asked Gallo, still playing the game.

  “I don’t need a friend.” She shrugged. “I am hungry though.” She rubbed her stomach. “Seriously, I am. It’s like I haven’t eaten in ages,” she told Sangfroid, who nodded in agreement. The boy trembled.

  “What I do need is a scout,” Gallo added, as if in afterthought. “Someone who can navigate this valley from one end to the other. Someone smart who knows his way around.”

  “I can do that.” The boy squeaked, but was ignored.

  “Nice idea.” Sangfroid scratched her cheek. “But I’m feeling peckish, too. I could do with a small boy for lunch. Maybe even two! Where did your weasel friends go?”

  Millicent suppressed a smile at the tactics.

  “I live over there.” The boy pointed through the grove to where a puff of smoke spiralled idly on the breeze. “My mum will give you food.”

  “Over there?” Sangfroid looked in the direction the grubby finger pointed. A dog barked, and the olive trees rustled expectantly. “Show me,” she said.

  Gallo let the captive go, and he ran for his life. After several yards, he stopped and looked back to make sure they were following.

  “It looks like we have a scout after all,” Millicent said. “Let’s hope the adults around here are more welcoming than their children.”

  “If they’re not, then Gallo will shake ’em into surrender.” Sangfroid offered Millicent her arm while she worked the stiffness out of her thigh.

  “Aye, Decanus,” Gallo answered happily. “Shake, rattle, and roar.”

  “Mom!” The boy led them into the enclosed yard of a small holding. A couple of scrawny dogs barked but hadn’t the energy or interest to leave their shady spot to go snap at the strangers. Instead, their tails lazily thumped up clouds of dust and their tongues lolled. “Mom, I brought giants home for dinner.”

  A tired looking woman came to the door. She didn’t look much older than her son.

  “What is it now, Magnus? You know…” Her words trailed away when she saw his companions. She paled.

  “Come here,” she said quietly and held out her hand for him to go to her side. He did so grudgingly, reluctant to move away from his trophies.

  “I found them near the ditch,” he said, refusing to hold her hand. “They’re giants and they’re hungry. Can I be their scout? Can I?”

  “Jana?” Millicent blurted in surprise. The woman was the spitting image of the girl from the tea temple. The woman stared back at her with no recognition.

  “I am Jana, but I don’t know you,” she said. She was very respectful, even as she slowly edged herself between her child and her visitors. Her speech, looks, mannerisms, everything reminded Millicent of the Jana she had met at the temple baths.

  “How strange,” she murmured. “It’s like people get recycled throughout these timelines.”

  “She could be a direct ancestor of your friend,” Sangfroid pointed out. “We mean no harm, ma’am.” She stepped forward. “We just need some directions. We’re heading for the village to the north of here. Are we on the right track?”

  “We’ve got to feed them, Mom, or else they’ll eat me.” Magnus refused to lurk behind his mother and came out from behind her to place himself firmly on the menu. Mother and child were both very thin. Jana being the gaunter of the two. To Millicent it was obvious just by looking around the yard that food and supplies—in fact, everything—was in short supply. These people were not well off. The farm buildings had a make-do-and-mend feel. The repairs she could see were shoddy and amateurish. A donkey standing in the shade of a lemon tree was so thin its ribs stuck out. Even the guard dogs were spent, panting among the bedraggled chickens whose grubbing in the dirt seemed the only industry about the place.

  “Where is your husband,” Millicent asked, a germ of concern growing in her. The place was in too much disrepair. It was practically falling down.

  Jana’s eyes hardened. “My husband has gone to fetch tea for She Who Must Be Brewed For,” she said with a bitter undertone that was hushed if not repentant.

  “She who must be what?” Millicent asked.

  “Brewed For,” Jana repeated. “She is our deity, and one year out of five, the men of the valley must go and serve her. They travel east to bring back her tea. It is a hazardous journey but each family must send an able bodied man.”

  “She Who Must Be Brewed For?” Sangfroid said frowning.

  “That’s Looselea, that is,” Gallo said cheerfully. “It’s the old name for her. Hey, we’ve found Sophia. That was easy.”

  “I’m confused,” Millicent spoke quietly to Sangfroid. “This place is the tap root of the cult I saw in Rome. Now we’re hearing she is demanding servitude from the people who live in this valley. We need to find out exactly what Sophia is up to.”

  “Can they stay to dinner, Mom?” Magnus whined, tugging on his mother�
��s arm.

  Millicent noticed the dull colour on Jana’s cheeks as she awkwardly tried to hush the child. There is no food to spare. The thought both angered and humbled her. She felt a flash of anger at Sophia, dragging a working man away from his farm and leaving his family to struggle.

  “Give them your food.” She pulled a linen napkin wadded around a hunk of roast beef from Gallo’s pocket. “They have nothing.”

  Sangfroid began emptying her pockets, prodding Gallo to do the same.

  “Where we come from,” she said, “giants bring dinner with them, and it’s not always small boys.” She winked at Magnus and got a big, gap-toothed grin in return. Jana’s face grew redder, but her eyes flashed at the abundance springing from her visitors’ pockets.

  “You…you must sit and eat with us. Even if it is mostly your own food.” She sounded flustered and apologetic and directed them to a bench under the rickety veranda. She ducked inside her doorway and returned a moment later with a jug of wine, a rough homemade loaf, and a plate of olives.

  Gallo and Sangfroid fit their long legs under the bench with difficulty. Millicent supposed they truly were giants to the small, undernourished woman and boy who regarded them warily from the other side of the table. Together they broke bread, and the tension eased as they shared their impromptu meal.

  “Why don’t you eat the chickens?” Gallo asked bluntly, watching the old boilers pecking around the yard.

  “We will. As soon as we get some chicks to replace them, but the cockerel has disappeared. I think a fox got him.” A thin thread of anxiety laced Jana’s words.

  Sangfroid watched the expression on Magnus’s face as he bit into the beef. “Where are your nearest neighbours?” she asked Jana.

  Millicent was reading Sangfroid’s mind; where was the community here? If the menfolk were routinely peeled away from their farms, surely friends and neighbours should rally round?

  Jana gave a dry laugh. “My neighbours are in the same position as we are. Wives, widows, all trying to hold their rundown homes together until their sons and fathers and husbands return. But it’s been years now and still no word.”

  “Years?” Millicent caught Sangfroid’s eye. How long had Sophia been here? There was obviously an anomaly in the time flow just as Hubert has predicted. Sophia had only been gone from her own time for several hours, yet here it was years. They had been in Rome for two days, but to Hubert it had been months. What would the impact of the years spent here be on Sophia? Millicent wished Hubert had travelled with them; he might have some ideas how to proceed.

  “Can you tell us a little about She Who Whatsit?” Sangfroid asked.

  “She came from the stars,” Jana began. Millicent snorted and quickly turned it into a cough. Jana looked at her speculatively before continuing. “And she chose this valley above all others because of the beauty of our goats—” Sangfroid’s snorting interrupted her this time, along with Gallo giggling quite openly into her mug of wine. Magnus giggled too, though he had no notion of the joke. “What?” Jana asked. “What’s so funny?”

  “We know She Who Must Be blah blah,” Millicent said.

  “And she’s not very fond of goats.” Gallo grinned widely.

  “Well, she’s made a fine fortune out of them.” Jana snapped and immediately regretted her words. She looked furtively around, as if the olive groves were full of eavesdroppers.

  “I take it you cannot speak openly,” Millicent said quietly. “Tell us what has been happening in the valley, Jana. Truly what has happened? Your words are safe with us.”

  “Why are you here? People like you—”

  “Giants, mom. They’re giants,” Magnus interrupted. “Not that one.” He pointed at Millicent who was the same height as his mother.

  “They are not giants,” Millicent informed him primly. “They are very greedy soldiers who are too big for their boots.”

  He immediately dropped his interested gaze to Sangfroid and Gallo’s boots.

  As an afterthought, Millicent added. “And ignore their language. It’s unwholesome for young ears.”

  “Why are you here?” Jana asked again, impatiently. “You say you know her. Does that mean you are gods, too?”

  “See,” Millicent turned to Sangfroid and Gallo. “I told you so. She’s set herself up as this Looselea person and caused all this commotion, nevermind what her cult gets up to millennium down the line.”

  “We always believed you,” Sangfroid said. “It was Hubert who was sceptical.”

  “Unbeliever,” Gallo muttered.

  “No, we’re not gods.” Millicent turned back to Jana. “Nor giants, or anything mythological. We simply want to meet with…with this lady you’re talking about and bring her back home where she belongs.” Millicent watched Jana’s face carefully. Some people didn’t like it when you tried to topple their belief system. Jana’s face lit up. Then again, some people were natural insurgents. If you were lucky, they were on your side.

  “She sends the men away to fetch her infernal tea all the way from Chin,” Jana said, and as if a floodgate opened, all Jana’s worries and resentment poured out. “All our animals are leased.” She cast a hand around the farmyard. “That’s why we can’t just eat them. They have been given to her by people outside of this valley, and now she has so many she leases them to the farmers so we can sell the milk and cheese. But there are so many goats in this valley the dairy market is saturated and therefore worthless.”

  “That’s not very sensible,” Millicent agreed. It sounded just like Sophia and her impractical mind-set. The woman could well be heaven sent, for her feet were seldom on the ground.

  “Some have made a fortune off her temple,” Jana said. “But the poorer people see nothing of it. If anything, her worship leaves us worse off. There are many in this valley who would like to see her return to wherever she came from.”

  “She Who Must Be Returned,” Millicent murmured. But how? Sophia sounded very ingrained.

  “Is the temple that tall building you can see from the hillside?” Sangfroid asked.

  Jana nodded. “Is that where you are going. You’ll find her there, but her followers will be with her.”

  Sangfroid shrugged. “We’re old friends. She’ll be glad to see us.” She stood indicating the end of their meal. “Can you show us the right track to get there?”

  “Can I be your scout?” Magnus leaped to his feet “Please,” he whined.

  “You can take them to the temple track but no farther,” Jana said sternly. “They can find the way easily from there.”

  “You’ll set us safely on our way.” Gallo mollified him. “Like a good guide.”

  “Thank you for the food,” Jana said shyly, and clasped Millicent’s shoulders in a farewell gesture. “I wish you well.”

  “Thank you, Jana,” Millicent answered, and again inwardly marvelled that this woman, or the essence of her, had passed through the ages of this strange timeline. Time travel was such a curious thing. On an emotional level she felt she was travelling in ever decreasing circles rather than stretching out across the universe. It saddened her that this Jana’s progeny would become enslaved to the tea temple religion she abhorred so much. At least this Jana was a freewoman, poor as she was.

  With Magnus as their guide, they quickly found the main valley road. It was wide and heavily rutted. A lot of traffic obviously moved along it though it was quiet at this time of day.

  “You have to leave us here,” Sangfroid told Magnus. “But we might come back this way later. If we do, maybe we’ll see you then.”

  “Here, boy.” Gallo dug in her pocket and pulled out a small jackknife. At least it was small in her hand. In Magnus’s hands it looked weighty and jokily over-sized. The boy’s eyes shone. “And remember, a good soldier is always shrewd when it comes to picking his companions, as well as his fights.” Gallo tapped him on the forehe
ad. “It’s big brains that wins battles, not big balls.”

  Never lifting his gaze from his prize, Magnus traced the pattern on the hilt with a grubby finger.

  Millicent watched as he traced the Þ symbol. She frowned, she had seen this before somewhere.

  “T…thank you, sir,” Magnus mumbled in awe.

  “Away with you, whelp.” Gallo gently pushed him in a homeward direction.

  “Where did you get that knife, Gallo? What does the engraving mean?” she asked.

  Galo shrugged. “It’s from the Parabellum. You get ’em free, like a drinks promotion thingy.”

  Millicent had no idea what a drinks promotion thingy was, but she was certain she had come across that symbol before on their travels.

  “Was that wise?” Millicent asked, as they watched Magnus disappear among the olive trees. “A knife like that is hardly common place in this age.”

  Gallo shrugged. “Once we get Sophia out of here, this world soon won’t exist, so why not cheer the little beggar up. Everything here will collapse without its godhead and take the future with it.” She turned and trudged onward, shoulder to shoulder with Sangfroid, unflinchingly towards their own extinction.

  Millicent followed, biting her lip at the cruel inevitability of it all. Every step they took doomed this timeline’s future and condemned Sangfroid and Gallo along with it. How would it end? Would they simply disappear, blown away like smoke while she was whisked back to Hubert’s laboratory? She fretted these past few days would be wiped from her memory, or survive dreamlike and unformed on the edge of her consciousness. She could imagine the void all too readily. Her life spread out before her, empty and sterile, and inconsolably dull. The thought was unsettling. She did not want to lose any of this. She watched Sangfroid’s strong back—the stretch of her uniform across her shoulders, her dark-blonde hair curling at her collar—and finally admitted she did not want to lose her.

  Ahead, she could make out the straw thatch of houses. Many houses. Up close, what had seemed like a small, rustic village, turned out to be a larger municipality. Hopefully, Sophia would be in residence, and they could find her quickly and take her home…and it would all be over.